#and garrus is in the background fucking lighting something up

[edains]

I think that and him getting snippy* during Menae is like the only time we really see garrus go against shepard even slightly and tbh kind of makes me wonder how he would’ve been perceived if they actually played into him and shep butting heads a little more if you took certain choices (part of me feels like i would’ve liked him a /little/ more if we had been able to actually argue with him & have them be divided on certain issues instead of it being “omg garrus is totally shep’s bestie!! if not bf!!!” but also i still think he sucks so)

*james talks about how he never should’ve left earth and garrus will say “and yet you’re here asking victus to do the same thing, leave this moon to go play nice in some boardroom” (paraphrasing i don’t feel like replaying that part lmao)

sorry to detract from the orignal point btw!

going back to it - its so in character for him to stand up for them because no matter how many times he says “oh im a bad turian, oh the council has their heads up their ass, oh c-sec is doing everything wrong�� at the end of the day he would rather stick by these systems because they work for him and he can’t really fathom not having that (the anarchy! the chaos! is probably playing in his head right there)

you can see it on purgatory too! he’s like “yeah their methods aren’t the greatest but you gotta agree at least they were trying to do something good!” and its like “no??? the fuck is wrong with you??”

not sure what my point is anymore so i’ll stop here but yes! i love this example of someone from a privileged background (i will mention again that garrus is a total nepo baby from a Good Turian Background) who goes along and along with their friend whos not like Them but its ok b/c they’re “one of the good ones” up until that pivotal moment where the division between them truly comes to light

I was watching a streamer (Melizande) play ME1 and she focused on Sovereign at the pivotal scene and Garrus said "I hope you know what you're doing, human" to Shepard.

Excuse me?!

Shepard, who he gets advice from. Shepard whocan inform his world view to either be the renegade he wants to be or to readjust his morals on the paragon path.

Shepard who brings him onto an Alliance warship to help save the galaxy.

Shepard is reduced to "human" for not saving the Council Garrus himself takes issue with for not seeing the real threat.

It is perfect world building because it perfectly fits where humanity is in ME1. Some Minority just gave the OK to not save world leaders in front of a member of the privileged class and he reacted exactly how you'd expect a member of a privileged class to react.

[that-wildwolf]

I was tagged by @crescentbunny and I'm not tagging anyone in particular because I never really have a good grip on who's already done a tag game and who hasn't...

Anyway! Here goes :)

How many works do you have on AO3?

I write lots of one-shots, so this should be around thirty... Yep, twenty-seven.

What’s your total AO3 word count?

Where do you check that? You can check that???

*spends approximately 10 minutes going through AO3 settings they didn't know existed*

Cool! A lot of features I didn't know about. Anyway, um. Yes. My total word count is, for the moment, 471,674 words.

Wow. I. Um. Almost 500K words. But—and this is extremely important—I feel like this graph contains some vital information:

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Wow. Okay. I'll do this in chronological order because I never really counted.

Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Inheritance, Assassin's Creed, The Wolf Among Us, The Walking Dead, Doctor Who, Star Wars, Attack on Titan, Fallout, Sarah Jane Adventures, Elder Scrolls, Mass Effect, Steven Universe. I don't think I missed anything...?

That adds up to 13.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Of course I do! I thrive on feedback! Not implying that my entire self-esteem hinges on the approval of strangers on the internet, but comments are the best fucking thing ever! Instant serotonin for a whole day! Of course I'll reply! I love getting into little conversations with my readers, too!

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Wow. I'm usually more of a happy ending kind of person, but A New Quest (which I wrote at the super proud age of 11) did end with half of the main characters dead and a memorial service for them as the last scene, so... You know. If you consider that angsty, then sure.

Fun fact: Crossing A Line was actually originally supposed to end with Shepard dying! The last chapter (which to me still feels a bit out of place) was rewritten completely. I'm glad I changed it, though. I'm having a lot of fun with the sequel!

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

A month ago I'd have said Waiting Between Worlds without second thoughts—does it count as a happy ending when the whole fic is just a happy ending?—but it's just been going downhill the last three or four chapters. Pretty much every one of my one-shots in the When I Need You series. Also, Crossing A Line, I guess, now that it has a happy ending.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I... really don't. I'm wildly ace, all my sex knowledge comes from smut and porn and I'm pretty sure that if I were to actually write the adult stuff, I'd either go way overboard and make it too obscene to read or end up with something completely dry and clinical and unreadable too.

When there's sex scenes in my fic, I usually leave them implied. I say the characters had sex, but I never explicitly write the actual sex. I don't think I'd be good at it. (Actually, I've tried plenty of times and I know I'm not. It's the dirtiest, kinkiest filth you'd ever see and I'd really recommend against reading it.)

I do like writing the pre-chorus to sex, as it were, though. The sensual foreplay to the sexual foreplay. The soft or heated moments leading up to the act. I've even gotten comments about my lime being "extremely hot despite not being smut" and I'm more than happy with that description.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the strangest one you’ve written?

I used to write crossovers. Now I only sometimes write AUs based on a different fandom, like a Shakarian Kimi no Na wa!AU.

The strangest crossover I've ever written? Don't know if any of them were strange. I had The Wolf Among Us/The Walking Dead crossovers and Doctor Who/Sarah Jane Adventures crossovers, but both of those pretty much exist in the same universe already, so... No. No weird crossovers.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

God, I hope not. At least none that I know of.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes. Plenty. A lot. I'd wager around 4 out of 5 comments on my Shepard Twins fanfic are negative. I haven't updated the fic in a while, but that doesn't mean I'm not writing anymore. I have around 50K words' worth of WIP of it. So no, the hate comments don't bother me. (A lie: they bother me a lot. They even make me cry, sometimes. But they're not gonna be the reason I stop writing a story I enjoy.)

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

My very first fanfiction writing experience, actually. In retrospect, I think that worked out great, because that kind of cooperation made it easier to carry the whole thing through, get it to the end, and was a very positive experience - which is probably why I've continued to write fanfic.

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Ahhh. Royai or Shakarian? Royai or Shakarian? Stupid, since they're almost the same relationship dynamic, but they're both amazingly written. I'm edging a bit more towards Shakarian, because interspecies stuff is always a bonus. Still, it's a close competition.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I wish! I've translated other people's fics, but I've yet to have someone do that for me.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I plan to hope to finish all my WIPs.

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue. This is going to come off as boastful, but I think I'm pretty good at replicating individual characters' speech patterns.

What are your writing weaknesses?

According to my beta, I use elispses too liberally. According to me, I have trouble with transition scenes. I never write in order, so I always end up with disconnected scenes I need to join into a chapter. And the join parts don't even come easy to me.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Not a fan. (When I write fanfics in Polish, I sometimes use English, but that's not the same because everyone in Poland knows English anyway.) If it's a made-up language in the fandom, I like to include some words every now and then in dialogue - especially when it doesn't translate exactly. I love spotlighting cultural differences. I actually learned a load of Jel words for my Murkmire fanfics.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Percy Jackson and the Olympians. Good times. Damn, that was a long time ago. *suddenly gets the overwhelming realization that they've been writing fanfic for the bigger part of their life* ...Wow.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Big Spoon/Little Spoon, a short Shakarian one-shot exploring the psychology of the Spacer background a bit. I also used lighting in a really cool way in this one! I'm really proud of it. Even when I call it "the Spooning As A Metaphor For Nationality Issues fanfic", I mean it in an affectionate way.

As far as non-one-shots go, I'm going with Crossing A Line. It's got it all: Enemies to Lovers, language barrier, interspecies awkwardness... Plus, writing from Garrus's POV is always a treat. I get to refer to humans as "aliens". What more could you want?

[schiste-argileux]

Idw Prowl is an evil SOB (took him two years to send the Wreckers to Garrus-9 and help Maxy (who was protecting all the war crimes the Bots did), put Maxy’s torturer and a war criminal on board the Lost Light cuz why not, sent Pharma to Delphi knowing it was DJD territory)

Prowl... Prowl’s creation and competence in his area of work is astounding. He is brilliant, creative, and defiantly apathetic of this world. But, he is very human in his own way. IDW Prowl is selfish, yet not. He is a unique in that aspect because most people make decisions like his for the sole reason of benefiting themselves. But Prowl’s sole reason of existing is to create PEACE. 

Peace. Peace can only be done when people are complacent, happy, and satisfied. When things are stationary. Stable. 

But life is never stable. Elements desire to form bonds, yet are almost always leaning towards to instability... Prowl’s form of PEACE is a world where there is no fighting. But everything sentient requires to fulfill its desires. As long as there is desire, people will fight. 

A world of PEACE would be a world of full control, there are no surprises, no change. Safety, routines, and constants. No creativity, no development... nothing. stagnant. 

But I must admire Prowl’s tenacity and dedication to this world! 

He sacrifices everything for the sake of the directive, preserve cybertron, PEACE. He sacrifices his morals (Robot Gets Bullied By a Human), his dignity (Recent News, Cop Accepts Orgy For The Means of Establishing Peace, his body (Recent News, Cop gets Molested by A Spider for The Autobot Cause), and of course, thousands of lives (Not Recent News). :D Prowl respects and understands that there will always be chaos and instability, and he is so very flexible around it all! He literally can maximize everything and anything he has. He is the embodiment of consequentialism with a lil dash of politics. I wish my group project members were 1% as productive as him! Prowl tries to put everything black and white, and he gets upset when things get far more tricky, and wants to get everything in control so people can stay safe and remain in peace and not fight! And that’s a respectable goal! Control can be good, it means one understands and is able to retain themselves and the thing they are controlling. But Prowl doesn’t want to accept that there are things out of his control. And Prowl likes to think he’s justified when he controls the uncontrollable. 

I mean, yeah, if he didn’t do what he did, the autobots would have been six feet under A LOT EARLIER. Optimus is not a good leader, preserving organic life over his own soldiers? Psh. Look at Spike, he’s got valid points and can I understand why he left the ��bots. Prowl’s probably thinking everyday, DAMN, OP, WHY R U SO DUMB. LISTEN WE NEED TO FEED OUR SOLDIERS AND PRIORITIZE OUR SPECIES LIVES INSTEAD OF THIS FUCKING CARBON BASED CIRCLE. HELLO??? And literally Prowl could have been like I’m gonna get ya assassinated so I CAN HAVE IT MY WAY. But Prowl was BORN for the RULES. To follow, to MAKE PEACE. Killing the prime figurehead is against that, even if it would make his life way easier! (hence, not that selfish and also sad that your life is the rules. That’s a short leash, but he makes due)

Honestly I feel bad for Prowl. Must suck to be so big brain that everyone hates you when you say the truths (but also you could learn some more tricks from Jazz to be nicer and hide the truth, but that’s scary because a nicer prowl means more people he can trick and use. Thanks Prowl for being so straightforward! Now people can avoid you easier). He's so straightforward about things that need to be done, he’s in constant denial about the grey area of life!

That’s why when Spike slapped Prowl with reality slaps, Prowl lost some of his shit. Remember, nearly everyone had the edgy depressed time in their teens or young adult years where you realize the world is truly unfair and nothing is black and white? Yeah. Slap that on a 6+ million year old robot with a battle computer and is capable of big brain CPU-age, and was literally built for the sole purpose of enforcing rules and making peace? And no one really cared about Prowl enough to understand him and his background. So Prowl goes through his angst moment alone with his huge titties, frustrated. THIS. IS. WHY. YOU. COMMUNICATE. YA DINGUS. 

Prowl doesn’t become a school shooter like Pharma cuz hes got bigger brain and a lot more power and control over himself, but he literally becomes Shadow The Hedgehog (Even if the world’s against me I’ll fight like I’ve always have). HE’S GONE ROGUE. MA’AM, SIR, THE FUCKING OREO COOKIE HAS TRANSFORMED AND ROLLED OUT.  like. OP was the one thing holding prowl back, which was good! But now prowl’s on the roll and bumblebee is too nice and passive to hold him back. + the bombshell brainwash? feels so bad. being prowl sucks. because Prowl is a necessary evil. 

At least he’s wonderfully blunt about his goal to create a peaceful cybertron, which makes it easier if you want to avoid him or smth. meanwhile you have fake people IRL that smile their way through and then slit your throat and you won’t even know it was them (hey jazz, no offense, but that’s what spec ops does). Fakers are the scariest enemy, but Prowl is still a threat, just not as big as a someone who fluffs you up on a balloon and then pops it. Prowl would just be like, hey, you’re really useful, come over here in my white van i wanna show you something and then maybe you get destroyed. But hey! You were the one with the highest chance of surviving compared to other people! Isn’t that great? You’re so skilled WOW. (Prowl gets punched. Again!) Prowl represents the necessary evil in society. We WILL ALWAYS HAVE EVIL people in this world. But Prowl is a far better evil than people who do evil for their own selfish reasons. It’s like how we have law enforcers and politicians . It’s basically giving them legal rights to do illegal things (lmao). BUT we need them regardless. We need those people to get their hands dirty, possibly killed, so that people can live in innocence and peace. 

I don’t think Prowl ever realized that he was a necessary evil, and when Spike showed him that, he was bitter. But he accepted it. Which I respect because most people can’t be bothered to understand themselves and just throw themselves in denial, and point fingers for their flaws. Prowl sucks up and understands who he is, and he makes the best of it to achieve his goal.  I mean, honestly? Prowl is probably a miracle worker. Not in a Ratchet sense. But look at the way modern governments run, nothing gets done, everything is stalled because no one has the guts to make sacrifices. Prowl would have gotten a shit ton of things done, man, and take quick efficient action. Even if he sacrifices many things for it.  (Warning. I do not condone any taking of lives, NO ONE has the right to judge whenever a person should live or die.)  Prowl reminds me of 秦始皇 (Qin Shi Huang), the king who unified China and sacrificed millions to make the Great Wall, canals, and road systems that last to this day. If it wasn’t for these accomplishments, China wouldn’t have been what it is today. Was it a good thing? For the future residents of China? Hell yeah. But the costs? Those are sins that can never be erased, and they are horrible and shouldn't be done ever again. Was it necessary? Perhaps. But that’s another discussion. Is Prowl evil? Depends on your definition of evil. Perhaps he’s justified, perhaps in his world, he’ll go down as the Qin Shi Huang of the Cybertronians. Regardless, Prowl like Pharma, is an EXCELLENT example to study on public ethics, and administrative officials should analyze him and learn from his mistakes and sins.  I think Prowl is not evil in a sense that he wishes to harm others, but evil in a sense of his apathy. Prowl is a necessary component to a functional society (someone to plot, to use people, to enforce rules even if some are sacrificed, someone who can get their hands dirty). He lives a terrible and sad fate, and I do not wish ANYONE to live a life like Prowl’s or look up to Prowl. Yes, he’s so clever and brilliant, but that kind of power will make you the loneliest person on Earth.

Thanks Prowl for taking the entire load of sin on your shoulders! Big MVP! You get nothing from the world except hate and contempt.  I would go on about him more but I have IRL stuff to do. I love Prowl as an example to tell people that MODERATION. COMMUNICATION. AND COMPASSION are important factors to have a healthy and good mental state. Prowl is the perfect example of someone who doesn’t want to empathize (haha so many people are like this today), who doesn’t want to try to use more braincells and friends help to make better plans that are more moderate and not extreme, and who doesn’t want to talk to anyone thinking its a waste of time or have difficulty explaining things.  BUT I LOVE G1 PROWL because he has far more patience and manners, and doesn’t take a darker, route for his goals. awhohdohd he’s baby,,, i wish all cops had patience and manners and in general open-minded yet cautious enough not to be taken advantage of,,,, perhaps then we wouldn’t have so much polarization and fighting with authority in this world.... 

uwuwwuwuwuw they did prowl so dirty in idw WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH ;____;   Again, you are welcome to disagree or agree! I wrote this really quickly so I’m sure there will be points that could be clarified or edited. Prowl’s really complicated and I do not like to talk about current IRL problems, but Prowl represents a lot of problems in society. And I think it’s critical if we try to look at both perspectives to get an understanding on WHY people do these things, and is there a solution to AVOID making those same mistakes? There’s a couple of controversial things in this short essay I wrote, esp. about cops IRL. So feel free to have at it! Or ignore it! Whichever is more comfortable for you! Thanks for coming to my ted talk! Again, Prowl is a bad influence and a sorrowful life to live. please do not try to be like prowl. xD I won’t intrude on you if you do, because you have a right to live the life you want as long as you’re not hurting other people’s interests and wellbeing! 

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #8- I’m Sorry, the Domain Name thebomb.com is Already in Use

It’s been a hot minute since we last got to focus on the Scavengers- ah, the chaotic nature of comic print schedules! Luckily, we’ve got a Story So Far to remind us where we left off.

Our issue starts 10,000 years in the past, where Fulcrum is riding in a plane and preparing to drop with his fellow K-Cons. It’s crowded, there’s a guy crying in the corner, everyone’s wearing the same outfit, and no one’s got time to go home and change. How embarrassing!

Torque’s never heard of personal space, as is made apparent by his power-stance pelvic thrusting here. Fulcrum is less than impressed by this show of bravado, but there’s no time to dwell on it because it’s time to jump the glory of Megatron.

At least one of them is having a good time.

In the present day, the Scavengers are freaking the hell out, because as it turns out, it’s THEM who’re afraid of the DJD.

Krok keeps trying to reach his old squad, as if anything short of Megatron himself would be able to save them from the horrible death coming their way, while Flywheels grapples with his faith and inferiority complex at the same time.

Spinister brings up a decent point, despite Misfire’s earlier claim that he’s the stupidest creature in the universe- Misfire is kind of an asshole, so anything he says involving just about anything should be taken with a grain of salt- but the problem is, nobody in their right mind would incriminate themselves to the DJD if they could help it. Also, everyone knows that Tarn’s got his head way too far up his own ass to have any sort of rhyme or reason for anything he does beyond the 𝕒𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕥𝕚𝕔.

Krok leans on his career as a military strategist to come up with a few ideas, and the boys decide to fight the DJD, after so much bitching and moaning.

But the DJD… the Decepticon Justice Division… are also Decepticons. Crankcase, are you gatekeeping here, my dude? Because I don’t think this is an internet debate you’re going to win.

The fellas decide that they’ll do what they do best, and use what’s been laying around in the dust and blood for thousands of years to fight off some of the scariest folks in the galaxy. What could possibly go wrong?

Over on the Lost Light, Chromedome and Skids are having a secret rendezvous at the oil reservoir, in secret and behind Rewind’s back, as Chromedome proceeds to call Skids handsome. No, they aren’t having a secret love affair, but are instead going to mnemosurgery the shit out of Skids. Rewind doesn’t like that Chromedome is still doing this, but what Rewind doesn’t know won’t hurt him, surely. We’ll find out just why exactly Rewind isn’t a fan of Chromedome’s line of work later on, but for now it’s time to dig around in a hot guy’s brain.

Just kidding, it’s Scavenger time.

The Scavengers have set up a trap for the DJD, and that trap is Grimlock; still locked in his stasis pod, they’re pulling a “rigged box and stick with a piece of cheese inside” maneuver. Let’s see how this plays out.

Hmm. That’s not a great start.

The Peaceful Tyranny lands, Tarn transforms, comes down the gangplank, transforms, waxes poetic about the brilliance of the Decepticon copy writers, transforms, drives 15 feet, transforms, then, after clearly stating that the big stasis pod in the middle of nowhere is a trap, opens it anyway.

Never has a nut-punch been more deserved than in this exact moment.

Grimlock has a strong start, but almost immediately begins to flag, as he’s put down by Tesaurus. This is why we do warmups prior to rigorous exercise, people!

Misfire tries to sneak off while Tarn’s distracted whispering into Grimlock’s ear like one would a lover, but that doesn’t really work out.

Back over on the Lost Light, Chromedome’s having a time and a half trying to parse just what the hell’s going on with Skid’s head. All his memories from the last year aren’t lost, but rather destroyed, which is concerning to say the least, only leaving a need to escape. There’s also some nasty beast in Skid’s more distant past that Chromedome can see. However, it would seem that Skid’s brain took the out when it saw one and buried that nightmare so deep it’ll take multiple sticks of dynamite to wiggle it loose, so Chromedome’s leaving it where it is.

What this tells me is that Rung has no business referring patients to Chromedome for treatment, if this is how we’re meant to handle repressed memories. Remember back in issue #6, when Fort Max claimed he didn’t remember what happened in Garrus 9, and Rung was all “oh let me just call my guy Chromedome and have him stir your brain around like a martini”? Turns out, either that’s a terrible idea and Rung hasn’t paid attention to the work that half his coworkers on Kimia were involved with, or he was making an empty threat, which doesn’t seem like great practice for a therapist.

Pretty fucked up of you, Rung.

Anyways, Skids is less than thrilled by this, and demands Chromedome do it anyway, which Chromedome promptly refuses. He’ll play around with his own life, but not his friends’. Skids walks off in a huff, because I guess no one’s ever refused his pretty ass anything before, but asks a question before he leaves.

Well, I’m sure that won’t be a major plot point later on.

Let’s check back in with the Scavengers.

Between Tesaurus’ line here, Tarn harassing Grimlock, and Skids’ asking Chromedome why he pulled out during their secret meeting, this is probably the most sexually-charged issue of MTMTE so far.

Flywheels’ only purpose as a character was so that Roberts had a stand-in for the word “fuck” last issue. Sorry, dude, you’ve done your job. Off to the shredder with you!

No time to worry about him, Krok, because it’s time for your face mask treatment at the universe’s shittiest spa.

The worst part about this is the fact that he’s being held a full nelson by the DJD’s record-keeper, who turns into a fucking chair and doesn’t even have eyes. Oh, the indignity of it all.

Misfire tries to save Krok, but all he manages to do is prove that his nickname isn’t ironic in the slightest. Then he’s attacked by a dog.

That shadow being tossed towards the horizon in the background is Crankcase, who lands right about where Fulcrum’s been hiding this entire time, like the giant coward he is, as he watches these guys who tried to steal his organs get murdered to death. He runs off, and Crankcase plays to stereotype and gripes about the whole situation, until he notices something above him.

Then he immediately drops dead, because as it turns out Misfire wasn’t exaggerating when he said Crankcase would die if he ever even thought about smiling.

Over in Tarn’s soliloquy corner, he’s managed to stab his thumb so hard into Grimlock’s throat it’s literally bleeding, as he trash talks the Scavengers, calling them the “six biggest failures of all”. Harsh. Grimlock’s not contributing to the diatribe, probably because there’s a hole in his throat that’s about where a trach would go.

Then Tarn has a bit of a problem, as he’s stepped on by a robot that’s roughly twenty times bigger than him.

I guess Crankcase must be the sixth worst Decepticon, because he’s gotten himself hooked up with this massive Jaeger Cybernought, one of the many that are strapped to the back of the Worldsweeper they found last issue. It’s a big friggin’ ship, we can forgive the oversight.

The DJD aren’t impressed by this new toy, and almost immediately take it down. Tarn, really starting to get peeved off about not getting to what they actually came here to do, yells for Fulcrum to show himself. Fulcrum, as it turns out, has managed to climb on top of the Worldsweeper, and is at least a few hundred feet above them. Because none of the DJD can fly, they have no choice but to listen to Fulcrum’s little speech.

Fulcrum was forged at the height of the Decepticon Empire, when the rhetoric was more “space eugenics sucks” and less “murder everything while Megatron has weird sexual tension with Optimus in the background”. Of course, they were still hunting organic species to flex, so maybe things weren’t perfect… though it isn’t like Fulcrum minded that aspect. Dude’s a little space racist.

Spacist.

The way Fulcrum sees it, folks like Tarn went and fucked up a good thing by being all murderous and violent just because they could, unlike his good pals the Scavengers, who are only murderous and violent when it’s necessary. “Necessary” is a word that’s played with kind of fast and loose with them, mind you, but they seem like pretty swell guys to Fulcrum. They’re definitely better than the DJD.

With one last “fuck you” to Tarn, Fulcrum takes a running leap off the top of this astonishingly huge ship and finally reveals just why exactly K-Cons aren’t known for doing fear.

Because who the fuck has ever asked a bomb how it’s feeling?

Everyone clears the area, as he hits the ground… and nothing happens. Fulcrum is marked off the List, the Scavengers are added, and the DJD fuck off without checking that their target is actually dead so they can go find Overlord and kick his ass.

Fulcrum’s fine, by the way.

This is why we check our work, Tarn.

Fulcrum, who is, again, a bomb, is a bit curious as to what’s happened here. Turns out, prior to the boys riffling through his torso for spare parts, Spinister- master surgeon Spinister- removed the explosive charge tucked up against his robot liver. Fulcrum is amazed by this news, because it’s apparently a super hard thing to do.

Are we sure that Spinister isn’t just super nearsighted? The world’s been described as a series of vaguely hostile shapes, is he playing it safe and attacking the things he can’t figure out within a few seconds? Maybe all that hand-staring he does is to gauge how shitty his vision is on a day to day basis, and everyone just assigned him Stupid At Birth because trying to understand our friends is for losers.

Then again, we should also remember that everyone in the Scavengers is so incredibly stupid, they couldn’t figure out between the five of them that Fulcrum had been alive while it was happening. Spinister probably wasn’t gentle with that procedure since he thought he was working with a corpse; for all we know, Fulcrum’s got his sparkcase inside-out now.

Crankcase carries poor, faceless Krok over, and Fulcrum laments on the fact that Krok’s squad never turned up. Crankcase implies something ominous about Krok’s method of communication with his old squadron, then we get the skinny on Fulcrum’s whole deal.

Yes, yes, I know B’lahr 39 is a reference to Wizard of Oz actor Bert Lahr, who played the Cowardly Lion. I caught that one before I’d even checked TFWiki for interesting notes on this issue. I was a film major in college, I’m legally required to know every single bit of trivia about the Wizard of Oz. It’s the second thing they beat into you, right after watching Citizen Kane for the 87th time.

Also, how many nerds are going to be in this series? Fulcrum’s a technician, Krok’s a strategist, Spinister and 3/4 of the Lost Light are doctors in some form or fashion, Tarn’s a friggin drama kid, the list goes on.

When Fulcrum was caught, the original plan was to have him tortured and killed at Styx, a  Decepticon penal colony, when plans changed and he got reformatted along with everyone else in the joint to be a suicide bomber.

If Fulcrum seems like a bit of a generic name for a giant space robot, it’s probably because it is. Fulcrum’s original alt-mode wasn’t a bomb- in fact, I have no idea what it’s meant to be. Word of God makes the claim that he turned into a leg prior to getting K-classed, but since Combiner teams have to be made in this continuity, that’s not what he came into being as. He’s got a tiddy window like Rung- something that will be more apparent when Josh Burcham is replaced by Joana Lafluente as the primary colorist for the comic run- but that seems more indicative of having minimal armor than any sort of alt.

Anyway, there’s something in the reformat to K-Con that compels one to switch to bomb mode when you jump ship- but it didn’t happen for Fulcrum, because he was so unbelievably terrified that he might have actually defied biology.

The others have stopped listening by this point, and have joined Spinister in poking the still-prone Grimlock with a stick. Misfire, in the first show of something like empathy we’ve really gotten from him, asks the fellas to help the poor guy up.

Sure, make the guy who’s a stiff breeze away from cracking in half lift the biggest motherfucker on this planet. Sounds like a plan.

Misfire does his damnedest to communicate to Grimlock that they come in peace.

Behold, the price of nostalgia!

This isn’t exactly where we left Grimlock last time he was in an IDW publishing. The last guy to have his hands on everyone’s favorite dinobot was Simon Furman, and he was a lot more well-spoken there. It would seem that no one got out of Garrus 9 unscathed.

This development is a bit of a problem for the Scavengers, who now aren’t quite sure what to do with a infamous warrior-bastard who’s mentally regressed to the point that he’s got to think about what his own name is. To be fair, most people wouldn’t know what to do in that sort of situation. Doesn’t help that the guy who usually has the braincell is currently passed out from face-based puncture trauma.

Misfire decides that they’ll take Grimlock along with them for collateral, and everyone is so impressed by him actually planning something out, they forget to think about the logistics of housing a whole entire T-Rex.

The guys, I guess just leaving Grimlock and the unconscious Krok in the dirt, go to find what’s left of Flywheels- basically the hips down is still intact. After a few kind words, the final rites are performed.

You will be missed, Flywheels, clearly.

You never see the Autobots resorting to cannibalism like this. Maybe they’re just better at making it not look like a vulture swarm.

Many, many months later, long after the Scavengers have left the planet of Clemency, a lone figure visits what’s left of dear Flywheels- it’s the Necrobot. That’s right, the Robo-Reaper is real, and it looks like he’s been busy.

…Spoilers, Necrobot! Come on!

After the story proper, we get a Meet the ‘Cons page. Let’s take a gander, shall we?

No.

NO.

NO!

I draw the line at this motherfucking sniper rifle having a college degree. What possible scientific field of study could he possibly-

It’s ballistics. He studied ballistics, didn’t he?

You know what? Fuck this, actually. See y’all later.

…Fuck you, Vos.

[antibioware]

ME fic recs 👀 ?

Oh I haven't done one of these in a while! I apologize beforehand if the format is fucked up, I'm doing this from the phone

dust to dust (post-Control ending Tali/Garrus, past maleShep/Kaidan): THIS IS LITERALLY MY FAVOURITE MASS EFFECT FIC. It deals with Garrus and Tali handling their relationship while the universe, anf especially their own homes, gets slowly rebuilt, while also dealing with their mourning of Shepard. It's very good, the characterization is 👌, the only thing I hate about it is that it's very het. Aside from mshenko, all the side pairings in the fic are m/f ones. If you can overlook that, this fic is an amazing experience.

No Bed of Roses (Jack/Miranda, E rated): this one I haven't read in a while, but I remember liking it a lot. It's set during all of ME2 and it deals with Jack and Miranda's relationship changing during that time.

Priority (Jack/Miranda, background femShep/Liara): longfic in which Miranda gets kidnapped by ex-Cerberus operatives and Jack does everything she can to find her. It's good.

after the flood, all the colors came out (post-game femShep/Tali): getting together fic. It's VERY good. I wish Tali/femShep was more popular because it's my favourite canon-yet-not-canon romance.

something more comfortable (femShep/Tali): all I can say about this is 🥺🥺🥺🥺

nights, by the light of whatever would burn (femShep/Tali/Garrus, E rated): this is probably one of the only good fics I found for this trio, and I reread it every now and then because it's so very good. I love how Shepard's character was handled, and also the good build up there is to the characters getting together.

Wreckage and Recovery (femShep/Garrus): this one is Long with the capital L for a single chapter fic, but very much worth the time invested to read it. Just some good, lovely post-Game shakarian. It doesn't follow the canonical endings of the game.

Hamster Dance (gen): Tali and Garrus babysitting Shepard's hamster and fucking it up somehow. It's hysterical.

Crazy Headbutting Uncle (gen): Tali and Wrex's relationship through the years

[rubyredsundae]

Mass Effect Trilogy Tag!

I was not tagged by anyone, I just really wanted to join in. If you see this and want to as well, please do! I've been loving reading through everyone's :)

I am a fan since… 2011ish? Definitely at least a year before ME3 came out. I remember watching my brother play ME2 and thinking it was so cool. While he was away it was a huge comfort for me to play it in his room, kind of like a bonding or cathartic experience for someone who wasn't there at the time.

When ME3 came out, me and him went to the midnight release at a gamestop like 40 minutes away or something, wearing clothes we threw together to kind of fit the N7 color scheme. Even though we don't talk anymore, those memories are still really precious to me. Also, the nostalgia of playing ME1 after-school or on the weekend, running to get my easy mac from the microwave during a cutscene, stuffing too hot mouthfuls while speeding the Mako towards the conduit on Ilos.

Favorite game of the series: It's a tough call between ME1 and ME2, but I'd say ME2. It's the game I get the urge to replay the most.

MaleShep or FemShep? Femshep all the way. I only play MShep when I want to do his exclusive romances. No offense to BroShep, but ME was the first game I ever played that let me not just be a girl, but customizable. Not just to be the already generated token girl character in a pack of boys. And not only can you play Femshep, but every game you are surrounded by smart, funny, tough women as squadmates. It was such a huge deal to me, and still is. Femshep represents so much. As Jennifer Hale put it, FemShep was a military grade boot to the video game industry glass ceiling.

Earthborn, Colonist or Spacer? I personally tend to lean spacer in-game, but I tend to use Earthborn when I'm writing fics.

Paragon or Renegade? Usually Paragon, but Renegade playthroughs can be really interesting, especially if I have a detailed background about why Shep is the way they are. My first Renegade, Krystle, is pretty bigoted and anti-alien until she meets Liara. Krystle is naturally guarded and quick to anger, so meeting someone who seemed to accept her and listen to her without judgment really opens her mind.

By the 2nd game, she wakes up in the cerberus lab with new biotic powers, having previously been a regular foot soldier. This makes her seeth, having someone completely take her agency, agreeing with the illusive man on the surface but plotting against him the entire time. She starts to lean more Paragon, if only to piss him off. She has the biggest smirk on her face when she blows up the collector base.

Biotics or Tech? Oooh, this is hard. Maybe biotics just the tiniest smidge because of Jack/Samara biotic bubble throw during the suicide mission. I don't know if we'll ever get a screen adaptation but THAT is a moment I would pay to see done with a big SFX budget behind it.

Favorite class: Sentinel! I don't know how much this reflects on my class preference in gaming in general, but I love the 'jack of all trades'ness of it. By the time I get an assault rifle, I don't really feel the need for anyone else to make up for something I lack. Also, tech armor in ME2? Where your shields regenerate automatically when it breaks, and the cool down is when you initially active it, instead of when you detonate it? Chef's kiss. I understand why it was nerfed in 3 but I'm still mad.

Favorite companion: Ho boy. This is obviously very difficult to choose but I'm gonna say Miranda. I've always loved and identified with her character, I love the accent, and she's always useful on missions. I was so happy when I learned she could be a squadmate in the armax arena.

Honorable mention to Ashley in ME1. Her character is rarely used to exposition lore, so she just gets to have her personality fleshed out. I don't always agree with her but she does seem genuinely willing to listen. ME3 tosses her out the airlock though; partially because her content was bugged and never restored, leaving her inclusion feel half-baked, and partly because Ash and Kaidan have to be able to serve the same plot function as each other and it negatively affects her character more than his. This could also be intentional on bioware's part, to try to flesh out kaidan's personality and tone down Ashley's as a response to criticisms of them from ME1.

Least favorite companion: Also difficult, because I don't really hate anyone as much as I am just less interested in some. I didn't like Zaeed for a long time, but I think he's much better and really funny in ME3. James was pushed on me too much at the beginning and it made me really dislike him, but I think he's greatly improved and also pretty funny in Citadel DLC. I'm also pretty indifferent to Jacob; I don't think he's a bad character, just disappointing because there was a lot of potential.

Not that every character has to go on and do some grand quest to be interesting, but I don't feel like Jacob every really got a big hero moment like everyone else. He is a very calm and introverted person (imo) who doesn't really share his feelings, so it's always been hard for to to connect with him on anything.

My squad selection: Depends on the game, but it usually involves Garrus lol. Typically it's Liara/Garrus in ME1, Miranda/Garrus for ME2, and Liara/Garrus again in ME3. I am very boring and predictable! If you have any suggestions for me to try out and mix things up, let me know!

Favorite in-game romance: Also depends on the game. ME1 it's Liara, hands down. It was the first game, really the first piece of media, where I was told two women could fall in love and be happy and that was okay. The amount of enlightenment and comfort in figuring out that I was bi these games brought me is kind of wild to look back on.

ME2 is a toss-up between Garrus and Thane. They are both wonderful but in completely different ways. I tend to now romance Thane on characters I don't plan on importing to ME3, or if I do, to just have a really depressed fucking Shepard lol. I hate how much Thane was brushed off, especially if you romanced him.

Other pairings I like: l love Miranda so much, but I'm a gay girl so I ship her and Femshep. Same goes for Tali, Jack, Ashley... damn I'm just really gay for straight girls huh :/

I don't really have any other ships for non-Shep related pairings.

Favorite NPC: Shiala is really cool to me, I wish we got to see her in 3. Emily Wong is also cool, also wish we saw her in 3. There's probably a lot more that when I come across them next I'll be like, "you! I love you! You're my favorite."

Oh also Joker! And EDI! But not together. Idk I feel like ME3 threw a curveball at me with "do you support organic/non-organic relationships?" Like m'am please don't ask me, I accidentally drank turian liquor last year, I'm not qualified to be an expert on this.

Favorite antagonist: Tbh I really dig Saren. I think his reasoning is super fascinating, both to set up how someone who's indoctrinated can rationalize to themselves that they are still in control; and as a foil to Shepard, to show what can happen when you become too isolated and the ends justify the means. I think his VA does a great job of walking the line between desperate survivor and madman. He's also the only antagonist in the trilogy that we ever fight 1 on 1 (ignoring squadmates) and it feels more personal. I think he's such a fantastic foe for the first entry in a trilogy and I don't think he gets enough credit.

Favorite mission: Is it cliche to say the suicide mission? It's honestly close to perfect. The stakes, the sequencing, the cinematics, the score. Everything works so well.

Favorite loyalty mission: Kasumi's and Tali's are really cool, as we all know. Samara's is also cool because it is entirely non-combat based. Shepard has to prove they can accomplish what seems impossible without a gun or biotics.

The confrontation at the end with Morinth always haunts me a little, because they are both right in their own way. Morinth's final line, "and they say I'm the monster", as you let Samara kill her, watch her scrambling backwards in fear... I know that she's a remorseless killer, but it gets me every time.

Favorite DLC: It's Citadel, obviously. Turns out what I really wanted was quality time and a party with all my friends. I love mass effect for many reasons, but simulating friends and affection when I had none has always made me bond to this series like other games don't. Is it sad? Sure! But I don't think love and affection for fictional characters should ever be shameful until it makes you hurt other people.

Control, Synthesis or Destroy? I'd say destroy. If the other options were presented earlier and we had time to stew with it, maybe I'd be more split. But all of this in 5 minutes? It's not like the collector base where the implications are obvious and the choice is just down to what Shepard believes. The 3 choices all seem like space magic out of nowhere, and none of them seem to really offer any insight on what Shepard should believe. So I say destroy, just because it's what Shep has intended and is most consistent with their character and their admiration of Anderson.

Favorite weapon: The spectre level assault rifle in ME1. Never have I felt more powerful.

Favorite place: Idk why but I just thought of the creepy lab with all the scientists during the leviathan DLC. I really love when Mass Effect leans into the Lovecraftian horror aspect of things. Talking to Sovereign and Vigil in ME1 gave me goosebumps my first few playthroughs.

A quote I like: I have hundreds, but the one off the top of my head is, "After time adrift among open stars, along tides of light and through shoals of dust, I will return to where I began." I have a poster of it up on my wall right now!

[clansayeed]

Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 17: The Show Must Go On

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Because tomorrow is no longer guaranteed the gang decides to spend a night at the theatre. In which Cal despises Shakespeare, Garrus and Krom go on an unofficial first date, and Taylor confronts his father.

[READ IT ON AO3]

He’s honestly surprised the director even bothers reaching out to him.

“Given everything your cousin has told me about the problems you have going on right now, I’m sure this isn’t really a surprise. I’ve taken the liberty of filing a personal leave of absence for you.” And Taylor just knows that was the happiest day of Antoni’s life…

“Even though you can’t be in the show, though, you’re still welcome to come Sunday. Hoping that, obviously, things have cleared up on your end by then. Just text me your head count before noon day-of, okay?”

It’s the first real and true good thing to happen without immediate consequence so far. And of course he tries to blow it off, tries to tell everyone he has absolutely no plans to put anyone else at risk just for the selfish sake of seeing a play he’s worked on for months and doesn’t even get to be in.

Not that anyone lets him finish before they straight-up tell him he’s wrong, he’s going, and if all hell breaks loose then they’ll deal with it when it happens.

“But the wards —”

“The wards have proven themselves useless,” Garrus interrupts with no small level of frustration; accepting the vulnerability of his sanctuary hasn’t been easy on the man, “we’re just as exposed here as you would be there. And I refuse to cower in fear. If they were going to attack they would have by now — don’t stop living your life because of what might happen.”

Surprisingly, too, Katherine makes a good point; “We might actually be safer surrounded by all those mundanes. A high fatality rate isn’t what the Elders are after, that much is certain.”

It’s about the only thing any of them are certain of.

So there’s really no way around it.

Sunday morning he tries to take a head count. Doesn’t argue when Vera, despite the dark circles of exhaustion under her eyes, insists that of course she wants to come. She doesn’t say it but its obvious she could use time away from the hospital and her mother’s bedside.

Nik’s phone vibrates on the table and Taylor glances just because he’s nearby. On really good timing the man chooses then to wander out from the bedroom — rubbing his hair vigorously with his towel.

“Kathy said she and Cade are down if we don’t mind.” One look and Taylor regrets it so bad. He’s not certain, but there’s absolutely no way all of his shirts have miraculously shrunk, right?

He totally has to buy them just shy of too tight.

Not that Taylor’s complaining. Nope. No complaining here.

Ryder gives a noncommittal grunt and shrug as he passes. “Your shindig, your choice.”

“I mean they’re our friends, so…”

There’s a pause; a lag in the matrix if you will, between when Nik stops in front of the fridge and actually opens it. Keeps his back turned as he replies, “Then the more the merrier.”

He doesn’t need to be part fae to know what that’s about — but it doesn’t hurt.

The concept of friends is plural and consistent. And just as weird for him as it is for the loner Nik is accustomed to being.

Yesterday was hard and heavy.

Today is no better from a cosmic point of view.

But its softer around the edges; the difference between being stabbed with a wicked sharp dagger and being punched in the face.

Nik all but flops down on the couch beside him; pushes the open guide on reading and interpreting tarot that Taylor’s been pouring over away with a socked foot.

“I was reading that.”

“Oops.” The only unapologetic apology he’s getting, too, so he takes it.

Its been nearly twenty-four hours since his emotional breakdown and in that time he’s learned more about Ryder — and vice versa — than would have been shared on five, six dates tops. Things that wouldn’t come up without specific and out-of-left-field context, too.

Like the fact that Nik is a cheap-ass (this he knew) who has a serious case of the moonlight munchies — two things that mix about as well as oil and water. So it makes sense now why half of the fridge’s sparse contents are signature drink and cocktail add-ons.

Does it justify the fact that a fully grown man is sitting very close to him popping green olives like pieces of candy? Not in the fucking slightest.

But he knows what’s going to happen the second Nik sees his disgust — tries his best to turn away before he’s caught. Only he’s not quick enough and its too late.

“Want one?” Nik asks even though he knows the answer.

He doesn’t have time to deflect because the man picks one up and tosses it — doubles over in laughter when it bounces off Taylor’s cheek, falls to the floor, and rolls under the nearest chair to die alone.

“What are you,” he fake-gags and wipes his cheek angrily, “twelve years old?”

His glare very nearly breaks under the sheer audacity of Ryder’s pouting face. Only nearly because there’s no fucking way he’s kissing that offensive mouth no matter how closely the man leans in. “Aw c’mon Rook — jus’ one kiss!”

“Get away from me! Ew!”

“You know you like me~”

“Wrong! Incorrect! You disgust me!”

And of course they’re joking but he’s maybe a little too loud in his protests. Earns himself a haughty snort and a glare directed at his feet of all things.

“You walk around barefoot and I’m the disgusting one.”

“That’s what I said.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Uh, I do — so I win.”

Despite the fact that they had spent the previous hours getting to know not only (truly repulsive) snacking habits but also (much less repulsive, like the opposite of repulsive actually) one another’s mouths, Nik follows the same pattern each time. Roams his eyes over every inch of Taylor’s face like he’s gung-ho on taking the test in his sleep — drags a fingernail feather-light over the scruff on his jawline.

Their first time hadn’t been enough to ward him away and for that Taylor’s pretty fucking grateful. But it left a mark on him. No doubt its the reason why he always takes five whole agonizing seconds between the start and the follow-through.

Like he’s giving Taylor time to pull back; to reject him without consequence.

Maybe one day they’ll laugh about it. A silly habit no longer necessary. Because there’s always a breath hidden in the meeting of mouths that tastes of bitter relief.

Nik is relieved — not once, or twice, but every single time.

Which is more than a little tragic when he gives it a deep thought. He tries not to — really, he does.

Its easy not to think about anything at all when they’re kissing.

So that’s something.

Taylor knows that glamours serve a specific purpose; to disguise the average not-human supernatural person among the average yes-human person.

He’s even come to terms with how easily they fade into the background now. How he can scan a crowd and catch a glimpse of hooves in place of boots or a tail whipping its way behind someone trying to pass by. He considers his largest achievement to be not jumping ten feet in the air at the difficult-to-describe sight of ghosts possessing glamoured bodies.

But he can know and process all of these things and still be almost alarmingly paranoid about the trio of Krom, Garrus, and Ivy waiting in line behind them, right?

Nik grabs his head before he can look back for the umpteenth time; turns it back forward with a grunt. “The only one looking weird here is you, Rook. Everyone else sees regular folk.”

And he knows that, he does. But… “Do you ever stop worrying about it, like, slipping or something?”

“Not my problem if it does.”

“Well yeah, but…” The line shuffles forward and he trails off. Probably better not to give those particular anxieties a life of their own by voicing them aloud.

He doesn’t have to anyway, apparently. Since Taylor finds himself pulled against Nik’s side, feels warm breath tickle in his ear.

“Don’t worry. You still look completely human.”

“For now.”

The performer playing Puck stands in half-costume at the front of the line with a clipboard in hand. He has a whole two-point-five seconds to remember her name — Dana? Debbie? D-something. D-something… fuck  there are too many D-something names! — before its their turn to enter the theatre.

Daphne! It comes to him like a holy revelation as she starts to go through the motions — only to notice the name and double-take in surprise.

“Hey Hunter, how’s it going?” Her small-talk is strained but polite. They’ve run lines together and he can vaguely recall being educated on her literal herd of mini dachshunds once, but whatever his ‘cousins’ gave by way of excuse for him pulling out of the show is enough to make her sheepish.

He makes a mental note to corner Garrus for the full story after the show. Especially since ‘cousin’ is a more-or-less accurate term these days.

“Uh, you know,” a one-shouldered shrug, “hanging in there. You excited?”

To her credit as an actress she checks off each body accompanying him, all eight of them, without batting an eye.

“Totally. I’m just glad the actual opening night ain’t until Mardi Gras is over, you know?”

“Director didn’t let you work the beads into your improv then I take it?”

They share a laugh. She waves them inside.

Only when they’re around a corner does Taylor let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Vera gives him a nudge. “You okay?”

“Yeah — was it just me or was that…”

Cal pokes his head in between them. “Awkward as hell? No—it wasn’t just you.”

“Cool. Thanks.”

In less than a week he’s forgotten how to, well, be human. Socialize with humans, talk casually with humans. Its unnerving — not only that but it serves to remind him by the way the Coven and their pet skeleton assassin are still out there.

None of this is even close to being over and he’s already forgotten small talk?

What else might be lost along the way?

“You look like you’re thinkin’ too much about something.”

Taylor’s smile is strained and not enough to ease Nik’s doubts. What did he expect though; that one soulful look from those fathomless eyes, or a touch that sends shivers down his spine, or one of those disarmingly sincere smiles is all it would take to make him forget his worries completely?

If only it were that simple. Not that he’s turning any of those things down — no no, he’s free to keep trying as many times as he’d like.

Its a half-full house on purpose; one full run in front of a crowd before a week of changes to make the final thing as smooth as possible.

And it was supposed to be Taylor’s time to shine; a performance of understudies. He’s told himself there will be other opportunities, that this is for the best given what’s going on. He wanted to come to support his fellow actors — to celebrate in all the work they’ve done over the last few months.

He didn’t think it would be that hard to watch. Then the space goes dark and silence falls in a warm velveteen hush.

The trio of Theseus, Hippolyta, and Philostrate take the stage — a different blocking than what they used at his last rehearsal.

The heels of his palms are pressed hard to stop his tears before Theseus even opens his mouth.

To his left Vera lets out a soft noise; both sad and comforting as her tentative hand on his shoulder turns into slow circular motions on his back. And he knows the heat-leeching palm behind him is Cal. Cal didn’t even want to come — had made it very clear there was once a school play, a bad batch of cafeteria vegetables, and a lifelong aversion to Shakespeare whose details would never again see the light of day. But there he is giving comfort where he can. He’s probably glad for something else to focus on than the stage but he knows Cal by now — knows he does nothing without meaning to do it.

Just when Taylor’s sure he’s going to have to make a mad dash for the doors, however, a familiar hand slides into his. Nik’s focus is still intent on the scene unfolding but he squeezes his fingers and doesn’t seem to care about the tears between their palms.

He’s supposed to be up on that stage. He’s supposed to be sweating under the heat of the lights and praying to the thespian gods that the tape on his mic holds fast. He’s supposed to be giving the performance of his life to an audience of friends and loved ones knowing Kristin was back in New York, that his mother couldn’t make it, and that there was no one watching that was there just for him.

Instead he’s here in the crowd. Instead he’s surrounded by friendship’s concern and holding the hand of the guy who seems to be making it a habit of standing in between him and certain death.

Instead he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.

When the lights slide back on for intermission Cadence whirls around in his seat, arm thrown over the back, to practically barrage Krom with questions about artistic representation, choices made and things changed.

It feels a little bit like being back in a college classroom. Not the first time Cade has that effect on people.

“I — I really only helped with small stuff,” the stone troll stammers his protests, “heavy lifting or working on things normal people couldn’t reach.”

“But you’re a writer are you not?”

“An amateur at best…”

But the vampire isn’t having it. “Nonsense, I’ve caught snippets of your work. I only mean —”

“Ugh, just humor the man will you?” Katherine groans, rolls her head back on her own seat with a lighthearted glare between the two.

Nik pulls Taylor’s attention away from their talk with an arm around his shoulder. “How’s it so far? On the other side of the stage.”

“They changed a few things —” — more than a few, and more to do with Oberon than any other character so three guesses who made that call — “— but I honestly just keep counting their steps for the blocking.”

“Nerd,” scoffs the man, and Taylor isn’t exactly going to deny it.

Actually, since they have a second…

Last he knew, being borderline psychic was his thing, not Ryder’s. But Nik’s moved his legs before Taylor even stands and makes him backtrack real quick on that.

“I figured you’d wanna go say hey to them, or whatever,” and though that’s the spoken explanation Taylor can’t stop himself from feeling the real intention behind it.

He just cares.

He ducks his head to hide a flushed smile; murmurs “thanks” and lets his lips linger at the corner of Nik’s mouth as he shimmies into the aisle.

Only when he’s at the door does it occur to him that this thing between them is a recent one, and they’ve not mentioned things like public affection. But judging by the look he throws over his shoulder — catches Ivy hitting the man on the arm repeatedly and the bewildered grin on her undead face?

Its just another thing to tease him over.

Its standard stuff; the small lines by the bathrooms, crew members in their all-black ensembles bustling this and that around. All things he’s familiar with — that he doesn’t bat an eye at.

Then he spares a glance — less than that, actually, calling it a glance is somehow generous — down one of the hallways leading to further seating. The lights are off, the doors no doubt locked. Makes sense for an audience this size.

He doesn’t know why he does. Only knows both suddenly and all at once who he’ll see in the shadows beyond.

Taylor wants so badly to just ignore it. To reach out and knock on the doors to the maze of back rooms and do exactly what he planned on; congratulating his fellow performers.

But he doesn’t.

By now Taylor’s helped Garrus enough in the bottomless pit he calls a storage room to know that fae folk don’t ‘glow.’ They just always look like they do.

Elric, too, looks like he snatched a few moonbeams for himself on his way inside.

The shadows don’t retreat from him but they are withered by his presence; by the aura of him. Had he looked like that in Lamrian, as natural as light itself? Or was he witnessing yet another new facet to his senses brought on by interference of the man who really shouldn’t be here.

When Taylor opens his mouth to speak nothing comes out; a dozen questions all fighting to leap from the tip of his tongue and giving him pause.

Finally he settles on something more akin to an accusation.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

He doesn’t mean to wound the fae Lord — but also won’t deny that the recoil of remorse he gets in response isn’t a teeny bit satisfying.

“No, I should not.”

“Glad we agree.” Of course he wants to ask why are you here but he shouldn’t have to.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t. “I caught whispers of this event within your mind. Lines from a script, a dedication — a pride. I wished to see what it truly was. Living Memories are shaped by the person to whom the memories belong.”

And here he had thought he’d be spared of a headache tonight, of all nights.

“I — what I — there’s so much to unpack there,” and nothing amused in his dry laugh either, “so we’ll start with the fact that I didn’t do a—a Living Memory-thing. I don’t even know how.”

“To accept Memories is to offer up your own.”

“Gee, that would have been nice to know.”

“Do not blame yourself —”

“Oh, I’m not. No worries there.”

“I should have explained it to you. Not then; not in such dire times.”

“Then when?”

“Long before now.” Elric’s eyes are like diamonds; diamonds twisted into sharp, construction-grade drills trying to puncture holes straight through him. The intensity is unnerving if he’s being honest.

About as unnerving as getting what he’s pretty sure is a ‘More Proactive Parent’ apology from this guy he literally just met the other night. Not even a guy — a fae.

Elric reaches out as if to touch his hand. The movement is enough — breaks Taylor from his little trance  so he can pull back. Pale fingers instead close around air and grieve their mistake.

“I did not like the way things were left in Lamrian, Taylor.”

Taylor — like he has any right to say the name he chose all on his own.

“That’s your problem. But yeah, I can see how refusing to help your own son to save yourself might leave a bad taste in your mouth.”

It’s a very nice burn, high five kind of moment right up until the shadows creep up onto the fae’s expression. “I have the safety of an entire community to put first. Forgive me for prioritizing my life’s work and the many lives under my care over the child who only seems to acknowledge our connection when it suits his insults.”

Damn… nice burn… high five…

“Are you, Taylor?”

He swallows the lump in his throat. “Am I what?”

“Are you acknowledging me as your…?” He leaves it hanging there, juicy bait in murky waters. And Taylor isn’t starving — not quite yet — but he’s definitely not full either.

He glances back to the theatre atrium.

The background noise is quieter down here but soon enough everyone will be heading back to their seats. No doubt the curtain won’t even be fully opened before Nik is bounding out the doors to find him.

“Look, Lord Elric…”

Who acts like the title brings him pain; “Please, call me —”

“— I’m not calling you Dad; or Pop, Father, or any variation thereof —”

“If you would listen as often as you speak. I would ask you to call me Elric.”

Even that feels like a boundary they shouldn’t cross. What good is to come of being friendly, getting to know one another — especially when he’s facing the very likely chance of being dead by Tuesday?

On the other hand, whispers a voice in the back of his head, what’s the harm in getting to know your actual father — especially facing the very likely chance of being dead by Tuesday?

First, how rude can you be? Second, nobody asked you, rude little voice.

But after several dragging moments of internal arguing the voice ends up winning. Still rude though.

“What do you want out of this, Elric? What did you hope to gain from coming here?”

He looks almost affronted. “I wished to… connect with you. You are… my child. A miracle I had not even believed let alone known of.”

My child. Two simple words that ring in his ears unpleasantly.

“My plate’s full enough. I don’t know if I have room for ‘connecting.’”

“Would it not be worth trying?”

Taylor throws his hands up in exasperation. “Maybe! Fuck — maybe… maybe if I wasn’t so scared of dying. Or if I thought I had the time. But whatever the Coven Elders are planning it’s —”

Elric’s eyes widen, but that isn’t what cuts him off. Every hair on his body stands up at the same time. Without a chill, without a touch. It’s a feeling; powerful and consuming and coming from the fae Lord.

“Oh right,” because Elric refused to help and they’d gone to the Elders and that was that, “you don’t know. Yeah, the Coven’s the one who summoned the wraith. It’s a whole thing — I don’t have the time to go into it and I kinda don’t even want to because tonight was supposed to be one last attempt at normal but joke’s on me I guess.”

“You will make the time.”

He’d consider going at him for trying to use what he probably thinks is a tone of fatherly authority on Taylor — if it wasn’t so strikingly familiar. Commanding the wisdom and strength of his years both gone and yet to come. It demands respect, to be heard and the weight of every word understood.

Its the Elric he’d met for the first time in the Beau-Keyes Garden, and its kind of a relief.

Would have been useful yesterday, though.

He sums the encounter up as best he can; keeps throwing looks back over his shoulder as a sort of passive-aggressive-meets-non-confrontational way of saying he’s being held up.

And yes, logically he should be happy Elric is changing his tune no matter the reason. But he’s petty and spiteful and hey, nobody’s perfect.

By the time Taylor finishes Elric is already deep in thought — strings of thought becoming ropes, knots; an intricate web displayed across his entire person with just a look.

Another one of those looks he’s seen in the mirror, actually.

But they’re just thoughts. Not actions. He doesn’t need to be a little psychic to know that.

“No doubt my breath would be a wasted one were I to ask you to return to Lamrian with me.”

Elric means well — but that doesn’t make it any better.

“What, like — leave my friends behind to die and abandon the entire community that doesn’t even know what’s coming for it?”

He doesn’t say anything; doesn’t have to. “And—And what would I do,” continues Taylor, “just hang out with you and your wife, maybe do something productive like learn the pan flute or whatever?”

“This is not a matter to make light of.”

“You’re damn right it isn’t!” Fuck it, he’s shouting and doesn’t care who hears now. “I can’t believe you. Cowering in safety alone is one thing but to try and drag me down with you? That’s messed up; you’re messed up.”

“You do not know of what you speak — of the centuries our kind spend trying to conceive.”

“I’m not one of you.”

“You are, denying it hurts only yourself. By all accounts you are a miracle, Taylor. But children among the fair folk are few and far between. So for you to stand there — to twist my words as though they mean nothing…”

It’s a little hard to keep his composure when Elric’s voice cracks. It doesn’t make any of it okay — not by a long shot — but there’s a wrongness to that tone normally even and cultured sounding choked with emotion.

He even tries to swallow it down. It doesn’t work. “I have seen the cost of bravery. And to see you so passionate — so determined to fight this battle that I am certain was never meant to be yours. It ensnares me in a way you cannot yet understand. Pride overtakes me, yet I am made immobile.

“I have seen enough in my life to know when fighting is parallel to dying. No matter how brief the battle or noble the purpose there are some forces that cannot be overcome.”

He takes Taylor’s hand. Clammy and cold and he tries to hide it but Taylor knows the effects of a panic attack from personal experience that no matter how refined the otherworldly creature is you can’t always hide the tremors in your fingertips.

Like before he feels a tug in his gut. Something hooking into his center of gravity and puling him, or his essence, closer.

Hears the fae clear in his mind; terrified, heartbroken, too much.

I could not bear the sight of you among the casualties. Do not ask it of me. I beg of you.

Over-thinking about the heartbreak in every word, about the things he can’t possibly understand that allow Elric to feel so much and so hard for a person he doesn’t know — it’s not a luxury Taylor can afford right now. And not just because the emotional depth it requires might very well bring him to tears again.

So he squeezes that pale grip tight, the only solidarity he allows himself to muster, then lets go.

“I can’t.”

“Taylor —”

“No, really Elric, I can’t.” He steps back; creates distance between them both physically and on a deeper level. “I wasn’t supposed to be a part of this — I wasn’t. I’m only being targeted because of you; because I’m your son. You know what the Elders called me? They called me an ‘unseen complication.’ And up until right now it’s really bugged me. By all accounts I’ve not made anything complicated except for the lives of my friends.

“But maybe I’m not done yet, you know? Maybe there’s more for me to do. Probably not, let’s be real, but I have to try. Nik— Nik is trying, and he’s never done that before. Kathy and Cade don’t have any stake in this but they keep trying because they’re good people. Cal wants to make this city safer for his brother and Vera… she could have run back to New York at any time but she hasn’t.

“I’m not gonna stand here and say I fully understand what’s going on. But that doesn’t mean I should cut and run. I think its because I don’t know jack-shit that I can do the most good. Or, you know, at least try to.”

He falters at the end; never one to finish strongly in situations like these. Would he like for Elric to stay, to try like the rest and do some good — of course.

But any part of him left hesitant about his involvement is gone now. So he can thank the fae for that at the very least.

Wow, is this what emotional growth feels like? That warm feeling in his chest spreading out to the tips of his fingers and toes, the pride in his actions, the sense of accomplishment however small?

Kristin is going to be so proud of him when she wakes up.

He doesn’t realize he’s waiting for Elric to respond until he inhales deeply. Looks Taylor over with those same eyes somehow changed. Like he’s really seeing him for the first time.

“You are brave — braver than most.”

“No I’m really not. But I’m scared enough to want to do something about it.”

“Very well. Whatever you wish to call it… the quality is an admirable one.”

“You should try it out sometime.”

“Perhaps you can show me how, one day.” But not this day.

That’s it then. The arguing, the impassioned speeches, all of it and Elric still plans on hiding.

Fine. He’s done trying to make the man see reason.

“I’m gonna get back to the show — my company’s worked hard for this and even though I’m not up there, I deserve the chance to see it through.”

Just as resigned as he had been in Lamrian, Elric closes himself off when he tucks his clasped hands in his sleeves. Beautiful embroidery becoming his wall against the world.

Against the terrible things about to happen.

“You will find no time has passed,” he says to Taylor’s surprise, “I had hoped you would return with me. The chance to say farewell to your companions was the least I could offer.”

Implications aside… “Thanks, I guess. I’ll see you around, Elric.”

“Nothing would bring me greater joy.”

He’s halfway down the hall when a definite something comes over him. Is there such a thing as too much emotional growth? It tastes a little bit like he’s downed a shot of vinegar.

It makes him turn back; it knows the other man is still there — watching.

“You risked your life coming here — in person.”

Elric nods. “Yes.”

“All the things you’re staying out of the fight for; your people, Thalissa — if the bloodwraith showed up…”

“I knew the risk.”

“But it’s temporary, so that makes it okay.”

“What it does it make it a risk worth taking.”

“There it is then…” and Taylor almost can’t believe he’s saying this, but — “Come on, there’s a few empty seats in front of us. You can take one of those.”

Maybe he’s spent enough time in the fae’s presence now to understand and see every emotion he expresses. Small flickers and ticks in facial features — and that’s being generous.

Confusion. Contemplation. Understanding. Surprise.

And more than a little heartbreak.

“The longer I stay here the greater the chance of discovery by the creature.”

“Yeah, well you’ve been here a pretty long time already. What’s an extra hour or two?”

“The difference between life and death.”

“A fair point. Counter— you wanted to spend time together, Pop.” He pops his lips on the word. And funnily enough that seems to be what does the job.

There was no reason to doubt Elric’s truthfulness but he’s still relieved when they walk back into the theatre and the curtains are still drawn.

It would be helpful if someone turned around to see them; if they warned the others. But unfortunately (for Garrus) it’s a complete surprise when they greet his return… with company.

“Look who I found at the concession stand.” Taylor throws his arm around Elric’s shoulder and squeezes for the humor of it. Shit he probably should have asked if the man had a glamour.

Well, no one’s staring or screaming yet, so probably a good sign.

The general aura of confusion is broken by Garrus who, impossibly enough, looks more pale than usual. Beside him Krom is halfway reaching out; as if to shield his unspoken crush from Elric’s unseen wrath.

“Hey there, Rook,” Nik’s look of ‘what the literal?’ doesn’t stray from the fae’s ethereal glow, “thought you were goin’ backstage.”

Because this was his fault? “Oh, I was. But then I got to thinking — it’s a friends and family viewing so, you know, why not call my estranged father Elrond?”

“Elric.”

Sigh. “I know. It’s a joke.”

Elric nods. “Ah, I see.” No he doesn’t, but that’s not the point. Actually that he doesn’t is what makes it a little bit funnier.

But Taylor realizes quickly that he’s made a mistake in just assuming this would be okay. Garrus has never been quiet for this long and it makes everyone a little on edge. What happens when the man who always has something to say falls silent?

“You look well, Gallus.”

Garrus flinches violently at the name; at Elric’s attempt to cut through the tension. “That isn’t my name and you know it.”

“It was once.”

“Not anymore.” Garrus looks to Krom in surprise. Its the most intimidating the gentle giant has ever sounded. Though rage literally flickers as flames in Ivy’s cursed eyes she manages to look at him with pride.

It seems Taylor isn’t the only one who’s grown as a person tonight, though. As the discomfort rises to an almost stifling level the Lord bows his head, speaks somber and its enough to make everyone take a breath.

“I wish not to intrude on your time, Garrus,” Garrus who reaches absently for something to ground him and finds it in Krom’s hand clasping his, “only to take what precious moments my child allows me to possess.”

Way to push the blame on Taylor.

Taylor who struggles for something to say; an apology, a get out of here, anything. “I didn’t — I mean I — Garrus if —”

He raises a hand and Taylor’s glad for the opportunity to bite his tongue. Finds relief in the fact that Garrus still manages a smile his way.

“You couldn’t know. And it doesn’t bother me, honestly —” — especially not when he has Krom’s hand to squeeze where the seats separate their thighs — “— as long as my old landlord respects his boundaries, and doesn’t have an ulterior motive.”

“I do not.”

“Pinky swear?”

Elric doesn’t understand and it shows; some kind of power move Garrus relishes in by grinning at the laughter that ripples through them and breaks the tension.

The room grows dark as the company prepares to resume. Taylor awkwardly (and if he’s honest, uncomfortably) ushers Elric into the seat parallel to his a row forward. Close enough to count as ‘spending time together’ while also glad to be a buffer between his fae father and Garrus.

Velvet curtains pull apart with a flourish. Just before the cast begins Taylor manages to lean back and give a real apology to his friend.

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve asked first.” He whispers.

Garrus places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Really, darling, no big deal here.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky.”

He can’t remember the last time he made any promises so important as pinky promises. But he and Garrus link little fingers and exchange small smiles just in time for Titania to begin her lines.

With a deep breath of courage and only after finding Nik’s hand in the dark he leans again, forward this time, and directs Elric’s attention to the performance.

“Okay, so quick recap. There are four lovers, right, Helena who loves Demetrius, who loves Hermia, who loves Lysander, but the thing is…”

[mass-effect-tales]

Shot in The Dark ch.3

Nero sat back as the doctor finished his scan. As he turned his omni-tool back on he noticed multiple missed calls from Nihlus. 

"Alright mister Verge your O2 stats are perfectly normal. You're as healthy as a drell can be." The doctor said with a smile as he packed up his equipment and washed his hands in the nearby sink.

"Thank you doctor." Nero grabbed his jacket and was getting ready to leave the exam room when a nurse ran in shouting in a panicked voice.

"Doctor, a young woman collapsed in the waiting room!"

Nero followed the doctor out into the waiting room and stopped short when he saw it was Skye collapsed on the ground. Even over the sound of the doctor ordering a nurse to get a stretcher he could hear Skye struggling to breathe. Nero helped Skye onto the stretcher where the doctor placed a breathing mask over her face and wheeled her to the back of the hospital. Nero quickly grabbed one of the nurses before she could follow the doctor.

"I came here with that woman, her name is Skye Walker. Could you keep me updated on her status?" 

The nurse nodded and ran to catch up with the doctor while Nero moved to sit down and pull up his omni-tool. He called Nihlus and was surprised when he answered on as soon as he connected.

"Is Skye ok?! She collapsed while I was talking to her." Nero could hear the panic in Nihlus' voice. He noticed Nihlus had a soft spot for the woman but it seemed his care ran deeper than he thought. For some reason he didn't like the thought of that but he quickly stored those thoughts into the back of his mind.

"The doctor put her on a ventilator and took her away. I'm waiting to hear the status of her condition," Nero explained.

"Good, I feel like this might have been my fault. I told her Shepard took the Normandy and we left you both behind to head to Ilos and she freaked out. Suddenly she started wheezing and then collapsed."

"It sounds like you overwhelmed her," Nero mused. He felt the familiar sensation of a memory trigger and felt himself being pulled into a memory.

"Honey colored hair shines in the artificial light. Delicate fingers play with the necklace hanging around her neck. Voice soft, filled with sorrow. "He died two years ago from an unknown disease. Some kind of infection made his lungs unable to absorb oxygen."

Nero blinked as he was pulled out of the memory. "Her father died of an unknown disease. Perhaps she inherited the trait from her father."

Nihlus didn't like the sound of that. "That doesn't sound good. Listen, we're about to head through the relay to get to Ilos. I'll contact you when I get the chance. Take care."

Nero shut off his omni-tool and sighed, closing his eyes. He only meant to close his eyes for a minute but he soon drifted off to sleep only waking up when he heard Skye's name.

"Excuse me sir, you're with Skye correct?"

Nero opened his eyes to see a young asari woman standing in front of him. When he nodded she smiled brightly.

"My name is Alsiha Yufir, I'm a friend of hers here at the hospital. I wanted to tell you that she's awake and getting ready to be discharged. Would you like me to take you to her?"

Nero nodded and followed Alsiha back through a long hallway until they reached a small room. Skye was looking out the window when Nero stepped in. The breathing mask was removed and he noticed an inhaler on the table next to her bed. Skye looked over when she heard Alsiha's footsteps and smiled when she noticed Nero behind her.

"Alright Skye, you're clear to go. Make sure to keep that inhaler on you and let me know when you need a refill." Alsiha helped her out of the bed while Nero grabbed her bag and inhaler. He kept his back turned to allow Skye some privacy as she changed out of the hospital gown and into her street clothes. They were silent as they left the hospital both unable to think of something to say. It was only when they were close to the embassies that Skye spoke up.

"I'm sorry if I worried you. I guess that call from Nihlus made me have an asthma attack. I haven't had one since I was a kid so I stopped carrying an inhaler when I moved to the Citadel."

Nero nodded, looking out at the water. "I believe Nihlus was more worried about your safety. He sounded frantic when I called him."

Nero almost missed the soft "oh" from Skye in reply. He wondered why her voice sounded duller than it was a second ago. Before he could question her the sound of an explosion made both of them look as a skycar was shot out of the air and was heading for them. Without thinking Nero quickly grabbed Skye and rolled out of the way as the car crashed into the ground where they previously stood. As he helped Skye to her feet, Nero could see farther down the street a group of geth shooting down anyone they see.

"Quickly, follow me." Nero lead Skye to one of the keeper tunnels and urged her to climb in. Once she was in he passed her one of his pistols. 

"Do you know how to use this?"

"Yes but-"

"Take this and stay here, shoot anything that tries to enter."

"But what about you?"

Nero looked at her, giving her a reassuring smile as he readied his rifle. 

"Don't worry about me, I didn't join the spectres by luck."

Nero ran from the tunnel and used his assault rifle to shoot down any nearby geth. Once he had their attention he lead them away from the tunnel entrance. Once they were far enough he quickly hid behind a pillar and activated his tactical cloak. He quietly moved around the geth as they spread out and searched for him. He kept to the shadows and would strike whenever a geth came close to him by grabbing and slicing the wires around their neck before moving to another hiding spot. Once the area was clear he dropped his cloak and opened his omni-tool.

"Nihlus, the Citadel is under attack by the geth."

"We know. The Citadel is a dormant mass relay. Saren wants to use it to let the Reapers in. We're on our way there, just be prepared because Shepard is driving."

Nero could hear a "fuck off" in the background as he ran back the way the geth came. He arrived just in time to see the mako drive through the relay and crash. He ran over to help Nihlus out while Garrus helped Shepard. Shepard took out her rifle and nodded to the elevator. 

"Let's go, we need to get to the presidium and stop Saren."

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

Skye grunted as she crawled through the keeper tunnels. She hoped she was going in the direction of the hospital but she couldn't be sure. Eventually she saw an exit and quickly crawled through. She noticed right away that instead of the hospital she had crawled to the presidium. She was about to return to the tunnel when she heard a gunshot. She immediately ran towards the sound and found Shepard along with Garrus, Nihlus and Nero. 

"Check to make sure he's dead." Shepard ordered as she walked over to the control panel. Garrus and Nihlus climbed down while Nero stayed to keep watch. He didn't seem phased when he noticed Skye approaching. 

"I thought I told you to stay in the tunnels."

"I wanted to check the hospital. I'm not going to just hide when there's people that need help." 

Nero hummed as Garrus confirmed Saren was dead. The comm. came alive with reports on the status of the Destiny Ascension. He was about to offer to escort Skye to the hospital when the platform began to shake. He had just enough time to grab Skye just as the platform collapsed sending them and Shepard to the ground where Nihlus and Garrus stood. The group watched as Saren's body began to shake and twist as it became a horrific creature.

The creature locked eyes with Shepard and with a roar it charged.

[inquizies]

Tagged by @opal-bee, thank you :) Need to get off my butt and do something. Even if it’s this. Also you had some really good questions and I’m probably gonna steal a couple of yours to use.

Rules: answer the questions of the person who tagged you, come up with 11 new ones and tag 11 new people.

Lots of work! But this was a lot of fun to answer and think about.

1. Look out the closest window. What’s the first thing that catches your eye? This really big bush with tiny flowers. No idea what it’s called but as a kid I remember my neighbor showing me that you could pick the little flowers, pull out the pistil and there’d be this small bit of sweet nectar in there I guess, and you could drink it.

2. What one moment/experience in your life would you relive over and over again if you could? That’s tough. Off the top of my head, I would absolutely pick my last day with my old pup Buddy. The day before we had to take him to the vet. I wish I could revisit that day and squeeze new things in there for me and him to do. I wish I could give him one more hug and let him know how much I loved him. He was with me for 14 years but it’s never enough time.

3. How many songs do you know all of the words to by heart? Any song I listened to in middle school. Give me those popular emo/scene bands and songs from 2005-2009 or so and I’ll know all of the words. More specifically and not related, anytime I hear bye bye bye from NYSNC on the radio I will sing along loudly.

4. If you could instantly learn/master one skill or talent, what would it be? I really like this one. Problem is so many come to mind. I think graphic design/drawing would be my main one. Some of you on this site are so damn talented with your drawings. But then again I feel like knitting or crocheting would be cool and if an apocalypse came around I’d be pretty useful. I have to give them a reason to keep me around. I’m no doctor but I can definitely knit you a cool beanie.

5. If you had to pick one fictional place to spend the rest of your life in, what would it be? Thedas without a doubt. Maybe I’ll get killed by a demon but I can’t say I would complain much if I’m spending most of that time with Commander Cullen. Andromeda would also be really neat cause fucking space right and fucking while in space right.

6. What single question would you most like to know the answer to? I like the way this question is phrased cause I could pick something that only I could know and make myself rich or find a cure to cancer. But being more serious, I’d really like to know exactly how I can help people stuck in immigration centers. I’m just some random person with no money at the moment, what the fuck can I do to help? A cure for cancer would be cool too.

7. What is one luxury you can’t live without? Honestly, probably video games. I can escape in my books too but it’s nice to switch it up. I could also reverse that. I don’t know what else I would do to get that escape.

8. What was the sweetest compliment you’ve ever received? I still absolutely stand by that time my mom said one of my DAI characters looked like me. Cause she was pretty damn hot. Thanks mom.

9. What’s the strangest gift you’ve ever received? Maybe not weird but every birthday and christmas my sister always includes some sort of decor that’s shaped in the letter K. Not weird and I appreciate the other stuff she gifts to me, but what am I gonna do with all of these K’s?

10. What scent gives you the greatest feeling of nostalgia? So back when I first discovered Mass Effect, our only computer was in the living room at that time. There was an air freshener plugged in behind it. I don’t know what scent it was and I really wish I could find out, but on occasion I will come across the scent again and it reminds me of sitting at that computer for hours, creating my Shepherd and finding out about the reapers and accidentally romancing people. Sorry about dumping you for Garrus, Kaidan. You’re a cool guy but you really should have been more clear that we were entering a romantic relationship instead of telling me about it after Ashley died.

11. Do you have a cool or interesting scar, and what’s the story behind it? I have quite a few! Not very cool stories though. I have one on my forehead, it’s not very big now but it’s about an inch long or so (I’m so bad with measurements so), and it’s kind of indented. I have no memory of it but my parents said when I was about 3 I was watching Barney and jumping on the bed and apparently I fell and hit my forehead right on the corner of the dresser. I have a really long one of my left shin from running past this mini palm tree which had god damned spikes growing out of it. And a tiny one of the inside of my right wrist. Shaped like a crescent moon. Some sorta figurine broke and all I really remember is my wrist going down into a sharp, broken part.

@hello-turtless, @dracoangel, @tessa1972, @legimel, @smalefowles, @eternallygraceful, @galadrieljones, @gaysparkler, @fenesvir, @theanatomyofadreamer, @this-is-where-the-fish-live, @xarcadeassassin, @rhunae, whoever wants to do it (:

1. How are you doing and feeling today?

2. What games have you been playing lately, and what do you think about them?

3. What was the last good dream that you can remember about?

4. What are you working on right now and how is it going? (Creative projects, school, work, whatever you want to talk about) Or, what is something you dream of working on? Feel free to answer both if you want.

5. If you could instantly master one skill or talent, what would it be?

6. What is something happy or cool or just something you really wanna share that has happened to you recently?

7. If you had to pick one fictional place and person to spend the rest of your days with, who and where would you pick? Person and place can be from different worlds/realities.

8. What is your favorite restaurant/place to eat? If you’re more of a homebody or chef yourself, what’s your favorite thing to cook for yourself? Or answer them both, up to you!

9. Is there something you need to get off your chest? Be as vague or specific as you’d like.

10. What does it take for you to fall asleep? As in positions, lights, background noises, etc.

11. What is something you never thought you’d imagine yourself doing when you were younger, that you are actually doing now?

[tarysande]

Fic Update: Any Four Walls: Pantomime

Also on AO3

#

Pantomime

When she installed herself on the flight deck, Joker only nodded and offered a brief grunt of greeting. If she hadn’t already known how distraught he was, that grunt would’ve been a dead giveaway. His hands flew over the haptic interface, adjusting their approach vector just enough—she hoped—to give them a moment of surprise. Kaidan sat at the station to Joker’s right, manning communications. For a moment, she saw the slightly-different cockpit of a different Normandy and half-expected the voice of a dead man to summon her over the comms.

Instead, Joker hissed an expletive that would have shocked even Jack and said, “We’ve got a situation.”

She leaned over his shoulder, scanning the stars. There. The ship was small against the vastness of space, looking like a toy discarded by a child when something newer and shinier came along.

No.

She couldn’t think about children.

“Kaidan?”

“Sorry, Shepard.” His hands were moving now, too. “No—there. It’s sending out an SOS. Turian frequency. Pretty weak.”

“Is it the Enixus?”

She already knew, though. Kaidan’s nod only confirmed what her gut was screaming.

They drew near enough to see the atmosphere venting into the dark from a gash in the ship’s starboard side.

“Life signs?”

“Too much interference.”

She remained locked in parade rest because what she really wanted to do was punch something. A wall. The piece of equipment whose news was always bad. “Of course.” When she had the urge for violence under control, she said, “Bring us in quiet, Joker. I’m going over.”

Kaidan turned in the seat, fixing her with his dark, too-perceptive gaze. “We are.”

“Everyone likes to forget my background. N7 Infiltrator, remember? In and out, no biotic explosions necessary.”

But Kaidan was already rising, expression as close to mutinous as she’d ever seen it. “Garrus said you’d try and pull something like this, you know. I thought you’d consider how long you’ve been off active duty and go with common sense.”

“If you’re suggesting I stay—”

He held up a hand to stop her. She added his face to her list of things she’d consider punching, though his words went some little way to redeeming him. “I wouldn’t dare, Shepard. I mean that. But we have no idea what’s going on over there. Don’t go in alone.”

Joker hunched in his seat as if pretending a Spectre showdown wasn’t happening above his head. Shepard sighed. “You gonna question every decision I make, Alenko?”

“Only the stupid ones. Ma’am.”

A very, very faint smile pulled at one corner of her mouth. “Fair enough. Suit up, Alenko. And find Jack.”

“And Garrus?”

She shook her head. Kaidan winced. “I’ll talk to him.”

#

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“You almost died a few—”

“Don’t,” he snapped.

Shepard crossed her armored arms over her chest, meeting her husband glare for glare even though she had to crane her neck a bit to do it.

“Do you honestly want me to pull rank here, Shepard? Is that it?”

“No,” she said. “I want you to run the op from the ship.”

“You want me to sit on the sidelines. They’re my kids.” The way his voice broke nearly broke her resolve; she had to look away.

“Garrus,” she said, softly.

“Don’t Garrus me. Not about this.”

“Fine.” She brought the heels of her hands up to her eyes and pressed hard enough to momentarily see stars. “I need you on my six.”

“That’s more like it.”

Lowering her hands, she said, “That’s here. On the ship. Running the op. Waiting for Liara’s intel. And manning the Thanix as only you can if the bastards try and pull something that needs the big guns. Which they probably will.”

“Because this is obviously a trap.”

“Obviously.”

He shook his head, but not in disagreement. That fight had gone out of him the second she said on my six. He took a step toward her. She took two, wrapping her arms tight around him. One of his hands cupped the back of her head gently. “I hate it when you’re right.”

Shepard snorted. “Yeah, well, the feeling’s mutual.”

“You told Alenko you were going in alone?”

She said nothing. Didn’t have to.

He brought the side of his face to the top of her head and nuzzled it. “Bring our kids home, Shepard. I’ll watch your back.”

#

Shepard wasn’t sure what it said about her that all her nerves and anger and panic settled the second her boots hit the floor. The weight of her gun grounded her. Despite Kaidan’s—and even Garrus’—fears, having a mission with a clear objective focused her. Get in, get out. Rescue mission. Keep a low profile.

She’d done dozens of these over the years.

And Aratoht didn’t count.

They’d entered through the gash in the side of the ship instead of aiming for the airlock; no use announcing themselves before they had to. She gestured silently and Kaidan arced out to her left, omni already up and scanning, in case proximity could provide better readings. Behind his mask, his brows furrowed. She didn’t need the shake of his head to know he’d had no luck.

She clipped her pistol to her side and peered through the scope of her rifle. The thermal scope picked up Kaidan and Jack’s signatures, but couldn’t see through the walls.

Good walls, then. She frowned. Traders usually dropped their credits protecting the exterior of their ships; having the kind of interior walls that could defy an even more top-of-the-line thermal scope than one could currently find even on the blackest of markets—unless they, too, were personal friends of Solana Vakarian—smacked of paranoia. At the very least.

She brought up her own omni, then, and ran the scanning program that had gone not only through Solana, but through Tali and Garrus and herself, as well. Like the scope, it read the current room clearly—the surveillance camera over the door was obvious; the three different bugs running on completely different frequencies, less so—but everything outside was dampened.

Using signals instead of words, even on their private frequencies, Shepard directed Kaidan to one side of the door and Jack to the other.

Shepard knew damn well that her omni-tool was fitted with the best tech money (and connections) could buy, and then some.

It still took her decryption program an agonizingly long time to crack the door’s code.

Definitely a trap.

Definitely not just traders.

Shepard activated her cloak the moment the door began to slide open, waiting for the immediate attack that never came. After a slow count of five, she ducked into the corridor. Lights flickered above, casting half the hallway into stark shadows, but no one waited for them. No shots pinged off her shields. Kaidan and Jack followed as soon as her tactical cloak shimmered and vanished. Once again, scanning revealed nothing. An empty hallway; walls that kept their secrets close.

No cover.

No debris at all.

Her frown deepened. Any attack that could leave damage like the destruction of the room behind them should’ve had more of an effect elsewhere. Even with impenetrable walls. She began flicking through frequencies until she found the one the ship was using to send out its weak cry for help. After listening to the generic SOS three times, her earpiece crackled. Music, loud enough to cause pain, blasted. Fighting the instinct to shut it off completely, she turned it down as much as she could.

The melody was familiar. Human, definitely. Something full of pomp and military bravado.

She went cold when she recognized it.

A very particular anthem. One rarely heard. One she’d heard twice. Once after Elysium. Once after—after everything that had happened later.

One she’d tried to avoid hearing both times.

They played it when they bestowed the Star of Terra. Only then.

Jack touched her arm; Shepard shook her head, tapping the side of her helmet and signaling them to wait. She didn’t miss the look Jack and Kaidan exchanged.

When the last triumphant note roared and faded, the desperate, wailing cry of a child replaced it.

Her child.

“Rose? Rose?”

But Rose wasn’t the child who answered. With the screaming still raw in the background, Tyrra, breathless, subharmonics practically screaming her terror, said, “Sh-shepard? Shepard? Is that—you have to—they’re going to—she promised she’d give Rose back—I don’t know—I don’t know what they’re doing to her!”

“Shh, honey,” Shepard said. She didn’t brush off Jack’s hand this time, though she did signal for Kaidan to keep his eyes on the scanner. “Where are you? I’m here. I’m coming to get you.”

Tyrra began to speak again, but was replaced Matta Casarus’ harsh whisper. “Admiral Shepard? Thank the Spirits. They’ve got us pinned—”

“Cut the shit,” Shepard snapped. “I’m here. Just like you wanted. Walked into your elaborate little pantomime, just like you wanted. If you don’t release my daughters immediately, I will kill you. Do you understand me? I will put a bullet in every body that stands between me and them. Without mercy.”

Casarus’ voice changed at once. Cold, smooth. Too smooth. “This is how Earth breeds heroes, then? I prefer turian ones. They understand honor.”

Shepard inhaled sharply. “Is that what this is? You’re torturing my kid to prove some kind of point? I don’t know what the fuck I ever did to you, lady, but if—”

“You killed someone important to me. As important to me as these foundlings are to you. More important.”

Her stomach twisted. She ignored it. “Then take it up with me. They’re innocent. They are innocent. Let them go and you can have me. No contest. No fight.”

Even the woman’s laugh was cold. Bitter as the wind on Noveria. “So noble. No wonder they love you.” Casarus sighed. As if she was bored. With Rose screaming. “You said it yourself, Shepard. It’s pantomime. It’s theatre. Time to give the audience what they want.”

Before she could do more than open her mouth to reply, the line went dead. Rose’s cries stopped so abruptly, Shepard clapped her hand to the side of her head, as if this would bring her closer, tell her where to go.

“What the fuck, Shepard,” Jack breathed.

“Can we get a message back to the Normandy?”

Kaidan shook his head.

Shepard swallowed, shuffling plans in her head and rejecting them before they could finish forming. “Then we move. She’s already proven she’ll hurt the children. We have to hit them harder and faster than they expect.” Shepard lifted her Widow. “Jack. Point. Don’t hold back. Make them show their faces so I can remove them.”

[robotslenderman]

But like

my headcanon Shakarian romance went a lot differently to the in-game romance because my Shepard was literally a 31YO unkissed virgin who may seem terrifying and intimidating, but very quickly becomes adorkable and awkward when it comes to personal relationships. especially when those relationships involve banging the turian she has a huge crush on.

so like

Reach and Flexibility happens

and Shepard’s like be cool be cool be cool “I could help you ease that stress if you like”

“huh I didn’t know you felt like sparring, commander”

and that’s the part where a canon romance starts with “not what I meant”

but my Shepard went

And just

totally chickened out

with whatever remark Shepard can make to save her pride

and I’m p sure I remember Garrus’s response to that being something like “you could totally kick my ass”

and in my head Shepard made one last ditch effort that

"Yeah but when I’d knock you flat on your ass you’d enjoy every second of it”

and then she like

ran away

all “oh my god I can’t believe I did that”

meanwhile Garrus is like “... you know, if that was anyone other than Commander Shepard, I would think that was a proposition”

and like he even asked Joker, “hey I think Shepard... might have propositioned me???”

and Joker was like “lmao Shepard would never proposition anyone I think anyone who so much as tried to cuddle her would burst into flames from the sheer force of her glare”

“yeah that’s what I thought. still it’s weird that she said X”

“... oh my god shepard was totally propositioning you”

I still haven’t nailed down the details but I’m p sure at that point Kasumi decided she needed to stage an intervention. all “Garrus tell her how you FEEL bc you’re both gonna die ok”

“oh spirits no”

“OK time to bring out THE BIG GUNS”

I have the feeling that Kasumi led Shepard on a wild goose chase to some frozen planet just before a storm in order to deliberately invoke “oh NO my turian is gonna FREEZE I better CUDDLE HIM FOR WARMTH”

(Garrus was So Mad about this and almost got hypothermia before he gave in and Shepard cuddled the shit out of him. took all his willpower not to purr at Shepard because it is Rude to purr at your commanding officer.)

but did that fix things?

no it did not because both Shepard and Garrus are adorkable cowards who are both extremely socially awkward and have started being awkward with each other

and Shepard is like “why is he awkward? oh god he must be upset about what I said oh god”

and Garrus was like “why is she awkward? huh it probably has nothing to do with me”

Kasumi, in the background:

I am still not entirely sure what happened after that except that it involved Garrus being under a lot of peer pressure, Joker being all “DON’T GET ME INVOLVED, I CAN’T LOOK” and peeking between his fingers, Chakwas digging out the popcorn and trying to think of a cunning way to talk Shepard into being inoculated against having an allergic reaction and dying because of turian spunk, shenanigans and facepalming from Kasumi, Mordin “accidentally” thinking the two of them were together and giving them both The Talk, and Jack being... well, Jack. Which is especially awkward because Shepard tended to take either her or Kasumi along with her and Garrus. you can imagine how well that went.

and probably at least one occasion where Shepard feels Guilty and goes to talk to Garrus about “have I done something to make you feel uncomfortable?” and Garrus trying to reassure her she has not while getting increasingly uncomfortable

(and then feeling super guilty when Shepard walks away clearly feeling even more guilty)

I’m thinking that they probably both felt so guilty they fessed up at basically the same time while also beating themselves up for being Unprofessional, only to realise what the other person said and go, “wait. what?”

and then the most awkward fucking conversation ensued, followed by the most awkward sex ever. Then they probably chilled the fuck out and snuggled and had much less awkward conversations/sex. and then never kept their hands off each other ever since.

(meanwhile Garrus is trying not to make light of Shepard’s self esteem issues but he’ll never stop thinking it’s hilarious that the first human spectre, saviour of the Citadel and human colonies, seems to think she doesn’t deserve him)

[ramblinganthropologist]

Inktober Day 10 - Flowing

Summary: They fucked. Now it’s time for Alex to face the music as he cleans up afterwards. Is he starting... no, he can’t even think about it. But the shower is a great place to come to uncomfortable realizations. Damn it, why’d it have to be Macen? (Mass Effect Actor AU)

---

There was nothing like waking up to a Turian in your bed to make you wonder why he hadn't left yet.

Alex Jones carefully slid out of bed naked as the day he had been born and padded towards the bathroom where the shower he so desperately needed was waiting. More than a few muscles hurt, and he was pretty sure the scratch on his shoulder was bleeding. But, he could take care of that later.

The water was cold at first when it hit him, jolting him into full consciousness. He shivered as it felt as though it took forever to warm up. But it did eventually, which gave him the chance to focus on just what the hell was going on. Unless he was going crazy or something, Macen was still in his goddamn bed.

“Maybe he was tired.” The human frowned as he let the water splash over his naked back and soothe the sore muscles. Without a doubt, sex with a Turian was... interesting. It definitely involved a lot more flexibility than he was used to with other partners. Luckily, he had been a cheerleader once. That sort of thing you never forgot.

And sex with Macen? The man was intense, both on set and in the bedroom. After nights with him, Alex was usually sore for at least a few days. Of course, maybe that was because half the time they fucked against a wall or some other convenient location. It was only recently they had started coming over to each other's places.

But they had never stayed this long. Usually, after they were done his apartment was Turian free within the hour. He did the same when it was Macen's place, leaving just as quickly as he had gotten there. Neither really lingered long. After all, it wasn't like they were dating or anything. It was just sex to work out the tension.

And oh, there was tension. While he didn't quite hate the Turian as much as he used to – that tended to happen when his dick was inside him more than a few times – he was still one of the most exasperating men Alex had ever worked with. He was cocky, arrogant, and thought he knew fucking everything. Just thinking about it gave him a headache.

“Oh come on, Macen!” He hissed, realizing that the cut on his shoulder was actually a bite mark when he felt it. Usually the Turian was pretty careful about not taking a chunk out of him. That sort of thing would just drive paparazzi insane. There were already rumors the two were secretly dating, this would only add to it. “Son of a bitch.”

Alex sighed as he leaned against the shower wall, watching the water flow into the drain. What even was going on with Macen anyway? Lately he had been... weird. That was the only way to describe it, he was acting fucking weird. He was quieter and not as quick to anger – not completely, he still snapped at people – and seemed to sink in on himself more. Why nobody had a clue. Maybe he'd hit his head.

Well, whatever. As long as he showed up for work in the morning, he didn't care.

Once he was clean, Alex shut off the shower and grabbed his towel. He dried off, then padded back to his room in order to find something to wear. The Turian was still there, face down in the pillow. It would've looked like he was dead, but that was definitely snoring. It might have been an alien version of it, but he knew what it sounded like.

“Guess you're staying a bit longer, huh?”

A weird half-smile crossed his features as he looked for something to wear. Macen's odd snore in the background was comforting in a weird, chicken dinosaur like way. Though, if he clucked in his sleep all bets were off. That would just be weird.

Once Alex was decent, he wasn't too sure what to do. Macen was still asleep, and with exhaustion pulling on his eyelids that sounded like a good idea too. Problem was, the only place to sleep was the other half of the bed that the Turian was currently occupying. Sleeping would mean... sleeping. With him.

“Come on, you've fucked him how many times? Just get in there.” But Alex stayed at the foot of the bed, staring. There was plenty of room after all – it was just getting back into bed. And that's where the problem was. It felt weird.

Macen stirred in his sleep and rolled over to expose his face. His orange tattoos were faded in the half light, but enough staring had taught the human where they were. They accented his strange alien features perfectly, making him look fiercer than he probably would on his own. That wasn't the point of course, but damn they worked well. It was almost a sin to cover those up, but Garrus' blue ones worked well too.

They worked even better when his eyes were open. His piercing blue gaze had been what drew Alex in back when they had been separated by a screen. He just seemed to be able to stare through people, like he was xraying them. Of course Turians couldn't actually do that – though it would explain why they had been popular in C-SEC for so long – but it felt like it. After all, Alex had felt that gaze on him many times before, both on set and off. Intense only scratched the surface.

It took Alex a few seconds to realize he had been staring. His cheeks glowed red-hot as he shook his head to try and knock some sense into his head. Luckily, his fuck buddy wasn't awake – he would've laughed at this display.

“Fuck, what's wrong with me?”

There was no fever when he checked, but Alex swore he felt like he was burning up. Just looking at Macen made his chest tight, never mind thinking about him. And oh, he had been thinking about him lately, and not just sex thoughts. He was just thinking about him almost constantly.

Like... oh no.

Oh no.

Alex's face burned as the pieces fell into place. He wound up sitting on the edge of his bed, eyes wide as he stared down at his hands in shock. Realization was a painful thing, and it was smacking him square in the face so he got the message.

“Please don't tell me I'm starting to like him.”

Nobody answered. Macen kept snoring, lost to his weird Turian dreams. Alex glared over at him in response. After all, it was his fault. He was the one who had suggested sleeping with each other in the first place.

“This is some weird Turian sex thing and I blame you.”

But there was no arguing with it, at least not in the middle of the night when he needed sleep. Alex eventually gave up trying to figure it out and just looked back to his bed. A few moves later, and he was laying back down next to Macen. There was as much space between them as he could manage, but that wasn't much. If one of them rolled over, they'd be touching.

Though... would that be so bad?

“Stop it. Go to bed damn it. It's fucking Macen you're talking about.” Alex shook his head and pulled the blanket over his head to block his view out. Then he closed his eyes in the hopes he might fall asleep.

Yep. He was sharing the bed with Macen Virius, one of Palaven's hottest bachelors. No big deal at all.

“Fuck.”

Alex rolled over to bury his face in the pillow. Next to him, the Turian kept sleeping ,oblivious to what he was doing to his costar and sometimes lover. He was lucky that way. His temporary bed partner was in a whole new kind of hell.

Tomorrow... was going to be weird. Very weird. Damn it all to hell...