#good for Lawson but god damn | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

clericofshadows · 1 year ago

Text

your name means traitor

Description: Regis boards the Normandy SR-2, makes his stance on Cerberus clear to the crew--new and old--and learns some information about his resurrection. He also reads through the dossiers and finally gets a little bit of good news in his trapped situation.

Pairing: Regis Shepard/Kaidan Alenko, Regis Shepard/Kaidan Alenko/Zaeed Massani (past)

Rating: M

Notes: Regis is one angry bastard in this fic, and honestly, he's like that through the entirety of ME2. So, he's not the most pleasant person in this fic, and targets many different characters in his anger.

Context: Regis talks about his dogtags a lot in this fic. for extra context, check out these fics: late night conversations and you got me in a chokehold.

Cerberus revived the Butcher, so they were going to get the Butcher, his fangs bared and talons sharpened.

Because the Butcher doesn't play nice when he feels threatened, and Cerberus is about to find out exactly how ruthless he could be. How relentless he can be in his rage. How far he will go to never bow down.

Even if it meant dying in such a way that there's no coming back next time.

Regis will give them exactly what they deserve. Losing his humanity in the process is just a price he's willing to pay.

Because Kaidan isn't here to bring him back from the brink.

He sneered at Lawson once they made it to the CIC, after she and Taylor got him up to speed at all the new features on the Normandy. "This is my goddamn ship, and no one else's. Get ready for my announcement. And we'll see if their loyalties truly lie with me. Because if they don't? I'll welcome them to the airlock."

"Acting like this isn't going to make the situation better. You should want all the allies you can get,” Lawson said.

Regis laughed sharply. "Then you don't know me at all. You wanted Commander Shepard? Well, you're also getting the Butcher of Torfan. Should've thought of that before you wielded your scalpel." He pushed back with a bit of biotic power, causing her to stumble and stepped up on the pedestal to the galaxy map.

EDI was the only thing on this ship he was willing to work with, if only because he was so fascinated by AI. Cerberus likely knew that and was going to exploit it, but he couldn't deny the allure.

"EDI, open the comms for an announcement."

"Go ahead, Commander."

He cleared his throat. "I will make this clear only once. I am Commander Shepard, you will all refer to me as such. This is my ship. Not Cerberus's, not Lawson's, mine. If you have a problem with that, you are welcome to leave. I was brought here against my will, and being here is against everything I stand for as a Spectre and as a soldier to the Alliance. I find all of you to be the scum of the Earth, of the fucking galaxy, for choosing this as your ultimate path. I am here for one job only, and that is to deal with this threat any way possible. And if that means tearing down your organization in the process and turning myself and all of you into the Alliance the moment I get a chance? I'll do it in a fucking heartbeat." He crossed his arms, observing the looks of all the crew members in the CIC, seeing varied expressions. Some angry, some wide-eyed with fear. The Yeoman next to him almost seemed to shudder when his gaze landed on her.

He knew he looked inhuman. The red eyes, the deep scars laced with cybernetics, unexpected side effects of whatever they did to bring him back.

He is the result of what happens when you play God.

"I fought and killed members of your organization two years ago for your heinous crimes you committed against your own species. Experiments with Rachni, Thresher Maws, and assassination plans against Alliance brass. Don't think I'll discriminate if I think any of you are a threat to me. This is my mission, and I will carry it out as I see fit. You've bastardized my memory and my ship, and I'll be damned if I don't ensure you all know how far I'm willing to go to get what I want. Again, you have a problem? Get the fuck off my ship. Return to your duties. I don't want to see anyone slacking off. With me here, this is a military operation, not some civilian private sector bullshit." He stepped down from the galaxy map and nearly made it to the elevator, but the Yeoman next to him stopped him.

"Commander, I--"

He cut her off. "I don't want to hear it. I can handle my own communications and messages. Don't make me upload a hack to ensure you can't get your claws in my shit. Stick to your galaxy map monitoring duties, and we won't have any problems."

"I was just going to say I'm here if you want to talk. I'm Kelly Chambers."

"Talk?" He scoffed. "I'm not talking to anyone who's Cerberus. Why the hell would I ever think you would respect confidentiality?"

Regis didn't wait for a reply. She seemed to shrink in on herself, clearly not anticipating his response.

In another life, he would've felt guilty.

No more.

Cerberus ensured that Regis Shepard would never be the same man ever again.

Lawson joined him on the elevator before it closed. "You should know that no one is going to leave."

He pressed the button for the third deck. "I didn't expect anything different. I wanted them to know my feelings on the matter. I'm an open book like that."

"Even towards your old crew?"

He raised an eyebrow. "They're now Cerberus crew, aren't they? Joining for me doesn't change anything."

The elevator doors opened. They stepped off.

"After I make my rounds on the ship, we're going to have a long talk about my resurrection, Lawson. If you really want me to be a part of this mission without turning in this ship to the Alliance, then maybe you should be forthcoming with the details," Regis said, crossing his arms.

He fully planned on going straight to the Citadel to talk to Anderson, but something told him that meeting will probably not end in his favor. Time will tell, but Regis wasn't going to be optimistic.

None of his meetings with Anderson has ever really ended "well" in his opinion.

"I think you deserve to know that much," she admitted.

A far cry from her "cold bitch" attitude back on the station. Regis almost wanted to loosen up a bit.

Nothing about her behavior seemed like an act at this point. She genuinely wanted to work with him.

It's a shame he doesn't want to give her the same courtesy.

"Then I hope whatever you tell me is the complete truth." Regis ended the conversation by heading towards the medbay.

Whatever she told him was likely never going to be the full truth, but he had to know.

He had to know what they did to him.

Next, Chakwas...

Two members of his crew decided Cerberus was a good idea, and he couldn't fathom why.

He didn't deserve that level of die-hard loyalty. If he did, he did something wrong. After everything they saw, all the reports he made, they still joined the organization that willingly hunted down Alliance soldiers and brass.

The doors to the medbay slid open. Chakwas was sitting at her desk. "Shepard." She stood up. "It's good to see you alive after everything."

Regis chose to not take the hand she offered. "I would say the same, but I'd rather not consider my situation good in any way whatsoever."

She sighed. "Then it's about Cerberus."

"Why did you think joining them was in any way a good idea? After everything we saw?" Regis asked, crossing his arms.

"After the Normandy was lost, everyone was reassigned. I was stationed at a medical center on Mars. A respectable position, but not a starship," she explained.

Regis narrowed his eyes. "So you threw everything away for a starship position?"

"I'm working for you, Shepard. Not Cerberus. A mission that could be crucial for our survival," she said, not rising to his bait. "I trust your dealings with Cerberus will be ethical. I trust you."

Regis shook his head, sitting down on one of the beds. "And can you verify with one-hundred percent certainty that you're dealing with me, and not some Cerberus puppet? How do you know that Cerberus won't do something to me or to you or to anyone we care for to get what they want? They don't give a single damn about humans, they just care about themselves and their image."

She stared down at him. "I’d say your anger is proof enough. Everything changed after your death. I chose the option that will help all of us. Don't tell me you would rather have some Cerberus doctor taking care of you?"

"Well, the person who resurrected me is across the damn hall. You tell me."

"I've been looking into what they did to bring you back," she admitted. "But most of it I don't have access to."

"I made a deal with Lawson. She's going to tell me everything. I'll make sure you get access."

"Do you trust that she'll tell you everything?"

Regis laughed. "Hell no. For her sake I hope she does. If I find out something out in the field that she could've told me? It's not going to end well for her."

"You've changed since the Normandy."

"Well, I'm a medical abomination trapped in the claws of a terrorist organization. They wanted Commander Shepard? They're getting the man that ordered the Torfan decision." Regis stood up from the bed. "Let me know if you need anything."

She nodded. "Before you go, there might be a way to remove those scars."

Regis caught his reflection in the window. Angry red lines cracked across his face. Glowing red pupils blending in with his own altered red irises.

"No. Let them see what they did to me."

"I'll be here if you change your mind, but I know with your experience, we might be able to make something good out of it instead of removing it outright."

Hell, she has a point. With his cybernetics background, he could probably channel the glow into something else. Something less cracked and scarred and more of an aesthetic choice.

Something to decide later.

Chakwas was always a steady presence. All the anger he had about her joining up mostly dissipated with her attitude about the matter. She let him be angry, and she let him treat her like he would treat any other Cerberus operative.

He still can't feel like he can fully trust her.

There's no way in hell Cerberus won't exploit his allies.

He explored the ship some more, learning all its new nooks and crannies, barely acknowledging the Cerberus crew that now wandered the halls of his ship.

He's not here to make friends.

His quarters were the worst part of the tour. The glass window above his bed, showing the dark expanse of space, taunted him.

They knew how he died.

They knew what became his grave.

He slammed his hand on the shutters, willing it to close faster.

His locker was filled with his favorite clothing. Turtlenecks, long coats, dark fatigues, boots and jeans. He tossed the Cerberus branded stuff into a corner, vowing to compact the trash in the lower decks later.

The familiarity caused him to shudder. They knew everything about him, but some things hit too close to home.

The photo on his desk nearly made him sick.

It was of Regis and Kaidan clothed in their armors, but instead of them wearing their usual scarves--Regis’s black and red, Kaidan’s blue and white--they were swapped. Their foreheads were touching, a calm moment before the drop down to Illos.

Tali was the one who took the photo, sharing it amongst the ground crew. None of them would've given up the picture. Kaidan, Ashley, Tali, Wrex, T'Soni.

Unless Cerberus recovered his omnitool, which was unlikely. The one in the armor locker back on the station was a piece of shit base model. And the one sitting on his desk was an updated version of his favored Logic Arrest.

Which meant they also didn't recover his dog tags, if they were nowhere to be found in his cabin.

That loss almost hit the hardest. That damn ring.

I should've just given it to Kaidan. Fuck fairytale proposals.

Regis turned the photo away from him. He rubbed his face, trying to get rid of the nausea.

Maybe diving into those dossiers would be a good idea right now. Something to distract him.

As he reached over to turn on his terminal, he received a ping on his omnitool.

A comm request from Joker.

“Got a minute, Commander?” Joker asked, after Regis accepted his comm request. Sitting at his desk, staring at the empty fish tank—what an ostentatious piece of shit—wondering what decision he made got him here on this fucking ship.

Accepting the Normandy, of course. He should have never acquiesced to Anderson’s and the Alliance’s demands. He could’ve been happy at Rio, enjoying his time with the N recruits, finding more ways to advocate for better training regimens for biotics.

He wondered if anything ever came from his suggestions. New N programs, new ways to train biotics recruits, new accelerated ways for biotics to gain ground in the Alliance… without him to speak up, who would?

But knowing what he knows now? Knowing that Kaidan would have likely been the one to suffer the beacon’s visions if he didn’t push him away?

Regis wasn’t too sure if he liked the thought of that outcome either, especially without being by his side.

“Come on up,” Regis replied, shutting down the link after responding.

This conversation is not going to be a good one.

A few minutes later, a knock sounded on his door. With a wave of his omnitool, he allowed Joker to come inside.

“They really tricked out the place, huh. Swanky crib you got here,” Joker commented, walking over to the couch.

“I think it’s utter bullshit,” Regis said, getting up from the desk to lean against the dumb fish tank. “Another way to think that I’m in a better place or some kind of manipulative crap. I hate it.”

“You know, you could really lighten up a bit. I think you’ve already scared half the crew to death with that announcement of yours. Especially Chambers.” Joker said with a laugh, but quickly stopped after seeing the dark look on Regis’s face. “Uh, sorry.”

“It’s because I don’t want to be here, Joker. Did you really think I was going to accept having a nosy green yeoman getting all up in my business at the CIC?” Regis asked. “Chambers is just one more way to report on every little move I make to the Illusive Man. She should be happy I haven’t decided to strand her with nothing when we get to the Citadel.”

“What’s next, you kick me off the ship?” Joker asked, crossing his arms. When Regis didn’t immediately respond, he held up his arms in surrender. “Sorry, just trying to lighten the mood.”

“What is this really about?” Regis asked. “As you can see, I’m really not in the mood, so spit it out.”

“Do you blame me for what happened?” Joker asked in a startling amount of seriousness.

Regis tilted his head to the side. “Do you blame yourself? Is that why you joined Cerberus?”

“Just answer my question, Shepard!” He balled his hands into fists.

“Fine. The only thing I blame you for is joining Cerberus. I don’t give a single fuck about how you supposedly did it for me, and thinking they were any kind of answer to your current problems was a betrayal to me and all the victims of their experiments that we discovered. Be happy we’re even having this conversation. You did what you thought was right back on my ship, but then again, you thought joining Cerbreus was a good idea. I don’t know if I can even trust your future judgment,” Regis said, staring Joker down.

Perhaps he was being too harsh, but at this point, Regis didn’t care.

It doesn’t matter that Joker was with him on the Normandy. Regis was never close with the man, never meshing well with his attitude and sense of humor. They butted heads more often than not, especially about matters surrounding the ship.

"If we're ever in a situation where it's you or the ship, choose yourself. I know you're a talented pilot, but I also know you can recognize when it's gone FUBAR. Abandon ship the moment you can while also keeping the crew safe." Regis said to him early on their Saren mission. "My piloting skills will be the only thing that saves our asses if we end up in that kind of situation. I'm the pilot. You trust my judgment." "I grew up learning how to pilot shuttles and ships, Moreau. I grew up hearing similar disaster situations on all the ships my mother served on. This is an order. You listen to my disaster plans, and we won't have a problem."

Joker opened his mouth to reply, his expression twisting with anger, but Regis beat him to it. "I know you remember that argument we had about what to do if we have to abandon ship. I've run all the scenarios in my head, and guess what, I remember everything that happened up to the moment I died suffocating in space. Maybe what you did saved more of the crew. Maybe what you did was the right thing. But we will never know, and you have to live with the fact that you defied my orders when you could've saved yourself."

"You're right, we will never know, but it doesn't matter, does it? We're here now, but you aren't going to thank anyone for the chance you've been given," Joker replied. "You're acting like a fucking child. How is that helpful to any of us? I'm sure if Alenko was here you'll be getting on your knees for his oh-so-great decision. And you would be besties with Williams if she was here too!"

Regis kept his face neutral, but if another biotic was in the room with him, they would feel his field about to roar to life. "Moreau," he said, "get the fuck out of my quarters."

"You aren't denying it! Regis Lucian Shepard, Butcher of Torfan and a hypocrite."

Regis activated his omnitool to open the doors remotely. He raised his voice, his field roaring to life in a bright violet glow. Moreau flinched back.

"I said, get the fuck out of my quarters! And for your information, Kaidan and Ashley would've never joined Cerberus because they were there for every goddamn mission we did unearthing their crimes. I'd be treating them the same way I'm treating everyone on this fucking ship if they did sacrifice their morals to be here." Regis shouted. "Sure, I can excuse your bullshit jokes, but you've crossed the fucking line. You see that picture over there.” He pointed at the photo frame on the desk. “You remember that picture being taken?”

He nodded, swallowing.

“And that’s why I’m so fucking angry. That’s why I would rather space myself again than be on this ship. But I can’t do that, now can I? Because Lawson and Cerberus will just bring me right back again, except this time, with a new way to control me!”

Regis let his biotics rest, leaving only a faint glow around this body, his eyes rimmed with deep purple.

Moreau silently stood up and walked over to the door. "I joined Cerberus for you and only you," he said, standing next to the elevator.

If that was his way of apologizing, he was doing a shit job of it.

"I wouldn't call that loyalty by any stretch of the imagination. It shows you didn't know me," Regis replied. He sat back down at his desk, his back turned to the door.

He was done with this conversation.

The doors opened and closed with a soft sound, and Regis let out a deep breath.

Leaning back in his chair, Regis ran his hand down his face. Fuck.

That's a bridge that will never be rebuilt anytime soon. He crossed the line when he went there about his relationship with Kaidan.

Regis wasn't about to apologize anytime soon either.

His gaze went back to the photo.

He should contact him, and he should log in to his personal server and send a message. But that photo made him pause.

Cerberus knows what Kaidan is to him, and if they found out about communications between them?

Regis wasn't willing to put Kaidan in danger, even if it means Kaidan finds out about his resurrection from another source.

The Alliance knows, likely thanks to footage from Freedom's progress. The Citadel and Council will know the moment he steps through security, if they don’t already.

But all they will see is Regis walking out of a ship emblazoned with Cerberus colors, and it made him sick.

The terminal sitting in front of him pinged with a new message. This time from Lawson.

Whenever you're ready, come to my office. We'll talk there.

He should start working on those dossiers, but the knowledge of his resurrection was far more important to him than this mission.

He sent a short reply. "I'm coming down now."

– –

He sat down at Lawson's desk. "Send me the files first." He ordered, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his legs.

"Surely you want to hear about it first?" She asked, but made a move on her terminal all the same.

"The files are more important to me. I'm not some dumb Jarhead. I'll be able to understand the documents just fine," he replied. "Surely you know about my degrees?"

"Yes. Cybernetics and biotic implants. Research into VI. And yet you joined the Alliance, doing none of those things," she commented. His omnitool pinged with the transfer. "There."

Regis was working to use those credentials with his biotic program, curating research and evidence to make training better, both standard and N style.

Very few cared about the plight of human biotics. But Regis wanted to make a difference, no matter how small it was.

His L2 implant ensured he had to care.

He glanced at them, scanning them with one of his programs, looking for any malicious code. Nothing obvious came up, but he'll break them down later.

He nodded, confirming the status of the files. "Now, tell me everything."

She outlined the details of his resurrection, starting with the status of his body.

"When we received your corpse, we immediately got to work designing cybernetic implants to repair your skeleton, to regenerate and reconstruct your skin, and to begin reconstructing your organ systems. I'm afraid Taylor put it in a crude way, but 'meat and tubes' was an unfortunate descriptor of your situation," she said, lacing her fingers together on her desk.

Regis wasn't shocked at the news. He kept his expression blank. "And the state of my armor?"

"What do you mean?" She asked, pausing with a confused expression on her face. "Why does that matter?"

"You've reconstructed me damn near perfectly, even down to my damn scars, piercings, and tattoos. Hell, I kept expecting to see some fucked line work on my flowers and chest tats especially. What I do care about is what personal effects I lost. My omnitool with my last will and rites, among other things, and my Alliance dog tags," Regis explained, barely refraining from rolling his eyes.

"It was in such a sad state. We retrieved nothing of yours that was intact," she said.

Regis raised an eyebrow. "Really? I know the hard suits aren't perfect, and I died in one spectacular fashion. But you didn't retrieve anything of the sort? Who handled my body? Who got it to you in the first place?"

"You don't care at all about what we did to you. All you care about is what you lost," she said, narrowing her eyes.

True. The documents were enough for him. Keeps him from wanting to biotically blast her across the room for defying his right to death.

For defying his right to be buried with his father.

"You’re right. I don't really give a fuck about all the sordid details. That's what those files are for. No, I care about what has been done to me. And that includes everything that was on my person when I died," Regis spat. "So I’ll ask again, and this time, I'll make it really clear. Who. Handled. My. Body."

Her face remained blank. "Would it really change anything? We received a corpse with charred armor that has long since been destroyed. You are proof enough that we cared to bring you back as you were, even your L2 implants were kept the same."

Regis leaned back in the chair. "Maybe not, but I cared a lot about those things. Don't you think there's a goddamn reason why I keep pressing you on it? Clearly you're not an idiot if you were able to do the impossible. I want names, Lawson."

"You think you were looted before we were able to officially recover you?" She asked.

"Was I?" He fired back. "I wouldn't be surprised if I was. I'm Commander Shepard, hero of the goddamn Citadel, Butcher of Torfan, and the First Human Spectre. I'm a fucking celebrity. Or else why would you have revived me? I'm important."

She pursed her lips. “The Illusive Man believes in your visions. He saw you as the key to helping humanity.”

“Ah, so his wants are greater than mine? Who gives a fuck about one man’s feelings when he can save us all? Nice phrasing there, really shows who you care about,” Regis mocked.

“I’m merely repeating his reasons for us creating the Lazarus project in the first place. I was under orders.”

“And here I thought Cerberus wasn’t a military organization. No, you just wanted to prove you could defy all known laws and resurrect a long dead man,” Regis said. “Stop trying to convince myself that what you all did to me was out of some duty because you care.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but Regis cut her off. “Honestly, whatever you’re going to say is going to piss me off more. Just give me the fucking names of who brought me in.”

“It must be so exhausting being so angry,” she said. “Eventually, you’ll have to learn to work with us. Or are you going to run in and recruit everyone for this mission on your own?”

He has half a mind to do exactly that. Surely, she knew about his service history. Solo missions in between his stint as a trainer for the N program and other biotics.

Despite being a biotic, he was one hell of an infiltrator, able to reign in his field to a point where it was very difficult for other biotics to sense him. A high level of control to make sure you almost never intersect with anyone else's field. He made sure that Kaidan knew how to do it as well, the one thing Regis considered himself better at biotically.

Regis chuckled without mirth. “Exhausting? No. You brought back Regis Shepard. You’re getting exactly who you wanted. Why, did you think I’ll be getting on my knees, praising Cerberus for bringing me back? Stop trying to portray yourselves as the misunderstood good guys who are only trying to help humanity.”

“If what you say is true, those were likely splinter groups. Cerberus operates in separate cells," she said. “And for your information, I thought this whole project was a waste of precious resources, but the Illusive Man wanted you alive.”

Interesting. Doesn’t quite change his opinion of her, but he respected her some for even admitting that.

Still, she kept digging her heels in whenever he tried to tell her off Cerberus's deeds during the Saren mission.

Regis couldn't fathom why. They clearly knew a lot about him. They must've gotten their hands on his mission reports.

Cerberus was an active threat then, and now, Regis was more than a little worried about their obvious scope.

“And I’m sure you had objections for how he wanted me alive. Let me guess: You wanted a way to control me,” Regis observed.

“Yes, I wanted to put a control chip in you, but the Illusive Man wanted you exactly as you were,” she admitted.

She almost seemed to brace herself for something, the way she moved her hands off her desk and leaned back.

Regis didn’t give her the satisfaction. Even if he wanted to give her a taste of what he felt while he was dying in space.

He wasn’t looking forward to getting some sleep as his nightmare became true two years ago.

Yet it feels like it happened yesterday all the same.

"Well, at least you admitted it to me," Regis said, watching as she slowly let her guard down. "But it proves that I was right and still right to not trust you or anyone else on this ship, if you were willing to go that far to use me for your gains."

"And you are proving to me that I was right to have those concerns for our well-being," she fired back.

Regis smirked. There's that fire he was waiting for. "Sounds like quite the sore spot. What do you want me to say, really? Oh, I'm so sorry you lost the right to control another human being. Boo-fucking-hoo."

She narrowed her eyes. "This conversation is leading nowhere. You're wasting your own time."

"I don't consider this a waste of my time at all," Regis said, reveling in the fact that he was likely waiting her time. "But, since you haven't rescinded your offer of information, let's go back to that Cerberus cell comment you made. You're saying you keep your projects isolated?"

She cleared her throat. "If it keeps you here, I'll answer your questions. Yes, each project is its own cell. I was part of the Lazarus Cell. And so, the cell that recovered you is not something I'm privy to. Even if it was, Cerberus changes the location and status of some of its operatives all the time," she said. "I can't help you."

Regis frowned. "Fine. But perhaps it is a good thing, because I’d have to pause your little mission to hunt them down and take what you didn’t retrieve for me. I don’t believe my personal effects were so easily lost.”

Before she could reply, Regis held up his omnitool. "I'm going to read over the files. Make yourself available for questions. And if there's anything about my resurrection that you didn't tell me, no matter how fucking small or innocuous it might seem, don't think I won't take it lying down."

She looked him in the eyes. “You have my word, even if to you that might mean nothing."

Regis stood up. "You're absolutely right, your word means shit to me.”

He walked out of her office without hearing her response.

The trek back to his quarters was short, but it still gave him time to think about what he learned.

Perhaps he should have spent more time listening to her account right at that moment.

But finding out who handled his body will be his ultimate goal on this mission.

Regis wanted them to burn for desecrating his memory and for keeping him hostage away from his family.

As he sat back down at his desk, he had a feeling she wasn't telling him everything. Why would she? And yet, what does she have to gain by keeping whoever handled his body to himself?

Who is she protecting? Or maybe she sees it as a way of keeping him from getting distracted. He made it clear what he wanted out of that conversation.

Something he'll try to press on later.

It's unlikely he'll actually make good on his threats, but for all intents and purposes, none of the Cerberus crew on this ship really knew who he was, only going off of reports and vids and whatever else they were able to find on him.

They don't know the man behind the titles. and he was going to use that to his advantage.

He opened up the dossiers list, looking through the people Cerberus wanted him to recruit.

A master thief by the name of Kasumi Goto, who is waiting for him at the Citadel. Stealth, infiltration, and hacking–all skills of his that he values in others.

He looked forward to hearing how she ended up in this mess.

A salarian scientist by the name of Mordin Solus, who was also with the STG. Cerberus is even recruiting aliens? Must be desperate, knowing their stance.

A convict by the name of Jack, who is supposedly the most powerful human biotic. A criminal, by the looks of things. He wondered why Cerberus needed someone like her, someone likely unstable and worked for only herself.

He'd have to see how his abilities compared to hers. He and Kaidan were often known by the Alliance as their most powerful biotics. What makes her different? He wanted to know.

A warlock by the name of Dr. Okeer. A krogan scientist. Another alien. Regis raised an eyebrow, remembering a few conversations he had with Wrex. A rarity.

No wonder Cerberus wanted someone like him.

He doubted that Okeer and Solus would get along.

Next, someone by the name of Archangel. Regis rolled his eyes at the name, but the dossier itself was suspiciously blank compared to the others. No real name and a vague location.

Finally, the one titled "The Veteran."

Regis opened it and blinked once he saw the name, making sure he read it correctly.

Zaeed Massani, hired by Cerberus.

He couldn't help but laugh at the note that said how expensive his services were.

Yet, Regis knew Zaeed wasn't an idiot. He kept an ear close to the ground. He had to have known what Cerberus really was.

So why was he part of these dossiers?

He'll have to be careful. He trusts Zaeed. Trusted him with things only Kaidan knows and has seen.

Maybe Moreau was right. He really is a fucking hypocrite.

Because he couldn't wait to get to Omega and get that man on board. As selfish as it was, Regis really wanted him back by his side, even if they were just friends.

Regis closed his eyes as he thought back to his and Kaidan's leave on Omega. Three–no, five now–years ago.

Sandwiched between them after they had taken turns with him, Regis relished in the feeling of being fucked out by two gorgeous men, one who had been by his side for years, the other a temporary lover Regis wanted so much more with. Kaidan pecked his lips with a sweet little kiss. "How are you feeling, love?" He asked, checking over him with a loving gaze. "Good. Sore, but that's to be expected," he rasped out. He cleared his throat. "But I like it that way." "I know you do." "You two have a good thing going on," Zaeed grumbled from behind him, a tattooed arm wrapped around Regis's body. "But I'm also a goddamn gentleman. It's been a while someone has let me be that rough with them." Regis turned to face the mercenary. "I'm fine, I promise. I can handle it." Zaeed pressed a kiss on his forehead. "That you can, Alliance. Next time, don't hold back on your biotics. Both of you. Ain't my first rodeo." "So sure about a next time," Kaidan teased. "But we can get a little, uh, wild with our fields. Comes with our implants." "Right, you two must be from the second gen? No wonder your biotics were so strong out in the field. Thought I was fighting with Matriarch commandos out there," Zaeed said, starting to trace patterns on the tattoos on Regis's chest. He shivered at the contact. "It has its benefits," Regis said. "I'm sure it does," Zaeed said. "I got a bathtub big enough for the three of us back there. Join me." Kaidan grinned. "Of course. Regis?' "As long as you two pamper me, I'm alright with that."

But without Kaidan with him, Regis wasn't about to make a move.

Even if he craved the touch of another.

His fingers itched, reaching out for a pack of cigarettes that were nowhere to be found.

Regis knows what he's going to pick up when he gets to Omega.

First, he'll deal with the Citadel. Talk with Anderson, recruit Goto, and see if the new council would be willing to talk with him.

And then, Omega.

Regis wasn't looking forward to whatever was waiting for him at the Citadel, but he hoped to get answers.

And to find out where Kaidan and Ashley ended up.

He didn't want them on the ship, but he needed to know they were okay. That they flourished in the Alliance.

That they moved on without him by their sides.

He wasn't holding his breath, however. The moment he shows up in a Cerberus ship will seal his fate. He's almost certain he'll be stonewalled.

But he wouldn't deny the Spectre position if it was offered back to him, despite not wanting it in the first place.

He could hear it now, Regis Shepard, a traitor to the Alliance, to humanity, and to the Council!

Regis never felt so lost, so out of control, until now.

He hoped that he can regain some semblance of control fast.

#mass effect #regis shepard #mshenko #cleric's writing #not tagging all the characters for this fic #and i'll post this on ao3 later #i do love miranda but at the moment regis does not lol #mass effect fanfiction

9 notes · View notes

parcferm3 · 1 year ago

Text

Like all the youtubers who aren't using AI to write their scripts and are just pumping out regurgitated articles ganked from google, I've had a few hours to process this morning's news and have allowed it to digest past the 'called it' and 'love to see him back, hate to see how it played out' kneejerk reactions, and to be honest, I'm perhaps a bit less WTF than I was at six this morning when I walked into the kitchen and made my partner spit coffee onto the kitchen blind.

So Daniel Ricciardo.

Ricciardo, Daniel.

DRDRDRDRDRhmmmmmm right then.

That was quick. I was definitely in the camp that it would happen over the summer break for a few reasons, not just because of the extremely unsubtle vibes that the Red Bull camp have been throwing out all over their social media, but also because it made sense.

Do I think it's not great that DR's got a drive in an objectively even worse way than he lost his at McLaren seat? Yes. Do I think the way Nyck de Vries has been spoken about publicly by his own team is pretty damn terrible and probably hasn't helped with his confidence? Of course. It was a clear case of buyer's regret that's made everyone look pretty terrible and has probably left poor Nyck de Vries feeling not unlike DR last year.

Do I think it's a good business decision from two not-quite-separate constructors who both exist only as moving billboards, and know a good marketing dynamic when they see it? Uh. Yuh.

Why not Liam Lawson? Well... apart from not having the immediate hype and recognition of DR, I think he's destined for that seat next year. For once, Red Bull isn't going to do what they did with de Vries and almost everybody else (hopefully) and set the guy up to fail. There's a reason he wasn't in the car at the start of the season, they're biding their time until he's ready. Let him finish out the Super Formula season. It makes sense to give him a full pre-season program before putting him in the car, and they've got nothing to lose and potentially a whole lot to gain, by giving the seat to Ricciardo.

Nothing to lose:

Daniel Ricciardo is, if nothing else, a safe bet, and a benchmark for Yuki Tsunoda and for the car itself. Is there a possibility that he tanks? Sure. Maybe the brakes in the AT are even less suited to his driving style than the Mclaren's and all the lockups, prangs, and off-track shenanigans we've seen this year are down to the car more than they are the drivers, however. Even Daniel on a bad day is probably better than Nyck on a good one, and that's not me slating Nyck, that's just experience.

So Alpha Tauri gets an experienced driver who's already on the payroll to compare Yuki against, who at worst won't score points and crash the car on occasion (which is a nett 0 swap) and at best, will score points, demonstrate what the car is capable of, and potentially get them above Alpha Romeo in the constructor's championship by the time the summer break rolls around. Heck, if he does great, maybe even beyond Haas and Williams. The reality is somewhere in between, but at the moment all it would take is for a 6th and a 10th at the Hungaroring for AT to draw level with Alpha Romeo, should AR have another zero points scoring weekend (which is not outside of the realms of possibility, considering AR has only scored in 4/10 of the grands prix actually run this year), and if it's a 6th and an 8th, that pushes them level with Haas and Williams (again, provided neither score points).

A whole lot to gain? Really?

I'm going to say it. I'm gonna. It's coming. Here it comes oh my god what is it what is it?

Sergio Perez is gonna retire at the end of this year.

It's out there. There it is. I said it. Whew.

Why do I think this? IDK folks, it's just the vibes.

Vibes, along with things like Christian Horner's joke about Perez 'making babies' at Silverstone this past weekend, which definitely pushed this theory along a bit. Not necessarily in a 'he's made rumblings about more kids' kind of way (although like, sure, possibly, whatever), but a 'is this a hint that family is on the guy's mind a lot more' kind of way. And Checo himself has said 'as long as I'm enjoying it' which he just... really doesn't seem like he is at the moment.

And the, y'know. It's a loan. Very specific there on your press release, Red Bull.

But then some part of me thinks this was always sort of at least part of the plan right from when DR was announced as third driver in the first place. Nothing set in stone, but paths being laid out and options being put on the table not just for Red Bull as a whole, but also for Perez.

(Sidenote, I actually don't think de Vries was pushed two races out from the summer break, I think he asked to go so he didn't have to endure any more of toll that the RB meat grinder was taking on him. Please set me free, I'll even leave without you paying me out for the rest of the season I just want to get out of here good lord. But that's a whole 'nother story and again, just vibes.)

Every. Single. Interview. With Daniel Ricciardo, he's made it very clear he intends to be in that Red Bull seat next year. I'm not digging through the bin for all the ticket stubs, you've read them already.

Once DR's got a few races under his belt and has (optomistically) proven that he's capable of getting a few points in what we currently assume is the worst car on the grid, they'll give Checo the green light to chuck it in.

The thing about Ricciardo, is he's a known entity. He's been Max's team mate before and understands the dynamic. He wasn't prepared to be number two last time, but this time rather than a young talented upstart coming in to usurp his position in what's already his team, he's coming in with his eyes wide open, a focus on team results rather than individual. He'll know his job is to be the classic wingman a la Barrichello/Bottas/Webber etc etc because it's obvious and it'd be stupid to think otherwise, because Max really is just that good.

And as much as I root for Yuki, I just don't see him in that second seat right now. They want a solid, steady, reliable presence, who won't collapse under the pressure of being Max Verstappen's teammate, and at the moment, the best person for that job is probably Daniel Ricciardo.

#daniel ricciardo #f1 #formula 1 #f1blr #red bull racing #nyck de vries #yuki tsunoda #sergio perez #max verstappen #red bull drama factory

12 notes · View notes

keriweird · 2 years ago

Text

Spectre Requisitions 2023

Rating: Mature

Category: F/M

Fandoms: Mass Effect Trilogy

Relationship: Kaidan Alenko/Miranda Lawson

Additional Tags:

Destroy Ending (Mass Effect); Post-War;Enemies to Friends to Lovers; Meet Cute Or Meet Cranky?; Grissom Academy (Mass Effect); Biotic Booties; Nudity; wet clothes; Cranky Kaidan

He was just rinsing the conditioner from his hair when someone started rapping on his door very insistently, but he wouldn’t exactly call it pounding.

“What on Earth?” Kaidan slapped the water off and stepped out, slinging a white towel around his waist as he made his way across the cold metal tiles to the front door. He held the towel closed at his hip and toggled the door open, hair dripping onto the floor between his feet. On the other side of the door, a gorgeous brunette woman stood hip shot with an annoyed expression knitting her perfect brows, tapping the toe of her high heels impatiently.

“Finally. Your apartment is flooding my bathroom.”

Kaidan blinked slowly in response to her choice of tone and watched as her own crystal blue eyes widened slightly. In another blink her expression was neutral once again. The woman was vaguely familiar, and it irked that he couldn't quite place where he knew her from. Odds were it had something to do with Shepard. Everything seemed to; the man cast a wide social net.

“Sorry about that. The water’s off now, though.”

“I should hope so.”

He could feel his brows furrowing. Wasn’t she just a delight? “Weeell, we should both put in a maintenance ticket instead of standing here, don’t you think?”

The way her arms crossed over her blouse caught his attention. Her… shirt was wet, something lacey embossing the thin fabric. Oh god, she must have been in her bathroom trying to stem the flood. That realization bled out some of his irritation, and then she opened her perfect mouth again.

“Perhaps shutting off your main valve would be a brilliant idea, too, don’t you think?”

Damn it, she wasn’t wrong, but there were at least five better, more polite ways she could have said it. Well… he supposed turn about was fair play. His hand tightened in the towel at his hip and he turned pointedly to secure the ends around his waist, then pulled up the schematics for the apartment to locate the wall panel he needed to get behind.

“For goodness sake, move.”

She strode in, sheer stockings wet up to her ankles, and reached up to pop a panel on the wall free from its frame. She pushed it into Kaidan’s hands and stood on tiptoe to reach the lever that would cut the water supply completely. Kaidan clutched at the panel per force and they both froze when they heard the wet fwump of a towel hitting the floor.

“Fantastic,” Kaidan sighed.

#mass effect #mass effect fan fiction #specreqs2023 #spectre requisitions #spectre requisitions 2023 #major kaidan alenko #kaidan alenko #miranda lawson #Kaidan Alenko/Miranda Lawson

12 notes · View notes

redcandle17 · 2 years ago

Text

Dukes of Ruin, Dukes of Madness, and Dukes of Peril

Dukes of Ruin, Dukes of Madness, and Dukes of Peril by Angel Lawson and Samantha Rue are books number 4-6 of the Royals of Forsyth University series, and a sequel trilogy to the Lords of Pain/Lords of Wrath/Lords of Mercy trilogy, centering on a different group of characters.

It’s somehow simultaneously lighter and darker than the Lords trilogy. Part of that is due to the fact certain sex scenes are completely non-consensual rather than merely dubious or reluctantly consensual. And part of it is due to the world-building and the realization of just how fucked up these characters’ world and sub-culture is. (I despise Nick’s and Sy’s mom who instead of telling her sons to not rape anybody, tries to tell Lavinia to just cope with it and forgive them.)

While the overall story is as good or better than the Lords trilogy, the foursome relationship is inferior and less believable. There’s a noticeable difference between what the narrative tells us and what the narrative shows us. To me, Lavinia/Sy and Lavinia/Remy only seem believable as friends with benefits, despite the narrative trying to convince me they were in love. And despite the narrative telling me that Nick is cool with sharing Lavinia with his half-brother and their best friend, it shows Nick as a traditional, monogamous romantic. He even wants Lavinia to kiss only him, not the other two.

I love Lavinia Lucia. I love Nick Bruin. I loved their scene in the Lords trilogy. I’m intrigued by those two years where he served as the primary guard keeping her captive on behalf of the five Kings crime lords (unbeknownst to her, he read every book he brought her!) I would happily read a whole book about them and those two years. I love that his computer password is her first name plus his surname. I love that he had her tattoo ‘LB’ on him in her handwriting. I love that he had her lip-print tattoo’d on him after she kissed his neck. I love that he puts his Bruin/Dukes ring on her finger after the first time they have fully consensual sex. It couldn’t be any clearer that Nick wants Lavinia to be his wife in a conventional relationship.

I love those heartbreaking scenes at the end of the Dukes of Ruin. I love Lavinia’s revenge against Nick in Dukes of Madness and his acceptance of his punishment. I love the entirety of their scene with the Barons’ King. The modified Russian roulette (3 bullets loaded in the revolver instead of 1) was insane. It’s expected that the guy would be willing to die to save the girl’s life in a romance, but the guy being willing to die just so she gets closure over what happened to her dead sister?!!! God damn. I want a Nick Bruin.

#dark romance #non-con romance #royals of forsyth university #angel lawson #samantha rue #spoilers

3 notes · View notes

zeninsama-moved · 2 years ago

Note

NAOYA ANON IS HERE WHAT HAPPENED WHAT ARE YOU THINKING

I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT MY ANSWER TO THIS ALL DAY (AND EVER SINCE U FIRST RECOMMENDED THE FIC TO ME TBH) AND I JUST... first of all, i haven't finished it yet, i stopped at chapter 11 because i had to sleep so these are my thoughts so far. i may have missed a thing or two but this is the gist.

be warned there will be jjk manga spoilers/fic spoilers also this post is so fucking long i'm sorry

so i made note of the scenes/lines that had me screaming my head off and i will share them/discuss them under the cut <3

starting lighthearted with gojo things i found absolutely hilarious

"damn. by virtue of that, that means that technically-ish, gojo would be the semi leader of the zen'in clan. holy shit. shit's wild, son."

"maybe later he could trot over to lawson's and get himself a nice juice box, then a chocolate coolish ice cream pouch. yeah, that's the shit right there."

"behind you, he could hear your mother speaking with one of the servants in the hallway and he hopes to god she doesn't join in on the conversation. why the hell does she have to be here? fuckin' kris jenner with her bullshit, couldn't she leave her daughter to make her own decisions for herself? what's next, a sex tape to keep you in the zen'in family? shit. caught in 4k, filmed by gojo (and starring gojo)."

"should he pick you up and shot-put you into the distance so that you're like one twinkling star as you orbit? he doesn't know. if you were a dude, he'd definitely do that to you. fine. equal opportunity, it's the twenty-first century, he'll shot-put you."

"he looks nice like this, you think, in a thin white linen button-down short sleeve with cream shorts and... you do your best not to grimace. fucking assistant to the regional manager over here with the birkenstock kicks. at least he's not wearing white socks with them. you'll make sure you don't look anywhere past his kneecaps."

"'you wanna kiss me that bad?' he slaps his palm down onto the table as he chews and swallows. 'i knew it, you can touch me anytime, anywhere you want, babe–'"

GOJO IS A FUCKING MENACE IN THIS FIC! I LOVE THAT HE'S SO EMBARRASSING, IT FEELS LIKE REAL GOJO <3 his dynamic with the reader is so funny too, how she (for the most part) wants absolutely nothing to do with him. how things can be normal and sweet between them and then he says something so painfully cringe that it snaps us back to reality. what a fucking man.

"sometimes, he would dream that your thumb was a sausage and give it a bite. usually you would wake up and give him a bite back on his black, pointy ear."

NOW THIS LINE IS NOT GOJO OR NAOYA RELATED BUT IT'S ONE I ENJOYED NONETHELESS... i love kimi so much <3 the concept of him alone is so cool, being part-shikigami, part-demon or whatever, and how he can morph into different weapons for us to wield <3 also the scene where his paw emerged from the shadows to pester gojo for some salmon LMAO

okay.............. onto the main event i think...... onto naoya......

a lil tw for misogyny/death even though i know naoya anon will be the only one reading this

"a boy, he wanted a boy. he must have a boy. at least two or three. then you could have a girl, he'd gift you with one, he had told you before as you stared up at him with that dumb, fucked out expression. he'd gift you a baby girl after you had done your duty to him as his wife. a baby girl, as a treat. a reward if you're a good little wife."

WHY DID THIS HAVE ME FUCKING SCREAMING!!!

"for now, you would make do with expensive designer items as gifts until you managed to bear him a son. no little girl yet. but you'd work on that, he'd work on that – he'd make sure to work his fat dick into you as often as he possibly could to achieve that goal. he'd tell you he's such a good husband, making sure you get your own little treat."

DECEASED. I AM DECEASED.

"yeah, don't bother. this is too much for yer pretty little head. just go be pretty and dumb elsewhere, lil' baby. go on now, shoo."

"my pretty little girl. right? that's right. yer my baby girl, all mine? tell me, baby girl, who do you belong to?"

"stayed up all night waitin' for me, eh? what a good wife y'are. c'mere'n let me see yer cute face."

JUST... THE WAY NAOYA SPEAKS... THE THINGS HE SAYS TO US. it reminds me very much of touya because it's affectionate for a guy like him but still teasing and playful. these lines had me blushing so hard and kicking my feet and giggling. the use of petnames like "lil' baby" and "baby girl" and him telling you to "c'mere'n let me see yer cute face" ohhhhh my god.......

not to mention, i love his accent very much. country boyyy i love youuuuu.

"'c'mon now,' he mutters, turning his head to the side so he can press a kiss to your temple. 'why didn'tcha say somethin' earlier if it bothered you that much, you dumb baby.'"

this scene really changed everything for me... i will expand on this more later but the connection they have... their loyalty to each other... or moreso their desire to just have each other.

"a man, the man who had humiliated maki's mother many times, spoke hideous things about her children within earshot, is straining to call one of his other cousins because fuck fuck fuck why aren't you answering. his eyes soften and he's not exactly sure if it's because of the sweat in his eyes or the picture that you had just sent two minutes ago, a picture of you and the new lipstick you're trying on. you look so pretty. fuck. he's gonna cry."

I SAVED THIS ONE BEFORE THE SECOND POV CHAPTER THAT WENT MORE IN-DEPTH ON NAOYA'S FEELINGS AND THAT ONE – I WAS ALREADY DYING BUT THAT FINISHED ME OFF! this fic is so well-written that i felt grief for this fucking man. grief for naoya fucking zen'in of all people. it left a hole in my chest and i haven't felt this grief since [REDACTED REDACTED] in csm.

especially later, when reader was remembering her honeymoon in amalfi coast, when they were driving in the convertible and lost her scarf. for some reason that flashback made me so sad.

"'that girl will be your downfall,' is what his father tells him later on that day. naoya wants to believe that. maybe you'll be the one to drag him to hell. that would be nice. he'd be back home. he'll always come home. if that's where you're at, he'll always come home."

WAILING

OKAY... we are almost to the end of it <3

"'wait. oh my god, wait. wait. no way. you... you loved him? you actually loved naoya? naoya? zen'in naoya?'

your eyes sting hot, and you're not sure if it's because he's speaking ill of your very dead husband or because you're taking it personally for having loved the horrible man.

there's something about how you feel when it comes to naoya. defensive, even. you're certain that although love and family had been a difficult, complicated subject for the man, he fucked you like he loved you. like you had been a very fragile thing that he needed to care for – and he did. he always did; had always cared for you in ways that no one else would. or at least, he cared for you in ways that no one else would or could within a fifty-mile radius.

'babe, really?'

for all of his acid and harsh angles and sharp tongue, naoya was someone who took care of you and protected you. he made you feel wanted and safe and cherished and by the gods even if he didn't actually say it, he made you feel loved. that's what mattered to you. now, at least. maybe too much, even."

THIS WAS A FUCKING INSANE MOMENT TO ME reader wondering a few chapters ago whether or not she loved naoya and admitting now that she did, so very much so.

this really resonated with me in particular, not to get all wah-wah pity party but i've dealt with a lot of relationship trauma and all i've got to show for it is a crippling fear of abandonment. this type of love is therapeutic to me. when your person loves you and only you, there's nobody to compete with because they don't give half a shit about anyone else. you're the only one that sees that soft part of them, dare i say the real them.

THERE ARE A LOT OF THINGS I FORGOT TO WRITE DOWN BUT THIS FIC HAS CHANGED MY LIFE IN WAYS THAT I CANNOT COMPREHEND AND I AM NOT EVEN HALFWAY DONE.

another thing that made me very happy was seeing a lot of similarities in how the author characterizes naoya & how i've been characterizing him for the menthol prequel. fucking daddy issues central. naoya being a contradiction of himself because he's everything a zen'in should be, and yet he has these haunting moments of clarity where he realizes that's the last thing he wants to be... and yet nothing changes. he will be this way until he dies, and he was this way until he died. not that this man deserves tenderness because he's evil, but like... the care in which the author handles his character. it's everything to me.

trying my hardest but like oh my god it's going to be hard to let myself fall for gojo because the man the author wrote naoya to be. the husband he was. the deep, profound love he had that's even more special because it's all the love he has and it's all for you.

I'M EXCITED TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS WITH HIM COMING BACK AS A CURSE... I WILL KEEP READING TONIGHT BUT I FEAR I WILL SOB MY EYES OUT WHEN I FINISH IT <3

#tldr i like it #tldr i love that stupid man and his country bumpkin self #mercury speaks #naoya anon from hell #tw misogyny #tw character death

0 notes

lovelytsunoda · 1 year ago

Text

god knows I’ve tried // yuki tsunoda

summary: stranded at her publishers office after the battery in her car dies, there’s only one person she wants to call for a jumpstart.

pairing: yuki tsunoda x lawson!reader

warnings: self-deprecating humor, y/n is very self critical, yuki is her night in shining armour, total lack of christmas spirit, anxiety.

author's note: this resonates so personally with me and i feel so fricking attached to this story and all the people in it. please treat it kindly :)

so go on judge me by my cover, and no I’ll never have another. baby I’ve been bad, but god knows I’ve tried to be good

it's too early for damn christmas lights, she huffed to herself as she left the office, juggling the volkswagen keys that dangled from her fingertips with the large cardboard box between her arms, staring at the lights and tinsel hung up on the light poles. cursing to herself and trying not to drop anything, she fumbled for the unlock button, ready to ditch the box in her trunk.

her volkswagen golf stood solitary and alone in the parking lot, no other cars for miles. if liam was here, he'd be asking where her pepper spray was, god forbid anything happen to his baby sister.

there was only a year between them, but sometimes she swore that liam acted as if there were five.

the cold dug into her skin as she hobbled through the parking lot, trying to keep her head on a swivel as she once again asked herself why she had parked so far away from any other car. she fumbled with the trunk button (which was unresponsive a lot more than it actually opened the trunk), unceremoniously dumping the box so hard that the small red car started to shake.

she slammed the trunk shut, frowning as she ran a fingertip over the small spot of rust that had begun to form where the silver letters proclaimed to the world what kind of car she drove met the painted trunk door.

she opened the car door, slipping into the driver's seat and staring at the overhead door lights, which had not illuminated as they were intended to when the door opens.

"motherfucker." she mumbled. "i'm gonna have to replace the latch, aren't i?" this was not new. she'd had multiple issues with the car, buying it from a dealership that advertised mostly on facebook.

never again, the next car she buys will be certified pre-owned from a volkswagen dealer, not a used car lot.

the latch would need replacing eventually: it had already locked up the door and prevented her from opening her car, even after smashing the unlock button on her keys five times. she rolled her eyes, closing the door and sliding the key into the ignition.

the key turned, but the car didn't start. growing increasingly panicked, she turned the key a few more times, the same ministrations that normally started up the ten year old car.

"fuck!" she howled, slamming her hands down on the steering wheel as the engine refused to turn over again. she reached for the headlight button, feeling her stomach drop to the floor when there was no response from the headlights.

the engine battery was dead.

she was stranded, alone, in a dark parking lot at night.

it didn't get more fucked than that.

she reached for her phone, the screen providing the only light source as she fumbled for the lock button, and making sure her finger hovered steadily over the panic alarm on her keys. just in case.

who was she going to call, she wondered, scrolling through her contacts. definitely not liam, she couldn't trouble him like that. remind him that she'd always need protecting. she could call her best friend, but the likelihood that margot would know what to do was slim. besides, she was probably out with her boyfriend if she wasn't at work.

her finger hovered over a name, and she debated long and hard if it was worth it, if she was really desperate enough to ask him for help. would he come? would he consider it strange that his best friend's baby sister was calling in the middle of the night because she was dumb enough to drain her car battery?

right now, it didn't look like she really had a choice. unless she wanted to call a tow truck and be out a couple hundred bucks.

"hello?"

"yuki, it's y/n. i need your help."

when the headlights of yuki's honda civic type r lit up the parking lot, she could have cried from relief. the dead battery also meant no heat, and she was chilled to the bone, teeth chattering together as she clutched her phone in one hand and her keys in the other.

"thank god you're here!" she blurted, scrambling out of the car as yuki pulled into the parking space on her passenger side. "i didn't know who else to call!"

ah, yes. yuki tusnoda. backlit by his headlights, he looked like a guardian angel. he'd been close with the lawsons since he came to england, being practically adopted when he moved in with liam at milton keynes, like some fucked up version of a college roommate scheme.

not to mention that he was funny, hot as hell, and she never knew if his cheerful, gentle ribbing meant he looked at her as more than a friend. every time he gifted her a casserole dish of something he had cooked, or invited her out when he and liam went somewhere, she couldn't help but think that maybe he liked her the way that she liked him.

in a way that was anything but just friendly.

"didn't you just get something fixed on your car?" yuki frowned popping his car hood open and digging around in his glove box for the jumper cables.

"i changed a headlight last week. the last major thing was the driveshaft, i couldn't fix that myself, had to take it in." she frowned, lifting up the hood of her own car, using her phone light to find the battery cover. "the car is a piece of shit, but at least it's reliable. and the driveshaft was covered by the dealership since it should have been on the safety certification and wasn't."

yuki frowned, untangling the cables before he dropped them to the pavement, peeling off his puffer jacket. "your lips are blue. take my jacket. i doubt liam would like it if let his little sister get hypothermia"

"pneumonia."

"same difference."

"not really." she laughed, pulling yuki's jacket over her own thin flannel trench coat. she hated wearing a thick winter coat when she drove, relying almost entirely on her car's heated seats to keep warm without suffocating.

"if i get sick because i sacrificed my jacket for you, i should hope that you'd be the one to take care of me. you know, since it was your own fault." yuki chuckled, hooking up the cables as y/n tried to keep warm

"fuck you. i could have stayed in the car."

"the car doesn't have heat either."

oh. yeah. she forgot about that one.

"well, i could have stayed in your fancy ass sports car." it didn't matter how she phrased it, she was just trying to butter him up. on a normal day, she made fun of him for driving a honda civic, calling it a 'mom-mobile'.

with the jumper cables fully connected, they both settled into the honda to wait it out. usually, the rule of thumb was fifteen minutes, but she wasn;t sure that she could stand to be in a car with yuki for that long without doing something reckless.

she slipped out of his jacket, moving to pass it to him before he gestured vaguely to the backseat. the heated seats were on, but she could still see the puffs of air leaving her body as she breathed heavily.

"thanks for coming. i didn't know who to call."

yuki turned to look at her, turning down the volume on the radio. it was a shame, too. she was quite enjoying 'teenage dirtbag'. "why didn't you call liam?"

"pride, i think. he's always been the favourite, the one that stuck with it, the one that made something of himself. i don't need to admit to him that i need help, that i don't know things. because i do, it just sometimes takes me a little longer to get it, or i give up too quickly."

yuki frowned. "liam worries about you, you know. he doesn't like seeing you upset. and he's always been proud of you, so have your parents."

she shivered, pulling her sleeves over her hands. "it's just always been more upfront with liam. they keep telling me that i give up on things too quickly. you know, i realized the other day that i don't really have any hobbies any more. outside of paint nights with the girls, i don't paint anymore. i don't do any sports. reading is really all i do any more."

"that doesn't define your worth, you know. you've got other things going on right now that are taking up your time." yuki encouraged, fiddling with the heating dial. "hey, speaking of which, what are you doing here so late at night?"

she groaned, tilting her head back. "god, this is embarrassing." she hid her head in her hands before turning back to yuki. "promise not to laugh too hard?"

"why would i laugh at you?"

"i was picking up advance copies of my first book." she turned and looked out the window, at the empty parking lot illuminated solely by yuki's headlights. "i've spent the better part of the last two years working on it, and i'm scared i'm going to fail at it like i failed at everything else."

she felt a warm hand overtop of hers. "that's incredible. that's such a major accomplishment, y/n. why are you doubting yourself? you've made it this far."

she smiled, turning to face him. "yeah, but how many people want to read about a detective in small-town new zealand who lives in a haunted house?"

yuki raised an eyebrow. "you already have my interest."

and what great author could resist going on and on about their latest endeavor?

"okay, so it's about this detective in new zealand, she's just moved to this small town as part of a so-called promotion, but really she was desperate and only took the job because she wanted out of the city, a nice change of scenery and whatever. but after she moves in, she finds out the house is haunted and the ghosts actually end up helping her solve her first big case."

she left out the part about how there were three ghosts: one was a dead rockstar, one was a nineteen-thirties midwife and the other was a dead nun. the witty banter between the group of them was a joy to write.

"she also has a crush on this guy who lives across the street. he's an autobody mechanic, with a collection of classic cars."

who totally wasn't inspired by yuki and his gorgeous brown eyes or luscious black hair. well, her one argument was that book guy was about a foot taller than yuki was.

"hell yeah, i'd read that." yuki laughed. "or i'd watch the movie, depending on how long the book was."

y/n laughed, and it felt good. it felt like it had bene forever since she laughed. "it's a cozy mystery series, so it's supposed to make you laugh, be predictable. i took notes from agatha christie, the best of the best. i just hope that the general consumer market also sees it that way."

"i'm sure you'll do fine. as long as it's not like, five hundred pages long, i can't see why anybody wouldn't want to read it."

catching y/n's eye, yuki snickered. "it's not that long, is it?"

"no, it's just under three hundred. they made me cut the sex scenes out."

she watched yuki's eyes go wide, before she burst out laughing as well.

"i'm kidding!" she giggled. "i'm kidding, there aren't any sex scenes in cozy mysteries."

despite how warm the car was, a shiver went down yukis spine at the thought that the innocent, angelic young woman sitting next him, separated only only by the center console, had written numerous sex scenes.

“would you read it? now that you know how many pages it has?”

“yes.” yuki insisted. “of course I would. Liam’s shown me some of your novellas. you are such a good writer. a real talent.”

she yawned, leaning back against the leather seat with a yawn and a shake of her head. “if this book crashes and burns, I’ll remind you you said that. hey, would you be willing to give me a starred review to print on the back cover?”

yuki hummed for a minute, looking up at the sunroof and then back at the girl sitting next to him. “hmm, great mystery, lovely author, not enough sex and could use more descriptions of food.” he joked, playfully gripping her shoulder.

“yeah, yeah. you think you’re so funny.” she laughed, pushing his arm off her shoulder. “but I’m glad that you’re here. you make much better company than my brother does.”

yukis hand dropped to her thigh, thumb gently rubbing along her jeans. “always. any time you need me, you know I’m a phone call away.”

yeah, bust she wished he was closer than even that. and if she kept staring into his dark ocean eyes, she feared she’d do something she’d regret. something impulsive and reckless and foolish but god damn would it have felt fucking good.

“y/n, you good? you’re kind of staring into space there.” yuki frowned, waving a nimble hand in front of her face, trying to capture her attention.

she chuckled. “not space, just the dashboard lights.”

“isn’t that a meat loaf song?”

she laughed, the sound coming from so deep in her chest as she turned to look at yuki. really, it shouldn’t have been that funny. all she knew was that she really, really wanted to kiss him.

she didn’t wait, lunging across the center console, hands shaking nervously as she rested them on either side of his face, pressing her chapped lips to his.

she had to hold herself back from moaning as yuki kissed her back, his warm hand caressing her sides under her open trench coat.

his touch was soft, safe, and comforting. but it was also electric, and left her wanting more when he finally pulled away for air.

“your car is probably charged”. he said nervously, blushing pink as he wiped away the saliva from his mouth. “I’d hate to kiss and run, but you probably want to get home.”

she rested her forehead against his, laughing softly as he rubbed his thumb over her wrist. “at least take me out to dinner before you kiss me and leave me hanging.”

“it’s a little late for dinner, but how does a late night caramel sundae sound?” he suggested weakly, shrugging his shoulders. mcdonalds was hardly first date material, but he knew he didn’t want this night to end, didn’t want to risk losing this magical moment.

“you drive and I’ll follow?”

“sounds good.” yuki grinned, kissing her again. “but just let me kiss you for a few more minutes to make sure that battery is well and truly charged.”

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @lorarri @cartierre @sidcrosbyspuck @userlando @httpiastri @love4lando @oconso @thatsdemko @monzabee

#yuki tsunoda #yuki tsunoda x reader #the christmas collection 2023 #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #yuki tsunoda imagine #yuki tsunoda x you #Spotify #lovelytsunodas eclectic music taste

426 notes · View notes

aion-rsa · 3 years ago

Text

Doctor Who: Perfect 10? How Fandom Forgets the Dark Side of David Tennant’s Doctor

https://ift.tt/2URb21b

As recently as September 2020 David Tennant topped a Radio Times poll of favourite Doctors. He beat Tom Baker in a 2006 Doctor Who Magazine poll, and was voted the best TV character of the 21st Century by the readers of Digital Spy. He was the Doctor during one of Doctor Who‘s critical and commercial peaks, bringing in consistently high ratings and a Christmas day audience of 13.31 million for ‘Voyage of the Damned’, and 12.27 million for his final episode, ‘The End of Time – Part Two’. He is the only other Doctor who challenges Tom Baker in terms of associated iconography, even being part of the Christmas idents on BBC One as his final episodes were broadcast. Put simply, the Tenth Doctor is ‘My Doctor’ for a huge swathe of people and David Tennant in a brown coat will be the image they think of when Doctor Who is mentioned.

In articles to accompany these fan polls, Tennant’s Doctor is described as ‘amiable’ in contrast to his predecessor Christopher Eccleston’s dark take on the character. Ten is ‘down-to-earth’, ‘romantic’, ‘sweeter’, ‘more light-hearted’ and the Doctor you’d most want to invite you on board the TARDIS. That’s interesting in some respects, because the Tenth Doctor is very much a Jekyll and Hyde character. He’s handsome, he’s charismatic, and travelling with him can be addictively fun, but he is also casually cruel, harshly dismissive, and lacking in self-awareness. His ego wants feeding, and once fed, can have destructive results.

That tension in the character isn’t due to bad writing or acting. Quite the contrary. Most Doctors have an element of unpleasantness to their behaviour. Ever since the First Doctor kidnapped Ian and Barbara, the character has been moving away from the entitled snob we met him as, but can never escape it completely.

Six and Twelve were both written to be especially abrasive, then soften as time went on (with Colin Baker having to do this through Big Finish audio plays rather than on telly). A significant difference between Twelve and Ten, though, is that Twelve questions himself more. Ten, to the very end, seems to believe his own hype.

The Tenth Doctor’s duality is apparent from his first full appearance in 2005’s ‘The Christmas Invasion’. Having quoted The Lion King and fearlessly ambled through the Sycorax ship in a dressing gown, he seems the picture of bonhomie, that lighter and amiable character shining through. Then he kills their leader. True, it was in self-defence, but it was lethal force that may not have been necessary. Then he immediately topples the British Prime Minister for a not dissimilar act of aggression. Immediately we see the Tenth Doctor’s potential for violence and moral grey areas. He’s still the same man who considered braining someone with a rock in ‘An Unearthly Child’.

Teamed with Rose Tyler, a companion of similar status to Tennant’s Doctor, they blazed their way through time and space with a level of confidence that bordered on entitlement, and a love that manifested itself negatively on the people surrounding them. The most obvious example in Series 2 is ‘Tooth and Claw’, where Russell T. Davies has them react to horror and carnage in the manner of excited tourists who’ve just seen a celebrity. This aloof detachment results in Queen Victoria establishing the Torchwood institute that will eventually split them apart. We see their blinkers on again in ‘Rise of the Cybermen’, when they take Mickey for granted. Rose and the Doctor skip along the dividing line between romance and hubris.

Then, in a Christmassy romp where the Doctor is grieving the loss of Rose, he commits genocide and Donna Noble sucker punches him with ‘I think you need somebody to stop you’. Well-meaning as this statement is, the Doctor treats it as a reason to reduce his next companion to a function rather than a person. Martha Jones is there to stop the Doctor, as far as he’s concerned. She’s a rebound companion. Martha is in love with him, and though he respects her, she’s also something of a prop.

This is the series in which the Doctor becomes human in order to escape the Family of Blood (adapted from a book in which he becomes human in order to understand his companion’s grief, not realising anyone is after him), and is culpable for all the death that follows in his wake. Martha puts up with a position as a servant and with regular racist abuse on her travels with this man, before finally realising at the end of the series that she needs to get out of the relationship. For a rebound companion, Martha withstands a hell of a lot, mostly caused by the Doctor’s failings.

Why David Tennant Lost Hannibal Role According to Bryan Fuller

By Kirsten Howard

Staged: BBC Comedy Confirms Sheen & Tennant’s Double-Act Greatness

By Louisa Mellor

Series 4 develops the Doctor further, putting the Tenth’s Doctor’s flaws in the foreground more clearly. Donna is now travelling with him, and simply calls him out on his behaviour more than Rose or Martha did. Nonetheless the Doctor ploughs on, and in ‘Midnight’ we see him reduced to desperate and ugly pleas about how clever he is when he’s put in a situation he can’t talk himself out of.

Rose has also become more Doctor-like while trapped in another reality, and brutally tells Donna that she’s going to have to die in order to return to the original timeline (just as the Doctor tells Donna she’s going to have to lose her memories of travelling with him in order to live her previous life, even as she clearly asks him not to – and how long did the Doctor know he would have to do this for? It’s not like he’s surprised when Donna starts glitching). Tied into this is the Doctor’s belief in his own legend. In ‘The Doctor’s Daughter’ he holds a gun to Cobb’s head, then withdraws it and asks that they start a society based on the morals of his actions. You know, like a well-adjusted person does.

What’s interesting here is that despite presenting himself as ‘a man who never would’, the Doctor is a man who absolutely would. We’ve seen him do it. Even the Tenth Doctor, so keen to live up to the absolute moral ideals he espouses, killed the Sycorax leader and the Krillitanes, drove the Cybermen to die of despair, brought the Family of Blood to a quiet village and then disposed of them personally. But Tennant doesn’t play this as a useful lie, he plays it as something the Doctor absolutely believes in that moment, that he is a man who would not kill even as his daughter lies dead. It’s why his picking up a gun in ‘The End of Time’ has such impact. And it makes some sense that the Tenth Doctor would reject violence following a predecessor who regenerated after refusing to commit another double-genocide.

In the series finale ‘Journey’s End‘, Davros accuses the Doctor of turning his friends into weapons. This is because the Doctor’s friends have used weapons against the Daleks who – and I can’t stress this enough – are about to kill everyone in the entire universe. Fighting back against them seems pretty rational. Also – and again I can’t stress this enough – the Daleks are bad. Like, really bad. You won’t believe just how mindbogglingly bad they are. The Doctor has tried to destroy them several times by this point. Here, there isn’t the complication of double-genocide, and instead the very real threat of absolutely everyone in the universe dying. This accusation, that the Doctor turns people into weapons, should absolutely not land.

And yet, with the Tenth Doctor, it does. This is a huge distinction between him and the First Doctor, who had to persuade pacifists to fight for him in ‘The Daleks’.

In ‘The Sontaran Strategem’ Martha compares the Doctor to fire. It’s so blunt it almost seems not worth saying, but it’s the perfect analogy (especially for a show where fire is a huge part of the very first story). Yes, fire shines in dark places, yes it can be a beacon, but despite it being very much fire’s entire deal, people can forget that it burns. And fire has that mythical connection of being stolen from the gods and brought to humanity. The Time Lord Victorious concept fits the Tenth Doctor so well. Of all the Doctors, he’s the most ready to believe in himself as a semi-mythic figure.

Even when regenerating there’s a balance between hero and legend: the Tenth Doctor does ultimately save Wilfred Mott, but only after pointing out passionately how big a sacrifice he’s making. And then he goes to get his reward by meeting all his friends, only to glare at them from a distance. His last words are ‘I don’t want to go’, which works well as clearly being a poignant moment for the actor as well, but in the context of Doctor Who as a whole it renders Ten anomalous: no one else went this unwillingly. And yet, in interviews Russell T. Davies said it was important to end the story with ‘the Doctor as people have loved him: funny, the bright spark, the hero, the enthusiast’.

It’s fascinating then, that this is the Doctor who has been taken to heart by so many viewers because there’s such an extreme contrast between his good-natured front, his stated beliefs, and his actions. He clearly loves Rose and Donna, but leaves them with a compromised version of happiness. They go on extraordinary journeys only to end up somewhere that leaves them less than who they want to be, with Russell T. Davies being more brutally honest than Steven Moffat, who nearly always goes the romance route. Davies once said to Mark Lawson that he liked writing happy endings ‘because in the real world they don’t exist’, but his endings tend towards the bittersweet: Mickey and Martha end up together but this feels like they’re leftovers from the Doctor and Rose’s relationship. The Tenth Doctor doesn’t, as Nine does, go with a smile, but holding back tears.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

It’s a testament to how well written the Tenth Doctor is that the character has this light and shade, and with David Tennant’s immense likeability he can appeal to a wider audience as a result. It’s not surprise he wins all these polls, but I can’t help but feel that if the Doctor arrived and invited me on board the TARDIS, I’d want it to be anyone but Ten.

The post Doctor Who: Perfect 10? How Fandom Forgets the Dark Side of David Tennant’s Doctor appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3iaqbDk

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

65 notes · View notes

armisdeleon · 8 months ago

Text

"I didn't." She replied honesty at his question. "I just knew it was your favorite, and I figured -- aye, can't go wrong there." As she came to the end of her explanation, she cringed slightly at herself. Was that weird? After all, they've known each other forever. So, of course, she'd know his favorite food, right? Right. She bit into her lip, as her thoughts roamed, before shaking her head, and looking back up at Kian Lawson. Why did this man still make her feel things, like little butterflies in her stomach when she looked up him. And God, his face--. She blinked, and gave a firm nod as he invited her in. Taking extra steps in, so that she had more space in between her and Kian. Turning to face him, a simple 'no problem' on her tongue, only to be distracted at the smile he gave her. Words lost as she found herself smiling back at him, holding up a hand she use her pointer finger to make a circle in the air in the direction of his mouth. "Well, I'd be damned." She mused, "That looks good on you, Lawson. You should try wearing it more often." Dropping her hand, she'd turn away from him, glancing around his living-room. "If you're busy, I can go. I just wanted to come by and thank you again. As well as apologize." She explained, as she slowly bought her attention back upon him.

As the doorbell rang, he turned off the faucet—drying his hands with the kitchen towel and went to open the door. He was surprised to see Armi standing there with takeout bags. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as she immediately launched into an apology for the other night. He'd been worried about her, but seeing her here now, looking contrite and bearing food, made his annoyance melt away. When she mentioned the pot pie, his eyebrows shot up. "How'd you know I wanted pot pie?" he asked, genuinely amazed. He'd been craving it all day. “Come on in.” Stepping aside to let her in, Kian allowed her entry to his townhome. "I appreciate the apology, Armi. And the pot pie." He offered her a smile—something that was rare for her especially since she got on his nerves a lot.

#( interactions. )#( interactions: kian lawson. )

18 notes · View notes

swordsandshields99 · 3 years ago

Link

Chapters: 1/7 Fandom: Mass Effect Trilogy, Mass Effect - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Additional Tags: Friendship, Friendship/Love, Romance, Fluff and Smut @cactuarkitty - thanks! :) Day 1 - Beach Day (Tried to give it a Citadel DLC vibe) Smut in Italics and sectioned, feel free to skip :)

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

“Yo, Shepard, can we talk to you for a second?” Jack’s voice came across the comms. “Sure thing. Did someone break something?” Shepard tried to tease the biotic. “Not yet, but I can’t promise not to break the cheerleader's arm if she doesn’t stop tapping her fingers on the console in a condescending way.”

Shepard sighed and put down the armor she was cleaning. She made her way to the elevator. “Hey Edi, if anyone is actually about to kill each other, let me know.”

“Of course, Shepard. If I were to inform you each time Jack complained about Operative Lawson, I believe you wouldn’t have any free time.”

“True enough,” Shepard chuckled. The AI was really growing on her.

Shepard exited the lift and turned into the mess hall, and was surprised to see her entire ground crew sitting around the long table. She glanced at Garrus, but he gave nothing away, other than popping a mandible out to the side in a sarcastic half-grin. “What’s all this about?”

“Shepard, it seems the crew have been discussing our current course of action,” Miranda started.

“You mean, our current course of non-action?” Shepard cut in.

“Yes,” Miranda said slowly. “Garrus has been adamant that he has tried to persuade you not to return to the Alliance.”

“He has, and as I told him, I’ve made up my mind. It’s something I have to do.”

“You don’t have to do shit,” Jack countered.

“You could go to the Council, Shepard. You’re a spectre, with spectre authority. They’ll be just as displeased as the Alliance, but they can use that authority to ride out the storm. The Alliance is just going to lock you up. Or worse. You don’t deserve that.” By the time Tali finished, she was wringing her hands and bouncing slightly on her feet.

Shepard looked down, “Listen, I appreciate your concern. But if I don’t go and take the fall, the political fall out will be detrimental to the Alliance. I might be a Spectre, but everyone in the galaxy knows where I came from.”

There was a horribly awkward silence in the room.

“I promise, I won’t let it affect any of you. Your names will all stay out of the report, and I will be adamant about the fact that I went there alone.”

“I could give two shits about what other people think. I still think you should take me up on the piracy thing,” Jack said, crossing her arms and nearly pouting. Shepard nearly laughed at the stance. Jack looked back at her. “It’s a nice ship. Stealth drives and all. Perfect opportunity wasted.”

“She’s not wrong,” Kasumi said, appearing out of thin air next to Jack.

“FUCKING SHIT!” Jack said, “God damn it I hate it when you do that.”

Kasumi blew her a kiss as she disappeared.

“Siha, it appears you are not willing to change your mind,” Thane said as calmly as ever.

“I find it admirable,” Samara nodded her head.

“I think falling on your sword to protect the very people who put you in the situation, the same people who expect you to follow orders blindly and not take responsibility for their own actions, isn’t exactly admirable,” Garrus said darkly, still leaning back in his chair.

Shepard knew he was angry. She didn’t blame him. But she kept a cool mask of command on her face. “I’m not changing my mind.”

“Then we would ask for a few days dry-docked. For repairs,” Miranda said slowly.

“Repairs? I thought we were nearly done with repairs. You all have been working around the clock on the Normandy.”

“Yes, well, there’s a few things we could take a look at on the outer hull. It’d be safer on the ground. We thought perhaps, since we’re close, we could stop here.” Miranda pulled out a map and pointed to a spot on the planet below. “We’ve actually been planning this since we left the Bahak System.”

Shepard blew out a small stream of air.

“The crew needs a break, Shep,” Garrus said.

“And time to say goodbye,” Tali added.

“Fine,” Shepard said. “You have anything to add Joker?”

“Not since you ever so reasonably agreed, no. Setting a landing trajectory now. Ready EDI?”

“Ready, Jeff.”

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

Shepard was sitting at her desk, finishing the last of the reports she had. She’d always hated filling out reports. Now though, she thought she might end up missing even this. She wasn’t sure what the Alliance had planned for her. A trial? Jail time? A harsher sentence? She didn’t think they’d hand her over to the Batarians, but the thought was still there in the back of her mind. When she had mentioned it to Garrus, he said he’d be there breaking her out before she even reached a Batarian system. And she hadn’t argued.

Just as she thought of him, he walked through her cabin doors. “Done with those reports yet?” he drawled.

“This is the last one,” she said as she signed off and sent it. “Done.” She blew out a breath and stretched her arms above her head. She looked over at Garrus, and saw he was carrying a duffle bag, and was dressed in shorts and a Turian style t-shirt. She couldn’t help but chuckle, “I know you’re not on duty, but that’s a little informal. Aren’t you freezing?”

“I am freezing my ass off Shep, but I won’t be for long. Let’s go.”

“Onto the surface?”

“Yeah, where else? I’m not letting you spend your last shore leave in this cabin.”

“Hmmm,” she said suspiciously.

“Here,” he said as he threw the duffle at her. “Put these on.”

Shepard opened the bag and rose her eyebrows at him, “I can’t tell if this is practical, or if you just want me in a bikini.”

Garrus laughed, throwing his head forward and shaking it slightly. “Maybe it’s both?” He took out the sunscreen from her bag. “And don’t forget this.”

“Do you need some too?” she asked as she started spraying it on.

He shook his head. “The sun and radiation would have to be a hell of a lot stronger for me to need something like that. Palaven’s sun throws a lot more than this one.”

She nodded, “All right, all right Mr. Tough Guy, I got it.” She stripped off her civvies and threw on the bikini and sun dress. She put her hair in a braid that came over her shoulder. “All right, let’s do this.” She wouldn’t have planned a vacation. It wouldn’t have felt right. But her crew planning it, or needing it? That was a different story. And she was grateful.

They walked throughout the empty ship towards the cargo bay doors. “Where is everybody?” she asked.

“Already down there,” he said. “I think they were excited.”

Shepard stepped off the ship and was shocked. It was stunningly beautiful. It reminded her of when her parents had taken her to Jamaica once when she was young. “Wow,” she said softly. There was nothing within many kilometers of them. Not a soul in sight other than their ship and crew. “A private beach?”

Kasumi walked up to her with a small cooler, “Take your pick, Shep,” she said with a smile. There were beer and wine coolers. Shepard took one and thanked Kasumi. “The Dextro beers are all over by Tali,” Kasumi said before she skipped away.

"She’s even in a cloak on beach day,” Garrus rumbled, wiggling his brow plates at her.

Shepard laughed and walked towards Tali, “Go get a beer, big guy.”

“SHEEPPHHEEERRDD,” a loud voice boomed from a ways down the beach. Shepard looked down and saw Grunt splashing through the water with a small pistol, shooting at fish. “This is fun, heheh,” he said to himself as he picked up a fish he had somehow managed to shoot.

“Aww,” Zaeed said sarcastically before rolling his eyes. The man was sitting on a lounging chair with 5 beer cans on the sand around him. He laid back, closing his eyes before saying, “Good day Shepard. Good day.”

Joker was sitting next to the man with his eyes shut as well. “If I get a sunburn, I’m blaming you.”

Shepard threw her sunscreen at him. “If you get sunburned, you’ll worry EDI.”

“Har-har,” he said grumpily as he started spraying the sunscreen.

Thane was down the beach further, on the opposite end of Grunt Shepard noticed, showing Samara something that resembled Tai Chi. Actually, Shepard was pretty sure it was Tai Chi. She could still remember all the moves from when she took classes aboard her mother’s starship as a kid. She joined them silently, and allowed herself to meditate peacefully.

Once she’d had enough, she stopped, unsure of how much time had passed. Samara and Thane gave her small smiles as she walked away. She found Garrus was shooting blanks with a sniper rifle into the trees. Suddenly, Shepard saw the shimmer of failed shields and Kasumi’s cloak came down. “Damn!” the thief swore. “How in the hell did you know where I was that time?”

Garrus shrugged, “A gentlemen never tells.”

Tali swooped in from behind and jumped up to grab at his visor. “I’ll give you two guesses,” she said as she inspected it.

“Hey!” Garrus said, in a more shocked tone than Shepard would have expected. “Give that back,” he said as he pushed down on the Quarians helmet, reaching up so the visor was far out of her reach.

“Alright Garrus, no visor,” Kasumi said as she disappeared.

Garrus held the visor in one hand and aimed with the other. It took 10 seconds before he placed his next shot, and Kasumi’s shields went down again. Kasumi grumbled and switched on her cloak again.

Garrus’ eyes went wide and he hunched over his weapon slightly. Shepard heard him make a small noise of satisfaction before pulling the trigger.

“Oh, you’re good, Archangel,” Kasumi purred as she sauntered up to him. “I can see why you’re into him, Shep,” Kasumi called over to her.

Shepard just waved back with a grin and kept walking down the beach. There was a slight bend and suddenly she could see Mordin by the water, bent over looking at something. As she approached, she realized he was poking around some kind of sea creature with a stick. She stood next to him quietly as he observed it. “At first, wasn’t looking forward to ‘beach day’,” he said with air quotes. “Looked forward to comradery of course, but can get that on ship, or in lab. Surprising results. Thoroughly enjoying discovering new marine wildlife.” She saw his eyes flick back towards the sand. “Perhaps will try hand at fossils and shells next.”

Shepard smiled. As Mordin continued searching the shallow waters, Shepard started searching for shells on the beach. When she found what she thought must be the most beautiful one on the beach, she walked back over to him and handed it out to him.

“Ah!” he exclaimed, turning towards her and taking the shell. “How interesting! Gastropoda, free of inhabitants. Periostracum still slightly spongy, not old. Whorl, apex, aperture all typical. Extremely symmetrical. Red and orange in color, unsure of internal structuring.”

Shepard waited patiently as he continued his analysis until he stopped suddenly. He looked down at her and took a deep breath. “Beautiful. Thank you, Shepard.” He put the shell in one of his lab coat pockets.

She rose a brow, “That’s rather sentimental for you, isn’t it doctor?”

He shook his head, “Sometimes, sentimentality - appropriate. No point to life without the enjoyment of it.”

Shepard smiled at him. “Some friends make that exceedingly easy to do so.”

Mordin seemed genuinely taken aback, but nodded enthusiastically. “Indeed, they do.”

Legion walked up behind them, “Shepard Commander, are you searching for marine wildlife? This unit believes it can be of assistance.”

“Doctor?” Shepard asked.

“Hmmm, could prove useful in cataloging findings. Legion, please assist in cataloging findings of new marine biology.”

“Nice, thanks Legion,” Shepard said with a smile.

The Geth’s brow plates rose and fell quickly, “This unit enjoys being useful.”

Shepard rose her brows at Mordin. Before their adventures, she doubted Legion would have used the word “enjoys” at all. “I’m glad,” she said back before turning around.

She let them continue their search in the waters as she made her way back to the group. She came around the bend, and saw Jack, Jacob, and Miranda teaching Garrus and Tali how to play Volleyball. “Shepard, we need another player!” Jacob yelled out.

“I’m in,” she said as she ditched the sun dress and dug her toes into the sand to run towards them. “I grew up on a ship, but I managed to learn how to play. They know the rules?” she asked, pointing towards Garrus and Tali.

“I think we’ve got it,” Tali said.

They played for nearly an hour before they tired themselves out. “Forgot you had about a ½ a meter in height on us Vakarian,” Jacob grumbled as he and Miranda walked off towards the drinks.

Garrus shrugged with a grin, “What can I say.”

“Want to cool off in the water?” Shepard asked.

Garrus looked out at the ocean apprehensively, “Uhh… yeaaah, I’m not so sure about that.”

“Look, we don’t have to go in too deep. Mordin found a nice quiet spot around the bend a ways, there are hardly any waves at all. Just go in to your waist and get cooled off with me.”

Garrus sighed heavily. “Fine.”

They walked till they were just past Mordin and Legion. “Alright if we swim here?” She asked him.

Mordin came up from his studies. “Of course, Shepard.” Then he rose his brow at Garrus. “Aware of Turian aversion to submersion in waters. Interesting. Found a cove 20 meters that way. Completely shallow and secluded from waves and wildlife. Should be more comfortable.”

Garrus looked at Shepard and she could tell he was about to say no to the whole thing. “Alright, thanks Mordin, c’mon scaredy cat. Let’s go to the cove.”

“Shepard, I have no idea what a scaredy cat is. Is it some kind of pet?”

She laughed and marched forwards.

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

The cove was beautiful. There were trees above keeping it mostly in the shade, and the water was calm and shallow. Shepard waded in and it only went up to her chest. “C’mon Garrus, look, it’s not deep. It won’t go up to your cowl, for sure.” He looked at her with a look that said he’d rather jump in a varren pit. “I’ll make it worth your while?”

He rose a brow plate, and dipped his feet in. The water was warm at least, so he continued until he stood next to Shepard. She took a step into him so that they were touching and wrapped her arms around him. “Alright, it’s not so bad,” he said reluctantly.

She gazed at him with a look that could melt metal, and took a deep breath in, before slowly sinking below the water. “Shepard,” he said nervously, although he knew she couldn’t hear him.

Shepard held onto his hips to stay below the water with one hand, and started moving his shorts aside with the other. Garrus’ breath hitched. He couldn’t help the rush that went straight to his groin, and he also couldn’t help but still feel nervous in the water. Shepard pushed him back and he took a few steps backwards until his legs hit something when they were nearing the edge. A rock. She pushed him again and he stumbled awkwardly, sitting on the rock. She came up for air and kissed his mandible, sucking on the tips. Garrus groaned, digging his talons into her waist. She submerged again, and he held his breath, partially out of anticipation of what she might do next and partially out of nerves for her being under the water. He knew humans were better with that, but it was ingrained.

He suddenly felt a small tongue lick up the seams of his pelvic plates and he groaned again, digging his talons through her hair. He felt small fingers dig between the plates in his waist. She came up for air again, straddling his lap to kiss him. She ground her hips against his. She was weightless, floating above him, ghosting over his plates, until she pushed herself down into him and began grinding harder into him. “Shepard,” he growled as he nipped at her neck. She suddenly went back under water and nipped at his pubic plate quickly, and licked all the way up and down his seam slowly. He felt his seam part as he groaned loudly, bucking his hips into her as his erection began to grow, emerging from his seam. He felt her lick at it until it came all the way through, and she sucked his cock into her mouth as it grew.

“Fuck,” he said as he threw his head back and bucked his hips. She sucked hard, head bobbing up and down twice before she had to come up for air. She was panting hard and she straddled his lap again, slowly lowering herself onto him, until his tip was hilted within her.

Shepard moaned loudly and rocked back and forth slightly with her hips. He felt her muscles contract around him a few times and he groaned. Shepard grinned at him before lifting up and moving back down. He could tell it was harder for her in the water, and he placed his hands on her hips and began lifting her up, and slamming her down onto him. It didn’t take long before they were both panting, and it just wasn’t enough. He put her legs around his waist and stood, walking to the back of the cove, he pressed her back against the stony wall and pushed himself into her with a grunt. Shepard squeezed her legs around his waist, one arm holding on around his back, the other wrapped around his neck with her hand massaging under his fringe.

She was so tight, and he hadn’t yet been fully inside her. He took his finger and massaged the nub he knew drove her wild. Shepard began moaning loudly. “God, yes Garrus, fuck,” she groaned. Slowly, with each thrust he pushed further and further inside of her until even the bulge of his base slipped inside of her with a pop. Shepard screamed at that and held on tighter. “Don’t stop,” she screamed, and he didn’t, couldn’t really. He felt her come hard, her walls squeezing him. “Garrus,” she panted. Garrus couldn’t speak, he was too far gone. He merely groaned against her neck as he continued pounding into her, faster and harder.

“Come inside me, Garrus,” she moaned, and he lost control. He came hard with a roar, continuing to pump inside her in erratic thrusts. His body completely enveloped hers against the stone. She was so small, wrapped up in his arms, and he curled around her, willing himself to stay standing. He felt her kiss his mandible lightly. “God, you’re sexy.”

He chuckled, kissing her forehead, “So are you.”

Shepard slipped down and swam in the water to cool off before they headed back. Garrus sat back on the rock and watched, enjoying the view and surprisingly, the cool water around his waist.

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

Shepard and Garrus walked back along the beach, hands brushing often. The sun was setting, and it was creating a beautiful glow around them. The whole team was sitting, watching the sunset when the pair joined them.

The group was quiet, reflective. Even Grunt, to Shepard’s surprise. He was growing up, after all. Shepard leaned against Garrus’ shoulder, and they sat there until the sun dipped below the horizon.

“Alright you bunch of pussys,” Zaeed said, elegantly as ever. “Round two.” He started throwing beer bottles at everyone.

“That’s more like it,” Jack huffed.

“Bonfire’s made!” Jacob said as he got the largest bonfire Shepard had ever seen lit using driftwood from the beach.

The team drank under the numerous stars. There were drinking games and songs, friendly wagers and shoot-the-bottle competitions. It was 3 in the morning before they packed up and headed inside. Shepard held Garrus’ hand to pull him back behind the crew and gave him one last kiss under the stars.

#merweek2021 #merweek #mass effect relationship week #ao3 #shakarian #garrus vakarian #commander shepard #mass effect #mass effect 2

18 notes · View notes

f1ck-em-all · 3 years ago

Text

@icebinpear and @babssionate tagged me in another fun lil tag game thing for y’all

Rule : tag 9 people you want to know better !

Favourite piece of clothing you own ?

mmm I got the Merc button up and that’s pretty cool, but I think my absolute favorite is a dress I got from the last time I was in Lviv, it’s a modern silhouette with traditional embroidery, gorgeous piece.

Favourite song ?

listen how dare you make me choose??? I’ll go with a classic for now and just say frank by easy life

Favourite time of year ?

Fall. She is superior.

Your comfort food ?

Tea tea tea tea tea, but also, brownies. Super fudgy ones. Oh! and homemade mac and cheese.

Do you collect something ?

Tickets! Plane tickets, concert tickets, movie tickets, etc etc etc, it just creates a kind of trail of all the things I’ve been able to do

Favourite drink ?

A good mojito goes a long way. Also, daiquiris. As for non alcoholic, ginger ale or tings. God I’d kill for a ting, they’re so damn good

Favourite fanfiction ?

...The Red Thread. Iykyk.

Tagging: @alexander-the-great-ass @querencva @sirlewismybeloved @pierreseclair @captaindisappointment @art-outlaw @vroomvroomintomyheart @guerkchenseb @liam-lawson

#tag game!#i like this tag game a lot #these ones are fun and fresh

6 notes · View notes

gentlemen-of-lies · 3 years ago

Text

Gentlemen of Lies, chapter 2

(Carvour)ting around London with a British bastard and some classified files.

(Next chapter) (Chapter 1)

————

Curt stayed up until late, studying the files he’d been given. He’d luckily escaped another power cut, and his bedside lamp stayed firmly on, flickering in desperation for a new bulb.

There were only four suspects to memorise, three men and a woman. There was little evidence against them; in fact the most damning evidence was against one of the men- Andrew Hayes- who spoke three languages: English, German and Russian. Two of those languages were very much unfavourable in this social climate, although very useful for being a spy of course.

By midnight, Curt was starting to fall asleep. He knew he had to study the files but God... they were so boring.

He soon decided he’d studied them enough; even if he didn’t know every piece of information, too late a night would do him no favours in the morning.

His watch beeped at five am the following day, and for once he didn’t sleep through it. ‘Okay, Mega,’ he thought to himself. ‘Time to get your act together. Show that Carvour bastard he’s not the only one who can do his job.’ Curt sat up in bed, the cogs in his head turning as he worked out a brief schedule. He had to get dressed first of all; whether Owen really was going to lend him some clothes, he didn’t know. But at the moment, he still only had his three day old outfit, which was hanging over the back of the chair, in an attempt at getting aired, despite the air in the room being as damp as the outside weather.

He needed a shower, that was essential. Just some running water to get himself clean and shave off the itchy stubble on his chin... he sighed. Was he really going to have to ask that woman down the hall? He supposed it was worth a shot. If worst came to worse, he’d just have to ask Bill for a solution, although the less he interacted with him the better.

He got himself dressed, shaking his clothes to try and rid them of creases. His hair was patted down and he chewed around three mints at once, crunching them into dust. He looked at himself in the cracked mirror.

‘Not bad, Mega.’ Hopefully in the short walk from his room to the woman’s he’d magically gain the skill of flirting, and win her over into letting him use her bathroom.

Amazingly, he did convince her, ten minutes after leaving his room. But only because his flirting was so desperate and pathetic sounding that she had no choice but to take pity.

“It’s surely a mark of how needy you are that I’m even letting a strange man into my room,” the woman said.

“Cut me some slack,” replied Curt, making a beeline for her bathroom and shutting the door behind him. “All I’ve heard since I’ve been here are remarks of how much of a mess I am,” he continued through the locked, wooden door. “Maybe if your country had better facilities.”

“Maybe if your country didn’t produce such weak men.”

“Huh. Feisty. I like that in a woman.” The woman didn’t reply, but Curt was hardly that invested in the conversation anyway. What mattered right now was finally- he had a shower. And holy, did it feel fantastic! If it was up to him, he’d spend all day in there. But he didn’t have time. It was edging on six now, and while it was still a good four hours until he had to meet Owen, he still had plenty to do. Besides, there was certainly no harm in getting there early, before Owen. In fact, he decided he was going to do just that. Make Owen the one running late. Who was incompetent now?

Curt accidentally nicked his chin a few times while shaving, but he brushed the droplets of blood away with his fingers and splashed his face with the rusty water from the tap. By the time he reopened the bathroom door, he was feeling like a new man.

The woman was still there, writing at her own table, which looked much less rotten that Curt’s.

“Thanks for letting me use your bathroom, Mrs...?”

“Miss. Miss Dorothy Lowe.”

“Well, Miss Lowe. I appreciate the hospitality.” Dorothy didn’t bother to respond, so Curt- as awkwardly as always whenever he had to try and act smooth around a woman- showed himself out. It was quarter to seven. All he had to do was grab the files and find the station. How hard could that be?

————

“It’s not far from here,” Owen had said. “Here’s a map,” Owen had said. The map was bullshit, it was in black and white and Curt could barely read it. The streets were as disorientating as always, and Curt was almost knocked down by a bus trying to cross the street at the same time as studying the stupid map.

He gave up, and decided to ask passers by.

“Go all the way up the street, turn left, right again and it’ll be there,” said the first person he came across, a man wearing a trench coat and sporting the biggest moustache Curt had ever seen.

“Thanks.” Curt followed the instructions given, but it soon became clear that moustache man had no clue what he was on about. And Curt had to ask two more people before he finally spotted the red and blue circle of the underground.

9:30. Had he really been wandering around London for an hour and a half? An hour if he discounted the sandwich he’d picked up from a local café, which he did. And either way, he was still early.

Beat that, Owen.

At ten o’clock on the dot, Owen showed up, once again wearing his brown cap pulled over his eyes. Typical, he wasn’t even late.

“Good morning, Mega,” he greeted. “I see you’ve shaved at least.”

“Shaved, showered and ready to go.” Was that line as bad as it had sounded? Owen ignored it altogether.

“I hope you didn’t arrive too early. Don’t want you hanging around looking suspicious.”

“Uh... no. No I arrived five minutes ago,” Curt lied. He was beginning to think that Owen could see right through him, and the feeling was unsettling to say the least. He barely even knew the man, and nor did he particularly like him.

“Good. We’ll get a move on then.” Owen crossed the street, Curt following closely behind. “You read the files then?”

“Yeah,” replied Curt. “And none of them seem much like suspects except the guy who speaks Russian.”

“Well if there was too much evidence against them they would have been fired by now.”

“Sure, but why them and not everyone else as well. Why were they singled out?”

“Favouritism? Who knows.” Curt didn’t know if he was going to get anywhere with this case.

“What am I even doing here?” Curt asked, finally voicing the question that had been on his mind ever since he’d arrived. “Can’t MI6 sort this out themselves? It’s just a mole, and I don’t know anyone who works there.”

“My best guess would be experience. How long have you been in the field?”

“Less than two years, and even then I mainly just sit at a desk reading through files.”

“Hm. Experience then. I got a lot of unnecessary cases myself. Was sent off to Belarus in my first year because of a suspected assignation plot.”

“That’s quite big.”

“Oh hardly, both the assassin and the assassinated were civilians, and it had nothing to do with the war either. Simple case of a murder charge and jail time. All I got out of it was an improvement on my Russian accent.”

“How long have you been in the field?”

“Going on four years now. Joined when I was twenty.

“So did I.”

“Then perhaps we have more in common than I thought.” Curt took that as a rare compliment. “Now then, I have a flat in Nevern Square. As you can tell by the name, there is a square in the middle. We can talk there. It’s usually empty at this time of day.”

“You sure it’s not too open?”

“It’s surrounded by a gate and only residents have the key. It’s private enough.”

So they made the short walk to Nevern Square, truly a square surrounded by tall, thin flats. The garden itself was fairly bare, much more so than the other gardens that Curt had walked past during his vague exploration of Earl’s Court when he first arrived, which wasn’t so much an exploration as a hunt for somewhere to sleep.

Owen took out a small key and opened one of the locked gates with it. The gate squeaked as it opened, the rusty iron bars dragging along the floor. Owen closed it behind him.

They went to sit on the nearest bench. Curt scanned the park. It really was empty, which wasn’t surprising. Even if everyone wasn’t at work, there was hardly anything to do in here. You could barely walk a dog since its parameter was so small.

“So out of all the suspects,” Owen began, launching back onto the case. “Did any of them stand out to you?”

“Yeah, actually. What about you?” Owen hesitated, an unfamiliar reaction of his.

“To be honest, no. I haven’t found any evidence worth checking out.” Curt raised his eyebrows in suppressed excitement. Did he finally know something that the great Owen Carvour didn’t? Owen paid no attention to his clear look of arrogance.

“I’m surprised,” said Curt, his voice almost gloating.

“Why, what did you find? You’re not going to mention the Russian-speaker again are you? Half the people in MI6 speak Russian. You can’t be a spy if you only know one language.”

“No not him. I’m talking about that other guy, light hair...” Curt took a second to recall the name. “John Lawson.” Something crossed Owen’s face for a split second, not long enough for Curt to properly catch.

“It’s not him,” replied Owen, with a strangely firm voice.

“Well, how do you know?”

“I just do.”

“But he has a history of working with explosives.”

“So? We’re looking for a Russian spy, not someone who blows things up.”

“No we’re looking for a bad guy, and that’s what bad guys do. Blow shit up.”

“Do you realise how childish you sound? Bad guys and good guys. This is the real world, Mega, not a comic book. It’s not Lawson. Move on.”

“Jeez, why are you getting so defensive?” Owen just rolled his eyes, and wouldn’t reply.

“I’ll take you to Bletchley Park. That’s where Andrew Hayes works. Languages aside, I never trusted him myself. Can’t put my finger on why, though. We can follow him, spy on him, and you...” he turned to Curt. “Can make friends with him.”

“Me?” Owen nodded.

“Of course, he doesn’t know who you are. Although I suggest using your real accent. Your British one could really use some work.”

“I thought I sounded alright.”

“You sound like someone mimicking a film star. Just tell him you have family here or something, no links whatsoever to any secret service. Get him to open up. Also...” Owen handed Curt a brown duffel bag that he’d been carrying around the entire time. “Change of clothes. You can give them back to me when you leave.” Curt assumed he meant leave the country, but he could never really tell with Owen. Nevertheless, he took the bag, with a stiff thank you, setting it down beside his feet.

“Wear them tomorrow when you’re trailing Hayes. You want him to think you’re a well-groomed, strapping American. Not a hard-done-by yank, lost in a foreign country.”

“Fine.” Curt ignored the thinly veiled insult, focused as he was on the case itself. He still suspected Lawson, but clearly he was getting nowhere on that lead with Owen around. But perhaps he didn’t need to.

Andrew Hayes wasn’t the only one who worked at Bletchley.

#spies are forever #spies are forever prequel #spies are forever fanfiction #curt mega x owen carvour #tin can bros #gentlemen of lies #agent curt mega #owen carvour #starkid

11 notes · View notes