#never getting over the fact she canonically dyes her hair to forget her mother and get over huey

[shiftwux]

LETTING GO COULD BE ORGASMIC BUT I GUESS I WOULDNT KNOW!!!!!!

[ichigo-daifuku]

To Dye For

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia Relationships: Dabi | Todoroki Toya & Todoroki Natsuo, Todoroki Family Genre: Gen, Angst, Canon Compliant, Random Encounters, Character Study Word Count: 1.6k | AO3 Link

Synopsis: Natsuo encounters a mysterious man in the hair care products aisle at the grocery store.

Warning: The following contains mild spoilers for the Endeavor Agency Arc and the Paranormal Liberation War Arc.

Natsuo stared at his reflection in the mirror and frowned.

As a college student, hustle and bustle filled his everyday life. He attended classes, studied diligently, moved from one deadline to another, and participated in extracurricular activities. It was a lot to get used to at first, but the newfound freedom he had was nothing short of amazing. He could do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted to, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

When Natsuo had spare time, he would usually spend it going on dates with his girlfriend or visiting Rei at the hospital together with Fuyumi. As of late, however, he had little time to do either. School activities had caused his schedule to become more hectic. The upcoming final exams would signal the end of the academic year, and Natsuo had a lot of tasks to accomplish in preparation for them.

He had been so preoccupied with his responsibilities that before he knew it, the streaks at the sides of his hair had grown crimson.

Growing up, Natsuo detested the crimson strands on his head. He didn’t mind how they stood out against his predominantly white hair at first, but as his hatred for his father grew, the sentiment spread to the biological traits he inherited from him. He loathed how those crimson streaks were the same shade as his father’s. In time, Natsuo despised how their resemblance was uncanny. People had always pointed out how his face and frame looked like a younger version of Enji. It was one of his pet peeves.

Natsuo would never forget how, for a long while, he was prohibited from visiting his mother at the hospital because she couldn’t bear to see him. He reminded her too much of Enji, even though his father was as good as a stranger to him. Natsuo wasn’t like him at all, but even if that was the truth, his physical appearance alone was an undeniable indication that he was his son.

When he was in his early teens, he started bleaching and dyeing the six streaks of his hair white. He had a way to lessen his likeness to his father, and he took the opportunity to do so. Now, truth be told, Natsuo had come to the point where he was unused to seeing his crimson hair. It was an odd feeling, but he had learned to live with it.

In retrospect, he should’ve requested a touch-up last week when he went for a haircut at the barbershop, but he had been in a rush. He disliked freeloaders and didn’t want to be one, so he prioritized attending the group meeting he had instead. With a sigh, he shook his head but didn’t regret his choice. He considered dropping by the barbershop again but thought otherwise. He could do it by himself. It had been a while since he had done the bleaching process on his own, but it was simple enough. He could do it.

Natsuo slipped his navy blue coat on and went on his way to the grocery store near his dormitory. The winter chill felt soothing and nice against his skin. It eased his mind and relieved the stress he was under, and he felt glad he decided to go out today.

At the grocery store, he proceeded to the aisle of hair care products and grabbed his favorite brand of hair bleach kit. He hummed to the tune of the music playing through the speakers and looked around, wondering if the hair bleach kit would suffice since he had the other products he needed in the dormitory. Now that he thought about it, he could do some grocery shopping as well. He should get a shopping cart.

A fellow customer entered the area he was standing on. The lanky man wore a hooded jacket that covered the majority of his face. He had his hands inside his pockets as he browsed the shelves.

The man seemed to be someone around Natsuo’s age, more or less. Natsuo was taller than him but granted, he was taller and burlier than most of his peers. He wondered if he was also a college student like him and, if so, if he attended the same institution he did. Natsuo attempted to catch a glimpse of the man’s face but failed. The stranger wore sunglasses, obscuring his features even further, except for the ebony hair hanging across his forehead. Although uncertain, Natsuo considered the possibility of this stranger’s covered-up attire being connected to his Quirk.

With a gloved hand, the man picked up a box of black hair dye and read the description on the packaging.

Oh, no, Natsuo thought, Anything but that one.

“Hey, man,” Natsuo called, approaching the stranger in a friendly manner. “I wouldn’t recommend that brand. The quality isn’t very good.”

The man stiffened but, nevertheless, replied, “Is that so?”

“Yeah. I used that brand when I dyed my hair blond when I was younger, and it completely faded after a few washes.”

“Why?”

“Well, as I said, the quality is—”

“Not that,” the man interjected, not bothering to face Natsuo fully, “Why would you dye your hair blond?”

“Ah, well… to piss my old man off,” Natsuo admitted.

“Why?”

“He has this… rivalry with a certain blond man, so he hates him. I thought it would irritate him.”

Natsuo was oversharing, and he knew it. His hand came up to rub the nape of his neck as he chuckled in mild embarrassment. He had nothing to be embarrassed about when he was just answering the man’s question, right?

To his surprise, the man probed, curious about his story, “And? Did it do the trick?”

“Nah.” Natsuo shook his head. “He just glared at me for a bit and went back to pretending I don’t exist.”

The man let out a humorless chuckle. “Figures.”

Looking back, Natsuo realized how petty of a prank that was. Of course, the man would think so, too. “Yeah.”

There was a lull in the conversation. The man shifted his head to look at Natsuo.

Natsuo was unable to see the man’s face due to his sunglasses, but he could feel his eyes as they traveled from the hair bleach kit in his hand and then to his hair.

The stranger’s shoulders shook as he stifled a laugh. He turned away and placed the low-quality hair dye back on the shelf.

Natsuo scanned the items near him and pointed to a certain section. “If you’d like a really good hair dye, this is the brand I’d recommend.”

“There’s no need.” At a leisurely pace, the man turned around and made his way to the shelf across them, grabbing a medium-sized bottle.

Hair dye remover, Natsuo noted, which made no sense to him. Wasn’t he looking for hair dye?

The man inspected the item in his hand and put it inside his pocket.

Natsuo’s eyes widened at the scene in front of him. “Hey, what do you think you’re—”

Ignoring his question, the man stepped closer to Natsuo, and with amusement laced in his voice, spoke, “Make sure to watch the news, okay?”

Natsuo froze. Why did this person seem almost… familiar?

“See you around,” the man said and walked away, “Todoroki Natsuo.”

Alarm bells rang inside Natsuo’s head. This stranger called him by his full name. He had never introduced himself nor was he wearing anything that would give away his identity.

The second Natsuo was able to collect his thoughts and get over his initial panic, he ran after the man to question him, but he was nowhere to be found. The security alarms didn’t go off despite the man stealing something from the grocery store, his escape successful.

Natsuo reported the shoplifting incident to a staff member. Since the man’s physical appearance was too obscured, the authorities had very little clue to his identity. They recorded the theft but could do nothing much about it, ultimately deciding to watch out for similar incidents from now on. When they asked Natsuo if there was anything else he had to say, Natsuo contemplated it but chose not to inform the authorities of the fact that the man knew his identity and was, most likely, after him.

On his way back to the dormitory, Natsuo clutched the handle of the paper bag of hair products in his fist, wary of his surroundings. He couldn’t help it. Having been targeted and attacked by a villain in the past, he had to stay vigilant. Moreover, why did that person tell him to watch the news? The crime he committed was theft—a petty one at that—and would hardly be worth a headline.

Still, it worried Natsuo. He sent Fuyumi a message subtly informing her of his whereabouts in case something happens to him. Not wanting to cause her unnecessary panic, he decided to leave out the details of the encounter he had at the grocery store. He’d tell her later, but for now, he reminded her to take care of herself. Shoto was at U.A., at least, he would be fine there. Rei would be safe at the hospital while Endeavor could handle himself.

Natsuo boarded the train and sat down. He set his elbows on his knees and shut his eyes, the pads of the fingertips of his right hand gently touching their counterparts on his left as he leaned forward and bowed his head, lost in thought.

Who was that man?

The question plagued his mind for a long time but held no answer.

Notes: This was supposed to be a humorous fic… but here we are.

When I was writing this story, I thought a lot about that panel in Chapter 302 where Rei said she “started seeing hints of [Enji] in the children’s faces,” and while Shoto’s left side was shown, Natsuo’s entire face was beside him.

I hope you’re all enjoying Season 5 so far. Thank you for reading! ♡

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[mauserfrau]

Mau's Very Silly Headcanon Post

Since I have two pieces of fiction going live this weekend and they’re both going to be late due to butting into each other XD.

I did another one here and there’s going to be some overlap, but less bodily function stuff in this one (mostly spit) (also some vague references to medical trauma).

A lot of this is small potatoes because I didn’t want to spoil anything.  How Phaseleech actually works ends up being a plot point in what I have pending, so I actually can’t just come out and say what’s going on.  That said, I’m sure there are people here who want to know what’s on my mind, but who don’t want to sit through 50K words with half a dozen squick warnings.

That said: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mauser_Frau

Questions welcome, about this, anything else I think about Borderlands, what exactly is in Chapter 13 of Satellite, if it’s true the one flashback actually happened to Mom... 

Both

-Look, the only thing I did that’s appreciably off-canon is let them have emotions.  Maybe I drove into left field with what those emotions were, but that’s really all anybody’s got to do to fix this situation.  Go with the deity of your choice.  

-If I was headed for a Gearbox ending, it would be for the scrapped one, not the one we got.  See this and this other thing.

>>>I would still have written the twins as having something resembling a meaningful relationship regardless of whether that turned out romantic or not.  As things went and are, them as a couple was something I knew how to write and my mom shipped them (no, I’m not kidding).  

-I’m not going for a canon ending.  Mercy, did I find a thread I could snap and take the whole sweater out.  

-Both had blue siren markings when they were born; Troy’s turned red after they were separated.

--Which was a complicated mess-- they were upside-down verses each other and had several secondary adhesions, the most notable of which was Tyreen’s face to Troy’s thigh.

---Leda never 100% recovered from the emotional or physical trauma, but she put on a brave face for the last sevenish years of her life.  

---Troy’s tissue loss was severe and left him with a notable pit in his upper right side.

---Tyreen also has heavy scarring running from her right armpit to her right hip.  It’s not as complex, but it is very visible.  Missing a fair amount of intestine compared to the average human, but this has apparently never bothered her beyond the fact that visiting the toilet when you don’t eat is not fun.

-Semi-identical twins. Have 82.5% of their genes in common.  LSS, neither one is a parasite.  They’re two sperm plus one egg and they didn’t divide right.

--Ms. Phaseleech* didn’t know any better.  #oops  

--If you get them relaxed enough, they will indeed curl up together in their “fish” position.

-Tyreen is the one who would wail first if separated from her brother when they were very small, but they don’t like being apart even as adults.  

-Both very well-read, used to recite The Odyssey to congregants instead of scripture (‘cause they didn’t have any scripture). 

-Good to excellent hunters. Depends what they’re hunting and if they’re together.  Prefer to go barefoot if there’s no one else around.

-The circumstances surrounding Leda’s death are appreciably worse than fanon baseline to the point I don’t think I ought to leave them lying around in a Tumblr post.  

-Both have wavy hair if they don’t iron the daylights out of it.

-Prefer to be on the road and around people, even if a fair amount of those people are going to end up dinner.

-Get weirdly soft-hearted around kids, especially little boys with a similar complexion to their own.

-Do they have any concept that they’re horrible people? Yes, but it’s very academic and not something that motivates them.  You’d be way more likely to hear them frame themselves as hedonists, which also explains their worldview to a certain extent.  

~*~

Troy

-Skinnier than most other Troys.  You could put him in a room with every fandom Troy and sort them by muscle mass, you’d find him at the bottom end, partying like this was an accomplishment.  

-Has an X-linked connective tissue disorder which is more extensive than he lets on.  He really should not do about 90% of the stunts he does because of the vascular involvement.

-Made a categorical decision to treat the associated pain with a lot of cannabis and massage.  Has a distinct resin and honey body butter smell because of this.

--Also, if you get him off-hours, there’s going to be a fair amount of “but why are we here, man?” discussion.

-Has a kink in his upper back.  His spine tilts to his right.  Not super noticeable, but if you were on massage duty, you’d realize something felt out of place.  

-Used to get catastrophic nosebleeds, though these have lessened in frequency and severity over the years.  

-After a certain point, has a permanent latching socket port installed on his right side, allowing him to switch arms out as he likes.

--Because he has a selection of eccentric ones.  What? It’s a challenge to learn to use non-human aspects like claws or feathers or forty joints in a tentacle.  

--Still flounces around without one if nobody of consequence is watching and generally won’t sleep with one in.

-The insides of his ear gauges are messy and don’t even get him started on changing the jewelry on any, erm, other piercings he might have.  (Nipples and one off-center PA.  That was QUITE enough after what it took for his tattoos to cooperate.) 

-Will frame any illness or off-day as a migraine, which he does get.

-Had really bad teeth before his mouth mods.  After that, has none of his natural teeth remaining.  Primarily uses his exceptional bite radius to annoy others, show off, eat sandwiches in a disturbing fashion and do unspeakable things in bed.  They’re for show.  They’re not functional in any serious way.  

-Doesn’t have great control of said mouth mods in the heat of passion or if you get him laughing hard enough.  Hope you like spit!

-Still has rather heinous-looking feet, but he’s concerned about losing his calluses if he has them fixed.  You’d be more likely to see him open on an operating table than barefoot in public.  

-Always wants to be the little spoon.  You’re a tink? You’re a third his size? So what.  He wants to be the little spoon.  Just give in.

-Genuinely likes tea, especially flower-based tea.  Favorite foods include grits, polenta, tamales, campfire beefy rice, beef and broccoli layered onto somebody else’s leftover noodles, beef curry, beef sandwiches soaked in jus, steak tips on day-old fries and look just give him a sloppy plate of starch and dead cow if you need him to shut up.  

-Drinks vodka so cold and over-filtered it tastes like water, then follows it up with extra greasy, burnt-to-hell texas toast while talking about his mother.

-Lactose intolerant.  Please do not feed the rat child pizza. Or chipped beef on toast.  No, not even if he begs.  

~*~

Tyreen

-Abnormally acute senses, especially hearing/smell and including a form of intuition which targets where things she can leech exist nearby.  She’s only aware of any of this in the context of it being different from how Troy’s senses work.  She knows where to get food.  Don’t most people?

-Doesn’t perceive herself as 100% human.  The Leech is part of her and she likes herself.  Mama said she was perfect.  The details are whatever.  You got a problem here? Well, that’s easy to fix… 

-Would have been sorted as a tomboy growing up, but had no companions to do so.  As is, prefers the company of masculine individuals, loves showing people up in a boyish fashion and is absolutely going to tune you out if you start talking to her about the topic.  

-Reeks.  You might smell something “off” with her around in a meeting room, but get her sweaty or worked up and forget it.  It’s not even a human smell.  Petrichor and spray paint, menstrual blood and chlorine, dead leaves and solvent.  It’s chemical, it’s uncannily biological.  It’s really not OK.  She can’t smell it and Troy’s used to it.  

-Doesn’t shave.  Has fluffy armpits that don’t match her dye job and a rather spectacular bush that extends onto her upper thighs.  Does pluck here brows and the witch hairs on her chin, but otherwise, you know what, nah.

-Heavily tattooed, but this is limited to her torso.  The viewing of said tattoos, as well as her scars, is a ritual in her particular CoV.  

--Not that she cares about being naked.  A body is a body.  You people are so uptight.  

-Will reflexively guard her lower stomach before anything else and sometimes in error.  Do not call her on this.  You will piss her off.  

-Has an eye-shaped siren marking, but it’s on her left shoulder blade and she tends to forget it’s there.  More aware of the “pointer mark” underneath her navel.

-Poor tolerance for any drugs.

-Can only ingest salt, sucrose and 80 proof or better clear alcohol without retching.

--Which is to say she doesn’t eat “people food”.  

--Fatty or high-fiber foods tend to make her ill faster.  She could possibly keep tofu or chicken breast down for an hour or more, but it’s still not going to end well.  

--Can and does eat cinder toffee because it’s one of the few things she can chew and digest.  Konpeito is nice too, but sometimes the dye upsets her stomach.  

--Milk, maybe.  Human works better.

-Enjoys swimming or long baths.

-Ambidextrous.  Was either born that way or picked up doing certain things left-handed because that’s what her brother had to work with and she had to show him how to do stuff somehow.

-Good with a forearm-mounted crossbow.  Either hand is fine.

-Used to drool precipitously when she leeched something “good”.  Mostly has a handle on this by the time the CoV gets to be a thing.  Mostly.  

-Deeply immature love language which might include her actually asking to play with her prospective partner and a good bit of bullying.

-SHE IS NOT SHY ABOUT HER NEEDS AND KINKS.  THE HELL WITH YOU.  YOU’RE MAKING SOMETHING OUT OF NOTHING.  HOW DARE YOU.  DO YOU WANT TO BE SKAG BAIT ON THE NEXT LIVESCREAM.  UGH. #nottsundereatall

~*~

* The Leech IDed herself as, erm, herself in some stuff I’m not sure I’ll ever post but ANYWAY.

[esmeraude11]

On Fëanor and Indis

Something that’s always bugged me? Indis and Fëanor’s relationship. Or rather the lack thereof of a relationship. If we go with the canon dates then Míriel died c. 1170 in the Year of the Trees when Fëanor was little more than an infant in Elven terms.

While Indis was Míriel’s closest friend. She was friends with Finwë too.

I doubt that she left Finwë alone during this period. And I suspect that she wouldn’t have left Míriel’s newborn child alone either. Indis might very well have inserted herself into Finwë’s household so as to look after Fëanor. Because something that we can’t forget is that Finwë was devastated by Míriel’s death. Canonically we’re given a hint as to how Finwë must have felt in the passage that talks about his and Indis’ marriage.

This is going to be long. So I’m putting a Read-More here.

"Now it came to pass that Finwë took as his second wife Indis the Fair. She was a Vanya, close kin of Ingwë the High King, golden-haired and tall <…>. Finwë loved her greatly, and was glad again."

That last sentence jumps out to me as particularly important. Especially the last part “...and was glad again.”

Considering that Míriel literally died of depression (general or post-partum, we don’t know) and physical/spiritual exhaustion that bit talking about Finwë’s emotional state stands out suspiciously. I have to wonder if Finwë himself might have suffered from depression after Míriel’s death.

If he didn’t just marry Indis randomly but rather that it was the result of a prolonged relationship of some sort. I suspect that Indis would have essentially moved to Tirion after Míriel’s pregnancy took a turn for the worse so as to offer Míriel her support. Maybe completing the transition after her death. Because Finwë’s alone now. His wife is dead and resting in the Halls. His newborn son has lost his mother and it’s entirely possible that Finwë was in no condition to look after his child here. Indis likely took on the task of raising Fëanáro. She might have even offered what support she could to Finwë here. Helping by taking over the day to day running of the palace’s household. Taking care of Fëanáro’s household as well. Nurses, governesses, etc. etc. Essentially becoming the Acting-Queen/Queen-Consort in absentia while Finwë mourns his loss and struggles/grapples with his grief.

I feel like Fëanáro grew up with a doting and loving but slightly distant father for a few years here (which might have had an effect on a young Fëanáro). Because Finwë more than likely took a few years to begin to recover from his loss. Míriel was gone but her memory never truly faded. Grief is a thing that cannot be underestimated or ignored. Especially in this situation. The elves came to Aman to escape the horrors that hunted them in Cuiviénen. They were supposed to be coming to a land where death among the Eldar would be a historical footnote. Míriel died, however, and became the first and last of the Eldar to (notably) die in Aman until Alqualondë. And elves bond on a spiritual and mental level. Not just physically.

This is something that can’t be underestimated.

Míriel’s death wasn’t supposed to happen.

And if it did? Then their dead were suppose to return from the Halls. But Míriel was so affected by her condition (depression/exhaustion) that she would not leave the Halls. Not even for her husband and young son. She needed the time to rest and recover. She couldn’t or at least was unwilling to subject herself to life while still fraught with the issues that had led to her death.

This is understandable and she shouldn’t be blamed for making her choice. Because it must have been a difficult one to make.

But this left Finwë to deal with the aftermath. And he might not have been up for it. He might have needed help. Indis was there. Indis who had been friends (best friends, even) with Míriel and Finwë. Indis who’d likely joked with Míriel and looked forward to her friends’ child with eagerness. Indis who was the sister of a king and was herself one of the Awakened Elves of Cuiviénen. She’d likely known Míriel and Finwë for a very very long time.

And this is where we come back to Fëanor.

Fëanor likely grew up with Indis as his honorary aunt. Someone who took on a maternal role in his life without explicitly taking on that role in his life. Fëanáro might have called Indis ‘mom’ or ‘mommy’ a few times when he was especially young and she’d have gently corrected him. Indis would have taken care of Fëanáro’s education. Carefully selecting tutors for the young prince from a list of Noldorin scholars and masters. Ever mindful of the fact that she was a Vanya and he was the prince of the Noldor and thus needed to curate his education in a direction that suited his birth.

Indis likely spoke to Fëanáro of Míriel from the very beginning. First as a baby, rocking him in her arms and singing to him songs that she’d heard Míriel sing to her swollen belly as she worked on her pieces. Mindless ditties of shining threads and jewel-tone colors and embroidering. Singing Vanyarin songs of beauty and perspective and thought that Míriel had enjoyed for their rather pretty and bright evocative turns of phrase.

Telling him bed-time stories of laughter and joy and expectation. Míriel’s grey eyes shining with mirth. Her mouth curved into an impish smile. A long-fingered and elegant hand splayed over a pregnant belly. Silver-grey hair falling in a mass of loose curls over a slender shoulder. Each strand shining and lovely. Of a bright and fierce temper that could cow any uppity noble and only gave way before her loved ones.

Drawing a blanket over Fëanáro’s chest. Míriel’s work. One of her finest and final masterpieces. Indis had spun the materials that went into the thread. Brought from Valmar the materials that Míriel needed for her jewel-toned dyes. Míriel had woven and sown the squares that sealed the goosedown. She’d embroidered the blanket itself. Her final gift to the child she’d loved and never gotten the chance to watch grow up.

We know that Míriel’s body lay in-repose in the Gardens of Lorien.

We know that Fëanor went to visit her often. Finwë likely went as well. Not quite as often and more than likely because it was more than he could bear.

I can see Indis being the one to accompany Fëanáro when he was still young enough to want her to come with him. Before the marriage that is. Indis running a careful hand through Míriel’s hair while her other arm is wrapped around Fëanáro. Ensuring that he doesn’t run off or clamber onto his mother’s body.

Let me just say too. Míriel’s body being held in-repose could only have exacerbated Fëanor’s issues here. Especially since Finwë clearly struggled with the loss of his wife. Míriel died but she was never laid to rest. Her memory lingered on. In her husband. In her friend. Among her people as well. Fëanor never had a chance to come to terms with his loss. Especially since his loss occurred when he was a baby and thus never had a chance to properly know his mother and was instead left with her lingering memory.

I don’t doubt that Finwë loved him. But considering that he might have been struggling with depression after Míriel’s death and might have been a distant parent during those initial years of Fëanáro’s childhood. I can definitely see him trying to make up for it by overcompensating. Showering Fëanáro with affection and making time for his wants and needs. Even at the expense of his later children. And Fëanáro himself might not have recognized that Finwë was attempting to make up for those years that he couldn’t be a good parent.

If Finwë was struggling with depression here. He would definitely not have told his son. I tend to think that Finwë kept as much of Míriel’s circumstances from Fëanáro. Because it’d have been very easy for the boy to blame himself for his mother’s death and who knows how servants or nobles saw the whole situation. I can also see him wanting to keep Fëanáro in the dark of his own personal issues out of fear and worry that Fëanáro himself might be susceptible to depression as well. Plus fearing that he himself might fade from grief/depression and not wanting his son to have that on his mind.

All of this would lead to Fëanáro not understanding and not taking it well that Finwë’s immediately affectionate with his and Indis’ children. Because the thing here? It’s not Fëanor’s fault. Finwë was likely in a better mental state and was thus capable of involving himself with his younger children from the get-go. Whereas he couldn’t do the same with Fëanor himself at first. 

It’s incredibly likely that Námo had informed Finwë of Míriel’s reluctance to return. Perhaps even told him that it was unlikely that she’d be ready for re-embodiment anytime soon. This may or may not have worsened Finwë’s own condition. I think that he began to lean more on Indis on a more personal level after this. For mental or emotional support. As well as realizing just how much Indis had taken on for his sake (running the palace and household/raising his son in his stead). Which could have very easily led to a far stronger connection and to marriage.

When we add all of the above to Finwë and Indis getting married during Fëanáro’s childhood? It’d be easy to see Fëanáro taking offense to the whole affair. Fëanáro likely knew that dead elves can return from the Halls of Mandos once they’re ready. Indis herself likely told him of this while relating stories of the Valar and perhaps the reasons for why the Eldar left Cuiviénen. A young Fëanáro would have seen this as a betrayal from the woman that had raised him. She’d told him all of his life that his mother loved him and his father. That she’d come back from the Halls to be his mom again and they’d all be happy.

Fëanáro could and would have absolutely taken this badly. And it’d be easy for a young boy to blame his new step-mother/formerly beloved aunt-figure rather than his father in this situation. Especially if he desperately adores his previously distant but still loving father.

This would then lead to Fëanáro resenting Indis. And Indis herself having to deal with the fact that she’s lost Fëanáro’s love and trust. Perhaps hoping that things will get better as time goes on. But knowing that they won’t once Ñolofinwë is born. Because Fëanáro likely took Findis’ birth with some ambivalence. If he was still young then he might be genuinely curious and affectionate with Findis because he hasn’t had time to internalize a lot of his issues. Plus Findis is tiny and pretty and eager to interact with her elder brother.

A brother, however, changes things. And Fëanáro was likely old enough (the equivalent of a Human 9 year old, I’d say) to realize that it changed things. One: Fëanáro’s position as Crown Prince was potentially threatened by Ñolofinwë. It wasn’t really but Fëanáro no doubt had begun to tie his father’s love and affection to the position which would eventually make him possessive of it. Two: Because Fëanáro watched as Finwë eagerly welcomed the arrival of the new baby. Watched as he didn’t struggle to connect or dote on Ñolofinwë the way he did with Fëanáro himself.

I suspect that ultimately led to his resentment of his younger siblings (Ñolofinwë especially). As well as encouraging his belief that Indis had stolen his mother’s chance at life and intended to take everything from him. Thus leading to Fëanáro possessively and almost obsessively defending his mother’s memory.

Just... give me Fëanor in the Halls of Mandos having to come to terms with his childhood and the Indis that had raised him and the woman he’d come to hate for taking his mother’s place in life as wife and mother. Maybe having a long and much needed discussion with Finwë about what occurred during Fëanor’s childhood. Having to realize that nothing had truly changed between them. He’d simply refused to see it for a very long time.

[euphoric-melancholyy]

On Sleepless Roads (1/3)

This fic is a love letter to the characters of Emma Swan and Killian Jones. It is a fic that has been in the works for over nine months and I am so excited to share it with everyone. It started with filming spoilers of our favorite female protagonist being stabbed on a dark, foggy night in Storybrooke and it grew from there. Season 6 Canon divergence. 

(Tagging @acrobat-elle and @lovebecomeshim upon request.) 

Ao3    FF   Part 2  Part 3

One night of peace is all they were granted before the next crisis began. One night to recover from the aftermath of darkness and secrets, hell and death, before Mr. Hyde made his presence in town known. But with Killian by her side, it didn’t seem to matter in the long run. The moment she saw him above the place his body had been laid to rest, a question in the call of her name, she decided to fight for her own happiness. Maybe the savior could have a happy ending as well. Maybe this was it.

That was what she had believed before she found herself here.

“Ah, the infamous Savior. Do you really think yourself a match for me?” She can’t see his face, the cloaked figure that’s far too reminiscent of past Dark Ones. With the edge of his blade threatening Henry’s throat, she draws her sword, sighing in relief when the action grants her son’s release. Killian grabs Henry the moment he’s near.  

Cold air bites at her skin, slips into the gap between her sweater and back, leaving a trail of goosebumps. She tightens her grip on her father's sword. “I think you’ll find yourself surprised.”

“Perhaps. But you can’t fight wounded.” She feels the ground give beneath her first - knees stinging with a thud as they hit concrete. There’s a thick sticky crimson covering her hands where she’s holding them at her side and oh god -

The dagger poking out of torn flesh burns - a hot searing pain that stifles her breathing. It hurts. It aches, throbbing with a sharp pain paralleled by nothing she has felt before. Her cry is a high pitched wince as her body curves into itself and dammit it hurts. She tries to focus on the roughness of the unpaved road at her knees, but she can feel the sensation fading, can feel herself fading with it. The moment she moves, a small shift as her legs give out, it comes back with a fury.

Muffled words grow louder as the world around her comes back into focus, Killian’s panicked voice the only thing she can hear.

“What’s wrong? Emma, Emma, love talk to me!”

Her eyes burn too, and she tries to blink against the dust clouding them, moaning in pain at the knife lodged into her side. “Killian,” she breathes, leaning into his chest as his arms wrap around her. Magic pulsates beneath her palms but does nothing to heal the wound or stop the bleeding. “Son of a bitch.” It's gritted between closed teeth, and she tries again to no avail.

Killian’s hand is cold as it roams across her shoulders and down to her back, frantically searching for something he can’t seem to find. He repeats her name, a panicked fear she can feel rise in his chest with every inhale.

“I’m-” His hand finds hers with calloused fingers pressing further into the wound - adding kerosene to what might have been a dulling spark. She reels forward as the lights flicker on, an anguished cry at the contact. It seems to summon Henry, the absolute last person she wants to see her in this state. But before she can tell him to leave, he's scavenging for keys as Killian lifts her into his arms. Her request would have fallen on deaf ears anyway.

“Come on, Swan. I’m getting you to a hospital.”

-/-/-

She wakes to white, blinking in finally clear vision. The persistent beeping from machines and wires twisted around her arm only add to her disorient and she hears more than feels the familiar crinkle of leather shifting next to her. Curved, cool metal rests atop her hand that she now registers as being interlocked with Killian’s. It’s a second of blissful peace - another stolen quiet moment that only a couple nights ago, she thought they’d never have again. She turns her head to his, thumb reaching up to smooth the worry lines etched into his forehead. Reality, however, is setting back in, and with it is a rising panic. “What happened?”

“Your faithful pirate and son brought you in a few hours ago,” Dr. Whale begins. She wants to laugh, or cry, at the fact that he seems to be Storybrooke’s only doctor. In the end she settles for avoiding eye contact. “You were pretty out of it, something about being stabbed. But whatever it was, you were in a lot of pain. So, I sedated you and ran some tests.”

“What are you talking about? I was stabbed.” She looks to Killian, the confusion furrowing his brows creating a deep anxiety in her chest.

“Hook, would you like to tell her what you told me?” Whale asks.

Killian nods, squeezing her hand just a little tighter. “Love, what do you remember?”

“We were in front of Gold’s shop and Hyde had one of his minions there, a guy in a black cloak, so I couldn’t see his face. He threatened to hurt Henry, so I pulled my sword and the next thing I know, he stabs me. Then you brought me here.”

“Emma,” It’s barely a whisper, his face breaking. There’s an unease that settles in the silence that follows. It’s the first chance she gets to really look at him. His leather jacket is hanging on the arm of his chair, and instead he’s donning a pair navy pajama pants she bought him with a plain white tee. His hair is a complete mess and she itches to run her fingers through it, tame what sleep and worry has done. He gives her a soft smile, saddened blue eyes staring into emerald, and she bites her bottom lip. “We were sleeping- you woke up screaming. . .You weren’t stabbed.”

“Oh.” It’s all she can muster. When Henry first came to her door, telling a tale of a cursed town and parents that loved her and sent her through a magical wardrobe to protect her from the doom they were to face from the Evil Queen, it was the first of many times where Emma Swan had difficulty in discerning reality from fantasy. Everything she knew was flipped on it’s axis, and yet her gut told her it was right. But this. . .

She would have put everything she had on it being real. How could something so vividly painful not be? It’s not as if Emma is unfamiliar with nightmares-- she spent the majority of her life learning to differentiate between the shadows in her dreams and the ones in her waking hours.

Maybe her sanity was left in the Underworld.

“You’ve been through a lot lately, between all that drama with your parents and then becoming The Dark One. Not to mention losing our boy here-”

“What exactly are you getting to, Whale?” She interrupts, the fear and anxiety shifting into anger.

“Maybe I’m not the doctor you should be seeing. Maybe, and I’m not a psychologist, but maybe your subconscious was channeling what happened with Hook, how he died, into your dream. You’ve been under almost constant stress. Saviors aren’t exempt from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.”

“Yeah and doctor’s aren’t exempt from bad dye jobs.”

“Emma! You're awake!” Snow exclaims as she walks into the room with David. Dr. Whale takes their entrance as a chance to exit and Emma sighs. As welcome as her parents interruption is, there are still questions about what the tests read that she would like answered. But mostly she dreads telling them it might have all been in her head.

“Is Henry okay?”

“He’s fine.” David replies, sending a small smile in Emma’s direction.  “A little freaked out and worried, but we all are. How are you feeling?”

“Better...Can we go home now?”

Her eyes find Killian’s at the end of the question, her heartbeat evening out at the understanding reflected back. It’s their own secret language, reading beneath the surface of what words are not spoken. The words that are laced with worry and anxiety, that say I’m scared and tired. She wonders if he feels it too.

“Aye, love. But first,” he unhooks her from the machines that keep her bound in the small, fluorescent lit room. “We wouldn’t want to take this bloody, beeping contraption with us.”

“Are you sure?” Emma can see the hesitance written on her mother’s face before she speaks. It's obvious by the bags under her eyes that Emma isn't the only one who’s had difficulty sleeping lately. “I mean, what did the doctor say?”  

“It’s nothing.”  Emma knows they’re worried for her; even with it being nearly quarter to five in the morning, she doesn’t miss the pinched expression flash across her mother’s face. But her head is swimming and her stomach churns with what she’s afraid to admit and all she wants is Killian’s lips pressed to the base of her throat, his arms tightly wrapped around her middle, holding her together from a wound she didn’t receive. “Can we just talk about it in the morning? I’m really tired and I want to get out of here.”

“Uh,” Snow nods, glancing over at David before continuing.  “Sure. Why don’t you two come stay with us tonight? I’ll make breakfast in the morning.”

“Rain check? I kinda just want to go home. But I’ll see you all later, if that’s okay.”

“Of course. You’ve had a long night.”

She hugs her parents before departing with her arm snaked around Killian’s waist and her head resting against his shoulder.

They move slowly through the streets, Emma leaning her full weight against her pirate. He keeps his arm tight around her, though her grip is tighter, humming softly to her as the birds wake and harmonize. It’s not until he’s helped her up the stairs, his kisses soft against her hairline and his fingers moving deftly to disrobe her jacket and clothes, that she realizes it’s a lullaby. She wants to ask him where he heard it, if his own mother sang it to him, if there are lyrics, but he lifts her into bed and lies down next to her. She forgets her questions and shuffles until her ear is pressed against the hollow of his throat, his pulse replacing his tune as her own heart starts to beat in time. It’s enough.

-/-/-

He finds her in the kitchen, fingers tapping against her coffee mug - the one with an anchor and “a pirates life for me” embroidered in black. She had bought it during their six weeks of peace, offering it to him with a bright grin and a terrible impersonation of his accent as she asked him “What do you think of this one, love?”. He wishes she still wore that infectious smile now and not the worry and exhaustion lacing her brows. He had fallen asleep once they returned home, but she had not succumbed, choosing instead to curl up in his arms long after the first sign of light shone through the window.

“You made breakfast?”

“Yeah, it’s still warm,” she sets the mug down to place the plates she had prepared on the table. He’s by her side before she reaches her destination, hand clasping around her wrist, thumb gently circling around the ink of her tattoo.

“Swan, talk to me. Trust me, drowning yourself in your thoughts never ends well.”

“What if Dr. Whale was right? What if I'm just slowly going insane and that's my fate as the Savior?”

He frowns at this, fury mixing with a sharp ache. Confessions made in the dead of night and mused with tales of her past create a chasm of self doubts as deep as his own. Still, it takes him aback to see how easily she discharges her own credibility. It was real. The pain she was in as real as the house they now stood in.  And he tells her as much. “I was right there with you, remember? That pain was real. I’ve seen magic do terrible things. We might not have been able to see it, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t feel it.”

“You think this was some sort of dark magic?”

“Aye.” He smiles at her, trying to convey his belief in her, but she sits a bit warily and he thinks he might’ve missed the mark. He drops to the table and swirls the fork in his hand. “Perhaps we could take a trip to Regina’s after your parents.”

Emma’s shoulders drop and she nods. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

-/-/-

Regina's house is surprisingly clean, considering. In the small amount of time between leaving the Underworld and Zeus reviving Killian, Emma had managed to tear her own house apart. (She had been able to keep herself together during the day as she searched, but nightfall crept in, with every inch of pain singing of a lost future, a lost true love, and grief consumed her. With the evil half of Regina gone, she can only imagine how she’s coping.)  

Henry nearly knocks Emma over with the force of his hug (When had he gotten so big?) and she laughs, ruffling his hair. “Hey, kid. Is Regina around?”  

“Yeah, she’s in the kitchen. Are you feeling better?”

“That’s actually what I am here to talk about. Can you hang with Killian for a bit?”

Henry nods before leading Killian upstairs, likely for another pop culture lesson. She can’t help the smile that brightens her face whenever her true loves are together. It’s small miracle, she thinks, that two of the most important men in her life have formed such a strong bond. They seemed to have developed their own language, with jokes she doesn’t quite get and secrets shared while drifting away at sea. Killian has become such an integral part of Henry’s growth into a young man and it warms her burdened heart to know that no matter what Henry has Killian to lean on.

Emma grants herself one last look up the grand staircase before trekking through the house in search of Regina. She finds her elbows deep in a sink brimming with suds and dirty dishes. “I thought you’d be too refined for dishes.” Emma remarks, offering a small smile.

“Yeah, well I’m a mother too. And mother’s don’t get the privilege of skipping these tasks.” She fidgets with the faucet until the water comes to a stop, drying her hands on a towel next to her. “So,” Regina pauses, noticing the downcast expression on her face. “Wait, what’s wrong?”

“It’s. . .Do you know anything about a dark magic making a dream feel real?”

“Like a sleeping curse?”

“Not exactly. More like, if you’re injured in a dream, once you wake up, you can still see and feel the effects of that injury. . .”

“Did you go to the hospital last night over a nightmare?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know what it was. I thought I was stabbed until Killian told me I wasn’t. Whale wrote it off as PTSD and stress, but I’m not crazy. I know what I felt, what I saw.”

“Start from the beginning.”

And she does. She tells her of standing in the street with the black cloaked man, her family behind her and the knife to Henry’s throat. She describes the best she can the unbearable pain that took over when that same knife pierced her side, the blood pooling at her hands even as Killian had lifted her into his arms, the blade still lodged into her flesh. She recalls how she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see through dust that blocked her vision and burned in her eyes and -

“That doesn’t fit. You wouldn’t feel dust burning in your eyes from a stab wound.” Regina interrupts, her eyes widening as she pieces together a possible diagnosis.  “In the storybook Henry took from the library, there was this one story that I could have sworn was merely legend. What do you know of the sandman?”

“Oh Mr. Sandman bring me a dream, make him the cutest I’ve ever seen?” Emma singsongs.

“In the book, the Sandman is a generational curse. I bet you those dreams don’t have to be happy.”

“Wait, so you think that the Sandman is haunting me?”

“There are so many new residents in town, Hyde and his untold stories...it has to be him.” The former queen bounces out of her chair before making her way to the other side of the room. She reaches up onto a shelf, pulling out a book similar to Henry’s. “Take this.”

“Thank you.” Emma replies. It feels inadequate as she stares at the eloquent writing across the cover of the book - Once Upon a Time - knowing that a piece of Regina’s happiness has been so recently ripped away. And yet, she’s still helping, not retrieving into grief as Emma had done.  “Seriously, thank you. And if there’s anything I can do-”

“Just go home and get some rest. You look like hell.”

“Yeah, okay.”

-/-/-

When sleep comes, so do the monsters. This time it’s magic slamming her against the clock tower, her head throbbing with an intensity that carries past the dream and into the real world. Killian awakes to the sound of her soft moan as she rolls out of bed and stumbles to the door.

“Swan?”

“Go back to sleep, Killian. I’m just getting some ice.”

Instead of listening, he runs after her, helping her down the stairs to retrieve the treasure she was seeking, sitting her down on the couch. She feels warm in his arms, almost as if she could succumb back into slumber once the pain dulls. (She knows she won’t, but hopes Killian does.)

Maybe that’s the Sandman’s plan.

[mynameisananagram]

Ryder character questions

This post was made by @jedimasteramell but because no one asks me owt, I’m gonna answer all of them.

Also thanks @alicesaurus for reblogging this onto my dash!

Just some fun character development/get-to-know-them questions! Warning, there are some basic spoilers.

The basics! Whats their full name, gender, and sexuality? Describe their general appearance and/or include a picture. Is there anything you canon beyond what the game allows?

This is Greta Ryder. She’s a pansexual woman with a tattoo on the left side of her face and neck, and scars on her right cheek. Her make up is amazing.

Can’t always wear Initiative whites and blues, Whats their dress style like? Do they prefer casual wear, or being in armor? Is it the same as it was in the Milky Way? How, if applicable, has it changed since arriving in Helius?

She prefers the armour options in Andromeda; integrating angaran or Remnant tech is extremely helpful; generally though, she prefers to chill out in her badass jacket. All her outfits are functional and stylish, in her favourite colours.

Do they have piercings, tattoos, or notable scars? Do they dye their hair, or is it a gene mod?

The scars on her cheek are a remnant from a previous misunderstanding with a group of vorcha at a Prothean dig site. The misunderstanding was resolved amicably, but there were scars on both sides.

As for hair, it’s a gene mod, done more for convenience than anything else; having to dye one’s hair in between missions was incredibly tiresome.

What’s their personality like? How do they feel about being Pathfinder? How do they change, if at all, over the course of the story?

At first, she was incredibly unsure of herself. Spending most of her pre-Heleus career on fairly tame dig sites, the only trouble she’d face was from pirates and scavengers. Outside of her comfort zone she’s constantly second guessing herself. Thanks to SAM and the rest of her team, not to mention her successes, she’s becoming more and more the Pathfinder her father knew she’d be.

What’s their preferred profile, or class? Were they naturally inclined towards combat or technical skills? Were they a developed biotic, or did they first experience it with SAM?

Greta was always into technology, always the first to adapt to new tech in both combat and her scientific role. As such, she tends to prefer tech skills in Helus, with the combo of Overload and Incinerate being very useful. That said, the biotic Annihilation Field is awesome for close range combos.

Canon says they served in the Alliance before joining the Initiative, do you keep this canon, or have you made some changes? Explain their backstory either way.  

I’m a fan of the canon, truth be told. Greta has always been a sarcastic, highly capable nerd. She joined the Alliance, following in her father’s footsteps, but despite showing an aptitude as a combat technician, she found the idea of uncovering the mysteries of Prothean civilisation far too big a draw, and joined the scientific corps as a researcher and peacekeeper.

Everyone’s got one… List their (or your) favorite powers, weapons, and armor sets. Any special reason for these choices?

Throughout my Mass Effect history I’ve always loved the tech stuff. Overload and Incinerate are fantastic together, and good for basically every kind of enemy. As for weapons, the Disciple from ME3 is ace in Andromeda; I crafted I my own with armour-busting seeking projectiles and named it Deathlord. Couple that with cryo ammo and a crafted krogan hammer called Smash Bastard and the results are explosive.

As for armour, the health benefits of the Remnant armour is super handy, though the Maverick armour is a lot more stylish.

Its all in the family. Explain their relationship with Alec, Ellen, and their sibling. If you changed anyone’s names or added a different sibling in your canon, explain why.

As a rule, I don’t change canon. Greta’s relationship with her father is strained; there’s a lot of respect there but it’s not a traditional daughter’s love for her family. She is, however, extremely close to her twin, Scott. She wishes she could have spent more time with her mother.

What’s their favorite memory they have of their sibling? Of their parents?

The two weren’t close as children; the fact that they were twins was more of an embarrassment than anything else. Both wanted to be their own person and be as individual as possible. They only really became close in their late teens as they enlisted in the Alliance and realising just how similar they were to each other 

How have they dealt with the aftermath of Habitat 7? How deeply does this affect them?

It’s hard to put into words. While never close to her father, Alec was still Greta’s dad, and he was a huge figure in his life. Losing him in such a heroic manner was hard to come to terms with, and the only person she could talk to about it was in a coma. Breaking the news to Scott while he was comatose was especially hard. Couple that with all the pressure put on her by the Nexus leadership, not to mention the insulting interactions with Foster Addison, has left a psychological toll.

Thankfully, her family on the Tempest has helped her adapt to this. Liam is always good for downtime, Jaal is always happy to talk about feelings, and Vetra is good for forgetting about problems and shooting the breeze. Lexi’s medical and psychiatric advice has been invaluable.

As they unlock the memories, how does this change, if at all, their view of their parents?

There was definitely a lot more to her parents than meets the eye; as mindblowing as these revelations are, especially these Reaper things and the apparent destruction of the entire Milky Way, part of Greta can’t help but feel hurt that Alec never trusted either of his children enough to impart this knowledge while he was alive.

Explain the way they feel about their squadmates, both initially and over the course of the story.

Initially, Greta finds Cora standoffish and cold. Over the course of the story, she finds her creepy love for the asari to be kinda disconcerting, and would rather keep her distance.

Liam’s a laugh. Initially he’s a bit annoying and cocky, but there’s real depth to him, and he’s a real friend, if a little immature.

Vetra is a solid friend, and helping her and Sid become closer really solidified the friendship Greta shares with her.

Jaal is a sweetie. He’s always been a sweetie, and most likely will always be a sweetie.

Drack is the best space grandpa ever. If Greta ever realised that she needed a parental figure, she’d probably realise that Drack fits the bill perfectly.

Peebee is definitely affected by her abusive relationship with Kulinda, but regardless, she’s an insufferable, immature, edgelord of an arsehole, and Greta is happy to have as little to do with her as possible.

Explain the way they feel about the rest of the Tempest crew?

Gil is a cocky, arrogant twat who needs to take a good hard look at himself.

Kallo is the loveliest being in the entire universe, and if anyone hurts him in Greta’s presence, they’d better be good at running away fast.

Suvi is the most beautiful woman in the world to Greta. They don’t agree on matters of religion, but their shared love of the beauty of the cosmos and science in general (not to mention that accent) keeps the fire burning.

How about Nexus leadership and the people on the Nexus in general?

Kesh is awesome. Kandros is a solid guy. Tann is a snivelling bureaucrat. Addison and her goddamn poetry can fuck right off.

What were their reactions to the Angara and the Exiles? How did learning there was a whole new species in Helius affect them? How did news of the rebellion affect them?

“Huh, a brand new galaxy and yet life has evolved beings with the same limbs and facial arrangements as the Milky Way, that’s extremely unlikely but OK whatever” (I have something of a bugbear about the fact that aliens all looking the same but with different heads is just ridiculously implausible, and don’t even get me started on the female angara looking ridiculously oversexualised... also, while we’re on the subject, why are humans the only species in the known universe to evolve hair? The fuck’s that about?

Ahem. Anyway. The existence of a pre-existing species in Andromeda does change perspectives; the Nexus species came here for a home, but the Habitats chosen were already habitats to other species. To just set up outposts willy nilly would be dangerously close to the colonisation of the Americas by the Europeans, which began with genocide and devolved from there. Every decision the Nexus makes in Heleus has to be at the discretion of the angara.

To paraphrase Greta at the beginning of the game, what would we do if the angara turned up on Earth expecting to live there?

What about their interactions with the Kett?

Knowing their true origin is hard; it’s not like there’s a lot of choice in the matter but the idea of eradicating an entire species, however hostile, is a chilling prospect.

Did Ryder fall in love? If so, with whom? What drew them to that person? Would their sibling approve?

She is deeply in love with Suvi (though she won’t deny an attraction to Jaal, Keri T’Vessa or Reyes Vidal), for reasons explained above. Scott would approve, probably; he’d also most likely have been drawn to Mr. Vidal.

What does Ryder do in their spare time? What are their hobbies and interests? Do they share these with their friends, or are they more private?

Greta’s big into reading. She likes to read mind-numbingly complex scientific journals, but her favourite are asari pulp romance novels which she enjoys reading for comedy value.

How do they feel being in command of the Tempest? Whats their favorite part of the ship? Least favorite?

Greta still finds it uncomfortable being in charge, but she’s getting there. She loves hanging out in her quarters (being bigger than a lot of Nexus apartments after all, but her favourite place is the bridge, next to her beau and the stars.

How about driving the Nomad? Are they a good or terrible driver?

No comment. Don’t ask Jaal.

How do they feel about their connection with SAM? What’s their views on AI in general? Knowing Milky Way history and the attack on Eden Prime and the Citadel a recent memory, did the Geth influence this view? Does their view on SAM change?

Greta is pro-AI, and while understanding the quarians’ actions during their war with the geth, she finds it upsetting that most quarians are still anti-AI. The geth attacks on Eden Prime and the Citadel were terrifying, but Greta knows that AI are objective and rational in their behaviours, and attacking colonies and the Citadel is not standard geth behaviour; she would have liked to have been assigned to the task force investigating the geth attacks had she not had her Alliance career sidelined by her father’s own research.

As for SAM, she is a huge fan. No matter what happens, she’ll never be alone, not to mention the fact that she’s basically a superhero now, able to adapt her body and mind at will.

Favorite world they landed on? How do they feel getting to be the first human to step in many of these places?

Clear out all the predators from Havarl and Greta could live there forever; it’s so beautiful and twilight and there’s no shortage of Remnant to study. If she didn’t have such a wanderlust she could definitely imagine another life as a scientist seconded to Pelaav Station.

How do they feel about the Remnant? Are they worried? Curious? Simply accepting of what they can do with it?

Being a former Prothean researcher, Greta is right at home in a world filled with ancient, mysterious alien relics from a long lost civilisation. And being a tech head, the ability to couple Remnant technology with their own is a big draw.

Do they ever wish they could just return to the Milky Way? Do they miss anything in particular about their old home? Did they bring anything special with them?

It would be odd not to want to go home; for one thing, you just can’t get a decent steak on the Nexus, given the rationing and limitations. Sometimes it’s nice to fantasise about her former life, where if she ran out of something, she could just go to a shop.

Thankfully, her excitement and interest in the exploration and discovery far outweigh the minor inconveniences.

How do they feel about what they’ve accomplished in Helius? Are they proud? Worried? Do they feel positive about the chances for a cluster-wide unity? If they could change anything that had happened since everyone arrived in the cluster, what would it be and why?

The journey to Meridian and beyond showed the power of a united galaxy, even with the limited resources of both the Nexus species and the angaran resistance. Reuniting the 4 main pathfinders, with word of the quarians still out there too, not to mention the krogan colony, was a huge effort but this union drove out a terrible threat and learned more about a cluster than ever before. The overarching feeling of the whole experience is one of hope. There’s much more work to be done, but with everyone working together, there’s nothing that can stop us.