#probably something with omni-tool?

[husband-steve-cortez]

The concept that omni-tools can have combat functions locked is an age-old headcanon I've had to get around why guns aren't allow in some places but your killer apple watches are.

Maybe less a "locks combat functions" and more puts a lock on how much energy it can generate/output. Most civilian models either aren't able to fabricate blades or have to be jailbroken to do so, and don't really generate enough power for your incinerate or overloads.

This is more of a like, on the citadel and other secure places type of concept in my mind. Shepard's exempt as a Spectre.

[gatorbites-imagines]

could you do something were one of the mark variants likes ftm reader who has a 1 sided crush on his mark (if that makes sense lol)

bottom/sub reader pls😔

Shiesty Mark x ftm reader 

Drabble 

I just... really like this Mark. The mask does something to me. I also learned that shiesty Mark was inspired by Cole Cash from DC, which is really cool. 

Bit of a mixed bag when referring to readers bits, and hinting at front hole penetration at the end.  

It's been so long since ive written smth like this, so bear with me. 

You hated this fucking city, and country, and probably world. Just because you had powers, because your mom just happened to be some hero, who fucked some government guy, you were expected to keep her legacy. 

Your dad wasn't much of a dad, even less so when your mom kicked the bucket when you were little. Your powers weren't even that impressive, you could make force fields and different shapes with your will, but it was nothing compared to the powerhouses of this world. (imagine like an off-brand green lantern, but without the ring) 

Dear old dad had you trained from the very moment you could walk, and it was clear from a young age that you were not his son, or rather daughter at the time, but an asset. But what else could be expected from the guy that turned your mom's corpse into a reanimen. 

Life was a chore, a drag, you didnt get a social life, it was all about training and becoming a better asset for the GDA, for your so called dad. There were days you wanted to use your powers to just... kill him, to kill everyone.  

Or yourself. Those days were growing more and more common. It made you wonder if your will was so strong you could surpass the human want to survive, and just... take yourself out. 

At least your top surgery and testosterone were given to you for free, like some kind of reward, like the GDA were dangling a carrot, after you had sacrificed so much of yourself with as little as a thank you being given in return. 

It all became a little less shit when Invincible appeared. In the beginning you liked him only because your dad feared him so much, after seeing what omni-man did to the guardians and world.  

Invincible, or Mark, didn't help these blooming feelings. He was just so kind, so willing to help and so determined. He hadn't been crushed under the weight of the universe, of his father's legacy, like many others would have. Like you had. 

You two had worked together on multiple occasions, since you didn't have much of a choice about joining the new guardians.  

Being raised by the government to live as a tool meant your ability to communicate and build relationships was very lacking, so you two never became more than acquaintances, but Invincible still made your heart flutter and your body heat up. 

Maybe that was why it was hard to fight these alternate variants of him. It wasnt like your forcefields and will created tools were much help, as they shattered under the punches and kicks of the Mark variants.  

The Mark variant you had ended up with was an extra rude one, he cursed and spat and growled like some kind of animal. He fought manically, clawing and bloody from all the lives he had taken. Maybe dying wasn't too bad, if you got to die by Invincibles hand. 

That was why you had ripped out the earpiece you always wore, even using your will to shape a little sharp contraption to dig out the one that had been placed under your ear with surgery, a long time ago. 

It could explain why you allowed this veiled Mark passed the multiple layers of glowing green walls, when you let him clasp a bloody hand around your throat, and why you only groaned a little as he slammed you down, the very pavement shattering into rubble. 

“Im getting tired of your fucking lightshow” he snarled, his voice so similar to Marks put different in its roughness. There was a familiar heat pooling in your gut, your thighs clenching together as this Mark variant choked the very life out of you. 

You weren't reaching up to hit him as he choked you, instead gripping onto the veil he wore. Part of you wanted to look him in the eyes as he killed you, so you could at least see the face of the one person who made you feel alive, even if those feelings were never returned. 

Black spots were swimming across your vision, your grip weakening and focus wavering, enough for your green domino mask to disappear in a flicker of green.  

There must have been something in your eyes, as this Mark variant furrowed his brows, his hand loosening just enough for you to gasp in a few breaths of air, ripping the sweet release of death out of your hands once more. 

“Shit, you are into this, aren't you? You disgusting freak” he snarled, a cruel animalistic smirk growing on his lips, Marks eyes widening like a tiger spotting a wounded rabbit. His pupils were blown, but if it was adrenaline or lust, you couldnt be sure.  

One thing was sure, that expression on his face, was never one you would see on your Mark. He would never look so wild, so feral and violent. It made your cock throb and front hole grow wetter than you had ever been before, the inside of your suit growing uncomfortable. 

The Mark variant gave a snarl, grabbing you like a ragdoll and blasting off in some random direction, his veil falling back in place as he did so. 

You weren't sure where you guys ended up, but it was somewhere not destroyed by the invasion. The near-death choking had left you with an aching headache and blurry head, so you ended up just flopping down on the ground Mark threw you on. 

“I love nasty freaks like you. Always aching for dick as much as you ache for pain.” the Mark variant purred, settling between your thighs, his hands strong and tight as they gripped onto them, spreading them apart far enough for it to burn. 

“Fuck, i could break both of these, and i bet you would just beg for more” he groaned out, voice somehow more growly and hotter than before, as he squeezed your thighs, right above your femur. 

“Come on, give me that dick” he chuckled, bending forwards just enough for his veil to move, enough for you to see his hungry shark-like grin, and the way his tongue licked against his teeth. 

There hadn't been much thought in your head about your body this whole time. You had never been very active in that regard, what joy was there in jerking off and exploring when you were always under watch.  

So, you hadn't thought of this Mark variant's reaction when you willed away your suit, just enough for your crotch to be freed, your t-cock hard and filled with blood as your slit oozed. 

Mark stopped for a second, his brow furrowing so visibly you could even see it through his veil, and for a moment you felt something akin to dread. Damn, did you fuck it up? Maybe he was disgusted by it, it was a fear you had of your Mark, that he would think you were a liar, or something. 

That was, until the Mark Variant laughed, his tone like somebody who just won the damn lottery. “Shit, fuck yeah! Spread those fucking legs, open up for me” he cackled, hands pushing at the back of your thighs, almost folding you in half. 

You weren't given much time to reach before he leaned down, his veil almost innocently covering your pubic mound, before his lips closed around your engorged t-cock. 

Your legs kicked at the sudden feeling, a noise leaving you like he had just punched you in the gut. There was no damn finesse in this Marks movements, as his arms kept your folded in half, as he feasted on your slit like a starved animal. 

It was so loud and wet, his tongue and lips pulling you open, sucking, biting and flicking anything he could reach. Mark groaned as if your slit was a five-star meal, his tongue wiggling inside your slit as he released your legs with one of his arms, only so he could pinch and jerk your t-cock in cock cruel movements. 

There was no control over the noises you let out, your hands gripping at his hair, his arms, shoulders, anything, the blank yellow goggles of his veil staring back at you as Mark slurped up all the juices you had gushed out. 

“Ffffuck, I could suck this cunt for days” he gurgled out, even his voice sounded wet from feasting upon you like this. Marks tongue returned to your t-cock, his fingers plunging inside you and fucking back and forth with a speed that had you wailing. 

Not being able to see what was happening only made your legs shake more, your spine arching upwards as he wrenched an orgasm out of you.  

“There we go, god damn, fuck. I wanna see you fucking squirt” Mark panted, his mouth descending back on you as his fingers twisted and worked even faster. He sounded near drunk, almost as much as you as your entire body tensed and jolted from overstimulation. 

But you had nothing against viltrumite strength, and hunger, it seemed. “Come on, come on, on my face, give it” the Mark variant growled, and for a moment, you could imagine it was your Mark, slurping and licking at you like a hound lapping up a puddle.  

The noise you let out must have been loud, as your throat ached from what you could only assume was a scream, or perhaps a screech of some kind. Your entire body felt like jello, as you shivered and shook through what must have been the most powerful orgasm you had ever experienced. 

It was difficult to open your eyes, even as Mark dumped your legs back down, letting them splay open to give him a perfect view of your sore reddened cock and slit. 

When you finally succeeded, you almost shut them again. Marks blue veil was soaked, giving it a darker hue. It was so wet that it stuck to his face, draped over the bridge of his nose so you could see his pink wet lips, and his wet tongue as he licked at his chin, trying to lap up the last of your fluids. 

“Shit, might just have to keep you if you keep doing that” the Mark variant chuckled, voice rough as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  

“I'll have to be sure though, might have to make you do it again” Mark borderline giggled, as he ripped the front of his suit, letting his own very large, aching problem, slap against your abdomen.  

“You gonna show me freak? Huh?” the tone was so degrading, but hungry. “Let's see if it's just my mouth you can't resist, or if this works too” Mark groaned, slapping his length against your t-cock, before shuffling down to press it against your hole. 

Maybe it wasn't all bad... and they couldn't say you hadn't distracted one of the invincible variants, so technically you had done more than others at the end of the day. 

[sky-scribbles]

There are a lot of things to love about the SSV Normandy. It’s a symbol of cooperation between two species historically at odds. It’s a miracle of engineering, a technological masterpiece that could alter every pattern of space warfare. Its crew is the highest calibre that the Alliance has to offer, bolstered by multispecies allies: an emblem of flying hope.

It also has far, far too many flashing lights. Everywhere.

One hand pressed to the wall to keep himself steady, the other pressed against his forehead as if that’s going to do any good, Kaidan shuffles down the hall toward the med bay. Every light panel and display interface feels like a laser drill boring directly through his eyes, sounds reverberate against the inside of his skull, and his sense of balance is a distant, pleasant memory. Kaidan sucks in a tight breath between his teeth. It’s going to be okay. He can do this. He’s done it before.

He drags himself the last few feet, and the med bay doors slide open. Kaidan opens up his omni-tool – god, why are those so bright, too? – and does what he’s done a hundred times, scanning the medical interface so that the med system logs him. Doctor Chakwas isn’t here, which means she’s on her rest shift, but that’s fine. The med system will alert her if there’s a problem.  

Kaidan, turns, so ready to collapse into the nearest med bed – except he can’t. Because there’s someone already in it.

‘Oh,’ he says. ‘Hey, Tali.’

‘Hey, Lieutenant.’ She still seems shy about using his first name. Maybe it’s a habit from being raised on board ships, or maybe she’s just not sure if she’s allowed. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I will be once the pain meds kick in.’ Kaidan makes it to the next bed along and finally, finally lies down and shuts his eyes. ‘Doctor Chakwas is just… pretty strict about me coming here whenever a migraine kicks in. Just in case it’s a sign of something going wrong with my implant.’

Through the fog of everything hurts, it finally surfaces in his brain that Tali in the med bay is… that’s bad, right? ‘What about you? Are you, you know –?’

Okay, he’s not sure how to finish that sentence. There’s probably not a polite way to say hey, are you here because you’ve picked up a fatal illness?

He cracks one eye open, just enough to see her looking glumly at him. He’s not sure how he can tell that she’s glum when all he can see is her eyes, but yeah. She’s glum. ‘You know how I took a hit on Feros?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And how I disinfected it, and used my patch kit on the suit breach, and told Shepard I was fine?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I was not fine.’ She slumps down miserably. ‘My throat is full of painful slime, my sinuses are on fire, and my halesh –’ Okay, that’s obviously some piece of quarian anatomy – ‘is more gummed up than I can describe.’

Kaidan shuts his eyes again. ‘Well, my skull feels like it’s slowly contracting and crushing my brain, so… I sort of feel you.’

She laughs weakly. ‘I should have run an extra med scan once I got back to the Normandy. I just – I wanted to help with the engine maintenance today. And there’s this combat drone design I’m working on. And now…’ There’s a sound of movement; Kaidan gets the impression that she’s gesturing at the med bay in angry helplessness.

‘I feel that too.’ And he does. He really does. This isn’t the worst migraine he’s ever had – he can actually hold a conversation, which some days would be beyond him. But it’s… it’s not great. And he had things to do. Ash was running a drill and wanted him to look over her plans. He had a cleaning shift at fourteen hours. Shepard wanted to talk strategy for Noveria.  And yes, he knows he has a right to take time off for a medical issue. He knows he’s no use to Ash or Shepard or anyone when he can’t even walk in a straight line. But knowing that doesn’t quite get rid of the squirm in his belly, the one that feels like letting people down.

Tali’s quiet for a minute, aside from the ever-present, barely-audible hum of her suit systems, and the occasional sniff from behind her helmet. Then she says, unexpectedly, ‘I’m just… I’m so tired. You know what I mean?’

Kaidan’s head throbs. He swallows. ‘Oh, yeah.’

The constant vigilance. Always having to be careful about where he goes – is this room too bright? Is this one too loud? – in case something triggers another bad spell. Taking hits to the head in a fight that anyone else could just shrug off, but that for him mean another trip to the med bay to make sure his implant isn’t damaged. Trying to do his job and suddenly finding, no, he can’t, because his body has decided that today’s the day he just doesn’t get to function.

Tali… she must go through the same awful deal, just in a different flavour. Always being careful, so careful. Someone else’s minor injury being her okay, let’s get a med check to make sure I won’t die. It’s not the same, of course: Kaidan can eat food without filtering it, touch people without protective layers, see people’s faces without a tinted mask. Still… there’s a tone in her voice that he knows from his own.

There’s a heavy silence. Then Tali says, ‘You know what’s really stupid? I left my datapad in my cabin, so I can’t even watch vids.’

Kaidan smiles. He’s seen her down in Engineering, a few times, hands flying around over the machinery, rocking back and forth on her heels. Idleness obviously doesn’t suit her. ‘You can borrow mine, if you like.’

‘Really?’ Her voice is already brighter. ‘I mean – won’t the noise will make you feel worse?’

‘Nah, I’ll be good.’ He’s not just saying it; there’s a blissful numbness creeping through his head which means that his meds are finally getting to work. He fishes the datapad from his pocket, taps in his passcode, and hands it over. ‘What kind of vids do you like?’

Her whole being perks up – tone, body, everything. ‘Oh, all of them.Any genre, any species. I mean… asari vids can be a bit long. I mean, they’re made by people who can spend a decade making a vid and a whole day watching it. Turians… their vids can be a bit depressing. There’s a lot of ‘this war ended with almost everyone dead, but one turian is still standing, so it’s a victory!”

‘What about quarians? What kinds of stories do your people tell?’

A small laugh echoes inside the helmet. ‘Quarian vids are pretty limited by environment. We don’t have a lot of varied sets to work with. So we tell the best long-running dramas. There’s one ship in the Flotilla that’s been hosting the same series for over eighty standard years now. Following the crew as they change over time, that sort of thing.’ She taps the base of her helmet. ‘It’s pretty good, but… I think if you watched it, you’d think there were a lot more explosions, murders and shipwide romantic entanglements in the Flotilla than there actually are.’

‘Human dramas are like that too.’

Tali laughs. ‘Quarian dramas make human dramas look relaxed.’

Kaidan finds he’s actually able to grin. ‘So what do human vids tell you about us?’

Her helmet tilts as she considers. ‘That you’re very individualistic. I mean, not every human culture. But you put a lot of focus onto characters and personal journeys.’ She scrolls down the datapad screen – looking through vid lists, presumably – then stops. It’s hard to tell, but Kaidan thinks she might be frowning. ‘I did notice… in a lot of human media, the biotics are…’

Another insistent pulse of pain through his temples. Kaidan sighs. ‘Crazy extremists?’

‘Yes. Do you… do you mind if I ask why that is?’

‘No, it’s fine.’ Kaidan turns onto his back and stares up at the dim ceiling. ‘A lot of the early generation of biotics, the ones who got the same implants as me… let’s just say I got off lightly. Most ended up with much more serious medical conditions. And when people found out about the side effects of the L2 implants, the media got the bit between its teeth and –’ Yeah, no, that wasn’t going to translate. ‘Sorry. Human saying. They got a certain impression, and they ran with it.’

Tali’s quiet for several seconds. Kaidan twists his head to face her, and sees the pale eyes behind the mask giving him a long, steady look.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says. And then, after a moment, ‘They tell lies about us, too.’

Kaidan holds her gaze, and feels terribly, achingly sad. ‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘I bet they do.’

 The way people look at Tali as she walks through the Presidium… it’s familiar. Not quite the same. There’s a note of scorn in the looks they give to Tali – but there’s suspicion, too, and that’s something he knows. All the times back on Earth, after he got back from Jump Zero, when he shook someone’s hand or opened a door, and their eyes found the implants. They way they stared at him like he was a loaded gun. All the documents he had to fill out to do anything, the knowledge that any government he lived under would always be hovering a few steps away, keeping tabs, making sure.

Remembering Rahna – remembering that obvious, instinctive fear in her eyes – is an old memory now, the kind that’s a faded scar. But he remembers the shock of it, back when he was seventeen. When no one had looked at him like that before, and it was dizzying and new and felt like a hole in his gut.

He bets Tali has that hole in her gut all the time.

Kaidan pushes himself up a little – which makes his brain spin, but he manages it – and gives Tali a smile. ‘Well. Let’s look for something that gets us both right.’

‘Definitely.’ She flicks through the options for a minute more, then pauses. ‘Have you ever seen Fleet and Flotilla?’

‘I think I’ve heard of it.’ There’s a faint memory of seeing an ad for it, maybe, and thinking it was the kind of thing he’d have loved as a kid. Space exploration. Justice. Love. ‘The… war romance, right?’

‘Yes!’ Tali’s legs bounce. ‘It’s – keelah, it’s so good, it’s – it’s about this girl, Shalei, who’s on her pilgrimage. And she’s interested in the geth, because she’s got this dream of finding a way to defeat them and take back the Homeworld, right? And when she finds something, she goes to the Citadel for help, but no one will listen except this one turian called Bellicus –’

‘Hold up. Wasn’t that… exactly what you were doing when we met you? Minus the turian, I mean.’

Tali ducks her head, suddenly shy. ‘I… I really, really like the vid.’

No kidding. Kaidan smiles. ‘So let’s watch it.’

His head still feels like a bombsite, and when he thinks about all the things he wants to be doing for his crew and isn’t, the rest of him hurts too. But maybe he’s still doing something for his crew, sitting in the med bay with his sick squadmate – his sick friend – and sharing her favourite vid with her. Maybe he’s doing something for him, too. He doesn’t do that too often.

Tali props the datapad up on the table between their beds, her whole body one big smile. ‘You’re going to love this,’ she promises, and presses play.

[favoriteblogonthecitadel]

Heartless. (~540 words)

People have called Shepard many things over the years. Back when she had just enlisted, there were the slurs spat out by grunts with puffed out chests during basic — stupid names meant for FNGs from Earth, easy to nip in the bud by breaking someone’s nose.

The names didn’t get personal until years later, when she finally had a career to speak of; because that only happens by making tough choices, and of course those choices are for civilians and pencil pushers to criticize. Out loud. In public. And right in front of her drink.

Butcher this, barbarian that… and when someone was feeling dramatic, the one that amused her most: heartless. As though the heart had anything to do with doing her job.

But right now, Xiomara lies in bed looking at the man beside her, and thinks that maybe they were up to something.

Kaidan’s profile is barely visible in the dim light of the room. When he breathes, the rise of his chest under her hand allows her to feel his heartbeat… and Shepard feels a silence settle inside her that she hasn’t found in two or twenty years. Something like a sigh of relief, leaving her from the depth of her aching bones. Something like the thought that she could stay here for a long time.

A message on her omni-tool paints a corner of the room in an orange glow — the tenth in the past few minutes. Even with the thing on silent, she’s aware of every notification that has come through since they got into bed. She knows they will keep coming, that something is probably already going to shit in her absence. She also knows that, the moment she figures out what the next crisis is, Kaidan will follow her into it without missing a beat. These days he seems to be there at every turn. To make himself useful, he says in public; to make up for lost time, he says in private.

A message pings again. Shepard keeps her body still as she ponders that making up for lost time also means watching him sleep like this, unbothered, like he did the night before Ilos. She remembers the surprise on his face when he woke up then, blinking and with static in his hair, like actual rest had snuck up on him. It is strange to have a memory from before Alchera come back to her so clearly — but who else would be the reason if not him?

She wants so badly to keep him where he is. It’s selfish and she doesn’t care. She has to at least try.

What ruins most subterfuge work is overthinking one’s movement, making oneself artificially slow. Shepard rises in one quick, fluid move and stands by the bed on her tiptoes, like a teenager sneaking out of the house.

And she waits.

Kaidan shifts in bed. His arm reaches as if looking for something, and Shepard is sure that she’s busted… but then she sees him find her pillow and pull it close, burying his face in it. There is a long, deep breath as she watches him soothe himself back to sleep by hugging something that belongs to her.

There it is again: that feeling in her chest when she remembers that he wants her. A flutter that eases into warmth and makes it harder to leave each time.

She smiles as she steps away.

They can call her what they will when the war is over. She will give up whatever she has to — but not this, not tonight. For that, she doesn’t have the heart.

[stumbleduponbyaksident]

A long time ago I wanted to write a fic about Garrus recruiting all members of his Omega squad. There is no way I am ever finishing that but I found a fragment with Garrus pretending to be a tourist on Omega and trying to *gasp* smoke cigarettes. I think there's nothing funnier than smoking Garrus so have a WIP that will never get out of the WIP phase:

TW: mentions of drug addiction, cartoonishly nasty depiction of a drug dealer

Baltok was born on Omega, raised on Omega, finished school on Omega, married on Omega – went to Illium for honeymoon, it was quite lovely – raised his children on Omega, divorced on Omega and married once again on Omega. He knew this rock better than his own upper left eyelid, he knew its twists and turns better than Aria – bah! – better than Patriarch even! So when Baltok took a look at the Gozu plaza and thought he spotted a tourist, he knew he spotted a tourist.

When they were on their own, they always did everything to seem like locals, just as extranet guides to main dark tourism places of interest recommended. Baltok didn’t really know why – were they scared of being snarled at? Baltok couldn’t remember a day on Omega when he didn’t get to be snarled at. Were they scared of being pickpocketed or scammed? That was preferential treatment they should all strive for. If you have enough creds to treat yourself with such doubtful pleasure as a trip to this shithole, you probably have some family willing to investigate if you disappear. If you live here, since the day you were born, just as Baltok does, probably no one meaningful cares.

So this dumb tourist, this turian, turned his omni-tool on, pretending to check something on the extranet, thinking no one noticed he was actually taking pictures of the vista. Baltok closed all his four eyes with a huff, mentally preparing to deal with another hour of playing nice. It usually took some time with the turians to finally get them to admit that yes, they want to have some damn fun. But once they got their fun, they usually stayed. Forever. Coming back to eat from Baltok’s hand every month, then every week, then every day – and sometimes even a few times a day.

Baltok wasn’t racist by any means, but there was something exhilarating about seeing these high and mighty assholes crouching back to him in pain, begging for another fix, even if it gradually made their honor and pride evaporate, their hard scales go soggy as a sponge and their sharp teeth fall out. Baltok liked to see people of all races and genders fall on their knees before him, offering him their life-savings for the dirtiest fix of the most unfiltered swill they’ve ever experienced – but there was something special about turians.

Oh, if he only ever encountered a krogan tourist! He once had a dream about it, so vivid and real, he woke up sobbing. But alas – no krogans for him. They knew to supply themselves in the Blood Pack.

The turian was scrolling through some extranet page mindlessly, probably thinking he looks oh-so-just-a-local-waiting-for-someone but Baltok knew – suspected, really, but he could bet a lot on it – that the guy was looking for a place to eat. Because if he asked someone, they would surely direct him to the closest joint serving poison instead of drinks! Stupid overcautious turian tourists. Or stupid not-cautious-enough human tourists, come to think of it.

Baltok took last puff of his cigarette and put it out with his foot. He crossed the plaza, pretending to be a little unsure and a little intimidated, maneuvering around the passerbyes, until he reached the vista, just a few steps from the turian who surely noticed him and surely was about to pass out from stress of being executed in the public plaza.

“Hey, you’re new here, right?”

There it was – sharp straightening of back, head raised high, attempting to seem in control while Baltok knew how fast the gears in turian’s head were turning to come up with an answer.

“Yeah, had to pick up a few parts. My mate should be back with them in a minute or two.”

It was the answer recited point by point from the conversation pattern recommended on dark tourism forums. Pretending they’re here out of absolute and inconvenient necessity? Check. Pretending they are on their way out and someone expects them? Check. Pretending they are not alone while also giving up absolutely unnecessary details of their life? Check. Baltok smiled, betting the turian couldn’t even tell.

“What damn parts could be so important for you to stop at this rock?”

The turian laughed shortly, nervously.

“Yeah, I wasn’t happy about it, either. But our ship’s thrusters started to overheat so fast, we had no choice but to take a break here.”

Baltok didn’t know shit about ships but he appreciated the technical detail. He nodded his head in a way that could be taken as understanding.

“You fly some dreadnought?”

“I wish! But no, we deliver packages. Nothing fancy but we get by.”

“So where are you headed now?”

“Citadel.”

Baltok almost chuckled. It was always the Citadel as if the Council itself was about to step in if one scratch appeared on the poor soul’s precious skin.

“Nice. I’ve heard it’s beautiful. Go there often?”

“Not as often as I’d like to but – you know. Wherever credits call, I follow.”

They could even go for a beer. If the guy meants any word of that.

“So, word of advice if you actually want to get to that Citadel of yours,” Baltok went for a little rude, knowing that nice man on Omega is even more suspicious than honest man on Omega. “This is Blue Suns territory. You don’t want to be seen talking to any krogans, vorcha and asari. And certainly not carrying any packages for anyone, no matter how many creds are in it.”

“Oh. Yeah. S-sure.”

“Don’t get all panicky. I’m a friendly face. I can show you around the biggest attractions here if you want to.”

“Iii’m not… I mean, thank you but…”

“I bet you’ve heard the tales of Omega, right? You think I’m going to take you to the dark alley and shoot you?”

The turian’s mandibles huddled tight to his jaw and his gaze was anywhere but on Baltok’s face. Baltok grinned, lighting up a triumphant smoke.

“That wouldn’t make a lot of sense, would it? We like creds, too, my friend…?”

There was a moment of hesitation before the turian gave up his generic – too generic to be true – name like a crucial piece of info about him.

“Venari.”

“…Venari. Anyway, you look like someone who has a few creds to spend and I know just where to do it in order to support our group’s mighty cause of protecting the citizens and visitors of this rock.”

The threat was veiled not only in words but in the package of cigarettes Baltok presented to the turian. He looked at them like a virgin opening a Fornax issue.

“I-“ he stuttered and Baltok smiled even wider. The stuttering was a promising premise before all the begging and the ping of credits transfer arriving. “I, of course, would like to… But I don’t have that many credits…”

“I’m sure we’ll work something out. Now, what is it that you want? Drinks? Dancing? Betting? Girls? Boys? Games? Fights? Something else entirely?”

The turian finally took the cigarette, his hands almost shaking and yet – miraculously – catching the lighter Baltok tossed midair. He didn’t need to squat down to find it on the ground, all flustered and humiliated. Disappointing.

“I think the drink would be nice,” the turian said half-absently, trying to figure out how the batarian lighter works.

“Sure thing. I know just the place. Your mate’s joining us?”

The turian’s head snapped to attention just the way Baltok expected.

“No. M-maybe later. I’ll message her to meet us if she… feels like it.”

“Sounds good to me. I’m Baltok, by the way. You’re lucky you met me – not everyone on this rock is that friendly.”

“I… heard the rumors.”

Baltok chuckled.

“So let’s go for that drink. Nothing’s free though, you know? Am I going to get my lighter back?”

“Venari” chuckled, too, before putting the cigarette right in the middle between his lipplates and litting it up, inhaling so hard Baltok saw his chest rise.

What followed was a cannonade of coughing, choking and apologies interrupted by some more coughing and choking that was honestly the best spectacle Baltok could ever hope for. He was going to have a good time with this kid. Maybe even better than with Meirin.

[lilmissnatcat24]

i'll break my own heart, thanks

[SYSTEM UI]: Garrus Vakarian, your message you recorded twelve hours ago is slated to be sent now. If you wish to edit or delete your message, press (x). If you do not act in ten minutes, the message will be sent. Read your transcripted voice message here: 

Hey mom, hey dad. Uh, I know you’re probably sleeping right now. Time zones and all. Don’t worry about me. I, uh… I don’t know if you’ve been keeping up with what’s been happening over here for me. The news and all. I don’t know if it’s even reaching Palaven. They may want to censor it. Anyways, it’s bad. And it’s about to get a lot worse, I think. I made some friends, we think we can stop it. It’s… it’s actually a pretty funny group. We have an Alliance Captain and a Commander. We have an asari scientist, an expert on the Protheans. And dad, remember Urdnot Wrex? He’s here, too. Which I know may not inspire heaps of confidence, but that’s not the point. I might be going dark for a while. If you don’t hear from me, I, uh, wanted to tell you two… that I… I mean to say… Ugh, nevermind. I’m not going to do that. You already know that, don’t you? I wanted to tell you something else. You’ll like this, mom. I met someone. And I think I love her. I mean, I know I love her. She’s been here since the beginning of this whole mess. And she’s C-Sec, big Alliance hero. You’d like that, dad. At least, if you don’t mind the fact that she’s human. I don’t think you should, you always said you thought humans were a funny species… Anyways, we got tickets to come home. I want you to meet her. And I want to spend time with you, all of you, as a family. Tell Sol to drop by, and bring whatever fool she’s dating this week. I want to do a big dinner, like what we did when dad would get his annual leave. Of course, we need to figure out how to cook levo foods, but that’s beside the point-- [unintelligible] What? Okay, I’ll be right there. Anyways, I need to go. I know this got a little winded, but I wanted to say… thanks. I’ll see you guys soon. Hopefully. 

[SYSTEM UI]: You have marked the message for deletion. It will be in your Trash folder for the next thirty days. 

[SYSTEM UI]: Welcome to your Trash folder! All messages in here will be-- 

[SYSTEM UI]: You have marked all for deletion. If you wish to undo-- 

[SYSTEM UI]: Welcome to your Settings! For help with-- 

[SYSTEM UI]: You have deleted your Messages App. To view the backups of your files, please-- 

[SYSTEM UI]: Careful, there! Excess temperatures may slow the performance of your Nexus Omni-tool-- 

[SYSTEM UI]: For the safety of your device and your skin, your Nexus Omni-tool will now shut off. 

[astorythatwritesitself]

OC Meme - Adrian Shepard

Nobody asked for this, but y'all are getting it anyway because I saw @omniblades-and-stars & @stormikins do this and it looked fun, so!

(By @valkblue & @eluvisen respectively!)

GENERAL

Name: Adrian Olivier Shepard 

Alias(es): Addy (from her family), and ofc the usuals via Alliance/Normandy crews (Shep/Shepard/Commander)

Gender: That's something to think about in peacetime 🫠 Just kind of runs with whatever others perceive; defaults to she/her pronouns. (Adrian's somewhere in the transmasculine range, and did pursue some some body modification during college - but all of that just dropped the fuck off after Akuze & then… like. -gestures @ everything that happens + Lazarus undoing a few things & she didn't intend on living long enough for it to matter any more-) 

Age: 28 - 32, depending on game. (Although she's also had the fun questions, post-Lazarus, about how exactly to quantify that...)

Place of Birth: SSV Toronto, during a stint in the Exodus cluster. 

Spoken Languages: English, smatterings of Quebecois French, Spanish & Russian, surprising fluency in Galactic Standard (aka the ever-evolving pidgin of Citadel space). 

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual with very limited instances of romantic interest.

Occupation: Commander in the Alliance Navy (if we want to get really technical: a special operations saboteur/data gatherer - she wanted to be a medic or get into diplomatic relations, but like hell anyone was letting a biotic stay on the sidelines entirely)/Citadel Spectre.

FAVORITE 

Color: Indigo blue

Entertainment: Music, books - not all that big on shows/movies, with the notable exception of a couple medical dramas.

Pastime: Swimming, upgrading/hacking omni-tools, poetry memorization/recitation (all-time fave/longest she can do from memory is The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock), model ship building, galactic politics, collecting rock & mineral samples from various planets she's been to, photography.

Food: Toss-up between Blast-Oh’s and seaquats (nickname for a Kajhe-native spiny pink & white ocean fruit, size & shape is similar to a kumquat. Taste is vaguely briny, then very sweet).

Drink: Masala chai.

Books: The Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy, the collected works of Edgar Allen Poe (The Black Cat is her favorite story of his, Annabelle Lee is her favorite poem), For She Is The Krogan Queen: The Legacy of Shiagur.

HAVE THEY 

Passed University: Went through & passed an Alliance military college - majored in cybersecurity, though she still took a few classes relating to paramedicine.

Had Sex: Yes

Had Sex in Public: Not yet. 

Gotten Tattoos: Got a stylized thresher maw tattoo after Akuze - the body segments were done using the names of the lost unit; she was /not/ happy to see it gone after waking up in the lab.

Gotten Piercings: No

Had a Broken Heart: The better question is if it's ever not been kinda broken, tbh. There's a lot of disillusionment & heartache as she grows up & starts her career - she moves around a lot, so getting attached to anyone will go and hurt (and keeping herself distant hurt just as much, just in different ways). Her parents are both career military - one ground and one medical, she's always surrounded by talk of loss and death; not to mention the just... slow motion trainwreck that is their relationship. She loses her unit, loses the man she was just falling in love with, sees humanity and the galaxy at large pushed to the brink...

And we uh. We're just not going to talk about how she reacts, in the canon!verse, to losing Thane, Mordin & Legion.

Been in Love: Yes - there's a couple probable cases earlier in her life (notably Kaiden Alenko), but Thane's the first person she can definitively say she's fallen in love with.

ARE THEY

A cuddler: Y'know how after being malnourished for long enough, someone has to start so very slowly to be able to eat again? Yeah, Adrian /was/ a cuddler, but it takes a long time to get back there.

Scared easily:

She is so very scared. So very much of the time. There's so many people depending on her and so many bad things that can, will, and have happened if she fucks up, and her fear of doing that again is what keeps her going. Totally sustainable, right?

Jealous easily: Nah. 

Trustworthy: Mostly - but she's pragmatically minded enough that she is willing to use what she knows to her advantage, if the situation calls for it. When it comes to the battlefield though, oh god yes. Ever since Akuze - she'll be first in and last out, no matter what, as long as she has any say in the situation.

FAMILY 

Siblings: Yes, though they show up… way later in her life lmao. Her parents divorce, dad gets together with a turian doctor, & they adopt a couple kids . Due to Shenanigans involving said dad pretty much totally changing his first and last name, said kids don't quite realize their new big sibling is That Commander Shepard until she shows up for the holidays. She also considers Grunt something of a little brother.

Parents: Alive and (relatively) well, all throughout the series - in the standard canon, they actually far outlive her.

Hannah Shepard was from a career military family, while Adrian Alexander Bishop was a foster kid who needed a med degree. They were both in the RMC at Kingston when the Prothean data cache was uncovered and joined the Alliance together as soon as humanly possible, honored to be among the first of humanity to explore the stars, and eager to leave what legacy they can.

 Their marriage is a fucking disaster and only held up as long as it did because Hannah was often gone for quite a while on postings - they're functionally separated by the time Adrian's in high school; divorced not long after Hannah's actions on Torfan.

Children: Never intended on having kids in any capacity, but she does wind up a step-parent to Kolyat. (For the first couple years while everyone's adjusting to things, it's fucking hilarious to see just how deeply uncomfortable they both get when reminded of this fact.)

Pets: Fairly successful at keeping fish. (Also has an extensive menagerie of pet rocks).

[omegastation]

How do omni-tools work? In ME1, they're equipment and don't get used much in-game cinematics or cutscenes. To be fair, I chalk that up to the property being new.

But in 2 onwards, they seem to be almost cybernetic. People make a gesture and all of a sudden, they have an omni-tool. Even people who aren't outfitted in armor or military gear.

I figured in 1 they were a device fastened to a bracer or gauntlet, or some other article of clothing or armor. But that doesn't really seem to be the case.

The codex tells us that omni-tools "are handheld devices that combine a computer microframe, sensor analysis pack, and minifacturing fabricator."

In the novels, the device is pulled from pockets and belts so they're fairly small. I think it's about what is practical for the person using them: a form of wristband might be easier when it comes to specific tasks (scanning, hacking, etc). It might help to think about we use tech. Recently I was typing on my phone with both hands, something I never usually do, and it was strange enough that I noticed. I'm also right-handed. If I were to use the omni-tool, it would be in my pocket for safekeeping or tied to my wrist and I would use my right hand to access the screen. Someone else might use it another way. So the tool can definitely be tailored to the person using it. It's just that soldiers on the battlefield can't be looking for it.

And speaking of the screen, that's probably what you mean by "suddenly they have an omni-tool". The omni-tool is the device itself, but just like the Ipad is an object, what occurs on the screen is what gets our attention. Since the omni-tool is so common in that universe, I guess I sometimes forget how powerful it is, with projecting images/hacking/repair/videotaping/etc. The wiki lists all the fonctions here. There are modules inside the omni-tool, so a lot can be done with it.

I also like this part from the Mass Effect Andromeda codex "Pathfinder omni-tools take design inspiration from the models used by salarian intelligence services, prioritizing the computer microframe to allow lag-free scanning and AI support." We can only imagine what the salarian are doing with their omni-tools!!! And we know the Alliance worked on their omni-tools to adapt melee combat. In the game itself you get access to advanced models that you can equip.

So I don't think the omni-tool itself is cybernetic, it's just that it's Mass Effect. The Lazarus Project and everything else that was alluded to in the trilogy and CDN might mean some people will do a lot of things to use and adapt tech like this.

[eldritch-tickles]

Depot Day - an mShep and Mordin tickle fic

This a fic set in the universe of Mass Effect, specifically shortly after the events of ME2. It contains minor spoilers for the game. This fic contains very intense tickling, including special tools and oil, so stay away if you’d like to avoid that. Also, this one is really long. Grab a snack :)

Story idea suggested by @vqler!

The CIC of the Normandy SR-2 was, as always on Depot Day, very quiet.

‘Depot Day’ was far from an official Alliance term- it was just the crew’s name for days where even the Normandy’s top-of-its-class speed couldn’t bypass the lightyears of distance between a planet. It was relatively uncommon, given that they rarely touched down too far from a Mass Relay, but occasionally the crew would get sent to the far reaches of some nebula, and so it would be Depot Day. The name was coined by Jack as a joke, because they would burn off so much fuel during travel that they’d always have to break the bank refueling. Regardless of the costs it incurred, the crew loved Depot Day.

Commander Shepard was, at the moment, in the cockpit with Joker. With the viewing port open, the rush of the stars outside painted the otherwise monochrome interior with streaks of iridescent light.

“We’re on auto. You know you can head down to the Mess Hall, right, Joker?” Shepard said, chuckling. “I think Wrex was setting up a drinking contest.”

Joker laughed. “I’m not going to try to out-drink a Krogan, commander.”

“Well, someone is. It’ll at least be fun to watch.”

Joker smiled. “I appreciate the effort, commander, but you don’t gotta always look out for me. I get plenty of time with the crew, you know me.”

“Well, consider spending that time somewhere other than a strip club.”

“Agh! Fine.” Joker looked up, a mock dreamy-eyed expression on his face. “Maybe you’re just interrupting my stargazing time, ever think about that?”

Shepard laughed. “You spend all your time stargazing, Joker, it’s your job. C’mon, I’ll see if I can get Gardner to cook up those Presidium fish.”

“You’re joking.”

“Yes, I’m joking. Alright, get up. I’ll help walk you to the elevator.”

Joker relented and shakily stood up, grinning, but stopped as he heard a ping from his console. “Ah, shit. Message for you, actually. Someone knows you’re in here. Looks like…” He inspected the console more closely. “Mordin, apparently. Wants you in the lab.”

Shepard’s face contorted slightly in confusion. “Really? Huh. Here, I should probably- I’ll get Kelly to walk you down.”

Joker groaned. “Shepard. I’m fine.”

Shepard’s hands went up. “Okay! I trust you. I’m gonna head over to the lab, but I’ll meet you there, okay?” He winked. “Put a few creds down, and maybe I’ll try a hand at beating Wrex.”

A few minutes later, Shepard leisurely punched in the button to open the Tech Lab door, humming that one Gilbert & Sullivan song to himself that Mordin had sung a few weeks back.

“Cheery today,” Mordin noted aloud before the door had finished opening. He was in the midst of both tinkering with something and adjusting his omni-tool, seemingly at the same time.

“Well, it’s Depot Day,” Shepard said, as cheerily as Mordin had pointed out moments before. “You know, most of us use this day to relax and-“ He looked down at the table. “Woah, what the hell?”

The Tech Lab was messy- messier than Mordin ever kept it unless he was working on something. And he was working on something, if the large machine on the table was any indicator. Shepard stared. “What is this?”

Mordin didn’t look up, but Shepard thought he might have seen a smile. “Machine,” said the eager scientist. “Intended for tickling. Adjustable, but adjustments need work. Currently suited for average human height. Scanning is to be updated.”

Shepard blanched, both in confusion and hopes that this wasn’t what he thought it was. “Tickling?”

Mordin tapped his omni-tool with obvious focus. “Tickling, yes. Targeted stimulation of nerve endings, specifically the model referred to as gargalesis. Biological response found in most sapient species, but marginally more effective on human and salarian skin.”

Shepard noticed the barest hint of emphasis on the word ‘salarian,’ which meant what the commander had feared- this was some sort of revenge for the tickle attack he had given Mordin about a week ago. He chuckled nervously. “S-Surely you don’t- are you trying to get me back for earlier?”

“Not revenge, Shepard,” Mordin said in his fast-paced way of speech. “Don’t do revenge. Pointless, emotional endeavor. Little to be learned.”

“Then why are you-“

“Did not know much about gargalesis response before last week. Never considered I would be susceptible to it. Clearly worth researching,” Mordin tittered. “Admit I’ve been slightly distressed by my lack of work lately, so seemed an opportunity.”

“But Mordin, it’s not like we’re not doing anything now that the Collectors are gone.”

“Collectors were new biological territory. Bug-like, truly alien.” Mordin inhaled through his nose. “Work to counteract seeker swarms was engaging, exciting. VI malfunction… less so.”

“So your first idea for something to do was to build a- a tickle machine?”

Mordin stepped back over to the machine, seemingly content with whatever changes he had made via omni-tool. “Not first idea. Once again, inspired by encounter previously. Looked into best candidate for study, landed on you after suggestion from Garrus.”

Shepard blushed, groaning. That bastard. “Oooh, I’m gonna get him for that.”

“Your spare time… none of my business. Currently I ask you to act as my subject.”

“For how long?”

The salarian’s mouth curved into an almost-smile. “Few hours. Exact time currently indeterminate due to variability in the scanner. Will adjust.”

Shepard sucked into a breath. He hadn’t exactly envisioned spending a good chunk of his Depot Day strapped into a tickling machine, of all things. On the other hand though, he was morbidly curious to see if Mordin had really whipped up a working one.

“On the fence. Expected reaction. As an additional reward- come up with a synthesizer equivalent of the Noverian tea you previously returned with. Happy to give it to you.”

Dammit. Mordin was playing to Shepard’s weaknesses. A few months prior, the commander had splurged a little on a more expensive tea from the Noverian markets, and he still thought about it often. If Mordin really had found a way of recreating it… and he certainly wasn’t lying. Mordin wasn’t one to lie- only through omission, and this was obviously not a lie of omission. Mordin would have specifically recreated the tea as a bribe for this specific experiment. And it was working. “How intense are we talking?”

“Physical sensation is hard to quantify- but averaging based on extranet results-“ Mordin made a tsk sound, obviously not one to go to the extranet for help- “Quite intense. Not unbearable, and no harm will be caused.”

Shepard was surprised at himself when he realized that wasn’t a dealbreaker for him. “You’ve really got the same tea?”

Mordin finally gave a real smile. “Hanshan Black.”

The commander gave in. “Alright, fine! Just tell me what to do.”

Mordin looked down, dusting his hands off. “First? Help to lift machine off table, prop up on wall. Next to counter. Don’t bump.”

Shepard obliged, tilting the machine up until it was sturdy against the wall. It was heavy- heavier than he could comfortably lift without a little biotic aid. Using his biotics for mundane activities was already a habit anyway, though. The machine glowed a soft purple as he pushed it the rest of the way.

Mordin looked up from his omni-tool when he heard it land in place. “Perfect. Now, remove clothes.” He paused, registering Shepard’s expression, then added, “Not all. Undergarments remain for modesty. Wouldn’t be bothered either way, but humans often are. Other clothes will interfere with scanning.”

Shepard began to strip himself of his clothes. Given that he relied largely on his biotics in combat, his build was not nearly as muscular or well-defined as some of his Alliance compatriots. Not that his constant running around on the field didn’t provide a workout- he was lean and in shape, if more slender than average.

Mordin watched with a level of complete dispassion that was oddly comforting. Mordin didn’t feel anything for Shepard’s body, but he also didn’t feel anything negative- however the commander looked was just fine in his eyes, and Shepard could tell.

Shepard finished stripping, leaving himself in just his boxers. They had an N7 logo on the waistband- stupid, yeah, but Garrus had bought them as a joke, and they were deceptively comfortable anyway. He looked up from prying a sock off to see that Mordin had somehow already cleaned up all his mess from before, leaving the tech lab impossibly tidy. Mordin approached Shepard, taking his clothes and folding them neatly before setting them on the counter and returning his attention to Shepard. “Very good. The machine has two slots near the bottom for the ankles.”

“So I should-“

“Get in the machine, yes.”

Shepard awkwardly stepped over to the machine, the air feeling cooler on his bare skin. The machine itself was for the most part a human-sized, metal outline of a rectangle, the back filled with padding. The inside of the box shape was presumably for Shepard to step into, given the padding, and there were spaces on both the top and bottom for his wrists and ankles respectively. As he started to step inside, he made some nervous conversation as an attempt to break Mordin’s concentrated silence. “U-Uh, you didn’t build this out of stuff we actually needed, did you?”

Mordin replied fast enough that it seemed almost like he didn’t have to think about it, or that he had the answer prepared. “Your salvage run of the MSV Corsica resulted in the collection of remains from more than a hundred LOKI and/or FENRIS mechs. Useless parts, good for tinkering.”

Shepard started to say something new, but Mordin had already stepped forward. He took one of the commander’s wrists and lifted it above his head. Shepard flinched.

Mordin frowned. “No tickling has occurred.”

“S-Sorry. Reflex.”

Mordin returned to his neutral expression as he pressed Shepard’s arm against the pads above his head, then hit a button. A restraint fastened quickly around the wrist- Shepard couldn’t crane his head very well to see it, but it was actually comfortable. Whatever the material was, it wasn’t metal or leather, it was too soft. “You sure the- the restraints are necessary, doc?” Shepard stuttered, already flushed.

“They will be,” Mordin replied without missing a beat as he strapped Shepard’s other arm into position. Mordin’s inflection- completely devoid of amusement- was almost more flustering than the playful taunts he came to expect from someone like Garrus or Kaidan. Mordin squatted down, tapping a few more buttons to ensure the commander’s ankles were equally restrained.

Shepard was nearly shaking with anticipation now, his face flushed. “God, is this thing gonna tickle me, or are you gonna just stand there and- G-AH!” Shepard yelped as Mordin hit a button and a small metal appendage suddenly protruded from the machine’s left side.

“Apprehensive,” Mordin noted aloud. “Nervous.” He typed something down on his omni-tool, the actual text just out of Shepard’s line of sight. “Not emotions experienced during own tickling session. Worth noting.”

Shepard craned his whole body away from the metal appendage, the bare skin of his side pressing into the soft pads of the box. The nervousness, the anticipation of being tickled was honestly worse than any actual tickling at this point. Luckily (or maybe unluckily), though, the appendage didn’t actually do any tickling- instead, it shone a soft green light on Shepard’s ankle, which slowly traveled up his side to the top of his head before retracting and beginning again on the other side.

“What- what is it doing?” Shepard said, trying to hide his own nervous stutter.

Mordin watched with genuine curiosity, hoping the machine would work as intended. “Scanning,” he said, sniffing slightly. “Should categorize spots based on relative nerve ending count, log information within low-intelligence VI.”

Suddenly, another metal appendage extended from one of the machine’s panels. This time, it was a terrifyingly dextrous-looking, five-fingered. Had the interior of Shepard’s mind not resembled a particle collider at the moment, he might have noticed that it was a repurposed arm from one of the recovered LOKI mechs, now outfitted with rubber fingertips for safety and comfort.

Well, ‘comfort’ was a strong word.

Before Shepard’s surprised yelp at the hand’s arrival even ended, it was on his right side, fingers gently spidering in place just under his ribs. Shepard’s laugh was initially one of surprise, but then tapered off to a constant stream of small giggles. “Hahaha- ehe- dammit- really you got a- ahaha! A robohohot ahaharm?”

Mordin nodded. “More than one. Should show up eventually. Coded in a hurry.”

Shepard’s brain was too preoccupied with the hand on his side to fully process what Mordin had said, but he didn’t have to. Within about ten seconds, the second hand had extended, and began spidering its fingers in an identical pattern to the first, on his other side.

It was manageable at first- it tickled like hell, obviously, but Shepard had been through far worse. Since the spidering fingers remained above the soft part of his side but under his ribs, they weren’t directly on any specifically extra-ticklish spot.

But then, they kept tickling. They didn’t move, or switch up their technique, or do anything other than continuously spider gently in the same spot. At it went on, the fact that they were between tickle spots became no longer a blessing, but something that actually made it worse. Shepard would give anything to be tickled on his sides or his ribs, or anywhere else, but instead they remained- not tickling in a spot bad enough that he could comfortably lose mind, but so consistently that it became maddening the longer it went on. Wiggling or squirming away had no effect- the hands would just follow him. “Ahaha, ahaha- fuck!” Shepard cried. “Ehehaha! Fucking- aha- shit- move- Gehehet them- ahaha- get them ohohofff!!”

Mordin was watching Shepard struggle with intense curiosity. “Prolonged contact to specific spot intensifies reaction over time,” Mordin noted allowed, mostly to himself. With one hand, he absentmindedly typed some notes on his omni-tool without ever moving his eyes away from the machine and the man it was tormenting. “Hmm,” he muttered, frowning. “Diminishing returns on this effect. For maximal stimulation changes should be made to-“ Almost as if in response to the salarian, the machine whirred and begun to adjust itself. Mordin smiled. “Perfect. Code holds up nicely. Will tweak for optimization.”

The hands scampered down to Shepard’s stomach in a move that made him almost immediately regret ever wishing they would change spots. At the same time, though he couldn’t see given the angle of his head, he was sure- in fact, he was completely certain that there was something tickling his feet in the bottom of the machine. It felt like some sort of wheel maybe, or several rolling pins with a fluffy texture.

Regardless, it was unbearable.

The human’s laugh jumped an octave as the mechanical fingers danced over his stomach. “GAHAHA- AHAHA- AH- FUCK! MORDIN YOU- AHAHA- how much did ACK GOD-“

Mordin watched with continued scientific disinterest. “Sole stimulation adds to effect. Abdominal stimulation more so. Hm. Should adjust to lower external oblique.”

The scientist made a few button presses on an omni-tool window, now obviously improvising rather than relying entirely on the pre-coded functions of the machine. Within a few seconds, the hands moved lower on Shepard’s stomach, causing the poor man to thrash even harder. Suddenly, Mordin frowned. “Hmm. Reddening of the skin indicates potential irritation within the hour. Easy fix.” He opened a cabinet underneath the lab table, retrieving a plastic bottle of clear liquid, then carefully poured about a third of the bottle into a spritzer. The liquid had a texture heavier and more slick than water, so he had to be careful of overfilling. Bottle now in hand, he returned to the struggling commander.

Mordin held up the bottle. “Simple oil,” he said plainly, “should serve as-“

The commander let out an especially loud burst of laughter as the machinery working on his foot began to oscillate up and down the sole.

Mordin pressed a button on the side of the machine, and its intricate mechanics slowed to a stop.

Shepard gulped in air, panting and laughing. “Fuck, Mordin is it- aha- is it- haa- is it over?”

Mordin shook his head. “Need quiet for explanation.”

Shepard made a noise of desperation that the scientist completely ignored, continuing with his earlier statement about the spritzer bottle.

“Simple oil. Should serve as effective lubricant to avoid skin irritation from rubber fingertips. Also, sensitivity enhancer, though only mildly. No nerve altering capabilities. Still testing those.”

Shepard struggled weakly as the salarian sprayed his body down with the cool liquid, giving his skin a shine that would, admittedly, make the tickling more comfortable. If such a word could be used in this kind of circumstance. He made a soft sound, almost a whine, from low in his throat. “Is this… hhh… how much did you- did you build into this thing…”

Mordin answered, plain and honest. He had no reason to hide the information. “Two more arms, and two feathers.” He lifted his arms in an almost professional version of a shrug. “For ears. More a curiosity than anything. Read as a potential spot in research.”

“Where… where did you even do research, Mordin?”

“Happy to send sites and videos if desired.”

The commander dropped the subject. He figured he didn’t need to watch MORE tickling after the events of today. Not that he, uh, wanted to do that. Recreationally.

Before Shepard could get his thoughts in order, Mordin hit the button on the machine, and it started up again. The arms on his stomach and rollers on his soles immediately continued their assault, but this time there was more- true to Mordin’s word, two more of the mechanical arms extended, burying themselves in his exposed armpits and wiggling with a slightly firmer technique than the previous pair. Additionally, two feathers- probably synthetic, but soft and flowy nonetheless- began to dance around the shell of his ears.

The effect was immediate. Shepard damn near lost his mind.

The commander struggled, thrashed, and howled with laughter. “AHAHAHAHA! GAHAHA- NO- AHAha AHH AH AHAHAHA- MORDIN- haHAhahahAHAHAHA- TURN IT OFF!”

The scientist was busy tinkering with a small holographic drone. Once was set up, seemingly scanning Shepard, Mordin exhaled and stretched his arms. “VI should automatically collect data. Will return soon. Have other projects to manage downstairs.”

“DOWNSTAIRS!?” Shepard couldn’t believe his ears. “MORDIN- AHAHA HOHOHOW SOON? MOHOHORDIN! HOW SOON?”

The salarian was already leaving.

“MOHORDIN!” Shepard was running out of strength to flail. “HOW SOOHOOHOON!?”

——————————

Shepard wasn’t sure how long it had been. Minutes? Hours? Days? Not days. Mordin had said a few hours. Surely it had been a few hours by now. It had to have been.

There was no specific spot that was the “worst spot.” The arms would move occasionally, or the rollers would oscillate, but neither seemed to matter anymore. He was just nerves- there was no body anymore, or skin, just his reactions to the tickling. There was sparks going off inside him and they barely had a source anymore.

He had sight. Mordin had not introduced a blindfold- it was unnecessary to the experiment. But the sight barely mattered. He could see the lab, the machine, the spritzer bottle cleanly rinsed and set to dry on the counter- but the signals of his own vision barely registered in his brain. It wasn’t a priority sense to have. Touch was the only one. There weren’t any others.

At some point, Shepard had stopped laughing. He was just kinda laying there in the bindings and taking it. And… it felt freeing. Euphoric, even. There was no mission planning or cargo management or stupid Firewalker lessons here. He didn’t have to be Commander Shepard. He just had to feel.

He didn’t mind.

And then it was over. Or maybe it had been over for a while and his body was just catching up. Mordin was downloading data from his VI- when had Mordin come back? Shepard wasn’t sure. As he came to his senses, the occasional broken laugh escaping his lips, the scientist walked back up to him, his expression almost kind.

“Having fun?”

Shepard scrambled to hear the words. Was Mordin teasing him? That’s unlike the man. “Wh-“

“Sorry, not a question. You are having fun. The chemicals of pleasure and happiness in your mind are currently elevated to a very healthy degree.” For once, the sentence was deliberately devoid of medical terminology- he was explaining it for Shepard’s sake.

“Y-Yeah. Hahh… I guess. How…” Shepard panted. “How long was…”

“One hour. Shortened time as not avoid any problems.”

One hour? That can’t have been right. Shepard was in there all day. He shook his head, trying to come to his senses. “Only one…? I’ve been… hah… I’ve been tickled for longer than that before. That doesn’t…”

“Expect not quite as intensely. Machine is designed to elicit such a response from you.”

“Well, fuck it… god… it did its job.”

Mordin began to unclasp the soft restraints from Shepard’s wrists and ankles, helping to steady him as he stumbled out.

“I… hah, ugh, I need a shower.” Shepard smelled vaguely like oil and mostly like sweat. He wasn’t gonna stay that way without feeling gross the whole day.

“Understandable. Captain’s cabin has the highest quality shower on the SR-2. Will…” He gave a real, genuine Mordin smile. “Will have a mug of tea sent up to you.”

Shepard grinned as he got his footing, haphazardly throwing his N7 hoodie over his shoulders. As he walked out of the room, he noticed he couldn’t stop himself from smiling and giggling occasionally. It wasn’t just the prospect of drinking Noverian tea, either. He felt happy. Exhausted, yes, but satisfyingly so. Like he could fall asleep at any time. Without dreaming. He never had good ones anyway.

Mordin noticed. Just before Shepard left the room, he spoke up. “Machine will stay intact. Dismantling is pointless if… if it has further need of use.”

Shepard nodded and waved awkwardly, before quickly hurrying out, eager to avoid the implication behind the sentence. He’d never admit something like that to Mordin. Not ever. …Not yet.

But he had fun.

Even stepping into the shower, getting ready to head to the Mess Hall with the others, he was still smiling.

Maybe next Depot Day.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Jesus, this one’s long, at least by my standards. I was for sure gonna write Mordin eventually, but the “Mordin is exposed to tickling and in turn invents a tickling device” idea was way too good to pass up. I know this is a lot more intense than the more fluffy stuff I usually write, but it felt fitting to write it here. I’ve also had the ‘Depot Day’ in my head for a while now- I always figured during ME2-3, “what IS the crew doing while I’m scanning random edge-of-the-nebula planets?” Well, getting stuck in tickling machines, I guess. Anyway, thanks so much for reading!

[innepttia]

@spookyvalentine has FOUR sets of “50 questions about Shepard” list and this is the third!!

Maeve Shepard

First 50 Questions | Second 50 Questions

TW: mentions of alcohol abuse & canon typical death

(Art by tumblr: @/milton-chamberlain)

1. How often does Shepard use the omni-blade?

Omni-blade, not a lot but it’s her favorite weapon to use (ok I know this is contradictory but just go with me). Omni-tool – ALL THE TIME.

2. What does the Virmire Survivor think of Shepard?

Ashley! I think she wishes they were closer, because they really would get along if they both gave it a shot. If Shepard didn’t die, they’d probably have become besties at some point and perhaps Shepard could have still soothed over some of that xenophobic nature of Ashley’s.

3. Top three comfort movies:

Howl’s Moving Castle

Princess Bride

Shallow Grave

4. How many languages can they speak (without the translator)?

Oh, I love that Spooky has asked this in the Mass Effect discord we’re in because I already know the answer now!!

English, ASL (which doesn’t really count for translator-use), and – in my own HC – spacers have a language similar to The Expanse’s Belter Creole.

5. Does Shepard keep a log/journal?

No. Which is a boring answer, but no.

6. What kind of driver is Shepard?

I like to HC that she actually would rather have others drive so she can tinker with something. So, instead of driver, she’s a passenger princess.

7. Shepard witnesses a petty crime. What is their response?

She ignores it! Maeve really cultivates an air of: “If this doesn’t affect me, then I don’t care.”

8. Revenge, or the high road?

REVENGE, BABEEYYYYY – but only in her head because she’s a busy lady and doesn’t have time to really properly act out her revenge.

9. What will always distract them?

Thane, Thane, Thane, Thane, alcohol, Thane, Thane, Joker, Thane, Thane, Thane, etc.

10. Does Shepard ascribe to any sort of faith?

No, but she becomes interested in Thanes.

11. Fondest childhood memory?

By ME2, she isn’t sure her childhood memories are really hers, so she tries to forget them.

12. Most embarrassing adult memory?

In ME2, before Thane’s romance was locked in, she got so drunk one day and drunk-messaged Ashley trying to flirt with her. Then when that was completely rejected, she went straight to Zaeed to try and flirt with him, but she became so distracted in the garbage compactor that she missed her one chance with that old merc. Joker was 100% watching the vid feeds and EDI was monitoring her messages to Ashley.

13. What does Shepard choose to do about Gavin Archer?

THIS mothafuckin guy THIS GUY ohhhhh my god. I think canon choice was “your brother is going to Grissom Academy and you can fuck right off” but the unhinged, more correct choice is: iron pressed against his temple and ending it all then and there for Gavin.

14. Is Shepard the type to gossip?

If it’s gossip with Kasumi, yes, because Kasumi has the best tea and tells the best story. Anyone else, probably not.

15. How does Shepard react to Garrus’s Archangel reveal?

I’m just going to go with the canon-neutral reaction.

16. What was the N7 program like for Shepard?

This was when she was A Good Soldier and A Good Person (pre-ME1), so it went pretty well, all things considered. She was focused and driven and wanted to be the best she could be.

17. Go-to karaoke song?

ANOTHER ONE I CAN ANSWER BECAUSE OF DISCORD thank god. This song because it’s mostly shouting instead of singing:

Fire Woman – The Cult

18. What choice does Shepard make on Rannoch?

Okay so, this one might get me a lot of hate BUT I’ve always accidentally (I’m so serious about this) picked the option here Tali throws herself off the cliff. Like, I’m not joking. It doesn’t matter how many years are between play throughs, or if I’m like, OKAY THIS TIME…!!! I always manage to pick that option. In an AU, I’d really like for the Geth and the Quarians to make peace and build the planet together and I’m just inept at making Good Choices.

19. Which kind of reaper do they think is the ugliest?

That stupid Human-Reaper from ME2.

20. Can they dance?

She can sway to music really well.

21. What is Shepard’s relationship with Hackett?

Mostly annoyed at him. In her eyes, Hackett is up there with TIM.

22. What’s their alignment? Paragon, renegade, a mix…

Renegade all the way. Light up her face with scars.

23. Got any allergies? How bad?

No, because I honestly just won’t remember she has them.

24. When’s their birthday, and how old are they?

Canon birthday and canon age!

25. Trash talk or potty mouth

BOTH!

26. What’s their temper like?

Flares hot, but then it dies down pretty quickly because she’s either smothering it with alcohol or she’s already moved on to the next crisis.

27. What does Shepard think of Bakara?

EVEEEE and not my clone named Eve!!!!! She adores her and will do anything for her.

28. A reoccurring nightmare:

Indoctrination. She can’t shake the feeling that, even after everything, she’s indoctrinated.

And Moon’s Haunted fic.

29. Which news correspondent/journalist does Shepard bring on the Normandy? What’s their relationship like?

Diana Allers and it’s a relationship of: Maeve forgets she’s there until Diana reminds her.

30. Who’s got the biggest crush on Shepard?

Ummm ME!!! Hmm definitely Joker in all 3 games, Garrus in 1 and 2, (and finally a HC) the Geth (and OC) she messages all throughout ME3.

31. What kind of relationship do they have with Dr. Chakwas? Which doctor do they bring her on board for 3, and why?

Good! They’re drinking buddies, except Dr. Chakwas is obviously less unhinged about it.

32. Who has Shepard’s grudging respect?

Javik & Zaeed.

33. Reaction to the window over their sr-2 bed

Kill Bill sirens.

34. Does Shepard want children?

Not just no, but hell no.

35. What does Shepard consider their greatest mistake?

Joining the Alliance.

36. Did Shepard enjoy the heists with Kasumi?

Yes, this was her favorite mission. I think I mentioned this in one of the previous 50 questions, but she was excited for the heist. She was excited to dress up and to have even the slightest potential to not kill anyone.

37. Does Shepard ever play matchmaker?

Ngl, I like Liara and Javik together so I’d like to imagine she helped with that somehow.

38. A silly daydream:

While she was on house arrest after ME2 and before ME3, she daydreamed that Joker would come visit her and they’d rekindle whatever they had before.

Or, she’d imagine Thane would come rescue her like a damsel in distress.

(god these aren’t really “silly” are they?!)

39. What kind of media do they consume the most?

Tech news, but she’s pretty off mainstream media content. She prefers to spend time with her crew in person.

40. Favorite ice cream flavor

Cookies and cream.

41. If Shepard has a LI, what would they say are a couple of Shepard’s flaws? And strengths?

I think we all like to imagine our LI’s being over the moon about our Sheps, and my HCs are no different.

Thane sees her as the spitting image of one of his goddesses. She’s strong, relentless, ruthless, and determined, which are all qualities he admires. In private, she’s soft and a puddle of mush most of the time. I like to think he enjoys taking care of her (e.g. blanket over the shoulders, a good cuddle session, sharing food).

Her flaws come through pretty starkly in all these sets of 50 questions: she can make REALLY poor choices, she can get tunnel vision on certain missions, she can be too brash.

42. Are they quick to laugh, or slow to smile?

Okay, I’m probably going to be annoying with this but I’m going to say both to this one too (like the potty mouth or trash talking one). I think she’s quick to laugh, but it isn’t always genuine. She’ll laugh when she feels like there’s a social cue she needs to meet. She’s slow to smile because those would be her true, genuine feelings.

43. What does it take to earn Shepard’s trust?

Most people have her trust from the beginning. She doesn’t feel like she has time to be untrusting, so her initial trust is easy to get. As long as that isn’t broken, then all’s golden. If the initiate trust is broken then it’s near impossible to get it back.

44. Top three people Shepard thinks are hotties:

Samara

Nyreen

Zaeed

+Thane because he’s her Li so that’s a given

45. What’s the easiest way to gross them out?

Throw up. THAT’S ALL hahahaha but fr gross.

46. What are some of their favorite combo moves with team members out on the field?

Oooohh this is embarrassing for her and me. I always forget team members and Shepard can do combo moves together, so I never do it. So lets go with: she’s a lone wolf who likes to do her own tech combos herself.

47. Can they forgive easily, or are they the type to hold a grudge?

Neither! She’d rather just forget.

48. Does Shepard have a good sense of direction?

She relies solely on her HUD that she doesn’t know anymore!

49. Did they enjoy their party on the Citadel?

Yes, it was nice getting everyone together, but she really missed Thane.

50. What is Shepard’s ending?

Maeve, beloved, goes full destroy ending, which includes destroying herself. I’ve talked about this a lot in the server so I’m not going to get too much in the weeds but… she’s very content with this choice.

+1 …got any kinks?

*looks back at question 33* yes – a choking kink whoops

[writtenjewels]

Day Four: Hegemony

CW: Mentions of slavery

Every night, Nekul would look at the stars and imagine what was out there. Her father would tell her stories from his trading routes, but they never felt like enough. No matter how good he was at describing things, it could never compare with actually seeing it all with her own eyes. One day she was going to leave batarian space and see it all herself.

She never told her father this. The idea would horrify him. Their corner of the galaxy was safe and protected, guided by the wisdom of the Hegemony. Nekul and her friends were all taught about the borders and the ships stationed there to keep everyone where they belonged. Father told her about them, too; sometimes his trading routes took him close by, though of course he never ventured beyond.

Nekul knew about the batarians who were out there in other parts of the galaxy. The other kids in her class whispered about them: pirates, mercenaries, slavers, all trying to make something of themselves. Nekul understood that desire. She knew she would never achieve anything of significance if she stayed home. There was a place the Hegemony deemed appropriate for herself and her family. They couldn't be right, though. Not when Nekul was drawn to the stars.

One night she sneaked out to the slave compound. Her father took her here once to show her where the merchandise was kept before being transported to the owners. It was the only place Nekul knew of where species other than batarians lived.

The lock was not very complex, taking only a few minutes to hack through the code before she could get inside. Enough to keep in the slaves, who would have no access to an omni-tool. Nekul let herself inside. The slaves were all sleeping, or at least were curled up and looked asleep. Nekul stared at them, trying to remember what they were all called.

Humans were the most populous group, but she could see a few salarians, drell, and even a handful of turians. Nekul wished her education gave her more information on these species. When she got older, she would likely be instructed on how to care for slaves. For now, there was only thing that was important about them: they came from outside.

Nekul approached one of the drell. It stared at her with its wide, black eyes. She had seen the faces of the slaves before and still found them odd. How did any of them see with only two eyes?

“Who are you?” the drell demanded. “What do you want?”

“I want to know what's out there,” Nekul answered. “Tell me about the stars.”

“Why should I?”

The question surprised her. She thought this part would be easy. This was just a slave, after all, and was supposed to follow orders. Nekul opened her mouth, ready to remind this creature of its place. But she stopped herself. Why should I have to stay here? Why should I take this job? Why should I listen to the Hegemony? All the questions that ran through her mind. She understood then that this drell and all the other slaves probably wanted the same thing she did.

“If you tell me, I'll set you free.”

[shepcdr]

random thoughts on shepard in his training days in the alliance, pre mass effect 1:

shepard is incredibly touch averse especially in his younger years... and i think the first and only time he ever got a haircut on base, it fucked him up. plus the px barber wasn't used to dealing with biotics either and to dealing with the static shock. so you ended up with one very freaked out barber and one very cut up and slightly shaken shepard

plus, going every week to get his hair cut and leaving nicked and a little mentally disturbed, and having to pay??? no thank u morons.... he modified his omni-tool fabricator so he can just shear it off on his own... it doesn't look Great but he's all right at it :)

and ofc he made credits off of that. he's pretty resourceful and i think decent at modifying omni-tools — by no means professional, and sometimes if he goes too crazy, the result can be dangerous (which was not necessarily a bad thing in days with the reds..... sometimes you Want something to catch on fire or to blow up). but he gets it done.

he's probably done all sorts of modifications for fellow recruits, for a few credits ofc, and has gotten in trouble for it ... probably a handful of times. i'm sure omni-tools are very standard and everyone's bound to have one, but they probably have standards on omni-tools that recruits are allowed to have. or limits on how Much said omni-tools can fabricate... im sure that shepard Will find a way to get fabricators into a regulated omni-tool ... and that one of his fucked up little creations probably sparked and caused a fire in the barracks at some point... maybe multiple points. (where there is yishai shepard. there is going to be a fire. or something that he's fucked up that Will cause a fire.)

in general, he got in a Lot of trouble during training and had to clean his act up big time. he's just got a penchant for causing shit (or rather. he sees an opportunity to make credits or to gain favours. he Will take said opportunity). it was very difficult fresh out of the reds to get clean. he went cold turkey from red sand/minagen, but basically just switched to heavy drinking, though there were times he nearly relapsed. nearly got kicked out for misconduct a few times, and he did not get along well with anyone — being very antisocial, extremely hard to read, coming in with a history like his, and having very powerful biotic abilities honed to destroy. and rumours of his gang affiliation and about what he was doing for the Reds spread around and made things even more difficult. the old tattoos (not things officially affiliated with the reds until years later, because the reds were still kinda small time/covert/regional) didn't help.

for these reasons and others, i think he has a really nasty history with higher ups, NCOs on power trips, people who were wary of him and sought to keep him under control. not all of them sucked, but the ones who did left lasting impressions, and shepard's attitude (aka just. the way he is) did not help. there were definitely people that didn't fuck with him and that wanted to see him fail.

i think that maybe anderson first came across him in these.. very Trying first couple of years in training. he saw a struggling young man (barely a young man tbh, shepard was in a difficult spot where he was forced to grow to survive and deal with Horrors, but that's!! still a kid!!!). someone who needed a little help and a chance to grow. he probably talked with some people and got future opportunities for shepard — so long as shepard got his shit together — and put him in contact with resources and programs for his personal shit. anderson didn't do a lot of this directly, but he did check in on shepard time to time, and of course higher ups giving him counsel would mention anderson's involvement. and when shepard was ready for it, got through advanced & biotic training, anderson recommended him personally for n7 training... cemented himself in shepard's life as a mentor when there were very few people who filled that role for shepard. shepard doesn't know anderson well, but he is deeply loyal to anderson and attributes his career to anderson seeing him and being willing to give a fucked up kid another chance.

[husband-steve-cortez]

Officially thinking about Miles as a Vanguard what was I thinking making him a sentinel.

I just want him to have more separation from Ezra's skillset tbh. I do love Miles being a paladin-like tank/healer/party support sentinel, good with biotics and an omni-tool, but a vanguard glass canon who's also kind of a tank in a way, constantly drawing aggro and fire by shoving himself in enemy's faces...

Still something of a paladin. A hero. Would also be kinda hot. Vanguard is kind of a fun sexy class to me.

Also like the idea of him having a different skillset than Kaidan at this point tbh. I mean the double armored up sentinels thing is really fun but Miles being the vanguard and Kaidan being a sentinel (his sentinel) is kinda... 🫦

All about his biotics making him stand out, that charging involves using his body as a tool and hurling himself into harm's way, blowing his barriers and constantly dancing on the edge of danger... probably getting injured a lot and not caring...bit of a reckless streak because he doesn't matter... Kaidan applying medigel while Miles is just in a tight sleeveless tshirt and his biceps are swollen and his pecs are threatening to pop out. I mean huh

[omniblades-and-stars]

Her omni-tool lit up once more as she sent another call out. It connected before the first attempt even went all the way through.

“Yes, what do you need?” a distinctly salarian voice answered with some mild annoyance.

“Vazori, not gonna ask me how I’m doing?” Lou joked. Conversations with Vazori always went this way. She was brilliant, but didn't bother with small talk. Lou thought it was charming.

“Unnecessary. You're calling me, so you're not dead. What do you need?”

“Listen, hon, I need a way to get into an enemy space station without my ship being detected as hostile. I also need to be able to stop my flight controls from being hacked by top level shit,” Lou explained, remembering how Nilea’s shuttle got locked out so easily. “Preferably hardware, in case I need to … re-appropriate a different ship.”

“Steal.”

“Yeah, Vazori, I mean stealin’. Can you help me find what I need? Could probably backdoor access, but no guarantee I could get it done before my shuttle is blown into stardust.”

“Hm. You could use IFF with right data. Turn onboard data sensors and relays off, fly manual. No, no, not a trained pilot. That's sure to end in failure. Death.”

Lou chuckled and shook her head, “Love your optimism.” As always, Vazori was painfully blunt.

“You need to reflect data. Mirror. Trick docking protocols with matching code, and block outgoing transmissions. Yes!”

“Great, you have something for me!”

Vazori clicked her tongue, and Lou’s omni-tool lit up, indicating that she had received a message. “No. Not me. You need a prototype, re-appropriate.” 

“You mean stealin’.”

“Yes," Vazori answered conspiratorially.

[ramblinganthropologist]

N7 24 - 11 and 12 (Shepherd and Situationship)

Summary: Al's got some new crew on the Normandy and people are beginning to wonder what alien he's going to recruit next. Not only that, but... is he hate fucking the turian?

Come on, people, this is supposed to be a war ship...

---

You know, if Anderson had told him being the CO was going to involve so many headaches, he would’ve let Bo have the job.

Alistair groaned as he stepped away from his computer, cracking his sore neck in the process. He had been working for two hours, going over various reports that had been sent since he had been planet side. It was a lot of numbers and figures, and he could see them even when he closed his eyes. If that wasn’t a sign he needed to take a break, he didn’t know what was.

Even better, his omni-tool’s CGM was beeping.

“I thought my tongue was going numb, but I thought it was from boredom.” He frowned as he flipped his wrist over to view the numbers – 54 with the arrows trending downward. “Well, that’s not good.”

He glanced around the room, eyes falling on a box labeled ‘emergency sugar supply’ on the desk. Unfortunately, it was empty – he had used it up after picking up Liara on Therum. Apparently, driving the Mako through lava fields had taken it out of him.

So, off to find a better supply it was.

Shaking his head, CGM quieted for a moment, Alistair left the office behind. Outside, it was busy as always as the crew got something to eat in their off time. He nodded to them as he passed, heading for the fridge. For a low like this, only one thing would do.

The biotics called them adult juice boxes – they were liquid energy supplies. He usually preferred his emergency supply – it was hard to beat his recipe for homemade pixie sticks frankly – but beggars couldn’t be choosers at the moment. As long as it got his sugar up, he didn’t care.

“Doing ok, Commander?”

He picked up his head, glancing over his shoulder. The voice was coming from Kaidan, who also had a pouch of liquid energy. That wasn’t surprising – he had been on the last mission after all. Anyone would’ve needed a refill after that.

“Oh, Kaidan.” He nodded as he poked the straw in. Sipping on the straw took some effort thanks to his numb lips and tongue, but he managed to drink it without having it drip from his mouth. “I will be in 15 minutes. Guess I went harder than I expected.”

His fellow biotic nodded. “I thought I heard your CGM going off when you came out. How low is it this time?”

“54 and going down. The real annoying beeping is going to start soon if I don’t refuel.” Alistair  took another sip. That was the last thing he needed – too low and it was impossible to shut off for long. He would have to keep hitting the button on his wrist until his sugar rose.

Nobody wanted that.

They stood there for a moment, sipping their energy supplies. An uncomfortable tension hung over the air, and he found it hard to look at Kaidan directly. It was a miracle his cheeks weren’t heating up because his face certainly felt hot.

He should’ve been over this by now. After all, it had been over a month ago, before he had even become the CO. It hadn’t been that big of a deal – just a request to have dinner that got turned down politely. It happened every day.

At least that’s what he told himself when the embarrassment threatened to spread onto his face with a spread of pink and eventually red.

“So, is Liara settling in ok?” Thank God he changed the subject. Kaidan was a good one for reading the room – no doubt he had sensed the same tension he had felt. “She was a little shaken up when we got her back on the Normandy.”

Ugh – Alistair hid his expression with a sip of energy supply. He didn’t have problems with the asari, per se, but… she made him a little uncomfortable. It was the way she had looked at him when he had stopped by to check on her. He was probably just reading into it too much, but… yeah it didn’t sit right with him.

Still, Kaidan was expecting an answer.

“I stopped by earlier to see how she was doing.” His tongue was starting to come back to life, so it was easier to drink. “She seemed ok to me. No doubt it’s a little weird to be surrounded by so many humans.”

After all, even though the Normandy had been designed by both turians and humans, it was really only run by the latter. She was the only asari, and she brought the total number of aliens on ship up to 4.

 At least she could eat the same food as they did. It had been a right pain to get supplies for Garrus and Tali. Luckily, the Alliance had nutrient paste they could eat. It didn’t look appetizing, but it was food. Maybe it tasted better than it smelled? For all he knew, it was just his human perception that it was terrible.

Probably because he was sitting there, he was able to pick up some talk from the crew eating their meals. It was a side-effect of losing his eye – he relied on his hearing more on his bad side. Since he was standing on the right of Kaidan, his good ear was towards the table.

“How many more aliens is he going to bring onto the ship?”

“What do you think he’ll find next, a salarian?”

“No way a salarian will come on the same ship as a krogan.”

Alistair frowned as he took the words in. Part of him had assumed the crew might not be too happy about sharing their ship with other races. While he was pretty sure none of them were card carrying members of Terra Firma – that would make their job difficult – he had heard muttering as he went about his duties.

This was just a confirmation of that.

Kaidan saw the look on his face and frowned as well. “Problem, Shepard?”

He shrugged, turning his good ear away from the table. “Apparently, some people don’t like our new friends.”

Was he going to have to run some type of workplace training? Did the Alliance even have a module for dealing with alien crewmates? Probably not – it wasn’t exactly known for taking in other races. He was most likely going to have to write it himself.

Just what he needed – another duty on his plate.

“They’re just getting used to them. Give it a week, maybe two.”

Alistair snorted in a very not-commanding officer way. “Sure, a week is all it’s going to take to get rid of years of distrust.”

He sighed. “I guess I better go check on everyone after I finish up to make sure nobody on the crew is giving them problems.”

He wasn’t worried about Wrex for obvious reasons. If his gun didn’t scare people away, his biotics would. Alien-shy humans didn’t tend to be too nervous around asari, so Liara was probably fine as well. Garrus was a maybe, but he was most concerned for Tali. They were the ones he would start with.

But before he started, he had to finish his energy supply. Alistair sipped up the last of it before tossing the empty pouch in the trash. His CGM was happy now – 75 and trending upward – so he didn’t have to worry about the beeping. It was a small victory, but he was happy to take it in the moment.

“I’ll talk to you later, Kaidan.” He walked away, heading for the elevator. A few seconds later, he touched down on the vehicle bay. Like always, it was busy. He spied Wrex in the corner, sticking out like a sore thumb in his bright red armor, and mentally checked him off his list.

He looked un-fucked-with, so that was enough for him.

Next should have been engineering, considering Tali was high on his concern list. However, his eyes were drawn to the Mako and the turian standing by it. Garrus was running a program, talons tapping against his omni-tool as he worked.

His feet took him over. “How’s it looking, Garrus?”

“Oh, Shepard.” He nodded. “Better than I thought. Looks like you’ll just have to replace a tire and do some minor electrical work.”

His mandibles twitched. “I was expecting a lost worse after Therum.”

Alistair’s cheeks turned pink in response. He had expected that – after all, he had been the one who was driving. Well, according to the crew “driving” was describing it rather generously. Even he had to admit that when he got behind the wheel, chaos soon followed.

Frankly, he thought he did a pretty good job considering he didn’t have a driver’s license.

“Yeah… he’s built to last alright.”

Another mandible twitch. “They must have built it with you in mind. Those was some… creative ways to get around obstacles, Shepard.”

What, it wasn’t like he had driven into the lava or anything. He had just gotten… kinda stuck… at one point. Once he’d thrown it into reverse and gotten some traction, they got over the hill just fine. The geth fire had bounced off the armor without even causing a dent.

So, no big deal. Just another mission on a hostile planet.

“I was told I think out of the box in basic.” He gave a sheepish grin. “As long as nobody dies, I think it works out.”

Much to his surprise, Garrus chuckled. “That should be the Alliance rule – it all works as long as nobody dies.”

Alistair snickered too. “As I was told once, it’s not a war crime if you do it for the first time.”

It was a bad joke that had been passed around during his N7 training, especially considering he was telling it to a turian. After all, their races had started fighting each other the moment they had met across the relay. Things were better now, but it was still a new relationship.

Then again, they had only made it to the relays when he was a kid. So, they were all new relationships if he was being completely honest.

“Now that’s a saying I can believe comes from an Alliance marine.” Garrus’ turned back to his data. “Anyway, is there something you wanted to talk to me about?”

He nodded. “Just checking to make sure you’re settling in ok. I know it can be a little weird to be around so many humans. Nobody’s bothering you, are they?”

The turian shook his head. “Nothing other than a few strange looks and some whispers, but it’s not like anyone’s hiding my stuff or messing with the food. Why, were you worried about me?”

Well… yeah.

Alistair glanced to the side, feeling the heat from his cheeks. “Just checking is all. If the crew were starting anything, it’s my job to put a stop to it.”

It was his job… and he had already made a bad first impression with the turian on the Presidium after knocking him onto his ass. He didn’t want to make matters worse between them, given they had to work together for a while.

Also… well, he wasn’t bad to look at either. But that was beside the point. The main idea was checking on his alien crew members.

“Thanks for the concern, Shepard. I don’t think you need to worry about that, though.” Garrus had a note to his voice that suggested he wanted to get back to work. “I should probably get to fixing those electrical parts before you take the Mako up a mountain or something next mission.”

It would’ve been bad, but his mandibles were twitching. Alistair was beginning to realize that happened when he wasn’t being serious. He had to hold back a sigh of relief as he nodded and left the turian alone to finish his work.

At least he wasn’t annoying him too much.

“Right, now to check on Tali.”

She was in engineering, which was on the same floor. It wasn’t a long walk, but as he made his way over a voice drew his attention. Someone was talking with Tali, and it wasn’t anyone assigned to the engineering deck.

As a matter of fact, he was pretty sure they had unofficially banned her altogether; apparently, Bo was cursed.

“Anyway, how’d you get that hit two planets back? I thought shotguns couldn’t do something like that.”

“I modified it. If you want, I can take a look at yours later when I’m done here.”

Tali was at the console like always, typing away. Across from her was Bo, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest so she didn’t touch anything. That was probably why they had left her down there without fearing for the safety of the Normandy.

That, and it was really difficult to tell her what to do. He was used to it.

“Eh, it might mess with the stuff Al-“ Bo picked up her head. “Speaking of; coming to make sure nobody’s bullying Tali, Al?”

Alistair shook his head as he joined the pair. “I wouldn’t put it like that, but yes. Is anyone bothering you, Tali?”

The quarian shook her head as she continued to type. “No, everyone has been welcoming to me. It might be because I spend all my time down here, but I haven’t had any problems.”

That… and the crew knew better than to mess with someone Bo had an interest in. A dead man could’ve seen it with his eyes closed based on how she was standing and what she sounded like. There was a quieter, softer sense to it, and it carried into her eyes when she spoke to Tali or even mentioned her.

Of course, he might have been able to notice it because he was around her all the time, but… he was going to just say it was obvious.

“Well, that’s good to know. You can let me or Bo know if that changes.” He nodded. “Well, I need to go check on Liara. Talk to you later.”

Much to Alistair’s surprise, a second pair of footsteps followed him to the elevator. Bo got in behind him as he punched the number to go back up to where Liara was set up in the lab. In theory, he could’ve gone to her first, but… well…

He was sure she would’ve been fine.

“Checking on Liara, huh?” Bo leaned against the wall. “Do I have to chaperone you so she doesn’t jump your bones?”

Alistair groaned in response, leaning his forehead against the wall. “So it wasn’t just me thinking that?”

“She wants on your clit bad.” His sister snorted. “Which is hilarious, by the way. The whole crew is whispering about you secretly hate fucking Vakarian, you think she’d get the hint that you’re not into her.”

He wasn’t sure what made him blush worse – the thought that Liara wanted him in that way, or the implication that the crew thought he was sleeping with Garrus. Both were pretty bad, but it was hard to tell which one was worse.

Maybe it was the one involving the asari?

“I’m not hate fucking him, Bo.”

She shrugged. “I know. You’re too Catholic to hate fuck somebody. But you do want on his dick, don’t even try to deny it.”

Instead of denying it, Alistair shook his head. “Like you want on Tali?”

“Oh, shut up, I’m nowhere near as bad as you are, choir boy.” She shoved him in the side – it almost launched him. “Do we have to run the fraternization prompt again?”

Well, no – technically, Garrus and Tali weren’t members of the Alliance. He was pretty sure they didn’t count under the rules of fraternization. Then again, they did listen to him… so it was kind of a moral quandary.

He would think about it later when the paperwork got to him.

“I’ll sign you up for the first module, then.”

The elevator doors opened, and Alistair stepped out. Bo followed behind him, apparently making good on her suggestion to chaperone him with Liara. It was silly, but he appreciated the offer as he made his way to the lab.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t trust Liara, but it was nice to have his sister at his side. And, if need be, he could direct her attention towards the giant pink lesbian standing next to him so he could slip away and get back to the endless paperwork.

Talk about a perfect plan; he should’ve thought of this in the first place.

[bagog]

N7 Month, 2023 - Day 16: Storm

A soft little go-nowhere fluff piece for Ryder and Gil

++

It hadn’t been in Ryder’s plan to stop for long on Eos. A quick drop in with the Vault to ensure that everything was still running smoothly beneath the surface. But once they’d sat down in Prodromos, Vetra had gotten Kallo mixed up in some haptic interface optimizers one of the research scientists was working on, and so they stayed an extra few hours so those could be installed.

Of course there’d been a fire fight with the Kett on the way back from the Vault. Once they returned to the Tempest—and just as Vetra and Kallo had promised to be back aboard—Drack had gotten an urgent and private communique and had tracked off into the wastes, said he’d be back in four hours.

Then, of course, Liam decided—as long as they had the time—he could fiddle with the Nomad and finally install the stereo he’d first purchased back on the Nexus weeks ago. This still wasn’t done as Drack came back, armor scuffed and face blackened with soot, and so they waited.

Ryder was trying not to hover over Liam’s work, and had instead sat down by the big windows at the back of the ship, read a book, and watched the light on Eos go from burning bright, to a dusky orange.

“There you are,” Gil came up the stairs, gave Ryder a furtive grin. “I was looking at the weather report out of Prodromos. Looks like there’s going to be a big storm just skirting the edge of the mountains over there.”

“Hm,” Ryder didn’t pay it much attention, but warmly smiled at Gil as he sat down next to him. “A what? A storm?”

“Yeah, you know, kind Eos was famous for. Well, before the Pathfinder opened the Vault and made it livable again.” He looked at Ryder expectantly, but Scott only shrugged. “Do you want to go up on the ridge and watch the storm roll in with me?” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Gil,” Scott gave a worried look at the falling sun. “Soon as Liam’s done in town, we’ve got to get back in space.”

“Please, Scott?” Gil leaned in, lifted an eyebrow. “Do this with me?”

Scott sighed.

Twenty minutes later, they were atop the ridge, the Tempest and Prodromos small and distant down below. As the sun set, the sandstorm blew across the horizon. It was a tendril of living black that seemed to flow parallel to the ground, its interior flashing sparks of blue and green as the static within churned. As it poured before the setting sun, it turned to gold along its edges, casting a shadow that came almost to the foot of the ridge they were sitting on. They sat comfortably, sprawled on the rocks, side by side. They listened to the faintest of distant thunder rumbles and the sound of the wind growing calm as it spread from the storm.

“This really is beautiful,” Scott said softly. He leaned his head on Gil’s shoulder. “It’s funny, when we first set down here, I hated the constant storms. All the time, destroying everything we were trying to build. I’ve never seen one like this.”

“Me either,” Gil put his arm around Scott and leaned back against a rock. “On Earth, I used to watch the storms go over the hills. Never seen a big sandstorm like this, though.”

Ryder looked down at his wrist, noticed the communication light on his omni-tool was blinking. Probably Kallo telling him they were finally ready to go. The sun sank below the horizon, its last rusted hues swallowed up by the storm, until it was dark and only the distant lightning gave any indication the storm was still there. But Scott could still feel it, static scintillating on the air. It made him hold Gil tight, breathe in the ozone and the faintest hint of Gil’s soap.

“Thanks,” Scott said at last. “This is… part of why I love you, honestly. Nights like this. Gives me perspective on things.”

“You’re welcome,” Gil chuckled, turning his face into the breeze from the south. “Honestly, I just wanted to watch the storm. I wanted to watch it with you, I mean,” In the dim light, Scott could barely see Gil’s eyes. “Share something else with the man I’m sharing my life with.”

Scott smiled. They had better be heading back, they could be in space in an hour, and back to the Nexus by tomorrow afternoon. But, with a sigh, he made up his mind that they would spend the night planet-side. He couldn’t explain why, something about perspective.