#so mierin thoughts it is

[cxsmiicc]

hi im writing again and its everybodys problem

[swaps55]

Mezzo - 08 - Never the Dark

Pairing: mshenko | Rating: M Tags: Canon-typical violence, trauma, dealing with your problems poorly, body autonomy struggles   Summary: The twists and turns of ME2, through the eyes of everyone but Commander Shepard. Chapter Summary: Mashed potato trauma + thermal clip disagreements + Korlus = boom. AKA, just shake Garrus really hard until all of his trauma falls out.  

Chapter 8: Never the Dark | Read on Ao3

24 November, 2185, Eagle Nebula, Imir System, SSV Normandy

Erash. Monteague. Mierin. Grundan Krul. Melenis. Ripper. Sensat. Vortash. Butler. Weaver.

Ten names Garrus kept on rotation in his head with his eye pressed to the scope on Omega. They stayed on repeat throughout his incarceration in the medbay. Even now, with Omega behind them and Dr. Chakwas’ blessing to move about the rest of the ship, those ten names are so loud he doesn’t even hear the human mess sergeant ask him a question as Garrus takes a dinner tray from him.

“I’m sorry. Repeat that?”

The human grins. It’s so much like Weaver’s. Garrus focuses on a grease stain on the counter.

“Just have to tell me how you like it. Never fixed turian grub before.”

The thought of looking at Weaver’s smile for one second longer than he has to overrides Garrus’ urge to ask what a grub is. So he just nods, wincing as his good mandible flicks in acknowledgement, and takes his tray into the sea of unfamiliar faces dining in the mess.

Unfamiliar except for one. Joker waves him over, from the same seat he used to sit in on the real Normandy. The one that went down while Garrus was safe and sound on the Citadel, catching up on paperwork.

Several heads swivel and stare as Garrus makes his way to the table where Joker sits alone, pushing a white congealed mass around his plate with a fork. He lifts a glob up and scrutinizes it carefully while Garrus tries to cram his legs under a table designed for humans, not turians. One thing about the Normandy he didn’t miss. The makeshift ‘civilian’ clothes Dr. Chakwas had somehow managed to procure for him don’t exactly fit, either, which only makes him more conspicuous in a sea of humans. Unfortunate that while being dragged half-dead out of that warehouse he hadn’t thought to grab an extra tunic. 

“You know we never had these on the first Normandy?” Joker muses.

“Had what?”

“Mashed potatoes.”

A clump slips off the fork and splats on the plate.

“They look…vile.”

Joker sticks the fork in his mouth and chews thoughtfully, then makes a face. “Only Gardner could make potatoes taste vile.” He eyes Garrus. “So. How’ve you been.”

Garrus rubs a talon over the tasteful bandage Dr. Chakwas had applied to his face to cover the reconstructed mandible. “Quit my job. Formed a squad. Took on three Omega merc bands at once and got everyone killed. Had half my face blown off.”

Joker’s eyebrow vanishes under the brim of his cap. “You know, last time I saw you, you knew how to dodge.”

“Rusty.”

Joker snorts. “Got a cool nickname, at least.”

“Well, you know. Make glass out of sand and all.”

“Glass out of sand. Why do all turian idioms have to do with sand?”

“All the ones about dying have to do with water.”

Read from the beginning | Read the rest on Ao3 | The Mezzo Playlist

[vulpixenthusiast]

Mierin eronaile, the most powerful saidar channeler of her time. In a time when the channelers were at their most powerful.

Mierin eronaile a genius scientist with an underdog complex who never got recognition, and when thinking she would, ended up dooming herself and the whole world.

Mierin eronaile, the woman who only loved one man and was never really loved in return; who never really learned what love actually was. What it could be. The woman who clang to that because what was she to do, what else was there left?

Mierin eronaile the scientist who found a new source of power for ALL channelers. The woman who opened a hole to the prison made by the creator himself.

Mierin eronaile, who clung to power as much as she did to what she believed to be love towards the only man she would ever want. Because again. What else was there.

Mierin, who very likely never knew friendship or even companionship.

The woman who dedicated her entire life to studying the one power.

Mierin, who was such a competent and brilliant woman that both the representatives of Light and Dark wanted her.

The woman who, unfortunately, even if all of that, was also deeply mentally unstable. Something which probably could count for her never getting a third name.

“Yeah Mierin is brilliant and there’s no one who knows more abt the one power, or who has done so much in terms of advancing what we can do with it. But like. she’s visibly insane, no one would ever think of giving her a third name. Can you imagine ? No one would give that a green light”.

Mierin Eronaile, who was so devoted to Lews Therin but still got dumped, and later on is only thought of by him through a lens of disgust and anger.

Mierin Eronaile, who even as her self-made monster, still managed to resurface whenever her ex lover would slip through Rands lips. Even losing her so well put demeanor.

Mierin sedai, who we first get to know through Rands ancestral. Another connection to the dragon reborn.

Mierin Eronaile, who, just like pandora, uncovered something she didn’t completely understand, and suffered hell for it, along with the world. But unlike pandora, also lost hope in the process.

Mierin Eronaile, who didn’t die, yet somehow, and still came back wrong.

The tragedy of Mierin Eronaile and the birth of Lanfear.

Lanfear the monster born out of desperation, but also choice. A 50/50 dose of both.

Lanfear, Mierins response to the world around her. “You want me to be the bad guy? Fine. Ill be the bad guy.”

Lanfear, the only Forsaken to chose her own name. Lanfear, gripping the reigns of her own story for once. A true rebirth.

Daughter of the night, walker of dreams, dweller in the dark. In direct contrast to Lews Therin, Rand al Thor, “He who comes with the dawn”.

She who brings sleep and dreams. And he who wakes and brings the light. She who lives in and rules this separate, mirrored world. This Unreality. And he who brings new, actual realities, all over again.

Lanfear, Mierins greatest triumph over her own self. It becomes no surprise that she loses her hold on her emotions when Asmodean brings that name to her acknowledgment again.

Lanfear, the shapeshifter. The ever changing mask user. Playing with t’avaren who mold the pattern around them, instead of being dragged and drowned by it.

Lanfear, who hates being called aes sedai. What has serving them all ever brought her? Aes sedai, who turned their back to her when she needed them the most. Even Lews.

Lanfear, who even sworn and bound by literal strings to her soul to the Dark One, betrays him, and actively plots to take him down along with the creator.

Lanfear, who doesn’t give two scents about The Dark or The Light. There’s her side, and against her.

Moon hunter, always eyeing, in search of the unattainable. With a never ending hunger for more. And more. Nothing ever coming close to being enough.

Lanfear, trying to fill a hole in herself reminiscent of Mierin Eronaile, who will probably never heal because she has never known love. And she never will, because that would mean becoming that woman again. And she would never. Ever again.

Daughter of the night, the chosen to free the dark one, the only to pick her own name. And still second in command. Still not good enough. Still unrecognized.

Lanfear, in a constant state of self loathing, but also always boastful, proud to a fault.

The monster who changed herself and keeps on changing, willingly and unconsciously. Who becomes unrecognizable, until, somehow, recognition falls back onto her self. And on, and on, and on. In an eternal loop, just like the wheel of time.

Ishamael who never wanted to be a monster and doesn’t see himself as one versus Lanfear, who HAD to be a monster, who chose to be one to leave behind every pain and weakness from Mierin Eronaile.

Lanfear, the goddess, who is so distant from humanity but still fatally human. Daughter of the night, who can never wake from the dream, and so can never truly go back to being just a human.

Lanfear and Mierin Eronaile, who are the same person and not at all.

[skylen64]

Well, My love has finally finished the glass forest of Rhuidean. The flashbacks have ended for her. And with them, she has been just as stunned as an aiel.

She was extremely surprised when one of the flashbacks directly named The Way of the Leaf as an aiel belief. And of course, linked it directly to the tinkers. I guess it helps that the tinker split happened right after that, which she quickly caught on what was happening.

But then she was taken further back, back to the aiel evacuation in The Age of Legends. Then back further to the day Lews Therin Telemon sealed the Bore. The day Aiel were starting to be lynched by others. She immediately thought of what that was. Racism, in a way. I sometimes forget how realistic Robert Jordan was.

In the final Flashback, the Bore was opened. Mierin Sedai had given her Aiel permission to marry another and go into a different Aes Sedais service. In this, we are shown the Aiel are basically a slave race to the Aes Sedai, although they are well respected. But they never were beaten and abused until the Bore was sealed.

The Flashbacks of Rhuidean show a different past, a shocking one to a first time reader like my girlfriend. It affords a different perspective to the long term readers as we watch the new readers thoughts. And my girl loved the two chapters. But she also thought deeply about them. As should we.

The Age of Legends was a Utopia. Most of us are aware of that. But then we see things like the Aiel being the peaceful, essentially slave, workers for the venerable Aes Sedai. We see life expectancies refer to being the age 63 as a man in his prime. Or in Lews Therins case, he was almost 1000.

We then see the exact moment war was rediscovered, and see a society fall into child soldiers and fear. Soldiers were picked at the age of 10 in the twilight of The Age of Legends. We also see that soldiers use insect like heads as their armour, much reminiscent of the Seanchan. My love froze when she read that.

Sometimes, I wonder if the story of that world, told by unreliable narrators, isn't built so close to our own. Perhaps there is a hidden truth in fiction that we need to look deeper into ourselves to see.

[cozcat]

Spotify meme - 57 with Lanfear/Lewis

song 57: Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight) - ABBA

Mierin finds herself at Lews’ door, not for the first time, not for the last, as the moon begins its descent, as the last thoughts of her work leave her head, as all she wants to do is fall into his embrace: the warmth of their bodies, the scent of their skin intermingling. And yet, she should not knock, she should not gently probe the air inside in the hopes of bringing him to her without a sound. She is better shed of him. She does not need him, she should not want him, but here she stands, some chit of a girl with nothing better to do than hope for a sliver of a man’s attention. She’d almost consider leaving, just to not give him the satisfaction of her presence, but she cannot bring herself to do so, and her hesitation costs her; she can hear footsteps long before the door opens in front of her. There are no stars in the sky, not tonight, the first whispers of winter turning autumnal coolness to cold, but he looks down at her, his smile more gloating than simple joy, and she cannot look away from some distant light reflecting like stars in his eyes.

[spotify fic meme]

[spectrum-color]

Hot takes on what I would like to see from the Wheel of Time show from an avid fantasy fan who has mixed feelings about this series:

1. More from the Age of Legends and Lews Therin, as well as maybe other Dragons who lived in other ages-I admit that the first part is way more plausible than the second. I’m obsessed with worldbuilding though, which I’ve always thought was this series biggest strength, so seeing more of Randlands history would be really fascinating. It would also emphasize the whole cyclical aspect where the same events recur over and over again in different ways. Plus there are some really colorful characters from that era that it would be extremely cool to see in flashbacks.

2. Drop the whole Perrin/Faile/Berelain triangle-As a rule, I despise love triangles. This one is worse than normal though because Berelain is primarily doing it to spite Faile and it is EXHAUSTING how it never ends. It really damages both characters. I hope they either drop it or have it only last while in Tear and then stop being a plot point after that. Justice for Faile, who was great when she was introduced and then really suffered from this particular plot point!

3. Cut the number of Foresaken-The Forsaken are really cool characters and a great concept, so I love them being in the story, but there are too many of them for all of them to play a significant role. They could probably pare down to a core of Lanfear, Asmodeon, Demandred, Messana, and Semirhage (because she’s legitimately scary.) Maybe Graendal because she’s popular and Rhavin depending on what they do with the Andor plot. They could probably take over the roles of other Forsaken who die relatively quickly or serve a more limited role. I would also love to see more of what they were all like in life; we do get backstories on them but actually seeing flashbacks could be really awesome. Imagine seeing Mierin Eronaile when she’s still a renowned scholar and Lews Therins lover, and then seeing her free the Dark One and going “fuck this I’m changing my name to Lanfear and obsessively trying to seduce Lews to the dark side!”

4. Make Min Rands primary love interest-People may disagree with me on this one, but I always thought his relationships with Elayne and Avihenda came off as “teen infatuation that he should have left behind as they both matured” and “forced for the purpose of integrating him into the Aliel more” (I love them both a lot though don’t get me wrong!) His relationship with Min felt the most natural with the most time spent together, and Elayne and Avi have more chemistry with each other than him honestly. If they do want to keep the sister wives thing though, they should at least make it resemble a real poly relationship where it’s open on all sides rather than the harem vibe.

5. Emphasize the impact her time as a damane had on Egwene-When Egwene was functionally a prisoner of Elaida in the White Tower, she said it made her understand how Rand felt in the box. I remember being confused because the obvious parallel to what happened to Rand wasn’t that, it was her time being collared by the Seanchan. I feel like that whole extremely traumatic event permanently changed Egwenes character and would be really interesting to see the fallout explored more. In general, I would like to see Egwene better served in the show in general because I adore her and think the hate she gets is disappointing.

6. Gawyn. Just fix Gawyn-He’s probably the most hated character in the entire series, and I can’t say the hate is unfair. Please make him not terrible! Maybe either drop his irrational insistence on holding his grudge against Rand or have it make more sense? I understand what RU was going for (good person on the wrong side$ but he made him very unlikable which muddled the theme. His character doesn’t work as is but it doesn’t mean it can’t.

[prince-everhard]

No 8. WHERE DID EVERYBODY GO? “Don’t Say Goodbye” | Abandoned | Isolation

Title: After Fandom: Mass Effect Character(s): Garrus, Female Shepard Rating: T Warning(s): injuries, death Wordcount: 440 Summary: Jane comes for Garrus after the gangs’ assault. [part of the omega non-reaper au]

cross-posted to ao3 [eventually] @whumptober2020

“Garrus! Garrus!” His eyes were screwed shut. Everything hurt, hurt like he hadn’t ever felt before. His face felt like he’d been dragged across the scrublands of Palaven. Something shifted him, just slightly, but it was a small ripple of pain across his body greatly overshadowed by the wave of agony across his face. “-don’t you dare tell me I’m too late- Garrus-” That voice… Garrus knew that voice, though he’d never heard it so worried. 

Never heard her so worried. He was shifted again, but through the pain he opened his eyes as best he could. His right eye felt gummy and swollen, but his left cracked open to vibrant red hair, bowed over his chest. “J… Jane?”

She- Jane- looked up, her hands stilling on his armor clasps of his chestpiece. “Garrus,” she breathed. She sounded so conflicted, scared and hopeful all at once. “Garrus, I am so sorry.”

His throat felt like he’d swallowed glass, but he still forced out a question. “What for?”

“We’ve got to get out of here, Garrus.” She continued unfastening his armor, not answering him. “I have to take your armor off; you’re too heavy for me to carry like this.”

“Carry me?”

His armor fell away as she worked, mouth set in a grim line. “You can’t get out fast enough with your injuries, and you’re too big for me to carry with armor. Especially through the hidden escape route Mierin showed me.”

Mierin. The team. Garrus focused his gaze on Jane. Even as she slipped off the last of his leg braces, she didn’t look up. “The team-”

“I’m sorry, Garrus.” 

Oh. That’s what she was sorry for. 

Jane closed her eyes, just for a second, and then breathed out. Garrus watched her jaw clench before she bent down to lift him. Everything hurts pushed its way back into his thoughts and he shut his eyes again against the intensity of it. Jane lifted him so that he was slung over her shoulders; painful as it was, she was able to hold him without too much jostling.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, there was a violent staccato of gunfire. Jane cursed, sharply, and both of them tumbled to the floor behind cover. Garrus wasn’t sure what kind of noise left his mouth, only that it forced its way out and he had to fight not to vomit. He could just barely make out Jane next to him, reaching over to close Weaver’s eyes where she was splayed behind their same cover.

The rest of the trip after that was lost to Garrus, delirious with pain and grief.

[gv-archangel]

Time: A Mini Shepard and Garrus Fic

In honor of the wonderful little Mass Effect Relationship week I stumbled across, I decided to do a little mini fic that was a slight break from my usual stuff. I’ll probably repost it elsewhere soon, but it’s fine here for now.

Synopsis: Time can change a lot, whether you’re alive to acknowledge it or not. It can heal just as many wounds as it causes. But regardless of the changes, weathering them with a friend always makes it more bearable.

           “I’ll be damned,” Garrus chuckles, emerging from the main battery. He rubs his eyes to make sure the drowsiness isn’t affecting his sight. A few months ago, he would’ve assumed he was dreaming or losing it again. But not tonight.

           The dead Commander Shepard sits on the mess table like the ghost he is. He’s almost a perfect image of what he was two years ago: sitting on an uncomfortable perch, guitar in his lap, fingers picking at its metal strings. The glowing cybernetics in his skin and missing scars are the only details that show how long he’s been gone. It was like looking at an old photograph you had almost forgotten about.  

           The Turian slinks back into the shadow, observing the show. Aaron’s playing the instrument with more frustration than usual. He strums for a few seconds, then stops to look at the datapad next to him, getting more irritated with each pause. If there was one thing he never did, it was struggle with the guitar. Not unless something was bothering him.

           “But at a red light, in the sunshine, on a Sunday. Nothing to say, don’t even try…” That line seems to be what holds him up. On the last word, the strums are different from the rest. He can’t make that jump. His singing is off too. Not that he ever sounded great, but it’s worse than usual.

           The aching Turian walks into the light of the mess. “And I thought I kept odd hours,” he says to announce himself.

           Shepard looks over, then smiles. “Only time I can get some peace and quiet. What are you doing up?”

           “Chakwas is getting on to me about changing my bandages. Thought that and some painkillers would help me sleep.”

           “Horizon got to you too, huh?” Aaron asks somberly. He stretches his arms and readjusts the guitar in his lap. The small smile he had is already gone.

           Garrus sighs. “About as much as everything else.”

           The Commander takes a sip from his coffee mug, while Vakarian itches at his face. A few seconds of silence stand between them, until Shepard asks, “Hey, you got a minute?”

           “Had a feeling you’d want to talk,” the Turian admits. “Let me change this first. I’ll be back in a minute.”

           “Not going anywhere.”

           It only takes a minute for the wounded veteran to apply a fresh bandage to his wounds in the empty Med-Bay. He has the process down to a science after three weeks of dealing with it: peel the old rag off quick, drown half of his face in disinfectant, then apply a clean bandage. It’s still tender when it meets air, but it stopped burning a few days ago. He needs painkillers to sleep with it, though. He lays on that side in his sleep, and the pressure is enough to keep him up. A dose of the meds slides into his pocket before he returns to the mess.

           Shepard doesn’t acknowledge the Turian’s return, still trying to make the strings bend to his will. He’s relaxed a little, and the music seems to come a little easier. “Or something about this beautiful day” he sings in his rough, tone deaf voice. “She just looked me in the eye, said it’s over. Didn’t try to lie, or pick a fight. I might’ve seen coming that way… But at a red light, in the sunshine, on a Sunday. Nothing to say, don’t even try…”

           “Figures,” Garrus laughs aloud.

           Aaron stops strumming and looks to his friend with a sarcastic smile. “Can I help you with something, Vakarian?”

           “I’m in no position to be giving out music advice,” Garrus smirks back. “Or dating.”

           “Shut the Hell up.” The Commander slugs his companion in his good shoulder, giving them both a good laugh.

           For a few seconds, Garrus manages to forget what’s been keeping been him awake. As much as he hates human music, this takes him back. Back to when Saren was the only thing they had to worry about, and their group was still together. When he knew a scarred Krogan had his six covered, and a Quarian made sure the Geth defenses fought for them. Back when a day ended with unlikely friends talking over drinks and music.

           “I missed this,” Vakarian admits. “We could use some normalcy around here.”

           “Doesn’t feel quite right without Tali, Liara, and Ash, but I know what you mean. Kinda glad they’re not here, though: Liara wouldn’t let me hear the end of how bad I am.” Shepard makes a few slow fists with his hands. He stares at them intently, like they belong on someone else.

           “You give yourself too much credit. You were always terrible.” Vakarian flashes a smile to shake his friend loose from whatever fog is in his head.

           It seems to work. Shepard chuckles, then goes back to plucking the strings. It doesn’t seem to be any particular song this time, only random chords. “I keep telling myself I just need a little more time. ‘It’ll come back, it always does.’ Figured maybe it’s my new cabin. Thought if I played down here like I used to, it’d help. Besides, less of a walk for tea.”

           “Maybe we can get Jack in here, let her judge you. You perform better with an audience.”

           “Or Mordin, if we can get him to sit down for ten seconds. Holy Hell, he is something else,” Aaron laughs. “Remind me to pick up some caffeine next stop. I want to see him break the sound barrier after a few energy drinks.”

           Neither one of them talk again for a few seconds. Quiet doesn’t bother Garrus, not with Shepard. It just means they didn’t have anything else to say yet. Knowing the other is there is usually enough. There was something comforting in having someone you trust at your side. Especially if you were used to covering each other under fire.

           “Can I ask you something, Garrus?” Shepard asks quietly. His fingers keep moving along the metal on their own, his eyes unfocused on something only he can see.

           Vakarian just nods.

           The Commander stays in his mental fog, still playing. “What did you do those two years I was gone? Real details. Walk me through it, please.”

           Nerves pick at the Turian. There was a lot that happened, a lot he doesn’t want to think about. A few toasts to his lost friend when he was plastered in random bars, the fights he got into with his superiors, Omega. There were some things you left as far in your past as possible, if only for your own sanity. Unless you owed it to someone.

           “We got picked up by the Alliance the day after, taken back to the Citadel for a debrief,” he recounts while walking over to the kitchen. Something to drink sounds good. Something warm, to keep him up. “Took two weeks for them to accept what happened and let us go. I stayed on the Citadel, while the others went home. I tried to help with the damage: policing the areas still intact, leading raids on looters’ stashes, giving Doctor Michelle a hand when I could. That lasted about eight months before I got fed up with C-Sec and their damned red tape. Even when I found a family’s pictures in their stolen bags, some lawyer would show up and make us give it right back to the thief. A Reaper crashing into the damned Citadel wasn’t enough to make them fix anything…”

           Garrus realizes just how loud he’s gotten, and how tight he’s holding his cup. He forces himself to relax with a low sigh. The mug shows no damage, fortunately. “I spent four, no, five months looking for somewhere I could do some good. Palaven was a bust, so were the two other colonies I stayed with. Pirates tried to raid the last one, but the local militia and I took care of them. We looked through their equipment, found logs about Omega and the hellhole it was. I figured if there was a place I could deal with as many of them as I could, it was there. Gave the security some last pointers, packed my bags, and hired the first shuttle I could find.

“I don’t think I left the station that last year, not until you showed up. My first three months were recon, scouting out the food chain and weak points. Then I started hitting them where it hurt, baiting goons into kill zones I picked, away from their friends or civilians. Eventually, Sensat tracked me to my apartment and asked if I wanted some help. Then Monteague and Mierin showed up on my doorstep, armed and ready. Next thing I knew, there were a dozen of us nipping at the heels of the Blue Suns and Blood Pack from a real base… And you know how that ended.”

           There’s no visible reaction on Shepard’s face as he continues to stare. Garrus sits beside him again, sipping at his mug. Graxen would go great now, but there’s none in the pantry.

           “Did you ever find anyone?” Shepard asks in the same numb tone as the first question. “Date or anything.”

           Vakarian shakes his head. “I wasn’t great boyfriend material for a while. Angry at C-Sec, the Alliance for what they did to you, basically everything. After that, it never crossed my mind. Think Melenis had a thing for me, but I never gave her enough attention.”

           Aaron’s fingers finally stop playing with the guitar, and he closes his eyes. “Did you… ever forget about me?”

           “Did you listen to anything I said?” Garrus scoffs, borderline offended. “I followed what you did to the letter. I tried to help on the Citadel. When that didn’t work, I went somewhere I could. It didn’t matter if I was getting support not: I made sure those pirates paid for what they did. And when people started joining me, I made them into the best team I could. We helped more people on Omega than I ever did at C-Sec. I followed your example as best I could. So no, I didn’t forget you.”

           Shepard’s head hangs low as he sighs. He bites the inside of his lip quietly, never making a sound. “I’m sorry,” the Turian immediately apologizes.

           Shepard mutters, “It’s not you, Garrus. Have you, have you ever fallen asleep by accident? Just leaned back in a chair and took a nap without even realizing it?”

           Vakarian nods, not sure where this is going. “Once or twice.”

           “Imagine that. Imagine closing your eyes for what feels like a few seconds, then waking up years later. Someone tells you, ‘Hey, it’s been two years, and your friends are gone. They picked up and moved on. Some of them you broke and are going to spend their lives trying to live up to some ridiculous precedent you set, while the others are going to forget everything about you. What you liked, what scared you, who you hated.’ And you keep getting these little reminders it’s all real, like missing scars and fingers that can’t play anymore. But you just can’t get your head to accept that your nap was freaking years.” Never once does he open his eyes or look up from the floor. His face gets red with anger, but he never sees his companion.

           The Turian puts his arm over his friend’s shoulder. Not a hug, just a squeeze to remind him he’s there. Aaron rubs his hands over his face, breathing shakily. A minute, or maybe five, pass like that in near silence. The Commander never cries, and his friend never leaves his side.

           “Ash finally made it all sink in,” he mutters through his hands. “You acted like not a damn thing happened, joined right back up for a trip to Hell. Tali, busy as she is, wanted to. Joker and Chakwas are all onboard like it was last week… And then Ash forgets everything we went through. Like all this time I can’t remember made me a traitor.”

           “Well…” Garrus says, stuttering and improvising. “Screw her. If she won’t even let you explain, she doesn’t deserve to be a part of this team, or your friend. It doesn’t matter you were dead. You’re still Commander Aaron Shepard, still blowing the heads off bastards that have it coming and recruiting the most dangerous batch of freaks in the galaxy. That’s enough for me, Joker, Tali, everyone else. Screw her if it’s not.”

           Shepard chuckles a little, shaking his head. “That simple, huh?” He’s trying to smile again, with a bit of success.

           “She chose not to trust you. So yes, it’s that simple.”

           The Commander leans back and laughs. Loud and manic enough to wake up half of the ship, but a real laugh. And the grin on his face is genuine. “Guess it is. Guess it freaking is… Damn, when’d I become so emotional?”

           “Depends on who you ask,” Garrus chuckles, patting his friend’s back. “Should we get Wrex’s opinion?”

           Shepard just laughs. He starts to pick at his guitar again. There’s focus to it, something in his head driving him to play this time. “I guess I owe you one, don’t I?”

           “I’m not sure it makes up for the seven I owe you for Omega,” the Turian smirks. “You good?”

           He nods. “Work in progress. Better, at least. I’ll let you know when I realize how screwed we are with the Collectors.”

           “They killed you once and all it did was piss you off. What more can they do?”

           “We’ll tell them the same thing I’m telling Ash: screw you.”

           “And I’ll be right there to take the kill shot, just like old times.”

           The room becomes quiet again, save the guitar strings. Neither of them say anything as Shepard scrolls through his datapad, looking through his list of songs. He finds one and read the notes. To Garrus, it may as well be another language, but he has an idea of what he’s looking at. Shepard adjusts the nobs at the end of his instrument and picks until they sound right to him. He taps his foot to set the pace, then starts to play again.

           “Sometimes it’s one thing, and next time it’s nothing. It’s more than mistrusting, it ends up just crushing me. Stop with the fighting, I know it’s the right thing. I won’t let you do this, we have to get through this.

           “So say something, I’m not holding back. Before the scene we made goes and fades to black. Cause I can’t wait while you think this through. We don’t have endless time, remember who left who. Cause I won’t wait, won’t wait for you.”

           Even through the tone-deaf singing voice and foreign instrument, Garrus finds himself nodding to the song. He doesn’t need to sleep anyway. A little music therapy will do them both some good. More so than medicated, restless sleep.

[cxsmiicc]

iqet asain aso - lanfear/mierin drabble

It was horrifying in its splendour. The Sharom, split into thousands of pieces. The empty sky above Collam Daan, bare. Her, somehow still standing after all of the destruction.

lanfear drilling the bore because i was having thoughts

631 words, ao3 link in title

-

C’était ça. Das war’s. Iqet isain aso. This was it. At long last, she had found it. Well, found was a relative term. Does one find a metaphysical fraying in the fabric of the universe itself or simply detect it. This place was where the pattern was weakest. The new power source was clamouring for attention this close up, screaming as if a child wanting it’s mother to let it out to play. Fitting, somehow, that it should be here, in the Sharom. Let it out she would. This was her chance. Lews could deny her all he wished, but when this was done… She would be loved even more so than he, she would be revered. By all. That elusive third name would finally be granted to her, a symbol of her prestige upon first introduction.The days of him arriving at functions with her on his arm and later slipping away with that chit Ilyena would be long over, as would these of the opposite. The research he had been unable to quit with her could be more once again, more than a clandestine affair when he grew dissatisfied with Ilyena Moerelle Dalisar. No more of his denial of his continued infatuation with her. He would be hers again. The sooner the better, time to get this done. To open arms to a new age of power.

“Beidomon.” He rushed to her side after the utterance of his name, ready and willing to assist. Pathetic, truly.

Embracing the source, she saw him do the same. The two leaned into the familiarity of the One Power for what may well be the last time, drawing thick ropes of spirit to do the deed. Focusing on the True Source’s call, she accepted it, feeling Beidomon following suit. Twin weaves of saidin and saidar twined together, thickening before flattening in a flash that seemed to shake the magnificent building to its very core. Ignoring this, she kept channeling, the angreal tucked in her belt linking to its larger twin down far below and granting the blessing of continued power, keeping the flows growing and growing, and the rumbling to grow in congruence with it. She refocused on the call, emptying her mind of everything but it and her weaving, gently tying air and water into it as Beidomon did the same with fire and earth. Best to play to their strengths under such high stakes circumstances. She reached, and reality seemed to splinter. Shards of memory flashed before her eyes, nights with Lews assuring her of her value to him and the adjacent days of his constant neglect. Being used after their seperation, being ignored whenever Ilyena was present. Dread and anger and sickness and repulsion flooded her, but still she pressed on. Emotions were nothing but a hindrance to the goal, and could be dealt with when the straits weren’t quite so dire. The shards of existence seemed to rearrange themselves before her closed eyes, raising the question of how long had they been that way, how long since the horror of it all had forced the involuntarily attempt to shield herself from it.

This time, everything shattered. She was flung from the sky, barely catching herself in time. The pathetically weak flows of air righted her before she could hit the ground, and formed a protective dome woven with fire to defend against the debris raining down all around. It was horrifying in its splendour. The Sharom, split into thousands of pieces. The empty sky above Collam Daan, bare. Her, somehow still standing after all of the destruction.

“soon….” , A voice whispered against her ear and she whipped around only to find nobody there, and wonder how on earth she could hear anything that soft amid all of the screams.

[vulpixenthusiast]

God I am loving show lanfear. Calling ishy ishy. Being all dramatic with Rand in the wheel. “The importance of the name we choose for ourselves”. Rands: They would never turn to the dark and hers angrily: “I once thought that too”. Protecting Rand yes, but also lying and manipulating him at the same time. The gift of a dream. Teary eyed and softly whispered “anyone.” Taking the dream away from Rand when he’s about to touch Egwene. GODS I AM. I love you Lanfear I Love you so much Mierin Eronaile

[vulpixenthusiast]

Ok so this is me ranting abt lanfears character as a whole , not the show. If you’re bored or have nothing to do kkkkk this is long af and very messy, incoherent jumble of thoughts. I just needed to post this into the void to vent.

More after the cut

Ok so thing is: I never loved lews therin crazed obsessed lanfear. Never. Every time she’d say he’s been mine he will be mine forever and hated on illyena( yuc) I went yeah yuc. That was just such a boring stereotype, especially for a dark haired woman villain x innocent virgin boy. HOWEVER, I did love powerful, yet power hungry, proud and arrogant and MISCHIEVOUS ( loving to play pretend ) lanfear. ( crazy too, but for power, as seen in “we could defeat the dark one AND the creator.”) Then, of course, was the other “””endearing””” thing that Lews to her was like. The only one ever. Ever. In her own words to Mat: “there is ONE man who could walk beside me, ..” which is why the line “her new lover she seeks who shall serve her and die” never made any sense to me. Ofc, later on we get her and Perrin storyline( which hammers on the succubus metaphor, which I LOATHE, especially combined with power hungry) and then yeah the prophecy kinda makes sense. But then she’s not lanfear anymr she’s cyndane. Anyway.

I loved her more so because of all the POTENTIAL I saw her as a character, as a villain and antagonist and then possibly an “ally””” at the end( many air quotes kkkk ).

I LOVEDD when we got to the Aiel backstory and discovered she was Mierin eronaile, the researcher in charge of the team who opened the bore, aka, a literal hole in reality, allowing the dark one to touch the world. Like. What a pandora reference right??? You’d think a character like that would have more importance and development in a series so big right? She doesn’t really. She just stays 1 dimensional forever. And as soon as I knew that, after book 5, I quit wot. Also because moraine went with her, the deaths I found out about, siuan and Garett Bryne etc I digress.

My main beef was the complete waste of a good villain or antagonist like her.

So yeah. I loved her not for her main characteristic in the books( crazed ex gf) but for all the depht I WISHED she had. which tbh, it’s 90% on me, BUT the other 10’s are Robert Jordan’s bc he did set it up with things in the books I don’t have half a mind to remember right now, but one was her backstory.

So I am disappointed and sad with eps 4 ending because it did solidified that she will still be defined by her obsession and possessiveness with and of lews therin. Following up very likely with her hatred of Illyena. And yeah that is her character. And it is my own fault that I expected that to be changed. And still hope they tone it down after FOH.

All of that to say that apparently I’ve never been a real lanfear Stan kdkdkdkdkd I’ve just been a mierin Stan and power hungry lanfear fan. Not crazy gf, 85% of her personality, fan. And that’s on me KKKKK

I mean, if at least rbj gave her a backstory with lews, showed HER side of the story, then maybe yeah I could get a bit behind the over jealous ex stereotype. But all the books ever told us was: she never loved LTT, she loved his status, she loved his power, etc. well okay, then, show us. SHOW US HER perspective. Let us see WHY, HOW, she loved those things. Let us see if she didn’t in fact love him a little bit. Like.

What a shallow character would she be if she did only love those things bc,,, they were those things. She’d be just a shallow woman. And you could argue that that was in fact Robert Jordan’s intention. To show that yeah, here was this villain, superpowefull and beautiful, and yet, she was just an awful shallow human being in a human way. And maybe I read it wrong you know, maybe bc I didn’t want to view it like that, I didn’t. But like how Robert Jordan had her say lines and then cut her middle sentence. Intriguing. More mysteries. She was the one to free the dark one. Oooh VERY interesting. Crucial even( turns out not). She was the only forsaken to choose her name( oh wow! That’s more intriguing!). She had a meaningful relationship with the main protagonist! Wow! Wonder how that’ll affect the story and his journey! ( not much really, that’s just given to Ishmael/ Moridin).

What I’m saying is that Robert apparently wrote all those things to make her interesting and important to the narrative , hell to the whole reason the apocalipse was happening again, he did all of that, he was building this character like that, to just what. Go 180 degrees back and tell us : actually nevermind, she’s just some shallow woman, who opened the bore on accident and none of the events I just presented matter. At her core, she’s just a hollow woman, chasing power for power. Fuck you Robert Jordan why would you make me invested to do that?

Could’ve been a great critique, except that we are in a fictional book and I LOVE MY EVIL WOMEN, and ya know what. I want COMPLEX characters. You gave Ishmael complex reasons. You gave semirhage and graendal intriguing reasons. You already gave the men and the other women petty reasons. Why would you give the worst to the woman who is at the core of all this that’s happening? Bc of that? I don’t get it and it’s why it gets me so pissed.

This was a long ass rant and probably incoherent but I needed to sort my feelings out because I am a mess.