#spectre status recognized

[xoshepard]

having an emotion about video games again

[bikorarey]

I love bringing Ashley and Kaidan on the squad during the huge fight in the Citadel DLC cuz the VI will say it recognized their Spectre status. They deserve way more recognition for their growth as a soldier and person from being our OG Day 1 squadmate to being our equal.

[semi-imaginary-place]

Why Sukuna is interesting

i. the monster's body is a cultural body

ii. the monster always escapes

iii. the monster is the harbinger of category crisis

iv. the monster dwells at the gates of difference

v. the monster polices the borders of the possible

vi. fear of the monster is really a kind of desire

vii. the monster stands at the threshold… of becoming

(https://counttwinkula.tumblr.com/post/734263414967484416)

Sure there's the power fantasy cool aspect, Sukuna is designed by Akutami to be a cool character this is why we all joke that the author is Sukuna's biggest simp. He gets 3+ character designs, he's designed to be very distinctive and visually striking between the blood red eyes, the tattoos, the painted nails, or 4 arms. Like Gojo, Sukuna is hyped up to be super powerful and given cool visually stunning powers. Shrine looks really cool, that's it. Narratively Sukuna is presented as powerful, most of his fights are Akutami showing off how cool he is, defeating opponents like Jogo or Makora in epic battles or showing how powerful he is to the major antagonists of the series like Mahito. Sukuna has some of the heaviest symbolism surrounding him (again along with Gojo), everything from his philosophy and hedonistic lifestyle form a sort of anti-Buddhism imagery. He has such heavily religious imagery I mean his technique is Shine. Sukuna stands out with his archaic and poetic speech patterns and religious imagery in an otherwise very modern visually series.

But from a trans perspective he's especially interesting. His body is freaky, he's got 4 eyes and 4 arms and a tummy mouth. His form invokes both fear and awe (and really isn't that the goal). And the important part is that he has control over it, Sukuna can manifest an additional mouth on Yuji's body, he can from body parts at a whim, he can morph and stretch his body however he wants (whatever that was with angel). He has a very strong body motif though out the series even on to the end his final domain expansion held together with duct tape a hope and a prayer has the form of amalgamated and warped body parts. Even as he's ripped from Fushiguro he struggles to form a body out of nothing but will power, melting into a fleshy blob. The body motif is so strong, he's a fleshy visceral character. And who doesn't want to shape their ow flesh to their will.

I keep thinking about Sukuna in regards to Cohen's Monstery Theory which is just so incredibly trans already. Sukuna is monstrous both in universe and to the audience. He is the epitomy of calamity to jujutsu sorcerers, mythologized and raised the the deified status of natural disaster, an inhuman force beyond reason and human comprehension. He is turned from human to curse and Sukuna embraces this choosing to the end of his life to be seen as a curse rather than a human sorcerer. "Being the odd one out became unbearable so I just became what they feared" and all. In this way I find it extremely important that Akutami and the narrative recognize Sukuna as undeniably human in the end even if the vast majority of characters never do. Unlike Mahito who will dissolve and the fear of other humans reform into a new curse, Sukuna rejoins the reincarnation cycle of souls. Sukuna was not a cursed spirit in the technical sense but he made himself in a Curse through his own work and power, something dreaded as a spectre by sorcerers something more than human. People cursed a deformed child so he threw away his humanity (jin) and lived as the monstrous. Sukuna is presented as a cannibal because it's true but also to vilify him yet he doesn't eat anyone during the manga, but you know who does? Yuta. The thing that made Sukuna monstrous is revealed to be jujutsu society hypocrisy and cannibalism is a recurring thing in jujutsu.

In this way Sukuna acts as a disruptor of social norms, threatening sorcerer society just by existing. He isn't what a sorcerer should be he isn't what a human should be, but still he exists. He exists as an Other both inside and out of fiction, to be envied, feared, hated, fought against, and desired. But what of Sukuna himself? So I have empathy for the Monstrous, the Other.

[mollysunder]

Jinx and Viktor, They Make a Winning Pair

To win a card game Sevika pulls out two literal trump cards, the major arcana Death and the Magician cards, both in the upright position.

The Magician card, known as the Illness in Etteilla's version, represents the ability to channel both magical and earthly properties to enact change, essentially you have the resources and talent to complete your goal you just need the will to use it. Viktor's character easily aligns with the Magician, a talented man working in a society that views his home as lesser, and was the first to recognize the brilliance of Jayce's work in hextech. Right now he has nearly all the right elements to unlock the potential of the Hexcore, and the ramifications of the season finale are likely to further alienate him from Piltover and access to his own work. The card also heavily resembles a simplified version of the Machine Herald design, which includes a third arm and what is likely the Hexcore at the center.

The Death tarot represents change, specifically the end to a status quo which usually includes projects, relationships, and self-perception. Some interpretations describe it as moving on from the past to embrace the future. You could argue Viktor's arc shares these traits, and probably so might most characters in Arcane, but I think no one else better embodies the Death tarot than Jinx herself. Jinx drove almost every new development in Arcane, usually all the parts were there, but her actions gave the push necessary for things to come together. In a lot of ways, most of the characters in Arcane are dedicated to maintaining the status quo or just aren't interested in any fundamental changes to it. Jinx decisively ended the "peace" between Piltover and the Undercity. She destroyed any chance for Piltover to quietly maneuver away from the consequences that their society wrought. Also the card looks like her, the profile of the depressingly resigned spectre is similar to her own (the spectre even looks like it has her bang just floating above her hairline).

Together they give Sevika a winning hand against her opponents. I think this small scene before Sevika and Vi's first confrontation could represent how things might play out in season 2. Viktor is both figuratively and literally, one of the most isolated characters in Arcane. His allies (Jayce, Singed, and Heimerdinger) are few and far between and his strongest connection, Jayce, will likely be severed as politics and their own actions get in the way. Viktor will likely be put on trial for the death of Sky which will likely be compounded with trumped up charges of espionage as Piltover grows more paranoid (the law works differently for Zaunites). He'll need someone to either help him escape before the trial or to break out of Stillwater (if they don''t have the death penalty). Viktor needs new friends and there's no better saboteur to have in your corner for an escape like Jinx.

Viktor and Jinx will cross paths next season, likely in the middle of one of her exploits. The way Viktor defused Jinx's bomb likely indicates how things will go down between them, in a moment of tension Viktor can deescalate what ever literal or figurative bomb that's between them. This can only work in a moment of mutual vulnerability. Based on the promotional materials, specifically the RiotxArcane online event, Viktor is one of the few characters outside of Silco that doesn't immediately see her as some foaming at the mouth maniac.

In contrast to Vi, whose partnerships have started out of pragmatism, Jinx's bonds (which aren't many) were formed through acts genuine empathy mixed with compassion. This goes both ways, because Viktor needs someone who won't judge him for what he's done, what it's cost, and the fact he's going to go further. This is where I think the theme of forgiveness for season 2 comes in, neither of them can really apologize for what they've done to anyone really, but they can find acceptance (maybe forgiveness) in their new selves and all their capable of with each other.

If they actually partnered together, the Undercity has a real chance, because Viktor cares about the Undercity and Jinx cares about the important people in her life. Viktor just doesn't really have the political acumen or connections to genuinely be effective. Jinx definitely knows most of the ins and outs, but I think Sevika is the one most capable of making this work for her, for Zaun. Sevika needs unity and fire power, two tech geniuses one of whom is a controversial symbol of rebellion can work, somehow. Besides, Viktor still needs someone to bankroll his cybernetics and partial exoskeleton, which is a service at least one chem-baron, Smeech, provides.

Tldr: Sevika can win if she can wrangle the Undercity's most feral scientists together, timing is crucial.

Update: I'm back at this post because something's been gnawing at me over Viktor's card. The half infinity looking symbol within the Magician's hold is possibly the math symbol fish, ∝, which usually represents proportionality. This could be a neat hint to refer to the fact that Viktor will really dive into the balance of the arcane and the mundane powers in the next season. It's pretty cool that between the two characters who count as mages, Ekko is represented with infinity, ∞, to symbolize not just his future time travel powers, but also his infinite potential for himself and Zaun. While Viktor represents fish (proportion), ∝, to symbolize how he will find new balance, or at least create a path for it once he unlocks the hexcore.

Update 2: I figured it out!!!!!!!

It's fun how these three prominent Zaunites either don't talk to each other, or are actively at odds with one another, in the League or in Arcane (they'd be to strong together).

[cliozaur]

I love this chapter so much! It's incredibly intense, and I'll try not to delve into unnecessary details.

It seems that Hugo has exhausted his knowledge of sewers, freeing Valjean, Marius, and the readers to breathe "the pure, healthful, living, joyous air." Amazingly, the day isn't over yet—the sun sets, and it is still possible to read outside.

As soon as Valjean emerges, his first act is to tend to Marius. He approaches it "as though the sentiment of duty had returned to him," handling it "gently." Then, he senses another presence.

Valjean immediately recognizes Javert, who, in turn, fails to recognize Valjean, so that he has to explain who is ‘I’ (it’s time for a joke about his broad shoulders and muscular figure, something Javert failed to recognize – such is the reality of the Brickvert!) But this verbal confession isn't enough for Javert; he insists on confirming it with his own eyes. This scene feels wild, insane: “Javert thrust his bludgeon between his teeth, bent his knees, inclined his body, laid his two powerful hands on the shoulders of Jean Valjean, which were clamped within them as in a couple of vices, scrutinized him, and recognized him. Their faces almost touched. Javert’s look was terrible.”

And then Javert also recognizes Marius from the barricade and recalls his name, yet he doesn't remember him from the Gorbeau affair (fair enough—it was over four months ago, and their interaction was brief). Here Hugo describes Javert as “a spy of the first quality, who had observed everything, listened to everything, and taken in everything, even when he thought that he was to die; who had played the spy even in his agony, and who, with his elbows leaning on the first step of the sepulchre, had taken notes” – seemingly without irony, despite Javert’s past failures as a spy. And after checking Marius’ pulse, Javert declares him dead. Is it due to the weak pulse, or is Javert's perception impaired after nearly 48 hours without sleep?

Hugo emphasizes Javert’s change in attitude towards Valjean. Now he addresses the old man only with "vous" and he is ready to make a concession.

And it’s time for the most awkward ride in history: “the corpse, the spectre, and the statue.” It's almost a constant that Hugo likens someone to a statue just before their imminent demise.

[glowinggreeneyes-e]

Threads, 4.2k Capvers

Can be read as stand-alone but it's a chapter from There's a War Going On, AO3. I type like I'm a Victorian writer being paid by the word (derogatory).

papvers?? capventing??... capvers parenting but they're looking after an injured girl from West Horsley who wandered onto the Button House grounds. it's cute af. capvers also have Issues(tm), an 'It's Complicated' relationship status on 2008 Facebook, work-related tension bc of said angsty Issues, and yet still have penchant for fluff because gay love pierces through the veil.

May, 1940

The cloud-blocked sun still cast long shadows across the Captain’s dim study, bringing to prominence the weariness etched into the lines of his face and the aged floorboards grains. As he occupied himself with his duties, he became wreathed in wisps of smoke spiralling from the end of his pipe. Dust still kicked up with the gusts of the summer-soon reaching through the open window, capturing the Captain’s attention in moments of contemplation; he enjoyed watching it dance in the air, swirling in the rays of light, while his mind buzzed.

His gaze had been fixed on a document casing spread out before him - everything Operation Solder - it mocked him with its official title. Weeks had slipped through his fingers since he last penned a meaningful entry into the file, a truth that caused a pang of embarrassment to twist within him. However, he was quick to point out, that the fault wasn't solely his own: blame could also be apportioned upon Havers' shoulders.

Beyond the confines of their shared operations, distractions seeped into his consciousness. New training regulations fluttered in, War strategies billowed through the House, and novel projects beckoned him. Research and travel conspired to steal his hours, leaving him feeling as if he were forever chasing the hands of the clock. 

The camaraderie that once bound his unit had frayed from the incessant work, its once vibrant tapestry unravelling into isolated threads. A mere quartet, the remnants of his unit, were left finding solace in the pub's shady embrace: MacKenny, Jones, Thomas, and Johnstone, naturally. Card games and convivial offers came his way, but he abandoned those evenings once filled with social escapism. It was all melting into a mere memory. His realm of productivity demanded a vast expanse of solitude, the sanctuary of his own space, while he smothered himself in his charge.

It was a delicate orchestration of self-discipline; he navigated its intricate bars with an external resolute grace, but in his mind, he couldn’t be screaming louder.

It felt like he always ended up back here.

The tip of his index finger traced the inked signatures of his and Havers’ names adorning the bottom of the Operation’s title page. He then leafed through its neglected pages, though the Captain barely registered the innumerable notes or sketches or references. Instead, his mind only provided flashes of Havers’ research into silencers, Havers’ letters, Havers’ persistent obscurity.

At times, the Captain watched over the Lieutenant in the drawing room, capturing fleeting glimpses of Havers tutoring Roberts or pondering the world's weight with the end of a pen clamped between his teeth, or engrossed in the tomes that lined their shelves. Of course, the Lieutenant kept close attention to all communication: he’d be the first to ask Jones for the morning briefings from HQ, the earliest when sorting through paper correspondence, and the last to check MacKenny for news at night. 

The Captain witnessed Havers' self-imposed isolation, his entire hurt marked by being tight-lipped. While the two of them still found themselves captured in a web of tension, the library had provided a fragile interlude before trust dissipated into an elusive spectre. And with each stolen glance, each hesitant touch, the Captain recognized the preciousness of time slipping away, the dwindling opportunities to bridge the divide that had entrenched itself between them. 

Beneath the layers of frustration and reticence lingered a deeper truth - the profound and complicated truth that bound him to Havers. There, tightening like a torturous device around his heart, defeating his commitment to finding a way back to what they had once been, was a conviction that overrode everything else. Toxic in its intensity, consuming all reason, and yet refusing to be extinguished…

He couldn’t let it be the undoing of him: love. Especially when it was built on one man's lies.

Mid-afternoon had indolently rolled around with high clouds that cloaked the countryside. When duty had momentarily relinquished its grip, the Captain had, for the first instance that day, ventured to the kitchen for fresh water. He had dodged his unit on the way down, nipping behind walls and doors as if traversing through enemy lines, but instead, he was desperately hoping to be left in solitude.

This morning’s reports had drained his well of cordiality. An assault on the Low Countries was not just a whisper or hypothesis anymore, but a reality that gripped the world. One by one the states of Western Europe fell into occupation and War. In the trenches of his soul, Clarke sifted through the debris of disheartening news and searched for remnants of British optimism, to keep his capacity to carry on, keep to his duties, keep everyone in line.

It was after he had descended onto the ground floor landing, where silence gripped the empty space, that he was confronted by the existence of other people in the downstairs of Button House. Only this instance was entirely extraordinary: tucked neatly against the skirting in the House’s entryway, he spotted a pair of tiny red shoes covered in dried mud and oak leaves. He squinted down at them, the muscles around his eyes reflexively scrunching with his brief inspection.

He drew his hands together, clasping them resolutely behind his back and assumed a rearing posture, preparing to raise his chin with insolence: he just didn’t have time for this. 

Entering into the kitchen, he let a wave of exasperation sweep over him - the state of the cooking area was the last thing he wanted to concern himself with today.

But there, before him, was his Lieutenant and a shoeless little girl murmuring softly, engaged in quiet banter. Havers was down on one knee, first aid kit within reach. With steady precision, he gently cleaned the girl’s split skin across her shin bone with one hand and let her squeeze his other.

The scene struck the Captain twice, for the questions it raised and its palpable tenderness. A fuzziness as wonderful as the softest breeze wrapped around his ribcage as he observed. Never could he anticipate, let alone imagine, have he could have been moved by his second-in-command - he felt the strain between them go slack.

The girl was perched on one of the unused kitchen chairs, watching the Lieutenant’s actions intently. She couldn’t have been older than eight if the Captain dared hazard a guess (not that he had any authority on the ages of youth… did they have all their teeth? Did they know how to talk?). She was gowned in a blue gingham dress that complimented her freckled skin and ginger-blonde hair, rebelliously having escaped its plaits. Her long, white socks were pulled down, revealing the extent of her gashes. At her hanging feet, Havers had discarded several pieces of bloodied cloth and wipes in his endeavour to begin her healing. It appeared to be anything but superficial, but the girl’s clenched fists betrayed her stoicism. Such a sight plucked at the strings of the Captain’s heart, reverberating with echoes of sentimentality. Oh, God.

Eventually, he relented to the fact that he hadn’t been noticed. “Havers?” he asked, his voice breaking the spell of their hushed discussion.

Startled, Havers turned his head, his visage a canvas painted with a mix of guilt and mellowness, as though he had been caught in the act of thievery - stealing time from the call of duty, giving it to the girl. “Oh, sir, sorry - I have a bit of a war-wound situation that needs attending to.”

“Ah, I see,” the Captain reassured.

Infrequent interactions with children had left him unsure of how to reach across the chasm of age with the proper course of conversation. Yet, the innocence in the girl's gaze impelled him to transcend his uncertainty, not to scuttle back to his dulling work. His lips curled into a smile, etching lines of fondness around his eyes, and he approached the pair.

“And what might be the name of this young lady?” he gently inquired.

“I should have introduced you: this is Mrs Bell’s daughter, Matilda-”

“Tilly!” she corrected, her interjection imbued with spirited determination. “And I’m six and a half and a bit more, sir.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” was all the Captain could muster, overtly formal in his reply. Any further response remained suspended, momentarily caught in the deep embarrassment of not conjuring anything else. She smiled back at him all the same.

“By Jove, you must have nearly finished primary school by now,” Havers quipped, his tone soft and dulcet, laced in charm, all the while skillfully tending to a profound wound.

“No, sir, I'm not that old.” Tilly’s melodious giggles filled the air. Her hands hurried to cover her mouth, finally letting Havers free to bandage her up with full dexterity and concentration. “I’ve only been at school for two years. But I am really good at reading and writing. My teacher, Miss Durrant, tells me I have the neatest handwriting in all the school.”

As an observer, the Captain wrestled with a sense of inadequacy, in his own territory, too. He yearned to contribute - to coax a laugh from Tilly's stomach, to ease Havers' task with a jest - but his mind remained a barren landscape, void of inspiration yet littered with mines and gunfire. So he busied himself with discarding the stained and spent medical supplies into the bin.

Only the gentleness of Havers’ eyes punctured through the noise. And his gaze wasn’t even directed at him.

Havers acknowledged Tilly's testament with an enthusiastic nod, before continuing in such a genuine and calming fashion that the Captain was stunned at his sensitivity. “Gosh, how remarkable - you should take great pride in your accomplishments. You know, I struggle at times to decipher certain Officers' handwriting. But perhaps that's more my fault than theirs.”

“I bet I could read it! I can read almost anything.”

“I’d let you, were they not classified documents… unless, of course, you’re secretly an Officer? And you’ve been undercover this whole time?” the Lieutenant playfully quizzed, tilting his head. She nodded ‘no’, cheeks rosy from blushing. “Now,” Havers continued, distracting her from his wipes of antiseptic, “for someone as eloquent and intelligent as yourself, I imagine the rest of your schooling will be a breeze. What do you want to do when you leave education?”

“Well, I wanted to be an actress but Mummy says I can’t so I’ll just work at the factory like her,” Tilly said. A hint of disappointment tinged her reply as innocence wrestled with the stark realities that framed her life. All the brazen honesty and innocence a child should possess was already being eroded.

“I think the girl who can read almost anything can do anything, Tilly,” the Captain found himself saying, a surge of warmth emanating from his heart to his words. “Your life should not be bound by anyone else's expectations. With your killer smile and delight, the world is your stage. That, I promise you.” 

As he spoke, the Captain noticed a subtle shift in Havers’ demeanour, a flicker of intrigue followed by a raised eyebrow. Yet, Havers continued his ministrations, his focus unwavering. 

The Captain and the girl exchanged a smile, content to let the moment linger, to weave his rhetoric into the fabric of Tilly's memory and impressionable heart.

“Oh, I- Thank you, sir.”

As he reached to put the first aid box away, his knuckles brushed Havers, who was reaching down to store away a pair of scissors. He quickly stood up and put distance between them, terrified that such contact would be reported to her family, even if Tilly was oblivious. “My, uh, my mother was an actress,” he added to fill the ensuing lull, an equal distraction for Tilly and himself.

“Oh, woah, what was she in?! Was she in the opera? Or-Or did she act in the pictures?” the young girl exclaimed, her green eyes - fixed on him - were wide with contagious enthusiasm, her candour a mirror of her age.

Havers also asked that question, only his was unspoken and shrouded in a veil of something indecipherable to the Captain.

It didn’t occur to him that he’d have further inquiries, nor the flood of pain and images it would unleash. Memories, long dormant, surfaced in a haze. His mother was long fated to be contained to tattered photographs and stories told by strangers. Caught in this inner reverie, the Captain bit his cheek, the taste of nostalgia mingling with his thoughts. His hands, now free of tasks, found solace at his side as he stood to attention; he looked at Tilly, though his thoughts were darting elsewhere. It was only after Havers shot him another glance of concern that he realised he should respond. “Oh, uh, well… she was on the West End in several productions; she worked under Ibsen for Hedda Gabler and Ghosts ; I was told she socialised with Oscar Wilde and George Bernard Shaw; she-she even performed in New York for a short period. If she could forge such a path half a century ago, one can only imagine what you can achieve.”

“Can she make me famous?”

He hesitated, a moment of introspection that hung heavy in the air. He hadn’t the heart to tell her that his mother had long since passed, but he also hadn’t the aforethought to lie. “Come now, you can do that all by yourself, Miss Tilly.”

At that point, the final bandage had been securely set in place, and Havers rose, his gaze hovering on his handiwork. “There you go,” he proclaimed, a note of quiet satisfaction permeating his words. 

Having inspected the Lieutenant’s meticulous efforts, the Captain made a commendatory sound and bounced on the balls of his feet approvingly. “And how’s our bravest Officer feeling?” he said to Tilly, infused with newfound confidence. Conversing with her felt more natural than anticipated, less daunting than he’d initially assumed. His heart no longer felt like it was going to explode for the wrong reasons. He’d just had to - uncomfortably at first - relinquish the mantle of ‘the Captain’.

She pulled her socks over her wound dressings. “I’m ready to get back to the frontlines, sir!”

“Jolly good. Hasn’t our Lieutenant Havers done an outstanding job?”

“He has indeed, sir… Captain, sir.” Tilly responded with a touch of formality, her voice a blend of admiration and respect. She looked up at Havers, beaming at him. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“You’re welcome. You displayed incredible courage, Tilly,” Havers accredited, unrolling the cuffs of his sleeves. “I commend your bravery.”

“You’re braver.”

“Uh,” he breathed, “well, I wouldn't-“

Her reply, brimming with childlike virtue, cut through the air. “And the loveliest man in the whole wide world.”

A flush of humility tinted Havers' cheeks, his attempt at modesty stumbling in the face of her unguarded sincerity. His gaze averted as if unable to bear the weight of her praise. He stumbled to find his footing. “I-I’m not sure-”

The Captain's intervention was swift, his own brand of reassurance layered with a dash of jest. “I should fancy you are spot on with that assessment, soldier. I quite agree.” 

He then found himself peering at his second-in-command, filled with pride himself; his heart was messily aflutter, stuck in conflict, as he reigned in his fleeting moments of turbulent infatuation. Havers’ reticent smile and compassion with the young girl, his intellect and service, how had he the heart to deceive him? The Captain's face fell, realising he once looked at Havers with much the same innocence as Tilly.

“He is! I got lost and he saved me from the dirt and sharp stones and stinging nettles like I was one of your soldiers. And he made my leg feel better.” Tilly's enthusiasm bubbled forth, her recounting of the events a vivid testament to Havers' gallantry.

“Oh, but you are one of our soldiers,” Havers countered, deflecting from the compliment. “You so fiercely traversed the wilderness and sought refuge with your allies when you needed help. And now - although I’m not exactly qualified - you have just been nursed back to health in this battlefield triage. That certainly makes you a real soldier.”

“I am?!” Her small hands tucked her hair behind her ears and she swung her feet. Her leg, still tender, responded to her exuberance with a cautionary protest - she winced at the sudden movement and settled for kicking the uninjured one in her excitement.

A spark of inspiration suddenly crossed the Captain’s mind, illuminating his eyes. He turned around to confirm it. In the corner of the kitchen, a coat stand stood adorned with the winter apparel of others - Last's coat, Miller’s scarf, and an old standard-issue cap that had remained untouched for months. The Captain deduced it was likely Bosanko's, left abandoned in his snappy departure. “Here, Matil- Tilly, try this on,” the Captain suggested, his voice infused with childlike anticipation as he retrieved the cap from its resting place. He swiped it and handed it over to her.

Tilly stood up, unintentionally scraping the chair back with a brief screech. As the hat was extended out to her, she glanced between the two men; though her eyes twinkled with eagerness, her eyebrows folded together. It was as if she was preparing to accept the weight of the responsibility that came with the uniform. Resolutely, determinedly, she took it and placed it like a crown. The cap, much too large for her head, remained perched with a playful tilt.

“There,” Clarke’s simper was barely masked beneath his moustache as he reflected her infectious joy. “Suits you splendidly; now you’re fully qualified and ready for whatever comes your way.”

“At your service!” A salute, both a gesture of gratitude and a pledge of allegiance, punctuated their interaction.

The Captain returned Tilly’s salute, a buoyant sensation coursing through him. He was sure he hadn’t felt this light in months, the moment lifting a weight he hadn't fully acknowledged existed. The world around them seemed to blur, fading to insignificance as he basked in the fulfilling simplicity of brightening a child’s day during a War.

Yet, out of the corner of his eye, he caught the subtle signs that aired Havers' unease. Ever the composed and capable man, he bore an unfamiliar veneer of trepidation. A deep inhale, tense shoulders - the Captain supposed Havers was enduring his own hurricane of emotions.

“We should be taking our leave,” the Lieutenant promptly suggested, directing his passive instruction towards the young girl.

However, the Captain chimed in, carrying a sense of authority again. “No need; I’ll call her mother to pick her up.”

“That will take too long, sir. I’ll walk her back. Make sure she doesn’t get into any trouble.”

“R-Right, very well; as you were, Lieutenant.”

Havers' gaze shifted to Tilly, his eyes meeting hers with gentle instruction. “Why don’t you put your shoes on?”

“Yes, sir!” she replied. She grabbed the cap’s visor and gathered the fabric of her dress, then scurried to the entryway where her shoes awaited.

As Tilly, absorbed in her task, prepared herself for the walk home, the Captain and Havers moved further into the kitchen, their actions a conscious retreat from the young girl's view. The Captain wasn’t sure why they were gravitating back there, moving in unspoken accord, but he let it happen.

In this sanctuary of muted privacy, their proximity stirred images of a time when the distance between them was calculated and terrifying. The Captain's heartbeat quickened, and for a fleeting moment, he was transported back to those clandestine days where their glances held a world of longing, where they couldn’t even meet each other’s eye without blushing, when he could only dream of what it would be like to kiss Havers. 

His chest leapt and suddenly it was like nothing was ever wrong. It was just him and Havers against the world once more.

If there were another force of nature left undiscovered, the Captain could feel it in his heart as it pulled him closer to the Lieutenant. The frustration he had harboured for so long washed off his soul as their knuckles brushed once more, igniting a connection that transcended speech, though not quite replacing it.

“You’re having quite the adventure today, Lieutenant. Although dealing with lost and injured children isn’t typically within the scope of our duties, I’m hesitant to pull you up for it,” the Captain spoke softly, offering warmth under his subtle teasing.

“Sir,” Havers warned in a whisper, doing nothing to pull away. A further response seemed poised on his lips, but the words never came, leaving them suspended in a painfully awkward moment.

“I had no idea you were so good with children. You treated her as if she was your own.” The Captain shifted their discourse to a more palatable subject than War or the threads between them, steering a diverting course around difficult conversation for as long as he could.

Alone and emboldened, he reached out, and held Havers’ hand by their sides: a touch, gentle yet laden with significance, meant to bridge every distance between them. Havers briefly met their intertwined hands like it was burning him, then squeezed the Captain's hand as though it was a soothing remedy.

“She will surely remember your kindness for the rest of her life. You’re exceptional with her,” the Captain continued, his words infused with affection, his grasp on Havers' hand tightening slightly.

“It’s my duty to be so. She is everything we are fighting for, everything we need to protect, everything I should be-” Havers stopped himself. His breath hitched which he bit down with a solemn smile. “I am only doing what is right.”

“Yet I do not hear of Lieutenant’s walking injured little girls home to make sure they are safe and do not get into any trouble with their mothers.”

“Well, I couldn't send her off into the village by herself. Look where she ended up last time. ”

“There are worse fates than ending up being cared for by you.”

The atmosphere between them grew warmer, filled with coy smiles and bashful glances, a glimpse of the raw infatuation they once wholly felt. An incandescent hope jumped inside the Captain, a possibility that perhaps they weren't as strained as he had feared, they weren’t as doomed as he’d embraced.

Their eyes locked, two souls laid bare, until the Captain felt compelled to break the loaded silence. “You haven't quite been yourself as of late.”

Havers huffed an aggrieved laugh through his nose. “I could say the same for you. It’s been rather a dreadful few weeks for us, though, hasn’t it?”

“I suppose so. But it wouldn’t be so terrible if we talked.”

“We tried,” Havers said, appearing a fusion of heartache and longing only documented by romantics.

Not hard enough, the Captain bitterly thought. He held this truth close, unwilling to risk regression in the delicate balance he had struggled to achieve. He still sought a way to reconcile Havers’ life with his own, with the War, with them. But Havers had made it his mission to not talk any further about himself - when everything was so intertwined, the Captain wondered if Havers ever intended on fixing the tension between them. No, he’d sooner run away, like he is now.

The goodwill that had once filled him now receded, replaced by the familiar undercurrent of paranoia. “I'm ready for you to try again.” His comment tumbled out with an unintended edge of anger. 

Then he saw a glint of tears forming in the wells of Havers’ brown eyes, and the thread of trust frayed to its thinnest strand.

“Good God. You’re impossible,” Havers breathed, almost pleading.

“What?”

“You know- Why are you-?”

“I’m ready!” Tilly called from the other side of the wall.

Tilly's shout shattered the moment, her voice a reminder of their reality beyond this brief interlude. Havers moved away with a hurried pace without another glance, his attention purposefully drawn to the young girl. 

Empty-handed, the Captain trailed behind, his own sense of yearning now mingling with the cold air that now seemed to envelop the ground floor. The space between them exploded with its expansion, threatening to swallow what was left of their fragile entanglement.

“We’ll get you home and clean those fantastic shoes up. They’ll be back to a bright red in no time,” Havers declared to Tilly with a gentle celebration. He offered his hand and she reached up, locking their palms together. Havers held all the weight of her arm with one hand and opened Button Houses’ front door with the other. “Onwards, soldier. I don’t suppose you know any marches or songs?”

As the Lieutenant guided Tilly outside, the Captain remained, watching from the window, an observer of this scene that both resonated with familiarity and echoed with the chilling void.

The Captain knew things had turned sour. Play fighting was merely fighting. From the fringes of War, they absorbed every harrowing development while they were working themselves sick. And amidst it all, a sinking feeling, a premonition, gnawed at the Captain's gut: an intuition that the worst news was yet to come.

When it did come, it would devastate him. And it will be Havers’ fault, he vehemently tried to convince himself once again.

[anxiousqueenmarmaroth]

We Shall Remain: Ch. 2

Chapter 2: Tomatoes for the Girl Next Door

“Sometimes I doubt if this thing could ever really work: humans and turians. My dad always taught me to outthink the doubts by making the pros spare heat syncs and the cons enemies on the field. But I’ve actually been there: outnumbered with an Atlas marching on us. Funniest thing, this gorgeous girl gives me this crazy grin, tosses a clip my way, and says, ‘This part is going to be hilarious.’ And then I remember that’s my girl. I can just toss her out there like a frag grenade and boom! paint the walls.” Garrus Vakarian, Citadel Couples ep. 516

 Victus was certainly chattier than the last Primarch. Then again, the last one barely exchanged words with him, usually passing dismissively by him to speak to his father. The good news gave a pep to his step, though it was tempered by the urgency gained by the hours it took to secure it.

  Shepard was lounging on the lone chair in the room, her legs swung over one arm and her stomach rolled in that adorable way it did when she forgot that there was someone else in the room. She looked almost happy with her damp hair pulled back in a lopsided bun, her eyes trained on her datapad, and her feet tapping together to a song no one else heard. But his visor revealed her eyes were red and irritated and her pulse was erratic-- all signs of distress in humans. Her face had that familiar, devastatingly stubborn quality to it as if she could overcome the disaster with her scorn alone.

  She jumped a little bit when he touched her knee, her foot priming back for a kick before recognizing the intruder. 

  “Busy day?” she asked.

  “You have no idea.” He rested his head against the side of hers, letting out a soft rumble when she set down her datapad to fully embrace him with her half-naked body, still cool and damp from a bath. Was there anything softer than human skin when it molded to the shape of his hand like high-quality clay? Anything that smelled better than the crown of her head freshly washed? He doubted it.

  “Is there something I need to know?” It was dangerous, stiff, bracing for a shot to the gut.

 The thing about Shepard was she wasn’t real, she was an appealing character manufactured for recruitment posters and inspirational vids-- carefully applied in the morning like her eyeshadow or her lipstick. Commander Shepard was kind, honest, charismatic, the kind of leader that inspired the best out of an entire galaxy even in the face of certain annihilation. A rifle carefully calibrated and honed, but ultimately just a neutral tool incapable of thought or emotion. It’s not as if Keeva wasn’t any of those things, but she was also distrustful and vindictive: a sniper fashioned of raw emotion and a trigger finger made of sheer will. She preferred the shadows, finding amusement in the performance the same as a conman and finding even greater amusement when people so convinced with the performance threw accusing fingers at those that called it for what it was.

  The whole drive he was thinking about how he would tell her, a way to display his accomplishment in a way that practiced the subtle art of the humble brag. Maybe even a way that managed to impress someone that was capable of doing anything with only the slightest pressure of her finger. But now that he was here his carefully crafted sentences slipped through his fingers like loose sand, like they always did. All he could do was hold out his emptied hands and stare disappointedly at the huge gap between his fingers.

  She took them, filling them once again with something less determined to slip away.

  “Primarch Victus offered me a commanding position in an intermilitary task force. Everything’s laid out: Spectre status, freedom to pick my own team, the Normandy, all of it.” It wasn’t as flashy as he originally planned, but it got the job done well enough.

  “That’s amazing, Garrus! When?” She pulled her lips tight and crinkled her eyes in too flawless a mimicry. Her voice perfectly hit the pitch of human delight and excitement. All calculated, of course. He knew the signs to watch for when she was genuinely happy, like the blood rushing to her face with such force the blush popped through her warm, light brown skin and she couldn’t stop smiling if she wanted to, and the way she squirmed away from his gaze to keep him from noticing it.

  In Keeva’s head, she was already screaming and putting her first through walls and coming to terms with accepting the Council position because she couldn’t stand the company of ghosts anymore. It’s not like anyone had the chance to sit her down and explain how one was to gracefully accept the inevitability of losing. She never thought he was stupid, but she did hope he had a large enough blind spot to keep him for a little longer.

  “I won’t bore you with the details, but Victus has wanted to secure relations with humans since Relay 314. And he seems convinced that I’m the guy for the job. So, Shepard, honey, love of my life,” he rubbed soothingly against her knuckles, “I have a position open.”

  “What position?” Her tongue became thick and dry with the mixture of relief and dread that coursed through her body.

  “I need someone I trust as second. But Victus already said you can take the commanding position as long as I’m second. Something about me being the only person that ‘can survive a disagreement with that crazy woman.’”

  “I... I don’t think I want to- shit,” she had to take a deep breath to cough out the bitter confession that got caught on the sarcastic organ in her throat, “I don’t have it in me to make those big decisions anymore. I’ve seen enough people die with my bullshit playing in their heads.”

  “I won’t make you.” He thought very hard about what he wanted to say, “You’re always going to have to question my decisions, you’ll always have to pull me away from work, you’ll always have to make tough judgment calls. We’re in this together, Shepard and Vakarian, and that’s what makes us so damn good.”

  “There’s no human representative to the Council.” The words he was saying gently led her into dangerously romantic territories. Turning down the position would be a very public vote of no confidence that the galaxy was too fragile to withstand. She almost didn’t care. 

  “Victus is pulling some strings. Anderson was always going to be tough to replace, and Udina made it that much harder. But he wouldn’t have brought it up if he didn’t think we were close.”

  It sounded so perfect, it truly did, “Aren’t you worried about your mom? Do you think the salarians won’t take good care of her if I’m, you know?”

  “Well, you know me, I can’t be happy unless I’m worried about something. But she’s being moved back here with the other patients, and the team of researchers, so there’s that at least.” He made a vague motion with his occupied hands at her inquisitive look. “Look, Shepard, if you’re not ready for this just say the word.”

  ‘Not ready?’ That didn’t sound right. She was never ‘not ready.’ Tired, maybe. Tired of treading water, but desperate to breathe. Unable to override the conditions that fought over whether she should swim or drown.

  She gazed out at the tall tree outside, snuggly embracing itself in the warm light cast from their room. In the reflection the room looked welcoming, encircling the mismatched couple in a warm halo. They looked happy together, fitting together like pieces from different puzzles: slipping effortlessly into each other’s edges and grooves in a confusing, heady new picture. Framed in its sill, their reflection looked like a turn of the 22nd century space romances her sisters were obsessed with. It certainly didn’t look like one of those cozy domestic romance books that made the rounds in her mothers’ day that fetishized discovering the goodness right outside your door, setting down roots, growing tomatoes in the little planter box on the balcony. Garrus didn’t belong in those stories, he was still impatient, still believed the red tape he bit through didn’t immediately close up behind him like some kind of horror vid, still had no use for tomatoes. Archangel and Garrus Vakarian were destined for heroism in equal measure, and the only thing she could really decide was whether or not she was strong enough to keep him as steady as he had kept her.

  Chaos spilled out of her in a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, “If it’s a cross-species task force you’ll need a second that knows how to juggle all that. Plus, I’m pretty good with public relations in general.”

  “Are you sure?” It was nervous, excited, uncertain of the enthusiasm to be thrown back into one of the least appreciated jobs in the galaxy.

  The thing in the window wasn’t so hideous in this light, with dewy eyes that sparkled and a goofy little smile she couldn’t hide even if she wanted to. She had to move her hands just to be sure her and the reflection were in fact the same. Is that what love did to a person? Was it capable of breathing something so full of life someone might actually confuse it for a person? If his name tumbled from a stranger’s lips next to her statue, would she pry her feet from their pedestal just to cradle the earth in which it fell?

  “Oh please, do you know how long it would take you to find someone half as good as me?” Keeva’s eyes turned their full force back on him, unwavering in their newfound resolve.

   “I’d say we’d have to clone you, but good restaurants here are so rare.” He was proud of himself for that one.

   “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Garrus.”

[ao3feed-mshenko]

you couldn't look any more like a love

by sociallychallengednerd

Nathan Shepard has more than enough on his plate: end of the world, new Spectre status, the crushing weight of everyone's expectations, without having his ex assigned at his Staff Lieutenant. Thankfully Kaidan doesn't seem to recognize him. Which is fair, Nate's come a long way from the scrappy thug that used to sell pretty boys red sand for cheap in exchange for a bit of attention. Now, Shepard just needs to remember that Kaidan /doesn't/ remember.

an ME1 reimagining

Words: 19207, Chapters: 8/8, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of Nathan Shepard

Fandoms: Mass Effect - All Media Types

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Male Shepard (Mass Effect), Shepard (Mass Effect), Kaidan Alenko, Liara T'Soni

Relationships: Kaidan Alenko/Male Shepard, Kaidan Alenko/Shepard

Additional Tags: Earthborn (Mass Effect), War Hero (Mass Effect), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, idk man its both at the smae time just trust me on this, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, but in the most dysfunctional way, Exes, Past Relationship(s), Past Drug Use, Past Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Drug Dealing, Canon-Typical Violence

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/48739345

[anderwhohn]

Shepard. Human. Spectre status recognized.

• dossier • verses • interest tracker • rules •

[uponthenormandy]

cant imagine being in me3 in the elevator on the citadel with just like. some guys. and the damn elevator goes "spectre status recognized" like does it turn off when others are in there? does it go to your omnitool/earbud thing? like

[bikorarey]

Time for another banger post about Ashley Williams.

You ever think about Ashley going through officer School and hearing the instructor go on about Shepards crowning backstory achievement(Elysium/Torfan/Akuze) ? The instructor says something eronius and Ashley corrects them about it and when asked for proof she goes "Shepard told me personally how it went down while we were on the Normandy tracking Saren." And the class and instructor begin to show her respect that she isn't used to.

Do you also think about the first time after becoming a Spectre that Ashley enters the Spectre Lounge on the Citadel. Hearing "Commander Williams, Spectre status recognized" from the VI and how it hits her that she's nuked her glass ceiling from Orbit and is considered one of the best operatives in the entire galaxy, let alone the Alliance?

Do you also think about the first time Ashley visits her father's grave after the Reaper war to tell him about all the things they did and how the Galaxy has been forever changed because a handful of the right people believed in her one good time and she made sure to prove them right?

Cuz I do.

[azranox]

1. Solaris Applications, it’s the only store I’ll actually do the “favorite store” thing for

2. During me1 they can’t go anywhere without someone recognizing them, in me2 they manage to be lowkey til illium and then they start getting noticed again and in 3 well they’re Shepard… and the public likes them, they’re more nefarious deeds aren’t well known

3. Oh they play alright, it’s team bonding! And they love it, it’s the best chance they get to just stealth around cuz normally cuz have to snipe or be a tank

4. Hmmm, something small like schedule changes of the crew. They know the routine of the ship just as well as edi does

5. Besties, it took a while to convince Javik but once he realized shep did understand his people (cipher) he started to open up.

6. 1/2 “eezo eyes” light purple/blue, 3 they’re always wearing a sentry interface cuz war

7. Not very, always armed in a (dapper if I do say) suit with stage two scars. They’re a little scary

8. They’ve aged a decade in three years and they were dead for two of them. They know they’re changed, But fundamentally they’re the same person.

9. They love all creatures and aliens, but post bahak they actually have the most beef with humans and the alliance (due to this they don’t introduce as alliance navy but instead council spectre)

10. As much logic as they can muster and they go into one man army mode and medigel until they’re back on the ship, then they don’t leave the bedside of their injured friend until someone (normally chakwas) forces them out

11. 1- Garrus and Wrex. 2- Garrus Thane Samara Tali 3- Garrus Javik Tali

12. Barely disguised rage cuz Shep calls him on his bullshit, and they gave the council seat to Anderson

13. Shep sees Saren as a sad figure, tried to do what he thought would help and then the Reapers got him. At first it was just business and then the viewpoint shifted post battle of the citadel

14. Their death is a VERY popular rumor, and shep doesn’t talk about it much, but they will not lie when asked.

15. Nah, they’re demi like me and didn’t hit it off with anyone til me2

16. Upgraded biotics, strength, healing, and endurance but some of their tech skills got lost.

17. Interviews suck, but are a necessary evil. First interview post Akuze was fine. They came across as shy and traumatized. Most recent interview was a no nonsense you will be friends with the geth I don’t care if you don’t like synthetics. They say what they need to and don’t cut corners.

18. They only really cared for the alliance. In the fact they got them off of Mendora after the attack and gave them a path forward but once they got their Spectre status, they became spectre first and foremost. Especially post bahak

19. They get short with their words and their eye twitches, and people notice and usually run away

20. They can no longer wear regulation N7 armor, it gives death flashbacks. Instead they have custom black and teal armor with a custom breather helmet with an extended visor. Their most treasured weapon is Mordins carnifex for both friend reasons and they killed the proto reaper with it (true story I was out of all my other ammo in my latest Playthrough. All I had was six rounds in the carnifex and my biotics. Shot that bastard in the eye)

21. They wanted to be an artist, whatever medium spoke to them that day. Quiet shy and stayed to themselves. That all changed after mindoir.

22. Shepard cried, joker cried, shep dogged on him a little but was just happy to have a familiar face in hell.

23. When thane dies

24. Not when they try to be, but occasionally someone will laugh at their deadpan stares in the mess.

25. During officer training they were able to go to an online university were they got a degree in combat tech. But they learn on their own with the extranet when missions allow.

26. Yes but no one knows its shep

27. Clone (I just finished that mission irl)

28. No, they’re an only child and their parents chose colony life to escape toxic families

29. Yes, but Shepard has been trying to put a stop to it since they came back.

30. Akuze, they took a three month leave of absence and almost didn’t come back but their instincts wouldn’t let them not.

31. A very good one, actually follows advice and will try and take it easy after major injuries. But they complain the entire time.

32. They’re damn good at it but it’s not their favorite thing to do

33. While Shepard has had their moments of rudeness, (they hung up one time in me1) the council has grown to like shep. Besides udina. The job gets done with as few casualties as possible and reports are well formatted and timely

34. “Another Cerberus bitch” but now jack knows Shepard was an experiment just like her who was trapped with a more elaborate cell and cuffs. Shep is a mentor and friend to Jack.

35. Shepard and wrex were laughing like wild dogs and Garrus was in the passenger seat holding on for dear life. “LETS FUCKING GOOO” is a quote from shep when they hit the relay. “Ouch” after landing.

36. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck. Ya know what? Fuck you I’ll kill you all

37. Cubed and oven roasted with oil garlic and a ton of pepper

38. As lucky as an unlucky bastard can be

39. Short temper, inability to open up to anyone outside the ground squad, chakwas or joker, and they will fight authority now that they’ve grown used to spectrehood

40. Me1 higher than average but still normal, post Lazarus? Way to high, they regularly take rockets to the chest and don’t flinch.

41. Their space hamster

42. A nice house on Rannoch with Garrus. Tali lives nearby and Javik lives in the in law suite.

43. Past, try and prepare better for the reapers

44. Physical? No. Lives? Yes

45. Yes

46. Suprisingly afterlife, aria lets Shepard just be without haggling them and why would Commander Shepard be in afterlife anyways? Plus aria doesn’t wanna admit it but she’s grown fond of shep

47. Thane, Garrus and Tali yes. Others no

48. enjoys it, it’s time to sit and be silent. They’ll turn on a vid and just chill

49. Tshirt and bike shorts. Comfy and they can throw their armor on on top if need be

50. they read a book on supermassive black holes before going through the Omega 4 relay

(my shep is very young compared to Canon Shepherd, only 24 in the events of me1. It might be a little bit unrealistic, but with all the events of their life, they certainly feel like they’re 30)

fifty (oops again) questions for commander shepard

I said I was done!!! Alexa play Britney

Round one, two, three and four

OH spoilery things ahead n in all fyi

1. What is Shepard’s favorite store on the citadel?

2. What is the public’s opinion/awareness of Shepard?

3. Armax arsenal arena: do they participate? How do they like it?

4. Shepard wakes up in an alternate universe. What tips them off?

5. What kind of relationship does Shepard have with Javik?

6. The first thing a person notices about Shepard’s appearance:

7. How approachable are they?

8. What is the difference between me1 and me3 Shepard? Do they notice, or does someone have to point it out?

9. Did/does Shepard have any alien biases?

10. How do they handle a teammate being badly injured during a mission?

11. Who is in their inner circle?

12. What does Udina think of them?

13. What does Shepard think of Saren?

14. Is Shepard’s first death publicized? (Since in game seems both people know about it and the alliance covered it up)

15. Did they have any relationships pre-me1? Still around?

16. What additions did Cerberus give Shepard?

17. Have they done any interviews? How did the first one go? And the most recent?

18. What do they think of the alliance?

19. What are they like, when in a bad mood? How obvious is it?

20. Does Shepard’s armor hold any significance to them? What about a weapon?

21. What was Shepard like before the alliance?

22. What was the post-lazarus reunion between shepard and joker like?

23. Ever had a broken heart?

24. Are they funny?

25. Have they made pursuits into further education? Any degrees?

26. Does Shepard have a Twitter account

27. The last time they were rude to someone:

28. Does Shepard have any family?

29. Does the alliance use their image for propaganda/recruitment? Did they agree to/want it?

30. A moment that almost made Shepard quit:

31. Ask Dr. Chakwas: what kind of patient is Shepard?

32. Is Shepard the type to give speeches?

33. What does the council think of their first human spectre?

34. What was Jack’s first impression of shepard? And now?

35. How was that mako joyride from ilos to the citadel?

36. What was going through Shepard’s head, when they met Sovereign on Virmire?

37. What is their favorite way to eat potatoes

38. Lucky, or unlucky?

39. What would Shepard say their flaws are?

40. What’s their pain tolerance like?

41. Shepard’s been turned into an animal! What are they?

42. Does Shepard imagine what retirement will be like?

43. What would they rather: wake up four years into the past, or four years into the future? Why?

44. Does collateral damage matter to Shepard?

45. Do they vote?

46. Favorite bar/club in the galaxy and why:

47. Do they let others take care of them?

48. How does Shepard feel about paperwork?

49. What do they wear to sleep?

50. What was the last thing (non-email) shepard read? Book, play, poem, essay etc

(+1 would you bang your shepard? Lol jk we all know the answer to that. Share your favorite fact about them!)

[serabellyms]

   ⬐ @missallanea ⬎

𝄡 & ♫ !!

𝄡 - For a song/piece that the mun strongly associates with the muse. 

I have a lot of words in regards to She Used To Be Mine as a piece that I really, really feel resonates with Ashley. The main theme of the song is losing one’s sense of self and struggling with changes in circumstances; Ashley, by the time she meets Shepard, has begun to lose her sense of self; she’s focused on being the perfect soldier, and in that focus on perfection, she’s lost the person she was; she doesn’t express herself as well as she could. And Ashley is incredibly hard on herself when it comes to expectations. Despite the fact that in ways she needs help, she will never ask for it, because she’s afraid that will be seen as weakness. She’ll hide, she’ll mask her emotions, she’ll act like she’s fine, when in truth… she’s not. She’s on the verge of martyrdom because she sees it as the only way she’ll ever be worth something.

Meeting Shepard brings back that fire in her eyes, and it gives her the chance to be herself, to prove herself, and to understand that she deserves to be recognized for how hard she pushes herself.

♫ - For a smaller playlist (3-5 songs/pieces) that inspires the mun to write the muse.

This one is going under a read-more because I have things to say about each of these choices.

I’m getting pretty good at feeding them the lines they like But I don’t recognize the girl that I face each night I can compromise till I’m convinced it’s right

What happened to the girl who could overlook the world? She never gave a second thought to what the other people thought What happened to the dream of rejecting the routine? ’Cause they never worked for me.

Much of Theatre’s lyrics talk a lot about maintaining a facade and caring about what others think, something that Ashley spends much of her early military career up until events of the first game doing. She turns herself into the perfect soldier, living by the motto “not a hair out of place, not a toe out of line”. A lot of it stems from the words her father imparted on her: “A Williams has to be better than the best just to avoid suspicion.” With the scrutiny of her family name and the black mark her grandfather’s decisions left on their name with the miltary brass—prioritizing saving lives over pride, leading him to be the first human to surrender to an alien race—she has to do everything she possibly can to mitigate that scrutiny. And so, she puts on a mask to be something, in a way (almost) losing her true self in the process.

When the fire’s at my feet again And the vultures all start circling They’re whispering, you’re out of time But still, I rise This is no mistake, no accident When you think the final nail is in, think again Don’t be surprised, I will still rise.

Rise is very interesting and fits Ashley in a lot of ways. I think in a lot of ways, it speaks to the people who thought as little of her as they did when she started her career: they told her she wouldn’t get anywhere, that she was no better than her grandfather. But given a chance and the right set of circumstances, Ashley THRIVES. She becomes something more; she not only makes it to officer status, and a respected one at that, but she is offered the position of Spectre with the Citadel Council, becoming the second human ever to have been given that honour. Hell, she gets asked by Hackett directly to join his team—Steven Hackett, the admiral of the entire fucking Alliance fleet. Hackett, who probably served alongside her grandfather, who now can see the raw talent she exhibits, wanted her directly under his command, where he could put those talents to the use they deserved.

So as much as all of those previous COs thought Ashley wouldn’t get anywhere, Rise speaks to her ability to rise above those expectations and be so much more.

Where are the people that accuse me? The ones who beat me down and bruise me? They hide just out of sight, can’t face me in the light They’ll return but I’ll be stronger.

God, I want to dream again, take me where I’ve never been I want to go there, this time I’m not scared Now I am unbreakable, it’s unmistakable No one can touch me, nothing can stop me.

I feel Unbreakable really fits Ashley when the third game rolls around, when she’s finally got somewhere. She has her officer’s commission—and it became abundantly clear that she was a damn good soldier. Not just in terms of attitude, but in terms of talent and leadership; not giving her the opportunity was a mistake. Ashley is promoted as high as she can be for the designation she’s given (S1) afterward, leaping through the Alliance ranks at top speed. Not only that, but she (canonically) follows behind to become the second human Spectre, a feat thus far only achieved by Shepard. It’s not just the Alliance that sees her talents, but the Council as well; she’s incredibly skilled, incredibly talented, and has had to work ten times as hard to get people to see that. By the time the third game rolls around, Ashley is proudly standing tall against those who doubted her, those who talked her down, and she’s damn well not afraid to show it off. She’s tough, and she knows it… and getting to where she has cranked her confidence up to eleven.

[walkingdisaster]

new tumblr oomfies from twit… most of you are ffxiv guys but i don’t have an xiv sideblog yet so stay tuned

[everyonewasabird]

Brickclub 5.3.9 “Marius seems dead to one who is a good judge”

Everyone else is focused on the dawn, but for Valjean the truly liberating time is dusk. What does that MEAN? Like, this book doesn’t mess around when it comes to light symbolism: dawn is a huge symbol, light is a huge symbol.. and so is night. We had that hugely symbolic scene where Cosette and Valjean saw the Cadène, and before that moment, Valjean was refusing to look at the dawn.

But he’s able to appreciate the evening, or at least he is today, after his latest transformation. And based on Hugo’s writing, this evening is meant to be appreciated: this is Hugo being beautiful and atmospheric about his environmental prose.

Maybe this is something like: morning was our first choice for symbols, but Valjean’s strength at this point is that he thrives on something different than other people do. We were thwarted in getting the dawn today, but not all hope is lost: Valjean in the evening comes into his own.

Javert has lost his ability to recognize Valjean because of Valjean’s latest transformation. (Okay, fine, in a literal sense it’s the sewage. But I think it’s also the transformation.) Valjean, who’s transcended above the whole running away thing, I guess, supplies him with his name.

Javert sure is having a day.

Really wish I knew how Valjean expects Cosette to live if he’s dragged off to jail. Like yes, sure, I realize you’re Aslan submitting to the White Witch and Deeper Magic From Before the Blahblahblah or whatever, but my dude you literally have a kid at home.

Valjean reprises the thing where he asks Javert for a little grace in order to save somebody--this is what prompted Javert to the mockery that killed Fantine last time. This time, Javert doesn’t refuse.

And: Javert thinks Marius is dead.

What?

It’s important. It’s the name of the chapter! And the chapter title points out that Javert really should know by now how to tell if someone is dead.

Possibilities:

- Javert is seeing death everywhere at this point. He can’t perceive hope.

- Javert is very, very good at turning a blind eye to things that would make him argue with his superiors if he noticed them. He’s spent a career bending his perceptions to see what his superiors want him to see. And now, as evidenced by the new vous-ing, he considers Valjean his superior. As is his his habit, he perceives a dead man, because taking a dead man home isn’t anywhere near as bad as taking a live insurgent home.

I’m inclined towards the latter, and it’s fascinating. The thing that Javert has to offer in the end is the fruit of his gradual corruption over the past several decades. God, that’s depressing, but it does feel about right.

And we end with the awkwardest carriage ride eve,r and three grim archetypes:

Chance seemed to have brought together in grim confrontation three tragic immobilities, the corpse, the spectre, and the statue.

I don’t know what to do with it, but it feels like the three bad transformations people can have in this book. Statues and Specters are semi-supernatural catastrophic transformations that befall people, and of the two, I would have said the Specter (like Eponine) was worse, which here is represented by Valjean. And the Corpse--lots of characters die in this book, but whether or not we really see them as corpses depends on how they die; a good death doesn’t leave horrifying remains, which surely is yet another way in which Hugo is extremely culturally Catholic.

But, it’s also an illusion. Marius isn’t really a corpse at all, Javert has only declared him one. I have no idea whether Valjean-as-Specter is equally illusory--or, at least, equally escapable if Valjean chooses to escape it.

Javert really has become a statue, though. In fact, he’s been one for decades.

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Lighter - Part 6

Summary: Bond x F!Reader (with code name and fake name); Bond learns what happened to you since he last saw you.

A/N: Hello Lovelies,

Would you have said anything?

Special thanks to @firstofficerwiggles and @ladykatakuri for beta reading for me

Love OO

Warnings: Flirting, angst, fluff, kissing, feelings of idiocy, mentions of Japanese culture (I am not Japanese, I googled this information), I think that’s it if I miss any please let me know.

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James walked into the safe house, it had been eight months since he watched you get on that plane, eight months since every waking moment and every thought brought him back to the realization he should have said something. 

He wasn’t an idiot, he noticed how your face was wishing, pleading, begging for him to say something, but how could he. You were still in love with Lavage, that was the only reason you fought so hard to bring the man down. He had betrayed you, and despite doing your best to bring the man down, he saw it in your eyes, when he came to rescue you. Your eyes lit up with relief. You were still in love with him, so how could he confess. 

He kept telling himself he did the right thing. This was better. 

“007”

“003” James took off his blazer, placing it gently on the couch, “Status?”

“Our asset arrived last night”

“What was the issue?”

“Someone from his past recognized him, we just have to wait for a new identity before we send him off to his new home. In the meantime, we’re just to babysit.”

“Joys”

“Agreed. I’m gonna head out for a cig, want me to pick you up anything?”

James stood looking out the window of the high-rise, Japan was beautiful, busy, extremely busy, but beautiful, “No. I’m good”

“All right, the asset also wants me to pick up some takoyaki, apparently there’s a really good vendor down the street. You sure, you don’t want any?”

James simply turned to look at the man who was his senior and yet the most irritating out of all the double O’s he had to work with, the man simply nodded and headed out. He turned to face the bustling city outside, when he heard steps coming up behind him.

“James?” 

His heart stopped, he knew that voice as clear as day, he turned slowly to look at the man standing behind him, “Lavage?”

“Well, I’ll be” he closed the distance, grabbing James’ hand and pulling him into a hug, “it’s good to see you buddy.”

“Ugh, likewise” he pushed Lavage off of him. He quickly glanced around the room, if Lavage was here then you were here too. Right?

“It’s almost a year since that day, Spectre is falling apart, your team is doing everything to round up the last few stragglers and before you know it, I can get back to living, rather than hiding” he was happy. He was really happy. James hated him. 

“Well, that’s great, is there anyone else here?”

“Oh yeah. My wife. Hold on. Sweetheart!”

James heart quickened, he was going to see you and what’s worse as someone’s wife. God, he hated Q right now. If it wasn’t for him asking for a favour on behalf of 008, he could’ve been in the Caribbean earning some much needed rest. 

There were soft footfalls coming from the bedroom, James steadied himself, he could just imagine how beautiful you looked. Every night when he went to sleep, your face was the one that filled his dreams; so much so he felt it was wrong of him to still be carrying Vesper’s picture around. Except the woman who entered the living room, wasn’t you. 

“Sweetheart, this is James Bond, James this is my wife Sakura”

“A pleasure to meet you, Sakura. I was expecting …”

“Oh, we parted ways when we landed”

“Who is he talking about Anata?”

“The one who helped me see the error of my ways” he chuckled, for some reason James just really wanted to punch in the face at that moment, “I actually have no idea how she’s doing, what I do know is she wasn’t quite the same after you two parted ways.” 

Maybe it was a little too late, but Lavage was going to do his best to help you both out.

“What do you mean?” James narrowed his eyes. 

“Excuse me” Sakura spoke up, “would you care for a drink Mr. Bond?”

“No. Thank you.”

“Anata?”

“I’m good sweetheart, thanks” Lavage placed a kiss on her forehead, as she headed over to the kitchen. 

“Anata?���

“Yeah, in Japanese it literally means you, but married women use it with their husbands, similar to dear or sweetie. Anyway, you haven’t talked to her this whole time.”

“I thought she was with you”

“No. She made it pretty clear in the car and on the plane who she wanted and it wasn’t me.”

“She never …”

“She wouldn’t have. You didn’t speak or even look at her. She was practically begging you to look at her, and you never bothered.”

“But she didn’t reject you, I heard when you two were talking…”

“How could she? When the next minute we were heading to the car, and I was driving us to the airport. I don’t know where she is or how to get in touch with her, and I’m not planning on reaching out either” he turned to look at Sakura, “everything I need is right here.” He turned back to look at James, placing his hand on his shoulder, “Don’t let her get away again. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

James watched as Lavage moved towards his wife, they were both laughing and joking as he helped her prepare dinner. God he was such an idiot!

- - - - - - - - - - -

The warmth of the fireplace chased away the cold breeze that settled among the mountains of Switzerland. There wasn’t much to this place, but there was enough to make it mine; and it was secluded enough to keep prying eyes away. Every two weeks a chopper came out to make deliveries for basic grocery necessities.

Despite that a year had gone by since I last saw James, I had only been in this place for the past four months, in another two I may decide to switch up my residence. Yet, I thoroughly enjoyed the seclusion; maybe come spring time things would be different. 

I tried to focus back on the novel in front of me, yet my mind kept drifting to James, as it often did. There were times when I was in a marketplace or driving back towards my residence at the moment, I could have sworn I thought I saw James. One time, I could’ve sworn I heard his voice calling to me, yet, when I looked and searched I realized it was simply my imagination. Every day, I prayed he would appear at my door, telling me it was a huge mistake, and yet every day that hope failed. 

I tossed the book on the ottoman in front of me, I needed to move on to get him out of my head. 

I stood from my seat heading towards the kitchen to make myself some tea, when I heard a loud noise coming from outside. There had been some wolves in the area, the locals told me to leave the wolves to fend for themselves. Not to go out. 

Yet, what if it was Spectre’s people?

I placed the cup on the kitchen counter, moving to grab my rifle. One of the guys that lived near by was an ex-military commander, he gave me the assault rifle, taught me even how to use it; not that I needed to be taught. I grabbed the extra mags and put them in my coat pocket, I opened the door slowly, glancing around to see if anything was out there.

My heartbeat quickened, the snow storm was still in effect, I inched the door open wider, stepping out, as I glanced around, I didn’t see any wolves, nor anything else for that matter. I eased my way around the cabin, yet there was nothing. In fact, it was all quiet. I looked up to see if there was a helicopter in the area, or some sort of drone, anything that could cause the noise I heard. 

I walked further around the cabin, when I heard it again a loud thunk, coming from behind the cabin, I moved closer, my rifle at the ready. The shed door behind the house was open and flapping, *thunk* I watched as the door banged against the door frame. 

I moved closer, still watching my surroundings, the blowing snow was making it hard to see, and the wind was cutting through my clothes. I grabbed the flashlight out of my pocket, shining inside the shed, there was nothing. Except the cans of food and pickled jars of vegetables lining the walls. I strapped the rifle on my back, as I examined the door latch, but it seemed fine. I shook my head, pushing the paranoia out the window, clearly I simply hadn’t closed it tight enough. I grabbed a spare rope, pulling the door close until I heard the latch click. 

However, as an added measure I wrapped the rope around the doorknob, tying it to the firewood shed. At least for now, I didn’t need any more wood, I had plenty by the side of the cabin, I looked around the area once more, but there was nothing out of place. I headed back inside, pushing aside my uneasiness. 

As soon as I closed the door, I placed the rifle on it’s hook, taking off my coat and hat. Man, I really needed some whiskey, right now, get the blood flowing. I turned to see a man sitting in my chair. His cerulean eyes focused on the book he was reading, a warm cup of tea beside him.

I narrowed my eyes at him, “What the hell do you want?” My tone was clipped and full of anger, he was the last person I wanted to see. I moved away from James and headed towards the kitchen to make my own tea. 

“What do you mean? By the way this tea is for you” he motioned to the mug beside him without lifting his head from the book he was reading. I ignored him, instead grabbing the whiskey and filling up a glass.

“I’m good” I didn’t understand why I was being like this with him. Just a moment ago, I was praying for him to show up, but maybe it’s because he hadn’t even apologized or maybe it had to do with how good he looked. 

“You must be freezing” he stood from the chair, moving to the couch, “take your chair back” he still hadn’t put down the book or even looked at me. 

“I asked you a question” I stood with my arms crossed, while one hand held the glass of whiskey. 

James couldn’t help smirking at hearing your tone, he wanted to see how far he could push this before you lost it on him, “Why do you want to know?”

“Listen here, this is my house!”

“Actually,” he began as he turned the page, “you’re renting this place under the name of Alicia Moraga. So technically it’s not yours.”

“You want to talk about technicalities, alright let’s talk” I slammed the glass down on the table beside the couch, “Technically you’re trespassing, and since we’re out in the middle of nowhere, I could shoot you, call the cops and claim self defence and no one would think otherwise.”

“You could” he nodded, as his eyes flitted over to you, “you could do that” he placed the book down beside him, “or instead you could let me sit here for a minute, long enough for me to gather the strength I need to answer your question.”

My hands clenched by my side, yet I wanted to hear his answer, “Fine, you have thirty-seconds” I looked at my watch, “starting now” I looked at the second hand counting down the thirty-seconds, “all right, times up.”

James stood in front of you smirking again as he looked at you, you were just as beautiful as he remembered, as you appeared in his dreams, “Well where else am I going to find such a quiet place to read.” 

The anger that filled me at that moment took over as I closed the distance between us, “After all,” he continued, I stopped in my tracks, I really wasn’t sure what I was going to do once I was in front of him, “I needed to go over the phrasing I wanted to say when I saw you again.”

“Oh yeah, what phrasing?”

He closed the distance between the two of you, his hand reaching up, cupping your cheek, it was still cold from the mountain air, yet beginning to warm up under his hand, “I needed to make sure I got the exact wording right, to tell you, how big of an idiot I was that day”

I couldn’t believe what he said, the tears were beginning to well up. I closed my eyes, this had to be a dream, there was no way he was here. It was a hallucination, like all those other times. I opened my eyes to check to see if he was gone but he was still there.

“I should have told you the moment I saw you, I shouldn’t have let Lavage be the one to look after you. It should have been me. Our time together in Monte Carlo, although it was an assignment. A mission. What I felt … I was scared. You scared me.”

Okay, this is not the way I was expecting this conversation to go, “I scared you?” I asked quirking my eyebrow.

“Yes. You represented something I didn’t think I deserved, I didn’t think I could have. I was scared to make the same mistake I made with Vesper, to trust so completely only to be burned for that trust later. However, the more I spent time with you, the more I realized you were so different from her. You would never have betrayed my trust, because you already knew what it felt like to be betrayed.” James inched closer, his other hand came up, caressing your face. 

“You thought I was going to hurt you?” I just needed clarification.

“Not intentionally. However, no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t forget about you, I couldn’t move on. When I learned you weren’t with Lavage, I knew I had to come find you. I had to tell you” his face inched closer to yours.

“Had to tell me what?” My pulse was quickening, as my hands drew him closer from his waist, my eyes shifting from his eyes to his lips.

He felt your breath fan across his face, “I love you” he closed the distance, crashing his lips on yours, as passionate and intense as the elevator kiss was, it had nothing on this kiss right now. His hands shifted till they reached your thighs, forcing you to jump up, as your arms wrapped around his neck. You clung to him like a koala. 

He took his time examining every inch of your lips, as he slowly lowered you down on to the couch as his arms propped him above you, “How …” both of you were gasping for air, “how did you find me?”

James pulled back to look at you, your hair was a mess, your eyes blown wide, your lips swollen from his kiss, “Sweetheart, do you honestly think there’s anywhere in the world you could go, I wouldn’t find you?” He placed the gentlest kiss on your forehead. 

His scent filled my nose completely, my hand running up and down his back, as my other hand cupped the back of his head, “I guess not” I whispered out.

He pulled back to look at me, “Wherever you go, I’ll end up there too. I’ve lived like half a person since the day I let you walk away from me. I’m tired of being less than whole. Aren’t you?”

I nodded as I pulled him closer, my lips grazing against his, my legs caging him against me, “So, so tired” I mumbled against his lips before they crashed against mine, as his hand trailed down my side. For the first time, since my accident I finally felt whole, I felt lighter than I ever had. “I love you, James”

“I love you too” his lips inched closer to your ear as he whispered your real name. 

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