#that is if i ever finish it lmao

[vakarianshepard]

Mass Effect Trilogy Appreciation Week-Day 7: Future

Thank you so much @omegastation for putting this event together!!

Post-ME3, Destroy ending. Shepard wakes up for the first time, 1.1k words.

For the first time in weeks, the sun broke through the ash-choked sky, its weak light illuminating the battered planet below. Remnants of skyscrapers and burned-out buildings stretched out toward the horizon. The distant light trickled into a makeshift hospital room, washing over a fragile figure connected to dozens of wires and machines. Miranda Lawson stood nearby, her arms crossed tightly as she surveyed the monitors before her. Dr. Ayala fussed with the settings, her brow furrowed. 

“I don’t know, Ms. Lawson,” the doctor sighed, straightening and pushing her glasses up her nose. “I’ve never seen someone with injuries like this recover full—"

“I have,” Miranda snapped, harsher than she intended, “I’ve seen worse on this patient. You don’t know Shepard like I do. She’s a fighter.” 

The doctor pursed her lips but said nothing. Wise choice, Miranda thought, turning to look out the window as the other woman’s footsteps receded. Below, the galaxy was already beginning to claw its way out of the ashes. Countless dead and even more missing, but for what it was worth, the rebuilding and recovery process had begun. She didn’t let her thoughts linger on the Normandy for long. Most of Sword had made their way back to Earth; with the relay damaged, there wasn’t anywhere else to go. But the Normandy had been one of the last ships to abandon the Crucible, and it never arrived at the rendezvous point. No one was willing to talk to the ex-Cerberus officer, Miranda snorted to herself, but she wasn’t stupid. They were missing, no matter how Admiral Hackett tried to spin it to keep morale up. 

She almost didn’t hear the first sigh, faint and fleeting beneath the steady hum of the machines. A soft rustle of sheets followed, drawing her attention. Miranda turned sharply, her fierce gaze fixing on the figure in the bed. Alexa’s hand curled into a fist, her head tossing lightly against the pillow. Miranda scanned her closely, her eyes laser-focused. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, and her brow crinkled slightly—a sign of discomfort? Hard to say. The monitors continued their monotony of beeps and whirs, and after a moment, Shepard’s face relaxed. Miranda sighed, taking a few steps forward and leaning on the small folding chair beside the bed. It creaked under her grip as she sat, leaning forward in an uncharacteristic moment of weakness.

“Come on, Shepard,” she said, reaching toward her before retracting her hands and twisting her fingers in her lap. Something fluttered in her chest, and she felt the urge to continue. “You haven’t come all this way to die now.” She bit her lip before continuing, her voice softening, “I’m not good at this sort of thing, and you know it.” She waited for a few moments, eyes locked on her friend.

Alexa remained motionless, her eyes closed. Miranda leaned back, frustrated. “Of course, that wouldn’t work,” she muttered. “What was I thinking?” She rose, the chair screeching against the linoleum floor as she pushed back. The noise was deafening in the small room, and she winced. To her shock, so did Alexa, her forehead scrunching and her mouth turning downward. Heart leaping into her throat, Miranda leaned in again, her voice trembling despite herself. “Shepard? Can you hear me?” 

As Miranda watched, bloodshot green eyes cracked open, and Alexa groaned, her fingers curling into the sheets. The heart monitor ticked up as she started breathing faster, shock and pain working their way back into her periphery. Miranda adjusted the sedative, then impulsively took her hand, “Shepard—Alexa—it’s alright. You’re in a hospital. Can you hear me? Do you know who I am?”

Alexa rolled her head toward Miranda’s voice. She blinked, once, twice, a frown marring her features as she peered up at Miranda. For a moment, Miranda’s breath caught in her throat—did she recognize her? Had she retained her memories? Or was Dr. Ayala right after all? Her hand tightened around Alexa’s as she stared into her eyes, desperate for a sign of recognition. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she nodded, her voice faint, “Mir…anda. Wh’ happn’d?” 

“We won,” Miranda replied, releasing her hand. “The Reapers are gone. Whatever you did, they. . . deactivated. Shut down.”

Alexa’s eyes were glazing over, her breath slowing as the sedative took hold again, but her lips twitched slightly, her hoarse voice fading as she replied, “Good. D’you. . . where’s. . . Normandy? Gar—"

Miranda inhaled sharply, her sweeping relief coming up short. How could she break the news that the ship—and its crew—were still MIA? Luckily, before she could answer, Alexa’s face went slack and her eyes drifted closed. Rapid footsteps echoed down the hallway, and moments later, Dr. Ayala and a flurry of staff burst into the room. Miranda had just enough time to school her expression into something cool and neutral as she turned around. 

“The monitors,” gasped the doctor, “they—”

“She woke up for a few moments,” Miranda replied, unable to keep the satisfaction from entering her voice. “There wasn’t time for a full exam, but she recognized me. And asked about her crew.” 

“Oh,” Dr. Ayala’s eyes widened, and she looked between Miranda and the bed. “Well, that’s a pleasant surprise.” She crossed the room and examined the readout from the monitors. Shepard was still unconscious. But her vitals were stronger. Her EEG showed signs of normal brain activity, unlike her comatose, sedated state. “Hmm.” She allowed herself a small smile. “This is good news. I’m sure Admiral Hackett will be pleased.” 

Miranda nodded, moving to the foot of the bed. “I told you; I’ve seen her come back from worse.” For the first time since she had taken over Alexa’s recovery, Miranda smiled at Ayala. The doctor looked shocked, then beamed back. 

“So you did,” the other woman replied, marking something on her omnitool before offering Miranda her hand. “I’d better get back to my other patients, Ms. Lawson, but I appreciate your assistance. I don’t think we could’ve gotten this far without you.”

“Of course,” Miranda said, shaking the doctor’s hand. With a final nod, the doctor left, the door sliding shut behind her. Miranda turned back to the window, surveying the city once again. The sunlight glanced off the remnants of London, sparkling and gleaming off twisted metal beams and ruined buildings. Still, the signs of life were unmistakable. Already, the damage was being repaired, the debris was being cleared, and countless people from every species were working together to create a new future. She sighed, a weight lifting from her as she glanced back at Shepard. 

Hope bloomed behind her ribs; if Alexa could beat the odds again, there was still hope for the rest of the galaxy. For Earth. For the Normandy. With the Reapers gone and the galaxy united the future was brighter than she had thought possible in years.

[paintedcrows]

Thinking about that old man

[juniemunie]

[Abandoned by the Lightners, his heart became cracked with hatred.]

Hitting a lil' too close to home?

[forecast0ctopus]

not divulging my thoughts on star trek (2009) rn. but this scene is like a cartoon to me

[twentyonefirstmates]

i just cannot stop thinking of jon trying so hard to grieve for the real elias after he Finds Out because elias died scared and alone to the same power that destroyed jon, because elias was also forced to watch his own body become entirely alien to him as he became Something Else, because elias and jon have both been tortured and Changed by the same man, because jon might be the only person in the world who understands what happened to him and is definitely the only person in the world who cares.

But also, jon can't think of elias' face without having to choke back a scream, cant utter elias' name without wanting to cry, cant think about elias' body without the feeling of being watched, worms burrowing into his skin, the agony of not being able to remember his friend's face, his mind being broken, hellish flames on his hand, falling from a great height, a knife against his windpipe, plastic fingers against his skin, dying, coming back wrong, darkness beyond everything hes ever known, dirt in his lungs, losing everyone hes ever loved, strings controlling his every move. He cant grieve for elias without grieving for himself. And he know, he knows, he Knows that none of it was ever elias' fault. Elias was just some poor stupid idiot who ended up in an evil place and had his life stolen by an evil man, just like jon. Jon knows elias never actually did anything to him, but he cant forgive him for the things done by his body. He wants to grieve, he tries to grieve, he does grieve. But he can never grieve properly for the man who was lost because he is inseparable from the man who took him.

[14dayswithyou]

a few months ago you talked about playing mouthwashing and I was curious if you had any head-cannons for the characters if they got sent to that universe

pls tell ren he's adorable and he owes me 19 dollars

⌞♥⌝ They would be friends I think :3

[iwantmochisoup]

-november sketch dump 2024-

[tectco]

Guys omg I’m back l with more fanart :33

[oodlesodoodles]

[splatloafbud]

THANK YOU SPLATOON 1 FOR CHANGING MY LIFE ❤️

[secondbeatsongs]

going through some old logs, and I need you to understand just how truly unhinged early 2010s RP omegle was.

genuinely you could stay on there for hours with just one person, hashing out complex traumatic backstories, drawn-out love confessions, detailed action scenes...collaboratively describing graphic violence, past abuse, comfort, hurt/comfort, hurt/no comfort, any number of sex acts...and then one of you would be like, "oh haha it's 2AM! I have to sleep :(" and the other person would say, "omg saaaame. :( gnight!!!" and then you'd exit the chat and never speak to each other again, and this was. fine.

you could just spend an entire evening shoving your wretched, bleeding soul into a chat log with someone you'd never meet or learn the name of, achieve some form of emotional catharsis, and then go about your day or night like this was an average way to spend your time.

I'm really normal about this, actually

[savefrog]

thank you to that tumblr post that said to create a trollsona in 2023 because a friendgroup of mine did all the quizzes and shit and then descended into goddamn madness and ended up with a goddamn sburb session spreadsheet with lands, classpects, consorts, strife specibi, THE WHOLE SHEBANG even wikipedia diving for Denizen names with THEMATIC MEANINGS and shit it was the most free and healing 24 hours of my life i think of it fondly on this day, apparently the anniversary of Cascade which I didn't learn until AFTER I dredged all this back up. mad world.

[dadrielle]

This page of an unfinished comic has been sitting on my ipad for god only knows how many months, so let's start 2025 off right by saying fuck it Imodna first kiss.

[mellosghosts]

just doodling silly stuff but theyre so cute

[5a-alf]

I finally colored the sketch i posted some time ago, enjoy!

[buggachat]

Hmm, sorry guys, I might skip posting beau today. Had an arm cramp last night and it’s not too bad, but I think I’d like a day to recover a little