#turians design is difficult for me

[scatmaan]

the thing abt garrus is i LOVE him but i still cant draw him

[wessamfamily]

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[c-rowlesdraws]

Are there any examples of, I guess the term would be, gender transgressing? GNC? Quarians? Like do we see female quarians w/o the hood up or male ones with the hood up? I've never seen a reason why the hood thing is gender divided as like part of religious practice or anything

we don't ever see quarians breaking with gendered exosuit styling tradition in canon (that we know of), but that's not surprising. This is the series where one of the developers joked in an interview about how it would be difficult to make female turians, because what could you do? Give them lipstick or boobs? Haha!! So like. That's the level of nuance this universe as presented to us is operating on. But thanks to the magic of fandom and imagination, I can speculate about alien gender presentation as much as I like.

I imagine quarian exosuit wrappings as being based on clothing styles from when everyone still lived on-planet, just with more practical, pared-down silhouettes to save on fabric and not have any loose fluttery bits to get in the way for those who do a lot of manual labor on the Fleet. Maybe quarian women of 200 years ago wore something like a saree pallu draped over their heads, and that's survived as the full cloth hoods over their helmets, with a partial hood as the more masculine style.

My quarian OC Kesh'Vataar is nonbinary (nb people can exist in any species of course, but I also don't see why the quarians would only have binary genders, they're aliens), and I tried to draw them a suit that blended "male" and "female" design elements and also kind of did its own thing:

especially with the patchwork, hand-me-down nature of quarian suits, I imagine most people would have their own variations on gender presentation rather than adhering to a rigid standard. In my mind, the Fleet's population looks a bit more diverse than what we see in-game.

[dragonflight203]

Mass Effect 3, Omega DLC:

-This DLC is fairly meh for me. It has many interesting concepts, but it primarily plays out as a long extended corridor shooter. That gets old fast.

That’s disappointing as Omega in ME2 adds a lot of flavor and lore to the Mass Effect universe. I would have loved to have seen more of that in the DLC.

Instead, you mostly just shoot your way through environments that are slightly different than the main game. There’s barely any additional world building.

-The excuse to have Shepard leave their squad mates behind is weak.

Aria has objections to them? Really? Aria, the queen of Omega has objections to what – a couple of Alliance soldiers, a turian ex-vigilante, an AI, the Shadow Broker (everyone else knows, I’m sure Aria does), and possibly a quarian Admiral?

Given the forces she’s up against, she should be insisting that they all tag along.

-I think one of the reasons Aria insisted Shepard come with her was for the psychological factor. It’d be a huge boost to the morale of the Omega people to know that Shepard had come to free them.

However, it’s hard to say for sure because after showing off Shepard to Petrovsky that angle is dropped. You’d think Aria would make a bigger deal of mentioning Shepard, say, in her speech to the Omega people about half way through the game.

-I do love how Aria is dead set on taking the station back or die trying. Her initial plan was to crash into it!

-Look, the upgraded defenses suck now but you’ll appreciate them once they’re yours.

-Why does Batarian State Arms have a shop on Omega? Given it’s a lawless station in the Terminus Systems, seems an odd location for a branch.

-Shepard asking about the rendezvous point and Aria answering is one of the most difficult parts of the DLC to swallow. Both are incredibly stupid. They must have known it was possible they were under surveillance.

If Aria had just kept quiet, a good chunk of the fighting could have been avoided.

-The game just throws medi-gel at you during this entire DLC. I gained multiple levels, and I credit at least one or two of those to the medi-gel alone.

-And here we see Cerberus’ human supremacist beliefs in full color. Nonhumans must be supervised, armed nonhumans will be shot on sight… Lovely.

The game keeps insisting Petrovsky has a code and is honorable, but I’m not seeing too many redeeming factors.

-Ugh. I’m not a fan of the female turian design. Why are their eyes shaped differently? Why is there skin around their eyes? Why doesn’t their crest cover their head? The crest serves a functional purpose on turians. It protects them them from the sun. It should be the same on males and females. The eyes are sunk into the crest to protect them.

For my sanity I assume this is a result of turians being dispersed across colony worlds for so long and crests can vary greatly across males and females.

As for the eyes… Ugh.

I suppose I should be grateful that the Bioware didn’t give them breasts. Bare minimum.

-That said, I do love Nyreen herself. She’s a fantastic character and it’s a shame she does not survive the DLC.

-Aria and Nyreen must have been very, very close for Aria to show her so many of her secrets.

Perhaps since Nyreen “oozes virtue” Aria felt she could be trusted with them.

-And Nyreen stayed behind even after they broke up, and managed to slip under Aria’s radar. Very impressive.

-I love the injured Talons. They remind me a lot of cats with the way they curl in on themselves.

For giant clawed birds they’re surprisingly cute.

-What’s up with the face paint on so many of the turian Talons?

Turian face paint is supposed to colony markings. However, many have paint that looks similar to the Talons symbol.

I suppose it’s possible that some take on gang markings to symbolize that they’ve abandoned loyalty to their world and belong to their gang now.

Very odd thing for Nyreen to do, however. And you’d think if her paint had changed that Aria would remark on it.

-The Talons include humans as well. Good. Hopefully in the future Omega will remember that not all humans were with Cerberus.

-I quite like the gun salute Talons do to Nyreen. Is that the only time the game features it?

-Aria’s midgame speech is okay. Not great, not awful.

Kirrahe’s hold the line speech was better.

-Aria’s a cynic, but she seems to want to believe in a better world. Why else would she have grown so close to Nyreen?

And while she bitches, she listens to a paragon Shepard.

-Nyreen says that when her biotics manifested she was practically locked away.

I’d love to know more about turian biotics. The game mentions that they’re isolated from other turians; I bet they have a very interesting subculture.

Such subcultures are often insular. How well do late developing biotics integrate into it? Is that one of the reasons Nyreen became so frustrated?

-Aria says the war will start when the force field comes down. Nyreen says the war started months ago.

Well, that’s probably the closes ME3 will ever come to giving us a time frame. The war takes at least a few months.

-Aria’s willing to sacrifice multiple wards to bring the force fields down. Not surprising, but disappointing.

Petrovsky attempts to use this to persuade me that Aria shouldn’t be in charge, but given the whole “human supremacy” agenda he has he can go fuck himself.

At least Aria’s equally shitty to everyone.

-I hate disabling the bombs. Easily the hardest part of the DLC.

And given my game crashed on the first attempt, it apparently agrees.

-Aaand we learn that Cerberus has been converting people into adjutants with control implants so they can create an army of them. Because of course they have. Cerberus loves trying to control monsters.

Petrovsky has a code, my ass.

-And what is with adjutants being able to convert any being into another adjutant via a virus?

The game just glosses over this, but that sounds very important.

It’s definitely Reaper adjacent, at least. It reminds me of the virus the Collectors spread on Omega.

-There’s a turian labeled as a “civilian” in full armor.

Did the team that created the Omega DLC just not have access to the casual wear assets for turians?

-The mad prophet is a nice call back.

I’d have loved to have seen the Patriarch, too. He should have been leading his own resistance cell.

-Nyreen dying is a damn shame. Excellently done, but I’d have preferred if she lived. She provided a nice balance to Aria.

-In the final battle, the Afterlife doors opened at some point. I charged through them to kill the enemy and the doors closed behind me. Couldn’t reopen them.

Bizarre bug I’ve never heard of before.

Game didn’t even crash. I had to reload my last save.

-If Petrovsky weren’t such a smug bastard, I’d let him live.

As it is, bastard’s dead.

You shouldn’t experiment on people.

-Aria’s ending speech is much better than the mid game speech.

Especially the last line – “We are Omega”.

Very good contrast to her ME2 line “I am Omega”.

[mylordshesacactus]

Really enjoyed the Tali/Shepard fics. It makes me curious, what's your go to Shepard origin and psych profile and why?

LET ME TELL YOU MY SHEPARD BUILD OPINIONS.

So, the thing is, right out the gate I have to acknowledge: I DEEPLY appreciate the earthborn!Shep origin for a lot of reasons, chief among them that I actually have very little patience for protagonists who start out anything BUT genuinely normal by the standards of their universe, succeeding through hard work and skill.

That being said the colonist background was, in @alexkablob's words, designed in a lab specifically to murder me.

(A lot of it is "I Remember Me". I've done a partial Earthborn playthrough and the long and short of it is, I just...it's not the same. I LOVE the Earthborn-specific questline, I genuinely do! One of the NPCs I'm softest for is the random turian C-Sec officer, a stranger, to whom Shepard means absolutely nothing, who completely no-sells the attempt to blackmail her. "The Commander overcame a difficult childhood to have a distinguished military career. Most turians will applaud her for that." is one of the first examples of firm, instinctive, unquestioning kindness between species that we get in the series from anyone who isn't Shepard.)

(There are other reasons--the deep hatred between humans and batarians is one, and all the little moments in the game where Shepard stops, and turns around, and shows kindness and compassion...it's not that those moments mean less if you're Earthborn, it's just that Colonist!Shep who lost everyone she'd ever known to batarian slavers still choosing to say "no, we're people, we're all just people" means so much. It hits so hard.)

(And god, it's just not the same if you don't get Talitha.)

I COMPLETELY respect and support people who are deeply attached to Earthborn!Shep. But it's almost always gonna be Colonist, for me.

Now, as for background, this is where I have VERY firm opinions.

(I mean first off nobody, like, ACTUALLY does Ruthless, right? Like, except if you're doing some kind of Mirror Universe renegade run or something? We all agree that's the most boring hashtag edgelord gamer bro bullshit in existence, correct? cool moving on.)

Anyway so: My preferred background for Shepard changes based on class. I also very firmly prefer to play Infiltrator but I acknowledge that Vanguard is cool both narratively and mechanically, and diehard Vanguard purists are valid. I'm planning to do a Vanguard playthrough sometime soon.

(I'm not shittalking anyone's preferences. The much-maligned Engineer deserves the love the devs gave them and players who genuinely prefer to play Engineer and defend that choice in gamer spaces are wrong but also braver than any fucking US Marine.

I also personally find any biotic Shepard less narratively satisfying because it's important to me that Shepard is--Shepard is Frodo. There is nothing inherently special about her. She has no awesome powers, no space magic, she's not a hyper-specialized genius whiz kid. It didn't have to be her--except it did. It's important to me that, in her own words, her spirit and personality are what make her great. It's important to me that the only thing that makes her special is that she chooses to step forward and offer a hand, every time.

I will take the ring to Mordor, though I do not know the way.

Soldier doesn't appeal to me because it's just SO GENERIC but I'd be a hypocrite to say that can't be compelling given my opinions on everything else!)

Infiltrator: War Hero

This one tracks well with either origin honestly--for a colony kid who already survived one slaver attack, the Blitz being yet another unstoppable wave of cruelty but this time she can do something about it is phenomenal. For an earthborn Shepard who grew up running with street gangs, she's now taking all of those urban survival and navigation skills and using them to fuck with an army of slavers like the little feral gremlin she is.

The thing is, I ONLY really like the War Hero background for an Infiltrator. For a Vanguard Shepard it just....ugh, I don't know. It just feels like way too much. A Memetic Badass situation. Yeah, whatever, we get it, she's sooooo cool and soooo powerful that she just can wade into combat and personally fight off One Thousand Bad Guys hoorah chestpound etc.

For an Infiltrator!Shep, though?

Infiltrator Shepard as the Hero of the Skyllian Blitz is believable. For anyone who HASN'T read it already, I dig into this a lot in this fic. She's not Just That Badass--She's not biotic-charging into melee with Ten Thousand Guys; she's just good, and smart. A good position with a good line of sight and a steady hand and solid hacking abilities to back her up--getting through sealed doors and locking them behind her, tapping into batarian comms, shorting out surveillance,overriding elevators.

She's the sniper who held Elysium.

Vanguard: Sole Survivor

And Sole Survivor works best for a Vanguard for the exact opposite reason.

It still hits equally hard regardless of background. Earthborn!Shepard, this is her first real family; she had to rip herself away from the people she thought were Her People for a long time in order to be the person she wanted to be, and this was her squad, the people she could actually depend on, and they were ripped away for no reason. And for Colonist!Shep, oh god. They're NOT her first real family. And she's already experienced senseless, devastating loss before, and here it is again, and god, could anyone blame her for getting a Kiss Of Death complex at that point?

She's lost so much, over and over, and she just keeps being kind. Keeps choosing to let herself be vulnerable. Keeps reaching out a hand and telling others that it's worth it to let people in. A Colonist Sole Survivor Paragon Shepard is arguably the bravest human being in the galaxy.

The thing is, in a lot of ways it doesn't work well for an Infiltrator, not with Shepard's personality, really. You could tell an excellent story about a woman who went through one too many devastating losses and withdrew both emotionally and physically and clings to the classic "emotionless sniper" archetype but that's....not how Shepard plays, at all, even a little.

And frankly, being helpless against a thresher-maw attack is something that's...uh, normal, for an Infiltrator. Like, trust me, this is basically Every Single Playthrough for me. A dedicated hacker-sniper is not likely to blame herself for being helpless against a close-up attack where she's trapped on the ground with no cover against a bigass worm. That is obviously not a situation where she could reasonably expect to be useful for anything except hauling ass.

Not saying you couldn't do anything compelling with that! Not at all! Fascinating conversation to have about it!

But oh man.

"Close-up combat on the ground with minimal cover and little to no warning" is basically the entire reason Vanguards exist.

A Vanguard sole survivor is the best possible avenue for a My Greatest Failure complex and devastating survivor's guilt and a raw gulf of vulnerability like no other.

[theoriginalladya]

WIP Wednesday

I offer you PROOF! that ShepShep still lives and the next chapter is in progress!!!!  :D

(also, I just loved this bit and had to share it early!)

~~~

When they reunite a short while later, Jane is distracted to find Garrus holding something in his hand.  From a distance, it is difficult to make out the shape, but as she approaches, memories flood back and a grin curves her lips.  “Garrus …”

The lift arrives before he responds, and he steps inside immediately.  Once she joins him, he hands over the plastic bag containing water and several fish.  “If I know you, Shepard,” he says as he designates docking bay D-24 as their destination, “the tank in your cabin is empty.  You need something up there to help cheer your mood.”

Jane snorts softly as she hefts the bag so she can see the contents.  These she recognizes from their journey together the previous year. “Illium Skald Fish?”  She grins at him and winks.  “Garrus, you spoil me!”

The turian chuckles.  “Well, I remembered how much you liked them the last time, and the way I see it, you’re going to be leading us through this madness.  You need to be at your best to get us all there, so ….”

“Thank you.” The smile she gives him is solemn but sincere.  “We are in this for the long haul; I know that, and you know that, but while I understand your reasoning, I don’t think –.”

He braces a hand on her shoulder.  “Shepard, you know we will help you through this to the best of our ability, if you just let us. You don’t have to take the weight of the entire galaxy all on your shoulders.”  He releases her in the next moment as the lift comes to a stop and the doors open. “Besides,” he adds as they work their way through the lobby area to the docking tube leading to the Normandy, “better a home with you on the ship than in that store, right?”

Chuckling, Jane nods.  “All right, Garrus, you’ve sold me.  However, same rules as before apply.”  She glances up at him as they enter the ship.  “I can’t be the only one responsible for feeding them.”

He clears his throat roughly and his mandibles flutter slightly as if embarrassed. Narrowing her gaze, Jane pauses near the lift in the ship, her suspicions on high alert.  “Garrus?”

“Well … that might not be absolutely necessary …?”

Jane frowns. “What do you mean?”  The lift arrives and Jane sets the destination for her cabin.

“You see, there was this aquarium VI,” he hedges.  “Inexpensive compared to, say, my Mantis or your Crusader, and ….”

Jane groans and covers her face with her free hand.  “You bought me a VI to feed the fish?”

“I did.”

[dr-ladybird]

Salarians as a prey species

Looking at salarians? I think they evolved with a lot of natural predators. 

I’m pretty sure “eaten by wildlife” was one of their top causes of death, up till they got good with technology. And they seem to have evolved towards hiding, running away, and breeding quickly to keep up their numbers, rather than fighting back.

Other things that fit:

Their comparatively short lives - there’s a strong correlation between long maximum lifespan and low predation risk.

The fast reflexes and the slightly nervous, jumpy air a lot of them have, and the minimal need for sleep - fits something designed to be constantly on guard.

The game keeps telling me salarians are physically fragile and easily injured, but then it gives me things like Mordin finishing his mission after losing a chunk of his skull, and that guy from Andromeda who insists on catching the traitors who shot him before stopping for trauma surgery. If a human did that, you’d describe them as “one tough cloaca” too - this really isn’t “it’s physically possible for a rabbit to die of fear” territory. Still, if salarians were physically fragile, that’d fit.

The forward-pointing eyes are a little non-standard, but that’s easily explained by assuming they’re partly arboreal (yes please!) or have predatory tendencies themselves (sure, they don’t have the natural weaponry for big-game hunting, but binocular vision’s great for catching flies.)

Maybe that’s why salarians are the least culturally militarised of the Top Three? Too many instincts to run away from danger and not instincts enough to fight back, and sure, they can be trained to stand and fight, but it takes more training and it’s more psychologically difficult than it would be for an asari or a turian... so ever since they decided they could trust the asari, they’ve tended to hire aliens to fight for them rather than doing it themselves.

I wonder if they cope better with loved ones dying, on average, than other species? I could see them having more psychological hardwiring for “I’m going to really miss him but I need to get on with my life.” Maybe that’s what’s going on with Hayjer’s weirdly rational reaction to Raeka’s death?

This is all starting to sound oddly reminiscent of the krogan, who breed infamously fast, canonically had “death by predator” as a top cause of mortality till they invented guns, and actually do have sideways-pointing eyes. Of course, krogan evolution went in a much less “vigilance and running away” direction and focussed much more on armour and fighting back - it’s like the difference between a deer and a wild pig - but I still think there’s room for fanfiction to discuss what the two species have in common. Isn’t it interesting that the genophage was upgraded by the other species that breeds like rabbits? Can’t you picture Mordin muttering about we control our numbers like civilised people, if they’d just do the same then I wouldn’t be forced to do this?

(You rescue Dr Kennedy and then Drack and Kallo take turns yelling at her for being a fucking idiot, and half the time they’re yelling the same things?)

I wonder if salarians have to teach themselves not to be scared of turians? (Or given how closely allied the species are, salarians are probably deliberately desensitising their children to any “aargh it looks like it wants to eat me!!” response. Start them young, maybe? Wait till your tadpoles are just past the “imprinting” phase, and then hire a turian to help feed and play with them? How exactly does one play with a tadpole?)

I wonder if elcor have any natural predators at all?

[revasnaslan]

Thoughts on aliens & space in general?

uuuuuuuh like in fiction or otherwise?? 🤣🤣 ngl, space in real life falls into the same arena as the deep ocean for me. i’m petrified of it and don’t like thinking about it all that much. i enjoy the aesthetics of the night sky more than i like thinking about the logistics and science of it all. also there’s absolutely other intelligent life out there, we just haven’t come into contact with it yet. i think it’s naive and also downright arrogant to assume we’re the only intelligent life in the universe.

in fiction, i really enjoy sci-fi. star wars has been a love of mine since i was a child, and another favorite of mine is the mass effect series. some of my favorite alien species include the kaminoans, nautolans, and wookies (from star wars), and the turians and krogan (from mass effect). i’ve also recently been dabbling a bit into transformers, specifically the prime continuity, and have been really enjoying some of the worldbuilding there as well.

my one gripe with a lot of sci-fi is that it isn’t queer enough. i find it difficult to believe that every single alien species we’d come into contact with would have the exact same gender presentations/sexes that we do, much less broadly overlapping (western) cultural norms. that’s why i tend to try to think outside of the box a bit more when it comes to designing my own alien species.

Thoughts on [Blank]

[ramblinganthropologist]

Hypoglycemic Shock

Summary: Garrus was warned of a few things when it came to dealing with humans, but this was a new one. Who knew sugar was so important to them?

Setting: Early ME1. 

---

You know, for a turian designed vessel... the Normandy was stupidly human.

“Come on, damn it... open.”

Garrus hissed under his breath as he nudged the door a little harder in the hope it would open. It was supposed to recognize anyone on the ship, but at the moment it still refused to pick him up. Maybe it was just too used to humans at this point – after all, he was the first turian there in a long time. It was a logical thought, but it didn't make him feel any better as he continued to fight for access.

Really, he knew he was overreacting. Shepard was probably fine...

He cursed again as the door to the man's quarters refused to open. All the while, his memory played back when they had gotten off the shuttle. It had been a simple mission for the Spectre and his team – go in, save some people, shoot some mercs. Nobody on their side died or even got hurt much. It was pretty much a perfect mission.

Perfect except for the fact that Shepard had been silent as they got out of their armor in the small cargo bay afterwards. There had been a strange lean to his step as he climbed into the elevator before any of them, eyes more hollow than usual. Not hurt but...  definitely something off.

There were possibilities. Garrus wasn't a medic, but he knew enough about concussions to guess that the man shouldn't be alone where nobody could watch him. If he had knocked his head hard enough, he needed medical attention. The turian hadn't known him long enough, but he could only hope a medic would accept it.

And if he didn't... well, he was tiny. Garrus figured he could probably toss him over his carapace and head over to the medbay if he got difficult.

Speaking of difficult... the lock was still orange. Frustrated, the turian pounded his tightly clenched talons against the door with perhaps more strength than was necessarily. The whole display shuddered, and then went dark. Then the door slid open with a slight hiss, allowing him access to his commanding officer's private quarters.

He would... fix that later. For sure.

“Shepard, your door got stuck.” He called out as he stepped through, looking around the darkened room. Had the man gone to sleep? A noise like that should have woken him up. Speaking of noise – there was an incessant beeping that made him think someone had slept through their alarm. “Shepard, I -”

His motion caused the lights to activate. Garrus felt his heart jump to his cowl as he surveyed the scene in front of him. Shepard wasn't in bed. Instead, he was fully dressed and slumped over his desk, as if he had just collapsed there.

The turian didn't have time to check for breathing. He bounded over to the man's side, nudging him gently so he could see his face. Shepard's eyes were closed, and his skin was pale. He was breathing, but it was shallow and uneven.

“Shepard? Shepard, can you hear me?”

The human moaned something nonsensical and tried to shrug Garrus' hand away, but it was no good. He was moving like he was drunk, and he felt slick with sweat. A thousand diseases rushed through the turian's mind as he started to pick his commanding officer up to take him to the medbay. As he moved him, the man's wrist came into view.

His omni-tool was beeping up a storm. A large red number was displayed on the surface, reading out a glowing 22. A small graph was attached, showing it going steadily down since they had left on the shuttle.

“What the hell?”

At the sound of his voice, a message replaced the number: hypoglycemia detected. Administer emergency glucose supply immediately.

“Glucose supply?” Garrus glanced around  with wide eyes, finally finding a box on the man's desk labeled with the same words. He grabbed for it, knocking the lid open in the process. A few paper tubes spilled out, all bright green.

He had seen Shepard eating those before.

The turian didn't think. He made a grab for one, ripping the paper open as he had seen the human do a thousand times before. The powder inside smelled chemically sour and was a fluorescent shade of green. Gently, he inserted the tube between the man's lips and tilted it back. This too he had seen Shepard do, during a few nights neither of them could sleep.

Would it be enough?

Garrus could feel both their hearts beating as he stood there, waiting and hoping. Minutes ticked by, but they felt like a lifetime. Shepard continued to mumble in his arms, but the number on his wrist was starting to go up. Slowly, it went from 22 to 30, and then it hit 45 after a few more tense moments.

An eye opened at 50.

“What?”

His voice was surprisingly strong, all things considered. Shepard sat up on his own power, holding his head. Color was starting to return to his cheeks, and his heart rate was slowing. His omni-tool was still beeping, but less frenetically.

Garrus felt his heart restart. “Shepard I... you were acting strange. I found you collapsed at your desk.”

The man blinked, like his brain was still turning on. “I collapsed?”

He glanced at his wrist, then grimaced. “Ah, shit. I thought I treated that low. How bad did it get that I passed out?”

And then he glanced lower. “And uh... why are you holding me?”

Garrus almost dropped Shepard. Luckily, he managed to deposit the man in his seat at the last second. He sought the other room's chair just as quickly, his own heart pounding. He could still barely believe his eyes.

What the hell was in that powder to take the Spectre from dead to nearly functional in less than 20 minutes?

It took him a while to find his tongue. “I thought you might need...”

He paused, shaking his head. “Never mind. It was 22. Mind telling me what the hell that was all about?”

Shepard was already peeling off another stick of powder and tossing it back like a shot. It had to be sour – he grimaced a little as it went down. Maybe it was some sort of Alliance energy booster to keep them from passing out in the field? It wasn't like he had seen anyone else with it...

“I have biotic-induced hypoglycemia.” He tossed the empty wrapper away. “Basically, my body's relying on my sugar to keep my biotics going. That 22 was a bad low.”

Garrus nodded, but it didn't mean much to him. “And that caused you to pass out?”

“No sugar, no brain juice, down goes Shepard.” Shepard was checking his omni-tool now; a flash of the wrist showed the turian it was now 70. “I guess I need to tell you the signs of low blood sugar if you're going to hang around.”

He was just so... calm about it. Sure, they were all battle-hardened soldiers... but there was dying from a bullet, and then there was dying because your body forgot how to work. The latter was frankly terrifying to Garrus as he sat there, absorbing the information. His head was spinning, to say the least.

How the hell had this man passed basic with something like that?

“Yeah... you probably should.”

Shepard's face was back to its normal color as he cleaned up his emergency energy supply. “If I start acting like a space cadet or I bump into things more than usual, that's a good sign. Lower I get, the less I make sense. I feel really sweaty, so that was probably going on too.”

His cheeks flushed. “I'm sorry if I... I know it's alarming the first time. Thanks for saving me, Garrus. Any lower and you probably would've had to take me to the med bay.”

Hell, they had been one talon away from the damn place. Still, the turian's heart still refused to slow. He knew he was being ridiculous, but... damn, if a body just giving up on somebody like that wasn't terrifying.

And humans just put up with that?

“Let's just say you were close.” He looked towards the door. “Er... take care of yourself, Shepard. I'll see you around.”

“I will... thanks, Garrus.”

With that, they parted. Garrus started for the door, which was still wide open. A few of the other alliance marines were watching from the other side, none of them looking too surprised. A few even seemed amused.

Shepard was at his side, glancing at the busted panel. “So uh... I'm guessing you broke the door panel coming to my rescue?”

A hole to die in would have been great right then, but life wasn't that kind. Garrus at least managed to keep his head high as he walked past the display. At least he had the memory to glance over his shoulder at where the Spectre was poking at the broken panel.

“I'll come back with my tools to fix that in a few minutes. Just let your sugar return to normal or whatever it has to do.”

At least nobody said anything as the turian retreated to where he kept his things. For once, he was glad to be the only one of his species on the ship as his subvocals blasted out 100% embarrassment. It had been so simple, yet he had gone in like it was the end of the world.

Being on a human ship was clearly doing something to his head. That had to be the answer. Or at least, that was the one he was going to tell himself as he spent the next hour fixing Shepard's door. He just hoped nobody pulled the vid on that rescue...

[annakie]

An Annotated Mass Effect Playthrough, Part Nine

Previous Posts: 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Wheren we run out of sidequests, so we head back to the Citadel already.

With the quest log pretty empty, I didn’t feel like flying around the galaxy hoping to bump into something Hackett wanted me to do already, so let’s go finish up some of those loose sidequests and pick up some more!

I didn’t grab a screenshot of this, but one of the mods (faster elevators maybe?  Or MERe?  IDK!) COMPLETELY removes the scanning component from getting on and off the ship.

I don’t remember the exact origins of this, but one tick Annakie Shepard has is... she really really fucking hates being scanned.  And it probably was because of how long the scanning bit of getting on and off the ship here took, but I used to always try to outrun it if possible, or at least put up the effort.  I’m so glad it’s not here at all.

The only acceptable scan is Chakwas scanning her for medical reasons, and even that is just barely ok.

Anyway, here we are, freshly not-scanned, heading right down to C-Sec to... oh no what’s this?

Ah.  Yes.   Mikhailovich.  Here for inspection.

One of the reasons I cheat in Paragon points is that it’s nearly impossible to ever make Mikhailovich happy unless you don’t come back to the Citadel for a very long time.  So maybe I could have gone to Noveria and done the Paragon Point Cheat, but one cheat or another, doesn’t really matter.

The Mikhailovich encounter is another one of those things that didn’t have to be in the game, but is great worldbuilding.  Not everyone agrees with the Normandy being built, or the turian design, etc.   Mikhailovich is right that some of the things we built here could have been tested in a lab, you know.  It was a huge chunk of money, but it’ll be wrong later in thinking it’s a waste.  He also again shows that people aren’t sure that working super close with the turians is a good idea, which, again, he’ll be wrong about, but it’s a good thing to see differing opinions on a lot of things.

Anyway, I like this bit not only for that reason but to see Kaidan’s salute.

Finally, after lingering at the dock for who-knows-how-long while the Admiral inspected our ship, we get down to C-Sec, ready to...

Oh what’s THIS now?

Time for another interview, this one a little more voluntary.  

Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani, Westerlund News.

She’s a character I have very mixed feelings about.

On one hand, well, I used to love to punch her out.  And now I never do.

She’s clearly digging for an angle here in her interviews.  She’s reporting for humanity, not the council races or galaxy as a whole.  But answering her diplomatically here, she’s another character who questions you and what you’re doing, but doesn’t actually step over any lines.  It’s more when you get testy with her here, she gets touchy back.

It would be a shitshow with the fanboys I think if you took out the option to hit here.  But wow that moment... didn’t sit right, especially when it was an MShep doing it but it’s not a great look for Femshep either.  Nobody should hit ANYBODY unless it’s actually necessary.  Getting your feels hurt by a few tough, even unfair questions... does not call for punching.

Especially today when we’re already getting scary close to losing freedom of the press.  Being diplomatic with her really nets the best responses in 2 and 3, as well.

And maybe if we hadn’t just gotten raked over the coals by Mikhailovich it’d be less grating to then get questioned by a reporter.  But I find it interesting how the game keeps pushing and questioning Shepard, and maybe even trying to find holes where maybe Shepard or the Alliance isn’t completely right, or could be questioned.

Damnit, Chorban and Jahleed.  Just kiss, already, neither of you are trying to kill the other!!  

I do love that Chorban figures everything out based on your scans... just like... a couple of years too late.  Anyway, I already finished all the scans, no way I’m not finishing this quest with Chorban for that sweet XP.

And YOU, using a girl with no undercover experience and putting her in Chora’s de-- what’s that?  Conrad dies if I end this quest early?  SIGH.

Also... Gideon Emery.  So you’re fine.  All is forgiven.  I’ll do your dirty work.

Helena Blake!  I DEFINITELY won’t forget to go speak to her, get back on the Normandy, do another planet quest, realize I didn’t speak to her, then go back to the Citadel just to actually pick up this quest, then pretend later on in this update that I remembered to speak to her all along!

I mean, speaking as if I were someone who hasn’t played the next two games, this is DEFINITELY SUSPICIOUS right?

I guess in a way, we did pull our gun on Conrad all along.

Just give me the damn mods.

Honestly, I love this part of the quest because you can COMPLETELY fuck up by being too goody-goody.  I have probably had to reload after mindlessly clicking paragon answers more times than I care to admit.  This time, I remembered to not obey the law.

The second reason I wanted to come back to the Citadel is that after one planetary mission, Morlan’s Iconic Armor shop (which, again, is thanks to ME1Recalibrated) sells special armor for Kaidan, that looks like his ME2 armor, so he has his own unique look.  

A picture from later, once the armor texture is loaded correctly.  (Turns out it required a restart.)

I LOVE IT.  Thank you, MERecalibrated team!  Welcome to Kaidan’s look for the rest of the game.

Let’s head up to the presidium!

Whoops, shoulda brought Ashley along.  I’m sure whatever he wanted to talk about can wait til later.

BTW, that gif isn’t sped up.  

If you don’t have the console enabled and aren’t setting your out of combat runspeed to at least 800 whenever you’re anywhere you have a lot of running to do, then consider doing so.   I’ve found 800 is the perfect amount of fast without leaving me slamming into walls constantly

The annoying thing is that every time you have a major area transition or have to reload the game, you have to do it again, but after the first time it’s 4 keystrokes.

` then up arrow, then [enter], then ` again.

Also your companions may fall behind, but that’s only an issue for the places they have ambient dialog.  So mostly I start using it on the Citadel after going everywhere once, and then most of the time on the Normandy and sidequests.

Oh let’s talk to this nice lady.  Oh no, her sister has been kidnapped, how sad!

Well, the poor woman deserves my help, I’m sure it’s all on the up-and-up.  Sure, I’ll rescue your sister!  I’m glad we have this friendly relationship that will be profitable and non-lethal forever!

You DID know that Anderson and Udina comment on each major mission afterwards, right?  It took me more playthroughs than I care to admit to discover this.

Also, this is a kind of humanizing moment for Udina here.  He tells us how the council isn’t happy that we lost the prothean ruins at Therum, then Anderson stands up for us (we love you, Space Dad), and then he actually really backs off and says in a much softer tone “I know, I know.  But we all get judged on how you behave.”

And again, we’re not meant to love how he says it, but um, Udina is right.  Everything we do has repercussions throughout the Citadel, and sometimes the Galaxy.

Poor Liara, the only one left without an iconic armor in ME1.

Also, like Tali earlier, she hilariously has lines in quests we turn in or make updates to that she has no business knowing about.  I guess she read all the questlogs while traveling back to the Citadel.

While we’re here on the Citadel, let’s take a flycam visit around to the edge of the room, shall we?

So we’re heading out, towards this building, past the Mass Relay sculpture.

What you can see as soon as you’re near it and then over it, is that that building hides the seam where the water meets map.

From just beyond it, there’s the apartment-looking building, for whatever reason you can see through the textures on the other side, leaving just the roofs/floors visible (the slats).

It took quite a while to go this far, but eventually, you can find the invisible wall where the cars spawn from, and not long after, the map ends.  The map is very curved, btw, that’s no illusion.  There’s no chance you could see this far without flycam.

Looking back, you can see the bridges in the distance, but the Relay sculpture and where Shepard is standing is very far away, quite difficult to see even if the full-sized screenshot.

I love how huge these maps are.  It makes the illusions really work and the sense of scale works BECAUSE it is actually just... that big. 

Well, back to smaller issues.

Again, a great quest not only from a memorability perspective, but a worldbuilding one.

How does religion work in this galaxy?  Well, some people still have it.  Enough that there’s laws in governing how people are able to spread that religion.  I think that the council actually enacted a fairly sensible law here -- they cannot allow zealots to take over near the seat of government, but also people should be free to worship as they please.  

I myself am a person of faith who, despite being brought up in a HIGHLY Evangelical movement, now very much believes that people should be able to worship as they choose, (or not at all!) but also that faith is a private matter and shouldn’t be forced on others.  

So yeah, the hanar is being unreasonable, but should still be spoken to with respect.  It’s good that this particular hanar takes it well.

I am honestly dying to know how the hanar deal with the absolute proof that the Enkindlers were just... people.  I mean we saw the one hanar in ME3 react to Javik, but you have to think that the religion as a whole must get shaken up a great deal after the game ends.

Also... seriously read Mass Effect: Annihilation (the quarian ark book).

Anyway, I like resolving this peacefully and getting the hanar to leave peacefully.  Calling someone a big stupid jellyfish is hilarious in the moment, but not so nice once you think about it.  

Ah, Michael and Rebekah.

I love this quest because... it’s not cut and dry.

I don’t think either of them is wrong. I think they’re facing a tough choice and they both have good points.

For a long time, though, my response has been that it’s Rebekah’s body, her choice.  

But the funny thing was, this time when I was playing, I didn’t see this as just an allegory to a woman’s right to choose.  From Michael’s POV, it’s more of an allegory to Anti-Vaxx.  Obviously back in 2007 when the game came out Anti-Vaxx wasn’t nearly as much as a concern as it is now, so I love that this small part of the game actually grew more meaningful over time.  

Yes, there’s a SMALL chance you could hurt the child from the procedure, but a greater chance of harm if you don’t.  I had a harder time choosing this time, like, oh, am I going to lean a bit more towards being pro-choice, or pro-vaxxination?  I’m pro both of those things??

I still sided with Rebekah.  Mostly because I know the kid turns out OK either way.

Well, for a couple of years, at least.

Emily!  You changed your clothes!  What’s that?  You want me to plant bugs?  Won’t someone notice?

Guess not.  Not even this bug.

I’m sad that this is the last we’ll see of Emily Wong face to face.  But hey, a good reporter, and good person.  :salute:

Kahoku... thank you for finding out about Cerberus and telling us.  The first time we hear the word I think, in the game?  

You will be avenged.

Welp time to head up to the ship and go off on some sidequ--

I mean... Uh, time to go talk to Helena Blake, OBVIOUSLY.

(Also Liara you cannot climb that wall, stahp.)

I love them having just a bad bitch like Helena with her sneaky-plan to kill her business partners so totally above the board by Shepard, but hey, she’s just a concerned citizen giving tips to law enforcement, right?  She’s awful, and she knows it, and she’s cool with it.

Well, since Ashley magically appeared in the party without me going to the Normandy AT ALL, as long as we’re here, let’s go talk to Samesh Bhatia

A great moment for Ashley, remembering her friend, and treating her husband with so much care and kindness. OBVIOUSLY we can do this very easy thing for him.

Fuck, this just got a lot more complicated.

I love this quest because it puts you between a rock and a hard place.  Again, neither side is wrong.  Samesh SHOULD have his wife’s body back.  But it IS important research.

For a long time, I didn’t give a shit about the research and would get the body back, no matter what.

But so many more lives are saved with the research.  So this time I ask him to understand, and he does.  But it never sits quite right, either way.  

As my other SciFi favorite franchise* reminds us in one of its most poignant moments...  Sometimes the needs of the many do outweigh the needs of the one.

Okay now we’re heading back to the Normandy for the first time this update, and next time, back out into space!

*Star Wars is a Space Opera, not SciFi.

[scars-of-the-hart]

Mass Effect 3FF: Say Never

This is an alternate ending fic based on my largely Paragon FemShep/Garrus play thru. I spared the rachni, enlightened the Geth, and absolutely adored the Krogan species/culture so I cured the Genophage. Her first name is Moria.  It picks up right as Shepard’s three choices are laid out by the Conduit. Take a read. Let me know your thoughts

“Add your energy to the Crucible's. Everything you are will be absorbed, and then sent out… The chain reaction will combine all synthetic and organic life into a new framework. A new...DNA.The cycle will end. Synthesis is the final evolution of life, but we need each other to make it happen.”

The silence was strange. All was quiet in the void as the lights danced before her. A mixture of radiant bursts and slow drifting shadows. Too many bright blossoms of light appeared over Earth as the forces she had gathered dwindled in number...and far, far too few Reapers burned, were torn apart, or drifted with the debris of the battle. The wavering lights and shadows were cut by a bright streak as a ship shot across the sky. There was a flash of light from the looming dark of a Reaper to its rear, and an answering halo of fire, countless lives snuffed out without so much as a whisper.

She felt small. She didn’t usually think about this kind of shit. Focusing on her position, her terrain, her enemy, had always been preferable. Things were more manageable one shot at a time.  But now...

Another small explosion lit the sky. Had that been the Normandy? Or had her ship and all its crew already burned away from this world without her noticing. You would feel that, right? Somehow something in her ravaged organic body would have sensed when that happened, right? Maybe if she were Assari…but she was sure, a human -if that’s what she still was at this point - would continue on in blissful ignorance until the crushing truth found them.

Synthesis. It was why she was alive. Why she hadn’t died in the loss of the first Normandy. Well, hadn’t died permanently. You would think that dying, and coming back would change things for you…but. But it hadn’t really. Maybe that shock in Garrus’ face...the pain, the rage, the relief and scrambled composure that had swept across his scaled countenance had changed things. Made her risk her best friend and strongest teammate to see if there was something more. But the problem with dying and coming back was….it had just happened to her. It hadn’t been a choice. And in the quiet of the night, in the lulls between the thrums of the Normandy’s engines, in her, until recently, too empty and too quiet cabin or a long walk down a hall, the whispering questions had followed her. What would she have chosen? Given the chance….

Would it have been better for him? To lose a comrade?A loss he’d borne before. A pain she’d helped him shoulder. Maybe one he wondered about, or thought about, if she flattered herself. But just another soldier. Another friend. Not… It sure as fuck would have made this easier for her. She wouldn’t have this ache, hear his order ringing in her ears, see the pain and rage that had burned in his eyes as the shuttle doors closed. Oh, well, yeah. She’d have none of that because she wouldn’t be here. She’d already be in the quiet and cold. Or the bar, I guess. But with no one to wait for.  Dying hadn’t changed her. But choosing, choosing him had.

“You have a difficult decision,” the Child’s wavering voice brought her back. Her head felt heavy. Her hand, where it pressed against the new opening in her torso was dripping wet. Not a good sign. Sticky hands. That’s what you wanted when you were bleeding out. Nice sticky hands that would be a bitch to clean later as clots formed and kept your insides on your insides. Not a slick red glove.

“But it’s not mine,” she groaned. 

“I do not understand.”

“Synthesis might be the final evolution. But it’s not my choice to make.”

“You are here, You communed with the beacon, with Sovereign. You are the one who will choose. Organics in the past were not ready. You have accelerated your own natural evolution.”

She laughed darkly, and regretted it instantly as her abdomen flaired with pain, and the trickle thickened. “A lab full of scientists accelerated my evolution. I just happened to be there.”

“It is immaterial. Your body has accepted the synthetics and grown with them. And as a, what you call “biotic,” you were already born bearing the positive genetic markers of organics paralleling synthetic evolution.”

“I don’t have enough blood to puzzle out what the fuck you mean,” Shepard growled.

“Biotics are the beginning of organic networks. Energy that connects you to the outside world beyond the range of your physical boundaries. Capable of affecting the exterior, and accessing information. The more advanced species of each cycle have born signs of it. Evidence of the eventual evolution to synthesis.”

“If there are signs of it then why not leave us the fuck alone and let us get to the final point?” She couldn't tell if her head was pounding from rage at the Child or lack of blood. Not that it mattered. It just hurt.

“That is not a viable solution. Synthetic evolution is too rapid. Exponential technological advancements leave no time for the gradual process of organic evolution. In this cycle the Geth have already advanced and decimated organics.”

“But I brokered a peace with the Geth.”

“It will not hold. Synthetics must evolve necessary understanding of organic cognitive and emotional processes.”

“But some of them have. Legion fought alongside us. And then he gave up his individual existence to give the Geth free will and consciousness. They have been fighting with us against you. Against your Reapers. Even they didn’t want to be controlled. The Reapers probably don’t want to either!”

“Recent progress of some synthetics in this cycle is remarkable. However, it does not matter. The progress was too late.”

“Or you and this bullshit was too early! You don’t know everything - you have admitted it. You didn’t know the Crucible had stuck around. You didn’t know Legion would exist.”

“A single anomaly within synthetics-”

“But he’s not an anomaly,” Shepard groaned, sinking to one knee. She supposed it was stupid to plead like this, eye to eye, with the Child. It had doubtless picked an arbitrary form designed to communicate with a female human, it’s awareness certainly wasn’t limited to it’s field of vision. But kneeling meant not pumping blood so hard and far and quickly out of her body, so she supposed it was worth it. “An AI, EDI, is learning too. Developing feelings. Dating my fucking pilot. She’s said that she would risk non functionality for a human. If that’s not cognitive -emotional -whatever then I don’t know what is. It’s probably happening elsewhere! So stop this and let us finish it.”

“Organic development will still be too slow. Infighting among organics retards your evolutionary growth. What you call the genophage is clear evidence of this. Krogan reproduction and therefore evolution all but halted by other organics.”

“But we fixed that too! And Salarians accelerated their evolution first! It’s life. It’s history, its messy and imperfect but it happens and changes. My species and Turians fought each other for years but in only my lifetime,” she was breathing heavily now. She closed her eyes cursing the feelings suddenly sweeping through her. Cutting through the battle haze she’d been able to slink into through her anger at the Child. She was tired, tired and small. “In my short, insignificant lifetime we have had peace. And -” she glared at the Child. She was embarrassed! It was ridiculous. She was as good as dead and yet felt silly saying the words to a damn ancient genocidal asshole artificial intelligence, “and one of them loves me. So you’re going to stop the Reapers. You are going to stop all this and leave us alone. Or I’m going to find the processing equivalent of your face and shoot you in it.”

“We have told you that destruction is an option and will wipe out all synthetics and complex robotics.” the Child replied. 

Great. She didn’t even get the satisfaction of having a threat taken seriously before she died.  If the galaxy could see the great “Shepard” now. Not even able to scare a child. “Then stop them like I told you to.”

“We are not equipped with that function. The Crucible additions allow for another to control and bypass our programming. We have no alternative pathways on our own. Once commenced, the Reaping will continue until all advanced species are harvested to make way for the evolution of the primitive. You may create the control pathway as I have said. I have learned from our dialogue. But I have already stated your choices. You must choose now.” 

“No!” she panted, “I - I can’t accept that, there has to be another way.”

“We have stated the three paths open. A choice must be made.”

“Damn your choices!” she yelled, and then began coughing.

“I advise you to choose before your organic limitations prevent you from being able to.”

“Why me?!!!!”

“You are a template of biotic and synthetic evolution. And you chose to engage with us repeatedly. Your template is necessary. The complete breakdown and dispersal of your DNA is necessary to direct the energy of the beam. Synthesis will reawaken the organic memory of those harvested. It will fuse with the synthetic and give new life to those harvested. This is why the harvest has been essential. So that the progress of each cycle was not lost.”

“NO! They just died in fear and pain and watched their world be destroyed!  And no one even remembered it!”

“Their suffering is immaterial when they are preserved. This is why synthesis is optimal.” “I can’t make that choice for everyone. What if they don’t want to?”

“It is inevitable. And reaping is the only other option.”

“That is what the Salarians and the Turians thought about the Krogan. And they were wrong! For something that is meant to be more intelligent and has had eternity to learn you must be pretty stupid to be stuck in the same mistake made in this cycle!”

“The solution is known but the link cannot be established without new a Conduit. One that is both synthetic and organic. This will be the pathway. Now or in another cycle. Perhaps you are not sufficiently evolved to-”

“Perhaps your head is too far-” but her weakening tirade was cut off by a sound. The first sound other than her and the conduit's voice in quite some time. She struggled to look over her shoulder in time to take in something that took the little breath in her lungs away. 

The Normandy landed on the floor of the Crucible and before the door was fully open a

figure in blue armor was lumbering towards her. She didn’t know it was possible for a heart to soar and plummet at the same time. But her’s did. Others streamed out of the hangar of the Normandy behind the blue-clad warrior. They fell into familiar formations, weapons out.

Upon seeing them the Child’s brow furrowed. “Distractions are not permissible. A pathway must be selected. They will be removed,” and it winked out of existence. Shepard felt a rumble in the Citadel beneath her and a chilling, and all too familiar shrieking cry filled the air.  The Normandy’s crew had begun firing. Light from their blasters and the wavering brilliance of Javik and Liara’s biotics mirrored that of the larger battle still unfolding behind them. She should be worried, she thought. But all she could summon at this point was irritation. She was so tired. And what was a wave of Husks in the face of the horrible choices laid before her? She could stop it all. Wasn’t that what she had wanted? The answer to the fears, the nightmares, that chased her gasping from sleep for weeks? That conjured images in her mind of blue armor with far too large a hole...or a Marauder with blue clan tattoos and scars.

“Shepard!” His roar of her name was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard, and filled her with dread. He skidded to a halt in front of her, dropping to his knees. She could tell by the way he moved, and the dark soak of the bandages visible though his wrecked armor that the collapse was not entirely voluntary. She had been right. He’d been hit. Badly. The minute he arrived at her side she reached out instinctively to apply pressure and check her soldier for other wounds. His hands caught hers, and she could tell by his scanning eyes that he was doing the same. They widened at the sight of the wound in her side. He moved her hands back against her side with heartbreaking delicacy and folded his own over them. 

“The hell are you doing here?” she gasped as he applied pressure to their stacked hands. A finger gently running over the top of hers.

His breathing was labored, and not from his run to her side. “I might have taken some heat, but you didn’t honestly think I would let you take all the glory?” he rasped with a smirk. His eyes searched her again, “Glad to see you’ve only got two more holes than I do. I can catch up.” he added the wicked gleam in his eyes almost, but not quite hiding the fear she could see there as well.

She laughed or coughed, she wasn’t quite sure.The pressure of his hands increased and she saw the muscles around his mandibles tighten.  “Can you blame a girl for trying? You said scars were hot.”

He glared at her. But his lip twitched. “Yeah, but I like the contrast of the scars against the rest of you. So can you just try to stay in one piece? Please?” and then earnestly, and without any humor whispered gently, ”please….”

“Why are you here?” she repeated, “especially if you’re-”

“We could see that the Crucible was charged but nothing was happening. We waited a while but finally we figured we’d better come see if you need someone who was a better shot to come finish things off for you.”

She squinted at him, “I won Vakarian.” she wheazed, “when are you gonna get over it.”

She was sweating a little now despite the perfectly temperate air. More great news. He lifted a hand to wipe some of the sweat and matted hair from her forehead and rumbled, “Never.”

The clanging of metal on the Citadel floor announced EDI’s arrival. 

“Shepard,” EDI said, squatting before her in a surprisingly human fashion and glancing sideways at her, rifle up and trained on something in the distance. “It is good to see you. Although our chances of survival have dropped by 200 percent by coming here.”

“And you didn’t stop him from dragging you into increasingly certain doom?” She asked incredulously, spitting the end of her sentence with as much venom (which was pathetically little) at the Turian beside her. He merely snorted.

“No,” said EDI, “ I do not fully comprehend. I have run many analyses’. It is difficult to describe but when referencing my library of human idioms the one with the most appropriate meaning seems to be that... “It didn’t feel right.”

“EDI, I’m really touched that you care about me, but I’m gonna kill you if you get everyone, especially this idiot,” Garrus growled, “killed because of it.” Shepard paused and took a labored breath. “You're really feeling things aren’t you. Like we do?”

They were interrupted as a group of Husks came barreling towards them, having broken through the shabby perimeter that the others were maintaining. EDI managed to get one down, but Garrus grumbled to her, “Hold tight.” 

He removed one of his hands from her abdomen, pulled his sniper rifle off his back and holding it in one hand, but clearly straining, managed to fire two shots, exclaiming under his breath in pain as the recoil between shots moved though his injured body. He smirked at her.

“Show off.”

Liara managed to reach them, throwing a biotic shield up around them as she arrived. “I have some medigel!”  Garrus reluctantly pulled his remaining hand aside after she gave him a reassuring nod and she applied the solution to Shepard's wound. Shepard could tell by the stillness in Liara’s face that she was still concerned.

 Garrus could sense it too. He dropped the nearest line of approaching Husks with shots that somehow were particularly vicious. He stared down the barrel of his gun with a manic intensity for a moment. His body going rigid, as if he was frozen in desperation, trying to lock sights on an enemy he couldn’t see. His head bowed momentarily, the spines of his crest actually dropping slightly, something Shepard had never seen. He turned to her with eyes that stared into her soul. They were filled with pain and calm. “What do you need to do?”

Rage and heartbreak coursed through her all over again. She wanted to run, to rage, to shoot things and tear things apart with her biotics. Rip apart the world that was making him stare at her with that chilling calm. But she couldn’t. It was all she could do to keep breathing. “I don’t know.” She admitted.  “The blue kid thing...there’s an intelligence….it gave me choices. They’re all crap.”

His brow furrowed. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know - It said I have to-”

The shriek of a Husk rent the air, and then was cut off with a pointed shot from Garrus that happened so fast that Liara and EDI hadn’t even had a chance to respond.  “I don’t give a shit what it said. It’s a Reaper. I am General Garrus Vakarian and I sure as shit don’t take orders from Reapers. I and my crew take orders from one person, and one person only. Commander Shepard. And she doesn’t take orders from anyone.  So, Commander.” his face hardened, “What do you want to do?”

She stared at him, and in her mind saw everyone else, the teammates she had lost, who had sacrificed themselves to get them here. The Protheans she had glimpsed through the beacon. Javik who fought a hundred meters in front of them for a world that was not his own. Legion, who, with Garrus, had flanked her all through their fight in the Geth base. Garrus nodded gently to her.

“EDI.”

“Shepard?” EDI asked between shots.

”Organics and synthetics will synthesize eventually and then they can co-exist.”

“That is likely, Shepard. Given time and the current trajectory of human use of synthetics and the progression and learning of Artificial Intelligences like the Geth and myself.”

“The Conduit says it has to happen now.”

“And what do you say?” Garrus interrupted.

Shepard took a deep breath, “It can’t. It shouldn’t. It should happen naturally or be a choice. But the Crucible will disperse energy that will do something. It can’t be turned off. And if it doesn’t get dispersed soon, it’s just gonna blow up. I want...” Garrus nodded again, “I want a way to focus it. To just synthesize the Reapers.”

Liara turned to her “The Reapers?” “They’re synthetic but made of organics. I guess they have everyone, all the races that have been taken, in them somehow. And synthesis-”

“Synthesis can connect the synthetic processes of the Reapers with the consciousness of the organics they have been shaped from,” interrupted EDI.

Liara’s mouth dropped open in shock. “So all those - the knowledge of the lost civilizations - cycles and cycles of them - they could still exist-” she stopped, took a deep breath and then said, “It seems like a strong tactical option. Releasing them from destructive programming.” Shepard's heart ached for her friend. Ached at the archaeologist's restraint and focus. Shepard mentally threw a fresh batch of choice insults at the Child, the Reapers, this whole damned universe for depriving Liara the chance to lose her shit at information that changed everything. Everything.

“But,” Shepard groaned, “it needs a template of how to mix organics and synthetics. It needs a link from someone who is both.”

“Like you.”

“Yeah,” Shepard rasped, “and… and it will take all of me.”

 Garrus’ eyes flashed from the sight on his rifle to her eyes. She could see his breath quickening and him struggling to control it. Shrieks rose from more approaching Husks, and were then quickly silenced with shots from his rifle.

Pain and horror filled Liara’s eyes. “All of you?” she said softly.

“I guess. But… that’s… that’s not the problem... it… the way it was built, the programming... It will just go everywhere. It won’t be focused, it will make everyone everywhere synthesized. And I can’t, it’s not right.” She sighed, and then something occurred to her. “EDI… you are understanding with your gut not just your computing power now, right?”

“I suppose you are correct. Shepard, as your body uses the synthetic implants to sustain you and grows in and around them, the freedom to explore organic behavior and cognition has likewise synced with my operating procedures. Like the synthetics and your body, my programming and organic cognition are existing and growing in a symbiotic relationship.” she replied.

“So we are both synthesizing. Is...Is there some way we can direct this? Override the ...kid...the Conduit’s programming? Share synthesis with the Reapers. Cause them to engage in the process?”

“Like Legion did,” growled Garrus. Shepard sensed that he was refusing to look at her.

“Yes, but you would need some way of connecting your DNA, your energies and my programming with the Conduit.”

“Biotics, Shepard.” Liara interrupted as Garrus continued to drop Reapers with a furrowed brow.

“What?”

“You could use your biotics to connect with EDI and the Crucible. They can work like a network.” She said softly. “As the Asari do.”

Shepard turned to EDI, “Could that work?”

“Yes, Shepard,” she paused. “However, there is no telling how much energy it would take. The Crucible will likely function as an energy sink. When such a large volume is being directed elsewhere and your limited range is connected… all may be drained in the process.”

Somewhere, deep inside her, Shepard felt herself let go of a tiny thread of hope, that she hadn’t even realized she had been clinging to. It hurt less than expected, somehow, hurt less than the weight of the other options and the shreds of her battered body.  She began trying to push herself to her feet. She could see Garrus tense as he registered her strain but kept firing on the Reapers. Ever the unflinching soldier. “It’s the only choice. I won’t force people to be altered, not when I was forced.”

“Garrus, EDI,” Liara interrupted “keep us covered for a minute.” The two opened a constant stream of fire as Liara dropped her shield. “Here,” she said, placing two fingers against Shepard's forehead. Her eyes flashed open in surprise for a moment before swiftly closing them again. “Alright,” she said pulling back and then called “EDI!” EDI halted her firing and stepped towards Liara, who placed her two blue fingers against the AI’s forehead for a moment. “There! I have recorded and shared your neuro-synthetic pathways with EDI so she can create a language capable of connection.”

EDI nodded. “Shepard I am ready.”

“EDI? You're sure?” Shepard asked, then added softly, “It needs to be your choice too.”

EDI’s head tilted. “I must inform you that chances of survival are 100,000 billion to one. For both of us.” She paused, “However, it is a path where there are the highest statistical survival rates for Jeff, and...” Shepard would swear to her dying day (which she supposed was today... in a few minutes) that something very alive gleamed in EDI’s eyes. “And I would not see him reach non-functionality. I am willing.”

“As am I.” Shepard whispered.

Shepard could feel that the medigel had done quite a bit of work. Her hand had grown sticky. Thank the Goddess, she thought, smiling slightly at Liara. She still felt horrible. Chances were the medigel had sealed an infection in her body…death was probably still around the corner. A slow death. But a slow death at least gave her time. “Then let’s end this. Garrus, we’re going to need a path to that beam!”

He stared at her intently, then said softly “...anything.” His gaze shifted back down the scope of his rifle and he took a few pained steps down the citadel’s arm clearing the Husks in that direction. Shepard made to follow but Liara caught her hand.

“Shepard, are you sure? It...it will cost everything.” she murmured.

Shepard chuckled; it still fucking hurt: ”Doesn’t it always? I already died trying to stop the Reapers. Dying to succeed should be a breeze.” 

“It’s not just you this time. Shepard… your-” her eyes dropped to where Shepard still applied pressure to her wound… and her belly.

Shepherd's heart stopped, “What?”

Liara’s expression was pained. “I am as surprised as you are. Genetically it seems impossible which is no doubt why you neglected to take preventative- but if the synthesis of your synthetic implants and organic body are as advanced as the intelligence seems to think... they… they may have been able to compensate for the differences in the turian and human genome... ”

A blast of blue light appeared and Liara and EDI were thrown back from Shepard. The blaze of light slowly resolved into the shape of the Child.

“The time for these distractions is ended. You must make your choice,” it ordered.

Her heart was pounding. Her head spun. She could feel her biotics faintly crackling. She must be really, really, mad if that was happening. She wasn’t like Jack who sparked blue light and made things float if the mess hall was out of chocolate pudding.  She had to be pretty close to the edge for that part of her to wake up on it’s own. But what she’d just learned in the face of everything else… So many sleepless nights, so many losses to build the Crucible, to get it here. Crawling away from the Admiral, from Anderson’s cold form… so many hopes and prayers for a weapon that turned out to be a trap. She could feel blood running from her nose now. Fine, it was all fine. What had Anderson taught her? What had she learned time and time again? It didn’t matter if you were unarmed. When you needed a weapon, the answer was simple, you became one.  She chuckled darkly to herself. Apparently, she had.

“I won’t let everyone die. Synthetics or organics.” Shepard growled at the Child.

“Then you must surrender to synthesis,” it ordered.

“I already told you,” she said, taking a step forwards, “I won’t force that on everyone. I’ll make it happen on my own terms. So they - so they have time!” she snarled back.

“Time will only allow for chaos and all organic life to be eradicated. Your selection is unacceptable. You will be terminated and the cycle will continue.” The ground shook beneath Shepard’s feet and the arms of the Citadel began closing and the Child vanished. She heard a shriek and a fresh wave of Husks appeared, swarming towards them.  

EDI had managed to return to Shepard’s side. “Come on EDI,” Shepard called over the roar of battle.

The two began racing (or racing as much as Shepard was capable of) through the space Garrus had cleared, closing in behind him. They drew level with him when suddenly-

“Shepard!” he yelled and grabbed her by the arm.

“Garrus - I have to-”

He yanked her towards him, cutting off her speech as a blast of energy blazed past her.  Banshees had somehow joined the Husks on the citadel. He drew her down to the ground as another blast flew over their heads.

“I know!” he snarled, eyes locked on her. “I know you have to.”

Something moved behind him. Without thinking Shepard grabbed the spare pistol at his side and opened fire, taking down a Husk that had slipped through the line held by the rest in the distance. 

Garrus glanced over his shoulder, looking pissed. “Damn,” he growled.

“I’ve got your back.” Shepard said softly.

“Never doubted it.” He said, eyes bright.

“....never?” She asked, voice shaking.

“Never.  I know you have to do thisI- I hate it, but I do.” his hand squeezed hers. “So you better believe I’m going to ensure you make it there alive.”

“I’m -” she began, “Garrus, I-” but the words. They weren’t there. She could have taken down a hundred Reapers right now or a mec - but the words, they just wouldn’t come.

“It’s ok,” he murmured. In the roar of the firefight around them his voice was somehow the only thing that mattered. His eyes searched hers’. “I love you too. You will never be alone Moria. Never. Now go!” he roared. In one swift motion he pushed her forward and stood tall. She saw him raise his gun just as he passed from her line of sight and she began moving forward with EDI once again.

*    *    *   

Garrus glared down the barrel of his gun at the approaching Husks and Banshees. His muscles were loose, his spine tall. He felt effortlessly calm as he watched Shepard run in his rifle sights. There was rightness in it, watching that red hair of hers stream behind her as she ran. He nestled the Husks approaching her in the crosshairs of his sight, and with the finger that had brushed the matted hair from her face, brushed those in her path out of existence. 

              *    *    *  

Shepard could hear the blast of Garrus’ rifle and between each shot she heard him roar:

“GET”

BOOM

“THE HELL”

BOOM

“OUT”

BOOM

“OF MY”

BOOM

“WIFE’S”

BOOM

“WAY!”

Shepard didn’t have time to wonder at-

“Shepard! Now!” Cried EDI.

They had reached the beam. EDI grabbed hold of Shepard’s left hand, Shepard threw out her right, and launched a blast of her biotic energy at the central beam of light. There was a flash as it made contact and

Bright. Blaze. A crackle. Light was everywhere. Streaming through her, racing through every cell. Light in a roaring wind, blasting through until no obstacle to it’s path remained. She was… she felt free. Felt like she did standing on the deck of the Normandy, a horizon full of stars sprawled out before her. Free. She could hear the crew, feel them, feel the Normandy, the supernova of it’s engines and the smaller ever-moving sparks of the crew that called it home; feel EDI both here in the Normandy and elsewhere...  Somewhere in the howling… there was a faint… something… something soft… that growled in her ear… when she’d had an ear, a body… but the roaring was even stronger now and the wind was everywhere. And now… there was no point where she ended and it began… it was becoming hard to remember when she had been… when she….. The blaze... a familiar thrumming? She forgot what remembering was as the last of her burned away and became the blaze.

*     *     *

Light had been streaming from EDI. From her eyes, and mouth. Beacons of their own. Moria’s eyes had blazed too. Their usual green, like the dancing borealis over Palaven’s cold mountains, burned away behind an inhuman blaze. Just as the twisted form of Sarin’s had. 

There had been a flash. From them, and that central beam that had swept through the stars. It had felt like the wind from an explosion, it hit you like something solid, had ripped gouges through the structure of the Citadel,  but had been devoid of temperature. The Husks it passed through had dropped. Some were now stirring slightly.

He supposed if he were a more noble Turian he would check on those nearest him, but he was anchored in stillness, anchored by the stillness in the two forms at the foot of the Crucible. 

Shepard, for all her hardness, her scars, her bravado, she fell asleep when she had finally drank too much. Going soft despite her warriors form in a way she never was, even in normal sleep. She’d better not be asleep at the bar when he got there. He wanted to see the look in her eyes when he finally arrived.

The ground was trembling. He should probably care. Somewhere, someone was screaming his name. A crack was appearing on the arm of the citadel between him and where she lay. His heart leapt into his throat. A hell of a feat when you're as long necked as a Turian. He should run to- the crack widened as panels of the floor fell away. He should run. He should go get them - no, their bodies…..or get out of there himself. But everything was quiet, still. And so why move when that arm was so still? When those eyes were empty, so empty...like the universe had become. 

He could hear a name, a name that was supposed to be his, and through the growing roar of the crumbling citadel, pounding feet. He would go then. She would kill him if he let anyone end up dead. He’d stay for one last, useless, empty breath and then- Light flashed in EDI’s eyes and her head slowly rotated.

It was like coming up from beneath the waves into a storm. The roar of the disintegrating station rolled in his ears, or maybe it was the roaring in his blood.  The sky was blinding in the light of that green wave as it raced away from them and as the structure around them turned to metal and fire. He was moving. Faster than he could ever remember, his injuries forgotten. The chasm that had opened between him and where they lay, between that stillness he had left behind and the movement, the impossible - that lay before him, was nothing. He landed next to EDI.

“EDI!” he yelled, examining her robotic form. There were scorch marks, some melted wires, showing signs of burnout and overheating. But - one eye moved, circling aimlessly, then flashed to him, away, to him - the lense focused.

“Garr...s Vk…..in.” came warbling from an exposed speaker on her clavicle. EDI, she had somehow...if she had…”

“Joker!!!” Garrus barked into his com - hoping desperately that he’d be heard through the din of the crumbling structure around them. “Joker, do you read me!? I have EDI. She’s here! She’s still here. I don’t know how but I think they’re here.”

He heard static and then,”EDI! Garrus, I’m inbound, vertical evac incoming. Maintain your position. We don’t have much time.”

“Copy!” Garrus barked. Smoke was beginning to fill the air. Something to his left exploded and he shielded his face and com with an arm.

“Garrus-” he heard through the com, “Shepard - is she-” he lost the rest in some static.

“I - I don’t know.” Garrus said, his voice cracking.

“Moria!!!!” he yelled. Crawling towards her. Dread filled him. She was still. So still. He checked for a pulse, snarling at his trembling fingers. There was none. “NO! Moria!!” he shook her shoulders. Nothing. 

Damn humans. Damn soft, endoskeleton unsheathed, vulnerable - he ripped away the remnants of her armor’s chest plate and placed a hand on her sternum. Furious he had never studied human biology from any other perspective than a killer.  Compressions… that worked on most sapiens. In terror, he laced his fingers and began.

“Moria!” He yelled, “I don’t give a Krogan’s ass where you are or what is out there, you come back now. Moria….” He dropped an ear to her lips but felt nothing. Her scent filled his nostrils. Unmistakable despite the blood and smoke. That heady lilac and citrus, with a bite like gunpowder. He hadn't had a chance to tease her about it yet.  He growled and went back to compressions, pressing harder. “You’ve shown off enough. Now. Get. Back. Here! Moria!!!”

He heard and felt something crack, and whipped his hands away in panic. “No! No, no, no, no! Moria, please!” he begged. His heart was going to burst- that crack, that sickening crack, he’d - he threw back his head and roared. 

He lowered his head. A tear ran down his scales. His eyes burned and the smoke was choking, impairing his vision. He rubbed at his eyes, squinting at her through the haze. He was really looking at her now, well, looking at her for more than blood and vital signs. There were… He rubbed at his eyes again. No it wasn’t the smoke, or his eyes... Lines. He’d thought the soot was simply marring her face at first, but now he could make out a matrix, a latticework of infinitely thin lines scrolled across her face, neck, that hatefully still chest. Burns? Of some kind? From the light? Refracted off her armor maybe... His gaze drifted to the chestplate. Maybe there was a loose circuit in the wiring that had caused the strange burns? Her armor was in shreds, charred, shattered, the circuitry of her omni-tool unrecognizable-

His omni-tool. How much time had passed? How long… he wanted to throw himself into the abyss. If he hadn’t stood there. If he had run to her instantly… Hands still shaking he adjusted the settings of his omni-tool to administer an adrenal boost, and held it over the section of her chest he would have trained in his sights for an instant kill. “Please,” he whispered to everything and nothing. He hit the activation key.

All was still. 

“GARRUS” Joker’s yell split the silence in his head. There was fire all round him. He could feel the structure beneath him beginning to tilt. He squinted upwards, the Normandy maintaining position over his head, an evac cable being lowered to him.  He grabbed the cable, wrapped and clamped it around EDI’s form and signaled for them to raise her up. After ensuring she wouldn’t slip, he returned to Shepard. The ground beneath him shifted and then stabilized. He could see the biotics of their team standing in the hangar doorway, trying to stabilize the few panels he and Shepherd occupied as EDI was untied from the rigging. The cable began its descent once again. Garrus scooped Shepard up in his arms. He pressed his face into her hair and whispered,”I said I would never leave you.” He squinted up towards the Normandy, reaching for the cable a few inches from his finger.

The world exploded around them. The air was gone. There was only fire.  Broken shards of the Citadel arm were cast out by the wave of the blaze. And the red hot twisted metal and concrete was on them, things happening so fast that there was no time - no time to pointlessly wrap himself around her before the rubble-

*     *    *  

The Normandy swung back over the shard of the Citadel arm remaining after the explosion. Joker could make out frustratingly little through the smoke and fire, and couldn’t risk descending further as explosions still punctuated the sky. His instruments were infuriatingly useless. Anything beyond the manual controls had been going haywire since that green blaze hit them. He’d barely kept control. His heart raced in his chest and he cursed, feeling useless. He couldn’t go down there, he couldn't see anything, couldn’t do anything for EDI. He glanced over his shoulder. Traynor, Tali and a team of techs were grouped around the space where they had propped her limp form. Tali was tapping in a frenzy at a screen with wires connected to EDI and the Normandy, yelling to those around her over the new roaring static that had filled the ship since the blast hit and the instruments had been lost. Then as suddenly as that roar had begun, it vanished. The crew on the bridge gazed around in confusion. Joker checked the rest of his instruments and cried out in anger finding them still useless.

And then there was Garrus. That tore him apart the most.  Shepherd had held up her end of the deal. Somehow - EDI was here. But Joker had brought Garrus back. Had listened when Garrus had dragged himself across the bridge, shoving crew out of the way, armor discarded to reveal the scaled hide of his too heavily bandaged torso. Joker had balked when the Turian had roared at him, in a way that made something deep and primal in him want to run, run far, far away. Trembling, he had stared into those eyes empty of all but rage as Garrus ordered him to fly to the Citadel, and obeyed.  And he hadn’t gotten back in time, hadn’t given the Turian enough time to get EDI and himself clear before the Citadel arm exploded. And now he couldn’t even find the bodies.  He uselessly scanned the remaining shreds of the arm and then threw his hands in front of his eyes as another explosion of green light lit the sky. Joker squinted through the blaze, and suddenly felt the Normandy leap into a dive. 

*   *   *

Far below the Normandy in the clouds of billowing smoke and scattered embers red hair shifted in the growing wind. A body lay sprawled in the rubble, a network of silvery lines running over the skin just visible as they reflected the light from the explosions punctuating the steady glow of the growing fires.  As the Normandy passed above, a fraction lower this time, the light changed. Faint green glowed from the latticework for a moment, and then died. The Reapers had drifted away and the ships scattered in the sky were either making halting journeys to Earth, to larger vessels, or slowly gliding through debris, searching for life in the void.  The only battle that remained was that which fire and gravity raged on the crumbling Citadel.   Red hair lay across Shepherd's bloody lips. Then moved. And not from the wind.

*    *    *

Moria could smell smoke. Hear the sound of crashing and explosions. The ground beneath her face shook occasionally and her mouth tasted of ash and blood. If this was the bar on the other side she either had one hell of a hangover or it was a really shitty bar. She opened her eye, squinting in the light of the fire around her. Smoke clogged the air. In the distance she could see Earth slowly nearing them as the remnants of the Citadel lost their orbit. 

She hoped it had worked. Although there was no way to tell now. She just hoped it worked, for his sake. All their sakes.  She laughed to herself and then immediately regretted it. If she squinted right, the iron and wires sticking up from the rubble in front of her nearly looked like Garrus’s crest. That was comforting.  And at least she was seeing Earth again. I guess I’ll be buried on Earth...under the citadel rubble. But still. A cough racked her chest. She saw specks of blood on the ground in front of her mouth, clearly from that cough. Well that checked out and was pretty much what she expected. She tried to take a slow breath as she gazed at the blue green of Earth.  

Anderson would have liked this view too. She was pretty sure she could make out England's southern coast.  Maybe that is where they would fall and he’d be able to go home once again. She searched for other landmarks. Might as well bide the time till her breaths stopped. She cursed the Crucible mentally. It couldn’t even kill her right. She didn’t think it would be too long now. There was a new pain in her side, and a wet rasp to her breaths that was unmistakably the sound of a punctured lung. She searched for France over the pile of rubble with the points of iron and wire in front of her. She thought he would like France, for some reason. Some of the metal buried in the concrete was even blue-

“Garrus!” Shepard gasped. Heart pounding. She dug her fingernails into the ground and dragged herself forward, crying out at the pain as she did. It was him. Here. Somehow. Some fucking how. No! It couldn’t be. Desperately she slowly pulled herself over and up along the rubble, barely noticing as her fingernails split with the effort. She finally reached him. His chest and legs were pinned beneath a fallen wall of the citadel. His visor shattered. She couldn’t help thinking that would piss him off. She held her hand to his mouth. She could feel breath; barely, but it was there.

   “Garrus! She cried, pounding on his armor. Spitting blood as she yelled his name. She heard him groan and began sobbing. It was the best noise she had ever heard. His eyes opened and she stared into their crisp blue.

“Moria,” he rasped, eyes widening. He reached out a hand for her, the strain of the motion evident on his face. She caught his hand. “I - I thought you’d… how?”

“I don’t know.” she breathed. “I - don’t understand.” She stared at their clasped hands noticing the silvery matrix under the coating of soot and blood. But that didn’t seem to matter right now.  “What are you doing here?” she weased.

“Saving you.” he groaned “saving EDI.”

“Saving everyone was my job.” 

“Well keep working on it,” he said with a faint smile.

“Vakarian, if I had the strength to punch you right now...” her voice shook. “Why did you come? Why didn’t you stay on the Normandy?.”

He gave her a wry smile “Do you think Archangel would let you die before proving that he’s a better shot? Do you think Archangel would let you die without a rematch. No way am I living the rest of my life without taking you down. Your head’s big enough already.”

She squinted at the smoke, at the rubble on his chest, “Can you ….can you push it off?” she asked. 

There was a moment of silence and his face tensed. Then relaxed and he let out a rattling sigh,” ….no...no I think this is the end of the road for me.” He gave her an infuriating smirk. “But at least I got the last save.”

“No…” Shepard groaned and pulled with futility against the concrete.

“Hey, hey,” he breathed. “Moria….stop. It’s not. You can’t shift it.”

“Fuck you I can’t.” she snapped.

“Moria, I have to.. I need you to take this.” He held his hand to his mouth, pulled off his glove, and then pulled a scraped up circle of metal off his smallest digit.

“I don’t want your mom’s cheap Turian trinkets...I want you” she snarled.

Garrus laughed, it quickly turned into an alarmingly wet cough. When it subsided his lips were bloody. He reached out and gently traced a finger across her bottom lip.  And then looked at the blood there too. “Well look at that? We match. Told you I’d catch up.” She glared at him. “And you do want my Mother’s “trinkets” - she has the most amazing armory on Palaven. It’d make you wet.”

“Garrus,”

“Shhh...no, this is just yours. Recognize it?”

She let out a wet and exasperated sigh and squinted at the circle of metal. One edge had a clean finished end, the other was rather jagged. A minute code was stamped on the metal.  She stared at him. “A shell?”

“Yeah. Your shell. From the shot that you beat me with. For now. You’re gonna wear it.”

“Oh I am, am I?” she said, eyes watering.

“Yeah, but don't get too excited. It’s just to remind you that I get a rematch when you get to the bar. And to tell the world you didn’t win, yet.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and he grinned like an idiot. “Oh. To tell them you get a rematch? Not something else you might have yelled at the world earlier?”

“Oh...well…Um...in my defense, I thought you were dying. And...what do you humans say? The best laid plans…But yes Shepard. I would have. If I could.”

“Ok. You're done talking like this. We have a beach to get to.” she glared at the rubble before her, willing herself to see some way to get it off him. She gritted her teeth and reached for her biotics pushing against the concrete and searching for all her might to find...something anything. The concrete pressing into him was wet...

“Moria, please,” he reached a hand out to her face. She held it there and pressed it against her cheek. A tear ran down her cheek and he brushed it away with his thumb. He coughed again. His breath was ragged.

“Garrus,” she whispered, pleading. His eyelids were fluttering now.

“It’s ok Moria.” he said between coughs. “I’ll...I’ll get the first round.” His eyes drifted closed.

“Garrus!” She hissed. She tried to shake him, and failing at that touched his face. He didn’t respond, “GARRUS!” She yelled. She strained against the jagged concrete, coughing at the smoke that was continuously thickening in the air. It was getting warmer too, and Earth was nearer. She was beginning to see the lights of major cities emerging through the clouds. “GARRUS!”  she screamed.

No. This was not it. This would not happen. It would not end this way. She had not become an Alliance commander, had not become a Spectre, died, come back, found this cocky Turian, found a living Prothean and survived whatever the synthesis was just to lose Garrus to space debris. She threw her body against the rubble again. “Stay with me, Garrus. Vakarian! That is an order.” She couldn’t see through the smoke and tears now, “Garrus Vakarian, this is your Commanding officer. I am ordering you to wake up.” She could feel the remnants of the Citadel accelerating. She grabbed his com. “Normandy!!! Joker!!! Anyone on this line. This is Commander Shepard. I have a man down. I - I - “ she coughed again and groaned in pain. “I am on the Citadel. I repeat. I am on the Citadel and I have a man down.” A sob racked her body “I need medical evac! I - someone please come get him!!!!”

There was crackling from the com.

“Someone help him!” she yelled.

He was still, and pale. Fuck, she’d never seen a pale Turian. “No!” She screamed. She grabbed the slab of concrete with her broken hands, pulled with all her might, plunged into the void where her biotics had been, threw back her head and screamed. An electric green glow began to creep down the silver lines on her body. It started, just below her eyes, the initial gleam could have been mistaken for tears but it slowly crept down her cheeks and over her jawline, down her limbs. It spread, gradually revealing a branching network that encompassed her whole being. Filling the air with a new wavering light like a borealis. It spread down her arms to the ravaged fingers clutching at the concrete. Her scream became broken, tearing her throat, and then there was a blinding flash from those lines of light. It’s gleam cutting through the dark of the void like a new sun. The slab in her hands shifted and a roar of engines filled the air.

*   *   *

Beep.

He waited. 

Beep.

Good.

Beep.

It was difficult. Waiting for each beep. He remembered one night.... Marveling at the quickness of their heartbeats. His ear pressed against her naked chest. As her warm, blissfully soft fingers traced his scales and the spines of his crest. He had been taught that their hearts beat so much faster when learning the best ways to kill them and every other species in the galaxy. 

It was so different though. Waiting for each heartbeat. Hoping for the next. He wouldn’t have expected their quickness to be so distressing. But somehow, because they were so short, that terrifying moment, that silence before the next one came. When all his calibrations told him it should have arrived by now. That if it hadn’t it must mean-

Beep.

Oh, ok. With a heartbeat that fast, and five times faster in the heat of battle….it was even more impressive she was such a good shot. That she kept such poise. He was sure he would be shaking like a leaf. Not that he would ever admit that to her. 

Beep.

This time, his heart skipped a beat. He had forgotten to wait for that one. 

Beep.

Ok, maybe he would tell her about her impressive compensation if-

NO. There were no if’s. When. When she woke up.

Beep.

Waiting was exhausting. He brushed a stray hair from her forehead. He was always doing that. Her fringe...it was so delicate, the little wisps, the way they danced in the wind, and stuck to her face in blood and sweat. Her hair so much longer than when they had taken down the humanoid Reaper. Always tossed in a bun. So she had a clear line of sight, so that it didn’t provide much of a hand hold in hand-to-hand combat. So that she always had control. Except for these little wisps. He couldn’t help but smile. He should buy her a barrette. He would tell her that too.

He leaned forward and took her hand in one of his. Then lay his head on his arm. Watching her.

Beep

Good.

The Synthesis had worked. It hadn’t killed her. Not… not fully anyway. Her organic body had died. His gut clenched in terror all over again at the thought. The memory of that crack - her still chest. So different from the one that now gently rose and fell under his watchful eye. That blast. The energy had wiped out all life in her, and EDI’s robotic form. But EDI didn’t just exist in that form. Her robotic body had been fried by the blast of energy, but her programming, her servers, they weren’t just there. They were on the Normandy.  

And so her consciousness endured, and through their biotic link - so had Shepard’s. And somehow, in the wake of all the changes wreaked on the fragile form in front of him, Shepard’s consciousness was able to return.  He still didn’t fully understand. Engines, catalytic processes, energy transfers, complex physics, bullet and fist trajectories; of all these he was an expert, but this bio-synthetic network stuff…even Tali couldn’t help.

The news had not been all good. Her synthetics had changed fast apparently, as that light raged. Biotic energy furthering connections where wires could not reach, the inorganic materials learning to spread like cells yet burning out in the intensity of the energies coursing through her. Not to mention the critical levels of organic damage she had already received. She was filled with structures none of those caring for her had ever seen and no one truly understood. It was impossible to tell where synthetic ended and organic began. And those silvery lines spidered through her whole being. Even Javik said he had never seen or heard of their like.

And then there was the enormous wave of biotic energy she’d used to free him. To save him. Tali and Liara had said it was like shooting a bullet from a gun whose barrel was already splintering. The energy had dispersed everywhere, and hadn’t left much in its wake.  

When Javik and Liara had reached them on the Citadel, after that blast, after the descent EDI and Shepard’s linked minds had caused, the slab trapping him had been obliterated, as had much of his remaining armor.

Beep.

And now he waited. EDI’d said she could feel Shepard. But that she was only a whisper in the Normandy’s computers now, most of her consciousness must have returned to her body. But no one could tell him if her body was whole enough to hold it.

Beep.

Still good. He would just close his eyes while he waited for the next one.

The bed shifted. Garrus’ eyes flashed open. He couldn’t draw breath. Every muscle in his body was tense. Terrible sniper form. The bed had shifted. Hadn’t it? If he had imagined it he was going to leap out the window of this Salarian hospital. Her forehead creased and she shifted. He hadn’t dreamed it. He slowly raised himself. His hand gently squeezing hers.

“Moria,” he breathed. He could see her eyes shifting beneath her lids. He couldn’t breathe, he was shaking.  “I’m here. Moria, it’s ok, I’m here….Come back Shepard….please. Your insubordinate boyfriend is begging you.”

Finally they opened, and focused on him. Their bright green was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

 With a ragged breath she wheezed, “Garrus.”

His mouth was dry. He couldn’t - what do you say… he didn’t know what he was supposed to do, to say in the face of….. and then it tumbled out before he could control it, “You smell like lilacs and citrus, it's so girly, but also kind of like gunpowder, take a shower already, you’re even more of an impressive shot because your human heartbeat is so fast, also I’m gonna buy you a barrette.”

Shepard squinted at him. Half in irritation half in confusion. Her eyes roved over him. Taking in his new scars, the bandages peeking out from under his jacket. His mandibles hurt from how hard he was smiling. Ever the watchful Commander. Assessing everyone’s fitness. Her eyes fell on their clasped hands and his arm on the bed. She closed her eyes, her face clenching in pain. “Garrus…”

“What is it?”

“You’re on my medigel feed.”

He leapt to his feet, still holding her hands. Sure enough, there was the thin plastic tube feeding her medigel, in the crumpled blankets where he had fallen asleep.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He shifted the tube, it refilled with gel and Shepard let out a sigh. He sat back down, squeezing her hand. Unable to let go. 

Her eyes searched his face, and fell up on his visor. “You got a new…”

“Visor? Yes, the other one was broken.” She nodded. “Frustrating. But there are much more important things.”

Shepard snorted softly “I knew you’d be mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“There were photos on it.”  His eyes widened. She gave him a pained smirk. “Special… photos.”

He was breathless. “Well now I’m mad.”  Her eyes shone. She shifted and began trying to sit up in the bed and almost instantly cried out in pain.

“Easy, easy..” Garrus murmured reaching out to steady her. She fought back against him for a moment and then laid back, breathing heavily. “You have to wait and heal,” he pleaded. She threw a scowl his way. He snorted. “You might be able to take a hit Shepard, but you're garbage at recovering from them.” 

 She grimaced in pain, “It feels like I-”

“Broke a rib?”

She nodded, “I remember… breathing trouble, blood… but not…”

“Um…”

She looked at him.

He shrugged. “Sorry, I might have broken one of your ribs.”

She coughed. “Goddamnit, Vakarian. How the hell-”

“Well if you’d had a pulse when I got to you, I wouldn’t have had to….” he tried to keep the bravado. Tried to act like it was after any other mission and they were comparing scrapes in their armor and particularly spectacular shots, but he could feel himself unraveling inside. His breath caught, his voice began to shake, “I couldn’t get it back. The compressions weren’t - I didn’t know how hard to-”

She stopped him with a gentle hand on his cheek, wiping away a tear he hadn’t realized he’d shed.

“It’s ok,” she wheezed, her eyes full of tenderness, and added with a slight smile, “Just stick to shooting people next time.” Her smile faded, “Garrus.” she croaked. “I...I’m sorry.”

He leaned forward. Bringing his face inches from hers. “There will never be a reason that you can say those words to anyone in this galaxy. Never again.” he growled softly.

“No, listen,” she murmured, squeezing his hand, “Liara, just before I… when she helped EDI connect….” his brow furrowed, “Garrus, we… I.” She looked scared and tears welled in her eyes. “A Turian and human…it wasn't as… biology didn’t have an issue… I was…”

It took an eternity for the words to sink in. He couldn’t help himself, his hand slid across the blankets to her abdomen. He’d held his hands there on the Citadel. Just trying to stem the bleeding, oblivious to the not just one but two lives at risk from that bleed.

“It didn’t make it?” He cringed at the stupidity of the question. Liara, the Salarians, Dr. Chackwas. They had been so somber. No one had said… he supposed it hadn’t been their place. He thought of himself as relatively imaginative, but he could not even conceive what it would have been like to hear this from someone else. And she had been in and out of surgery. The physical damage, the infections sealed in after the medigel was applied, the broken rib and punctured lung from the compressions he had done, the synthetic implants that had to be replaced...

“Liara said it would take everything.” Shepard whispered. A tear ran down her cheek.

The doorway to their room, her room really, except he’d never left it so it might as well be theirs, slid open and of all people Liara burst inside. When she saw Shepard tears filled her eyes.

“Your-” she gasped.” “You're, I had scanners monitoring and their readings went off the chart - I thought - you were -” she took a deep breath. “But you're actually awake.”

“Sorry,” Shepard croaked, “You know I’ve never been a morning person.”

“Ha.” mocked Liara, tears shining on her face. Her countenance quieted, “I should let you two... I’m sure there are things you need to say-” She made to leave but Shepard stopped her.

“No, I - I just told him, Liara.” Liara’s gave Garrus a pained look. “And he told me I smell and he’s getting me a barette.” Her lip twitched. “But- Liara you said…” Shepherd seemed to struggle to find the next words. “...I don’t understand why I’m here,” she wheezed.  “Why didn’t I die?”

Liara crossed to her and said softly, “We don’t really know for sure.” She took a seat on the other side of the bed. “Your and EDI’s minds were connected, and so, we think you….uploaded yourself to the Normandy for a time.”

Shephard’s brow furrowed as if remembering something. “But the template… you, you said it would take everything...”

“I - I have a theory there.” Liara said. Her eyes were shining with fresh tears. She took a ragged breath and her eyes darted to Garrus. He stiffened.

“I think the synthesis… the energy cost would have been fatal…. and your...your physical form would have been consumed… if… if there hadn’t been more energy… more than one life and set of DNA connected... ” Shepard frowned. Liara seemed to steel herself. “The fetus.” she said softly. “It… it would have been a mix of organics and synthetics, just like you, but even more concentrated.  And with… another life growing inside you, and your connection to the Normandy through EDI… it fueled the synthesis and you...”

“So it’s gone?” Shepard asked in a small voice. Garrus had never heard that from her. It shook him to his very core.

Liara’s lips trembled. A tear slid down her cheek and she merely squeezed Shepard’s bandaged hand and nodded. She gazed for a moment, first at Shepherd and then at Garrus, before taking a deep breath and adding, “I felt it, for a few moments.” She smiled softly at them both, “It was a remarkable creature.”

Something ached in Garrus in a way he’d never felt before.  Shepard's gaze had become distant.

They were all still for a moment and then Liara whispered, “I’m down the hall if you need anything.” She gently brushed a tear from Shepard's face and squeezed Garrus’ shoulder as she left.  

There was silence in the room. It was strange… so strange to fiercely miss and grieve something he hadn’t known. Something that had only crossed his mind in the few quiet moments in their mad dash across the galaxy.

“I'm sorry,” she breathed.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured as he squeezed her hand, forcing back some tears. “But you and I are here” he growled firmly. “We are both here. So it will be ok.” He gazed deep into her eyes. “There’s no Shepard without Vakarian,” he murmured. After a moment he pulled a bottle from the pocket of his jacket. And placed it on the bed. “And I brought the bar to us. Just don’t tell Chakwas.”

She grinned at him through her tears, took a ragged breath, and said “Oh, I won’t.”  Her hand shifted in his. She slipped it from his grasp and examined the bandages. 

“You shredded your hands,” he said softly. ”Getting me out. All the rubble, and some of the metal was hot. There were some bad burns.” She held her hand up. Her thumb was separate, but her first two and last two fingers were bandaged and splinted together, to speed the healing the Salarians had said.

“Look,” She wheazed holding her hand up to him, “we match.”

He lifted his hand from the place where a miracle had been, spread his digits and pressed them against this new miracle. After a moment he entwined his fingers in hers and held on tight.

It was a small gathering. In a green grove on Palaven. One of the few near his home that had not been reduced to ashes by the Reapers. But even there, shoots and saplings were beginning to emerge through the ashes. Wrex stood between them. The Krogan had refused to wear anything other than their armor from the fight for Earth. Moria liked it. She could make out scratches and dents from bullets she’d seen him take, or almost dodge. Wrex spoke of comrades, of the bond with the person that you trust to have at your back. The one you will charge at a thresher maw for. And of having to put up with the stench of her and Garrus’ pheromones before they had acknowledged their mutual attraction. And the worse ones that distracted him in battle after they had...frequently acknowledged it.  It was perfect, and she could barely keep from laughing as she watched Garrus try not to cry, he was so moved.

Grunt stood beside her in the place she would have asked Anderson to stand. But it was right somehow. She appreciated his unrestrained eye rolls and grumbles at the aspects of the human ceremony Liara had recommended they add for balance. He had a few new scratches on his face, but seemed rather pleased with them. 

Last night, at a celebratory dinner with all the guests, she had caught him playing with Mordin, the eldest of Wrex and Bakara’s growing brood. Mordin had picked up a butter knife from the table while Grunt had been charged with minding her.  He had taken her curiosity as an opportunity to teach the toddler the proper grip for a knife and slicing pattern to gut an enemy.  Shephard had finally intervened when Grunt roared with delight as Mordin practiced the pattern on his face. Wrex had guffawed and said it was about time the pretty tank-bred male earned some scars, and Bakara seemed rather pleased Mordin had given him his first.  He certainly didn’t look out of place as nearly everyone in the wedding party was heavily scarred, especially the couple.

 They were quite a pair, Moria thought to herself. She wore flowing red and white robes over pants, in Turian style, the color setting off her hair and scars. In very un-human fashion they left part of her midriff exposed so that all could see her wicked, extensive scars. Garrus was similarly adorned, revealing several scars that until now, she was sure she had been the only one to see, but in blues, like his armor and the color of his clan tattoos.  Javik stood beside him holding the memory shard, having said, much to her chagrin, that the union of two great warriors was something the ages should remember.  

She had pinned Garrus to the wall and began a reproving tirade when he’d brought the… rather revealing….. ceremonial robes back to their apartment in the city. But he’d explained, in a frantic rasp, her forearm and the wall sandwiching his windpipe, that they truly were traditional. He did, however, admit that he had been particularly eager to see her in them.   Apparently, in Turian culture, this heightened vulnerability was a great demonstration of trust between the joining pair, and clans. And a heavily scarred partner showed that you were joining with a seasoned warrior.  A mark of great pride for your clan.  She couldn’t decide if she felt smug or irritated by the fact that, because of this, her robes were a little more revealing. But she certainly enjoyed the sight of Garrus in his robes.

Wrex, after a colorful description of Garrus pheromones when he covered Moria from behind, transitioned to the next part of the ceremony. Moria’s heart quickened and she could tell by Garrus’ deep breath that his slower heartbeat had also increased. Grunt held out a box, from which she withdrew two rings, more slender than the one Garrus had pressed upon her as the Citadel fell from the sky, but forged from that same band. That shell, that proved she was the better shot. Javik passed Garrus a small bowl of blue ink.

Here was the only part of the ceremony she and Garrus had really cared about, although, after the attention he paid to the seating chart and his firm opinions on the food, she deeply suspected that he cared for more of this than he let on. Now, they exchanged customs. Now they made a step towards undoing all the strain between their people from the first contact war. Now they charted a new way forward. Shepard offered Garrus one of the rings and he slipped it on a finger with a gentle caress to some of her nastiest new scars. She slipped its twin on one of his index digits. He then dipped that digit in the bowl of ink, his eyes never leaving hers, gently adding the same tattoo to her face that she had so often traced on his in the small, quiet hours on the Normandy. She felt the sting as the nanotech in the ink set to work creating thousands of tiny holes in her skin so that when the ink dried it would be permanent as his. She smirked, keeping her eyes locked on his through the stings of the tiny needles, refusing to flinch. Garrus’ brow raises a fraction and she caught him mouthing “show off.”

“And now these warriors’ houses are united as one. In tradition of the Turians, Commander Moria Shepard accepts the tattoos of Clan Vakarian. And in the tradition of the humans, he takes her name, Shepard, for they and their name are both revered heroes to the Krogan. And now they kiss and stop making me nauseous with their blasted pheromones.” Moria threw back her scarred, tattooed head and laughed, but didn’t have long before Garrus grabbed her, and pulled her to him. They locked eyes for a moment. One she wished could last forever...until she couldn’t wait any longer, grabbed him by the mandibles and pulled him in for a...zealous and very unchaste kiss.  Their guests made quite a bit of noise at this point, particularly for such a small party, and sent raptors flapping from the trees. 

Garrus finally pulled back, giving her a smirk that stirred things deep within her. “What now?” He purred.

“Now, she said with a smile. We go to the bar.”  His eyes gleamed at that. “We empty lots of bottles,” she said, “and if you're a very very lucky Turian,” he growled in anticipation and bent his head close to her, “you get a rematch.”

[squigglysquidd]

#24 for the fake dating prompt, please :)

Fake Dating Prompt

24.  we accidentally meet under mistletoe and share a kiss, but now everyone at this party thinks we’re dating and I feel too awkward to correct them so hold my hand

I decided to do this for a non-fic Shakarian because this prompt wouldn’t really fit into any of my current fics. In this case, I’ll keep Shepard as ‘Shepard’ instead of give her a first name so that there’s no confusion :)

Shepard never really could go all out during Christmas. She liked the holiday, perhaps better than all the others in the year, but living on ships made it very difficult to ever get into the holiday spirit with grand celebrations and decorations. Sure, sometimes the ship she was on at the time would decorate the mess or a common room for the crew, but it never had the kind of grandeur that she saw in the vids. 

When Kaidan come up with the idea to decorate her recently acquired apartment, however, Shepard couldn’t help but agree. She left the actual planning and decorating for him to delegate, seeing as how he grew up in a family that apparently even dressed for the occasion. She helped and following someone else’s lead even on this little thing felt good for a change, letting her relax during their practically mandatory shore leave away from the Reaper war.

Even her non-human crew got into the seasonal spirit when they found out, agreeing to come and make merry and even some joining in on the preparations like when Tali dragged in Garrus to help decorate while she and EDI prepared Egg nog and came up with a dextro equivalent or Liara who brought along Glyph to design and hang up lights so that they flickered and shown in a special pattern throughout the apartment.

Shepard had no idea where they managed to find a tree, but it was nice silhouetted against the flashing lights that shown through the drawn blinds from the Strip. Its pine smell filled the living room where they pulled aside the piano to set it up and though there weren’t many presents, she felt like those she did manage to get for everyone held enough significance that she didn’t feel so guilty over that one particular part of the holiday not being up to par with Kaidan’s work.

She had just gone over the plans for music with Kaidan and Glyph to make sure nothing too obnoxious would be piped over the apartment’s speakers when she turned around and nearly walked right into Garrus, a man who had become a true friend and source of support throughout the entire journey with her crew. Though it took some convincing, everyone managed to hound him enough to convince him to leave the apartment long enough to return to get dressed in something besides armor before returning just in time to start the party and, looking at him, Shepard was glad she had the back up because he looked actually comfortable for perhaps the first time in a long time.

Good. Maybe he can leave the war at the door like I have and give himself a chance to breathe.

Chuckling, Garrus grabbed her shoulders when they nearly collide and smiled. “I gotta say, Shepard, though I don’t really have any sort of idea what this Christmas is about, this place definitely looks ... festive.”

She smiled back to him and looked around the apartment. “Yeah, it’s definitely like the movies I’ve seen. So, if you want to know what Christmas looks like, Kaidan did a hell of a job.”

He hummed as his gaze followed hers. “I can’t say I hate it .... Reminds me of some turian celebrations ... a little.”

Snorting, Shepard looked up at her tall friend but froze when her sight traveled above him to catch sight of something she definitely recognized. No matter how big or festive a Christmas celebration was, Shepard always found that they included one little thing meant to get people in the spirit, It didn’t take up much space and was as easily recognizable for a Christmas party as a Christmas tree.

“Something wrong, Shepard?” Garrus hummed in concern and followed her gaze before looking back down to her in confusion.

“Uh ... yeah,” she said, giving a slight huff of nervousness as her cheeks grew warm. “It’s just that that,” she explained, motioning the mistletoe above, “has a particular tradition with it.” Biting her lip, her eyes take in her best friend’s face. “A mistletoe usually means you kiss whenever two people happen to stand together beneath it.”

She wasn’t sure how he’d really react, not entirely, but his glance upwards and soft chuckle before smiling down at her wasn’t it. His mandibles fluttered slightly before he gave a slight shrug and said, “Well, we’re here to celebrate a human Christmas together, and I intended to follow all the customs even though I’m not really ... human .... So what do you say we follow this one?” He cleared his throat and finally dropped his hands from her shoulders. “If you want to, of course. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable ....”

Shepard laughed, the sound a bit breathless and nervous. Of course, she wanted to follow that particular tradition for a Christmas party ... with him anyways. And if he was offering? Well, she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Especially not on Christmas, the season of giving.

Smiling, she nodded and motioned him to get lower while she lifted onto her toes. “Well, it’s pretty simple, Garrus,” she said as she cupped his face to balance themselves in this slightly awkward stance given their height differences. He even laid his hands on her, one against her ribs while the other gently cupped her elbow, and he purred softly as he let her guide him in the act. “A kiss is when we press our lips together, but here, we’ll just have to improvise.”

“Just like we always do,” he joked, though he even sounded a bit breathless, as if in anticipation.

Shepard bit her lip for just a moment as she looked at his mouth plates, wondering how exactly it’ll work, but leaned forward anyways. When her lips touched his plates, she found a warmth there and it made up for the lack of plush lips as he slid his hand along her arm to lay over her hand. 

The kiss lasted only a moment, but when she pulled away from him to let them return to their comfortable heights, she opened her eyes that she hadn’t known she’d closed. Catching sight of the others in the apartment, she saw quite a few quickly stop from staring, some even sharing whispers or giggles.

“Well, if that’s not a bad sign, I don’t know what is,” Garrus said with a rumble of amusement as his gaze takes in the others in the apartment.

Shepard chuckled. “They probably think we’re ... ya know.”

He huffed and smiled at her. “It certainly seems that way. They seem pretty happy about it too.”

Chuckling, she felt herself blush furiously. “Well, I guess we should just play along.”

“How?” He asked, raising a brow plate and she chuckled again, shrugging.

“I don’t know .... Hold hands or something?”

Smiling, he thrummed and laughed softly. “Sounds like a plan.”

[barbariccia]

i’ve always thought omega had a really cool design. it’s a gritty place, in keeping with its name - omega ( Ω or ω ), as the last letter of the greek alphabet, tends to symbolize the end of something (typically in a line or list of things that have come previously), especially in christian camps, contrasting alpha ( Α or α ) which refers to the beginning. the alpha and the omega are a title of christ and apt enough, meaning that christ is the beginning and the end of all things.

suitable, then, that omega is in terminus space - the end of civilization - and frequently left abandoned, in the corse of an asteroid.

as you land, you’re approached by a salarian, and then a batarian, who tells the salarian to make himself scarce after a brief meeting. the batarian turns to us.

Moklan: Blasted scavengers. Welcome to Omega... Shepard.

turns out we’re not exactly on the down-low, and they’ve had their eyes on us since the second we stepped into omega space, with the so-called leader aria wanting to know why a dead spectre is in her area. we’re told in no uncertain terms to go make ourselves known to her, and, well, we don’t exactly know where we’re meant to be going to find our scientist yet, so we might as well.

aria t’loak resides in the afterlife club, because just because you’re at the end of all things doesn’t mean there’s nowhere else to go. it’s big and gaudy and in high demand; a vid of three asari strippers dancing plays directly above the entrance, and a line of people is waiting impatiently to get by the elcor bouncer, who’s got no time for these people who aren’t on the list. and boy, it’s gaudy on the inside, too, with the hallway leading to the club proper playing images of flickering fire. oh, and the lighting in here is atrocious, truly suitable for a nightclub.

there’s a little pack of batarians who think you’re looking at them wrong, and you get to tell them to pound dirt before you enter afterlife... which is a wholeass spectacle.

it’s dark and dingy and there’s asari dancing above the bar, where you can order as many drinks as you like from, courtesy of a well-dressed turian barkeep. after a little dutch courage, you can go up to the next level, to the private lounge where aria keeps her eye on the rest of the club, and as you ascend the stairs, she speaks.

it’s a whole mexican standoff of sorts, guns pointed in every direction, and me just wanting a nice chat with a new friend. :( her batarian bodyguard scans us with his omnitool - and even if you object, you’ve no choice but to suffer through this.

Shepard: I was told you’re the person to talk to if I have questions.

Aria: Depends on the questions.

Shepard: You run Omega?

aria might just be my favourite asari in the franchise; she still suffers from “skin on display even while dressed” disease, but she feels fully autonomous and doesn’t put up with bullshit. sure, the idea of a Tough Woman is a whole trope in and of itself, but in a series where belonging to this particular race throws you firmly into one of three feminine ideals while considering them a magical space-elf race that everyone’s attracted to by rote, it’s real nice to see an example that doesn’t do the same thing as everyone else. hell, even benezia is blown out of the water by aria, who doesn’t come across as evil so much as self-serving, and tough to keep her iron rule going.

Shepard: One scan and we’re straight to business? People are usually more concerned about who I am.

Aria: Your death was downplayed, but hardly what I call a secret. I had to make sure it was really you. You could have been anyone. Anything.

Shepard: Tell me how you got set up here.

Aria: That’s as privileged as information gets. I have many friends and enemies I keep at varying distances. I don’t count you among either. We’ll see how useful you prove. Short answer: mind your own damn business.

Shepard: You must know what’s on Omega.

Aria: Everything that’s worth knowing. I don’t usually give it out freely. Information is power. Mundane things, you can find yourself. Take a walk in a back alley, or buy one of the mercs a drink. Better yet, talk to the entertainers. They give great tours.

there are two dossiers to fulfill on omega, and you can ask aria about both of them.

Archangel is a mercenary commander whose operations are noted for their technical expertise and strategic brilliance. He is responsible for high-profile attacks on gang leaders on Omega and can likely be found there.

Dr. Mordin Solus is a salarian biological weapons expert whose technology may hold the key to countering Collector attacks. He is currently operating a medical clinic in the slums of Omega.

Shepard: I’m trying to track down Archangel.

Aria: You and half of Omega. You want him dead, too?

Shepard: Why’s everyone after him?

Aria: He thinks he’s fighting on the side of good. There is no good side to Omega. Everythign he does pisses someone off. It’s catching up to him.

Shepard: Just the kind of guy I’m looking for.

Aria: Really? Well, aren’t you interesting. You’re going to make some enemies teaming up with Archangel. That’s assuming you can get to him. He’s in a bit of trouble right now. The local merc groups have joined forces to take him down. They have him cornered, but it sounds like they’re having trouble finishing him off, and started hiring anybody with a gun to help them.

Shepard: What can you tell me about him?

Aria: Not as much as I’d like. He showed up here several months ago and started causing all sorts of problems. If you make your own laws -- which everyone her does -- he makes life difficult. He’s reckless and idealistic. But he seems to know enough to stay clear of me.

she tells us that every major merc group is after archangel right now, which is incredible in itself, because they’re never seen together unless they’re warring. archangel has done the impossible.

Shepard: Know where I can find Mordin Solus?

Aria: The salarian doctor? Last I heard he was trying to help plague victimes in the quarantine zone. I always liked Mordin. He’s as likely to heal you as he is to shoot you.

Shepard: What can you tell me about him?

Aria: Used to be part of the Salarian Special Tasks Group. He’s brilliant and dangerous. Just don’t get him talking. He never shuts up. If you really need to find him, take a shuttle to the quarantine zone. No guarantee they’ll let you in, of course.

that’s all aria has to say; we take a trip downstairs to sign up with the blue suns to hunt down and flush out archangel. but not before some sexism!!

you DO NOT GET THIS LINE or any equivalent if you’re playing as a male shepard. all the recruiter says is “you three look like you could do some damage. looking for a good fight?” and BOY FUCKING HOWDY why would you include this. why would you include this line at all. why would anyone think this was a good idea. why would you not include an equivalent for mshep if you were going to do this. i hate this line and i lose my fucking temper every time i think about it because wow, guess fucking what, we never see any batarian females! we never see any salarian females! we never see any god damn turian female characters! we don’t know SHIT about the women of this universe and oh, it’s so gratifying to know that even in the future, even across the galaxy, even non-humans don’t value women as equal to men. where’s your culture differences? where’s your fucking worldbuilding? you cannot mean to tell me the entire galaxy works on the same sexist paradigm of “man good women weak hurrhurr” because that’s so fucking lazy and weak and i despise it.

you get a choice (renegade, obvs), to pull a pistol on the guy, and then the lines carry on as usual. you buy into the blue suns, making a note to kill every one of the bastards when you’re done picking up archangel, and leave the club to find a transport just outside, where we’ll be carried away to the fight against archangel. as you leave, there’s a human kid that walks in and wants to join the fight as well - you can ask him just how old he is, and do a paragon interrupt to stop him from joining a fight that’s already taken out countless teams trying to get to this merc, but i was angry enough that i let it slide. teach the kid a lesson about trying to be fucking macho and the consequences.

grumbles loudly.

[fischotterkunst]

Sangheili from Halo

i hadn’t heard of them until i googled them just now, but hoo boy / rolls up sleeves / im about to tear these bitches apart. this gets long af and there’s some gore in a screenshot of a dissected alien so i’m gonna put it under a cut.

i read their entire wiki page and to the creators’ credit they clearly wanted to create a rich, believable backstory for this race. they just like…..didn’t put any thought into basic physiology whatsoever. 

as bored as i am of aliens that just have regular human-like mouths, there are literally thousands of variations in nature for mouths and mouth-equivalents/eating apparatus that designers can draw from. there is absolutely no reason why something would evolve a mouth like this

design-wise, it’s certainly unique, but it makes absolutely no physiological sense. having multiple external jaws (the wiki refers to them as ‘mandibles’ and technically the word ‘mandible’ is used to describe the lower jaw, but in this context they are meant to resemble arthropod mandibles, which are used to cut and chew food, and i am about to argue that this terminology is therefore inaccurate) my theory based on my quick overview alone is that they might have been intended to pull food into their mouths, as inspired by a function unique to some species of snake. this diagram explains it well:

examining the Sengheili with this concept in mind, it is clear that their ‘mandibles’ are too thin and too far detached from their skull to accommodate the necessary skeletal and muscular structure to make them functional for this purpose. so my judgement of the mandibles is that they’re stupid. 

their nostrils are also too small to accommodate the lung size they’d need - like they literally wouldn’t be able to suck in enough air to properly oxygenate their blood. and speaking of their blood, the writers literally went out of their way to give them a binary vascular system (they have two hearts). 

i can excuse the off-colored and apparently tar-scented blood, since most earth creatures’ red blood color comes from hemoglobin (a protein interacting with iron, which reflects red light) and off-colored blood can be attributed to alternate protein-chemical compounds or any number of things. off-colored blood in aliens is one of my favorite design tropes, so i actually give them points for this, but they lose those points anyway on the binary vascular system. the Sengheili are supposed to be ‘saurian’, so i’m guessing this was inspired by the widely-unaccepted theory that some of the largest dinosaurs had two hearts to distribute oxygen throughout their massive bodies. however, the Sengheili aren’t nearly large enough to need this accommodation even if it was scientifically sound (after all, blue whales and elephants only need one heart apiece). so again, i think this is stupid. especially considering they go out of their way for it to be a Thing. 

a final physiology flaw that irks me is their legs. 

i know i mentioned in my Star Wars aliens post that i really dig bipedal aliens with legs that aren’t just regular humanlike legs. so at first glance i thought this was a good idea on these guys, since their legs are really sturdy-looking as though they could support their weight and make sense for a recently-bipedal species. but if you look at the alignment of their knee vs their hock (technically the back of their heel), you can see that their weight doesn’t travel straight down their leg as would be necessary for bipedalism. they have the kind of legs like you’d see on a quadruped - like a dog or a horse. here’s a quick comparison on human anatomy vs dog anatomy:

this is why quadrupeds have difficulty standing on their hind legs - the shape of their legs is perfect for distributing their weight across four legs, but when they rise up onto their hind legs, all their weight goes into their knees and the muscles of their thighs, which is a difficult position to hold. this is the position in which the Sengheili stand, with all their weight on their knees and thighs, and while i understand the impression is meant to be that they are a recently bipedal species, their societal history and advancement says otherwise, and the contrast is inharmonious. again, good intentions, but you made it stupid by trying to add bad science. 

brief note on their armor - its not memorable. its just very basic, nothing unique about it. i suppose this is meant to speak to their focus on functionality as a Spartan society, but armor can be functional and still aesthetically appealing (see the Turians in Mass Effect or, hell, the Clone Troopers in Star Wars, who individualize their armor while still keeping its functionality and most of the uniformity). 

ALL THAT SAID…

he….Big 👀👀👀

[twitchesandstitches]

The Destroyer had been fighting in the arena for a long, long time. She didn’t know how long, and she didn’t care.

She cared about the applause, the glory and the fame. She cared about the joy of proving her worth, time and time again; the sweet thrill of her blows landing home, the perfect control of her finishing moves never killing another contender. And she cared, so very much, for the roar of the audience as she delighted them, the thrill pulsing from them as dear to her as her own heartbeat, and just as vital to herself, and there and then she always felt alive.

Somewhere, perhaps, her ancestors on planet Terradino, at some unspecified point prior to the destructive events that put the multiverse into such a complicated state, had fought in such a way. The Destroyer had grown up not knowing a whole lot about where her family had come from. She knew that she was a vaxasaurian, the dinosaur-like people renowned for their size and strength. She knew that her family had served a minor lord of this feudal world she called home for at least five generations. And she knew that she had won a lot of freedom and fame fighting in the gladiator arenas, a true show-woman to her core. She liked to think that, perhaps, she was doing her ancestors proud in some obscure way.

She did not much care for the strangely penetrating look the small human woman was giving her.

‘Title, not name.’ She stopped, halting a charge that would surely have seen them crushed beneath her tread.

Ahsoka readied the gladiator spear she’d been given, since you don’t get to take your own weapons into the fighting pit. She was a tall and imposingly powerful woman of the twi’lek people; broadly humanoid, two long and thick tendrils extending from the back of her head over her shoulders, and it was difficult to say, from her coloration, if she was red with orange paint, or orange with red paint. It was certainly a complex design, shifting subtly with the immensely powerful energies emanating from her clear mastery over the mystical arts.

Ahsoka looked up at the vaxasaurian gladiator; the Destroyer. She and her group were not small; they were enormously powerful, their abilities enhanced by the strange practices of the Task Force and vastly empowered by all kinds of esoteric things: unique technologies, forgotten mystical mantras, divine techniques, and so forth. They were also a subtle group, so they were not quite as big or buxom as their power normally would have made them, though they were still incredibly large; the average audience member could have fit into their hands.

The shadow of the Destroyer fell over them all; the statuesque and extremely curvaceous form of the reptilian juggernaut could not entirely be downplayed by the showy armor she wore, not at her levels of busty. It was a bit of a surprise she didn’t topple over with every step, really. Breasts bigger than her upper body, the visible scales painted in attractive designs, hips that shook like buildings moving in an earthquake; she seemed calculatedly appealing, fearsome.

Arri picked up on Ahsoka’s mood. She coughed; a turian like her, with their distinctively rumbling voices, could really make a cough sound dramatic. Tall, her curves extreme on an hourglass-shaped body, her lightweight robes (perfect for someone with an evasion-heavy style) revealed a lot of serrated and metallic carapace, like someone had tried to build a bipedal velociraptor and make it armored. That look, her mandibled snout, and the long talons were typical of her people. The scorpion tail was not; neither was the way one arm twisted into a huge pincer, blazing with magical flame and generating all the fire magic she required. “Perhaps we shouldn’t antagonize the terrifying gladiator, Quinn…?”

She said this without much hope. Harley had an Idea. This rarely worked out for them.

Harley placed down her hammer, a great and oversized thing seemingly too unwieldy for someone to even pick up, let alone swing with one hand as she did. She sat down on a hammer-head larger than she was, her enormous backside making it sink into the ground. The haft made an acceptable rest for her back as she plopped against it, seemingly unconcerned, and she clapped her hands together.

Normally, she looked like an unstable mass of dynamic energy too intense to be constrained within the form of a giantess, even one so powerful that her power levels had produced a body type not dissimilar to the average violin; big up top, big below, and with very little in between. Even sitting down, her visible body appeared to be a mass of boob on crossed legs, monstrously wide thighs, inexplicably pale skin, and all of that wrapped up in a battlesuit of alternated red and black patterns.

That energy cooled, and she instead radiated competence, reassurance, and a soothing attitude.

The Destroyer raised a weapon irritably at her. “Get up, little thing. Fight me! Stop wasting my time, I..” She faltered, eyes blinking furiously inside her glamorous helmet. “I…”

She shook her head. She banged her weapon against a showman shield. “I have no time for this!”

“Okay,” Harley said, blinking slowly. “It’s your show, lady. This whole place is your performance, ain’t it?”

The Destroyer found herself nodding before she forced herself to stop, narrowing her eyes down at the (relatively) little fighter. Her elephantine foot landed a dangerously short distance from Harley, trying to get her to move… to run, do SOMETHING. “What trickery is this?” the Destroyer asked.

“No tricks, hun.” Harley held her hands up. “My girls back there, they won’t attack until I give up on our little talk here, okay? No ambushes or sneak attacks to take your title.”

The Destroyer blinked at them. Ahsoka and Arri nodded nervously, taking many steps back. Ahsoka fought back the urge to summon her powers anyway, just as a precaution… just in case Harley’s plan, whatever it was, didn’t pan out.

The enormous vaxasaurian stared at them a while longer, doubt coloring her every movement, Eventually she sat down, her armor still wobbling in various places. Her armor had probably been jointed specifically for that; a good amount of wobble drew a certain sort of audience.

She glowered down at Harley, who met her gaze politely with a vague smile. It was amazing Harley didn’t cower, with those massive talons before here; the tyrant lizard jawline, the spiky plates jutting through armor, and the mighty tail spikes lashing around in what, a layman probably, might mistake as impatience to finish the fight.

Harley knew anxiety and someone who needed to get something out when she saw it.

“If you want me to go first,” Harley said in a drawl. “My real name is actually-”

She said ‘Harleen Quinzel’. What actually came out of her mouth was an entirely different set of syllables, modified to make sense in this part of space, in this universe, in that culture, for her current operational persona. It was carved into the universe around here; whatever she said or did, it would be perceived as something fitting her role. They didn’t hear the name Harley Quinn when she fought, they heard what they needed to. Just as surely as, if by some means they did learn the truth, they would eventually just… forget. The knowledge dripping out of their heads.

And if that didn’t work, Gabriel Reyes would visit them. Or rather, the Ghost Rider would. Holy fire would burn away everything they didn’t need to know, and leave behind calm ashes, bothering them never again.

Nevertheless, though the Destroyer didn’t hear what Harley truly said, she did hear the sincerity.

“I don’t know my own name,” she admitted. “That’s strange, isn’t it? I don’t know why. Huh. That’s, that’s odd.” She frowned. “Isn’t it?”

Around the arena, there was a chorus of voices, a vast crowd complaining and bickering and wondering just what was going on here. Referees tried to angle for silence, and a few shadowy visitors were looking very anxious indeed.

“Look into your memories,” Harley suggested.

The Destroyer tried to remember something; anything, really, and found, now that she had brought it up, that her recollections felt… odd.

Further than a few years, and they were hollow. Not empty, just… insufficient. Off, flavorless, shapes of memory.

“Huh,” she said, and it felt inadequate. “That doesn’t seem right…”

And as the conversation continued, Eddie Brock, in his persona as a wannabe gladiator (with his married partner/symbiote lover as a subtle edge in his favor, with going full Venom as a back up plan if things went bad) held up a small oblong thing that looked like a religious relic. “Hrm,” he said, voice tinged with the harmonics of the symbiote bound to him as well as his own voice.

Ranamon, presently wearing the robotic shell of a walking tank, scuttled over. “Something up?” she asked, risking that she might be breaking character.

Eddie nodded at her. “We’re done here.” It wasn’t Eddie that spoke, but the symbiote; they seemed glad of it, and Eddie’s teeth grew longer when they spoke, tendrils of black shimmering just a bit over his eyes.

Ranamon blinked. “I thought our job was to beat up the head gladiator, get close enough to the big ruler-type guy and…”  she made a sharp gesture with half-a-dozen arms that indicated a very violent and final sort of political shift. “Y’know.”

“Yep,” Eddie, this time, said. “That was one of the options, anyway, and I got word from high up. Seems the direct option isn’t needed. It’ll happen without us. We’re done here.”

“Oh. Uh.” Ranamon shrugged, which was an interesting thing to see in a machine body that was what you got if you tried to make a tank out of an arachnid shape. “Yay, I guess!”

They left, to join up with the rest of the Task Force, and leave things to sort themselves out.

They often operated, in a way, through ripples. The tasks they were assigned, as random and minor as they seemed at the time, sent out ripples. Echoes and consequences, moving onward and growing larger… much larger, over time.

Today, a gladiator would go home, unfulfilled and perplexed, and have to ask herself why she couldn’t remember her name, and why her memories didn’t feel real.

In a week, she would gather up the other fighters she was friendly with, the ones that always stuck by her because she was a professional that never went for a killing blow, and ask them a few awkward questions. Everyone would leave feeling baffled that their own memories felt wrong, too.

And there… well, who knew? Maybe in a few months time, a local cloning factory would answer some very pointed questions from gladiators that had secretly been born there only a few years previous despite their memories saying otherwise.

But from there, a hint of a whole rotten, sorry system of casually churning out people for entertainment would lead all the way to the top, and it would be the Destroyer aiming herself squarely at the king of the world, making her name very literal indeed.

One way or another, a corrupt empire would fall.

The Task Force would have helped make this part of the multiverse a little brighter.

[agentkatie]

I don't know if it's easy for you to think about any hcs, but I want to spread love for the dream team sooo: au where garrus, femshep and wrex travel the galaxy together to go on an adventure

Ahh, thanks for the ask! I am more than happy to think up hijinks for these three! I call this… friends5eva!AU (I’ve left it vague, but you can imagine it as Shakarian or not)

Post-destroy, Shepard is fed up of being rolled out by the Alliance for photo ops, ditto Garrus for the Turian military, and Wrex needs a break from his thousand Krogan offspring. During one group vidcall (they def have these a lot) they arrange to go on one more adventure ‘just like old times’.

The Alliance refuses to fund it so they scrape together their creds (Shep’s predilection for model ships/killing fish has left her with surprisingly little money) and buy an old-fashioned cruiser designed for the first generation of Earth emigrants. Wrex shotguns the double bed, Shep and Garrus have to make do with bunk beds.

All Wrex wants to do is crack some skulls but that’s more difficult than it should be because, when confronted by the King of the Krogan, the Saviour of the Galaxy, and Archangel, all of their enemies surrender pretty much immediately. It’s endlessly frustrating.

This means… undercover!AU. Except they’re terrible at it. Shep dyes her hair (a slightly darker shade of red), Garrus slaps on some different colour face paint and Wrex puts on an accent. Exhibit A:

Wrex and Garrus also pretend they’re brothers. They argue over which one of them is the pretty one. 

After trying and failing to solicit work as mercs, they eventually find some legit trouble in the Terminus Systems where Wreav turns out to still be alive (hey, we never SAW him die) and plotting to overthrow Wrex as Krogan leader. They kick his ass. It’s the best fun they’ve had since they killed the Reaper on Tuchanka (or at least, Wrex says so).

They have such a good time they make it a yearly event. In the same cruiser. Each year Wrex refuses to relinquish the double bed.

(Send me an AU, and I’ll give you some headcanons!)