#wrex writes

[notebooks-and-laptops]

God I love Wrex. He's genuinely so insightful. Whenever I took him with me he's nearly ALWAYS the one who knew before it was obvious that we were heading into an ambush or that something wasn't quite right. When we met Vigil Wrex was the one who said as we headed down that he didn't think what was happening was Sarens doing. He says he knew Saren wasn't a good guy when he met him prior to the events of the game and he met him once for a few minutes. He speaks about only being good for fighting; but he was genuinely trying to do something about the genophage before he had to leave his planet AND he still DEEPLY cares about trying to fix it now even if he tells you it's a lost cause because krogans are too focused on other things. He claims his species is best at war and not things like science but he's just!! So clever and he clearly KNOWS on some level that a lot of what the Krogan experience is is based on their subjection/treatment in the galaxy. He enjoys jobs where his opponent is smart and good at what they do; and he is smart enough to be crafty and manipulate individuals such as when he got an employer to pay him to be a guard even AFTER he failed to kill the guy he was sent after. He is grumpy, but he cares about Shepard and he cares about stopping Saren. He's cynical and not sure that things can change for the better but he's also got this little nugget of hope in him that comes out so strongly at times. I love him. Best alien. Smart little guy. Best friend.

[kauriart]

Paragon, Renegade, Pilot

Chapter 6

A NSFW Mass Effect fic | Joker/Kaidan/f!Shepard | Read it on AO3

Joker doesn’t remember Alchera.

Not much of it anyway. He’d broken his–– well, a lot. Little hairline breaks skittering up the bones of his legs like burns from a lightning strike, and a pelvis fracture that was a burst of agony so bright he thought he was dying when it happened.

But he remembers what came before. The sudden blare of the warning siren that made his guts drop down to his toes. Bellowing Shepard’s name into the comm even as he wrenched the ship into a wild and completely hopeless evasive maneuver. The heart-stopping impact that had shredded the Normandy’s shields. And the next, that had torn through her hull with a sound as horrifying as a Reaper’s scream. The wash of red that had lit up his console even as several feeds had fizzled into static. The upper third of Engineering was gone. Gravity on deck two was flickering in and out. Oxygen levels compromised. Hull integrity compromised. Radiation spiking. Fires all along the third deck. And the tiny, heart-stopping blips of two more incoming barrages.

The Normandy was lost.

And it had taken less than two minutes.

Escape pod five deployed. Escape pod four deployed.

A third impact straight to Normandy’s heart. The death rattle of splintering steel and the strange pop of electrical fires bursting into the vacuum of space. Screams. Audible above even the din of the Normandy’s alarms; someone was screaming.

Escape pod two deployed.

And Shepard, cursing, hair slick-stuck to her face through her visor. Pulling Joker bodily from his chair, clapping an emergency ventilator over his face, and dragging him toward the last viable escape pod.

He remembers fighting her. Digging in his heels because he couldn’t — couldn’t walk away while the Normandy burned. It was so awful, and wrong, and undignified an end.

But he’d never been a match for Shepard in strength or in stubbornness. So she'd dragged him through the wreck of the Normandy, hallways dark with smoke and blinking lights, and bodies floating through them in slow motion like some terrible dream.

He'd laughed, he remembers. Nerves spilling over in the worst possible way. Good thing he can fly, he’d have made a terrible marine.

And then they’d reached the escape pod. Shepard had punched the button on the hatch, and the doors slid open. Built for twenty, the rounded dome of space inside seemed unnecessarily large. She’d pitched him in without ceremony, and hung back while he strapped himself into the narrow semi-padded seat.

Three seconds. Four?

Her face was turned away, hair loose and unruly inside her helmet. Like flames trapped in a bottle.

In that moment she had never been more beautiful.

And then something on the Normandy had blown up behind her, shoving her roughly into the doorframe of the escape pod.

The emergency lighting died abruptly.

Still, enough fire to see by.

A brief, horrid moment when their eyes locked.

Shepard’s silhouette, frozen. Wreathed in smoke and red and blue flames.

I’m sorry.

He couldn’t hear her, but he could see her lips move, see her punch the hatch again.

Then the door slid shut between them.

The sound of the locks releasing was the sound of his own heart breaking. He could hear it above the din of his own screams. Above the roar of the boosters beneath the escape pod. Above the concussive blast of the last salvo, as what was left of the Normandy exploded.

Thirteen minutes.

He remembers thirteen of the worst minutes of his life. Alone in the escape pod as it hurtled towards Alchera. Screaming for Shepard so hard he’d nearly thrown up all over himself. The constant jostle of descent and the impact of the landing were only half-dampened by the internal shocks of the escape pod.

He’d passed out after about three minutes planetside.

That part was nice.

The rest of Alchera was wrapped in cotton wool. No one else who escaped had been injured, bar some superficial burns and abrasions. And all of the pods that had launched had reached the surface without incident, so Joker had Chakwas’ entire emergency stash of painkillers all to himself.

(Yay.)

He doesn’t remember what the days between the crash and the rescue were like –– when rations were sparse and hope, even sparser. He just remembers waking up in some Alliance hospital on the Citadel to the glare of harsh overhead lighting, and the sharp smell of chemical disinfectants in his nose, and an entire galaxy in mourning.

Shepard was on every screen and omni-tool in sight, in every whispered conversation. Her name rippled across the hospital ward, caught in an endless current of shock and speculation.

He wishes he had never left the Normandy. He wishes he had never thought to try and stay. 

In his dreams, he grabs Shepard, pulls her into the escape pod, and never lets go. In his nightmares… it ends differently, but not much worse than what actually happened. Shepard dies. Shepard always dies.

But none of it matters because when he wakes, Shepard is still dead.

***

All in all, Joker isn’t sure what hurts worse. The way Kaidan’s entire body is so heavy with grief that he rarely sits up straight anymore, or the way Kaidan looks at him. Not like a murderer. Not like the impetus of all this disaster. Not like the one who should abso-fucking-lutely have been left behind to die; to freeze or burn or get spat out into the silence of the stars.

Kaidan looks at Joker like he’s glad he’s still alive. And fuck him. Honestly. 

Of the myriad of things Joker’s ever wanted from Kaidan, forgiveness isn’t one of them.

He’d rather have rage. Hate. Abuse, even. But there isn’t a mean bone in Kaidan’s body, which is suddenly, irrationally, unfair. And for one bright moment he thinks if it had been reversed, Shepard would have yelled at him at least once for being so goddamn in love with a ship that he had to look around, had to say good-bye, had to waste those precious seconds like the fucking idiot he is. 

But the Normandy was made of mortal stuff. It was Shepard who was indestructible. Shepard who could walk through fire. Shepard who could badass her way out of any situation. Shepard who thought Joker’s life was worth more than the risk of taking two more steps to save them both.

So he’s angry at Kaidan because he can’t be angry at Shepard. 

And he’s even more angry at Kaidan because Kaidan doesn’t even have the decency to be angry back.

So in the wake of the attack on the Normandy, Joker had avoided him. He didn’t have to try very hard –– there were medical panels and PT, and a thousand debriefs, and then a thousand more when the brass realized he was the last person who had seen Commander Shepard alive, and he couldn’t explain why she hadn’t walked forward half a foot and then shut the escape pod hatch. 

He never told anyone about that last I’m sorry. It was too personal. The only moment he shared with Shepard that belonged to him alone, and he wasn’t about to give it to the Alliance for a panel of specialists and psychiatrists to pick apart. Fuck, no.

And so a month later all of the Normandy’s Alliance crew had been cleared for active duty, except Joker. Still under medical observation. Two words that meant he was grounded. Two words that really meant fuck you, you don’t deserve a ship.

And so the first time he sees Kaidan –– really sees him –– is the day of Shepard’s funeral. 

And Kaidan looks so...

He lists.

Like a ship with a fatal hull breach, leaking air and eezo in equal parts.

He hurts to look at, so Joker keeps his eyes on his own shoes for much of the ceremony.

There’s an Alliance chaplain of sorts, saying things that don’t make any sort of sense. Words like calm and rest could never apply to the Commander. Shepard was all passion and strength and mule-headed courage. She was light. She was chaos. 

She wasn’t…

(supposed to die)

…this.

The coffin upon the altar is open, but there is nothing inside. Or not nothing, but no Shepard; just a truly spectacular arrangement of white flowers. Some are recognizably from Earth. Others aren’t. A few glow, dappling the inside of the coffin with the light of tiny stars. 

It’s…

(wrong)

… pretty, he supposes. The way mortals mourn a God.

Lacking a body to bury they’d all been asked to leave a token. The Normandy had been Shepard’s home. The crew, her family. 

Garrus leaves a brand new Black Widow sniper rifle, modded to the hilt.

Dr Chakwas leaves an ice blue bottle of what looks to be very expensive brandy and a single crystal glass.

Wrex leaves a headbutt that splinters the outer shell of the coffin a little and sends the Alliance aide in charge of the ceremony into a full-blown panic, stalling the funeral for a good half-hour.

Kaidan…

Joker doesn’t see what Kaidan leaves.

When the time comes, he can’t bear to look.

But he hears Liara say “Oh, Kaidan,” in a voice so small and heartbroken that Joker’s eyes grow thick with tears and he can’t see what the rest of the crew leaves either. He keeps his head bent and his attention on the tiny drops that fall from his eyes onto the tips of his shoes. He floats safely for a little while in that liminal space between reality and grief, where everything is fuzzy and gray and empty.

Then someone –– Tali?–– rests a hand on his shoulder, urging him forward.

Oh.

It’s his turn.

Oh no.

Joker has no memories of Shepard that aren’t stamped across his heart. Nothing. They didn’t share anything tangible that he could hold onto. Just cockpit conversations and evacs and the rare blessing of her smile.

And once, an apology.

And now all he has to leave is a note. Just one word. A shakey, heartbeat of a scrawl crumpled in his fist.

Forgiven.

But he doesn’t want to forgive Shepard for dying. He doesn’t. And even if he did, he can’t grant absolution to an empty box. To a pile of things that weren’t even hers. His hand shakes. He keeps seeing it: tangled red hair, and fire, and Shepard’s lips moving on a pair of words he’d never heard her utter in her life.

I’m sorry.

He can’t move forward, and he can’t move back.

Who is he to withhold forgiveness? 

A fucking coward, that’s who.

He got her killed in the first place. And then she did the impossible — she died. Now neither of them deserves forgiveness.

He staggers back a step, and then another, breath all stopped up with a sob. And then he can’t see through the tears, can’t hear above the sound of himself losing a grip on his pathetic guilt, can’t think — and very much doesn't want to. But he feels his body moving, and the lancing strike of grief and panic as he turns and shoulders past his former shipmates.

Sounds blur. The lights of the citadel streak past like stars. But it isn’t until he’s back in his apartment that his brain processes the feel of a hand sliding against his own –– a broad sturdy touch, clammy with sweat and sorrow. Someone had tried to pull him back to himself.

Maybe it was Shepard’s ghost.

***

Time passing on the ground is nothing at all like time passing in space.

It’s lonelier for one thing. Everyone assumes space is lonely because it’s so damn big and so damn empty. But as if to compensate, the world of a ship is always so utterly full. There’s always noise and lights and screens dotted with information and alerts. The haptic feedback of it all; tiny thrums of vibration beneath his fingertips; the give and take of all the switches and buttons, not smooth, but stippled with tiny bumps and ridges so he can mark his place even in the pitch dark.

A ship breathes. The movements of her crew  — always wedged shoulder to shoulder even when they don’t actually touch — flow like a fully functioning circulatory system, like something alive. The steady rhythm of the Normandy always matching his own. Like the ship paced itself to his heartbeat. Like it would do that for him.

No other ship had felt quite like she did.

Here it’s just… silent. Hours and hours of nothing at all. Nothing to keep his hands busy, or his mind busy, or to soothe the sensation of being dragged through an endless hallway filled with smoke and fire and weightless bodies.

He’s given up the monotony of flipping through his datapad, blankly looking at random crap on the net. The Alliance is still blocking him from active-duty information (the pricks), and all anyone seems to be talking about is Shepard’s death — aggravating because his mind always fills in the little details that no one else knows.

Red and blue fire.

A tangle of sweat-soaked hair.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

“Fuck,” Joker scrubs a hand over eyes that sting with the memory of smoke. “Fuck, fuck.”

Still. Being inside his apartment is slightly better than being out of it. At least he can wallow without feeling judged. After a couple of weeks, he stops eating very much because it’s more bother than it’s worth. And he stops showering very much because, same.

And then he stops taking his meds. 

Not like, all of them. Just the ones that make him dream with perfect clarity. Because he doesn’t dream of Shepard or Kaidan anymore, or rather he does, but not in a sexy nut-in-your-pants kind of way. He dreams about how Shepard died. Sometimes he dreams of getting lost in an endless hallway filled with fire and death, sometimes it’s the escape pod and the look on Shepard’s face when she slammed the hatch shut between them. Sometimes it’s the aftermath, watching her run out of air, freeze to death, or just drift forever in the cold and dark and he wakes up, retching over the side of his bed because the absolute last thing he wants to experience in fucking high-definition is Shepard's slow and painful death.

So yeah, he doesn’t take those meds.

It doesn’t make the nightmares stop, because the nightmares never stop. But it makes them bearable. If he still watches Shepard die every other night at least it's through the foggy surrealness of normal dreams. Awful, but not soul-shattering.

So he trades emotional pain, for physical; the return of that rusty awfulness in his joints, and he spends an hour each morning aching and running his hands under hot water to make it stop. But it doesn't matter. What the fuck does he need good hands for if he isn’t flying a ship?

He doesn’t tell Dr Chakwas that his pain is worse, even when she asks point blank. Instead, he answers every one of her messages promptly and in as chipper a tone as he can manage in case the Alliance has finally decided it wants its most brilliant pilot back.

(They don’t.)

He knows Dr Chakwas is pushing for him to be released from medical observation, but since it really isn’t medical observation he doesn’t have much hope.

He flips his datapad on again, then off.

Then he flips it on again. And he wonders if this is all that he'll have, for the rest of his life.

[strawberrykidneystone]

mass effect companions masterbation headcanons

here you go you filthy sluts‼️/affectionately

garrus:

i hate to say it, but he jacks off every night if he can. it’s mostly a stress reliever for him and he’s usually all alone in the main battery, so why not?

liara:

doesn’t if she can help it. she’ll do it every once in a while but immediately feel guilty afterwards. only uses her fingers, nothing fancy (she’s too prideful to buy sex toys) maybe once a month as a treat

kaidan:

mans is a freak. he has a collection of dildos and pocket pussys in his personal apartment, but he makes due when out on ships for missions LMAO, i’d say maybe 2 times a week

ashley:

has a bullet vibrator that shes had for years that hasn’t let her down yet. easily transportable and easy to conceal!! doesn’t masterbate often, but still does it every once in a while, maybe once a week if we’re getting technical

tali:

wishes she could do it more often, but the process for it to be safe is really annoying. and even if she does it while she’s in her suit, it’s a pain to clean up. i’d say she commits to it once a month for a self care day, invested money into a wand vibrator for herself

wrex:

literally doesn’t. i feel like krogan would see it as a “waste of seed” or some shit like that so he takes most of his frustrations out on the battle field

a/n: i only did the me1 crew but if more characters are requested i would be happy to do them!!!

part 2

[litlunacy]

I don't have anything finished for N7 Day, but I do have this wip I've been chipping at for a while. Takes place immediately post Destroy ending. ~1200 words

It's deathly silent.

The quiet settles over her like a heavy blanket, thick enough to be suffocating. Though, that might be because the last time her world was this dark and silent she had been gasping for air in the vacuum of space. She remembers how her lungs had burned while she thrashed uselessly, panicking in a way she hadn't since she was a teenager watching her brother get shot in the face.

That same panic is lurking at the edges of her mind now, waiting to take over. But she won't let it. She can't let it. There are too many people waiting for her to come back. Friends, people she cares about and who care about her. A lover who would follow her to the end of the world, and practically has. A wild wrecking ball of an adopted son she has to keep pulling out of trouble. 

She is Commander Lorelei Fucking Shepard, and she did not save the whole damn galaxy just to leave it behind.

So she keeps calm. She takes slow, deep breaths to keep her heart rate steady. The wound on her side is still oozing blood between her fingers, and she tries to keep pressure on it as best she can. Her entire body hurts, but she's slightly more concerned about the parts she can't feel. Maybe they're just numb from blood loss, or maybe she actually lost them in the explosion, but she tries not to think about it. 

Instead, she thinks about her crew, her strange little family that she's built for herself. She thinks about Liara's gentle smile and Jack's rabid grin. Grunt's throaty laugh and Wrex's bone-crushing hugs. Traynor's babbling and her frightening dedication to strategy games. She thinks about Joker, and knows that he got them all out, somehow. She thinks about her hamster. Somebody better be feeding the little furball. And the fish.

But most of all, she thinks about Garrus. She thinks about his icy blue eyes, and the way they go all soft and warm when he looks at her. She thinks about the feel of his talons gently carding through her hair. His wry, sarcastic humor. His voice. The feel of his keelbone pressed against her spine, his thrumming subvocals lulling her to sleep. 

God, what she wouldn't give for that right now. She's so, so tired...

But she can't sleep. Not yet. Somebody will be looking for her, and she needs to stay awake. As long as she's awake she can remind herself to breathe. As long as she can breathe, she can get back to her people. Her family.

So Commander Shepard lays there in the rubble, and she breathes.

***

Most of the krogan teams were still on Earth when the Crucible fired. Wrex had been hip-deep in husks, blasting one to bits only for three more to take its place when the shockwave had rippled across the galaxy. 

And all the husks had dropped dead.

It's now too many hours and one cramped shuttle ride later, and Wrex is leading the search team combing the wreckage of the Citadel. Officially, they're searching for any survivors. People who were on the station when the Reapers had dragged it to Earth. Civilians, officials, even the damn Keepers need to be saved if they want any hope of getting the Citadel up and running again. 

But personally? Wrex is looking for Shepard. Wrex is only looking for Shepard, and anyone who has a problem with it can talk to his fucking shotgun. 

Thankfully, nobody has a problem with it. 

When he finds a corpse, he ignores it. There's nothing to be done for the dead and not enough time to waste on them. When he finds someone alive, but not Shepard, he calls for a medevac and moves on. There aren't many alive. 

He digs through piles of rubble, shifting hunks of metal and stone that other races would need machines for. There's smoke and the smell of blood in the air. The joy of victory is soured by the still-rising body count.

But he hopes. He has to. If anyone could survive this, it's Shepard. She's already come back from the dead and survived what should have been a suicide mission. His friend is still here. She has to be.

"I hate this," comes a grumble from behind him. Wrex knows that it's Shepard's whelp without even turning around. "It's too quiet. Makes me antsy. Like I wanna kill something, but there's nothing left to kill."

Wrex snorts. "It's called worry, kid. And it'll eat you up like fear if you let it, so stop worrying and keep looking." He moves some twisted hunks of metal out of the way and walks through the new hole. Grunt follows.

"Krogan don't worry. We shoot things, and then we die. We don't worry. We get angry. We get violent." He kicks the discarded scrap of metal as if to prove his point.

The older krogan heaves a tired sigh. "You've got a lot to learn, kid. Don't pull this tough-guy bullshit with me right now. You're worried about Shepard."

"Shepard is fine. She's here somewhere, and she's fine. Why would I be worried about her?"

Wrex whirls around and grabs him by the headplate. "Because we're all worried about her! I am worried about her! She's my friend--"

"And she's my Battlemaster!" Grunt shouts, wrenching his head free and throwing an angry punch that Wrex easily catches.

"Then you need to channel this worry like you do your battle rage. Focus yourself so we can find her." He shoves Grunt's hand away and keeps walking. But the next words out of the kid's mouth make him stop cold.

"And what if we don't find her?"

Wrex doesn't answer right away. He balls his hands into fists, biotics fizzling as he resists the urge to throw the tactless youngster. Of course he's aware of the possibility. He's not stupid. But he also knows that what-ifs won't help anyone right now. This is a rescue mission, not a retrieval, and this whelp had better get that through his head.

"We will find her," he growls, though his traitorous brain adds an unbidden dead or alive in his head. "And when we get back to Tuchanka, we'll build her the biggest fucking monument the galaxy has ever seen. Now let's go."

"How can you--"

"Shut up!"

Grunt narrows his eyes and makes to grab Wrex by the shoulder. "You can't tell me to shut up, you old fossil."

Wrex slaps a hand over his mouth. "I said shut up. I thought I heard something."

Grunt grumpily shoves the hand off his mouth, but stays quiet. He turns his head, straining to hear...anything.

The dead silence is unnerving. It reminds him of the tank. If Shepard were here, she'd be making noise. In all the time he's known her, Shepard was always making noise. Humming to herself, tapping her foot, muttering under her breath as she scoped out a target with her sniper rifle. The woman even made noise in her sleep.

Grunt hates this silence. The ash and dust floating in the air. The smell of burning and death. They just won the greatest war in galactic history, but this wreckage smells like loss.

[patrickdiomedes]

Trying to get back into the habit of writing

here's one of the first scenes I wrote for Shards of the Harvest, edited a bit a couple days ago. (I tried to emulate Matthew Stover's writing in the Revenge of the Sith novelization for this part.)

This is Urdnot Wrex.

Krogan. Battlemaster. Mercenary. Once, he’d wanted to be something else. Another title, one with meaning. And, deep in his heart, he still wants that.

He sees Saren’s army of Krogan, cloned and twisted to a hideous purpose. Once, he’d told Shepard that anyone who worked for Saren deserved to die. But he’d meant mercenaries. Not this. Not these whelps, raised with knowledge of nothing but destruction.

Something within Urdnot Wrex fractures at the enormity of what they face. Something that lets his long-buried dreams rise back to the surface. That dream of being something more. Something greater.

“Life before death. Strength before weakness. Journey before destination.” he murmurs. “This isn’t right.”

“What are you talking about, Wrex?” Alenko asks.

“There has to be another way. A way other than slaughtering these…these children,” he says.

“Wrex, we don’t have a choice,” Shepard says. He shakes his head, and sees Williams out of the corner of his eye, raising her rifle. But her stance is uncertain. He manages a small smile at that. He’d like to consider the woman a friend. He doesn’t have many.

“There’s always a choice, Shepard. I made one a long time ago. A choice to give up on my people, to run away. Well, now I’m making a different one.”

“What, you think we can save them?”

“I don’t know. But I have to try,” Wrex says. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and attunes the Rhythm of Pleading. And then he does something more, something that should be impossible. He Connects to the cloned Krogan, and for an instant he can see lines of light extending from his chest toward the base. These Krogan may not have been born on Tuchanka. They may not have ever learned anything of what a Krogan truly is. But they are still Krogan. And they will hear him.

“Hear me,” Wrex says, and his words carry to every Krogan soldier that Saren has created on this planet. “I know what Saren has told you. I know what he wants of you. He asks you to destroy, to crush his enemies, and promises rewards in return. But he does not know what it is to be Krogan. He does not know what we are. Saren is of the Enemy. He would make you into slaves, as the Enemy has done before. He seeks only to use you, and then he will cast you away like the trash he believes you to be! But you are more than that! You are Krogan, and you have a choice!

“I am Urdnot Wrex! And I will stand with you!”

And a voice like distant thunder echoes in his mind. THESE WORDS ARE ACCEPTED.

[sockodot]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Mass Effect Trilogy Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Urdnot Wrex/Commander Shepard Characters: Urdnot Wrex Additional Tags: Post Crucible firing, Angst, Whumptober 2024 Series: Part 2 of sunshine shepard/wrex, Part 3 of sunshine shepard, Part 3 of Whumptober '24 Summary:

Wrex has nothing but time.

He’ll find them.

[kaidanalenkosprmanager]

THE BEST OF PRIORITY: SUR'KESH

Featuring: Cmdr. Sophie Shepard, Lt. James Vega, EDI, and Urdnot Wrex With: Lt. Steve Cortez, Dr. Mordin Solus, Major Kirrahe, and Urdnot Bakara And a Special Guest Appearance by: Adm. Steven Hackett Alliance R&D has officially begun construction on the Prothean device. The team has dubbed it: "Project Crucible". We're throwing everybody who knows how to throw a hammer at it. This is gonna be the most ambitious undertaking in human history. I'm not saying it won't be a challenge- but we can do this, Shepard. You can do this. Never doubt that. Mass Effect 3: Legendary Edition (2021)

+BONUS (the smirk™️)

[blightedbutdelighted]

Taking on the Universe: Chapter Twenty-Four

Summary: Matriarch Benezia's daughter has been saved and taken aboard the Normandy, leaving Natasha and her squad wary of the Asari's loyalties. Meanwhile, Natasha must face the consequences of her past at Grissom Academy. CW/TW: None

Preview of chapter below the cut. AO3 link: here.

[Natasha's] steps were slow and hesitant as she entered the room, her gaze sweeping across her surroundings. Chakwas looked up from where she sat at her desk, datapad in hand as she looked at the commander expectantly. "Oh, Commander, already done with your debriefing?" Natasha nodded her head and stepped further into the room. "We're meeting again later. I have to talk to Dr. T'Soni before we can decide our next move." Her eyes flicked toward Natalie, who was unabashedly staring at her. The same two guards she'd posted at the medbay entrance now stood outside the entrance to the storage room near the rear of the medbay. "I've already cleared Dr. T'Soni. The Prothean barrier curtain she enveloped herself in had a minor effect on her biotics, but it'll fade with some rest. She's lucky it wasn't worse on her. She has her Asari biology to thank for that, I suppose," Chakwas informed her with a smile. She clutched the datapad close to her chest, her gaze resting on Natasha tenderly. Natasha couldn't stop her eyes from wandering toward the door at the back of the room before turning back toward the doctor. "I also need to speak with the private. How is she doing?" "I'm sitting right here, Nat. You could just ask me, couldn't you?" Natalie responded with an exasperated sigh. The sound brought Natasha back to the last day they'd spent together. It seemed some of the young girl she remembered remained. "I think I'll trust the opinion of the medical professional, Ryder," she answered cordially. Chakwas chuckled lightly at the two of them as she stood up and stepped away from her desk. She approached the commander and spoke softly enough that the younger soldier wouldn't overhear her. "She's perfectly fine, Shepard. Kaidan was right, it was just a superficial wound. She just needed to be properly patched up and I'm having her rest for a bit before we send her back to the camp. Go easy on her. Doctor's orders," Chakwas said as she quickly glanced back at the private. "I'll give the two of you some privacy. It's about time for my lunch anyway," she added in a louder voice. She smiled at each of them before turning to leave the room. "You're both dismissed," the Spectre called toward the soldiers near the back. They looked at her with confusion plain on their faces, but saluted in answer to her command. They marched past her and left the room without a word. Now it was just Natasha and Natalie. She met the young soldier's intense gaze and could feel the anger resonating from her, her biotic aura rippling out dangerously. It amazed her how much her former protege had grown in the past seven years. Her dark brown hair was much longer now, but still had the same waves to it. Her skin was still the same olive complexion, though the freckles on her cheeks had grown in number. Her eyes were still the same shade of dark blue, but they didn't glisten with the joy and exuberance of youth. The admiration she'd once found had gone from her gaze, replaced with resentment as she looked at Natasha. "So, it's been a while," she said lamely, standing several paces away.

[slayerdurge]

you know what would have been really cool if they wanted a franchise "reset"? a dragon age game set in the age of andraste. that way they wouldn't have to worry about whether past choices matter because they haven't happened yet but it also avoids the problem that andromeda has (in the sense that it doesn't really feel like it's actually the same setting as mass effect) because the narrative would still be deeply tied to the lore of the original games

[mushroommanchanterelle]

Part 3.5 of the Shakarian fic. Just a small teaser c:<

Wrex was the person she wanted to talk to the most throughout their long, exhausting haul to Virmire. The facility sounded like it was working on genophage research, and there was no way he would just be willing to sit back and watch her blow it to high heavens. She wanted to have a calm, deliberate conversation with him before they touched ground. Stars forbid she has to deal with an angry krogan while staring down the barrel of whatever Saren would have pointed at her. Eleanor knocks on a maintenance hatch just beside the elevator door. She reaches in and pulls out a soft, squishy, stuffed varren, closing the hatch as she retrieves the plush package. Krogans liked varrens, right? Eleanor brushes strands of faded pink hair behind her ear and steps into the elevator, pressing the button to allow it’s slow descent. 

“Just breathe, Eleanor. It’s just a conversation.”

[stormikins]

Ask game: Tali Wrex road-trip!

from this wip game! and there's a snippet here

Basically, this fic is about Tali going to Wrex about seeing Shepard on Freedom's Progress and then in the middle of them hunting down Shepard, Tali gets called back to do the Haestrom mission and she just... brings Wrex along for it and surprise! they meet Shepard there lol

heres a snippet from the beginning of the fic, where they meet up to start investigating together:

The two of them meet halfway on a station on the edge of the Terminus Systems. Aeternitas. It’s filled with mercs, bounty hunters, and pirates. He finds her in the markets, haggling for reserves of levo food and it’s only when he appears behind her does the human lower the price. Thankfully, she came onto the station all armored up, and she still has that geth arm plating. Tali’s head moves with her eye roll as they step away from the merchant when the sale is done and paid for. “I hope the ads were right with this being the best place to buy levo.” “I will complain either way.” “Of course.” They don’t talk about Shepard while in the streets, instead Tali regales him with a knife throwing contest she won against a bunch of marines. “So, those lessons I gave y’all did come in handy, eh?” “Well, for me. Garrus doesn’t even carry a combat knife.” “He is a fool.”

[therealgchu]

WIP Wednesday

i have been so snowed under with work, shop, and everything else. so, instead of my usual fic updates, i now present a fun idea i had.

tagging @esorydoolb, @silent-moons-camp, @atonalginger, @fangbangerghoul, and @eridanidreams for this week's WIP.

here's some of my stuff on ao3.

WIP: Grumpy Old N7

Shepard came down the stairs raking her hand through her hair. Since retirement, she’d let it grow out from the short crew cut she usually sported, but it was getting too damn long. She brushed the bangs from her eyes to find Wrex seated at her kitchen table eating cereal.

“Shepard,” he grunted.

“Wrex,” she returned a tad bit grumpily. “What are you doing here so early? I thought we weren’t heading out till noon?”

“I saw this ad on your human media for something called ‘cereal’. I had to try it,” he answered, shoveling a spoonful into his mouth.

She walked over to the table, but even before she was two feet from it, she could smell the alcohol. “What did you pour into it?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

“Ryncol,” he answered, lifting the bowl up to his face and taking a big gulp.

“You poured ryncol in with corn flakes?” she asked in disbelief, looking over his shoulder at the soggy, yellow mess, and trying not to gag. The smell of  the sugary cereal and alcohol was not one her brain wanted to process so early in the morning.

“Yep. It’s pretty good!” he enthused. “This ‘cereal’ is also full of sugar. Ends up tasting like those fruity ‘cocktails’ you like to drink. But, you know, as food. You humans do have some good ideas,” he explained.

Shepard sat down on the far side of the table, as far from the smell as she could get, and chuckled, “Let me tell you about Saturday morning cartoons,” she said.

“Sure,” Wrex said and lifted the bowl, “you want some?” he offered.

“No. Absolutely not,” Shepard shook her head. “Don’t suppose you made any coffee?” she asked hopefully, looking around.

“Hell no. That shit is vile. Don’t know how you humans drink that stuff.”

That’s rich, coming from someone that dumped 200 proof alcohol into breakfast cereal,” she snorted, and got up to start brewing a pot.

[sockodot]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Mass Effect Trilogy Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Urdnot Wrex/Commander Shepard Characters: Non-Binary Shepard - Character, Jeff "Joker" Moreau, Tali Zorah, James Vega, Garrus Vakarian, Ashley Williams, Urdnot Wrex Additional Tags: Comedy, Dialgoue Heavy, theyre all fools your honor, their braincells apply to combat not feelings, what it says on the tin, No beta we die like Nihlus, do not copy to another site, No thoughts just vibes Series: Part 1 of sunshine shepard/wrex Summary:

5 times the crew thought Wrex and Shepard weren't together and the 1 time they learned the truth.

[help-the-horse]

If You're Still Alive, My Regrets are Few

AO3 Link

Summary: The Normandy crew deal with the aftermath of Virmire.

Pairing: Dead!Kaidan Alenko/Regina Shepard/Ashley Williams Warnings: Major Character Death Words: 2,439

            Shepard was the last one to enter the room. She walked across the comms room stiffly, sitting with strained shoulders and fisted fingers.

            Ashley was the first to speak.

            “I can’t believe Kaidan didn’t make it. How could we just leave him down there?” Her voice was cracking, but she wasn’t showing any signs of crying. Her emotion seemed to come from somewhere more strained and in pain, past the point of tears. The overwhelm of emotion was not lost on the other crew members, all intent on the conversation and still.

            Shepard’s face softened for a moment, Garrus and Wrex shooting each other a glance across the room. “Alenko knew his risks going in. He gave his life to save the rest of us.” Her tone was softer than anyone had expected, and the way Shepard’s frown deepened it seemed to even surprise herself. She knew she was being more vulnerable than was good for her.

            Ashley didn’t miss a beat. “It should have been me Commander, You know that.” The words seemed to fall from her mouth. Shepherd’s change in demeanor was enough to tell her she hadn’t thought out her reply enough.

            “Chief Williams, I am your commanding officer!” Shepard’s voice got dangerously elevated, the muscles of her jaw tight. She was holding back a rage that only ever rose to the surface on the battlefield. “I did what I had to do. Do not question my orders!” Every word was harsh and clipped.

            “I-I’m sorry Commander.” Ashley seemed almost timid, the sting of pain in the back of her throat. The level of anger had intimidated even her, and the use of rank stung. She couldn’t remember the last time Shepard had used her rank as leverage.  “You saved my life, I’m grateful for that. But it should have been me. Alenko was a superior officer. I would have gladly stayed-” Her tone was uncomfortably cool, slightly too matter of fact.

            “I will not fulfill a martyrdom complex, Williams!” The reply was biting. Shepard held Ashley’s gaze, an unbridled attention on her opponent. “Kaidan’s blood is on Saren’s hands. And when I find that son of a bitch I’ll make him pay.” The flare of rage was dying, a clarity of the enemy drawing the emotion away.

            “Yes sir, I’m… We’ll get it done.” Ashley understood that she was not to push the subject, resigning herself to agreement. The unspoken words hung heavy in the air.

            “Commander?” Liara’s voice cut through the atmosphere, perhaps a bit too soon. “Excuse me for interrupting, I have an idea.” She worked to justify herself for the social misstep. “I think the beacon in Saren’s base might be similar to the one you found on Eden Prime. It may have filled in the missing pieces of your vision, I might be able to put those pieces together.”

            Ashley could hear Wrex let out a huff in the seat next to her, focusing on her shoes and not at the empty seat next to her, or the face of the inexperienced Asari.

            “Nobody is messing with my head any more.” Shepard motioned sharply and shook her head. “I’m sick of dealing with these visions!” Her patience for experiments and ‘perhaps’ and ‘maybe’ was clearly in short supply right now.

            “I understand your reluctance Commander,” Liara shifted in her chair, clearly thinking about what words to use. “But the visions are already there, I only want to help you make sense of them.” The desperation creeped into her voice. “It may be the only way to stop Saren.”

            “Looks like I don’t have a choice.” Shepard rubbed her hands through her hair, clearly angered. She hated the way Liara was able to explain the logic in a way Shepard could not argue with. She hated being the subject of a hypothesis with two independent variables. She stood in front of the Asari now, repeating the motions of what they had agreed to after Ferros. The visions flickered across Shepard’s mind, vague and uncomfortable. It reminded her of when she tried to talk about Torfan, or when she thought about Earth.

            “That’s incredible.” Liara blinked quickly and looked to the floor with a furrowed brow.

            “What did you see?” Shepard was not going to wait for the Asari to think ten steps too far ahead.

            “The vision was a distress call sent out by the Protheans about the Reapers, but it was too late.” Liara spoke in that same way she always recalled data out loud.

            “What about the Conduit?” Shepard desperately wished Liara would understand what information was critical to the mission.

            “The Conduit is on Ilos!” Liara seemed to come to the conclusion on the spot, a revelation to all the possibilities she was running in her head.

            “Why would you not mention Ilos sooner?” The other’s in the room all shuffled slightly, Ashley in particular annoyed at the lack of thought put into the question.

            “There are hundreds of systems and thousands of planets that connect to the Mu relay, Saren could have been going to any of them. I was able to recognize landmarks of Ilos from my research.”

            “We have to go to Ilos.”

            Tali was the one to cut the two off. “Good luck. The Mu relay is in the Terminus systems.” She spoke with a kind of resigned pity. “It’s outside Council space, they don’t have power out there, not even Spectres.” She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back in her chair. Her nonchalance made Shepard bristle.

            “The Conduit is on Ilos. That is where Saren is going. I’m going to be waiting for him when he gets there.” The statement was closed to interpretation, her eyes trained on Tali. The young Quarian sat up straight.

            “Commander, Saren will have his entire fleet orbiting Ilos! We need to alert the Council and ask for aid, we are going to need-” Garrus poised to get out of his chair as Liara swayed on her feet, catching herself with a wider stance.

            “Commander?” Joker’s solemn voice came over the comms. Shepard was sure he had been listening to the entire brief from before she had even walked in. “There’s a comms buoy nearby, I can patch you through to the Citadel. In case you, y’know, want to warn them about Sovereign.”

            “Set up the link, Joker.” Shepard’s attention turned to the holodeck. The rest of the crew all stood, Ashley the first to shove her way through the half open doors.

            “Good job on Virmire Commander.” The Turian spoke, a hesitant congratulations in his tone. “Destroying a lab creating a Krogan army is quite the success.”

            Rage sparked in Shepard’s chest. “A Krogan army is not the real problem. Sovereign is the problem, the Reapers destroyed the Protheans and they’re coming for us!”

            “Yes, the Reapers. You reported a sentient machine, a true AI. This is concerning news, if it’s real, of course.” The Salarian councilor shrugged his shoulders. Shepherd’s retort was lost on him. “We haven’t gotten any additional evidence of what you are describing from any of our sources. All we know are the Reapers from your visions.”

            “The Reapers are real, Saren even admitted it!” Shepard spat the words, feeling increasingly betrayed by individuals that she never even trusted.

            “Saren has people all over the Citadel,” the Turian waved his hand. “He was using this information against you, talking about visions. And Reapers.” The Counselor nearly rolled his eyes.

            “You didn’t trust me about Saren!” Shepard pointed an accusatory finger at the hologram. “Look how that turned out for you!”

            “I think  you humans have a saying,” the Turian councilor narrowed his eyes. “Even a broken clock is right twice a day.”

            “Here’s another saying!” Shepard shifted into a combat stance. “Fuck you!”

            “Maybe we were wrong to make humans Specters. Perhaps you are too hot-headed.” The taunt was obvious, malicious and brazen.

            “Enough!” The Asari cut through the fight, just as Shepard considered disconnecting the call all together. “Shepard has performed admirably thus far. This… discussion is just a mild disagreement.”

            “We disagree a lot, Councilor.” Shepard nearly spoke through clenched teeth. She hated the way the Asari always knew how to downplay conflict and diffuse situations.

            “Think about it from our perspective,” the Counselor continued. “Saren is a threat we can recognize. As far as we know, the Reapers exist only in your visions.”

            “Our choices affect trillions of lives. We cannot rely only on the accusations of a single individual. Even a Spectre.” the Salarian seemed to add to his sentence at the last second. “Not without solid evidence.”

            “We cannot get involved in these affairs, that is why we created the Spectres.” The Asari continued her mediating.

            “If you truly believe Sovereign is the real issue, you must end it. And Saren.” The unexpected words from the Salarian was enough permission for Shepard. She could skew that as Council support if push came to shove.

            “Good luck Commander.” The Asari nodded. “From all of us.”

            Shepard walked across the bridge briskly, stopping to confirm the course to Ilos with Joker. It seemed there was something he wanted to say, but one glance at her face resulted in only a ‘yes, sir.’ She was still in her uniform from Vermire. She would usually shower and change before a debriefing, washing away the tension of gunfire and heavy armor. She had meant to shower, but she had gotten stuck trying to step into the elevator. When the time for debriefing came, she allowed herself two additional minutes. She counted all one hundred and twenty seconds, staring at only her shoes as she stepped out of the elevator and up the stairs, then through the doors of the comms room.

            But now she found herself stuck half way down the stairs, thinking about a shower that would perhaps never come. The obstacle in her way seemed insurmountable. Perhaps this is what would truly cause her resignation from the Alliance. She had to go to her quarters, she had to pass an empty workstation. She had to see that Kaidan wasn’t there, and she had the curse of knowing why. She worked to take an additional step down, feeling her knee buckle, her body fighting her. She sat on the step, curling her knees to her forehead, holding her legs with her arms. She felt the rush of tears well up behind her eyes and she stood abruptly. Regina knew she needed to get to her private quarters, so she let the adrenaline fuel her to stumble down the remaining stairs. She gritted her teeth as her vision blurred, holding her breath as she crossed the floor of the mess hall.

            She curled onto the floor just inside the door. She whined with a hand over her mouth, and then both. Her face became red with emotion, the screams and sobs still too loud in her own ears. The thought that Ashley might find her like this crossed her mind, hoping she might find support, loathing herself for wanting a shoulder to cry on. And then the thought of Kaidan coming in after her made her stop breathing. She would never have that again, including when she needed it most. The pain was overwhelming, relentless and never ending.

            The next thing she noticed, between the screaming and crying, was the opening of the door to her quarters. She turned like a cornered animal, her cheeks still streaked with tears and her face blotchy, her eyes puffy. She drew in a sharp breath to yell, feeling her vocal chords strain, tensing her body as if ready to tackle or run. The words were scratchy and thin, which made her even more angry.

            “Get out!” She had more planned in her head before she realized she had lost her voice.

            “I just got you a plate from the mess.” Garrus stood in her doorway, slowly leaving the tray on the floor with his other hand raised in surrender. He remained for an extra moment in the doorway. “You want a drink?” He asked like he was talking to a suspect he had to get along with, like he wasn’t sure if the question would escalate the situation. Shepard took a rattling breath, feeling the pounding in her head and her fist. She looked down to see she had bloody and purple knuckles, the wall beside her headboard smeared with red.

            “Yeah.” She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her throbbing hand. She stayed sitting on the edge of her bed as Garrus returned, took her desk chair as a seat, and poured them both a glass. Shepard downed the first one quickly as a shot, and then a second, and then a third, before Garrus poured her a half glass and she got the cue to start sipping. She was just grateful it was something strong, not like the beers Kaidan always drank.

            “You get this from Ashley?” Shepard stared at the amber liquid in her glass, her throat hurting even worse from all the alcohol and lack of adrenaline.

            “No.” Was all Garrus offered. Shepard decided she didn’t want to pursue more questions or any conversation. At least Garrus recognized it. Soon enough Shepard could feel the way the alcohol dulled her senses, numbed her pain and slowed her thoughts. Garrus simply sat there silently, rolling his empty glass around in his hands. He sighed deeply, standing and taking a step forward to clap a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, hoping to find some kind of comfort in the Turian’s face.  “We’ll get Saren soon enough Commander.” Shepard frowned and looked back down to her lap. It wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but she didn’t have a better idea for what he could have said to help her. He nodded, taking the glasses and tray with him out of her quarters. “See you tomorrow Commander.” were the words Garrus left with.

            Regina blessed the darkness left in her room as the lights shut off., letting the drink take her closer to an uneasy slumber. She didn’t have the energy to look up as her door opened again, what felt like a long time later. She barely stirred as a body crept into bed beside her, the pressure of arms around her waist comforting.

            “I’m sorry, Reggie.” Ashley spoke, muffled from her face being buried in Shepard’s shoulders.

            “M’too, Ash.” was all Shepard could manage to mumble out. She felt exhaustion take her, thankful for the arms around her even if it didn’t feel like enough.

[salamanders-please]

The real rare pair curse is wanting Wrex and Aleena content and there not being any. I don't care if it's romance or not. I just need it injected directly into my veins. This happens every time I replay ME1.

Like imagine the interactions. She should have been an ME2/ME3 companion and i will die on that hill.

[fatguarddog]

Thinking about digital anomaly/tech-induced gains again

Addictive phone app where the points equal pounds on your body

VR cooking game where the food tastes sooooo real (don't worry that's totally not a feeding tube in your mouth)

Cursed chain email that causes rapid gains for every hour you don't pass it on to another person

Lost media type video where anyone who sees it comes out the other side way fatter than they do going in, no one knows why but there's only one way to find out!