#black femshep

[creaturefeaturecommando]

When you’re trying to defend the thingy from Collectors and take cover but Garrus puts his whole pussy in your face

[hum-tittle]

So I took Wrex on the casino part of the shore leave. And he's so adorable in his black tie. 😭

Also, Shepard dances just like him!

Here's the link of the YouTube video a took a screen recording of. https://youtu.be/K0BLd8oO1qY?si=dzyyXm8qVQ1lQGeF

[breadedsinner]

Monsterfuckers really have to be careful like I KNOW a lot of you pride yourselves on not being into the Conventionally Attractive White Man but sometimes you go too far and ignore non-white human characters but you still want a medal for seeing inner beauty.

[tmblriscompleteshit]

Shepard & Miranda (Mass Effect)

animated by RyonaComicsOfficial / art by Thekobs

[permanentlylatetotheparty]

i saw that somebody on nexusmods made a mod that makes the player able to give femshep a suit based on the illusive man's outfit and i might just have to learn to how to mod for that alone

[warningsine]

[westernlarch]

Don't Go Where I Can't Follow, Part II

Femshep/Garrus

Artwork 2 of 3 Part I here

based on this scene from Taproot

Garrus’ finger throbbed as Shepard held it tight. Buoyant and eager, she was leading him down an alley of apple trees, so hastened that she was practically galloping. It wasn’t long into the night, but the waning summer sun was making its idle drift toward autumn, and Shepard was concerned it would be another seven to eight months before they had this chance again. “Come on,” she urged. “Where are we going?�� “Just follow me.” “It’s too dark. I can’t see where the hell I’m going.” Garrus tripped on something small and hard, maybe a rock, and nearly tumbled into her. “Slow down, Shepard!” “The moon’s out, there’s plenty of light. Your eyes are just getting old.” “Need I remind you, you’re older than me.” “Older, schmolder!” she said dismissively. “This way. Watch your step.” They trekked along the the precipice and emerged from a thin stand of firs to reach the secluded beach. Garrus stopped at the treeline to appreciate the tranquil view. From here, the mountains were dark, jagged shapes against a cobalt dropcloth, and the lake their ward. Shepard continued to the edge of the water. Her puckish smile touched her eyes as she tugged her shoes off, then cast them away toward the trees. “What are you doing?” he asked. “What does it look like I’m doing?” “It looks like you’re taking your clothes off. All your clothes…” Garrus stared with his mandibles flapping. “You’re not going in like that, are you?” “Watch me!” Before stepping into the water, Shepard rummaged through her pants pocket and produced an elastic band. She bent over, throwing her hair forward, then combed her fingers through it to gather it into a rough ponytail. In the weak light, Garrus could make out the outer ring of her amp port; the connection at the base of her skull was covered with a standard soft plug, which had been in place for some time. He’d seen it so little since the end of the war, he’d almost forgotten it existed. The sight made him sad, and his shoulders fell as she finished tying the elastic around her ponytail. She stood up straight again. The moon cast a blue pall over her naked body; the raised scars on her shoulders seemed to throb at the edges, and the thinnest lines, where Cerberus had grafted new skin to her existing tissue, shone like the fine threads of a spider’s web. She stalked to the black lake and disappeared into it with ease. “Come on G, water’s fine!” Shepard’s smile was bold and bright as she looked over her shoulder, her body halfway into the water. “You’re kidding, right?” “What, not even a toe?” “You know turians and water don’t mix.” “Come on, Garrus, don’t be such a chicken!” The water had now come up to the undersides of her breasts. She cupped both hands and submerged them beneath the surface. She slowly brought them over her chest, letting the water fall and follow the curves of each mound, then did it again as if to make a point. “You’re a tease, Shepard!” he yelled after her. She grinned and dipped further down into the water. She was a ruthless crocodile, and through the darkness, Garrus could only see the whites of her teeth and the reflection of the moon across her forehead. She waved. Then she swam farther out, past the shallows and the buoys that demarcated the swimming area, and out of her lover’s sight. He listened for any indication she had turned around. “Shepard?” Garrus approached the lake’s edge and raised his chin as he strained to see what was happening. There was a faint splash. She was gone, and the water was still; only strokes of moonlight graced the glassy surface. Any evidence of Circe Shepard had plunged into the obscured depths with her. He listened again, and he began to grow nervous as the silence stretched on. A full minute passed, then another, and another. “Shepard?” he asked plaintively. “Shepard!”

His stomach churned—a rare feeling usually brought on by stones that had grown too smooth and useless in his gut. Garrus tore his boots off. He looked down at his feet as his talons gripped tight to the pebble-strewn beach. His breaths were short and nervous. As the water lapped over his toes, any hesitation he had washed away, and he trudged into the lake with clumsy steps, his thick soles pounding the rocky bottom. He continued until the water hit his spurs and wicked up the fabric of his pants.

“CIRCE!” he cried, the flange of his voice drawn high. The last vowel had hardly left his throat when a sudden splash rose and fell further from shore.

[sha-brytols]

DAI Cosmetic Mods

ok so since apparently i have so many mods for inquisition im not sure you could even fairly call it inquisition anymore i guess i'm separating them all into different posts so . here's all my purely cosmetic mods (character creator + armor primarily)

some of these WILL conflict with each other. this isn't my modlist but specifically mod recommendations so i highly suggest reading the descs carefully

bolded are personal must haves. italicized are daimods (ergo frosty manager users should probably write them down somewhere in case they fuck up their game and daimm users can finally have a W for once) * italicized w/ an asterisk means there's separate DAIMM and Frosty downloads

F ALL = Compatible w/ women of all races M ALL = Compatible w/ men of all races ALL = compatible for all races :) HF = Human Female HM = Human Male EF = Elven Female EM = Elven Male DF = Dwarven Female DM = Dwarven Male QF = Qunari Female QM = Qunari Male

CHARACTER CREATOR

Enhanced Character Creation (be VERY careful with this one, it's huuuuuge. make sure to screenshot your sliders before exiting the character creator as well - you'll have to create your character from scratch if you use the black emporium)

Stay Still in CC

No Ash In Face

The Dwarven Warmaiden - Tarot Card Preset (DF)

COMPLEXIONS

* Andreja Complexion

* Ascendia's Ciri Complexion (no brows/scars/makeup vers / Frosty version)

* Katherine Face Texture

femshepping's 4k Female Inquisitor Face Textures for Frosty

Josie Skin

* Female Complexions (frosty)

* Kala's Complexions

* Kitten's Inquisitor Complexions

* Tess Complexion

* GH Real Complexion - Burn Scar

The Nine Muses (Qunari Vers) (F ALL)

femshepping's Remade Male Inquisitor Complexions

Battle-Hardened Complexions

EYES & EYELASHES

* HD Eye Textures (frosty version) last time i downloaded this it was causing horrifying eye glitches in my game despite not using literally any new mods so YMMV

* Vibrant Eyes with Limbal Rings

* SOS Lashes

Shadowed Eyes for Frosty (personal favorite eye retexture)

* Brown-Friendly Eye Texture

EYEBROWS

Eyebrows 4 Men

Settrah's Brows 4k (Frosty)

* SOS Brows on Fleek (i deeply apologize for the name .)

Tropelicious' Eyebrow Mods

* Eyebrows 4 Women

FACIAL HAIR

Handful of Facial Hair Replacements

Dwarven Beard Into Braid

BEARDS

DAO and DA2 Beards

Braided Beard

Stubble Pack

Cullen's Stubble for Inquisitor

Bringing Sexy Back - Body Hair

HAIRSTYLES

obligatory Anto Hairstyles mod (ALL)

Assorted Hairstyles (ALL except qunari im sorry.)

NPC Hairstyles for Inquisitor (HF, HM, EF, EM)

* Crown Braid (HF/EF, Frosty)

Fluffy Bob Styles For Elves (EF)

Braided Mid-Length Hair w/ Fringe (ALL)

* Hair Retexture

* Black Hair for Everyone

Isabela Hair and Piercings (ALL)

Robin's Hair (HM, EM)

Josephine Hair Pack (HF)

Masked Marth Hair (EF)

Lavellan Hair Pack (EF/EM)

Lion's Mane (ALL) (looks SUPER good on dwarf girls. if you care.)

Long Braid w/ Messy Hair (HF, EF, DF)

* Long Hair w/ Side Bangs (ALL but qunari sorry.)

Long Pulled-Back Hair Variants (HF, EF, EM, DF idk why the only male version is for elves)

Long Waves w/ Fringe (HF, EF, DF)

Messy Shag Hair (HF, EF, DF)

Misc Hairstyles for Frosty

Ponytail Twisted Curls (HF, EF, DF)

* Relaxed Hairstyles (HF/HM, EF/EM, DF dwarven men get fucked i guess)

Shaelyn-Ehlenna's Hair (HF, EF)

Side Braid w/ Bun (HF, EF)

Straight Long Hair (HF, EM)

Three Hairstyles (HF)

Windswept Sidecurls (HF/HM, DF)

Ciri Hairstyle (F ALL)

DAI Hair Recolor Utility

SK Hair Re-texture (Now Trespasser Compatible)

Mohawk Braid (ALL but qunari)

Curls for Lady Inquisitors (F ALL)

Tweaked Bun (HF, EF, DF)

Alistair and Anders Hairstyles (ALL)

Cal Kestis Hairstyles (M ALL)

Hairstyle Options for Inquisitor (ALL)

MAKEUP

* New and Improved Makeup For All

* Sid's Personal Remake of Inquisition's Makeup

Tears Makeup for FROSTY

[sol-consort]

FemShep definitely keeps a gun strapped to her thigh when she wears a dress.

she would!

Grinding on her thigh

The cocktail dress hugs her body just right, black fabric stretching over her hips as she sits down, crossing her legs and motioning you over.

Of course you take a seat at the edge of her lap, that's commander Shepard. Who could ever refuse Hercules a request? Her hand settles on the small of your back, lower and lower, firmly pulling you higher up her leg, until you're seated on her thighs, closing the distance between you two.

You're unsure if it's really allowed, to just use her steel-like thighs for your pleasure. Hesitantly grinding down, uncertain movements and subtly rocking back and forth. She seems pleased, if that sinful red-painted smile on her face is anything to go by. So you keep going, hips moving bolder and bolder as you ride her thigh—until you feel something solid and cold brush by your most intimate area.

A renegade Shepard would definitely want you to continue still, grind on her strapped pistol, why not? It's fine, just keep going, you were already doing so well. The short hem of her dress still hides just enough of the gun, you can have plausible deniability, claim you never felt it in the first place and seek your relief between her scolding flesh and cold iron. She won't bring it up later, if you won't, your obscene act in a lust-clouded haze... maybe.

-

You're sent to assassinate her

Sometimes life gets rough, even for assassins! In a moment of weakness you accepted that bounty on Commander Shepard's head that's been posted for an ungodly amount of credits...

Yeah many other mercenaries came before you for her head, and failed, quite embarrassingly. But you're different! See, they failed because they let their ego get the best of them and focus too much on a dramatic entrance. That's just dumb! While you always preferred a mere subtle and direct approach, to get the job done as quickly and cleanly as possible.

Your target is known to frequent nightclubs during her shore leave, all you have to do is doll yourself up and throw yourself at her under the pretence of being drunk, take her to a back-alley to make out, then blow her brains out, and go collect your retirement. In and out, all in a night's work! Bada bing bada boom!

Except your plan derails a bit, when instead of you even getting to make the first move—by bumping into her, spilling your drink on her then apologising profusely—Shepard gets to you first. Intimidating the person on the stool next to you to scurry off with nothing more than a single look, before immediately taking their place, and asking if she can buy you a drink—while actively buying you the said drink before you could answer.

Okay, little strange turn of events, but maybe you're just her type? You can go with the flow, keep up the charade of a starred eye fan who never expected a celebrity to take interest in you! Except she actually seems more interested in talking about you than bragging about her achievements, huh. It's a little tricky having to come up with answers on the spot to her personal questions, traces of truth keep slipping out as you try not to seem suspicious.

She just attentively listens, throwing a flirty remark here and there. And when she coaxes you into the dance floor, you're almost floored by the discovery of how much this real life valkyrie is godawful silly at dancing. It's kind of endearing.

The two of you stumble your way out the back entrance, arms around each other, laughing your hearts out. It's hard to keep track of your mission still in the haze of events, but you sneak a hand around her waist and nudge her towards the wall. She understands your intentions and relaxes her body in your grasp, completely letting you move her around as you wish.

There is a twinge in your heart as you kiss her neck. You try to shake the remorse off but it creeps on you alongside the smell of her perfume, it's intoxicated how her body desperately pressed back into your own.

The idea of walking away crosses your mind for a split second, but you immediately push it down. You can't let your conscience get the better of you now; your heart has long turned into stone. This is merely another job, plus you'll literally be set for life after it. Her eyes are closed, pleasure filled groans filtering through her lips, shiny and plump from all the kisses you drowned her in. This is the prime opportunity to act, your hand moves to your back pocket. Oh she must think you were undoing your belt, for her own hand moves under the split side of her dress... You swallow your dry throat at the idea of her reaching in there to pull her panties down.

Only for a gun to press against your hammering heart. She kisses your lips, the sparks fly, your still warm body makes a thud falling down.

[her-devils-advocate]

Through the Mist | Part 2

pairings: Femshep x Garrus

summary: When a routine mission to rescue and recruit a handful of scientists goes wrong, Shepard and her team are left to fight against something they had never expected to face. Now stranded on a heavily fog-covered planet, they realise there is more to the strange weather than they originally thought, especially when they hear things from beyond the fog; calling for them.

word count: 4,257

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60592000/chapters/155122225

Part 1

They quickly return to the previous room before stopping dead in their tracks, dread seeping into their bones.

The once-clean room is full of dust. Inches of it cover the surfaces, building up in piles against the corners of the room. Some of the grey flecks begin to float around them in the air. Wires now hang from the ceiling, bright sparks cascading into the room. The flickering lights illuminate a dozen corpses scattered around them.

She warily steps into the room, doing her best to avoid treading on the bodies. Every step is muffled by the dust, deep footprints trailing behind her. She crouches down to closer inspect the deceased group. Everybody happens to be dressed in the same pristine uniform, matching the one from the first base. Not a single spec of dirt mars the white fabric, despite the state of the room around them. They show no signs of injury, but as Shepard looks closer, she feels her heart plummet.

The sparks of dying light shine down on their expressions. Their eyes are glazed, wide open, and their mouths are agape in a silent scream. 

This time, their jaws hang open far too wide for any human. As if they broke the bone in their fright, the jaw hanging open to accompany what must have once been a chilling sound.

“Garrus…?” Her voice is low, yet he picks up on her unspoken question.

“I see it too, I think we found the rest of the team.” His voice is tense as he pulls his mandibles tight against his face, every muscle in his body becoming as tight as his voice. “We were only in there for a couple of minutes. Eight minutes according to my visor.” 

“Vega?” She calls out, her voice taking a high note when her gaze falls upon the chair he had claimed. Now empty and just as dilapidated as the scenery surrounding them. “He can’t have gone far. We need to get out of here.”

“Why would he just wander off without telling us…?” Garrus mutters before falling silent, his head tilting as if straining to hear something.

Shepard watches him carefully, her face guarded as his head whips around to face the exit. Without saying a word, he creeps towards the door and hits the lock. The door is quick to open, revealing the black void beyond, the damn fog still sitting thick in the air.

“How is it so dark already? The sun was just starting to set when we got here,” she questions, only to cut herself off when Garrus silently holds up his hand, his eyes wide. She tilts her head and silently moves to stand next to him, but all she can hear is the muffled buzzing of the damaged wires.

He gently grabs her wrist and drags her out of the building, following something into the fog. She moves alongside him, peering around for danger as she lets him guide her. She squints and swears she sees the fog moving around them, swirling into different shapes deep into the night. Garrus suddenly stops moving, his shoulders sagging when he turns to look at her. 

The sight unnerves her. The confidence he tends to wear on missions has now been replaced with an expression she has never seen before. One she never wants to see again.

“I’m sorry… I could have sworn…” He trails off, rubbing his neck awkwardly before clearing his throat and continuing, “I thought I heard my mother. Which is impossible since she died before the war started.” 

She stares up at him, unsure of what to say. He rarely spoke about his mother to her, always moving the subject to a less painful one instead. She had always complied, not wanting to hurt him, especially when she couldn’t be there to comfort him during the worst of the pain when she was in Alliance custody.

Now she stands in front of him, and for the first time in their relationship, she finds herself lost. It's rare for her to be at a loss for words, yet this planet finds every way to drain them out of her. She silently raises her hand to caress his scarred face, her thumb gently gliding along the blue marking under his eye.

“Hey, it’s okay. I don’t exactly know what is happening, but what I do know is that we need to grab Vega and then get the hell off this planet before we can find out.” She says, grabbing his hand and flaring her biotics. The subtle smell of ozone surrounds them, a bright blue light erupting from her and causing the black braid behind her to rise as she covers them in a small barrier. The fog curls around it, relentlessly trying to get through to them as they push through its murky haze. 

“Comm…der… She..pard?” Liara catches their attention, her voice frantically trying to cut through the interference, “...Can’t reach…Don’t know…but it’s bad…”

Her words are jumbled, crackling over the line and being swallowed by whatever is trying to block their communications, yet one sentence manages to come out as clear as day, causing all the hair on Shepard’s arms to stand up. “You… need…Commander? You need to get out of there.”

“Fuck,” Shepard breathes out, the air around her tasting bitter. “Liara, I need you to get Cortez to land the shuttle exactly where he did last time. Garrus and I will try to find the first research base to guide us in the right direction.”

Her command is met with silence.

“Line’s dead again,” Garrus adds unhelpfully, his voice more subdued and lifeless than usual.

“Let’s just keep moving, there was only one entrance to the base, so we must be heading in the same direction that we came from. With any luck, Cortez has already had the same idea and has landed already.”

They stumble blindly for what feels like hours, pushing forward with no discernible landmark in sight. No more research bases, no trees or bushes, and no shuttle. Just them and the hard stone beneath their feet. And the fog, Shepard thinks bitterly while she drags Garrus around in the dark. As she opens her mouth to complain, her foot collides with something solid. The blind fall startles her and the shield around them quickly collapses, the blue light shimmering before fading out. She lands on the ground with a small crash, groaning when a sharp pain flares through her ankle.

“Shepard?” Garrus shouts, rushing around the object to help her up. His hands flailing through the fog as he tries to find her. He holds her steady while she stands and hesitantly puts weight on the injured ankle, wincing when more pain shoots up her leg.

“I’m fine, it's just a sprain.” She watches as Garrus lights up his omni-tool, waving it close to the object. “Great, another dead scientist. I’m getting fed up with this fucking planet,” she grumbles as she pulls him away and continues her march into nowhere, albeit now with a noticeable limp.

They come across more and more bodies, each in varying stages of terror. No matter which direction they walk in, they are greeted with corpses, almost as if they were being directed by them. 

Lured, a small voice whispers in the back of Shepard's mind.

They swap directions, turning left and right, yet each route leads to more of the missing research team. They must have stumbled across hundreds of them now, but as Shepard thinks back on the mission debrief, she is met with a worrying realisation. Hackett had only mentioned a small group, no more than twenty members stationed on the planet. 

Without warning, static flares up in the silence between them, causing the pair to jump.

“Vega? Liara? EDI?” Shepard yells into her comm, hope flaring in her chest.

A laugh interrupts her attempts. A soothing laugh, yet it causes her throat to tighten with an emotion she let die years ago.

“Raven.” It calls out through the static, warm and welcoming.

She glances at Garrus and he gives a small nod, confirming her fears. This time he had heard the voice as well.

“Raven… Shepard?” It repeats, the voice growing more desperate. More familiar.

She feels herself grow pale, looking as if she's seen a ghost, and instinctively reaches out to grab Garrus’ wrist, pulling him closer. He leans down, his breath ghosting her cheek as he whispers, “Shepard, do you recognise the voice?”

She squeezes her eyes shut tight as if she could block out the voice. As if she would wake up in her cabin beside Garrus, with the events of the day being nothing more than a bad dream.

The laughter crackles through the static once more, growing louder and demanding her attention. She can feel Garrus moving next to her and hears the click of his rifle being filled with a fresh heatsink. She reluctantly opens her eyes and the laughter dies.

“Mom?” She grits her teeth, trying to stop her voice from shaking, yet it does regardless. She feels Garrus stiffen beside her, his hand itching to grab her properly.

“Why did you leave us to die?” The voice is no more than a whisper but somehow echoes around the space. The sentence is thrown out so gently, yet Shepard can feel the reprimand hidden deep within. 

A cold fury and sweltering blame hiding in the words.

She hangs her head, somehow feeling like a child being lectured by her mother all over again. A mother who she had watched die sixteen years ago.

“Excuse me?” Garrus growls, eyes glaring through the fog as his fear fades into anger.

“Shh, it’s not your time yet. I’ll get to you later, boy.” The voice retorts, stunning him into silence. “Now, baby bird, why did you let us die?”

“I don’t understand, why are you saying this?” She bites out as her traitorous hands begin to shake, her lungs begging for more oxygen as she holds her breath.

“Look at you, such a well-known and beloved hero. Who does everything she can to save people she doesn’t even know. A shining paragon of justice. I’m so proud of you darling, you were always good at climbing over a mountain of corpses to survive. Akuze, Virmire, Earth, Thessia…” The gentle, almost nurturing voice becomes harsh, mocking her with every word. “Where was that strength, that heroism, when you hid and watched as we died? Where was the determination to help when you did nothing but listen to our painful screams as flesh fused into bone?”

“You told me to…I was sixteen, what was I supposed to do?” She yells into the air.

“You should have died with us. The Shepards were never supposed to live. You’ve learnt that yourself already, haven’t you, darling? When you lifelessly floated over Alchera, cold and alone.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Garrus grabs Shepard by her forearm, turning her to face him as he disconnects the comm from her suit. Silencing the voice while Shepard stands frozen, her own eyes wide with unshed tears. She can see the disturbance on his face; in the way his mandibles twitch, the way his eyes frantically check their surroundings –despite all previous attempts being futile– before locking onto her again.

“That wasn’t her, Garrus. She would never… How did…” She clears her throat and swallows down her unease with a practised composure, “How did it know all that?”

“I don’t know, Shepard. And frankly, I don’t care. Let's just get away from this damn fog in case it’s somehow the source and clear our heads.”

She nods weakly, deferring to his lead as a familiar and unwelcome numbness flows through her veins. She swallows roughly, limping close next to him, his arm tight around her waist for support, as he sets off on a warpath. His subvocals are loud enough for her to hear and from her best guess, none of them are positive sounds as they stagger through the uncomfortable darkness, side by side.

Her skin feels clammy, the cool fog sticking to her as her vision blurs. She tugs on his arm, catching his attention when her throat tightens, allowing no words to pass. Stumbling to a halt, Shepard raises her left foot, relieving herself of a fraction of the pain she endured from walking on it.

“I just need a moment, damned medi-gel isn’t being applied by my suit.” She groans out as she rolls her foot in a small circle, testing the mobility she has left.

“I’ll carry you,” Garrus says softly, already forcing his rifle into her hands.

“Absolutely not. It’s not broken, I’ll be able to finish this mission on my own two feet.” She argues, her classic stubbornness leaking into her words.

“Shepard,” he sighs out, feeling and sounding years older already. “We don’t know how long we will be trapped here. At this rate, you’re going to end up being stuck in Chakwas’ med bay for a lot longer than you’d like if you keep walking on it.”

She stares at him for a moment, then tilts her head to frown down at his Revenant lying heavy in her hands. The air around them is growing colder and Shepard can’t tell if it's simply because it's getting late or if it’s due to the sheer pain thrumming up her leg. She considers her options: hobbling along for god knows how long, or being pressed close across a warm turian’s chest, even with his metallic armour blocking most of the heat. She hates appearing weak on missions, especially after being thrown off-kilter already, but it’s not like there's anyone nearby to see. 

Not with the thick fog surrounding the pair.

“Fine.” 

Without missing a beat, Garrus is quick to scoop her up. He takes care to not jostle her injured leg while she wiggles around in his grip until she’s as comfortable as she can get. She leans his rifle across her torso, keeping the muzzle aimed outwards, her index finger tapping impatiently against the trigger guard.

“Aww, isn’t that sweet?”

A feminine voice rattles through the air and Shepard’s finger twitches. The voice is old and frail, almost as if speaking is a great effort to her. There is no malice in this voice, only a painful longing. Shepard growls out a curse while what remains of her brittle patience begins to crumble. She hears Garrus take a sharp inhale, holding it as he ignores the voice and forges ahead.

“Why don’t you talk to me?” It begs as a soft whine rumbles under its words. She hears a second whine coming from above her and the myriad of tones within causes her chest to ache.

“Garrus? The comm, you disabled it.” She whispers, not missing the way his grip on her tightens. He pulls her as close as their armour physically allows, moving faster despite the ache that must be setting into his muscles. She raises her hand to gently stroke his mandible, breaking his concentration for a moment. He flicks his eyes down at her briefly, sadness evident in his gaze, before looking back to the distance, giving her a small shake of his head. 

“Garrus… Yes, that’s the name…” The voice mumbles, recognition fluttering in its words. “Garrus, my wayward son.”

“Stop,” He snaps.

“Why did you never visit me? Why did you never come home?” The frail voice becomes stern, the subvocals buzzing angrily. 

“Instead of visiting, instead of returning to where you belong, what did you accomplish? You’ve left nothing but a trail of bodies in your wake: Your entire squad died because of you, and let’s not forget about your precious Commander. Where were you when she was snuffed out?” The voice grows harsher with each passing second. “You’ve been so busy playing a burnt-out cop, turned vigilante, turned soldier. But never my son. No wonder your father never looked at you with pride.”

“Stop,” he begs instead, his voice is almost drowned out by the deep rumbling. Anger, disappointment, and admonishment, all flaring out at him from the fog.

Shepard can feel her vision wavering, tears leaving a damp trail down her cheeks as she watches his brow plates pull together in despair.

“Hey,” Her voice is soft as she captures his attention, not missing the shakiness of his breath. “Don’t listen to it. It’s not real, it’s just doing this to hurt you.”

“Shepard, do you… Do you know what’s happening?” He asks, his hold on her still impossibly tight.

She shakes her head, not missing the defeat that sneaks into his eyes. She bites her lip, trying to find the right words to say, but the mission has left her too frazzled, too out of her element to think straight. Her mind is a mess of old nerves that had once been buried but have now been dragged back to the surface. Fresh and raw all over again.

The planet doesn’t give them a chance to gather their wits when a heavy shuffling begins to circle them.

Shepard squints to gaze into the darkness and spots movement. Something approaches with jagged and inhumane movements, almost twitching as it draws closer. She flicks her gaze around and feels her blood rush to her ears, her throat tightening as her treacherous hands begin to shake.

The once dormant bodies now stand around them, facing them with their mouths hanging wide, a low groan echoing from them. Their eyes sunken locking onto the duo, staring at them with unseeing eyes. 

“Shepard, do they look familiar to you?” Garrus asks, his voice kept low to avoid alerting the dead. 

“I don’t know. And frankly, I don’t care right now,” she echoes as she struggles against Garrus’ hold, tapping his arm to signal for him to release her. She instantly raises the weapon and aims it at the closest figure, her grip on his gun is tight and her knuckles audibly crack when it tightens even more. She glares at as many corpses as she can, refusing to back down. She can feel the reassuring weight of her rifle against her back lessen as Garrus unlatches the mag locks, following her lead and aiming it towards the group.

All of a sudden, one of the strange figures twitch. Its arm jerks to the side, bent at an unnatural angle before being pulled close to its torso. Its head falls to the side and the thinly stretched lips rise into a wide smile.

Shepard doesn’t hesitate, a loud bang rings through the small crowd as a hole cuts through the figure's head. Her eyes are sharp as she watches it go stiff before falling backwards. She blinks slowly when it vanishes, almost turning into dust as it hits the cold ground. Not a trace of the strange body is left behind. 

Another one steps forward, only to be instantly cut down by Garrus’ perfect aim. It lets out a hollow gurgle as it melts into the fog, ceasing to exist once more.

"Commander," the voice is amplified by a dozen unmoving mouths, causing her eyebrows to furrow as she grinds her teeth. Garrus shoots out at another figure, only for a new one to take its place.

Shepard watches, momentarily frozen, as multiple bodies approach from beyond the fog. The more they take down, the more they seem to materialise out of spite. Shepard furrows her eyebrows and for the first time in her life, she finds herself struggling to think of a split-second plan. Almost as if the fog had invaded her mind and ripped out her hidden weapon.

A low growl rips through her throat as she sends a bright blue shockwave hurtling towards the figures, taking very little satisfaction as they fly back. They remain prone against the cracked floor, but she can still hear the chat of her name emitting from them. Garrus manoeuvres his arm around her waist and helps her to quickly limp through the clearing as he scatters proximity mines behind them, just in case.

The figures turn to watch, and what remains of those of them standing slowly advance; their limbs jolting into unnatural angles with each slow step.

Garrus quickly slots her gun into its position on her back before taking his own from her, almost dragging her in a random direction until he spots something. A small prefab standing against the dark haze like a lighthouse welcoming them to safety. Shepard can’t help but stare at it in suspicion but makes no effort to pull away from Garrus as he kicks open the door, rushing to place her down on a chair before fortifying the only entrance.

The prefab is surprisingly bright as a small lamp floods the room with a warm glow. The furniture within is sparse, but Shepard isn’t too keen to stick around long enough to worry about what it’s lacking. Its design is sickeningly corporate, with stark white walls broken up by faded green details. Something flutters in the back of her mind, the memory dying before she can even begin to focus on it. 

She watches Garrus double-check, then triple-check, the security systems in a pained daze. Her head drops back against the headrest, a dull throbbing beginning to make itself known as she tries to let her body relax. She rubs at her temple, feeling more lost than ever before. Garrus kneels in front of her and gently grabs her ankle, raising it slightly to help reduce the swelling. He flicks his mandibles out in a silent apology when a small hiss falls from her lips.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, watching her carefully. She gives a wordless groan before waving her hand around in the air, gesturing wildly.

“Besides the obvious?” She retorts, her defences still firmly in place, even within relative safety. He gives her a stern nod, his eyes not moving away from her as he urges her to continue. “Ankle’s throbbing, head’s pounding, and I feel like I’m about to have a heart attack if just one more… thing decides to mess with us. You?”

“Uh, pretty much the same. Besides the ankle part, I didn’t manage to get myself injured by something already dead.” He grins up at her and it takes Shepard a surprisingly long second to catch his playful teasing, even longer to recognise that it’s for both of their benefit. That he’s just as scared as she is and is seeking comfort in familiarity.

“Okay, big guy, you can laugh about that all you want once we get out of here safely. You can even be the one to tell Joker, how about that?”

“That certainly is an honour, are you sure you’re feeling alright, Ravs? You’re not normally that self-sabotaging.” 

The sound of her nickname on his tongue washes over her like a cooling balm, bringing part of her mind back to the present.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m being overly nice, I know.” She laughs, revelling in the way it releases some of the pressure building in her chest. The fog in her mind recedes despite the relentless –and very much real– type awaiting them outside. “Okay, we’ll take ten minutes to rest up before walking into hell again.”

Garrus stands and spots the nearby coffee table, dragging it over to her so Shepard can rest her ankle while keeping it elevated. 

“Don’t move, I’m going to look around and see what’s been left behind.” He fixes her with a knowing look before moving to the back of the room, his eyes and fingers darting through the display cases and bookshelves lining the walls.

Never one for sitting still, Shepard silently rises from the chair and hobbles around the room, willfully ignoring Garrus’ groan. She keeps the door in her line of sight at all times while limping her way over to him, his arm automatically reaching to hold her steady once she’s close enough.

“Find anything useful or is it just like the previous buildings?” She asks as her eyes scan over various books. He simply hums in response.

“Well…” He states slowly, “There are a bunch of old research reports, some dating back to three years ago.”

“Please don’t tell me that any of these reports mention the Reapers,” She groans out, squinting to skim-read over the one in his hand.

“Nothing has mentioned them yet, thankfully. I’m hoping it stays that way as well.” He mumbles, his voice faltering for a second. “Though, those… things back there didn’t exactly resemble husks. They didn’t glow… or hiss, for that matter. There’s no dragon's teeth around either.”

“No, it’s also not like the Reapers to play around with people like this. We’ve not been outright attacked yet.”

“Which is a first, all things considered.” He adds, earning himself a small laugh. “Are we going to… talk about what happened back there?”

Shepard flinches at his question, suddenly hyperaware of every movement she makes when she feels his grip around her reflexively tighten in response.

“Later. When we’re back on the Normandy, we can’t… I can’t afford to open that can of worms while we are still stuck in the lion's den.”

“Shepard…” He groans out in exasperation, raising a hand to rub at his face, “I have no idea what half of what you just said is supposed to mean. But I think I can understand… We’ll talk once we’re safe?”

She nods in response and doesn’t miss how his eyes dart to the door.

[creaturefeaturecommando]

So for Mass Effect 2 I’m gonna give Geena a buzz cut and it’s gonna go something like this

Geena: What…did you do… TO MY HAIR ?!?

Miranda: It was necessary to shave your hair for the procedure-

Geena, pointing at Jacob: YOU LET THIS WOMAN TOUCH MY HAIR ?! IT TOOK ME TWO YEARS JUST TO GET IT TO THAT LENGTH AND YOU LET HER TOUCH MY HAIR ?!?

Jacob: I had nothing to do with the Lazarus project hands on so-

Geena: YOU DONT EVER TOUCH A BLACK WOMAN’S HAIR EVEN WHEN SHE’S COMATOSE AND DYING !

Miranda: If I didn’t shave your head I couldn’t preform the surgery and you’d be dead

Geena: WHO CARES ?!? I’d rather be dead with hair than bald !

Jacob: Just think of it as a big chop, a fresh start to celebrate coming back to life !

Geena: I will kill you and burn Cerberus down TO THE GROUND !

-Later-

Garrus: I like the haircut Shepard. It really brings out your face.

Geena, giggling like a school girl: Oh Vakarian, flattery will get you no where.

Miranda and Jacob: 😑😑

[angel-of-the-moons]

A concept I'm working on for funsies atm

I love Mass Effect and StarCraft and for years I wondered why nobody thought to mod in the armor. It would work so well for the tech-oriented or biotic FemShep!

So I decided to start designing some myself using armor from the actual game.

Comprised/Based on:

Chest + shoulders: Liara silver alternate appearance armor

Forearms: N7 Armor (ME3 variant)

Hands: Cerberus Spirit Gloves (Namely the wrist armor and clawed fingers)

Hips: Hanhe-Kedar Hip armor/belts

Legs: Reckoner Knight Armor (minus the spiky knees)

Under armor/"blacks": EDI's White Alliance Catsuit

I hope one day to have somebody mod it into the game!

[dairsmuids]

— and i could love you violently, if i let myself

summary: when shepard visits the citadel to investigate volus ambassador din korlack and his possible ties to cerberus, she doesn't expect to find herself confronted with a ghost from her recent past in the process.

pairings: zaeed x femshep, garrus x femshep (mention only)

word count: 2.8k

a/n: for reference: my canon shepard is lucrezia "ezi" shepard, a mostly-renegade vanguard with a spacer background and ruthless service history. ezi had an ongoing fling with zaeed during the events of me2, but as a pair of grumpy idiots who'd rather shoot first than share feelings, they never fully expressed how they felt about each other. so their romance fizzled out, and ezi ended up getting involved with garrus.

ezi is a fury-driven mess of a human, and i adore her.

dedication: my two best friends, anli & lya, who aren't even in this fandom but always make time to listen to my ramblings & encourage me to be more vocal about whatever is on my mind. thank you both for always letting me annoy the shit out of you. i love you ♡

also on ao3 here.

Zaeed Massani emits a rough exhale, shifting his grip on his rifle as he glances down at the pile of mercenary corpses cooling on the apartment’s tiled vinyl floor. Din Korlack, the volus he's spent the last few weeks chasing, cowers in the corner, wheezing anxiously into his breather mask. Not that Zaeed gives two shits about him anymore. His focus has now shifted to the woman walking in through the apartment doorway.

She looks beautiful as ever, he thinks to himself before immediately internally brushing off the too-soft thought. Though he can't deny it's true, she does look good. Lucrezia Shepard — Ezi to her friends — is the stunning yet dangerous force of nature she always was. And yet Zaeed can clearly see there's something else in her stance now. Something heavier. The weight of war, perhaps. The same war that's currently burning half the goddamn galaxy down.

"Shepard," Zaeed greets, the mercenary’s voice tinged with its usual sandpaper quality as he rests his gun casually over his shoulder. "Took your damn time getting here. Glad I wasn't just making an ass out of myself over a hunch."

"Been a while, Zaeed," Shepard murmurs, a surprising level of amity to her tone as the apartment door hisses closed behind her. Bright blue eyes flick over the dead mercs before landing on Zaeed again. A part of her still can't believe that Massani of all people is involved in this. She'd, of course, wondered where he'd gone after she'd returned to Earth, but allying with Cerberus again was not what she expected. "Where's Korlack?"

Zaeed jerks his head towards the volus huddled in the corner, not taking his eyes off Shepard. Goddamn sentimentality, he thinks to himself as his mind betrays him with a flash of a memory: his body covering hers in her bed on the Normandy. "Lucky for our little friend here, he's alive. Guess you could say I had a change of heart." He expels a short grunt sound that's almost a chuckle, as his eyes find the corpses of his fellow mercs once again, giving one of them a slight nudge with his boot. "Undisciplined bastards. That's what I get for signing up at the last minute."

Shepard strides over to Korlack, her black boots splashing in merc blood as she closes the distance. She grabs the volus by the collar of his envirosuit, hauling him to his feet with a sharp tug.

"You should've gone to C-Sec if your life was in danger," the Commander growls firmly, her light blue eyes flashing with a level of unbridled irritation that's pretty much business as usual for her. "I've got questions, and you're going to answer them. And don't even think about lying to me." She shakes him slightly, her grip tightening. "What intel did you give Cerberus?"

Zaeed watches almost nonchalantly as Shepard manhandles the volus, a small smirk playing at the corner of his scarred mouth. Her fire stirs something in him he's struggling to ignore, even if it's hardly the first time he's seen her act in such a manner.

Korlack lets out a surprised wheeze as he's dragged upright. "Information o-on a turian planet's defense system," he explains with a stammer, his small eyes darting nervously between Shepard and Zaeed, "B-but if I tell you which planet they're attacking, Cerberus will know I turned t-t-traitor."

Zaeed rolls his one good eye, crossing his arms over his chest. "You already betrayed your own people, you dumb bastard," he says, his voice a low growl. "Talk, before Shepard starts pulling bits off you to feed to her varren."

Shepard's grip on Korlack's collar immediately tightens, knuckles turning white as she does so. She can feel her practically-nonexistent patience begin to wear thin. She leans in close, her breath hot against the mask of his envirosuit. "We just saved your life," she mutters, her voice low and menacing. "Tell us what planet you've put in danger, or I swear to God, I'll make what Zaeed did to those mercs look like a picnic."

Cool metal meets warm flesh for a brief moment as Shepard’s free hand drifts to the pistol at her hip, the touch a silent but meaningful threat at the volus diplomat. And at that Korlack swallows hard, the combination of the Commander’s iron grip and her threats enough to finally wear him down. "Aethus," he immediately blurts out as he takes in another hiss of a breath. "It's Aethus. Cerberus will attack a colony called Aethus for its shipyards."

Shepard's eyes narrow as the volus spits out the name of the targeted colony, finally giving up the necessary information. At least I can pass this on to Victus and get the colony evacuated, she thinks, mildly relieved, That oughta save a lot of Turian lives.

"That wasn't so hard now, was it," Shepard mutters, releasing Korlack roughly. He crumples to the floor, making another hissing sound as he gasps for air. She watches as the volus stands, readjusting and fixing himself. "Now get out of here. Before I change my mind about sparing you."

Zaeed watches Korlack scramble to his feet and hurry towards the door with mumbled thanks, and the mercenary can't help but feel a twinge of disappointment that it's already all over. A small part of him wanted to see Shepard unleash a bit more of that infamous temper of hers.

As he turns back to Shepard he lowers his rifle, letting the weapon hang loosely at his side. "Took him long enough to spit that out," he remarks, his voice a low rumble. He takes a step closer to her, his heavy boots thudding against the blood-stained floor.

Shepard turns to face Zaeed, her light blue eyes flashing with a mix of relief and lingering anger. She rests her pale hands on her hips, her stance wide and authoritative as she regards him, letting out a small hum of confirmation. "I'll make sure the Primarch gets the information and evacuates the colony. We can't let Cerberus destroy any more innocent lives."

Her eyes flick over towards the mercs’ cooling bodies in the opposite corner of the room, eyebrow quirking upward ever so slightly before her gaze finds Zaeed's once more, the obvious question burning a hole in her brain. "Zaeed, what are you even doing here?" she asks, her tone betraying a combination of confusion and disappointment. Another lingering flicker of a glance toward the corpses. "Who were those people you were with?"

Zaeed's gaze lingers on Shepard's face, taking in the fierce determination practically carved into the sharp lines of her jaw. "Bunch of mercs from Omega," he explains. "Signed on with them when I heard they were making a hit on Cerberus. Didn't realise until it was too late that they were actually making a hit for Cerberus." A short exhale escapes his parted rough lips, a sound that's almost a regretful sigh, though Zaeed typically makes it a point not to harbour too many regrets. "Should've studied the job longer."

Shepard allows a single thin dark eyebrow to lift upward once again, though she doesn't give a verbal response. The alteration of her body language — the folding of her arms across her N7 hoodie-clad chest, the way she shifts her weight from one foot to another as she stares him down — is more than enough to relay her disappointment in his stupidity.

Zaeed can't help but let his gaze drift over her, taking in the changes since he last saw her. The most noticeable difference is her hair, once shoulder-length and now cut in a short cropped style, different from how he remembers her during their time together on the Normandy almost a year ago. If he concentrates hard enough he can almost remember the softness of the strands of her dark locks against his fingertips.

"Fuckin' hell, Ez," he says, his voice a low rumble as he gestures at her head with a quiet huff. "Y’know, I almost didn't recognise you when you first walked in." He smirks, his cheek scar pulling tight.

Shepard's gaze sharpens at Zaeed's comment, but a flicker of amusement sparks in her light blue eyes as the prior disappointment finally starts to dissipate. She reaches up to touch her cropped hair, a small smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. "Can it, you geriatric bastard," she retorts, her voice sharp and dry as her smirk remains firmly plastered on her face. "The upkeep was driving me nuts. Besides, I used to have my hair short like this long before you knew me.”

Zaeed chuckles roughly at her geriatric bastard comment, a sound that rumbles deep in his chest. Hurling insults always was their way of showing familiarity and affection, and he's grateful that hasn't changed, at least. "Reckon I've got more hair on my balls than you've got on your head, you cheeky bitch." He takes another step closer to her, until he's standing just a foot away, close enough to smell the faint scent of her shampoo.

"Relax, sweetheart," he continues as he meets Shepard's expression of amused indignance, his voice lowering to a rumbling murmur between them. "Never said it didn't suit ya." He almost wants to reach out, brush his calloused fingers against the short bristly hairs at the back of her neck, but he thinks better of it.

There's a brief silence between the pair, and Shepard tries to pointedly ignore the knot she suddenly feels in her chest at Zaeed's oh-so-typical bumbling attempt at a compliment. He can smoothly put a bullet between a set of batarian eyes from a few hundred yards, yet handles any kind of flirtation like he's trying to juggle a hot potato. It's ridiculous, and endearing.

"For what it's worth, you look like hell," she remarks as she takes half a step back, her arms still crossed across her chest, the zip of her hoodie digging a little into the side of her arm. It's supposed to be an attempt at humour, but there's also a hint of a bite to it, and Shepard realises then that she hasn't quite shaken off her disappointment in him just yet.

Zaeed gives a huff of amusement, showing himself unfazed by her words. "You always knew how to flatter a man."

Shepard allows the veiled facade of humour to completely drop, then — a mixture of irritation and something like concern flickering in her expression as she regards him. "And you always knew not to get played," she reminds him, "Not like this. Not by a bunch of pisspoor third-rate Cerberus goons who couldn't hit a target if Harbinger himself was hovering right in front of them."

She hadn't heard a word from or about Zaeed in months, and suddenly he shows up tacked onto a Cerberus job, even if he's admittedly not actually with Cerberus. Shepard's sure she could laugh at the irony. Suddenly Kaidan’s reaction to seeing her on Horizon last year makes more sense to her than it ever did before.

To her words Zaeed gives a shrug, but it's a stiff, awkward movement. Truth is, he had been off his game, and he knows that. Knows he's fucked up. But admitting it would be a level of emotional vulnerability that the mercenary veteran doesn't have in him.

"Didn't realise you cared so goddamn much," he manages, his voice a gruff grumble that gives nothing of his inner turmoil away.

His response would probably make Shepard recoil if she was a lesser creature, but she's been too hardened by the past to allow this frustration to seep too deeply into her war-weary bones. She's experienced enough horror to last multiple lifetimes. She's watched friends die in her arms. She's executed enemies without batting an eye, unflinching at their blood splattering across her face. Hell, she's even experienced the touch of death herself. Deliberate apathy from a man she once believed she could love? It pales in comparison. It's a dull ache that barely leaves a mark in the smoking crater of her life story.

She's about to turn on her heel and leave, about to mumble something about having to contact the Primarch — but Zaeed gets the jump on her, slipping his rifle onto his back before he starts to walk away toward the apartment door.

"C-Sec’ll be on their way soon enough," he mutters in his low, gravelly tone, "Won't be too pleased with the mess we've left ‘em, I imagine." The apartment door hisses as it slides open to allow the mercenary to depart.

Shepard stares blankly at Zaeed's back as the distance between them grows. She watches expectantly for him to turn the corner and head out into the hallway — but, in the open doorway, he does something she doesn't expect. He stops. And stands there, for a brief moment that feels like a lifetime.

He doesn't bother to look back, but he wants to. God, does he want to. A slow, measured breath escapes his cracked lips. Once again he doesn't think before he acts, though this time Zaeed's foolish act comes in the form of a question he wishes he'd thought better of. "Vakarian treating you well?"

That very nearly catches Shepard off guard.

Her thoughts momentarily drift to Garrus. Just a few hours ago she'd been standing at the top of the Presidium with the turian, confessing her love for him. Are you ready to be a one-turian kind of woman?, he had asked, his nervousness obvious even as he tried his best to mask it behind his trademark sultry purr.

And she does want that. God knows she does.

But as her eyes travel down the length of Zaeed's armour-clad back, a small part of her can't help but still wonder about the road less travelled.

"He is," comes her straightforward reply. Her response is much less complicated than the mental gymnastics it took her to arrive at it. Her jaw clenches, almost as though the admittance pains her.

Zaeed simply nods, as if that's all he needs to hear. Maybe it is. Maybe it has to be.

He leaves his questioning at that.

"Talk more later, Shepard," he mutters finally, a pathetic attempt to cling onto some sort of nonchalance — a nonchalance that isn't there and that hasn't ever been there when it comes to her, if he's truly honest with himself. "Catch up near the docks, if you like."

Without another word he finally offers mercy on them both by turning the corner and walking away, the apartment door sliding shut behind him. Once it's fully shut, leaving Zaeed standing out in the quiet hallway alone, he lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, running a hand down his battle-worn face.

It’s better this way, Shepard tells herself once he’s out of sight.

But her body betrays her, as it so often does: shoulders locked tight, fists clenched at her sides, jaw so tight she half-expects her teeth to crack. A slight glow of blue permeates around her as her biotics flare.

And then out of nowhere the memories come fast, almost as though someone has pressed play on a vid in her mind. Some things are so vivid, so painfully clear, they could put Thane’s eidetic memory to shame. Meeting Zaeed on Omega, that first flicker of attraction that gave her pause for the first time in years. Countless missions she fought through with him by her side. Saving his life with a reach of her hand as they'd slid down those toppling platforms in the Collector base. Him saving her life with a reach of his hand as she leapt to the Normandy upon their escape and almost missed the jump. The nights spent tangled together, in her cabin, in his cot on the engineering deck, desperate touches and hushed words neither of them would ever dare repeat in daylight.

And now all she’s left with is his goddamn indifference.

She exhales sharply, but before she can let that frustration settle, another thought strikes her. Garrus.

The difference is staggering. Like night and day, even despite how similar the three of them are in so many ways. From the start, there was no guesswork with Garrus, no hesitation. Even in the early days of their friendship, she'd felt a kinship with him she hadn't felt with another since her Alliance training days.

With Garrus, there’s never been an unknown. No doubt. No question. "You realise this plan has me walking into hell too," he'd joked when he'd joined her on the Collector mission a year ago. And yet he stayed. His loyalty has been absolute, unmatched. And that has always been enough. More than enough.

She can't deny that Zaeed challenges her, makes her feel alive. Garrus does, too. But the difference between the two men is that Garrus also soothes her, grounds her when she feels like she's back floating over Alchera again, tethers her when she feels like she's sinking beneath the weight of the galaxy's expectations. And at a time like this that's not just what she wants: it's what she needs.

She drags in a single deep breath, and the blue glow dissipates as quickly as it came.

It's better this way.

[another-rogue-trevelyan]

I swapped the heads on the Shepard funko pop and the black widow funko pop and created the femshep funko

The best part is she’s a muscle mommy

[themournfulwatcher]

A list of mods I use incase I don't get back to you with an answer

Flycam:

Flycam by Otis_Inf

Emmrich:

Detailed Companions by femshepping

Professorial Fashion by ghostspires

The Emmrich Bundle Recolors by serafinaonyx

Emmrich's Nevarran Finery by fatalevolkarin

Emmrich to Lich Swap

Note: My mortal Emmrich swaps are no longer on Nexus. Ask me on discord.

Rook:

Muted Mournwatch by ghostspires

Watcher's Wardrobe (Antoine's Suit) by auracrest

Sable Doublet Recolors by doggomelette

Sable Doublet White and Black by JSILVERHVND

Civilian (NPC) Outfits by Cerberry

Vigilant Mourn Watcher by RookVol

Rook’s Lich Outfit by ghouls0rules

Casual Emmrich Outfit by goddessofthetrash

Finely Crafted Spectacles by Occuria

Davrin Outfit for Rook by crubino

Davrin Monochrome Recolors by serafinaonyx

Vorgoth:

More goth Vorgoth by goblinngay

Save Editor:

DAV Save Editor by khaleesinz

[revvethasmythh]

https://www.tumblr.com/agentwashingcat/781539906451357696/submitting-jacob-taylor-from-mass-effect-2-and-3?source=share

was curious about to see how you'd vote on this! I'm black and said nah (mostly bc of the storyline with his dad tbh) but I haven't played/seen me3 yet

I would say first and foremost that I am not a good person to discuss the intersection of his race with his storyline/writing, though this a topic I have honestly really wanted to read about from people who can discuss it with more authority than me (white). Because I think Jacob is written in such a uniquely perplexing way compared to literally everyone else, and while I don't feel equipped to talk about it with any particular depth, I'm not naïve enough to think that isn't related to him being our only Black companion. It's not even that he has bad character traits--though he comes across as remarkably hypocritical in, say, his judgment of Thane as a mercenary when he himself is described as "a gun for hire"--but it's more to do with the fact that it's practically impossible to get to know him.

One of the first things we learn about him is that he was a Corsair with the Alliance, a black ops group that sounds nearly like what the Spectres are to the Council, and decided to leave it because there was too much "red tape" and he'd rather be with a group that actually gets things done and isn't bogged down by regulations (i.e. Cerberus)--even though the Corsairs operated independently outside normal Alliance jurisdiction. A) that's confusing, b) this NEVER comes up again. We never hear about the Corsairs EVER again after the prologue, not in the entire series. He shuts down conversation faster and better than any other character in, frankly, anything I've ever played. He seems deeply uninterested in getting friendly with Shepard, which makes it even more confusing why, in a vanilla game, Femshep is automatically romantically interested in him by default. The Shadow Broker dossier on him describes him as a personality hire to help everyone get along, but there is no material evidence that this is the case, particularly considering how combative he was with Thane--a thing that also never comes up again. (I actually thought we might see an argument between those two like we did Miranda/Jack and Tali/Legion, but then we just...didn't). He is said to be under no psychological distress after the events of his personal mission, but when you meet up with him in me3 and ask how he's doing, he says what his father did "haunts him." That's it. That's the end of the conversation, we get nothing more than that. Jacob is like broken vase of a character. He's got all these traits that can make an interesting whole (brave--perhaps too brave given how eagerly he tries to jump on the ventilation job during the suicide mission--strong moral convictions, often hypocritical about said moral convictions, easy-going, strong boundaries, good with kids, strongly believes in helping others, etc.) that can never come to fruition because the writing doesn't give him the time of day. And while I haven't seen what the romanced interactions with him look like in me3 (or me2, actually), I know he is the only love interest who will cheat between games (and get the other woman pregnant), and I am not blind to the implications of giving that storyline to our only Black companion. So yeah, I have to say nah, the writing truly does him no favors, either with his plotline or the way he interacts with Shepard and honestly I think it's a shame because there is an interesting character there buried underneath bizarre writing choices and an unfortunate plotline.