#or for drunk nihlus

[sol-consort]

your roommate posts are so fun i was wondering what your take on like first few humans on the Citadel(say the year they got an embassy) and the impressions they left as roommatesXD

I'm glad you find them fun!

It's hard to say, the first humans on the Citadel must have been diplomats and political figures important enough to warrant having bodyguards. Getting their own housing and such.

I'd imagine no roommate situation allowed for humans yet, especially if a turian was already residing there. The first contact war made the human's notoriety spread far and wide, infamous for our "bloodthirst" and "aggressive cunning nature"

Skip a couple of years as the humans integrated into C-sec forces and we still held the bully reputation.

Sure, the other alien's views on use softened, but no one was going out of their way to befriend a human yet.

Especially, turians.

We picked on the golden goose of species, on the favourite child of the Citadel. When turians make up for more than 70% of all policeforce, it's easy to see why humans get misinterpreted as troublemakers by virtue.

Even the ones who admired humans did so in reverence to the alliance great feat of holding the line against the turian forces for three whole months. We were brand new, a newborn galactic species that just discovered mass relays, and the turians had all the advantages imaginable, yet it was them who suffered the greater mortality losses.

So both the good and bad rumours painted us in a very unkind yet strong picture.

Who would want someone like that to bunk near them? "What if the human sees me as weak? what if they pick on me? what if—" all very common doubts.

The Normandy by itself was deliberately a joint effort by the human alliance and turian hierarchy to mend relationships between the two species.

And yet, not a single turian was found aboard. At least not until Shepard recruited one. (Nihlus was a spectre, not a recruit. He was here for his own business)

Not out of malice for turians, but the first contact war memories were still fresh in Captian's Anderson mind, no doubt. All the friends he lost, all the horror he witnessed.

It would've taken years for aliens to start comfortably co-living with humans. If you couldn't afford to get your own place on the Citadel, your next step would be looking into human roommates because no other species would let you in.

But on other planets? Spaceships? It would've been a faster intergeneration.

A salarian who came to Earth to further his research only to realise how expensive everything is, deciding to look into shared housing, there were no other options besides a human. After a couple of weeks, he comes to the conclusion that you're not the vicious killer that your species's reputation makes you out to be...in fact, you're quite fun to be around.

A turian crew who were hired as security by a shipping company would eventually get used to the many humans on board, especially when the humans start inviting them to drinking games, poker night and to watch movies. They start appreciation the unique spirit humans have, one which they infected them with. becoming patients zeros to the "turian human are natural best friends" epidemic.

An asari scientist who was hired to terraform a new planet for human living, alongside the other human scientists. Working together and living in such close proximity in aluminium camps. She's wary of humans at first, doing her job then retreating to her own room. But the lack of communication really halts the progress of the mission, so she gives the humans a chance and starts attending their meetings, late night lab sessions...and it's way more casual than she expected. The atmosphere is light. It's just a bunch of scientists joking around whilst still getting work done.

-

Humans weren't the only ones with a bad reputation; qaurians and krogans shared our blight. When a human, a krogan and a qaurian walk into a bar, getting wasted drunk and complaining loudly about how they can't find a single shared housing plan because their snobby roommates keep rejecting them—only to spot each other across the bar and a figurative lightbulb lights up above their heads.

Renting an apartment together!

Yeah, the first to trust humans enough to become roommates with them weren't the "ever so righteous and benevolent" asari, or the "community service principled" turians, it wasn't even the "logic and rationality above else" salarians.

It was a quarian on her pilgrim, who spent all her money getting to the Citadel only to be faced with discrimination and blame for the geth situation.

It was a heartbroken krogan whose asari gf of 50 years just left him because her friends pressured her to. Only to end up realising how bad of an idea it was to keep the lease under her name.

Finding an offer online by a human who's looking for roommates, you already have an apartment—but the asari landlord raised the rent yet again, and working two jobs isn't cutting it—so you made a couple of posts online in roommate sites, yet all the offers you were given immediately pulled back once they realised you're a human.

Your post was like a beacon in the dark for them, they haven't even met a human before, but what's life without risk?

[shepcdr]

@serabellyms // plotted for a starter.

if it were up to him, shepard would have long left the Citadel by now. But Captain Anderson and Udina are still in talks... about what, he has no damn clue. (If it were Shepard who had command of the Normandy, he would have dragged any information on Saren out of Udina, political niceties be damned — why forward it to the ambassador, anyway? isn't it Shepard that answers directly to them now? at every turn, the Council seem to hinder him more than they're helping him — and taken off as soon as the Council had declared him a Spectre. But he's guessing that's probably one reason he isn't in Anderson's shoes.) C-Sec Requisitions, too, are dragging their feet with the new prototype equipment that's supposed to be en route to the Normandy.

Between the interruptions, they've been informed that they can expect to be ashore for about a half a day more. Shepard isn't all that surprised, considering the involvement from both Udina and Citadel Security Services.

Shepard's never been interested in tourism. If he were at any other post or on any other planet, he would have lingered near the Normandy if he weren't already aboard it. But there's a first for everything. This is the Citadel, after all. And while the Presidium Commons aren't his cup of tea — too quiet and bright and much, much too clean, almost uncomfortably so — escaping the Presidium is quick work via rapid transit.

He's not exactly sure where exactly he got off the shuttle, but it's dense and it's most certainly commercial. The sidewalks are bustling, and the endless sprawling of sights and entertainment is impressive: a vast improvement to the numbing tranquility of the Presidium.

He finds a bar at the end of a nearby street. If he were on shore leave, he might have gone ahead and drunk himself stupid. After all, how else should one celebrate this... new responsibility? (He supposes that's all it is. For all that Nihlus spoke of the unfettered freedom that Spectres enjoy, Shepard is still little more than a sitting duck while Saren runs wild doing God knows what and God knows where. So the Council finally believed him — big deal. Until they've got Saren in cuffs, calling this a celebration seems premature.)

He turns the freshly opened bottle of beer on the counter before him. Even if there's little actual accomplishment to celebrate, having his first drink as a Spectre alone sounds like a miserable idea. But there isn't anyone in particular he wants to share a drink with. Except...

A few taps on his omni-tool, and — location sent. He goes back to turning his beer in hand, feeling oddly contemplative. (It occurs to him that maybe Williams would appreciate some context with the message. But, honestly, it's easier for him if she doesn't show.)

[henosiis]

KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER .

REPOST DO NOT REBLOG !!

name: kat (if you remember me as ozzie you get a cookie. also how's it feel like to be old)

pronouns: i default to she/her but anything goes.

preference of communication: please just add me on discord if you have it lmao tumblr dms are a mess. im on discord about all the time i'm awake so it's truly the best way to reach me.

name of muse(s): oh boy here we go oswald of carim (confessthysiins) - nihlus kryik (spectrien) - queen annalise (corrunuptia) grigori (evigilar) alizebeth kenway (hawksblooded) israfel of aarein (ofaarein) uhhh did i forget anyone.

best experience: i've been in the community since 2014 as oswald of carim and I've seen some really incredible stuff throughout the years. but without a doubt, my best writing experience has been writing with lani @sunmad. it's thanks to her that my comeback in the last year was not only successful but also lead to some of my best writing ever. lani is not only a wonderful, thought-provoking writer but also an incredible friend and I'm so, so thankful we met and started plotting together. love u lani <3

rp pet peeves / dealbreakers: I know this is petty but over-formatted, over-graphicked posts are just impossible to read comfortably sometimes. I feel bad asking people to tone down their aesthetics for me, but it's like... it shouldn't take me five minutes to read a 200 word post bc im constantly getting lost in fancy editing. A genuine deal-breaker for me is when I don't feel like I can bring anything to the table in terms of dynamics, ships or otherwise. If you're essentially writing your own story and I'm just a side participant with basically no input, just following along with your pre-plotted thing, why am I here? Why make this rp? Just write a novel chief!

muse preferences: hot older men tbh. but also I find I'm very interested in characters who have very concrete goals that they are devoted to. Devotion & faith (religious or not), destiny, the struggles one has with those concepts.

plots or memes: i love memes for their spontaneity, but I find I do prefer having a baseline plot to work off of so I can know where I'm going with prompts and the like. Even if its just an outline of their dynamic, or a small timeline of events, I find I work best and find the most ideas when I'm not fully improvising. It can be fun though, I admit.

long or short replies: these days I struggle with very long replies (500+) and try to stick to ~300 words, which I think is my comfort zone. I can push more, and with some threads I do, but it asks a lot more out of me.

best time to write: Big fan of the Hemingway (write drunk, edit sober) but since that's not always an option I do like to write in the evenings, when I've had time to think and let ideas brew in my head. I sometimes start planning a reply when I wake up, and only write it in the wee hours of the night. The idea soup has to simmer for a while.

are you like your muse(s): TW EMOTIONAL VULNERABILITY this might sound a little insane but whatever. i was at a very difficult time in my life when i started writing ozzy; i was embittered, full of grudges, ruining friendships over petty things etc. Sure, I was a teenager and they're all lowkey crazy, but it was tough living with undiagnosed bipolar. Anyway, as I kept writing ozzy, putting myself in a mindset of forgiveness, of warmth, of being welcoming, i found it actually changed how i think in many ways. he made me a better person, in a way. i've become more patient, forgiving of mistakes, more open to people. and through the years I've found that people are very willing to talk to me, to be emotionally open, even people I just met or acquaintances. it's changed me and it's changed my life. So thank you, whoever drew Ozzy's concept art and got me obsessed with him in the first place. I owe you a 12 pack.

tagged by: stolen from the dash tagging: steal it from me! i know its not munday but fuck it. become ungovernable

[urban-crisis-responce]

Nihlus: *lights a joint* I had a body count in triple digits before you were born, isn't that weird

Kix, so drunk he can't see straight: can yuo put that out on me

[spectrewolf]

A harrumph before folding her arms across her chest. "Well I certainly don't want people graffitiing my tombstone cause I'm good," she decided. Good thing she'd be hiding the damn thing. "Or, you know, because someone is drunk as a skunk."

"You say that like it's only a saying used on Earth." She's teasing then offered a shrug. "I had that phrase used way too many times when I officially became a Spectre. On the plus side, I get to use it on Ash."

A moment's thought, hazel and red eyes squinting. "Speaking of giants, I still need to get that memorial finished for Nihlus." The turian will forgive her for getting a tad sidetracked.

"Don't have to be hated to be vandalized-- though that does does help. Remind you about the time I got totally lararyc an thought it'd be fun to take a few geological samples of the peak of Umate..."

Ah Corrie. Good times. To be fair, it had originally been to deface a High Republic memorial, but then she changed her mind. Beat the CSF by only a few moments, had an earful from the good Captain. And a mild hangover the next morning.

"Yeah, I reckon." She agreed. "On the shoulder of giants or however Earth folk say it/"

[ferusaurelius]

Normally I don’t fill requests, participate in exchanges, or respond to prompts. I work too slowly and deadlines can straight up kill my motivation. 

However! 

This year for SpecRecs2021, despite not being actually signed up or officially part of the exchange, I had an idea.

An idea inspired by that particular moment or inflection point in a night of drinking where you’re so sloshed that the entire world -- no matter how absurd! -- makes sense to you. And you just go with whatever happens.

Enter ST&R candidate Nihlus Kryik accidentally trying to pick up his Spectre mentor in a bar, getting ‘robbed’ by an asari dancer at tit-point, and then needing to plan his own funeral when he finally sobers up.

Without a doubt the stupidest thing I have ever written, but I also could not stop laughing while writing it. 

I dashed this off in maybe two days? Very-super-secret beta reading by @datsonyat (thank you!) and another fandom friend.

Full disclosure: this story is a stand-alone no-Reapers AU take on a different sort of meeting than the one I’m going to be using for my main Blackwatch!Saren / “Air Needing Light”-verse.

While it is maybe-a-one-shot, there’s a chance I’ll also write some more vignettes for this alternative no-Reapers AU Saren and Nihlus...

Thank you to everyone who has already commented, added kudos, or recommended this fic! It was a real struggle not to fess up to my crimes until the appropriate moment. 

[spectre-shitposts]

[Garrus, Nihlus, Avitus, and Saren are sitting together at that bar in the sky, getting absolutely plastered.]

Garrus, facedown on the table: I created these... these messes by letting my *sniffle*... my emotions cloud my judgement, and it killed... people I cared about.

Nihlus, sprawled over three seats: oh yeah? well i *hic* cut out the middleman and killed those dearest to me my own damn self. did i ever tell you about my- *hic* my parents? ho boy, i got a story for you.

Avitus, from under the table: He diiiied, when I wasn't theeereee.

Saren, cracking open another bottle of homeworld whiskey: Right so, I will win this one. Instead let's just drink to... something else, shall we?

Nihlus, making grabby hands at the bottle: ... everlasting friendship?

Saren:

Saren: An abrupt change, but I will allow it.

[cryptiique]

( @aleadamia​ ) be givin’ me feelings

Strong, burning all the way down, the alcohol nevertheless loosens the tongue by bitter increments, and pouring him another, sitting shoulder to shoulder, Nihlus taps a tune against the plastic bottle—talons laid bare. "You coming to Omega makes sense, but all these years..." Unable to finish his thoughts, downing, instead, another shot, he makes a frustrated noise. "For all their talk of honor, they sure as fuck can't pull their heads out of their asses long enough to see the truth." Nihlus knows better; his resentment towards the Hierarchy has built up over a lifetime of mistreatment, but—for Kaecus? He is, still, a good soldier. Beneath all that bluster and rough attitude, he is a good and kind person. A rarity in Omega, and the larger part of the galaxy.

"You better keep talking, old man. We've still got half the bottle to go." Sub-vocals layered, concern at the forefront while the teasing notes linger between the epithet, Nihlus places his chin on Kae's shoulder, staring up at him expectantly.

               as far as time frames go, a half a bottle is nothing. he’s not proud, but since landing on omega, kaecus has frequented the shithole corner bars with piss liquor more than he ever did on shore leaves during his days in the military. not even the dignity of purgatory —— not that there’s any dignity to be found on omega. but drinking glorified engine grease next to his fellow companions at ‘ station: bottom of the barrel ’ has lowered his expectations and raised his alcohol tolerance. and no, his pride has not been found at the bottom of his glass, but it’s not for lack of trying.

               kaecus ignores as nihlus presses closer and instead refills his glass. it’s a testament to his increasing drunkenness as much as his growing tolerance of the younger turian’s presence and overall touchiness. so, yeah, maybe he’s gotten used to nihlus being straight up cuddly. maybe he likes it. he’s too many glasses of brandy in to give that a good long think at the moment. so, he takes another drink and gives a half-hearted shrug with one shoulder, careful not to jostle the spiky paperweight against his arm.

                “ it’s an old story, and nobody bothered to figure out of it’s true. it was my superior’s words against mine, and the weights were stacked against me. it’s the classic tale of traitorous, bureaucratic bullshit. i do my job, i get word that a colony gets hit by a plague, i go investigate. find out it’s not a plague, but some scientist engineering a subtle chemical warfare. i report it to my superior, he says he’ll take care of it. next thing i know, i’m being sentenced with murder for being responsible for the whole bullshit. they said i must have been bought off —— you know, ‘cause my damn wife just died and i’m saddled with a kid on my own, so i must be hard up for credits. so, duh, my next thought would obviously be to poison civilians. ”

                a growl is drowned out as kaecus downs another half of the glass, the contents sloshing and barely staying with in as he slams the glass onto the counter. he runs a jerky hand over his crest and fringe, pushing at the back of his neck. “ you know the worst part? the poison killed kids. kids. you wanna know how many? ten. ten fucking kids are dead, and their deaths are on my file. their parents think i killed them. ”

[dutyworn]

❝ Hey, ❞    she greets, in soft response to Nihlus’s smile. She’s learning to read his body language, and honestly, finding every moment of it fascinating. She’s always had a knack for intuiting subtle human communication; learning to do the same with other species is genuinely an enjoyable process for her, and deeply personal with Nihlus specifically, for obvious reasons. She takes joy in his subvocal purr, pressing an affectionate hand at his forearm in response, as they touch foreheads, the latter turian gesture now very familiar to her.

She could fall in love with him, she thinks. She certainly feels affectionate towards him; he continues to treat her with such devoted care she almost feel inadequate at the face of it all. The bonding means something to him she couldn’t possibly begin to understand (factual information isn’t the same as personal experience on a cultural level, on a species level), and while he’s not in any way put expectations on her about their private relationship... Wren can’t help but feel a type of guilty about it, feeling as if he’s been robbed of something more profound in their arrangement than she can even understand.

❝ Good timing, ❞    she commends his decision to order food.    ❝ Meeting up with Udina? Makes me burn through all my energy reserves every time from the amount of self-control I need to exercise, ❞    she jokes.    ❝ I am starving. ❞    She hopes he’s picked her something spicy. Real meat would be... she might be reduced into a cave-woman if she was presented with a steak. But things like that are often too much to hope for, on the Citadel. There are some non-human levo foods that she’s taken a liking to, thankfully, and it’s not as if she’s ever had full meals on a regular basis (enough food, sure, but military life often consist of whatever’s easy rather than what’s tasty), but there’s a different kind of nostalgia for stuff that reminds her of Earth, now, even as she’s spent all her adult life hopping from military base to spaceship to another.

It had been a weirdly... forced-casual chat, Udina had had with her. Leaving her wondering what his agenda had been. Almost small talk, with questions that might have almost sounded kind coming from a friend, about her life on the Citadel.

Nihlus mentioning his Council meeting immediately has Wren suspecting the two are related.

Suspicious now, she seats herself on a barstool, one leg folded, the other dangling with her toes touching the floor. Eyes on Nihlus, she frowns as she listens, not entirely clear on what he’s trying to tell her. Watches him down a drink, growing concerned. It’s only when he up and says it that she understands.

Heat begins to creep up her neck. What the fuck... Marrying for political reasons is one thing. Nihlus is telling her (weeks later) that there’s some kind of consummation involved?! Why would people even know...

❝ When you say signs of being fully bonded...? ❞    she starts, struggling to know where to start. A drink would, indeed, be one option... She grabs a bottle of whisky, pours herself a hefty couple of inches. Doesn’t want to be drunk for this conversation, but appreciates the burn of the alcohol warming its way down her throat.    ❝ Am I doing something wrong? Sending the wrong signals? Nihlus, I wish you would’ve told me about... That’s why Udina was so fucking weird to me today. ❞    She gives a laugh; it comes out a bit hysterical.    ❝ Oh my god. Why would you not tell me, before? If it should have been obvious, I’m... I’m sorry, but it’s not as if... Humans haven’t actually done this, in centuries. And centuries, for our culture, is pretty much ancient history? I don’t know how these things work. ❞    She feels apologetic and defensive all at once. If he’d just  let her know  this was expected of them... Gods, the Council is involved.

❝ Pretty sure, ❞    she says, another laugh bubbling from her chest,    ❝ pretty sure humans used to make sure the marriage was valid and have a whole audience for the consummation. ❞    She’s full-on laughing now, in half-horror of the vivid thought of the Council and Udina gathering to watch her have sex with Nihlus. No. Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Hilarious. Terrifying. She does want to tell Nihlus she appreciates how adamantly and vocally he insists on not pressuring her, but she’s too busy being shocked.

@dutyworn asked: [ APPROACH ] our muses haven’t been intimate yet and receiver finally broaches the subject to sender. / nihlus first contact

💌 some more smutty memes [ meme - accepting ]

He knew their species' governments and the Council wouldn't stay out of their personal lives forever, though he had certainly hoped it would have been longer than a few weeks before they started asking him about the more intimate details of their bonding. Not even a full month after their ceremony, and Nihlus had been forced to endure one of the most awkward conversations to have with the Council in his entire Spectre career - and the most awkward conversation to have with Sparatus in his entire life so far.

At least they're putting the pressure on him and not Shepard, as small of a mercy as that might be. But he knows it will only be a matter of time, if he tries to give her more time to adjust to... everything, given how it was her life that was completely uprooted by this whole arrangement in the first place, before they start assuming she - and thus humanity - aren't keeping to their end of the agreement. That's the last thing she needs...

He pauses as he taps a selection of items from a menu on the datapad he holds, trying to select levo foods he knows she's tried and enjoyed, and avoid anything he knows she didn't like or care for. He had wanted to spend this evening out in the Wards, taking her to dinner and to some of the local entertainment, to continue her tour of the Citadel of where would be safest for her to go on her own whenever he's away on a mission, but his earlier meeting with the Council was forcing him to change his plans.

He was determined that she would at least have a quiet dinner to enjoy, even if nothing else went the way he had hoped to spend their evening. After all, he didn't put it past Valern in particular to send spies to follow them if they left their apartment, and if he was going to have to have this discussion tonight, he was at least going to ensure they would have complete privacy, as he'd already scanned the entire apartment for bugs, and removed and destroyed the few that had been planted while no one was home.

Looking up at the sound of the door's chime announcing it's swift opening and closing, his mandibles spread in an easy smile to see Wren returning. She looks relaxed, at least, which is hopeful, as he turns back to the menu to submit the order to be delivered.

"I just finished ordering us dinner," he offers, setting the datapad aside as he stands to greet her properly. A quiet purr rumbles deep in his chest as he moves to meet her, leaning in to lightly press his crest to her forehead affectionately. "It should be here soon."

Though the matter of 'Council business' was never going to make for polite dinner conversation, he shakes his head as he gestures further into the apartment toward the bar in the back corner. "Join me for a drink while we wait? After today's meeting I had with the Council, I think we'll both be needing one," he notes wryly.

"I wanted to allow you as much time as you could have, considering how you were clearly rushed into this arrangement with even less information than I was granted. But it seems the powers that be can't leave well enough alone for more than a few weeks before trying to raise issues..."

He sighs wearily as he pours himself a glass of brandy from the bar, taking a long drink from it before topping it off again before he continues. "There have been 'concerns', from both sides, about the 'legitimacy' of this arrangement. While it's not uncommon for turian bondmates to not rush into..."

Spirits, he's just going to get this out as clinically as he has to. Better that than risk any misunderstandings, he imagines.

"Into sexual intimacy with their partners, especially given that often one or both are still in active duty, it seems that the same leeway is being questioned given our more unique situation. I'm not certain which side decided to start complaining first, but there had to have been more than a few turians to have noted either of us lack the usual signs of being fully bonded."

A frustrated growl escapes him as he takes another drink of his brandy. "Not that it's any of their business, and I told the Council that very thing in no uncertain terms. I won't do anything without your full consent, however, so if you tell me that you're not ready, or not interested at all, then we'll figure something out. I won't let them force or coerce my bondmate into anything. I swore to protect you, and I will do just that - be it from the Alliance, the Hierarchy, or even the Council itself."

[leafy-yezi]

Is there any character you wish was romanceable either from the mass effect triology or Andromeda? If you have a whole list then go ahead! :)

Let me see……

Saren 【 I kinda wish there was a way to save him

Lorik Qui'in 【 Bioware missed such an opportunity with him

Nihlus 【 Too pretty and gone too soon

Mordin 【 I know he rejected the offer but he said shepard would be his first choice if he ever considered, WELL! CONSIDER FASTER THEN!!!

Kirrahe 【 I suspect he is interested, I really do (squint at his light flirting in ME3)

Kenn 【The quarian shop owner on Omega, he is cute and deserves more action in the story

Chellick 【He was cute acting drunk

Tiran Kandros 【Bioware`s mistake or unfinished 'should be's

[bigfan-fanfic]

Creme de Menthe and Ryncol

Year of the OTP: January OTP: Shepard x Kaidan Alenko Prompt: First Kiss Synopsis: Two whole games with no gay, BioWare? What the heck?

The end of the world is definitely one of those catalyzing events that really calls things into perspective.

The "Fuck it, we're dying anyway" principle, perhaps. Shepard wonders what Mordin would think of that analysis.

It's not that he would've never kissed Kaidan at any other point. Just that... trauma has a way of bringing people together.

They're neither of them truly spontaneous people. Kaidan thinks things through, down to the minutiae, and Shepard, like any good commander, considers as many possible tactics as he can before deciding. Maybe, in a more sedate three years, they'd have come together naturally, would have had their conflict of interest removed as Nihlus trained him as a SPECTRE and perhaps Kaidan would have become the CO on the Normandy.

Maybe it wouldn't have, and this is just the one pleasant side effect of the damn Reaper war.

But from the moment they both made it clear that the "someone' they had been looking for was the other, it had been hard to let a moment go by without knowing Kaidan was near. An ache, a hunger that slowly began to build.

And on a night - or whatever passed for night when it came to space travel, when the lights cycled to dim and some crew would head to their quarters to bunk for a rest period - spent in transit between systems, Shepard pours his fellow SPECTRE a drink.

"You know, you're not supposed to drink that. That's dextro stuff." Kaidan warns conversationally.

"I drank ryncol once, you know." Shepard fires back. "I think I can handle the indigestion."

"I'm sorry. I forgot that the drinks of mortal men no longer give you any buzz."

Shepard laughs, and Kaidan grins. It's a nice laugh. It's a nice grin. Kaidan had never fully acknowledged the "Shepard voice" before then - Shepard's voice slides into a slightly higher, more relaxed register when he's comfortable. It doesn't lack any of its usual authority, but the bass notes of his voice are conspicuously absent. Shepard, for his part, studies the cleft of Kaidan's chin as if he wishes to memorize it.

They drink, and the alcohol gives them courage. Kaidan teases Shepard for his range and flightiness - he keeps switching drinks, from batarian shard wine to creme de menthe. Never the same drink twice, never bothering with sophistication nor machismo - it's something Kaidan admires about Shepard, that he can accept things no matter their origin. If a Reaper turned good tomorrow and asked Shepard to let it help, it'd probably be flying in formation behind the Normandy in the next battle. Or maybe that's the Canadian stout he's drinking (and no, it doesn't escape Kaidan that the bar mysteriously kept getting filled with Kaidan's go-to lager).

Kaidan ends up occupying the same couch as Shepard, and doesn't leave any space between them. Shepard is happy to curl up, his knees lifting to gently rest across Kaidan's legs. The movement is a little awkward because of the Commander's broad frame, but Kaidan manages to get an arm around him, focusing on holding him at the waist instead of the shoulders.

Shepard breathes him in as his nose traces along Kaidan's jawline, back and forth. Slow.

Like they have all the time in the world.

Everything is cranked up. The world is in the highest possible definition - he can see the air bubbles behind the dark bottle holding the black label whiskey on the table. He swears he can feel each individual stubbly hair move as Shepard's nose swipes past. And the soft sound of Shepard's lips gracing the corner of his mouth with a kiss cracks through the room like thunder.

He has enough restraint to make their first kiss perfect. Kaidan's lips part, and they look into each other's eyes as they tilt their heads and kiss.

Kaidan can taste the notes of different drinks left behind on his lips - Shepard seems to drink for the flavor, not just to get drunk, and the combination is heady - sweet and sultry, clashing but harmonious. There's not a lot of movement, not this first time, but an intensity behind it that belies so much more than just this one kiss. This is a declaration, a bonding.

I love you and I always will.

They break apart, and Kaidan smiles like a dope at Shepard's goofy smirk. And Kaidan indulges Shepard in their second kiss. Third, fourth, and fifth are soon to follow, and the sixth will last quite a long time as they make out.

It doesn't feel like their first kisses. It feels as though they're old hands at this, musicians returning to an old instrument, picking up their bowstrings and playing a virtuoso as if they had never left. Like Shepard's lips are made for his.

"I love you, Kaidan," are the last words spoken that night, as Shepard swallows the instant like response in another fierce kiss, and they entangle in each other's arms until sleep takes them both.

[alia-turin-fanfiction]

Would you write a shakarian nsfw short fic pls?

Hello anon that I will pretend I have no idea who you are. See below, however please be armed for some very very serious angst and rough sex. 

Rating: Explicit Fandom: Mass Effect  Relationship: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian

Jane sat on the floor in the main battery, she wanted to be in the loudest place on the ship, but the Normandy was so quiet by design that such a place didn’t exist. She drank from the bottle of whiskey, halfway gone now, half more to go. She couldn’t sleep these days, it was either the strange dreams or nightmares or pure insomnia. Her mind was too busy and she knew she needed sleep, tired brain made poor decisions, but she just couldn’t force it. If she was lucky she would faint once that bottle was done and that will solve the problem for today. Tomorrow...she will think about tomorrow when tomorrow came.

“Doing some calibrations Shepard?” she heard the door open and she heard the typical steps of Garrus. She knew he was there before he even opened his mouth.

“Going to calibrate the rest of that.” she waved the bottle at him. “I would offer you some but…”

“Yeah, I don’t think that will be pleasant.” he walked around her and she followed with her eyes his predatory shape. He stopped right in front of Jane, his body leaning against the railing. “Do you want to talk?”

She drank. What was there to talk about? People died, they were all about to die. Everything was for nothing. She drank. She was sending people to their deaths every single day, and in normal circumstances that would not weigh so heavy, soldiers died, but at least they died with purpose. Now that purpose was lost. She drank. It was one thing to die, but win, but dying and losing, that was something she couldn’t accept and right now they were not the winning side. She drank.

Garrus tilted his head to the side observing Jane carefully. He didn’t find humans particularly fascinating, but she was different. Shepard wasn’t just a human or his leader, she was a friend and something more. Something more complicated. They have been through a lot together and that brought them to each other. Two soldiers against the galaxy. His mandibles moved in a chuckle.

“What is it today?” his tone changed from friendly to serious. “ Williams? Earth? Legion?” her green eyes looked at him in anger. That’s what it was. She drank, he knew Shepard could hold her liquor but she was drinking as if she was trying to drown herself in that bottle. He knew, he had seen that before. They all had their poisons, no one was unscarred.

“Sometimes...sometimes I wish...sometimes I wish Nihlus had not rushed ahead alone in Eden Prime. I wish I had done it. I wish Saren had finished me there and then.” She drank. “Or that Cerberus never brought me back to life.” She drank. “Have I told you I remember suffocating? I thought the cold would kill me, but the suite protected me. Nothing I could do for my oxygen being disconnected. Suffocating is not pleasant, but preferable.” He knew what she meant when she said preferable.

Impulsive wasn’t necessarily a way people would describe Garrus. He had his rash moments, maybe out of regulation moments, but acting without thinking wasn’t really his thing. Her words hurt however in a way he couldn’t explain. If Saren had killed her there and then he would have never met her. He probably would have died behind a desk on the Citadel or fighting the Reapers with his kin…

Garrus launched at her, Shepard was too drunk to act fast, he grabbed her throat and lifted her up, the whiskey bottle falling from her hand and crashing on the floor. His talons were firmly wrapped around her throat, she had to use her tiptoes to support herself.

“You can let go, Shepard. All you need to do is relax and my arm will do the rest. No more Reapers, no more guilt, no more death. How long does it take humans to suffocate you think? You would know.” it hurt him saying that. He did not want to harm her, ever, for any reason, but he also knew she was beyond words. A lesser mind would have broken years ago. Garrus had his moments of weakness as well, before Omega, after Palavan...but he also never had the burden Shapard did.

“Garrus…” the words came out choked from her throat, she gripped his hand and pulled herself up and then with admirable strength and accuracy kicked him in the chest.

Jane saw Garrus fly across the room his back hitting the railing he had been leaning against. She was drunk, but also sober enough to realize what he just did. That was special about him, he understood her. He understood the soldier in her, the commander, somehow the human, but he also knew who she was as a person. Despite the defeat talk, she was not defeated, not until her fingers could pull a trigger and Garrus knew exactly how to awaken that survival instinct. Deep down, right now she knew he would never hurt her, but in the moment he had pressed the right buttons.

“Fuck you, turian.” she spit out but smiled, making a step closer to him.

“When and where, Commander?” his mandibles moved in what she had learned was a smirk, sharp teeth showing in his mouth.

She raised an eyebrow and thought for a second. Maybe that is what she needed. Jane started taking her clothes off, there was nothing romantic about it, it was quick, almost business like, but she was a soldier not a stripper. Garrus was watching her, predator eyes fixed on her, his breaths becoming deeper.

“Do you need a written invitation, Vakarian?” she teased. She knew exactly what she needed right now and she also knew he could sense it.

Garrus didn’t hesitate he dashed at her and in the next moment her back hit the wall violently, her legs wrapped around him.

“You are overdressed.” she moaned as she felt his tongue brush against her neck.

“I’m exactly how I want to be, Shepard.” he used just one hand to support her as he reached between his legs, she could hear and feel clothes moving around and then him pushing inside her. There was always the initial discomfort, pleasant feeling, but one that no matter how many times they did it, still felt foreign to her body. He didn’t even give her a second to enjoy it, he started moving hard and fast, every thrust pushing her back against the cold wall, her legs wrapped around him and pulling him deeper in her.

The softness of his tongue on her neck was replaced by a bite on her shoulder, sharp one, but she didn’t care. She needed to feel. That was what was special about Garrus, he knew exactly what she needed and when. Right now, she needed to forget.

As if he read her mind, he picked up the power of his moves. Deeper and harder, his teeth sinking in her skin, her nails digging in whatever softer skin she could grab around his neck. His hard body clothed pressing against her naked skin, but all she could feel and think was him in her, the way he moved, the way he hit all the right places with force, her drunk mind giving way to pleasure and need that was beyond physical. He was making her feel something different than despair and mental pain and that was more than she could as for. He was rough in the moment and she loved it, her body screaming at the sensation of his foreign shape in her.

He could have fucked her hard against the wall for just minutes or maybe it was hours, all Jane cared about was feeling him and the strength he was using. Her legs started shaking, squeezing even harder around him, but Garrus didn’t stop. He knew she was close, the bastard did not slow down, instead started going harder, Shepard couldn’t keep her voice down so she had to sink her own teeth in his clothes, her body being hammered against her ship. She came around him, her whole body going limp, but he was holding her and supporting her, her whole weight in his arms almost like a rag doll. He didn’t stop, he continued until she felt a familiar sensation between her legs as he came, that was going to be uncomfortable tomorrow.

He stepped back, still holding her but the wall was not there to support her anymore. Very gently he let her legs touch the ground and then they both sat down on the cold floor. Garrus wrapped a hand around her and pulled her closer, his long leg pulled her clothes closer and wrapped her with her jacket.

“Thank you.” she finally said.

“Any time, Commander.”

[calibrate--this]

"If you're going to get drunk, at least get drunk with someone who's willing to go those lengths to vent out frustrations--what's bothering you?" -- // Have Nihlus//

@spxctrixmru

Garrus hadn't been expecting the sudden voice from behind him, figuring that if anyone were to confront him for sitting on one of the presidium garden balconies to get shitfaced, it would have been from below. He choked on his drink, nearly dropping the bottle in fright. He began to cough as his body rejected the liquid, his whole body shaking with the motion.

When he was finally able to breathe again, he turned to see just who had managed to find him, bottle clenched tight between his talons this time. His mandibles flared in shock at the sight of Nihlus, he was definitely not on the list of people that he expected to have found him. "Nihlus." He nodded in acknowledgment before turning his attention back to the lakes below. "I expected you to be Shepard. How did you find me?"

After taking another swig, he held the bottle out to Nihlus in an offer. If he was going to sit and listen, he would probably need it. "It would be easier to ask what isn't bothering me, if I'm being honest."

[turixn-renegxde]

INCOMING TRANSMISSION FROM: @aleadamia​

MESSAGE: The tarnished air of Omega, tinged with the unmistakable flavor of violent intemperance, brings with it a haven for any running away from something—even themselves, if need be. Tracking a haphazard trail of rumors, each leading to more questions than answers, Nihlus finally arrives in a seedy back alley (not that any of Omega's sections aren't sordid in some way) and slips inside one of the smaller, nondescript bars strewn around the station.

There, he approaches the corner, one with a vantage point of each of the exits, and sits down. Faceplates relaxing—a subtle, cordial gesture afforded to another Turian—Nihlus folds his arms over the rickety table. "Vakarian. It's been a while, hasn't it?" Seeking out the other wasn't in his list of priorities, not at first; however, rumors, no matter how exaggerated or obscure, have a habit of piquing his curiosity.

"Or should I call you what the locals have titled you?" Lacing his subvocals with obvious humor, Nihlus glances around the bar. All but empty, it would serve its purpose as a point of reunion. "Truth be told, Omega was the last place I expected you to be after... Well, since Shepard's..." The words had begun well enough, driven by a familiarity born from fighting side by side. Yet, it becomes near impossible to acknowledge the death of the Commander, even now. "But, I wager we all have our ways of dealing with it."

     IT was in Garrus’s nature to be suspicious ; so when he had received a message from Nihlus, he was immediately cautious. The only thing that convinced him to set up a meeting was the mention of some of the conversations he and the Spectre had on the Normandy ; he doubted any of the gangs were resourceful enough to get information like that. Still, he picked a location with plenty of escape routes, and scoped out a spot that offered him a view of all the entrances. 

     AND after what seemed like an eternity of waiting, Nihlus entered. Garrus immediately released the tension in shoulders, dropping his hand from resting at the pistol on his hip. 

     “ TWO years -- but it feels like a lot more. ” He returned the friendly expression, gesturing for Nihlus to sit. He let out a short laugh as the other jested ; but the joyful expression all but fell at the mention of Shepard’s name. Just thinking about the Commander was ... hard. Hell, he hadn’t even talked about it with anyone. 

     “ ...YEAH, ” he replies simply. Instinctively, he knows Nihlus feels the same way. They had both respected Shepard, and fought alongside him countless times. And then he was just ... gone. And it felt like the rest of the galaxy forgot. The Turian sighed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table.

     “ I never thought I’d end up here either. But after Shepard... ”. He’s surprised at how hard it is to say.  “ ... After Shepard died, I realized I wanted to make a difference; a real difference. I wasn’t getting anywhere at C-Sec ... hell, you saw what happened. Everything went back to business as usual -- and I couldn’t deal with it anymore. ” 

     THERE’S noise at the main entrance, and his gaze immediately snaps up. Just some drunks in the alleyway. But even in a secluded bar like this, he can never be too careful. 

     “ BUT here? ” His voice lowers a bit. “ I’ve stopped more crime than I ever did in all my years on the Citadel. I can finally do things my way; no regulations, no red tape. ” He lets out a sigh, leaning back a bit in his seat. 

     “ BUT how have you been? Still doing Spectre work? ” 

[incorrectly-quoted-queers]

Drunk Punch Love: Chapter 6

Pairing: FemShep and Garrus Vakarian (Shakarian)

Rating: PG-13 (with some tossed F-bombs)

Summary: Their awkward, badass journey through saving the galaxy and accidentally falling in love

Chapter 6: Savior of The Citadel

Anya Shepard doomed the council. And worse, she knew that others would call it a bid for human interests. But sacrificing the Destiny Ascension meant that more people could live, and those still trapped in the Citadel could be protected.

At least, that's what she kept telling herself as she stood next to Saren's bloody husk corpse and watched everything explode outside the window, hoping what she just did was worth it.

She didn't know if she could live with herself if her choices didn't mean something. There were already way too many graves tied to the decisions she'd made.

Like hell she knew this would be her fate when they were coming up the turbolift to fight Saren. It would have been harder to know she had something damning in common with the turian she was about to face, but she doubted he felt as much compassion and guilt as she did.

In all honesty, all she thought about on the way up was how much she wanted to watch the fucker burn.

Then those turbolift doors opened and she, Wrex, and Garrus darted up those council steps that she had a Pavlovian association with disappointment and frustration. Anya could feel it building up in her as they got closer and closer.

Taking that last step to the council's podium, there he had been. And that time, after all the damnable near misses, she didn't give him a shot. Much like he did to Nihlus, Shepard put on her Infiltrator cloak, stood right behind him, and fired her pistol.

Anticlimactic, but so damn satisfying to see him drop like a rock. He didn't deserve a grand fight. He deserved to fall down without the luxury of final words.

Well, then Anya turned around and everything outside was burning and they were asking her to make the call. Thousands of Alliance soldiers and Citadel civilians, or the hundreds of people protecting the council. All she saw were the numbers and the innocence and she made it.

But it was over. It had to be over.

Of course it wasn't fucking over, but she wanted it to be. Something grabbed her leg, though, and crashed her down into a lower decks area. The creature before her had Saren's face, but it was dripping blue blood and was now three times her size. It looked like a goddamn demon with the skin texture of as husk. Wrex and Garrus dropped down to help her and that's when a real bastard of a fight began.

Sovereign just had to go and play god with Saren, didn't he?

Shepard's mind started running on full adrenaline, dodging Saren's husk and protecting her team. Wrex got a wicked face slash and Garrus got thrown into a wall, but the asshole wasn't going to take anyone else from her.

She collapsed him under some pillars and hoped she'd make it out alive. Part of her wondered at the time if i'd be easier if she didn't; after all, her job was only going to get harder now.

But she pulled herself out of the rubble, even though her ears were ringing, and Garrus carried her back to them. Anya was struggling to keep her memory on track just walking back into the safer parts of the Citadel. She was pretty sure her ears were bleeding and everything was kinda blurry. It just was nice to have a trusted arm around her shoulder keeping her safe.

And now she was stuck in a very loud, very overwhelming meeting with Udina and Anderson and it felt like she was just floating above it all. The destroyed Presidium couldn't be real, right?

Hell, everything the past couples days felt so wrong.

"Shepard? Are you listening? What do you think?"

Anya's body jolted and she looked straight into Udina's very pissed off face. She ran a hand through her hair; during the Saren fight her normally immaculate bun ripped open and her hair was all over the place and probably matted with blue blood. Whoever the hell thought she was the most capable to answer anything must've lost their damn mind.

Still pressing a wet cloth to her split lip, Anya tried to salvage things. "No. Sorry. What did you ask?"

Udina rolled his eyes and made a disgusted noise like she was a petulant child, but repeated himself, "With the council gone, new leaders need to be put in place, ASAP. And with humanity at its best, we're going to be at the forefront."

"Okay? And how am I involved in this?"

Anderson looked pretty uncomfortable, but he kept his hands behind his back and looked at her seriously. It was at least nice someone treated her like an adult who deserved a spot at the table. She always appreciated that about Anderson; he looked at everyone that way. "With your new fame as the savior of the Citadel, people will look to your for guidance. So Udina wanted your vote on who should lead the council."

She didn't mean to, but Anya laughed so hard that her definitely bruised ribs hurt like hell. She even had to put her wet rag down on the railing to hold her sides so they didn't literally split. "Me? The closest thing I know to council level seniority are you two." Udina gave her a pointed look and her stomach fell through the glass floor. What made either of these men capable of the job? She adored Anderson, he was a mentor and a friend, but he was no politician. And Udina knew his politics, but he quickly fell into "humanity first" mindsets. And that shit wasn't going to be helpful for a galactic war.

And yet here they fucking were.

Running a hand through her hair again, and trying not to grimace when she definitely caught something in her fingertips, she tried her best to answer them, "While just picking between you two is the dumbest shit I ever heard, my vote would be Anderson. We're heading into a war, and we need people who can get our asses out of it at the helm." But with a deep, slightly beleaguered sigh, she added, "But don't go too far, Udina. I still think you should advise him and kick diplomatic ass. I'm sure Anderson will need a lot of help not clocking anyone."

While Udina didn't look happy, he at least looked slightly amused. "If you're sure. Now on the matter of the Destiny Ascension-"

"If the extranet's going to burn me alive, let them. I let them die out there. They should hold me accountable, even if the law never will."

Anderson furrowed his brow and reached for her hand. Anya didn't mean to wince away so quickly. Instead, he just gave her these sad, soulful eyes. They didn't make her feel any better. "Somebody had to make the call."

"Of course somebody did. And today, it was me. Doesn't make up for the people dead, though." Rolling her shoulders, Anya stood up straight, removed herself from leaning against the railing. It was time to soldier up. "Don't worry about me, Anderson. I can take it. Just make sure there's a damn good statue or something for Willaims, will you? Without her, no one would've made it."

They both looked like they had more to say, and even Udina looked concerned. Maybe they should be. She was now the first human Spectre who now had the galactic authority to name or kill councilmembers. That was fucking scary. But Udina just said, after getting serious frown face from looking at something from his wrist, "We will. Now, Admiral Shepard is on the extranet. Threatened to "sick her bear" on me."

The universe was damn bleak, but of course her mother could make it better with one sentence. Looking Udina, she let him in on the secret, "She means me. She calls me her baby bear. But a warning, if she'd told me to rough you up, I would."

Anderson chuckled, but Udina only did that awkward laugh thing where he really means that he hates soldiers and wishes he didn't have to interact with them as much. Anya couldn't really blame him. Picking up her helmet and holding it on her hip, she nodded and them both. "I'll be in your office using the screen to deal with mother bear."

After she got into Udina's office and left the men to, probably, argue, she let the neutral look on her face fall. She let her face go heavy; as heavy as it felt. Hell, it probably should be heavier. Today had been a long fucking day.

But she had one more thing to deal with: Oksana Shepard.

Anya inhaled deeply and then sat down at Udina's desk. One or two clicks and she was calling the infamous Admiral Shepard. Within seconds of starting the call, her mother's short, bright blonde hair, gray eyes, and scarred cheek. And somehow, on this dark fucking day, she was smiling. Trying to give her own best grin, Anya said, "Hello, Mama."

"Detenysh! My little one! Today was a good victory. You did good. How does it feel to have that rogue Spectre eating metal?"

Shaking her head, she always found it hard to talk straight in front of her mother. She was a warrior through and through. Sure, Anya was a warrior, too, but if there never was another war again and she was out of a job, she could probably live with that. Oksana couldn't. She answered as honestly as she could without starting a fight, "Good to protect people. Less good to know how many dead it took to take him down."

"They died honorably, Anya. That's all anyone can wish for." While she nodded, Anya couldn't help but wonder: is it? But then her mother continued, "I am so proud that my daughter is the savior of the Citadel. Your father would have been proud, too."

Anya didn't really know what to say to that. She'd never met her father. "I hope so. I made a lot of hard calls today."

"They are all preparing you for the great Admiral or General you will one day be."

A million old conversations swirled around in her head. "Mama-"

"I know, I know. You'll find your own path. It's just pure coincidence I was right about all of it so far."

The smug way her mom said it kinda pissed Anya off, especially with that smirk on her face, but she was going to let it slide today. "I'm just happy to see you."

"And I you, Detenysh. You're the reason all my men are okay and so many people made it out alive today. When they chose you for a Spectre, they chose right."

Feeling herself get a tad bit emotional, Anya rubbed her face and tried to shake the feeling away. "Shh. Enough of that." With a crash from outside and a loud yell, Shepard could tell Udina and Anderson were arguing again. She flashed her mother another smile before ending the call, even though she knew this might be the last she saw of her for awhile.

Happens when your mother's specialty always was undercover missions. "I have to go be a hero a little longer. I love you, Mama."

"I love you too, little one."

And then she was gone. Anya could get more emotional about it, probably even have a year's worth of therapy about how her mother often popped in to give her praise but never was a consistent parental force in her life. But she really didn't have the time for counseling right now, and at least her mother was okay. Honestly, Anya would take any good news from today that she could get.

Logging off, she stood back up and put back on her stronger face. It was time to play babysitter to the two men she just appointed to run the Council together.

Why did anyone let her make big decisions?

///

Author’s note: 

So happy a bunch of people enjoyed the last few chapters on here! I’m posting often to catch up to the story on other sites. 

Thanks so much for reading, and double thanks to my lovely patrons:

Danyell Jones

Amy Connolly

If you'd like to support my stories, fandom communing, or Twitch aspirations, please go check out my patreon: patreon.com/gracejordan

I also tweet sometimes too: @Steph_Marceau 

[ferusaurelius]

Spectre Evaluations Quartet

Ya’ll I can’t tell you how glad I am to have finished what started out as a silly one-shot and then decided to transform into a four-part series of developing-relationship ... Kryterius romantic comedy.

AO3 Links:

This will have no bearing on your evaluation.

Above center of mass in all respects.

Preserving joint environment lethality and ingenuity.

Adapt doctrine to circumstance.

... I’ve got a few fun background trivia points to expand on below the cut for anyone who is a fan of the pairing and this overall framework. ;)

Time for some fun character trivia that is alluded to in the stories, but that didn’t quite fit into the fics themselves:

1. This will have no bearing on your evaluation.

Nihlus in this AU is loosely based on the turian mercenary backstory I wrote for him in ‘The husbandry of victory is blood’, though only in the most raw outline. There are a few significant differences that will be apparent to anyone who has read both. It was important to me that Nihlus be both proud of his cultural differences and that Saren eventually take a great deal of care in acknowledging that pride.

I did not INTEND to write the whole quartet in such an experimental flavor of point of view! At least not at first. I tried to write the opening story in Chora’s Den with a more serious tone which just kept failing, no matter how I revised and poked and prodded. At some point, I just got the idea of Nihlus’s characteristic voice and reluctantly leaned into the absolutely ridiculous things it was telling me about what it was like to be a drunk ST&R candidate.

The most shocking moment in writing ‘This will have no bearing on your evaluation.’ (which was always its title!) occurred when wrapping up the ending scenes and realizing that Saren and Nihlus were respectively having two different conversations:

Saren: Realizing that Nihlus was making a genuine attempt to chat him up, since he hadn’t actually known that he was going to be chosen as a Spectre trainee. Saren has no idea what to do about a mentee who is personally interested in him, except put an immediate stop to all those questions so that he can focus on the job at hand. Beyond flustered by the implications, but also doesn’t want to admit to having anything remotely like an emotion, himself.

Nihlus: Confessing his many sins, still (unfortunately) realizing that Saren is actually his type for real and now they’re going to be working together. AWKWARD.

I wanted Nihlus to tell Saren the truth here even though it was going to make him look totally stupid!

The last scene is all about this dynamic and is intended to be the bedrock of their -- unique -- developing relationship:

Saren goes from interested, to blank-faced, to entirely still. Except that now his voice is flat, and his stare looks like it could melt a bulkhead.

“I will say this once,” Saren grates. “I expect you to keep the next two years professional. Your life and mine depend on whether or not you can maintain total focus on what I’m trying to teach you. Are we clear?”

Fuck, he’s hot.

“Aye, sir,” Nihlus answers, as automatic as if he were a fresh Ensign.

Saren accepts this answer, grudging. “While I am disappointed you did not acquire the selection results in advance of the announcement, I can appreciate the sheer audacity of your approach.”

What I intended to do here was illustrate on the one hand that Saren is absolutely laying down some ground rules for training, that Nihlus is still very much attracted to Saren (oops) and still capable of accepting those stated professional boundaries, and that Saren can respect Nihlus’s honesty and is offering a bit of concession or personal disclosure in return.

Even as the author, I didn’t expect Saren to admit that Nihlus had surprised or impressed him in any way. In retrospect (and after having written Saren as the background character in this series), I can see that Saren as a Spectre is used to nothing but lies and obfuscation and has no idea what to make of someone who is willing to confess to the truth of a situation so ridiculous that it beggars belief.

Nihlus doesn’t realize it yet, but Saren finds honesty to be a rare and valuable resource in his line of work. While Nihlus has a habit of constant internal narrative exaggeration, he’s also honest to a fault, especially with people he respects.

2. Above center of mass in all respects.

I wasn’t sure how much time I wanted to let pass between the first fic and this one, or where in the developing relationship I wanted to focus. However! I knew I wanted to stick to my absolutely rancid military jargon titles, and that I wanted to focus in some sense on the ‘evaluation’ implied by the previous story. What situation would create an opportunity for Nihlus to begin to realize that he’d earned Saren’s professional trust faster than anyone else in history?

Enter: the embassy hacking plotline, about six months into Nihlus’s training, after I thought Saren and Nihlus would have had time to get to know each other through regular assignments in the Skyllian Verge. I wanted to imply that they were busy enough outside the confines of the Citadel for something really dumb and standard to get overlooked (Nihlus’s security credentials). 

At this point I also decided that I wanted Alleia (still no surname, hah!) to become a recurring character, and that she needed to be a Blackwatch technical expert stationed on the Citadel. I generally imply that Saren’s usual area of operations is in the Skyllian Verge, so I wanted to set up a situation that would prompt him to return to the Citadel to “take care of things personally.”

It’s implied that a suspected ‘rogue’ salarian Special Tactics Group agent is framing the batarian Special Intervention Unit for a hacking incident at the turian embassy on the Citadel. While I don’t cover this in the story, Saren knows for a fact that he’s well-respected enough that such a plot is unlikely to have been conducted by any of the special operations units he’s already cowed into submission. He suspects independent sabotage conducted by a group he’d already been watching in Zakera Ward, so he sends Nihlus to talk to Alleia while he does his own investigating.

Offscreen, Saren seizes a too-good-to-be-true ambush opportunity to catch the suspect and gets himself blown up in the process. Normal. His calculation is that, if he does end up seriously injured and/or overestimates his ability to shield, Nihlus will be inbound fast enough to handle the rest of the situation -- and it’ll be one less threat to galactic stability, since there will no longer be any questions about infighting between STG and SIU. Which he considers a waste of time and resources when he could be handling real problems.

It’s a MUCH bigger explosion and trap than Saren anticipated (who knew?), but he still walks away thanks to his crazy!strong biotic abilities.

What Saren didn’t anticipate is that Nihlus knows him well enough to intuit every step in his decision-making process and is also FURIOUS about it! 

Nihlus incorrectly interprets the situation as Saren not waiting for backup on a whim, at least until Saren matter-of-factly states that he chose to take the risk only because he had Nihlus inbound as backup:

Nihlus has had enough.

“What, precisely, was the point of calling for backup if you were going to break down the front door. Alone! And then walk into a trap before we arrived?”

He can’t help the fury in his voice. He wants to snarl, too, but lets six years of Hierarchy discipline confine him to glaring full in Saren’s face, instead.

Alleia says nothing in the silence.

“It was a calculated risk,” Saren answers evenly, meeting him stare for stare. “I knew you weren’t far behind.”

This is the first time Saren has expressed that level of trust to Nihlus in so many words! 

Right after this, I got to further reinforce Saren’s level of respect for Nihlus’s abilities and judgment by actually bringing in that first performance evaluation. ;) I had a lot of fun letting Nihlus realize that Saren’s seemingly arbitrary expectations for his assistance were ... very likely ... grounded in a more nuanced view of his abilities than he expected. 

Nihlus is still confused and exasperated, but he’s also never gotten a performance review that unambiguously positive in his career -- much less from someone who appears to be the galaxy’s least enthusiastic mentor. Nihlus was prepared to be reprimanded for yelling at Saren, even if he was right about the risks and there being better alternative plans, but he was totally unprepared for positive feedback. XD

The theme/purpose of this chapter is establishing that Saren and Nihlus both exist with a professional rapport that (until now) they have been building together without openly acknowledging.

I had a great time allowing Nihlus to be beyond frustrated with Saren’s (apparent) neglect in the opening scenes, then frantic and worried at getting a request for backup, then furious about Saren’s decision to walk into a trap, and then finally deflated in the face of Saren’s regard.

Hard for Nihlus to stay mad about Saren relying on him for backup, after all! LOL.

3. Preserving joint environment lethality and ingenuity.

These events take place 18 months into Nihlus’s training, approximately a year after the previous fic’s embassy incident.

You can thank my research for my First Contact War AU fic for the whole opening scene with Nihlus as a marksman and armorer -- it decided to wake up and choose violence! Nihlus as a competitive shooter is a bit of a change from my other mercenary background handcanon thoughts, but it fit this AU setting really well and gave me an excuse to elaborate a bit on where Nihlus might have more expertise than Saren.

Alternative options to embarrass Nihlus I’d originally considered instead of Armax Arsenal Arena: damaged power armor and the undressing trope (but with an undersuit, and having to pretend he’s not attracted to the person he’s helping ... lol); something more mission-fic oriented with Alleia and Thanas as deputies/on loan from their regular units; Nihlus doing something a bit ridiculous and a bit brave and then having Saren get him out of trouble.

I’m really glad I went with the Arena plot in the end! Sparring-as-flirting is a favorite trope of mine, and this setup delivered on all counts. I got to turn it into a roundabout double-date thanks to Alleia and Thanas, with Nihlus snarking about Saren’s problems with pistol technique (see, Nihlus cares!) and then ... getting to write Nihlus doing a surprise trust fall with Saren! And Saren catching him!

They’re both surprised about this, by the way:

A barrel presses up beneath his jaw, and all at once he’s not alone.

“Surrender,” Saren says.

At point-blank, getting shot is gonna sting. He only has one chance to escape.

“Never,” he growls, going deadweight and fully expecting to hit the deck. In a real fight? Nope, not happening. But hitting a target on his back from prone isn't the craziest thing he's ever done.

Which is not what happens. A flare of dark energy catches him in the back, and then recedes until it’s just Saren’s hands between him and a hard landing on the floor.

“Really, Nihlus?” Saren asks, somewhere between amused and exasperated, still out of breath from the snap biotics.

Fuck, he may have miscalculated. Nihlus is warm from his neck to his toes. He’d give anything to see Saren’s face, but he doesn’t dare look.

This was so FUN to write! I didn’t even start knowing how or what was going to happen in this scenario, but the minute the whole ‘Saren catches Nihlus’ idea occurred to me, I knew it was the right direction to take.

Nihlus is expecting Saren’s reflex here to be totally different! He’s expecting to be shot, not caught! Everything happens so fast that there’s no hiding from either of them: Nihlus is personally invested enough to do free armory work for Saren on his off-time, and Saren’s actual instinct here is to keep Nihlus from falling.

Honestly, this was also my first real opportunity to hint that Saren is not as indifferent to Nihlus as he might have been at first. Wherever they started in relation to each other, I wanted to hint that the relationship dynamic and grown and changed in the intervening months even though both of them would still be reluctant to try to define or put any labels on each other.

Joke’s on Saren, too -- he thought he wanted things to stay professional, turns out he actually does kinda like Nihlus personally, as well. Oops! Didn’t see that one coming. ;)

While it’s not explicitly stated, Saren doesn’t have the consistent manual dexterity required to be an accurate shot without additional stabilizer mods or other aids. He prefers to rely on his biotics to do damage instead, though he still carries other armaments as options.

It wasn’t easy to keep this one true to the funny/snarky formula of the others while figuring out how to set up the emotional revelation in the end, but with tweaking it eventually fell into place.

4. Adapt doctrine to circumstance.

This was an absolute bear to write. While I knew that I wanted to at least give Alleia some screentime, and I suspected that was going to be at a promotion ceremony that turned into a larger event than Nihlus anticipated -- the intermediate transitions remained a challenge.

While my FCW AU fic has Saren as a Blackwatch recruit, for this scenario I chose to stick with a biotic Cabal background. 

I knew I also wanted Nihlus to not expect Saren to commit to attending whatever ceremonies were taking place -- so that he could be pleasantly surprised. ;)

The formality of this occasion also let me take a little creative license with what a dress Cabal uniform might look like, as well as setting up Saren’s complex (implied) relationship with his military honors and infamy. I was NOT expecting any of that background to make it into the story, and there’s plenty that is still missing.

For instance: this is the first time Saren’s worn his Star of Palaven in public, too! He received it shortly before he rejected Anderson for Spectre candidacy in this timeline (the paperwork took a little more than seven years), but also not long before he met Nihlus, and there was no graceful way to get used to the protocols since he was already a Spectre when he was officially decorated.

Nihlus has no idea that Saren has already made a number of complicated choices in attending Fleet promotion ceremonies, while also arranging for Nihlus’s surprise promotion ... in a way that all of his Navy peers will respect:

“Not even a whisper of a warning,” she sighs. “If I’d known, I’d have been ready to take vids. Then I could show you what your face looked like when he decided you merited a rank-pinning honor that dates back to before the Unification, delivered by a Recipient of the Star of Palaven.”

Nihlus puts his head in his hands. “Don’t remind me.”

Saren pinning Nihlus with his own rank insignia is one of the few Navy gestures that still has all the old meanings. In front of a Fleet audience? Not a single turian will have missed the significance of that trust being given to someone merc-born.

If he thinks about it too long it still makes him dizzy.

“It was also romantic, if you believe in that sort of thing,” Alleia teases.

He wishes he didn’t.

Again, I had SO MUCH FUN with figuring out how else Saren might potentially choose to make Nihlus’s promotion an occasion.

I’d read somewhere that military officers who were being promoted themselves occasionally gave their old rank insignia to the officers who were coming up behind them, to fill their old position, as a mark of esteem -- and I chose to alter that symbolism a bit for the Hierarchy Navy. 

While I only hint at this in the text: Saren pinning Nihlus with his rank insignia is one of those culturally Hierachy Navy touchstones that mixes the professional and the personal, and it’s also a gesture that, by its nature and by tradition, can only be done once in a career.

Alleia is correct that there are also romantic epics that feature this traditional gesture as a trope! XD

Finally, I knew from the very start that, since Saren was the one to draw the boundaries, he’d also have to be the one to instigate a discussion or an adjustment in the limits he’d set between him and Nihlus.

I considered a number of other scenarios where Saren left a note afterward, or put off that conversation, or did something else other than what happened here: immediately stating his intentions.

It was also hugely fun to work out how Saren might plausibly arrange to make Nihlus’s Spectre promotion as “by-the-book” Navy respectful as possible. I think you’ll agree that he outdid himself. ;)

-

PHEW. Now that I’m finished with the series, I’m also open to other asks. Either about this AU, different background details, turian headcanons, or other curiosities.

If you’re reading this: I have a tentative plan for a longer fanfic featuring these two characters, though with a more traditional POV structure. I’m not a terribly fast writer, so that’s about as much as I can say at this point...