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mass effect poster i have been working on.

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Her years on the field give Hannah a template to piece together a mental image of Kari's account of events. Her eyes are wide with shock, then narrow in confusion just a second later because no LOKI mech is capable of such damage. That she knows of anyway. "Holy fuck."

The circumstances leading to such an encounter are practically nonexistent to Hannah, especially with the galactic-wide focus being everything Reapers. Although… It wasn't as if she'd been asking Magnus for details of his missions. Hadn't even known whether he'd made it off Earth early enough to even begin with that sort of questioning. Not with the amount of pressure on his shoulders.

She may not personally know Lieutenant-Commander but she'd heard enough about her to feel a bit terrified for her well-being. Cognitive damage...

Her attention is back on the good doctor, nose scrunching up in distaste at the mention of her insurmountable stress. She has no words to supply as an argument; simply nods her head as she slumps even further in her seat, head tipped towards the ceiling.

She remains that way even after Karin's quiet petition, stalling for time in her hesitance to leave her mother. Be that as it may, Hannah doesn't see herself finding the energy to muster up the energy to resist Karin's suggestion. She's strained--mostly mentally, and she knows that while she's still quite far from her snapping point, she might become a touch intolerable very soon. But it's easy to agree because it's Karin, who she trusts without an inkling of doubt.

But there's also something about the care behind those words that strike against the dam of emotions Hannah has kept at bay all this while.

She sighs as she leans forward.

"Yeah," she mumbles, roughly rubbing her hands against her face; it's an action that brings about thoughts of her mother chastising her for trying to get wrinkles too damn early. "Fuck. Okay." But she makes no move to get up. Not when she's suddenly swept under a wave of sadness that drops her head to her knees. "Just give me a second," come the shaky words. She's not crying. She isn't. But she knows that she can't step out those doors looking the way she feels--like she's one step away from breaking down.

espritferme​:

“Williams is here?” She has no intentions of intentionally avoiding the good doctor’s questions, but that bit of news is too new and surprising not to latch on to. Her brows are drawn low, confusion evident in her gaze towards the good doctor. “What happened?”

Hannah nearly laughs to herself, concerned about doctors and their uncanny ability to detect lies. Even though Hannah isn’t the patient today, and she could try getting away with doing exactly what she’s been warned not to do (although it wouldn’t be with much finesse), she behaves. For now.

“Tired,” she admits wearily, voice soft, shaking her head. There’s some tension in her head–a headache, no doubt–and she’s reaching to release her braids from the bun they’ve been wrapped into. “So fucking tired. But… Hackett and I had a conversation.” A conversation that she’d been in the middle of sharing with her mother before…yeah.

“It’s part of the reason why I’m on the Citadel. Needed to get some things in order because he wants me to join him on this project that’s going on. The Crucible?”

She wrings her hand, the usually composed captain–now newly minted admiral–seeming unsure. “I’d honestly rather be on the ground. Spending all that time on…something that we don’t even fully understand, not even sure if it’ll work…” She shakes her head. “But I also don’t want to leave mom.”

“She is.” Karin stops short for a moment, contemplating the best way to tell Hannah of the Lieutenant-Commander’s unfortunate incident. “Williams was apparently met with quite a strong synthetic robot on Mars that bashed her up against a shuttle. She’s gone under surgery and is in recovery now. It isn’t pretty but they don’t believe any long-term cognitive damage was done, but we won’t know for certain until she wakes up.” 

A sigh leaves her; Williams was always such a refreshing and interesting soldier to speak to - someone who clearly gave her life to the Alliance, like Karin herself. Sat upon the stool, she looks to Hannah then, reaching with a gentle hand to touch the other woman’s knee, to comfort her. 

“The Crucible…” She repeats it quietly, under her breath. She hasn’t spoken with the Admiral in many months, with no reason to, given their difference in rank and role. “I can only imagine the stress you’re under. We’re all faced with the unknown now. But it’s a matter of keeping our heads above water, the best we can.”

Another pause and Karin’s emerald gaze falls to Madeline, watching her chest move with every breath. “You should sleep. I can stay here, and be with her on my break. Even just 30 minutes will do you good, Hannah.” 

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the new powerpuff girls look great

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Angela Basset as Anna May in Gunpowder Milkshake (2021) dir. Navot Papushado

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Language, Anna May. There’s a child present.

ANGELA BASSETT as ANNA MAY GUNPOWDER MILKSHAKE (2021) dir. Navot Papushado

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incorrect buddie quotes 18/?

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drafts cleared here. doubt i missed anything but..lemme know in case.

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afraidofchange​:

“Yeah,” Anne pauses momentarily, shy smile gracing her thin lips with the thought. Between herself and Miranda, the pair of them make for intelligent professional women - an avenue she has found common ground with the very individual who brought her husband back from certain death. “She’s.. brilliant. I know Cerberus is terrible, with what they’re doing but she’s gone from that life, and now just… doing her part.”

The admiration is clear in her tone, though she carefully (and purposefully) chooses not to bring up the romantic feelings - those are a little harder to describe. But it’s Hannah’s inquiry that catches her off guard - and that look on her face makes it hard.

 “Sciencing is uh, one way to put it,” She says quietly, and then, of course, with the wine and Hannah’s curiosity, a blush comes to her cheeks. “Testing out the waters, you know.”

Hannah relaxes, a smile coming easily as the tension in her spine dissipates, leaving the admiral almost slouching drunkenly in her chair. She's relived, knowing that her words and curiousity had been taken as intended.

She nearly chuckles at the visible blush, settling for placing a hand over the lower half of her face to safely mimic hiding a yawn instead of an even wide smile.

"I know," is the answer that comes when Hannah eventually drops her hand. It reminds her of the frequent appointments and check ups she had with Jas all those years ago.

Leaning forward, Hannah moves another piece on the board, effectively steering their conversation in another direction. "I like my wines red, by the way."

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Hannah sure as hell can't believe it either.

What was supposed to have been a hitch-free demonstration had nearly turned into something unsalvageable in a turn of events that left the captain nothing short of gobsmacked as she watched listened to the chaos that erupted from that stunt. When the party responsible was revealed, Hannah had very briefly contemplated denying any sort of relationship to the flight lieutenant if asked. Not that it had come up despite her being asked to, in a nutshell, figure out why the fuck he did what did.

Despite her anger, she won't deny the impression said stunt made on her. Stupid as it was, Moreau's actions led to the display of an extravagant show of skill she'd never seen herself. Not only had Moreau managed to sneak onto the Normandy virtually undetected, he'd managed to evade all the Alliance fighters sent after him.

Thankfully, miraculously even, the turians had been impressed, even if it meant the possibility of kissing any future collaborations with the hierarchy goodbye.

She isn't Moreau's captain, but she can sure as hell try putting the fear of God in him for his actions.

He's young; young enough to remind of her of the sort of shit her kid gets into, and she hates how much it grates on her nerves.

"...Sit your ass down," she answers in lieu of greeting. Hannah narrows her eyes at him, unimpressed by his quip. "I have half a mind to smack some sense into you because you've clearly lost it. What the hell were you thinking?!"

@espritferme || not-so-random starter. [sc]

He can't believe it.

Sure, he had been willing and expecting to get court marshalled for stealing the Normandy, but he couldn't live with himself not flying her at least once. And man, did she fly! It had been like a dream come true, and he fell in love instantly.

Of course, stealing the best ship in the Fleet didn't come without any costs. Anderson himself had said he'd be punished for it, which is why he's sitting waiting on the higher ups to decide exactly what to do about that.

But even then, his new assignment was clear: against all odds, he's been transferred to the Normandy as her pilot. Though he wonders if he would have got the posting if he hadn't impressed the turian general he'd brought in to watch the initial shakedown through the obstacle course.

What he also hadn't expected is to be put in what appears to be one of the officers' lounges, with far more comfortable seating than an interrogation room. That, really, made no sense, since he's not high enough in the ranks to even be in here normally, though he's pretty sure the brass has guards on the door to keep him in the room as well until whoever's coming arrives.

It's in that moment that the door opens and his brows raise high in surprise at the woman walking into the room. It's a bit of a struggle to get to his feet, bracing himself on his crutches with a somewhat precarious balance as he does his best to offer a salute.

"Captain Shepard," Joker greets her, a wary curiosity entering his gaze as he grips his crutches more securely to stay on his feet. "Here for the dressing down, or did you have a chance to see the show?"

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afraidofchange​:

The sound of the hospital fades away with the door sealing closed behind them; Karin looks between mother and daughter - three generations of Shepard she has come to know and hold dearly to her heart.

A hand extends still to Hannah’s upper arm, gently grasping her shoulder - a reminder that she’s here now, to provide comfort and company more than just giving medical advice or attention, though should the other woman want it, Karin would give it willingly. 

 “I know. He deserved to know, but his plate is full.. but I’m sure he will be here. Lieutenant-Commander Williams is holding up, but it’s been rough going these past twenty-four hours.” She thinks to Ashley’s beaten and bruised visage, and then looks to Madeleine laying still; a peaceful, but still worrying contrast. “How have you been doing? Don’t lie; I’ll know.” 

"Williams is here?" She has no intentions of intentionally avoiding the good doctor's questions, but that bit of news is too new and surprising not to latch on to. Her brows are drawn low, confusion evident in her gaze towards the good doctor. "What happened?"

Hannah nearly laughs to herself, concerned about doctors and their uncanny ability to detect lies. Even though Hannah isn't the patient today, and she could try getting away with doing exactly what she's been warned not to do (although it wouldn't be with much finesse), she behaves. For now.

"Tired," she admits wearily, voice soft, shaking her head. There's some tension in her head--a headache, no doubt--and she's reaching to release her braids from the bun they've been wrapped into. "So fucking tired. But... Hackett and I had a conversation." A conversation that she'd been in the middle of sharing with her mother before...yeah.

"It's part of the reason why I'm on the Citadel. Needed to get some things in order because he wants me to join him on this project that's going on. The Crucible?"

She wrings her hand, the usually composed captain--now newly minted admiral--seeming unsure. "I'd honestly rather be on the ground. Spending all that time on...something that we don't even fully understand, not even sure if it'll work..." She shakes her head. "But I also don't want to leave mom."

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Angela Basset & Whoopi Goldberg in How Stella Got Her Groove Back dir. Kevin Rodney Sullivan (1998)

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Angela Basset & Whoopi Goldberg in How Stella Got Her Groove Back dir. Kevin Rodney Sullivan (1998)

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afraidofchange​:

“I know,” Karin says softly under her breath; the stress of the war is all around them, and it’s only just begun, truly. Slowly, she comes around and retrieves the stool by the counter in the room, and wheels it under herself to sit down next to Hannah.

“They can spread rumours all they want, I don’t care,” She answers with another soft, tired smile, letting her hand fall away but lingers at her elbow. “You should have something though, to get through the night. I understand, but there’s only so much you can do… that’s why I’m here.” A pause follows, the sound of the heart monitor filling the room. “Have you heard from your son lately?”

Karin’s brute honesty catches Hannah off-guard and forces a bark of laughter from her. The emotion is jarringly different, but a welcome respite from the sadness and the gloom and the fear. 

Hannah hangs her head. She doesn’t cry, but her eyes sting with tears as she resolutely ignores taking another look at her mother’s still form, knowing that one more look won’t change a damn thing. Madeleine Shepard’s eyes remain shut, and she’s been practically unrespeonsive to Hannah’s quiet pleas all this while.  But if there’s anyone who understands, it’s Karin; Karin who has had to play charge many times over patients like her mother and son. 

“Yeah,” she croaks out in assent, nodding absently. She’ll eat. ...Eventually. Right now, she lets herself get comfortable in Karin’s presence, feeling less like the admiral she is and more like  a frightened daughter. 

Her next breath is a heavy exhale. “We spoke, briefly. He...” She glances over at the doctor, hands claspsed and hanging between her legs. “He’s worried, but I couldn’t not tell him, no matter how much I wanted to. Last thing I need is him finding it out through the damn net because someone has the emotional intelligance of a fish.” 

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@anderwhohn asked: A courier manages to track down the Admiral, offering a large package requiring a signature. Inside is an expensive box of fine chocolates, a couple bottles of rare Asari wine that is notoriously hard to acquire anywhere offworld of Thessia, and a datapad with a number of incriminating files regarding both Cerberus and the Alliance. At the very bottom of the box is a handwritten note on actual paper that reads, "A little pick-me-up for my favourite admiral. Take care. - Cmdr. I. Shepard"

Packages by courier aren't quite out of the ordinary, but the size of this package has eyeing it critically. Absently, as she signs off on it, she wonders which of her relatives had decided to go overboard without warning her of an incoming package.

Hours later, when the day's work is done and the box has been thoroughly checked (call her paranoid, but she can never be too careful), the Admiral slices the box open and picks through each item.

The chocolates make her chortle, a treat that she knows she'd mercilessly tease her wife with; the wine, she knows she'll be keeping for the occasions that deserve them. The datapad, she quickly scrolls through, curiously noting snippets of its contents with rapidly rising brows before she spies the note sitting ignored.

She picks it up, reading its words with a laugh and decides that maybe this could be one such occasion to crack open one of those bottles.

It is many more hours later, when Hannah is lounging on her bed, Alliance blues swapped for a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, hair down from its bun and wrapped up, and wine bottle partially empty that Hannah sends a message to one Isabela Shepard.

"You sure know how to spoil an old gal.”

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anderwhohn-moved​:

“I’ve got a few custom upgrades thanks to the quarian and turian on my squad,” Isabela notes with a smug smirk as she lifts her glass for another sip of her whisky. “Best damn thing of having a mixed species crew, honestly. It’s a lot easier to encourage technological and cultural exchanges when everyone’s getting cozy on a ship while settling in for the long flights in FTL.”

The fact that she trusts her non-human crew more than most of the humans aboard her ship also has a lot to do with it. But she’s sure word of that doesn’t need to get back to the Alliance.

“So far, I’ve only ever been able to test the theory on overly chatty mercs who like to monologue. Oddly enough, they tend to stop talking and start shooting instead then.”

Too bad the Council isn’t really a viable option for that…

She raises her brows, interest piqued at the possible upgrades to have come out from the minds of a quarian and a turian. The Normandy, a wonder in of itself, is the result of human and turian minds, but Hannah has never really had that much interest in the mechanics of ships.

Weapon upgrades, however, are an entirely different story.

“Yeah?” There’s a quirk to her lips, a small smile, and a small burst of carefully tamped down excitement that reminds the woman too much of her youth. “Sounds like fun.”

She chuckles lowly, not at all surprised that monologuing is still a thing in battle. It’s one of those things she misses, being able to interrupt speeches with a well-aimed bullet. Now she has to simply sit back and deal with it in meetings. “They make suitable test subjects, if you ask me. You can test reaction times, possible side effects... All at the same time, in the same place.”

@anderwhohn​

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anderwhohn​:

Before… everything, Isabela had been a touch-starved orphan who relished hugs and physical affection from anyone she deemed trustworthy enough to allow it from. That had, in time, come to include Hannah Shepard, the only other person in the Alliance besides Anderson, Chakwas, and Joker who could get so close to her without her without repercussions.

Now, however, so newly reconstructed, with every inch of her skin feeling as though the cybernetics were threatening to burn through whenever her emotions got high, she hasn’t let anyone touch her beyond what is absolutely necessary. So to find herself suddenly pulled into a hug…

She tenses, panic rising even as she freezes in place, forcing herself to not react, to not give in to the immediate instinct to break the hold by force. But neither does she actually return the hug, her arms staying firmly by her sides even as she manages to let the Admiral hug her.

Moments pass in silence - whether only seconds or minutes, even she’s not sure - before she finally manages to speak again, her tone quiet and broken as she murmurs, “Don’t ask me how… I don’t know all the details myself, but I was dead, Admiral… I… I’m not… I don’t feel…”

Real…

I don’t feel real…

The tension beneath her palms forces Hannah to adjust her composure, to take in a deep, steadying breath that holds back tears of joy, relief, and a myriad of other emotions. 

She leans back, letting her hands fall to grasp Isabela’s as she gives the younger woman a thorough once-over. She takes in the slits in her skin, the emotions swirling in her eyes, the quiet voices with wavers with fear and uncertainty--

It pushes questions of what happened? and how? into an abyss, forgotten while Hannah focuses on now. 

“Shh.” Her voice is gentle, thumbs sweeping over the hands she holds, eyes taking in the bit of attention that they’ve garnered. “It’s alright, sweetheart.” 

She quickly settles her tab, one hand remaining on Isabela’s in that unsaid assurance of her presence, before a gentle hand on the small of her back leads the younger Shepard out of the club.

They need privacy, and Hannah hesitates at the transit terminal. “I have an apartment nearby,” she offers. “You okay going there, or is there someplace else you’d rather be?”