#I like to think that Garrus has never been in a human's house before ever so this is all very very new to him

[saltysalmonella]

[Part One] [Part Two (you're here!)]

OK, last batch of this set!

[sasskarian]

2, 6, 19, 24 and 30 from fifty (more) 👀 I loved reading about Io!!!

2. Your Shepard is making a sandwich. What’s going in it?

Io has dined in some of the finest places in the known galaxy—including a very unfortunate sushi place on the Citadel, as if anyone will let her live that down—and run down diners alike. But her favorite sandwich is made in her father Kahele’s kitchen, with crispy fried spam and a slice of tamagoyaki.

If ever another apocalypse falls to them and there's no spam in the house, leftover huli huli chicken with fried ginger crisps would probably make an appearance. And unless the Reapers personally hated her and burned down her favorite shops, malasadas would make an appearance somewhere.

(But probably not in the sammich.)

(...probably)

6. What would they be doing, if Shepard never joined the alliance?

Io’s bloodline, on her father’s side, can be traced by to wayfinders. Her family’s inn is named after the Hokule’a, a canoe that voyages from Hawaii to Tahiti using the traditional methods of star navigation. She’s always wanted to pay tribute to that, grew up loving the stars and all the spaces between them. If she hadn’t joined the Alliance, Io would probably be working on the frontier, exploring space navigation, establishing routes, etc. But she enlisted first, and then Elysium happened a few years later, and she became Commander Shepard instead of just Iolana.

Spending most of her childhood, island summers aside, on Alliance ships left Shepard with a deep love of stars and all the secrets of space. That Shepard, that long ago, lost child, had found it full of promise, mysteries waiting to be solved. She’d wanted to see things no human eyes had ever seen, go where no human had gone, voyaging out into the unknown like her wayfaring ancestors had sailed the seas.

[S&S ask]

19. What was Shepard’s first interaction with an alien?

Hm. I haven’t thought this one out that much. I feel like she’s seen at least a few, those who can brave visiting Earth. She's probably made out with at least one or two during her younger years; shore leave can get pretty wild at times. I don’t think she worked with many before Elysium, and she tries so hard and sometimes fails to not let that haunt her, so aside from a few seen on shore leave, her first real working relationship with them might have… actually been Nihilus. (Who she completely did not have any crush on whatsoever.)

I’d have to think about that one more. And consult my timeline notes lmao

24. How does Shepard handle house arrest? How do they fill their time?

She hates it. There’s a part of her that wishes, however unlikely, that Garrus would come up with some obscure married law that would let her go free—maybe there’s some old treaty that would allow a shipboard hasty marriage to give her some political asylum or something. But that’s unlikely, and she knows it.

Still. For an explorer’s heart and a soldier’s restlessness, house arrest is awful but she tries to stay busy— the nightmares of Aratoht aside, she keeps her mind sharp, her manners intact, and works out the night sweats and restlessness as much as she’s allowed to.

30. What did Shepard think of the thorian? How did they feel about killing it? What did they decide for Shiala?

Io found the Thorian equal parts horrifying and fascinating. She regretted killing it; it’s age, the last known of its species, the sheer knowledge it must have had. But keeping it out of the hands of ExoGeni and freeing the dozens of people it had enslaved took precedence.

Shepard spared Shiala, and they’ve kept in semi-regular contact since. (Shepard, like her mother and her father both, have a habit of adopting any stray person in need of family or home)

By the time the Reapers invade the Sol system, Shiala and the colonists are fighting as an elite unit against them, and find themselves in the side battles around London, assisting Operation Hammer as backup.

[misterewrites]

Mystery at the Salt-Irons

Hey everyone! E here with a new chapter! kept you waiting huh? Haha sorry it's been a busy few weeks. Nothing serious but I had to keep starting and stopping this chapter so it threw me off but it's here, it's ready and I hope you enjoy it!

I have some special guests in this story, some ocs made by my friends because you know what I can so I will and honestly, they were really great oc ideas guys. so keep an eye out for @hains-mae and Biz_fantasist  OC(I don’t know if she has a tumblr but it’s late so I’ll edit it later) 

That's it for me! I hope you are all stay safe, keep your loved ones safe, wash your hands, wear your masks, push to give everyone the vaccine cuz this is getting ridiculous. I hope you have a great week, thank you for reading. I deeply appreciate and feel free to share it with your friends, give me feedback. Reblog and comments all that fun stuff! Thanks and I'll see you soon!

Here’s the chapter over at Ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/85394095

Here’s the story from the beginning if you’re curious what this is about

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/75486005

and here’s a list of all my work both original and the various fandoms I write for

https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrE42/works

Summary:  Finnrick is called to solve a mysterious case as per his job as the city's only Private Investigator wizard but as he sinks deeper into the case, the more it seems that something is happening behind the scenes. Of course with an old friend in town and dark magic surrounding the case, Finnrick is as busy as ever. Ain't no rest for the wicked.

-----

The Salt-Iron Flats weren’t anything special on the surface: An unassuming apartment complex on the north side of Newton Haven, the only thing most people remembered about the place was how the price tag hurt their souls.

Of course, unlike the general housing market, the Salt-Irons (affectionately referred to by the locals) actually had a very reasonable reason for fetching such a high rate: The salt and cold iron baked into every single brick that formed the building.

If you weren’t in the magical know, you’d think it utterly insane that you’d be forced to pay such a large amount of cash because some weirdo decided to make a new age artistic statement with bricks. Of course, if you are aware of the greater community at large, you’d knew you were paying the insanely large sum because someone decided to make the Salt-Irons the single most protective location in the city.

Most mortals have forgotten their history, their lore and collective knowledge passed down throughout the generations: Why their ancestors used to place lines of salt in front of the door and windows, why the elders always suggested to the braver, recklessly youthful family members to carry iron whenever they ventured through the wild.

Outer beings were repelled by salt and iron. No one really had an idea why fae, angels and demons weren’t fond of salt or iron and there's been plenty of arguing about the subject but all in all the fact remained they did not do well when faced with either.

That was the main reason Finnrick didn’t find himself in the north side of town often.

Well that and the zealous Gate Keepers. Those guys were freaks but between them and the Salt-Irons being the only supernatural community up here, Finn never got a case from the area.

Until today.

The Salt-Irons were great at protecting you from any outside threats that wished you ill will: It didn’t protect you from anything you decided to bring in with you.

It was five in the morning when Finnrick got the call. The M.R.R.D representative didn’t have much to offer beyond the address and floor but he thanked her all the same.

Finnrick yawned tiredly, stretching the tension out of his neck while he sipped his coffee. He let out a sigh of relief as the sun slowly rose into the sky.

The Salt-Irons was a twelve story tall building painted a ghastly pale green that made Finnrick sick just looking at it.

“People are paying how much to live in that shade? I’d ask for discount if I were them.” Finnrick laughing to himself, making his way into the apartment complex.

Luckily the interior was much nicer than the outside: Everything was well kept and cleaned. Not a single speck of dust in sight and the wooden stairs didn’t creak when Finnrick placed his foot on them.

Which was good given Finnrick needed to go up seven flights of stairs.

Finnrick wheezed a little, wiping the sweat from his brow when he reached the seventh floor. He glanced down the hall one way then the other as he began to search for room 707 which basic deductive reasoning suggested should be around the corner.

Finnrick crushed the empty foam cup and tucked it into his coat pocket as he made his way to 707. It was a simple wooden door and immaculately spotless just like the rest of the place. He rose his hand and gently rapped on the door.

No response.

He frowned, checking if he was still alone in the empty hallway and rose his hand towards the door frame.

His eyes glowed with a blue energy as he whispered softly “Revelis”

The door gleamed with a bluish hue for a moment before fading away without a trace.

No protective spells laced over the frame so the only thing Finn had to worry about now if it was locked.

He tried the knob, unsurprised when it swung open silently.

“It’s not breaking and entering if someone’s expecting you” Finnrick justified to himself as he pushed the door in.

He nearly staggered backwards: The air tasted thick and foul like something had been left rotting inside. His skin prickled with anxiety, a chill running down his spine with each step he took further in.

Finnrick took deep, calming breathes while doing his best to ignore the bitter taste that seem to cling the air within.

He noticed the trail of footsteps, perfectly preserved in what appeared to be black dust leading deeper into the living room.

“Hey da! You here?” Finnrick called out, carefully stepping closer “You and ma still married?”

There was a deep grunt of acknowledgment before a voice responded “Sorry son, we’re divorced now. She got custody of you.”

“Well fuck. I guess I’m going to be eating kale and poorly cooked spinach for the rest of my life.”

Garrus Valka was not in fact Finnrick’s father, adoptive or otherwise. He was actually one of the highest ranked officers of the Magical Rapid Response Department: An elf clocking in at 200 years old with richly tanned skin. His bluish gray hair was slicked back in his preferred style. Garrus’s had his back turned to the detective but Finn knew his sliverish gray eyes were deep in concentration as he took down notes about the surroundings. His beautifully inhuman features were marred with a scar on the right side of his face: burnt skin on his cheek, healed by time and various surgeries. An old war wound though Finn never got the full story.

He was dressed in typical M.R.R.D fashion: Dark blue windbreaker, jeans and a blue shirt with the words “Powered by coffee and spite” splashed across the front. His Winchester rifle was slung across his back, ready for any action that may befall the elf.

“Drift.” Garrus greeted teasingly while offering a hand.

Finnrick gave it a playful shake “Da. So is mom here or she trying to smite pigeons again?”

“THEY TRIED TO STEAL MY HOTDOG!” Garrus’s partner Eden screamed from another room “I SHALL BRING MY GOD’S WRATH UPON THEM!”

“You know when they mean justice.” Finnrick called out “I don’t think they mean against winged rats.”

Eden chuckled darkly “You know not their sins.”

“Okay.” Finnrick nodded despite the fact she couldn’t see him “If you say so. What happened Da? Aside powerful necromancy.”

“Powerful necromancy” Garrus replied cheekily “and missing persons.”

Finnrick rose an eyebrow “Persons? More than one?”

“Two: A father and son. Richard Charles and his son Richard Jr. Recluses it seems. Neighbors hardly saw them. Mostly kept to themselves.”

Finnrick pursed his lips thoughtfully “Any magical abilities?”

“They’re not on records if that’s what you mean.” Garrus answered “Never signed up in the academy, not registered with The Council. If they were practitioners they didn’t tell anyone.”

“So what was the spell? I just smell the remnants of spookiness.”

“Hadn’t noticed the rest of the room huh?”

Finnrick frowned before finally getting a good look at the rest of the room: Every inch of the apartment was blanketed with the same black dust that he found in the entrance way. Inches and inches of the substance and that wasn’t the strangest part.

Everything was bent at different and odd angles: chair with crooked legs, the wall clock warped and twisted, the fridge leaning like someone folded it in half. Floorboard reached for the sky and walls split inward.

There was a common misconception about magic. Most people thought spell casters, especially wizards, could command reality to their wills. That magic was capable of impossible feats and it was as simple as snapping your fingers.

The truth was all magic, ranging from divinity to free range nature, was performed on a micro scale. Practitioners did not alter reality but rather shortcut it. Throwing fireballs was as simple as rapidly heating the air until it combusted. Turning invisible was less about vanishing completely as it was bending the light around you to not be seen. Magic was rooted in reality and imagination. If you had the magical strength to perform the magic, the magic often followed your lead.

Of course there were spells that required much more than magical hand and willpower. Powerful magic, like summoning outer beings or raising an army of zombies, required both time and materials. Magic was like any other energy: you needed enough of it to perform what you wanted. The human body could only generate so much magic without dying and resting was necessary to replace any expended in the use of spells. Materials were guidelines for the spell. Feathers for anything with flight, ash for fireballs etc etc.

The other thing needed was to gather energy and store it for the spell’s use. There were different ways to achieve this: Wands, talismans, potions were basically magic soups. The most efficient way to gather energy was the wizards preferred way: Circles.

Finnrick eyed the room closely this time, murmuring under his breath about angles and trajectory. Garrus paid him no mind, well familiar with the private investigators methods.

“If this went like that” he gestured to the wall clock “and that went here.”

Finnrick glanced about, carefully walking about as if worried he was going to step on a landmine.

“Here.” Finnrick found himself staring at a spot in the middle of the room “Ventus.”

He gestured with a hand and light breeze filled the room. It brushed away some of the dust covering floor, revealing the outline of a half melted metal ring.

“What is it?” Garrus turned curiously

“Spell circle. The source of the explosion. I’m willing to bet it’s custom made. Copper, steel. Maybe some bits of tin couldn’t stand the surge.”

“No iron or sliver?”

Finnrick shook his head “That’s for containing or repelling monsters. Necromancy is more about drawing in the evil entities. Or sucking out life.”

Garrus sighed tiredly “Don’t touch?”

“Only if you want to live to see retirement. Might have some pent up magic ready to blow outwards.”

“Understood. I’ll call in our guys. I’ll let you know if something comes up.”

Finn nodded gratefully while pulling out a vial and motioning to the elf “Mind if I do?”

“Be my guest, you might find something we’d miss.”

Finnrick smiled gratefully before scooping up some of the dust and sealing it within the vial.

“Take care Garrus, stop fighting birds Ma!”

“Flying rats!”

-----

The cafe was lively despite being early but that was no surprise given it was Mother’s. Mother’s was the single best food establishment in all Newton Haven and if anyone disagreed, they were allowed to have their opinions.

They were also allowed to be wrong.

Finnrick paused in the doorway, breathing in the scent of well cooked eggs and sweet lemonade. The pop and sizzle of heated grease brought a sense of comfort to the hard working private investigator.

“Finny Drift!” Maddie Copperstone called from behind the counter “How’s my favorite customer holding up?”

Maddie was 40 years young with tastefully curled dark brown hair. Human, little on the short side but fierce. She wore a simple red blouse and jeans, both stained with flour that the apron around her waist did not prevent.

Finnrick bounced over cheerfully, reaching over the counter to give the matron the biggest hug he could muster “I’m good Maddie. Working a case.”

Maddie’s brown eyes searched his face carefully “You always working Finny. You resting as much?”

“Scout’s honor.”

Maddie let out a disbelieving chuckle “You weren’t ever a Scout.”

“Honorary scout after I stopped that bear from eating them.”

“Thought it was a giant raccoon.”

“Yes but people don’t take giant raccoon seriously. He here?”

Maddie clicked her tongue disappointingly but motioned to the booth at the far end of the establishment “Rest.”

Finnrick rose his hand in surrender “After.”

“Never you mean!” Maddie shouted after him.

Amos Frye hadn’t changed much since last he was roaming around Finnrick’s neck of the woods: Handsome with soft gray eyes that reminded Finn of gathering storm clouds. His long black hair was tied in a messy bun held up by a golden pin, a braided strand hung loosely near his face. His beard was much shorter than what Finnrick remembered though he noted the unkempt split ends indicated that Amos hadn’t trimmed it in a few weeks. His iconic dark red sleeveless jerkin and black jean combination would look ridiculous on a lesser man but had allowed the monster hunter to show off his muscular frame. His brown skin was a bit more pale than usual so no doubt Amos had been operating at night lately.

“Finnrick, you cheeky bastard! I am so glad you came!” Amos beamed happily, his various bangles and bracelets clinking together in equally joyous celebration as the two shook hands.

“Amos! Happy to see you.” Finn beamed brightly as he slid into the booth across his old friend “Why though? Family trouble?”

Amos’s joyfully gleam turned dark for a moment.

“No. Have you…?”

Finnrick shook his head quickly “Not a word. Sorry, I hadn’t meant to…”

Amos waved the apology away “No worries cuz. I understand why you’d think that. Coming across the pond isn’t a spur of the moment thing and Os has always been the black sheep of the family. I suppose no news is good news.”

“Right.” Finnrick cleared his throat awkwardly “So what’s the trouble? I doubt you’d call me up for a nip and chat.”

“Rightly so.” Amos confirmed, reaching into the bag at his side and pulling out a folder “Hunting business as usual cuz.”

That made sense: Amos was the latest of a long family whose specialized business was monster hunting. The Fryes had been striking at things that went bump in the night for centuries ever since the first Frye defended the folk of some underground society.

Amos was an average wizard if Finnrick was being generous. That was not a slight against his old friend, it was a matter of fact: Amos spent most of his time honing the physical aspects of his profession which was obvious given the size of his arms. Any spells he knew were purely for defensive or preventive measures so he often communicated with Finnrick for higher quality and complex spellwork.

Finnrick took the folder from Amos and began pouring over its contents.

Most were quickly scrawled notes Amos had noticed about his quarry: Long sliver hairs, canine in nature. Large paw prints found in the areas it had been sighted, far too big to any natural wolf. Wulfvur and werewolf were hastily written and as quickly crossed out. A pattern of hanging out in wild areas, often forests and swamps.

There were pictures too: flashes of sliver, blurs of fangs and muzzles darting in and out of camera frame. It was always a distance away, sprinting deeper into the wildness. It was hard to tell from the photos but Finn guessed it might’ve been 10 feet tall at the very least.

“Why we hunting wolves now?” Finnrick asked curiously.

Amos flagged down the waitress “Contract given to my pa. It was hanging around the marsh lands of the jolly old isles. Someone wanted it gone.”

Something wasn’t clicking with Finn “and you followed it here? From England?”

“Nah cuz” Amos gave a cheeky grin “I tackled it through a portal and found I illegally crossed into America.”

“Ah.” Finnrick nodded in understanding “Fae.”

“Fae?” Amos frowned thoughtfully “I thought that too but I never heard of any snarling wolfie breaking into homes and snatching out wee younglings in them old folktales.”

“Fae are weird.” Finnrick shrugged “Their whole shtick is not making any sense. I had to expel a cat the size of a bus once. Double decker tall.”

Amos whistled in appreciation as he scratched his bread “So fae. Slippy fellow as you can tell. Whatcha recommend?”

“What’s the contract?”

“Banishment. It’s looking like wolfie ended up in the wrong part of town.”

“I think you mean next town over. Fixed a pattern yet?”

“Not yet but I wasn’t looking for one.” Amos admitted “Thought I was tracking some mutant. Fae changes a lot. Magical circles?”

“Easiest way to catch it.” Finnrick agreed “Sliver for sure. Iron would hurt it and based on your files, it hasn’t done anything than thin the local wildlife population. No need to anger mister big bad wolf.”

“Good call. I got some talent to handle a few circles but tracking is not really my speed.”

“I’m on a case but if you swing by the M.R.R.D, maybe they’ll loan you a wizard.”

Amos let out a disappointed sigh “I need to take care this sometime this year Finny. Bloody bureaucracy probably set me back a month at least.”

“There’s always Jaime but she’s pretty busy at work.”

“Jaime huh?” Amos smiled mischievously “I haven’t talked to your sister in a long time.”

“I will curse you.” Finnrick playfully threatened “And not no simple hex either. I’ll make you bald.”

Amos gasped dramatically, clutching at his hair protectively “You wouldn’t dare mate.”

“Shinier than the sun.”

“Okay, okay” Amos conceded “I’m kidding. She’s with Casey anyway. Good couple. Cute couple. He still hopelessly selfless and she still trying to fast track her way to power?”

“Yep.”

“You gonna fix that?”

Finnrick shook his head “It’s their lives. Their choices.”

“Idiots.” Amos chuckled “the lot of them.”

“All you need is love?”

“Spoken true the gospel of my land.”

-----

A few hours later with a brainstorm session completed and a promise to help out the next day, Finnrick left Amos to his work and continued with his own.

It was noon now and as the sun rose high in the sky, Finnrick found himself at the Grimyard.

The Grimyard was the premiere spot for all things magical in Newton Haven: Rows and rows of shops specifically catering to the magic community. The streets were paved with century old cobblestone and the buildings here were various hues of faded brick and mortar. It was easy to get lost in the Grimyard if it was your first time as the Grimyard did not spread out, it stacked downward. Layers upon layers of the Grimyard were actually underground to allow those with issues against the sun to sell their goods and services at all times of the day. Don’t let the dark fool you, anyone with worthy talent or product was here in the Grimyard.

Normally Finnrick would wander around a bit, checking out the various businesses and protective wards around the mile long patch of land but he was on the clock and the sooner he began to figure out what was going on, the sooner he could stop it.

Luckily for him, his destination was right here on the top floor of the marketplace. Specifically furthest back corner.

Knightly Ore was ran by the Knight family. Originally they only sold rare metals and ores which were necessary components for some of the more complicated magicks. At some point the owners expanded into selling more alchemical materials and eventually brewing potions, salves and such for a fee.

Despite decent business, it was the most rundown building in this part of the Grimyard: Broken window shudders with the paint faded down to the original shade when the business first opened decades ago. The humble black door was crooked and creaked whenever it moved

Finnrick knew the owners fairly well but here wasn’t here for them. He was here to see their son.

He pushed past the building, ducking into the alley that led to the lot directly behind the shop.

“Halt!” A voice called out “Who seeks the Brewmaster of the Grimyard?”

“It is I, Finnrick the detective. I got money and I need work done”

The Brewmaster was Theodore Knight, an incredibly talented alchemist who didn’t have the same opportunities Finnrick did: He was pretty tall for his age (14 or 15, Finnrick lost track once or twice) but clearly a teenager given his short lavender hair had a few strands dyed red. His eyes were an unnatural pale blue, paler than the blue of the sky. He wore the usual attire Finn often found him in: A sleeveless dark blue hoodie with a fist sized red gem clasped in front just under his neck and a lighter shade blue t-shirt. He wore black finger-less gloves gripping his brown messenger bag slung around his shoulder. A matching brown pouch hung around the waist of his gray cargo shorts and his brown boots were kept clean despite his place of business was in an alley behind his parents shop.

Theo jumped out from a hidden shadowy corner of the lot “Finn, whatcha got for me now?”

Finnrick reached into his pocket, showing the eager teen the vial that held blacken dust within.

“That’s it?” Theo scoffed, rolling his eyes “I was expecting something…...cooler.”

He took the vial and raised it to the sun. Theo gave it a rough shake and watched it carefully for any properties the strange substance would display.

Theo frowned, clearly unsatisfied by what he saw “You brought me ash? Plain ash? It’s your money but even I think it’s a waste.”

“It’s ash?”

Theo shot the detective a look that screamed how obvious it should’ve been “Yes, ash. Thicker than what I’ve seen but ash all the same.”

Finnrick bit his cheek thoughtfully.

“Look Finn, you know my rates. I dunno what you want me to do but standard fees apply.”

“I’ll paying double.”

The Brewmaster’s eyes narrowed suspiciously “Double for ash? What’s so special about it?”

“Oh nothing." Finnrick pretended to look disinterested “Aside it was taken directly from a crime scene: Necromancy and cast via a half melted spell circle.”

It took Theo a minute to allow the implications of what Finnrick said to sink in. His eyes shifted from suspicion to wild excitement.

“Really?!” Theo clutched the vial like it was his first born child “Necromancy really doesn’t like many alchemy processes. It’s not going to be easy for me.”

“I know right?” Finnrick grinned impishly “It’s almost like I’m going to have to pay double for it.”

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to….” Theo pouted unhappily “Ha freaking ha. Okay smart guy, pay up.”

Finnrick handed over 50 gold. Theo took it eagerly, his eyes lightening up with glee.

Theo paused for a moment, his face turning oddly serious for a teenager.

“It might take me awhile depending on what you want.”

“I want to know what’s in it. Necromancy requires specific ingredients. After that it’ll be easier to track the seller.”

“And the buyer!” Theo blurted out excitedly “Smart.”

Finnrick ruffled his hair playfully “I wish I thought of it. You keep this up and you’re going to run me out of business.”

“I’ll text you when I have something.”

“Pleasure as always Theo.”

“It’s Brewmaster.”

-----

It was 2 in the afternoon when Finnrick made his way back to the Salt-Iron. He stood outside the complex, tossing the remains of his pizza into his waiting maw and crumpling the can of soda he was drinking before tucking into his coat pocket.

“What’s this?” Finnrick asked, utterly confused by the crushed foam cup he pulled from within “Oh right my coffee. I’ve been really at today.”

Finnrick wiped his hands clean and made his way inside the Salt-Iron once more, mulling over the details of the case as he ascended up the stairway.

Blacken ash cast by a spell circle. Both father and son missing with no indication where they went too. Recluses and rarely seen. Necromancy within a threshold.

It was hard to tell how deeply the father and son were involved in spell. Someone who had access to the apartment was behind it no doubt. Spell circles were the most consistent way to cast magic but they took time to build, set and channel energy. You didn’t build a spell circle without knowing exactly what you plan to do with it.

The nature of the magic was also a mystery: Dark magic had various applications and not a single one was good. Finnrick hadn’t much experience with that branch of magic but there was nothing logical about the aftereffects: Ash spread throughout the apartment, clinging to everything like a second skin. There was no signs of an outward blast given that nothing bent in the same direction. Everything in that room decided to twist in whatever wayit felt like. If the spell was supposed to draw in something then chair legs and wall tiles would’ve been pulled directly towards the circle.

“Curiouser and curiouser Alice” Finnrick spoke to no one in particular.

He was on the fifth floor when he noticed something odd.

Finnrick raised an eyebrow as the skies outside the window darken, black and stormy.

A thunderstorm it seems.

Finnrick peered out the window, glancing upwards to see what was going on.

Dark clouds swirled directly overhead. Rain began to lightly drizzle as the skies boomed. Thunder and a moment later lightning trailing across the gathering storm.

A thunderstorm that formed directly above this building.

Without warning.

“Well that’s not ominous.”

Finnrick made the mistake of leaning closer to the window, peering around to see if he could see where exactly the storm was coming from when it happened.

“Watch out below!”

Finnrick noticed three things in that moment: First, was of course, someone shouting to watch out below. Second was the distant sound of claws scratching something wooden, the walls perhaps. Lastly was the thudding of something falling down quickly and towards him.

Finnrick rose his hand, pivoting on his heels in time to see something crash into him.

It wasn’t much of a contest: Both Finnrick and whatever slammed into him broke through the fifth story window and went sprawling into a freefall.

[zet-sway]

I wrote something angsty and spicy.

Rated: "E" for "Extremely Spicy" [NSFT] AO3 Link: "Vantablack" Pairing: Thane / FemShep (Unrequited?) Pairing: Garrus / Femshep (Mentioned) Summary: Alone, as only a drell mind could, moments melded together like droplets of dew on grass. The ghost of his mouth over her neck. The taste of her painted lips on a rim of crystal. Hair feathering over his fingers, the scent of her body, and the thrum of her pulse tugging at his heart with longing.

THIS IS NOT HAPPY SHRIOS. Most of my recent work has been very soft and warm feeling - this is not that. But I want ya'll to know I have some soft happy shrios in the pipeline to make it up to you <3

Inspired by @shut-up-alexa's fic Weightless, I drew upon the moment where Thane takes a sip from a glass Shepard had just been drinking from - as was her intention. The fic itself says he tastes her lip print and sets the memory aside for when he is "alone with himself in the darkest part of the night." It was then I knew I had been visited by the smut fairy. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR LETTING ME WRITE FANFIC OF YOUR FANFIC :D

Sleep was difficult enough to claim, most nights.

Thane, ever a man of routine, kept to his nightly rituals like an acolyte. He began with prayer. Verses carved into his mind since his youth, silent and still as he bargained with the gods to mull the chaos of his memories, to forgive his misgivings. Meditation lasted as long as it needed to. Sleep was, after all, fruitless without a quiet mind.

Aboard the Normandy, however, nightly meditation felt like a fool’s pursuit. Shepard, returned from the waves of Kalahira’s ocean, demanded much of a man like him. In her hands, the carefully constructed fortress of his mind was like a house of cards. Reborn into the hands of the enemy, she raged, unable to trust the unfamiliar construct that was her body and searching with grief and heartache for a lover she couldn’t locate. She prodded him with questions, seared him with her gaze and her relentless upset.

Raw, heart-stricken, and reckless, her anger was justified - even if she flung it at him underhandedly. He forgave her always. To be her target was to bear her trust. He could see it clearly; she knew no other way to soothe the guilt and isolation that tore openly at both her body and her mind. In time, he was confident she would heal. Until then, Cerberus was no friend to her.

And thus tonight, like most nights, she haunted him.

At 0300, he decided on a compromise. Troubled sleep was better than none at all. After a calming herbal tea and having tended to his hygiene, he settled into his cot, nude as he so preferred to sleep. If he could sleep at all.

The minutes, and the memories, began to tick by.

"The most important aspect is intent," he’d said to her, watching her eyes follow him while he circled behind her. "A breath of hesitation will get you killed, or worse." Hands alighted on her shoulders - a companionable gesture before they both endeavored to threaten her life.

Shepard didn't flinch when he began the demonstration. Thane flattened himself against her back, one arm winding wide around her shoulders. Pressed into the curves of her body, his sweet torture began. She arched her neck - calm, trusting - offering her throat into the curl of his elbow as he tucked his arm under her chin and sealed his hand on her opposite shoulder. He steeled himself against his lust, breathing in unison with her, taking advantage of his proximity to inhale her scent as he demonstrated the headlock. Carmine hair brushed across his fingers where they were clamped on the nape of her neck, his breath washing over vulnerable, prickling skin.

Thane let the silence linger, writing the lush warmth of her body into his memory, caught in the lethal intimacy of his embrace.

"Weaken the spine by twisting," he murmured, his lips nearly brushing her ear, each word sending strands of hair ruffling on his breath. Thane closed his eyes, enflamed by her closeness, praying for mercy as she tilted back into him - a wordless exchange of scorching intent, however convinced she was to not act upon it.

His voice, barely a whisper, poured forth from intangible parts of him that hadn't known a lover's touch in over a decade.

"Apply pressure in the opposite direction."

Careful, controlled, he flexed the arm around her throat and wristed the palm at her neck. Painful to her, as he knew it would be, but not enough to truly hurt her. Nevertheless, she tensed in his arms, a kinetic shiver flowing from her body into his like the sinful call of a siren. Willing herself to trust a killer's restrained tactile intimacy, a hair-trigger away from dropping her where they stood.

"And snap."

Innate human vulnerability gave voice to her wanting. A single breath escaped her lips when she failed to contain it behind clenched teeth, her carotid artery pounding beneath smooth scales. Thane answered with his own hot rush of air against the back of her neck, a contorted gasp he hadn’t realized he was holding, torn from his throat almost against his will.

He allowed himself a blinding second more before releasing her, but not before stealing a brush of delicate skin across his lips as he pulled away. A parting gift to himself - one he paid for just hours later, when she laid her poisoned trap before him.

With the skin of her neck still irritated from their training, Shepard, mildly intoxicated herself and wrapped in a dark silk robe, presented him with a glass of her own venom. Tequila - amber and potent, an indulgence she knew full well he’d deny -- unless it was laced with his drug of choice. Her.

There upon the rim of the glass was the rosy imprint of her pigmented lips. A well of temptation, spiked with her essence. If this was a test, he'd failed spectacularly. Gods forgive him, he raised the glass to his lips under the pretense of drinking and lost himself to the faintest tastes of her mouth, entranced, savoring the traces of her beneath the mask she painted on every morning to reclaim what little of herself she believed was left. Shepard watched him with a carnivore's eyes, drawn over with night-black daggers as if to warn him. Like a rose garden, she was beautiful and wreathed in thorns. He knew better than to stray too close, but he would gladly take what meager offerings she presented - venomous or not.

This was his penance for opportunity’s kiss, stolen behind her back. A petty theft, to be sure. But even petty sins were still sins.

True to her reputation, Shepard was a fast learner. She played his game, abided by his rules, allowed him to touch her under the guise of training. She wasn’t blind to her effect on him - no. She would use him to find her turian lover. And he would let her. Selfishly, begrudgingly - willingly. What she desired would be hers for however long she allowed him to remain in her orbit.

The temptation of her lingered in his mouth and still, it wasn’t enough. It would never be until he could taste it directly from her lips, sealing his arms around her, a serpent beckoning her to taste of her own forbidden desires.

“What does it taste like?” She’d asked, as he sampled her forbidden offering.

The moment played over in his mind as he savored what little he had of her. Wax and pigment woven through with the fire of her essence. The rubicund flavors of her mouth, lit from within by the burn of tequila. The leash of his desire held firm in her little human hands, ever reminding him that she was not his to hold.

Alone, as only a drell mind could, moments melded together like droplets of dew on grass. The ghost of his mouth over her neck. The taste of her painted lips on a rim of crystal. Hair feathering over his fingers, the scent of her body, and the thrum of her pulse tugging at his heart with longing. Filched moments clutched around and within him, lust coiled like a snake in his gut, rearing its head between his legs. A call of arousal demanding to be answered - painfully, without another to share in his release.

He shifted on his cot, loosely draped in the delicate, tight-woven sheets that slipped over his scales as he rolled onto his back, throwing an arm behind his head in frustration. All the meditation and control in the galaxy would not be enough tonight. Like that sinful sip of tequila, his blood was on fire in a way he could not ignore.

Cool air met his scales as he pulled the sheets back, uncaring when his calves tangled within them. Alone and aroused, he would do as his body willed.

Memories welding together behind closed eyes, conjuring visions to answer his need. A slick tongue traced over his - a kiss. A common intimacy that he burned so brightly for, and had been denied to him for what felt like a lifetime. She might hesitate at the first touch, a breath of uncertainty when she met the split of his tongue, unknowing how much he ached to spoil her with that small perk of interspecies diversity. He drank of her mouth, absorbing her heat as he glided one palm over his length in teasing strokes.

As she so often was on the battlefield, the woman he imagined was demanding. Soft, unblemished hands pushed him back, fisting in his clothes as she, lost in her burdened reality, both pushed and pulled them together. Would she think of her lover? Of endless nights entangled in the long limbs of the famously obstinate Vakarian? In truth, Thane did not care. In his selfishness, it mattered not whose hands she thought of when he finally drew back the long elegant robe she so loved to taunt him with. Watching the fabric slip past her shoulders to reveal skin so bright it was nearly blinding in the dim light of his quarters. She was untarnished, even by the freckles that once dusted the high points of her features. The way she hated her body was something he understood all too well. A product of another's vision, a construct and tool to be used by others, with little regard for her dispositions. A weapon financed and fabricated by Cerberus. She obsessed over her body not out of vanity, but in rage. Such had begun their training.

He wanted fiercely to call upon any memory of her hands on him, but he had precious few. As yet, she hadn't managed to land a single blow on him in all of their sparrings. But little by little, she was getting stronger. Almost imperceptibly so. His grip tightened around his length at the thought - hovering over the phantom taste of her on his tongue, the beguiling wrap of her fingers around the neck of a glass bottle. She knew her strength, knew exactly what she was doing. The way she toyed with him, oh, it made his breath catch. Tempt me, touch me.

He wanted her to overpower him, to trail those supple human fingers over the hard planes of his body as she took her pleasure from him any wretched way she chose. Her soft hand coiling around his shaft, a thumb smoothing his own weeping seed over the head of his length. He gripped himself harder, scales beginning their familiar bite into his flesh.

It wasn't enough. No. He wanted more.

Alone, yet weighted down with the shame of indulgence, he paused and reached beneath his cot, searching the small compartment that contained his personal effects. From it, he produced a single leather glove, turning it over in consideration. He disliked wearing gloves, the material impeding finer sensations he preferred to feel through his bare hands when striking for another's life. But they were a tool like any other in his arsenal. Useful for eliminating evidence and now, apparently, for self-gratification.

He couldn't have her hands on him, but he could have this. Soft and worn from wear, the material slid over his palm and fingers and he reached back into the darkness for himself.

It was different. Not quite what he imagined of her hands, but different enough from the texture of his own scales. He squeezed, a quiet sigh drifting from his throat as he tested his grip, repositioning his fingers, letting the sparse fluid of his sheath accumulate in his palm. Touch me, he willed her. Take from me what you please.

In the long years after he'd failed as a husband and a father, the pull of guilt and desire was but an old companion to him. He bore his sin on strong shoulders, praying to his gods, to his wife, to Shepard, for patience and the gentle hand of forgiveness. But even he, merely a man, could succumb to the base desires of sentience. She was imperfect and wracked with loneliness just as he was.

In the maelstrom of his thoughts, her beautiful, terrible wrath and desire descended on him like a drug.

He found it to be true that Shepard did, as he had heard, “fight like a krogan in a bar fight." That tactic had carried her this far, but there was much more to learn. With each day spent in rigor and training, he showed her how to control her fury. It wouldn't be long before she would learn to recognize an opening when he gave it to her. Beneath the lust of his own touch, he could think of little else than to tempt her with feigned vulnerability, if only just to see how far she would go. To let her catch his feet with a sweep of her leg and knock him flat on his back, all for the opportunity to peel him out of his training leathers and shatter the last barriers between them.

Such a union would destroy their delicate alliance. But here in his thoughts, any perceived fragility was his alone to endure. His mind raced with the thought of her entrapping him on the sparring mat, giving himself over in sweet surrender just as he’d done with her lipstick-imprinted well of liquor. How eagerly he would be her captive, submitting his pounding heart and body to her exploitations until she arrived at the manifestation of his need, screaming for her touch, twitching beneath her hands.

He cared little for how she took him. In his heart of hearts, he wanted to worship her, to show her how even reborn into a frighteningly reconstructed body she was still everything he ever saw in her and more. He wanted to taste her lips, her flesh, to map the broad expanses of her with his hands and tongue, to see her skin darken with the distinct human blood-flush of wanting…

But she would never let him. That privilege was for her lover alone, the handsome turian with indigo clan markings the same color as Shepard's lacquered fingernails. Thane's place was beneath her, and even that very thought lit his nerves afire with wanting as he drew out his pleasure with his gloved hand, aching for her to make him dance in her palm as she did when he bested her in combat drills.

If he couldn't worship her, he would more than willingly submit to her control. How he wanted to be the one to satiate the desperate woman within her. To see the visceral spread of her thighs around him, luscious hips rolling like waves over him as she shook loose her robe, and with it, the shackles of her desolation. His eidetic memory pulled forth every gasp and cry she had unwittingly fed him as they trained together. Her sonorous human voice played over his nerves, singing into his blood with every pump of his hand, a soundtrack to the Shepard he'd constructed in his fantasy. Her wide-shut eyes, wanton in the throes of pleasure, drawing him into her depths to answer the sanguine howl in her blood. The feral woman he knew, unleashed and longing to fill the void of two missing years with just a single shred of affection as she held out for her chosen lover.

Even if she overlaid him with vivid imaginings of turian plates and talons, Thane trembled to be the vessel of her desperate need. How badly he wanted to give her this. Heart pounding, he painted her in his mind with too-smooth skin the color of sun-soaked Rakhana sands. Speckled with tiny beads of sweat that carved trails down the valley between her unbound breasts with every rise and fall of her body. Her hair stuck to her dampened, vulnerable throat, still wrapped in a delicate lace of scale-borne irritation from their training. Her eyes fell closed, darkened lashes sweeping across flushed cheeks as she reached between her legs to galvanize her pleasure.

He lost himself to the vision of her face as she used his body to reach her peak of ecstasy. She was wild, clawing back her humanity through animalistic impulse that shredded her reality for what few blissful seconds her biology would allow - and it finished him. Buried to the hilt inside her, he surrendered with every nerve in his body. He choked back a shout, neck pitched back, vicious sparks of need pouring through the conduit of his lust and claiming her in a torrent of screaming, feral possession. For a split second of eternity, he was lost, trembling before the avatar of his own carnal lust, wondering if he could ever be forgiven for wanting her so savagely.

And then it was over.

Minutes drifted by as he laid still, assuaged yet afflicted with the sin of indulgence. Gods forgive him, he wanted her. And perhaps even more forbidden than the pleasures of her body was the thought of holding her.

Indeed, the simple intimacies of loving someone seemed by far the most out of his reach. To stroke the sweat-slicked skin of her back, nudging his face into her damp hair as she laid atop him panting, satisfied, permeated with his essence and high on his venom. The rosy, burning flavor of her venomous gift lingered in his mouth. So close and yet nearly further away than she had ever been, pushing and pulling him in heartache.

Slowly, as he tidied himself, his phantom lover evaporated. Away she wisped, searching for the embrace of her wayward lover, wherever he might be.

His heart rate slowed as the seconds slipped by. 0400. Training in two hours.

[dianapocalypse]

Alright y’all, with the release of Mass Effect: Legendary Edition, it’s time for me to share my playlist for the entire trilogy.

I’ve refined this over like six years so scientifically speaking it’s probably good right. oh also it’s four hours long. so if you have a road trip or a boring job, this one’s for you. disclaimer, it’s entirely possible I have garbage taste in music. I also missed some characters and moments because there’s 65 songs here and I am merely human.

If you don’t have the patience for four hours, I recommend starting at track 45 and listening to the end, as the Mass Effect 3 portion is the strongest in my opinion.

UNDER THE CUT FOR DESCRIPTIONS WE GO!

FIRST MOVEMENT - MASS EFFECT 1

1. Atlas - Coldplay Eden Prime

“Sometimes the wire Must tense for the note Caught in the fire, say oh We're about to explode“

I really like the atmosphere of this song. It’s ominous, but also somehow hopeful, and makes me feel like Something Huge Is Coming.

2. I Will Not Sing A Hateful Song - Constantines Paragon Shepard

“But I was also born and raised To always speak and listen clear To know the last sound that I make Could be the last sound that I hear“

OK, listen, I think this song is about vampires, and I’m not sure if it’s supposed to be a metaphor or not. But I think this is a great song about controlling one’s temper, about knowing that you have to Rise Above the parts of you that want to lash out sometimes to get things done and have peace. Seeing as how paragon Shepard, to me, always seems like they’re three deep breaths away from snapping, but manage to keep it in check, it fits them to a T.

And also maybe they’re a vampire.

3. Hard to Kill - Beth Crowley Renegade Shepard

“So I let the rumors Turn me into a legend 'Cause I'm only human But a good myth is hard to kill”

This one’s a recent addition, but holy cow, I love it for Renegade Shep, particularly an Earthborn or Ruthless, but it works for any of them.

4. We Own the Skies - Five Iron Frenzy Joker

“My hands are bleeding where they often crack The stars will sometimes burn with longing Through the choking black Of night shifts piling each against the next”

This really vibes with Joker’s backstory for me, his super driven serious self in flight school, contrasted with who he is when he can fly a ship. He’s the best pilot in the goddamn fleet and I love him.

5. I Just Wanna See - Smash Mouth Kaidan Alenko

“Mister moon checkin' on how y'all livin' The stars all winkin' at the day that's dimmin' I just wanna see”

This song fits into his reactions to first showing up at the Citadel and his former romanticism about living in space. Ironically, it’s a song about Earth, but I feel like it works well for him. Also, Smash Mouth absolutely sounds like the kind of music Kaidan would listen to, no I will not be taking questions or constructive criticism.

6. Don’t Give Up - Noisettes Ashley Williams

“She's got a talented face and a suitcase Ain't got no desire to go no place In her case she's got no desire with her hand in the flame say's she don't feel the fire “

The energy of this song is just perfect for Ashley’s no-nonsense chip on her shoulder attitude.

7. About As Helpful As You Can Be Without Being Any Help At All - Dan Mangan The Council

“I was thrown in the boat/Cast out to sea Friendly with waves/There were sharks below Hungry for me/So I dangled my leg”

I mean, the title says it all.

8. The Captain - Guster Anderson

“Courageous, just like the captain Marching forward with no doubt in his head”

I have adored this song ever since my friend played it for me, and it’s the ultimate mentor-protégé jam for me.

9. Secret Agent Man - Johnny Rivers Garrus Vakarian

“Here's a man who leads a life of danger To everyone he meets he stays a stranger Oh, with every move he makes another chance he takes The odds are he won't live to see tomorrow”

I have to poke a little fun at Garrus and how seriously he takes himself in Mass Effect 1. I romanced him across four playthrus, I’m allowed!

10. I’m Getting Too Old For This Shit - Kill Lincoln Urdnot Wrex

“This random apathy/I swear it's killing me But I guess it's all the same, till the devil knows my name”

I don’t know ANYTHING about this band, but this song fits Wrex’s disillusionment with the Krogan well, plus, like. The title. (And also, that he secretly DOES care what happens to the Krogan.)

11. Bird Song - Juniper Vale Tali’zorah nar Rayya

“I want to dance on the horizon line But there is something I am caged behind I have a heart made for take flight But I'm low, so low”

I adore this song and the sound of Juniper Vale in general. The etherealness of this one, combined with the youthful optimism, feels very Tali. The line about ‘something I am caged behind’ works well for the suits, too. This one’s especially good if you’re a Talimancer!

12. 11. Green Garden - Laura Mvula Liara T’Soni

“And I’ll fly on the wings of a butterfly High as a tree top and down again Putting my bag down, taking my shoes off Walk on the carpet of green velvet”

I really like this song’s vibes and I feel like Liara fits it well, particularly in ME1, before all her youthful optimism is stripped from her. The scenery descriptions feel very Thessia, too.

13. Feed Me (Git It) - Little Shop of Horrors The Thorian 

“The guy sure looks like plant food to me!”

Do you get it. Do you get my joke. It’s because the Thorian is a plant that eats people. (I’m not funny)

14. Blindness - Metric Matriarch Benezia

“I was a blind fool, never complained All the survivors singing in the rain “

I don’t love the use of blind here as a negative, albeit metaphorical, descriptor, but I think this song fits Benezia’s indoctrination and death well. If you have suggestions for another, though, let me know!

15. Technologic - Daft Punk Saren

“Buy it, use it, break it, fix it, trash it, change it, mail, upgrade it”

I just think it’s Neat

16. Watershed - Vienna Teng The Reapers

“ While you were building your empires I was still sleeping”

I think this is the song that inspired the entire playlist. Vienna Teng sat down and decided to write a song from the perspective of a natural disaster, and it’s so ominous and gut-wrenching.

17. Hourglass - The Hush Sound Virmire

“This is how it ends We believe every lie and say we'll be friends How long will it last? Before we scratch all the scripts and we rework the cast “

hahahahah rework the cast get it because you have to pick who DIES

Seriously tho I really like this song for Virmire and that moment of choice that feels like it lasts 100 years on some playthroughts.

18. Pompeii - Bastille The Siege of the Citadel

“ And the walls kept tumbling down In the city that we love”

Throwback to when this song was on the radio like three times an hour. Which is around the time I made the first draft of this playlist, incidentally! It’s such a good Final Battle Jam for the Citadel, and the part about “if you close your eyes/does it almost feel like nothing’s changed at all” I think work really well for Shepard in this sequence. Shepard knew the Reapers were coming, had been fighting them all along; this attack on the Citadel is just retreading familiar territory for them, as horrifying as the war being brought to their doorstep is for the Citadel’s citizens and the council. James Vega has some good dialogue about that kind of thing in ME3.

INTERLUDE THE FIRST

19. Starships - Nicki Minaj The Normandy Crew

Starships were meant to fly Hands up and touch the sky

I like to have a little fun OK

20. Gravity - Yoko Kanno The Death of Commander Shepard

“Am I alone? is somebody there beyond these heavy aching feet still the road keeps on telling me to go on”

Welcome to mood whiplash, it’s my specialty! This is the part where you die. I think it also works for her coma very well, when she’s just drifting between life and death, not sure what’s going on, but something keeps trying to pull her back to the world.

SECOND MOVEMENT - MASS EFFECT 2

21. The Phoenix - Fall Out Boy The Lazarus Project

“Hey young blood, doesn't it feel like our time is running out? I'm gonna change you like a remix Then I'll raise you like a phoenix “

this song has no right to go as hard as it does and if  you think it’s melodramatic shut up

22. My Body Is A Cage - Peter Gabriel Commander Shepard

“I'm living in an age Whose name I don't know Though the fear keeps me moving Still my heart beats so slow “

This works particularly well if you romanced The Virmire Survivor, but this song captures the energy of Shepard freaking out bc they are trapped with Cerberus, because Cerberus rebuilt their body from the ground up. That jarring, caged feeling is so palpable in ME2 that when they gave me back Joker the first time I played, I BURST INTO SOBS from relief.

23. The Lady is a Vamp - The Spice Girls Miranda Lawson

“That's all in the past, legends built to last But she's got something new”

Listen. She’s a bond babe. Handbags, heels and pistols rock. She’s got class. This is a song about Miranda. That is all.

24. Kryptonite - 3 Doors Down Jacob Taylor

“ I watched the world float to the dark side of the moon After all I knew, it had to be something to do with you “

This one’s about the Vibes for me. Also can apply to his past relationship with Miranda. I’m also super showing my age on this song, oof haha.

25. Stable Song - Death Cab For Cutie Colony Abduction

“Rows of deserted houses all Our stable mates highway bound “

I really like the mood of this one for showing up on the very first abducted colony, the eerieness and sadness of it all and Shepard’s resolve to do something about it.

26. Konichiwa Bitches - Robyn Kasumi Goto

“I'm so very hot that when I rob your mansion You ain't call the cops, you call the fire station”

THAT COUPLET ALONE MAKES THE ENTIRE SONG. I love how playful and cheeky it is.

27. Seven Nation Army Glitch Mob Remix - The White Stripes, Glitch Mob Zaeed Massani

“And I'm talking to myself at night Because I can't forget Back and forth through my mind Behind a cigarette”

Pretty sure we all had this on some playlist or another when it came out, and it’s the perfect Badass With A Grudge song.

28. Science is Real - They Might Be Giants Mordin Solus

“ And when a theory emerges Consistent with the facts The proof is with science The truth is with science “

This one actually got added by my wife to replace a song that wasn’t on Spotify, but that has the same energy; Hank Green’s “I Fucking Love Science”. I get more into the emotional side of Mordin in the ME3 section, but I also really just love his Hamster On Coffee energy and this song captures it really well.

29. Prove Yourself - Radiohead Garrus Vakarian

“I can't afford to breathe in this town Nowhere to sit without a gun in my hand Hooked back up to the cathode ray

I'm better off dead “

The absolute rock bottom mental state Garrus is in when you get back to him in ME2 is so heartwrenching. Might not always agree with my boy’s methods, but he’s one of my favorite fictional characters of all time.

30. Rat a Tat - Fallout Boy Feat. Courtney Love Jack

“We are professional ashes of roses, this kerosene's live You settled your score, this is where you come to beg”

It helps that Courtney Love sounds exactly like Jack to me, NGL.

31. Defeat You - Smash Mouth Grunt

“Hey I know what you've done It makes it that much better to defeat you “

Only I am brave enough to put two songs by Smash Mouth on the same playlist, to be shared in 2021

32. The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot - Brand New Horizon/The Virmire Survivor

“If it makes you less sad I will die by your hand Hope you find out what you want Already know what I am “

Hits harder if you romanced the Virmire Survivor. Mostly from Shep’s perspective. This is a Shep that feels Bad after that encounter rather than Mad, so Your Mileage May Vary.

33. Violet Stars Happy Hunting! - Janelle Monae Tali’zorah vas Neema

“I'm an alien from outer space I'm a cyber-girl without a face a heart or a mind”

I just like the vibes of this one for Tali! I know it’s more about an actual AI but...IDK. I like it. So there.

34. Comfortably Numb - Pink Floyd Thane Krios

“There is no pain you are receding A distant ship smoke on the horizon”

This song works both on a Literal level with his Kepral’s syndrome struggles, but also Metaphorical re: his Battle Sleep. Plus, Thane is a dad, so he gets Dad Rock.

35. My Medea - Vienna Teng Samara

“For I have made her prison be Her every step away from me And this child I would destroy If you tried to set her free “

Mom of the year award, here

36. Toxic - Britney Spears Morinth

“There's no escape, I can't wait I need a hit, baby, give me it You're dangerous, I'm loving it”

If Morinth weren’t so under-utilized after recruitment and didn’t get killed off in the background of ME3 I’d probably actually recruit her sometimes. I almost did on my most recent playthru bc that Shepard just HATES SPACE COPS. Anyway the song explains itself

37. Turn me On - David Guetta feat. Nicki Minaj EDI/The Collector Attack

“My body needs a hero Come and save me Something tells me you know how to save me”

I know this song is a metaphor but also it works really well both literally and metaphorically for Joker saving EDI

38. Robots - Dan Mangan Legion

“Robots need love too They want to be loved by you “

The Geth just want to live peacefullyyyyyy 

39. Be Still - The Killers Love Interest Theme

“Be still / someday you’ll leave fearlessness on your sleeve”

This song works so well for the night before Omega-4. If you had an ME2 love interest, anyway. Also “fearlessness on your sleeve” is one of my favorite set of words ever written.

40. No Cars Go - Arcade Fire The Omega-4 Relay

“We know a place no spaceships go We know a place where no subs go “

This one’s pretty literal.

41. Rocketman - Elton John Suicide Mission

“ And I think it's gonna be a long, long time 'Til touchdown brings me 'round again to find I'm not the man they think I am at home “

I like sneaking some Classics onto my playlists, and I think this is how I generally approach Shepard’s mindset during the Suicide Mission, mostly the chorus. I’m also a sucker for ballads during action sequences. This one isn’t a perfect 1:1 but the Vibes check out.

42. Blast Off - David Guetta feat. Kaz James The Normandy Crew

“Got all my people with me And none of us give a fuck So put dem hands up higher Let's smash this party up”

You have to imagine they partied HARD after recovering from Suicide Mission, but before Shep got arrested, right??? This is the Starships for ME2.

INTERLUDE THE SECOND

43. I’m Not Your Hero - Tegan and Sara Liara T’soni

“ Feeling like I am now lighting up the hall I was used to standing in the shadow of a damaged heart Learning all I know now, losing all I did I never used to feel like I'd be standing so far ahead “

This feels like a good coming of age moment for Liara, as she copes with the choices she made in the 2 years of Shepard’s death (giving them to Cerberus), losing Feron, etc. This is her coming into her own as the Shadow Broker. She’s not meant to be an uncomplicated Big Damn Hero, but she can do good from this position.

44. The Well and the Lighthouse - Arcade Fire The Alpha Relay Incident

“I'm serving time All for a crime I did commit You want the truth? You know I'd do it all again“

These opening lines I feel capture the Alpha Relay Incident really well, and how Shepard did what they HAD to do there, and would do it again, but it still feels like shit. I always wished there was more choice on that mission, but also, having something like that happen without player agency is interesting. Shepard is at their most interesting, I think, in times where we DON’T have a say in what happens to them.

45. Reignite - Malukah Commander Shepard

“Crush my heart into embers, and I will reignite”

Is it cheating to use a Mass Effect fan song on my playlist? I certainly don’t think so, and this is the best Mass Effect fan song ever written.

THIRD MOVEMENT - MASS EFFECT 3

46. This Is War - Thirty Seconds to Mars Leaving Earth

“It's the moment of truth, and the moment to lie The moment to live and the moment to die The moment to fight, the moment to fight To fight, to fight, to fight “

It feels Too Easy to use this here but I’m gonna anyway. You’ve seen AMVs of this set to everything. It’s the ending song of DA:O. It’s the quintessential World At War song.

47. Battleborn - The Killers James Vega

“Up against the wall There's something dying on the street When they knock you down You're gonna get back on your feet”

James Vega is massively underrated and I will love him til I’m cold in the ground. Aro icon.

48. Handlebars - Flobots The Illusive Man

“I can hand out a million vaccinations Or let 'em all die of exasperation Have 'em all healed of their lacerations Have 'em all killed by assassination”

The way this song escalates fits TIM and Cerberus’s fall back into being Just Full On Evil really well. Perfect song for a power trip.

49. Here I Dreamt I Was An Architect - The Decemberists The Virmire Survivor

“And I am nothing of a builder But here I dreamt I was an architect And I built this balustrade To keep you home, to keep you safe From the outside world”

I like this song for how the Virmire Survivor feels about their survivor’s guilt and also about Shepard. I honestly wish they were both more heavily utilized in ME2 and 3, but I realize it’s hard to write a ton of content for characters who just aren’t in half of all peoples’ playthrus.

50. Heaven Knows - The Pretty Reckless Grisson Academy

“One, two, three and four, the devil's knocking at your door Caught in the eye of a dead man's lie Show your life with your head held high“

This song is so perfect for Jack and her biotic kids that she’s one of the only returning characters that gets her own song on this playlist

51. The Great Fire - OK Go Javik

“But when the flames die down, and everything is gone, Will there be fire under the ashes still?”

Self explanatory. Javik is the fire remaining under the ashes.

52. Bring the Hammer Down - Paragon Priority: Tuchanka/Kalros

“ Hammer strikes the anvil A rage that breaks the chain Strikes down like a lightening In our ranks “

KALROOOOOS

53. Wake Up - Arcade Fire Curing The Genophage/Mordin Solus

“If the children don't grow up, Our bodies get bigger but our hearts get torn up. We're just a million little gods causin' rain storms, turnin' every good thing to Rust I guess we'll just have to adjust”

I just really love this song as an image of Mordin’s spirit looking out over Tuchanka as the genophage cure is dispersed, and watching over future generations. If you didn’t cure the genophage, how dare you. No song for you.

Anyway started tearing up listening to this one while writing the description don’t look at me

54. Ballad of a Politician - Regina Spektor Councillor Udina/Priority Citadel 2

“A man inside a room is shaking hands with other men This is how it happens/Our carefully laid plans”

traitor

55. Cyborgs vs. Robots - Ludo The Geth-Quarian War

“But your iron fist will never knock me down 'Cause I'm powered By a conscious right to conduct my life without fear.”

This is probably a bit silly for this awful war. But also. It does fit. You can’t tell me it doesn’t. Just save them both at the end and you can feel fine having some fun with it!

56. Artificial Heart - Jonathan Coulton The Geth

“It's not a real heart It is a real artificial heart”

Just a little fun with the Geth! This works best with Reaper Upgrades.

57. With A Little Help From My Friends - Joe Anderson, Jim Sturgess The Citadel DLC

“What do you see when you turn out the light? I can't tell you, but I know it's mine

Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends”

I happen to prefer this version to any other because of how much fun it sounds like they’re having

58. Dark In Here - The Mountain Goats Priority: Earth

“Steal away at sundown, pick a place to hide Check for signs of ambush, hunker down inside Tired of running, tired of never standing still Hear them riding up the hill“

You know I had to get the Goats in here. Would it be a fan playlist if there wasn’t one?

59. Adieu - Yoko Kanno Leaving your Love Interest/Shepard and the Beam

“My love for you burns deep inside me / So strong Embers of times we had And now, here I stand / Lost in a memory I see your face, and smile”

...do I need to say more than that?

60. My Way (Minor Key) - Chase Holfelder The Indoctrination of The Illusive Man

“Regrets, I've had a few/But then again, too few to mention I did what I had to do/I saw it through, without exemption“

This cover takes this song from something I tolerate when I hear it to one of my FAVORITE songs. The frenzied way he sings the “through it all” verse is PEAK Indoctrinated TIM.

61. I’m Alive - Disturbed Refusal 

“There will never be a reason why I will surrender to your advice To change myself, I'd rather die/Though they will not understand”

Honestly I didn’t “get” the Refusal ending until I heard this song, then I was like, OH, I SEE IT ALL SO CLEARLY NOW. This is my favorite in-universe Shepard take on the Refusal ending. I always got it from the player’s perspective of being dissatisfied with the options, but this one puts it into the world for me. This is a Shepard who does not trust the Starchild. This is a Shepard that chooses to end things on their own terms rather than submit to their designs.

62. Machine - Regina Spektor Control 

“I collect my moments Into a correspondence With a mightier power Who just lacks my perspective And who lacks my organics And who covets my defects “

I used to have Adieu here, actually, because like Refusal, I didn’t used to GET the Control ending. Now, I do, in part thanks to hearing this song. I mean, just go look at the full lyrics. If this song hadn’t been written years before the end of Mass Effect 3, I’d swear it was a fan song for it.

63. Maybe Tomorrow - Yuki Kajiura Destroy 

“The moon is gone And the night is still so dark I'm a little bit afraid of tomorrow“

I’m a Destroy Ending person, I won’t lie. Full on “the starchild is a liar and my synthetic friends are FINE” indoctrination theory level destroy ending. But this song is not about that. It’s about the canonical destroy ending, and if you prefer a Shep that survives it, this song’s for you.

This song captures the exhaustion and melancholy of the end of a long journey so well. Shepard is afraid of what comes next, the collateral damage resulting from their actions. But they know that, at least, it’s over now. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

64. Waiting For the End - Linkin Park Synthesis

“ I know what it takes to move on I know how it feels to lie All I wanna do is trade this life for something new Holding on to what I haven't got”

This is one of my favorite songs of all time. The hardest part of ending is starting again. Oof. Gets me every single time. Shepard finding the resolve to sacrifice themself for the hope of something better, of things not going how they planned, ever, of learning to make peace with that and the people who loved them learning to carry on without them? OOF.

65. Shine - Vienna Teng Epilogue

“Shine with all the untold Hold the light given unto you Find the love to unfold In this broken world we choose“

Vienna Teng is a master of capturing life’s softer emotions, and this fits perfectly with the epilogue scene for me. Tell me again about the Shepard.

“Find the love to unfold in this broken world we choose” has to be one of the greatest lines about the human experience ever written.

[bloodpacks-archive]

to let go - ch. 1

summary: when Garrus gets separated from Shepard, he has to let go in order to find his way back to her. spirits know he doesn’t want to.

word count:  3.7k

warnings: canon-typical violence. character death. grief. u know.

note: hello this is the first chapter of my new series for garrus! you can also read it on ao3 (and frankly i recommend reading anything on ao3 the link to mine is in my bio) so read it there if you’d like! n e ways. i’ve been wanting to write abt this bird for a while so please enjoy.

In the midst of fire, the Normandy strong under his feet, Reaper forces closing in and the sound of that damned laser beam taking over his hearing—Garrus reaches out to her. His words pass his lips disjointedly, pauses and stutters making him feel like he’s messing this up.

Messing what just might be the end, up.

“I-“ He pauses. Every molecule in his body is telling him to fight her on this. If he could grab her now and pull her inside the Normandy and just keep her safe-

She’d hate him forever for that.

“love you too,” Is what he settles on. His eyes fall over her as she moves away, her hand coming away from his face and instead resting on his arm—just for a moment in time. He still tries to reach out, ignoring the way the stretch of his arm leaves a burning pain across his shoulder and abdomen.

He tries to memorize the way she runs, tries to remember every step, how she tends to favor her left leg after that damned brute on Menae. He remembers watching as it managed to corner her for just a moment—long enough to leave damage, nevertheless.

As the hatch closes, he tries to peer over it, keep his sight on her as long as he can.

“Garrus,” Tali says from beside him. He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even let his eyes glance in her direction. “Garrus,” She says again, this time with more force. The hatch is still shutting, the Normandy is starting to move away, he can’t lose sight of her-

Tali says his name again, and this time, it finally breaks him away. The hatch hisses to its final secured state.

Tali’s hand is delicate on the plating around his shoulder, her other arm still wrapped around his waist as she helps hold him up.

“You have to let her go.” Her voice, even through her suit, sounds broken. Garrus knows she means he has to let her go to the Citadel, he knows she has to get the Crucible in place, but that’s not the letting go that he’s worried about.

He’s not entirely sure he can do the other one.

He sure as hell doesn’t want to.

Tali starts leading him to the medbay, and Chakwas is quick to jump to her feet to help both of them inside. Somewhere, lost in his thoughts, Garrus had forgotten that Tali had been hit pretty hard too. Hecurses himself, and makes a mental note to apologize to her after all this mess is done.

Chakwas is uncharacteristically quiet as she patches the two of them up. Tali’s mostly tending to her own wounds, sealing off parts of her suit to apply her own medigel while Chakwas looks over Garrus’s shoulder, which he’d managed to absolutely singe while dodging that vehicle—managing to roll into fire. Stupid.

“You’re nervous, aren’t you?” Chakwas says, finally. She doesn’t meet his eyes as she speaks, and he’s not even sure how to respond, if he’s honest. Of course, he’s nervous. He’s been nervous since he saw resurrected Shepard standing in front of him on Omega—a new kind of fire behind her eyes, but that same smile that meant she was grateful to see a friendly face. He’s lost her once, he knows what that feels like.

And he knows that it’ll only be worse this time around.

“I am too, but I’ve known the Commander for a long time. She’s stronger than anything they can put in her way now,” She fills the silence from her own question and then pauses her work on his shoulder, finally letting her eyes meet his. “And now, she has someone to come back to.”

Or someone to leave behind.

He still doesn’t respond to Chakwas, instead giving her an understanding look before she returns to her work on his shoulder and the scans of his abdomen.

And he hates it here. Here, he’s fucking powerless. He can’t shoot something, or cover Shepard, or hell, even push a fucking button to help her.

He’s stuck on the Normandy, in the medbay, of all places, waiting.

He’s never been good at waiting.

He remembers the last time he waited for Shepard so clearly. It’s only been a few months, but spirits, it feels like years since he said goodbye to her after their suicide mission, after the collector base and after everyone had finally decided now was the time to go back home.

The goodbye back then—it wasn’t anything special. Garrus was to be dropped off at the Citadel, as most of the crewmates were, and find his own way back to Palaven from there. They’d known, of course, that eventually they’d have to say goodbye and their whole… thing would be over. But back then, they’d thought it was going to end with one or both of them dead on that collector base, no reunions, no goodbyes.

He remembers calling her Commander, and her laughing at him.

“Drop the formalities, Garrus,” She’d said, eyes that same bright determination that he’d come to admire.

“Shepard-“ He’d replied, and she raised an eyebrow at him—an expression that made it known he was still wrong.

And so he’d whispered her name, her first name, and finally said he’d miss her. She told him to stay out of trouble, and he told her that if anyone needed to stay out of trouble, it was her. But, if she ever found herself in it, he’d be the first one by her side.

Who knew they’d both be there when the entire galaxy was once again the one who’d made the trouble.

To be honest, he probably knew it. She probably did too. He doesn’t think either of them wanted to admit it.

So when he’d went back to Palaven, he waited for her return. He stayed in contact with Liara and Tali, and all three of them kept tabs on Shepard the best they could. Of course, it was mostly Liara who fed them the information back then.

But they waited. And when the Reapers arrived on Palaven, and he lost contact with Liara and Tali, he waited. And as he fought on Menae, watching as his home burned, knowing damn well that Shepard was doing the same with Earth, he waited.

And every night, when he was finally given the opportunity to sleep and take a break from the explosions that rang in his ears, when he could finally set his gun down for just a moment and allow his eyes to rest, he’d waited, and hoped desperately to see her again.

Until finally, he did.

This moment, laying in the medbay, slowly feeling his shoulder and abdomen come back to life, feels just like those last few days on Menae. There’s no keeping tabs on Shepard, no information the Shadow Broker can give him on how she’s doing in house arrest, no telling that she’s even still alive.

Although, back then, he’d been quick to decide that a Reaper invasion to Earth wasn’t going to be the thing to take her out. He knew Shepard, she’d go down screaming.

No, now- now feels like a glimpse into liminality. He’d heard humans on the ship use the term Schrödinger’s cat—you can’t know if it’s dead or alive until you know, and until that moment when you know, the damn cat is neither.

Back on Menae? He’d decided she was alive, no evidence needed.

Now?

He’s not sure what to think.

Chakwas lightly pats his shoulder, her signal that he’s good to leave whenever he wishes, and he takes that opportunity as soon as it’s given to him. He says a quick goodbye to Tali as Chakwas begins her final look over on her, and Tali teases him for leaving her all alone in the medbay, but both of them know it doesn’t mean anything.

He rushes out, trying to make his limp look a little less painful than it feels, and he makes his way up to the bridge. He’s thankful that the Normandy is as stable as it is. Although he feels the way Joker twists and turns it, it’s just enough that he can still walk in a mostly straight line, careful to walk along the walls, bracing against them for support.

And when he makes it to the bridge, he’s surprised to be met with mostly silence. Just Joker and EDI working independently, but fluidly. Quick words are exchanged between them as they navigate the Normandy through the firefight. The orange hue of the cockpit is something Garrus has always found comforting, and for just a moment, he allows himself to admire the way it reflects on the various pieces of tech. But through the glass, he can see the destruction that lies before them. Although he can’t hear the sound of the laser beam now, he can sure as hell remember the way it rattled his skull just moments before.

The way it acted as nothing more than ambience for Shepard’s goodbye to him.

“Can we get any comms through?” Garrus doesn’t expect his voice to be as quiet as it is, soft and almost as though he’s attempting not to interrupt Joker or EDI in front of him. Joker sighs, not saying anything as he moves across his display, pressing buttons as he multitasks both flying and whatever the hell else he’s doing.

“Commander? This is Joker, what’s going on down there?” Joker pauses, letting silence fill the air, the soft static of the comm filling the bridge with an essence that Garrus would rather ignore. “Damnit.”

“It is probable that comms may not be reaching her in the Crucible,” EDI replies, her voice, metallic as it is, gives Garrus some level of comfort. “But,” She begins.

“EDI, don’t.” Joker cuts her off, giving her a pointed look as he continues to maneuver the ship. With a sharp turn, Garrus grabs onto the railing beside him, leaning into the wall on his bad shoulder. He tries not to hiss.

“Jeff, you know we may have to-“

“We’re not-“

“Not what?” Garrus’s voice is firm this time. Another set of silence sits between them, and EDI finally turns to look at him, Joker sighing in his chair and letting his shoulders slump.

“I did some analysis on the construction of the Crucible. It is likely that the initiation of the weapon may cause damage to the Normandy.”

“Which means…” Garrus trails off, his gaze passes from EDI to the back of Joker’s head. He’s remained silent, still heavy in his chair.

“If Shepard sets off the Crucible-“

“When Shepard sets off the Crucible,” Garrus corrects. EDI glances between Garrus and Joker for a moment before continuing.

“When Shepard sets off the Crucible, we will have to evacuate the system.”

The ship does another sharp turn, and this time, when Garrus’s shoulder hits the wall, he doesn’t stop himself from hissing. Can’t stop himself. Half of his focus is on keeping himself upright, while the other is on how the hell she came to that conclusion.

“No, Joker, you can’t be serious,” Garrus says, turning his attention to someone he hopes will be a little more reasonable than a goddamn AI.

“I know Garrus, I-“ Joker pauses, takes a breath, “I don’t want to either, okay? But if this ship goes down, there’s no telling what could happen to us.”

“So we’re just leaving Shepard then.” His voice is colder than he expected, and for a moment his instinct is to apologize to Joker. He erases that thought rather quickly.

EDI speaks again, “On Earth, it is much more likely she’ll have access to medical facilities and other resources should she be hurt.”

“And she’ll think her crew abandoned her,” Joker says.

“It is very unlikely she’ll think that, Jeff.”

It’s then that Liara walks in, unsteady on her feet as the ship moves, grasping the railing across from Garrus.

“What’s going on?” She asks.

In any other situation, Garrus would’ve kept his cool. He would’ve looked to Shepard and known that now was not the time for anger, that everyone is under stress right now, that maybe evacuating the system is the only answer.

But Shepard isn’t here. Shepard’s the one they’re leaving behind. Shepard’s the one who’ll be alone on Earth, waiting.

Or at least, he sure as hell won’t be here to silently bring Garrus back down, or to direct his gaze towards her and let his heartbeat settle in his chest.

And so the anger bubbles up.

“Abandoning Shepard, apparently,” He replies, harsh and cold and everything he’s grown to hate about how Turians tend to act.

As he walks away, turning to grip the railing with his other hand now, not even caring if his limp is noticeable, he hears Liara’s confusion and EDI’s overly-calm explanation.

But he doesn’t care anymore. No matter how much he fights on this, he knows he won’t win. He knows EDI’s right, but he fucking wishes she wasn’t.

Maybe we could land on Earth.

No, too much ground fire. Getting down to evac him and Tali was hard enough, there’s no way they’ll be able to replicate that one.

Then we could land on Mars, maybe, or Luna.

No, if the blast really is bad enough, they might be stranded there, breathing out of oxygen tanks for who knows how long.

And so they have to evacuate. They have to leave Shepard.

Garrus stands just outside the bridge, leaning against the wall. He started to listen back into what little conversation there is, Liara asking for updates on the situation in as calm of a manner as she could.

He picks up on the tremor in her voice.

She must hate being helpless as much as he does.

Garrus closes his eyes now, leaning his head back against the wall, trying his best to regain whatever ounce of composure he had left.

“And you’re absolutely sure we have to leave Shepard?” Liara asks, her voice timid and quiet. Garrus can barely hear her above the soft hum of the ship.

“It may be the only way to keep the rest of the crew safe.” That’s EDI, metallic and calm again. Garrus should apologize to her later. And Joker. And Liara. And Tali for earlier.

His list of apologies is growing a little too long for his liking.

As he stands there, listening to their conversations and the hum of the Normandy, Garrus doesn’t feel that bubbling anger anymore. Or at least, not at the crew. Himself? Maybe, but mostly at the goddamn galaxy that created this mess.

The council, for not listening to a damn word Shepard said three years ago, back when Saren was the biggest problem any of them had ever faced.

The Reapers, for creating this whole mess in the first place.

Every military leader that ever doubted Shepard, that ever hesitated in offering her their support.

And lastly, and most weakly, Shepard—for leaving him alone.

Then the ship rocks, what sounds like a small blast hitting the side of it. Soft gasps come from some members of the crew. Garrus stumbles on his feet, groaning as his bad leg takes on the majority of his weight. He grips the railing a little stronger then, pulling himself off of that leg and onto the other.

Another blast hits, this time on the opposite side, and Garrus hears Joker curse. He moves back into the bridge then, taking his spot next to Liara once more. Joker’s hands move frantically over his display, sending the Normandy in various directions away from the line of fire.

Garrus looks back to see Tali coming onto the bridge as well, standing behind Liara with a hand firmly placed on her shoulder.

Then the comm crackles. He takes a breath in, and notices the way Joker tenses as well. Liara and Tali exchange glances, then both focusing on Joker’s orange display as it slowly comes to life, forming a voice.

When it’s Hackett that rings through the speakers, the entire room deflates.

“Attention all ships, evacuate the system immediately. The Crucible is coming online. I repeat, all ships evacuate the system immediately.”

There’s a moment of silent celebration between the crew. For a moment, it feels as though they’ve all forgotten who’s on the Crucible, who’s been left to do the hardest part for them.

“Looks like the Admiral took your advice,” Joker says to EDI. It’s flat, and while Garrus knows that Joker trusts EDI with this, he also knows disappointment when he hears it. She stays silent in reply.

“We still haven’t heard back from Shepard,” Liara says. Garrus is thankful that she’s the one who voices that concern.

“It may be possible for us to stay for a few moments in an attempt to contact her before we leave,” EDI says.

She hasn’t even finished her sentence before Joker’s on the comm lines and her name is about all they hear for the next few seconds.

“Commander Shepard this is the Normandy, come in.”

Crackling, then silence.

“Commander Shepard this is the Normandy.”

Joker’s taken to resting his fist near his lips between speaking, clenching and unclenching his jaw.

“Shepard, come in.”

The comm continues to crackle. EDI begins to say something before Joker hits his hand on the arm of his chair.

“Goddammit Shepard, come in!”

Garrus moves forward, steady on his feet, finally, as the Normandy stills. His movement—it doesn’t feel like his own. Half-possessed by his a self-preservation instinct and half by what feels like Shepard’s own instincts. This action—this decision—it doesn’t feel like his own. But he knows that if he were to do anything else, Shepard would never forgive him. He places a hand on Joker’s shoulder, and he breaks his gaze away from the comm, looking up at him.

Joker looks tired. Garrus knows this war has taken a toll on all of them, but he never expected to see its effect on Joker’s face. Something about his bad jokes and witty remarks seemed to leave him invulnerable to any of these tragedies in Garrus’s eyes.

“Joker,” Garrus draws a breath, letting silence settle. The comm’s crackling rings between them. “We-“ Garrus stutters, looking to the side and closing his eyes for a moment to gather himself again.

This is the right choice.

This is the only choice.

For the second time today, he has to let her go.

“We have to go,” Garrus says, finally. Joker pauses, and then nods, solemnly moving back to his console to get the Normandy as far away from the Crucible as possible.

But he won’t let that be the end.

He won’t let his last memory of her be the painful silence on the other end of a comm.

He refuses, that was not their goodbye.

He won’t know until he knows, right?

This, just like before, is temporary. There’s no other option.

Most of the other ships have already left the area by the time Joker begins his evacuation. Thankfully, the Normandy’s known for being quick, and they’re leaving about as fast as they can to avoid whatever hell should be upon them.

“Jeff, I am sensing a dangerous field close behind us, I advise that you move quickly,” EDI says.

Joker launches the Normandy through the Mass Relay, but he doesn’t relax, he continues to work on his console to speed the Normandy up as much as he can. 

Seconds feel like hours, Garrus’s hand is steady on the back of Joker’s chair, and he can feel the presence of both Liara and Tali behind him.

“Jeff, it is continuing to gain on us, we may be unable to escape it.”

“We’ll be fine, EDI, we just have to keep going. At least until we get somewhere safe.”

Then Garrus hears commotion from the back of the ship. Systems going offline, even the elevator stops working. Garrus is thankful that he and Tali made their way to the bridge—he never liked the idea of crawling through the vents.

“Jeff, it appears the blast is shutting down synthetic systems.”

“It’s what?” Joker breaks away from the console, looking at EDI as she works on the console of her own, as well as doing work within, Garrus assumes.

“I am attempting to reload systems as fast as I can.”

“EDI what are you saying?” Tali asks, moving forward, away from Liara.

“I am saying that,” EDI takes a moment to look up from her work on the console, “I am very grateful for all of you. Thank you for all that you have done for me, I hope my work can offer some support when you land.”

She looks to Joker then.

“And Jeff, please know that I love you.”

“EDI no, tell us what’s happening,” Joker replies.

“EDI, you have to tell us what’s going on,” Garrus says then.

“Setting course for nearest hospitable planet.”

“EDI-“ Joker’s voice sounds strained.

“I love you, Jeff.”

He breathes, and reaches out a hand to her, whispering his own love Garrus is sure. He tries not to listen to it.

The Normandy stops then, all of them lurching forward.

“Systems are down back here!” One of the crewmen shout from the main console. Garrus looks back to see most of the Normandy has gone dark, relying on emergency power. When he looks forward again, EDI’s body is slumped over, lifeless.

Joker says her name.

And then again.

And once more.

He looks at her body and reaches over in an attempt to move it, to see any sign of EDI’s inhabitance of it. When that doesn’t work, he starts yelling her name.

“EDI! Please, EDI I know you’re online. Please-“

Garrus can hear Tali and Liara’s soft echoes of grief from behind him. When he turns to look at them, he notices the crew by the main console is staring. He hears soft calls of EDI’s name from them as well.

There’s no response.

“Joker,” Liara says.

“No! No she’s not gone, she can’t be gone she’s a fucking AI they don’t just die-“

“Joker,” Liara says again. He doesn’t listen, he keeps trying to bring her to life, searching systems and programs for any sign of her.

And then Tali screams, “Joker!”

And then they’re crashing.

[ramblinganthropologist]

Writober 2020 - 23 (Virgin)

Summary: Surprisingly, being the first human Spectre has done nothing for Al’s sex life. Really, it’s just another data point in the trend of the universe wanting him celibate. What a dick.

---

Google search: Turian-human physical positioning during intercourse, how-to guide

Google search: How to know if you're allergic to turian sperm

Google search: Ways to improve flexibility fo-

“Uh, I can read over your shoulder loco. The fuck?”

Alistair's face turned scarlet as he quickly exited out of google. He had thought he had been alone... but apparently he had left his door open. Not only that, from the looks of things he had forgotten he had invited James up at one point. James hadn't, of course – the man was right there, looking at him as if he had two heads.

Fuck.

He ran a hand over his undercut, frowning. “Just uh... needed some advice from Dr. Google. It's a little too weird asking Chakwas or... anyone about this.”

James' eyebrow was cocked towards heaven as he took a seat. “No judgment, but why do you need it? Haven't you and Scars been doing it for a while now?”

The heat was really leaking off his face then, to the point it was a miracle his amp didn't start melting right then and there. There was really no good way out of this, and the truth was.... usually not pleasant when it came to Marines. It was why he kept his mouth shut on the matter.

“Not... exactly.”

At least he didn't laugh. “Well, can't be too different from doing it with a human, right? I mean, the angles and all... do their dicks really just pop out like a chestburster or something?”

Well, that was a picture Alistair didn't need in his head, thank you very much. At least his horror at the suggestion drowned out some of the endless embarrassment that was channeling through his burning face. Good old chestbursters, they always came through in the end.

“I... wouldn't really know about that, Vega, but I guess?”

Then he turned away to avoid the fallout. Here, things never ended well. It wasn't like he was embarrassed about it, more like he hated how people reacted when they found out. It was never a pleasant time, to say the least, especially in the military.

“Uh... Shepard are you telling me-”

Alistair felt his face explode with heat once more. “Yeah, I'm a virgin. Go ahead and get it out of your system already.”

James didn't laugh, much to his surprise. He didn't really do much of anything. Really, he just looked confused as he parsed the information. In some way, that was a relief to the Spectre as his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.

He might just live through this one.

“Huh... didn't expect that, loco. Figured with being the first Spectre and all you'd be pretty busy bed wise.”

Yeah, he wouldn't be the only one who thought that. It had been a while since Alistair had threatened any tabloid journalists, but sometimes he still saw stories about his torrid affairs on the extranet. Joker liked to send him the really bad ones, mostly so he could fry their system with a – totally legit and not in any way illicit – virus after reading it. People liked to think he was fucking every dude he could set his eyes on. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if the man in front of him wound up in one of those stories eventually.

Hopefully he'd be on the top if that happened. People always got that wrong.

Alistair chuckled despite himself. “I think the universe has it out for me in that department.”

“What, you think the galaxy's cockblocking you, loco?”

Uh... yeah. Actually, fuck yeah. That was a total fuck yeah, now that he sat back to tally his stat sheet up.

“Well, yeah.”

Before he could say more, the door slid open again. This time, Bo walked through with a cracked datapad in hand. The screen was blinking a message, and it was sparking as she held it out at arm's length. Once again, she had beaten technology.

And he would need to fix it.

“They need to reinforce these damn things.” She nodded to James. “Vega, mind telling me why he's as red as a tomato?”

James backed up ever so slightly – smart man. “Nothing, just loco was telling me his galactic cock block theory on his love life.”

Did he have to put it like that? Did he really need to put it in those exact words? Alistair suppressed a groan as he took the datapad from Bo and started grabbing for his tools. At least he could keep his hands busy during this.

Bo sat down on his bed to wait. “Well, there was that guy in our unit on Akuze. You thought he was cute.”

“And he got eaten by a thresher maw.” Alistair grimaced as he backed away from a spark. “What the hell did you do to this, throw it against the wall?”

It was going to take forever to replace these parts, if he could find something for the cracked screen with how things were going. He was half ready to just find an old datapad to hand over to her, but he thought better. This one, at least, he had reinforced a few times when he had repaired it in the past. It was the closest thing there was to Bo proof on the Normandy.

James was more focused on their previous conversation than tech specs. “Ok, so that's one.”

His comment was amplified by Bo ticking off her fingers. “There was also that guy in basic who wound up dying.”

“He doesn't count, it was just his ass.” Alistair felt his face heat up as he continued to work. “We all know what happened to Nihlus Kryik-”

Bo finished for him. “Saren shot him in the back like a douchebag. I had hopes for you two, he seemed into you.”

Yeah, he'd had hope too. It had died the same minute Nihlus hadn't come back to the Normandy. Not that he'd had long to dwell on it, what with the whole touching the beacon, becoming a Spectre, getting the Normandy thing. Maybe that was why he was in therapy...

Next to him, James was still counting. “Ok, so that's three. Maybe it's just the line of work we're in.”

That caused Alistair to chuckle weakly as he unscrewed a portion of the datapad housing. “Should I mention the boy I crushed on in my freshman year of high school that got killed by batarian raiders?”

“He was a douchebag, you could do better-”

“You were in grade school, how would you have known?”

He shook his head – that was an argument that was never going to see an end. He let it go in favor for reaching into his endless supply of spare parts. There was probably something in there to fix the cracked parts he was looking at. If not, he was pretty good at retrofitting.

As he worked, Bo kept counting. “Besides the douchebag, didn't you have that guy from community college who got in that car accident?”

“I forgot I told you about him...” Alistair frowned. “I guess that makes... five?”

James whistled at the number. “Ok, maybe the universe does have it out for you. But some guys have had to survive, right?”

Bo shot him a look that caused his cheeks to get even hotter. Alistair didn't answer in favor of ducking his head to keep working. They were getting into the most awkward part of his crushes now, the one he regretted the most. If he could have forgotten the whole thing, he would have been a better man for it.

Why hadn't Cerberus gotten rid of that memory?

“Well, Alenko's in the hospital right now.” Bo shrugged. “But you said you got over him as soon as you outranked him. Something-something fraternization?”

Yes. Something-something fraternization was exactly the reason why he still cringed thinking about it. Besides, you know, the whole thing on Horizon he was still using to beat himself over the head with almost a year later. If he regretted any crush, it was the one he'd had on Kaidan. If there had been any mutual feelings between them, they were long gone now and that was exactly how he liked it.

This sudden revelation caused their third party to snicker. “Alenko? Loco, you had a thing for him?”

“I'm going to blame the stress on that one.”

“Too bad about the fraternization thing, you could've made a real cute couple.”

Bo was snickering now too in Alistair's personal hell. All he could do was blush and keep his eyes on the screen in front of him. At least that was coming along nicely. Unlike his life, he could probably fix this.

Then again, just like his life it was probably going to get broken again. Maybe he should reinforce the damn thing with concrete... or would that make it too heavy? Eh, Bo was strong. She could probably lift it no problem.

“But yes, that's the state of my love life.” He frowned, reaching for a part. “At least with Garrus I know it's a mutual thing.”

His sister and CO was still snickering. “Al, he got half his face blown off the first time you met up after he died.”

“Sounds like he proves the trend the universe doesn't want you getting laid.” James laughed hard. “Guess it thinks you being sexually frustrated is going to save our asses.”

All he could do was resist the urge to smack his head on the table. With data like that, how could he argue with it? Somewhere, the universe just didn't want him being in a relationship. Maybe his ability to save it hinged on his virginity, like some weird spell or something.

Well, hopefully it had other plans because he was riding that turian into the sunset the first chance he got.

“I don't appreciate its line of thought.” He screwed the housing back onto the datapad. Though the screen still was cracked, it lit up just fine and displayed the data Bo had been looking at just before she'd broken it. “There we go, it's mostly back to normal. Once we swing past the Citadel I can get a part for the replacement screen. The last planet really cleaned me out on my parts.”

She took it back, nodding. “I'm just going to crack it again, might as well leave it for the aesthetic.”

Bo was soon heading for the door. “Don't give him any sex tips, Vega. Google's probably given him plenty already.”

He regretted ever fixing her damn datapad as the door slid shut behind her. At least James didn't laugh at that. He was petty good at reading a room. Alistair was grateful for that as he started to put his tools back into the box.

Then, of course, he remembered why the man was there in the first place.

“Oh, shit, you wanted to talk to me about N7.”

That time, James laughed. “Threw you off your game, huh, loco?”

Yeah, he'd accept that one. But he pushed that to the back of his mind as he shifted to what they needed to discuss. At least this he had some expertise in, unlike the subject of his google inquiry. Now he was back in his comfort zone.

Later, though? Straight back to google. No way he was asking Chakwas anything, not after the shit he had been through.

[crqstalite]

Epoch.

(n.) a particular period of time in history or a person’s life.

for MER 2020. day 3, mass effect + andromeda. set in 2185/6 + 2819.

-

23:45. sent november 13th, 2185.

>> video recovered.

>video playing.

"Hey Dee--No that's wrong. Shepard? Kodelyn? Commander? Fuck. Y'know what? No script."

[inhale and subsequent exhale. camera shifts to focus on dark haired woman in alliance clothes.]

"Shepard. I don't know whether to believe the rumors or not. For nearly a year they've said that you're alive. Hell, Alenko came back a while ago from Horizon, shell shocked saying that Anderson was right. Don't even know how I'm supposed to feel about that."

"Feels like everything fell apart when you died. I lost my best friend, I lost the first ship I'd ever served on. I lost basically all of my contacts. The only person I'm still even in sort of contact with was Joker, but that was nearly...two years ago? I see Alenko whenever he's on the Citadel, but he's clammed up. Won't say a word about you, about the Normandy, about anyone but his current assignments in the Terminus Systems. I think he's in denial."

[dry chuckling. sighs.]

"We're all in denial, by the way. I wanted to go after Liara, find what she knew. Apparently she set up shop on Illium, but by the time I got there, she was gone. No one would tell me where she was. Alenko said Garrus was with you, so that's some solace if you're still out there. You know he'd follow you to hell and back after what you did with Saleon for him."

"I still don't believe you're alive. I saw the reports. Saw the whole debacle over what attacked the Normandy. Good old Council, still denying everything. There's no way that was the Geth. They're only claiming that it was because they don't want to start a mass panic over what they don't know and can't fathom in their peanut sized brains. I'm going to biotically smack Sparatus into next week if he claims Reapers don't exist again."

[muffled conversation]

"The real reason I'm making this video is because the Initiative is taking off in a bit. I know, it moved fast since my dad got shut down over SAM. We're set to take off in the next two weeks, so everyone's cleaning up shop. Farran has had his apartment cleaned out since we got clearance for the arks. He's always been on board to head to Andromeda."

"I didn't want to leave at first. I helped the best I could before I headed off to Therum with Liara, but I thought that's what was here for me. The Milky Way is my home. Then the Geth attacked and I saw you again. Then I decided I might just be a career soldier like my dad always wanted. I'm trained as an adept, you know. I was happy on the Normandy. Helping Liara with research, going out to uncharted worlds with you. I had my best friend and new friends all around me. It was far from perfect, especially with Hackett throwing mission after mission at us, and then Virmire..."

[rustling of datapads. gets up, paces back and forth. sound is viable, but accompanied by the sound of socked feet on linoleum.]

"Then you died. Then I didn't have a purpose anymore, sitting in that escape pod for nearly a day, acting like a child. Rocking back and forth, crying to the point I couldn't even really see or breathe. I didn't want anyone to touch me, hell I went out on my own to search for you. I got lost. Tali found me, throwing pieces of the Normandy around like a raving idiot searching for anything that would point me back to you."

"After that, I threw myself back into helping my dad. He was disgraced for SAM -- I'm sure you know that bit by now. Everywhere on the Citadel reminded me of you. Everywhere in the Milky Way reminded me of you. I had to get out of here, and acting like the rest of the galaxy didn't exist sounded like it would be the best course of action. Somewhere completely new, somewhere I could wipe the slate clean. Start over. Be happy again."

[laughs. sigh of disappointment. looks over to clock.]

"Joker came to me in...late 2183, I want to say? Said Cerberus -- yeah Cerberus of all people, those guys mixed up with the marines? -- had you. Said they were rebuilding you and he had proof. I denied him, didn't believe him. I knew he'd taken your death the hardest, that he blamed himself for it. I said things I shouldn't have. I know I can't justify it that 'I was in a bad place'. I hurt him, I know I did. Then he was just...gone. Completely off the grid. Anderson couldn't track him down. Your sister disappeared after that as well."

"I felt so alone. Farran tried to comfort me. Didn't work. The Initiative was tangible again, and I didn't see dad for a while. I had never been so ready to leave before. Now looking around, the empty room, the severed ties with anyone else in the Alliance? I ask myself if I'm doing the right thing or not. Whether leaving it all behind is the right decision."

[more muffled conversation. swiping of another tab before returning to chair and sitting down.]

"Look. If you are with Cerberus, I know you're doing it for a reason. Maybe you're a mole or something. Tearing them apart from the inside out. If you're alive, shit if you're even a little alive, please send me something. Confirm it, please. So I can reconsider all of this if I have to. I'd do anything to fight by your side again. Stop me before I make the most irreversible mistake in my life, Shepard. Kodelyn, please. Andromeda is full of opportunities, but you were everything to me. Alenko can mope all he wants, yes I knew about that, but you were my friend first, my sister first. You gave me so much, and now I can't pay you back."

"We can talk about Cerberus if that's what you want. We can talk about whatever's going on. Anything you want. I won't judge."

"Please. Come home, Shepard. I need you."

>video playback ended.

>>video archived.

23:56. november 13th, 2185.

-

>received november 14th, 2185.

>>opened july 8th, 2186.

-

16:18. sent july 8th, 2186.

>>video recovered.

>video playing.

{crackling. mumbled words. indecipherable. recorded on omni-tool.}

{clearing procedure}

{video stabilizing}

[woman appears. dark haired. recognized as commander shepard of alliance navy.]

"Fia. Hi."

"This is an entire year late. I know. I was too late, I think. I don't know. Any records of the Myungs were erased from the Citadel databases. I just recently got access to classified and personal files back, yeah long story I was arrested for a couple months. Reinstated as of a few minutes ago."

[mumbled conversation from male voice behind subject. ignored.]

"Find Vega, get him prepped for Mars. We're going in quick and quiet but tell him to be ready if things get hot."

[video refocuses.]

"Earth was just attacked. The Reapers are here. Sparatus is going to eat whatever a hat is in Turian places for denying their existence all these years."

"The suicide mission against the Collectors was a success. They're no more. But the Reapers...shit I just watched them take out Vancouver. We're getting reports of other attacks all over the planet, more in the Sol system by the hour."

[woman pulls helmet out. video focuses.]

"Shit shit shit shit. If it's any solace, my parents are alright. My brother is as well. Lali's onboard with me. As far as Dr. T'Soni and Lieutenant Johansson are concerned, we don't know. Last we heard they were on Mars, fighting their way to the archives for anything to fight the Reapers with. Staff Commander Petrakis has been off the grid for a couple months now, not a word out of her since the collector base assault. Major Alenko doesn't know where she is, but we know we need to get in contact with her, and in turn Garrus and the others if we can. We need every force we can get."

[clattering noise sounds. more cursing.]

"Fia. I'm so sorry. I heard AI took off a few months back while I was under house arrest. I know you're probably gone, and I wish I'd seen it before. My omni-tool code changed back late 2185, security risk so close to the base assault. Lawson was worried after Horizon that brass would come after me. I'm so damn sorry."

[incoming call on another line.]

"Please. If you get this, be careful. I don't know if the Reapers will come after the Initiative. Be ready for anything. They will not stop at Earth, I know that much. Tell your father, Garson, anyone to be ready for whatever comes your way in Andromeda. I've always loved you, sister, best friend. You know that. I’ll always be with you, wherever you are."

[incoming call.]

"Be careful, tabula rasa. There's another galaxy out there, and if you all are the last humans out there after all this goes down, make us proud."

[incoming call.]

"Don't let the cycle take us again."

>video playback ended.

>>video archived.

16:25. july 8th, 2186.

-

>received august 22nd, 2186.

>seen august 30th, 2818.

>>opened june 1st, 2819.

-

"So the Reapers were real then," Cora says, turning to the Pathfinder, deep in thought, "They were in such a hurry to deploy us because whoever funded the Initiative--"

"They knew the Reapers were coming. We were humanity's Noah's Ark," Fiametta Myung responds, shutting off the blue and white display in her father's old quarters. Stepping back, she runs a hand through her brown and purple hair, "And now? We don't even know if Earth survived all of that. And Shepard..."

"It's been six hundred years. I get the picture," Cora muses, "You said Dr. T'Soni travelled with her early on though? You think you might be able to get a message out to her?"

"If I could, I think we would've got one first from either her or Shepard. Either with the destruction of the galaxy or one of victory," Frustrated, Fiametta sits down on the edge of the bed, "Cora, forget that T'Soni might still be alive. Do you think there's a chance the Reapers could come for us?"

"All the way in Andromeda?" The commando shifts her posture, crossing her arms and leaning against the desk, "If you want my opinion, it's a flat I don't know. You worked with her closer than I did. Any Reaper information I heard about was secondhand accounts from you."

"Great. I'm flying blind again. Tann is going to have my ass if we know about this and they show up in a couple months to finish the job," Fiametta drags a hand down her face, flopping back on the bed unceremoniously, "I'm the worst pathfinder to ever pathfind. First my dad dies, then every planet in uninhabitable, can barely reunite all the races, can't find the Quarian ark, and to top it off, nearly lost the whole Hyperion taking Meridian."

"Well I was going to say that if they did...well we could get a headstart on them? Start bunkering down before they find us, so they don't catch us off guard like they did the Milky Way," She says, gesturing to the computer. That made sense. They probably hit Earth so hard because they hadn't been ready. Fiametta scoffs inwardly, damn War Council never took Shepard's word for anything and now they'd paid for it dearly. Her tone is still concerned, but softens, "And don't say that. First, who knows if they managed to take down the Reapers anyway? Second, we don't know jack about what's going down in the Milky Way right now. Anything could've happened, and we could be worrying for nothing. You found Meridian, we took Meridian and took down the Archon. Hell you made every viable world habitable for generations to come. What's a couple more to add to the list of achievements?"

"Cora, the Archon was one dude. The Kett retreated, probably to gather more forces. These Reapers? They've been in this cycle for fifty thousand years, probably since the beginning of time. The Protheans weren't the first to be wiped out, and they might not be the last either," Fiametta curses under her breath, "We aren't prepared for war. We've barely got enough forces to fight off the remaining Kett, much less another wave of space cthulus. We're explorers, not an army."

"It took us six hundred years to get out here. Maybe it'll take the Reapers a whole lot less, but we've still got time if they do. I'll requisition Tann for more forces on the edge of Heleus in a few years time if you're still really worried. We just need to establish a foothold first and then we can have patrols out."

"Now you're making me sound crazy," she notes, "Forget the Reapers for right now. Just stick a pin in it, Cora. I'm rambling, you don't have to pay attention to me."

"If that's what you want," Cora chides, striding over to the bed, "Hey. You've done a damn good job at colonizing Heleus. If anyone can take the Reapers, it's you."

"It's Shepard, actually. She was the one with a Prothean cipher in her head," While Cora sputters at the news, Fiametta chuckles, "Early 2183. Feros. Thorian. Some asari. I wasn't there for it. Just... stressed about finding this all out now."

"She was really important to you, huh?" Cora questions, gears still turning in her head, "She'd be proud of you. Just like your father would be."

"Hope so," Fiametta answers, sitting up to face her second in command. She doesn't know if it's true, but if it makes Cora feel better about their situation, she can at least pretend to take the praise in stride. Her heart hurts, Shepard had always been there to guide her through the worst of it. And now? She was all alone, pathfinding without a path to follow, "C'mon, let's get out of here before Jaal tears the Hyperion apart looking for me."

Cora nods approvingly, a smile crossing her features. As the other woman leaves, Fiametta stands again. She pulls up the UI with a few swipes, scrolling back to the message. She watches it again. Shepard hadn't looked all that well in those final moments. Bloodied and bruised, torn BDUs. Arrested? For what? Working with Cerberus? Hell if this so-called suicide mission was so successful, they should've given her a medal like they did after the Skyllian Blitz. Johansson -- that was Annika. Petrakis was Brione. Vega, she hadn't heard of a Vega before. Alenko...that meant Kaidan had been promoted after she left.

She misses them. Six hundred years separates her from the people that knew her best. 

Six hundred years separates her and Shepard. Her best friend. Her everything at one point. History would remember them for their sacrifices. They’d better remember her sacrifices specifically. Maybe she should try to get in contact with Dr. T'Soni. If Shepard's message made it to them in-transit, maybe with the Nexus' connections she could get her own out to the Milky Way. Find one of Shepard's descendants, or one of the species that hadn't been entirely destroyed if Liara's research had been truthful when they had been working together.

Her hand hovers over the UI, considering. Her old life had ended. She hadn't woken up a tabula rasa, but instead had changed Heleus for the better. She hopes.

Staying in the past wouldn't get her anywhere.

>video saved. june 1st, 2819.

>>removed from active messages. june 1st, 2819. archived by pathfinder fiametta myung.

[ldarchive]

oc interview meme~

The rules: Answer the following questions as your OC of choice.

I chose Ari. The thing is, Ari hates talking to reporters -- if you hit on the right topic you might get an impassioned rant out of him (see: that scene in ME2 where Shepard starts listing all the ships that went down at the battle of the Citadel), but generally he’s pretty tight-lipped and brusquely Professional. So for this meme I sorta imagined him in like a semi-formal environment where he’d be more comfortable, like maybe if one of his friends was interviewing him or something... I’ve put too much thought into this, whatever!!

1. What’s your name?

Ari Shepard.

2. Do you know why you are called that?

I never got the opportunity to ask.

3. Are you single or taken?

Pretty sure it’s common knowledge that I’m married. The krogan guests at the wedding wanted to eat the reporters, but my husband said no.

4. Have any abilities or powers?

I used to run into stuff really hard for a living. Not sure how much of a talent that counts as, but they keep putting me in the news vids anyway.

5. Stop being a Mary Sue.

Hey, Kaidan told me about that while we were watching Star Trek once! Really not sure I count, though. I’m just some guy. And not fictional.

6. What’s your eye color?

Blue.

7. How about your hair color?

Blond. Well, black. Usually somewhere in-between that.

8. Have any family members?

Sure, lots. My semi-successful diplomacy career did very little to prepare me for family reunions at the Alenko commune.

9. Oh? How about any pets?

We have a dog. Laika. Her adoption papers told me she’s the goodest girl in the whole galaxy. She’s a purebreed, I--we needed a dog with a certain temperament, you know, they’re very carefully vetted. But she’s not spoiled. OK, I can feel my husband rolling his eyes at me: she’s spoiled. But only because she’s earned it. Kaidan named her.

I have a lot of fish, too. They’re more high-maintenance than the dog, believe it or not. 

10. That’s cool, I guess. Now tell me something you don’t like.

Uh, sitcoms. People on public transit who look at me funny. Reporters, especially if they try to bug me when I’m with my kids. Seriously, cut that [redacted] out. Distance. Uh, politicians--heh. I could go on. 

11. Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do?

You know, I’m an alright cook. I make a mean pot of soup. Yukagejang is a big comfort food in my house--it’s an old recipe. I usually make a big pot for the kids if Kaidan has to go away on business, but then he’s sad because he doesn’t get to have any. Heh. I grow a lot of the vegetables myself, too.

I have a music collection, too. Physical media. Very old-fashioned, but I lost a lot of my files some years back, and some of that stuff I was never able to find again! That haunts me. There was this one Batarian band... anyway, I’ve been hesitant to add more to it because our home is slowly being overrun by a frankly unsustainable number of kids.

(Editor’s note: Commander Shepard and General Alenko have two children.)

12. Have you hurt anyone in any way before?

I beat Garrus at a sniping contest once. I don’t think he’s ever forgiven me for that.

13. Ever… killed anyone before?

I feel like answering this would violate some sort of military doctrine or Council non-disclosure clause. I really don’t need the Spectres after me - I’m married to one, and that’s bad enough. 

14. What kind of animal are you?

Well, my name means “lion.” I’ve never given that one much thought, but the recruitment posters got a lot of mileage out of it.

Something I heard a lot during the Reaper War, and the aftermath, was that people felt like caged rats. Or their culture’s equivalent. That the Reapers were treating us like filthy little vermin to experiment on and then exterminate. But, you know, I’m from New York, so I’ve always known that rats are mean little [redacted] and that they can absolutely bite back. 

15. Name your worst habits?

...I’ve been a smoker most of my life, so I guess my worst habit is that I’m too damn persistent to give up on anything.

16. Do you look up to anyone at all?

Well, my husband is the only human Spectre. Pretty cool gig, right? Very inspiring of him.

...I think Captain Anderson was the first person whose respect I honestly wanted to earn. That was near twenty years ago, and... that hasn’t changed.

17. Are you gay, straight or bisexual?

I’m gay. If you’re trying to ask me out, formal inquires can be sent to General Kaidan Alenko, c/o the Garneau Academy of Biotics, Vancouver-- 

Kiddos, if you’re reading this ten years from now, that was a joke. Also, don’t you have anything better to do than read old interviews about your dad? Finish your homework.

18. Do you go to school?

I’m self-taught with most things. That sounds more respectable than a straight “no,” doesn’t it? I guess this is where I would I say I went to the school of hard knocks, if I was someone who wasn’t funny. Got some pretty remedial tutoring when I joined the Alliance, but that’s about it, unless you count ICT -- which, actually, yeah, I think ICT should count. 

19. Ever want to marry and have any kids one day?

I already did. Didn’t think I would, honestly, but here I am. Life takes you weirder places than you’re even capable of imagining.

20. Do you have any fangirls/fanboys?

There’ve been a few. I appreciate the sentiment, but... heh, actually, no, I don’t.

21. What are you most afraid of?

I think the benefit of having survived a major war is that we have the option to not let fear run our lives anymore. That being said, I’m afraid of the usual mundane stuff. I don’t think it’s very interesting to hash out.

22. What do you usually wear?

I think I dress pretty practically. Durable clothing is great if you’re in the military or are just being assaulted by two toddlers daily. And if you buy everything in monochrome it always matches... Kaidan’s mom really hates that.

23. What one food tempts you?

Anything spicy. Spicy noodles. There’s this great noodle stand on the Citadel we still eat at, but they’re not paying me for an endorsement and I don’t want people crowding me out, so you can figure out the name yourself. It’s the ultimate hangover cure. Not that I would know.

24. Am I annoying you?

Yes, but luckily I’m too polite to say anything.

25. Well, it’s still not over!

I’ve got a hungry dog at home, you know. And two children.

26. What class are you (low/middle/high)?

I spent the first part of my life totally penniless, so it’s weird to say I’m towards the higher end now. It is something I try to be mindful and make good use of... it’s just nice not to have to worry about feeding or clothing my kids. Beyond that, a lot of it goes to various charitable causes. And, well, my husband’s hair gel budget.

27. How many friends do you have?

Too damn many, honestly. You ever tried hosting a party for dozens of people with dextro/levo options, biotic-proof furniture, and enough room for multiple krogan? It’s not easy!

28. What are your thoughts on pie?

You haven’t lived until you’ve tried Mom’s--Kaidan’s mom’s--apple pie. But luckily I married her son and not you.

29. Favourite drink?

Coffee and red wine. Water. Whiskey isn’t bad either.

30. What’s your favorite place?

I’m boring now, so I’ve come to appreciate quiet places and being alone. Well, alone with my family, but they don’t count.

31. Are you interested in anyone?

I would not voluntarily wear a three-piece tuxedo and invite a bunch of people to gawk at me telling a guy I love him unless I was really, really interested.

32. That was a stupid question…

Just a bit, yeah.

33. Would you rather swim in the lake or the ocean?

There’s something about lakes that still kind of skeeve me out. I’m a city boy, so I always feel like I’m going to step on a leech or something. The ocean is nice, though, I grew up on the water. You couldn’t swim in it unless you wanted radiation poisoning, of course, but it was nice to look at. The beaches here on the west coast are pretty fun and not majorly toxic as far as I’m aware.

34. What’s your type?

I guess I’ve always dug the tall dark and handsome thing. Don’t tell Kaidan that, he’s obnoxious enough already.

35. Any fetishes?

Nothing I could talk about in an article my kids might read one day while avoiding their homework.

36. Camping indoors or outdoors?

I don’t think camping “indoors” is really a thing. That’s just staying in a house. Come on, don’t say you’re going camping if you’re going to be a lazy [redacted] about it.

[lhs3020b]

The Renegade

I’ve had several ideas for alternative ends for ME3. I figured, what the hell, I might as well write one of them down.

The story below the cut is a frustrating one - I have the beginning (it’s right here) and I have this, the end. What I don’t have, and probably never will, is the bits in the middle.

Still, I do feel like Reaper!Shep might have an interesting tale to tell, even if it is rather dark. Just how far would you go to win ... ?

               ‘Harbinger. You’re late.’

               Shepard looked irritated, as well she might. Whilst a necessity, this wasn’t a welcome encounter. She shifted in the chair. The opera house surrounded them on all sides. High above, dark chandeliers reflected glitters of light from stage show down below. Luxurious chairs were ordered into tiered rows, curving out on either side of them.

               Harbinger’s Collector form had injected itself into the row adjacent to her. The familiar crackles of energy moved over its body – electric discharges, she understood now, little surges of plasma running through the air. Dramatic to look at, they were a by-product of the powerful dark energy fields the Collector’s biotics could summon. Shepard’s lips pursed in amusement. She now understood that the light-show was actually accidental, an unintended by-product of mass effect physics. For all of their technological superiority, the Reapers had never quite figured out how to get rid of the unsubtle corona. The gods themselves were fallible – but then, she wouldn’t be sat here right now, having this meeting, if they were all-knowing.

               Harbinger’s glowing eyes regarded her. ‘Shepard,’ it said. ‘What are you doing?’

               ‘Watching the show,’ she said, waving an arm expansively at the stage below them. Many tiers of seats down, near the floor of the grand old opera house, the band were holding forth. Giant speakers loomed over them and coloured lights strobed over the scene. Riffs cascaded out and the throbbing of drums washed over them. None of the players showed any awareness of their audience – but then, they wouldn’t.

               Harbinger spared a glance for the band. ‘Expel 10?’ it rasped. ‘Really, Shepard?’

               She shrugged. ‘I like them. And I’ll damn well listen to whatever I want. Oh, by the way? Fuck you.’ With studied insolence, she took a look at her own fingernails.

               Harbinger wasn’t one for subtlety. It said, ‘You’re wasting your time.’

               ‘No, I don’t think so.’

               ‘You just crossed the orbit of Mars.’

               ‘Yes, I know.’

               ‘You’ve only got another twenty-eight minutes to Earth.’

               ‘Less for me. Quite a bit less for me. Relativistic effects – Einstein’s such a pissy bitch. Just as well I’m overclocking the fuck out of this, really.’

               ‘You’re still accelerating,’ Harbinger said.

               ‘Are you here to bore me to death? I know that.’ Shepard mimed a yawn.

Down below on the stage, the drummer exploded. It was quite sudden. Gizzards fountained everywhere. A drumstick hit the guitarist on the head. He batted it away with a hand and an irritated scowl. For a moment, the music fell silent.

               Harbinger couldn’t lift an eyebrow because it didn’t have any. Its metadata surged with puzzlement, which had much the same effect.

               Shepard shrugged. ‘Spinal Tap. And if you don’t get the reference, then go fuck yourself.’

               In the interval another drummer had spawned. The band was playing again. A wave of sound flooded the opera house.

               Harbinger said nothing.

               Shepard glared at it. ‘Well? Are you just going to stand there, like a fucking sack of spuds? Or are you intruding on me for some purpose?’

               ‘Omen has the Citadel,’ it said.

               ‘For all the good it will do it,’ Shepard said. ‘Even Omen’s got limits. And it’s time runs out in, oh, just under half an hour. Non-relativistically speaking, I mean. Not an awful lot it can do in that time.’

               ‘The Citadel is closed,’ Harbinger said.

               ‘Speed-check,’ she said, fixing it with a look. ‘How fast am I going?’

               ‘You already know that.’

               ‘Answer. The. Fucking. Question.’

               ‘If you insist. Relative to Sol, I measure you at ninety-eight percent of cee. And you’re still accelerating.’

               ‘Yeah,’ Shepard said. ‘There’s your answer. Sure, the Citadel’s closed. Won’t help it when something two kilometres long hits it at just under the speed of light. Ramming. Sometimes the old ones are the gold ones, no?’

               ‘I don’t believe you,’ Harbinger said.

               ‘Oh for – fine.’ Shepard glowered at her unwanted guest. ‘Fine. If you absolutely must waste my remaining time. Fine.’

               She snapped her fingers. The band, the seats, the opera house, they all blinked away. Because of course none of it was real. A simulated environment, running on her already-overloaded memory-diamond circuits. Microscopic mass effect fields, manipulating electrons and holes, shunting trace-element dopings backward and forward, the underlying physical fabric of the monolithic computing power that was now available to her. In the final analysis, knowledge was the only power that there truly was, and everything that matters can be described in data form.

               For a moment Shepard and Harbinger were stood in a white void.

               It said to her, ‘Your loading screens need work.’

               ‘Fuck you. Minimalism’s in this year, cuttlefish.’

               Still, the awkward truth was, Harbinger had a point. At this high a velocity, Shepard’s clocks were running slow compared to anyone else’s. Nearly twenty times slower than a stationary observer, in fact. Shepard was compensating, running her hardware harder and faster, parallelising and virtualising and optimising the shit out of every single one and zero than wandered inside arm’s reach. Still, even then, there were limits. Flipping bits was a form of physical work, and where work was done, entropy demanded its sacrifice. Her processing core was starting to heat up. It wasn’t critical yet, but a couple of hours of this would be dangerous. The cooling system was doing what it could, but it was dependent on radiative power, and this deep inside the galaxy, this close to a hot, bright Sun, it wasn’t working so well. The cooling radiators were optimised for the reliable, friendly coldness of dark space.

               There was, she had to acknowledge, a certain amusing irony. While the galaxy certainly came off worse, its starry, photon-rich disk did take a certain revenge on Reapers.

               Harbinger said, ‘This loading is tedious.’

               She said, ‘Well, you can go any time you want. Believe me, tin fucker, I don’t want you in my head.’

               ‘You don’t have a head,’ it said. The thing was, Harbinger wasn’t being sarcastic – it was, at the end of the day, a machine. Maybe an incredibly ancient and powerful one, but still a machine. It was prone to unexpected outbursts of over-literalness, and it had a weak grasp on idiomatic expression.

               Shepard sighed. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Thanks to you, I don’t have a head anymore.’

               ‘This wasn’t intentional,’ Harbinger said.

               ‘Your friend had an overly-clever plan, and it blew up on you.’

               ‘Omen is not my friend. I do not have friends.’

               ‘And that,’ Shepard said with asperity, ‘is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.’

               While she didn’t mention this to Harbinger, the slowness of her rendering processes was a concern. They’d been stood in this void for entire microseconds. That it was taking this long to simulate a new environment showed what a strain her systems were under. But, there was no alternative. Omen had the Citadel. Once it had control, that was the end. The only thing that had already prevented disaster was the malicious code the protheans had injected into the Citadel’s systems, thousands of years before. The last intelligence that Shepard had received from Garrus, Tali and Legion suggested that the Reaper was trying to effectively reset the Citadel to factory settings. Once Omen was done rebooting the central relay, it would have the entire network.

               And once it had the network, it would send its signal.

               Shepard remembered that final hour in her old, human body all too well. They hadn’t believed it at first – no-one wanted to believe it. The Crucible was a lie. It wasn’t a superweapon that killed Reapers – it was an indoctrination booster, a superpowered brain-squick machine. Once it was plugged into the Citadel, and the relay network was online, it would blanket the galaxy in a storm of quantum white noise. The all-points broadcast would reach everything with a central nervous system.

               The entire galaxy, handed on a plate to the Reapers. No, even worse than that – to Omen. At one time, Shepard hadn’t wanted to believe that there was something worse than the cuttlefish, but it turned out that there was. The Reapers thought of themselves as gardeners, albeit a dark and bloodstained sort of gardening. Omen, however, thought of itself as an emperor. Or perhaps a god. Certainly once it held the Crucible-Citadel quantum antenna in its mechanical talons, it could make a plausible claim for godhood.

               Finally, the new environment blinked into life around them. Shepard shook her simulated head, feeling a momentary surge of electronic irritation.

               They were stood in a rocky tunnel, the sort that could be hastily cut with fusion torches deep inside dead moons. Groaning pipes ran along the ceiling, spurts of cool and dry air emerged from grills and light was supplied by irregularly-placed lights.

               ‘What is this?’ Harbinger asked.

               Shepard said, ‘Let me take a guess. You’re here because you don’t believe me, aren’t you? You don’t think I’d actually fucking do it?’

               ‘You have the data,’ Harbinger said. ‘You know what would happen.’

               She shrugged. ‘Harby, dear boy, I was at Bahak. Have you forgotten? I so enjoyed our little tete-a-tete – remember all the insults we traded?’

               The luminous Collector said nothing, merely standing there in front of her.

               Shepard sighed. ‘I know perfectly well what will happen when I pop the Citadel. It’s the biggest mass relay ever built. Don’t forget, I have your blueprints now!’ It was true, she did. While her access-rights to the Reapers’ intranet had been cut off the moment they realised what had woken up amongst them, nonetheless there had been entire milliseconds before the alarms went off. For her new body, that was a lifetime. Many lifetimes. She’d binged on the feast of data within their archives. So many questions, so many answers.

               Liara, she couldn’t help but think, would have paid good money for this.

               Shepard said, ‘Popping the Alpha Relay was equivalent to a Type II supernova. Popping the Citadel would be … bigger.’

               ‘Larger than some gamma-ray bursts,’ Harbinger supplied. ‘It would incinerate everything that orbits Sol. Probably the star too. And the radiation would kill everything alive within the Local Cluster.’

               Actually, that was probably an understatement. Normal gamma-ray bursters emitted their energy along tightly-focussed beaming cones. That was how they could kill even at thousands of parsecs – there was little step-down with increased distance. If you were looking down the cone, you would die a fiery death, your DNA shredded by high-energy particles and your soft tissues shock-heated into flame. The Citadel’s detonation would be more conventionally spherically-symmetric, so it would fade out a lot faster, of course. It would still roast everything for dozens of parsecs around it.

               ‘The Earth won’t survive,’ Harbinger added. ‘The energy release would be sufficient to boil off the planet.’

               She shrugged. ‘I know. Largest single high-energy event since the Big Bang. If you’re gonna go out, go large, y’know?’

               ‘I cannot see how this advantages you or your allies.’

               Shepard sighed. ‘Do I have to spell it out? It kills all of you. Ninety percent of your fleet – ninety! – is in the Solar System. The Crucible was a trap. You waited till all our forces were here, then you brought in all of yours.’

               But it had been a multi-levelled trap. The Reapers had tricked the Council cultures, that was true. The supposedly-prothean designs on Mars were another fraud. Actually, Liara had suspected as much, right from the start. Even while the Crucible was being cobbled together, she’d been digging and digging, spotting the inconsistencies, the little lies and the traces of ancient mistakes. She’d been compiling a dossier, intending to take it to the Council once she was sure. And that was why Hackett had arrested her – couldn’t have the war effort disrupted now, could he? Ironically, his actions might just have spared Liara’s life. Wherever she was, it would be a long way from Sol. She might just be far enough away to survive whatever happened in the next half hour.

               Sol was a trap.

               Thing is, the Reapers had been trapped too. From outside, they looked monolithic, but they weren’t. Their consciousnesses were bound up in their ship-forms – while they had a network, they were discrete nodes within it. They weren’t a varying continuum the way the geth were. In fact, there was remarkably-little similarity between geth architecture and Reaper deep structure. The two machine societies were quite distinct, different in almost every way.

               The Reapers believed they were gardening the galaxy, shepherding its limited resources, extending its lifespan through judicious pruning. Right at the dawn of the cycles, she now understood, they had mounted expeditions. They had travelled across the void to the other galaxies. And everywhere they’d gone, they’d found the same. Chaos, dead worlds, rampant entropy. Unchecked organic growth cycles, burning through all available resources in sudden spasms of exponential growth. Chastened, the vast machines had returned to their native galaxy, vowing not to allow it to fall to the same fate as the others, promising to preserve it for as long as they could in the face of the encroaching cosmological heat-death.

               (For a moment she recalled Thane, and the time they talked of the fate that befell Rakhana.)

               But, but, but – the cold equations of thermodynamics were unforgiving. The arithmetic of entropy and conservation of energy made their demands. While large, the Universe’s supply of free energy was finite. It could be exhausted – it would be exhausted. Heat death could be delayed, but never cancelled. Faced with this basic fact, this blunt truth of life in a finite cosmos, opinions varied about what to do. What course of action was the most efficient? Which pruning would save the most energy, and which was false economy? These were not easy debates. The Reapers, Shepard now knew, had internal politics. While their equilibria were ancient, they were also brittle. After millions of years, factions were emerging, spreading skeins of uncertainty and deceit. The whole balance of power had been wobbling for millennia. Shepard’s efforts since 2183 had played an unwitting part in destabilising it further. It was how Omen had been able to challenge Harbinger for the leadership, swapping a monster for a tyrant. Sol had been a trap for the organics, but it had been a trap for the Reapers as well. Omen had what it needed, and it was within an electronic hair’s breadth of taking the entire galaxy.

               Shepard added, ‘And it kills Omen. I am not handing this galaxy to that little shit.’

               Harbinger said, ‘At the cost of Earth, Luna, Mars and everyone on them.’

               ‘People whom you are busy killing right now,’ Shepard said. ‘People who won’t survive you. And who certainly won’t survive Omen’s ascendancy.’

               ‘You propose genocide as the cure for genocide? This logic seems circular. Maybe you should get your error-checking hardware cleaned out. Or have you already succumbed to bit-rot?’

               ‘Oh Harby, miaow!’ Shepard rendered a handbag into simulated pseudo-existence, then swung it at Harbinger. To her amusement, the Collector actually ducked.

               With a flick of her wrist she sent the handbag away. That had been fun, she had to admit.

               She shook her head. ‘No, actually.’

               Harbinger seemed puzzled. ‘Then what are you doing?’

               ‘This? Oh, this is Plan B.’ Shepard waved a hand airily.

               Harbinger seemed puzzled. ‘Plan B? But the Crucible has failed. There never was a Plan A – or rather, it was ours.’

               ‘Omen’s, you mean,’ she said. ‘Sorry, Harbinger, but I have your number. You’re too much of a traditionalist. You believe in gardening the galaxy, but you don’t believe in subjugating it.’

               Omen, of course, had entirely-different opinions. It believed it knew better. It believed it knew the path of perfect energy-efficiency. It believed it could eek out the longest life for the galaxy before heat death finally snuffed it out, unthinkable trillions of years into the deep future. But its plans required only the one voice – Omen’s voice. No other thoughts could be allowed, not even those of the other Reapers. Omen had told Shepard as much, in as many words, the last time they’d spoken.

               Harbinger was silent.

               ‘Harbinger,’ Shepard said, ‘Omen means your end. You know this. It’s the ultimate chess-master. You’ve seen how it arranged the pieces. How it led Nazara to his end.’

               That had been the critical insight, the one that had got Liara arrested, and the one that had sent Shepard off down this bizarre path. It was remarkable what you could hide in plain sight, really. But wasn’t it strange – wasn’t it downright eerie – that the Reapers had never noticed the presence of the Relay Monument? An actual mass relay, on board their own space station, right under their tin noses. And somehow they’d never sensed it, even though at some point the protheans had physically-carried it there all the way from Ilos.

               Almost as if someone was stopping them from seeing it.

               Omen had known all about the Relay Monument, the whole time. It had written the base code that formed the Citadel’s systems. It knew the Citadel better than anyone. It had felt the changes as the protheans had entered, felt footfalls and disturbances where there should only be silence. And Omen, crafty Omen, had said nothing.

               Harbinger said, ‘Shepard. I know I have made … mistakes.’

               She sighed. She knew that was a big admission for Harbinger, but it wasn’t enough. ‘Yeah, like you lost control of your own regime. Nice work there, big guy!’

               Harbinger actually winced a little at that. ‘Ten minutes to Earth,’ it told her. ‘I want you to call this off. This is futile. Omen has won.’

               ‘No it hasn’t. There’s still Plan A.’

               ‘The Crucible-‘

               ‘Oh you annoying tin fuck, the Crucible was never Plan A!’ Shepard realised she was more annoyed than ever. Perhaps it was how hot her core cognitive circuits were getting. Throughout the memory diamond, arrays were buckling as thermal noise polluted their crystalline order. Phonons were disintegrating and quantum coherence was fading. She was pushing her hardware well beyond even its generous limits, and that was having perfectly-predictable adverse consequences.

               ‘Then what was Plan A?’ Harbinger asked.

               She shrugged. ‘I may as well tell you. It’s pretty old-school, really. A big fat bomb. We’re going to stick it right under Omen’s nose, then blow the shit out of him.’

               Over inside the Citadel, that was what Garrus, Tali and Legion would be doing right now – humping a big fat bomb across a ruined post-apocalyptic cityscape, doubtless swarming with Cannibals, Banshees and all the other horrors that Reaper nanotech could make. They would have come in exactly as the plan dictated, just like they had three years ago, through the Ilos Relay. The one single mass relay in the entire galaxy that didn’t share its data with the Reapers. It would be guarded, that was to be expected, but Shepard knew her allies. If anyone could get through, it would be them.

               Them, and a hundred megatons of canned sunshine.

               ‘What?’ Harbinger was actually surprised. ‘Why are you telling me this?’

               Shepard sighed. ‘Because you see, there’s another element I need.’

               ‘You do know a hydrogen bomb alone can’t kill Omen,’ Harbinger said.

               ‘No, but it will hurt him. Stun him. Knock his kinetic barriers offline for a few minutes.’

               Harbinger was silent for a moment. Then: ‘Granted that will annoy it. And I do see the appeal of poking it in the eye. But it won’t do more than that.’

               ‘Yes it will,’ Shepard said, feeling a surge of triumph. ‘Shall I tell you why?’

               ‘If you insist.’

               ‘Because when Omen goes offline, fleet command defaults back to you. And in a minute, you’re going to give me the access keys for the Reaper fleet. And when I have the keys, I’m going to use the lot of you to blast Omen into dust. Then, when that’s done, I send the lot of you back through the Citadel Relay, out into dark space. And I make it very clear you are never to come back – go pester some other fucking galaxy, or compute pi to a quadrillion digits. Or whatever the fuck you do at the weekend. I don’t fucking care, as long as we never see you again. Oh, and once you’re gone, I’ll use your keys to lock you permanently out of the Citadel. You won’t be coming back. Think of it as an extended vacation. After several billion years, you must’ve accrued some holiday-time, am I right?’

               Harbinger said, ‘Shepard. While Omen is my enemy, so are you. By your own admission. Even though you have one of our bodies now, you refuse to be one of us. Why would I be stupid enough to give you the keys? You’d use them to deactivate us.’

               ‘Because if you don’t give me the keys,’ she said, ‘I go ahead with Plan B and kill you all anyway. If you do what I want, though, you might get to live. Yes, I could be lying. That’s possible. But, I might not be. Both Omen and my Plan B will end you. My Plan A is the only one where maybe you get to live. Frankly, you have to take this. Game theory demands it. I have all the cards here.’

               Harbinger said, ‘We know this is a bluff.’

               Shepard shook her head. ‘Oh no it isn’t.’

               ‘Your Plan B kills all organics.’

               ‘No it doesn’t. There are still colonies. Even now, there are still colonies.’

               ‘You wouldn’t kill Earth. You wouldn’t kill your own kind.’

               Shepard said, ‘I figured you’d say that.’

               ‘Did you?’

               ‘Yes. I also figured you’d ask me all the wrong questions.’

               Harbinger said, ‘These are the wrong questions? Then what are the right questions?’

               ‘The right question is, where are we? And I’ll tell you where we are. See this tunnel around us? It’s Torfan.’

               ‘One of the first actions of your career,’ Harbinger said. There was just a hint of uncertainty in its voice now.

               ‘Yes,’ Shepard said. She smiled. It wasn’t nice. ‘And we’re here for a reason. I’m going to show you exactly how far I’m willing to go. You have the cute idea that I’m bluffing. I’m going to show you that I’m not bluffing. Welcome to Torfan, Harbinger. Watch and learn…’

[galpalaven]

i can’t stop thinking about newlywed garrus and sun like. trying to figure out how to be married

shepard’s only just been released from the hospital and she doesn’t need help walking so much anymore, but going out for a picnic or something isn’t quite something she has the energy for (she spent months and months laying in a hospital bed after all--she’s got a ways to go before she’s fit enough to go for a jog or anything like that)

they’ve found a little cottage on the coast somewhere. his family and her family visit regularly, but everyone agrees it’s best that shepard be out of the public eye for a while. she doesn’t need the stress.

garrus is panicky, though, because they’re spending so much time together and he just knows he’s going to get something wrong, so he starts looking up things for newlyweds to do together (or at least, things human newlyweds do together) 

strolls along the beach at sunset? he can do that (she finds it relaxing, even though they never go far, but she likes to hold his hand with their mismatched fingers intertwined and let the waves wash over her feet, let the ocean breeze comb its fingers through her hair--“it makes me feel alive,” she says once). 

set her up with a nice bath with candles and rose petals (whatever those were)? okay sure (she gives an elated little laugh when he shows her, though she complains that they’ll need to buy a house with a bigger tub to fit the both of them someday).

that’s when he comes across the ‘cook a meal together’ suggestion. it’s highly recommended--things like baking cookies being at the top of the list. and it does sound fun, but they can’t eat the same food so? how would that work? he could order out, maybe, and help her cook something? 

he asks shepard eventually because he’s desperate and worried she’s going to get bored of him and she only thinks for a few brief moments before she says, “we can still cook together--we’ll just cook separate meals.”

and that’s all it takes. they go grocery shopping together the next day, turn up the radio, crack open a bottle of neutral chirality wine (because they should still share something) and get cooking. their kitchen is tiny, so there’s a lot of almost dancing as they have to get around each other for something. by the time they’re finished, dinner is ready, and she’s got a pretty flush across her cheeks--either from the alcohol or from giggling so much, he’s not sure.

while they eat, she bumps her real foot against his under the table, smiles sweetly when he looks up at her. “we’ll be okay, garrus. this is going to work.”

and she’s right. she’s scarred and missing pieces (but so is he, in truth, even if he’d managed to keep his injured leg in the end) and her hair is shorter than he’s ever seen it but she’s smiling more than ever, with the weight of the galaxy off her shoulders, and as the sunset lands across her face just so her eyes light up the color of whiskey in the sun, he’s struck by just how beautiful she is and how lucky they are to be sitting here still, to have made it through everything.

“yeah,” he says faintly after a moment, reaching for her hand. “we’ll be fine.”

her grin widens a little more and she adds, “we always are.”