Mass Effect Characters that I think are black coded or poc coded since this game has like 3 black characters in the entire series but one dies, one is meh and the other is the worst fucking character in the series who’s every negative black stereotype in the book
Jaal Ama Darav- Fucking obvious. Tbh most Anagara are black. Maybe all of them. Yeah all of them.
Almost all Asari. Like I can’t even choose one because every one I meet gives me black woman vibes, even Liara, especially with how they’re sexualized constantly . I think all Asari are black women ot just women of color (shut the fuck up don’t say ‘they’re blue of course they’re woman of color’ I will eat your soul) but I’m claiming Liara, Matriarch Benezia, PeeBee, Samara, Morinth and Aria mostly
Most if not all Krogan but I’m claiming Wrex, Drack, Eve, Kesh and Grunt as black. The others can be whatever
Vetra, Syd and Kandros are my only black turians
If I’m claiming Salarians I’m only claiming Kirrahe and Kallo because Kallo reminds me of my nerdy ass brother
All prothean’s are black because they remind me of the angara
Thane is black and since he’s like the only Drell I know besides his son he’s the only one I claim as black plus his son. Maybe that one drell Liara likes or whatever but I don’t remember his name and I don’t care to google it
As for the other races like the Volus, Batarians, Vorcha and Hanar they can be whatever. I feel like Quarians or some sort of European coded but then you have Reegar who sounds like fucking soldier from TF2 so idk I’m not touching it
Also don’t come for me with “Oh why are you headcanoning most of the krogan as black they’re aggressive that’s stereotyping” which like in the game all krogans are stereotyped as aggressive but you have those who aren’t like Kesh but she’s treated as such by Tann and others just because she’s Krogan even though she’s a scientist who wants to use her brains, Eve who’s physically restrained even when she’s the one in danger all because of the stereotype of all Krogan being violent when she prefers to use her brains and even criticizes other Krogan for their old archaic ways of thinking with violence, like they’re treated how black women are treated all day every day 24/7 365. I’ll headcanon them as black if I want to.
If you want to know why I claim most of these characters as black feel free to ask but so far this is my list. Also I might do a thing where I draw a human design for the characters I think are black.
And if you disagree with these let me know why. Even though I most likely won’t read it because nine times out of ten when someone objects to a non human character being head cannoned as black it’s for racist reasons so I genuinely don’t really care if you disagree
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The Survivors
“Come on, LT, open the door!”
He could hear her, loud and clear. Every pound of her fist against the metal door, and every call of his name, echoed around the small hotel room. He had nowhere to run, there was no escaping the person on the other side of the door.
“I’m not going away. So you might as well let me in!”
With a defeated sigh, he removed the pillow he’d been using to muffle the sounds from atop his head and sat up, running his hands through his unkempt hair before shuffling reluctantly toward the door. He’d wondered if anyone would show up today, trying to encourage him to clean himself up and be presentable enough to participate in the… event. He’d hoped they’d understand his grief and leave him be. He should’ve known that, of all people, Ashley Williams was not going to let him take the easy way out.
The door slid open and he tried not to take offense at her shocked silence. He watched her eyes move up and down his body, taking notice of the stains on his clothes, his unshaven face, and his disheveled hair.
“I already told you, Ash, I’m not going,” Kaidan insisted before he turned and walked away. Ashley followed him into the room, a solemn grimace on her face. She remained silent as she looked around. Normally he kept his lodgings neat and tidy, but this room was a disaster. Take out boxes and empty beer bottles littered the room. He could feel the tension as she struggled not to say anything about either the state of the room or his appearance.
“You can’t miss it, LT. You know that,” Ashley said as Kaidan threw himself backwards onto the bed. It was small, but large enough he could sprawl out. One hand tucked under his head, almost reflexively. The other rested across his abdomen as his gaze focused on the ceiling above him. He let out a heavy sigh.
“Do you remember that mission where we landed on Agebinium in the Amazon System?” he asked after a moment of silence. His voice was distant. Ashley wasn’t sure where this was going. What did that have to do with today?
“Uh, yeah, the one where we found the guy responsible for the Blitz? He tried to blow us up, and Nat kinda lost her shit? Who could forget something like that?” Ashley responded as she crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, watching her friend closely.
“When we got back to the ship, and she’d recovered enough for Chakwas to release her, I went to talk to her. I was worried about her. She’d almost killed herself when she faced Haliat, and the thought of losing her scared the shit out of me,” he admitted softly. Ashley remained silent as he seemed to grapple for the point he was trying to make. “I told her she was lucky. I told her she was invincible, that she could survive anything. And I promised to always be there for her.”
“Kaidan…” Ashley sighed softly as she pushed away from the wall. She approached the bed where he lay sprawled out, still staring up at the ceiling. He propped himself up on his elbows and met her gaze pointedly.
“If you’re going to tell me I did everything I could’ve, you’re wrong. You weren’t there, Ash. I should’ve just thrown Joker in the escape pod myself, or gone with her to make sure she made it.”
“She gave you an order, and you followed it. You did the right thing, regardless of whatever else you could’ve done,” she said matter-of-factly. He clearly didn’t like her answer. He huffed and threw himself back onto the bed again, once again turning his eyes upward.
“When we met, I’d just lost my entire unit on Eden Prime. I’d faced Geth and Husks and I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it.” She moved to the side of the bed, prompting Kaidan to turn his gaze to her as she towered over him.
“Then, you guys showed up and I had hope again. That mission was hard, but we made it through.” She extended her hand toward him, ignoring the glare he offered in return.
“Then when we got back to the Citadel some Alliance psychologist wanted to talk to me. I was reluctant. Didn’t want to dig up that fresh trauma just yet, but she reminded me of something one of my squad mates once said to me.” Kaidan reluctantly took her hand and let her pull him up. He stood before her, completely vulnerable.
“Luck is for the lonely.”
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Spokes in the Wheel
Pairing: Kirrahe x Mordin Solus
Characters: Kirrahe, Mordin Solus
Fandom: Mass Effect Trilogy
Archive Warnings: Major Character Death
Other Tags: Double Drabbles, Salarian worldbuilding
Summary: There was a word for what Kirrahe meant to Mordin, but it took a lifetime for him to find it.
A series of 200 word fics about Kirrahe and Mordin's relationship. Written for the @spectre-requisitions-exchange for jaigheart. You can also read it here on AO3!
13th of Kesh, 2756 GS. 600 hours. The first time Mordin saw Kirrahe. He was dressed simply, relieved of his STG armour for a more casual fit. The black weave of his jumpsuit only served to make him look greener, his bright skin blooming against the synthetic light.
While the other agents lounged in their seats, he sat straight. His ambition could be measured by the angle of his spine. He appeared at first the picture of arrogance, a young commander with a chip on his shoulder and plenty to prove. Mordin was prepared to work through gritted teeth. He’d known sooner or later the soldier faction within the STG would rear its head in this project. No Salarian ever set foot on Tuchanka without a bullet to spare.
And that was what Kirrahe was: the unwavering path of a bullet, hurtling towards its target with the force of a mass effect field behind it.
“You’re Doctor Solus, aren’t you?” Immediately, he rose from his seat. A smooth, liquid movement. Almost disarming to witness.
Almost.
“My superiors spoke highly of you,” he continued, offering his hand. “I’m eager to see what you and your scientists are made of.”
“STG hired the best,” Mordin replied. “Adjust expectations accordingly.”
20th of Pa’esh, 2756 GS. 1800 hours. His head felt lighter than yesterday morning. Far from a relief, instead every movement needed to be recalibrated. Relieved, now, of his right cranial horn, what before was a simple turn of the head would now send him careening.
Rather than spilling onto the floor, a pair of arms caught him, steadying him with apparent ease. “Shouldn’t you be resting?” Kirrahe chided.
“No time for rest. Immediate danger dealt with, must now deal with other… personal matters.” Mordin blinked. Drop 16 still felt like a dream. The inconvenient kind. The events of the day moved through his mind as though another salarian had lived them. Yet the injury to his horn proved otherwise.
That was until he remembered Maelon. The dismay in his voice when he saw they had killed krogan females was all too real.
“Personal matters. You mean Maelon?”
“Yes. Hope to convince him to recant protest now that dust has settled. See necessity in parameter shift.”
“I’ve already struck it from the official report. He’s young, one moment of weakness shouldn’t define the rest of his career.”
Gratitude swelled in his chest. Hard to believe this was the man he’d traded so many venomous barbs with yesterday.
1st of Da’esh, 2762 GS. 1000 hours. Medical personnel had reassured him all was well. Though the Commander— no, Captain’s unit had taken heavy losses, Kirrahe himself escaped with only minor injury. Mordin knew better.
He’d drafted countless emails inquiring after him. Deleted them just as quickly. Better to go himself.
Hearsay placed Kirrahe on Nasurn, his homeworld, in his clan’s embrace. The natural place for any salarian to return when life’s tests threatened to overwhelm, though Mordin had never felt such loyalty to his own.
“The first word I received when I was released from hospital was that Clan Narra had accepted my family’s bid for a reproduction contract,” Kirrahe told him not long after their reunion. “It looks like I’ll be a father again.”
A match most males would kill for. Then again, Kirrahe had.
“Seem hesitant.” Mordin sniffed. “Unlike you.”
“These days I save my certainty for my soldiers. I don’t have much to spare for myself.” The captain stretched, then winced, clutching a hidden injury. “It is nice to think something good could come from Virmire… what a mess.”
“Your last daughter— a product of the Modification Project success, correct?”
“True, but she’s not the only good thing that came from those days.”
15th of Kesh, 2765 GS. 500 hours. “Are you willing to admit that I was right?” Was the first thing Kirrahe said to him on Sur’kesh. Before platitudes, before niceties.
Mordin wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Would sooner die,” he shot back, which only encouraged the Captain— no, Major.
“I see age has done nothing for your obstinance,” Kirrahe said. “Perhaps we settle the matter over drinks, loser pays.”
Neither needed reminding of which argument they were returning to. One word, and it was as fresh in Mordin’s mind as the day it was had. The weary look on Rentola’s face as they continued was a clear sign they were not alone in their remembering.
What few hours Mordin had to waste were spent in Kirrahe’s company. Although, he was ashamed to say, he couldn’t remember who won, which certainly meant it was not him. Still clear, however, was the flash of Kirrahe’s eyes in the failing daylight. They invited curiosity. Questions Mordin had never forgotten, but buried beneath years of guilt.
Later, Eve would jest that perhaps their kinds were not so different, if the vehicles for how they expressed love played out so similarly. Albeit with fewer headbutts.
Mordin had no answer for her.
27th of Da’esh, 2765 GS. 2100 hours. It will be raining on Nasurn, Mordin thinks. It always does this time of year. When he closes his eyes, the patter of stone on the reinforced glass nearly passes for its chorus.
As he slips further into the distance, Shepard’s figure vanishes beneath a plume of rubble, and he is left with his memories. Nostalgia drowns his fears.
In the years after the Genophage Project ended, Mordin dove deep into the ancient wisdom of his people. He’d long thought there’d been no word for what Kirrahe is to him, at least not until the asari settled among the salarians. By the time he learned there was, their lives had passed one another by. Or so he thought.
Like the cycle of life itself, salarian lives turned in circles. It brought him to Shepard, to Tuchanka, to Maelon, and to Kirrahe.
Shadows pass over him as he draws nearer his destination. A nervous song plays upon his lips. He remembers how Kirrahe’s hand folded over his as he spoke the word back to him. Skin so green it stripped the colour from Sur’kesh’s leaves.
The door opens. Fire drinks the moisture from his skin. The wheel turns for him again.
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