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sweatandwoe · 10 months

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Penguins

A sort of sequel to Overflow (or takes place in the same universe in my mind)

Saren x GN!reader, 962 words. Fluff, mentioned past trauma, working through it, mentioned medication and therapy, this is some very fluffy winter nonsense

“What kind of creature is on your pants?”

You glance down at your pajama bottoms - bright green fabric with little white and black birds decorating all over the legs of it. Some have hats on, and others have scarves. “It’s called a penguin.”

Saren grunts in the doorway, and you only flick your gaze over to see if he needs help first, before glancing back to the extranet news report you had on. It takes a couple of minutes for him to remove his outerwear, and then he moves. Reaching you in moments, he only carefully lifts your ankles in his talons so he can slide his body beneath your legs. Letting your feet rest in his lap, while he rolls his head back against the couch.

“Rough day?” You offer, and he pats your calf.

“Nothing more than usual.” He pauses, his talons moving slowly along your leg. Then there’s a tilt of his head, and he traces one of the penguins. You hide your smile behind your datapad, as you watch him try to come up with something to say about them. His mandibles twitch when he thinks. “They’re very cute.”

“That’s sweet of you.”

He glances at you then. Metallic, cybernetic eyes gaze into your own. The fake irises shift, twitching almost like real eyes while he scans over your face. “I am trying.”

You reach for him then, placing your hand over the top of his talons. Everything was still hard, but you were patient. This was all very new to him still, since the indoctrination - and even more so since his discovery of his attraction to a species he had openly despised beforehand. It had been rough, and things were still quite awkward. “You’re doing well.”

The former spectre’s mandibles flare. “Am I?”

You hum and tug him forward until you’re both lying on the couch. “Quite well.” You pause, to press a kiss to his mouthplates and he applies pressure in return. It’s the closest to a peck you’ll get, but you don’t mind. “Do you want to watch a documentary about them?” When he tenses, you smile. “You can say no.”

“I wouldn’t mind it.” He says softly after a few moments of thought, moving to tuck his cybernetic arm over your waist. “Is it alright if we watch a documentary for the colony wars afterward?”

You give another peck, enjoying the way his mandibles twitch against your face. “I’ll order us some dinner so we can watch both.”

Today is an easy day. You listen to his comments on how turian fauna would easily rip apart penguins, and let him thrum with pride during the colony wars. You hold his hand when he has to take his medications and help tune up his arm before he has a shower. Falling into bed afterward is easy, with slow and thoughtful love-making before you both go to sleep.

The next few days are harder. There are so many people on the citadel now, and he starts to get overwhelmed, fidgeting. You fight when he says he wants a gun because he isn’t allowed one - even if he can sneak one into your home. He roars and spits because he needs to protect you and himself. But you both know how he gets with guns now. It’s why they took away his biotic amps too. Not just out of fear of how strong he could be, but how he got when he had those tools.

It was more of a fear that he’d hurt himself instead of just anyone. He had tried that a few times, shortly after the end of the Reapers and his indoctrination began to subside. It still hurt, to find him waking because you’d hear him. Sometimes mumbling and other times whispering. One time you heard him, repeating to himself after a nightmare: “Sovereign took my eyes. I can’t see anymore. None of the colors are real.”

You manage to stop arguing each night before bed, so you never fall asleep angry at one another. The thought of phoning his therapist still lingers in your brain, but on the fourth day, you wake to find your bed has a much smaller, different figure lying beside you.

It’s a penguin, you realize, reaching out to touch it. A toy penguin with a scarf that was far too big had been tied carefully around it. Your fingers run along the scarf, and a soft sound leaves your throat.

When you go downstairs, he’s making breakfast for you both. You make sure your footsteps are loud, that he knows that it’s you before you move to wrap your arms around his small waist from behind.

“I love you.” You whisper.

“I know.” One hand comes down to rest upon your own. Talons gliding over your fingers. “I’m not good at this, I wasn’t even before - everything, but I… I want to try. I want to be better again.”

He would never be the spectre he once was. But he could be better, be the hero that the citadel had once seen him to be. Charismatic, powerful; a leader. At the same time, if he didn’t want to be, you’d be fine with him like this. Just being your Saren, your partner, and trying to be happy.

You think being happy would be a good ending for both of you. “I know.”

Saren usually pauses now, before he speaks. As though reassuring himself that his thoughts are his own, to explain his own reasoning in his head before he lets it out. But this he says quickly, as though he feared when he had forgotten to say it. “I love you too.”

Talons and fingers hold together, as the smells of two different meals fill the house.

#I'm still working on how to format these lil ficlets #mass effect #saren arterius #saren arterius x reader #saren x reader #mass effect x reader #daily december

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unfair-water-plane · 3 months

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So, in the theme of sharing headcanons while I should be working, I would like to present my thoughts on the Prothean beacon, and what exactly it did.

We know that Saren is trying to find the relay that hides Ilos and the way into the Citadel that was locked, but if that’s the case why didn’t it explode when Saren activated it? We see that he activates it, and later that he is furious that Shepard gets their hands on it.

But he had to know Shepard doesn’t have what they needs to access it, and is unlikely to get the support needed to access it. So why the fury?

Or is it fear?

So my theory is this: at some point the Protheans on Eden Prime, which was clearly advanced enough to build a cryogenic facility that would shelter a million souls, figured out how to block indoctrination. By the time they managed it there was no salvaging their cycle, so they buried it for the souls who were sleeping, to prevent another reaper victory.

But that’s doesn’t happen. The Protheans don’t wake. And just like Ilos, the beacon can sense when someone already enthralled touches it, so Saren-who is maybe already feeling the creeping doom and is desperate for a way to prevent it- doesn’t get what he needs.

But Shepard does. For a prothean the shield would have settled in place in the space of a moment, but their human mind is less compatible with this sort of communication, and it takes hours. Hours that his brain is running at capacity, as every fiber with being costed and guarded by this last desperate gift from a race long dead.

And is now the galaxy has one person immune to the Reapers, and that changes everything. Of course the Illusive Man will pay anything to bring them back unchanged— brilliant leader or no he *needs* that ability. No wonder Shepard doodle their way around and never get a twinge.

Of course Harbinger knows Shepards name—and is afraid. This could change everything.

And so Saren hates them all the more— because he is doomed, and the commanders victory is Al the harder the quash.

#mass effect #headcanon #commander shepard #protheon #indoctrination #the illusive man #saren arterius #just my thoughts

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meekmedea · 2 months

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au where coriolanus is bit by the snakes instead of clemmie!

Ooh this is a really cool one to think about!

Alright, some assumptions before we get to the 5 things: No matter what, someone was going to get bit when they handed in the assignment (Even if Arachne lived). It was always going to be some sort of lesson for Coriolanus. And let's go off the book's events of how the bite went (it feels a bit more sinister imo).

Coriolanus' biggest mistake is getting Clemmie's scent on him as they went through the citadel. (Holding her hand? Awkwardly trying to comfort her for Arachne's death?) But this is where it all goes wrong. They both agree that they worked on it and Gaul doesn't give any info about the snakes besides move slowly. Coriolanus goes first. When he reaches in, he gets bit because of Clemmie's scent on him (it being foreign).

Because neither of them know that foreign scents = getting bit; Clemmie has no qualms telling Tigris and her parents about it.

When she tries to visit, she gets the excuses that her parents/other friends would have gotten: Oh he's sleeping. He doesn't want to see anyone.

Swapping their canon interaction after the arena explosion. He finds her, and shows her what has happened. Unlike Coriolanus in canon, she is more determined to get him out. And she does through her father's influence. As ambitious as she is, I don't think she'd have been the same as Coryo in canon (besides, to have him owe her a favour is never a bad thing...)

Unsure who would win now if nobody knows about the foreign scent (I feel like Gaul never bothered to finish her explanation once Coryo got bit). Reaper? Treech?

#thanks for stopping by!#answered asks #tbosas #clemensia dovecote #coriolanus snow #swap au: coryo gets bit by the snakes instead #au ask game

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ripley95 · 6 months

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A Spectre's Proposal

Chapter 1

Pairing: f!Shepard/Kaidan Alenko

Rating: T

Chapter Length: 3.1K

Summary:

More than a year has passed since the Reaper War ended, and Kaidan and Jane have settled right into domestic life while they contribute to the rebuilding efforts on Earth. As normalcy begins to set in, so do old problems. News hits of piracy out in the Traverse when the Council calls on them for a secret mission only the two of them can fulfil. The nature of the mission leads them to think about what they want from their relationship.

Read the full chapter on AO3

Sample:

Jane woke up to her alarm in protest. She forced her eyes open despite wishing she could go back to sleep. It was a Tuesday. The worst day of the week. No longer rested from the weekend, and still with the majority of the week left to go.

This was never a problem she had on active duty. There was always so much to do that the days blurred together and the concept of regular sleeping hours was a fabrication. There was no such thing as a weekend, and they were lucky to get shore leave whenever it was granted. To have to wake up for a morning shift still felt so foreign, but here she was, still working the desk job that was assigned to her by Admiral Hackett almost exactly a year ago upon her return to Vancouver after the war. The only difference is that now it was a choice she made to stay here, rather than her only option.

When she was initially assigned the role, it was because her injuries from the war prevented her active status, but since then, she’d gone through rigorous physical therapy on top of her endurance and strength training. She ensured her certifications were up to date. She was fit for duty if she wanted it, but she and Kaidan decided they didn’t mind taking some time for themselves before getting back into it. It gave them a chance to reconnect without being pulled away on different assignments, desperate for some shore leave together. Being tied to a desk may not have been her first choice, but it granted them real and genuine time together, which was a gift she’d take a thousand times over.

As it was, there was no war to speak of, making the decision to stay at a desk a little more palatable, and this way, they got to carpool to work together. They ate lunch together most days and came home to each other every night. They went hiking up Grouse Mountain and went swimming in English Bay. And they even got to spend holidays with Kaidan’s family in the Interior. In fact, they’d be going back there soon for his sister’s one-year anniversary. Kaidan showed her Vancouver, and they took their time to appreciate life while still being able to contribute to the rebuilding efforts, of which there weren’t many left to speak of. Things were almost back to normal at this point. The relays were mostly repaired. The Citadel was back up and functioning in its new location over London. Things were better than she ever could have dreamed of, even if her job was a little monotonous and she hated waking to an alarm.

Jane was starting to feel sleep pull her under again when she finally fought against it. She’d spent enough time procrastinating in bed. Sun was already lighting up their room, and work beckoned. She turned over to see Kaidan’s side of the bed was already empty and tucked in as much as possible with her still sleeping on the other side. Jane smiled at the thought and how ingrained the habit was for him to do it even while she still occupied half the space. She stood up and tucked in her own side of the bed, not wanting to get a reputation for being the sloppy one, even though, of the two of them, she was definitely the one with that reputation already. When she was done, she went to take what was supposed to be a quick shower, and as with most mornings, she lost track of time. She got dressed in a hurry and ran to the kitchen. Her hair was still wet from the rush.

#f!shenko #f!shepard #kaidan alenko #mass effect fanfiction #fanfiction #mass effect #romance #fluff #fake engagement #my writing

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n7cloacadestroyer · 6 months

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Mass Effect's overall plot is a lot of fun, but any fan will tell you straight up that it isn't the tightest run ship. Major sections of the trilogy's overall plot are moved forward by contrivance, and established lore has a reputation for being tossed out the airlock because the dev team thought of something cool. That said, one (1) of the things that irks me the most is something I don't often see talked about--the Citadel Relay.

So here's the reaper's plan, in paraphrase:

Leave one (1) guy behind and fuck off to dark space to get that good sleep.

Oneguy turns on power saver mode and keeps an eye on the meatbags.

Fleshies find mass relays and citadel; use them.

Open murder hole to let the squad through.

Make meatbag soup

Return to step one

Now if something were to go wrong with step four, you'd have quite the pain in the ass in your future if you're a reaper.

Thought experiment: You're leaving your house for the day. You don't want anyone to just wander in, but you obviously need to get back inside later. Do you… A. Lock the door and take the key with you? B. Have someone house sit? C. Leave one of the back windows unlocked and hope no one notices? D. Train your cat to unlock the door when it hears you whistle?

Admittedly that last option would be cool, albeit contrived and prone to failure. For some reason though, the reapers went with that one. And surprisingly enough, someone eventually broke in and retrained their cats. The reapers don't have a single dialogue exchange in the entire series that doesn't include a small diatribe about their intellectual superiority, yet they have no contingency in place for this.

So it's already pretty silly at this point, but it actually gets a little sillier when you realize what the game takes care to avoid explicitly stating--the reapers obviously have a mass relay with them in dark space. One that links to the hub of the relay network but is for some reason isolated from it. They don't even have a backup that just like… links to the Serpent Nebula relay.

I know what some of you are probably thinking. That the closed circuit with the Citadel relay is meant to ensure that the reapers aren't stumbled upon while they're schleepin™. As Vigil states, "In this state, they are vulnerable." So turn it off. We've already established that relays can be deactivated, and that a capital ship like Sovereign can manually open them as it attempted to do with the Citadel. Link that bad boy to the whole network, turn it on when you get the signal, killallhumans.exe ggnore.

Now we turn our attention to Mass Effect 2, which establishes that there is an active relay beyond from which no one has ever returned. So the galactic community put their heads together and came up with a plan--stick some warning signs near it and let the problem take care of itself. Literally just throw hands up and move on. So if the reapers just killed everyone who came through their super secret clubhouse relay? Maybe put some of those weird Collector Laser Probes to take out the stragglers? They'd probably be fine.

Eventually we learn that the relay leads into the galactic core, and that it checks for a reaper IFF system to engage more accurate protocols to avoid throwing friendly vessels into a supermassive black hole or the hundreds of stars it's throwing around at nearly light speed. So now we've established that at least one relay has an Identify Friend Foe system. Mass Effect 3 further establishes that the IFF system is only usable by the Normandy because of EDI, who explains that the IFF is more of a thinking intelligence than a simple program. So if you aren't an AI, or don't have the help of one, you're kind of screwed.

Shame they couldn't use that technology for anything else. Barring access to certain relays, for example.

Recall the Arrival DLC. Commander Shepard vaporizes ~300,000 colonists because the Viper Nebula/Alpha relay is, and I quote, "their shortcut to the rest of the galaxy." If the reapers had even a single one of these contingencies in place, humanity would've likely arrived to an empty Citadel in a new cycle. They would've had their shortcut already, and there wouldn't be anything to be done about it.

Given that their plan is actually quite flawed, there are only a few explanations that I can think of:

The reapers are actually kind of stupid.

The Catalyst intentionally designed the "reaper solution" to be imperfect. To give the meatbags a chance, I guess?

The biomechanical nature of reaper construction has caused them to inherit more traits from the organics that facilitated their construction than any of them seem to freely admit. Namely arrogance, in this case. You'll notice that Harbinger does talk with the same aloof superiority that the Leviathan use when talking to Shepard in ME3, whereas Sovereign's dialogue reads as something more akin to disgust or hatred.

Development was rushed and somewhat troubled for every Mass Effect game to date, and many of the gaps we see are a result of content being cut to get the game out the door on time.

In all honesty, it's most likely some combination of 3 and 4, but it's kind of frustrating. It's not surprising that so many people write no reaper AUs and/or headcanon a Destroy ending that doesn't kill the geth and EDI simply to fit the framing as the Renegade option. Mass Effect, in the minds of most fans, is a character driven narrative. The reapers aren't really characters. There are only two of them that have names, and only three who actually speak. They're mostly just an excuse to make the plot happen.

If the intention was to imply that the reapers are literal mechanical mass graves haunted by the metaphorical ghosts of the civilizations harvested in their creation? I'm on board. The problem is that we're never told that, and we aren't given enough interaction with different reapers to come to that conclusion definitively ourselves. May as well just call 'em Harby and the Boys, cause it's clear from the outset that Harbinger is the only one that the narrative intends to give even the tiniest amount of weight after Sovereign is destroyed.

The reapers are a constant presence during the trilogy, and yet we only meaningfully interact with four, and that's if you're counting Sovereign's half brother Sluggard.

#mass effect #mass effect trilogy #mele #mass effect lore #reapers #sovereign #harbinger #half-brother sluggard #he's lookin for some payback #I mentioned Leviathan during this post and now I'm mad #spoilers #mass effect spoilers #op #text

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commander-krios · 1 month

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Food For Thought

Fandom: Mass Effect Pairing: Jeff "Joker" Moreau/James Vega Rating: Teen Summary: There are two things Joker associates with James Vega: food and jokes. Not particularly in that order. As they're preparing for the final push against Cerberus and the Reapers, Joker's surprised to find there is a lot more beneath the marine's muscular exterior. More he's willing to explore if they get the chance. Words: 3883 Additional Tags: Mass Effect: Citadel, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Friendship, Love, Crushes, Comfort Food, Pre-relationship, Pining

Written for @hatboyexchange, for @ginbiscuit, hope you like it!

Read on AO3

The scent of eggs and bacon was the first thing his brain registered when he woke. That, and something spicy, like hot sauce. With a groan, Jeff Moreau shifted against the mattress, bones and muscles protesting the movement even with the new and improved bone weave. He was tempted to lie there, stare at the ceiling of Shepard's new apartment, and possibly drift off again. Wouldn't that be lovely, to not have to deal with the reality of their situation: the Reapers, and Cerberus, and the possibility of the extermination of the entire galaxy. To pretend, like all of the other idiots on the Citadel, that the Reapers didn't exist, that there wasn't a war waging in space, that everything wasn't going to shit.

It took his body a few more minutes before he could even sit on the edge of the bed, the alcohol he'd drank the night before leaving him sluggish, tired, perhaps a tad hungover, but he'd never admit such a thing even under torture.

Sighing, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, trying to focus on the fancy closet sitting directly across from the bed, filled with nothing. Each shelf was as empty as the next, a parallel to their lives. Dust had settled on the flat surface, untouched in who knows how many years. Living out of a locker on a starship was difficult, stuffed into close corridors with other soldiers with barely any privacy, but the empty closet made Joker almost miss it. Living in an apartment this big, all alone with no one else to bump into in the halls, felt altogether too lonely for him. The apartment was too quiet this early in the morning, no gentle hum of the mass effect core to make him feel one with the universe.

Shaking the thought away, Joker forced himself to his feet, immediately regretting that he'd left his crutches on the ship. He rarely used them anymore; the only thing Cerberus had been good for was the medical tech they'd invested in him, but after the amount of alcohol he'd drank, a little extra help wouldn't have sucked.

Joker shuffled out of the spare room, only to find the rest of the party goers sprawled in random places throughout the apartment. Cortez was sleeping on one of the couches, curled underneath the flimsiest of blankets. Jack had thrown herself on the floor, a pile of pillows she'd scrounged up masquerading as a makeshift bed. A groan from the bathroom behind him alerted him to Grunt's location. Shaking his head, Joker left them all to their suffering and worked his way down the too big staircase, hoping he wouldn't slip and break his neck on the landing. A pathetic way to end his career.

He could see the headlines already: Hotshot pilot with a freighter sized ego dead due to his own hubris.

He guaranteed that Shepard would find that hilarious.

Pausing at the bottom of the staircase, he found a similar situation to the one above spread across the living area. Couches were occupied, piles of pillows and blankets hiding sleeping people, all dead to the galaxy outside... and well, the delicious smells from the kitchen inside. Idiots, every single one of them. There was nothing stopping him from grabbing whatever food Kaidan was frying up. It smelled even better than the food he occasionally cooked on the Normandy.

Entering the kitchen, massive compared to the one on the ship, Joker stopped short when it wasn't Kaidan hovering over the eggs on the stove, but James Vega.

Ok, that was unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome.

While he might've preferred Kaidan's company most days, and Shepard was always a good option number two as far as friends go, James Vega wasn't bad for a choice either. He might've been annoying at times, (to be fair, Joker found most people annoying), but his heart was in the right place and that made all the difference.

And no, it wasn't because Joker was starting to develop a slight crush on the marine. If anyone said that, he'd call bullshit on them. Jeff Moreau did not do crushes.

Joker cleared his throat as loudly as he could. Vega glanced over his shoulder, taking in his sudden appearance with a grin and nodded towards one of the empty stools at the island.

"Hey, Hatboy! You're the first one awake! Come, hang out. How do you like your eggs?"

Joker didn't like his eggs in any way because he never ate them. 9.9999 times out of 10, they were from an animal he'd never heard of before. And even he had his limits when it came to eating random space fare.

"Eggs? Where did you find eggs? And why am I afraid to know what system they came from?" Taking care not to jolt his aching joints, Joker managed to get onto the stool with little trouble. Letting out a relieved sound, he was surprised to see James watching him. "What?"

Motioning to the egg carton beside the stove, Joker was surprised to see the package claiming they were real chicken eggs. Huh, guess you really could get anything on the Citadel if you looked hard enough.

"So? Eggs?" James prompted again, turning back to the cooking, adding some seasoning to the ones currently frying. "I can make them any way you want. Scrambled, poached, over easy."

"Uh, whatever you think." Joker managed, not understanding anything he just said and not wanting to make a decision either way. "I'm not picky."

A blatant lie if there ever was one. But then again, everyone else would be up soon enough so it might not be hard to push his food onto one of their plates. With all of the biotics in this apartment, he was positive he could find someone.

Jack. She was always hungry. That would work.

Realizing he was stuck in his head, Joker glanced up to see that James was watching him again. He scrambled for an excuse, a distraction, something to turn the conversation away from him. "Uh... so you like to cook?"

Stupid, Joker. Great question. Of course the man who was always cooking on the Normandy liked to cook.

He would've slapped himself if he could guarantee he wouldn't break a hand doing it.

James chuckled, sliding the eggs he'd been cooking onto an empty plate before reaching over for a small bowl. He tossed some peppers and onions into the pan, the smell divine despite his usual dislike of both foods. Maybe... he could eat something if James made it.

The sudden realization made Joker flush, embarrassed by the direction his thoughts took. Why did it matter if it was Vega who cooked it? The man was a cooking machine, he'd probably cook for him every day if he asked. The very idea of waking up to a freshly cooked breakfast, to spend it with someone as likable as James Vega, was just a plus.

What the hell was wrong with him?

"My abuela taught me how to cook. She was amazing at everything she put her mind to. Huevos rancheros, tamales, pozole, sopes, flautas. She taught me what she could before she passed away." James cracked a couple eggs into the skillet next, breaking up the yellow center, the color bleeding into the whites. "She made it fun, even when I didn't want to do it. Without her, I'd be stuck on military rations."

"I'm sure we're all grateful." Joker muttered, glancing at the coffee machine and wondering if he could manage to make a pot before Shepard got his grubby hands on it. The last thing he needed after a night of heavy drinking was consuming an even heavier cup of sludge. But that would mean getting off of the stool and he might not make it to the machine before collapsing in a heap of broken bones.

"You can be sarcastic all you like, amigo, but when you try my eggs, you'll be changed for the rest of your life."

"Yeah, well, considering the rest of my life could only be a few days, I'm not sure if that's the compliment you're implying." Joker decided to risk it. Sliding off the stool, his knees and ankles protested when he landed on the floor, and he clung to the island for support, waiting for the pain to pass. Taking a breath through his nose, he let it out of his mouth in a hiss.

James looked at him in concern, pausing in his cooking to check in on him. "You ok, flyboy?"

"Yes." He snapped, eyes closed in pain as he counted backwards from twenty, trying to will some comfort into his limbs.

The sound of a plate sliding across the island caught his attention and Joker opened his eyes, only to find a plate of scrambled eggs with peppers and onions there, shredded cheese sprinkled along the top, only just melting from the heat of the food. Something red and chunky and totally disgusting looking sat off to the side.

"Here, eat. You look like you need something heavy after all that beer." He turned away, reaching into the cabinet for a pair of navy mugs with the Systems Alliance symbol etched on them. "I'll grab you that cup of coffee."

Joker felt his anger immediately evaporate at Vega's words. He pulled himself onto the stool again, lifting up the fork next to his plate. He wasn't entirely feeling well enough to eat. Especially when it was something that looked like it'd already been eaten once. "You, uh, you don't have to do that."

Vega chuckled, filling both cups with steaming black coffee. "I know I don't, but I like doing it. When someone comes into my kitchen, I take care of them."

Joker raised an eyebrow at his statement, ignoring how his heart hammered when Vega leaned forward to place the mug next to him, his large arms flexing beneath his shirt. "Your kitchen, huh? I'm sure Shepard might have something to say about that."

"Hey, Loco doesn't need all of this space for himself. And we both know he'll never use the kitchen." James laughed again, a deep and low chuckle that was warm, affectionate, teasing.

Joker felt his cheeks heat and he ducked his head towards his plate, pushing some food around with the fork in his hand. As kind as Vega was being, Joker didn't think he could eat. His stomach was churning, his neck damp with sweat, his hands shaking as he tried to reach for the coffee. He nearly knocked the cup over, the sudden jarring of the mug spilling coffee over the sides and onto the counter.

Maybe he wasn't ok.

"Is something wrong with the food, jefe?" James leaned on the island, arms crossed in front of him, a soft look on his face. "I can make you something different if you don't like eggs."

"I..." Jeff let out a tight breath, trying to calm the nervous flutter in his stomach. "It's fine. I think I drank too much last night. My stomach feels weird."

James hummed, nodding as if he understood. Maybe he did, but with the amount of muscle mass he carried around, there was no way that Vega got as drunk as Joker did on the same number of drinks. And Vega didn't seem to imbibe as much as some of the others did.

"I have a remedy for hangovers. Used to get a lot of them during my early days in basic." James waved to the plate in front of him. "Eggs and coffee are great and all, but I make a protein shake that would perk you right up."

The thought of choking down some thick liquid concoction turned his stomach and he covered his nose, trying to fight against the overwhelming nausea. "No... thanks."

James watched him briefly, almost as if he too was waiting to see if Joker lost whatever was left in his stomach on top of the food. When he didn't, the marine smiled and took the fork from him, shoving the eggs into his own mouth instead. Joker felt an immediate sense of relief and his stomach settled slightly, enough that he could sip on the hot coffee without dropping the mug.

"You don't know what you're missing, jefe." Vega practically inhaled the food, the plate cleared in the matter of minutes. He deposited the empty plate into the sink before turning back to where Joker was still drinking his bitter drink. "Let me cook for you."

"I don't know, Vega-"

If Vega cooked for him, did that mean he'd owe him something? Joker didn't like owing people. He'd never be able to repay him, and if either of them died while they were fighting the Reapers, that would be an unfulfilled obligation that would haunt him well into the afterlife... if there was one.

Most likely, they would all die a painful death and suffer as husks for the rest of eternity.

"You spend all of your time at the helm. And I know we don't have time for a decent meal on the Citadel," James rubbed the back of his neck, glancing away nervously towards where the dirty dishes sat. He stared at them briefly, as if thinking through what he wanted to say before he said it. "But I'm good at improvising. And we could both use a good meal before we get to Cronos Station."

Joker didn't have a response to that. "I guess that makes sense."

When James smiled at him brightly, he didn't want to investigate why the idea made his heart pound even harder.

~~~~~

"20 hours until Cronos Station." Shepard's voice echoed over the comm, sounding weary yet determined despite it all. This was what they'd been heading towards, the final confrontation with Cerberus... with the Illusive Man.

Not so illusive anymore, are you, asshole?

With a tired sigh, Joker set the autopilot and leaned back into his fancy pilot's seat. Another expense written off as necessary when Cerberus was his boss. If you wanted a comfortable and well rested pilot (since he tended to nap in his chair majority of the time), you provided said pilot with the best of the best. And leather seats were well worth the price tag.

But everything the organization had done, before and after he and Shepard's time with Cerberus... yeah, he didn't know if selling his soul was worth the leather seats in the end.

"Am I interrupting anything, jefe?"

The nickname alerted Joker immediately to who was in his cockpit with him, and the familiarity of it made him blush. Pulling at the brim of his hat to hide his face, he shifted forward, tapping out a correction in their trajectory. There was no reason to end up in the middle of a star because Vega was distracting.

"Interrupting? Oh, nothing at all. Only the possibility of flying into an asteroid field or being in the path of a Reaper. You know, the things we're supposed to be avoiding until we get to Earth."

Joker couldn't help but glance at James out of the corner of his eye. The sarcasm hadn't been lost on him if the smirk on his face was any indication.

Vega glanced at the terminal that projected their path. Then he glanced at the viewport above them, the blue of the mass effect fields surrounding their ship, a beautiful swirl of blues that made him feel at home. Even beyond that, the glittering of thousands of stars against a velvet black space could be seen, reminding them all of how large the galaxy was. And how small they were.

"I don't see any Reapers out there."

"Oh but they're there, Vega. Lurking in the shadows like the monsters your parents told you about as a kid."

"I didn't have nightmares about squid monsters when I was a kid."

"Well, unfortunately, that's what we've got." Joker looked at the viewport above them as well, taking in the sight and wondering if his family was safe somewhere. Dad and Gunny... he didn't want to think about it too hard, but they were always there in the corner of his mind. Lurking much like the Reapers did in dark space. "And they're a nightmare for billions of other people now."

James made a low noise in his throat. "True enough."

Jeff tried to ignore him as James sat in EDI's vacant seat, his burly build looking out of place among the sleek leather, but found it difficult to despite being irritated at the interruption. Not only did James Vega take up a lot of space, but his personality was as large as his arms. There was barely a chance that he'd be able to ignore him for long.

The two of them sat without speaking, staring at the stars out of the viewport, the hum of the mass effect field the only thing to break the silence. It was... comfortable which surprised Joker. There weren't many people he could sit with like this and just exist. Especially when existing was difficult enough without having to fight for it.

Vega shifted and Joker could feel his gaze on him. "Hey, jefe, I brought you something."

The man leaned forward with a small blue food container held out in his enormous hand, letting it dangle in the space between them. Joker eyed it with skepticism, not entirely sure he trusted whatever it was being offered.

"What the hell is that?"

James laughed quietly, shaking it slightly while still holding it out. "Take it and look."

Joker's eyebrows came together, but he couldn't help the curiosity he felt. He hesitated briefly before finally taking the container. "You aren't trying to poison me, are you?"

"Why would I poison the man flying the ship? That seems like a bad end for me."

"As if EDI couldn't just fly the ship without me." Joker opened the container despite his morbid jokes, finding some sort of pastry looking thing there. It was still warm to the touch, the scent of dough and some sort of spicy meat greeting his nose. He'd barely eaten much more than an Alliance issued protein bar and lots of coffee, anything to keep him awake while they careened towards their inevitable destruction. His stomach betrayed him and immediately grumbled at the sight of the food. Still...

He slanted his eyes in James' direction, not bothering to hide his suspicion.

"Don't look at me like that."

Joker grinned, his mood turning to something less depressing, even if it would last for only a moment. "What's this for? Some sort of revenge for me not eating the eggs this morning? Did you throw so many spices in here that I'm going to be farting fire for weeks?"

"You don't trust anybody, do you?"

"It's kept me alive this long."

"That's no way to live, man. Believe me, it'll eat you alive." James turned his gaze to the controls, watching the flickering orange lights.

"I can't imagine you ever being upset." Joker muttered, lifting the tiny pie looking thing and turning it in his hands to inspect. It didn't look like it'd been tampered with. So he leaned closer, sniffing it for any sign of something weird. All he smelled was what could've possibly been beef.

"It takes a lot of work to smile in times like these."

Fair enough.

Joker decided to take the risk and eat the thing in his hand, if only for Vega's sake. Why waste perfectly good food? The first bite was flaky, the pastry dough breaking into tiny pieces on his tongue. It was followed by the spicy beef and vegetables filling, and for a brief moment, Jeff Moreau thought the Reapers had blown up the Normandy again because there was no way that this type of food existed in reality. He must be dead and in some sort of culinary heaven.

A little moan slipped past his lips. He immediately flushed red at Vega's chuckle.

"That good, jefe?"

With a mouth full, Joker tried his best not to blush deeper. "Shut up."

Crumbs spilled onto his uniform and he brushed them off, embarrassed at how easy it was to get to him.

Dammit, Moreau. It was just food. No need to get all worked up over it.

He was grateful that there was no one other witness to his embarrassment besides Vega himself.

Glancing up at the optical sensors above the helm, he realized that wasn't true. There was no way that EDI hadn't heard everything. And she'd definitely give him shit for it.

James laughed again, but this time, the sound was a bit more free than it'd been before. It made Joker feel... good. A strange feeling, to be sure, but he liked it when Vega smiled. Maybe a little too much, but there was something soft and good and comforting about James Vega that most people lacked. Joker didn't trust easily, minus the trust and respect he had for Shepard and Kaidan (and EDI, as strange as their friendship was). But Vega was someone he knew he could trust, even if he wasn't entirely sure why.

"Why do you do it?" Joker asked quietly, putting what was left of his food back into the container. "The food and the nicknames? What's the point?"

Sighing, Vega let his gaze fall to his hands that were now settled in his lap. He was quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts possibly, but Joker knew what it felt like to be questioned about the things he did to make himself feel better... to protect himself.

Finally, Vega glanced at him, expression full of determination and a softness that Joker wasn't expecting. "The point is to make people smile, even when they don't feel like there's a reason to. The galaxy is burning and there are monsters hiding in the dark, but we have something they don't have. Love. Hope. We have people we can rely on and people we're here to protect. Even if it's only for a brief moment, we have everything. And I intend on loving everyone until I'm spacedust."

Not much could get an emotional reaction out of Joker past anger. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so strongly about anything, nowhere as much as James clearly felt about this. But it was important to him, that was obvious, but for some unknown reason, all Joker could get out was a "That's.... uh... something."

"You can say it's stupid."

"No, it's not- I never thought about it that way." Joker cleared his throat, staring at the pastry in the little container in his hands. So much consideration was put into something so small. James Vega was too good for this cruel galaxy. After another moment of silence, Joker somehow found his voice. "Thanks for the food."

"Plenty more where that came from." Vega promised him with a little smile. "All you have to do is ask."

Joker smiled back, accepting Vega's offer with a newfound appreciation. Maybe... maybe there could be something there. Maybe there was something to hope for, something to fight for past survival.

Maybe there was a future waiting for him after the war.

#mass effect #mass effect trilogy #mass effect 3 #me3 fanfic #my writing #hatboy exchange #jeff joker moreau #jeff moreau #joker moreau #james vega #joker x vega #joker moreau x james vega #voker

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sparatus · 2 months

Note

Kicks down door

Any ship, you know my faves of yours. #20. Pls

kiss prompts

well. you did go insane for absolution. so here we go

20. on a scar - Garrus/Citadel DLC Turian, no-Reapers AU

>>[Read on AO3]<<

He's dreaming, he thinks, when he wakes up to blurry emptiness. No gunfire, no engines, no screaming. No Sidonis. Just peaceful silence. The world around him is shades of white, blobs of mass he can't fully process. He sees the shadows more than he sees whatever's making them. It's warm, but not too warm, and he's lying on something firm but soft.

His face hurts. Everything hurts, but especially his face, and his neck, and his cowl. His nerves can't even tell him what's wrong, there's so much pain. Shattered and set on fire and pulled apart, all at once. It can't be a dream, not if he hurts this much. A pitiful, guttural groan crawls out of the raw wound where his throat used to be and punctures the silence.

Immediately, the shadows move, a blur of white and green rushing to his side. "Shh, shh," a familiar voice soothes, but she's muffled, far away, and he just groans again. "Shh, Garrus, I'm here, I'm with you, you're safe."

Glittering gold laces down through the white as the blur kneels down. Curried telal and flowers just barely masking days of unwashed stress and fear tickle his nose, the first clear sensation he's gotten, and he sucks in a greedy breath, drinking her in like her scent alone will wash everything away. He can only taste her on one side of his tongue.

A shaking hand touches his crest, close to where his head lies on the pillow, not daring to approach the burning field. "Spirits, Blue, you had me scared shitless," she breathes.

Her subvocals are wobbly, like she'd lost the ability to weep days ago but still has emotion left to shed. She still sounds underwater. He whimpers and tugs on the stiff, angry muscles under his jaw, but the skin erupts in pain again, and he can only gasp. She trills alarm, and her other hand finds his, twines their fingers and squeezes tight. "Hey, hey, shh, don't- Here, just a moment..."

More shadows, something beeped, and cooling water flowed through his veins to wash over the wounds. "There, Blue, morphine." The murmur laps against him, but he can barely feel it. All is quiet. There's gold ribbons in front of him again. His breath leaves his lungs in a wheezy sigh, and she leans in until he can see the sapphires between the gold. "Shh, baby, it's alright. I'm here." Another squeeze on his hand. "I'm here."

His heart aches in his chest, and his lungs crackle as he inhales. "Where..?"

"Citadel." The hand on his crest keeps stroking, keeps smoothing away the nightmares he's been drowning in. "Nihlus brought you and his mom to Dren'kewen for emergency treatment. Dr. Samaritus doesn't think you'd've survived otherwise."

She's quiet, so quiet. His eyes strain to focus, but the image won't turn clear. Sapphires hang in loops of beautiful gold. "Shepard..?"

The sapphires vanish, and the blur shakes back and forth slowly. "Still out in Terminus. It's classified beyond that." Her thumb-claw delicately traces a crack in his brow plate. "Don't worry about them. You need to focus on healing."

His chest is heavy, and his heart just sinks deeper into it. How can he just not worry about them, when he's the reason they were in danger at all? "What about..?"

"Shhh." She leans in again, and he closes his eyes. Maybe when he opens them again, he'll be able to see again. "You're lucky you still have a skull, Blue." Tentative fingers brush over the tender flesh that used to be on fire. When he doesn't flinch, they're replaced by mouth plates, just barely there, not daring to kiss him too hard in case he shatters again. "Nihlus will explain once you're a little more conscious. Go back to sleep."

His heart climbs into his throat again, but her hand still holding his keeps it from rising any further. "I'm right here."

#press conference #korblez #ierian's writing #vakarennis #garrus vakarian #tasora rennis #citadel dlc turian woman #exdiff #if you look closely you can see the hinting that the rocket partially blinded and deafened him

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continuous-spec · 7 months

Text

ME Fic: The Messages In Between Ch.1

Summary: Shepard and Garrus messages to each other throughout the events of the Reaper War.

Link: Ao3

Notes: GST: Galatic Standard Time. Cycles are one-day cycle of the Citadel per the GST. One Orbit has 40 Cycles. There are ten Orbits in a GST year. 2686 GS is also 2186 for the Alliance.

Galactic Standard Time: Cycle 20, Orbit 9, 2686. Day 6 of the Reaper War.

Garrus breathed in the stale air of his cabin, trying to relax in his makeshift cot. He had been without sleep for almost two days.

Four days since the Reapers hit Palaven and six days since they hit Earth. Six days without contact with the Sol system. Six days not knowing if Shepard was still alive.

Garrus rubbed his brow plates, trying to push the thoughts of her out of his head. He needed to sleep. He had spent the last two hours stuck on top of a comm tower, sniping any reaper forces within scope of Vitcus' men—All while fixing the comm tower too. That was somehow just this morning. Garrus' mind whirled with fog without sleep, trying to keep track of the time. He needed to rest, but the adrenaline still kept him stirring in bed.

Just as he felt himself drifting to sleep, his omni-tool pinged dozens of times. Messages upon messages poured in. Almost all from the same source: Datapad Model OXIV, Alliance Addition. Garrus shot up out of the cot, trying to scan the messages. The words shifted and moved with his exhaustion, but there was no way he could sleep now.

***

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 30, Orbit 4, 2686]

Garrus, It’s Shepard. I'm sending this out. Hotwired a datapad they’re allowing me to have to prep evidence. I doubt the Alliance is reading. I'm pretty sure they won't notice when this datapad goes missing, either.

Give the Hierarchy hell, and hopefully, we’ll get somewhere with it.

Send back if you can. I think this is going out?

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 35, Orbit 4, 2686]

House arrest, you got to be fucking kidding me. Is this on the news? Can you see this? I’m sure Khalisah is having a field day with this.

At least Joker can still get on the Normandy. I'm stuck. Maybe I'll take you up on that offer to break me out. You know, we can steal the Normandy again, too, just like old times.

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 5, Orbit 5, 2686]

You’d hate this. It’s all pointless jabbering. Tribunal after tribunal. They won’t listen. Aratoht is all they care about. I’ve shown them the proof. They keep putting their heads in the sand.

Do you know that saying? Does it even translate? It just means that, as always, they’re ignoring the real problem. Why is that not a surprise?

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 15, Orbit 5, 2686]

Did you know today is my birthday? On Earth its April 11th. I'm only a little disappointed you didn't get me a gift.

I think I’m 32 or 30. Does being dead count towards age? Do turians celebrate birthdays?

30 is a big one, a big milestone for humans. When I was a teenager, I never thought I would get to it running with the Reds. I guess, technically, I didn’t get to celebrate it. Humans don't generally celebrate it in a jail cell either.

I just wish you were here with me for it. We could have shared another glass of wine. Among other things…

Right now, I’m so bored that I’m trying to figure out how to make prison wine. Hopefully, I won’t go blind.

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 23, Orbit 5, 2686]

If I could go without hearing about the Reds for one more day, I might not scream. They have spent a week dissecting my time with the Reds. Seriously? I left them when I joined the Alliance. I’m just some drugged-out teen junkie on Red Sand to them still.

When do we stop paying for the sins of youth?

I hope this is getting to you. I hope you’re getting further than I am. Good thing you left. Imagine both of us in an Alliance interrogation room?

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 25, Orbit 5, 2686]

Want to take any bets on how long until the Reapers are here? I'll give it two more months. that what like three orbits? You think the Councils cares?

What are you wagering? How about we wager like we did with Strip Skyllian-Five? This isn't a bet I want to win this time though. Even if I like seeing you in your skivs.

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 29, Orbit 5, 2686]

Still no answer from you. You playing hard to get Vakarian?

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 37, Orbit 5, 2686]

The prison wine is nasty, almost as bad as the stuff you brought last time. Still not blind, although I am having visions of you pinning me up against the aquarium. Did I get you blushing yet?

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 1, Orbit 6, 2686]

I’d like to think you’re just playing hard to get, and I’m not just sending these off into the ether. It's hard doing one-sided sexting you know?

No one tells you how boring prison is, even with the datapad. I wish they’d give me a keyboard so I can practice. Also, to hotwire it to get a better signal to you.

Now I’m starting to know why they try to limit how much electronics I get. It’s the Alliance's fault, they trained me how to do this. Yeah, that’s the excuse I’m going for.

If you can, send a voice recording, I miss it. You I mean.

I miss you.

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 35, Orbit 6, 2686]

God, it’s so annoying. They have these guards watching me constantly. What do they think I’m going to do? Fight someone? or someones gonna fight me? Ridiculous.

It'd be nice to have some privacy to take care of myself since you're not here. I guess I'll just have to think about you in the shower...

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 15, Orbit 7, 2686]

I got tarred and feathered today by the Brass. This is totally something humans do, not an expression like the sand one. Don’t look it up. Just believe me.

If I have to hear one more thing about the geth, I might blow a gasket. Okay, now that one is an expression, although, with the cybernetics, I think that might be possible for me.