(_im)PERFECT

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ?

[cerberusofficer]

                            private, dash-only  role play  blog  for  MIRANDA LAWSON  from  MASS EFFECT,  written  by  hannah  ( aka frey ). +21,  mutuals  only,  est.  2014. #CERBERUSOFFICER ♡

 >>.   CARRD. | TRACKER | OPENs

[cerberusofficer]

/smooches the dash. i'm hoping to get some writing done during d&d but my allergies are wrecking me so no promises.

[mortt-artsy]

Better than you with Style 💅

[cerberusofficer]

♡ for a little something so i can get back into writing here

[mystofselune]

"An intact Geth would be invaluable to Cerberus's cyber weapons division."

[cerberusofficer]

so in my time away, i beat bl4, was re-hospitalized, and beat ghost of yotei and i'm... emotionally feral

[cerberusofficer]

@warplanet:

something  poetics  aches  in  the  back  of  her  mind  about  best  laid  plans  gone  awry,  a  festering  of  fumbling  begotten  ideals.   and  she  had  so  many  plans  —  too  many  to  count  and  hardly  enough  fingers  to  muster  such  concepts  (  one  of  shepard's  own  had  never  been  apart  of  this,  never  been  considered…  )  .

 to  say  that  she  had  planned  for  any  of  this  might  have  been  an  insult  to  her  own  character,  might  have  been  a  slight  upon  both  of  their  pride;  she  knows  he  thinks  higher  of  her  than  the  basest  of  needs.  but  oh,  those  needs,  those  wants  that  curl  in  her  belly  and  trickle  heat  between  her  thighs. 

muster  all  the  will  one  wants  and  yet  when  the  flutter  of  his  mandibles  and  purr  of  his  vocals  dare  to  hum  her  name  ?  she's  a  lost  woman  (  ever  so  beyond  the  bounds,  swimming  her  own  destitution  of  something  wanting  )  an  admission  not  easily  found.  and  yet  back  to  those  plans…  those  things  that  she  has  calculated,  formed  and  manifested  between  electric  thrill  and  biotic  hum,  between  kisses  she  laid  upon  his  brow,  and  those  that  he  attempted  to  press  against  the  column  of  her  throat.   she'd  better  a  lesser  creature  not  to  admit  that  such  things  unraveled  the  moment  talons  grasped  the  pliable  flesh  of  her  hips,  yanking  close  with  a  demanding  purchase  that  adoringly  disrespected  rank. 

such  things  happen  so  quickly,  she  supposes,  the  shedding  of  clothes  the  dotting  affections  and  the  petulant  command  of  either  of  their  voices  --  yours  , mine,  want,  NEED.  barbaric  inclinations  and  she  had  never  been  happier  as  when  she's  atop  him.  not  for  the  pinnacle  desire  or  the  rather  intent  interest  that’s  rather  sturdy  between  his  legs,  but  for  the  brush  of  her  forehead  against  his  as  she  sinks  upon  him. 

and how so that she  can’t  take  her  eyes  off  her  him  would  she  want  to,  a  matching  gaze  of  glacial  purpose  to  drown  herself  in  and  she  writhes  ever  so  --  is  that  a  gasp  that  leaves  her  tongue  and  forces  her  lips  to  smile,  a  whisper  of  a  laugh  murmuring  in  the  back  of  her  throat  as  her  fingers  settle  against  the  berth  of  his  chest  ?  it's the feel of his  talons  that dig  readily  into  her,  marring  pale  thighs that bring absolution;  marks  she'll  coo  at  fondly  upon  the  morning.  however  now,   she  demands  purchase,  demands  so  much  and  so  little  --  only  his  adoration  in  this  instance,  only  ever  him. 

[warplanet]

garrus loves a good firefight — he thrives within them, stretching his talents, performing at his peak, and yet... when @cerberusofficer is nearby, there's an air of worry to his actions. his eyes are a little sharper, browplates a little heavier over his gaze. she makes him like this; she's the one who causes these problems, makes him worry all the damn time. it's not that she's incapable of handling herself in the thick of battle (quite the opposite). it's... this nagging, perpetual fear lodged in the base of the turian's skull that makes him double-check every corner, watch every shot, and calculate twice the normal amount. for her, for her sake, he adds caution he'd never considered before — for miranda, garrus fights like a different beast. he's incensed. he's terrified.

i'm sorry i dragged you into this is the smallest modicum of ownership garrus could handle in that moment. miranda takes it well. ever the strategist, she divvies up the battlefield in sectors, syncing her biotic abilities with his gunfire. he deserves the remark about keeping up. "i hear you," he calls back, grunting, shoulder slamming into the barrier of cover they've unearthed near the back of this space. hidden, he gifts the human woman a quick look to check her shields (check her, make sure that outfit of hers isn't stained with blood) before carrying on with the battle. she lifts an enemy soldier. he squeezes off a round into their head. "nice one, lawson." finally, some levity. maybe now he can breathe and laugh again. she's safe. he's keeping her safe. they're okay. "onto the next one. if you lead, i'm right behind you."

[cerberusofficer]

it  pulses:  the  thrum  and  thrill  of  battle  that  is  -  in  her  very  marrow,  a  curling  desire  (bloodlust  by  brutish  name),  and  it  deigns  itself  so  very  sensual  as  she  watches  him  follow  her  orders,  decree,  and  direction  —  or  maybe  that's  something  else  that  she  feels  stir,  a  carnivorous  sensation  burrowed  deep.  what  a  hunger  that  seize  when  he  says  her  name  ( no,  not  miranda  -  that's  a  private  titillation),  but  lawson:  a  revulsion  seeps  in,  snarls  readily  as  biotics  flare  to  yank  yet  another  enemy  down  to  the  ground. 

pop  and  squish,  the  resistant  of  marrow  fighting  against  propulsion  resonates.  biotic  feedback  crawls  up  her  skin  as  she  vaults  herself  over  their  “cozy”  barricade,  determined  to  cut  a  path  with  him  beside  her.  rarely  has  she  put  such  trust  in  others  to  guard  her  assault;  he's  proven  as  much.  not  so  simply  by  staying  by  shepard's  side,  no  —  garrus  has  held  his  own,  shown  adaptive  teamwork,  a  care  for  those  around  him  beyond  the  bounds  of  duty;  she's  watched  him  balance  the  razors  edge  of  duty  and  dedication  many  times  before,  watched  the  fury  of  personal  righteousness  crash  against  the  fickle  ideal  of  order.   and  for  that  she  cares  for  every  shudder  of  his  shields,  every  careful  duck  he  makes  behind  cover  (  your  fringe,  vakarian,  she  oft  wants  to  call  but  perhaps  he  wants  to  be  seen  past  the  looming  and  ominous  barrel  of  a  sniper  scope).  and  beyond.   

a  quick  hit  to  her  shields  and  it's  moments  before  her  back  slams  against  a  shabby  cover,  head  jerking  towards  the  blue  suns  waiting  in  the  wings.  easy  pickings  for  the  two  of  them.   “   don't  embarrass  me,   ”  an  insult  if  it  weren't  for  the  purr  that  pulled  afterwards.  “   —   only  three  left.  care  to  show  me  why  shepard  keeps  you  around  ?  ”   oh, don't be coy now.

[normandied-deactivated20260125]

miranda's silent disapproval bounced off of jane completely - the latter much too focused on the pain at hand while adjusting her body to lean on the former. cold sweat now glazed her forehead, as the pain ran through her body in waves. there was also an itch, under her skin, her cybernetics slowly trying to regulate the pain and start the expedited healing. for a second, the unrealistic fear that her bone would start healing before it was properly set, creeped in, but jane pushed that thought quickly aside.

"good, because i do prefer mordin's bedside manner, too," she countered with a chuckle that quickly turned into a pained hiss. she turned her head towards the buzzing of the shuttle, face quickly showing her relief. "once again, i'm at your mercy, dr. lawson."

[cerberusofficer]

he's  as  likely  to  heal  you  as  he  is  to  shoot  you  —  a  particular  asari's  words  come  to  mind;  the  harsher  reality  of  a  true  healer.  miranda  never  had  to  delve  beyond  cadavers,  in  fact,  shepard  was  her  first  purview  into  the  mortuary  science  and  the  audacious  attempt  at  spiting  god  themselves.   ever  still,  the  quip  brings  a  snort  from  her.   

“  have  to  cut  the  leg  off,  stem  infection,  festering  in  the  wound  is…  ill  advised.  ”  she  mocks  under  her  breath,  her  tone  a  tittering  mimic.  yet  the  mention  of  mercy  draws  her  back  clear,  shoulder  hitching  to  better  steady  her  charge  borne  into  eternity.   “  —  you  were  never  at  my  mercy,  shepard.  otherwise  you'd  know  i  have  none  .  ”   

flickers  of  memory,  wilson  thinking  he  could  get  the  better  of  her  -  ruin  her  legacy,  leave  her  dead  amongst  hacked  mechs.  and  all  too  readily  does  she  remember  when  shepard  first  opened  her  eyes  again.  the  ache  and  panic  strewn  across  a  stitched  visage  —  the  very  hand  that  cradle  her  cheek  now  hugs  readily  against  armored  waist.   

a  soft  moment  for  a  pause,  the  shuttle  finally  in  sight,  miranda  stutters  ever  so  before  settling  down.  it's  been  a  lingering  phantom  on  her  mind,  a  curse  if  one  will  that  plagues  the  narrowest  reaches  of  her  thoughts.  and  it  comes  on  an  exhale,   “  —  do  you  trust  me,  shepard  ?  ” 

[cerberusofficer]

this is a psa: you should let miranda bully your muse

[cerberusofficer]

the endless debate to write slightly tipsy or to preserve some type of dignity in my own creative efforts

[cerberusofficer]

this is a psa: you should let miranda bully your muse

[cerberusofficer]

you are miranda lawson. i see her character and i have always thought of your blog and i will ALWAYS think of your blog 🧡 you have her voice PERFECTLY

1-800-how’s my portrayal?

not me openly sobbing over this — honestly, it's such an amazing compliment that my miranda has been integrated into your perception of miranda. she's gotten away from me over the years that i worry she strays too far sometime from the innate canon of her character but this is so reassuring thank you, darling ♡♡♡

[kylie]

*makes eye contact with security cameras to assert dominance*

[cerberusofficer]

useless and unfounded blip about miranda: horrible cook. just absolutely awful. can make an astounding cocktail but will internally panic when a pot bubbles over.

[cerberusofficer]

“   with  time,  you  can  get  used  to  anything.   ”   what  a  cold,  miserable  comfort.  the  ice  of  a  watered  down  drink  knocks  against  her  teeth  with  each  sip,  eyes  lidded  heavily  -  not  from  the  soft  pull  of  alcohol  that  runs  through  crafted  veins,  no,  but  the  careful  observation  of  those  too  well  armored  for  an  evening  out  carousing  in  a  far  off  corner. 

@sieraph ♡'d

[cerberusofficer]

“  you’ve  made  your  choice.  are  you  sure  it’s  the  right  one  ?  ”  it's  a  curt  question  that  comes  quickly  on  her  tongue,  snapping  before  the  chance  to  reel  it  in  resonates.  ever  still,  she  holds  fast,  filled  with  expectation  over  what  will  probably  amount  to  a  wordy  answer  or  explanation…  much  to  her  chagrin.

@modelscientist ♡'d