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Of all the things Peggy missed from before the war, coffee had to be near the top of the list. Not for the caffeine, though she had to admit it was pretty handy when she drew the late watch.
"There is coffee, ma'am," Kaz often pointed out to her, perplexed, when she complained out the lack, holding up the packets of dehydrated brown crystals that their group frequently found in the Alliance supply drops behind Reaper lines.
"For a boy who made coffee for a living before this damn war, you sure don't know the first thing about it," she would just as often say in reply.
She'd never been much of a coffee snob, but John had. Maybe when she'd been Kaz's age, she'd have choked down those cheap crystals doused in some lukewarm water to get through her day. But like so many other things in her life, John had spoiled her for anything else.
Because it wasn't the coffee. It was the ritual of putting the old purple enameled kettle on the stove, waiting for it to heat until it worked up a whistle, and slowly, patiently pouring the hot water into the paper filter over the aromatic grounds with just a pinch of salt perched precariously over a mug. Then sipping it slowly and savoring the rich, complex taste while sitting on the front porch to greet the day.
Every morning, for more years than she dared to count, John had started their day like that, moving in time with the steps of the dance that they'd made in their life together. With him gone, she'd been dancing those steps alone, comforted by their familiar rhythm that kept parts of him with her, always. Sometimes sharing them with Jo or with Beth in their infrequent visits home.
But now even that was gone. And all she had were tasteless coffee packets that could never hold a candle to the real thing.
It was just another damned thing she'd make the Reapers answer for before this war was over.
The post going around about how people's parents met has, of course, got me wondering about more fictional variants. So if you feel so inclined, tell the story of how your Shepard's parents met in the tags. Or, for Earthborn Shepards, perhaps the story of how/why they ended up on the streets?
Of all the things Peggy missed from before the war, coffee had to be near the top of the list. Not for the caffeine, though she had to admit it was pretty handy when she drew the late watch.
"There is coffee, ma'am," Kaz often pointed out to her, perplexed, when she complained out the lack, holding up the packets of dehydrated brown crystals that their group frequently found in the Alliance supply drops behind Reaper lines.
"For a boy who made coffee for a living before this damn war, you sure don't know the first thing about it," she would just as often say in reply.
She'd never been much of a coffee snob, but John had. Maybe when she'd been Kaz's age, she'd have choked down those cheap crystals doused in some lukewarm water to get through her day. But like so many other things in her life, John had spoiled her for anything else.
Because it wasn't the coffee. It was the ritual of putting the old purple enameled kettle on the stove, waiting for it to heat until it worked up a whistle, and slowly, patiently pouring the hot water into the paper filter over the aromatic grounds with just a pinch of salt perched precariously over a mug. Then sipping it slowly and savoring the rich, complex taste while sitting on the front porch to greet the day.
Every morning, for more years than she dared to count, John had started their day like that, moving in time with the steps of the dance that they'd made in their life together. With him gone, she'd been dancing those steps alone, comforted by their familiar rhythm that kept parts of him with her, always. Sometimes sharing them with Jo or with Beth in their infrequent visits home.
But now even that was gone. And all she had were tasteless coffee packets that could never hold a candle to the real thing.
It was just another damned thing she'd make the Reapers answer for before this war was over.
Every week I ask a basic question about your Shepard, vote and elaborate in the tags!
Note on this week's poll: I assume every Shepard does the requisite work to stay in shape. I'm asking about what they like to do, what they would still do even if they had a completely different job.
What is your Shepard's favorite form of exercise?
Running
Swimming
Lifting
Cycling
Some specific kind of workout/class (ex. crossfit, orangetheory)
Team sport
Outdoor activity (ex. hiking, skiing)
Creative pursuit (ex. dancing, gymnastics)
Yoga (or similar)
Something else (tell me in the tags!)
Secretly(?) hates exercise and considers it a necessary evil for their professio
The post going around about how people's parents met has, of course, got me wondering about more fictional variants. So if you feel so inclined, tell the story of how your Shepard's parents met in the tags. Or, for Earthborn Shepards, perhaps the story of how/why they ended up on the streets?
friendly fucking reminder do NOT post about your lootdrops publicly!!! this post is a great example of "table baiting" to get you to reveal what valuables you drop on death WHICH IS OBVIOUSLY PUTTING YOU AT RISK OF FARMING!!! think for a second and be safe out there!!
I love asking people how their parents met. You always get an interesting reply. My best friend’s parents met on the relatively new internet in 1999. My other friend’s parents met at Burger King when one was the manager and the other was a regular customer. My parents met at the beach because they were neighbors in their rental houses, mom was on a church trip and dad was getting blackout drunk every night with his friends next door.
Local Ballard raccoon has been spotted thriving in a remarkably unique and charming body
Yes he(?)'s actually factually real and has even been given an extremely millennial nickname: Jimothy. Wildlife experts advise everyone to just leave him alone and let him live his life
[So quick reminder for people who didn’t see or remember the first post: the Virtues are bad people brought back to life by unknown forces, and forced to remain alive until they meet a specific, unknown atonement condition related to their original crimes. Faith is a bad person. She’s meant to be.]
It starts with two crime powerful crime families who have long been at war.Â
In life, Faith was the scion of one of these families. At the age of 22, her college girlfriend was critically injured in a hit meant for her. This incident started Faith down a path of misplaced hope and a quest for vengeance that would last fifty years, beginning when she murdered her own father, who refused to support her crusade. After assuming control of his criminal organization, she dedicated all of their resources to two related causes: medical research to keep her only occasionally conscious girlfriend alive, in agony and the constant subject of new experiments, in the vain hope of a fully curative procedure to come, and transforming into a full-fledged private army dedicated to wiping the rival family off the face of the galaxy.
It takes most of Faith’s adult life, but she ultimately succeeds, personally directing an attack that obliterates an entire colony, the last bastion of said family. When she tells her still  girlfriend she has finally found her justice, said girlfriend roundly denounces her, in scathing takedown that expresses the vast disgust and contempt in which she holds Faith, witnessing the callous person she has become, and the way she has been denied any personal agency for five decades.  Faith does not react well to hearing this.  The nurse on duty later reported there had been screaming, as Faith leveled all kinds of insults, and that eventually a shot went off. Not much is clear after that because the oxygen apparently ignited, killing them both and damaging the room (indeed, most of the floor) beyond recognition or forensics.Â
Like most of the Virtues, Faith awoke without any sense that she was in the wrong. Her story as above is revealed/explored over a number of issues, in which she is serving various missions for the Director.Â
Faith’s Revenge is her final arc, and the culmination of her story. The Director assigns her to retrieve a fourteen-year-old girl (Hanako) who she presumes to be a runaway, but it turns out she is the opposite—she is searching for her lost family. Though the girl proves to be a real pain in the ass (not unlike Faith herself), they form a rapport. In exploring her uncertainty, anticipatory grief and sense of loss, Faith begins to understand why what she did to her own family, and girlfriend, was grotesque.Â
They get a major lead and it is believed that Hanako will finally be reunited with her family. Instead, it’s a trap—they find themselves surrounded by the current incarnation of Faith’s family, the monster she built, who are now using the medical technology she developed to help her girlfriend to enhance their own soldiers. Hanako sees their corporate logo and completely freaks out, even as Faith is trying to fight them off. It has triggered a memory from when she was very young, and her house was surrounded and under attack; her father managed to smuggle her out just before the net closed. Her family is definitely dead, and Hanako is the last surviving member of the family Faith dedicated her life to eradicating.
Upon realizing this, Hanako bolts, suddenly and understandably terrified of Faith, and Faith, who has her hands full fighting, cannot go after her.
The final segment of the story involves Faith racing against her own organization to locate and save Hanako. She succeeds, but only at the cost of her own life. The final showdown famously takes place across a series of barges on a water planet; Faith is mortally wounded and sinks into the water, presumably to die.Â
A small but vocal segment of the fanbase insists she is still alive and will return, since she is never shown dead, though the writer himself has stated otherwise.Â
okay new game. reblog this post and tell me in the tags what book you would pose with if you were being photographed for an ala read campaign library poster. mine would be the house of the spirits 🙂
(if you aren't familiar with the ala read campaign, idk, google it)
Every time I see bullshit about women never EVER being able to beat men in any sport, I think about how in martial arts classes I, a cis woman, 5' 8" and 145 pounds, regularly beat the tar out of 6' 2" 230 pound cis dude weightlifters. One guy ragequit class. He came in cocky as hell and talking the standard bs line about how a woman simply never could beat a man in a fight because they're physically weaker and our instructor was like. Okay. Put the pads on you're sparring her. Yes, her, the one 4" shorter and 100 pounds lighter than you.
It wasn't close I beat the pants off that man, and others like him. I did it more than once. Some guys got humble and stayed. One guy got angry and stormed out.
And I think about that every fuck damn time I hear that bullshit, which seems to be all the fuck over the place these days. Oh, women are just fragile little soft delicate flower creatures who can't do ANYTHING and could NEVER compete with big strong manly muscular strong MEN.
I think about driving that dude into the mats and seeing the brutal reality of this big dude's misogany meet the realization that a woman was beating his ass literally that second, that none of his strength could stop the fact that I'd just hip thrown him facefirst into the mats and that had I actually connected with the axe kick to his neck I would have crushed a bunch of important shit and he could not stop me, and his whole psyche collapsing like a dying star in that moment.
Anyway, don't ever fall for it, ladies, and there's absolutely no goddamn reason to get your knickers in a twist about trans people in sports.
