Musician, writer, artist, gardener, Jane-of-all-trades.
I keep astonishingly busy with a wide variety of things and this blog may seem random in consequence. Expect Mass Effect fanfic (including the ongoing saga of pilot-lovin' Rhi Shepard), thoughts on disability, politics, and a liberal helping of goats. Especially baby goats.
shepard: so joker how'd you get assigned as the normandy's pilot?
joker: it's actually a funny story I stole it and they were so durned impressed they made me the pilot
joker: no lol who would believe that bullshit
fragilespark replied to your post “calibre sorting issues blurgh? also, I had a good therapy…”anything military headcanon or Joker!
At first glance, the military would be a terrible place for anyone with a physical disability. They medically or honorably discharge you for that, in fact, because no matter how advanced the technology becomes, at a very basic level, the powers-that-be want everyone to be able to drag themselves and their team-mates out of the suck if necessary, even if all they’ve got left to their name are their dog-tags and determination.
This is awesome. I’ve always skated around this question, and your explanation of an almost never used regulatory requirement is perfect — it’s very believable to me that the rule could be there but intentionally unpublicized, with the process made as bureaucratically difficult as possible.
Also, I applaud Representative Goyle for having the foresight to draft a law that allows room for future development. :)
Legal/political headcanon totally accepted! (the family part is lovely Faejilly Joker and shall be left to that incarnation).
(EDIT to add: also we hates the comic, hates it precious.)
Happy birthday, Elodie Shepard.
April 11. Omega. Shore leave.
She always ended up at Afterlife. There was something prophetic in that, sticking into him like glass and needles, aching in the lines of old breaks.
This is beautiful! Thank you for sharing it.
(I won’t thank you for the line ‘tasting every anesthetic he’d ever had,’ because that was a bit too evocative. Direct hit to memory’s tastebuds, going to go rinse mouth out with coffee now).
I really loved “he knew limits, and enjoyed meeting this one.” *happy sigh*
Well, the troop transport Kodiak shuttles are like flying bricks. I mean, they’re actually pretty maneuverable, for bricks, but they’ve got no panache what-so-ever. They’re really a brute force approach to flying — make it small enough and stick a big enough engine on it* and it really doesn’t matter how it reacts to wind or atmosphere.
He’s been junior helmsman on a cruiser, and it was… kind of boring. He loves the frigates because they’re both space and atmo. Big enough to be powerful, small enough to be maneuverable.
(Truth to tell, as beautiful as the SR2 is, and as many improvements as they’ve made, he still sometimes misses the smaller size of the SR1. Sure, she couldn’t pack as much punch on the main gun, but he could tuck her into spaces you wouldn’t imagine possible).
Now, there’s one type of ship he’s never been allowed to really fly that he’d desperately love to, and that’s fighters. Letting someone with his condition helm a ship is already a calculated risk taken by Alliance brass. Usually, if a bigger ship is so damaged that the pilot gets battered, it’s pretty much hosed anyway. They turn art gravity down or off in combat, and they channel power away from inertial dampeners, but they usually have the back-up capability such that they don’t have to kill ‘em completely. But fighters are another story — every jostle is immediate. There are no safeguards. The ships are small and built for speed and maneuverability, with ‘pilot safety’ an afterthought.
Joker’s flown them in sims, and a handful of times in training. He loves it. But he also totally understands that it’d be a stupid place for him, so he gets his kicks on frigates and only occasionally lusts after fighters from afar.
*Trufax: I had this lesson drilled home when I went to an air show and saw a remote controlled flying lawnmower.
Disability politics, Mass Effect spoilers, and emotion below the cut.
Man, I love this post. I love you. <3
I will always reblog essays on this subject, even when I’m in mood to read them, even when the idea of diving into that particular well of misery makes me want to scream and tear my hair.
Like Faejilly, it’s really my one and only true NOtp — anger and disgust and rage inducing, all at once. It’s a canon ship that manages to insult one character I loved and identified with in numerous ways while simultaneously reducing another character I loved to a prize and a sex object — emphasis on the object — whose personhood is implied to be solidified and possibly defined by her ability to experience (or possibly mimic) romantic love.
They both deserved so much better than that.
(I, er, went back through my disability tag to find the more thought out essays I did on the subject, and discovered that along the way I made up new swears to deal with my anger. I really need to try “what the flying foghorn-playing fido-loving fuck” in actual conversation sometime).
(Also, on a side note… maaaan, I remember being twisted in knots by The Ship Who Sang, and being just a bit too young to figure out why).
((edit to add: I know I’ve also written about EDI and being sadly reduced by being pushed into the sex-object romantic partner that must behave like a human to be a person, but I can’t find the darn thing)).