#knifeeared

Crimson Peaks is a gothic romance movie. Twin Peaks is a tv drama. There IS also a chain restaurant called Twin Peaks that is Hooters but worse. Moral of the story, stop naming things “x peaks”

I haven’t watched any of Rebels yet, but the Clone Wars is A++

knifeeared said: they would accomplish so much, and accidentally blow up so much in the process. it would be great

pfff ‘accidentally’ you say. as if they wouldn’t do it on purpose just to see the outcome :p

cowghoul said: it would be simultaneously adorable and terrifying tbqh

knifeeared:

imagine Commander Shepard, literally the best soldier in the galaxy who has personally punched death in the face and made Reapers cry, bringing Liara a jar and asking her to open it with her biotics because its just too hard

I saw this head-canon and couldn’t resist trying to write something up for it, having been in the above situation myself on far too many occasions.  It is the first writing I’ve actually shared so if you have comments, please feel free to send them my way.

SFW, fairly certain no warnings are needed...

Shepard strained the muscles of her fingers once more against the stubborn lid.  Nothing. Not even a budge.  It was time to employ alternative methods.  

Thinking back to summers at her grandparents' and her grandmother's special trick for tough jars, she reached into the silverware drawer and pulled out a butter knife.  Once she'd carefully wedged the tip of the blade underneath the lid, she wiggled it and levered it against the jar in hopes popping the lid loose.  A bent knife was the only thing she had to show for her efforts.

“Okay, okay.  Next trick...” she mumbled as she sat the jar down on the counter and thought.  She recalled her mother using a wet rag on occasion.  The methodology didn't make sense to her but why not give it a shot?  She grabbed the dish rag and ran it under the faucet just enough to dampen it.  Taking hold of the jar in one hand, she put the wet rag over the lid with the other and twisted.  More uselessness.  The wet dishcloth only slid more freely against the resistant lid.  Shepard growled in frustration, setting the jar back on the counter once more.  The rag was returned to its hook by the sink.

“Didn't Dad use hot pads one time?” she asked the space above the sink.  The blank wall didn't give her an answer. Shepard thought the tactic over. It wasn't bad, certainly better than the rag idea.  How had her mom ever made that work?  Some of the hot pads had rubber patterns on the underside to keep them from slipping. Like the grips on a glove. Perfect.  Elated to have a tactic which was sound and would certainly work, she moved giddily across the kitchen, digging through the pile of pads until she found two with enough flexibility and gripping potential.

She applied her new method to the jar.  Very, very quickly, she met with defeat.  Shepard's hands certainly had more traction but the damned lid still refused to budge.  She didn't think she'd even gotten a millimeter's worth of rotation on it despite a solid ten minutes of trying.  Resisting the urge to smash the jar open on the floor, granting herself easy access to those tantalizing pickle spears, she set it down lightly on the counter and huffed.

She could always shoot it, too...  Instead, she resigned herself to attempting to modulate her incineration packets, allowing her to apply heat to the lid.  If she could just make it malleable enough to be removed, she'd be golden.  She'd worry about getting it back on later.  So, out came the omni-tool.

“Shepard?” an amused voiced asked from over her shoulder.  She froze, her open omni-tool interface proclaiming her desperation to her guest.  When had Liara gotten here?  Shepard was so wrapped up in her struggles that she had completely missed the security system's note of the asari's arrival.  “What are you doing?” the other woman asked, one brow raised as her eyes swept over the kitchen.

Shepard hung her head and wordlessly held out the jar.  At this, Liara burst into laughter and crossed into the kitchen. “The great Commander Shepard, Hero of the Citadel, Savior of the Galaxy,” she chuckled, “Foiled by a pickle jar.”

Shepard groaned in response.  “I'm still recovering.”

“Uh-huh,” Liara replied, more than a little dubious.  Without taking the jar from Shepard's hands, Liara used her biotics to open it.  The lid turned and its new state was announced with a taunting pop of air.

“Thank you,” she drawled, her embarrassment unmistakable.