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"Are you ok?" I'm actually tired bro. From the bottom of my heart I'm tired

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Obsessed with playing Mass Effect over and over again like this story will literally never end in anything but tragedy. Shepard might be an asshole or a saint, a caring friend or a hardened soldier, a complex enigma or an open book, and any combination or in between thereof.

And it doesn't matter because Jenkins always dies. And Ash dies, or Kaidan dies. And Shepard dies. And Shepard lives. And your crew dies. And the little boy is shot down. And Palaven burns. And Illium falls. And earth is ripped apart. And Shepard dies.

You can't save them. Nearly a dozen playthroughs of hard work, an endless uphill climb, and even if you get it picture perfect, take every quest, save every hostage and gun down every bad guy, your reward is the ugly choice, the mirror of war: how many lives will you sacrifice to take one more breath? Will you kill the geth you just painstakingly saved for a single inhale on the charred remains of an exploded station? Or will you let the narrative go the way it's meant to and just let Shepard die?

So Shepard lives, or Shepard dies, and the story always ends the same goddamn way. And you queue up Mass Effect 1 again because you have to.

Keep trying. Maybe it'll turn out this time.

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I just like looking at them all together 🥲

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older น้องGrogu 

(what if au)

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Just for fun

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Mezzo - 08 - Never the Dark

Pairing: mshenko | Rating: M Tags: Canon-typical violence, trauma, dealing with your problems poorly, body autonomy struggles   Summary: The twists and turns of ME2, through the eyes of everyone but Commander Shepard. Chapter Summary: Mashed potato trauma + thermal clip disagreements + Korlus = boom. AKA, just shake Garrus really hard until all of his trauma falls out.  

Chapter 8: Never the Dark | Read on Ao3

24 November, 2185, Eagle Nebula, Imir System, SSV Normandy

Erash. Monteague. Mierin. Grundan Krul. Melenis. Ripper. Sensat. Vortash. Butler. Weaver.

Ten names Garrus kept on rotation in his head with his eye pressed to the scope on Omega. They stayed on repeat throughout his incarceration in the medbay. Even now, with Omega behind them and Dr. Chakwas’ blessing to move about the rest of the ship, those ten names are so loud he doesn’t even hear the human mess sergeant ask him a question as Garrus takes a dinner tray from him.

“I’m sorry. Repeat that?”

The human grins. It’s so much like Weaver’s. Garrus focuses on a grease stain on the counter.

“Just have to tell me how you like it. Never fixed turian grub before.”

The thought of looking at Weaver’s smile for one second longer than he has to overrides Garrus’ urge to ask what a grub is. So he just nods, wincing as his good mandible flicks in acknowledgement, and takes his tray into the sea of unfamiliar faces dining in the mess.

Unfamiliar except for one. Joker waves him over, from the same seat he used to sit in on the real Normandy. The one that went down while Garrus was safe and sound on the Citadel, catching up on paperwork.

Several heads swivel and stare as Garrus makes his way to the table where Joker sits alone, pushing a white congealed mass around his plate with a fork. He lifts a glob up and scrutinizes it carefully while Garrus tries to cram his legs under a table designed for humans, not turians. One thing about the Normandy he didn’t miss. The makeshift ‘civilian’ clothes Dr. Chakwas had somehow managed to procure for him don’t exactly fit, either, which only makes him more conspicuous in a sea of humans. Unfortunate that while being dragged half-dead out of that warehouse he hadn’t thought to grab an extra tunic. 

“You know we never had these on the first Normandy?” Joker muses.

“Had what?”

“Mashed potatoes.”

A clump slips off the fork and splats on the plate.

“They look…vile.”

Joker sticks the fork in his mouth and chews thoughtfully, then makes a face. “Only Gardner could make potatoes taste vile.” He eyes Garrus. “So. How’ve you been.”

Garrus rubs a talon over the tasteful bandage Dr. Chakwas had applied to his face to cover the reconstructed mandible. “Quit my job. Formed a squad. Took on three Omega merc bands at once and got everyone killed. Had half my face blown off.”

Joker’s eyebrow vanishes under the brim of his cap. “You know, last time I saw you, you knew how to dodge.”

“Rusty.”

Joker snorts. “Got a cool nickname, at least.”

“Well, you know. Make glass out of sand and all.”

“Glass out of sand. Why do all turian idioms have to do with sand?”

“All the ones about dying have to do with water.”

Read from the beginning | Read the rest on Ao3 | The Mezzo Playlist

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Bubble (2022)

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Always beaming those 3 words out of my mouth when I’m about to watch another Star Trek episode

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Part 2 of crazy ass ships

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Damn these ships going crazy

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art takes so long and its so tiring but if i dont make art for the rest of my life ill die

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You Are A Silly Goose (signed art print) by KateLouisePowell

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"redemption arcs are toxic, you shouldn't try to fix someone!"

actually it is so important to me that being in community and experiencing human connection can save people. thanks

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Wanted to share this on my own too - so incredibly honored and proud to have made this cover for Mezzo, a new story from @swaps55. A fitting reveal for N7 Day, and one of my favorite things I've done to date!

The fic, by the way, rocks.

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curious. anyway,