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Starving for your touch (1111 words) by depressed-sock Gift for Estelle, araccooninspace. Fandom: Mass Effect Trilogy Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Morinth/Female Shepard (Mass Effect) Characters: Morinth (Mass Effect), Female Shepard (Mass Effect) Additional Tags: Yearning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Pining, forced apart and brought back together

...

She’s not there when Shepard gives herself up to the Alliance. Instead she’s in the back of some dingy bar on a backwater planet, sipping a drink that’s just not strong enough. That familiar hunger is starting to claw at her. Urge her to flirt, to hunt, to draw someone in and devour their mind. But it’s cut through with the starvation of a wholly different thing.

She sips her drink.

There’s the ghost of lips pressed against her bare shoulder, of arms wrapped around her middle, of a chest warm against her back. Touch so soft, so careful. It still broke her apart like glass.

When is the last time someone offered comfort rather than sex? When’s the last time she’s done the same?

...It had to be so long ago that she’d almost forgotten what it felt like.

She sips her drink.

There’s a TV on. The news is playing. She's always been drawn to things that are beautiful, things that are dangerous. Shepard is both. Even in pixelated form the Commander still stands out against the guards who guide her to her future prison. Blazing and fierce, defiance in every line of her body. Will she be forced to stay in whatever little cage they put her in while the worlds around her burn?

Cut off, cut away.

Hidden from sight like a mistake that should never see the light.

She sips her drink. Reaches the bottom and debates whether she really wants more.

She’s hungry. Hungry for touch, for lips pressed against her skin, for a smile that can be just as vicious as it can be soft.

She taps her fingers on the metal of the table. It gnaws at her but it's ignorable. She stands, she leaves.

She starves.

*

There are ways to get around the Alliances’s systems in order to send messages to Shepard. The only problem is that it only goes one way. So she does her best to send things Shepard wouldn’t need to respond to. Updates on what’s happening in the galaxy, clips from shows she knows Shepard will roll her eyes at.

She starts about a dozen different messages about how she hungers for Shepard’s presence. For her touch, for her thoughts. Each time she erases it. Fills it with empty platitudes that she's become so good at.

Pretends for a few moments that she’s not angry with Shepard’s decision. That everything is alright. That she'll hear the swish of the Normandy's door opening as she looks out at an expanse of stars. Shepard will block the sight, cross her arms.

Look at her with an edge of disappointment that makes the taste in her mouth sour.

She's unsure if in this fantasy it will be because Shepard is disappointed that she's killed the Cerberus agent that had hunted her down. Or if it's because of the sloppy method she'd used to devour their mind.

It wasn’t anything like how she likes to do it. It was messy. Leaving a bitter taste behind and red blood sticking to her fingers.

It had at least sated her hunger. Even if she still sits here starving for something she cannot have. She presses her now clean finger’s to her lips like they can imitate the pressure of Shepard’s own hand as she’d lean forward and pressed a kiss against it. A barrier between them that felt paper thin.

Intention so much louder than action. Eyes glistening in mischievous delight.

“I think I could find some ways around it.” Shepard had whispered against her shoulder the night before, like a promise the Commander meant to keep.

She grits her teeth, bites her own hand and hisses in pain. Stupid, stupid things.

*

She only finds out about the Reaper’s attacking Earth because she gets an encrypted message from Shepard. It’s quick, simple, it’s Shepard.

I’m alive.

The shudder of relief that runs through her is vicious. It pulls her apart and puts her back together.

“Is something wrong?” One of the three scientists she’s escorting asks. Tone worried.

She could so easily kill them. Snap their necks or devour their very minds or a million of other ways. Get rid of them so she can leave, so she can go and see and hold-

But she can’t. She swallows thickly, turns a brief smile on them. Say's in a tone that mimics her mothers, “Nothing’s wrong, it’s good news actually.” She doesn’t give them anything more than that and she doesn’t need to. They already understand, already get it. How many people have they lost that they don’t even know they’ve lost?

Her smile cracks, falters just a second before she pushes through. It doesn’t matter, these people barely even matter. What matter’s is the gnawing hunger. What matter’s is that Shepard’s alive.

She tells them to get their things together and get ready to move. She’ll deliver them where they need to be, most likely into the Alliance’s hands. It makes her blood boil, but she's a creature that has lived just to survive for so long it’s almost ingrained into her very being.

And the best way to survive right now is for there to be a way to kill the Reaper’s.

*

She sits in a club. Lights dark as music thrums loud enough that it rattles the bones in her body. She’s starving as she watches the crowd around her. Finger’s tapping on the metal of the table she sits at. Drink half full, barely touched.

She doesn’t shift her gaze as the chair across from her scrapes against the floor.

“You know I’ve got to say this might be-”

“If you say this is your favorite place on the Citadel I might have to do something drastic.” She turns her head, a smile on her lips. Shepard sits there, tired and shouldering a galaxy full of problems. But still sitting like she can bare the weight of it all.

Beautiful. Gorgeous. Strong.

“Promises, promises.” Shepard tuts before she grins, leaning forward across the table, hand covering hers. The instant touch of warmth has her beating back a shudder of relief. Then the touch is gone as Shepard steals her drink. Lips pressing in the exact place hers had been.

She’s starving.

But it’s quiet now. A background noise that can be ignored because here’s the main course. Bright, the center of all her attention. Shepard’s smile softens as she sets the drink down, pushes it forward.

She takes it, drinks from it. Lips pressed against warmed glass.

They’ll take their time here. Take this moment to be in each other’s presence.

The rest of the galaxy can wait it’s turn.

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To be held, to be loved (585 words) by depressed-sock Gift for @dandenbo Fandom: Mass Effect Trilogy Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Shiala/Thorian Characters: Shiala (Mass Effect) Additional Tags: Character Study, aftermath of Thorian, Dreams, Eldritch, almost eldritch Thorian, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, I have no clue what to tag for this, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Dreamlike, Treat

It's like a dream at first. Hazy and disconnected, with emotions and senses that aren't quite her own. She breathes and everything around her breathes with her.

She is watched, she is held.

Her mind is taken apart, explored inch by inch and she is known. And she is free. Whisper's and thoughts that once plagued her and guided her actions are carefully unstrung, until the dark threads of it are too frayed to have any control.

She breathes and it breathes with her.

They are one.

All they have known for the many years they have existed is growth and survival. Spreading unending through Feros's soil. It's home, her home, their home. Time and years combine into one.

Her roots were here long before any other being had touched this planet’s soil.

It has stepped on planets far beyond it’s reach. Seen skies of unfamiliar colors, felt the light of suns so far away.

They are taken apart.

They are pieced back together.

Forever intertwined, forever one being. Not even death would erase one from the other. They are something more now.

Strings of thoughts, of emotions, twisted and twined into existence. A love so encompassing it could drown out everything else.

Mine.

Ours.

Yours.

One that is us. One that is you.

How can she be anything else now that she’s felt it.

How can it die if it still breathes.

Their roots run deep. They spread farther and farther and farther. Look at what I’ve given you. Look at what we are.

Every inch of this world feels our touch. It crumbles under our weight, grows under our touch. Life given, life taken away. The cycle repeats.

But one thing stays the same.

We are one. 

We are whole.

We are love.

We are alive.

WE ARE ALIVE.

Shiala wakes with a gasp of breath in the dark of night. She swallows roughly, staring up at the dull metal ceiling above her. She can still feel it.

The way her existence extends out further from herself. How she’s buried into the earth and climbing up through the cracking infrastructure. Miles and miles away. Goddess she feels like she’s everywhere at once on the whole damn planet.

She groans, sitting up and placing her head in her hands. Trying to right her thoughts, to center herself back into her body. The Old Growth is dead. She and the colonists have confirmed it over and over again.

But she can still feel it.

Feel the warmth of being held, of an embrace that refused to let go. Her mind stripped away inch by glorious inch until something other was stuffed inside. She had become more than herself. She still is more than herself.Even through the sense of loss and grief. How can she mourn for the thing that took away her sense of self? How can she yearn for something that only saw her as a tool?

But it didn't just see her like that. She was made a small part of it. Held and loved and known in a way she has never been before. Had never even thought possible.

Shiala wraps her arms around herself.

It’s empty of what she felt before; none of the warmth, none of the soft care. But in the back of her mind she can almost feel the echo of it. The love of a being that had intertwined her thoughts with it's and let her become more than she could ever be on her own.

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Armax Arsenal Arena Fatal Error

Gift for FinchMarie. :D

Extra time-lapse below

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Hope in Despair Treat for CoaxionUnlimited and ReallyQuiteStrange.

Below is the image I used for ref and study as well as a time-lapse! :D

Did a reverse image search to try and find the artist but only found the book it's in (No other Love by shannon drake)

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Hope in Despair Treat for CoaxionUnlimited and ReallyQuiteStrange.

Below is the image I used for ref and study as well as a time-lapse! :D

Did a reverse image search to try and find the artist but only found the book it's in (No other Love by shannon drake)

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Armax Arsenal Arena Fatal Error

Gift for FinchMarie. :D

Extra time-lapse below

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Hey! so I noticed you wrote a work for boba fett/han solo and I'm thinking of maybe hosting a fettsolo week? But only if there's enough interest

so would a fettsolo be something you would be interested in? would be mid-september if i actually end up doing it

this isn't any commitment obviously, just trying to see if there's potential in the ship week

Maybe! I tend to do exchanges more often than anything else and a lot of the time it honestly just heavily depends on how life's going for me at the time 😅

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Dagath Design 2 "Corpse Bride"

Design 1

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aoi wip

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Dagath skin design 1

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let myself get distracted and started on Dagath skins for fun lol

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brain is kind of mush but i wanted to do some art so have these quick abstract pieces

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Eleanor

Was originally going to wait until Aoi was done so I could post the two of them together but life and energy levels have been uncooperative lol

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brain is kind of mush but i wanted to do some art so have these quick abstract pieces

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Eleanor

Was originally going to wait until Aoi was done so I could post the two of them together but life and energy levels have been uncooperative lol

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Finally some good fucking news

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Light Em Up