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temperqnce · 3 months ago

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Shakarian Heist-Fic

This is a small piece of a ridiculously long ME2 fic I've been keeping close to my chest and working on-and-off on for like. Ten years. This comes right after Garrus said something stupid on Purgatory (the for-profit ransom jail, not the club) that was insensitive considering her slavery-related PTSD (she has the colony background.) They worked it out. Next thing he knows, he's on a heist-date on Bekenstein, orchestrated by Kasumi. Shep's determined to mess with him a little while they're out. This is pre-relationship.

Please be nice, I have NEVER posted work publicly before!!!

Port Observation Deck

The door to the observation deck slid open and Garrus stepped inside. In front of him, the vastness of space glimmered with sparkling stars. To his right was a small, self-service bar and lounge - a civilian ship luxury, stocked with liquors of all colors in mostly regulation space-travel friendly cylinders. They were mostly levo drinks, friendly for most non-turian species, but a few were carefully separated and labeled dextro. He had come here once or twice before, to break the ice with some of the crew. Since Kasumi had moved in, she had taken over the left half of the room with tasteful displays of (mostly stolen) art and other personal effects, but there was still plenty of space to lounge and watch the stars go by.

On the black corner couch in the middle of the room, Kasumi and the commander were chatting and having a few drinks. Shepard was on the half of the couch that faced the door. She was dressed down in some comfortable-looking civvies, and the two women seemed relaxed. Shepard had been intently listening to whatever Kasumi had been saying before Garrus entered the room. The two looked up at him and Shepard smiled brightly and stood.

“Garrus! Thank you for coming by. We have a favor to ask of you. Come sit. I’ll get you a drink.”

“Anything for you, Commander,” he said, and obeyed, sitting next to Kasumi on the side of the couch facing the bar.

Shepard came back shortly with an unfamiliar midnight-dark concoction that bubbled on the sides of a narrow-topped, spouted glass. “Jane. What is this?”

“Try it. I’ve been experimenting,” She said, looking a little devious as she sat back down.

“...Are you trying to kill me, Shepard? Is this revenge?”

“Of course not! Look, it’s just xin and Drossix, but with a sort of… Quarian twist. Trust me, okay?”

“Trust you? You haven’t even tried it. You couldn’t. This could actually kill you.”

“That’s an exaggeration,” Kasumi cut in. “She’d get indigestion, at worst. You know when they say ‘Drossix Blue makes human stomachs explode’ they just mean drunk assholes shitting themselves, right?”

“...Right. Well, here goes nothing,” he said, and tossed back the drink in one gulp. Shepard’s eyes lit up, watching his face. The base of the cocktail was richly bitter and strong, but the bubbles popped tart and almost sweet on his tongue. The carbonation was dense, but the beverage went down smooth. He felt a light pleasant buzz hit the back of his brain.

“Wow,” he said, setting the glass on the table. “That’s nice. When did you develop an interest in dextro bartending?”

“Two of my closest friends are dextro, Garrus, it’s called cultural competence.”

“Only one of those friends is a dextro that drinks.”

“Well… consider it me plying you for that favor.”

“Right. You’ve liquored me up, now what do you two want with me?”

Kasumi and Shepard shared a conspiratorial look, and Kasumi nodded. The commander grinned at Garrus and asked,

“Do you wanna be my date on a heist?”

Bekenstein

The self-driving cab descended, hovering ever closer to a huge compound taking up the edge of a dramatic cliff. The mansion at the center was made of tall glass walls and sweeping white curves. Spreading out around it were several warehouse facilities patterned almost like waves breaking away from the centerpiece. It was an incredible sight to behold as the sun crept towards the horizon and tinted the sky pink. The sunlight played gently on the mist that gathered over a vast and rocky canyon. Shepard was taking it in when Garrus grunted next to her.

“Nice digs.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Paid for in blood,” Kasumi darkly added in the seat behind them. “The rest of the compound is an arms manufacturing facility.”

Kasumi had asked Shepard to help her infiltrate a party of high-class criminals. Hoarders of culture and art, elite mercenary bosses, corrupt politicians, arms dealers, the works. Their mission was to break into the vault belonging to the host and retrieve a greybox belonging to a fellow thief. From what Shepard could tell, Keiji had been Kasumi’s partner in crime as well as in life. The greybox contained his memories, and as if that weren’t precious enough, encrypted within them was some damning intelligence that could cause serious upheaval in the Alliance. Keiji had been killed and his memories stolen by the criminal and art mogul Donovan Hock. Shepard was going undercover as Alison Gunn, a mercenary alter ego designed and made almost real by Kasumi’s expert work online.

“I still don’t know why you aren’t doing this with Jacob,” Garrus complained. “The two of you would probably make a more… believable couple.”

Kasumi snorted. “HAH. Doubt it. At best they would think he was her employee. At worst his domineering mother-in-law. Come on bud, you were a detective. Crime in Citadel Space is your thing.”

The cab touched down in an empty roundabout in front of the main hall of the mansion. They were a tad late. The cab opened up, and Kasumi lithely hopped out.

“Hey, I’m not old enough to be anybody’s mother-in-law!” Shepard called after her, adjusting the one bracelet she owned, a simple silver chain. She started to stand. “Trust me Garrus, this is better. Kasumi’s right, you have experience dealing with these types.” She climbed out of the cab the best she could in the dress Kasumi picked out for her. It was a black halter-top dress that showed off her muscular shoulders and back. It was entirely too clingy for ease of movement, accentuating the difference between her toned waist and her bulky thighs. “It also helps that you’re not borderline afraid of me.”

Garrus laughed, climbing out after her. “Oh, but I am.”

“Are you?” She asked, amused. She turned to offer him a hand, and he took it, but with his long legs he was already out of the car. Instead he linked their elbows and gave her a wink.

“Oh yes. You’re terrifying. Squishy, but terrifying.”

“Squishy?”

“Let’s move, lovebirds!” Kasumi called. The art thief was standing next to a second car fiddling with her omni-tool. As she worked, the car opened and a large gold statue of the turian spectre and infamous legend Saren Arterius slid out on a hoverplate. “We still have to go over the plan one last time.”

They huddled together around the gaudy statue. “This really is tasteless. I can’t believe he’s taking it,” Garrus commented.

“After a certain point, wealth actually makes your taste infinitely worse,” Kasumi said matter-of-factly. “The richest of the rich have houses full of garbage. You’ll see once we get inside.” She grimaced. “Can’t put a price on your soul.”

“So, Garrus and I go in as merc leader Alison Gunn and…” Shepard trailed off, at a loss. “What’s Garrus’ cover? He’s famous in his own right these days. And as cool as it would be to bring Archangel, he’s supposed to be dead.”

“Oh, I’ve got a name for the big guy,” said Kasumi. “You��ll be attending as Altus Avaros. No cool background, you’re just a wife guy. Pure arm candy.”

“I can do that,” said Garrus, addressing Kasumi but staring at Jane, who had doubled over in silent giggles, covering her mouth with her free hand. Kasumi grinned knowingly at Garrus’ confused stare.

“Let’s just hope there aren’t a lot of guests like our girl that know both Palaven Standard and Latin.”

“Do I wanna know?” Garrus asked while Shepard pulled herself together. Big bird. BIG BIRD. She wanted to tell him but she knew it would ruin it.

“Don’t worry about it,” Kasumi smiled innocently. “You two are going to go in. Schmooze a little, but not too much. We don’t want people asking you too many questions or your aliases will fall apart. Then we locate the vault, find its weaknesses, and I’ll guide you through exploiting them. I’ll be with you, and scouting around the house unseen. The statue will smuggle our weapons and armor for when we get into the vault. You can keep your sidearms. They’ll probably expect you to.”

After briefing, Kasumi vanished, leaving the pair to start up a set of stone stairs, hovering Saren statue in tow.

“I still can’t believe you called me squishy,” Shepard jabbed, elbowing her date as they walked.

“Speaking of squishy, where are you hiding your pistol in a dress that tight?”

She snorted. “I could show you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

The interior of the mansion had an incredible view of the sunset given that the entire western wall was made of glass and crystal. The center of the main room had a water feature, a large but gentle fountain with benches nearby for sitting. To either side, roped off sets of spiral stairs, and beyond those, alcoves of priceless paintings and art. The host hadn’t shown himself yet and Kasumi was scoping out the vault entrance, so Garrus and Shepard browsed the exhibits.

The two made thoughtful noises here and there as they walked slowly through the displays. Eventually, Shepard sighed.

“Is it just me,” she whispered, “or is this…?”

“The most bored you’ve ever been in your life?” Garrus leaned over to rumble in her ear.

“Oh thank God. It’s not that I don’t like art, it’s just-”

“Hey, you don’t have to pretend to be cultured around me.”

“Really though! Kas was right, this stuff is uniquely bad!”

“You know, I bet it’s better with booze. Everything’s better with booze.”

“Garrus, we shouldn’t. We’re on a-”

“My name is Altus, thank you, and I’m already walking away. Don’t go anywhere,” he said, and he was around the corner and out of sight.

Shepard grumbled and sat down on a bench by a small fireplace. The fire was set into the wall opposite the paintings they were looking at, which also hosted shelves upon shelves of books and knick knacks. She was about to pick up a book when a pale human male with a jar-shaped head and the worst facial hair she’d ever seen sat down next to her.

“Alison Gunn, I presume?” he said in a bizarre accent she couldn’t place, holding out his hand. Jane took it and smiled politely.

“Yes, good to meet you, Mr…?”

“Hock. I am your host tonight,” He said smoothly. Instead of shaking her hand, Donovan Hock lifted her hand delicately and pressed it to his lips. Shepard’s stomach soured. “Are you enjoying the party thus far?”

“I am, Mr. Hock. You have a breathtaking home,” Shepard did her best to maintain a level countenance as she took her hand back. If she could be cool under gunfire, this should be easy. Right?

“Please, call me Donovan, Ms. Gunn. And thank you for the compliment. I paid the architect three times his usual fee for his undivided attention and for dealing with participation on my part. I wanted it to reflect my tastes well,” He smiled slyly at Shepard. She felt her face start to traitorously wrinkle with disgust, and schooled it into something more like vague interest. “Come with me across the gallery for a moment, will you?” Hock continued. “I would like to show you something.”

“This is good,” Kasumi chimed in Shepard’s earpiece. “I need a voice sample from him, it’s one of the keys to the vault. Keep him talking.”

“Alright,” Jane said in reply to both, and she stood to follow Hock.

Hock took her out of the northern gallery alcove and around to one of its outer walls facing the back windows. On a pedestal against the wall, was that… an old Earth optical disc? It was huge. Wider than Hock’s own massive head.

“I admire your work, Ms. Gunn,” The man began, stepping uncomfortably close. “You keep the barbarians at bay. Those backward-thinkers that try - and always fail - to stop people like me from doing what is necessary to keep the world turning. You understand the value of my work. I appreciate that.” He gestured to the disc. “You see this? A relic of a bygone age. If it weren’t for people like us, making the right moves, making the difficult choices, doing the galaxy’s dirty work… humanity would be stuck in the dark ages. Swinging clubs and writhing in the mud.” He stepped aside and let the colorful, sparkling gradient of sunset light behind them shine on the reflective surface of the disc.

“That was… an enlightening speech, Mr. Hock,” Shepard managed to say, turning back to the host. “And of course I agree. I appreciate that we, uh, share that understanding.” She forced herself to smile.

“There is much I have to share with beautiful women, Ms. Gunn,” Hock said smoothly, sliding back into her personal space. Shepard felt her biotics flicker, her hand twitching and the back of her neck getting warm. She clenched her fist and-

“Heyyyy, honey, I got that drink you wanted!” Garrus said cheerfully, sliding one arm around Shepard’s waist and putting a champagne flute in her hand with the other. The maneuver effectively created a barrier on all sides of her body for a moment, and forced Hock to back up. Jane felt her building rage and tension soften. Trust Garrus to be a smooth operator, she thought, relieved.

“Sorry, Shep,” Kasumi said in her ear. “I had to hold him back for just a second while I got the recording. But we’re good, so you guys can feel free to get Hock out of your hair.”

The art mogul scowled, then schooled his expression and tilted his head up slightly as if to look down at the pair. If that were possible, given that Garrus was at least a whole head taller than him.

“Mr. Hock, I appreciate you inviting my wife and I into your home tonight,” Garrus said warmly, pulling Shepard a little tighter into his side. “It’s a gorgeous place. We were just talking about how captivating the view is. You wouldn’t mind if I stole her away for a moment on the balcony…?”

“Of course, please. I have other guests to attend,” Hock said coolly. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Gunn.”

Shepard smiled as sweetly as she could at him, not trusting herself to speak, and let Garrus lead her down the hall and out the glass door to the wide balcony overlooking the canyon. An air highway crossing the canyon led directly into the sweeping skyline of Milgram, Bekenstein’s capital city. The buildings there were some of the tallest she’d ever seen outside of the Citadel.

Garrus let go of her waist once they reached the edge. They stood next to each other, not touching anymore but still close, resting their glasses and their arms on the thick balcony railing. They were quiet, taking in the view. Then,

“Sorry. For grabbing your waist.”

Jane was surprised. “No need. It’s fine.”

“No, I mean. It’s more normal for humans than it is for turians,” Garrus explained, an edge of nervousness to his voice. “We don’t really do… public displays of affection, even with partners or family. I had to sort of code-switch for a minute, and it’s fine surrounded by mostly humans. But… I would have been slapped, doing that back home. So. I feel like I need to apologize out of respect for you, even though… it doesn’t mean much to you. As a human.”

“Hmm,” Shepard said, thoughtful. It was endearing of Garrus to think so much about their cultural differences. He seemed to know a lot more about what was normal for her than she did for him. She would have to catch up. “I’m not sure what I should say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“I appreciate you. For stepping in. It was good timing.”

Garrus chuckled softly. “Well… again, normally I wouldn’t do something like that. I know you’re capable of handling yourself. But normally you’d be able to hand a guy his ass with very few consequences.”

“Yeah,” Shepard sighed. “I really wanted to do it.”

“Kick his ass?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too,” he admitted ruefully. “Did you know I was top of my class for hand-to-hand combat in the academy? I bet he doesn’t know that.”

“Maybe he’ll get to find out later,” Shepard mused. “The night isn’t over yet.”

“You’re right,” Garrus sighed. He tapped his glass with a talon. “You should drink this. It’s good.”

“Your drink?”

“No. Our drink. We’re drinking the same thing.” Shepard had failed to notice that the pale, icy-green colored liquid was in both of their glasses.

“How is that-”

“It’s a newer kind of dual-chirality wine,” He explained. “Asari-made. Levo and dextro friendly, without the weird taste. I’ve been wanting to try it for a while, but it’s expensive, and, well, I didn’t want to do it alone. There was never a right moment.”

“But now, on this rich asshole’s dime…”

“Exactly.”

Shepard touched her glass to his, a pleasant chime ringing over the vast canyon in front of them, then she took a slow sip, savoring the moment. It hit her tongue tart but settled dry, somehow both intense and impossibly light, like someone had taken an Earthen white wine and hit it with a particle accelerator. Whatever undoubtedly alien ingredients they used reminded her more of lychee and pear than of grapes.

“Wow,” she said. “This is nice. I like it a lot.”

“I’m glad. I’ll have to find some on the Citadel the next time we go.”

“Thank you, Garrus. For this, and for earlier.”

“You know I’ve always got your back.”

Static buzzed in Shepard’s ear.

“You guys are gross. Married for all of five minutes and already making me puke,” Kasumi teased in their ears. “Get back inside, I got everything we need to get in the vault. It’s time to get suited up.”

Jane felt a blush coming on. She left her glass on the balcony and grabbed Garrus’ hand, doing her best to twine their mismatched fingers together and pull him back indoors. They descended the stairs to the long hallway that led to the vault.

“Hold on,” Garrus started, and they froze on the last step. “Guards coming down the other side.” Sure enough, Shepard saw the shadows of two armored men lingering at the top of the stairs at the other end of the hallway. A wicked idea fixed in her mind and she flashed a wide grin at her partner.

“Oh, that’s easy,” she said, and with her left arm she tugged him down the last step while with her right she shoved him up against the wall. She got a rush of satisfaction at witnessing his shock and nervousness, his eyes wide and his hands up in disarmed surrender. “I know you just said turians don’t like PDA, but…”

“I’m sure I’ll survive,” he replied quickly with an urgent glance down the hall.

How does one kiss a turian? Shepard mused, pressing up against him and elbowing his arms down. The guy doesn’t have lips. She supposed she’d have to improvise. Garrus settled his hands on her hips tentatively and she wrapped hers around the back of his neck, gently craning his neck so she could reach him. A mandible is like a jaw, right? A sensitive, more expressive part of a jaw? She placed soft kisses down the uninjured side, smiling at the panicked heartbeat she felt reverberating in his chest. What happened to Mr. Suave? She wondered, before finally pressing the first of a series of exploratory kisses on his mouthplates. Kissing turians won’t be necessary, she heard her own voice in the back of her mind say to Ashley in the Cargo Bay all those years ago. She was okay with being wrong. Not because she was into it, or anything, of course. Just to get under the usually cool and confident sniper’s skin. And by his reaction… shallow breathing, tightly fluttering mandibles, a high timbre in his chest that she could only describe as acute distress… she had succeeded. That was pure satisfaction.

She was lost in figuring out how to describe what his very foreign mouth tasted like when she heard a cough from behind her. Garrus had apparently forgotten what they were doing all of this for, because he jumped a little and let go of her quickly, like a teen having been caught under the bleachers. That was fitting enough, though, and Jane stepped back, making a show of fixing herself up though he hadn’t done anything other than attempt to kiss her back and clamp onto her hips for dear life.

The two Eclipse guards looked some combination of embarrassed and dumbstruck. Turian-human couples weren’t very common, for good reason. “Sorry for the uh, interruption, ma’am,” one of them said, flushing and not meeting her eyes. “Just - well. This hallway isn’t off-limits, per-se, but it’s not private, either. You might wanna… I mean. Mr. Hock’s estate is extensive, I’m sure staff could find you and your, uh, friend a room if you wanted.”

Shepard gave the men her most devastating smile. “Thanks, boys. We’ll finish up here and probably head home.”

“Of course, ma’am,” the guard said, and quickly moved along, elbowing his partner to follow him.

When they were out of sight, Shepard turned back to Garrus, whose blue-flushed neck was slowly returning to normal along with his steady breathing. He glowered at her.

“You enjoyed that a little too much, Commander.”

“Aww, was it really that bad?” Shepard pouted.

The blush returned. “No! No, I, uh, well, it was, uh. Just. New,” he spluttered. “Different.”

“Calm down, big guy, I’m only teasing,” she laughed, and grabbed him by the elbow to pull him down to the vault door.

She was going to have to thank Kasumi later. This was the most fun she’d had on a mission in a while.

--------

Kasumi flipped backwards off Hock’s gunship and back down onto some shipping containers in the coolest feat of acrobatics Jane had ever seen.

“I do love a professional,” Garrus buzzed in her ear. She could hear the smile in his voice through the radio. Having disabled the ship’s shields, the only thing left to do was blow it out of the sky.

Shepard pulled out her grenade launcher and crouched to load it. High on the landing pad but behind some crates, Kasumi made quick and precise shots with her pistol at the windows of the gunship, clearly going for Hock’s head. Garrus popped up from his spot on the opposite side of the platform from Shepard, shot a few strategically-aimed high-caliber rounds, then disappeared to reload. Shepard could hear them both muttering to themselves over the radio.

“Take that, you bastard. I hope one of these lobotomizes you but keeps you alive so I can shoot you a few more times you sick fuck-”

“-turian design, weak points in the armor… here, here, and… here-”

Shepard looked up and hefted the grenade launcher to her shoulder. She waited for Hock to pause between his hail of bullets and the next round of pummeling rockets. She charged her shields, hoping to draw Hock’s attention. She popped up and rapid-fired, three grenades at once. She figured one or two of them might interrupt the barrage while the other snuck past. Garrus also popped up. Hock fired his missiles. But not at Shepard.

“Shit-” Jane heard, and then Garrus’ radio cut out.

-----

Garrus hit the ground. Hard. Something buzzed on the screen of his visor and his radio cut. Diagnostics told him he’d cracked a tiny part of the receiver - no big deal, he could weld that back together with his omni-tool.

His combat HUD told him all three grenades Shepard sent off had hit the gunship square on. Kasumi cheered, loud enough that he’d picked it up without the aid of his radio. Safe now from rocket fire (thank the spirits) he sat up to take his visor off and quickly zap it back into shape. He thought he heard the commander yelling from pretty far away. Then suddenly she was right in his face.

She’d lept over his cover and landed haphazardly beside him, then grabbed his shoulders with force that would have completely fucked his welding if he hadn’t had the presence of mind to stop. Her eyes were wild and her hands were shaking. Concerned, Garrus wrapped his hands around her elbows in what he hoped was a comforting grip.

“Jane? What’s wrong?” He asked, thoroughly confused.

“Rocket,” she said between heavy breaths from the dead sprint she must have been in. “You didn’t pop back up.”

Oh.

“I’m fine,” he said, his subvocals coming out low and warm, the emotion stronger than he expected. He squeezed at the joint of her arms. “Just broke the receiver in my visor. I was fixing it.”

She shoved him a little, clearly miffed, and knocked a fist against his armor. “You have at least two backup radios. What did I get you this stupid suit for? You and that damned visor.” She shook her head, but smiled as he pulled it out to finish the quick weld.

“Guys! The Kodiak is almost here,” Kasumi called from above, leaning over the railing of the landing pad. “We probably want to get out as soon as we can.”

“Got it,” Shepard said while Garrus gave an affirmative hand signal, and the thief disappeared.

Garrus replaced his patched-up visor and re-connected to their combat frequency, then caught Jane’s arm before she started vaulting over the concrete barrier between them and the stairs. The playing-pretend part of the evening might have been long-since over, but he couldn’t forgive himself if he didn’t see the bit all the way through.

“Before we go,” he said quickly to her surprised face, “I just… wanted to say thanks. This was fun.”

The commander’s expression was caught between amusement and confusion, a small, open smile showing while her brows furrowed. She looked away from him, blinked a few times, then said, “Uh, yeah, it was, wasn’t it? I’m… glad.” She seemed to gather herself, then looked at him again, smiling in a more relaxed way this time. “I’d say we should do it again sometime, but…”

“What, get invited to a high-class criminal soiree, drink their booze, steal their shit, and blow it up? I’m game if you are.”

“It’s a date,” she said, winking at him, then she slung herself over the concrete divider and hurried up the landing pad stairs.

His heart was hammering, all of the sudden.

It was just a joke. Wasn’t it?

Shit.

--------

Garrus found himself back where all of this had started, staring at the Normandy’s meager selection of dextro liquor and mixers in the starboard lounge. He was alone, thank the spirits. Shepard and Kasumi were debriefing in the commander’s cabin, deciding the fate of the greybox.

He thought about trying to mix up what Jane had made for him before the mission, but he didn’t really have the presence of mind to recreate it properly. He poured himself a glass of straight xin and sat on the couch with a huff.

Over and over again, his mind was replaying that moment on the stairs, right before they broke into the vault. He’d frozen up completely, as nervous as a fledgling boy. He was damned near thirty years old, he should have been able to do something. Anything at all. Shit, he’d wanted to. Run a hand through her hair. Pull one of her legs over his hip. Try to find where she’d hidden that gun… Just to be convincing. To the mercs who were watching. The patrolling mercs that he had forgotten about as soon as she started kissing him.

The door behind him slid open and Kasumi walked in, silent as the grave. She placed her greybox on her desk gently and sat on the couch on her side of the room, pulling her legs up to her chest and resting her head on her knees.

“You don’t have to leave,” she said as he started to get up. Her voice was calm. He rose to his feet anyway.

“I was going to ask if you wanted a drink,” he said, gesturing to his cup. She looked up at him and smiled faintly.

“Pour me half a glass of that blue bottle up top, and fill the rest with the red juice in the fridge. I’m feeling like a party girl,” she said with a hiccuping laugh. Garrus couldn’t see her eyes under her hood, but he’d wager high creds that she was crying.

He did as she asked and brought it to her, sitting down on the other side of the same couch.

“Are you… alright?” he asked slowly. She took a few small sips from her glass before answering.

“Yes. And no,” she said. “I’m keeping the greybox. It’s all I have left of Keiji. But… I don’t think the commander approves. It was a hard conversation.”

Garrus nodded, staying quiet. He watched her wipe tears out from under her eyes.

“She said it was my decision. But that Keiji wouldn’t have wanted me to have a target on my back for the rest of my life. That he’d have wanted me to live in reality and not in the past. She was right.”

“She has a way of being right about things,” Garrus grumbled. “It’s pretty annoying.”

Kasumi laughed again, sniffled a little. “I got pissed at her anyway. I yelled. What does she know about what Keiji would have wanted? She doesn’t know him like I do. Nobody does,” she shook her head. “But she didn’t even get mad. She just gave me a hug and let me cry. She said she wouldn’t judge my choices. But I don’t know, Gare. It just… feels so wrong, to disappoint her. She’s so…” she trailed off, at a loss for words.

“I know,” Garrus said, setting his glass on the table. He leaned towards her a little, trying to see if he could catch the shine of her eyes. “Look, I’m not the best guy for this kind of advice. You know where loss sent me. But it doesn’t have to be all or nothing. That’s something I’m… learning lately,” he admitted gruffly. “Give yourself some time. Keep it for now. But with the intention of saying goodbye,” he watched her nod slowly, clutching her glass with two hands and rubbing her knuckles for comfort. “Work your way towards being able to let it go, and then… I dunno. Blow it up over an ocean, or something. Jettison it into a star. Make it special.”

Kasumi smiled at him warmly. “Thanks Garrus. That sounds… nice. I’ll think about it.” She swung her legs to the floor and set her glass on the low table in front of her.

“No thanks necessary. A turian lives to serve.”

She snorted and leaned back, crossing her arms. “Right, sure. If we’re keeping score, you owed me, anyway.”

“How so?” Garrus asked, tilting his head curiously.

“Who do you think suggested you come with us?” She grinned devilishly. “After you shoved your foot in your mouth on Purgatory I thought maybe you could use a chance to get back in the lady’s good graces.”

Garrus’ jaw dropped. “Uh,” he scrambled, “Kas, we’re not, I’m not, uh,” Shit. Fuck. Shit.

“Could you hear the noises the giant bug orchestra in your chest was making when Hock was all over her? And when she was all over you?”

“You could hear that?” He asked, panicked. Most humans could tell something was playing underneath a turian’s primary vocals, but rarely could discern the difference between one tone and another. Their hearing was simply not sharp enough, their brains untrained to identify the nuances. It was something turians could often use to their advantage in interspecies engagement: a facade of emotional detachment was useful in negotiations of all kinds.

“I’m the best thief in the galaxy, Vakarian. I’ve got a few upgrades. Understanding how people feel is important in any kind of undercover work… as you know, detective.” There was an impish sparkle to her countenance that Garrus resented. There went the one advantage to being the only turian on this ship.

“The commander has a… a partner,” Garrus insisted, echoing the language Shepard used in their conversation on the Citadel. “He’s my friend, too. I’m not interested in getting mixed up in that. You can read whatever you want into my interactions with her, but we’re just friends. She’s important to me. I’m loyal to her. She’s… frustrating, sometimes. That’s all.” He hoped that was convincing enough. He wasn’t sure which one of them he was trying to convince the most.

“Sure, Gare,” Kasumi said slyly. “Whatever you say. I’ll keep your little secret. But I don’t think it needs to be kept.”

Garrus was about to ask what she meant when the door to the room slid open and Shepard stumbled in out of breath. He stood quickly, almost dropping his drink.

“Jane. What’s happening?”

“Another colony is being hit. Now. I just set a course,” she gasped for breath, then locked gazes with him, her eyes filled with fear. “Garrus. It’s Kaidan.”

~~~~~~~~~ That's the end folks. Someday maybe in another ten years I'll post more lmao

#shakarian #garrus vakarian #garrus x femshep #shepard x garrus #garrus romance #mass effect 2 #fanfiction #jane shepard #femshep #mass effect #kasumi goto #I have adhd so I know that this is dialogue heavy and description-starved. I'd be better off writing screenplays but here i am

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otemporanerys · 6 months ago

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WIP Whenever

tagged by @rotschopf-thedrow - thank you! Tagging @misseffect @kalliesa @diaphanouso @dispatchwithlove @angry-jager This is from True Blue, my childhood friends Shakarian AU. Garrus is going through Spectre evals, Shepard is recovering from Akuze, and there is no sexual tension at all, no sir-ee (cw - mentions of parental death) ---

The training and the exercise classes were mainly for Shepard’s benefit, but when Garrus made it through the first round of Spectre cuts, it only felt right to go around Castis’s to thank her.

“Hey –” he stepped through the door, levo beer under one arm, dextro under the other – “guess who’s one step closer to the big leagues?”

“I told you, you were worried for nothing.” Shepard was laying on the floor in front of the sofa, flipping through… it looked like a photo album. Flat, not holographic. “Hey, look what I found.”

“You must’ve really been digging.” Garrus sat down next to her and cracked open his can.

She turned the page, revealing a picture of him and his sister when they were little. “Aww, look at you.” Her nose wrinkled. “All barefaced and downy.”

“Yeah, yeah.” It’d been years since he’d seen any of these: he hadn’t even known Castis had brought them back from Palaven.

Shepard pointed at a photo. “Who’re they?”

It was a group shot, none sporting the Vakarian markings. “Oh. It must be my mom’s family.”

“Is she there?”

There were a few women in the shot – her sisters, or maybe cousins. Garrus pointed at one. “Her.” He was pretty sure, anyway.

Garrus couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked at a holo of his mother – turians got a little bit itchy with photograph of the dead, even the atheists like him – and having it right in front of him made him understand why. He didn’t hold the image of her in his mind, only the feeling of her, and there was none of her on that sliver of nitrate.

“I always thought you looked like your dad.” Shepard looked at him, and lifted the book up, one eye half-closed. “But you can see it in the mandibles.”

Garrus smiled, or tried to. “I wonder how many of them got invited to the wedding.”

“If Solana left anyone out,” Shepard said, leafing through the album, “I’m sure it wasn’t an oversight.”

Then she turned the page, and alarm bells went off in his heads. “No, no, no.” Garrus flailed to snatch the album out of her hands but – damn her – she still had the advantage of flexibility.

She barrel-rolled out of his grasp and grabbed the offending photo – him, 5 years old, totally naked – and held it aloft, holding him back with her other arm. “What, are you embarrassed?”

“C’mon –” Garrus struggled against her, keenly aware that his voice was whining like a little kid’s – “give it back!”

“Nah,” she said, “I think I’ll keep it.” Garrus swiped at her and she jerked just out of reach. “Save it for the best man’s speech!”

Garrus lunged forward as Shepard scrabbled back on her elbows – he got hold of her wrist and grasped for the photo – but then she laughed: huffing, breathless, her white teeth gleaming. The sight of it washed through him like a warm wave, and it pulled a smile out of him.

He flicked his hand and got the photo back.

“Psh.” Shepard’s mouth pulled to the side. “You’re so sensitive. You couldn’t even see anything.”

Nothing she hadn’t seen before, anyway.

Two things happened at once:

Garrus noticed that he was right on top of her.

And the door opened.

Garrus jumped away from her, the warmth of her chest still uncomfortably lingering, and Shepard pulled herself up to a sitting position. Castis, groceries in his arms, looked at the two of them in turn.

Shepard cleared her throat. “We were looking at some old pictures.”

Castis’s eyes flicked to the album, which had been flung to the other side of the room. “Ah.”

“I should get going.” Garrus got to his feet. “Tell Tulcia the good news.”

“Yup,” Shepard said.

Castis’s brows pinched. “Who?”

#childhood friends #my fic #true blue #wip wednesday

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mikanlardyclinic · 4 months ago

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Hey Tali, how ya holding up with all that heft? Surely being probably the fattest quarian out there has to have come with issues.

"I'm holding on just fine.. Thank you.. You really didn't need to say that part i rather not think I'm the biggest quarian in existance.."

A bright blush could be somewhat noticed behind the mask or maybe thoae are just her fat cheeks pressing against it..

"but.. You are right I'm at risk of ripping my exo suit at everyturn.. I'm swimming in antibiotics and medical remedies most of the time just in case of an emergency.. And I'm sure if mordin where here he'd want to know the effects of extreme obesity have on quarians.. But i think i would just die from embarrassment if i had to go through that.. Is already embarrassing enough that everytime a dextro food goes missing I'm blamed inmediatly!"

She grabbed a small dextro chocolate bar with a small note on it saying for garrus.. Before shoving it into her mask's induction port..

"itsh jusht ridiculoush!.. I..im shure its jusht a coincidence.. Or maybe garrush jusht forgot he ate it!.."

#Muse tali zorah #She just sees dextro food and gobbles it up inmediatly..

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aceouttatime · 5 months ago

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Character bingo, gimme Avitus aaaand Kal'Reegar pls?

AVI RAHHHH- okay okay, so it's so funny that you ask about him because i just met him for the first time in this run of andromeda and will be crying about him and macen for the next week, thanks. it does NOT help that i have CERTAIN FRIENDS that WRITE ABOUT THEM and HAVE GREAT AND PAINFUL HEADCANONS that i accept as canon. (totally not reading cast's cold and unfamiliar home rn. fuck.)

anyways. he has been through a lot of shit, and i have so much respect for this bastard and his dubious ruthlessness.

---------------

and KAL'REEGAR, MY BELOVED. i swear to god, he needs a break. PLEASE get reegar a blanket, spiked dextro hot cocoa, and a buddy to watch fleet and flotilla with. he works so hard. he is THE rural farmer kid you went to elementary school with who wanted to be a firefighter so badly because he wanted to save lives and then got really into wwII history. if anyone's seen the one meme with him where it's like 'fictional character but they're from my country/state now', i saw one where they put kal'reegar in a cowboy hat outside'a buckee's, and that's canon to me now.

#aceasks #aceask #acetxt #character bingo #ask game #avitus rix #avitus #avi #kal'reegar #reegar #mass effect #mass effect 2 #mass effect andromeda

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loquaciousquark · 1 year ago

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[Fic] Still Touched With Fire [6/6] - Complete!

Rating: T Characters/Pairings: Shepard/Garrus, Tali, EDI Word Count: 4.4k this chapter, ~24k total Summary: The world ends. Life goes on. Shepard and Garrus pick up—and occasionally fight through—the pieces.

—

“Good afternoon, Commander.”

“EDI.” Shepard gets to her feet with marginal difficulty and embraces her. While EDI’s body looks physically unchanged, her gait is stiff and careful, her face lacking its normal fluidity. It’s not, all things considered, entirely unlike how Joker moves on his bad days, though today seems to be one of his better ones. “Glad you could both make it. Thanks for coming.”

“So this is where James has been posting up, huh?” Joker says, sinking down into one of the chaise lounges on the small balcony where Shepard sits. EDI takes the other wicker armchair opposite Shepard. “The Alliance gives out nice digs. If you don’t mind being trapped planetside, I guess. Where is he, anyway?”

“Ash got back this morning, so they went to get lunch at that Chinese place around the corner.” Shepard glances over the glass balcony railing. They’re only four stories up, but the street beneath them is surprisingly busy with skycar and foot traffic alike. It’s a clear day, sunny with only patches of clouds here and there; the late spring warmth feels good on her skin. “Garrus went with them. Hope they have something dextro.”

“Would you like me to perform a search of their menu?” EDI offers.

“No, no,” Shepard says hastily.

—

Links: FF.net, AO3

#shepard #garrus #shakarian #mass effect #quark writes

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ramblinganthropologist · 17 days ago

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N7 24 - Presumption

Summary: A strange pair of glasses has been found on the Normandy. Who exactly do these awful things belong to, and why does everyone assume they're Alistair's?

---

It was after hours and the nutrient paste was… adequate, he supposed.

Garrus had long grown used to the Alliance’s idea of food for dextro-based species. They did their best, but when it came down to it they dealt with humans. It was perhaps a miracle they kept the nutrient paste in stock at all. Then again, maybe that was thanks to the fact the Normandy’s commanding officer was… fond… of him.

Ok, he was sleeping with the commanding officer. But that was a kind of fondness.

“Enjoying the paste, Garrus?”

An electronic voice drew his attention away from his meal. He glanced up and watched as Tali sat down across from him, clutching a packet of paste and a straw. She sounded as tired as he felt, and no doubt the reverse was true as well. They were both pulling long hours – it came with being so high up with their respective races.

He shrugged as he ate more. “It’s the good flavor today, so I guess.”

“Really? I hate this one.” Tali poked the straw through and took a tentative sip. “Ugh, how you can enjoy this one?”

Well, “enjoy” was coming on a bit strong. At best, he tolerated it more than the others. They all tasted similar, but this one had a slightly meaty edge that he preferred over the other bland offerings. Chalk it up to the fact he was a turian whose diet was evolutionarily meat based, he supposed.

It was probably the salt. Salt made everything better.

“It gets the job done.” Garrus kept eating. “How’s it going with the Fleet now that you’re setting on Rannoch?”

That was the latest update. Somehow, through the force of will and pointing every gun in the fleet at a Reaper, their combined forces had taken back the quarian homeland after three hundred years of abandonment. It was a rare instances of taking a planet back, rather than losing one to the invasion of synthetic life.

Weird to think about, but it was definitely a shot in the arm.

“It’s going slowly. My people are so used to living on ships that any form of solid ground is disconcerting.” Tali sipped at her paste. “The geth are helping, though. With any luck our immune systems will begin to boost soon enough.”

Garrus nodded at that. “Good to hear. Guess the suits will be a thing of the past then?”

“I doubt we’ll get rid of them fully, but we won’t need them to survive.” There was a note of hope in Tali’s voice, one he hadn’t heard in quite some time. He couldn’t blame her – that was a big thing for the quarians. If he had been in the same position, he probably would’ve felt the same thing.

Instead, he was just worried about Palaven.

Still, to worry he needed strength, and that meant making sure he ate everything in the pouch. Enough time on human ships had taught him how to fold it up in such a way that he could use it to scrape everything out. Tali was a master of it too – they had compared notes back in 2183 when they had first arrived.

The things you picked up when you were in the field.

“Well, are you going to ask them or what?”

“They might not know, they were found on the observation deck after all.”

Garrus picked up his head mid slurp. Normally, he tuned out the chatter when he was eating, mostly because the translation app gave him a headache. But these two were interesting to say the least. Add in the fact they were getting closer, and he had a good idea he was about to be part of the conversation.

Thus, it was no surprise when James and Kaidan settled in at the free seats. Neither had food with them, so that was a bit confusing. He was pretty sure both were still on duty too, though that didn’t mean much at the moment.

“Oh, hello.” Tali stopped folding up her pouch for the moment. “Something we can help you with?”

James nodded in response. “Yeah, we wanted to see if you recognized these.”

Kaidan pulled a strange looking container from who knows where. Garrus cocked an eyebrow as he studied it. It didn’t look like it contained some sort of weapon or tech, but that left the options still endless. Tali seemed to be of a similar mind, even though he couldn’t see it through her tinted visor.

“What is it?”

The human pulled open the case and placed something on the table. It was a pair of lenses that humans wore to correct bad eyesight if they didn’t want to go through the surgery to fix it. What was the name again – glasses?

These were not like any he’d seen, though. The few people on the Citadel that wore them preferred thinner glass behind the frames. The ones in this pair were so thick they could probably be used to concentrate laser beams if angled right. Not to mention they were surprisingly round – the couple he had seen were more oval-shaped to mimic human eyes.

And was that tape holding them together?

“Someone found these on the observation deck the other day.” James filled them in on it. “Nobody’s claimed them yet, and they’re not Alliance issued so there’s no code to link it to anyone.”

Kaidan nodded as he put them back in the case. “So someone’s missing a pair of glasses they don’t want anyone knowing about.”

Tali finished scraping her paste. “And that would be a bad thing, then?”

“Yeah, the lenses are pretty damn thick. Anyone who needs these is probably blind without them.” James shrugged. “So it’s probably a good idea to figure out who’s walking around unable to see two feet in front of their face.”

Fair – Garrus could see the logic behind that. Hell, he was on the Normandy half because its commanding officer had knocked him off his feet during their first meeting thanks to his own bad eyesight. The last thing they needed was someone else doing it and winding up in some sort of diplomatic nightmare.

Or, falling out the airlock. That would be bad too.

“That makes sense, but why are you coming to us?” Tali cocked her head to the side. “We don’t know any humans who wear glasses.”

Both men suddenly looked a little uncomfortable as they exchanged glances. Garrus was now more than a little confused as he studied their expressions, nutrient paste forgotten for the moment. Was it some human thing to be embarrassed about poor eyesight? Maybe that was why they didn’t seem to do it much…

“Well, Shepard’s probably able to keep them off the record.”

Garrus shook his head as he went for more nutrient paste. “Going to have to be a bit more specific than that, Kaidan. We’ve got two of them.”

“Come on, you know that Monster is shit with tech. No way she could erase these off her record.” James picked up the glasses and nudged them over towards him. “These have gotta be Loco’s specs.”

Spirits, was he glad he had swallowed before that. The last thing either man needed to see was how turians spit up food.

“You think these belong to Al?” It was weird, using his boyfriend’s name in front of his men. After all, he was Shepard or Commander to them. “I’ve never seen him wear these before.”

Kaidan at least didn’t look too uncomfortable as he nodded. “He did lose an eye on Akuze, there could be some side effects he hasn’t mentioned. For all we know he’s just wearing contacts all the time. Have you seen him take anything off his eyes at night?”

Well, it wasn’t like he was watching the man 24/7. They had time apart when they were busy with their individual duties. Still, he had seen Alistair’s bathroom before. He would’ve probably noticed something like that.

“No, I can’t say I have.” He turned to Tali. “What about you? Does Shepard take anything off her eyes?”

The quarian shook her head after taking the last sip of her paste. “Not that I’ve seen. These don’t exactly look like something Bo would wear either.”

No, they didn’t. If he had to be completely honest, they were more likely within his boyfriend’s wheelhouse. It wasn’t like he was particularly known for having a sense for fashion in his casual wear. His bright orange hoodie with ears was perfect example of that.

Though, he was rather fond of that hoodie. The ears were kind of cute and made him think of Saren.

“Right, so we figured they’re something Loco would keep on hand for when his contacts are bothering him.” James spoke with a tone of almost authority. “So, we’re coming to you. Tali’s probably his best friend besides Monster, and you’re banging him.”

Garrus’ mandibles flapped as he glanced around – thankfully, they were alone. “Why don’t you just shout it next time?”

It wasn’t as if he was embarrassed about his relationship with Alistair – far from it. It was just awkward to bring it up around people given the differences between them. Besides, he was the commanding officer. The less the people under him knew about his love life, the better.

“Sorry, Scars. Didn’t think you were sensitive about it.” James was grinning a little, however. He wasn’t that sorry. “Anyway, go see if they belong to Loco when you’re finished eating. Can’t have the guy going around blind, he might bang into someone else and turn out to be poly or something.”

It was hard to argue with that. In the end, Garrus sighed and nodded. Then he finished up the last of his nutrient paste and took the glasses off the table. The case felt odd in his hands, but he could hold onto it.

“Right, I’ll get on that.” He glanced over at Tali. “Might as well come with me. You know they’re usually together.”

Tali nodded as she got out of her seat. After throwing away their empty pouches, they headed towards the left side of the room to check if the lights were on. She was the one who knocked on the door, but no response came.

So, they weren’t there.

“Kaidan and James would’ve already checked the other areas on the Normandy, so they must be in Shepard’s quarters.” Tali started to head towards the elevator. Garrus followed behind her, and soon they were watching from the inside.

All the while, he kept careful hold on the glasses. If they were held together with tape, he doubted they were very strong. Why Alistair hadn’t just replaced them he didn’t know. Maybe with everything going on he hadn’t gotten the chance.

“You would think Cerberus would’ve done something about his eyesight.” Tali didn’t sound too positive about that. “Unless they couldn’t fix his eyes completely.”

Garrus shrugged. “Al said they put him back to full capacity, so maybe they kept that in so he’d be at his regular level of function.”

That seemed like something Cerberus would’ve done when they were reconstructing him. Miranda had been rather tight-lipped about the entire process of bringing Alistair back to life, but he got the sense they had got as close as they could – minus restoring the eye he lost on Akuze. That one was just an upgrade.

Soon the elevator dinged and let them out. Normally, this was the part where someone would have to request access. However, Garrus wasn’t just someone. He held his omni-tool up to the door and watched as it dinged and turned green.

Tali gave him a blank look – or at least he assumed so. “You have door privileges already I see.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Garrus rolled his eyes. “Let’s just see if they’re in here.”

The door slid open, and then they entered the room. Much to his relief, the room was occupied. Alistair was sitting on his bed, while Shepard was stretched out on the couch. Both turned to face them, confusion written all over their faces.

“Garrus? I didn’t expect to see you until later.” Alistair cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, hi Tali, didn’t see you there for a second. What’s up?”

Shepard snickered, clearly amused. “Someone’s early for the booty call?”

“Clearly not, since he’s not alone.” His voice was as flat as Tuchanka. “And I doubt he would’ve brought Tali if that was the case. She’s your girlfriend, not mine.”

Girlfriend, huh. Garrus shot the quarian a look. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one sleeping with a human. Tali kept her composure like always, but he got the sense she might’ve been a little embarrassed based on her posture.

Well, good for them he supposed.

“We came up because James and Kaidan found something they thought might belong to you, Shepard.”

Garrus nodded as he took the glasses from their case, careful not to bend them in case the tape snapped. “These wouldn’t happen to be yours, would they?”

He held them out just so his boyfriend could get a better look. Alistair’s eyes narrowed in focus as he looked them over. Finally, realization colored his face as he got up to take them from his hand.

Then he grinned. “I told you that you left them on the observation deck. It was the one place we didn’t check.”

Bo groaned as she took them from him. “I thought I’d left them in my room, ok?”

Tali and Garrus were the one exchanging looks now.

“Wait, they’re yours, Bo?” Tali sounded honestly surprised. “I’ve never seen you wear glasses.”

Shepard took the case from him, shoving them in with a surprising lack of care. “That’s because I wear contacts all the time.”

Well, it turned out Kaidan and James had been right on the credits for guessing why they never saw them before. It just turned out they had bet on the wrong Shepard. In hindsight, he should’ve realized they weren’t Alistair’s – they looked like they might be a little too big for his head now that he had gotten a good look at them.

“She’s blind without them, which is why I said to check the observation deck.” He shook his head. “Honestly, I need to tag them with a locater. It wouldn’t take much to hook it up to your omni-tool.”

Shepard shot him a blank look as she shoved the case into the back pocket of her pants. “They stay in my room normally; I don’t need tech attached to them.”

“No, you need a new pair. The tape’s not going to hold up forever.”

“How about you bite me instead.”

Sometimes, Garrus forgot they were as close as siblings were without actually being related by blood. The Normandy’s top officers were definitely showing it in that moment – it reminded him of disagreements he’d had with his own sister during their childhood.

It was just weird to see it coming out of two grown adults.

“Anyway, thanks for finding them. I’m going to put them back in my room now so I know where they are.” She jerked her head towards the elevator. “Tali, you wanna come with?”

Tali nodded, and soon the pair were piling into the elevator and heading back down to the crew deck where Shepard’s room was located. This left him alone with his boyfriend, who was still wearing a satisfied grin on his face as he watched where Bo had used to be.

It was downright attractive to see him so snarky.

“Glad to help you get one up on her.” He joined him on the bed, seeking out his hand. Alistair entwined their fingers, thumb rubbing up against the flat side of his talons. It was a gesture he had come to love over the time they had been together.

The man chuckled, still clearly pleased. “I told her to keep leaving them places. Sure, she has her contacts but they bother her eyes at nice.”

He sucked in his cheek, though. “I can’t believe you thought those were mine, though. No way I would wear glasses like that.”

That caused him to chuckle. “Oh, really? You’re not exactly known for your taste in clothes, Al.”

“Hey, leave my hoodie out of this, it’s comfy and pisses people off when they see me wearing it off duty.” Alistair chuckled, “Besides, I don’t need glasses anyway. My eyesight was just fine before I lost my eye. Cerberus only needed to give that one back to get me to nearly 20/20.”

He assumed that was good for humans, but the reference went over his crest by a mile. Best to just go with it.

“Well, it’s not like I can picture her wearing them either. They’re not exactly her style either.” He shrugged. “You were the best option.”

That caused his boyfriend to roll his eyes. “Babe, believe me when I say she’s nearly blind without her contacts. The lenses need to be that thick so she can see. They used to be called coke-bottle glasses back in the day.”

Once again, a reference he didn’t get. But at least it was good to know that Alistair wasn’t walking around blind again. Then again, it was how they had met in the first place back on the Presidium. If not for his missing eye, things would’ve turned out differently.

Hooray for thresher maws?

“Anyway, I’m off duty so if you want to hang around for a while, feel free.” Alistair sighed as he flopped back on the bed, tension melting away. “Saren’s definitely been missing you, he keeps going topside and looking around.”

That made him chuckle. “Oh, Saren’s the one missing me?”

“Ok, maybe I am too.” He grinned sheepishly. “We’ve both been busy with things since Rannoch after all.”

Garrus nodded as he also laid down next to his boyfriend. It had been a while since they were alone. He might not have been in the mood for sex right then, but it was nice to just be there with the man amidst all the chaos.

So, he was happy just to be there in the moment. After all, who knew when they were going to get another chance like this with everything happening? He needed to take what he could get; it could be his last chance.

Damn Reapers… he was getting tired of their shit. With any luck, the Crucible would take care of them and they could go back to a semi-normal existence.

#ramblinganthropologist's writing #garrus vakarian #Alistair Shepard #Bo Peep Shepard #Alistair is slightly offended everyone assumed it was him lol #N7 24

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magnoliabutters · 1 year ago

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ANOTHER ROUTINE MISSION

pairing: commander cat shepard x garrus vakarian

warnings: 18+ content, nsfw, mdni; mass effect trilogy spoilers, post me3, gore, canon divergence, commander choices - 70 paragon, 30 renegade, etc.

word count: ~5.2k

“Can I come out now?”

The smell of burning bacon pinched at Shepard’s brow. The love of her life could barely cook himself dextro-bacon. She practically has herself dangling off the upstair’s railing. Maybe if she moved just a little bit more to the right, would she be able to catch a glimpse of him in Glyph’s holoface?

“Just a second!”

That dark, timbre of a voice immediately flushes the worry from her body. With him by her side, nothing could ever go wrong. Her Archangel, Garrus. The one good thing in her chaotic world. Her heart still pounds with excitement at the very sight of him. She waits eagerly for whatever surprise is in store for her downstairs, burnt or not.

Shepard crouches down, tucking her legs between the railing. She kicks her feet at the sound of his energetic humming. She wishes the calm of the storm could stay just a little bit longer. That she could stay in this apartment, snuggled up under his chin for the rest of her existence.

Alas, no. Those nerves that wrack her soul manifest in the way her fingers pull at the hem of her shorts. How she bites onto her cuticles, causing little cuts and wounds. A bitter show of vulnerability that only he gets to see.

Whether she liked it or not, Shepard’s mind begins to flow down a whirlwind of unfathomable realities. The thought of the upcoming battle tenses her body in ways she never thought possible. She would much rather worry about burnt breakfast, then Reapers murdering the entire galaxy.

With a shake of her head, she attempts to pull herself from the deep, winding trail of bad thoughts. Her eyes fall upon the abstract art hanging on the cream colored walls. They appreciate the glow of the overhead light beaming off the metal statue. Appreciate the amusement bouncing in her chest.

God, what was Anderson thinking? He has an eye for real estate, but she can only imagine that he must have bought this art during the time of his separation. Only a man enduring a midlife crisis would buy and display such gaudy things.

A tight lipped smile spreads across Shepard’s face. A warmth spreads widely across her chest as she presses a finger against her bottom lip. She is thankful, abundantly thankful that Anderson gave her the apartment - gaudy art and all.

It provided the incredible opportunity of “breaking in” the apartment, per Garrus’ words. Flashes of last night‘s adventures form bubbles in the pit of her stomach. Suffice to say, there wasn’t a surface untouched. Certainly, the two could never give the Admiral his apartment back - not on any terms.

She will never admit it, but she is thankful for Mordin and Joker. Garrus was definitely the most well versed in interspecies sexual positions. One bottle of dextro-wine and the angel’s smooth talking became smooth ruts against her skin. He always knows exactly where to touch her, where to make her squeal.

Garrus Vakarian knows exactly how to crack her open like an egg - breaking off that hardened commander of a shell, just to get to the soft Shepard center. He is the light shining brightly through a thick, foggy storm. He guides her back home, no matter where they are - no matter how lost she is.

“Okay, you better be in that bed,” he calls out in a sing-songy voice. Shepard manages to get a sneak peak of his struggles to balance the plate of food with both hands. His foot carefully lands on each step as he blindly climbs the stairs. “I wasn’t kidding about breakfast in bed.”

Shepard jumps from her seat, slinking her legs through the railing and rushing back towards their bedroom. She digs her feet into the sheets, leaning effortlessly back onto her pillow. She pulls the blankets up to her waist, trying to really sell the idea of her patiently waiting in bed.

With a smirk that could kill, Garrus turns the corner with the tray in hand. Her grinning mouth drops open upon the sight of a beauty stemmed rose floating amongst a thin vase. Beside it, a glass filled to the brim with orange juice. The plate holds a perfectly organized buffet of french toast, eggs, and, of course, bacon.

“You shouldn’t have,” Shepard murmurs in excitement as she hikes her shoulders up to her ears. The crimson he loves so much is flush against her cheeks.

Garrus vibrates his mandibles with a light hum of happiness and accomplishment. He places the tray at the foot of the bed before sitting at your side. The angel places a soft hand at your cheek before whispering, “When this is all done and over with, I promise I will make you breakfast in bed every day.” His other hand reaches for hers, guiding it to rest upon his bare chest.

“That’s a tall order, Vakarian,” Shepard scoffs as she guides that same hand to her lips. She places the softest of pecks at the back of his palm, holding her loving gaze with his bright blue eyes. “Let’s start with just Sundays.”

Garrus shakes his head, chuckling to himself. “Only if we have date night on Fridays.” He gently places his forehead against hers. A loving, firm sensation between them. A centering feeling that rids her of any pain, any worry. He is hers and she is his.

“Just - ” Shepard winces. The agony ripping through her body keeps her from finishing her sentence. Deep breaths in between words keep her pushing, forcing the words out. He needs to hear them. “Just as long as we go dancing.”

The room is suddenly dark. A red tinted gloom muddied by bright moving flecks of orange and yellow. Confusion consumes her. Filling every nook and cranny. Forcing her to think so quickly, so stressfully. Truly, where the hell is she?

A sharp ache wracks through her brain. God, it’s unbearable. She can feel her temples pulsating, begging for mercy. This is worse than any pain she’s endured before. But there is no such thing as pain with Garrus… What’s going on?

Each breath reinforces the idea that her trachea has somehow transformed into sand paper. The noise of the air passing through her lungs closely resembles the nauseating sound of nails being dragged down a chalkboard.

“Garrus,” Shepard calls out with a hoarse tone. Her voice is nonexistent and barely a whistling tone above the loud booms of the space around her. The last time she lost her voice this bad was when she won big on the Sunset Strip during shore leave.

She instinctively reaches her hand to her throat, only to have her arm burst with pain at the attempt. Every cell, molecule - every atom of her being hurts. She tries to open her eyes but a harsh pressure holds one closed. The other is blurred as all hell and barely functional.

Shepard can feel the familiar remnants of blood pooled at her upper lip. Her body sways, barely able to sit up. She is hit by tidal waves of overwhelming sensations. It forces her to press into the debris digging into her back. Her hands are bloodied, holding a puncture wound at her side.

Despite the haze, she manages to look down and assess her right arm. A huge, bloodied gash rips through her forearm. The edges of the abrasion are singed and burnt. She tries her best to ignore the bright, compound fracture of a bone peaking out from behind her tendons.

A sharp breath in and she picks her head up. She scans the area, searching for any possible exit, any possible way to get back to their bed. Fire and smoke fill the thin corridor. The flames grow and spread across the walls. Metal beams fall from the ceiling, vibrating the ground as they crash. She spots a flickering green glow signing a door at the end of the hallway.

She is not safe.

She remembers the Citadel. Saving the galaxy. Destroying the Catalyst. Destroying the very synthetic life she worked so hard to stand for. Destroying the geth … destroying EDI.

She pushes away the thought of her loss, the loss of her friend. She learned to do that back with the N7. Tough calls. Tough choices. Tough losses, but she doesn’t get to feel it. Not yet.

With a gut curdling scream, Shepard pushes herself up from the unleveled rubble. Shock spreads across her face as she looks back to see pieces of her armor melted into the ground. She should be dead, disintegrated along with her suit. The academy never really prepared her for the “not dying” part of a suicide mission.

“Garrus?” her voice carries down the burning corridor. “Liara!” Step after step. Each one increases the chances of her hip bursting on impact. Her body, a valuable and dependable machine, is now shutting down when she needs it the most.

Hell, it’s given a damn good fight. It deserves the rest.

“Tali!” Shepard uses all of her strength to scream out her friends’ names. She crashes down, landing harshly against her knee and consequently her chin. Tears involuntarily fall, hugging at the surface of her cheeks.

She considers the idea of not standing, of not pushing forward, of not fighting for her life. Fortunately for the galaxy, the endless nagging of a certain handsome turian at heaven’s bar changes her mind.

The Citadel falls around her, forcing her to pick up her pace. Pieces crumble at her sides and block the central aisle of the corridor. The only way through is over it.

Shepard struggles to pull herself up onto the debris. The metal and concrete now resemble a scrunched up, used tissue. Yet, somehow she must crawl her invalid self over it. Easy, nothing she hasn’t done before.

Holding her breath, she places her hands against the sharp rubble. It cuts at her palms, at the bend of her fingers. A single slip up and she lands her hands against the burning ground.

As she yells in pain, something the size of an asteroid barrels in through the hull of the ship. Given the state of things, she isn’t shocked that the Citadel’s kinetic barriers are down.

What shocks Shepard is that her Kawashii visor is still functional. With emergency procedures activated, a shield wraps around her face. It gives her the oxygen she most definitely needs from a hull breach.

Zero gravity floats her off the ground, making every movement abundantly easier. She hurries her movements, swimming through the space and dodging the hovering wreckage.

A countdown is now ticking louder and louder in the back of her mind. If any more holes wrack through the metal, she surely will be sucked out and that would be the end of Shepard’s story. The story that began about a year ago - before Liara and Cerberus brought her back

She finally reaches the door. Out of routine, she extends her right arm to hover over the lock. Calcifying aches shoot through her extremities, almost as though she was shot and inertia threw her arm back.

With a stroke of luck, the door miraculously opens. Shepard raises her eyes with furrowing brows. There she recognizes the salarian spectre, Jondum Bau. Her heart sinks - she made it.

Bau’s hands reach for hers and pull her through the doorway. She rolls onto her shoulder, grunting with each pulsating ache. His words are quick and quiet, almost as though he is thinking to himself. He seals off the door, burning the metal with his omnitool and causes a makeshift airlock.

Shepard curls onto her side, gasping for air. Warm blood begins to pool on her left side. She reaches up for the spectre. “Bau, I need you to-'' The pain is unbearable. She has to breathe through gritted teeth just to force herself to sit through the agony. “Call the Alliance. I need-” She lets out a harsh breath, digging back onto her side as her body screams for her to stop moving. “I need a medevac.”

Through the reach of her left arm, Shepard twists and lands upon her back. The one hazy eye becomes hazier as she feels her weight sink into the floor. “Yes, Commander,” she hears in her woozy state. Just before the world turns black.

“Assessing damages, doctor.”

Shepard can hear the salarian accent thick in their words. The cold metal is pressed against her skin. She feels weightless, as though she can float up into the blinding light above her. She feels cold, the familiar intergalactic cold. They must have cracked open her armor. There would be no other way to get her out.

“She has third degree burns on eighty-five percent of her body. She has several foreign objects in her left, lower abdomen. Her arm…”

She can hear slow and steady beeps that are easily recognizable from a hospital. Although, she is usually not the patient.

“Medi-gel, stat!”

That voice… that voice is familiar. “Yes, doctor.” It is higher pitched and clearly another salarian doctor. It has been some time since she last heard it, but it is a voice she will never forget.

“Wait,” the unfamiliar voice responds. The mechanic beeping quickens. Her breathing becomes harder and harder to sustain. “She’s having a react-”

Shepard falls into unconsciousness once again…

[[{{{{////33422>]][[//

“She’s waking up.”

“Yes, I can see that. Tighten the straps!”

“But what if we need to evacuate?”

Shepard hears a loud, cranking noise. She feels a tightness at her wrists and ankles. Soft moans escape her as she struggles to find consciousness. Suddenly, an alarm blares. It causes a harsh, ringing noise to bounce within her ears’ canals. She winces at the painful sound.

“Get the Dalatrass, now!”

Her eyes open immediately at the name. Her heart begins to race as she slowly understands her newfound reality. She is not in an Alliance hospital, no. She is still not safe.

Shepard pulls at her restraints, lifting her eyes to the doctor closest to her. All at once, the familiar voice is clear as day. “Maelon,” she whispers with a strain to her voice. The words hurt worse than when she first woke on the remains of the Citadel.

“Hush now, Commander,” Maelon coos. He places a soft hand at her shoulder. “I have you now.” The words spark adrenaline in her body. She tugs harshly against her restraints, pulling herself from his “comforting” touch.

“She’s not coming,” a young salarian scientist walks up with worried black eyes. Shepard tears her eyes from Maelon, scanning the area. She recognizes the greenery and nature, almost as though the hull was decorated by Sur’Kesh. Her best bet would be that she is on a Salarian Special Tasks Group ship, which means she is some lab experiment - again. The very last thing one would ever want to be in the presence of a demented doctor.

Maelon sighs, pressing an inquisitive finger to his lips. “They’re evacuating, doctor. We must go!” his assistant yells. He hums as thoughts run sporadically in his mind. His hands move side to side as he struggles to determine what items to evacuate with.

Ultimately, his thoughts boil down to an endless calculation of risk. The risk of being caught with the Commander tied to a gurney. To escape before the invaders break down the door. How likely is it that he will make it out of his home planet unharmed?

“Leave her,” Maelon spits out the words. The younger scientist rushes out without a second thought. The doctor, however, takes his time. He runs a cold, scaled finger down her cheek. A slow smile forms across his cheeks. His eyes blacken as they hover above hers.

“The Dalatrass sends her regards, Commander.”

He leans in closer to her. His breath is hot against her skin. “I hope you live long enough to see what I’ve done,” he whispers. As he pulls away, his hand and his presence linger, appreciating his work, before scurrying along with the other evacuating doctors.

Shepard grinds her teeth, raising her head to watch him run away. She crashes her head back against the firm bed with deep-rooted frustration. Her eyes search for a weapon, for something to get her out from these restraints. A small part of her worries about Maelon’s words, but it rests on the arch of her brow. She has to focus on finding an escape route.

She has done this once before - waking up in a new place after almost dying. A place that just so happens to be under attack. She wonders how many years have passed this time.

Red lights flash in tandem with the obnoxious sounding alarm. She pulls at the restraints, practically bruising herself with each attempt. After her third attempt, she spots a sterile tray on her left side. A scalpel, prongs, and a PDA rest upon it. Her fingers stretch, as far as they can, trying to grip onto the scalpel. Her fingertips slice against the blade.

“God damnit!” Shepard yells as blood drops onto the floor below.

A whoosh of pressurized air releases. Her head pops up with widened eyes as the laboratory door slides open. It reveals one Lieutenant Vega and Spectre Williams.

Hope washes over Shepard. She lets out a laugh and a sigh of relief that follows her glowing smile. “James, Ash,” she happily exhales. “Get these things off of me.”

Ash stays calm, cool, and collected. Her face never changes. She remains, as always, all about the mission. Her gun’s sights are right at eyeline until the room was deemed “clear.” Shepard hopes she could take credit for some of that.

James, however, could not contain his expression. Eyes rake over his commander, assessing her quickly. His brows push together and form a darkened line at its center. His mouth opened, almost as though he was going to greet her, but the words never came out.

“Vega, get her out of those restraints,” Ash demands with fierceness. Her commanding voice is enough to pull James out of whatever shock he is enduring. “Let me get you out of there, Lola,” he whispers. His smile now slightly present against his hardened lips.

Shepard pushes the concerning thoughts from her mind. The only thing she cares about is escaping this lab, and, now, to ensure that her comrades get out unscathed. “Here, hook this arm over me,” James instructs as he pulls at her left hand and wraps her arm around his large shoulders.

He then lifts her body weight, as she primarily leans upon him, before reaching for his pistol. She could feel her legs slipping from beneath her, as though she hadn’t used them in quite some time. “Ready, LT Commander,” he utters, slightly out of breath.

Ash nods before opening the door. She leads with her assault rifle, ensuring the hallway remains clear before moving the commander forward. “Clear.” She guides the trio to the left and onto a glass bridgeway.

Shepard gawks over the tropical forest beauty of the Sur’Kesh-turned ship. It’s just as gorgeous as the last time she saw the planet. How did they manage to turn the ship into this? More importantly, why? Almost as though the Reapers had never made their appearance in the Annos Basin.

At the end of the bridge, two salarian soldiers raise their rifles at Williams. They are quickly put down and forgotten by the Alliance squad. James struggles to raise his pistol toward the threats, prompting Shepard to act.

“I can shoot, Vega,” she whispers. “Hand it over.” She crosses her right arm over her chest. The movement freezes her entire body, forcing a yell from her lack-lustered lungs. She almost slips from his grasp.

How could her arm still be in so much pain?

Upon hearing her scream, Ash turns back and reveals the tiniest glimpse of concern across her face. She quickly returns to her sights, but listens out behind her. “You ok, Lola?” James asks, tightening his grip onto the commander.

“How long’s it been, James?” Shepard whispers. He keeps his head forward, pushing on with Ash’s lead. She shoots a hot breath through her flared nostrils. Did he really think that his commander could be ignored?

“Lieutenant!” The commander directs all of her strength to pull her old N7 staff sergeant voice out. “How long?”

James and Ash exchange looks. Another thing that boils Shepard’s blood. “Ten months, Commander,” Williams answers with a tight lip. Three months and Shepard is still in pain? Was she ever given medi-gel?

What the hell happened?

Ash presses two fingers to her ear. “Admiral, we got her. Heading to the LZ now.” She nods upon hearing her next orders. Vega sets Shepard against a seat in what looks like a waiting room.

James takes defensive maneuvers, standing with his back to Shepard and his gun drawn. Doctors and scientists of the STG scramble amongst the chaos and blaring alarms. He watches each and every one of them. Any one of them can suddenly become a threat.

Shepard’s attention is entuned on the quick shifts in Williams’ body language. Ash pulls into herself, hiding her next words unsuccessfully. “She’s conscious but unaware.” She pauses. “Yes, Admiral.”

Ash turns back to the group. Her confident and strong willed demeanor returns. “Let’s move!” she demands before pushing off of her back leg. James turns back to Shepard with a harsh, yet leading hand. “You heard her, Commander,” he utters as he gently guides her arm over his shoulders once more.

A wince leaves her lips as he stands this time. The aches are beginning to weigh on her. The way her tongue rests dryly in her mouth. The way each breath feels like a gamble - is it going to help more than hurt? She lets out another grunt as she leans heavily into Vega’s shoulder.

“Medi-gel?” Shepard musters the words. They feel bare and unfamiliar. She can feel her dried lips crack with each word.

“We’re almost to the landing zone,” Ash answers. Her face is sincerely concerned as she utters, “We’ll patch you up there.”

Shepard nods her head. She can hold out, just a little bit longer, to ensure that her team makes it to the shuttle. “Is that complaining I hear, Commander?” James jokes as he limps his way behind Williams. She guides the troop to a balcony covered in trees and foliage. The perfect spot for Cortez to land and get them safely out.

“Reapers must’ve done a number on you,” he continues with a smirk. Shepard pushes out a smile with the little energy she has left. “Not everyone can look this good after a beating like that,” she coughs out. The mundane taste of metal sprinkles across her tongue.

Vega bustles out a laugh, tightening his grip onto her wrist. It is the first time she recognized the Lieutenant she knew back on the Normandy. “Still got it, Lola,” he utters with a beaming grin as he leads them onto the balcony with Williams’ cover.

A booming sound vibrates the air as a blue shuttle decorated in Alliance insignia hovers perfectly beside the balcony’s ledge. Shepard manages to hold onto her smile, hoping to see a special someone on the other side of that door.

The compressed air whizzes out of the side of the shuttle’s entrance. The first thing she sees is black dress shoes, shortly followed by the navy blues. She raises her eyes to see the Admiral.

“Hackett,” she utters as James uses the majority of his strength to push her up and into the shuttle. He reaches for her hands, helping her onto a seat. Ash keeps guard, a classic silent and deadly spectre in the field.

“Commander,” Admiral Hackett returns. His voice is solid and stern. She finds comfort in it, but she can’t deny how wide his eyes grew upon seeing her. She could feel that something was wrong - something in her body. She didn’t need her trusted comrades’ expressions to tell her that.

Shepard pushes past those thoughts. She straightens her back against the cold metallic seats. Was it Cortez? Is he flying? The lighthearted feeling in her chest floats to the bottom of her throat. No offense intended for her lieutenants, but she certainly wants to see her nearest and dearest a tad bit more.

Ash hops inside the shuttle flawlessly. Her gun is still tracking the last remaining scientists, workers, and doctors. She disarms once her sight is obstructed by the slow closing door. It hovers off into the orange sunset sky.

James sits at Shepard’s side. She can see through her peripherals that he is assessing her injuries. His eyes scan over her body as she stares into Hackett’s pale face. Her eyes stern, her lips tight, her breathing quickens, and her heart beats faster than she thought possible.

And yet, the Admiral turns around. He steps forward and into a huddled corner beside Ash. Shepard’s face falls. Her lashes lightly flutter as she stares into her melted boot. In an escape from overwhelming feelings, she notes the burnt hole and how the skin beneath it is an unfamiliar reddish pink.

Sadly, Shepard was given less than a minute before a force rips through her diaphragm. She’s hunched over, despite the stabbing pain in her left side, with a closed fist at her mouth. Coughs fall from her lips, rocking her body to its core.

With Vega’s steady hand at the base of her back, she was slowly able to recover. Her eyes immediately fall upon the two high school girls in the corner. Hackett and Williams stare at her in horror before gradually turning back into privacy.

If Shepard could manage to say all the words, she would gladly ask, “Is someone going to tell me what the hell is going on here?!” Alas, she is forced to prioritize her words. She leans into Vega’s side while sustaining her red lasered stare. “Medi-gel,” she whispers between her gritted teeth.

James jumps at the word, almost as though it was on his list and he had forgotten. He dives into the medi-gel dispenser at the other end of the shuttle without another second passing. His movements call the attention of Williams and Hackett. “Grab her a water too,” the Admiral instructs with a nod.

With a bottled water in hand, Vega returns to his seat. The crash pushes him into Shepard’s shoulder, causing a firm grunt. He hands the water to Shepard, before reaching back into the dispenser and retrieving Medi-gel in the form of an IV. His eagerness and quickness remind her of a golden retriever.

James raises the needle, plastering a confident smile across his face. “I promise, I’ve gotten better, Commander,” he says with a breath.

Rolling her eyes, Shepard extends her left arm. She watches as he approaches her with needle in hand and a tongue tightly held by his lips. He carefully injects the needle before holding up a bag of Medi-gel. She could feel it reaching her veins almost instantaneously. The cold liquid courses through, relaxing every ache and every pain.

She leans deeper into her seat, resting the back of her head against the cold metal surface of the shuttle. She presses it deep against the hull, genuinely confused on how it doesn’t push past the solid. This feels incredible. She never truly understood the addicting need for red sand before, but holy shit did she know without a doubt now.

“Thank you,” Shepard whispers as she closes her eyes and enjoys the sedative nature of the medication.

A soft hand to her shoulder and Shepard awakes to Ash’s sweet, blushed face. They were still in the shuttle. Was it a short nap? She couldn’t tell with how deep her consciousness was laid to rest. “Commander,” she whispers before leaning down onto her knee before her. “Can you tell us what happened?”

Shepard moans, attempting to boost her energy before sitting up. She wishes she could take the world’s fattest cat nap, but duty calls. Her entire world turns upright alongside her rising torso. A soft clearing of her throat and she begins.

“It was like Cerberus,” she struggles to keep her eyes open. “I woke up and I didn’t know where I was…” The words are starting to linger a bit more than she intends.

“How did you get off the Citadel, Commander?” Hackett’s booming voice breaks the sound barrier just as he appears in the right side of Shepard’s view. “Bau, spectre,” she mumbles. “I - I asked for a medevac and … I can’t remember the rest.”

Hackett and Williams exchange looks that piqued Shepard’s interest once more. Hackett then walked into the control room, changing the destination when speaking to the pilot. “When did you wake up?” Ash asks, blocking the view of the Admiral with her head.

Shepard pulls back, knocking her head against the metallic wall. The crack feels like a blur. Her senses are beginning to waver - going in and out like pulsating bursts. “Minutes before you two came in,” she answers, turning to James. His brow remained thickly furrowed as he clenched his jaw.

Ash sucks in a harsh breath through her nostrils. Her hand pats nicely against Shepard’s knee. “Get some rest, Commander,” she murmurs before standing and turning towards the Admiral. “Wait!” Shepard stops her from taking another step. The very call takes the breath right from her lungs. All of a sudden, she feels as though she ran a 10 meter dash.

“Garrus,” she breathes. “W-where is he? Did he make it?”

Shepard’s eyelids are growing heavier and heavier with each passing second. The pressure on her chest grows stronger and stronger. She can feel her body giving in to the Medi-gel, but she needed to stay conscious - just a little bit longer. Just long enough to hear the answer.

“He’s alive,” Williams answers in a tone unfamiliar to the Commander.

“Where…” The words fall with great effort. An effort that Shepard can no longer sustain. She reaches out for Ash’s hand.

Williams shudders back while sucking her lips in. She takes another soft breath, recollecting her composure, before speaking. “Get some rest, Shepard,” she instructs calmly as she walks towards Hackett and the pilot.

Shepard drops her rejected hand flat against her thigh. The slamming of something hard crushes against the meat of her muscle. The first sinful sensation sent to her pain receptors since her IV. Her chin tucks to her clavicle. She exhaustingly follows the pain down to her leg.

There she sees a mechanically constructed arm poorly connected just below her right elbow. Blood trickles down the sparkling clean iridium rods. Her eyes widen in horror as she holds this hand, her hand, in front of her face. Her entire body grows cold.

And in that moment, Shepard happily succumbed to the sedative.

note: happy n7 day! this is my first time celebrating! i completed the trilogy and truly experienced the best campaign ever. i was, needless to say, unwell when me3 ended. therefore, i began writing - hoping to find a way for garrus and shepard to reunite! but by the time i had this series idea, there was no way i could get all parts to their best by today. so i present to you the very first part of a series that probably won't come out until next year! hope you'll share some feedback!

okay, i should go.

⍟ nav ⍟ no-no plagiarism ⍟ series ⍟ requests open ⍟

banners @animatedglittergraphics-n-more, @poison-aesthetics

#shakarian #n7 day #mass effect garrus #mass effect n7 #mass effect #commander shepard #femshep #garrus vakarian #mass effect fanfic #n7month #n7 month #Ashley williams

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halfbakedspuds · 6 months ago

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Thanks so much to @honeybewrites for the tag! (Also, I must apologise for being made of stupid, I posted this a few days ago already and ended up putting down the wrong URL for the tagger. Very much am stupid, sorry)

Proud of tag

Rules: post an excerpt you are proud of.

I don't have any non-spoilery extracts like this for Echoes of Shadows and writing for the Tempest Prince is basically non-existent (despite it being my oldest and most well thought out WIP), so I think we'll go with Children of the Stars for this one.

I know this scene is short, but I like it because it's one of the first where you can see the usual tin-soldier demeanour of Adrian slip a little, and it was one of the first 'downtime' scenes I wrote that I liked. It's also the first scene where we can see just how well Lyanni has come to know her human housemate

The front door slammed shut. That was Lyanni's first cue that something was wrong, because not once in almost a year of living with the human had Adrian shown frustration in any capacity.

Bearing that in mind, and at least a bit curious as to what could have driven him to a break in Imperial decorum, she marked the spot she was at in her book and placed it down on the table. However, she chose to remain lounging on the couch for the time being, stretching out all seven feet of her and turning to watch the hallway.

It did not take long for Adrian to show his face, and what a sorry sight it was. His snow-white hair was ruffled, and noticeable dark sackd hung under his eyes. Even his usual stolid demeanour was gone: replaced by the slouched and tired posture of someone who had just gone through hell. He reminded her of a soldier who'd spent years besieged, and she wonder if this had been his constant look a mere three years prior.

He stopped by the rack to look at her, slowly peeling off his soiled coat to hang it up

"Fuck,"

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

He paused for a moment to rub his tear ducts. Clearly, what he wanted more than anything was sleep, and despite his silence on the matter he showed incredible trust in her by allowing himself even such a minor lapse in his usual manner.

A long, silent moment passed before he said, "I am going to go take a shower and calm down before I forsake my dignity further. Then I'll let you in on the shitshow that has been the last few days,"

"Sounds like we've both had it equally bad," Lyanni said, gracefully drawing her body up and onto it's feet, stretching as she strode to the kitchen, "I'll get coffee,"

His body immediately tensed up as he asked, "What happened here, then?"

Lyanni smirked. Zero to machine in point-three seconds. Classic Ajay

She shrugged non-chalantly to indicate that he had nothing to worry about, "Nobles, a hole, and a servitor uprising,"

"Ah," He said and relaxed, as though he actually gleaned something of note from her words, and continued up the stairs.

What's the bet this time?, she thought switching on the biosynthesizer and ordering two cups of coffee: one Levo and one Dextro, Give him three... two... one...

As if on cue, she heard him pause about halfway up the stairs, before backtracking slightly. She turned around just in time to watch him lean over the railing with an embarrassed smile plastered on his face.

"Sorry," He apologized sheepishly, "Hello, Lya,"

She smiled. Adrian, always so mindful of manners, "Heya,"

No pressure tag for @orion-lacroix, @illarian-rambling and anyone else who wants in

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serendipitys-teapot · 1 year ago

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WIP Whenever

Thank you for the tag, @westernlarch! I've been smashing my head against a single chapter for far too long, and though I just finished it today, I don't have the heart to look at it again right now. So, I'll pull something from the one I'm currently editing, to be posted next week. It's a fun scene from a fun chapter, with a little drawn from a few different canon scenes if you can pick them out.

Loyalty and Limerence, Part 3, Chapter 14 Snippet

“I shouldn’t be surprised by your chipperness, I forgot that you’re a sadist who loves seeing the rest of us in pain.” Garrus grumbled as he shuffled toward the cupboard and began rooting around for a dextro coffee pack. Shepard chuckled as he returned his eyes to his datapad. “No, I’m just not a masochist who chooses to overindulge, unlike the rest of you layabouts. Some of us have responsibilities.” The words lacked any true rebuke, and Garrus snorted as he poured boiling water into his cup. “Have you seen Jane? Is she up yet?” Shepard asked, causing Garrus to look up in confusion. “What, you haven’t seen her? She’s not in her bunk, so I assumed she’d already gotten up.” “Jane is in the starboard observation deck, along with Ashley and Tali, Commander.” EDI interjected over the Normandy’s intercom, “You might want to check on them, they are somewhat… unwell.” “How unwell are we talking?” Shepard asked sharply as he stood and they both quickly made their way toward the door, datapads and coffee left forgotten. “Their vital signs are stable.” EDI replied ominously as the door opened, and they stepped inside. “Ugggghhh…” Someone groaned quietly, and Garrus’ eyes scanned the room. His head throbbed, the pain a sharp reminder that his body no longer dealt with alcohol quite as well as it had in his younger days. The room seemed empty, but as they stepped forward, Garrus noticed a figure laying on one of the couches in the corner. “Tali?” He called out, and someone shushed him harshly. Garrus and Shepard exchanged a look before approaching. “Shhhhhh, hush. Why do you have to walk so loudly?” Jane growled from where she lay on the floor, her feet propped up on the couch near where Tali lay. She had an arm draped over her eyes, her lips turned down in a frown. Beside her, Ashley lay on her side, curled into a ball. More than one empty bottle stood on the end table nearby. “Uhhh…” Ashley groaned, and Shepard crossed his arms as he came to stand before them. “What have we here?” He asked, his voice dry and amused. Jane shifted her arm just enough to glare up at him with one bloodshot eye. “You and your smug grin can just fuck right off, John.” She snarled before replacing her arm. “Sir, we’re off duty. Your voice. Sir. Not… so… loud. Pleasethankyou.” Ashley muttered quietly, her words undulating in a way Garrus had to imagine her stomach might be. His stomach certainly was. “I. Am going. To die.” Tali whispered morosely as she lay absolutely still. Jane twisted her foot and tapped it on the top of Tali’s helmet lightly, but the quarian remained immobile.

Tagging @dispatchwithlove, @otemporanerys, @misseffect if you feel like participating, along with anyone else who might be interested.

#mass effect #fanfiction #wip #loyalty and limerence #hangover shenanigans #tag game

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so-called-yokai · 8 months ago

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The Anavri

A basic (but probably still overly detailed!) overview of Eshra's species. This was originally written with the Mass Effect universe in mind, hence my efforts to keep it... biologically believable, as well as a few references to ME-specific things. It's also still something of a work in progress as I decide on or discover more aspects of the species. :)

Most of it is under the cut because as I was creating this post I realized holy hell, it's long.

SPECIES: Anavri HOMEWORLD: Laethis, Corus System, Heleus Cluster

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: The anavri are a bipedal dromaeosaurid species, with a coat of short downy feathers, feathered crests, and long tails. Their upper limbs are unique, with a structure somewhere between Earth's bats and birds: like bats, they have five digits, with their opposable thumb and first two fingers forming a hand, but like in birds, the bones of their fourth and fifth digits are fused and form the structure supporting a feathered wing. Anavri never had the ability to truly fly, having evolved from a terrestrial ancestor akin to Earth's ancient dromaeosaurs, but they can glide proficiently on planets with lower gravity, such as their own. Their lower limbs are digitigrade, and each of their four toes, including the dew claw, is tipped with a sharp claw to assist with grip both on the ground and when climbing trees. They are a lightly built species in general, and average between 5-6 feet tall, with only exceptional individuals ever breaking 6 feet. Their shorter body feathers are various shades of white, black, gray, or brown, while the longer feathers on their crests, tails, and wings can be any of a wide variety of colors; most anavri tend towards bright jewel tones, aside from those few hailing from polar climes, where neutral colors are more prevalent.

Anavri are ultraviolet-sensitive thanks to a color receptor in their eyes that humans lack. Compared to humans, they have incredible vision, particularly for movement; an above average sense of smell; and average hearing. Anavri evolved to rely mostly on their vision, which allows them to both track their small, quick-moving prey, and to better read others' body language, particularly from a distance. While their sense of smell does help them to more easily forage for the nuts and fruit that make up part of their diet, its main purpose is to identify other anavri, in particular to avoid inbreeding in a culture where blended and overlapping families are common.

As Laethis is mostly tropical or subtropical, anavri evolved to be well-suited to hot, humid conditions, and for the most part they dislike climates that are dry, cold, or both, although they are perfectly capable of operating or even living in such conditions.

BEHAVIOR: Life on Laethis is dextro-amino-acid-based. Anavri are omnivorous with a preference for fish, insects, birds, eggs, fruit, and nuts. Laethis is primarily covered by oceans and massive forests, meaning a distinct lack of space for both agriculture and larger animals the anavri might prey on, although the latter isn't unheard of. A higher oxygen level also means invertebrates grow quite large; among forest-dwelling populations, arthropods often make up the bulk of an anavri's diet. As such, anavri have remained primarily a hunter-gatherer species, although the encouragement and tending of natural groves of fruit and nut trees is common.

Anavri mate for life, and polyamory is as common as monamory, with bonds being cemented and reinforced by the instinctual creation of a unique song. They are oviparous and lay a single, large egg at a time. While some anavri have come to prefer incubators, most still practice traditional nest-sitting, a duty shared by both (or all) of the egg's parents.

SOCIAL GROUPS: Having evolved from highly social pack-hunting predators, the anavri are a group-minded species. An individual anavri (the plural and singular forms of the name are the same) is part of what is still called a pack, usually made up of 6-12 individuals - although larger ones can approach double that - and consisting not only of family but often close friends as well. Packs living together usually end up forming a colony, which can be considered analogous to a human town or city. Colonies send representatives to the central Senate, and the Senate in turn is led by a small Council of members elected from the colony representatives.

The anavri are equally at home on the ground or above it, and this, combined with the lack of open land, means their colonies tend to grow up, rather than out. In addition, with the advent of space travel almost all of what little open land there is on Laethis has been devoted to ship construction and spaceports. As a result, the anavri population has stayed relatively small compared to other spacefaring species.

THE HAAN: Inside a pack, a few members might form a haan, a very close knit group of 3-5 individuals who are typically the same age and have often been together since fledgling-hood. The bonds usually last their entire lives, and any children born to members of the haan are considered children to them all. Thus, anavri routinely have more than two parents. Not all anavri become part of a haan, but it's common enough that the children of haans are as commonplace and unremarkable as the children of only a bonded pair.

When an anavri is the offspring of a haan, they use body language, such as feather position, to indicate which specific parent they might be talking about. This often creates confusion when communicating with species lacking understanding of anavri non-verbal communication.

(Eshra, for example, has three parents: his mother, who laid his egg; his father, who is pair-bonded to his mother; and his other father, who is the other member of their haan. His biological father happens to be his mother's bondmate, but that isn't always or even often the case, and Eshra certainly doesn't care which of his fathers actually sired him, nor does any other anavri child.)

CULTURE: A combination of Laethis' hot, humid environment and the anavri's need for freedom of movement has resulted in an overall preference for light, loose clothing that doesn't restrict their range of motion. Some species tend to view anavri clothing -- or lack thereof -- as unseemly, or even scandalous; humans in particular often have a negative reaction to anavri fashion, much to the confusion and amusement of the anavri themselves, for whom clothing is usually an expression of individuality first and protection second, with "modesty" rarely being on the radar.

TECHNOLOGY: Technologically, anavri are on par with the other species seen in Mass Effect, minus interstellar travel: they are a spaceflight species, but the Scourge appeared not long after they achieved it, cutting off their system from the rest of the cluster. As such, while they've managed to colonize two worlds and various moons in their own system, they haven't been able to venture further. Interplanetary travel is common.

While not common, it isn't unheard of for anavri visiting other planets to employ personal mass effect fields to account for higher gravity.

INTERACTIONS WITH OTHER SPECIES: Once introduced to the cluster at large, anavri discover they have a harder time communicating with the other races than average, because so much of their communication is built around body language that most other species can't mimic: hands, tails, feathers, and even head position are all key parts of anavri communication. Perhaps unsurprisingly, this means they get along very well with the elcor, as the elcor's similar use of subtle body language allows them to pick up on it more easily than other species, while the anavri's keen sense of smell lets them read elcor pheromones with impressive accuracy.

Anavri also get along well with turians. While the anavri are far less militaristic than the turians, both species have similar group-minded cultures. Much common ground is also found thanks to anavri and turians being dextro-based lifeforms in a universe that prefers levo-amino acid.

#eshra info #anavri #this is excessively detailed i apologize #obviously some of this doesn't apply to rise!eshra #imagine being dextro-based in literally any other universe lmao #not tmnt

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football-and-fanfics · 2 years ago

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Faint - Fabio Carvalho

Who: Fabio Carvalho Request: fabio faints whilst hanging out with the lfc squad. With harvey mainly but also with a couple of other lfc members :) Requested by: anonymous Warnings: mentions of fainting

A/N: this turned out more with Harvey than with the rest of the LFC squad. Hope you don't mind 🙃

He really should not have skipped breakfast this morning, that much Fabio painfully realized by now. But when he had overslept and was running spectacularly late for morning training, it seemed like the most logical thing to do.

Somehow, Fabio managed to make it through the entire training on an empty stomach, but when he came back to the dressing room afterwards was when things went wrong.

Fabio already felt the effects of his blood sugar getting low due to not having eaten, but coming back into the warmth of the dressing room after the cold of the training pitch, was the last straw. He suddenly felt very faint. He couldn't get his gaze to focus on anything anymore, and Fabio realized only too well what was going to happen to him.

"Harv..." Fabio reached out for Harvey standing beside him. He needed some support to remain standing, but it already was too late. Fabio fainted, in the middle of the dressing room, frightening all of his teammates.

"Holy shit! Fabio?" Harvey was closest to him, and immediately dropped to his knees beside where Fabio lay unresponsive on the floor. "What happened to him?" Jordan was quick to respond as well. "I don't know," Harvey stammered, helplessly shrugging his shoulders. "Stay with him, I'm getting the doc." Jordan quickly got to his feet and ran off to get some help.

"Fab? Fabio?" Harvey carefully shook Fabio's shoulder. Fabio stirred slightly, and Harvey had never been so relieved to hear a faint groan roll off Fabio's lips. "Come on, mate, talk to me." Harvey kept his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Tell me what's going on." Fabio groggily opened his eyes. "I'm okay." "You blacked out," Harvey scoffed. "I know," Fabio mumbled, "it's because I didn't eat anything yet today."

Right at that moment, Jordan returned with one of the team's doctors. "What happened?" The doctor immediately turned his attention to Fabio still lying on the floor. "I didn't eat anything all morning," Fabio answered, sounding a little embarrassed now, too. "You did the whole training without having eaten anything?" The doctor frowned slightly. "Than it's not hard to conclude that your blood sugar got too low and that's why you fainted. Not the smartest move on your part." "Yeah, I know." Fabio accepted the quiet reprimand without complaint. He knew very well he had only himself to blame for this, but that didn't make him feel any less bad.

The doctor rummaged around is his bag and fished out a packet of Dextro Energy. "Eat a few of these until you start to feel less woozy."

Fabio slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position. "Easy, mate." Harvey had not left Fabio's side all this time. "Careful." "I'm alright," Fabio answered softly. "Not taking any chances on that." Harvey positioned himself behind Fabio, so his friend could lean his back against his chest. "Thank you," Fabio mumbled, leaning back gratefully against Harvey. Now that he sat up, Fabio had to admit he still felt a lot more shaky than he thought.

Fabio slowly chewed on the handful of Dextro's the doctor had handed him. It took a few minutes, but finally he felt himself come somewhat back to life.

"You good, mate?" Harvey asked quietly. "I am," Fabio nodded, "but now I'm mostly hungry." "I'm sure that can be resolved." Harvey moved away from behind Fabio and got to his feet. "Let's have lunch."

Fabio accepted Harvey's outstretched hand to pull him to his feet. As soon as he stood, Harvey pulled Fabio into a hug. "Please, don't ever scare me like that again," Harvey mumbled for only Fabio to hear. Fabio chuckled a little embarrassed for scaring his friend like that, but returned to hug. "I promise I won't do it again."

Tags: @evie-pr, @auawdo, @meteora-fc, @stonesyyyy, @drizzyreese, @hbstre, @liverpoolfanfiction, @sternennebel2001, @mrswinksy, @themoon-shines PL / LFC tags: @ella33, @candlelitutopia, @percervall

Add me to the tags list | Fabio masterlist | General masterlist

#fabio carvalho #fabio carvalho imagine #fabio carvalho blurb #fabio carvalho fanfic #fabio carvalho fanfiction #football imagine #football blurb #football fanfic #football fanfiction #footballer imagine #footballer blurb #footballer fanfic #footballer fanfiction #footballandfanficsfabiocarvalho

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spaceouttatime · 1 year ago

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Pspsps okay oc kwestshuns

For iterius:

💥 COLLISON - what emotions do they have trouble dealing with?

🥞 PANCAKE - what is their comfort breakfast?

🙊 SPEAK-NO-EVIL - what is something your oc will refuse to stay quiet about?

For sylvan:

🤥 LYING - are they good liars? do they have tells to show they're lying?

🍧 SHAVED ICE - do they still have any objects from their childhood? what significance does it have to them? what would their reaction be if they lost it?

🙉 HEAR-NO-EVIL - what is the worse thing your oc could hear from someone?

And for viktor:

💢 ANGER - what are some habits they have that will take some getting used to?

☕️ HOT BEVERAGE - do they prefer hot or cold drinks? what is their favourite drink?

🙈 SEE-NO-EVIL - whats a side of your oc that they don't want to show other people?

Mwah, enjoy <3

Thank you for the character-building questions, dear! (and for letting me steal that emoji ask meme in general lmao)

For Iterius:

COLLISON - what emotions do they have trouble dealing with?

Iterius struggles with vulnerability. For most of his life, he's outwardly repressed most emotions because they've either not been useful in whatever mission he's got himself set on completing or threatened the identity he's built as cold, calculative, and independent. - In reality, he struggles a lot with the grief, anxiety, and guilt that comes with being his father's son and trying to live up to his legacy. Aumius Ascensus was a decorated general in the turian fleet--a master marksman and leader. And while Iterius did end up becoming a Spectre for the Council later in life, for most of his adult years, he'd either been in the Cabals or doing mercenary work for whatever cause he found to be worthy. - His biotics developed late, and part of him still feels like they ruined his chance of leading the life he was supposed to. He'd been pulled from the Navy because of them, and he remains bitter over the fact that he'd likely disappointed Aumius simply by straying for the path they'd both set for him before the elder Ascensus had passed. Iterius had had potential to follow in his footsteps. - Not only that, but he'd ended up falling for a human, Viktor Lunetta, during the early years after first contact. Even now, after the war with the Reapers, there's a stigma against that sort of relationship. He struggles with a mix of sorrow and outrage about it all, but there's also this underlying feeling of guilt that, like when his biotics developed, he dishonored his father's memory. - But mostly, when it comes to Viktor, Iterius still struggles with the emotional vulnerability part. They care about one another a lot, but they're both very damaged people. And they're still learning how to heal.

PANCAKE - what is their comfort breakfast?

Pretty much the turian equivalent of an omelet! I've headcanoned that turians are primarily carnivorous but supplement their diet with fruits and nuts. He likes to add dextro-amino cheeses and fried meats similar to our bacon; his mum taught him how to cook early on, and he's not half bad. Iterius tends to stay on the lookout for any exports from Syglar, his home planet, as it is home to species, and therefore foods, not found anywhere else in the galaxy. His favorite type of eggs to use for omelets are from a large, ostrich-like bird native to Syglar, and the yolks are blue!

SPEAK NO EVIL - what is something your oc will refuse to stay quiet about?

Ascensus is an avid, AVID hater of the cold. Syglar is hot. Equatorial Palaven, during the years he trained there, was hot. And turians in general are sensitive to the cold. When he's assigned to travel to anywhere cold enough for it to snow, no matter how stoic and resilient he usually is on the job, the poor guy WILL be complaining the entire time. - Thankfully Viktor has caught on to this and tries to pack extra blankets if they're going to Noveria. All I'll say is that the captains' quarters on the Twelfth Labor has an absurd number of pillows and blankets.

For Sylvan (my shep <3):

LYING - are they good liars? do they have tells to show that they're lying?

He's a decent liar when it comes to important things, but he hates doing it. It's another reason Shepard hates playing diplomat, but, y'know, sometimes stakes are high and 'I punch things, not play politician' doesn't cut it. Thankfully, he doesn't have to do it all that often--he's one of those people whose emotions are pretty obvious if you know him well and get a good look at his eyes. They're his big tell, I guess. Very expressive. - Oh, but he can't tell a white lie for shit. He gets all awkward about it; the crew has and will continue to make jokes about how bad he is at it. Sylvan's also chronically dehydrated, so it's a good thing that all Chakwas has to do is ask him if he's drank water that day to get all the info she needs, whether he gives a straight answer or not.

SHAVED ICE - do they still have any objects from their childhood?what significance does it have to them? what would their reaction be if they lost it?

Shep had a good childhood on Mindoir: security, love, and a future. His mother and father were loving in that almost classic kind of way, even if they were a little overprotective, and he had two siblings, one of whom was his twin. - He lost everything in the slaver raids when he was 16. Everything besides the four-leaf clover his sister, Lorrie, had picked for him when they were little. Technically, the actual preserved plant was lost to time on Mindoir, but he has a tattoo on the back of his neck signifying it. After Cerberus rebuilt him, he had to get it redone. Garrus came with him, actually.

HEAR-NO-EVIL - what is the worst thing your oc could hear from someone?

Hm. I suppose something to do with his gender identity. Sylvan Shepard is a transgender man, and while I've taken liberties to assume people are more accepting in the 2180s, it would make him extremely uncomfortable to have that be public knowledge. Shep's a private person, and while he's comfortable with who he is, he'd much rather have the power to decide who he decides to trust with that information.

For Viktor:

ANGER - what are some habits they have that will take some getting used to?

Viktor is somewhat of a morning person. And by that, I mean to say that no matter what time he's waking up, he's going to get ready for the day. And while that's a fantastic trait as a pilot, it's not as fantastic a trait when his sleep-deprived biotic partner would much rather continue to rest in his nest of blankets at 6 in the morning. - Yes, turians need less sleep than humans. Nap Georg (Iterius) is an outlier and should not be counted.

HOT BEVERAGE - do they prefer hot or cold drinks? what is their favorite drink?

He's 100% a hot drink person. Despite being a morning person, Vik is also a caffeine addict. He likes his coffee black and bitter, and as long as it's better than the shitty ration coffee, it's good enough for him. - There's this place on the Citadel that sells coffee beans imported from Earth, and he never passes up the opportunity to snag a few bags, much to his blood pressure's dismay. Back during basic, he used to pay a guy off to get his unwanted rationed coffee. Desperate times.

SEE-NO-EVIL - what's a side of your oc that they don't want to show other people?

Viktor Lunetta can't stay in one place too long. His whole life has been moving from one spot to the next, whether back on Earth or traversing the stars during his Alliance days. He's restless, and sometimes it feels as if he's searching for something. Part of him worries he'll never retire--as long as there's a ship to fly and a bullet in his gun, he can't see himself settling down anywhere. Not really. - At least, it seems his employer doesn't plan on settling anytime soon, either. Their ever-changing crew and shared quarters are enough a home to Viktor.

#mass effect #iterius ascensus #sylvan shepard #sylshep #commander shepard #viktor lunetta #turian oc #human oc #mass effect oc #ask game #ask space

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