#turian mouth

[milkywayes]

the siblings Vakarian (yes, he picked that up from Shepard)

[hanasnx]

" THINK I NEED SOMEONE OLDER " — garrus vakarian.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: fem reader | sexual content | age gap | making out | grinding | size difference | overpowering.

DILF!GARRUS VAKARIAN who thought the basis of human attraction depended on youth. Imagine his surprise when you not only couldn't stop staring at his aging body like he was a fully equipped armory before a mission, but you showed genuine interest at the prospect of his superior amount of experience.

Here you are, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, fresh from hopping ship to ship serving with your parents until you were brave enough to go at it on your own. Now you follow him around like a lost puppy, constantly questioning his motives just to hear him talk, asking him to explain a calculation over and over again. He notices how you squirm when he talks down to you, so to speak. He's positive you're not incapable, but he's not going to refuse a request from so eager a learner. Even if you're not going to learn how to do advanced calculus, he tells himself it's still valuable to hear it. Even if you demonstrate how little you're listening when you chew on the end of your pen at him, and bat your long lashes. Nod slowly through hooded eyes, letting them generously trail down his figure in his suit.

It's enough to make him trail off, clear his throat, adjust his neckline as he glances away to break the tension he's inadvertently fanning. "Run along now." he sometimes tells you so you'll get away from him, so he'll have some room to breathe, so he's not constantly reminded of what a low-life he is when he's around you. Instead, that phrase sends you crazy, biting your lip at him over your shoulder as you sway out of the room.

"Bye-bye, Vakarian~" you purr, and scamper off.

Garrus feels shame when he lets you win. He's supposed to be older, know better, protect someone like you. But when you're clinging onto him, inclining him down to your soft lips, he can't imagine being anywhere else. Tucked away in some dark corner of the Normandy, you guide his hands to touch your young body through your clothes, riding up the material so his touch sets what little it grazes ablaze. After months of dancing around each other, finally you're granted a little relief. And his face burns hot from the contact however brief.

"I'm... I'm not... usually like this.." Garrus confesses, breathless, heart racing. The possibility of you two being caught together, tangled in embrace in a precarious location... there'd be no way to talk his way out of it. Everyone would think of him as some Turian predator, can't get a date unless it's with a girl half his age. And he's not beating the allegations as his claws dig into pliant flesh, drawing you closer to press your hips into his. As if gravitating towards your sex, heavenly bodies bump clumsily as you reconnect with his mouth. Apparently, you're not interested in hearing his protests, claiming he's not "usually" like anything, because right now he's showing you how much he very much is like this. His grip on you is not one of a Turian with doubts.

You've never kissed his species before, and at first his mandibles were hard to get used to—and it felt like he wasn't used to it either—but once you realized he's much more relaxed with his tongue, everything else fell into place. His lack of lips is an obstacle to kissing, but irrelevant when making out. Meeting in the middle, that tongue is long in reach and eager in attitude, coiling around yours in a way a human's would never be capable of. Reptilian in nature, his sulcus is defined, allowing his muscle to fold in on itself, elongating to the thinner apex.

Your palm that cups his face, draws down so your fingertips dance along the grooves of his scarring, coming to trace the line of his mandible. As long as you've known him, you've never gotten this close, and when he massages your tongue with his deft one, an embarrassing whimper emits from your parted lips. Instinctively, you rear your head to break the kiss—if you can even call it that. But Garrus is unyielding. A strong arm around your waist arches you into him, as if possessive over this act you've introducing him to. Confirming your suspicions with an annoyed growl and his tongue venturing further into your mouth, a wave of pleasant tingles washing up from core in response to such behavior. Your knees are weak, held up by his overpowering strength as he takes what he wants.

Playfully, you scold him by banging your fist against his chest piece. He retracts an inch, and you're allowed a second to breathe even if you're crushed against him. Panting through your grin, you nuzzle him with the tip of your nose, and he speaks against your lips. "You were trying to run away from me." he muses, curling his frame around you so it's truly inescapable. "I like that little sound you made." his mouth grazes yours as he talks into you, recycling air, "Make it again."

[lilmissnatcat24]

shakarian brainrot is back and better than ever because their me2 relationship is everything to me. "Hey you're my best friend do you wanna have sex?" "Yes best friend let's bang." So like we think this is just going to be some fwb situation right? I mean SURE there was some flirting but Shepard flirts with a lot of people (not ones she would consider her BEST FRIEND but it's still cool and casual and TOTALLY cool). But then it totally devolves before it even starts. Garrus "I Get Really Nervous Every Time You Walk Into A Room" Vakarian. Commander "Let Me Just Touch Your Arm To Show You How Truly Casual I Really Am" Shepard. I'm foaming at the mouth. It took them collectively 24 hours for them to realize that they actually DO have feeling for another but neither of them understands it or knows how to move forward with it. And then the night, THEE NIGHT, before the Collector Base and Garrus has completely melted into a puddle. Doesn't remember how to act when you're in a woman's bedroom. Fumbling and bringing gifts and weird misguided compliments. And Shepard just EATING IT UP. AND THE CHEEK BRUSH. THE FOREHEAD KISS. ((I know we like to hc that it's how turians kiss but let's just pretend it isn't)) THATS ABOUT THE MOST INTIMATE THING THEY COULD HAVE DONE IN THAT MOMENT TO CALM EACH OTHER DOWN. THEY DIDNT NEED WORDS TO SAY THAT THEY BOTH HAVE FEELINGS FOR EACH OTHER. I HAVE RABIES RAAAAAHHHHHH

[unfair-water-plane]

So one thing that has always made me chuckle in ME2 is the fact that Kal’Reegar is a marine in a Quarian suit. And he fits in with Shepard easily, the same attitude and headspace and cadence (for mShep at least). And I’m sitting here at work and the thought just hit me.

What if that’s because he is a marine in a Quarian suit?

Hear me out. Kal is older than Tali, or at least gives off those vibes, and so he would have been on his pilgrimage a while ago. Like maybe right after first contact. And here are these brand new people who came out of nowhere and had apparently enough fire power and attitude to give the Turians a very brief pause. The whole galaxy wants to know more. And humanity has no idea who is out there, but surely they can’t all be like the creepy bird people?

Cue one very curious Quarian in Shanxi, just as curious an out humanity as humanity is about everything. Meeting with early alliance brass, giving them information common palace to any kid with an extranet feed but wholly new to humanity. He explains that the Quarian don’t have ground forces because they don’t have a ground, and is honest about the geth, and is like ‘so how did you make the Turian Hierarchy freak out?’

And somehow ends up observing basic training, and falls in love with it. To the point where he actively asks to go through marine boot camp in Hanshan, and is just earnest and endearing enough to be allowed. So he goes through it, puts in the work and the blood and sweat and tears and makes the kinds of friends that you sort of have on the Flotilla, but everyone also knows you are all going to separate ships eventually and getting attached is hard.

But the humans will pack bond with a robot vacuum without issue, and when they meet a Quarian who wants to learn and thinks it’s amazing that they stood up to the biggest military in the galaxy running on old fashioned rocketry and spite? The marines adopt him as one of their own. They are brothers, something most single child Quarians have no experience with, and Kal gives it back in spades. He talks like them, fights like them, jokes and learns and is like them.

And when it is over and they graduate, it’s hard to turn down the offer to stay. But humanity respects the loyalty to his people that takes him back to the fleet, and it almost brings him to tears when his graduating class passes a cap for his passage back to the fleet in more comfort than sitting on a box in a volus cargo ship.

It actually brings him to tears when his drill instructor informs him that while it might not be in great shape, Arcturus has authorized them to gift Kal’Reegar with a battered but space worthy corsair and an official greeting from the Systems Alliance to the Migrant Fleet.

The SSV Jarhead is perhaps the best gift anyone is his age range can give to a future captain, though his practical military experience is a gift to the whole fleet. It catapults him through the Quarian military, from for soldier to instructor to commander, and somewhere he hopes that his brothers and sisters are as proud of them as he is of every transmission that makes it back to him.

On Haestrom, that training keeps him alive long enough to watch his squad die, and that cuts like nothing else. But he can’t stop, because the principle is still depending on him, and until his suit gives out he has to fight to her.

But then the voice cuts through the chatter of his own mind, and he *knows it*. Knows the cadence and the phrasing, knows how a human mouth forms the phrases that he has spent years trying to teach. Commander Shepard might not be a marine, but they are a human combat specialist and the fraternity is there.

Maybe it’s just three more people who are going to die for this fools errand, but somehow Kal doesn’t think so. There are two bone deep beliefs that he will carry it’s him to either the home world or the afterlife, and it has always felt appropriate to him that they rhyme. That they sound similar, when he breathes them into the air.

Keelah Salai. Semper Fi.

[strawberrykidneystone]

i was gone for two seconds

garrus vakarian x fem! shepard

summary: in purgatory, shepard steps away from garrus for a second and her stool was taken

a/n: if it sounds like that one scene from victorious you're right and you should say it #mybad

tags: tooth rotting fluff, set in ME3, catty comments (sorry i’ve been rewatching dance moms), garrus being oblivious as always, shepard being rightfully pissed (smh), species hostility kinda???, reassurance, lovey dovery gross stuff, ooc bc garrus says ily (LMAO), busy couple making time for each other ):

ao3 version

shepard was sat at the bar in purgatory with her legs crossed in a little black dress and heels, nursing a purple drink that she had already forgotten the name of. she was waiting for garrus to arrive to have some semblance of a proper date for the two of them. however, knowing him, he most likely got caught up with calibrating the weapons in the normandy for the umpteenth time, but she didn’t blame him nor was she mad. in fact, she had arrived later than their decided time as well since she got caught up in her own paperwork.

suddenly, she felt a tap on her right shoulder. she looked over, but saw no one. she turned her head to the left and saw the face of her favorite turian with a nervous smile on his face.

“sorry for running late shepard, the primarch needed help with-”

shepard leaned in and cut him off with a kiss, pulling back and patting his chest with a smile, “garrus i barely got here, you’re fine big guy, i get it.”

garrus’ shoulders relaxed and a sigh of relief left his mouth, settling into the stool next to her, “thank you sweetie, i can’t promise that it won’t happen again, but i can promise i’ll always make up for it.”

he had been holding a hand behind his back, bringing it forward to show to her with a blue blush creeping up his neck. shepard looked down at his hand and gasped, picking up the gift and examining it, “a thermal scope! i’ve been wanting to try one of these babies out forever!”

shepard grinned like a kid on christmas and threw her arms around garrus’ neck, kissing his cheek with an emphasized “mwah”. garrus wrapped his arms around shepard’s waist and purred with her in his arms, looking at her with love in his eyes.

“i’m glad you like it.”

“like it? i love it.”

“more than you love me?”

“know your limits vakarian.”

the two laughed together and shepard let go of the embrace, garrus’ hand remaining on her thigh with her hand over it. he waved the bartender over and ordered a drink. the two of them chatted for a while about anything and everything, talking to each other as if they were the only ones in the room. shepard excused herself to go "powder her nose", aka she's had to pee for the last 10 minutes and couldn't stand it anymore.

when she returned, she was met with a surprise.

a female turian was sitting on the stool that she had occupied not long ago, talking to garrus a little too enthusiastically for her liking. as shepard approached, she was able to hear their conversation.

"why don't you stick to your own species? that little human has nothing on a real turian woman."

garrus looked appalled and opened his mouth to say something, but shepard cleared her throat before he got the chance. her hands rested squarely on her hips, her eyebrows raised with her jaw tightened. the turian woman looked her up and down, then rolled her eyes, "speak of the devil."

"that's commander devil to you."

garrus laughed at that and covered it with a cough, letting shepard take the lead.

shepard plastered on the fakest smile she could and tilted her head, "sorry, but this little human couldn't help but notice that you took my seat. i’d like it back now."

the turian scoffed and slid out of the seat, shoulder-checking shepard as she passed her, "he's all yours, who wants a man with a damaged mandible anyways."

shepard balled her hands into fists before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, letting her fists go before walking up to garrus.

"shepard i'm so sorry, we were talking about the newest black widow that was released onto the market yesterday and then suddenly she changed the subject-" shepard cut off his rambling by taking his mandibles in her hands and kissing his lip plates, kissing all around his face before pulling back to look into his eyes, searching for any semblance of doubt in them. when she found none, she smiled reassuringly to him and rubbed her thumbs against mandibles.

garrus reached up and wrapped his hands around hers, turning his head to kiss her right palm before nuzzling his cheek against it. she knew he was being genuine, and even if she was blatantly flirting with him, shepard knew he would never pick up on it, that's for sure.

"for the record, i am one of those women who find scars attractive."

garrus laughed by letting a puff of air out of his nose and kissed her other palm, "for the record, i love my commanders a little devilish." shepard snorted and plopped down into her seat again. she leaned her elbow against the bar and resting her hand against her cheek.

"i love you vakarian."

"I love you too shepard."

"why don't we go back to the normandy and i can show you just how devilish i am," shepard said with an impish grin on her face.

"i wouldn't mind a little demonstration. i am a physical learner," garrus flirted back before quickly downing his drink.

shepard giggled before finishing the rest of her drink, standing up and grabbing his hand before leading him back to the Normandy. she glanced back just before they left purgatory and made eye contact with the turian woman from before, sticking her tongue out childishly as she led the love of her life back to their own home away from home.

notes: i'm actually happier with this piece than i thought i would be!! pls leave a comment if you want a part 12 with smut 👀 if i made any spelling or grammatical error pls lmk too

[that-wildwolf]

Went out for coffee with a friend today.

She's really into RP and is now in some Andromeda-based RP campaign so we talked about that. I know close to nothing about RP and I have never actually played through Andromeda aside from the multiplayer mode.

"Well," she says, "what's the point of RPing in Mass Effect it you're not gonna be a turian?"

I actually think that this is an extremely based take, provided you're into RP in the first place.

She goes on to explain that she can't draw her character and she refuses to use AI so she just looked up some random turians to find like the most basic generic average joe turian to use as a stand-in for her character.

She then shows me the pic of this generic random turian on her phone.

I look at the picture, and then I just sort of blankly stare at her for a while.

"That's Adrien Victus," I say. What else do I even say here.

"Oh." She's visibly confused because she probably has no idea who that is. It is starting to dawn on me that perhaps she is a more casual fan than I am. "Well he looks like an average turian, doesn't he? Like what you would imagine when you think of a turian. He's got very basic looking colony markings."

I nod, but I take a sip of my coffee to avoid shooting off my mouth and saying something about how this is the Primarch of Palaven and so even based on that rank he is very much not just an average turian.

I explain who that is. I can see it clicks for her when I mention he's from the third game. It's weird talking about Mass Effect with those translated names (she's never played in English) and even weirded to talk to someone who's clearly a casual fan when you're a deeply obsessed person. I have to pretend I'm normal about her not remembering this side character.

She shows me another picture of random turian NPC.

I bite my lip.

"That's Lorik Qui'in," I say.

[sol-consort]

imagine getting a nosebleed mid blowie, like damn babe dick so good it got me leaking in more ways than one 🤤

the babe in questions is panicking

I might be a degenerate... why is that concept so fucking hot? Especially while giving head to an alien.

Smut below, blood kink?

The head of the turian's cock brushing against the back of your throat. You're so drunk on it that you barely have to put any effort into suppressing your gag reflex as you take it deeper inside, soft fingers tightening their grip against the turian's metal plated hips.

A feverish look in your eyes as you stare up at him. A perfect display of primal lust at its most feral. Plump lips wrapped around the base of his cock, drool seeping from the corners of your mouth and down your chin. Desperate to get more of him inside you, each droplet of pre-cum is akin to the ichor of the gods in taste as you eagely swallow down all that he has to offer you.

Maybe you went too fast and bumped your nose against the hard metal below his navel, or maybe the light-headedness of getting high on the taste of his cum caused one of the sensitive veins in your nose to leak.

Whatever caused it, now you're kneeling there with a mouthful of cock and blood running down your nose, a line of sticky red seeping around the turian's cock, forming ring just at the edge of your lips.

Now the turian is freaking out, rightfully so. Poor guy hasn't even glimpsed a sight of human blood before. He only knows about it being red from some "human fun facts!" Post on the r/datinghumans subreddit.

But he never imagined it to be this... pigmented of a red, a clear orange hue in its undertones. Must be the iron he heard the humans have so much of. He barely succeeds in suppressing the shiver that ran through him at the sight of this magnetic red colouring his cock.

Attempting to pull away, asking through a breathless voice if you're alright—only to have his hips forcefully kept in place by your tight grip as you stubbornly refuse to let go of his cock, sinking it back into the warmth of your wet mouth, the iron taste of your blood mixing with his cum, sliding down your throat.

He's left standing there speechless, blown wide pupils, trembling claws, stuck in a trance staring into your piercing eyes. A human drinking their own blood, just to keep sucking his cock. Despite you kneeling on the ground between his legs, you held all the power. He's never felt more like a prey before in his life.

Hips stuttering as he thrusts into your mouth. The climax rumbled through his whole body, mouth left agape, sharp teeth exposed to the air. Flooding your mouth with a thick, warm liquid, oh how it tingles as you swallow it down, knowing fully well you shouldn't.

The simple kiss you gave his peck afterwards was anything but. The alien taste of human blood, the aftermath of his own release... he almost feels ashamed of the way he found himself craving more, a deep purring at the back of his throat exposing his feelings of satisfaction for all to hear.

[felassan]

Article/interview from Well Played: 'We chat with Mark Meer about finding a character’s voice, the everlasting love for Mass Effect and the allure of tabletop RPGs'

The interview is also available in video format: [link]

Excerpts:

"Mark: "Early in the process, we sort of came up with what is the core of Shepard, whether Renegade or Paragon, and that is a military officer who’s used to giving orders under pressure and maybe not necessarily showing that much emotion in the given scene, so that does help justify the path that we’re taking in terms of not having [discordant differences between Paragon and Renegade in any given conversation if a player was switching between these dialogue options mid-conversation]". -- Mark: "Then there’s is the final line of the Citadel DLC, which is, “Hell of a ride, Shepard”, and Shepard just responds, “The best,” and that was literally the final line that I recorded in everything that I ever did Mass Effect." -- Mark: "There was some stuff that I’d suggested that didn’t end up being followed because of other practical concerns. The Turians, specifically because of the structure of their mouths, I pitched that they should have a little clicking sound when they talk or at the end of sentences. This was before Garrus was going to be a main character in the game, so it was decided that it would get old very quickly because we have a Turian, so they ended up just going with a filter for a Turian." -- Mark: "We would usually do any Vorcha stuff at the end of the week, just to give your voice a whole weekend to recover because there was no particular technique, I was just screeching as loud as I could with a mouth half full of water." -- Interviewer: "You’re a frequent collaborator with BioWare, and they do have a game coming up in Dragon Age: The Veilguard, so can we expect to maybe hear your voice in the mix there?" Mark: "I am not in that game, but I look very much forward to playing it. I have been in a lot of the other Dragon Age games. Such significant roles as Lyrium Merchant and Red Templar." -- Mark Meer will be a special guest at PAX Aus 2024, running from October 11-13 at the Melbourne Convention and Exhibition Centre."

[source]

[lieutenantabrudas]

hello everyone can i interest you in a fluffy baby turian wearing a kigurumi for an animal i made up

calvetorin is the youngest child of councilor ierian sparatus, born in 2152 CE - 6 years old when her father takes the council seat following relay 314, and 31 during ME1. most turian chicks lose their down by age 4, but callie's daddy is from the north pole where they hang onto it until around age 6, so she's still fluffie :3 her kigu is based on a dazduus, aka palaven's answer to reindeer or moose. the flaps by her face (meant to be the dazduus's hinge-jaws) can button up over her mouth and nose to keep her face warm!

this is entirely because i saw baby christmas pjs at target while looking for secret santa gifts and this image popped into my head and wouldn't Leave

[lassieposting]

It's been forever since I made a Mass Effect post but today I'm here to talk about

Translator Shenanigans

You cannot tell me that at some point during downtime Shep and Garrus haven't swapped translator chips so they can each hear what the other one hears

So Shep gets to hear herself as a Cipritini(?) turian, and Garrus gets to hear himself the way Shep hears him in-game. And it turns out Garrus's translator actually makes a stab at giving her appropriate subvocals, which, parsing and translating emotion into a form of communication that doesn't actually exist in the original language is quite complicated for a computer program, so when she asks how good it is, Garrus pulls a face and guesses at around 80-90% for other turians with different regional languages, and more like 40-60% for aliens depending on the race - quarians have something similar to subvocals themselves, so Tali is fairly easy to read. Shepard is in the middle - tone is hit or miss, but he can fall back on body language to judge whether the translator is misreading her. Wrex is a struggle.

- That that means the other 60-40% of his ability to read other people relies on his ability to read up on, memorise and then look for behavioural cues in completely alien species. If he's not sure, he'll default to interpreting interactions as Professionally Polite, which. Explains several months of fruitlessly flirting with him, at least .

- And maybe everyone around them sounds different using each other's translators too? Because the translator programs essentially use the voices of voice actors who sound appropriate for each species, and the program picks voices to mimic like, the pitch and quality of the original speaker as closely as possible, but the pool of voice actors is different for each species and in-species language. Wrex is deeper and more growly in Shep's translator than Garrus's.

- (Shep tries out Wrex's translator chip, once. Hearing Garrus with a beefy krogan's voice is An Experience.)

- Shep realising Garrus actually knows quite a bit of English! His mouth isn't made for pronouncing a lot of her language's sounds - case in point, the sh sound in Shepard - but he understands more than he can speak, and when he's borrowing her translator chip, she can watch him recognise words in real time as his head tilts when he tries to figure out a sentence from a few words or when he goes to answer her - and then laughs when he remembers she now can't understand him. He likes listening to humans, he claims. Human speech is musical. Catchy. Lots of funny sounds.

- (She kind of thinks turians sound like velociraptors, a little bit. But that doesn't mean she doesn't like turning off her translator and listening to him hum and trill and chirp technobabble to himself in the battery, sometimes.)

[dirtybiowareconfessions]

Confession: I know that turian mouths make blowjobs seem like a... *risky* idea, but I can't help but love the thought of Garrus sucking on some sweet fat dick. (And I may have saved every bit of fanart I could find showing him doing so.)

[wingsofthesun]

Learning How to Hold a Hammer

“Primarch Victus was heavily injured in a shuttle crash while on the way to our temporary base in Spain. The doctors do not know when or if he will wake from his coma, nor what state he will be in when he does.” Garrus felt like he was on Noveria again, frozen as he heard her speak the words he already knew would come out of the other turian's mouth.

“As his Reaper Advisor, you are the highest ranking member of the Turian Hierarchy with residency on Palaven. Garrus Vakarian, you are Primarch of Palaven.”

-

Garrus never wanted to be Primarch. Unfortunately with all the losses sustained and his own actions as Victus' chief advisor, he's now thrust into the position. Figuring out how to hold the hammer to rebuild was not in his plans...

A post-destroy ending (with EDI and the geth living!) story about Garrus in the first months after the war in a position he never wanted.

Read the first chapter here on Ao3! The story is completed and I plan to post a chapter every two days!

[squigglysquidd]

Juxtaposed (Spicy) Snippet

She smirks and the straps to her bra fall slack but she holds it to her body with her hands at her back. “Why like that …” she teases with a slight, sultry tone and he flares his mandibles, “when you can have this?”

With a quick flick of her arm, she tosses her bra aside to reveal her plump breasts.

He’s on her in an instant, hooking his arm around her to drag her closer as he drops his head to her chest. She cups his head, pressing into that spot just below his fringe that drives him on. Her other hand drops to his arm probing her up and she grips him in anticipation.

He nips her collarbone before licking at the spot, letting his long tongue linger on her skin for a moment before moving on. With his hand, he cups the weight of her breast and runs his thumb over the pink center before circling it along the path of her half-circle piercing. When he gently hooks the tip of his talon through the ring and flicks it, she jerks and moans under her breath.

She’s panting as she starts to rub her fingers beneath his fringe and he groans, pushing back into her touch.

Their eyes meet and he can see just red her cheeks are from arousal and a spike of lust shoots down his spine. He’s also reveling in how her lips have plumped because she was no doubt biting the bottom for a good amount of time. It makes him like his own mouth plates, his usually dry mouth now wet and sensitive with his growing hunger.

Smirking, Jane leans down while cupping his chin to hold his head in place. He can tell she’s still flustered from his attention to her breast, though, because she pants against his mouth as she speaks.

“You know—” she starts, tone sultry until he uses both hands to caress her breasts and nipples. At that, she jolts and her eyes flutter but she quickly recovers.

She’s clearly done with his teasing.

She grabs his cowl with both hands, grins mischievously, and shoves him hard. It surprises him to the point that he can’t catch himself but thankfully, he’s the kind of turian to really pack his bed with cushions and pillows—and thanks to Jane, even plush blankets.

“You’re too good of a fucking tease,” she declares, hands on her hips as she stands over him. “Good thing, you’re cute. Or I’d be really pissed.”

He smirks and rumbles challengingly. “And what do I need to do to really do that?

She doesn’t respond with words but with action.

[lilmissnatcat24]

yes yes i love shakarian because those two just understand each other intrinsically. but i am foaming at the mouth for more cross-cultural differences that don't quite translate. i want garrus to be horrified by the idea that milk comes out of humans and babies drink it. i want shepard to be grossed out that turian parents chew up food for their babies and spit it in their mouths. i want shepard to not quite realize that when she arches her neck it's actually super suggestive and "uh babe, why are you flirting with my father like that?" "what, no, i'm just stretching." i want garrus to not 100% understand sarcasm because humans don't have subvocals and why would they ever just lie boldly like that? i want shepard to get used to the idea that turians have never once evolved to use utensils when they eat (hello? they only have three fingers?) and has to come to terms with garrus gnawing at huge chunks of blue, way too undercooked pieces of meat with his claws. i want garrus to be awestruck with the different amount of ways that humans can style their hair, and how does that not hurt? you're yanking your fringe and clipping it back? are you sure that's comfortable? i want shepard to turn her translator off every now and again so that she could hear the little chirping noises garrus makes to himself when he's concentrating. i want garrus to secretly adore watching shepard curl into chairs and twist her limbs onto couches because there's simply no way he could ever bend like that and be comfortable. i just want more.

[writtenjewels]

Day Five: Turians

[pretend I didn't accidentally post this six days early before deleting it]

Garrus stood inside the building, arms crossed, eyes following the creatures as they moved from one part of the enclosure to the other. He could feel Shepard standing just behind him waiting for him to take it all in. Admittedly, a big part of the reason he agreed to come here was to satisfy Shepard's curiosity. And maybe he spent so much time with humans that some of that curiosity rubbed off on him.

“You want a closer look?” Shepard asked him.

“Sure,” Garrus agreed.

Shepard led him over to one of the employees. It only took a short conversation to convince the person to help them. The employee stuck their arm through the bars of the cage, letting out a whistling noise. A brown mass swooped down to land on the arm.

“You can get closer,” the employee said, “but try not to startle him.”

Garrus did as instructed. He hadn't seen many examples of Earth creatures apart from humans. This one was small in size but he could tell in the way it looked at him that it was intelligent. It was assessing him, deciding whether or not he was a threat. The stuff covering its body didn't look like armor plating or skin, but something else that layered on itself. Its feet curled into sharp claws. It didn't have any hands as far as Garrus could tell, but its mouth also was curved into a sharp point.

“This is the thing that humans keep comparing with turians?” he asked Shepard.

“Yep.” Shepard left it at that. Garrus let out a thoughtful grunt and studied the creature again.

“I don't really see the resemblance.”

“You haven't seen them hunt,” Shepard said. “Or fight. Even the ones that look tame can be real assholes.”

“So what about that one?” Garrus nodded meaningfully to the bird in front of them.

“This is called a hawk,” the employee chimed in. They made another noise and the bird spread out its arm. Wings, Garrus amended, noting how similar it looked to a human flying craft. “They like to hunt from a high perch and swoop down fast to take down their prey.”

Garrus understood now. The humans weren't saying his people looked like birds, but that they acted and hunted like birds. He could live with that comparison.

He went around listening to more facts about the various bird species. The stuff on their bodies was called their feathers, and apparently those feathers were often found in bright colors. Sort of like how his people distinguished themselves through their clan paint. He learned there was even a horror vid called The Birds made a very long time ago. By the end of the tour, he was really starting to like the creatures.

“Wait until you hear about falconry,” Shepard said with a grin. Garrus's mandibles quivered with excitement. He couldn't wait.

[messydiabolical]

I've been going though all my old documents of drell worldbuilding and such, so expect various snippets and rambles over the next few days! Kolyat Krios' early memories of his first home.

He was barely out of toddlerhood, and it was before his eidetic memory had fully taken hold. The memories he could recall from this time were hazy, there but hard to grasp. A lot like how the humans and turians seemed to describe their own memorisations.

He could see their first home in fragments. He knew it was small, cluttered, ramshackle. It was also very loving. An odd word to describe a building perhaps, but loving is how he remembered it.

 Mother bathing with me in the tiny shower, cursing when the hot water suddenly went out, then laughing it off. ‘Well that’s one way to really wake up and start a day!’ she waggles her eyebrows theatrically as she tickles my cold body through a towel, making me giggle, forgetting the chill. Her subvocal song trills in joy and I try to copy it, stuttered bursts of happiness in a staccato beat to her soothing tones.

 The neighbourhood was noisy, full of life and interesting, questionable smells.

Children were always outside, playing in the streets. Groups of teens and adults would also gather and mill about, though in retrospect, probably not for such innocent pursuits.

In the apartment upstairs someone was learning to play what sounded like an entire orchestras worth of instruments, taking a jack of all trades, master of none approach to the enterprise. They were very fond of practising late at night, the ceiling thudding with the beats.

A neighbour below them would watch Kolyat in the days while mother and father both worked. She was very old, saggy scales and eyes clouded over like the stormy clouds out beyond the dome walls. He adored her. She’d cook delicious soups that he’d gum and gnash at with his sprouting fangs, getting more all over his face and clothes than actually in his mouth. She’d just laugh in delight, rub his face with a cloth while he blew soupy raspberries in protest. She also loved to read storybooks, putting on funny voices for all the characters. Sometimes Kolyat would sleep over, and she’d make him a blanket fort on the sofa. Kolyat loved her very much.

‘Please Orla, I must insist you take some credits for your time.’ Mother shifts me on her hip. Her frillrings sparkle in the sputtering, broken hall light. I reach out with a pudgy little hand to play with them.

‘Now now dear, how many times must I insist. you keep those credits for him’. A wrinkly, gentle hand reaches over, stopping me before I grab too harshly on my silver hooped quarry.

Mother and father worked a lot. Mother seemed to like her work, exhausted as it left her. The same could not be said for father.

Father would come home from work dirty, dejected. Mother would rub his shoulders, kiss his cheek and put me on his lap, and he would melt a little. Kisses on my brow and a whispered promise. ‘I’ll make things better, do better for us’. Holds me a little tighter.

Kolyat can’t recall the exact words exchanged, but he remembers the night his parents fought, the first time he heard anything but loving devotion between them. The apartment only had one bedroom, so he usually slept in a crib he was vastly outgrowing, squeezed in next to his parents' bed. They had waited until he was asleep before bitter whispering began, then moved to the living room when it was clear things were escalating. It didn’t do much good; Kolyat had already woken up and the apartment had thin walls. It was a long night.

The next morning Thane was gone and Irikah, usually so positive, so determined, seemed to have lost a little spark about her. Usually when she made breakfast she would play music on her omnitool, singing off key and dancing as she moved.

That morning was too quiet, mothers movements too stiff and precise.

It was a Kalsef, a drell weekend day. Kolyat had begun to recognise patterns in time, knew that this was the day daddy always took him to the temple after breakfast while mummy got some me time.

‘Where daddy?’ the little drell asked, confused by the change in routine.

“He’s-” She pauses, looks side to side, runs her hand across her brow. She looks back up, leans across the table, strokes my cheek.

“He’s away on business Kolyat”.

Away on business. That was the first time he heard it. It would not be the last.

Three, perhaps four full Kalsefs passed, and father finally came home. He was dressed in sleek, fancy clothes, nothing like the overalls he’d worn for work before. He was smiling wide, rushed to Kolyat and swung him up in the air. Kissed mother and told them both he’d missed them so. Mother was all smiles too, but something was different. Something felt off to Kolyat. Like they were too eager, too desperate to seem normal, natural, which only served to make it feel unnatural.

A few days later they were packing up their meagre belongings. Emptying the apartment. A lot of it they didn’t bother with, too broken, not worth keeping. Father assured them they could get better things at ‘the new place’.

They travelled then, taking a skycar and then a shuttle, higher in the sky than kolyat had ever been. He clung fiercely to Thane when they looked out the windows, the vast oceans so far below, the islands and domes little specks on the surface.

“Fear not my son, we are quite safe. We’re going somewhere wonderful, you’ll see”.

Their second home was a lofty apartment at the very top reaches of the dome of Da’quin city.

The view out of the floor to ceiling windows made Kolyat feel sick. He had his own bedroom now, and he’d pile up toys against the glass planes, building a barrier between him and that fathomless fall. His new big bed accommodated his rapidly lengehtening limbs, but it felt so many miles away from mother and fathers bed. You couldn't hear the neighbours from the apartment. Never seemed to meet them at all; they could have been completely alone up there for all he knew. There were certainly no Orla’s in this building. He never saw her again. His second home was lonely.