happened to me yesterday…..
The comic page that started off so well… yeesh. The Western AU that is struggling to get off the ground. Hehe.
mass effect numbers challenge: six pairings (romantic or otherwise) [1/6]
Headcanon: between missions Shepard and Garrus go stargazing on different (relatively) habitable planets while imagining that they can see Earth and Palaven from there.
Some music to go: link (I love the song)
and a little less filtered version lol:linku
"Just once, something did go right."
"Something about us" V.2
Alternate version of my previous submission because colors are good and I cant sleep.
*screams into the night*
The wine does not taste of embarrassment or a vigilante’s salary. Pandora Shepard notes aromas of honey and burnt cigar with just a hint of vulnerability. Garrus presses his forehead against hers, his famed steady talons trembling at her hips. “I just want something to go right for once,” he confesses.
She presses a kiss to the unbandaged side of his face and feels his breath shockingly hot against her neck. The rapid flutter in her chest tells her this will go right, but she’ll want it more than once…
Champagne is best served chilled, but the excited gleam in Garrus’ eye says he couldn’t bother to read the label too carefully. Not with all the endorphins coursing through his veins from defeating a Collector ship. Shepard feigns surprise at the gift. She’d be damned if she’d let Kasumi’s blabbering mouth wipe the priceless expression off his face. He starts kissing her everywhere at once, and she can hardly recognize her own laughter. It is sounds years younger —light and effervescent like the bubbles on her tongue.
Cheap beer bottles litter the floor of an expensive apartment. Her expensive apartment. In a rare moment of hungover introspection, Shepard realizes how quickly her life had changed from standard to surreal. How many kids from the average spacer family could imagine the fate of the galaxy resting upon their shoulders? How many could withstand it? How many could live up to it? Even among the luxurious hardwood floors and sleek furniture that screamed “success,” she feels like a fraud.
A bitter heaviness threatens to burn a hole through her stomach before his arms ground her by the waist. There is a sensual hum and a playful lilt in Garrus’ voice as he recalls all the amazing places he’d “lost” himself in just hours ago. He tells her how amazing she is. And slowly, but surely, the bitterness fades, and in its place self-assuredness blooms. Commander Pandora Shepard remembers who she is and what she’s destined to do.
She is certain that this particular bottle of wine will taste expensive. It will undoubtedly carry sophisticated notes of rare fruits and upward mobility within a hierarchy, but Shepard never finds out. The bottle remains unopened because her tongue does not crave libation. It wants to say the unsaid words that might mean goodbye.
But she finds herself letting Garrus do all the talking instead. So different from their first night together. He leads her in a practiced dance where talons no longer tremble and fingers do not fumble. Years of absence, passion, disillusion, and comfort merge into a kiss so sweet, she feels her heart breaking.
She wants to ask him about the future that they may not ever have. It could be her last chance. Yet her tongue — that damned tongue— tangles into a knot of fear and hesitation.
A simple “What would I do without you?” and a brief brush against his scars are all she can manage. She pulls away before he can see her hands shake.
Duty first. She’s determined to win this war, even if it means losing him.
They’re last stop is a bar, and she’s not remotely surprised. Give him a lifetime together, a tropical home, a galaxy rebuilt, and a hoard of krogan children, and he’d still want nothing more than five more minutes of her time and another round of drinks.
The bar is warm, and Shepard tugs awkwardly at the black dress gloving her body. It’s been a while since she’d worn something so risqué. Though her skin is once again taut and her back straight, she is still nervous about looking the part.
Garrus sits across the way, absentmindedly swirling a neon colored drink in its glass. He’d arrived first. Years before she could, and she hopes it hasn’t been too long. She hopes he’ll still remember.
The creases in his hide have also faded away. The muscles are once again thick beneath the black-tie tunic. And when those clear blue eyes first lay upon her, they flash wickedly enough to set her pulse on fire.
“Come here often?” he purrs with a sly flick of his mandibles when she takes the seat besides him.
A familiar tango begins to play, drowning out the murmurs of the crowd. Her lips tug into a grin because she knows they’re about to dance. And for once, they’ll never have to stop because everything had gone so very right.