#femshali

[arcandoria-archived]

Hi @wasdplz! By the will of the almighty @masseffectholidaycheer, I'm your Holiday Harbinger!

To please the gift harvest, I was an attentive minion and heard you like FemShali, and... me too. Me too.

I hope you like them, and happy holidays! 💕

feel free to message me if you'd like a high res

[thekorcariwilds]

i want you here. with me.

[jegaphone]

[jegaphone]

[jegaphone]

[jegaphone]

[kroganmom]

a f/f/(f) ship of your choice with tali perhaps? and the prompt "that reminds me of when i was little..."? or something to that effect!

aaaaa thank u kan!! gonna try some femshep/tali/liara bc why not

They’re surrounded by entirely too many empty bottles of alcohol, dextro moreso than levo. Shepard had lost her pants an hour earlier; truly lost them and spent quite a few minutes searching before giving up. She’s sprawled out the couch, head in Liara’s lap and her feet in Tali’s. A half-empty bottle of beer is held loosely in her hand and she’s positive Liara’s biotics are ready to catch it if she were to drop it.

Tali seems very interested in her toes. She’s poking and prodding and bending them so much so that Shepard wiggles them to stop her.

“Taliiiii,” She slurs, “That tickles!”

“But there are so many.” 

Liara muffles a laugh, threading her fingers through Shepard’s hair. Shepard mumbles an approving noise before returning to the conversation at hand.

“You know,” Shepard says, “This reminds me of when I was little.”

Liara’s lips twitch, “You’ve had a Quarian interested in your toes before?”

“Not just her toes.” Tali pipes in, and Shepard can imagine the grin on her face.

She laughs, “No, no, no Quarians in this. But there were a bunch of spiders--.”

“Shepard, no.”

“I agree with Tali; let us avoid any spider stories.”

Shepard pouts at the both of them.

[imperatorsapphiosa]

A day late

I wanted to get this done yesterday for Shepard’s Birthday but I wasn’t able to make it

It also doesnt have a title but the document is called Happy Birthday Suckers

Femshep/Tali, following the events of Tomorrow (not required to get it, but it will help with context)

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beeep. Beep.

The presidium was beautiful. It was always beautiful. 22.3 Centigrade, which every species could agree was within the comfortable range. Carefully manicured plants, all within the red-to-green-to-yellow range of plants grown from main-sequence stars.

Humidity at 45%. Blood pressure at 100/60, heart rate at 58 -

Tali stood up and turned around, crossing her arms over her chest.

The grim math of the Fleet put this against her every instinct. Fresh blood. Nutrient injections. Three doctors. Worst of all, a hospital bed -- actual space -- all used to keep one woman breathing when every doctor, every friend, had concluded one-by-one that she was never going to wake up.

That they were wasting their time.

First it was the citadel doctor. A tall Salarian -- “The best in her field”, they were all assured, who always smelled faintly of onions and spoke too slow, gave up after 2 weeks. “Her chart shows nothing positive. My services are needed elsewhere.”

The next two specialists were in and out.

Next it was Karin Chakwas; who, rather than watch her former friend waste on life support, chose to reenlist aboard another ship. “She would have wanted us to go out continuing her work, rather than watching her.”

Every week the crew -- the family -- used to visit. They brought flowers, poetry, they read by her bed and said their thanks.

After the first three months, the flowers stopped coming. They stopped reading. Then it was once every two weeks.

Wrex was the first -- nobody blamed him, he had a planet to run. He nearly shed a tear when he boarded the transport. He took Grunt with him.

Then it was James -- “I’m off leave. But damned if I ain’t gonna pour one out for her.”

Kasumi was next. She just didn’t show. Sometimes Javik would squint in a corner, as if he saw something, but nobody dared call it more than wishful thinking

After that, Zaeed. He too, just... fell off the map. And a few weeks later, Blue Suns stock took a hit.

Then Samara, and Asley, and Cortez. Jacob, Joker, Miranda, Admiral Hackett, and Jack.

And then it was just the three of them. The three “aliens” that she had picked up 2 years ago.

Things always went a little smoother when Liara was there; it was her, after all, who had found that first Salarian. The taxis always ran on time, and the doctors seemed just a little bit kinder.

But she, too, followed the crowd, and left.

Garrus was the last one. He put his hand on her shoulder,and looked her in the eye. “Tali... she's gone. She lived a good life – the best. But we have to accept it. She's gone. You know where to find me when you need me.”

And he, too, left the room.

Tali had kept the flame for the past two months, on her own.

A single bouquet of roses sat in the vase next to her bed, overlooking the presidium. The only reminder that someone still remembered her.

Garrus was right. It was time to let go.

She sat down on the hospital bed, Anura's head lolling slightly to the side. “I love you, Anura Shepard. And I wish... I wish you had been the one to live and not me.”

She looked down at her lap.

The memories came rushing back – the slow slip into unconsciousness, waking up in Anura's cold arms, the human crewman telling her that Anura's last air tank was hooked up to her helmet...

War orphans. Anura had wanted to adopt war orphans with her. She'd wanted a life, children, a home... a family.

A life. A life not ruled by the Reapers.

The damned irony. The god-damned irony.

“I wish you'd gotten your family, Anura. Our family. Our life.”

She reached across, taking her lover's hand between three outstretched fingers, and clutched them close.

“I miss you so much, my love. I will miss you... so much. Happy birthday, my love.”

She looked down, a pointed incisor biting deep into her lower lip. “Goodbye.”

She squeezed Anura's hand tightly, as tight as she could, and stood, walking out of the hospital room.

The doors slid shut behind her.

Beepbeep. Beepbeep. Beepbeep.

A five-fingered hand, still showing scars, closed softly against the empty air.