#garrus.

[warplanet]

with @greenelight, for garrus vakarian. — " i'm impressed. i didn't know you could dance." / for garrus. 😉

there are worse ways to spend an evening on the citadel. as the walls of the world cave in on them, danger at every turn, around every star, every planet, it's nice to find comfort here. two days of shore leave. two nights to sleep in, stow guns in lockers, put armor away, and just... exist. the dark star lounge is a nice place to do just that — most rooms are full of gambling tables and noisy machines, but here in the back corner, away from the crowded bar and the busy front entrance, garrus and mason stow away for a spell of drinks and... apparently, dancing. "for you, i'll try," the turian chuffs, glancing over at their half-empty glasses on a table nearby. his hands settle on mason's hips despite their height difference (maybe garrus has to reach a bit, but it works out in the end). "i've watched a few vids here and there to refresh my memory. it's nice to put them on in the background while i'm working on the cannon." calibrating. naturally. two steps, then three steps, then a couple more... then a little pause near their table, and garrus's browplates furrow. "what was that you ordered again? i didn't recognize the name of the drink." here's hoping his conversation distracts mason from his lousy dancing. garrus tries his best, but a few misplaced steps almost make him trip. "not that i could try it, but... still curious. is that your favorite thing to order when you go out?" they don't get many chances to be social and roam the citadel so casually, so garrus takes the opportunity to learn a little about mason beyond the battlefield. "it's a human drink, obviously. is it common on earth where you're from"

[warplanetarchived]

with @greenelight / for garrus — you're plotting something, aren't you?

leaned over the afterlife bar, the turian peers around the foggy, dark space and searches the crowds for any sign of trouble. his gaze dances over mason, the bartender, and feels a small wash of gratitude for this new connection, this new source of valuable information. if only aria t'loak knew her favorite bartender was feeding archangel the same information he gives her. "nothing right now," garrus promises mason in a low huff, mandibles fluttering close to the sides of his face. he's not archangel here — not in public, not without the helmet hiding his true identity. here, he's just an ex agent of c-sec blending in with other turians and visitors to the busy omega bar. "i'm actually here for you," garrus goes on, sitting back in his seat. the music pounds around them, but garrus pays it no mind. "i wasn't expecting to see you here. have you thought about what i said? and have you made arrangements to leave?" people like mason shouldn't be on omega, and never should have come here in the first place. that's why garrus demanded he take the next shuttle to the citadel, hitch a ride somewhere, and leave this place for good. without his abusive ex boyfriend keeping him tied here, mason has no reason to remain; he should flee, find better work elsewhere in the galaxy, and stop playing around with bad people and even worse mercs. "i spared your life for a reason," he goes on, his voice low. "you said you'd leave. you promised me, actually. i gave you my contact at c-sec, and you said you'd reach out to them once you reached the citadel." a low noise rumbles in the base of his throat. "you don't belong on omega, mason. so call your afterlife manager over and tell them you quit... or we stage something together. your call."

[satellitewar-archived]

a message from @solesoldier: meeting you was the most important thing that ever happened to me. / for garrus <3

garrus immediately cants into where shepard stands, nose bumping against her temple as his eyes close. the tall turian doesn't fully lean into her form from behind (she's sturdy for a human, but he still worries), but he does give her the presence of his touch, the safety it brings, and the sound of his breathing close by. something purrs in his subvocals. eyes still closed, garrus gives the intimate conversation a few peaceful seconds of merciful silence before ruining it with his not-so-poetic responses. "i feel the same way." he tries. he really does try to give shepard the same fluttery feelings, the same lovestruck sensations she often gives him, but garrus is a soldier, not a poet. sometimes the pretty words stick to the roof of his mouth as he attempts to get them out. "i didn't realize that day in the presidium would mean so much to me. then our encounter in the clinic with dr. michel... who knew that would bring us to a place like this?"

still standing slightly behind her, garrus allows himself a bold move or two and places a hand on her side. it's simple enough to not draw attention to them on the citadel — no one will notice or care to see the seven foot tall turian leaned against the commander of the normandy — but it's more meaningful than any of his words, and better at conveying how he feels than any attempt at misplaced dialogue. garrus always longs to show how much he cares... and touch, he realizes, is his favorite method of doing so. he nuzzles into her temple. he purrs. he chuffs. he keeps his eyes shut and listens to the human woman beside him as she breathes. "we're gonna get out of this mess," he tells her after a while, "and no matter what happens in the end, i'll be with you." careful not to catch her jaw on his mandible, the turian tilts his head towards her. "all that reach and flexibilty talk sure got us somewhere, didn't it."

[mindblindbard]

first I want to say how much Iove MB! The premise, your writing style, the characters?? *chefskiss* How many chapters have you planned? And do you have a favourite RO? Can't wait for the next update :D

Thank you! I tentatively have 15 planned chapters, but we'll see. I honestly love writing all the ROs routes equally. However, Gray and Sally have a special place in my heart because I'm someone who develops romantic feelings very slowly. A lot of games don't allow for that type of slowburn attraction, and I always end up feeling awkward and rushed--often skipping the romance altogether. (It's why I adore a certain Turian from Mass Effect.)

[warplanet]

g.arrus v.akarian, infographic.

[warplanet]

with @ioracle, garrus and barbara. — i thought you promised to behave.

"mm. must have happened in your dreams, because i'd never promise a thing like that." he slips past her on the bridge, giving her a pointed look as he meanders over to speak to shepard. when he returns, his mandibles flare in barbara's direction — a turian smile. "looks like she's taking thane and samara down to thessia, so. i'll be stuck on the ship with you. not exactly a bad deal, really. gives me time to go over the new cannon schematics again." he leans against the hub at the center of the room, the normandy projected behind him. a thin glowing line points to the newly installed cannons he's referring to. thanix cannons. "did you know these were turian made?" he asks barbara, still beaming at her. his blue eyes shine with mischief. "my people, we... might have salvaged what was left of sovereign's gun back on the citadel. pulled from the rubble, studied... it's got an element zero core and everything, and now, so do ours. i'd like to take a look at the schematics down in the battery and see what we're working with. and since shepard is leaving me here, and leaving you here, maybe..." his browplate lifts. "you'd care to join me, miss gordon?"

[warplanetarchived]

with @ableeding / for garrus — i appreciate you looking out for me, but i'm not about to miss the final battle.

if garrus had it his way, amelia would stay in the medbay, monitored, with dr. chakwas hovering nearby. hell, if garrus really had it his way? she'd be back on the citadel — somewhere off the normandy, so that when the ship ventured through the omega-4 relay, she wouldn't be aboard. if this is truly going to be a suicide mission, at least let one person make it through. at least send amelia to huerta memorial, let her recover there while the rest of the squad undergoes the toughest battle of their lives in collector space. let her live. let her heal.

she's not going to accept that, however. she never does. her brows are furrowed as she sits up on the cot, knees pulled to her chest and eyes boring holes in the turian's thick carapace. though their height difference makes locking gazes a little difficult, garrus doesn't mind leaning in to see her. he finds green eyes, set in their ways, and matches their severity with a furrowed browplate of his own. "you really should have it looked at," he murmurs. "let us grab the IFF... you go to huerta, get a nice bed, a nice view of the presidium, and leave all the fighting to me." if this were less serious circumstances, he'd wink. instead, he refrains. "you're more than capable of fighting. i get that. just don't want to see you worsen that injury before it gets better. we can take care of the collector base and be back by morning." it's not a guarantee, but garrus talks like it is. better for morale. "would you at least consider it? for me?"