seen from Pakistan
seen from India
seen from Italy
seen from China
seen from Lithuania
seen from China
seen from China

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from Australia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Uzbekistan
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Germany
Every time Anderson goes "Shepard." to get her attention as she's either spiralling into saying things faster than her brain or being intentionally flippant to avoid a question an angel gets its wings.
Again, thank you to those letting me using their Shepard's or Pairings.
I have given myself an hour time limit as I know I'll either tweak and tweak and go insane. Plus, at least you know it's not AI 🤣🤣🤣
My Kaidan Corn picture took me almost 7 hours 😭
Enjoy @liminally-challenged can you guess which fic I took inspiration from?
It was a beautiful image you painted.
Process for Grace Shepard for those interested.
Coloured pencils on 140lb cold press watercolour paper. As usual starts with a procreate sketch -> print sketch -> trace onto project paper using natural light of a window as backlight (I'm cheap, ok??) -> watercolour pencils for base layer -> base colours in soft core coloured pencil -> layer and blend the everloving shit out of the skin working light to dark -> eyebrows (because oh crap, does she have crazy eyes/smile or just looks weird because no eyebrows?? Ok good yes lack of eyebrows was the problem after all), lips, eyes, eyelashes, teeth -> define hair sections -> jump to hoodie rendering because the hair is pissing me off-> blend hoodie with mineral spirits and q tips -> stinky dry time -> hair details -> finally do the zipper fastener and fuss over details/blending adjustments no one will probably notice -> pace a bit like that one Narcos meme -> fuss some more -> sleep on it -> final check and release it to the wild before I mess it up by overworking the hair again.
The bromance continues. I remember when Garrus used to look at Shepard like that. Garrus and Thane are already bantering, for god's sake.
A completely reasonable number of snipers.
I'm not doing it for the galaxy!
This was so painful to draw.
A lot of inspiration and a lot of drawing lately so, I'm gonna throw this here and step aside.
I love the details.
Again, Grace Shepard, @kitsungari's custom Shepard. So much inspiration thanks to her lately (to Kit and to Grace!).
I wish I could do digital too but I suck a lot and I don't have the patience for and f*ck
fave ME romances
Behind the Mask
Grace Shepard couldn’t stop thinking about the bodies.
Piles of them. Their faces frozen in horror. Eyes wide and unseeing. A white film had covered them. Lifeless. Yet, their eyes accused her. Gazed into her. Read her as a failure. She was too late. Too slow. Horizon had lifted the mask of Commander Shepard, and it had found her lacking.
Kaiden, her old friend, had looked at her in disgust. Cerberus lackey. He had spat the words at her. In an instant, he erased their history, their achievements, their victories. She was an enemy with his old friend’s face. Well…not entirely. Grace ran her fingers over the scars that cut into her face. They split her chin and dug grooves into her cheeks. The order to build a med station still sat in her inbox. Every time she had the resources, she found herself putting them somewhere else. It felt disingenuous to smooth her face as if she could rewrite the last two years.
As if she could pretend the horror of her death and rebirth didn’t happen.
Grace brought the bottle to her lips. The amber liquid burned its way down her throat. She hoped it would burn the memories away. Burn away the images of the people she didn’t save.
The tears were hot on her cheeks. Pathetic. As if she had the right to cry like a child. As if she had the right to hide away in her quarters and sob like everything wasn’t her fault. She wiped the tears away with shaky hands.
Savior of the Citadel. What bullshit.
Grace tipped the bottle, swallowing the last few mouthfuls of whiskey. Another empty bottle. It wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough.
“Grace?”
Read on AO3