Eyeballs deep in my own sweet little HunTech rn, I want to recommend an excellent Hunter / Tech fic by another author, “on the nights that seem endless, you are like daylight” by inconocible
It is not only about the romance between the two people but also, if not even more about the family and shared traumas that leave their scars and pain, and about all kinds of love and bonds keeping this company together.
I fell in love with this fic from the first words of the summary "When Tech chose to fall…" because that was exactly what he did, breaking all our hearts. He didn't just fall, it was a conscious decision, a sacrifice. Hell, it is easy to forget sometimes that the Batchers are not just a band of devil-may-care super soldiers with a 100% success rate. They are very serious about their missions, they had the kriffing last resort Plan 99 demanding the sacrifice of one of their own. And even after their escape, during all those discussions should they remain soldiers, Plan 99 still exists, and Tech deploys it.
So, boy, I’m glad to see him alive in this fic, see all of them saved and safe for a time being, and in a slow process of healing. It is one of the best and most credible versions of a happy end to all of them. Echo sharing his time between fighting for the cause and staying with his found family, Omega having a normal kid's life, and others blending into the community of Pabu. Wrecker as an art and PA teacher, OMFG, it suits him so well!
Also, they are so relaxed and touchy-feely here, the queerplatonic vibes are very heartwarming. Hunter and Tech looking after each other make my heart full, and their more, well, affectionate bits are so spicy! And though no other romantic relationships are stated, I liked the whiff of Echo/Wrecker, I’m just too partial towards this pair.
The incomparable @inconocible spoiled me rotten with my Mass Effect Holiday Cheer gift this year. It includes some of my very favorite things—chocolate, coffee, stickers!!, BOURBON CASK AGED CHOCOLATE. Not to mention the two marvelous mugs (one for snarky days and one for sentimental ones, as she so hilariously explained in the card) and the stitch markers that are legit pretty enough to be jewelry in their own right.
But most beautiful and most difficult to capture is this gorgeous handmade shawl/scarf. My camera does not do the loveliness justice. The colors are both Garrus-y and space-y, with flashes of silver throughout. I will TREASURE it. And ... also wear it today, since it’s cold (for us, haha!).
And I’m not gonna lie—the card made me tear up. But that part’s just for me ❤️
Thank you so very, very much @inconocible. This gift is so thoughtful and perfect and lovely and I cannot wait to eat, drink, and be merry!!
For @inconocible. I was your @masseffectholidaycheer holiday husk this year! You should be getting a couple of little gifties in the mail, but I also wanted to bestow upon you the gift of fluff <3 (Because fluff!!) Hopefully I did not mangle your Colleen Shepard too much.
The Water’s Fine
A breeze blew through the open doors, warm against Garrus’ plates. Pleasant. Perfect.
It was always pleasant here, always perfect. A little dull sometimes, if he was honest, but after all the not-dull he’d experienced, he wasn’t complaining. Not really. His old injuries never ached here; his dreams were softer, less dark. He laughed a lot. Was always well-rested.
Outside, the wind rustled the leaves in the trees and he could hear the rhythmic pulse of the waves against the shore. He finished mixing the drink and stabbed a few pieces of fruit onto the pointy end of a little paper umbrella before dropping it into the cocktail. A bird sang and was answered by its mate. He hummed under his breath, an old song his mother had sometimes sung to him when he woke in the night and couldn’t sleep. It made him smile.
The door to the patio was ajar, letting in more of the fresh air. Bugs, too, but they never bothered him. A pair of little green lizards chased each other up the back of one of the lounge chairs. Beyond them, the extravagantly large infinity-edged swimming pool stretched out toward the horizon and the beach, water glittering in the sun.
As someone who Did Not Swim, he hadn’t really understood why both pool and ocean were necessary. A few more meters and the ocean stretched out as far as he could see. Plenty of water. Nice to look at. Soothing to listen to in the dark of the night with the windows open and the night birds chirping.
Shepard, however, had been adamant about the pool. She’d designed the thing herself, grinning like a maniac the entire time. He’d been so happy to see that grin, he’d have given her any damn thing she wanted to keep it on her face.
He saw the grin a lot, now. Another thing worth the periods of dullness.
And he did like the hot tub.
Standing in the shade for a few moments, he watched Shepard move through the water, precise as a bullet shot by someone with perfect aim. He huffed a private laugh. His aim. Scoped and dropped.
Strange, how he didn’t miss the weight of a gun in his arms. He’d thought he would. He’d thought it would feel like a missing organ, an amputated appendage. He’d spent his whole life either waiting to be judged worthy of one or armed to the teeth.
Now he liked carrying drinks. He liked dancing with Shepard under the stars. Holding her was superior even to cradling his trusty old Mantis, or the Spectre-grade Black Widow. He liked that his hands were always free to reach for hers. He liked that he was starting to forget the smell of blood and death.
He liked that no one shot at them, these days. He supposed one day their location would get leaked and they’d have to deal with the inevitable fallout, but for now, they had their privacy. Their quiet. Their hard-won, albeit likely-temporary, retirement.
“I know you’re there,” Shepard called out. “Come on in, the water’s fine.”
Garrus chuckled. “Not gonna happen, Shepard.”
“I could teach you, you know,” she offered, not for the first time. “And if you drown, I can probably manage to bring you back.”
“Funny.”
“You know it.”
He sat on the edge of the pool, dangling his feet in the water. Pleasant. Perfect. Just the right temperature to offer a little relief from the blazing sun.
“It’s even better if you get all the way in.”
“I will dump out this drink, Shepard. Watch me.”
She floated lazily on her back, kicking herself slowly toward him, making it look so damn easy. She looked as comfortable in the water as she’d ever looked on the battlefield. The swimsuit was nice, too. He couldn’t help admiring the sleek, muscular lines of her; the strong shoulders; the way her hair floated around her face like a halo.
“You’re staring, Vakarian.”
“You’re worth staring at.”
“Flatterer.”
“Is it working?”
She drew next to him, resting her arms on the edge of the pool, flicking her hair out of her face. “Don’t know. What’re you angling for?”
He set the drinks down and ran the palm of his hand down her wet hair. It was longer now, past her shoulders, and darker because of the water. All this time, and he still couldn’t get over how weird human hair was. She laughed as though she knew the tenor of his thoughts—she probably did—and leaned into his touch. “I’m getting tired, anyway.”
“Not too tired, I hope.”
Her eyes widened in mock affront. “Why, Mr. Vakarian what are you suggesting?”
“Vids and junk food, obviously. You’re clearly the one with the filthy mind.”
Still half-submerged in the pool, she reached for her drink. Her eyes fluttered shut and she hummed her pleasure as she took her first sip. “You know, if this whole war-hero retirement thing doesn’t work out for you, I think you could absolutely go the bartending route.”
He snorted. “Does that make you the entertainment? At this fictional bar?”
Her eyes crinkled with mirth. “Bouncer.”
“Literally, if you use your biotics just right.”
She flicked droplets of water into his face. His mandibles flicked. “Or maybe I could just be a swim instructor.” She waggled her brows. “If only I had some way to practice my skills.”
Sighing, he scooted a little closer to the edge of the pool, until the water lapped past spurs, then knees, then thighs. “I’d better not die, Shepard.”
She pressed her wet, warm body up against his side. Speaking of nice things. Speaking of filthy minds. “You know that’s not going to happen. I’d never risk losing… vids and junk food.”
“And things that make us tired?”
The kiss she pressed against his arm was enough to get him the rest of the way into the pool, if only so he could give her access to the more sensitive hide at his throat. She obliged, and it was his turn to sigh and have his eyes flutter shut. “See? Not that bad.”
Rules: In a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or however many you like).
Thank you for the tag @inconocible ! As it happens I did actually write something yesterday! 🥳
At its edge was a large vise , with
It trailed off because I had to go run an errand. I think I’m going to finish the sentence differently than I intended originally, though. I am hoping to post it later this week! It was supposed to be a single drabble and got out of hand. All I like is writing description and setting. The plot stuff is so hard! 🤣
I’m not sure who to tag. @minisugakoobies what do you have on the mix?
for the touch prompts, 15! author's choice of character/ship <3
I finally chose the ship for this!!! Took me some time but here it is! It's Plo/Wolffe, sharing soft touch/moment after a tough day.
15. after a tough day
Plo sighed as he sank down on the pillow, his legs folding into a meditation pose, one he often assumed without an unconscious thought. After so many decades it was just as natural to Plo as walking.
Letting his head hang low, Plo tried to remember when was the last time he had felt this tired. The Kel Dor rather hoped it had been quite some time ago but unfortunately his memory proved him wrong, offering a plenty times in the near past where Plo had felt just as worn-out as he did now.
The war was draining everyone, Plo knew. He had seen its effect in the faces of his brothers and sisters, and siblings at the Temple, in the thin faces of the children huddling in the arms of their parents, and in Plo's men.
The Wolfpack was just as tenacious as its Commander but even Wolffe couldn't overcome the limits of his genetically enhanced body.
Plo could hear his Commander's low groan when the door of his quarters chimed as it got locked, most likely by Plo's own personal code. Only he and Skein, the pack's CMO, could override it, which meant they were now guaranteed the maximum chance for peace until the next catastrophe.
Tracking Wolffe's movements by hearing alone, Plo's mind painted a picture of the human as he slowly dragged himself to the locker and started to remove his armor. Wolffe always started with the top parts of his armor but often left his greaves on until it was time to sleep.
After the armor was put away it was time for the sonic. Wolffe rarely spent more than the necessary amount time, even shorter if it meant getting to the bunk faster.
Plo listened Wolffe disappear into the small refresher, barely the size of Plo's closet back at the Temple, attached to his quarters. He pondered on the idea of using the sonic as well but his limbs far too heavy and the pillow felt too comfortable.
Before Plo could decide between the pros and cons on getting up, the refresher door opened again, Wolffe's steady steps approaching him now.
Lifting his head, Plo looked up to see his Commander standing before him, Wolffe's eyes close enough that the bi-colored eyes were barely visible slivers.
They stared at each other for a few seconds before Wolffe stepped closer, the tips of his boots almost touching Plo's crossed ankles, leaving barely no distance between them.
Plo watched him raise a hand and the Kel Dor let his head fall down again when Wolffe laid it on the back of his head, pulling him carefully forward.
With a sigh Plo followed the movement, his forehead coming to rest on Wolffe's thigh, almost reaching the Commander's hip thanks to his height.
Plo let his eyes close, breathing heavily through his mask as he basked in the warmth radiating from Wolffe as the human started caress the thick skin covering Plo's head, careful of the sensitive organs.
It was such a simple gesture but right now it was everything that Plo had been craving for, Wolffe's gentle affection washing over him like a cleansing rain.
"Thank you," Plo murmured, adding light pressure against Wolffe's leg before he relaxed again.
"You're welcome, Plo," his Commander replied, his voice a deep rumble.
Rules: write the latest line from your WIP, but with a twist — choose a line from a pet project you WANT to be your WIP. Then tag as many people as there are words in the line you want. Make a new post, don’t reblog.
ooh ok i got sooo many fics i would love to have as my current wip oof
The sky here is massive and clear, a whole ocean of blues and blacks and purples, more stars than Jim could ever hope to count, the arc of the Milky Way cutting across all of it; exactly the kind of sky Jim's spent his life searching for, exactly the kind of sky that’s always calmed him, called to him, a ghost of the first things he ever saw.
// star trek aos following jim’s life by night skies that stemmed from wanting to do an established relationship mckirk stargazing fic lol
He noses at Dick’s hairline above his ear, breathing slow, and Dick's expecting it, almost, when his voice is low and rough as he says, “I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot.”
// jaydick where the plot is literally just jason quoting classic lit romance at dick
lmao most folks i was friends with aren’t active on here anymore so whoever wants to do it u can say i tagged u
