#shakarian

[thychesters]

#wipwednesday! it's been a minute since i did one of these! i'm working on wrapping up the miranda pov fic and then back to ... something else. she's certainly an interesting pov to write from with how her approach and thought process differs, and then the lens she views shepard and garrus through. she's studying them like bugs. / text under the cut:

Her expression wavers, the beginnings of a smirk pulling at the lines around her mouth like she isn’t sure if she wants to smile or not. In all the time she’s known her—gotten to know her, beyond the rocky first few days, she’s hardly ever seen Shepard uncertain. Her cadence down the stairs is off—steps lighter than her usual stride, and she runs her fingers over her chin, tracing a thought across the freckles there as her eyebrows lower. Agitated. Uneasy. Miranda squeezes the wet ends of her hair into her towel. “Commander,” she greets her, though she’s certain she’s already aware of her presence. It’s a rare occasion Commander Shepard walks into a room without clocking the exact number of people and exits. Where everyone stands, how they hold themselves or the threat they pose. Miranda must not pose much, but Shepard stiffens at the bottom of the stairs all the same, seemingly swallowing her nerves. The flare of her nostrils is the only outward indication she’s startled her.  As she raises her head, she catches her shuttering the divide between Commander and Shepard, like she’s trying to decide which role she wants to play in these late hours. Dressed down as she is, worn hoodie and cargo pants that look like they’ve seen better days, there’s still a commanding presence to her that has Miranda straightening automatically. “Miranda,” Shepard says; if she had to hazard a guess, she almost looks… excited. A nervous energy that looks uncanny buried in the twitch at the corner of her mouth.“Any new reports for me?”

[ssmutantalmostachickenduck]

this is doing actual damage to me

[madautumn]

Flames - WIP Wednesday (Garrus POV)

Garrus didn't know where he was. He was in and out, unsure of what was occurring around him. Sounds were muted, and he couldn't make sense of words or sensations.

As soon as he thought he was coming to, he was pulled back under, enveloped once again in darkness.

At least in the darkness he didn't feel pain. He was no longer aching or cold.

Or scared.

Was this death?

It couldn't be. But what did he know? He had never died before.

He'd have to ask Shepard what it felt like to be dead. He was sure she'd get a kick out of that one, after she kicked his ass for even asking.

Shepard…

She had been real after all. And she had been right there as he drifted into the dark.

He had wished over and over that he had been there for her in her own final moments. Perhaps he could have made a difference. Or perhaps he could have died with her. Spared himself the pain and ultimate failure that had dogged him for the last two years.

As his thoughts began to spiral, he sensed someone there with him, a comforting presence.

Shepard stepped out of the darkness, hair windswept and blazing around her. Sharp eyes pinned him down, and as she stepped closer, her face began to splinter, red glowing through the skin, growing in intensity.

"Garrus." Her voice was solid, real. He wanted to reach for her, to solidify her existence once again in his consciousness.

"Just hold on."

Shepard crouched, and Garrus saw the scars up close now - radiant and alive. She reached a hand out to lay upon his cheek, tilting his head to look upon her fully.

"Please."

He couldn't move, couldn't respond. All he could do was feel.

Her touch was warm against his mandible, pressing into his skin firmly.

Their eyes met, and he opened his mouth to speak, to ask her what came next, when suddenly the scars laced across her face glowed brighter, and flames began to lick at Shepard's skin, racing towards where they met.

He couldn't move, transfixed by her touch as he felt pain crawl up his neck and over his face, blossoming across his shoulder and cowl. He'd never known pain like this before.

His body was on fire, pain searing deep under his plates.

Why was she doing this to him?

Anguish contorted Shepard's expression.

He tried to move, to make her let go. He was frozen. He had to get away!

MOVE!

The pain ripped him from the darkness, sucking in a harsh gasp as he sat up, hands grabbing for his neck and face, trying to smother the flames engulfing him.

The haze of harsh light cut through the fog, his eyes slitted against the brightness, and he felt hands on him, pushing him back down.

"I'm sorry, Garrus."

Was all he heard before the darkness took him again.

[senorapintora]

You know, Shepard… somehow those scars just made you even more beautiful

[garfbin]

Writer’s block put on hold I guess

https://archiveofourown.org/works/90367721/chapters/240232626

[themaniacisinthemailbox]

Not Shepard

"I don't remember anything; maybe they really just fixed me. Maybe...I'm just a high-tech VI that thinks it's Commander Shepard."

"You're real. A little crazy maybe, but real."

It was what she needed to hear in the moment. Garrus saw how it straightened her posture, brought her confidence back to true Shepard levels. But now, in the middle of the night, with her asleep on his chest, Garrus's mind begins to wander.

Back to the old days on the first Normandy. He and Shepard were friends, sure. The way you can get along with a cool boss. Or a slightly older squadmate you look up to. Nothing between them skirted anywhere near the intimacy they share now.

Garrus tells himself life just took its course. They went their separate ways, lived a little, and when they met up again, had become versions of themselves that were romantically compatible.

Except.

He saw the video footage the same time she did. Describing the Lazarus Project as just "fixing" Shepard was like calling a nuclear explosion a bright flash. Technically correct, but glossing over many significant details.

The woman had been raised from the dead. It was a miracle. Did Garrus believe in miracles? Did he want to believe in this miracle specifically?

The woman asleep on his chest moans softly. He runs his talons gently through her hair until she nestles into the crook of his arm.

Is this woman the original Shepard?

Garrus had told her yes. He had been sure of it. Could he be so sure?

What was more likely? Cerberus defeated death, and brought Shepard's mangled, oxygen-deprived corpse back from the dead, or they created a very good facsimile?

A feeling of unease settles into Garrus's stomach.

Was he complicit in gaslighting this woman into thinking she was the real Commander Shepard because just like Cerberus, just like the Alliance, just like the Intergalactic Council, he needed her to be Commander Shepard?

Unease shifts to guilt. He would stare at the ceiling for the rest of the night. Come morning, he would kiss her cheek and go about their duties as normal. He had committed to a path of action. Now he had to live with it.

[theebouncehousemouse]

Was tagged for a WIP Whenever by @xoshepard <3<3

With the rushing sound of the waterfall in his ears, Garrus' idle brain blinked back to the human Alliance N7 who was now investigating the specter Saren Arterius. Although physically unimposing, with her short and squishy frame, an aura radiated from her. It was the eyes, the darkest eyes he had ever seen on a human. Midnight, sharp and inquisitive. "Sounds like you blew it," she told him. Rude. Yet, maybe she was right. Asking his boss to stall the council was foolish; why did that ever leave his mouth? Damn it, Saren was up to something; he knew it. Groaning, Garrus shuffled back to his office. The chair made the same creaking sound that it had for the last 6 months when he sat down, and once more he had the thought "I need to request  for that damn thing to be fixed." And, just like all the times before, the thought floated out of his mind the exact second he started to type into the terminal. "Commander Shepard." ENTER. Results filled the page…

@garfbin @mimitz0-o @themaniacisinthemailbox @biggusficus

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