I know I drop in and out - with extremely long intervals between - but look at this amazing piece of art of Tavrien Shepard! My 11 year old daughter wants to be a writer and illustrator. She didn't believe me that she could practice by writing her own takes on her favorite games, books, or characters. I shared one of my fanfics with her. She gave this to me, and I could not be more warmed by the gift. She is such a beautiful soul, and I am blown away by her diligence at practicing art, her voice, and determination.
I was tagged by the lovely and super talented @ooachilliaoo! Thank you so much for thinking of me, and I cannot wait to read the fics you listed! I know I need some time to read fics from fabulous writers instead of being cooped up in my house and my brain all day. This will be fun!
I will tag @lechatrouge673, @rhetoricalrogue, @kagetsukai, @joufancyhuh, @novamm66, @penthesilea1623 to play along if you want to! No pressure.
I write mostly one-shots, and I hope you enjoy some of my favorites during this strange time of quarantine. Thinking of you all! I hope you are healthy and I’m sending warm, fuzzy feels your way!
Mass Effect Original Trilogy:
May as Well Be, Day 2: Cover to Cover - Ash teases Shepard over her Kaidan crush
May as Well Be, Day 6: Moonlight - Shepard and Kaidan are awkward
Mass Effect Andromeda:
Ticklish - Pre-relationship Ryder and Liam and a tickle fight to the death
A Glance at the Sun - Ryder and Liam, Christmas time in Andromeda
Dragon Age 2:
With the Storm - Hawke and Anders - All the pinning
Cold Outside - Hawke and Anders - More pinning, they do nothing else
Dragon Age Inquisition:
Trophy Girlfriend: Trevelyan and Cullen - Being flirty and cute
Sad Tree: Trevelyan and Cullen - Tree decorating
My writing master post is here if anyone is interested. All it does is make me sad that I haven’t written anything new in a very long time.
“I just don’t understand why the Alliance thinks they can dust us off, shine us up, and feed us to the media whenever they decide to have a charity function.” Shepard threw more items into an already full suitcase. “We are the First two Human Specters in existence, ever!’ she growled and violently shoved a hairbrush into her toiletry bag. Tavrien stood in the middle of the room looking for missing items she had yet to abuse. “They could have at least given us more notice. It’s Christmas Eve! I should be laying on my overpriced couch, wearing pajama’s, and eating popcorn covered in too much melted white chocolate.”
“You’re right,” Kaidan walked in, smiling affectionately at the impressive tantrum Shepard was having. He stood behind her at the closet, gently pulling her body against his. “And on that note, I got you a present.” He kissed his way up the nape of her neck, the warmth of his breath causing her to shiver.
“Mmm...is it a way out of this ridiculous event?” she pleaded while attempting to decide between two evening gowns that she hated, but secretly thought she looked fantastic in.
“And if it was?”
Both dresses dropped to the ground, “Kaidan, please don’t joke about this…”
“Tav, I want you to take the Christmas Eve presents out from under the tree. Open the one we both know is new pajamas, and go to your ridiculously expensive couch.”
“Kaidan…” her voice was tinged with hope with an edge of disbelief.
He looked her in the eyes through the closet mirror and kissed her on the temple. “Go.”
She spun in a circle, throwing her hands around him, “How did you get us out of this!”
He moved in close, and she felt the scruff of his 5 o’clock shadow ghosting across her cheek as he whispered, “I simply called Admiral Hackett and informed him the First Human Specter had something more important to do than to attend this function.”
She moved onto her toes to close the distance between them, lips almost touching his and asked, “Oh yeah, and what is that exactly?”
“The Admiral of the 5th Fleet was told that Tavrien Shepard, Savior of the Galaxy needed to stay home in her ridiculous Christmas pajamas, eat popcorn with too much melted white chocolate, drink cocoa with tiny marshmallows she would insist are too adorable to consume but do it anyway, and watch ‘The Nightmare Before Christmas’ with the Second Human Specter...for research purposes.”
“Perfect,” she murmured before closing the gap and kissing him gently.
“Stay with me, we’re almost through this,” Tavrien’s voice was just above a whisper. Fighting waves of nausea and light-headedness from the damage she’d sustained during the fight to the Citadel beam. The urge to lay where she was, win or lose, was overwhelming.
Anderson made the push to the beam and sprawled heavily wounded on the ground beside her. His breathing sound hoarse, ragged, full of fluid, “You did good, child. You did good. I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Her eyes closed against the pain and dizziness, concentrating on keeping her breath shallow, pulling air in hurt too badly. Broken ribs were a definite possibility besides the myriad of smaller injuries she had to have. The battle continued to rage in the distance, ship debris floating between the stars, the flash of light from explosions blinding. It was the best view in the house. Ships moved with silent intention, like a dance choreographed with no music but the beating of hearts, and the battle-cries of all fighting to counted the steps. Within the observation deck, nearby machinery continued to whir and click, but the room sounded oddly quiet.
“Anderson?”
The undignified slump he’d been in was more pronounced, head drooping to one side, his chest no longer struggling to rise and fall in jerky movements. When he didn’t respond, Tavrien choked back a sob. The whole situation had to be a bad dream, they’d made it this far, moments away from saving the whole damned galaxy, and she hadn’t been strong enough at the end of things. Swallowing thickly, eyes stinging with unshed tears, she slowly repositioned herself nearer him.
“Sir?” Precious moments ticked by without a response, and her breath caught, shuddering deep within her chest. She moved to hold him, no longer caring to keep her hand pressed firmly against her side, applying pressure to the angry wound where she’d been unable to stem the flow of blood. She felt cold, numb, yet a flush rose to her cheeks, sweat began to bead at her upper lip and forehead, ears ringing. Anxious that what was logical, but her heart was denying, was the truth.
Her bloody, sticky prints smeared onto his uniform, painted his skin with grotesque warpaint as she held him close. This man had given so much of his time, knowledge, and kindness to her. He’d been as much a father to her as any man could be, and his dying breath was used to praise her. Throat constricting with grief, she cried. Tears streamed down her face, hot and unrelenting, her mournful cries shattering the stillness, breaking the silence.
Once upon a time, she’d been in this same exact position, shifting from nothingness, distorted dreams, with brief periods of consciousness in between. Alternating between warm and chilled, oversensitive and numb. Through the fog, she saw faces, she recognized most of them. Miranda was a constant, offering small smiles and reassurances. Sometimes she saw Anderson, but he seemed distant, unmoving, and her insides churned when he appeared. Sadness enveloped her, and her mind struggled with why that should be.
When she became more restless, shifting and stretching against her restraints, the doctors tapered her dosage of pain medications and sedatives; her body was burning through the safe amounts quicker than they could administer them anyway. Over time her periods of wakefulness grew until she was startled to learn the Reaper War had taken place months ago.
Miranda, using tact and kindness, detailed how Shepard had been found in the rubble on the Citadel. How her body was broken, but still clinging to life. She shared with her the sleepless nights of making sure Tavrien wasn’t a casualty of war out of a pure stubborn refusal to allow the war to claim her friend’s life. They cried–though neither would admit it–and discussed her prognosis. It took time before Shepard could bring herself to ask about the fate of the Normandy crew, of Kaidan. That they had been declared MIA, presumed lost in the shockwave from the Crucible fire, didn’t seem to phase Miranda. She claimed she had inside intel and she wasn’t worried.
Each morning, and sometimes in the dark of night, she would wake thinking she could hear the timbre of Kaidan’s voice. Her ears would strain, neck craning to catch a glimpse of him at long last, but she was always disappointed. Time continued to march on, slowly since she was confined to a bed, and she chafed wanting something to do with her time. She’d been in bed, allowed out only for therapy sessions, for almost a year with few allowed visitors.
Late in the night cycle, machines beeping, physicians and nurses speaking close together in quiet tones, Shepard dozed fitfully. Her dreams were oppressive, the worst moments mixed with nightmares and fears. Her mind was back on the Citadel, ethereal Catalyst childlike in appearance though lacking innocence, gave her no options. Unlike actual events, Tavrien was unable to choose and watched Earth explode in front of her eyes repeatedly. Each time the fires pressed closer, tendrils of flame burning hotter than the previous dream until she jolted awake.
“You don’t understand. Visiting hours are over,” a disgruntled nurse said, “you will have to come back in the morning with proof of proper clearance.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” a whiskey-smooth voice replied, “but if you don’t let me in,” his tone turned to steel, “I will make sure you regret it.”
She gasped, stunned, believing the truth of the sound because not even in her wildest dreams could she have imagined Kaidan’s voice taking on such a rough, threatening tone. “Kaidan?” she shouted, uncaring about her rudeness. “Kaidan, in here. I’m here.” She struggled to get her legs untangled from the sheets, body trembling. Her feet hit the cold floor as his body filled the door frame. They stared silently at each other; eyes scanning the expanse of the other’s body.
“It’s you,” she whispered, hand reaching out to him.
Kaidan, not needing any more prompting, crashed into her, falling to the floor with her wrapped tightly in his arms. “Oh, Tavrien,” his arms shook as he held her, fingers gripping her roughly, “God, how I missed you.” Their lips met hungrily, teeth clashed, salt from tears mixed with warm breaths and warring tongues. She sobbed, and he rocked her as he sat tailor-style on the floor, cradling her head to his chest, fervent murmurs of love spoken into her hair.
They rumbled down a dirt road, surrounded by trees, in a green jeep. Kaidan looked so comfortable, at ease behind the wheel, Excitement and joy played across his face as the intermittent sunshine cast dappled shadows in the cab.
“How much further?”
“Seriously, Tav” he chuckled and glanced at her smiling, “are you trying to be a child? Might as well ask the right way.”
Her tongue stuck out at him, as he grabbed her hand off her lap, “Fine,” her tone pitched up and took on a sing-song quality, “are we there yet?”
He pressed a kiss to her knuckles, keeping her hand firmly clasped in his on the console between them, “Can’t wait to get out of the car, huh?”
Legs stretching as far as the vehicle allowed she groaned, “I spent enough time convalescing, this reminds me of all the forced sitting still.” Staring out the window, she watched the forest thicken around them. “It’s so hard to believe all this made it through the war untouched.”
Kaidan hummed in agreement, neither wanting to discuss the Reaper War or the year they spent apart while the Normandy limped back to Alliance Headquarters and Tavrien healed. This trip to his family’s cabin was long overdue, and they were determined not to let the shadow of the war touch it. “Fortunately for me…”
“You?”
“Yes, we both know how you get when you’re antsy.” The look he shot her begged her to deny it, she wouldn’t, blushing at her occasional impatience. He winked and continued, “As I said, your wait is nearly over. The cabin is just around the next bend.”
Facing the window again, she strained to see their destination. A wooden fence surrounding the perimeter of the land was the first thing she saw. It didn’t appear to actually keep anything in but was charming. As Kaidan turned the car into the road, she noticed the carefully maintained trees, the greenery and wildflowers blooming. The landscape was perfect for a retreat, it kept the house hidden from the main road, and helped with the illusion that they were on their own. The cabin itself was breathtaking. Nestled right into towering trees, water from the lake lapping up onto their own personal beach. It looked cozy, comfortable, like a home.
She climbed out of the jeep, taking in a deep breath, a smile spreading across her face. “Kaidan, it’s gorgeous.”
“You’re gorgeous,” he replied kissing her lightly on the crown of her head, “and you are going to take your blanket and rest on the porch bed or in the house while I unpack.”
“I can help.”
“I know, but I would rather you lounge about for a bit. Once you’ve gotten your fill of staring at the lake, you can give me a hand.”
Her pout made him laugh but didn’t change his mind as he pushed her towards the deck of the house and moved to unload the vehicle. Tavrien wandered around the wrap around porch, taking in the rustic elegance of the place. Kaidan’s mother obviously had excellent taste. The porch bed was set up in such a way that a person could relax and watch the reflection of the sky shift from day to evening, light sparkling off the surface and making the surrounding mountain appear ethereal. She thought to lay down, just for a bit, to enjoy the sun sinking behind the mountain, but the last thing she remembered the soft breeze sounding through the trees and the creaking caused by the gentle sway of the bed.
---
“Hey, Shep,” Kaidan’s voice called out to her, “you ready to get up? Eat something?”
Eyes blinking rapidly adjusting to the darkness beyond the porch stars twinkling in the deep blue of the lake she shot up in surprise. “Kaidan!”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“You let me sleep too long! I didn’t even help unpack or set anything up!” She swung her legs over the bed and stood to look around, “You made dinner already?!?”
Kaidan wrapped his arms around her, placing kisses on her temple, chuckling at her outburst, “Tavrien, it’s fine. You needed the rest, and I wanted to take care of you.” Grasping her chin in his hands, he brought their heads together, “I love you, stop being so stubborn and let me.”
She sighed, pressing into his body, basking in the warmth he exuded, the strength she drew from him, “Alright, but I’ll be allowed to repay you.”
“Of course,” he grinned, “but later, my steak is getting cold.”
Tavrien Shepard was startled awake from a dead sleep to a sudden jolting awareness. Flashing lights accompanied the blaring alarms insisting the Normandy was under some duress of unknown degree. The holo display marked the time at 0300 hours making her curse loudly.
“Pressley? You copy?” Static filled the coms and her gut clenched, dread forming in icy tendrils of panic, her mind jumping into overdrive. Her first thoughts were of number of situations she would find her ship in. Hopefully they weren’t being outright attacked. Strange conspiracy theories aside, she didn’t think Saren would be openly engaging the Normandy when he was working so hard to appear innocent. Anderson, who had only just stepped down from command, would not be amused over how soon she was able to attract trouble in his new ship.
With a quick head shake, she fought for clarity and calm to take over. It was easy to forget the price of acting without information, of assumptions, and she was determined not to make that mistake again. The Battle of Elysium taught her that much.
“Joker?” she tried again. Yet again, only white noise continued to sound across channels. It was important her crew believed she had confidence in them, it wouldn’t do to immediately micromanage every problem, but her reputation was at stake. Moving before she was aware she’d taken a step, Shepard sprinted to the CEC in a mad dash. Later, she would reflect on the startled looks on the members of the crew on duty at the sight of their CO running wildly through the ship in pajamas.
One glance around zeroed her focus to the bridge, but getting there required her to shove through a small crowd surrounding the cockpit. With a crew of roughly 50 members, she was surprised how many of them were present, surely some of them were supposed to be off duty. Finally, in the front of the group she decided she was still dreaming, and the sirens were some surreal battle induced element to her unconscious state because what she was witnessing could not be real.
Joker lay prone on the floor, in obvious pain though he was trying to save face; Dr. Chakwas worked diligently at scanning his legs to evaluate for damage. Ashley looked decidedly like she was trying to check her laughter.
“Alright,” she yelled over the din to bring attention to herself, “what is going on in here?”
“Commander,” her fallen pilot began through gritted teeth, “I’m sorry.” He hissed, jaw tightening, mouth pulling into a grimace, skin tone blanching before he fell silent.
“It seems,” Karin responded, voice cool as she examined the readings on her tool, “that Flight Lieutenant Moreau fell out of his chair breaking the console in his descent.”
“Yeah, it was an accident…”
“You didn’t fall,” Ash started a combination of guilt, mirth, and apology in her eyes, “I scared you out of you chair. You looked like cats in those vid compilations who are afraid of cucumbers. You should have seen it, Shep.” She did laugh then, wiping free flowing tears from her eyes.
“Yeah, well…” sheepishness coupled with his pained wince as he continued, “you shouldn’t sneak up on people like that!” He grunted again, “No telling what delicate maneuvers I could have been handling.”
“Oh, I almost witnessed the maneuvers,” she guffawed loudly. “I was only trying to set the record straight, there is no way an Asari could actually perform that act. Has to be a fake.”
Shepard put her hand up insisting the conversation be dropped. “Everyone clear-out, you have jobs to do.” She rubbed at her temple disbelief over the situation and the constant alarms were causing a headache, “As I am reasonably sure we aren’t in immediate danger from anything other than Joker’s extracurricular activities, will someone please shut that alarm off?”
“Working on it, ma’am.”
Shepard looked to the source of the disembodied voice, belatedly realizing Lieutenant Alenko was on his his back, entire torso hidden beneath the nearby console. As if by magic alarms ceased blearing, but her ears continued ringing in place of the noise.
He pulled himself out from under the controls, sleep pants slung low on his hips, white Alliance tee slicked with perspiration. Tavrien knew he was attractive, anyone with eyes could see it , but this was ridiculous. He looked like a male pin-up in a cheesy calendar boasting sweaty mechanics or firemen in various objectifying poses. The too long pause before her brain jump-started must have been noticeable given the light flush creeping across his cheeks.
“Um…it’s taken care of.” Alenko was probably appalled she had been staring at him like some sort of sexually frustrated deviant. Her only hope was that he wouldn’t report her for sexual harassment. Though, the way his eyes covertly traveled the length of her bare legs made her rethink the situation entirely. Giving thought to the likely state of her own sleeping attire, and the tendrils of hair slipping from the elastic of her ponytail, she cringed inwardly.
“Great, thank you,” she replied licking her lips and crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Well, carry on everyone. And Joker,” she huffed lightly trying to cover her embarrassment, “maybe you should save the maneuvers for your bunk.” She moved quickly to her quarters, struggling not to run from the darkening gaze and small knowing smile of her handsome Lieutenant. Sleeping would be next to impossible, but it wouldn’t be because of sirens and flashing lights.
