Is that the cerveza talking?

To see you when I wake up, is a gift I didn’t think could be real

spicyshimmy:

kassafrassa:

shimmy vega and cortez want you to feel better and they show this by making out so pls feel better
i’m sorry it’s shitty and sketchy and vega’s tatts are too much for me right now bUT I LOVE YOU A LOT ALWAYS

Sometimes you had to give up everything you’d been in order to figure out how things were gonna be.
Shepard was the only one in the galaxy crazy enough not just to say something like that, but to live by it. To die by it. Loco, James remembered thinking, while no monument they put up anywhere could get the size and shape and shadow of him. James had been right about the nickname; he always was.
And the grief came after. The scars stayed. The man was gone already.
But James had always known a little something about giving everything up—even if that was more like burying things, beneath muscles and tattoos, those scars he kept because the point of them wasn’t about fixing anything. You had to carry ‘em with you, as many reps as you could stand in one day, always a little more than the one before and a little less than tomorrow.
James remembered every last word Shepard said to him while they were together—brothers in arms. For a while, anyway. But he couldn’t remember how he told Steve there wasn’t any more time to lose and there’d never been time to waste, holding his face in two big hands, small enough against the feeling that he didn’t know what to say.
Letting somebody else hold you like that—it was giving up everything, mouth as open as your chest, the only way a guy could ever feel naked after he’d put the armor on in the first place.
‘Sure is crazy,’ he whispered, and Steve chuckled, swallowing the sound of his voice.

kassafrassa:

shimmy vega and cortez want you to feel better and they show this by making out so pls feel better

i’m sorry it’s shitty and sketchy and vega’s tatts are too much for me right now bUT I LOVE YOU A LOT ALWAYS

Sometimes you had to give up everything you’d been in order to figure out how things were gonna be.

Shepard was the only one in the galaxy crazy enough not just to say something like that, but to live by it. To die by it. Loco, James remembered thinking, while no monument they put up anywhere could get the size and shape and shadow of him. James had been right about the nickname; he always was.

And the grief came after. The scars stayed. The man was gone already.

But James had always known a little something about giving everything up—even if that was more like burying things, beneath muscles and tattoos, those scars he kept because the point of them wasn’t about fixing anything. You had to carry ‘em with you, as many reps as you could stand in one day, always a little more than the one before and a little less than tomorrow.

James remembered every last word Shepard said to him while they were together—brothers in arms. For a while, anyway. But he couldn’t remember how he told Steve there wasn’t any more time to lose and there’d never been time to waste, holding his face in two big hands, small enough against the feeling that he didn’t know what to say.

Letting somebody else hold you like that—it was giving up everything, mouth as open as your chest, the only way a guy could ever feel naked after he’d put the armor on in the first place.

‘Sure is crazy,’ he whispered, and Steve chuckled, swallowing the sound of his voice.