#n7month

N7 Month Day 30: End

We made it...

All I ever wanted: Ryder sibling as a squadmate.

Thank you for the last N7 Month prompts @n7month ! I loved seeing what others cooked up and I had fun, I hope the fanworks were a good sendoff! 🌠

N7 Month Day 29: Recovery

Finish off with the prompt

End

see the list of prompts here

Tag your contribution with #n7month

Let us know about anything you create for this challenge. We won’t be checking the tag as much after November is over!

As this is a fan event celebrating art and community we want to emphasize that we do not approve of any generative content and will do our best not to share it. We won’t be able and aren’t willing to scrutinize every single contribution so we are trusting everyone to be honest.

Thank you all so much to everyone who contributed over all these years, everyone who shared the art created and everyone who commented and liked.

We will continue to check the tag occasionally and the blog as well. Our messages and inbox will remain open for as long as Tumblr lets them.

We end on a bittersweet note, heading off into an uncertain and scary future.

But throughout everything we have each other, we have community. Even if we disagree on trivial issues, if we dislike each other or annoy each other - there are things more important that we need to be united for. Be kind and gentle with each other and with yourselves.

May the path ahead be brighter for us all.

This was the N7 Month Mod,

signing off,

one last time.

Nominally an mshenko thing. Silly little nonsense.

++

Shepard was alive, and he had to remind himself of this every day. Harbinger had tried to kill him. The Crucible had tried to kill him. But he was alive, laid up in a hospital in London while the galaxy slowly began to pick up the pieces from the Reaper war.

It was the first time since he had regained consciousness that he could somewhat move in his bed. His hospital room was strewn with flowers, though he couldn’t make out the tags, and on his bedside was a thin data pad. He picked up the data pad with shaky hands: the words ‘Feel Better Soon!’ greeted him, along with a soft jingle of music.

“Hi Shepard,” Garrus’ voice now played over the light melody. “Hope you’re feeling better than you look. Get better soon so we can talk it over at the bar, alright?”

“Shepard,” Steve’s voice this time. “A hero deserves a hero’s rest! Take all the time you need, but for your sake, I hope the recovery is quick.”

“Hey Loco,” James Vega’s voice. “Been no fun hitting the bag, lately. Get better so we can spar a little bit, huh?”

“Hello Commander!” It was Traynor’s voice. “Don’t worry about a thing while you’re healing, we’ve got everything under control. Feel better!”

“Shepard, don’t let the hospital make you feel crazy,” Joker’s voice came next. “And ask for the good stuff if you’re hurting. I have a feeling they won’t be stingy towards the guy who just saved all their asses.”

“Hi Shepard,” Tali spoke from the data pad. “I wanted to be there when you woke up, but the doctors weren’t letting anyone in. You’re in good hands, Shepard, and we’re all waiting for you.”

“We’re all wishing you the best, Shepard.” Liara’s soft voice, “You’re going to be better before you know it, I’ve pulled some strings to make sure you’ll have the best care while you’re recovering. See you soon, my friend.”

“Shepard,” Kaidan’s voice, at last. “I’m not leaving the hospital till they let me see you, but until I can, I want you to know that I love you, and I’ll see you soon.”

N7 Month Day 28: Repair

Continuing with the prompt

Recovery

see the list of prompts here

Tag your contribution with #n7month

Send us a link or the post of your contribution if we haven’t reblogged it yet!

Silly, but I'm still trying to get them all!

++

He had already asked around Nos Astra, but none of the vendors seemed interested in helping him. So, Shepard had returned to Zakera ward: maybe an older store on the Citadel could help him where the bleeding-edge tech companies on Illium could not.

The local Hahne-Kedar outlet was dark and nearly empty when Shepard entered, a high pitched chime sounding as he hauled the crate he was carrying over the threshold. There was a volus attendant behind the counter, stood up on a box and idly scrolling through his omni-tool.

“Hello, welcome to Hahne-Kedar, can I—woah,” the volus nearly stumbled off his box when Shepard slammed the crate down on the counter. “Um, can I help you, sir?”

“That’s what I’m hoping,” Shepard grinned. He opened the crate and began removing pieces of armor to place before the attendant: a pair of grieves scuffed to hell and back, a chest piece with a hole above the breastbone, a helmet that had certainly seen better days. “I’m hoping to have my old armor repaired.”

The volus breathed softly for a moment, impassive mask scanning over the equipment on the counter. “Is this… an Ursa Mark X?” He asked, finally. Shepard nodded. “We… we stopped manufacturing this six years ago. Where did you even get this?”

“I found it a dead merc’s locker on Kevleton about two years back,” Shepard frowned down at the pile of armor. He muttered, “I figured maybe they don’t make it any more, but I didn’t think it was already off the market when I got it…”

“It’s in terrible condition!” The volus picked up one of the boots which had been badly scorched.

“Was like new when I got it. Since then, though, its been through a lot of fire fights. And hostile environments.” Shepard thought for a moment, “And atmospheric re-entry. Anyhow, can you repair it? The medi-gel distribution system has been all out of whack since that geth surprise attack on Benning. I tried repairing the omni-gel storage system, but to be honest I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You know… nobody’s used omni-gel for two years?” The volus sounded incredulous. “Modern hardsuits don’t even have a system for omni-gel anymore! It’d be easier to take it out.” He picked up a shin guard, tested its brittleness against the edge of the counter.

“Oh no, that won’t do. I need the omni-gel. Call me old fashioned.”

“The circuitry is destroyed,” the volus was now analyzing the inside of the chest piece. “I don’t know if we can help you here, mister. It would definitely be cheaper to just buy a new hardsuit.”

“No no,” Shepard shook his head. “This has sentimental value. And it’s always fit like a glove. Well, it did before I lost a bunch of weight from being dead for a few years.” The volus’ face mask was impassive. “So, can you gimme a quote?”

“I… I wouldn’t know where to begin! I certainly can’t promise a quote until I know what I’m dealing with, but it’ll be at least a hundred thousand. At least!”

Shepard nodded, brows knit together and jaw firm. “Hmm, yes, that is a lot of money. Say, how about a discount and I do an endorsement for your store?”

“Who… why…?”

“Think of it, someone walks through that door and hears ‘I’m Commander Shepard, and this is my favorite store on the Citadel!’ How about it?”

“Who is Commander Shepard?”

“…you don’t remember Saren? The geth? It was two years ago?”

“I’ve only lived on the Citadel for eight months.”

“Oh.” Shepard blinked down at the volus, whose deep breaths punctuated the awkward silence. “Well, in that case, I guess just contact me once it’s repaired?”