This story includes explicit depictions of sex between two male characters. It is intended for adult audiences only.
Garrus was getting restless. Frustrated, even. He had gone through another long, completely useless transcript from a staff meeting of Saren’s Virmire science team. They had salvaged only scraps of the vast amounts of data stored in the building-sized servers in the base: as much as they could take on their omni-tools and what Tali managed to upload directly to the Normandy. Mostly it was rubbish, but someone had to go through it and make sure there weren’t any gems of usable intel among the piles of files regarding various mundane details of running such a massive operation.
This is the third post in the series where I critique the beginnings of my own stories, written long ago, and try to make them better. Here are the first and second posts. Today I’ll look at one of my favorite flawed creations, The Candidate.
Mind-blown by this beautiful piece of art, I reblogged it on Tumblr and retweeted it on Twitter and posted in on Facebook and drowned the author, Sixtus/Gladius, with repeated outpourings of praise and glee. But I still have more!
Recently, I bragged about having completed the first draft of my Mass Effect fanfiction novel seven years after starting to write it, and boldly stated that I wouldn’t mind spending another seven years polishing it. But several months into it, I’m ready to go nuts.
(There will be no spoilers. This is about craft and whining. Your suspense is safe with me.)