#I remember the fucking needle cookies good christ

[thatgirlonstage]

Having been in the Vo/tron fandom from very shortly after S1 first aired and having stayed at least adjacent to it for the whole long slog up to present day is a curse for many reasons but also because it means most every time I see people try to explain the origin of the anti movement I have to cringe at all the things they are confidently getting wrong

And I’m not going to say anything, I did not save receipts or document this whole stupid phenomenon because it gave me a headache then and it gives me a headache now and I am simply not interested in being your discourse historian

But I am just standing in a corner like

[barrelobonkers]

Five Finger Pharmacy

Fandom: Brassic

Rating: General Audiences

Maybe your GP is fucking useless, but your mates certainly aren’t. Transmasc reader insert piece.

CW for casual transphobia and needle use and I think that’s it!

You hovered in the kitchen of your small flat, trying to pretend Vinnie wasn’t there. He didn’t make it easy, though—the smell of smoke permeated the air, and you wrinkled your nose at the thought of how long you’d have to air out to get rid of it. That and the video he was watching of dogs being frightened of their own farts, coupled with his low, snorting laugh, made it near impossible to ignore him.

Normally you wouldn’t mind his presence, but that day you just wanted to be alone. And anyway, you’ve been handling edibles for him for ages, ever since you’d pointed out there’s a significant subsection of his market that loves being high but hates smoking. You decarb and use your cannabutter in the best weed cookies Hawley’s ever seen, and he gives you a cut that’s probably more generous than any savvy businessperson would allow. It’s a good system.  

That was before McCann, though. Back when Vin was a free agent, before the antique dildo disaster. Now Vinnie has strict orders to keep an eye on you, to make sure you’re not sampling product, apparently. It’s insulting, and humiliating, and it makes the back of your neck prickle having him there, babysitting. On good days, though, you can set your indignation aside and enjoy his company; he rarely has time to kill anymore, and usually you’d shoot the shit for the several hours it takes for the decarbing to be done. But today wasn’t a good day.

“Christ, love, how long’s that gonna take? Been here for a week, seems like,” he teased, toeing his shoes off and throwing his feet up on the couch.

Your shoulders stiffened, your teeth ground together, and your eyes narrowed. You saw the grin start to slide from Vinnie’s face, and if you’d given it half a second more you know he would have apologized, but you didn’t.

“You know bleaching your hair’s just gonna bald you faster, right?” you shot back, your goal to hurt, and his fingertips flew to his hairline as the words landed. But instead of returning fire he only blinked a few times, his brow furrowed as he took you in, his head tilted.

“What’s your problem, dude?” he asked; not combative, just concerned. Typical Vinnie. “You’ve been fuckin’…titchy all day.”

When he refused to rise to your bait your shoulders fell, all the tension drained from them, and you trudged over to sink next to him on the sofa. You didn’t look at him, picking at a snag in the fabric, when you spoke. “My GP is fucking useless” you finally mumbled hollowly, and Vin straightened in his seat as quickly as though a current had run through the cushion.

“Shit dude, I forgot! Your appointment! Did you get the…the…Oh, Christ…” He subsided into mumbles as he worked to remember the word, one hand waving aimlessly in the air.

“Testosterone,” you supplied, managing a smile that faded almost immediately. “No, I didn’t.” You glared straight ahead, your jaw clenched, willing your eyes not to tear up, and Vinnie slumped back again, dog video forgotten, all his focus on you, spliff gently smoldering between his lips.

“Why not?”

“He wouldn’t diagnose me!” You hated how your voice broke; it made you want to hit something. “Went on about how being a woman’s great and I’m probably just doing it wrong and it would be a waste to ruin a pretty face like mine with a beard. So no diagnosis, no prescription, no testosterone.” In spite of your best efforts the tears spilled over, and Vinnie wrapped an arm around you, pulling you against his bony chest. His face was far away though, deep in thought, and when he came back to himself he pursed his lips, speculating.

“You go to Doctor Chris then, eh?” he asked, although it was more statement than question.  

“Yeah,” you said, although you weren’t sure why it mattered. “How’d you know?”

Vinnie scoffed softly, a grin pulling at his lips. “Dunno if it helps, but the man’s bloody useless. He’s not a bigot, just a dickhead. He spends half my visits showing me his cock and goin’ on about fuckin’…net a lover.”

It does help, a bit, and Vin’s clear disgust at Dr. Chris’ online shenanigans made you giggle, even as you leaned into his shoulder gratefully and he rested his spray-tanned cheek against your hair.

“I’m sorry, Vin,” you sighed, and he smushed his lips to the top of your head—not quite a kiss; it was more reminiscent of an affectionate cat’s head bump.

“Aw, I get by well enough. We’re talking about you. What’re you gonna do now?”

You sighed heavily, tucking yourself more firmly under his arm. The fact that you’d have to go on seeing the wrong body in the mirror indefinitely had sunk in, and the prospect of now was too daunting. “I dunno. Get sloshed, I guess.” After one last squeeze you wriggled out from Vinnie’s cuddle to check the cannabutter—it was done. The rest of the process felt insurmountable, and you turned back to Vin, your face apologetic. “Listen, can I get the cookies to you tomorrow? Please?”

That was another unwelcome change—deadlines. You both knew full well that the cookies were meant to be done tomorrow. Done and delivered by Thursday evening at five to be sold over the weekend. Every week. Used to be you just did a batch and tossed them in the freezer until they were all spoken for, then started again. But McCann didn’t work that way, McCann wanted structure, and for the sake of Vin’s cock you could put up with that, most of the time. Today, the thought of kowtowing to McCann’s rules and restrictions and threats made you flush with anger.

Vinnie hesitated, and his weight shifted back and forth as his worry for you fought his fear of McCann. “Yeah. Yeah, alright, no worries,” he finally said slowly, although the corners of his mouth were tight, belying his words. You scooped the jar of butter from your rice cooker and dried it, giving the lid a quick twist to ensure it was sealed before you handed it off to Vin. Another McCann decree: all product stayed with Vinnie and no one else was to be with it unsupervised. Shrinkage control, he called it. The bellend.

“Thank you, Vin,” you muttered as you showed him to the door; at your downcast expression he hauled you into another tight hug.

“Take care of yourself, mate. It’ll sort itself out,” he said, and you wished you had his confidence. He grinned, all warmth and encouragement, and chucked your cheek when you returned it. But your smile faded as soon as he’d gone on his way, your arms crossed self-consciously over your wrong-shaped chest and your head drooping, exhausted.

~~~~

A pounding at the door roused you from a stupor, the chatter of the TV lending to your disorientation as you came back to yourself. On screen, Tan France was savagely critiquing some poor man’s closet, but you’d lost the plot, your eyelids puffy and heavy from crying and your head fuzzy from the rum. You made it to the door, though, a soft blanket wrapped around your shoulders, and peered through the peephole owlishly. It was Vinnie, dressed all in black, a balaclava shoved up over his forehead to expose his face. He was grinning widely, triumphantly, and after a moment’s wait he pounded the door again.

“Open up, ya knobhead! Christ!”

You did, shivering against the chill night air, and Vinnie bulled his way inside. That was when you noticed the small white box, like a cigar box, that rattled when he moved.

“Where d’you keep your drugs, love? Pills and things,” he asked, and you blinked.

“Uh…bedroom, in the top dresser drawer,” you said automatically, too tipsy to care much about why he was asking, and he disappeared down the hall.

You moved to close the door but Tommo caught it with his shoulder, a box of syringes in one hand and needles in the other. He glared at you severely, and when he spoke the cigarette between his lips bobbed, loosed ash drifting to your floor.

“Mind you change out the needle. Every time. Reusing a needle, it’s like unlubricated anal, innit?” You didn’t have time to respond, too busy cringing at the mental image, before he thumped after Vinnie, leaving you open-mouthed in his wake.

“What the fuck are you—” you began, but a great blunt force crashed into your back, sending you stumbling. Ash, you realized a moment later, his expression exasperated and his hands full of what looked like travel-sized tubes of toothpaste.

“I fuckin’ told ‘em you don’t like needles, but would t’ey listen?” he muttered, not helping your confusion at all. “Where’ve t’ey gone?” he added moodily, and you pointed mutely toward your room.

Cardi came last, struggling to keep hold of a load of crisps and Dairy Milks and Mamba sticks and honeyed almonds.

“S-s-snacks,” he explained, and you nodded; at least someone was making sense. You peeked over his shoulder and out the door, but he seemed to be the last, and once you’d closed and locked it again you shuffled to your room to find Vinnie, Tommo, and Ash arguing over the best way to organize their…whatever they’d brought.

“What are you guys doing here?” you finally blurted. And then, belatedly, “What time is it?”

“Oh, must be half two, now,” Vinnie replied. “And we picked up your meds.” This was accompanied by a rakish grin, and you barely managed to catch the tiny toothpaste tube he tossed your way with a quick snap of his wrist. But not toothpaste, you saw when you squinted down at it.

AndroGel.

Tears pricked your eyes, and you swiped them away hurriedly as you turned the tube in your hand, amazed. When you looked up again they were watching you anxiously, waiting for your reaction, and your eyes welled again as a wide smile stretched your cheeks.

“Thank you,” you managed, and Vin’s returning smile was soft. For a moment you considered asking where it had all come from—you weren’t sure if the pharmacies in Hawley even carried testosterone, never mind this volume, but you knew they wouldn’t tell you. That would make you complicit, a conspirator, and Vinnie was careful about containing his mess. Ask me no questions, and all that.

“We didn’t know if you’d want the shots or the cream,” Tommo began, and Ash scowled.

“I feckin’ tolja he hates needles! It’ll be th’ cream,” he snapped, and then squinted suspiciously at your apologetic smile.

“I think I do want to try a shot,” you said, and Ash threw his hands in the air while Tommo smirked. “Just to see if I can handle it.”

Unsurprisingly, Tommo seemed supremely confident handling the syringes and tiny vials, though you’d never ask when he learned or why. The rest of you looked on curiously as he read and reread and then triple checked the dosage information on the box, and then you had to look away as he drew up, the tip of the needle glinting dauntingly as he flicked the syringe to rid it of air bubbles. He carefully capped the needle before switching it out for a fresh one, placing the used needle on your dresser.

“These don’t go in the trash. You’ll need a dedicated container. Yeah?” he said. You could barely bring yourself to nod—your eyes were still on the needle, your mouth gone dry at the thought of it going into you. “…You sure you’re up for this, sunshine?” Tommo asked, eyeing you speculatively, and you forced yourself to nod again.

“I think I just need to…not watch,” you said, and sank down onto the bed beside Tommo before your wobbling legs could betray you. Vin knelt next to you, taking your clammy hand and squeezing tightly.

“Don’t look at him. Look at me. Think about fuckin’…facial hair or sommat,” he said, and you giggled nervously.

Ash clamped his hands over your shoulders, though you weren’t sure if his intention was to reassure you or hold you in place. “T’ink about a deep voice an’ men’s shirts fittin’ properly,” he advised, and you nodded, blowing out a long breath.

“We’re gonna go into your belly, it’ll hurt less than the buttocks,” Tommo began, but you shook your head quickly.

“Don’t tell me what you’re doing. Just do it,” you said, and assumed he nodded, but you kept your eyes fixed on the far wall, trying to ignore Cardi’s wide-eyed gawking at whatever Tom was getting up to.

You felt him left your shirt gently, and yelped sharply as something made contact with your skin—but it was just something wet, and cold, and Tommo sighed.

“Stay put. Christ,” he muttered, and you nodded; Ash’s grip tightened on your shoulders, and Vinnie squeezed your fingers, drawing your attention back to him.

“When you’re shaped the way you want, let’s take a trip to London. Their charity shops have all the good shit, you know. Burberry, McQueen, fuckin’…Gucci, I dunno.” You squeaked at a tiny prick to the left of your belly button, but when you started to turn your head Vinnie caught your chin, drawing your attention back to him. “You’ll be the best dressed man in Hawley.”

“Pardon?” Now Vin let you turn your head; Tommo was looking scandalized as he placed the used needle next to the first and tossed the syringe in the trash. “Second best, thanks.”

You glanced down at your stomach, hardly daring to believe it was done, but there was the proof: a tiny drop of blood, barely larger than a period in a book, that Tommo slapped a bandaid over before rocking back on his heels.

“Easy as pie,” he said, and you all jumped at a colossal crash from the hall; Cardi’d fainted, his snacks scattering across the floor.

He came round easily enough, his pride more bruised than his body, and when the five of you piled onto the couch you found yourself in the middle, warm bodies to each side and the coffee table in front of you weighed down with food and drink. Your morose drunkenness had lightened to a lovely, giddy buzz, and you squirmed sideways, your back resting against Ash’s broad side and your legs tossed carelessly across Vinnie and Tommo’s laps.

“What do you lot want to watch?” you asked, scrolling through Netflix idly, and the responses were instantaneous.

“Bridgerton,” Tommo ordered.

“F-f-family Guy?” Cardi requested hopefully.

“Mr. Men,” Ash said, and flushed when all eyes fell on him. “I like it,” he grumbled, and you patted his thigh reassuringly.

“We’re gonna watch what Y/N wants to watch,” Vinnie said firmly, leaving no room for argument, although you thought you saw him sigh minutely when you restarted your episode of Queer Eye. When it opened with Antoni presenting a platter of baked goods to the rest of the Fab Five, Vin bounced up from his seat, nearly knocking you off the sofa with his unexpected movement.

“Christ, I nearly forgot! Hang on a tick.” He glanced at the TV screen and shook his head a bit. “Don’t pause it,” he instructed, and trotted out the door. He returned a moment later with a massive Tupperware container, stuffed full of slightly burnt, misshapen biscuits. “We thought we’d save you the work, seeing as how you were a bit down before,” he said, and you smiled, ducking your head to hide how touched you were. “Go on, try one,” he said and you plucked a biscuit from the top layer—still warm.

You worked to hide your cringe as soon as you bit into it; the biscuit was gritty somehow, with too much salt and not enough sugar, and as you chewed you encountered not a few fragments of what you thought—hoped—were egg shell. But you fought through it, finishing the whole thing and beaming at your friends the whole time. One bad batch wouldn’t ruin the business, and anyway, it was the thought that counted.

Two episodes of Queer Eye later, when the cookies had well and truly kicked in and you felt your body melting to the couch like fat in a hot pan, Vinnie leaned in close to murmur in your ear.

“I’ve taken care of Dr. Chris for you,” he said, his voice low. “You’ll not have to worry about your test…testi…your stuff, any more.”

Worry roused you enough to raise your head, though it swayed a bit when you turned to look at him. “Oh God, Vin, you’ve not hurt him, have you? Stealing’s one thing but threatening a doctor…”

At that Vinnie frowned; insult and surprise flashed across his face as he drew back. “Hurt him?! Christ, what do you think I am? No, I offered him free ganja so long as he keeps you supplied. Hurt him. Jesus.”

“Oh.” Relief filled you as you sank to rest against Ash’s side again, and when you smiled at Vinnie, all warmth and affection, he returned it, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Thanks,” you said, sprawling more comfortably across your mates. Ash lifted his arm absently to wrap around your chest, Tommo patted your ankle, and Vinnie squeezed your knee affectionately, while Cardi snored gently, half a melting Dairy Milk still resting in one hand.

“Any time, dude.”

[lady-of-disdain]

If you're so bothered by a cartoon ship (which... no words) still don't understand why you take it out on shippers, not like you could do much about the studio anyway, they don't care, as they should, but then being on our ass is entirely pointless... maybe that's the problem at the same time, maybe to some extent you do realise no one cares so you've decided persecuting a bunch of fan creators and consumers would be the next best thing. That said I feel it's imperative to point out, we're not Sunrise, we're not the ones with the power to shape this story, so you bullying us is frankly just devoid of any meaning other than raw intent for violence. At the very least admit that and drop the pretences, it's the only thing you've done after all, one would have to be blind not to see it.

If you're afraid a puny ship might be canon, and whatever you've twisted it to mean for you, take it up with the studio, alternatively with god since you're so into fictive characters over real life. Come to think of it didn't you guys have a friend that has a friend working at the studio? How come you're still so insecure? Why don't you tell the friend of the friend to influence the plot? Why hasn't this friend of a friend provided any other inside scoops to make themselves credible? Questions, questions.

Either way, hurting shippers will achieve nothing, we were gonna ship no matter the canon status of the ship, and I pity you people who think that shipping something has to be done because you want something canon, as opposed to just... for fun... but maybe that comes naturally with being pathetic, anyway, the possibility of it becoming canon now has nothing to do with us. Even less so as Westerners, if audience even has any sort of influence in all this, it would be the Japanese one way before it would be any Western one. Appreciate you giving us so much importance, but we don't need it, and we're just not really as important as you attribute, we'd just love it if you stopped hurting people over cartoons. You made something gruesome out of a fairy tale, that's on you, that's your problem, and we'd all be better off if you found a way to deal with that didn't rely on abusing others.

Honey, are you lost? I think there was maybe a different blog this rant was supposed to be sent to but I got it by mistake. Because I have no worldly idea what you are talking about in about half of this ask.

The first thing that confuses me: that I’m apparently “taking it out on shippers”, “ persecuting”, and “bullying” them? Please show me your receipts. I’ve literally never directly initiated contact with a sessrin blog. Hell, the one time I considered answering a post made by a pro blog, it was going to be in direct response to a question they posed in the anti tag, directed towards antis, and it turns out I couldn’t even answer the post because the user had most of the anti community blocked. (Silly, I know, but this is what we’ve been dealing with so what can I say.) Any time I want to respond to a sessrin argument that wasn’t directed to me anyways, I would usually screenshot it and blackout the names.

I can count on one hand the times I’ve even posted in the same thread as pro sessrin blogs, and in those cases, I either A) didn’t directly call out the other blog/blogs that were posting in the same thread as me, or @ them, or B) was only even interacting in said post because pro shippers were piling on and harassing people in the thread, and I was simply pointing out that there were shippers in said thread acting fools. The only time I ever even pointed out a particular blog I did it via screenshot and did it to keep a record of a blog that was admitting to flagging our posts as spam. 

If you would like to see proof of my interactions, all you have to do is check the #receipts tags on my blog, you’ll find all of my interactions conveniently tagged. (Oh and don’t worry, I’ll get back to that receipts tag shorty.)

The second thing you said that confuses me, that I have a “friend that has a friend working at the studio”? What (and I can’t stress this enough) the FUCK, are you talking about? 

I.....have never made this claim? Where have I ever said this, where have I ever reblogged this? I’ve never even read this? I need some clarification here, because either you are from an alternate timeline where I’m living a much cooler life, or like I said, you have the wrong blog.

~

Anyways, regardless of the fact that I’m pretty sure you sent this to the wrong person, I guess I can render a response to the base question you seem to be asking here: Why argue with shippers?

Really, at the end of the day, I’m not arguing with your average shipper. Hell, there are a few blogs I even follow and interact with that have said they like sessrin content, but they understand this is not an appropriate thing for a kid's show. And I can respect that because I’ve been in the problematic ship boat in other fandoms. (Here’s a hint, in one of the fandoms that I followed content for a problematic ship in, a content creator was given cookies with sewing needles baked into them, yikes right?!)

The main message of mine and many other blogs I follow is that this ship isn’t appropriate for children’s media, and what happens is a lot of salty people come out of the woodwork who feel the need to argue and say there is nothing wrong with it, which causes us to have to list the reasons why there is indeed something wrong with it (thus why it shouldn't be in said children’s media), then what happens is people like you come at us and act like all we’ve been doing is bullying shippers, and “why don’t you just let us ship in peace!?!?!?!!!??”

In fact, I shouldn’t even be surprised that I got this ask eventually, because as I’ve pointed out in the past, the shipper argument seems to be a cyclical one.

A blogger will make a statement something along the lines that they really don’t care if people ship sessrin, but the shippers really shouldn’t be making a lot of noise to the studio that they want to see this ship in the show because kids watch it, and it’s not a great message to send to kids.

A shipper will then message the blog (usually anonymously if possible) something along the lines of you’re wrong about the ship sending a bad message to kids because of xyz, or it’s a totally normal and healthy relationship, and you’re wrong, or Yashahime isn’t for kids, etc.

The Blogger will then respond with actual evidence, a well-worded response, or even just fucking common sense (like come on, some of the mental gymnastics I’ve seen people employ to try to validate this fucking ship to us is hilarious).

The blogger will then get another message something along the lines of  “why don’t you just let us ship in peace!?!?!?!!!??”

The blogger responds with JESUS CHRIST I SAID FROM THE VERY START THAT I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU SHIP I JUST DON’T WANT TO SEE IT IN A GODDAMN KIDS CARTOON”

At which point the whole process is rinsed and repeated. Congratulations you’ve just witnessed a new grey hair grow out of my fucking scalp.

However, there is a new facet to this shit gem that I’ve noticed during this whole annoying cycle, and that is the fact that a lot of pro shippers are making claims that they are being harassed by anti blogs, but I’m not seeing a lot of proof of this. And make no mistake, if I see an established anti blog being terrible, or making a false claim, I have no problem calling them out, or correcting false information. Please, feel free to screenshot proof and post it in the anti tag, and see how many other blogs won't put up with this either.

And to be clear, I don’t really count anonymous asks as harassment, because people can be sending that shit to themselves. Just like I don’t mind asks I get like this one because I naively respond to them in the hopes that maybe someone will actually understand what the argument has been about this whole time. And if I didn’t like it, turning off anon magically gets rid of it, so *shrug*.

No, I’m talking about actual, out in the open harassment, or shitty behavior. 

Like oh say, Patreon art being reposted in a discord server, then when a good samaritan reports the art theft they are harassed by their fellow discord members. 

Or maybe the ongoing flagging and harassment campaigns that are going on over almost all online social media platforms. 

Or how about the time some people tried to start a Twitter smear campaign against a voice actor who has some opinions about their ship they don’t like.

Yeah, remember how I said I’ve got a receipts tag. I see ya’ll.

[palettes-and-prompts]

Could you hit me with the sappiest lovey-est sweetest romantic prompts you can think of, please?

Okay, so, before you read these I just want you to know my idea of sappy sweet romance isn’t that great? My idea of romance is someone remembering my favorite foods and getting them for me or them doing something I don’t want to do for me (an errand/chore.) So if these aren’t what you’re looking for I 100% understand, these are just my idea of romantic prompts!

Dialogue Prompts

1) "You know, out of all the stars out here tonight I think the one that shines the brightest is you." "You are so...cheesy." 2) "I would walk to the ends of the Earth if you asked me to." "Why would I ever ask you to do that?" "I-I, it was supposed to be romantic." "Maybe you could just run a marathon or something, least that'd be for a good cause-" "I'm just saying I'd do anything for you!" "Aww, that's sweet." 3) "I made cookies." "Are they sweet?" "As sweet as you!" "I don't want your bitter cookies." 4) "I'd do anything for you." "Eat this oatmeal raisin cookie with extra raisins." "...okay..." "Are you crying?" "Yeah, just a little. This is the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life." "Oh my god, you don't actually have to eat it." "No, I love you and I'm gonna do it." 5) "You did that for me. Why did you do that for me?" "It's not a big deal." "It is a big deal, I never asked you to and I would never ask you to so why'd you do it?" "Because we're friends. Friends do that kind of thing for each other." "You don't do those things for your other friends." "Well, maybe it's because I like you more than them." "You like me, like as more than a friend?" "Yeah, alright? I like you as more than a friend." 6) "I think I'm in love with you." "Haha! That's a good one, that's...you're not laughing...Oh shit! You're serious." "Yeah." "Oh, fuck, I didn't mean to laugh. I--the feeling is mutual! I like you too. A lot. Jesus Christ I'm terrible at this." "I think you're doing just fine." 7) "I think you'd make a really good parent. Maybe to our kids...if you want any." "You want kids with me?" "I want everything with you." 8) "We've been together for a while and I've been thinking we should take the next step in our relationship." "Getting a dog?" "Only if you're okay with it!" "Yes! Yes, I'll get a dog with you." 9) "I wanna marry you." "You can't say that every time you kiss me." "Watch me." 10) "Why is there a bouquet of corn in a fancy vase on the table?" "Because you make me feel corny." "I want a divorce." "We're not even married!" 11) "They just woke up and decided to wear my shirt today. Aren't they just so cute?" "Person A actually spilled chocolate milk on my good shirt on purpose so I'd have to wear it in front of Person B." "That's--That's not true! Why would I-" "Because you hate that they're good looking." 12) "I'm gonna marry you one day." "You're drunk." "On love!" 13) "If I die, I wanna be buried next to you." "If you die? What do you mean if? You're going to die, we're all gonna die." "Well, I plan on becoming immortal but if that doesn't happen and I don't get to live forever I'm gonna be devastated but at least I'll get to die with you." "I can't believe dying next to me is your last resort!" "Hey, no, it's not my last resort! My last resort is dying alone, you're my second option, my plan B." "WOW!!" "IN DEATH! You're my number one in life." 14) "What would you do if I died?" "Buy a Ouija board and figure out a way to bring you back." "Aww, really?" "Yeah, you're the only person I've ever loved and I'm not replacing you because I fuckin’ hate everyone else." "That's kind of romantic." "Death will never get you out of this relationship." "Less romantic...but I'll take it as you saying you love me so much you wouldn't let me go!" 15) "Do you want the last slice of pizza?" "You're letting me have the last slice?" "Yeah, I love you." "Oh fuck." "Are you crying?" "No, why would I cry over a slice of pizza, that's crazy." "God, come here." "I love you so much, you're the sweetest person in the world." "It's one slice! And you bought the pizza!" 16) "I took your car while you were sleeping and had it fixed." "What?" "You said your brakes sucked and you needed new tires. I also got an oil change while I was there. Oh, and I got it cleaned and bought you some more air fresheners." "Thanks, I'll pay you back when I get the money." "You don't have to. Knowing you'll be driving safe is payment enough." "You really went and did all that for me? Without expecting anything in return?" "Well...yeah, I--I love you. That's what people do when they love each other." 17) "I love you. So much and I treasure you and you are the most wonderful person in the world. You're kind and smart and beautiful and-" "And not calling the delivery guy and ordering food just because you don't like making phone calls." "Oh come on!" "No, I always call, I'm not always going to be here to do it." "Yeah, but...oh come on, I'll pay for it!" "Ugghhhh, okay fine." "Yes, I love you so much!" 18) "Would you still love me if I was bald?" "Of course I would, that's a stupid question." "What if I had teeth for hair?" "That would be...different but I would still love you." "What if all my skin was toenails?" "I would give you a tattoo with nail polish, and I would still love you." "What if instead of-" "I. WOULD. STILL. LOVE. YOU." 19) "Do you ever think about banging a clone of yourself?" "No but I think about banging a clone of you." "What?" "Yeah, I picture you and a clone of you in bed with me." "Why?" "I guess I just love you so much I want there to be two of you." "That's sweet but if I had a twin that would probably not be that sweet." 20) "You weren't my first love, but I know you'll be my last." "Oh god, I'm gonna need some wine and crackers with how cheesy that was." "Do you love me, even when I'm cheesy?" "Yeah, I do."

Regular Prompts

1) A has the worst day in their life and when they get home they just break down and cry. so their roommate B brings them back some ice cream they know is their favorite. A tells B that the only place they can get this particular brand is like two or three hours away and then asks them why they drove that far for them. B tells them it's no big deal but they also managed to keep it frozen the whole time. The only reason it's a big deal to A is because B doesn't really do nice things for anyone and whenever they do it always means something. 2) A's never expected anything from anyone and B wants to let them know they'll always be there for them. While A is busy with work B plans a big romantic dinner in a gazebo at night so everything's all lit up with twinkle lights. When A sees everything they just start crying because no one's ever done anything even remotely close to this for them. (Bonus if B makes it extra special by proposing.) 3) A and B are buying gifts for their anniversary and know how much the other loves a certain thing so they end up buying the same gift and giving it to each other in the same way leading their friends to see how disgustingly in love with each other they are, only solidifying how much they belong together in everyone's minds. 4) A and B have chatting online using different identities and somehow end up at the same place for vacation. They fall in love online but when they meet each other in person they can't help but fall for each other again. They feel conflicted about it but when one of them sees the other's identity somehow they realize who the person is. 5) A is a more stoic type of person who wears headphones so people wont speak to them. B is the person who falls head over heels at first sight and is constantly staring at them like they created the universe. (Bonus if when A finally notices and takes their headphones out all annoyed like "What?" B tells them they're pretty and A blushes hard before stuttering a response and leaving promptly before they come back to the same place the very next day in hopes of seeing B again.) 6) A is royalty and falls in love by watching a commoner, Person B, outside their window. B is fun and kind and loves helping people no matter who they are. Person A disguises them self to meet Person B since no one’s ever seen A apart from the people in the castle. (Bonus if when they meet B falls in love with them the second they lay eyes on them.) 7) A an B have the first words their soulmate will say on their skin. When they meet A quite literally falls into B's arms and B catches them and says something like "I always hoped the love of my life would fall into my arms but I never thought it would happen." And A says "Oh god, my soulmate's corny!") 8) A undergoes serious surgery and B is their nurse. When A is high out of their mind and they see B for the first time they're in love and constantly trying to give B their pudding and jello to win them over. B tells them they don't date patients and A never gives up and is constantly trying to win them over with jokes and asking about their interests so they can have more in common. (Bonus if B ends up kissing them because they need to give A a shot but they keep refusing because they hate needles.) 9) A and B have just started dating but haven't had their first kiss yet. When they try to kiss something happens and B breaks their nose. At the hospital A is apologizing and to shut them up B kisses them. (Bonus if when A leaves the room to get them some water or something B just holds their nose because they've been pretending it doesn't hurt but it really does.) 10) A and B have been friends for years and A's always been afraid of the ocean. One night on their friendly beach vacation B follows A to the beach because they keep leaving at night. When they get there A jumps in the water naked and just grows a tail. B watches them until they come back in and they don't mention it. B ends up falling for them from afar and researches the hell out of mermaid culture to find out how to properly court a mermaid. (Bonus if A's always liked B but likes them even more when they find out they went through the trouble of researching their culture.)

I hope you like these but if not just let me know and I’ll try again!

[spiders-hth-is-an-outlier]

13 Queliot recs 2/4

give a little time to me by @wanderingmargo and @coldwaughtersquentin

So I don’t mind telling you that I am a simple girl, and I tend to sort my fic by rating; if I wanted to watch them *not fuck,* I have television.  But occasionally I wander into a T-rated story, and this one is genuinely beautiful, if you have the stomach for a certain amount of lifelike sadness.  It’s a fake-dating story, but because they’re visiting Quentin’s dying father, it’s not by any means a romp -- just a story about witnessing a parent’s terminal illness, and about the soft, blurry line between being loved and being in love.  It really stuck with me.

*

“Nothing’s ever going to fix this, Eliot.” He hadn’t even realized he’d opened his mouth to respond until he’d said it. They’d been here less than an hour, and he had to keep it together. Eliot was doing enough

.He glanced up as Eliot moved further into his space, wishing he’d just stopped talking — ever, really. Before he'd freaked out about his father’s half-packed office. Before they’d arrived to find his dad visibly sicker than he’d been two weeks ago. Before he’d told his dad he was definitely dating his best friend.

 But Eliot was his best friend. He was sometimes arrogant and occasionally mean and always the most stylish person in the room. He was gorgeous, and vain, and thoughtful, and extremely protective of the people he’d latched on to. And, somehow, Quentin was one of those people.

Which meant that when he caught his eye, Eliot wasn’t looking at him with disgust or frustration, but with an understanding that nearly cut Quentin off at the knees.

*

I Need You So Much Closer by @orchardsinsnow

Okay, maybe it’s my age showing, but I LOVE LOVE LOVE stories about revisiting old relationships from an older-and-wiser place and finding that the core of the thing is still there under all the mistakes.  Like, ugh, if you do that story right, I will *lap it up,* and this story is maybe the best I’ve ever read of its type.  It’s an AU, with indie rockstar/recovering alcoholic Eliot and professor Quentin, and it’s just exquisite in its balance of nostalgia and hope and regret and trying again while knowing that it isn’t really again, you’re meeting each other new in so many ways.  Just from a technical perspective, it’s also masterful in the way it deals out backstory slowly, piece by piece in an organic way that lets you draw the layers back and form a picture of the past as well as the present -- seriously, backstory is *really damn hard,* and this is just on point at every single moment.  I don’t know if this is my favorite of these stories, but it’s probably the one that got the purest, strongest emotional response from me.  Just read it, seriously.

*

Something small bursts inside Eliot’s chest. This disastrous nerd. “I’m just happy I’ll get to see you. I’m looking forward to hearing all about what’s going on with you, including your firsthand experience with the tantalizing ritualized blending of private property.”

“Yeah, well. We have a lot to catch up on. We can hash it out over. You know.” Meaning: a drink, if you must.

“We’ll hash it out over seltzer water.” Meaning: not the type of drink you remember me (I’m sorry) enjoying overly well (really sorry)

.“Oh?” Meaning: are you fucking goddamn serious, the thing I waited wished begged hoped prayed smashed our life to pieces over, that thing? You did the thing?

“Yeah. Four years.” Four years, two months, one week, and five days. (Wish it was seven years. Really sorry.)

“Eliot,” Quentin says, “Good for you.” His voice is half whisper, half broken gasp. Eliot knows to take encouragement when it’s offered, whether or not he feels he needs it, and this reaction from Quentin is a thing he wishes he could wrap his arms around and squeeze until it’s inside his heart, a nugget of diamond.

*

if being him is who you are by @ameliajessica

This is an unusual outsider-POV, and a bit of a gut-punch.  It’s from the perspective of Mike in a world with no Beast in it, which means he’s just a guy -- the hapless guy that Eliot is trying to be happy with, and -- not doing a great job of it.  Mike thinks he can kind of ride out this whole Quentin thing, and obviously, yeah, not so much.  The ending is inevitable but kind of heart-wrenching anyway, although not tragic -- I think Mike’s takeaway is basically “don’t date younger guys, they are emotional trainwrecks,” and you know, solid lesson, really.  Anyway, I like the way the tone threads that needle between witty and sad; that’s kind of my jam in general, and it’s hard to find it done really right.

*

So he does what any worried boyfriend does for his sexually fluid beau. He asks Eliot if he’d like to have a threesome.

“Oh,” Eliot says slowly, biting down on Mike’s lip. Interested. Good, that makes Mike less nervous about the next part. 

“With Quentin.”

It’s almost comical. Eliot halts altogether, jerking back to meet Mike’s eyes. It hurts - his teeth still on Mike’s lip. And fucking Christ, Eliot looks like a kid caught with his hand halfway down the cookie jar. “You… you want to sleep with Q?”

“Don’t you?” he counters, harsher than he means to, then course-corrects, petting Eliot’s hair.

*

[swampgallows]

outrageously awful and gory and uncomfortable nightmare. jesus fucking christ. 

being pursued throughout an 80s looking office building, light only coming through windows, like we get him but he becomes utterly fucking maimed afterward. in the nightmare he was clearly some kind of pedophile and the dude who helped me (me, a nonverbal and possibly autistic adult man, in my nightmare) tortured the shit out of him and utterly maimed his dick. in ways i odnt want to describe. he was howling and crying in a specific way, really high pitched, thats still playing in my head as im writing this. it was ‘me’ earlier in the dream i think but i was trying to scream, trying to call out, trying to yell at the man pursuing me in order to intimidate him (i could see the whites of his wild eyes through slats and keyholes and, at one point, some kind of mail delivery slot on the floor, darting around in a sweat, frantically and hungrily chasing me) but i couldnt call out, i couldnt make noise, and by a point in the dream i realized as an observer that ‘i’ was now a nonverbal adult man, had a calendar full of printed images and could only say a few words when i mmanaged to. 

the calendar was full of ‘my’ writing but it was all disjointed and elementary-looking, as if written by a young child. flipping through the calendar i saw my own ‘allowed to die’ painting printed in there in a bunch of different sizes and panels, and there were other parts of it in the same color scheme like a comic. an older gentleman was ridiculing me at first, calling me the r slur, mocking how i couldnt speak, but he saw the man trying to get at me and helped me arrest him. i, still as the disabled adult man, was trying to help the man with me arrest the pedo and put handcuffs on him, so my big doughy hands tried pinning back the pedos and instead he grabbed my hand and held it, squeezed it, squeezed it so fucking violently tight like “im going to fucking get you” even though he was being handcuffed. and then thats when the older man with me (he had a mustache, looked like a typical “movie neighbor dad” from 80s/90s kinda sitcoms like SPECIFICALLY DENNIS THE MENACE is coming to me, like the neighbor from dennis the menace jesus

OH CHRIST AND EARLIER IN THE NIGHTMARE IT WAS ME AND COOKIES AND DIEGO BUT I WAS LIKE ...TRYING TO SHOOT UP HEROIN??? god im only remembering blips of it, i remmeber in the dream i had done it ‘just once’ and i remember feeling rubbery but overall kind of good, like the dull pain from when youve been working out and your muscles are sore but it feels ‘productive’. and i was thinking like ‘oh man thye cant find out that i did it, but i only did it once’. we were in some house where the ground was uneven, i used the restroom in the dream totally pissed at my friends because i said “i dont want to talk about this with [so and so] here (there was another guy there in the dream, i didnt know him)” but they talked to him about it anyway. so i like stormed off to use the restroom and there was water ALL over the floor because the ground was uneven, like there was a leak in the sink or something but it filled up the bathroom and the next room. 

i heard the new guy from the other room be like ‘trying not to spark a wire and kill us’ or something, then he called out that there was a ‘shiny dragon’ from th enext room, like he was playing pokego and trying to entice me to get out of the bathroom and so they could intervene on me having shot up. and i remember only blips about injecting, that it was to a specifc song (and i was thinking in the dream ‘oh no ive ruined this song for myself every time i hear it im only going to think about shooting up), and that i actually got the needle from someone else, like grabbed it off of someone on the street. i dont know when it shifted but i think me trying to hide from/avoid the stranger dude among my friends then shifted into being in some oldschool office building being chased by the pedo. in the times where i could lock myself in those offices and the one filing room and could only see the guy’s eyes searching for me i think the transformation happened. 

when the older man helped me catch him he fucking like pulled on his dick so hard he like stretched the skin til it was red and thin like a rubber band and tied it on itself which sounds like a cartoon but in the dream looked extremely visceral and red, like i could see all his spider veins and it was really flushed and irritated and the man was fucking screaming the whole time. it was like he had ‘tucked’ it to the point of mutilation. it sounds like a great revenge but it was terrible to watch and not a cathartic nightmare at all. i just feel violated and chased and unsafe. 

awful fucking nightmare

[hamletteprinceofdenmark]

Lost Live-blogging - 1x09 - Solitary

-Sayid is such a lovely, lonely man

-oh my gosh are we getting a sayid centric episode???? Is it his time at last??!??

-Oh what that? A rope? A BOAT??!?!

-we’re following the rope chain, the rope chain, the rope chain, we’re following the rope chain, where ever it may go

-Looks like it’s going to be a musical episode folks

-Ah Jack, back at it again with that bedside manner

-Sawyer for the last time stop it with the casual racism I’ve had it up to here

-But yes continue to call Jack out on his bull, you’re the only one who does it consistently and for that I appreciate you

-THEY’RE IN FUCKING HIGHSCHOOL LOOK AT THAT SMUG LITTLE GRIN

-You ain’t got nothing to be proud of Sawyer, you coerced that makeout sesh and you know it

-IT WAS NOT AN ACCIDENT IT WAS A DELIBERATE CHOICE

-Coming out here saying “accident” how dare you

-Sayid offered and you accepted knowing full well what you were doing

-“accident” Jesus Christ are you a man or a shady government, Jack you’re the worst. And watch now as he still maintains his moral high horse, god damn he really is the Finn of Lost, at least Sayid admitted what he did and took moral responsibility you sanctimonious ass

-Folks I’ve realised I don’t like Jack very much

-Maybe you’ve noticed ...

-Remember how Jack was supposed to die in the first episode and Kate and Sayid were gonna be the leads? Yeah me too.

-SAYID NO

-Oh thank god for a minute I thought you were going to deliberately trip the wire

-SAYID NOOOOOOOO

-ouch fuck

-If this is another one of Locke’s damn traps I swear to god he will catch these hands

-I mean a smart and conscientious hunter tells their mates where the traps are so they can avoid them but somehow I don’t think Locke’s been doing that, living his Lord of the Flies fantasy

- tbh I don’t trust Locke with a 10 ft pole (he’d probably spear me with it!)

-THEY REALLY LEFT HIM OUT HERE TILL AFTER DARK LET ME AT EM

-Is my sweet baby meditating I love him so much

-New Jungle, Who Dis?

-IT WAS FUCKING LOCKE I’LL KILL HIM

-OoOo new character, what’s your name glasses?

-oh he’s so anxious I love him

-maybe you wouldn’t be so tired if you hadn’t Condoned Torture jack idk 🤷🏻‍♀️

-HURLEY I LOVE YOU

-Y’all need to organise a dance party or something, i nominate Hurley as The Man in Charge

-Lightbulb??? French??? I am Confusion

-WHO is Alex is the more pressing question surely?

-DON’T TORTURE MY BABY

-Flashback time

-Oh it’s the bae!

-Hello Ethan, you look like you’re going to be a Locke sycophant, lovely to meet you

-oh sweet baby no! Hurley’s a much better mentor, don’t go hunting at night

-listen to your daddy baby go back to bed

-like I’m not against you learning to hunt necessarily but start with a group in the daytime not at night with mr creepy Ei Yi Yi

-whatchu find bro?

-Stop it. Stop. STOP IT. LEAVE THAT MAN ALONE!!

-Oh shit French Lady you’re alive!

-they? Who?

-look at that dramatic ass lighting I love this show

-also apparently Rousseau can read Arabic, I feel like this is something to notice

-oh his voice is so soft when he says her name my heart is breaking

-Sup Sayid you ready to meet the love of your life

-OH SHIT THEY KNEW EACH OTHER AS KIDS IT’S A CHILDHOOD AU BROUGHT TO LIFE IMMA CRY

-you really gonna torture this woman? This neat neat lady?

-NOOO

-Hey Rousseau can you untie him please?

-Hurley are yOU ACTUALLY GONNA THROW A BEACH PARTY I’M SO EXCITED

-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO NOT NADIA PLEASE NOT NADIA

-Rousseau you a mad lady

-I ask again can you untie him first??? Is this such a big ask? Let him move his arms? Sit up? He doesn’t have to be unrestrained just let him move a bit

-Michael you’re so smart I’m so proud of you

-HE BUILT A GOLF COURSE I’M SO PROUD

-“You didn’t hear about the polar bear?” I’m HOWLING

-also props to the writing team for keeping track of what everyone does and doesn’t know

-Mind AND BODY folks, Hurley’s onto it what a smart cookie

-So she can’t read Arabic? Or she can and she’s testing him? I’m so confused, why would his name not be written in Arabic, and if not why choose English letters

-WHAT’S IN THE NEEDLE YOU CRAZY LADY

-they’re so dramatic I love these sweet babies you are playing GOLF

-Hey Glasses how you doing?

-Yay, clubs for everyone!

-I mean thanks for untying him I guess

-Yay now SAYID gets answers

-Lovely parallel in an episode all about Sayid’s journey as a torturer, to get information by kindness and conversation. I love a good man

-Tahiti is a fair way from Fiji, where is this island?

-Oh she’s so cool I don’t want her to die! This is too tragic.

-I’m sobbing they’re so beautiful

-ugh blondie you are Such a Piece of WORK

-well at least Sawyer and Kate are getting along

-“Crowd’s not to hot on me, either,” SAWYER stop making me love your problematic ass

-Oh Sayid don’t betray her she’s so lonely and sad

-sounds more like a lion to me Danielle but that’s just me

-I’M CRYING

-HIS FACE

-THIS IS NOT OKAY HOW DARE THEY COME FOR MY LIFE LIKE THIS??

-NO THE PHOTOS DON’T LEAVE THE PHOTOS

-Dude Priorities, Son over Golf yeah?

-DECEPTION DISGRACE

-My heart’s beating that fast how dare they do that to me

-I. AM. WEEPING.

-Go back to your rounds general dickface this is none of your business let them be happy for once in their goddamn lives

-I AM SOBBING

-oh thank god she might still be alive, don’t scare me like that again Sayid

-was? Oh no

-why is everything so sad

-okay but where’s Walt? I am Concern

-yes barter betting I am HERE for THIS

-yay Sawyer’s arrived

-acceptance in the group acceptance in the group I am so happy

-the 100 parallels are unreal Jason really loved this show

-NO WALT STAY AWAY FROM THE CREEPY MAN

-the whispers are real oh noes

[forlornmelody]

Double The Trouble Chapter 9 -- Justified

Rating: Explicit (other chapters are NSFW)

Ship: FemShep x Femshep Clone // Shenko, eventual OT3

AO3 Links: Chapter 1 // This Chapter

Summary: Shep had planned to spend another night alone. Instead she has a surprise visitor–one she had never expected to see again.Unapologetic consensual clone smut.

Note: This is a sequel to Spare Parts, but obviously you can read this without reading the other fic.

This chapter, and all future chapters are in present tense. No reason other than I fell in love with writing this way while working on the prequel, and now I can’t stop.

Jane Shepard eyes her therapist critically. Kaidan’s words at breakfast have been weighing on her mind all morning. “You’re not like...some neo-Cerberus spy, are you?”

Her therapist quirks her head in that way that tends to rankle Shepard, at least in this room full of acid-trip paintings, fake plants, mood lighting, and plush pillows. It all screams at her Shouldn’t you be happy? “You worried I’ll tell sensitive information, Shepard? I would be a terrible therapist if broke your confidence.”

You’re a terrible therapist already, Susan, Shepard thinks to herself, but doesn’t dare say it out loud. She wants her damn biotic amp back, so she needs to behave. That, and Susan never seems to take her seriously. So Shepard says nothing, eyeing the window, skimming the book titles on the shelf, and the patterns of Susan’s blouse while she gathers her thoughts.

 “Hey, Shepard.” Shepard always knows how Kadian’s feeling by the way he says “hey.” This time he’s on edge, and Shepard reaches over the table and their pancake breakfast to grab his shoulder.

“What’s up?”

“Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

Shepard pulls her hand back. In hindsight, they went straight to sleep last night. She didn’t think much of it, then--too exhausted for a romp after dinner. Setting her fork down, Shepard replies “Out with it.”

Kaidan takes a deep breath like he’s about to go under. “Jane wants to see Maya.”

“Oh.” Shepard sits back. She should have seen this coming, with their conversation last week.

“She said you told her I knew where she was.”

Shepard rubs her face, taking a big gulp of coffee. “Sorry. I was kind of distracted when she brought it up.”

Kaidan raises an eyebrow.

“Not that.” Shepard rolls her eyes. “It’s when we were arguing at the Reds’ headquarters.”

Both his eyes went wide. “You went to the Red’s territory?”

“She wasn’t returning my calls!”

“I’m not mad. I mean. Are you okay?” He says it carefully, as if he’s walking in zero gravity.

Shepard nearly says she’s fine but she bites her lip instead. “It sucked. I’m not going to lie. But I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Kaidan squeezes her hand. “Of course. I’m just surprised you didn’t tell me.”

“Are you?” Shepard takes a gulp, ignoring her half-eaten pancakes.

“So what are we going to do about Maya?”

“And you’re still not sure?”

Shepard hasn’t told Susan about the nature of her relationship with Jane. She already feels like she’s under a lot of scrutiny. Susan is an Alliance-appointed therapist, after all. Honestly, she probably shouldn’t even tell her about this situation. If something goes wrong, Shepard will go straight to court martial, and no reaper invasion will save her this time. “I’m not going to do anything rash.”

“But what are you going to do?”

“What’s the harm of letting them visit? If we’re really worried, we can always take her amp away.” Oops. She probably shouldn’t have brought it up like that.

Susan eyes her. “Is this about your clone, or about you?”

Shepard breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth. She can’t afford to lose her temper right now. “I’m getting sensation back in my left arm. Pins and needles--that sort of thing.”

“And this relates to your amp how?”

To make things easier, Shepard tries imagining Udina in Susan’s place, but that just makes her blood boil more. Tevos? Christ. Her chest tightens up. No, no, no. 

“What are you thinking right now?”

Tears spring in her eyes before she can stop them. “I hate having to fucking justify myself to you. To anyone.” She hates how she’s making a scene. She hates that she can’t breathe.

Susan taps away on her Haptic Adaptive Interface. “And why do you feel the need to justify yourself to me?”

Shepard puts her head in her hands, squeezing her hair until it pulls at her scalp. 

“You just don’t get it.” Shepard glares at her blurry shape, breathing in sharply. “I feel twice as paralyzed without it.”

Susan nods slowly. Fuck. Can she even move without looking down her nose at her? “Does it remind you of a time before?”

Talking about it hurts too much. “Yeah,” she manages to say.

“Mm. I see. Shepard, if you’re feeling up to it, I would like to try something new with you.”

Shepard rubs her eyes, blinking at her. “Will I get my amp back if I say yes?”

“I want to see how you do with it first.” Typical. “What are you feeling in your body right now?”

“Not much. That’s kind of the problem, Susan.”

Susan shakes her head ever so slightly. “Close your eyes first. Of what you do feel, how would you describe it?”

Shepard takes a breath. She must behave. She must work with her. Or she really will lose her mind. “Like someone dropped concrete on my chest. Filled my lungs with it too. And my shoulder hurts like hell.”

Susan asks, “And when have you felt like that before?”

Another breath. “Horizon.”

“The first or the second time?”

“The first.” Shepard sniffs, wiping her nose.

Susan hands her a box of tissues. “And is the pain the same, or has it moved?”

“It’s in my, fists too.”

“And before that?”

“When I updated the Council on Saren...and asked to go to Illos.”

They repeat the cycle a few more times, until they get to one memory Shepard really doesn’t want to talk about. “When I was with the Reds.”

“Ah. I wondered when we would get here.” Susan hands Shepard two buzzers. “Are you familiar with EMDR?”

“Yeah.” Shepard swallows. She remembers doing it before. She remembers it not being pleasant.

“I want you to describe this memory. And while you describe this memory and what happened, and how it made you feel, I’m going to activate the buzzers like this.” She flips a switch, and each buzzer vibrates in turn. It’s an odd, if not distracting sensation, but it doesn’t hurt.

Shepard remembers the moment vividly, but when she tries to describe it, no words come.

“Shepard. Feel your feet on the floor, and your thighs and back touching your chair. Note any tension in your body and release it. If it helps, imagine a green light touching those parts of you and healing your body.”

It sounds cooky, but Shepard complies, and when her therapist says nothing, she continues onto her memory.

She ducks inside the door, soaked from the rain. Just as she removes her coat, she hears Ice’s voice behind her.

“You’re home late.”

She spins around blurting the excuse she rehearsed the whole way back to headquarters. “Some narc was tailing me. Had to lose them.”

It’s then she realizes Ice and her aren’t alone. All the other enforcers of 10th Street, named ones--Greenie, Finch, and Caine--and the other Johns and Janes who’ve yet to make their first kill. This is bad. Really bad. She looks across and makes eye contact with her girlfriend, Jane--who’s rattling like a leaf in the fall. If she doesn’t cool it, she’s going to get them both in trouble.

“Wouldn’t be the first time a narc has seen you, right, Jane?” Ice stares at her with steel eyes, and she shivers despite the heat of their house.

“I don’t talk to narcs!” She snaps. She knows better. Her girlfriend, though?

Ice pats her shoulder. “I know you wouldn’t rat out your family, Jane.” Then Ice squeezes her shoulder so hard it hurts. “Just tell me who got Ace arrested and we’re good.”

Greenie shoves her girlfriend into the middle of the circle that has formed around them. Shit. They already know Jane told the cops. A cold feeling settles in her stomach. Damnit. Why couldn’t Jane keep her fucking mouth shut?

“Cat got your tongue?” Ice smiles. “Maybe you'd rather show me.” She presses a pistol into her hands. “Go ahead. Take care of it and we can all move on.” Squeezing her shoulder, Ice whispers into her ear. “You can finally get your name.”

She raises her gun, wanting to run. Her girlfriend sobs hysterically, begging her not to do it. If she doesn’t---

“You can be one of us.”

It’s what she’s wanted for years--to be a full-fledged member of the Tenth Street Reds with her own name and rep. It’s what she wanted until she fell in love with another Jane--a Jane who found a way out. The narc promised them a new life: witness protection--everything. They were so close.

“No, please! It won’t happen again.”

“One of us! One of us!” The other enforcers start chanting. Her hands are slippery with sweat. She feels the static on her skin and smells the tang of eezo in the air and she tries to shove it down. Freaks never stick around the Reds for long.

Ice laughs. “You’re right. It won’t. Do it, Jane.”

Hesitating with her finger sliding on the trigger, she shakes her head and lowers it. “No.”

The gun shot leaves her ear ringing, and her girlfriend’s blood splatters across her face before her body falls to the floor.

“I’m disappointed in you, Jane.”

“Breathe, Shepard. Breathe.”

Shepard’s eyes snap open, and she feels the tears on her cheeks. How long had she been crying? She gasps for air, trying desperately not to think of dying and how it feels like she’s dying again above a frozen planet beneath an exploding ship. Her therapist counts her breaths for her until the hyperventilating stops.

“I think that’s enough for today.” Susan looks at her placidly, turning the buzzers off.

“Do I get my amp back?” Shepard hands her the buzzers, feeling like she’s outside her skin.

“I’ll let you know.” Susan opens the door to let her out. “See you Friday.”

Typical. Shepard shuts the door behind her.

[noodledragonoverloard]

65 questions you aren't used to reply.

I have nothing going on, so i’m just gonna do it. Because. logic.

1.) Yes. my friends. Because they are somehow more random than me.

2.) 25.

3.) 

4.) It’s between cease and the phrase ‘child no’. Only because i use it at least once a day.

5.) willow tree.

6.) ‘how many stupid things am I going to do today’.

7.) Scheels t shirt

8.) The mom friend.

9.) Dark

10.) Dancing around my room like an idiot.

11.) 16, because it was the age between being a level 1 adult and a innocent child.

12.) My best friend’s little sister.

13.) Logic. Also insanity.

14.) ... Its a default of a mountain.

15.) Yes. but don’t tell anyone, I’m supposed to be soulless.

16.) Bottom of the Deep Blue sea by MISSIO

17.) There’s a lot of things I could say, but I’m gonna be funny and say a piñata of the live action cat in the hat. 

18.) the bullies that bullied Spock and Jim’s step-dad.

19.) Dean from Supernatural, and have him try to bake pie.

20.) curves?

21.) Cris Hemsworth, just to see if women are as open about how they look at guys as it is for girls to notice other girls doing it.

22.) Apparently i’m flexible?

23.) needles. can’t handle it for the life of me.

24) an egg sandwich, sunny side up, with two pieces of crippled salami on toasted white bread.

25) Get an art pad for the computer.

26) New York.

27) Scotch or whiskey. I know, I’m weird.

28) Respect each other of Christ Sake!!!

29) Fuck.

30) my phone. It has 6 years worth of contacts on it.

31) If I could still be the same way I am and where I’m at right now, I would say having to deal with my mom having a brain tumor.

32) London, because I’m not fluent in any other languages and I don’t want to screw myself over.

33) Anton Yelchin!!!!!!

34) Can’t remember.

35) Good chef. 

36) When I was younger, yes. Though it wasn’t for anything special.

37) YES!!!!! I have lived in North Dakota for six years, I know my way around snow now!!!!! 

38) Nonexistant, with a hint of clear.

39.) Anything that gets my body moving.

40.) sunsets

41.) cookies and cream

42.) I am the one southern American that can’t give one crap about any sports.

43.) Don’t think so?

44.) Become a baker. Go to culinary school.

45.) I’d be more confidant.

46.) I’d like to think so.

47.) Do the memes get better or worse?

48.) No.

49.) a peacock and somehow get it to the size that I can fly on it.

50.) Almost any conversation with my friend or family could be considered weird.

51.) Yes? 

52.) 5 seconds.

53.) Bob looks terrible with straight across bangs on me.

54.) Yes. I have made many cake children.

55.) Russian, French, British, Southern belle. They’re not the best, but it’s passable.

56.) Anything.

57.) My OC (for referance).

58.) Lambo.

59.) No.

60.) Yes.

61.) No.

62.) K. It’s a letter, and it can have different context with your vocal pitch.

63.) Dragons.

64.) Adorable in moderation, and when it’s not yours.

65.) I am a military brat. Meaning i’m a child of a military parent.