#the first time I went he bust out like the kool aid man

[malocclusive]

You love to see it

[afreakingdork]

You Are My Sunshine, My Only Moonshine - Chapter 9

RotTMNT x Reader

I am constantly blown away by this chapter art by @yamin-yups

Rated: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Michelangelo (TMNT)/Reader, Michelangelo (TMNT)/You, Donatello (TMNT)/Reader, Donatello (TMNT)/You

Warnings: POV Second Person, Gender Neutral Reader, Anxious Reader, Introverted Reader, Stuttering, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Romance, Love, Love Confessions, Falling In Love, Unrequited Love, Rejection, Aromantic Asexual Michelangelo (TMNT), Bisexual Donatello (TMNT), Pansexual Leonardo (TMNT), Lesbian Cassandra Jones | Foot Recruit, Demisexual April O'Neil (TMNT), Implied Cassandra Jones | Foot Recruit/April O'Neil/Sunita, Endgame Donatello (TMNT)/Reader, Romantic Love, Platonic Love, Panic Attacks, Sexuality Crisis, Agoraphobia, Social Anxiety, Happy Ending, Fluff

Synopsis:  You’ve lost most of your life to anxiety and fear. Now, in your late 20s, you are desperate to reclaim it and during one such outing you encounter the sun personified. With his and his similarly celestially inspired family, will you finally reach your goal or will you lose yourself along the way?

This chapter contains reference to body dysmorphia. Remember that what you feel is completely valid, but we can sometimes see ourselves differently than we really are. Please keep yourselves safe.

Also available on Ao3

First 💛 Previous

“Maybe we take a break from going out into the packed public for once?” Mikey was upside-down, but compensated by holding his phone the opposite way. 

It put him right side up in the video chat, but the view was extra blurry. “Is that… okay?”

“I’m the one suggesting it!” Mikey stuck out his tongue, but his reflection seemed to confuse him on which way the appendage should go. “It’s been awhile. I haven’t been able to see you.”

“Yeah… well…” Though for you it would have been predictable, Mikey hadn’t felt the firsthand effects of your setbacks yet. 

Panic attacks always caused you to withdraw into yourself. 

You weren’t supposed to.

There were times when it was easy to keep going.

Others, such as now, left you homebound for as long as society allowed.

The push to normalcy now included your thoughtful friend.

“Do you know after my tremors went away, I spent months avoiding art because I was afraid of how it would look?” Mikey told you casually. 

You weren’t sure what he was talking about.

You tried to recall something about tremors, but came up short.

You wanted to ask more, but there was a more startling aspect than the content itself.

You couldn’t believe there was ever a period where Mikey avoided art as he had been nothing, but a loud proponent of all its merit.

“Why?”

“Because I knew my level and then… I didn’t. I knew I’d have to get back there. It was like riding a skateboard, but needing to take that time? For a second time. Chancing the bad result? It was like my healing was one thing and then by doing that it would show me just how much further I still needed to go. Like that dude with the cat and the box. I didn’t want to open it and find out. I couldn’t do it.”

“Isn’t the saying… something… about riding a bike?”

“We were skateboard tots!” Mikey rolled over and with it so did his camera, inverting the image.

You nodded lightly.

“I switched up crafts. Started new ones that weren’t so finger focused. Pour paints and candle work!” He made grabby hands at the lens as he fixed his phone angle.

“Something low key…” You hummed where you were sitting at the foot of your bed.

“Yeah, something quiet, calm, and… oh! Oh yeah!” There was another flip, but this one was out of excitement.

“D-don’t… bust through a wall…!”

Mikey appeared within a flurry of static. “Did you just make a Kool-Aid Man joke?”

“I make jokes!”

The wattage of his smile turned up to a blinding degree. “Well then I’ve got just the wall to bust through!”

-

“No.” Donnie glowered over his shoulder.

“Please!” Mikey bounced his plea with his head straight up to the ceiling of the garage you were currently in.

An oddity in the subway, but something you imagined had to exist based on logic, your eyes were openly roving around the tidy depot.

“Absolutely not.” Lifting out from under a hood and minding his head, Donnie craned an elbow to the engine block he was working on. “You know you’ve been banned.”

“One time!” Mikey groaned.

“No!” Donnie felt the need to rip off his leather work gloves to throw an unencumbered finger in Mikey’s face. “You were banned once after crashing eleven separate times!!”

“Eleven?!” You squeaked.

Mikey flipped back and forth between the two of you, obviously caught in who to address first. “My driving is fine!” He chose you and then flipped to Donnie. “I’ve changed!”

From the duffel that was slung around your body, you had already been clinging to the strap as it gave you something comforting to hold on to. With the new knowledge that you had almost been driven somewhere rural by someone with that kind of driving record, you now scooped up the entire sack to soothe yourself. 

“Forget that.” Donnie flicked his gaze to you. “You’d need a full crash suit to survive him.” He then folded his gloves into a pair and went to check his tool box.

You wilted further.

“We’re already packed!” Mikey rounded a new argument. “This is going to be our big, no-stress, relaxing getaway and you’re making it exactly not that!” 

“That’s unfortunate. The bus station isn’t far.” Donnie knelt down to get a wrench.

“And how’s that going to work!? We get dropped at some station and walk to the cabin!? You know it’s in the middle of nowhere!” Mikey stepped up to throw menace over his brother.

Donnie smelled it a mile away and lifted his head, pouring twice the malice. “Oh, you want to play?”

Mikey gulped and nodded his head once. “Let us borrow a car, the tank, a shell cycle, whatever! You’re being unfair!”

“Your planning is poor.” Donnie was slow to get on one knee. “You’re ill equipped.” To the other, he got a foot under him. “You’ve informed no one.” Rising to his towering height above his brother, he loomed. “You walk into my garage, where I am in the midst of my own personal and much needed zen in the form of refurbishing my newest baby and expect me to drop the keys of another into your hands knowing full well that you have destroyed more vehicles on more occasions than I can count on our joined mutant fingers and toes because you just so happened to suddenly decided that you needed to take a weekend trip with your friend of which whom you have a similar slapdash scheme going on with to go to our family’s cabin up north on a whim!?!”

Having watched Donnie not take a single breath, you backed up nearly the same distance that Mikey’s head had shrunk down into his shell.

“Y-yes?” Mikey peeped.

“No.” Donnie said the word firm and quiet, but punctuated it with a tap to Mikey’s plastron which caused the stiff turtle to fall over. “Now leave me to my work.”

Only a shell laying there, you leaned forward to look over Mikey without compromising your spot.

Donnie swung his wrench and moved over to a creeper with the intention to disappear under what looked like a turtle-themed moon buggy.

“You-” Your voice echoed in the garage and you tensed up.

Mikey’s head emerged from his shell to peek at you.

Donnie halted his motion, but didn’t turn.

“You… um… could… come with us?”

You watched Donnie’s lips wobble with disdain.

“N-Not a-as a d-driver! Y-you said…”

In a loud pop, all of Mikey’s limbs emerged. “That’s a great idea!!!”

In a smooth rotation, Donnie both turned and lifted his wrench with a threat.

Mikey crab walked several paces away.

“I’m disappointed.” Donnie sent a glare in your direction. “If your thought is even-” He caught a glimpse of his wrench. “-5/16ths as moronic as his then you are banned from the garage itself. Know that, would you still like to continue speaking?”

Gaze plummeting, your heart tried to escape and you screwed the whole of you shut to keep it inside.

Your entire body shook with the force of your nerves and you had to wait until your BPMs dropped to a manageable limit before you could manage speech. “You… said… m-much needed… so maybe… the trip would… well… be calming… for you too?”

There was a clink of metal hitting the ground.

Banned.

You were banned from the garage.

That was fine.

In theory, it wasn’t.

In theory, you were mortified.

Despite your best efforts, you had never been banned from anything.

Now you were.

A glaring dark spot on your permanent record.

Was Mikey a bad influence?

“You do say driving gets your mind off things…” Mikey said with a sudden supportive starkness.

You kept your gaze firmly rooted to the floor in shame.

“Also hold up!” In a slap of feet against concrete, Mikey righted himself. “You take a few of those things back, Don! I may have pushed the idea through, but it was not poorly planned or ill equipment or whatever you said! Y/N worked crazy hard on putting together everything in the short time frame I laid out!!”

You twitched.

“There’s maps, multiple trails marked, a calculated amount of water, with extra rations, flares… Like do you think this other bag is mine? Heck no! I’m not bringing anything! Both these bags are Y/N’s! They’re both stuffed with… stuff! Like-like!” You felt Mikey come over to you. “How you contacted the ranger’s station to tell them we’d be in the area? I’ve never even thought of that! We’ve never done that have we, Dee?”

Donnie continued his bout of silence that you didn’t dare look upon.

“What else…?” Mikey slapped his forehead. “I mean, come on! I can’t even remember it all!”

“I… got that satellite phone… you were pretty excited… about it.” You mumbled to the ground.

“With the backup batteries, Donald!” Mikey hummed a self-important sound. “The backup batteries!!”

The garage made it very clear that Donnie was walking over to you.

You bounced ever so slightly to garner the courage to meet his eye.

“Who did itinerary?” Donnie asked. 

“Me.” Mikey remarked casually.

“I assume food too?” Donnie’s voice was heavy with judgment. 

“Nope.” You could see a swoop as Mikey folded smug arms.

“That’s not quite…” You cleared your throat. “Mikey… shared his… favorite dishes that you… all make…when you… go.”

Donnie dipped into your eye line and you startled.

He’d bent at his waist and come down at a perfect angle.

You stared with warped lips.

“How long?” He narrowed his gaze.

“T-the trip?” Your gaze wobbled.

Mikey opened his mouth and Donnie threw out an arm that, by the sound, must have slapped the younger in the face.

“Yes.” Donnie kept his hand in place.

“Tonight… tomorrow… back Sunday?”

“Is that a question?” Donnie’s head tilted.

Mikey grunted, annoyed.

“No…” You got out, quiet.

“You agreed knowing full well you’d be alone with him?”

Slapped with a similar heat from the first time you’d realized that fact, you gave a tight nod.

‘We have separate rooms!’ Mikey mumbled through closed lips with surprising clarity.

“And that’s okay?” Donnie disappeared.

You chased him up to find he’d released Mikey and was waiting on him for an answer.

“It’s a no brainer.” Mikey nearly rolled his eyes. 

Donnie’s brow lowered, unsatisfied.

“Yes, it’s okay because it isn’t a thing.” Mikey huffed around his clarification.

“I suppose… I’ve been persuaded.” Donnie looked down thoughtfully and you watched him trace back to where he’d dropped his wrench.

Mikey jumped into the air with a sudden bout of energy and caught your hands to spin you.

“Y-y-yay!” You stutter, stalling on the rotation.

“Cabin, here we come, baby!” Mikey cheered. 

“I need my things!” Donnie barked. “And you.”

You jolted. “Y-yes?”

“You will send me triplicate copies of your plans.”

“S-sure…” You spastically patted yourself down for your phone.

“I refuse to engage with either of your antics.” Donnie’s own appeared in his hand. “I am no third wheel. I am coming because I will apparently have to deal with your whining otherwise and because I am not in the mood for the lecture from Nardo and Raphael when they return.”

“Have they texted yet?” Mikey peered over Donnie’s shoulder.

“No. Security detail means one must pay-” Donnie suddenly dropped and ducked through Mikey’s legs in one fluid movement. “-attention. This is why you weren’t requested.”

“And why didn’t they request you, hm?” Mikey pushed his lips into one corner of his mouth.

“Because…!” Donnie trailed off with widened eyes. “My talents lie elsewhere! Enough interruptions. I will drive and then you will leave me be! I am to have my zen! Is that understood?”

“Yeah, yeah, crystal.” Mikey finally did roll his eyes.

Donnie took a few steps away as you found your phone and held it unsure of how to send him the details.

“He’s totally going because he heard ‘yakiniku’ when you mentioned we were making my favorite foods.” Mikey walked over to you with a smirk.

You watched Donnie take an irritated pause before continuing on to get his things.  

-

The ride in the tank had passed with booming music and a tour from Mikey that you only visually participated in because you were terrified to move about the cabin. The younger seemed not to notice as he explained parts with stories more than function. Donnie alternatively, had shades on that further marred his calculated expression and he said nothing as the studious driver.

Leaving the city and entering scenic woodlands, you were soon left to admire the views until you eventually deviated off the road toward the cabin. Tracking it with the little local map you had found, you busied yourself in the comfortable way that most people disliked on road trips: silence in a cozy bubble all your making.

There didn’t have to be talk, that’s what road trip mixes were for.

You only made exceptions for car games. 

You liked that they had simple rules and there were little stakes to be had. 

You only wished cars were safer modes of transport.

There was also something to be said about environmental impact and the culture of automobiles in America, but other than that, you found them nice.

Pulling up to what you imagined was a quiescent place, Mikey could not be restrained a second longer.

Out of the tank in a flurry, you watched through the windshield as his form screamed straight up the cabin’s steps. “He doesn’t do great on car rides, huh?”

“Sitting still for too long? Michael?” Donnie rose from the captain’s chair.

You gave a small smile and gathered up the few things you’d taken inside with you. Your actual bags were stored in an outer compartment and Donnie waited for you as a safety net as you made the harrowing steps down the tank ladder and to the ground. Landing with little fault, you joined him in getting the luggage until Mikey tore back over to grab some of the load. He talked loudly of dust that had accumulated and Donnie griped at him that it was obvious they’d need to clean.

You fondly watched the two bicker and set-up became the next directive. Throwing back plastic sheets that coated furniture, Donnie had a multitude of inventions to clear the space quickly. You had to run to the windows to release the dust tornadoes formed. Making it out mostly unscathed, you then helped Mikey hang bug nets. With the late Spring weather warming the air, soon everything was prepped and Mikey did a little closing dance number, capping off the preparatory part of the trip.

“Swimming hole time!” Mikey cheered and then turned knowingly on Donnie. “Then BBQ and prompt lights out so I can make a lumberjack breakfast first thing!”

“We’re grinding beans… we roasted…” You offered softly. “Uh… Coffee… beans… that is…”

“Oh yeah, I forgot we took that class.” Mikey chuckled. “You almost fell into that sack!”

You squashed a noise of distress at the memory.

Understanding the schedule, Donnie dismissed himself with a turned foot and headed to one of the cabin’s many rooms. You were left to look about the quintessential log cabin where the huge living space and connected kitchen then butted up against a row of doors. They spoke of many rooms that traced the back of the cabin and then up a staircase to a second floor. From what you could see, there were about eight rooms in all. The entire cabin then had a wraparound porch that extended into the wilderness. It was land that both belonged to nature and not, but Mikey had been cagey about revealing property lines. 

“Welp!” Mikey folded his hands on his hips. “Your boy needs to get wet before he explodes.”

You gawked at him.

“Seriously!” He was looking out over the cabin with a vacant stare that held a sort of unhinged quality. “First the car, then stuck inside? This is not an inside trip. if I am not unleashed in the next, oh I don’t know… 2 minutes, I’m going to lose it!”

“Uh…!”

“You got those trail maps?” He turned, both looking through you and not at.

“Y-yes!”

“I color coded the one to the watering hole. Orange, obviously.” Mikey approached with a waggling brow ridge. “I saw you in the car, keeping perfect pace. It was awesome.”

“Just to s-stay b-busy!”

“Uh huh! Your smile said otherwise! You’ll meet me there then! Same way!” He patted your shoulder once with a whack before bolting out the door.

You stared after him now knowing why he’d chosen to travel in his swimsuit.

Looking down at your road trip ensemble, you still felt sure of your decision to take the few hour drive comfortably.

There was a noise of a door opening and Donatello emerged, changed into a casual outfit punctuated by purple swim trunks.

You stared at him and felt a little like a caught fawn.

Donnie took you in before his gaze dulled with understanding. “He ditched you.”

“I’m… going to meet him.”

“He always does this.” Donnie responded dismissively. “You should have seen him in time out as a tot.”

“Oh?”

“One minute in time out for him was comparative to thirty for the rest of us.” Walking around a large kitchen bar, Donnie studied the rations.

You took a few steps toward him for the sake of it.

“He’s so impatient.” Donnie murmured, poking several waters aside to find a carton of juice boxes that Mikey had insisted on. He quickly tossed the set into the fridge. “He’s not even an aquatic turtle.”

You sort of wished you had done more research past looking up pictures of their species.

“You’re losing daylight.” He emerged from the fridge. “Or are you not swimming?”

“I-I am…!” You squeezed a fist to your chest. “Are… you coming too?”

Donnie blinked slowly at you. “No, why?”

“Oh…” You shouldn’t have assumed. He’d already told you otherwise. “Sorry… your bottoms… I thought…”

“Board shorts.” He punctuated the words with an odd accent.

You gave an unsure nod.

“I’m glad their sign was translated.” He glanced down at himself.

“Sorry…” You murmured when he made no further movement and quickly left to avoid any awkwardness.

You weren’t sure what you expected.

It’s not like you wanted to exclude Donnie.

You knew that pain too well.

You also didn’t want to make him feel unwelcomed.

You were painfully aware of that too.

He hadn’t wanted to be a third wheel and you had made it a silent mission to keep that from happening.

Something else you’d experienced in the past, you’d been the unwilling chaperone on more than one occasion just to satisfy parent’s minds. The good one, in their minds, you had always been ditched and the feeling wasn’t one you cared for. Shoving past the bygone era, you were seen now and you tried to relish that.

The sun’s attention was a fickle thing, but you were getting more use to losing Mikey’s. Something you thought should scare you, instead you felt your friendship with Mikey was stronger than ever. You no longer feared losing him in the same intangible way and you weren’t sure if you should crop that up to Mikey’s feelings about you. Instead it felt as though you’d reached a better status quo where Mikey’s running off felt more like the sun moving on its predetermined rotation. It would eventually round back to you and in that way you expected Mikey’s claustrophobia even if you hadn’t known about it.

You picked a room at random and rummaged through the duffel that you placed on your bed. There was a woodsy smell that teetered on musty in a way that spoke of it being well lived in even if its occupants only came every so often. You had your own little stand up mirror, nightstand, dresser, and a closet though you doubted you’d use anything past the first. Pulling out a single slick piece of black fabric, you double checked the door was closed before changing.

The perfect swimsuit was one you hadn’t imagined you’d find. Not one for flashy things, you only wanted a muted cover that also happened to cover you. Water did unimaginable things to fabrics and you hated the way it clinged. You wanted something you could disappear in, that brought no unnecessary attention, and could be forgotten on your end. Finding it in a matter of minutes into shopping as opposed to the years it took when you were younger, the item had even been on sale.

Stepping into it and pulling it up, you shimmied into the fabric and turned for that same show stopping image you’d seen in the changing room.

What stared back was an image of allure.

No.

That was wrong.

That’s not what it had looked like.

It had covered you.

It hadn’t accentuated anything.

It was simple.

You squirmed, changing angles in hopes that it would get better, but each only revealed more.

What had changed?

You’d purchased it this week.

Were you hallucinating?

Was there something in the wooden walls?

Had the tank crashed and this was you playing out some morbid purgatory?

You pinched yourself.

A sting bit your forearm and you threw your gaze back at the mirror for the unwilling shapes it concocted.

This wasn’t right.

You wanted to swim.

There was no way you could.

Miserably turning away from your image, you rooted through your bag for a cover up. Finding one in some oversized t-shirt you’d brought for comfort, you held it and hated that this wasn’t the way you imagined it would be employed. You figured it’d be a back-up pajama top and not something to hide your shame away in. Clinging to the fabric, you hastily pulled it over your head with an imaginary clock ticking away because Mikey was waiting.

You were ruining everything.

Stumbling out into the living room, you found yourself alone.

Momentarily thrown, but shaking off how Donnie wasn’t a priority right now and the guilt that came with that, you went for your pile of maps. Finding the trail one with the orange lines, you gathered some shoes and careened down the porch.

Buzzing insects mocked your sloppy descent as you rotated the map to be on your course. Following it more than your way, you took the necessary inlet and folded its winds to a drawn T. Bushes and trees concealed you, but the splashing of what was beyond reached your ears faster than you’d hoped. A journey not long to its destination, you slowed as you came to the final bend. You could hear Mikey blabbing presumably to himself as he hooted before resounding sloushes followed. In your mind he jumped off some kind of ledge, you took a deep breath before making the final steps leading to the watering hole.

Somewhere quaint if you had the perspective for such a thing, a tree towered comfortably overtop a sizable pool. One mucked up from algae as the little stream feeding into it didn’t stir the water near enough, you watched roiling green as Mikey emerged with a flip of his wet hair.

“Y/N!” Mikey shouted happiness. “You made it! Come on in! The water’s fine!!” He swam backwards as if giving you room.

The guilt was staggering.

No, Mikey.

I won’t be swimming today.

My body looks like shit and I can’t stand it.

I’ll watch you though.

Have all the fun.

You deserve it.

Signing off your name, you slunk forward only to clip a sight of mixed purples.

Donnie craned his neck back to view you from beneath a large sun hat he’d put on. Sitting on a few rocks that made up the closest edge to you, his lids lowered in a way that said he was reading you like a book.

Hating how he did that, you squeezed the bulky hem of your shirt and walked up. “Uh… M-Mikey…?”

“A-yup!” He stopped splashing to hear you better.

“The… um… car ride… sort of took… more out of me than… I thought? Would it be alright if-!”

“You don’t have to swim.”

You blinked wide and over to him.

“If you don’t want to, don’t!” Mikey continued on. “Let’s compare: are you upset I’m swimming when you don’t want to?”

“O-of c-course not!”

“Then why should I care in the reverse?” He fell back and floated, eyes closed, on his shell.

That was right in a way.

Sweet in another.

You wished you’d put together the same reaction.

Inching closer, it felt like pouring water into an overtaxed bucket.

Another guilty drop in your damnation.

You’d seen your friend in a bad light.

Shirking all the more, you toed off your shoes and let your feet lay flat on one of the worn rocks. It put you near Donnie who’d become the moon on a sunny day’s backdrop. He shined upon the same stone and illuminated its age. The rocks were older and wiser than you’d ever be. They never worried about getting wet. They only knew how to exist, something you wished came as easily to you. Sitting down because you needed more of you to drink from the stone’s wisdom, you kept a lowered head to the water’s edge. It sloshed in a beckoning way and you imagined it too would feel good in a different way. 

You really had wanted to swim.

Imaging your tears would do little to fill up the pool while also overflowing it, you heard a tepid sigh beside you.

Eyes wide and shooting up across the pond, you then turned to where you’d sat down next to Donnie.

Someone who you mistakenly forgot about during your pity party.

How was that for a third wheel?

“It’s always something with you.” He spoke softly.

“Sure is.” You gave an awkward laugh.

“That’s…” He made a little concerned noise. “… I didn’t mean it in a cruel way.”

“You didn’t have to. It is.” You threw your legs off the rock and threatened to drown your toes in the water. “It’s a cruel fate. I’m…” You remembered yourself. “Sorry. Nothing. What are you doing here?”

“My species is aquatic.”

You snuck a glance. “You’re pretty dry then.”

“You are too.”

You frowned deeply and watched Mikey pick up a sun drunk grin as he spread his limbs out to float on. “I don’t know why I feel like this. Everything was fine before…”

“With what?”

“This…” You threw a hand over yourself. “Stupid ugly swimsuit.”

You could feel Donnie’s gaze linger.

“Just trust me.” You folded your legs against yourself.

 “I’m not sure I do.”

You squinted at the glistening water before looking at him.

“I barely know you.” He responded simply, waiting there.

“Oh.”

“Disappointed?”

“In what?” Your ugly side was leaking far beyond the reach of what your shirt could cover. “I didn’t think you trusted me. You may have been wrong about me being bad, but that wouldn’t make you less suspicious. So it’s not that. What’s left? The swimsuit sucks. It’s not like you wanna drool over it. I don’t want anyone too. I wanted to swim.”

Hearing your wish aloud, you pressed hard on your chest with your legs.

You could flatten out your entire form if only you were malleable.

“The water is opaque. I can alert Mikey and we’ll turn away so you can get in.”

You felt too far gone for solutions.

You weren’t worth the trouble.

Burying your chin into your knees, you stewed.

“You know how many times the others have made fun of my board shorts?”

You told yourself you didn’t care.

If that was the case then Donnie didn’t either. “Hundreds, though it might be my attitude when wearing them. I like the excuse. To have my day off and not worry about pleasantries. To not have to tailor myself to others. I can tell them to shove it. It’s my day off and how I look isn’t anyone’s damn business.”

Sounded like an odd hill to die on.

“Everyone should have those days.” Donnie craned his arms behind him and leaned back to soak up the rays he was in.

The tree overhead was clipping your light.

Donnie was free. 

Mikey was free. 

Head lifting a little, you pondered your friend.

He’d needed to get out and he did.

Now he was a vision, glowing amongst the pool.

In contrast there was you, wadded up and tossed away without even giving yourself the chance.

Another terrible reminder that this was the point.

This was what you were trying to avoid.

This was what you were trying to learn from.

Mikey didn’t even have to do anything to be himself.

He just was.

Instead of his usual bustle of light, he shined by matter of existence.

That was why you chased him. 

You wanted that. 

Staring at him until sun spots mucked up your vision, you turned the mass to Donnie.

Beside you in the same pose, he was more calculated.

He had to put on his wares.

His was an unseen struggle you hadn’t considered.

No one gleamed quite like Mikey.

That didn’t mean they didn’t shine in their own right.

Donnie’s darkened scales only threw prisms in a different way.

The cool moon’s glow.

Letting your legs fall, this time your feet drew to the allure of the water.

Just out of reach, you stared hard, making sure the pair would keep their eyes closed.

The both of them were still as if asleep, but you waited past whatever insect was chirping before you slowly tugged your hem out from under you. Emerging without more than the sound of rustling fabric, you rolled your shirt up around your waist. The next move was one harder to conceal, you threw a desperate glance at your friend.

Water rocked the resting Mikey like a babe and you wanted to feel that too.

You wanted to be nestled by the sun’s glow.

You wanted to feel weightless and have those burdens removed.

You yanked the shirt over your head and dropped it to your side.

Donnie stirred at the sound, but didn’t open his eyes.

“It’s… It’s okay… I’m not… okay… but I think I… I don’t want to care…”

He cracked a lid and stared skyward.

“It looked so different in the store.”

“How so?” He asked a whispy cloud.

“It looked… I don’t know… covering? Like it didn’t… show any bits. Like it… hid them away.”

He blinked slow and comfortable. “I’m a designer, you know.”

“What?”

“Genius Built Apparel. Where fashion meets function.”

You stared on.

Of course he was. 

He also built a tank and a legion of dusting robots. 

If this were any other family you’d think he was pulling your leg. 

You’d seen more than enough to believe. 

Most of your stare came from the cocky name. 

Though even that made sense. 

Donnie was a carefully constructed sphere. 

Who were you to take away his gloating? 

He tilted his head just enough to glimpse your face. “I’m serious. I’ve dissuaded Mikey from many a faux pas.”

You shook your head.

“May I?”

“What?” You switched to eyeing him.

“I can take a clinical eye. Examine stitching. Find your err.”

You bounced one of your legs.

You did want to know where it had all gone wrong.

You could theoretically fix it then.

Wash this all away in the water you so desperately wanted to get in.

“You won’t make it weird?”

“I don’t drool on the metaphorical clock; you were right about that, but I understand your concern. I have accosted you before.”

“Different kind of weird. That was mean weird. You were a jerk weird.”

Donnie chuffed and it rolled down his plastron.

You watched it fall into his lap before forcing your gaze back to his face in a rush. “Promise… Promise I can pull your hat down if you… do anything.”

“I won’t so a simple enough agreement. Sure.”

“Go… ahead…” You folded your arms to your sides, obviously nervous as you listened to his clothes move.

In a twist, he was examining you and he gave a faint hum.

Not wanting to see exactly how he saw you and growing miserable, you stared into the water.

You could throw yourself in and be done with it.

“Here.” He spoke.

You moved to the sound on instinct and found him pointing to your hip.

His eye was indeed one you imagined a tired scientist gave the samples he was cursed to study.

You immediately relaxed. “What?”

“This ruching here is meant to cover cellulite when the fabric gets wet. When dry it acts a similar concealment, but the way the strips are sewn are for the first purpose.”

“Oh…” You tilted your head to look.

“Thing is, it’s also leading lines.” He didn’t get any closer, but he mimed tracing the seams of the fabric that curled around your hip and beneath where you were sitting. “It’s meant to direct the gaze to certain assets.”

 You blew out an annoyed breath.

“Dressing room mirrors, where I imagine you first saw this, aren’t slapped on walls without thought. They're engineered with angles and lightning to make clothes look as flattering as possible.” He brought his eye to yours. “Where did you see yourself today?”

“There’s a… mirror in my room.”

Donnie’s lip twitched with distaste. “That floor length one?”

You nodded.

“Dad uses that one to feel tall.” He sneered openly. “It tilts up from below, the worst possible perspective.”

You blinked a few rapid times.

“It took the ruching and blew it up.”

“So it’s not… that bad?”

“It’s anything, it's tasteful!” He spoke with an irritation that said that should have been obvious. “It fits your body well. Does it have a certain allure? Yes, I’ve already spoken of assets, but it is not a piece that invites unnecessary solicitation.” 

“Assets, assets. What are you, an ass man?” You retorted automatically. 

“There is nothing quite like sinking your teeth into that soft, inviting flesh.” He took your response and held it between his teeth.

In a blink, you saw an imaginary Donatello around your hips pointing to the fabric and on contact with the thought your face exploded.

“I say generally speaking, of course.” He clicked his tongue as if scolding you and turned away toward the water.

Hot.

You were too hot.

Run.

Throwing yourself forward, you submerged as indelicately as possible into the water.

Sinking like a stone into the silence, your burning flesh was quickly soothed by a cold lap.

A sweet embrace, you kicked to the surface and emerged with a pathetic gasp.

Never graceful, you shook yourself free of clingy drops and spun back around to view the rocks.

Donnie was staring up at the sky again and you sort of hated him for it.

Swim.

You’d swim with Mikey.

Spinning around, the other turtle was not only longer floating, but you couldn’t locate him at all. Quickly worrying that you had toppled him in your dive, you swam forward. “Mikey?”

Quieting to listen, you didn’t hear anything past the faint roiling of the water against its container.

Thinking he must have dove, you looked down to find Donnie’s earlier comment to be a correct one. With the water murky to a fault and a new fear cropped up. You had no idea what was in the water and you immediately darted for the closest shore. Something several long feet from Donnie, it was a sort of marshy landing that rocks from below steeping up to meet. They were covered in a slime that clung to your feet and had you pausing until you heard an off-toned lap behind you.

You whirled around with wide eyes and found a sea monster waiting for you.

Something matted with algae, it groaned pathetically and you sucked in enough air until the balloon was full enough to scream.

“What!? Who?! Where?!” The creature splashed with Mikey’s voice.

He’d been captured by another mutant.

You turned to get out of the water with some intention of getting to the tank.

It had to have missiles or something.

Anything to help.

You’d take a bowling ball launcher at this point.

Catching grip with one foot, you hoisted up the other. The many rocks acted like a disjointed ladder and your entire torso emerged from the water before one of your feet slid. The moment it happened felt like you were falling out of time. In slow motion, you knew your face was one of surprise. You painted an open expression where the imminent terror that you were falling couldn’t catch up as neurons to save yourself from the action. 

Your mind knew, but your face didn’t know that you were going to crack your head open on the rocks you just slipped on.

“Y/N!”

“Y/N!”

Two voices.

Too far.

Something skewered your side as the first injury of many.

Hoping only to black out on that first step, you willed your possessions to your friends.

You didn’t bother hoping they would remember you. 

You only hoped that they could make some use out of your worldly imprint.

No matter how small it was. 

Water rushed to greet you and shoved you away. 

That wasn’t right. 

That was the wrong direction.

Water swayed like waves. 

The equal and opposite reaction wouldn’t come until you fell in. 

Why had it preemptively come for you?

Your arms dangled heavily from gravity and you forced your eyes from wherever they had gone.

The monster was right in front of you. 

Its face was one of Michelangelo.

Green sludge caught in his blackened locks and his worried expression peered out from between a small part. 

He had you by the waist and was holding you up in the air. “Are you okay!?”

You were a loose toy strung up.

Flopping down, lifeless, you were a doll that couldn’t close its eyes until it was laid down.

A second deafening splash came as you hung there.

Mikey’s lips were moving awfully fast.

“Did they hit their head?!” Donnie’s voice broke through.

“No! Above water the whole time! Donnie! They aren’t saying anything, I don’t-”

“Shock?” Donnie wondered, but he never came into frame.

Where was he?

Mikey jostled you as one might bounce a colicky baby.

It was pulling a string on your back and you hacked on contact. 

You wheezed, forcing air in where terror had torn it from you. 

You fought. 

Not Mikey exactly, but the situation. 

It strung your arms back. 

It shoved your torso forward. 

It threw your head skyward. 

You gasped, alive. 

You saw blue.

It was the sky.

You hadn’t died.

Mikey had saved you.

Finally.

You came down from your arching to translate your joy. 

Mikey’s face slid into your vision and he was the picture of a boiled red tomato dotted with summertime spots.

He was looking at you. 

He had ogled you. 

He was embarrassed. 

Your blood pressure plummeted twice as fast as it had when you thought you were about to die.

This was worse.

This time you heard yourself scream as you lashed out.

Water flew up as if to welcome you, to bring you where you were meant to be. 

Drowned. 

Returned you to that place where you weren’t an object to be viewed.

You were a person floating free.

Liquid carried life.

It supported it.

It didn’t have it.

Vertigo struck you as you moved within a blink. 

In a disorientated spiral, your lids fell heavy as your inner ear tried to correct the imbalance. 

There were no longer hands around your waist. 

Something clicked like an engine uselessly turning over. 

Weary, you realized you were standing in a safe spot in the water. 

You drew up the dreary blinds of your curtain and found a muscled arm thrown out protectively in front of you. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!!!” Mikey cried, loud and desperate.

“What the hell was that then!?” Donnie’s voice rang close.

That firm limb tucked you further behind someone. 

You were being shielded.

A squabble happened in front of you, but you only looked down at the jade appendage acting as your guard rail.

You touched the arm and it felt familiar.

“Don-nie?” Your voice came out synthetic.

His was the body you were behind and his face appeared in a whip of his head. “Are you alright? Can you swim? I’ll move.”

“I’m not…?” You weren’t swimming.

You weren’t doing anything.

You were standing in the water. 

“What…?”

You looked past Donnie and glimpsed Mikey with a faint blush still stuck to his cheeks.

“Y-you…!” It felt accusatory on your lips.

“I’m sorry!!!” Mikey screeched.

“Turn around, dummy!” Donnie growled hot and was in motion.

You were soon ushered into a spin with an indelicate hand to your back and all but rushed over to the rock you had jumped off of.

You heard a splash of what you assumed was Mikey growing distant behind you. 

You hoped that would cool him off. 

“You ready?” Donnie’s voice appeared like it was newly there. 

“For what?” You were already used.

What was left?

Was it time to take out the recycling?

“I’m going to lift you up. Your shirt is right there.” Donnie instructed. 

“My shirt…” You were forlorn.

It was your back-up comfort item.

“Ready?” Donnie asked again.

The water rocked you and you barely bumped his firm plastron. 

You nodded dumbly.

Your hips were taken in what you read as a clinical way. 

You were barely bounced once, then twice, in a way that ballet dancers got momentum to lift their partners. 

Sure enough, you were lifted cleanly out of the water.

Only this time you felt well handled.

You weren’t swung around like a toddler holding up their favorite doll.

A child who cared for his toys put you on a shelf.

When your knees touched down, you drank in the life of the rock and scrambled for your shirt.

All the things that had just occurred crashed into you.

Shoving your head through the hole, you yanked the shirt down your body as you were already in motion. Forest floor digging into your bare feet, you didn’t need the map to retrace your steps. You followed the single, winding, prickly path and emerged out by the cabin only to fly inside it. A sanctuary amongst the unrelenting woods, you left a rotting drip trail as you entered your room. Your door clattered from where you had thrown it open and you ripped your duffel bag to shreds to get to its confines.

Pulling on layer after layer, you could see Mikey’s blush with each piece of clothing.

He’d looked at you.

You shoved your feet into a third pair of socks.

His gaze was amorous.

Into a thermal that was very much against the season, you ran out of clothes and stormed the dresser.

Sexual.

There were oversized men’s clothes that struck you as maybe being Raph’s and you thanked their huge size.

You put shirt after shirt on.

Mikey had said, point blank, that he wanted to see how far his feelings went.

Why were you so stupid?

You screamed.

Raw and uncut.

Tearing at your larynx, you ripped a few too many layers off as they impeded your melt down.

You needed space to breathe.

You needed to be swallowed whole.

Stumbling out to that accursed mirror, the shape you found there was a frumpy one.

Smiling a teary look at it, you watched it warp your face into one of dismay and you cried.

Where had you last felt okay?

It wasn’t here.

Moving around the room you searched for it.

That intangible something that would help.

Knocking everything over, you finally got a hold of a much too large pillow and hugged it to your body.

It was large and not at all as firm as you wanted.

You needed a hard wall.

You needed that unrelenting nature.

You weren’t something to be judged with heat.

You needed a cold light the sun couldn’t supply.

The wall knocked.

You spun around with your pillow defense to find the back of a head waiting there.

“I come as an emissary.” Donnie spoke slow and methodical.

“You can-!” It wasn’t Mikey.

Your pillow fell slack into one hand.

It wasn’t Mikey.

You let it drop with a thump to the floor.

It wasn’t Mikey.

“…come in.”

You took a wobbly step to spread out your clothed legs in hopes of keeping yourself upright.

Donnie didn’t move.

“You can… come in…” You repeated, not sure if you had gotten the first phrase out.

“No.”

“No…?” You took another step and saw how Donnie was clearly beyond the boundary of your open door.

With his back to you. 

Not impeding on you in any way. 

“This is your space.” He spoke it like a finality. 

You stared at the knot of his mask tails and tried to place what you felt.

“Being out here with us…” Donnie let the sentence hang before he lowered his gaze to the floor. “I want to… respect that much.”

“Why’d you say it like that?”

“I prefer the term ‘sanctum,’ but I couldn’t fit it in.”

“A sacred place…?”

The back of his head nodded. “My lab is supposed to be one.”

Sanctums weren’t places to be invaded.

If they were then they were violated.  

He understood.

Is that what you felt?

Camaraderie?

Even his mania in the beginning had been one you made sense of.

Was that why you hadn’t complained?

No, you were rewriting history from your current perspective.

It was also the only one you knew.

It was one where you envied one man. 

It was where you once feared another. 

Now their roles were reversed. 

You never had to explain your misery to Donnie.

You didn’t have to make him understand.

He was the moon.

You rushed towards him.

Donnie heard the footsteps and made it about half a turn before you reached him. “As… I was saying, I talked to Michael and come in his stead to-”

You collided with that unrelenting wall of plastron. Finding an odd hinge between the front of his shell and the back, you did your best to tuck into that space and weaseled under his arm. You felt it rise above you, out of your way and a rotation brought you more towards his front. There you felt him stop to take your over-clothed form in.

“I’m sorry!” You choked on tears, rooting the sound as deep against Donnie’s wet clothes as possible.

He let your misery hang for exactly one second. 

Then he surrounded you in a soft moon glow.

He pulled you toward his chest and you burrowed closer to him.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I completely overreacted. It was just too much… Too much attention… the way he looked. He said… I thought he wouldn’t… I didn’t want…!”

A hand pet through the layers of your back.

Even and careful.

No further connotation other than to soothe.

Squirming to get your arms out from where you were crushing them, you wiggled them free to embrace him.

You squeezed a sigh right out of him.

“I know.” He spoke into your damp head. “I know…”

You nodded and basked in the tide. Pulled by the moon’s orbit, the waves rolled in and out with a sway. A gentle rocking, you were cast a comfortable drift by it. This was the one you had longed for from the swimming hole. Here, you floated amongst sturdy shores. Held safe, the guiding white light poured around you. One that pushed back against the darkness, it shone on you. Lucky to be in its reach, it wasn’t the type you soaked up. It instead washed over you in a cleanse. Feeling lighter and a little stifled, you extracted yourself from moisture to moisture.

Everything around you from your leaking face to the clingy pond water was soaked and you frowned down Donnie’s body. Standing in a little pool mostly created by him, you wanted to stick your tongue out at it, but you feared the bacteria clearly clinging to your skin.

“The cabin is yours tonight.”

Before you could register the words, you felt him strengthen his resolve with a puff of his chest.

“I don’t want to hear complaints otherwise.”

You wanted to pout.

“I checked the systems when we were doing our preliminary cleaning. The water will be hot. Shower, bathe, do whatever you’d like. We’ll be staying outside.”

You gave a faint nod to the wet floor.

“We’ll grill and I’ll make you a plate. Preference?”

You shook your head. “I don’t… feel like eating…”

“Bland it is.”

Now you were pouting.

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?” Your head felt heavy.

“I still have a message from Mikey to deliver.”

“I really don’t want to hear it.” Irritation brought you to look at him.

Donnie took you in with a sort of smile. “You’ll want to.”

You dropped your features in a way that said you didn’t believe him.

“He said he’s not ready to talk as he’s having his own crisis, but he’ll let you know when he’s ready to apologize.” Donnie tilted his head, almost amused.

You blinked straight out of your bitterness to stare openly.

Donnie gave a single knowing nod.

“Enjoy your shower.” With one last sweep over you as if to check you were all still there, Donnie turned and headed for the door.

Watching him go, you saw the faint amber hue of sunset.

“It’ll all work out.” Donnie tossed just as he grabbed the knob to exit.

You turned and stormed straight to the bathroom. Drowning in clothes and scum, you locked the door tight and turned the shower knobs to their highest setting. Leaving the water to warm, you started removing your outermost shirt. As soon as it hit the ground you felt possessed. You tore off your clothes with each subsequent layer removed at a faster and faster pace. You needed to be freed. You needed that ridiculous protection off of you as soon as possible. All of it soiled, you stripped down bare and left your feet for last.

The moment they were naked and pressed to tile, you leapt into the old style tub. Instantly boiled by the too hot water, you let it scorch you with clenched teeth at first until the burn seared and you adjusted the dial for something reasonable. Still a lobster in a pot, you scrubbed your skin until you thought it might flake and then doused it in suds until you couldn’t see its color. A sea of white foam, the second scrounge came through, washing the detritus away.

Pickled in the process, you emerged and greedily took up every towel in the room. It meant toeing around the disgusting mound of clothes you’d left, but Donnie had said the cabin was yours. Until tomorrow when you’d clean the place up, you instead mourned how you hadn’t even brought your toothbrush in with you. Scowling at a fog coated mirror, you cracked the door and watched the steam leak out.

Chasing it with your ear, you didn’t hear anything, but there was a distinct lemon scent.

You followed the smell into the hall where you quickly placed it was cleaner. The floor had a sheen to it that spoke of a recent mopping. The clean line ending abruptly at your door said exactly who the culprit was. Donatello had snuck back in to clean and you were thankful for it. He’d left your sanctuary untouched and instead set a stool just outside the door. 

On it was a stack of comfortable looking clothes and a note.

‘Keep your room or upgrade. I recommend the one upstairs, second bedroom on the right.’

You folded the note along its lines and placed it back on the offered clothes. You then gathered the lot and took it with you along with a brave face as you entered your room. You barely looked up as you salvaged what you could from your duffel. Carrying the mostly limp sack, you then moved to follow your recommendation. It led you through the darkened cabin and up the winding wooden stairs where the door in question was closed. Knocking on it out of politeness, you found it empty and slipped inside. It was decorated similarly, but clearly different. Comfortable in its own sense, you went about your nightly routine as best you could and thanked the space for not having a mirror. Growing more weary by the second, you thought vaguely of meat as you instead pulled back the covers.

Sinking in and imagining charcoal lighting the men’s faces, you settled down into the welcoming embrace of bed.

You eventually got up and padded across a tiled floor.

Pulling out a single slick piece of black fabric, you double checked the door was closed before changing.

The perfect swimsuit was one you hadn’t imagined you’d find.

What luck, you thought, as you slipped it on.

Stepping into it, you shimmied into the fabric and turned for that show stopping image in the changing room.

It was perfect.

It covered you in all the right ways.

Finally, the piece you’d been looking for.

Smiling and striking pose after pose, you saw a hand wave above the curtain.

“Come in!” You called to it. 

Sanctum’s were only to be entered with permission. 

“Silly.” You looked over your pleasing image once more. “Is it still a violation if I request it?”

“I guess not.” Instead of drawing the curtain back, Donnie slipped through it.

Tucking himself a strong wall behind you, he looked into the mirror at you.

What looked back held no heat, only appreciation.

“Do you like it?” He checked with you without passing judgment himself.

“I do…” You smiled.

He gave one of his own, though subdued, and flicked his gaze down. “Look here.”

You lowered your gaze to find him kneeling behind you. With his head popped out around your hips, he was looking up at you in a way you liked quite a bit.

You felt powerful.

You were a light bright enough for him to want to project.

“This ruching here has leading lines.” He didn’t touch you, but his hands ghosted over you along the fabric’s pattern.

Your lips parted and your chest filled with heat.

A celestial body was meant to look on.

You were safe. 

“May I?” He asked you once again. 

You were glad and responded with a breathless, “Please.”

His mouth opened a dark orbital maw, a new moon, which then glinted into a teeth-filled waxing crescent headed in its trek to sink into your soft flesh.

You jolted the moment the teeth supposedly hit their mark. 

You stared into the dark abyss and saw drifting images of sharpened grins. 

You were dizzy.

A sheen of sweat to you, you tossed back a cover. 

The black hovel above you took shape as logs in the cabin ceiling. 

They lined up like thick thighs appearing from where board shorts had hiked up. 

Begging for a taste.

Awareness struck with a sharp inhale.

Fully awake and doused with dread from your dream, you voiced your despair with a whisper.

“Oh no…”

💛 NEXT 💛

I swear I handed this to my betas over a year ago... @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83

[samynnad102687]

Marauderstober

Oct. 31st Everyone - Halloween Party

1,276 words

James was excited about this year’s Halloween party. Regulus had agreed to let it be held at their house as long as James cleaned everything up when they were done and nothing got broken. James promised and when he started to set everything up, he made sure to put anything that could be broken away in the office and locked the door. 

Once everything was safe and secure, James ran to the shops and picked up snacks and drinks for the party. He didn’t know what everybody wanted, so he just got a variety of drinks and all the snacks he could think of. There was going to be no excuse to not eat something to soak up the alcohol. James also set up the extra rooms in case people needed to crash at their house. He wasn’t going to let anybody drive home and he couldn’t be the sober driver tonight.

James was in the kitchen setting everything out when the first of the guests started to arrive. Naturally, it was Sirius and Remus. Regulus was still out with Pandora doing something that he refused to tell James about. 

“Prongs? What ya at?” Sirius hollered into the house.

“Kitchen.”

Sirius showed up in the kitchen a minute later with Remus right behind him shaking his head. 

“You know that you didn’t have to yell, Pads,” Remus replied as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I know that Moony, but it’s more fun that way,” Sirius shrugged as he grabbed a handful of pretzels before James could swat his hand away.

“You’re lucky Reggie isn’t home yet, I don’t need a cranky husband before a party because his brother was being a dick,” James replied as he moved the pretzels before Sirius could grab anymore.

“Meh, Reggie needs to learn to let loose a little. He’s too wound up sometimes. Where is he anyway?”

“With Pandora.”

“Ah, well when is everybody else coming?”

“When they show up, I guess. I only mentioned a general start time,” James shrugged as he grabbed the plastic cups from the pantry. He wasn’t going to risk the glass ones.

James, Remus, and Sirius grabbed a drink and headed for the living room. Sitting on the couch and chatting before other people started to show up. Marlene came barging in the door twenty minutes later as if she was being chased by Micheal Myers from Halloween. Dorcas gently shut the door and went to the kitchen to grab a drink before meeting up with the boys in the living room. 

“See, Marls, you didn’t need to bust into the house like the Kool-Aid Man. It’s only these two idiots and Remus so far,” Dorcas said with a laugh.

“Hey!” James and Sirius exclaimed at the same time.

“I thought this was a Halloween party, James. Where’s your costume?” Marlene asked offended that she and Dorcas were the only ones dressed up. Marlene was Black Widow while Dorcas was the Scarlet Witch. 

“It’s in my bedroom. I was waiting for Reggie to get home,” James shrugged. “As for these two, you’d have to ask them.”

“Moooooony,” Sirius whined. “You said no one was dressing up this year.”

“Thanks a lot, Marls. If you hadn’t said anything, he wouldn’t have noticed,” Remus declared as he leveled her with his best glare.

“We need to go and change, right now.” Sirius stood up abruptly and tried to pull Remus up while James was trying not to laugh at his dramatics.

Remus had asked James not to get dressed up yet because he wanted to see if Sirius would noticed if other people had dressed up after he started drinking. He really didn’t want to dress up this year and James understood that since Regulus didn’t want to dress up either. Sirius dragged Remus home and while they were gone, more people started to show up and James turned on the music to get the party started.

Regulus came in with Pandora, Barty, and Evan about a half hour after the party really started. Pandora was dressed as a giant butterfly while Barty and Evan were bloody pirates. Why bloody pirates? James didn’t know but he also didn’t feel like asking either. Regulus wasn’t dressed yet and James knew that he was waiting until he came home to see if anybody else was in costume. 

“Why aren’t you dressed yet?” Regulus asked when he crossed the living room to where James was standing against the wall. 

“Was waiting for you, plus Remus wanted to see how long it took Sirius to notice if people had dressed up,” James shrugged nonchalantly.

“Did he?”

“No, Marlene pointed it out.”

“Of couse she did. Should we get dressed then?” Regulus asked and James could tell that he was hoping James said no.

“Might as well, everyone else is,” James said with a smirk and Regulus sighed in resignation.

“Fine.”

James and Regulus slipped out of the party and headed to their bedroom on the second floor just as Sirius and Remus returned to the party, now in their costumes and Remus did not look pleased. James was sure that once he and Regulus came back down then Remus and Regulus would hide in the corner and complain about having to get dressed up. 

“How do I look?” Regulus asked as he came out of the bathroom where he was fixing his hair.

“Gorgeous. Very royal,” James replied immediately as he took in Regulus costume. “How about me?”

“You look like you’re ready to take someone down at any moment,” Regulus laughed lightly.

“Well, I’m here to protect you, your highness.” James bowed and Regulus gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I approve.”

Regulus was dressed as a royal prince while James was his bodyguard. They made their way back down to the party and as expected Regulus grabbed a drink and found Remus by the wall glaring at people. Those two were not party people but indulged their husbands either way. James grabbed another drink from the kitchen and went to find Sirius who was with Marlene and Barty. Lily, Mary and Peter showed up at some point when James was upstairs and now the whole gang was there. 

“What are you supposed to be, Pads?” James asked when he got closer.

“A werewolf hunter.”

“Ah, and where is a werewolf?”

Sirius spun around until he found Remus by the wall with Regulus.

“Over there with your husband. Is Reggie dressed as a prince?”

“Yeah.”

“So that makes you his bodyguard?” Sirius asked slowly and James nodded. “Did he put up a fight about dressing up too?”

“Yeah, but I told him that he gets to kick out whoever he wants for whatever reason he wants to.”

“Doesn’t he do that anyway.” Sirius smirked and James nodded happily.

It was no surprise who ran this house and James was okay with that. The rest of the party went by like any other party. There was a costume contest which James and Regulus won and Sirius threw a fit. There was also a lot of drinking so almost everyone ended up staying the night. When James finally made it to bed, Regulus was already half asleep. James crawled into bed and Regulus curled into his side, lying his head on James’ chest.

“Is everything cleaned up?”

“Yeah, looks just like when you left to go hang out with Pandora. Did you have a good time?”

“It was alright,” Regulus said with a shrug and James could feel his smirk on his chest.

“You little shit,” James said affectionately. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Jamie.”

@cazzythefrogking @clementinewoolf @maladaptivewriting @lavenderhaze @literally-the-prettiest-star @thebibutterflyao3 @seiworf @emjayeingray @remusregulusrosekiller @heartsoncover @accuratewhereabouts @belowthestarrs

[yfmconfessions2]

If the YFM members were in an apocalypse/Dead Rising/Resident Evil type situation (yes this might be sad and long sorry friends)

I like to think they were having a concert when the outbreak happened. Like Puff in the middle of a song goes “C’MON, GUYS! LETS GO CRAZY!” to the audience only for them to erupt in horrified screams as a literal wave of zombies bust in through the walls like the Kool Aid Man. The YFM van was tragically destroyed in the process (RIP)

Obviously the band said “hell no” and ran the fuck out of there. Puff insisted they set up camp near a hospital because of the amount of “resources”… despite most of the outbreak happening there… and half the med equipment being useless because they don’t know how to use it… and that everything in that hospital could be contaminated

Even though they’ve been friends since at least fourth grade, an apocalypse isn’t exactly good for friendships. Arguments insue over a lot of stuff—food, water, gas for the generator, who goes out to get the food, water and gas, you get it. They still are good friends and they do care for each other, but the stress from the whole apocalypse thing really puts a damper on their mood

Benatar still writes little songs in his notebook that he miraculously saved while they were dipping the fuck out. The whole band still makes music in their spare time; hell, sometimes they can be as loud as they want!

Sometimes a group of survivors come by and trade resources (y’know, with money being completely obsolete and such). DeeJay’s the one who does the negotiating and stuff because Puff Puff causes fights with them half the time and Axel and Benatar are socially illiterate

Axel dies first—like, almost a week after the apocalypse starts—because he decided to Fuck Around And Find Out with the zombies. One of them started approaching him and his dumbass thought he could take it on only for him to get completely devoured like a Ritz cracker

Our favourite martians keep Axel’s Viking hat as a little keepsake and set it up by the campfire. It almost feels like he’s still here

Puff dies second from the virus that caused the outbreak. He consumed or came into contact with a contaminated object/person (most likely a contaminated bandage on an opened wound or something) and because the symptoms didn’t happen the second he got infected he acted all smug about it. It didn’t go well

DeeJay was the one to kill Puff before he could infect him or Benatar. That was a very Not Fun day

DeeJay and Benatar hang on for a while. Now that two people were gone, they don’t have to acquire as much food. Still, it feels so much more empty with Puff and Axel gone

Benatar does little crafts to keep him occupied. He becomes very fond of sewing and drawing in particular

DeeJay managed to find some old comic books while looking for some food. It reminds him of his childhood, and it just so happens to be the only form of entertainment available

Unfortunately, DeeJay dies third during a trade gone wrong. There was a disagreement over the exchange and one of the rival groups cancelled his life subscription in a fit of rage and basically mugged him

Benatar surprisingly lasts the longest of them all. He doesn’t go outside much unless he’s looking for resources, he doesn’t use too much at once and doesn’t really fuck with anyone. He managed to last a few years before the military found him and took him to a bunker

yeah 😐👍

I WAS LITERALLY LIKE "OH THIS IS COOL" UNTIL THEY STARTED DYING AND THEN I WENT "😭😭😭😭"

[detectivereads]

Five Nights at Freddy’s The Week Before by Scott Cawthon & E.C. Myers

100/5

This post is for fan entertainment, I’m not being paid.

Hi everyone,

I hope you are doing well.

Ok, I have been waiting for this book to come out since they announced it. I love the direction that they are taking with this series of books.  When I got the book, I was not expecting it to be so thick. Most of the choose your own adventure books that I have barley broke 160 pages. This book broke 200 pages, total story pages is 244 pages.

 I really don’t see too many choose your own adventure books anyone, I normally have to hunt around for them I have some series of choose your own adventures like Give yourself Goosebumps, Choose your own Nightmares, and the Endless Quest books.

So, I was happy when they started to release a FNAF series.  During the course of the review, I will tell you how I tackled my first read through of the book. Deaths will be marked with a *.

Opening the first page I was really interested in what it said that this book gives you a choice of difficult (I have never seen a Choose your own adventure book do that.).

However, the first page has already given me my first question… Who is Ralph? In all the research and lore videos I have watched I have never come across the name Ralph. (I have not read too many of the book series either.)

Well, whoever he is we as the reader are playing him and we are also the security guard, we are a parent with a daughter at home named Coppelia to prove for.

For my first read through I went in normal mode, and the first choice that I was able to make was if I could leave the security office, I picked to look around the desk a bit and I found a paper clip. (One of the most useful office supplies that can be multipurpose especially when it comes to a horror setting.)

So, taking time tidy the desk after the pervious guard usage of it, it was time for the big task that was a sign to us at the beginning of the shift, the men’s restaurant lights are out we have to go and change the bulbs. So, turning back to page 4, I checked the cameras to see where everyone was and then I left by way of the Chica’s side (Right).

*This is where I encounter my first death, hearing a ruckus in the kitchen I sneak past, and I thought I was the in the home stretch, so I had a choice to make a bee line for the bathrooms or the most logical choice hide underneath a table. I picked the first one, and got hug crushed by Chica.

So, flipping back to the previous page I hid under the table and waited for the animatronic to pass by. Before sneaking out from my hiding spot I looked at the table and found a shiny gum wrapper. Then I made my way to the men’s restroom.

Ok, I made it to the designated area for the task, as soon as I got in I listened at the door to make sure that I was still good, while changing the lightbulb I would be vulnerable for a attack. I was in the clear and changed the first light bulb.

*I got greedy and went for to the change the second light bulb with out checking to see if I was in the clear, and who comes busting in the bathroom like the salty Kool-Aid man, our loveable pirate fox Foxy.

So, going back to the page before I died, I picked to listen at the door, and I have heard the pitter patter of running robot fox feet, so my choice was to barricade the door or hide. Logical me thinks these are big robots that can overpower an adult, I picked the choice to hide in one of the stalls.

*Now, I was now at the point where I can use one of my inventory items, I use the paper clip to open the stall door, and I jammed the paperclip in the door which means that stall is useless. If I had the chewing gum (I only have the wrapper) I could have done something with, but I didn’t, so my only choice was to hold the door closed.  Long story short Foxy made quick work of the situation.

So, I flipped back to the page where I first got into the bathroom and being the model employee that I am (apparently) I fixed the sink too which was blocked by chewing gum and now the sink the is fixed. Yay?

So, I repeated the routine checking for the Faz 4, changing the 1st light bulb and then listening again and hearing Foxy running to the bathroom. So, again using the paperclip and the chewing gum I manage to avoid Foxy.

So, the book gives you a quick escape back to the office where you don’t encounter Faz 4. So, back at the office, I picked the choice of finishing tidying the office and throwing out old food. Having our epiphany of why the heck we are doing this and staying at this job after the horrors we have experience tonight we look at the camera and notice the celebrate poster are weird, but also the phony goes off as well.

I picked the phone choice (When we got back to the office it was 5.45AM I wasn’t keen on leaving the office) granted one of the choices I could have picked was ending my shift there, but the phone is such a key part of the FNAF lore I couldn’t ignore it. However, it was a moot point at this stage. I followed the directions, and the clock clicked over to 6:00AM. So, we left and spend some time outside of Freddy’s.

Ok this is where I end the review here (because this post will be really long if I go through all my choices), because I found out this is not some short adventure, no-no this actually takes you through the whole week. Nice surprise there that this will continue. Normally the COA (Choose Your Adventure) books that I read you finish one branch and that’s it.

But this book is the best now we can actually experience the whole week, and our choices are really important, if we want to experience both sides of the coin, the actual job part and the off-clock hours.

My over all thoughts: this book is well planned out with each of the characters well though out, the choices are inventive, classic horror movies scenario where you will have to think about the choices that are lay out before you in order to survive the night. It is the perfect book for the Halloween season or the avid collector or fan of FNAF.

I will be paying close attention to see if there is any new lore weaved into this book that ties into fan theories that I have heard. Maybe in another post I will do a more detailed playthrough of the book.

It makes me wonder how the next book will be since its center around the story “Into the Pit”.

[fallout-drabbles-n-stuff]

Can I ask what it would be like for Solsu having to take care of drunk romanced companions? Bonus points if they're told about their shenanigans afterword.

Cait:

(Angry drunk)

•It's best that you don't drink in polite company with her. She's already a feisty individual with a burning passion for inflicting pain, you make her drunk and it's only a matter of time before she incites some horrible fight.

•Sounds funny, but it's really not. Reign her back. Please.

Curie:

.......you aren't really gonna let her drink, right? I highly advise you don't....

Danse:

(Horny drunk 👀)

•Danse hardly ever partakes in more than a couple glasses with company and this is exactly why.

•At first it all starts off nice and smooth, just Danse beginning to gradually relax- which is "outstanding" considering his usual rigid disposition. However once that fine line of too many drinks have been crossed, all hell breaks loose.

•It'll start with comments on your appearance, simple incessant "you look beautiful"s spoken with dazed eyes...then it escalates to Danse pulling you into his lap where you're met with his obvious "intentions" prodding you in the ass, all while being held in a bear hug from a blushing, smiling Paladin who happens to look like a kicked puppy when you make him calm down with a drink of water. Don't worry, he might mope but he'll quit if you tell him to.

•Perks back up when you tell him it's time to go to bed...only to mope even more when he realizes that no, it isn't for sexy times. No worries, he'll be happy so long as you let him hold you..

•Is absolutely ashamed and horrified of his behavior when he wakes up and you tell him what went down. Probably will hide his face in his pillows and try to disappear. Swears he won’t drink again and make a fool of himself like that….will totally drink some more.

•Just be lucky he wasn’t feeling melancholic like a post BB Danse would.

Deacon:

(Stupid drunk..)

•Ever seen that one video of that guy busting through drywall like Kool-Aid Man? That's Deacon's level of maturity when properly intoxicated.

•No worries, Desdemona is going to bitch at him from the time he does something too stupid until he isn't even drunk anymore. Frankly, he deserves it too- he's destructive, reckless, and...well..hilarious, but that doesn't mean it's redeemable!

•He seems to perfectly remember all his antics, some he even reflects upon with a proud grin..until his hangover ends up making him wince in pain. Just...take care of him, there isn't any point in trying to scold him. Des has that covered anyways.

Gage:

(Emotional drunk)

•A drunk gage was both extremely rare because of his genuine hate for alcohol and also very shocking. Sure, one may assume that someone so rugged and tough like a raider- especially Gage- would have no issue handling his liquor....oh how wrong you could be...

•You weren't entirely sure what happened, much less where he got the idea, but somehow Gage got the absurd notion that you decided he wasn't good enough for you and you were going to just leave him behind. He'd keep it in for a while, slowly growing more quiet as he took practical gulps of his drink. That doesn't last.

•Eventually he starts to cry, silent tears pouring from his good eye. Whenever you actually notice, it's too late. Just pray no one else is around when this next part happens.

•All it takes is you coming to his side, placing a comforting hand on his back and he crumbles. He'll grab you and push his face into your chest and start sobbing, wailing incoherently as he begs you to not leave him.

•It might seem humorous, but it raised several questions.

•The morning after his outburst, you wake up extra early to present him with a half way decent breakfast in bed- extra grease on the food for good measure. Once he seems to be more coherent, you make sure to talk to him about his apparent fear of you not loving him...which brings him close to tears once again whenever you finally convince him that you do in fact love him and won't ever leave his side so long as he loves you back.

Hancock:

(Stealthy drunk)

•Unfortunately, the mayor of Goodneighbor doesn't really have any fun antics..well at least any that would point to him being intoxicated. Sorry.

Macready:

(Over indulging drunk)

•Mac is arguably the best one to get shit faced with, especially if you like drugs and food. Oh yeah, something about eating while intoxicated is irresistible to him. Think of it like munchies, but in Mac's case, five times as bad.

• After a couple drinks, Mac nonchalantly will reach into his pocket- gesturing for you to come close- before putting a cigarette in your mouth and lighting up- using your's to light his own. If you don't set a stopping point, the two of you will wake up down two packs, several empty containers of jet, and crumbs everywhere.

•When faced with the consequences of his gluttony, Mac will just sit there and whine as his stomach does cartwheels. That's punishment enough...

Maxson:

(Mr. Vomits-a-lot drunk)

•It takes a whole hell of a lot for Maxson to get shitfaced thanks to his rather strict habitual drinking. After all, it would be a strange day if you didn't see him knock a bottle of whisky out before finally turning in..which was kind of sad come to think of it..

•Nonetheless, he does occasionally push his limits when he's especially stressed and it's never pleasant when he does.

•It was sort of funny, in retrospect. One minute you and him were sitting on the flight deck together, casually talking whilst finishing off a bottle of shitty vodka (unknowing that he had already burned through countless bottles before meeting you) when suddenly Arthur started to look pale. It just kept getting worse until eventually he was frantically motioning for you to follow him as he ran to the railings, sticking his head over before throwing up whatever was on his stomach..sending it to a several hundred foot drop below.

•It's a good thing you held him, otherwise the brotherhood might've been short an elder and you short a partner.

•When confronted with his..let's say "overindulgence", he'll sort of look away and try to change the subject. It's probably best if you try to hide liquor for a while. 

Nick:

(Doesn't drink....)

Old Longfellow:

With his age and experience? He's the same as Hancock.

Piper:

(Daredevil drunk)

•Hope you're sober, because if you aren't- there's a good chance you'll be spending the night in Diamond City Jail.

•Piper is reckless on a good day, putting alcohol with that in mass quantities and she's wild. Just hope you have strong will, because she sure as shit isn't going to back down easy.

•It's kind of funny, but her go to is to do crazy shit. Jump off the roof? Hold her cup. Want to vandalize the great green wall? Fuck yeah. Nothing beats the time she wasn't careful and threw a lit cigarette down Ann Codman's cleavage during a heated argument with her.

•She has no regrets either, so don't expect her to be remorseful in the morning whenever you tell her what she did. If anything, she'll just laugh next time she sees Ann.

Preston:

(Over thinking drunk)

•If it wasn't lowkey annoying, you'd probably think Preston's drunken neuroticism was hilarious. Not to be gotten wrong, but even sober, your love could be extremely insistent..mix his anxious attitude with liquor and you end up with a terrible night.

•You knew better than to let him have more than a couple beers, seeing as his tolerance wasn't exactly the best, and yet here you were. Preston pensively sitting at the bar beside you, rich eyes narrowed and focused on the liquid in his glass- his hands resting against his head.

•"I know you're dying to ask...." "Okay babe, since you brought it up...do you think putting electrical wire around our people's settlements would be a bad idea? It might closely resemble a prison but it's for their own good. Wait- shit, what about the kids? Oh god..."

•He may just sheepishly rub the back of his head and apologize in the morning..but he'll be quick to revisit some of the key points and ideas with you if you so much as give him a chance.

X6-88:

(Ridiculous drunk)

•It was only one time..thankfully.

•You, and your whole group of friends had to convince him to try it out- but once he started, he couldn't stop.

•This asshole would throw down drinks faster than Hancock..which was terrible considering his painfully low tolerance to alcohol.

•One thing goes to another and next thing you know, "The Wanderer" is playing in the background, X is singing and dancing like an idiot, and everyone is gathered around- terrified at what they were seeing. It's sort of like seeing a deathclaw do ballet- so, totally understandable.

•He dares you to bring it up later, dares you.

[troquantary]

Edward Cullen: That Boy Ain’t Right

So I was doing a reread of @therealvinelle 's collection of Twilight metas, as one does, and in "Edward, Denial, and a Human Girlfriend" she mentions that she doesn't believe Edward is sane. I thought, "ha, yeah, he's definitely not," and also, "but wait, what does that mean exactly, please say more about that." But since she's already inundated with asks, I've decided to use my own head-muscle and explore this idea. (TL;DR: I start out more or less organized, synthesize some points Vinelle has made across several posts (and have hopefully linked to them all where relevant but please tell me if not), touch a little on narcissism, then take a hard left into the negative effects of being a telepath.)

Just a couple things to note at the outset, though. Theses have been written already (probably) about Edward as an abuser. Edward being insane doesn't negate that at all; he's definitely an asshole and just...a disaster of a human being. (I find it more funny than anything, but YMMV.) I'm also going to try to avoid talking specifically about mental illness and how it relates (or doesn't relate) to abusive behavior -- that's territory I'm not really equipped to discuss, like at all. My starting point is "Edward has a deeply warped perception of reality," not "Edward has X disorder."

So: deeply warped perception of reality. The evidence? Goes behind a cut, because my one character trait is Verbose.

Vinelle provides a great example of it in the post linked above, which I'll just quote because she does words good: "[Edward] keeps acting like his romance with Bella is a romantic tragedy, and all the cast of Twilight are actors on a stage making it as sublime as possible." Edward's the one to pursue Bella, but he does so with the full belief, from the very beginning, that it will never last; Bella will "outgrow" him, go on her human way, and he can spend the rest of eternity brooding magnificently over his too-short romantic bliss. [Insert premature ejaculation joke.] Turning her is never an option, even though Alice, Noted Psychic, says that romancing Bella will either end with her dead (exsanguinated) or dead (vampire).

This framing, where he's a dark anti-hero in love with -- but never tainting! -- the pure maiden and eventually leaving her in a grand, tragic sacrifice to preserve her soul? It's fucking bonkers. Bella isn't a person to him in this scenario. As Vinelle points out, Bella's never really a person to him at all; he falls in love with his own mental construct, cherry-picking from what he observes of her behavior and her responses to his 20 (thousand) Questions to convince himself that she is the ideal woman.

Bella's not the only one who gets the projection/cardboard-cutout treatment. Edward sees everything and everyone through a highly particular, personalized lens. He filters his entire reality, which we all do to an extent, but the thing with Edward is that he starts with his conclusions and then only pays attention to the evidence that supports those conclusions. Often that evidence consists of what he admits in New Moon are only "surface" thoughts -- but recognizing that limitation doesn't keep him from taking those thoughts as representative of what people are. Edward then becomes absolutely convinced by his own "reasoning" and won't be swayed from what he has decided is Objectively True. It's obvious with Bella; it's also painfully obvious with Rosalie. (Vinelle explains this and brings up Edward's raging Madonna/Whore complex in the same post, so refer to that again -- she's right.)

He also catastrophizes. Everything. Bella's just vibing in her room, rereading Wuthering Heights for the 87th time? She's gonna be hit by a meteor, better sneak into her room while she sleeps. Bella's going to the beach with the filthy mundanes their human classmates? She's gonna fall in the ocean. Jasper's cannibal pals are stopping by for a visit, but know not to hunt in the area? DISASTER, DEFCON 1, ALSO FUCK YOU JASPER FOR EVEN EXISTING IN MY AND BELLA'S SPHERE YOU UNSPEAKABLE BURDEN. Edward must believe that Bella is vulnerable and in near-constant peril, to support the reality he has created in which he is the villain turned protector and maybe?? hero??? (!!!) for his beloved. So when the actual, James-shaped danger arrives, he goes berserk, snarling and flipping his shit and generally not helping the situation. His fantasy demands that Bella remain human, so instead of doing the very thing Alice, Noted Psychic, assures him will neutralize the threat (and not just a threat to Bella, either, but to Bella's family and any other human James might decide to include in the "game"), he vetoes it immediately, no discussion. Bella Must Not Turn, and he sticks to those guns despite James nearly reducing her to ground beef, despite leaving Bella catatonic with depression (but human! success!) in New Moon, despite Aro's order and his family's vote and, let's not forget, Bella's clearly and repeatedly stated desire to be a vampire. It's going to happen. But he doesn't accept it until Renesmee busts out of Bella like the Kool-Aid man and the poor girl's heart finally, unequivocally stops.

Sane people don't behave this way. I don't want to slap labels on Edward, but I can't help but note that he comes across as highly narcissistic. He's the only real person in his universe, the lone player among us NPCs. That probably has a lot to do with him being frozen in the mindset and maturity of a seventeen-year-old boy, but I think it's also just...him, on some fundamental level. His failure to connect with others and recognize them as full, independent beings with their own wants and priorities isn't like Bella's failure -- she's badly depressed. Edward is...something else, and I get the sense that his sanity has been steadily deteriorating over time. And a cursory google of narcissistic traits turns up some familiar-looking stuff. He's self-loathing, yes, but also grandiose; he hates himself for the monster he is (and hates most vampires besides Esme and Carlisle for their monstrosity, too) but still feels superior to humans, to the extent that he felt entitled to human blood and resented Carlisle for depriving him of his "proper" diet. He eventually returns to Carlisle, but he's far from content -- the beginning of Midnight Sun finds him in a state of ennui, bored and dismissive of (if not outright disgusted by) everyone around him, that has apparently persisted for years and years. He doesn't play the piano, he doesn't compose, he doesn't enjoy anything...at least until Bella comes along and then he becomes obsessed to a disturbing degree with her and his new, romantic tragedy spin on reality.

[Next-day edit: I’m not sure where else to fit this in, but the way Edward casually contemplates violence against people who have, at best, mildly annoyed him is...chilling. I have a hard time writing off his strategizing how to murder the entire Biology class as a result of bloodlust -- it’s so calculated, nothing like the blackout state of thirst Emmett describes when he encountered his own “singer,” and that is probably the default for when a vampire is extremely thirsty. But even ignoring the Biology class incident, Edward still does things like consider, with disturbing frequency, how he might grievously injure or kill Mike Newton, all because...Edward considers him his romantic rival (despite Bella barely giving the kid the time of day). He thinks about slapping Mike through a wall, which might be an amusing slapstick image, except as a vampire Edward’s actually capable of turning this boy’s skeleton to a fine powder. So it’s, y’know, kind of sick when you think about it.

But even worse than that, when Bella tells Edward about how she flirted with Jacob to get at that sweet, sweet vampire lore, Edward chuckles and then, after dropping Bella home, flippantly observes that now that the treaty’s broken, why not genocide? I’m not even kidding, it’s right there in Midnight Sun; he seriously thinks about the fact that he’d be technically justified now in wiping out the entire tribe because a teenager tried to impress a girl with a spooky story. That is fucked. Remember, Edward was there with Carlisle when the treaty was first established. He knows how remarkable it is that they even came to a truce in the first place, that it was only ever possible because Carlisle is...well, Carlisle, and that it marks a pretty significant moment in supernatural history. He doesn’t care; he doesn’t respect it, or he’d never think something like “Ha ha, if I went and killed them all, I wouldn’t even be wrong. I mean, I won’t do it, but I’m just saying, I wouldn’t be wrong.”

Again: not the thought process or behavior of a sane person. (Or a person that respects life in general -- sorry Carlisle, big L.)]

Finally, whether he's a narcissist or not, I think the fact that Edward has constant, unavoidable access to everyone's thoughts is a powerful contributing factor to his instability. He can tune out the mental noise to an extent, but he can't stop it -- so he comes to rely on it like another sense. This causes issues with disconnect and lack of empathy, of course, but there's another facet to this shit diamond: he's basically experiencing a ceaseless flow of intrusive thoughts. His narration in Midnight Sun suggests that he "hears" the words people think, can "see" what they visualize in their mind's eye, and can sense the emotional "tone" and intensity of their thoughts. Therefore, perceiving Jasper's thirst through his thoughts makes Edward more aware of his own, "doubling" the discomfort. This would be a lot to deal with even from just his immediate coven members, but Edward gets all of this pouring into his head like a firehose on a day-to-day basis because the Cullens live right alongside humans. I know Meyerpires have galaxy brains or whatever, but that's a ton to process.

Besides the compounding effect on his own thirst when he "feels" the thirst of others, Meyer never suggests that Edward has difficulty separating his own thoughts from other people's; even when he was newly turned, he recognized Carlisle's "voice" in his head as Carlisle's. That would create a whole different host of issues around identity, but it looks like Edward's escaped that particular torment. However, I can easily imagine that what he does experience is just shy of unbearable nonetheless, with an eroding effect on his sanity over decades. He can't sleep to escape it; he's on a dishwater diet and probably (like the rest of his family) experiencing a perpetual, low-grade physical discomfort due to his thirst never being fully satisfied; and he's around far more people than is the norm for vampires -- even discounting all the humans, his own coven is unusually large -- meaning more noise.

Honestly, it would be weirder if he were all there, considering.

And even though I feel like I lost a sense of structure around where I started ranting about telepathy, I've written like 1.5k words about Edward fucking Cullen and I think that's enough for one post.

[shimmershae]

So.  Thanks to my new anonymous friend, this is going to become a thing.

Shae’s thinky thoughts about the latest episode--Acheron:  Part 2--beneath a cut. 

Because spoilers, however vague they might be.  

Let’s be real here.  This is more a stream of consciousness than anything else so if that’s not your thing, you are most welcome to nope right on out of this post.  Trust me.  I’ll completely understand, lol.  Sometimes?  I wish I could nope right on out of my own brain and the way it operates.  

That said?  Without further ado--

Episode 2′s opening, though.  Maggie trapped with hungry Walkers converging?  It totally gives me Glenn under the dumpster vibes.  I don’t know if that was intentional or just happy coincidence but way to link Maggie to her dearly departed better half, show.  

Is it just me or has Father G had more OOMPH to him these last few seasons?  Again, I have to ask--Rosita’s influence or no?  Regardless, I bet Seth Gilliam is loving the job these days.  

Side note:  am I gonna have to go to bed early every Saturday night from now until the end just so I that I might be able to SEE?  Something?  Anything?  My curtains are flimsy-ass.  I admit it.  But this is more frustrating than TXF.  Angela, WTF?  

No, seriously.  It’s like complete guess work who’s in these subway scenes.  Some of that has to do with them being overly populated by redshirts and the rest of it has to do with me having to squint and turn sideways to make out their facial features. 

Look at Daryl busting through concrete walls!  Should I call him the Kool-Aid Man considering NR has once again allowed himself to be led right into a biased, shipper trap?  Hmm.  I might.  

Imagine seeking refuge in those dark, filthy subways.  Any second now I expect to hear the skittering of rats.  Will Dog lose his effing mind a la Divergence?  He’s been shown to go off half-cocked that way, lol.  Oh well.  Guess it’ll be in character if he does.  

Impressive graffiti storyboards.  Does it mean something that it immediately cuts to the Commonwealth storm troopers afterward?  Maybe.  Who really knows at this point?  They been trying to gaslight us forever.  

LOL at Princess yet again.  Yumiko is just like da fuq is this person?  

No, really.  LMAO.  “That was her.  From last night.  Did you see how she was looking at us?”  

Then you have Eugene, hahaha.  “Oh God.  Why did he tell off the big guy?”  Like the man is totally me in this type of situation.  Not even gonna lie.  

“That’s right.  We want to talk to the manager.”  

I literally cannot wait ‘til Carol and Daryl meet Princess.  Can.  Not.  Wait.  

How sad is that note on that $100 bill?  Small moment but it totally gives me Season 4 vibes when they were on their way to Terminus seeking sanctuary.  

Hmm.  Remember how that place wasn’t what they thought it was?  I’m sure neither is the Commonwealth.  But I feel like what’s left of Team Family is totally going to do Rick proud, lol, and prove they’re messing with the wrong people if they try something.  

Daryl, Man.  You gonna have to get a better handle on your headstrong Fur Son.  I wonder if Dog would listen better to his mama?  Things to ponder.  

Sounds like Miko has this group’s number.  Or does she?  

Princess and Eugene totally look like they’re waiting their turn for the Principal’s office, LOL.  

“Stop moving!  You’re taking my nerves over the edge to a proverbial 11 on a scale of 10.”  I feel you, Eugene.  I do.  Also you, Princess.  Two of the most relatable TWD characters right there, I’m telling you.  

Princess is me when I really, really, really have to pee.  TMI?  Sorry, lovelies.  LOL.  I just...she’s so relatable.  

LMAO.  “If that fine ass dude in the orange suit...”  Princess and Mercer incoming in 3-2-----

Princess’s excitement over the toilet paper=PRICELESS.  

Eugene, Man.  You desperately need to develop a poker face.  

There’s Daryl getting another cool camera shot.  Angela?  You playing favorites again?  

Carol’s claustrophobia could have never.  I bet that’s in the back of Pookie’s mind.  You can’t tell me it’s not because Carol lives in there rent-free.  

Ohhh.  Back to the subway car.  Looks like we got the Maggie redshirts leading the way.  First sacrificial “lambs”?  

Maggie pistol-whipping Negan was kinda deserved, but he wasn’t all wrong so.  

Damn.  I’m no Gage fan.  He can fuck all the way off for what he did to my baby Lydia.  But Maggie over there with ice in her veins.  

Yep.  I think the dude just got one of the most gruesome deaths in a while.  Yuck.  

I think Alden’s faith in Maggie definitely took several hits.  I feel like he kind of had her on some sort of pedestal dating back to Hilltop times.  Father G, though?  The man is continuing to show himself a SAVAGE MFer.  

Josh gives Eugene such believable tics and mannerisms.  He IS Eugene.  

Thank you, Maggie, for lighting that flare.  I could not see a damn thing.  

What are these bad memories Negan alludes to?  Hmm?  Him being a shit husband to Lucille back when he was still taking her for granted?  

Father G on Gage’s Walker--”All that is, is a shell of a man, who died a coward.”  Kind of ironic considering Father G’s own origins, huh?  Has he any warmth in there for anybody but Rosita and Coco?  Does he equate it with weakness?  

“There are worse ways.”  And Maggie proceeds to paint us a horror story with mere words.  

Dark Maggie really surpasses anything certain fans have ever accused Carol of being.  Is she too far gone?  Who the hell knows?  I think it’s clear that she and Carol are both on a sliding scale of sorts when it comes to being able to compartmentalize shit to survive.  Personally?  I feel like Maggie might have leap-frogged Carol in this episode but it matters none because of the double standards so deeply entrenched in this fandom.  Both women have endured and had to do some horrific things.  It’s not a contest.  But it’s probably going to be turned into a season-long one.  

It’s almost like Kang was like, “Ya’ll bitches think Carol’s dark?  I’ll show you DARK.  Check and mate.”  

Whatever the reasoning, Maggie just got exponentially more interesting to me if not likable.  And before anybody out there comes at me, it’s entirely possible to be on a character’s side in some things and not be all up their ass in love with them, lol.  Like I’m attached to her because she’s family and Glenn loved her.  There’s a loyalty there and she absolutely is justified in her hatred of Negan.  But I’m not going to pretend her shit don’t stink like everybody else’s.  

Speaking of my baby Glenn.  What would he think of this version of Maggie?  I think he would be gutted and heart stricken that events led to her being like this but he’d understand because he’s pure like that.  Don’t mean he’d be A-OK with it all.  

Dog must be protected at all costs.  

Confession.  I know not the fuck who Pony Boy is, but I know him because all my fandom friends have pointed him out to me, lol.  RIP, Man.  I think you’re number’s up or close to it.  

Okay, though.  I admit it.  I am kinda LOVING Badass Father G.  

That scene in the subway car with all of them working to take all the Walkers out was already badass.  Then Daryl arrived and made it, in @freefromthecocoon’s words, HAWT.  LOL.  

Eugene staring at that little black book like it contains torture tools, hehehe.  

“Processed?  As in administratively?  Processed as in bologna or other meat stuffs?  This inquiring (enquiring?) mind needs to know.”  OMG, Eugene.  I admit it.  Even if it makes me look like a lunatic, LOL.  I straight up LMAO at that one.  I mean, ten years later and Terminus still fresh on the man’s mind.  

“You like feeling nervous?”  Well, no.  None of us that do, Mercer?  Do.  

Then he proceeds to make me howl with his “You can’t lie for shit” to Eugene.  

Josh McDermitt?  I love you, Man.  40 year old virgin, LOL.  

All this talk over the seasons of Daryl’s virginity and we have Eugene, hahaha.  But was he telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?  

Finally.  Some daylight.  Where I can see.  

Eugene’s relief at seeing his friends safe and sound was such a beautiful thing to see.  I loved those hugs.  

Mercer’s face when he snarled “beat cop” in disdain to Ezekiel.  I think I’m gonna love this dude.  

“I went to West Point.  Asshole.”  Yeah.  I am.  

I know they probably catfishing Eugene right here because spoilers tell us that ain’t Stephanie.  But my heart still did a little d’aww.  Angela.  Don’t play with his poor heart like that.  

What’s got Daryl so pensive, huh?  Is it that the note reminds him of kids being lost or taken from their family? Or separated from their family?  Is he thinking of those Grimes babies and wondering if Michonne will ever make it back and why and how she was able to leave them behind?  Tell me it ain’t that Find Me nonsense.  

“This place sure has gone to shit since the last time I was here.”  LMAO, JDM.  I mean Negan.  Sorry.  Sorry.  I still hate Negan, but JDM has me entertained at least since they gave the asshole some shades of gray.  And speaking of shades of gray.  I’m loving the gray beard.  JDM’s looking GOOD (hear that NR?  Embrace the gray).  Negan can still kick rocks, lol.  

Anyway.  That scene was CREEPY AF.  Not even gonna lie.  

The Reapers strutting right on up to our group like it’s The Purge:  ZA.  

My bad, Pony Boy. Now RIP.  

Dark, dark episode with loads of tension broken up by some welcome humor by Princess.  The girl is fast becoming a fave of mine.  

My baby’s back next week!!!

I’m just going to plug my ears and pretend they’re trying to capture/recapture the horses because they’re pets.  Not because they’re starving so bad they feel the need to eat them.  La la la la la.  I can’t hear you.  

[fishmongeringstudies]

eight: if time can't heal it and love can't save it and hope won't keep you alive anymore

it turns out the ceiling light in my room was kind of busted. for three months i thought light fixtures in america were just Like That but looking at this one, right now, i realize light fixtures are supposed to be Like This, by which i mean bright enough to see your hands under, by which i mean bright enough to illuminate someone's eyes and fifteen gold earrings and teeth. the teeth are important. though if they aren't laughing very much i guess it won't matter.

lately i've been telling myself the same narrative over and over again in a grim attempt to retain my sanity. it goes like this: dear me, i say while punching a wall like a well-muscled thirty-something year old white male starring in a hollywood film in which his wife runs away with another man and he's heartbroken and super hung up over it but mainly disappointed to find that instant noodles don't taste as good without soft-boiled eggs in them. dear me, i repeat for dramatic effect. then i say it thirty more times, really fast, like bloody mary in your bathroom mirror on steroids.

dear bloody, bloody me. are you listening? so i know things aren't going so great right now and i know you struggle to walk down this hallway without thinking about someone's shadow on the wall and i know the last two months have been so awful you sleep in two hour bursts now like batman on a three week stakeout, like someone who can't afford to take their eyes off the door, but one day you're going to have the best fucking story to tell at dinner parties, and everyone's going to be mesmerized because 1) you're really good at telling stories that are so fucked up they're funny and 2) you're really hot and this story is so fucked up it's funny and you're always going to be hot so they're all going to fall in love with you and you're going to break all their hearts in alphabetical order and it's going to be great.

dear me: i know you're miserable.

i know how i've set this up. you're leaning forward in your seat now. we're at the dinner party i talked about in march, april, may. you're in a tux or a dress with a ruffled collar and i'm talking about how my first semester of college in america was a joke, and you look super hot and i look super hot and everyone looks super hot because all my friends are hot and funny and good at telling stories, but right before you can ask me what i mean by a joke (was it a good joke? a bad joke? did anyone get hurt?), i put my glass on the table and wander off into the crowd.

that is to say: it is not the time yet to tell The Story. but we can talk about the aftermath.

this room looks out over the other side of the building. it has a view of the greenhouse, partially obscured by a large tree with green, heart-shaped leaves. the bedframe is situated at such a ridiculous height that i can sit underneath it without hitting my head, and there's blu tack stuck to the walls, the shadow of spring, old signs of life. one of the drawers in the dresser is crooked. there's a table light that doesn't work. there are water rings on the table.

during the last leg of finals week i dragged myself out of my room for dinner because i refused to sit at my desk and be sad on a friday evening, even though the alternative was to sit in one of those white lawn chairs on the grass and be sad under a slate-gray sky, and halfway through the bit where the protagonist accidentally gets locked inside the room where he's being served a three-course meal and the staff tell him to punch a hole in the wall to get out and he's like i can't do that, i can't break this nice-looking wall and then he breaks the nice-looking wall, when the day was getting late enough that the sky was starting to look less slate-gray and more like a black eye, someone came up to me with a rolled-up yoga mat slung over one shoulder and a camera in her hands. 'i need to shoot something for a final project due tomorrow,' she said. 'can i borrow your hands?'

even the cornered mouse has broken someone's nose before. paintings on cave walls were made by people with skin just like ours. when you feel like you've been backed into a corner and you have nothing and will never have anything ever again, remember this: you are part of someone's spring 2021 final project. you with your super fucked up fingers and your book about the guy who, after punching himself out of that wall, went home with half a rewritten manuscript and met his old lover who, instead of getting married, realized he had followed the wrong person home and had thus taken the necessary steps to rectify his mistake. i am describing the final beats of andrew greer's less. but no conclusion is worth much without a beginning.

where does this story begin? was it that snowed-in morning in washington dc when i stepped off the plane feeling like i'd left half of my heart in the seat pocket? was it the long car ride to school, leaving muffin-crumbs all over the upholstery, the cold wind in my face and the radio blaring through the soft, serrated static? was it that first evening in the half-lit hallway?

it's hard to identify the start of a nightmare. fear has a tendency to reach backwards in time with painted nails and skin, and strangle your past selves so as to prevent the re-introduction of light. this part i won't tell at the dinner party, so i can tell you. in my first semester of college in america i made the wrong friend a few times. one of them was really, really wrong.

but it's never too late to call quits. walk off the set. get in your car. go home. and if you need to, if home becomes homicide, ask for help. the world isn't all mouse-traps and misery. some people want you to flourish. i know it's a hard idea to wrap your head around. you're sitting across from me in a mcdonald's with your metal straw sticking out of your mouth and you're frowning at me. you think i'm full of shit.

it's true though. one day i'll drive you to a dinner party and i'll tell you about my personal sleep paralysis demon, circa 2021, and you'll be mesmerized because i'm good at telling fucked up stories in a way that makes people laugh and my voice will be really hot so everyone will be super bothered by 1) how fucked up this guy is and 2) my really hot voice and then the story will end and i'll smile in the half-light and end with my signature line about how first impressions are all wrong and you should never trust a stranger who says they want the best for you and also people who talk to you in bathrooms are not doing okay and you should stay away from them. and then i'll say but this lady was really nice, and my friends stayed mad when i got too tired to be anything but miserable, and i nicknamed him richard the slut after richard from the secret history by donna tartt, which i was rereading at the time, and one time someone said 'i'll never be able to look at him without thinking of 'richard the slut' again' and i laughed so hard i punctured a lung, and have i mentioned i have really funny friends? you'll say no. i'll say it again. i have really funny friends. you're a really funny friend.

today i pour strawberry-lime kool aid into two teacups and we reminisce about the good old days, when we thought everyone had a sense of basic human decency.

maybe i'll sleep with the light on tonight. i mean look at it. it's such a nice light.

05.28.21

[biotic-boshtet]

I posted 9,958 times in 2021

58 posts created (1%)

9900 posts reblogged (99%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 170.7 posts.

I added 617 tags in 2021

#mass effect - 174 posts

#shenko - 90 posts

#fic rec - 72 posts

#mass effect fic - 57 posts

#norah jean shepard - 53 posts

#oh my god - 44 posts

#mshenko - 41 posts

#fshenko - 41 posts

#mandi writes - 23 posts

#kaidan alenko - 22 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#this is my near miss shakarian chapter dedicated to how many times ive gone through the reach and flexibility convo to almost romance garrus

gotta toss in a friendly page break bc my top 5 posts are all fic and i dont want a do you love the color of the sky length post to scroll through

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

“We’ve been by each other’s sides for years, you think I’m gonna leave now?” for Norah and Kaidan

thank you SO much!!!!! my first thought was the cutscene in the final push, where Shepard sends Kaidan away and I almost went for All The Angst. but then my second thought bust through that like the kool-aid man, and here we are, with All The Fluff

Norah Jean sighs when she hears the knock on the bedroom door. She knows exactly who’s on the other side of it. She can feel him. Not listening to one of her few requests on their wedding day. She smooths down the white satin, grabs her crutches and makes her way over to the door.

“Kaidan, I am not asking anymore. Go away.”

“We’ve been by each other’s sides for years, you think I’m gonna leave now?”

“Yes.” Norah Jean sighed and patted the door.

“Sugar, that’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve said all day.” She could hear him thunk his head against the offending piece of wood between them.

“I’m not being ridiculous, Kaidan, its bad luck.”

“C’mon Norah Jean, we got married four years ago, if I see you in the dress now, I really don’t think it’ll have any impact on the rest of our lives. Its an old superstition, that’s all. I just wanna come in for a minute, please?”

“Honey.”

“Don’t you “Honey” me, Norah Jean, just a little peek. And maybe a kiss, and then I’ll go, I promise.”

“Nope.” She pops the ‘p’ and thinks the conversation is done, stepping away from the door.

“I miss you.” Kaidan’s voice isn’t as insistent now. “You left before I got up, and I just-“ She hears him puff out a sigh. “I don’t know. I don’t have cold feet, but I’m a little nervous.”

“It was a lot easier when it was you, me, and an Asari Elvis, huh?”

“Nothing fancy, just us in sweatpants and tank tops, middle of the night, wondering if it out be out last chance at happiness. One night alone, one night with our friends, and then right back into the thick of it. It was a good call, tying the knot like that.”

“Oh, but our parents were so thrilled. I loved Elvis, but not waiting to do it “right” is what got us in this mess in the first place.” She made useless air quotes around the word ‘right’, even though Kaidan couldn’t see them.

“Its not a mess, and you’re having fun.”

“No, it is a mess, its overwhelming and exhausting, I may enjoy it right now, but quote me on this, I never want to plan another wedding again.”

“So…... Let me in?” The smile on his face is plain in his voice.

Norah Jean pauses, thinking. Then she unlocks the door. “Okay. One kiss, but you have to keep your eyes closed.”

“Okay, okay, eyes are closed.”

“Tightly?” She could feel his field zinging with excitement.

“Tightly.”

“Good.” She tugs open the door, creaking on its old hinges. Looking Kaidan up and down she’s a little breathless. “Damn, Kaidan, you look good, and you’re not even fully dressed.”

“Hey, no fair, if you can look, I should be able to!”

She puts a hand over his eyes before he can open them. “Ah, ah, ah, no rule about seeing the groom.” Norah Jean tugs Kaidan over the threshold and pushes the door shut with her free hand.

“You’re a hard woman to please, you know that Sugar?”

“Oh hush, and c’mere.” She slowly took her hand away, making sure his eyes were still closed, and grabbed his shirt, gently tugging him down to her level. “One kiss, Kaidan, then you have to finish getting dressed.”

“I think I can live with that. Maybe.”

She tugs him a smidge closer and plants a firm kiss on his lips. And that one kiss turns to two, which turns to three. Before they realize it, Norah Jean’s backed Kaidan to the edge of the bed, his hands on the zipper of her dress and her hands in his hair. She hears his soft gasp as he sits and opens her eyes to catch the look on his face. Love, plain and simple, in his eyes and the grin on his face and in the little breathless laugh that leaves him.

“God, you’re beautiful. I’m a lucky man, Norah Jean.” He sniffs, resting his forehead against hers.

“No, no, no, don’t start that, you’ll make me cry too, and it’ll ruin my makeup.”

“We can’t have that.” He sniffs again. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Kaidan, to the ends of the galaxy.” She brushes a tear from his cheek and kisses his nose.

He lets out another breathless laugh. “Look at us, saviors of the galaxy, sappy crying on our wedding day.”

“C’mon, Hon, lets get you dressed. We might have to fix your hair too.”

33 notes • Posted 2021-08-12 16:38:42 GMT

#4

1, 6, and/or 11 for the prompts?

ok i have 1, but 6 and 11 will maybe come eventually so keep an eye out and tysm for the prompts

Aftermath

“I’d ask if you were ok, but the answer seems a little obvious.”

“Yeah, nope, nope, no. Doing bad.” No blood. No screams. Just the wind over the sand and a dead thresher maw. She clenches her fists in the sand and works on getting her breathing under control.

“Don’t worry, Alenko’s on his way over with his kit. Sent me with a full canteen though.”

“Thanks, Garrus.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Shepard rolls off her knees to sit in the sand, taking the canteen from him. Sticking it between her knees, she lifts her shaking hands to disengage the seals on her helmet, taking it off and letting it fall to the sand. She took a deep breath, trying to block out the scent of acid and blood. Only half of those smells were real. The stench of thresher maw acid almost makes her gag as she takes a sip of lukewarm water.

“Hey, I brought backup.” Kaidan’s knelt down in the sand next to her, rifling through his kit till he finds what he’s looking for. A juice pouch and a granola bar.

“I’ll see if I can’t get the Mako up and running, if you two have everything under control here?”

“Yeah, Garrus, we’re good.” Kaidan gives him a thumbs up, and Garrus makes his way back to the Mako.

She takes the offerings with a mumbled thanks, downing the juice in about 5 seconds, hands still shaking. “Sorry you had to see that.” She kept her eyes trained on her hands as she tore open the granola bar.

“Don’t be. You may have put on a more, uh, spectacular display than I’m used to seeing, but I have seen it before. And I know how to work with the aftermath.”

“Not your first 2.5? How lucky.”

“Yeah, we had two of them on the Shanghai, the most I’ve ever worked with other biotics. They uh, butted heads enough to set each other off, so we had to keep them separate or distracted on ground missions. Didn’t wanna risk wrecking more equipment. Kimball ended up getting reassigned to the Fuji a year or two back, but Benton’s still there, I think.” Kaidan was sitting next to her in the sand now. “One time they got into this argument, I don’t even remember what it was about, but Benton was pissed. Next thing we knew, Kimball and I were tossing up a barrier to cover the rest of the squad, because everything unfortunate enough to not be bolted down was flying through the air. Ripped a door right off the Mako, thankfully he didn’t have the juice to pull the whole thing. That one was fun to explain to the captain.”

That gets a laugh from Shepard. “I can only imagine going to Anderson and telling him we need a new door for the Mako, or worse a new Mako.” She crumples up the granola bar wrapper, shoving it in a suit pocket. “God, it feels like I was fighting off that meltdown all day.” She lets her knee fall against his, plating clacking together.

“You good?”

“Be better once we’re off this fucking rock.”  This place was a dead ringer for Akuze.

“Well, I’m glad you don’t have to ask the captain for a new Mako, at least.” He grabs her helmet and gets up, shaking sand out of the joints of his suit, and offers his hand to help her up. “C’mon, let’s go see if Garrus has made any progress yet.”

Prompt List

Read on AO3

23 notes • Posted 2021-04-20 08:19:00 GMT

#3

“I don’t know if I want to yell at you or kiss you.” for Norah Jean and Kaidan

cogratatualtions you get an argument! and Garrus being awkward bc he enabled Norah Jean's recklessness!

“I know what you’re thinking, and no. You’re not doing it.”

“Kaidan, you have no clue what I’m thinking.”

“Bullshit, Sugar, you’re thinking of charging over and digging me out of this corner before that Brute notices me.”

“Huh, no, I actually was thinking about how much this hole in my arm fucking hurts. But now that you mention it, that is a great idea.” Norah Jean isn’t so sure the sarcasm comes across through her grit teeth.

“Don’t you dare. I can get myself out of this and you are going to sit tight and stay down till I can get there to help you.”

She gets quiet as she listens to the gunfire, watching her HUD as enemy signatures slowly close in on Kaidan’s position. Her biotics respond involuntarily to her rising stress levels, flaring up and settling down with the breathing she’s forcing steady. The hardsuit’s medical suite’s already done all it could without medigel, which really isn’t all that much. Applied pressure and tried to dose her with painkillers. Immobilized the entire arm. An error message flashes on her screen, “AUTOMATIC INJECTION SYSTEM ERROR”. She got half a dose. Maybe. Great good all of it does her when the medic is pinned down across the field.

“Norah Jean, I can see you glowing from up here, you’re not planning something stupid, are you? I did hear Kaidan to tell you to stay put, and correct me if I’m wrong, but he does outrank you now, right?” Garrus’s voice crackles over their private channel.

“Y’know, I wasn’t planning anything, but Kaidan gave me a lovely idea, though now my window is gone. Not sure how long my suit can keep me from bleeding. Painkillers are kicking in, kind of. I think the biotics are kicking into meltdown mode.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking of something really stupid.” She watches a handful of husks fall to Garrus’s rifle, then focuses on Kaidan’s hiding spot and the cluster of mutants around it. Her shields were nearly recharged. Kaidan fells a husk and ducks back into cover. The Brute swings its head towards the sound of Kaidan’s pistol and takes a single step.

“If you tell me, I might be able to help, I promise I won’t tell on you. You know, unless it’ll definitely kill you. Then I’ll tell Kaidan.”

“I might, uh, I think I’m gonna charge the Brute. If it gets Kaidan I’m as good as gone, its still too hot for Steve to get in here. But if I distract it before it charges at him? Maybe even catch it off guard and get a few good hits in? You can cover my back while I deal with it.”

“That’s a terrible idea.” Norah Jean can imagine perfectly the face he’s making, mandibles slightly flared, eyes squinted, doing mental math. Ruthless calculus. “It might just work.”

“He’s almost out of ammo, and he’s exhausted. After he’s out he won’t be able to keep up the biotics for long. Kaidan’s a sitting duck. I’m doing it.” The brute scratches a foot on the dirt, snorting. She overrides the medical stabilization lock on her right arm joints.

She flicks over the squad channel.

“Bombs away, boys.”

Norah Jean charges before Kaidan can ask what she means.

Time slows down. A husk in her path falls before she can touch it. The Brute gallops towards her and her heart pounds in her ears. Her arm throbs. She isn’t even fully out of the charge before she’s overloading her barrier as she’s slamming into the creature. Her helmet goes dark in an effort to protect her eyes from the resulting flash, and her shield generator is screaming warnings at her. But her shotgun is in her hands and the Brute is still on the ground. The kickback is worse than usual, but she usually doesn’t get shot either. The Brute doesn’t get back up.

She charges one more time, slamming herself into the Marauder that made its way behind Kaidan’s cover. It goes down with a well-aimed shotgun blast before Kaidan can even blink.

“Norah Jean, I don’t know if I want to yell at you or kiss you.”

She opens her mouth to respond, then sways on her feet. The shotgun hits the dust. Kaidan reacts.

Norah Jean blinks and she’s sitting with her back against the rocky outcropping, Kaidan tinkering with a panel on her suit. His kit is open on the ground beside them. She hears a snick and within seconds she has of a full dose of pain meds. She could cry with relief.

“Heyyy, Honey.” Her voice cracks as she leans her head back against the rock looking at Kaidan.

Kaidan glances up at her, then back down at the portion of plating he’s working to remove. “What the hell, were you thinking, Norah Jean? I had it covered.” He gets the plate off. “Steve’s on the way, ETA is about 5 minutes.”

“Couldn’t let you get killed.”

“Right, so you nearly kill yourself instead, thanks.” The medigel is cool and tingly when Kaidan applies it. “Do you even know how hard you hit that thing?”

“Wasn’t really thinking about it.”

“Yeah, I could tell. Your suit clocked the impact at almost 1000 newtons. Then a third of your systems did a hard reset, and a handful of others just fried when you burned your barrier. Shields barely held through the blast, then failed the second you hit the Marauder. You’re lucky you already had your gun out, or we’d also be dealing with a point-blank gunshot wound.”

Norah Jean didn’t even try to defend herself; he was right. The stunt she’d pulled was stupid and reckless on a normal day, but she’d do it again, countless times, for Kaidan.

“And I’ve taken away your joint lock override privileges until further notice.”

“That’s fair.”

Garrus finally joins them, sauntering over as he collapses his rifle and slings it onto his back.

“Did you know she was going to do that, Garrus?”

“I didn’t not know that she wasn’t not going to do it?” His mandibles twitch nervously.

Kaidan stares at him.

“I plead the fifth.” The turian looks around Kaidan to Norah Jean, stage whispering, “Did I use that one right?”

She winks and gives him a shaky thumbs up.

“Unbelievable.”

16 notes • Posted 2021-08-15 22:50:45 GMT

#2

Aftermath - Chapter 3

hellooooo friends, lets continue my trend of updating at godawful hours of the morning

Read on AO3

Start from the beginning

Waking up, Shepard wonders for a second if she dreamt it all, but then she feels Kaidan’s field against her own, gently fizzling. One of his legs is caught between her own. He’s somehow wrapped up in the entire comforter. She relishes in the feeling of just existing next to him for a moment, then he shifts and rolls over, scooching close so he’s pressed against her back, wiggling of the covers to just enough to drape an arm over her waist as he presses a kiss to her shoulder.

“Mmm, good morning.” Norah Jean feels his voice rumbling through him almost more than she hears it. Only one hearing aid is on and it’s pressed into the pillow.

“G’morning,” She readjusts so she’s laying on her back, Kaidan resting his head on her shoulder now. She tugs at the blanket he’s still burrowed into. “You stole the entire comforter overnight.”

“You weren’t using it.”

“So?”

“So, I put it to good use, its cold as hell in here.” He settles down deeper into the bedding.

“It is nice in here.”

“Right. I was getting flashbacks of Noveria while I was trying to fall asleep.”

“Oh please, it’s not that bad.”

The comm system crackles and they both glance up at the speaker on the ceiling.

“Up and at em, Norah Jean! We’re 10 minutes out from the Mu relay. Might wanna head up here.”

The channel clicks closed before she can respond. Norah Jean hides her face against Kaidan’s hair for just a moment, before sighing and rolling out of bed.

“So, do I get to call you Norah Jean now?” Kaidan sits up in bed, rubbing his arms, content to watch her in the dim light for now.

“If you want, preferably not around the rest of the crew, not if we’re gonna keep this quiet.” She gestures to the general space between them as she pulls on a t-shirt. Almost immediately, she pulls it back off, throwing it at Kaidan. “That one’s yours.”

“Joker calls you Norah Jean, always wondered about that.” He finally gets out of bed, shuffling around looking for the clothes they’d left scattered around the room.

“Close friends and family. He’s both.” Norah Jean tosses another piece of his uniform at him, this time hitting him square in the face, making herself giggle. She’s standing in front of the mirror, fingers staring to comb through her hair, then swiftly braiding down its length. Pins sticking out of her mouth, she carefully winds the braid into a flat bun, pinning as she goes until its completely secure.

“Y’know, that is mesmerizing to watch. Almost as fun as finding all the pins to take it down again.” He’s sitting on the desk, tugging on his boots.

“Maybe you can put it up next time, see if you can get the bun within regulation.” Finishing the last button on her uniform shirt, she tucks her it in and fastens her belt.

“I think I’ll leave that one up to you, you’re the expert.” Boots tied, he made his way across the room to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She stood still for a moment, cleaning up her eyeliner. He rested his head on hers, eyeing her reflection. “God, you’re beautiful.” He paused a moment, grinning. “Norah Jean. Yeah, that’s good. I like that.” Hearing her name from his mouth sounded so right.

She turned around in his arms, standing on her toes to press a kiss to his lips. “We should go.”

“Mhmm, maybe just one more.” His hands cup her cheeks, and he kisses her slowly, savoring every second he gets.

Then the two of them walk out the door and pretend to be nothing more than friends while they try to save the galaxy.

-

She’s alive. She’s alive and everything hurts. She shifts and immediately freezes; white hot pain blocks every coherent thought. Alarms wail in the distance, she focuses on their sound, breathing through the pain. Most of the debris missed her on the way down. She’s not pinned under anything; she just hurts like hell. She shifts slowly, black spots dancing in her vision, working her way to a sitting position. She moves her left leg, and the pain comes again, this time she can think enough to pinpoint the source. Her knee is wrecked, probably. But it sure hurts like a bitch.

One more try. Gotta be worth one more try. She grips the low wall of a garden bed behind her as she tries to get to her good foot.

Tries.

The more she moves the more she hurts. Can’t even fucking breathe right around the shooting pain in her ribs. Swearing, she let herself sink back down to the floor. Somebody’ll find her. Eventually. Probably.

-

After two weeks of debriefings and medical paperwork and an official Alliance investigation, she was finally free. She’d been put on a week of mandatory shore leave, along with the rest of the Normandy’s Alliance crew. Looking around the courtyard, she spots Kaidan, just where he said he’d wait, and she’s making her way over to him. He looks up from his omnitool with a smile as their fields intersect.

“Hey, Norah Jean.” He gets halfway off the bench when she grabs his shirt and kisses him senseless, crutches falling to the ground. He reacts almost immediately, one hand sliding around her waist and kissing her back, oh so slowly, calming her frantic pace. When they pull away for air, his free hand cradles her face, thumb gently brushing over her cheek. He presses a kiss to her nose. “Hey, hey, we’ve got time.”

“Let’s get away, Kaidan, just the two of us.” She’s still breathless, all she wants is to kiss him again, but she settles for resting her forehead against his chest.

“You got a place in mind?”

“My grandparent’s old house, in Anchorage. Couple hours away, at least. Quiet and pretty unlikely to be occupied this time of year.”

“Then let’s get out of here.” He grabs her crutches and hands them to her, before grabbing his own bag off the bench.

-

Six hours and a trip to the grocery store later, they’re climbing out of a skycar in front of a modest looking house, twenty minutes outside the city limits of Anchorage, Alaska. Standing on the porch, Norah Jean leans her crutches against the siding to dig into a rarely used pocket of her duffel bag. She retrieves an old set of keys, unlocking the doorknob, then leaning all her weight against the door to unlock the deadbolt. The door creaks as she swings it open.

“After you.” She waves Kaidan and his armful of grocery bags into the dark house, grabbing her crutches and following him in, locking the door behind them. She flips the lights on, illuminating the living room and kitchen.

“Nice place. You spend a lot of time here?” Kaidan sets their groceries down on the counter, separating out the perishables. Norah Jean leans on the bar, smiling at him as he opens a bottle of beer and passes it to her.

“Not anymore, used to visit all the time as a kid though. Pretty sure my bedroom hasn’t changed in 20 years.” She clinks her bottle against his and takes a swig.

“Let me guess, you’ve got model ships all over your room.”

“Close. Old space stations and satellites. Plus, a scale model of the solar system, minus the sun.”

“Impressive.”

“I like to think so.”

“Can’t wait to see it.”

“You’ll see when groceries are put away.”

“And you’re not gonna help me?”

“Kaidan, if you want me in that tiny kitchen with my crutches, I’ll gladly grab one thing at a time and put it away, but I prefer to stay out of the way. This is a two-butt kitchen, max, and these crutches may as well be an extra butt.”

Kaidan laughs. “Fine, fine, but if you want another beer, you’re grabbing it yourself.”

“I can live with that.”

He puts the last few things in the cupboards, then wanders back around to the bar, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. “C’mon, Norah Jean, give me the grand tour.”

“I’m afraid it’s not all that grand, but I’ll indulge you.”

She leads him around the first floor, showing him the fireplace in the living room that’s older than half the house itself. Down the hall is a bathroom and the office that sometimes doubles as a guest room, where Kaidan spends at least 10 minutes asking questions about the artifacts and antiques in display cases along the wall. Between the two is the back door.

Upstairs was another bathroom, the master bedroom, and the other two bedrooms.

“I’d show you Jamie’s room, but I’m pretty sure it’s locked, and also I don’t care, but here’s my old bedroom in all its glory.” Norah Jean swings open the door, flicking on the light, revealing blue-black walls and ceiling, spattered with thousands of white speckles. A handful of constellations are carefully mapped out across the walls.

“Wow.” Kaidan idly traces along the lines of Orion with a finger, gazing around at the sky on her walls. “Did you paint all this?”

Norah Jean snorts, “Hell no, my grandpa did most of it, I helped. Well, I helped as much as a fidgety 5-year-old can muster when she’d rather be outside. Pretty sure there’s a few sets of handprints scattered around from me and Jamie.”

“It looks really good, it’s easy to see how you ended up in space after spending enough nights surrounded by walls like these. You’ve even got Arcturus up here. Didn’t you say you grew up there? On Arcturus station?”

“Yeah, Dad ran the garrison for a while, gave us a break from moving every other year. He didn’t get reassigned till I graduated high school, and by then I’d enlisted.” She drops her duffel bag on the floor, walking across the room to sit on the bed. “How’d you work your way back to the Alliance? After Jump Zero, I mean.”

“Time, mostly. Dad tried not to talk about it, didn’t want to push me further away.” He drops his own bag next to hers and sits on the bed beside her. “Aunt Irene, though, she wouldn’t let it go. She was always trying to talk me into the Marines, long as I can remember. It got a little better as I got older, but then after BAaT, she mostly quit talking about it, just the odd comment once or twice a year. Then a few months before my 22nd birthday, she talked me into staying a week with her and her wife in Rhode Island, to get away from Vancouver and breathe for a bit, y’know, see the Atlantic Ocean, Niagara Falls, few other places. The whole week she didn’t bring up the Alliance even one time. I got so curious that I finally cracked and asked her about it my last day there. She told me I was more than old enough to make my own choice, that she’d talked it up all she could and especially after the disaster with BAaT, all she could do now was support whatever choice I came to. I enlisted 6 months later.”

“Sounds like she really had an impact on you.”

“Yeah. She was having a blast drilling recruits out on Jump Zero when I finally decided. I think she’s still there. She’s made a hell of a reputation breaking in cadets, earned the nickname “Mad Major Mabbit”, she thinks it’s the greatest thing.”

Norah Jean stares at him, mouth hanging open. “No.”

“Yeah.”

“No, Kaidan, she took a year on Arcturus my first year of training, I swear to God she was the reason I almost dropped out. We were butting heads all year. And she’s your aunt?”

“Really? She’s the reason you nearly washed out? I wonder what she’d have to say about you now?”

“Probably not much good, I mean, we did steal the Normandy.”

Before he can say anything in response Norah Jean shivers, then, a long, low rumble of thunder rattles the house. Her face lights up and she shoots off the bed, hopping on her good leg before snatching up her crutches and racing to the window.

“It’s thundering! Let’s go downstairs and watch the storm!” She grabs her N7 hoodie from her bag, tossing it on.

Kaidan gives her a look. “You want to go sit in the rain, just because its thundering?”

“No, I want to sit under the back porch, enjoy the smell of the rain, and watch the lightning, all while staying perfectly dry.”

“Alright, I think I can get behind that.” He gets up off the bed, searching in his own bag for a jacket, pulling it on as Norah Jean works her way down the hall.

He joins her at the top of the stairs, not sure if she stopped to wait or if she doesn’t know how to get down them. Her laser focused stare down the steps says the latter.

“Do you trust me?”

She looks up at him, chewing her lip. “Why?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Yes?”

“Good, I’ll carry you down the stairs.”

Norah Jean makes an undignified squeak as he sweeps her off her feet, careful not to jostle her knee. One arm is almost uncomfortably tight around his neck, and the other grips her crutches as he walks down the stairs. He carries her to the couch, gently setting her down to let her sort herself out.

“You know, I’ve got to learn how to get down the stairs sometime this week.” She grumbles as she gets to her foot, making for the bar and their half-forgotten beers.

“Here, I’ll grab those, and some new ones. And don’t worry, I’ll let you work out the next time yourself.”

He follows her out the back door, to an old bench just out of the way of the water splashing over the edge of the gutters.

“You sure we’ll stay dry?” He passes her one of the open beers.

“Probably. Unless the wind blows this way, we’ll be fine.”

He looks out at the back yard. Lightning flashes, he counts on instinct. Thunder crashes overhead.

“Ten seconds.” She swings her good leg as she sips her beer. “Do you get a fun tingly feeling from thunderstorms? Or is it just 2.5s and 3s?”

“Sometimes. Don’t usually associate it with fun though, it’s just kinda weird feeling to me. I don’t think 2s are as sensitive to it.”

“Huh. I’ve always loved thunderstorms, partly for the feeling. Just one of those things that reminds me I’m still here. Still kicking.”

“Yeah.” He reaches for her hand and she laces her fingers with his.

13 notes • Posted 2021-05-19 06:45:10 GMT

#1

Aftermath - Chapter 2

Read on AO3

Chapter 1

Sugar?

Kaidan steps through the door into the medbay, greeted by the smell of antiseptics and the doctor’s warm smile. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, I’m having a bit of a problem with our dear Commander, she’s locked herself in her quarters with a migraine, and normally I wouldn’t fuss, but she’s been in there since yesterday, and when I stopped by to check up on her this afternoon, she wouldn’t open the door. As far as I can tell she hasn’t so much has poked her head out that door since she shut it. I did consider calling Jeff down to check on her, but I’d hate to bring him all the way here and have Shepard turn him away. You’re the one best equipped to handle the situation at hand.”

“And you said she’s been in there for 24 hours?” Kaidan knew the stress of the 2 weeks since Virmire was taking its toll on the Commander, and that she’s been working through a migraine, but he’d never seen her down for more than a few hours.

“A little longer than that, really, she stopped by yesterday around noon to tell me she was locking herself in there until the worst of it passed. I believe her exact words were ‘Once my brain stops trying to implode and ooze out of my amp jack’.” Dr. Chakwas grimaced at the description as she repeated it. “I offered her a dose of painkillers, but she waved it off and went on her way.”

“Yeah, ouch, I’ll see if I can’t convince her to at least eat something.”

“Thank you, and good luck.”

-

Thermos of coffee, water bottle, and hot leftovers in hand, Kaidan leans against the wall beside the door as he sends off a message to Shepard. Hopefully, she was awake. Knocking wouldn’t work, the chances of her hearing aids being on were slim. He’d noticed she had the habit of turning them off when things started to overwhelm her. Feels like they’ve been off more than on lately. He breathes a sigh of relief when the indicator light flashes from red to green, and the door hisses open. As the door shuts behind him, it’s clear that she’s turned off every light she possibly could. The emergency lighting along the floor is still on, though he’s sure she considered cracking into the electrical panel to deal with them.

Walking further into the dark room, he almost believes she isn’t there. Almost. He spots her curled up with a pillow over her head as he pulls a chair up to the side of the bed. Her field feels different without her amp in, softer around the edges, but it still vibrant enough to pop and fizzle against his own. As he sits down and sets the food and drinks on the end table, Shepard moves her pillow to squint at him. He tries not to let his eyes linger on her bare arms or the near meter of hair spread across the mattress.

“Doc told me it was a nasty one.” Kaidan signs, “So I came with coffee. Pretty sure it’s strong enough to give a Krogan heart palpitations, so it should help.”

She pulls herself up to sit against the headboard. She looked like hell. “Sugar?”

“Plenty, don’t worry.” He uncaps the thermos and passes it into her waiting hands. As she takes a sip, her eyes slide closed and Kaidan swears he’s never seen such a blissful look on her face. He lets her enjoy the coffee for a moment before catching her attention again. “If you’re feeling up to it, I’ve got some leftovers too. If you don’t eat soon, I think Chakwas might break down your door and sit on you until you do. Or worse, drag you to the medbay.”

Shepard almost reluctantly sets the coffee down, reaching for the container as Kaidan snaps open the lid and sticks a fork in the steaming spaghetti. The second she takes a bite it’s like a switch flips and the second and third bites follow soon after. Half the container is gone before she pauses to take another drink of coffee and glances up at Kaidan. “I know this is just leftovers, but fuck, it tastes so good I could kiss you.”

Kaidan laughs as his cheeks redden, and he brings up his omnitool to check some emails while she finishes her food. He needs to distract himself from the fact that he wants her to kiss him. He makes sure to send one off to Chakwas, reassuring her that he’s gotten Shepard eating and at least caffeinated. He moves the bottle of water closer to the coffee, waving his hand next to it catch her attention and let her know its there.

“So. Ears are on now, by the way, don’t worry about signing. I had an idea, to boost morale. I can’t be the only person on this ship cracking under the stress, so I’m gonna see if I can’t work out some kind of sparring match in the cargo bay. Prizes and stuff, plus something extra for the first crewmate who can get me down on the mat.”

“Yeah? You sure anybody’ll go for it?” He spoke softly, the way she kept her eyes half closed told him the pain was still very much there.

“Oh, you know, I’ve overheard a conversation or two, some of the other marines are totally sure they can take me, just, without the biotics. Remember, some of these jarheads have never actually seen me in the field.”

“Yeah, or they’d never dream of going toe-to-toe with you. What’s your grand prize?”

“Probably some credits and a few pistol mods? I don’t know for sure yet.”

“I think it’s a great idea, help everybody loosen up a bit.” He checks the time; he drew the short straw for the watch in the CIC. “Alright, I’ve got my watch coming up soon, so I’ll get out of your hair. Go check in with Chakwas if you can brave the lights out there.”

“I’ll try.”

Kaidan makes it halfway to the door before he remembers the chocolate bar in his pocket. The good chocolate. Not impossible to get ahold of in space, but also not high on any Alliance requisition lists. He walks back to the bed, partially melted chocolate in hand.

“I forgot about this. A good bar of chocolate almost always helps a migraine.”

She looks reverently at the chocolate, hand outstretched, but not grabbing it. “Are you sure? This is definitely not on any of our supply lists.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got a few more stashed away, don’t worry about it.” He presses the bar into her hand, closing her fingers around it. He’s halfway out the door when she speaks again.

“Kaidan? Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

-

Kaidan watches what has to be at least 2/3 of the crew milling around the cargo bay, navy and marines, humans and aliens, all chatting and joking around. He’d picked a good spot, back near a wall, next to Joker. Near the center of the bay, he hears a thud as the Commander puts another marine on the mat. She offered up a prize of 300 credits and a few choice pistol mods to the first person who could get her on the mat, no biotics, no tech, just good old fashioned hand-to-hand. At least Shepard’s got the decency to help them up off the mat after she kicks their asses. Still, even after half a dozen crewmates beat, there’s still plenty looking to try their luck at beating Commander Shepard. She doesn’t even look like she’s broken a sweat.

Kaidan fiddles with his omnitool, pretending he isn’t interested in the match. Another marine hits the mat, and his eyes flick up watch Shepard help Fredricks up onto his feet, and this time she looks right at him, a mischievous glint in intense brown eyes.

“You up for a challenge, Alenko?” Her voice carries clearly over the chatter and general noise of the cargo bay.

Kaidan knows he’s got the look of a deer caught in headlights but recovers gracefully enough. “Oh, no, Commander, I’m content just watching you take out every other marine on board.”

“What, are you scared you’ll beat your CO? Don’t worry, you won’t.”

Joker leans over, with a hand up to his mouth for an especially dramatic stage whisper. “You know if you walk away the crew will never let you live it down. Neither will Norah Jean. She’ll be bringing it up for at least the next 10 years. Believe me.”

Kaidan looks between Joker and Shepard, who’s still standing on the mat, hands on her hips and already looking like she’s won. Then he sighs and wades through the onlookers. Once in the ring he looks down at her. “You know, you’re a real pain in the ass, right?”

“I try.”

Kaidan makes his way to the table set up a few feet from the edge of the mat and makes a show of taking off his uniform shirt, then unplugging his amp, setting both on the table beside hers. Slowly they begin to circle each other.

“Think you can beat me?”

“Shepard, I have no illusions of how this is going to end. I watched you bring Fredricks down in 6 moves. He’s twice your size. My chances aren’t looking good here.” He throws a jab at her left side, testing her reflexes, and she blocks it easily.

They trade blows, trying to whittle each other down, and Adams is clearly about to call it in a draw when Kaidan lunges forward. Then the cargo bay blurs and his back slams onto the mat, knocking the wind right out of his lungs. Shepard is beaming above him. She offers a hand to help him haul himself up, and he moves for his discarded shirt and amp.

“Uh, yeah, Shepard, remind me not to get in your way.”

She pats his shoulder and gives him a thumbs up as she drinks her water.

12 notes • Posted 2021-04-30 08:19:34 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[yikesharringrove]

Dude! How cute that you're doing this Harringrove prompt list thing! x3 I support you and your writing journey, so hey! I'd honestly LOVE to see some 35-Babysitting shit :') Mayhaps pair it with no.22? xDD I think it could make a cute combo?

22: “That wasn't meant for you.”

35: Babysitting

I typed this all out and then my computer crashed so that’s why it took a million years I’m so sorry but thank you for your request and being my biggest fan :’) I wanted to incorporate some of the cute nicknames we talked about too!

Everything Billy remembers his mom saying about baking are all things my mom has told me about cooking and baking and stuff. I made cookies eight before I wrote this and I was on the phone with her and she kept reminding of those like she hasn’t been saying them my entire life it was so cute.

Billy doesn’t know how he keeps ending up in these positions. Actually, he knows exactly how. All Steve fucking Harrington needs to do is add that little pouty whine into his voice and promise I’ll make it up to you please, Bill I really need your help just grab El and bring her home, Robin asked me to cover her next shift she said it was an emergency, I need you, Bill please and Billy is tripping over himself to do whatever it is he wants.

Which was apparently babysitting? He picked up El from the Wheeler’s stupid giant house, deftly avoiding Karen as he went, and drove her to that creepy-turned-admittedly-cozy cabin in the woods place she and Hop call home, only to find Hop in full uniform clambering into his old truck throwing an “it’s an emergency, kid. Just feed her some dinner and make sure she goes to bed” over his shoulder at Billy.

El pulled him into the house and they spent the first hour or so sitting in an odd silence on either end of the small couch. She was steadily working her way through a worn copy of Charlotte’s Web on which Billy could practically SMELL Nancy Wheeler, asking Billy definitions for unfamiliar words every now and again.

It was his idea to bake cookies. He used to love following his mom around the kitchen, clinging to her skirt as she explained what she was doing in her sweet voice, always use coarse Kosher salt it has better flavor than anything else, and add an extra egg than the recipe calls for, I think eggs have gotten smaller. He relayed this information to El as he went, her clinging to his every word, looking at him with wide, trusting eyes.

He was just pulling the first batch of sweet golden cookies from the oven when Steve busted into the cabin like the fucking Kool-aid Man, the door bouncing off the wall with the sheer force used. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, big eyes huge, hair disheveled, and not in that artful way he’s been super into right now (not that Billy’s complaining, he has sex hair like 100% of the time now, it’s hot), and he’s still wearing that stupid, sexy, little sailor suit

“Bill, I’m so fucking sorry. I saw Hop and he said you were babysitting he told me El just needed a ride, I’m so sorry man.” He thumped over to Billy and got all up in his space.

“Nah, baby. It’s okay. El and I were having a pretty good time getting these all made.” Steve was looking at him with the sweetest, softest eyes ever and Billy could feel the heat creeping up his neck.

“Wait, you two baked? Can I have one?” He reached to choose a cookie from the hot tray, which Billy shifted out of his reach, only to be met with Steve’s famous pout.

“Actually, these weren’t meant for you. Cookies are for people who help and don’t lie to their boyfriends and leave them stranded with terrible children.” He gave El one of the steaming cookies with a wink. She smiled at them. Steve rolled his eyes.

“I said I was sorry. C’mon Bills. Forgive me? Pretty please.” He REALLY knows what he’s doing. He batted his eyes at Billy, letting his bottom lip pout out. Billy wanted to bite it. He rolled his eyes in turn.

“Jesus fuck-FINE. Here. You can eat one now,” He leaned closer to purr right into Steve’s ear, putting a cookie straight into that mouth of his. “But later, I get to eat you.” He grinned at the flushed look on Steve’s face and turned around, depositing the cookies on the counter.

“Alright El and I were gonna watch a movie, you hangin’ with us, Mac n’ Steve?” Steve appeared to shake himself out of his (probably horny) trance and smiled at the nickname.

When Hop came home, he opened the cabin door to El, fast asleep on a sleeping Steve, curled up on a very awake, and minorly disgruntled Billy.

[ineedrelationshipadvice]

I’m jealous of his his co-worker!

ORIGINAL MESSAGE

Before we started dating, bf was basically a side piece for a woman who was in a committed relationship. He ended up feeling too guilty about it and broke it off, but the thing is they're still friends and coworkers. They still talk and like each other's posts on social media and it bothers me. He and I are very open with communication and have an otherwise healthy relationship but it makes my stomach turn when I see her name pop up on his phone...

She knows we're together but still asks for naughty pics and says she can't wait to see him at work. I brought it up to him before n he said he would have a talk with her about it. He's been out of town for the holidays for several weeks, so I'm not sure how the texting is but I still see them liking each other's pics. I'm not sure if I'm overly anxious or if my jealousy's justified. Everything about them interacting just makes me extremely uncomfortable in an otherwise amazing relationship

_______

REPLY

I think your best bet moving forward with this is to have some patience. I do think your jealousy is fair. That was already a bit of a sketchy relationship they had to begin with, and the fact that she is intruding upon your relationship by asking for lewd pictures is just completely inappropriate any way you swing it.

But I do think you're being overly-anxious as well. It's fine to feel that way; again, you have the justification for your feelings. But you are certain you have a stable relationship, and you don't want to accidentally mess anything up with that by panicking. That'll solve nothing.

So what should you do? Firstly, I think patience is your best bet. It's the holidays, he's out of town, lots of stuff is happening. But all those problems will disappear in the very near future once things get back to normal and calm down. He'll come home, you can both resume your normal schedules, and you can see how much their behaviour has actually changed. If they're continuing to talk over the next couple weeks, bring the topic back up.

"Hey, I noticed you guys are still interacting. How did that talk with her go?" Pay close attention to the way I worded that sentence. First, you aren't just busting down the door to his privacy Kool-Aid man style. You're noticing if they're talking first, taking your time to analyze the situation, and not jumping to conclusions. Then, when you see that it's been occuring with a pattern, say so! Point out the pattern of behaviour. Then, just ask him how talk went. This is not a confrontational statement. You're not like, "WHY YOU STILL TALKIN' TO THAT SLUT HUH?!" You're just asking a simple question, a question about his control over this situation. He said he would talk to her and solve this; has he? Did it work? That's all you want to know, if he actually executed on his plans.

There are a few things that can happen in response. First, he might have said, "I talked to her but she's not stopping." Then it's time to take control of the situation and say, "Perhaps you should let her know that you two shouldn't be interacting that way. I feel like she's intruding on our relationship and it's making me jealous and uncomfortable." He can do with he pleases with that info.

Secondly, he might say, "I haven't talked to her yet." Cool. Just remind him that it still bothers you, and you'd like him to do that soon. Then give him time, maybe a 2-4 weeks max, and see how things develop from there.

Thirdly, he might say something to the effect of, "This isn't that big of a deal," or "I don't want to talk to her about that," or, "Why are you getting so upset by her?" THIS is your red flag, and it means there are some very immediate problems that need to be handled in your relationship. If he has suddenly changed his tune from being open with you and trying to handle things that are upsetting you to stone-walling you and being unwilling to take your feelings into proper consideration, this is a major red flag for either him just being a jerk and not caring about you, or potential behviour that leans toward infidelity or cheating. Obviously not good, and you can't make assumptions based on this alone. But if this does happens, this further justifies your anxieties over this situation, and your alarm bells should start ringing.

[innerworkingsofthedangerzone]

untitled.

When I first met you, I had no idea I would grow to love you as I do now. I had no intentions of falling in love with you, that's not how things were supposed to be. And then one day, you were sitting in front of me at two in the morning, we were talking and our matching brown eyes met for a moment. Within that moment, a flood of overwhelming emotions invaded my body, leaving me confused and gasping for air. Why am I feeling this way? What the fuck is this? WHAT IS HAPPENING? These were a couple of the questions scrambling through my brain, demanding answers. Weeks went by and I fought off the feelings. I was married. To a member of your family. I had to fight it off.

"This is wrong. Stop it, right now. You know better. It's only going to end badly for you." Each statement replayed over and over inside my brain like a broken record stuck on the same song. I still couldn't help it. I couldn't stop it. Honestly? I didn't want to stop it.

It wasn't a secret that I wasn't happy with my marriage. I had been contemplating a way out, each thought unsuccessful solely because of the overwhelming fear of what would happen to me if I did attempt to leave my husband, but goddammit I had to do something before I ended up so unhappy with my life that I had no other choice but to end my life; a thought that had circulated through my mind on multiple occasions.

As my marriage began to unravel at the seam, I came to the conclusion that I owed it to myself and my daughter to be genuinely happy. So, I made the call.

It was 10:30pm and I was shaking so badly from the nerves that I know you could hear it in my voice. I sent you a text message to see if you were still awake. It literally read "Are you awake?"

You texted me back immediately.

"Yes. Who is this?"

FUCK. Now what? With my hands still trembling, I picked up my phone and hit the call button; this wasn't something I could do over text message, which was even worse considering the insanely high amounts of fucking anxiety that I have. The phone only rang twice before you picked up. You said hello in your naturally deep and calming voice and in that moment, I wanted to throw up and then hang up. Fortunately, I did neither. I greeted you back and asked if you even knew who you were talking to. Of course you didn't, so I informed you. You were almost a little surprised that it was me, I could hear it in your voice. Well, here comes another surprise.

You knew immediately that something wasn't right. You asked me what was wrong and if I remember correctly, I froze and then immediately started crying. I was fucking terrified. You gently told me to breathe and to tell you what was going on. I remember taking the deepest breath I have ever taken and just blurted it out. "I'm in love with you. I have been for quite a while." FUUUUUUUUCK. No turning back now. And then you said something I'll never forget. Something that would change the course of my future.

"I love you, too, Kaylynn."

Wait. What the fuck? Did he just...?

It took me a moment longer than it probably should have for me to respond in the correct way, but when the reality of what door I had just busted down like the Kool-Aid man had set in, an insane amount of relief had filled my body and soul. Once we had established and accepted the feelings the two of us shared, we talked for almost an hour long. I was informing you of the events that had taken place since the last time I had seen you. You were also doing the same. It had been almost a month since I had last seen you but it didn't seem like any time had passed at all in that moment. It was just you and I. It felt right.

Weeks had passed, you and I talked in secrecy. My marriage continued imploding upon itself and I had established that although I didn't know how I was going to do it, I was going to leave my husband. I deserved to be fucking happy. You and I went back and forth on multiple occasions. My fear of my husband hindered my ability to make the right choice for myself, although I knew that with the track He and I were currently on, I would end up seriously injured, if not worse. Fear does extremely ignorant things to the human body and brain.

And then something completely unimaginable and absolutely devastating happened that would cause a ripple effect in all of our lives. My husband, the man I married, the father of my child, would be arrested on March 4th, 2022 for an unforgivable act that immediately sent a fire down my spine. Immediately after his arrest, the only person I wanted to hear from was you. You reached out but I couldn't respond. Definitely one of the top five most agonizing hours of my life. When I was finally able to reach out to you, it was only through text, but it was better than nothing. You and I jumped into action. Now was my chance. It wasn't ideal. It wasn't how things were supposed to be. But, this was what we were dealing with, and unfortunately, the rose had it's thorns.

It took a couple of days to plan, but on March 7th, 2022 at 8:30am, I would wake up to an alarm that I had previously set, extremely anxious and nervous, might I add, I'd pack some essentials for my daughter and I and at around 10:00am, you'd arrive at my doorstep and rescue me like the Prince fucking Charming that you were that day.

I don't necessarily have words for how I felt when I saw you that day; it was certainly a blur, to say the least.

What I do know, though? It was the best decision I have ever made for myself in my life.

On March 7th, 2022, I realized how in love with you I truly was. The realization hit me as soon as I saw your vehicle pull into my driveway. You were there to save me. Not because you felt like you had to, but because you wanted to.

That's when I knew you were the one; every day since that day, my heart and soul have belonged to you.

I can't wait to see where our future takes us. You're everything I could have ever dreamed of. You see me as a partner. I see you as a soul mate. I have been waiting for someone like you and now that I have you, someone that sees me for who I am, I do not want to let you slip away.

l will not let you slip away.

I want you to be my happy ending. My forever. However long our forever is.

I love you more, Steven.

[jesperfilth24]

Keen with Psychopathy | Discarded Chapter

The dusty brink walls weren’t as uncomfortable as Keen had expected. His head leaned back; drowned by the priceless view. Not of the sun that rose across the glass river, but of the famous Greg Gallrantree who struggled his walk. An inevitable, funny attempt of survival.

Particles of dirt and wooden grain floated around Keen’s Velcro suit. From his prey, he was at the perfect distance; the perfect circumstance; the perfect aim. Construction barrels covered his silhouette. The roof’s shade fell on Keen’s blond scalp as he peaked out.

Action would commence, and he’d get a front-row seat. His sniper rifle clicked. Swayed in gloved hands. His trousers’ belt bore the rouge pistol he kept, though, only on important missions, he’d ever used it. He couldn’t hold his smile. And who would to this sight?

Greg dragged his leg. Bullets had been shot in his left. Blood spilled like a bottle without its cap. Grass soaked the hemoglobin, and turned them into a dry, pale red. He gritted his teeth. Mouth deteriorated by Tabaco and Cocaine. Grunts and swears spewed. Keen’s gun unlocked. The Target limped to the dock’s departure.

Every sound of pain exhilarated Keen. Every groan and adult complaint which escaped Greg’s lips. What struggle, even though death was irrefutable! Everything he’d get, he deserved, and perhaps, had it better with him and Dully to execute him. A pair of Occidere, called or by post-mail to kill whoever tramps maliciously on the Land of the Free, and Home of the Brave. That week’s lucky contestant was Greg Gallentree, a cinematic producer of children shows. Fond of them on set, but fonder of them in bed a tad more.

The eighteen year-old assassin, Keen Tuer. He was to kill him, it was set in stone.

He didn’t do all the work, however.

The shots on Greg’s right leg were skilled; surprisingly skilled; Compared to Dully’s complete miss he’d done two weeks ago. His fever had dragged for ages, yet after ailment, Dully still had it. The bullets here were perfect. They pierced Greg’s leathery epidermis. Inside, gold shone, as red hurried out. Keen nodded his head in agreement. Good progress; wonderful progress even. He smiled, one he showed daily, though, the difference was it wasn’t merely derived from torment or pain. He learned from him? Cute.

Greg jingled his array of keys, herded by a single ring. His one-legged limp continued. The door two yards away. He picked through his keys as he limped closer.

Fingers frantic. He rummaged through the collage of noisy metal. Not the silver short one. Nor the long bronze one either. ‘C’mon…c’mon’ he whispered. Or tried to. Keen could hear it from the abandoned fishing house.

Greg twirled his fingers. Twenty-two keys clanked and brushed together. A handicap for he owned too many estates. Then, Greg twitched with joy. His hand fondled a small ebony key. He exhaled, and rested on the threshold of his pearl yacht. He filled the master lock. It squeaked; it turned; it cried, and it was nothing but a signal; a cue.

Keen raised the scope to his eye, finger on the trigger. Ready for the harsh pull, but he held back. He anticipated the man’s relief. To kill him, wasn’t his only priority, though it was a large part of it. It was to see him relax, draw quiet prayers for a God he didn’t believe in, just for Keen to reap the opportunity away from him. That drive . . . it kept him in such a wonderful job. His innocent smile turned schizophrenic, crafted for adaption. He tapped the trigger. Breath moderate. Toes steady. Hand lusted haste. The bullet went amiss. A quiet pop omitted from the gun.

It pierced Greg’s dangling gold necklace. It’d dung rather than bled. He idled; hand on the door knob. His expression pathetic. A dog who did a misdeed. Even a dirty mutt would know his mistakes, and Greg’s karma was in the form of a French teen with a swift murderous instinct.

He aimed. Scope fluctuated between his neck and his brain. Should he do a bullet to the head? But such a death would be so immediate, it’d be bliss. No—it had to be painful.  And news had it that the piranhas were still active.

Reloaded—Keen shot another shell to his intact support. The leg Dully hadn’t shot. The left one. It burst; new, exposed gushes squished, as the bullet took leverage into his thigh. Greg inclined backward. Hands flailed the same rhythm as his scream sang its delightful song. A splash wetted the dock; and now it served a murky red river. Bubbles rose to a surface like the tiny fish that dwelled at his body. And when the blood turned transparent, it mimicked the Kool-aid dear Dully had drunk an hour ago. His body was a sunk raft for little illegal creatures to feed on.

WL Zoo had been at it with their piranha smuggling conflicts. They’d dumped hazardous species in the river after the police—real police—busted them. When will they learn?

But then again, why’d Greg parked his yacht at the hotspot located in infested waters? Was he that stupid? The harbor across had been filled with schooners. Sails cracked and weathered sailors howled. Didn’t have enough room. He’d rather take piranha’s than poor sailors? Imbecile.

The rich just believe to be immortal.

He knelt along the gravel, Greg’s body floated, then struck the river bed. Fish nipped at his drug pumped flesh. Could they get high off that? Probably.

A branch crushed behind him. Tactless and ditzy movement. Keen turned, eyes perked up, his insomnia, three hours of sleep unapparent. It was obvious who it’d been.

Dully bowed, ‘Good morning Master.’ And Keen nodded.

He stepped against the salmon grass and gravel as he came beside him. He stood, out-of-place. His hand rubbed at his bare white shoulder. The only thing exposed in his cat suit.

He swiped short glances at Keen. Cyan—maybe a little more blue—eyes stared. They engrossed himself with the view of Keen.

He’d look back. His neck tense. Dully’s eyes on them, then on the sky. He’d pretended. He’d looked at him. Keen turned away, and he could feel it. His eyes on him. He was looking at him profusely. Though his intention unclear. What did he want?

Keen turned to start the conversation, eyes lay on his skinny figure ‘, The man’s death was quite satisfying don’t you think?’

Not a good conversation topic, but enough for Keen to infer as to why he was anxious.

‘Ah yes Master,’ Dully agreed, he would agree, even though he gagged whenever Keen mentioned killing. But from the way his eyes trailed, and the deep, possibly even deeper glare than what it first had been, this was different. ‘It was very satisfying,’ and Keen faced at the horizon.

Dully stared again, a wave swished along the back of Keen’s hand. The dock a washed brown. Dully opened his mouth. He hanged the words along the edge of his tongue, before he retracted them.

Just say it Dully, just say it!

But he didn’t. Pure silence, pure wave, pure awkwardness.

It wasn’t his responsibility to ask him what was wrong. Dully was fourteen, old enough to say what he needed say, wasn’t he? Keen sighed, warm air rubbed against his veined arm; Dully couldn’t do anything, he needed him, or else he’d die. He couldn’t start a conversation without him. Keen raised, eyes rolled, they kissed the sky—Like always, he must do everything.

He twisted his head, possession looked away at the nick of time. ‘Why’re staring at me so intently? You want me?’ Yes, this was a cringe-inducing one-liner. To break the ice was a good option. It didn’t embarrass him. Dully was a different story.

He blushed, cheeks almost the same color as the splatter of blood beneath his feet.

‘No! I just . . . um…’ he trailed. ‘I just wanted to ask what you think of my shots.’

‘Your shots?’

‘Yes, on Greg, I mean.’ He twiddled his pointers, legs rubbed together. The red on his face defined, bright. What did he want? Like… A compliment?

‘They were okay,’ Keen said. No elaboration, nothing. His heart warmed. He wanted to see how Dully would react. Did he think of Keen as important? He lusted a satisfying reaction. Suzuki, if she was here, she’d do the same.

‘Ah I see . . .’ Dully’s face darkened. Lips pursed, hidden into their thickness. His eyes formed imperceptible water along the tiny crevices between the white orbs and Asian slits. But with a heavy gulp, he seemed to hold it in. Same melodramatic Dully. But he did have somewhat of a reason to be sad.

He had worked hard. No days of sleep, to perfect his gun skills, while Keen had laid on the sofa for a nap. It was hard to sleep at all, much less of a chance with a nitwit shooting a gun. He was handier with a knife. The blade he’d given Dully. A small dagger with a blue line in the middle. He too, would use it only on important missions. Though, compared to his gun, it didn’t mean anything of significance.

Another wave has splashed; a boomed click in his sick brain. It’d hit him; a question which itched him to be answered.

How far does his opinion of me extend? Is it that important to him?

He shouldn’t take it. It’d break him, he was too sensitive—

‘Master…do you think I’m improving?’

The satisfaction was right there for the taking.

He had to grab it.

He had to

‘No,’ Keen lied. ‘I don’t think you are…’

His gulps echoed along Keen’s eardrum. Satisfying. The pain delicious within him, the pain he wished he could monopolized. The pain he had monopolized.

This wasn’t enough, he needed to go the extra mile.

‘I think you should though.’

Dully leaned forward. ‘W-why?’ he stuttered. Eyes blinked as if they’d been peppered. ‘What’ll happen if I don’t improve—Master?’

Keen hid the chuckle behind the sudden seriousness of his voice. ‘Then I guess I have to throw you away.’

To hurt him was a trance. Beyond explanation. To see how his soul fell upward for a brief moment. The sight of his heart getting broken by his measly words were better than every kill he like. He loved his despair.

Keen shot up. ‘Alright, let’s go home, Mister Cooter is probably waiting for us…Dully?…Dully?’

He shook his head, eyes pushed to a heavy close as his navy blue hair flew around him, ‘Ah yes yes Master. Let’s…let’s go.’

He waddled behind him, body shifted as lifeless as Greg’s. And they ventured to the limo.

[drunklander]

Drunj!Der Yells About Outlander

Thoughts on Ep. 310

♫ side-quest ep! side-quest ep! totally worthwhile side-quest ep! ♫

(Being mostly sarcastic there, but ffs I’ve been singing it to the tune of the Spider-Man song since Saturday night and how do I make it stop...)

As a standalone thing, this was an entertaining hour of television. I’m always here to watch Claire go full Beauchamp and be badass. (I am hardcore just leeching on to the parts of this episode that I liked because dammit I’m sick of not liking most things.) As part of the season as a whole though, I have a lot of similar issues as I had last week. Except this time instead of the characters acting like they’d skipped an episode’s worth of development, it’s like why are we spending an episode this close to the end of the season on a side-quest where the only important thing that happens is finding out that Jamie’s two identities have been connected. (Yes, I know that the answer is “the book” but *puts on broken record* it’s an adaptation, they can change things.)

But whatever. I need to just proactively keep my expectations low and just enjoy episodes as individual units because apparently thinking of them as a whole season makes me roll my eyes.

Fergus with his gift for Marsali is adorable. But why does Jamie need to come off like such a dick when he asks Fergus what his business is with the cook? I’d really like to like Jamie again, show. Just sayin’.

For real though, smitten!Fergus is my favorite.

Why does Jamie act surprised that Claire is still on the Porpoise? Like he’d know if she was back on the Artemis. So where else would she be?

Where was all this passion and need to protect Claire when she’d actually been attacked in ep. 307? Because in the aftermath of that he was just a dick and didn’t bother to ask if she was ok. Cool that Jamie only acts like he gives a shit about Claire’s well-being when she’s not there.

Midshipman Fetus standing up for Claire is my everything. And Claire scolding him for licking his finger is also my everything. Basically everything with Claire and Midshipman Fetus is my everything.

Ok but the kid who plays Midshipman Fetus is named Albie and that is the most adorable name for the most adorable kid. And for real, bless the casting wizards because this dude is like a little heart-eyed puppy who follows Claire around like “don’t you dare mess with my mom.” He’s perfect.

For real though, Claire’s face when she’s like owning Mr. Overholt. Like I don’t have time for your shit, rando. Just do what I tell you. #BAMF But then her face when she’s looking over the deck of sick men and is like fuck, I can’t save all of them and is very much aware of the limits of what she can do. Basically 90% of my thoughts while watching this episode were just “omg look at Claire’s face.” I’m *rull* eloquent like that.

*throws awards at said face, just for good measure*

Seriously though. It’s so nice to finally see Claire being like listen up fives, a 10 is talking. Like yaaas queen.

And in things that aren’t shocking, it took her being away from certain dudes and their manpain for her to finally get to Kool Aid Man-style bust through the wall she built around herself and be like I’m Claire Elizabeth Motherfucking Beauchamp and I’m here to save your asses. *aggressively side-eyes a certain producer who keeps claiming that Claire needs to be defined by the men in her life*

“Just because it’s beyond *our* comprehension, Cosworth, doesn’t make it less voracious. We must believe her.” Yaaas, Captain Babyface. Am always here for people who respect Claire’s skill and knowledge.

“There’s more than disease aboard that ship, lad. There are 300 men.” Cool that Jamie understands that *men* are the source of the of sexual violence women face when Claire’s on the Porpoise, but when she was nearly raped all of three episodes ago, he was like meh, screw comforting my wife, I’m just going to tell Claire how everyone will just blame her and then go about my business.

“What good are you, you damn fool? I see I was right to withhold my blessing from you. Proves ye dinna ken what love is.” Ok, yes. Jamie is like freaking the fuck out. But jfc, you can freak the fuck out and not be a complete piece of shit to Fergus. Someone text me when Jamie isn’t a fucking asshole anymore because I’m *rull* over this.

“You would move heaven and earth. You would risk arrest and death. Even hell.” More big dramatic speeches for Jamie because clearly that’s all you need to redeem a character who was a dick for a few episodes but sorry, dude, you can speechify all you want, but your idea is still dumb and eventually your rational thought needs to come back and you need to fucking realize that. Like I get it. He’s desperate. He probably can’t survive losing Claire again. He definitely thinks that’s the case, anyway. But he’s also smart. He and Claire have been alternating rescuing each other for basically the entire series. So like dude. Stop. Take a fucking breath. Think about this for a second. Fergus is fucking right.

Although his face when he says “even hell” is so good because yeah, we all remember the way too unnecessarily graphic Wentworth episodes, dude.

“Until ye risk all, ye canna speak of love.” Nah, bro. That’s not how it works. Not every couple has to go through all the shit you and Claire went through so they can “earn” being able to say they love each other. (I don’t know why Jamie bugs me so much this half of the season that I’m like incapable of just going along with dialogue like this. Because like the show clearly wants me to think it’s all dramatic and romantic and shit. I’m apparently “watching it wrong” or something. Lol, no. Jamie’s just a fucking asshole. *eye roll at the thought that there’s a right or wrong way to watch something*)

Fergus, my dude, if Jamie’s going to say shit like this to you, maybe you should just say fuck his blessing and live your own damn life.

Midshipman Fetus’ face during the burial at sea. Omg I just want to give him a hug.

I love that Claire can’t even be bothered to tell Cosworth to fuck off. Like bro she’s so far out of your league she doesn’t even need to deign to acknowledge your bullshit with a response. Just the arms crossed lean on the rail with her face like broseph I know my value, who the fuck are you. You go, Peggy Carter Claire.

Oh the layers of Claire explaining what compartmentalizing is. Girl, you have a PhD in compartmentalizing...

“Begging your pardon, madam, but after three days of watching you at your work, I do not think much of it will come down to luck.” Midshipman Fetus is officially a member of the Claire Beauchamp Fan Club along with Ned, Fergus, Young Ian and YTC.

I’m over the rabbit shit, tbh. Like they’re trying too hard at this point. But it’s a super sweet gesture by Midshipman Fetus to give Claire the lucky charm his mom gave him.

Here for Claire dropping f-bombs and for Midshipman Fetus to just be like *heart eyes* about it. Right there with you, sir.

“Seamen will drink almost anything.” Same, tbh.

Cosworth is like the *one* antagonist dude in the series who doesn’t threaten Claire with sexual assault. All for there being conflict, but thanks for finally not making the threat of rape part of it, show. No brownie points for you for finally doing something you should have realized ages ago.

Like for real though. The bar is that low that in a crap scene that I’m still like omg but he didn’t try to rape her so they made progress and I should just move on. I don’t know why I bother with you sometimes, show.

Also seriously I keep typing Cogsworth and I’d like to apologize to the clock from Beauty and the Beast for that.

Oh so it’s Marsali helping Fergus in the credits. RIP hopes for a nice Claire and Fergus scene. Haven’t had one except the meeting on the street, have we? Le sigh. Maybe at the wedding? *lowers expectations because why should we have meaningful moments between characters we care about when we can have a whole episode about saving randos*

I really love Marsali. She reminds me a bit of Claire and I’d be so down if Fergus like told Jamie and Claire at some point that that’s part of why he likes her so much. Like not in a creepy way, obvi. *side-eyes some of Roger’s thoughts about Claire from the books* But like that she has the same strength and spirit.

Oh but then of course we get the Artemis’ crew talking about wanting to rape Marsali. Couldn’t make it through one episode, could you, show. Of course you couldn’t. Le sigh.

STOP SAYING MIDSHIPMAN FETUS LOOKS TIRED. HE’S FINE. HE’S TOTALLY OK AND WILL MAKE IT TO JAMAICA AND YOU WILL ADOPT HIM AND TELL JAMIE THAT HE GOT TO BRING HOME FERGUS SO YOU GET TO BRING HOME THIS FETUS CHILD AND EVERYONE WILL LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER.

Claire in a bandana, threatening a man with a comically large knife is my aesthetic.

For real though. Claire is just as desperate to save Jamie here as Jamie was to save her. The difference is, Claire takes a fucking minute, thinks about it and is like nope. Killing this dude is not a good idea. Need to think of another plan. Take note, Jamie.

Claire’s face when she says Jamie didn’t kill the minty fresh corpse. [insert Mentos joke here] Although Claire, it’s not your fault. Like she’s clearly thinking omg I did the thing that Jamie might hang for and there’s a sense of guilt there. But Claire. You didn’t kill the guy. You tried to save him. It was Jamie who put him in the cask. It was Jamie’s smuggling that brought the dude to the brothel in the first place. It. Is. Not. Your. Fault.

Since we’re side-questing, because lol why not, I want a whole spinoff about Annekje and her goats shenaniganing their way around the world on ships.

Like her smile though when she’s like “my goats need grass” like she knows she has a good escape plan and the language barrier is not going to put her down. She’s fucking adorable and I heart her.

Fergus is so great in this episode. You’re a better man than Jamie, dude.

The scene when Elias dies kills me. Just Claire giving him that bit of comfort in thinking his mother is there. And her face because she couldn’t save him. And he’s just so young. And guys why is my face wet.

AND SHE GIVES HIM BACK HIS RABBIT FOOT AND WHY DO I HAVE FEELINGS.

Oh man, the shot of just his single body going into the sea is so much more powerful than the shot of the multiple ones from earlier.

Bless for Captain Babyface trying to comfort Claire and give her due credit while recognizing her loss. The Babyfaces on this show, both Lt. and Capt., are so great.

Sort of side-eyeing Claire for not getting what Annekje meant earlier, but whatever. Also why so many VOs in this ep. Stahp. For real though, the way she reassures Claire that she’ll care for the sick when Claire leaves is so good. So like Claire leaves knowing she’s not breaking her oath.

Speaking of oaths...they are pesky little things, aren’t they. For real, I love Capt. Babyface. Like even when he’s a threat to Jamie, and therefore my girl Claire’s happiness, I can’t help but like him.

Oh look. Jamie’s looking at the pictures of Bree. Cool that he thinks of her when he’s by himself but when he’s with Claire all he does is insult Bree, use her to hurt Claire like a certain other doucherocket did and acknowledge that Claire misses her but doesn’t offer any similar sentiments of his own so Claire’s basically feeling like she’s going through missing Bree alone. (A hug is nice, but not the same as a comforting word to Claire about your daughter, dude. Since you have yet to say basically anything nice about Bree that you didn’t then immediately contradict when you were in a pissy mood.)

“What Fergus did, he did for you.” “If you believe that, you dinna deserve to be let out of here.” PREACH, MARSALI. FUCKING PREACH.

I love Marsali so much. I love Fergus so much. I am Fersali trash and I am 1000% ok with that.

For real though, Jamie, I get you were desperate and shit, but you’re also not an idiot. Fucking take a minute and realize that Fergus basically saved your ass from your damn self. The guy is fucking great and you are a fucking asshole. #SorryNotSorry

“You’ll need to prove yourself to her as much as to me.” Jamie. Wtaf is wrong with you. Fergus is a fucking good dude. Marsali is a good woman. They fucking love each other and each fucking know how much the other loves them. There was never any reason why they shouldn’t have gotten your blessing except that you were being a twat. Not that they even need your blessing. It’s a gesture of respect that I’m honestly not sure you’re worthy of at the moment. But wait, I forgot that you’re not a dick anymore apparently and everything’s fine, it’s all forgotten and totally ok now. (For real, I really want to like Jamie again. I’m just...struggling.)

Lol, Jamie calling Fergus “mon fils” is like the equivalent of saying a romantic book line to Claire in that it seems like the show thinks that makes everything he’s done ok.

Ok but for serious. Give Annekje her own show. She’s like so self-assured and like yeah, I totally know that this ridic thing will work because I *actually know shit about the sea*. SHE’S SO COOL AND I WANT TO BE FRIENDS WITH HER.

The JHRC’s always sound so forced. This one is no exception.

And we end on a cliffhanger. Again. Because of course we do.

But whatever. Next week we get tan, sea soaked Claire. Which does things for me. So since I’m basically just here for Claire at this point, bring on jungle shenanigans and here’s hoping the crazy fucking priest is slightly less crazy than he was in the book and they cut a bunch of the random shit when Claire’s at his house... Because fuck it, if I’m drunk enough the ridiculousness is silly enough to justify watching. I guess.

[enzoseven]

oldie

LyricsYo, shout out to everybody that worked on the album You feel me, son? Yo, shouts out to Ty Dollas Shouts out to Hodgy Daddies, shouts out to Left Brizzle Shouts out to Domyon, shouts out to Frankie Ocean Shouts out to Syd the Dude, shouts out to L-Boy AwkBig eared bandit is tossing all his manners In a bag and wrapping them in seran wrap bandages Tossing 'em in baskets with the rest of those sandwiches So when he says "Catch up, nigga" it looks like an accident Um, flowing like my pad is the maxiest My bitch white and black like she's been mimicking a panda It's the dark skinned nigga, kissing bitches in Canada Then kicking all out like Mr. Lawrence did Pamela Put her in the chamber all against her Wilt Chamberlain I never had a Reason, nigga I was just Ableton Not a fucking Logic contradicting dick head Flyer than an ostrich moshing in a tar pit Semen scented cheetah printed tee In that 'Preme five panel, I'll repeat it for the season Previous items in the present With the normal ass past like I cheated on my team It's me (Tried to get that nigga, but, Golf Wang)To have some type of knowledge that is one perception But knowing you own your opponent is a defeating bonus I'm Zeus to a Kronos, cartilage cartridge is boneless Smiles of cowards in lead showers Dead spouses in red blouses Children who fled houses on Mustang horses and went jousting I'm on my Robin Hood shit, robbin' in the hood Whips, drugs, jewels, and your pet, I'm stealing your rings Coke diamonds and your Vet, soldiers lace the fuckin' boot And salute like the troop when you shoot you gon' poop It's kill Hodgy, nigga, stay the fuck off my stoop And out my Kool aid, JuiceHodgy got the juice, I got the gin Jasper got the Henny, my nigga we get it in Wolf Gang party at the hotel I call a ho, you call a ho, and all the hoes tell You know Left Brain need a freak I need a bitch to go down like a Nitty beat Yup, uh, and her ass fat Don't be surprised if I ask where the hash at Nigga I'm tryin' to smoke, bitch get higher Domo where that Flocka Flame? Talkin' 'bout a lighter Still bang salute me or just shoot me Cause if you don't salute me then my team will do the shooting Yeah my nigga Ace will pull the black jack The king Mike G is in the cut with the black mac Livin' like the Mafia, bitch, don't get to slacking up And if these haters actin' up, throw 'em in the aqueduct Free my nigga Earl, yo, I don't really ask for much But two bad bitches in front of me cunnilingusWhat the fuck is caution? Often I leave you flossin' and cause exes next to coffins Lost in translation, the dreams you chase Got you diving for the plates like you stealin' home base That's great, I'm home alone dreamin' of two on ones With Rihanna and Christina Milian, bring it on And Travis is in the closet organizing and hangin' the tramp Three lettermans that Ace has been making him No strays while we catchin' matinees, huh? I'm gettin' blazed thinking 'bout those days I had the top off the GT3 like toupees One finger in the air, all's fair when crime pays My grand scheme of things is to be attached To the game like bitches to their wedding rings And you don't even need to look cause we gleam obscene In the light, ride slow to my yellow diamond shining Like the Batman logo over Gotham, rock LA to Harlem If you say "get 'em Mike G" then I got 'em One man squadron, nigga I'm a problem From Briggs I got bars and plans to Pimp these Polish bitches into pop stars Humanity kills, we all suffer from insanity still And if I said it then it is or it's gonna be real OF 'til I OD and I probably will, uhIt's still Mr. Smoke-a-Lotta-Pot, get your baby mommy popped With my other snobby bop, do I love her? Prolly not Know your shit is not as hot as anything I fuckin' drop Bitch I'm in the zone, stand alone, like Macaulay Cock I've been runnin' blocks since a snotty tot Big wheel was a big deal with the water Glock Now I'm all grown, sing songs just to give 'em watts Fire what I talk, but still cooler than the otter pop Op Dom neck shit in your wish list Mad sick shit, mad dick for your bitches On some slick shit, your mistress on my hit list And I'm lifted 'til I'm stiff out of this bitch Odd in your motherfuckin' area Blood clots give me five feet 'fore I bury ya Suicide flow, let the big wave carry ya Tyler got the mask like he held Jim Carey up And fuck your team, ho nigga wassup Wolf Gang so you know we not givin' no fucks You know me dog, I'm a chill in the cut so I can Cut it short, break it down, couple pounds, roll it upGet me a Persian rug where the center looks like GalagaRent a super car for a day Drive around with your friends, smoke a gram of that haze Bro, easy on the ounce, that's a lot for a day But just enough for a week, my nigga what can I say I'm hi and I'm bye, wait I mean I'm straight I'mma give you this wine, the runner just brought the grapes My brother give it some time, Morris, and Day Course you know the vibe's as fly as the rhymes On the song, cut and you could sample the feel Headphone bleed, make this shit sound real Used to work the grill, fatburger and fries Then I made a mil and them psychics was liars Now, how many fuckin' crystal balls can I buy and own Humble old me had to flex for the fogs Down in Muscle Beach pumpin' iron and bone Bumpin' oldies off my cellular phone Yeah, bumpin' oldies off my cellular phoneGoddammit, this rapping is stupid and it's hard Gotta do it over and over and over again but here I goHey it's Jasper, not even a rapper Only on this beat to make my racks grow faster Got a TV show, so I guess I'm an actor Pot head, half baked, lookin' like Chappelle Rollin' up a blunt with that fire from hell Still ignorant, still hit a bitch Wolf Gang, nigga, so I still don't give a shit Catch me in the back with Miley on my lap Bong rips as I feel on that little bitch catHah, nigga came through with a 9 bar real quick Just for the bitches, little bit of money in my pocket Fuck it, Wolf GangYeah, fuck that, look, the contrast is a pair of lips Swallowin' sarapin, settin' fires to sheriffs whips (Whoosp, whoosp) fuckin' All-American terrorist Crushin' rapper larynx to feed 'em a fuckin' carrot stick And me? I just spent a year Ferrisin' And lost a little sanity to show you what hysterics is Spit to the lips meet the bottom of a barrel So that sterile piss flow remind these niggas where embarrassed is Narrow, tight line, might impair him since I made it back to Fahrenheit, grimey get dinero type Feral, fuckin' ill apparel, wearin' pack of parasites Threw his own youth off the roof after paradise La di da di, back in here to fuck the party up Raidin' fridges, tippin' over vases with a tommy gun Never dollars, poppa make it rain hockey pucks And 60 day chips from fuckin' awesome anonymous Call him bloated 'til he show 'em that the flow deluxe Off the wall loafers, Four Loko, and a cobra clutch Vocals bold and rough, evoke a ho to pose as drum And let me hit and beat it with a stick until the hole was numb The culprit of the potent punch Scoldin' hot as dunkin' scrotum in a Folgers cup, or Nevada Drivin' drunk inside a stolen truck, shittin' like his colon bust Belly full of chicken and a fifth of old petroleum Supernova, I'm rollin' over the novices I'm roamin' through the forest and spittin' cold as the porridge is Stay gold 'til the case closed and the story end Post mortem porkin' this rap shit and record it To escort it to the morgue again, lord of lips Bored of this, forklift the tippy top, best under 40 list Stormin' the gate, ensurin' the bass, scorchin' ladies Motherfuckers sore in torso and face Get at me with savages, have a pack of Apache Indian pack of niggas who don't give a fuck if we nasty as flatulence As a matter of fact, your swagger is tacky So see me you can't like Crunchy Black catchin' a taxi Back like lateral passin' With that motherfuckin' gladiator manner of rappin' As an addict I let percocets and xannies relax me Fall back if your paddies is Maxi, pleaseOF, shit that's all I got From my bigger brother Frankie to my little brother Tac From that father figure Clancy to that skatey nigga Naks Shredding down 'Fax, Wolf Gang run the fuckin' block Storefront, knee tat Book cover is the same lettering on lettermans and cotton socks And grip tape, and my shoes Um, I was 15 when I first drew that donut 5 years later, for our label yea we own it I started an empire, I ain't even old enough To drink a fuckin' beer, I'm tipsy off this soda pop This is for the niggas in the suburbs And the white kids with nigga friends who say the n-word And the ones that got called weird, fag, bitch, nerd Cause you was into jazz, kitty cats, and Steven Spielberg They say we ain't actin' right Always try to turn our fuckin' color into black and white But they'll never change 'em, never understand 'em Radical's my anthem, turn my fuckin' amps up So instead of critiquing and bitching, being mad as fuck Just admit, not only are we talented, we're rad as fuck Bitches 

I don't own this lyrics I got it from odd future