For the ask game: "🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?"
Thank you!
There is very little they can do that doesn't put me in my feels, but I have a metric fuckton of feelings about the way Sam and Kaidan interact through the gravity well.
There is a little moment in Cantata that is subtle, and slays me whenever I think about it:
Shepard hunches into his hoodie – three years into their friendship and Kaidan didn’t even know he owned such a thing – and mutters something under his breath as he fumbles for the pair of sunglasses he’d stopped to grab in a gift shop. But Kaidan catches a view of the bay and comes to a halt.
Home.
The faint smell of salt riding the air, the reflective glint of light off the water, the chatter of seagulls. The sounds and scents of home.
Shepard makes it about five more steps before pausing to look over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “You all right back there?”
Why did Sam stop and turn around? He couldn't feel Kaidan's field. They're so connected through that invisible sixth sense, and it makes me feral.
YOU'RE WELCOME FOR THE DEEP DARK REMINISCING FROM MY HETALIA PAST :D I'M LOOKING FOR AN EXCUSE TO BUST OUT THE BUSH/BLAIR GAY BAR ONE NOW: watch?v=vzbegSLTfyY ON YOUTUBE :D
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vzbegSLTfyY
HERE’S YOUR EXCUSE because that was fucking hilarious
Saw your reblog of the Shepard and Kaiden in the shower fic, and just wanted to say that you always do the words so good
Thank you SO MUCH!
That particular conversation is one I hang my hat on. XD
There's just something so charming about the image of one of the biggest badasses in the galaxy bashfully asking for help removing a spider from the shower. I'm glad you like it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
If I'm not too late, can I request "1. Holding their hands when they are shaking", please?
This was also requested by @painterofhorizons and @urrone. Inspiration came from @mallaidhsomo, who wanted to know more about the psychological effects of the war on Kaidan, and @ziegenkind094, whose gorgeous art I haven’t been able to get out of my head.
Just remember this is all y’all’s fault. :)
Trigger warnings ahead for PTSD and panic attacks. Using a readmore for your filtering needs. It ends fluffy, I promise. These are “I love you” prompts, after all!!
~
Wordless Ways to Say “I Love You”
1. Holding their hands when they are shaking.
Shepard runs a curry comb in circles over Echo’s neck while she picks at the fresh hay in the corner feeder. The extra flake more than makes up for his oh-dark-thirty intrusion into her stall; she stands quiet save for the steady munching and occasional swish of her tail. Dust motes catch in the overhead light as he presses the rubber teeth of the comb deeper into her red coat. She’d taken a dirt bath out in the field that afternoon, and now Shepard’s face is full of it.
“You’re a mess,” he informs her. She crunches a mouthful of hay in reply instead of pointing out the obvious, which is she’s not the one who’s grooming a horse in the middle of the night instead of staying tucked in bed with his arms around the love of his life.
“Your judgement is not appreciated.”
She stomps a foot to shake off a fly.
He sighs, working the comb along her back to her hindquarters. Turns out brushing a horse has been as good for his mind as sitting on one had been for his body. The rhythmic, soothing circles combined with the soft woosh through her hairs creates a kind of white noise that empties his head.
Some nights he at least tries to sleep. Even gets a few hours here and there without dreaming at all. But other nights, he does dream.
Nights like tonight, even closing his eyes makes him feel short of breath. He’d already clawed fresh marks into his neck before calling it quits and getting out of bed.
There are people who can help you with this, Kaidan has said. Countless times. Sometimes right after a night terror, sometimes when Kaidan finds him on the porch swing watching the sun come up.
I get by okay, or some variation, is always the reply. The notion of describing to someone else how well-acquainted he is with what it’s like to suffocate makes his stomach churn. Whether it’s smothering under a pile of rubble or staring out into a void of stars as he asphyxiates, Shepard knows exactly what it feels like to die in his dreams.
Because some part of his brain still remembers what it felt like to die for real.
So he doesn’t sleep. When the anxiety gets the better of him he disentangles himself from Kaidan’s arms, sometimes – like tonight – prying the cloth of his shirt out of clutched fingers, and finds something else to do. Mess around in the barn, take walks through the apple trees. Especially now, when the orchard is in full bloom. Anything to keep from disturbing Kaidan. His constant tossing and turning wears on them both, but Kaidan shot down the idea of sleeping in separate rooms before the words were even out of his mouth.
So tonight, rather than bother Kaidan, he’s bothering Echo.
He drops the comb back into a grooming box. When Echo turns her head and noses at his back pocket, he mutters under his breath.
“Sorry, kiddo. Forgot the carrots. I’ll be right back.”
He withdraws from her stall, taking the grooming box with him, and latches the door before strolling back to the house and up the back porch steps. No sounds tonight save for the crickets and a light breeze rustling the trees. Too many clouds to see the stars.
Sometimes that’s a good thing, though the stars harbor less anxiety when he can gaze at them with his feet planted on earth. After two years he’s gotten used to having windows instead of bulkheads, and the ability to walk out the door without waiting for an airlock cycle.
He keeps his footsteps quiet as he slips into the dark kitchen. When he opens the door to the fridge he blinks into the shock of light that spills out. A sharp intake of breath makes him jump.
Heart hammering, he peers into the living room towards the sound, eyes widening in surprise when he makes out Kaidan’s silhouette on the couch.
“Kaidan?” He shuts the refrigerator door and heads towards him, pausing only to switch on a lamp on the end table.
Kaidan doesn’t move. He sits frozen with a curl in his back, eyes downcast and unfocused, chest rising and falling like he can’t catch his breath. A sheen of sweat stands out on his brow. His elbows rest on his knees, fists clenched, hands shaking.
“Kaidan.” Shepard’s chest constricts as he kneels on the ground beside him and grabs a hand, surrounding it in his to still the tremor. “Kaidan.” He puts a hand to Kaidan’s brow, cups his cheek, turns his chin to meet his eyes.
“Sam,” Kaidan murmurs.
Shepard moves up onto the couch, wrapping Kaidan in his arms and pulling him to his chest. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
He shakes his head. “’m fine.”
“Bullshit.”
Kaidan’s entire body feels like a rubber band pulled so hard it’s about to snap. His heart pounds under Shepard’s hand, breath a shallow rattle in his throat.
“‘s ok. Don’t worry. Just…need a minute.”
“I’ll give you a fucking lifetime,” Shepard whispers into his hair. “I’ve got you, ok? Just breathe.”
Kaidan latches onto Shepard’s arm with a viselike grip. Shepard responds by holding him closer, rubbing his arms, shoulder, back, as if trying to keep him warm. “It’s all right,” he murmurs over and over. “I’m here. You’re ok.”
Slowly, Kaidan’s breathing evens out. His muscles relax until he’s limp in Shepard’s arms.
“Let me get you some water,” Shepard says, kissing the top of his head. But Kaidan tightens his grip when he tries to get up.
“Please don’t leave.”
“I’m not leaving, just going to the kitchen,” Shepard says, but doesn’t make another attempt to get up.
“I know.”
“Hey.” Shepard shifts him around until they’re face to face, but doesn’t turn loose of him. “Talk to me. What happened?”
“Nothing,” Kaidan says, voice wavering. “I just need a minute. That’s all.”
Shepard strokes Kaidan’s jaw, fighting back his own nerves to keep his voice soft. “Panic attack isn’t nothing.”
“It…happens sometimes. It stops and I’m fine. It’s ok.”
A knot forms in Shepard’s chest. “What do you mean it happens sometimes?” As far as Shepard knows, Kaidan hasn’t had a panic attack in years.
Kaidan squirms a little in his arms. “Nothing. Forget it. I just need a minute.”
“Kaidan.
“It’s fine. I’m ok. I just need a minute and I’ll be fine. Everything’s fine. Please…don’t worry.”
“Why wouldn’t I worry?” Shepard says, trying and failing to mask his disbelief. I worry about you all the time, because you have to put up with me.
“Because I can handle it.
“Handle it? Having a panic attack alone in the dark, that presumably you weren’t going to tell me about, is handling it?”
“Yes,” Kaidan says through clenched teeth, shifting again, though his grip on Shepard tightens.
“You asshole,” Shepard breathes. “If you found out I’d kept something like this from you, you’d throw me out an airlock. You made me swear I wouldn’t keep things from you. That I’d let you help.”
“I—”
“How often does this happen?”
“It doesn’t. Forget it. Sam, I just need a minute and—”
“You’ll be fine? You’re shaking. You’re not fine.”
“Yes, I am,” he argues. “If you would just give me a damn minute.”
“Do you know what triggers it?”
“Please leave it alone.”
“You do, don’t you?” Shepard says, horror growing. “You know, but you don’t want to tell me.”
Kaidan shuts his eyes. “Sam—”
“Why?”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“Of course it’s a big deal! Kaidan, I love you more than the sun. I don’t care if you don’t think it’s a big deal, it still matters. Why—”
“Because you leave!” The words tear out of him like they’ve ripped a hole in his chest, stunning Shepard into silence.
“You leave without a word,” Kaidan sputters, tightening his grip on Shepard’s arm. “I wake up and you’re…not there. It’s stupid, it’s so stupid because I know better. You’re not gone, you’re just not here, but I wake up and I can’t find you and it feels like I’m going insane. I know it helps you cope, I know you need to just…be somewhere else sometimes. But I used to wake up all the fucking time after Alchera and think it was all a dream only to find out it wasn’t. I’ve gotten you back twice now. What if that’s the dream?”
Kaidan’s chest heaves, eyes so full of grief and anguish and pain Shepard hardly recognizes him.
“Kaidan,” Shepard murmurs, but it comes out hoarse. “No…god. Kaidan.”
“It’s stupid—”
“No. Damnit, no. It’s isn’t.”
“You’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted and I keep losing you. What if this time it’s finally for good?”
Shepard cocoons him with his body, swallowing up every square inch he can reach. It’s been two years since the war ended. He’s been leaving Kaidan alone to wander around at night for two fucking years.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Don’t…please. It helps you,” Kaidan mumbles, fingers running across the welts on Shepard’s neck.
“Not if it hurts you.”
“Sam—”
“Kaidan.”
He can’t think about the guilt. Can’t think about how long Kaidan has been suffering in silence. He’ll feel those things later. What matters is now.
Shepard tips his chin until they’re eye to eye, keeps his voice low and soothing even though he’s the one shaking now. “Forget about what I need. Tell me what you need. I am not more important than you. We do this together. The parts that are good and the parts that are messy. I signed up for all of it. Let me take care of you for once. Please.”
He holds Kaidan’s gaze until something breaks, the fear and dread morphing into something closer to relief.
“Please don’t leave,” Kaidan whispers.
Shepard shakes his head. “No. I won’t. I swear. Not now, not ever again. I’ve got you, ok? We’ll figure it out. I’ll make a call in the morning. Find someone who can help me figure out how to sleep. I’ll talk to anyone. I just—I’m so sorry.”
Kaidan rests his forehead against Shepard’s shoulder. Shepard rubs his back with one hand, finds Kaidan’s fingers with the other. The tremor is still there, so Shepard holds his hand until it’s gone. Eventually Shepard shifts, loops Kaidan’s arms around his neck and scoots him onto his lap.
“What’re…”
“Shh,” Shepard tells him. “Let me take care of you.”
He braces himself and lurches to his feet, a hundred different muscles and joints screaming in protest. His knee pops and he winces.
“Sam—”
“I’m being romantic, let me be fucking romantic,” Shepard says with a smile. Kaidan huffs, but doesn’t try to stop him.
They get halfway to the bedroom before he’s forced to set Kaidan down and let him walk the rest of the way. Used to be Shepard could do that without effort, but that person is long gone. He still makes a point of sweeping Kaidan back up again to put him in bed.
“You’re an idiot,” Kaidan says with an exhausted smile.
“Your idiot,” Shepard says, stripping off his shirt, shucking off his pants and climbing in beside him. Before Kaidan can get too comfy Shepard removes his shirt, too.
“This is a skin kind of night,” Shepard informs him. “Prove that I’m real.”
“Mmm. Like the sound of that.”
Kaidan is usually the one who traps Shepard against him in bed, probably, Shepard realizes with a sinking heart, to make sure he doesn’t get too far away.
Not tonight.
He pulls Kaidan’s back to his chest and holds him tight, running a hand over him until he’s a relaxed ember nestled against him.
“Sam,” Kaidan murmurs.
“Yeah.”
“’m gonna fall asleep.”
“It’s okay,” Shepard says, smoothing back his hair. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
I'm giving you cart blanche to go ham on whatever you want for the DVD commentary meme :)
I love what an enabler you are.
Let me introduce you to the fic I never wanted to write that hates happiness and kicks puppies.
When I first started writing mShenko, I got a prompt from the lovely @mythicbeast. The prompt was to write about Kaidan after the control ending, with Shepard feeling close but far away at the same time.
First, what an awesome, yet terrible prompt. The idea of Shepard being close but far away is so horrible. I would never have written such a thing of my own free will, because I’m all for angst with a happy ending.
There is no chance such a prompt could have any semblance of happiness.
See, the thing about the control ending is, Shepard doesn’t die. Not really. So...how do you mourn someone who isn’t dead?
And then something really awful dawned on me. What happens when you believe in an afterlife, or the idea that somehow, some way, you will be reunited with the people you love?
What happens to that when the person you love doesn’t die?
So I came up with the last line of the fic. Which is awful. I mean, this fic is really kick puppies kind of awful.
The next question was how to I earn that terrible, horrible, awful line.
I do not ever want to go back into that headspace. It hurt. The fic is less than 850 words by design, because I didn’t think I could make myself live in it longer than that. It packs a hard punch in very few words, and it’s because of the way I structured it. It reads a little like a narrative poem. I was very deliberate on how I set it up, using rules and repetition.
I wanted four paragraphs that presented contrasting ideas (It’s about surviving, and not)
Two of those paragraphs shows how Shepard is one end of the spectrum, and Kaidan is the other.
One of those paragraphs centers on something Kaidan was supposed to do, but does not (it’s about moving on, and not)
The last paragraph is something Shepard was supposed to do, but does not (it’s about dying, and not).
Those four paragraphs would alternate with paragraphs that deal directly with Kaidan’s grief.
I incorporated a sense of repetition into each of those contrasting ideas because I wanted the words to feel like Kaidan trying to just put one foot in front of the other.
And it all worked.
I had a killer awesome prompt to work with, a killer ending line, a structure that I thought worked really well to help me get at the emotion I wanted to evoke, and then on top of it I got really lucky and ended up with three killer lines that to this day make me feel like a total badass.
So, uh, how are you feeling about taking prompts? Like if perhaps someone wanted to hear your mShenko ship manifesto?
You have no idea how delighted I am that you asked me this. :)
Short answer: I will gladly accept prompts, whether from a list or just something totally random you’d like to see (not sure what you mean by my ship manifesto, but now I am curious!). This is the time to do it, too, because apparently writing is my coping mechanism for the way of the world. It’s basically all I do these days.
Slightly longer answer: If you send me a prompt, I will be excited and grateful and honored that you asked. Believe me. However, if I don’t have the right idea or the mental bandwidth to do it justice, I’d rather not do it at all than half ass it. If you think highly enough of me to ask for something, I want to give you something that’s worthy of your trust and enthusiasm.
Also, I have another trilogy-spanning WIP that I will pick up again once Sonata is done, and if I get a request that overlaps with those plans, I may pass on it (I’d let you know, though!). But the good news is, I’d be passing because I’ve already planned something similar! (I have lots of plans.)
Of note, I’m very close to finishing my draft overhaul of Sonata, and once I do, I probably will look for prompty-things as a palate cleanser before I go back to the other WIP.
"6. When was the last time you stepped outside, and what for?", "18. If you had to study one subject everyday for the rest of this quarantine, what would you study?", and "43. What's getting you through these tough times?" please?
Thank you!!
6. When was the last time you stepped outside, and what for?
I just went out for Emotional Support Candy In A Cup.
Aside from that, I take Nerd Dog 3000 out for walks first thing in the morning, over lunch and for an hour long walk after work. So I’m actually getting lots of Outside Time (this is where it comes in really handy to live in a really expensive climate).
18. If you had to study one subject everyday for the rest of this quarantine, what would you study?
What a fun question. Would it be weird and cheating to say writing? Because it would mean reading a lot, studying writing, actual writing and exercising my ConCrit brain, which is basically my favorite thing? (I love love love providing concrit.)
43. What's getting you through these tough times?
My Real Life Bioware Romance is an awesome person to be quarantined with. We’re pretty fond of each other, so being forced to spend all of our time together is pretty A-Ok by us. And boy did we have good timing with getting Nerd Dog 3000. Nothing like puppy scritches when you’re stressed (see also: WHAT DO YOU HAVE IN YOUR MOUTH). I’ve completely lost myself in writing fanfic. Last time I went through a personal crisis that upended my life I couldn’t write a word, but this time it’s all I can think about to the point of distraction, which is really nice.
