#i tell them medic and heavy are gay lovers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inevitably-johnlocked · 3 years

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((my account is @mymiddlenameslove tumblr is still being weird lol)) do you have any fics where john and sherlock hold hands for the first time? i just love the build up/panic that leads to some good fluff thank you (*´∇｀*)

Hi Lovely!!!

Bah, sorry about Tumblr being dumb!!!!

What a fun fic req!! I know for SURE I’ve missed a lot, so these are either fics I remember have hand-holding, are tagged with it, or I’ve just re-read and found it in there :D Hope you Enjoy!!

HAND HOLDING / for COMFORT

The Four Incidents by TheGirlWithRedHair22 (K+, 1,064 w., 1 Ch. || S1 Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, John Whump, Accident, John POV, Hand Holding, Worried Sherlock, Sherlock’s Self Esteem) – The first time John was present when someone insulted Sherlock, he brushed it off as a strange coincidence.

Peacock by ClassyGirlsWearPearls (T, 1,189 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Cranky Sherlock, Soft John, Hand Holding, Soft Sherlock) – A study in Sherlock and John.

Here to Stay by MockJayPhoenix12 (K, 1,574 w., 1 Ch. || Post Reunion, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Headache, Bed Sharing, Care Taker Sherlock, Hand Holding, Fluff) – On Sherlock's first day home, John wakes with a migraine.

Random Numbers by songlin (T, 1,671 w., 1 Ch. || Ace Sherlock / Straight John, Cuddling / Snuggling, Massage, Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Post-TRF, Slice of Life) – A collection of moments in the relationship of asexual!Sherlock and straight!John.

Giveaway Fic #9 - Angsty Sick Fic/Sherlock is Sick by ConsultingPurplePants (T, 1,734 w., 1 Ch. || Sick Fic, Hypothermia) – The next time he awakens is even more chaotic. Two doctors are shouting at each other in the corner, and John is holding his hand so tightly Sherlock is worried he’ll break it. Part 9 of 1000 Tumblr Followers Giveaway Fics

Once is Enough by Jominerva (T, 3,030 w., 1 Ch. || Love Confessions, Domestic Fluff, Whump) – Just as the earth rises to meet the sun at every mountain crest, John reaches out for Sherlock and takes his hand in his own."Tell me it won't end like this," he says, blue eyes holding grey while he laces their fingers together. Sherlock lets out a shaky laugh and shakes his head. "I wish I could."

holding steady by darcylindbergh (E, 12,724 w., 4 Ch. || Post S4, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Growing Old, Gone Fishing, Mood without Plot, Soft Sherlock, Caring Sherlock, POV John Third Person, Anxious Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Touching, Feeling Old, Sherlock Worship, Crying Sherlock, Cuddles, Comforting, Introspection, Retirement, Hand Holding, Forehead Kisses, Caring John, Bed Sharing, Emotional Love Making) – Sitting on a thick wool blanket at the end of a rickety dock side-by-side, legs dangling over the edge, a styrofoam container of wet, dark dirt between them, they’re fishing. John knows what this is about. This is about finally figuring it out.

A Gossamer Dream by CarmillaCarmine (E, 15,985 w., 4 Ch. || Writer/Teacher AU || First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, Writer John / Teacher Sherlock, Fluff, London, Holding Hands, Online Friendship / Romance, Phone Sex, Anal Sex, Happy Ending, Alternating POV, Scottish John, Online Relationship, Internalized Homophobia, Hand Holding, Forehead Touching, First Kiss/Time, Texting/Sexting, Rimming, Toplock, Sherlock Speaks French) – Sherlock had never realised one could care so much about someone they'd never met in person. Now he is about to meet the friend with whom he's been chatting online for months and his anticipation is reaching a crescendo.

How To Unfold a Heart by elwinglyre (E, 25,477 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It, BAMF John, Mentioned Eurus, POV First Person Sherlock, Case Fic, Fluff, Slow Burn Topping from the Bottom, 3 Yr Old Rosie, Introspection, Sexual Fantasies, John Worship, Ogling, Hand Holding, Kidnapping, Domesticity, Sherlock Whump, First Kiss/Time, Doctor John, Caring John, Soft Sherlock, Sensuality, Touching, Crying, Love Confessions, Anxious Sherlock, Rimming, Toplock, Fingering, Bossy Bottom John) – To Sherlock’s dismay, John’s return to Baker Street with Rosie is only temporary. Sherlock’s daily visits to Regent Park with John and Rosie illuminate his lost childhood memories and missed opportunities. But with each trip to the park, Sherlock also feels a growing sense of hope. That is until the past horrors return unexpectedly in a cryptic note folded in the shape of a heart. To decipher the message, Sherlock must uncover the nature of the hearts around him, including his own.

Insanity in the Middle by DotyTakeThisDown (E, 28,010 w., 8 Ch. || Equestrian Sports AU || Alternate First Meeting, POV John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Clueless Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Passionate Kisses, Hand Holding, Caught Making Out, Bed Sharing, Spooning, Blow Job) – John is a world-class eventing rider with a gold medal and several four-star wins to his credit, but he's never won at Rolex. Sherlock is an up-and-coming rider taking the sport by storm.

Lucifer's Gardens by ampersand_ch (E, 32,679 w., 12 Ch. || GERMAN VERSION || Romance, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Murder, Poison / Drugging, Mystery, John Undercover, Academic Club, Therapy, Rituals, Jungian Archetypes, Doctors & Physicians, Grief/Mourning, Esotericism, Hospitals, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, John Falls In Love With Another Man, Jealous Sherlock, Crying, Doctor John, Hand Holding, First Kiss/Time, Mysticism, Hugging, Touching) – John goes undercover for an investigation as a favour to Lestrade in a village in Suffolk. The events surrounding the case awaken deep-seated fears in Sherlock. While John begins to come to a realisation of what he needs in Lucifer's Gardens, Sherlock tries to find a way to reach John – in more ways than one.

A Promise Made to Be Broken by PlantsAreNeat (E, 37,018 w., 7 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Pining, Slow Burn, RST, Eventual Relationship, POV Sherlock) – A young John makes an ‘if we’re still single at 40, we’ll get together’ pledge to a woman who ends up all wrong for him. She keeps reminding him of the promise, and won’t let go of it. John asks Sherlock to pose as his boyfriend at a family wedding, so as to dash her hopes permanently. Sherlock, who has at last acknowledged his feelings for John, reluctantly agrees despite knowing how painful it will be to ‘have’ John, but not keep him.

A Love with No Name Series by aceofhearts61 (G to M, 49,955 w. across 20 stories || Asexual Sherlock / Straight John, Est. Rel, Queerplatonic Relationship, Romance, Cuddling, Fluff, Platonic Romance, Domestics, Rape/Non-Con) – In which Asexual!Sherlock and Straight!John are platonically in love life partners.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (E, 87,585 w., 43 Ch. || Pining, Love Confessions, Rape/Sexual Assault, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Villain!Mary, Suicidal Ideations, Main Character Death, Sherlock First Person POV, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Love Making, Possessiveness, Depression, PTSD, Kidnapping, Virgin Sherlock, Eventual Happy Ending) – "For a second, I allow myself to remember teaching John how to waltz. There is a special room in my mind palace for it. A big one, with a proper parquet dance floor. For a second, I go there. I remember holding him, closer than the World Dance Council asks for, excusing it with the fact that we are training for a wedding, not for a competition. For a second, I feel his hand on mine again, smell his sweat, hear the song we used. For a second, I allow myself to love him deeply. For a second, only a second, that love reflects on my face." Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Evil Mary.

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU || BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

The Lost Special: Family Matters (As Do Relationships) by ShirleyCarlton (M, 144,688 w., 40 Ch. || S4 Fix It Fic / Meta Fic, Unreliable Narrator, John’s Mind Bungalow, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Demisexual Sherlock, Holmes Family, John Whump, Gay Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Drug Addiction, Parenting, TFP is a Nightmare, Virgin Sherlock, Slow Burn, Minor Character Death, Switchlock, John’s Past, Sherlock’s Past, Eurus, Love Confessions) – Sherrinford is not really the name of some high security prison. That was just a figment of John’s frantic coma dream. And Eurus is not actually Sherlock’s sister. That’s just something random she said to John before shooting him. Sherlock and John were never actually estranged. That was just their act to cover up what really happened to Mary – or Rosamund Moran, as her real name has turned out to be. Sherlock does have a secret sibling, though, and his name is Sherrinford. After finally eliminating Moran – though in a rather dramatically different way than they had envisioned – and exposing the truth about Eurus, John encourages Sherlock to delve into his past and to find out whether the reasons to keep Sherrinford away from Sherlock were the right ones, and to discover what really happened in 1981. Along the way, Sherlock and John gradually, finally, stop keeping each other at a distance, and eventually become a proper family of their own.

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

Unkissed Series by 221b_hound (T to E, 184,100 w. across 45 works || Established Relationship, Ace Sherlock) – Sherlock returned from the dead a year ago. John returned to Baker Street six months ago. They've been in a couple since then. or at least, not NOT a couple. For two smart men, they sure can be dumb. Luckily, an art thief tries to drown Sherlock, Sherlock has a fever dream and things are about to change.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #holding hands #fluff fics #my fic recs #Anonymous

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zairas-realm-gateway · 3 years

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Straight as Silly String

So, it’s only been within the last year and a half or so that I’ve started to realize I am both gray-romantic and Bisexual. I’ve always either been in denial or just had no fucking clue because queer terms are still things I’m learning.

Anyway, on this journey, I’ve noticed something that’s really starting to piss me off. And just what is that?

Well, it’s the notion hammered into us that the character cast of any given media source is Straight until proven Queer. and it pisses me the hell off!

Example? Well, have you ever written a fic or draw a pic of a same-sex ship and someone comments something like “How can you ship that?! There’s no canon evidence they’re gay!”

I always just agreed or don’t respond because I don’t have the mental energy to fight it. But what I always want to say is “Well, there’s no canon evidence they’re straight either!” when a character doesn’t have a canon relationship. Or if they do have a canon relationship, I find myself wanting to say “well, you don’t know that they’re not not Bi!”.

Why is it that every character has to be explicitly straight until there’s canon evidence of being queer?

Why can’t characters with unspecified orientations be whatever the fan wants them to be until their orientation is given (or even when an orientation is given. tastes change, after all)?

Want another example? Let’s use Team Fortress 2 for this but it applies to all fandoms.

You have two teams of 9 mercs. 8 of which are proven to be men with the 9th (Pyro) left ambiguous of gender. Together, two teams of 9 mercs make for a total of 18 mercs trapped and isolated in a tiny, geographic location for a minimum of 6 years.

Now only 2 out of 9 mercs, Spy and Scout, canonly have relationships where they are in love with women. Before you say anything, yes it is mentioned that Medic has/had a wife. But it’s the late 60′s/early 70′s. At that time, just because two people were in a heterosexual marriage did not automatically mean that every married couple was straight. Lots of marriages were gay/bi men marrying lesbians/bi women in order to keep up a hetero-normative front so they weren’t the outcasts of society. In Medic’s case, he was already close enough to being on the fringes of society. Given how he is obviously queer-coded, he would have to be careful about being anything other than straight if he wanted to work and have a livelihood before Mann Co.

Anyway, you’re trying to tell me that statistically out of 18 mercs, no one’s queer? That sounds like bullshit to me!

There is no way that you can convince me that 18 dudes (I’m Californian, “dude” is gender neutral) away from the prying eyes of social norms aren’t gonna start forming queer or queer-platonic relationships of some kind.

*Spoilers for the TF2 comics ahead, derp*

I’ll use a classic example of a fan favorite: Heavy/Medic

Two middle-age mercs who are basically the mom and dad of the team. They canonly have a deep “friendship” that can be seen both in the comics and the game. These two spend a lot of time together, they work well together, and they sort of complete each other. They are protective of each other and neither can be properly happy without the other.

In game, when one player dominates another, their character will tease and taunt the other player’s character. And yet, Heavy and Medic don’t have dominations lines towards each other.

Medic is one of the most fucked-up, sadistic mercs out of the bunch. Seems suspicious to me that he of all people wouldn’t want the pleasure of dominating and jeering someone as strong as Heavy. But, if Medic is romantically involved with Heavy, he’d be much less inclined to jeer his lover’s doppleganger.

And then there’s Heavy. He’s a sensitive man with a big heart despite his honestly frightening love of combat. But he’s softest towards family. His devotion to those that he loves is total. In the comic, the devastation he feels after Medic is murdered is total as well.

This man literally does not want to live without his Medic.

Bringing back the picture from earlier:

Their reunion is heartfelt. Moving on, Heavy immediately praises Medic ingenuity, just as he always does. And lets be real, I have never seen a person pour so much high praise on their platonic friend as constantly as Heavy praises Medic. Heavy can’t go like two minutes without saying how much he loves Medic, or how smart Medic is, or how skilled Medic is. There is just like a never ending stream of adoration that Heavy has for his precious German.

Also, at this point Medic has spent the past several comics being constantly verbally abused by the enemy, Classic!Heavy. Most of the time resulting in Medic being uncharacteristically docile and submissive. But around TF2!Heavy, Medic regains his cold, cruel ingenuity and confidence; becoming the force to be reckoned with that he’s known for.

The two complete each other both emotionally and in combat.

THERE NO WAY IN HELL YOU CAN CONVINCE ME THESE TWO AREN’T GAY AS FUCK!

The mercs are social outcasts. But working for Mann Co. allows them to be themselves away from the judging eyes of normal society. It only makes sense that most if not all of them would be queer, especially in a place where they could be safe in their identities.

So, why should we as a fandom have to believe that they’re all straight just because they don’t have canon queer labels? Especially when a canonly queer character exists in universe.

May I present Ms. Pauling! She’s the boys’ boss. She takes good care of them and she is very clearly gay.

You can see this clearly when Soldier and Zhanna are running around naked and covered in honey. Meanwhile, Ms. Pauling looks like this as she watches them.

It is confirmed several times over that Ms. Pauling is extremely tired of seeing Soldier naked. That means that she is clearly being entranced by the vision of Zhanna naked.

No straight woman has ever looked at another woman like this.

Ms. Pauling is definitely gay.

So, yeah, if one character is obviously queer but not explicitly labeled as such, then why can’t all the characters be queer? And why can’t characters be queer without an obviously queer character in canon? Why must all characters be straight unless proven otherwise?

It’s a stupid and toxic narrative that only contributes to shipping wars.

Why should a narrative that’s not even canon be allowed to overpower our personal headcanons?

We need to start allowing people to headcanon sexual orientations for fictional characters.

#Spectral Decree || Wraith Queen's Discussion Topics #team fortess 2 #tf2 #queer community #queer commentary #queer topics #lgbt community #lgbt commentary #lgbt topic #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #heavy/medic #ms pauling #fandom discussion #tf2 discussion

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camthesolemnone · 3 years

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Hi, it's like, 11PM, but I just thought of 3 more promising for you:

1: Nightmares. One of them end up eating g nightmares after their married (the severity of it is up to you), and ends up waking up/getting woken up by the other. They try to help them calm down, and yeah.

Hurt/comfort style, bay-beeeee

Crap I made this nightmare a lot more hurtful than I probably should have. Poor Heavy :<

Warnings for violence, harsh insults, and a mention of sex (not explicit).

Also you mentioned "after they're married" so I'm assuming you mean Misha and Josef. No quarrels here, I'll take any excuse to write about them again.

Scout stood in front of him, tapping his foot and his metal baseball bat against the pavement in an irritated fashion. He had stolen yet another one of Heavy's sandwiches and the giant was determined to get it back. What threw Misha off, however, was the man's sudden stop.

It seemed like he wasn't planning on running away anymore.

"So, tons o' fun, you ready to fight me like a man?" Jeremy taunted, shifting back and forth on his feet in a battle-ready position.

The Russian glared at the Bostonian and cracked his knuckles.

"You are the baby man here. All you do is run like big coward. Heavy will show you real strength!" He shot back.

Scout's smirk and the way he twirled his bat in front of himself held not just confidence, but an overwhelming amount of spite. Misha was almost paralyzed by the man's unforeseen change in demeanor.

"Does a real man just sit at home and bang his gay husband while his ma 's dying and his sisters are tryna fend for themselves?"

Suddenly, that state of paralysis came true. Heavy's blood ran cold while his heart sped up to an unhealthy level.

"How...what--it is not like...I DID NOT KNOW SHE WAS ON HER DEATH BED! IT HAPPENED SO SUDDENLY THAT EVEN SISTERS DID NOT KNOW!" He shouted, stepping forward to grab Scout by the collar and knock his lights out, "how do you even know of these things? I never--"

Misha was stunned back into silence. His hand went straight through Jeremy's body, and the nimble runner reeled back before bringing his bat down on the Russian's shoulder. The impact was five times as painful as it should have been for Scout's pitiful muscles, and Heavy was sent to the ground with a startled scream. Why couldn't he touch Scout when the man could hit him? He attempted to stand up and retaliate, but Jeremy placed the handle of the bat on the top of his skull and pushed down, shoving his face into the ground.

"You're a failure, chucklenuts! You failed your team, your family, and you're about to fail yourself!"

Heavy cried out, "Nyet!" but in a flash, Scout had disappeared. After a few hesitant moments, the Russian determined he was in the clear and began to lift himself up. Then, as quickly as Scout had vanished, Spy appeared. The Frenchman unfolded his butterfly knife before thrusting it downwards into Heavy's hand, essentially pinning him to the ground. Misha let out another howl of pain.

"I have places to be, so I will make it quick. Enjoy your stay in hell, fat man!"

Heavy wasn't given a chance to respond, as Soldier and Demoman came crashing down onto his back, grinding their boots into his spine. He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip so hard to prevent a whimper from escaping that it started to bleed.

"Pozhaluysta, make it stop."

"You are nothing but a greasy Commie who deserves to have his fingers ripped off one by one!" Soldier yelled.

Demoman smashed a beer bottle on the back of the bear's neck, causing him to let out a choked gasp. A rapid series of lashes from Jane's whip resulted in more shrieks and Heavy bleeding in multiple places.

"I ain't drunk, I just despise you, you blubbery Bolshevik!"

"I HATE YOU, STALINGRAD!"

"You're the most rotten crop in the field, partner."

"I've had a lot of poor souls as targets, but bloody hell! You're past pathetic, ya pig! What's this? I think you might even be bleeding gravy!"

"Mmph mmph hmm! Hudda!"

"Yeah, not so tough now are ya? Are ya!"

Misha couldn't stand it. He was being torn apart from the inside out. What had he ever done to deserve this? Why was his team, his friends, punishing him like this?

"Stop! No more! Heavy has had enough!"

Everyone turned to dust, leaving only one figure standing tall and proud. He almost seemed to glow amidst Heavy's blurring vision.

"Doktor, I made vow to myself that I would never appear so weak in front of you, but please, I beg of you, help me..."

Medic turned around. His initial expression was one of confusion, but it soon transformed into one of cold ill-will.

"And why should I do that?" He asked solemnly.

Misha could feel tears pricking in his eyes.

"Josef, please, I love you. Do you love Heavy? You said you did, on day we got married, on the day before that, so, so many times. Do not tell me you have given up on me as well!"

Josef's features softened with concern for his other half. He bent down towards the trembling, bleeding giant and caressed his cheek.

"Of course I haven't left you, Misha," he whispered with a tiny smile.

Through his agony, Heavy could almost feel his own smile coming on. His love was here. He was going to save him from this prison and clean him up and everything would be normal again.

Then, he felt a blade pierce through his chest. One that could only belong to the Ubersaw.

"I couldn't have left you if I was never yours in the first place."

"NO!"

Josef awoke with a start, his breathing almost as rapid as the man sitting next to him. With owlish eyes, he turned his head towards his husband and felt his heart shatter.

Heavy has his arms wrapped tightly around himself. He was crying into his sleeve like a child and his whole body shook with remnants of fear. Medic reached out to place a hand on his shoulder, but then quickly withdrew it when he determined physical contact towards someone unstable wasn't wise. Instead, he lowered his tone to a murmur and called out to Heavy.

"Misha? Meine liebe? What on earth happened?"

The giant continued to shake and sob for another minute, but once he turned his head and saw his beloved doctor next to him, he gasped.

"You are still here!" He cried.

The German's worry intensified.

"Of course I am, geliebte. I will always be here for you. Just what sort of nightmare did you have?"

Without warning, the giant eclipsed the smaller man completely and cried into his hair. His large arms were almost suffocating, but Josef returned the embrace, rubbing his back through his pajama shirt.

"Scout and Engineer and everyone-...and Doktor stabbed me and--"

"Shh, calm down, Misha. It's going to be alright, I'm here now, and I would never hurt you. I love you, meine Bär," Medic mused, putting everything into making his partner feel comfortable again.

Heavy removed his face from the medic's hair and looked him in the eyes, his own still slightly wet.

"Heh, Heavy is such a mess. Leetle baby dream turned ME into the baby," he joked, wiping his left cheek.

Josef took to wiping his right with a comforting thumb, "There is nothing to be ashamed about, Misha. We all have our bad days and nights. I wake up frequently with nightmares too, usually of you or my parents dying."

Heavy's face dropped again.

"You never thought to wake me up? You know Heavy does not mind. I love you very much, Josef. Would climb mountain for you to be at peace."

The German placed a finger over his husband's lips and shook his head.

"We'll talk about that later. Now is about you. Come now, you must feel exhausted."

And he was right. His breakdown had thoroughly wiped him out, and Medic's soft hands rubbing circles on his hip and on his cheek wasn't helping.

Smiling softly, Josef placed a small kiss on his lover's lips, a reminder that they were both safe, before wrapping his own arms around the Russian and laying the both of them back down.

"Don't worry, Misha. I promise you'll dream sweetly now. I'll even make some French toast in the morning, how does that sound?" Medic grinned.

Heavy, however, was still a tad on the anxious side, so he pulled his wonderful husband closer to his chest and kissed the crown of his head.

"Thank you for staying by my side, Doktor. Heavy appreciates you more than you will ever know."

Medic wanted to respond, but Heavy fell asleep almost instantaneously afterwards. Instead, he continued to smile in the darkness and ran a steady hand across the specialist's back until he himself succumbed to the world of slumber.

A promise was a promise. Misha was not tormented further.

#tf2 #heavymedic #fanfiction #hurt/comfort #damn this is brutal

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kashi-prompts · 3 years

Text

Rating: M

Pairing: None! Maybe Kakashi x Gai? As friends or lovers, you choose.

Genre: Angst. Just angst. Maybe some fluff.

WARNING: This work contains themes such as drug abuse and suicide. If you are uncomfortable with these topics, I would recommend skipping this prompt <3

A/N: For the lovely @kakashiswilloffire <3 I hope its not too similar to my other one or just cringy or boring or something??

Prompt below the cut!

Most days, the insufferable, poignant metal smell of blood would wash away after the hot water hit his body. The gory memento of his last mission under his fingernails would be stripped away by scrubbing his scalp. The water would filter from clear to crimson as it sucked itself down the drain at his feet.

Oftentimes, the metallic aroma of bloodshed would still visit him, taunting his thoughts as though he hadn't washed it away. It wasn't his blood that he was smelling. It was someone else's. Someone who was no longer living or breathing on this earth- someone who was now buried deep under a mound of soil thanks to him. Still, he would ignore the odor, hoping it was just the heightened sense of smell that was both a blessing and a curse to his five senses.

His feet brought him through the village as the sun began to set. Deep within him, he felt an empty, familiar feeling. Like a hole that he was never sure could be filled with anything except self-loathing and hatred for himself. He was angry - angry with his father for dying, angry with Minato for dying, angry with himself - for Rin, for Obito. He felt empty—the numbing feeling of bereavement and angst overpowering him.

"Want one?" he heard, looking up. One muted grey eye sought out the voice, settling on a waistcloth marked "fire" at his eye level. Looking up, the Hokage's son offered him a cigarette while the silver-haired shinobi sat on the stone bench, deep in thought.

"You look like you had a rough day," Asuma noted dismally, the long tobacco stick perched between his two yellowing fingers.

"I'm fine," Kakashi responded pointedly, waving a dismissive hand and looking away.

"Rough mission?" the Sarutobi asked, replacing the offered token to his pocket. He lit the cigarette that hung from his lips.

Kakashi shrugged, leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees. He felt so much older than the man standing next to him. Asuma was experienced, but the type of experiences differed from black to white. To guard and protect was a prestigious claim on the title of shinobi - but the conquest to slaughter agitators of your village as your primary delegation was altogether something different.

A wif of blood suddenly stroked the 19-year-olds masked nose. His eye widened, covertly searching for the source. His arm tingled, reminiscent of how it would feel after pumping it with chakra to forge a Chidori. Asuma stood beside him, deaf to the flash of trauma that flowed like a movie roll effortlessly through Kakashi's mind.

Swallowing, he stood from the stone bench abruptly, a bead of sweat trickling down from his hairline to his spine.

"You alright?" Asuma questioned, regarding his friend with curiosity and concern.

"Yeah, I have things to do," Kakashi told him, wiping his clammy hands on the fabric of his pants quickly. Panic rose in him, yet he couldn't pin why. Maybe it was the rush of adrenaline that suddenly pumped through his veins. The feeling of being in combat sending signals to his brain, yet the air around him stood peaceful and still.

"You sure you don't want one?" Asuma prodded, offering the cigarette in his hand. Kakashi looked away, bothered by the question yet again. Yet, the smell of blood still lingered, and the source seemed unknown. Did he imagine it?

Taking a step to walk past his friend, he caught a wif of the cloud of nicotine enveloping the dark-haired man beside him. Kakashi peaked up, observing the cigarette between Asuma's lips captivatingly. The smell vanished, whether in his own mind or not. Exhaling, his eyes met Asuma's.

"Yeah, I'll take one."

*****

The pain crept up his leg again, unrelenting and all-consuming. The aftershocks of the injury seemed to shake him more than it had the moment his leg had shattered two months earlier on a mission. This time, the discomfort woke him from his sleep.

"Shit," Kakashi sneered, clutching the top of his shin. The cast had been removed a week ago, yet the gnawing pain seemed to reappear every 6 hours.

"It'll go away eventually," the med-nin had told him. Having been irritated by how long he was out of work, he didn't care about the discomfort at that time. He only wanted to return to missions. To have some self-worth pump into him at the satisfaction of completing a task successfully. But somehow, the pain seemed to be getting worse.

Reaching towards his nightstand through the dark, he blindly grasped for the bottle of pills he kept near him. His finger touched it, knocking it to the ground and rolling underneath his bed. Curses filled the quiet bedroom as he yanked his sheets off and knelt on the hardwood floor. Dust and food wrappers cluttered the underside of his mattress.

"What the fu-" he gritted his teeth, wildly searching for the bottle beneath the mattress frame. Finally, he grasped it and pulled it back to him. Looking down at the label, he read it carefully to himself again in the light of the streetlamp outside his window.

"Take two pills three times a day as needed."

Kakashi considered the instructions, reminding himself of the ache in his leg that didn't seem to go away as time went on.

Perhaps doubling it would help.

*****

The second refill was easy to obtain. But now, only four pills remained of it after only one week.

"I need a refill," the silver-haired jounin leader requested. His expression remained blank as he set the bottle down in front of the med-nin.

Carefully, the woman picked up the bottle, examining the man's name on the label.

Hatake Kakashi

DOB: September 15

Acetaminophen + Oxycodone 500mg

"You refilled this prescription last week, Hatake-san," the woman explained carefully.

"I know," Kakashi replied sharply, "that's why I'm here. I need a refill."

"That's not how this works," she stressed to him gently, "You can only refill a prescription after a certain period of time has passed. You shouldn't have to refill this prescription for another two weeks."

"Are you going to help me or not?"

"I'm sorry I c-"

Long gloved fingers snatched the bottle from the woman's hand, glowering at the nurse. The four remaining pills shook against the bottle as he shoved it back in his pocket.

"Fine," he said cooly, his demeanor changing suddenly. "Have a great day."

It was at that moment that Kakashi knew he was still in control. Even if this mediocre woman behind the counter wouldn't provide him the bare minimum he needs to function without pain, then he would just have to obtain it himself.

****

And he did. Scouting out the perimeter of the hospital was easy for such an elite shinobi. He sat in the trees, watching certain staff members come and go as the day grew to evening. He knew he had to report soon, but this was more important. The persistent ache in his leg only worsened as the 6-hour window crept closer.

As dusk came upon him, he knew he had to make a move soon. The longer he sat and watched, the more time he wasted. As the sun hit the treeline, the ache in his leg crept up into his hip, a deep spasm that throbbed every nerve ending in his thigh. He could sense his irritability rooting deeper into his body, a tree of impatience and rage that had only freshly sprouted to life.

It didn't take him very long to sweep his body through an open window, covertly walking through the halls as though he belonged there in his usual jounin attire. He was merely visiting someone, was the intention he hoped to emanate towards the occupied staff. Not even when he slid his shoulders through the medication room door did anyone notice.

Too easy, he thought as he left through the hospital's front door that evening. The street lamps were on now, illuminating the sidewalk as his sandaled feet took him back home with a heavy relief over his body. He hadn't wasted any time popping the higher than recommended dose into his mouth, taking a sip of water from the hospital's drinking fountain, and swallowing them with a flick of his tongue.

Although, as his bottle of newly filled pills rattled in his pocket and the effects of the pain reliever set in, he was beginning to feel groggy. He looked around, the world seeming like a strange, almost foreign place to him. Kakashi shook his head, irritated by the unwanted secondary effect of the drug.

"Kakashi!" wind of a sigh left his lungs at the boisterous voice of Might Gai waving from the Dango building nearby. Kakashi looked up, his eyebrows already knitted close together in annoyance.

"I haven't seen you all day!" his friend smiled, trailing the jounin leader as he continued past the shop. One grey eye had caught sight of Asuma and Kurenai sitting in the Dango shop behind Gai's excited gaze. That was more than enough of a deterrent for the silver-haired ANBU leader.

"Where are you going?" Gai asked, tapping his shoulder. Kakashi swept his body back, slapping Gai's dark hand off his shoulder. His nose scrunched as he clenched his jaw. The sound of rattling tablets in a plastic container filled the air between them as it fell onto the concrete below.

Gai's eyes settled on the bottle; his hand lifted right where he had left it to touch his friends shoulder.

"What is that?" Gai asked quizzically, "Isn't your leg healed?"

"Didn't I tell you to leave me alone?" Kakashi demanded, picking the bottle up and shoving it back in his pocket.

"Kakashi," Asuma's voice rang between them, his thick body appearing behind Gai's shoulder, "how have you been?"

"Fine," Kakashi answered sharply, thankful for the distraction away from the incident that just occurred. Yet, Gai's eyes remained on his friend's.

"Why don't you join us for some treats?" Kurenai smiled at Asuma's arm.

"I'm fine, thank you," Kakashi replied forcefully. "I have to go."

Turning quickly, Kakashi continued away from his friends, cursing himself for not putting the pills in his back pouch rather than his flimsy pocket. The irritation caused his head to hurt, his jaw clenching and flexing near his ears.

Reaching in, he took another pill dry.

*****

3 Weeks Later

Dragging himself back into his apartment, Kakashi's whole body ached. His mind spun in the delirium of the mission he had just finished. The grime and sweat that coated his body caused his skin to sting miserably as he stripped from his uniform. He kicked his pants off, the mingling scent of blood and dirt enveloping his studio flat.

The mission had not been successful.

Nor had anything else in Kakashi's life over the last two months.

The bottle of pain meds had dwindled quicker than the shinobi had anticipated. He had mapped out and predicted that he wouldn't need to loot the medical offices again for another few weeks. Yet, when he had upped the dosage again, the pain in his body overwhelming, he hadn't thought of his next move to obtain more pain killers. He had only wanted the ache, and now the intense sense of withdrawal, to stop.

That had been last week. Now, his bottom drawer was filled with pain medications that should easily last him another month. And yet, as Kakashi slithered his body over to his nightstand, he couldn't help but 5, one extra than usual.

The relief washed over him as the shower water flooded his body, washing away the painful reminder of a lost comrade from his 5-day extended mission as Captain. He had been responsible for those people, yet the way his mind had been functioning lately, it felt as though he was in a constant fog. Never as sharp as he had been before. But if he didn't take the medication, his body felt like it would die all on its own. Intense nausea, fatigue, and body aches were enough to keep him upping the dosages to keep the symptoms at bay.

Placing his silver hair against the linoleum tile of his shower, he felt the hot water hitting his back, sliding down his spine in such a delicate matter that it felt trancing. In his mind, flashes of the mission consumed him.

"Senpai, I think it would be best if I-" Yūgao leaned forward, her mask shielding her brown eyes that stared worriedly at the Captain.

"I know what's best," Kakashi had warned harshly at the girl, looking over at her through his porcelain mask.

It hadn't been long before his arrogance and untimely planning had caused Yūgao to perish. The blade that snuck through her chest at his hand was enough to rile his thoughts into more vivid flashbacks of Rin for days.

He hadn't meant to hurt her. She should have known to move away from his target. Yet his arrogance to finish things himself caught up with him, intervening with her battle. He thought she was in danger, but as they carried her body back to the village, his teammate had alluded that she could have handled it herself. He could have just let it be. The fog of his brain distorted reality once more.

Surely, he would lose his rank as Captain in the morning.

As the steam of the shower surrounded him now, he tried to think of another plan that could have changed the outcome, but his mind remained in a fog. He couldn't think straight, and the usual relief his body felt from the pain meds quick-acting behavior didn't seem to curb the ruthless thoughts in the swamp of his mind.

A fist slammed against the tiles, sending water splashing back in his face. Kakashi gritted his teeth, tears mingling with the drips of water hitting his body from the showerhead. He thought of Rin, the way his hand had so easily penetrated her chest, like butter. To take someone's life meant nothing to him when they didn't mean anything to him. Yet, the thought of losing a comrade under his watch at his hand caused resentment and anger to rise in his throat.

As he toweled himself off, his jaw clenched tight as he looked at himself in the mirror. Slipping a shirt and pants on, he noticed Yūgao's blood that hadn't washed off from a spot on his hair where he had missed. An illusion of more blood on his hands startled him. He swore loudly, his arm aggressively launching his toiletries off the counter and onto the floor as hate flooded him. The sound of glass breaking and items rolling off the tiled floor into the hardwood of his living space were deaf to him as he continued to sob angrily.

"I can't," he managed to himself, "I can't anymore."

He thought of his father. The way he had passed away. Kakashi had been there to find him. Who would be there to find Kakashi? Who would want to know where such a loathsome bastard was. Someone who had no emotions and killed his friends. Someone who relied so heavily on pain medications that he could no longer function. How could he stop now? How would he explain where he got the medicine from? He couldn't.

Four more, he thought. Four more pills would do the trick. Nine pills all together. If it didn't kill him, at least it would let him sleep. Sleep enough where he is so heavily sedated that the memories of his life didn't roll through his mind like some terror film on replay.

Dad.

Obito.

Rin.

Minato.

Yūgao.

Dad.

Obito.

Rin.

Minato.

Yūgao.

Dad...

Obito...

Rin...

The pain was unbearable.

****

The shine of a bowl cut entered Kakashi's apartment building late that night. His footsteps echoed in the hallway as he jogged up the stairway to his friend's apartment. Something deep within Leaf's Blue Beast was disturbed that evening.

The news of Yūgao's death had swept through the village like the bristles parachutes of a dandelion in the early spring. Everyone who had an interest already knew, and they also knew why.

"Ah, Kakashi," one shinobi had said upon hearing the news, "that's why they call him 'friend-killer-Kakashi.'"

Gai knew Kakashi wouldn't have hurt the girl on purpose, let alone a comrade. Yet, the way his friend had been acting recently, he wasn't sure what was going on. The increased irritability, hostility, avoidance, and deceptiveness in Kakashi's personality bothered the jounin to his core.

He wasn't sure where his feet would take him, but he knew he had to talk to his silver-haired friend. Even if he didn't want to, which he was sure he wouldn't, he needed to know if his long-time pal was recuperating okay.

Apartment 343. He hadn't been here in a while. At least for a few months now, if not longer. The dark-haired shinobi woefully thought of his friend's deteriorating demeanor.

Cold-blooded Kakashi, Gai recollected lamentably. He knocked on the door, waiting for an answer. Time passed as he shoved his hands in his green uniform, rolling forward on the balls of his heels. He paused and knocked again. Nothing.

"Kakashi?" Gai banged on the door, determined to get his friend's attention. He had had enough of the copy-ninja's behavior. Another bang and no one answered.

Finally, Gai knelt, reaching for the doormat that protected Kakashi's apartment key. If it wasn't there, he was home. As Gai lifted the mat, only dust and dirt resided beneath.

****

The incessant banging at his door sounded like a far-off drum beating- a sound that tuned in and out in the wavering radio channels of his mind. He couldn't move his body, and he had no desire to. Reality was distant, and his limbs were numb. There were no troubling thoughts that slithered through his mind like a garden snake in the grass. It was only peace.

****

"Kakashi?" Gai called out, the door smashed open off its hinge behind him. His black eyes settled on his friend, laying placid on his bed. The copy-ninja's hair was still wet from his shower, plastered to his forehead with specks of dirt and blood that he had neglected to wash away.

"Kakashi!" Gai rushed over, kneeling beside his bed and slapping the pale face of his friend. "Kakashi! Wake up!"

His lips were blue, and his skin clammy.

"Kakashi, what happened, my friend? Are you okay? Why didn't-"

The bottle of pills beside Kakashi's bed laid strewed on the floor, catching his eye. Reaching down, Gai picked up the bottle and read the label. The dots connected, and his eyes widened, two fingers immediately landing on the pulse of his friend's neck.

Nothing.

****

In the waiting room, Gai, Kurenai, and Asuma huddled together.

"They said he overdosed," Gai told the two, his demeanor was unlike any of them had seen previously. Clearly, he was shaken, if not entirely traumatized.

"Overdosed?" Asuma questioned, "on what?"

"Painkillers," Gai responded, sitting in a chair in defeat. "I saw them. I saw them in his pocket a few weeks ago. I said something, but he didn't-I should have-"

"It's not your fault," Kurenai consoled, sitting down next to Gai. "Please take a deep breath, Gai. You look like you're about to faint."

"I - he's not going to make it. He didn't have a pulse, and he's not going to make it," Gai uttered, his teeth clenched as he held back tears, "He's my best friend."

Asuma set a hand down on Gai's shoulder, nodding his head, "I know. We all care about him..."

****

A turf of white hair could be seen in the hospital room convulsing under the electrical cardioversion machine being shoved onto his chest to restart his heartbeat. The electric shock waves burst into his system like a thousand Chidori.

"Another," the doctor pointed to the nurse operating the equipment. Another push against his chest, and his whole torso moving with the bed beneath him. This continued for a while, the recharging of the electrical unit before the unnerving sound of a body jolting under the pressure of the electricity.

Time ticked by at the clock in the room, the doctor glancing at it as if to wonder when to call his young shinobi's death. How could this be explained to the leaders? An overdose on pain medication that should have never been in his possession in the first place.

Ba-dum, ba-dum, ... ba-dum ...

"He's back," the nurse sighed.

****

Blurred vision. One charcoal eye trembled open, the silver in his lashes catching the ray of sun cast into the hospital room. Wires surrounded him, pricked in the crevasse of his arm, stickied to his chest, and some unfamiliar machine on his index finger. Dazed by his surroundings, Kakashi carefully turned his head on the pillow, hearing the heart monitor behind him.

Hiruzen Sarutobi sat beside him.

"Hokage-sama!" Kakashi spluttered, taken aback by the presence of the Hokage in a hospital room he wasn't sure how he ended up in.

"Settle, Kakashi," Hiruzen commanded gently, his face composed and quiet. Kakashi looked straight ahead, his head spinning.

"What-?" he began in a raspy voice.

Hiruzen lifted his hand, the bottle of pills Gai must have provided to him in his palm. Kakashi looked over, his eyes settling on the drugs before putting his head back down on the pillow in defeat. The images came back to him. The desperation to get out of his situation, yet knowing that there was no way out.

"I'm sorry," Kakashi managed quietly, looking away. "I understand if you-"

"That's enough," Hiruzen said calmly, "I do not need to reprimand you. You are aware that sneaking into the hospital facility to steal pain medications is wrong. Yes, I know - I just didn't expect it to be you."

Kakashi lifted his hand, placing it on his eyes as the stress of the Hokage's words weighed on him.

"I know this is hard. Your body is reliant on these mediations now. It would be best if you stayed here for some time to detox your body and learn appropriate coping skills. I know - I know you don't want to. But I only wish to help. Which is why I feel it is necessary to pull you from the Black Ops team."

"Lord Third," Kakashi sat up, the wires around him tangling. "I-"

"I've already made up my mind. It is not suitable for you anymore. Actually, I don't think it ever really was. People with kind hearts do not belong in the ANBU," Hiruzen explained, placing the bottle on the nightstand beside him. "And I have a better assignment for you. One I think you may enjoy."

Kakashi sighed heavily, laying back down. "I don't understand."

"You will," Hiruzen nodded, standing up, "In the meantime, I think there are some people who would like to see you. They care about you very much and were overwhelmed with relief when they heard you were okay. You gave them quite a scare."

Kakashi scoffed quietly, looking down at the monitor on his hand.

"It's true," Hiruzen stopped, "you are very well-loved."

Kakashi looked up quickly at his words, watching as Lord Third sauntered towards the door and waved through the doorway at some unknown individuals to come towards him. A moment later, one eye settled on four individuals, beaming at him with gifts and smiles.

Iruka. Kurenai. Asuma.

And his best friend, Gai.

#hatake kakashi #Anbu Kakashi #kakashi fanfiction #kakashi x gai #As friends? lmao idk #Do what you wish #kakashi imagines

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harrypotterismyhorcrux · 4 years

Text

Fanfics From Quarantine (so far)

Here is everything I’ve read and loved so far whilst being in quarantine since my fan fiction addiction is back at full force. All are complete fics but some have pretty heavy themes and most are explicit so, as always, check the tags before reading! (I’ve tagged as many of the authors’ tumblrs as I could find but if anyone knows any I’ve missed then let me know and I’ll tag them!)

I don’t know whether I should be proud or ashamed of myself for the amount of fanfiction I have read in the past month of two. As a result, this post is longer than anticipated

‘For The Greater Good’ by jadepresley (E, word count: 62,049) When Harry and Draco discover they’ve been bonded to one another, neither one of them is prepared for the secrets they slowly begin to uncover.Together, they learn that they can’t escape their past, or the things that have been left hidden there, and that sometimes the only way to move forward is to look back.

‘Ardour of Karma’ by XxTheDarkLordxX @xx-thedarklord-xx (E, word count: 17,118) “Malfoy knows something is going on with you and unless you both want to go back to fighting and death glares, you should fix it.”“How do I do that? Just waltz up to him and say, ‘I know I’ve been a prat but your scent makes my dick swell. How’s your day?’”“Mind repeating that?”The familiar drawl had Harry’s throat clamming up as his blood ran cold. Oh no.

‘Hermione Granger’s Hogwarts Crammer for Delinquents on the Run’ by waspabi @waspabi (T, word count: 93,391) 'You're a wizard, Harry' is easier to hear from a half-giant when you're eleven, rather than from some kids on a tube platform when you're seventeen and late for work.

‘Reparations’ (and ‘Foundations’ E, word count: 236,075) by Saras_Girl (E, word count: 87,376) Harry is about to discover that the steepest learning curve comes after Healer training, and that second chances can be found in unexpected places.

‘you’ve got the antidote for me’ by Kandakicksass (M, word count: 20,730) When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want.He's never been selfless before, but for Harry, he can try.

‘If I Was The Sun, He Was The Moon’ by endless_grey @harryptter (E, word count: 34,321) Harry is in his eighth year at Hogwarts, everyone is still feeling the fallout from the war and since all the eighth years now share a common room and dorms, Hermione had the brilliant idea that they should get to know each other better. In amongst bad party games, copious amounts of firewhisky, and a lot of confusion and mixed signals, Harry realises he likes Draco. Not everyone is happy about that, though.In summary: Draco and Harry kiss during spin the bottle, realise their feelings, are stubborn and oblivious, and can't seem to communicate like normal people, but it works out in the end.

‘Freedom to be’ by Quicksilvermaid @quicksilvermaid (E, word count: 169,550) Harry Potter is the Boy Who Lived.12 years after the war, he's become the Boy Who Lived For Everyone Else. He has the perfect wife. The perfect house. The perfect job. The perfect friends.Only nothing feels perfect.Until one day he stumbles across a club called Release and begins a journey of self-discovery that takes him to a very different place.

‘Love and Other Unsafe Medical Practices’ by Tedah @tedahfromtayla (E, word count: 116,854) Love is a lot like surgery: sometimes you have to take risks to succeed and most times there are unexpected side effects.Harry is back in a hospital room after an Auror sting gone wrong and nobody is amused at this point. It's starting to become somewhat of a familiar scene for Ron and Hermione. This time his healer is one Draco Malfoy so it's actually a /little/ funny when something goes wrong during recovery.

‘Post Tenebras Lux’ by Cjblack @cjblack322 (E, word count: 102,420) It had been five years since the light had fallen under the Dark Lord’s reign. The Wizarding World assumed Harry Potter had been murdered by Voldemort days after his capture; few knew the truth. And sometimes the truth can be much, much worse.

‘The Curse of the Sea’ by Samyiswriting @samyistrying (E, word count: 63,317) As the last year at Hogwarts draws to a close, Draco Malfoy behaves in a most peculiar manner, unintentionally revealing his bizarre fear of water. It's sure to get Harry's attention.

‘Unexpectancy (Into you)’ by PollyWeasley (E, word count: 20,086) Draco supposed that starting Eighth Year in Hogwarts fucking Harry Potter was a good start. Both of them were in the closet, for a lack of better words, and both of them were having fun with each other, no bonds attached, no uncomfortable talks, no need to tell their friends whatsoever. It was good to both of them, especially when you considered that the Wizarding World was stupidly ignorant and homophobic, and Draco was already suffering enough because he looked like he was gay. It was better just to keep it a secret. But when Draco suddenly finds out he ended up pregnant of Potter’s child, there was nothing he could do except face the world and reveal his secret. Would Potter accept to reveal his, too, for the sake of this new life?

‘Mental’ by sara_holmes (M, word count: 186,678) Harry has had quite enough of sharing his mind with someone else, thankyouverymuch. A miscast Legilimecy spell says otherwise.

‘In Evidence of Magical Theory’ by bixgirl1 @bixgirl1 (E, word count: 43,747) When a hex meant for Draco accidentally catches Harry as well, they're forced to learn to understand each other in ways they previously might have thought impossible. In which Harry and Draco can't fight, so they fall in love instead.

‘The Gift of Life’ by dragontara (E, word count: 13,658) Harry had always wanted a family of his own. Now, after a drunken one night stand, he was going to get it, but it'd be nice to remember with whom he was getting it. Also, having a baby with a Veela was a much bigger challenge for Harry than he'd have ever thought possible.

‘This Year’s Love’ by trishjames (E, word count: 84,000)This year’s love had better last, heaven knows it’s high time when you try to make lovers from friends. But Harry Potter realises time and time again that it’s simply not possible for him. And then along comes Draco Malfoy— the ultimate foe on the mend. Whatever will become of them? A story about love.

‘dirtynumbangelboy’ by magpie_fngrl @magpiefngrl (E, word count: 39,400) After Harry’s unfortunate encounter with his ex, Draco Malfoy makes him a proposition. Draco wants his parents to stop matchmaking him and Harry wants to make his ex jealous. All they need to do is simply pretend they’re in love. Problem is… Draco already is.

‘Accidental Magic’ by vivi1138 @penguinanimagus (E, word count: 34,374) After the war, Draco left the magical world. He doesn’t lead the easiest life, doesn't sleep enough and has another mouth to feed. He doesn’t expect to be forced to go back early, but when his son’s accidental magic threatens the Statute of Secrecy, there’s only one person who can help.

I also re-read ‘Starts With a Spin’ by Maxine @serasarahhhh (E, word count: 119,850)

ALSO: I wanted to include ‘In The Dark’ by bixgirl1 @bixgirl1 (E, word count: 92,148 so far) because I am loving it, but just be aware that this is a WIP :)

Link to second, (you’ll be pleased to know) shorter, list

#drarry #Harry Potter #fanfiction #fanfiction recommendation #Draco Malfoy #hermione granger #ronald weasley #fan fiction #draco x harry #things ive read in quarantine while i should have been doing uni work #quarantine #lockdown #fanfic #fan fic #fanfic rec #complete fic #harry x draco

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crispyjenkins · 4 years

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Can you do more of that mandalorian obiwan jangobi fic? It was so good!

(i’m very feckin attached to this obi and i’m so happy y’all want more. blood and injury warning for this one! jangobi is very soft but obi is very bad at keeping himself alive, and ruusaan is the only one with a braincell. part 1 here!

umm. this got really long. it just... kept getting longer. fills will not be this long consistently i just. i really love this obi.

**ruusaan’s name and design from this! thank you to @amillionstarsandyouchoosethisone for letting me write her, i love her dearly)

Ruusaan remembers a time before the Supercommando Codex, even if her sisters do not, and as soon as she’s old enough to follow Mereel, she crashes the Duke’s council meeting discussing the cutting of the budget for the poorer levels of Sundari. In front of every one of her father’s supporters, she recites the shuk’la buirok and leaves every Kalevalan piece of herself behind.

The Haat Mando’ade welcome her with open arms in spite of her origins, Mereel trains her to fight and helps her build her beskar’gam, and she hopes someday her sisters will grow to make their own decisions as she had.

Ruusaan walks her path alone unless Mereel calls on her, traveling the stars as Haat'ad, nameless still, but infinitely free. She has no right to Mandalore as her dar'buir believes, but she can live the Truth, and if that's good enough for her Mand'alor, then it’s good enough for her.

When she accepts the call to Melida/Daan seven years after joining Mereel, she does so with caution —she will not pull the Haat'ade into their war— but when she lands just outside the capital of Zehava, she’s greeted by a small party of children. A girl that can’t be much older than Satine approaches Ruusaan immediately, red hair greasy and in disarray, but exuding determination.

“You’re the commando?” she demands without preamble, hiding her shaking hands by forcing them into fists.

Ruusaan removes her helmet and tucks it under her arm so the kid can see her raise her eyebrow. “I am. You put out the contract?”

The girl clenches her jaw and nods. “I’m Cerasi. I need you to get someone to Coruscant.”

Immediately wary, Ruusaan looks around the girl to the other children, who stand around someone that positively hums in the Force. “Your contract said transport of goods.”

“He belongs to the Jedi,” she says, spitting the word like it’s poison. “But they aren’t answering his communications, and we— Force, we don’t know what’s wrong with him.” Her confidence falters, darting a quick look behind herself before gripping her arm. “Listen, I don’t have much, we only just won and Nield isn’t— He helped us, he’s the reason we won, no matter what the rest of the Young say. He doesn’t deserve to die here.”

“Kid, I’m not taking your money,” Ruusaan cuts in, Cerasi’s face falling before she continues, “Mandos have creeds about children, I’ll take him for free. Where is he?”

It takes Cerasi a moment to realise what all that means, but then blinks and dashes back to the little group of children. With a growing sense of foreboding, Ruusaan follows, watching the kids part to show a tiny padawan in dirty tunics laying in a makeshift litter, and Ruusaan has to close her eyes for a moment to calm herself. The Force around him wavers like a heat haze, and Ruusaan isn’t trained enough to know what that means; nothing good, if the flickering of the boy’s Force signature is anything to go by.

There’s dried blood on his lips and chin, and she can hear his breathing from here, ragged like it hurts, and it probably does. Cerasi bites her lip and moves to pick the kid up, but Ruusaan quickly steps in and kneels to check the kid’s ribs first. Nothing seems broken, he barely even seems bruised, which certainly doesn’t fill her with confidence, but at least it’s safe enough to lift him.

She puts her helmet back on before carefully scooping the kid into her arms, and he actually feels an alright weight for how thin the other children look. Ruusaan turns back towards her ship and jerks her head for Carasi to follow her.

“What’s his name?”

Cerasi quickly moves to catch up, chewing at her lip again. “Obi-Wan, but that isn’t what the Jedi he was with called him.”

Hm. “How long has he been sick?”

“He came to us like that. He would just— cough, all the time, and the Jedi didn’t know what was wrong with him.” She follows Ruusaan up the ramp into her little ship, heading for the medbay. “He— After he promised to help us, the Jedi left him here.”

Rage nearly smothers her, and Ruusaan locks it into her chest for later, after she leaves atmo; Obi-Wan twitches in her arms in response to her sudden spike of emotion, and she can’t have that. “They left him?”

“Look, I don’t— I don’t know how it all works. But Obi-Wan gave up being a padawan to help us, I think, and I think that’s why the Jedi aren’t responding.” Cerasi watches her set Obi-Wan on the far-too large bed, her lip starting to bleed under her teeth.

Ruusaan hands her a tissue, but sets aside her helmet to quickly cut the boy out of his tabards and tunics. Just as she had thought, Obi-Wan is wearing a compression shirt under it all; Cerasi looks terrified when she cuts him out of this too, and Ruusaan sends her a reassuring smile.

“Peace, kid, Mandalorians accept all. Has he been wearing this often?”

“All the time,” she says uncertainly, ducking forward when beckoned to help Ruusaan get Obi-Wan’s dirty clothes out from under him. “Is that what caused this?”

“It certainly didn’t help.” They fall into silence as Ruusaan gets a ventilator hooked up, Cerasi jumping in to help as instructed, but there isn’t much Ruusaan can do with her sparse medical equipment. She doesn’t even have bacta.

“Are you... Are you going to take him to the Jedi?”

Ruusaan snorts, making sure Obi-Wan’s vitals are being logged before turning to Cerasi. “Absolutely not. I would never return a child to those that abandoned them.”

Obi-Wan makes a small sound, eyelids flickering for a moment, but he doesn’t wake, and Ruusaan realises her heart is in her throat. Well, that settles that, then. “I’ll take him back to my people, decide where he best belongs,” she adds, as if the gai bal manda isn’t already burning her lips.

It seems to satisfy Cerasi enough to return to the Young, and she leaves Obi-Wan with a kiss on the forehead and a whispered apology. She races out of the ship before Ruusaan can ask her anything else, and she does not follow. Ruusaan’s contract is on the bed behind her, and you cannot save someone who does not want to be saved.

Jango doesn’t know if it’s Ruusaan or Jaster’s machinations that has him covering contracts with Obi-Wan more than any other commando, but he’d appreciate it if they stopped before Jango has an actual heart attack.

Because Obi-Wan, for all his new calm and easy demeanor, is even more reckless than when he was a child, and Jango hadn’t thought that was possible. He jumps into fights without checking escape routes, and uses his rifle in close combat as well as his fists, he doesn’t travel with a jetpack, and he removes his helmet any time they’re not in an active right.

“It’s easier to breathe without it,” Obi-Wan tells him on another mercy mission to Concordia. “Buir tried to hook an oxygen tank up to it, but they were all too heavy.” And he shrugs like it's fine, and Jango decides he has a death wish.

Ruusaan either joins them on missions, or takes contracts nearby, never too far if... anything went wrong. Luckily, things rarely do, and Jango only has to see Ruusaan restart Obi-Wan’s lungs once after that first mission back, and even then Obi-Wan had been fine within the day.

They make it a year and a half of missions together before things go wrong, stranded in a rusty hut on Yutha during a dust storm, with Ruusaan somewhere on the other side of the canyon to the North taking a different job.

Theirs had been a simple contract to retrieve some Neimoidian’s data disk that he’d left with a lover, and Jango is only there because Obi-Wan had asked him to be, and if it weren’t for the dust storm, it might have been as easy as it sounded.

Obi-Wan is at the one window, the barrel of his rifle propped on the sill as he watches the red dirt road outside for anyone trying to take advantage of the storm, though they’re pretty sure their hiding spot has been abandoned for a while. Jango had taken up leaning on the wall on the other side of the window frame, watching Obi-Wan more than he’s watching the outside, and even after almost two years back working with other Haat’ade, he has trouble contending this Obi-Wan with the fourteen year-old that had once tried to set his cape on fire.

Obi-Wan flicks his eyes to Jango with a tiny, barely-there smirk and readjusts his rifle on his shoulder before returning to his vigil. Shaking his head, Jango is almost thankful Obi-Wan had removed his helmet as soon as they’d secured the hut; how else would he have seen the Yutha sunset painted on his face?

Hm. He should probably look into that affection that’s becoming harder to ignore.

“Jango,” Obi-Wan rasps, yanking his attention away from the rising dust storm as Obi-Wan’s hand darts up to his bleeding nose.

His entire body jerks, his blaster rifle clattering to the floor, and Jango has to dive forward to catch him before he hits his head on the windowsill. He starts coughing before Jango can even get him laid out, struggling against Jango’s arms and splattering blood across his chestplate.

And these coughs are worse than the last time, shorter, harsher, and Jango has been in enough battles to recognise someone going into shock.

This is all wrong, though, it never goes this fast, where Obi-Wan is already choking on his own lungs, eyes wild as his body attempts to shake apart, and Jango’s never had to deal with this alone, and oh Force, Ruusaan “the Jedi Killer” Tra’Galar is going to lose her foundling on Jango’s watch.

The dilapidated furniture starts to rattle as if shook from below, anything left on shelves or counters levitating for a moment before crashing to the ground. Jango yanks off his helmet and has to grab Obi-Wan’s wrists to stop him from clawing at his own armour, Jango feeling him pulling the Force in around them until it’s an almost unbearable weight.

And Jango can’t get him into shock position, not with him thrashing around with far more strength than he should possess with at least one lung collapsing, if his wheezing is anything to go by. His skin is cold and clammy when Jango manages to get a free hand onto his forehead, and despite years of having to patch up vode on the battlefield, Jango can’t tear his eyes from the blood that bubbles from his nose and drips down his face, staining his hair and making something dislodge in Jango’s chest.

“Hey, hey— Kid, hey, you with me?”

Obi-Wan blinks and his face scrunches, but he can’t seem to focus on Jango as he tries to jerk himself free from Jango’s hand. Holding him down is going against everything Jaster had taught him about shock, but every commando he’s had to treat for it has been unconscious by now, and even when Obi-Wan’s strength gives out, going limp against the floor, he doesn’t pass out, instead staying aware of his own rattling wheezes.

His fingers twitch in Jango’s hand, blinking again and jerking under the palm on his forehead; somewhere behind them, a piece of furniture crashes. Jango can’t honestly remember the last time he’d seen Obi-Wan use the Force, for anything: they keep it on the downlow even around the Haat’ade, even with Ruusaan broadcasting her own sensitivity as a point of pride. And Jango has never asked, why Obi-Wan will paint his beskar’gam silver but then refuse to acknowledge his past with the Jedi.

Something else crashes and Jango winces, moving to try and loosen Obi-Wan’s chestplate one-handed. It’s halfway through the process, with Obi-Wan’s jerking chest even more obvious, that Jango realises he isn’t going to survive it, if Obi-Wan dies like this. Force, he can’t take it if he dies like this.

The faint hum of a jetpack is the only warning Jango gets before the door to the hut explodes under blasterfire, Ruusaan shouldering through the remains and looking like a vengeful goddess with charred armour and a slice on her cheek.

She drops on Obi-Wan’s other side, tossing her rifle away to put one palm over Obi-Wan’s heart, and the other on his right side over his ribs. Jango makes to pull away and let her take over, but as soon as he does, Obi-Wan starts to thrash again, and Ruusaan’s hand flies out to stop Jango.

“Keep him calm,” she orders, brooking no argument, and Jango listens, grabbing Obi-Wan’s wrists again to settle in for seven of the worst minutes of his life — where Obi-Wan stops breathing entirely on them twice, and Ruusaan growls like a rancor before she manages to inflate both of his lungs properly.

Obi-Wan gasps on the sudden ability to inhale, eyes regaining some of their clarity, but he still can’t focus on either of them.

Ruusaan is unsurprised, grabbing up her rifle to swing the strap back over his shoulder. “How far is the ship?” she demands, and Jango’s been a soldier since he was fourteen, he can fall in and defer to Ruusaan’s command, even accept her lead with relief.

“Just over the ridge,” he says, slamming his helmet back on and shouldering Obi-Wan’s blaster as Ruusaan picks him up like he weighs nothing, even in full beskar’gam. Bewildered and a little intimidated, Jango helps put both her and Obi-Wan’s helmets on as well — the dust storm clearly isn’t stopping, and they can’t stay here.

He grabs Obi-Wan’s chestplate and follows Ruusaan back to their ship, and even though Obi-Wan is unconscious by the time they reach it, Jango is all too thankful to be able to close the hatch behind them.

In the medbay, he helps strip Obi-Wan of his armour, and then works on getting the blood off his face enough for a ventilator while Ruusaan rolls Obi-Wan’s flight suit down to his waist so she can get at his ribs.

Jango can hardly look at him, at the patchwork of darkening lavender bruises and the way his chest scars stand out against his heated skin. Carefully lifting Obi-Wan’s head to slip on the ventilator mask, he wishes he could wash Obi-Wan’s face properly, there’s still so much dried and drying blood under his nose and down his cheeks, and he just wishes he understood what the kark is wrong with him.

Instead of asking, Jango moves to get the bacta vaporiser set up while Ruusaan goes about checking Obi-Wan’s ribs for breaks.

Obi-Wan stirs when Jango is hooking up the second set of tubing to his mask, blinking blearily up at Jango as he freezes above him. They just sort of stare at each other for a moment, until Obi-Wan seems to get his bearings and relaxes under Ruusaan slowly dancing Force healing across his torso.

Panic lodges in Jango’s throat as Obi-Wan makes several attempts to lift his hand, grunting in frustration. Ruusaan glares, but allows it when he can finally raise a loose fist to Jango’s chest, tapping over his beskar’ta in proxy of his own, thanking Jango like he had actually done anything, and Jango has to lean on the head of the bunk with both hands.

“K’atini,” Obi-Wan whispers, voice sounding like it’d gone through a woodchipper, and Jango thinks kriff that, this is worse than pain, and they shouldn’t have to watch this kriffing kid die because of it.

Mando’a: shuk’la buirok — lit. “broken parent bond”, made up term for the real ability for a child to “divorce” their parent, legally labeling them as dar’buir or “no longer a parent”, which i’ve based on the term for spousal divorce shuk’la riduurok. Haat Mando’ade — lit. “true children of Mandalore”, True Mandalorians (slang shortened to Haat'ad/e) beskar’gam — Armour made of beskar, “Mandalorian Iron” that was actually probably a steel alloy gai bal manda — Mando’a adoption ceremony, lit. “name and soul” buir — “parent”, gender neutral vode — “brothers, comrades, siblings”, sing. vod, technically gender neutral but used most often in fandom as “brothers” beskar’ta — “iron heart”, the elongated hex-shape common in Mandalorian armour designs (great post here comparing them to katana tsuba). also called kar’ta beskar or “heart of the iron”. K'atini — “it is only pain”, used in the context of “get up. Keep going. You can and you will survive this.”

would gffa’s advanced medicine be able to perform mastectomies without scarring? yes. obi chose to keep his.

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sup-hoes-its-me · 4 years

Text

Pain (Kakashi x Reader)

A/N: finally, a kakashi one shot. I've been trying so hard to write one but his character is so difficult for me, so deep and mysterious and im just an idiot. Tell me if this story is shit, lol. Anyway, Soulmate AU, kinda fluffy, kinda sad idk what to say about it.

word count: 5000~

Part One/Part Two

“Trust me,” the boy whispered to me. “It’s going to be okay.”

His arms wound around me, as I dozed in and out of consciousness. Lightning struck every couple minutes, illuminating the area just enough up so I could see the carnage around us. Dead bodies, left and right, blood splattered on trees and shinobi crying over the bodies of their teammates and loved ones.

This war would show no mercy, it had taken someone from every clan, every household. Mothers, fathers, daughters, sons, lovers, friends. No one was safe from the storm reigning over the nations.

The rain had left me drenched, and I kept coughing on the water running up my nose and into my mouth. I felt like i was drowning in my own body, lungs filled with water, heart filled with pain.

I could feel the burden on this boy’s shoulders as he panicked over my limp, bloodied form. I didn’t know why he was saving me, or how he even noticed my body among the dozens of others left among those battling for their lives.

I didn’t have the strength to ask him, words absent from my mind and my tongue.

“I need to keep fighting. Where are the medics, for fucks sake,” my rescuer grumbled under his breath. Fire shot above our heads, and a girl screamed in pain behind us. I felt like I was going to pass out from not only pain but sheer fear. We were sitting there asking to be killed.

Quickly, he lifted me in his arms and ran deeper into the forest, farther away from the man with the flames.

I tried to speak, but blood caught in my throat and had me spitting it down my neck and onto my shirt. I was at the complete disposal of this stranger.

“Kakashi!”

My teammate. His voice was unmistakable. “Is that Y/N? What- Jesus, that looks bad,” my friend exclaimed as he approached my body. Suddenly my body was being handed off, and I gasped for air, more drops of blood coming up to taste on my tongue.

“Gai, she needs to get to a medic; she’s your teammate right?”

“Right away, Kakashi!” He turned on his heel and prepared to push off into a jump through the trees when he paused. “You don’t even know Y/N, what made you save her?”

“I don’t know. I just knew I couldn’t let her die,” the silver haired boy, whom I know knew as the famous Kakashi, trained by the fourth Hokage himself, paused, his eyes stuck on my face for a long minute. “She deserves to live, that’s all I know.” With those being the last words out of his mouth, the boy rushed into the trees, ready to fight another battle for our village. I knew who Kakashi was from the name, but I had never formally met him. He just saved me, and I didn't know whether to feel honored that he found me worth saving or ashamed that I was so weak I couldn't defend myself.

Gai carried me to the edge of the forest where a medic tent was set up. He rocked me softly in his arms as I choked on the mere air I was breathing in, and gasped when my chest felt too heavy to support itself. He was a friend, the best friend I’ve ever had, even if he was painfully unbearable at times.

People even asked me, time and time again, is Might Gai your soulmate? No one can stand that kid, she must be his soulmate, poor girl. That’s what they would say. But no. We were friends. And Kakashi, was Gai’s sort-of-friend, but mostly he acted as an admirer.

He had mentioned Kakashi time and time again in secret. He would call him a hero, someone so talented and majestic, you would think he was talking about a seasoned shinobi like the Hokage. He felt challenged by his skill, but grateful for his help when he was being bullied.

I guess, you could say Kakashi Hatake was my hero now too. Such a quiet guy, yet more noble than any one of us.

___________________________________

I don't normally show my soul mark, hidden away under my layers, resting on my shoulder blade. I show it to people when they ask, because it really doesn't matter if people see it or not. I know they aren't my soulmate.

I wasn’t surw who I was destined to be with. Over the years of being a shinobi, I encountered thousands of people, all of whom could have been the one, or not. I may have met them before and not known about it, but I highly doubt it.

Kurenai told me when you meet your soulmate for the first time, it's such a distinct feeling that you can't miss it. You can't dismiss it as just a chill running through your body. As far as I can remember, I've never felt something like that: so significant that it would haunt me even today. I try not to dwell on the fact that I may never meet my soulmate, or that I've passed them by in another village or on a mission and will never see them again.

I honestly try not to think about my soulmate at all. It's so hopeless and only brings people anxiety and paranoia. The people who go around asking to see every single person's mark are fools in my opinion.

Yes, I do think it would be nice to meet my soulmate and love them forever unconditionally, constantly having someone to hold and talk to. Yet...I can get so much shit done when I don't have to worry about some fate-forseen destiny.

I laid in my bed, pillow over my face to drown out the sunlight and sounds of the birds chirping. I didn't have a mission today, and my team of Genin was out on a mission themselves for the next week. I had time to do absolutely nothing but sleep and relax. That is, if my fellow villagers would leave me alone for once.

But not today. I can't have one day off, can I?

"Rise and Shine, woman of the night! Half a day of youth has been wasted, my friend!" A loud bellowing voice called from outside my room. "If you don't wake up and open the door in 10 seconds, I will force the door down." Seriously…fuck Gai.

I rolled out of bed, threw on my robe lying on the floor and walked to the door. If it were anyone else, I could probably get away with staying in bed, but Gai doesn't lie when he makes threats, and I wasn't about to replace my door again.

The sun was so bright when I opened the door and peered out at my friend. eyes narrowed to avoid the sunlight. "Gai...why are you like this?" I put bluntly, stiff frown on my lips.

He frowned, shaking his head furiously. "Y/N, you are yet a single beautiful flower from the leaf village. You must not waste a single day of your youth, your prime time for action, adventure, and training," the man proclaimed, throwing his fist in the air dramatically.

"Listen, I'm tired as all hell, but if you want me out of the house we can go get breakfast."

"Breakfast? It's past noon."

"Fine. Lunch, then." He nodded, begrudgingly. He was, as expected, disappointed that I didn't even know what time it was, and that I had skipped the most important meal of the day. I shut the door and changed into appropriate clothes, combed through my hair for a minute with my hair, and shoved some cash in my pocket for food.

We walked five blocks to sit down for ramen, and were greeted kindly by the owner and his daughter.

"When is your next mission assigned?"

"Wednesday. Two days of peace."

"What about your team? Training?"

"On a c-rank. No kids, no responsibilities. What more could I ask for? I got 14 hours of sleep last night too."

His eyes widened, but what was he expecting? I wasn't exactly proactive when I didn't have to be, unlike his upbeat and always ready to fight lifestyle. Maybe he was right to always be prepared, since we can never know when someone will attack the village. We weren't prepared for when Orochimaru first attacked and our Hokage died, as well as hundreds of our shinobi.

"Typical Y/N behavior. As long as you are safe from harm, I suppose it doesn't matter. Still, after this I'm running 100 laps around the village with Lee. You can join if you want."

"I'll pass this time. My calves are killing after my last mission." I sighed but felt a little calmer as my ramen was placed in front of me. I took one whiff of it and felt immensely better than before. I slouched in my seat a bit as I relaxed and practically inhaled some noodles.

After I finished my ramen, I bid my farewell to Gai and headed back to my apartment. I guess today would be a good day to clean the mess that had been building up there for a few weeks. I went on missions so often, I just forgot to pick up in between them.

When I was walking up the stairs to my place, I noticed a particular silver haired shinobi leaning against my door, holding a small box in his hands.

“Kakashi!” I exclaimed, walking just a bit faster to get to him. He came to visit me sometimes, but it was quite rare. We usually met up in town or for a mission. “Back from your mission already?”

“Yep. Turned out to be a lot easier than we anticipated,” he replied, shifting on his feet, a movement noting nervousness. I stopped at my door, peering up at him brightly. It was always a pleasant surprise seeing him. After all, he was one of my favorite people.

I leaned on the opposite side of my door frame, my eyes shifting to the little box in his hand. “What’s that?”

“Oh, yeah. Uh, just something I found while on the mission. It’s really no big deal.”

“You were in the Land of Snow. Barely anyone goes there; of course your little trinket is a big deal!” I laughed. He also laughed, but it was painfully awkward and tense. He still seemed pretty on edge, which I just brushed off as the aftermath of a mission. “Who’s it for?”

“Yeah, about that…” he trailed off, eyes turning down to the box. “It’s actually for you.”

My whole face lit up in flames at the thought of Kakashi getting a special present for me. I watched with the internal excitement of a kid on Christmas morning, my hands shaking just a bit by my sides. My friend lifted the box, and inside was the most magnificent crystal on a metallic chain. It was white with shimmering bits of blue and silver swirling around inside.

Carefully, I reached out and touched it with the pads of my fingertips. “Kakashi, I don’t know what to say...It’s so beautiful.” My eyes lifted to look at his single eye. It seemed I had caught him staring, and he blinked quickly to cover it up. My cheeks turned an even darker shade of pink.

“The lady who sold it to me said that it holds a protective spirit inside. That’s probably just a cheap sales pitch, but I…” he mumbled, embarrassment creeping up his neck and ears, “Well, I thought you would like it.”

“Are you kidding? I love it. Kakashi, this is the nicest thing someone has ever bought for me. Must have cost you a fortune!” I protested as I further inspected the crystal. It was purely amazing. Truthfully, I didn’t think Kakashi had much taste either.

He shrugged. “Price doesn’t matter. What does matter is if you will wear it.”

“Of course.” Excitedly, I turned around and moved my hair out of the way of my neck. “Put it on for me, please.” I listened to him pick the chain and the clap of the box shutting and slipping into his pocket. His fingers slid against my neck, sending tiny shocks down my spine, and the cool crystal soon sat against my chest. His slim hands moved away from my skin, and I admittedly missed the feeling of his warmth on me.

As I turned, he hummed with approval. “Looks perfect on you, as I suspected.”

“O-Oh. Well, thank you for getting it for me. Hopefully it actually works like the lady said.”

“Either way, you’ll always be safe.” He brushed off my comment coolly. “Trust me.”

I always did.

_________________________________

It was late into the night, but nerves kept me up once again. All this drama with Orochimaru, Sasuke, the Akatsuki. It was overwhelming. Tsunade was assigning me missions almost every day, my joints ached from running and fighting, and my chakra felt as if it was used up for the last time; I was so tired.

The streets were quiet except for a few restaurants still open to late night diners. My footsteps echoed on the ground as I walked along, dirt kicking up around my feet with every lazy step.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted him, perched on the top of a water tower. His hair still flew up despite the wind persistently pushing it down. Kakashi Hatake, my friend and comrade. As always he looked almost majestic, especially in this moonlight. For some reason, I felt the urge to jump up there and be with him, a push towards the shinobi.

Silently, I bounced between buildings to get to where he was, talking up to where he sat. His nin-kin turned to me and nodded in greeting.

“Sup, Y/N,” Pakkun said in his strangely deep voice for such a tiny dog. Sitting down beside the man, my eyes trailed over to where he was looking out all this time. Pain shot through my body at the sight of the memorial stone, glimmering in the darkness.

I think every shinobi had their fair share of memories associated with the stone, whether it be family or friends. I sighed, my gaze shifting to the moon above us.

Some things were just too painful to dwell on.

“Y/N.”

“Hey, Kakashi,” I began, rubbing over my knuckles with my thumb. “I was just on a walk, and it looked like you could use some company.”

“Yeah, guess you’re right.” Pakkun rolled his eyes, but said nothing. After all, he knew his master could use all the human compassion he could find. “Been a tough night.”

I leaned forward a bit, swinging my legs off the edge of the water tower. It made me dizzy being this high up and looking down, but I enjoyed the rush it sent through my blood. My head tilted toward him, and I sighed. “Agreed. Too much to think about, huh?”

“Yep.”

“What’s on your mind then?”

“Currently?” His laugh was bitter as he said that word, shaking his head. His frustration rolled off his body in waves. “My student is a rogue ninja and my other students are going to get killed trying to find him.”

I nodded solemnly. My own squad was actually quite boring. They had talent, but not the same attachments or motivation as Kakashi’s students. His children fought with their all every single battle, always striving to be better than they were the day before. Hell, Sasuke went with a criminal to achieve his goals. I felt sorry for the guy. His kids weren’t normal.

“Naruto won’t give up, huh. Can’t see that happening, I gotta admit.”

“I was the one who taught them the importance of teamwork and bonds between them, but god dammit if I’m not worried about them,” he cursed. “I know they have the capability to defend themselves. Naruto and Sasuke are coming to the point where they could even surpass me, yet I feel obligated to protect him.”

Humming in agreement, I replied, “As you should. What kind of leader would you be if you just left them to be reckless?”

“I just...The thought of losing anyone else is…” His words trailed off, eyes trained on the memorial stone again.

Tears pricked my eyes. My parents died in the war. I had been injured early on so I wasn’t there to see them die. I only heard about their deaths when the battle ended and their mutilated bodies were found among thousands of others. I didn’t know pain like this man, but I could understand death just like anyone else. Even the happiest people, like Gai, have struggled with loss more times than he would like to count.

Tentatively, my arm went to rest over his shoulders. He didn’t move away from my touch, leaning into my side just slightly. I almost didn’t notice the weight. This man needed touch and affection now more than ever. He was battling a war inside himself as another brewed around him every day.

“I know, Kakashi.”

He kept silent. Pakkun sat in his lap calmly, his eyes shutting as he sunk deeper into thought.

“Sometimes, I worry I’ll forget the faces of my parents who died during that battle. I-I can’t remember what color eyes my mom had, and sometimes I forget my dad had freckles or that one of his ears was just a little longer than the other. I know one day I won’t remember at all, and all my pictures burned in the wreckage…” I confided in the masked ninja, and he let out a long breath. “That’s the worst part for me.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s okay. I always remind myself that while I forget their faces, I will never forget how they made me feel. How happy I was when my father applauded me at graduation, and how my mother made me the best meals I’ve ever had. In that way, they are always with me.”

His situation ran deeper, I knew that. He killed his friend Rin, and he was forced to watch as his other teammate died being crushed by a boulder. He harboured the boy’s eye every day, acting as a constant reminder that he could only take when he should have saved him. Survivor’s guilt is written on his heart.

As I squeezed his shoulder just a bit tighter to my body, I added, “You owe it to your friends and family to keep living life to the fullest. Just like my parents, your loved ones live through you now.”

He sat calmly for a second, pondering on what I said. I stared out at Konoha, a small smile on my face. The death would always haunt me, but there were always positives, always something to drag a person out of a dark time. With effort, his guilt would lessen. I doubt it would happen that way, Kakashi being too stubborn to forgive himself, but the least we could do is try.

“You’re a good friend, y’know.”

“I’ll always be here for you, Kakashi. Always.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

______________________________________

The mission was turning out to be a big failure. Y/N had wasted away at her reserve of chakra, and Kakashi wasn’t fairing too much better. They would have been sent with more shinobi back up but Tsunade was running short on available ninja, not even a genin to help them. There was so much going on, and this fight was more chaotic than most.

A few hours before, Y/N and Kakashi noticed that enemy shinobi started following them, but from such a distance that it would be better to keep going for as long as they could to regain strength before engaging in combat. Only, they didn’t realize that there were enemies waiting for them as well. It seemed they walked right into a clever trap.

They weren’t prepared. Even the famous Kakashi was worn out from the strain of the mission earlier that day. Constantly, it seemed, they were being attacked.

Regardless, they tried to put up the best fight they could.

But it was futile.

After just 20 minutes of fighting, Y/N was at wits end. She had used up a big portion of her chakra an hour earlier to heal a villager. Her legs ached from running for hours, and her head spun with a migraine from head damage. Before anyone could react, an already weakened kunoichi fell to the ground, half a dozen kunai sticking from her back from a sneak attack in the trees. Her shirt soaked up the blood oozing from her broken skin, and she barely had enough energy to cry out before her face hit the dirt hard. Just as Kakashi turned away from the enemy to see what had happened, one of the kunai, which was tagged, detonated.

Dust flew up in clouds around her as the flames went down. Her clothes were practically seared to the seams, and the awful smell of burnt flesh wafted into the forest around them.

“Y/N!” Kakashi yelled at the sight of her body. “Shit, shit, shit.”

He pressed his hand to the ground and screamed for his summons to come and help him. Anyone that could protect Y/N while he finished this fight alone. His ninken appeared, and immediately they knew what to do. A few of them went to attack the person who was targeting Y/N, leaving the criminal merciless to their vicious nature, meanwhile the rest, including Pakkun ran over to her body, sizzling on the ground with smoke rising from the fabric of her shirt.

With some assistance now in place, Kakashi used the last bit of his chakra to take down the man in front of him, as well as the two to his right and left. Three shinobi down, as well as the one his ninken took down a few seconds ago.

As he took a few breaths, trying to compose himself enough to think clearly, he caught sight of Y/N’s unmoving body, despite the efforts the dogs took to wake her up, to get her to simply twitch to show she was still alive.

Nothing.

His heart began to race with fear. This scene, it was all too familiar. His friends who had died before him, their broken and ruined bodies lying before him to only stare at. He felt helpless. Like years ago, she was near death and he desperately needed to keep her alive. The need inside of him was so strong he couldn’t think of anything else.

Kakashi fell to his knees next to her, quickly moving to yank the kunai from her back and toss them to the side. blood seeped into her blackened clothes and onto the grass below her.

His hands hovered over her form anxiously, not knowing what to do next. He wasn’t a healer. She was the one with the medical ninjutsu up her sleeve. Pakkun noticed his frantic eyes, the way he held his breath as if time had stopped.

“Not my Y/N. Not to her, please, Kami, please,” he begged.

“She’s breathing, Kakashi,” the dog assured, placing his paw onto his master’s arm. “The medcine, Kakashi, she needs the Hokage’s medicine.”

His brain took a moment to think, and soon after he rummaged through the remnants of Y/N’s side bag, searching for the salve Tsunade had given them as they left. “Fuck, why did this have to happen?” Harsh words cursed out under his breath as he cut through the fabric with a kunai to get a full look at the wounds on her back. Soot covered her skin, so he wiped them off the best he could.

One dark spot remained. Under her shoulder blade.

Maybe he should have moved faster, forgot about the black mark on her back, but he couldn’t help but rub away the rest of the dust and dirt to take a closer look. He’d never seen her soul mark. She’d never seen his. They were in places unseen by the casual eye.

And after 20 years of not knowing, they matched. His soulmate. She was right in front of him this entire time. He always felt different toward the woman, in the kind of way they only talk about in romance novels. He never anticipated even meeting his soulmate, but knowing her for 20 years, loving her for this long...it felt surreal.

He pushed down his mask, touching the mark on his chin faintly. Pakkun eyed his master’s mark for a moment before turning to the girl’s. “Kakashi…”

“Shit, forget about that. Let’s just make sure she lives.”

He rubbed the salve onto her wounds, and her body started to shake. The wounds slowly closed, only leaving streaks of blood and dust on her skin. As he turned her body over, he noticed blood dripping from her forehead and wiped it away, pressing a piece of her shirt to the wound to keep pressure steady.

“She won’t wake up for a while. It’s best to take her back to the village, Kakashi.”

He wordlessly nodded, lifting her into his arms and standing up, hugging her weak form to his chest. And so he started his walk back to the hidden leaf.

His whole body felt heavy, worry building up in his heart. They were meant to be together, souls intertwined by fate. He finally found the woman who would love him endlessly. He would be happy once again.

If only it was that easy…

____________________________________________

After being injured on the last mission, I was allowed to take a few weeks off to recover. Apparently, my wounds could have been fatal if not for the salve Tsunade gave us as it contained an antidote to their poisonous weapons. Kakashi did a good job, the nurses told me when I woke up in the crowded hospital room. They told me he saved my life.

“He was so worried about you, Y/N. He ran all the way here from the Land of Fire just to make sure you were okay.”

“Yeah, he was just about ready to cry when he handed you off to us,” the nurse told me, a small smile on her face. “He really cares about you, Miss Y/N.”

The nurses told me a lot of things while I was being healed. They loved to talk, and Kakashi was a man of much interest apparently. Even though I was in pain, they made it somewhat bearable to sit in the hospital for three days.

Every week, I would go back for a follow up, just to make sure the poison hadn’t reemerged. My last appointment just happened to be with the Hokage herself, her expertise above all others. I worried something might be wrong, as my injuries seemed to be getting better, but needing the Hokage to perform an exam must mean something is wrong. Honestly, I was anxious.

I settled onto the patient’s bench as the powerful woman walked into the room.

“Y/N. How are you feeling?”

“Pretty good. No pain anymore.”

“Alright, well, I’ll listen to your vitals, check your blood stream and chakra flow, and hopefully you’ll be out of here in no time,” she told me, doing as she said she would. I laid on the bench and let her medical chakra flow through me, searching for abnormalities.

After that, I sat up for her to check on my back, which was just about finished healing and scaring. Every shinobi has scars, and thankfully these are hidden under my shirt at all times. Big red welts sat there for a week to the point where it hurt to even wear a shirt because the fabric rubbed against them.

She lifted my shirt, her cold finger running along the healing wounds. Suddenly, her fingers stopped, right under my shoulder.

“Well, that’s quite...shocking.”

“Something wrong?” I piped up, peeking at her from over my shoulder. Her eyes were trained onto my back, eyes widened.

“No, it’s not a problem,” she lowered my shirt, and patted her hands together. “Good news is that you’re completely fine, no complications.”

“Bad news?”

“More good news, I suppose,” the woman told me, her lips quirking into a half grin. “Your necklace is gorgeous. I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off it since you started wearing it, to be honest. Sakura told me Kakashi gave it to you.” She sighed, touching the crystal hanging close to my heart.

With a smile, I nodded, eyeing the stone myself. “It’s one of my most prized possessions,” I gushed, heat returning to my cheeks as I thought about receiving the gift.

“Then I have some great news for you.” She let go of my necklace and stepped back a bit, crossing her arms under her breasts. “You and your beloved have the same soulmark. It seems Kakashi is your soulmate.”

My heart stopped beating in my chest for a second. Wide eyes met her neutral ones, and I opened my mouth to say something, but she beat me to it. “I’ve healed Kakashi time and time again, so I know his mark. It’s under his mask, so you would never get the chance to see it. Yet, it matches yours perfectly. Congratulations.”

“Lady Hokage, I-I...Thank you for telling me! This is all I’ve been wishing for for years. Meeting my soulmate, I’ve only ever thought about it in my dreams. I-I can’t believe it.”

“I’m happy for you, Y/N. You and Kakashi will have a mission in 2 days, I suggest you tell him sometime then, when you have time together,” she advised. I nodded gratefully.

She bid me a goodbye and shut the door as she left. My heart was still in overdrive as I processed what she had just told me.

I would just have to wait a few days and then I could tell him everything. It would be the best day of my life.

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dontasktheradiodemon · 4 years

Text

Chat log - Oct 8

Somehow we got from "Valera confronts Alastor about his obvious crush on her fiancé" to "Alastor makes a bargain with the fae in exchange for time travel" and that's why RP is beautiful.

Valera

Valera walked through the front door of the hotel, a folder of newly acquired sheet music swapped between one hand and the other as she shrugged her way out of a coat that dissolved into so much sparkly vapor as it hit the floor. Ah, the smell of paper and ink, the thrill of a New Thing To Play With. Why, her tail would be wagging if she wasn't consciously trying to avoid accidentally stabbing Alastor! Speaking of, she turns back, waiting for the aforementioned deer to join her.

Alastor

Alastor, on the other hand, will be keeping his coat on. He checks to make sure Valera's entire tail is safely inside before letting the door swing shut. "And there—safely back in the hotel! Mission accomplished, and with no shots fired!" He says this as if that's a common danger when going to the music store. Everything's relative.

Valera

How generous of him! "You say that so casually, Hell must be quite a bit more exciting when you've made a name for yourself! But thank you, my dear. The escort was appreciated." She offers a shallow curtsy, fanning herself with the folder for added effect before popping back up. "Actually! Would you like to come try the new music with me?"

Alastor

"You're quite welcome, any time. It's both more exciting and less exciting! But I've been a sensation in Hell since the day I arrived, I can't truly tell you what the alternative is like."

Oh, the magic words. His grin stretches wider. "I'd be delighted to!"

Valera

Hook, line, and sinker. She grins, luring him away to his doom the piano, where she makes a dramatic show of plopping down on one end of the bench with plenty of room left for him, and setting the sheet music up. "Here, get comfortable! Fair warning, I'm better on a harpsichord than a piano, so I'm sure you'll do much better than I will."

Alastor

Oblivious to his pending doom, he takes the offered seat and glances over the sheet music. What have we got today? "I don't think I've ever played a harpsichord! But I can imagine the adjustment—I've taken a spin once or twice on an organ, and oh, what a world of difference! Isn't it amazing how many instruments have identical keyboards and yet you have to play them completely differently!"

Valera

"Oh yes! Harpsichords don't have any subtlety to them. No matter how hard or gently you hit the keys, the note is always top volume!" A wink. "Like a certain snake, come to think of it!" She'd thought of him in the music store, lucky him, and went out of her way to find a piece or two from his own time along with a few well known showtunes from Broadway. And in the back, a few pieces from Disney. Scandalous. "Figured we'd start with something simple. Are you familiar with Carroll Gibbons?"

Alastor

"Hah." And he'd been doing so WELL trying not to think about Sir Pentious; he'd lasted almost five minutes—which was pretty long when he was talking to Sir Pentious's fiancée. "All the better to ensure as many people as possible hear his grandiose proclamations, I'm sure!"

He skimmed over the sheet music. "Vaguely familiar, can't say from where." Muffled disembodied piano notes played the melody sped up as Alastor glanced over the first page—ought to be simple enough to play. "Sounds like my time."

Valera

Poor, poor Alastor. Wipe off that chalkboard, he wont be making much progress on that timer today. "I asked for something from around that era, so I certainly hope so! You were right though, it's a very fine store indeed. We're lucky you couldn't go in with me or I might have gotten more than I could carry, and we all know I'm struggling enough with that problem already." Wink!

She cracks her knuckles, trying to keep a straight face as she puts her fingers to the keys. Oh, the funny little inside jokes of friends who are obviously both in on the bit.

Alastor

He wonders whether that was a sexual euphemism or just a reference to Sir Pentious's new length. "THAT weight, I could have helped you carry!" He's gonna quietly pretend he doesn't detest the implication that Sir Pentious is too much. Probably just a reference to him being fifteen feet long, don't read into it.

It's music time now!

Valera

The answer seemed in line, no reason for Valera to hesitate, so instead she gives Alastor a smile and launches into a rendition of The Gay Imposter's medley. A simple enough piece for her to start with, and while she starts with a heavy enough hand on the keys that even she flinches at the sound, she eases off quickly into something he wouldn't have to shout to duet with.

Alastor

She adjusts fast, he'll give her that; and makes a mental note that apparently one has to play harder on a harpsichord. He doesn't know if he'll ever use this knowledge, but one never knows.

And so a duet it is—or more, once he realizes that this little medley could benefit from some strings, couldn't it, and calls up a shadow with a violin to improvise an accompaniment.

Valera

She hums and pulls her hands away from the keys, reaching for the folder for another piece to try. "Here, the next one is yours." Actually, now that she's said that.. That brings something to mind. "Do you want to go hunting on Earth, when this.." A gesture towards herself. "..Ordeal? Is over? So, sometime next month? I've seen you talk about missing venison."

Alastor

Hunting on Earth—there's a thought! Something he never imagined he'd do again!

Something he isn't sure he should. That's... something he's going to have to consider. But he doesn't need to give an immediate answer, does he?

"'Ordeal'? I hope you're not referring to your own company! I wouldn't call a stroll to the music store and a spin on the piano an 'ordeal'!"

Valera

... She blinks, brows slowly furrowing as she turns that over in her head. Did he not know? Was he playing it off? Fuck, maybe Pentious hadn't said anything yet, if he'd even planned to. Uh oh. Alright. Carefully, carefully, she turns back to the folder, browsing through sheet music to keep her hands busy.

"Apologies, dear Alastor. I thought Pentious had informed you shortly after he told Match." A polite clearing of her throat, her fins dipping down apologetically. "I'm chock full of eggs, dearie."

Alastor

Alastor blinks in amazement, gaze flicking from Valera's face down to her abdomen and then back up to her face.

For a couple of seconds of loudly buzzing static, a hurricane of thoughts storms through his mind:

Why hadn't he been told? Did Sir Pentious not want him to know? No, that's ridiculous, Sir Pentious trusts him—even though he shouldn't, it's obvious he does—so it wasn't a decision made out of secrecy but out of—what, apathy? Apathy toward what? Certainly not the eggs, certainly they weren't too uninteresting to share, not when Sir Pentious wants children so badly he collects dolls of them, he has to be brimming over with joy—then the apathy was toward Alastor himself, he didn't qualify being told the news. Why should he? They barely knew each other—sure, their friendship had moved fast—sure, the second time they'd met they'd fallen asleep together drunk and curled around each other and— But what's rushed intimacy like that worth when they hardly know each other?

All that in just a couple of seconds as his heart plummets. Then a broad smile breaks out across his face. "Are you really! Well, a thousand congratulations to you both! I'm sure you must both be completely overjoyed. And they're due sometime next month?! I suppose you'll be scheduling that wedding a little sooner, ha! My, but we rarely get news like this in Hell!"

Valera

A moment of calm as she watches him take the information in, and then he starts in with the cheer and she has to watch. The moment he's done, she practically vibrates, hands frantically waving between them as she resists the urge to grab the poor man by the shoulders and shake him. No shouting, she has to hiss whisper before the whole hotel hears their conversation. "Wh-- No, whoa whoa no!!! No you put those thoughts back in the pit they crawled out of, I could FEEL your brain breaking!!! Alastor they're completely nonfertilized. There's not going to be eels tearing through the hotel anytime this year! You're okay!"

Alastor

"I—Oh!" Give him a split second to restructure all his thoughts. "Oh, are they!" He laughs. "Goodness me, and here I was about to run off and buy baby bonnets as a gift, hah—Pity, though." And it is a pity. Does that mean Sir Pentious and Valera aren't fertile together after all? Or did they expect this?

As delicately as he can, he says, "I'm afraid I don't know enough about your people to tell if I should be offering you my deepest condolences, or if you just lay a batch every once in a while like a chicken."

Valera

Oh, now he's trying to be kind? How sweet of him. She chuckles, a bit breathless, and puts a hand to her chest. That could have gotten ugly. The questions are a bit TMI, but such things can't be avoided, sometimes. She'll try to keep it vague, for Alastor's sake.

"I'm on contraceptives! He just confused my body into thinking it was fertilized. Overachieving first timer performance, you know? Which I suppose I understand. Thirty six years of nothing, nada, and then constantly being in contact with someone who keeps sending all the right signals." It's funny, now that she thinks about it. But very nonhuman. No wonder everyone keeps being confused.

Alastor

He'd like to think he's been trying to be kind the whole time.

He blinks for a moment as he tries to wrap his mind around that medical explanation. "Well... I... can't say that I've ever met a creature that can get false pregnancies just from an enthusiastic lover. It certainly doesn't happen among humans!"

Or does it? Maybe that's what some miscarriages are? He has absolutely no idea, it's never been relevant to his life. Certainly, if it does happen to humans, that hadn't been part of the medical knowledge in his time. "Poor man must have been completely baffled by the whole thing."

(He's doing a pretty good job of not thinking about the "right signals.")

Valera

"It doesn't happen often, it threw BOTH of us for a loop. But he took it remarkably well, all things considered! Just the proof he needed that we really are compatible. He's just being a bit more possessive and touchy feely since he heard, and that's hardly a negative." Her cheeks flush. Oh yeah, not a negative at all. But best not to think about that around Alastor. He's already trying so hard not to die over her relationship.

She coughs. "Actually, that brings something else to mind, if you'll humor me."

Alastor

"A test run, then! In that case, my congratulations again—for the evidence of your compatibility." It'll make things easier later on, won't it? And that's something Alastor has worried about—whether Valera's species really would let Sir Pentious get around the natural infertility of demons. Well, there it is.

"Oh, does it?" He gives her a sly look. "Well, I didn't think we'd be having this conversation so soon, but since you brought it up: yes, if you insist, you can name the first boy after me, as long as you promise to spell my name right! You'd be amazed how many people don't spell it with an O." Laugh track, laugh track. "But really—what's on your mind?"

Valera

A wheeze, her body nearly doubling over, a fist over her mouth to muffle stifled giggles as Alastor yanks the rug out from under her feet with his bit. Dear gods, the very idea. The scandal! It's more tempting than it should be, but Pentious would murder her... Probably. Maybe not.

"Well, I mean...... No no, I could never. Veci can have multiple sires for a single pup, people would think you really were one of the fathers. But tell you what, you think of a good snake pun and I'll put it on the list." Humor aside, time to get serious. A pause while she composes herself, smooths down the front of her dress.. And she is suddenly very nervous all over again. Lovely.

"There's no graceful way to put this, I'm afraid. And let me preface this by saying. I'm not angry or judging you, I wont tell anyone without your explicit permission, and I'm willing to shake on that if it brings you peace of mind." A beat. "But I am fully aware of your feelings for Pentious, dear Alastor."

Alastor

His mind is bouncing between the medical miracle of a child with multiple fathers and the list of snake puns that as it so happens he already has, trying to decide which he wants to comment on first—and then it's his turn to have the rug pulled out from under him.

He only spends a split second silent, mouth half open from almost starting a sentence on a prior topic he's already forgotten; and then his teeth click shut like a dial turning off, and now he's all polite smiles and genial tone. "Are you?"

Valera

She nods, just once, and offers Alastor what she hopes is a comforting smile, though it may be a grimace with how her stomach is turning. "I am. And again, I have absolutely no intentions of breathing a word to even suggest it to anyone but yourself. I wont run off and tell Pentious, or writing it out on dash for anyone to see. I'm speaking to you about it because I want to make sure you know that I don't mind. You've been a good friend to him, and myself as well. You've been incredibly respectful, and I want to acknowledge that. This isn't an accusation."

Alastor

"Ah." His glowing red gaze lingers for a moment on the piano keys—no hope of getting to play for a while now, is there—and then his traveling gaze falls on the shadow he summoned up earlier. "What—Are you still here? Aren't you nosy!" He hops out of his seat, making a comical little pantomime of shooing the shadow until it hustles across the room and vanishes, taking its violin with it.

"Eavesdroppers." Alastor tisks, critically watching the spot where the shadow disappeared.

His gaze is still across the room when he says amiably, "You're wrong, though." The corner of his mouth twitches up: haha, gotcha, had you fooled. "It's not him. Just someone who looks and sounds and acts the same."

Valera

Valera turns back to the piano, playing a few barely audible notes to buy herself some time while Alastor busied himself with shooing off his shadowy minion. It was easy to go in heavy handed, get the most from your efforts. But a delicate touch made sweeter sounds, in and out of the world of music. Perhaps she needed a more delicate approach..

Wow, that was as stupid as it was fake poetic! Ugh, back to what she SHOULD be focusing on. "The Pentious of your own Hell, then. My apologies. So you're projecting your feelings for your own Pentious onto the one we both know, then?"

Alastor

"Oh, completely!" He laughs ruefully. "I've known him a mere thirty-three days! Everything I know about him amounts to thing I can assume about the one based on the other, and a list of points that differ. I don't really know him at all. How could I?"

Valera

Well now, that seems unfair to both Alastor and Pentious! She knows for a fact that the two of them have had GREAT fun together, with and without her around to witness it! "I understand what you're saying."

She stops, squints. Shakes her head. "No. I shouldn't say that. I don't understand what you're saying, I just think I can empathize with your predicament. I've spent years knowing various iterations of all sorts of people, but I've never met an alternate of a person I pined over. It sounds like torture."

Alastor

The word torture is met with studio audience laughter. "Then you should consider yourself lucky!" The chipper tone doesn't falter for a second. "I wouldn't recommend it to anyone, hah! Well, maybe my worst enemy—PROBABLY my worst enemy, truth be told, I am not and never have been gracious to my foes—but that aside, oh, no, the experience has nothing to recommend it." Prattle, prattle.

Valera

She licks her lips, raspy tongue flicking out far further than necessary as she weighs her options. She could try to end the conversation here, reel him back in with a musical number. Or dive into his emotional anguish and run the risk of either bonding with him OR making him so wildly uncomfortable he'd avoid her for weeks.

Eh, fifty fifty shot, she likes those odds. She hops off the bench, walking over to Alastor to.. Well. She wont touch him, but she'll just make her presence.. present. "Alastor. I'm going to ask a lot of you here, but tell me. In your ideal outcome, the best case scenario, what would you want out of this whole... Thing?"

Alastor

"Oh! Jumping straight to the thousand dollar question and skipping over the tens and hundreds?" He puts a hand over his heart as though the audacity has sent him into near cardiac arrest. "No no—the last time we played this little question-and-answer game, you remember, we left off on my turn. I get to ask the next one."

He turns more fully toward her—still the polite smile—to ask, "What gave me away? I am a performer, you know; I do pride myself on my ability to keep in character!"

Valera

If Alastor wanted to make a game out of it, so be it. Maybe that was simply what he felt comfortable with. Hope he can appreciate an honest answer. She makes dead eye contact and grins.

"You're touch averse to everyone but Pentious. You latch onto him given the slightest chance, jump on every excuse to be around him. Always craving any kind of touch. A bite, laying on his coils, anything you can get. You stare, you sigh, you practically swoon every time he smiles at you. I act the same way, don't get me wrong, but I'm engaged to him."

Alastor

Thank god for being dead, no blood flow means one's cheeks never burn. Alastor would point out that Valera has never seen him around anyone but Sir Pentious, how would she know whose touch he is and isn't averse to—but no, he confessed that one himself, didn't he? Slouched all over Sir Pentious at the theater while laughing about how much he hates being touched.

An uneasy pit forms in his stomach. (A second, new, additional uneasy pit, next to the gaping sinkhole that's already been forming.) That was right before Sir Pentious shoved him off and didn't address him for the rest of the show. If Valera had been able to put two and two together then...

He draws himself upright in mock offense. "I do not sigh! I won't object to the accurate accusations, but I'm quite certain I'm not a sigher!" He pauses. "And I'd protest the swooning too, except I don't know what a swoon looks like. I don't think anyone actually does that outside of novels."

Valera

She snickers, bouncing on her heels while her fins waggle. Good, something she can crack a joke about, the atmosphere in here was getting downright suffocating. "Well! I'd show you my best swoon, but I'm very heavy and I think I would break either your bones or the couch if I tried it." His skinny little arms would shatter like toothpicks trying to catch her, probably. And that was IF he caught her. No no, there will be no trust falls today.

"Now answer my question, dear fellow. What would be your ideal outcome in this terribly tricky predicament? It doesn't have to be realistic, it just has to be what would make you happiest."

Alastor

He arches an eyebrow. "No working your way up with the easy ones?" He's stalling.

Valera

She arches her own right back! "No. If I wanted to pussyfoot around difficult subjects, I'd find a cat to dance with, not a deer."

Alastor

"Why, don't you know how skittish deer are? Liable to bound off into the woods at a moment's notice!"

He's still stalling.

Valera

She leans in closer, all three eyes narrowing as she stares down at the smaller man. "Alastor, if you keep stalling I am going to start shaking you until the answers fall out, touch aversion or no."

Alastor

His polite smile turns cold. "Try it and you'll never get another word out of me again." It's gonna be all instrumentals all the time, baby. Just orchestras and sound effects.

"If you'd rather wait in silence than enjoy my delightful banter, then fine. Just—give me a moment. To think. I don't have all my dialogue prewritten, you know."

He doesn't yet have the words for something he's never, ever considered putting voice to.

Valera

She withdraws, glossing over his cold threat with a pleasantly bland smile and nod. "Fair enough. My apologies, you were starting to sound like you were about to make a break for it to avoid the discussion entirely. Take your time, Alastor."

Guess she might as well get comfortable then, the couch is looking rather inviting, and as fun as towering over people is, it does tend to make them more nervous than necessary. He's going to talk, she's going to magic up some tea.

Alastor

He plays an idle boring tune over a metronome to fill the silence as he sighs, shuts his eyes, and tilts his head back, thinking.

The problem isn't that he doesn't know what he wants. The problem is he wants so much in so many different ways. The problem is choosing one facet of it that's small enough to say out loud. The problem is putting it into a sentence that won't terrify his nosy guest. The problem is finding words that he can squeeze out before a lump forms in his throat.

Finally, opening his eyes, still staring at the ceiling, he says, "The most ideal, most unrealistic outcome would be to go back in time—fifty-four years, four months, and two days—and change one thing. In a way that doesn't cause the timeline to form a new branch, but that—erases this path completely. So it never existed." He gives Valera a tired look. "But that's beyond even you, isn't it."

Valera

Her mouth opens, but she hesitates. Then shrugs, and gestures for him to take a seat with a far more genuine smile.

"If I answered that in any kind of simple manner, we'd be here all week. Why don't you sit down and have a drink with me, and we can approach this more gently. I'd like to help you, Alastor, even if my methods are.. Overly direct at times." That's putting it mildly. After a day of politics, her capacity for subtlety was shot at the BEST of times. Poor Alastor was getting her at her finest, here.

Alastor

He studies her a moment, a spark of energy lighting his eyes with interest. "Well, if that's your way of saying 'maybe'—I've waited fifty-four years, what's another week?" He waves a nearby chair into sliding over and takes a seat. "Go on."

Valera

She slides a cup of tea across the table, mutely gesturing to the customary cream and sugar she'd not bothered to partake in herself. As an afterthought, she drags a plate of venison jerky through from her own realm. Not a customary tea snack, but it's not like she could truly enjoy anything sweet right now. Plus, gnawing on a piece of jerky was a wonderful stalling tool for both of them now.

Mm, jerky. Now.. Goodness. How can she be delicate about this? "In theory, my dear, I could attempt to put your current mind back in that exact moment you described. It would, of course, destroy this current reality and everyone in it if it worked, and force you to relive the trauma from a spectator's perspective if it didn't."

Alastor

He glances at the cup, but doesn't move to take it. "I like those odds."

Valera

"Really? Most people would hear that opener and cut the conversation there. Though I suppose you aren't most people." No, this was the Radio Demon himself, willing to sacrifice anyone and anything to get what he wanted! Allegedly!

A dry smile. "Might I remind you that I'm thirty six years old and entertaining the notion of attempting to rewrite reality itself for a man I've only started growing comfortable with calling a friend, all so you can fix whatever you broke on that fateful day, dear Alastor?"

Alastor

He blinks. "You're thirty-six?"

Valera

That's what he fixated on? Dear gods, the cackle that came out of her.

"Yes, yes I am. Thirty six years old, and already so accomplished that I've seen both Heaven and Hell. Aren't I lucky?"

Alastor

When she'd mentioned "thirty-six years" earlier—in the middle of a conversation about her sex life—he'd thought she was giving the length of her dry spell, not her life. "My, oh my! Amazing! What's that in Earth years?" He leans forward, all chipper again. "And look how lucky you are NOW. A chance to attempt rewriting a reality you have no personal attachment to, on behalf of a man you only barely consider a friend—no great loss to you! All the risk falls on me! You get to document the results and learn something new about these fantastic abilities you're wielding—even as impressive as they are, I'm sure you must have more to learn! Why, I don't see a downside for you!"

Valera

Her nose scrunches in disgust. "Ugh, you're going to ask me to do math? Some friend you are. But more seriously."

Give her a moment while she adjusts herself, shoving a pillow under her back as she lifts her legs to take up the couch in a comfortable lounge. Oh yes, that's the good stuff. "You really don't see any downside for me? How about the risk of re-traumatizing my friend if it fails? Or destroying an entire reality for one person's desires? That would mean destroying the residents of this hotel, plus the Pentious that exists right now."

Alastor

"I'm in Hell, I deserve the trauma." Absolutely no hesitation. "Destroying one reality to create another. Another with the exact same people who were erased. Another where he wins. Where he comes out on top." He scoots forward in his seat, insistent, animated. "This isn't about me, darling—the fact that I benefit is just a bonus. This is about him. He was poised to conquer. Change one detail, one decision, and he could be ruling half of Hell by now. Maybe more! My god, he was already unstoppable, what if he'd picked up the pace?!"

He reaches for one of Valera's hands to squeeze. "I'm trying to give him Heaven and Hell—I want to give him everything he's ever wanted. Wouldn't you?"

Valera

The sudden touch was jarring, but her hand curls around his reflexively, the warmth seeping through his gloves a marked contrast with the coolness of her scales. It was almost enough to make her relax into his touch, and that was dangerous. She hesitates.

"Would I do anything in my power to help Pentious? Of course I would. But.." She would. She'd make a deal with just about anyone if it meant helping her beau. And Alastor was trying to do that now, for his own object of affection. It was between helping Alastor, and.. Well. An entire reality possibly being voided.

"Are you certain it's worth it? Could you live with yourself if you tried, and failed, and came back to this current present with all those memories fresh? What did you do, Alastor, that was so unmendable that you'd turn to a coinflip to fix it?"

Alastor

"I'm damned. I don't need to live with myself." His smile thinned grimly. "I'm asking you to try to help me cheat the system. If we succeed, then he gets what he wants. If we fail, then that just means the system works, and—and I get what I deserve. Hell is a punishment. I accept that."

He holds up a finger at her last question. "We're supposed to be taking turns asking the questions. I don't see any reason why you need to know if you aren't going to help me fix it. So: are you?"

Valera

Valera looks down at the table, staring into her teacup as if it could answer the questions racing through her mind. Was it worth it? Could she willingly sacrifice the people she'd met at this hotel, in this Hell, just for a chance to help a friend fix a problem it sounded more and more like he'd caused? Was this really a deal she could make? What would she want?

She takes a breath. Lifts her gaze to meet his. "If you're certain you're willing to try this, I'll help you. I'd beg, borrow, and steal from anyone capable if I was the one in your situation, even if the odds were a hundred to one. I'll give you one chance, Alastor, to fix your wrongdoing. But I can't promise it'll go how you want it to. You know that."

Alastor

He lets out a laugh that almost sounds like a sob. "One slim chance is more than I ever dreamed I'd get! Five seconds, one word, that's all it'll take, and the universe changes!" He seizes both her hands as he jumps to his feet, beaming broadly. Behind him three different songs are trying to play simultaneously. "A water spirit from a place without a Hell—I should have known, the moment I met you!"

Valera

Oh, dear gods, what has she signed up for? What is she doing? She couldn't even regret the decision, the sheer ecstasy on Alastor's face was near heartbreaking in its sincerity. The absurdity of it all forces a chuckle out of her, hands squeezing his as she indulgently clambers off the couch.

Great! Two idiots holding hands in the middle of the room while the invisible orchestra goes buckwild! This is great! It's fine! Her chuckle is more of a wheeze, but she smiles indulgently. "Known what, my dear?"

Alastor

"That—never mind, Earth things—that you can help! That's all!" Get ready, it's dancing time, Alastor is pulling Valera into a waltz. An extremely enthusiastic waltz. "So how's it done—what's it going to take?!"

Valera

Let it be said that Valera always enjoys a good waltz, and especially when it distracts her from the gut feeling that she's just agreed to do something awfully selfish that nobody would approve of. Now THERE'S something she hasn't felt in a while! But no, she's falling into step with Alastor for their merry The King and I moment, a genuine smile breaking out across her face at his gleeful energy.

"Not as much as you may think, dear fellow! I'll need to gather materials to build the anchor and casting line, and you'll need as much hell energy as you can muster to manifest yourself strongly in the time as possible. Do you have something significant you associate with that day? A possession we could use as an antenna, more or less? It would let us focus in so I could try and take you there as precisely as possible."

Alastor

His dancing slows as he thinks. What does he associate with that day? A quilt. A robe. A pipe organ. Tea. Cold. A scent he'll never smell again. "Does it need to be a literal possession from that day? Or would a symbolical representative be close enough? I didn't keep souvenirs." He has nothing from that day but the clothes on his back; a coat he'd been wearing since 1933 would make for a poor antenna.

Valera

She purrs, pursing her lips as she considers the question. She shouldn't be excited, but the idea of such a dramatic project was sounding better and better. What was this, if not a test of ability? "Anything you can use to attune yourself should work. A smell, maybe? Human memory is tied to scent pretty strongly. The important part is the emotional tie, something to take you back to that moment, essentially. As long as I know where and when we need to be, I can compensate for one or the other. Ideally not both, that'd be a strain."

Alastor

He stops dancing completely; he's gotta focus. After a moment of thought, he says slowly, "There is a scent. But, there's... no good way to acquire it again. Besides, that moment is... still a couple of seconds before taking action, but after the decision's been made. It might be too late." Not that, then. "Would weather work? Cold?"

Valera

Great! They can just stand there, frozen mid waltz. She'll just sway them back and forth, a nervous tic of her own. "Yes, if that would take you to the moment again, cold would be one of the sensations that would suffice. Would a combination work? Cold, and a sound we could mimic? Something like that?"

Alastor

A sound, what sound? The exact moment he needs to reach—the organ wasn't playing right then, Alastor was by himself. Pacing the hallways.

"Maybe the... the airship. While it's flying." He hasn't been aboard one since then; but he remembers how the sound of the engine underscored everything. "I don't want him—yours—to... to have to hear about this."

Valera

"If you don't want him to, he wont. I promised confidentiality on your terms." She looks around as she gives Alastor's hand a comforting squeeze, glancing from the piano to Alastor and back.

Sound, sound.. "So it was on the airship. I'm familiar with the sound of the mechanics going, the engines humming away. A constant undercurrent. Relaxing, once you get used to it." Thinking about it made her feel at ease, but Alastor seemed to have a very different emotional association with the sound. "Maybe you could reproduce it on your microphone cane?"

Alastor

A nod—yes, yes, yes that's the sound. "One of the airships," Alastor corrects. "Back then, he—" hrmph. He's not getting that sentence out. "My mic doesn't make the sound effects, I do. And it would just be... remembering out loud. I don't know if that would be close enough." A jerky shrug. "I'd say get a recording out of his ship, but... different airship model. The engine might sound different. I'll know when it's flying again."

Valera

She keeps rocking them back and forth, tail slowly curling one way, then the other. "I see! So, what would you like to do, then? I hope you aren't going to ask me to slip my way onto your Pentious' airship circa the time period and try to grab a recording. I don't much fancy the idea of trying to pass myself off as an egg."

Alastor

"No, absolutely not. It's unthinkable." The only, only reason Alastor would even consider going back there would be this one time, to fix what he'd broken. Not for any other reason. Even sending someone as his proxy was too much. "We can wait until yours has finished his repairs. If it sounds the same, wonderful. If not... we'll figure out a plan B then."

Valera

"Sounds like a plan! You focus on getting hell energy, and I'll get the materials. We'll see how Penny's ship shapes up." Another squeeze to his hand, and she leans in to bump against him, trying to get him to look her in the eyes. "I promise, Alastor, as friend and fae. I'll do everything we decide I should to make this work in your favor. You're my friend, and I do genuinely want you to be happy." Okay Val just say that I guess.

Alastor

Oh. He grimaces and endures the bump. Well he was making eye contact, maybe he will again once he gets his personal space back.

"Then consider my happiness optional. I had my chance and I blew it. I don't need another chance." Not in Hell. Not even with fae help. "But he had his chance taken from him. That's what I plan to fix."

Valera

The message got across, no need to stay in his personal bubble. Being close to people who were viscerally uncomfortable always made her scales crawl, it was downright nauseating after long enough.

"Good gods, you're head over heels for him, aren't you my dear fellow? But very well. If those are the terms you want met, I will put his own happiness as my priority for this venture." Ooh, that's a little ominous. Maybe she should reword that? A glance at Alastor.. No, she'll leave it. "Well, our game plan is set. Now, I believe you owe me a story, dear fellow."

Alastor

He endures the vicious accusation without a flinch. He has no argument against it, anyway, except for his perpetual simmering indignation over the fact that it's true.

"Not a story; just an explanation." Might as well step back. They're not dancing anymore and he can use the added space. "At a point, I had to choose whether to stay forever or go forever. I chose to go." He's whittled away at what's a massive tree of a tale until it's a toothpick, small enough to squeeze out of his throat. "Of course, he's—stubborn. You know him. If I'd simply left, he would have pursued. I had to convince him I wasn't worth following." He huffs. "So I told him he bored me and blew up his fleet."

He spreads his hands as a little fanfare sound effect plays. Tadaaa.

https://youtu.be/bjxf-eQWKoo

YouTube

baniger3711

SOUND EFFECT TADA

Valera

Alastor may have gone out of his way to make the explanation as unimpressive as possible, but the look Valera gives him is one of pure horror. She backs away, gracelessly flopping back onto the couch and very deliberately taking up her tea to give herself something to do.

Her mind runs through the idea of wounding her own fiancé like that, betraying him so completely at the peak of his game. The damage that would cause would be... Dear gods. Would he even recover from that? No, no. She can't assume Alastor and his own Pentious had a bond like that. But they'd been close. Allies. And he'd clearly been in love, who knew how his Pentious had felt about someone so important. It's hard not to feel a tinge of malice for her friend, but. No, he was many things. Unrepentant wasn't one of them. He knew what he did was wrong. She said she'd help him fix things. By gods, was she going to fix things if it killed him. He might even like that.

"So you lied, and you ran, because.. You were afraid? Of what, your own feelings? The idea of being with him forever?" She snaps a hand up, a barrier between them, and shakes her head. "No, you don't have to answer that. You told me what you did, you answered my question. I've got no business pressing." Her cup is shaking in her grasp. When did that happen?

"I'm going to help you fix this. But I see now why you place his happiness at a higher priority than your own."

Alastor

She's horrified. He's vaguely glad of that. She should be. He knows what he's done, knows it's so monstrous that he can't even feel the monstrosity of it anymore. It's been over half a century. She's reacting the way he ought to every day when he sees himself in a mirror; but it hurts and he's gone numb.

He hopes he's dropped in her estimation.

He nods when she gives him permission not to answer—good, he doesn't want to answer. He doesn't think the answer's relevant. No possible motive short of I'd discovered he'd killed my mother would justify what Alastor had done; and if the motive doen't justify it, then the motive is irrelevant. "Good." His wan smile widens. "So we're on the same page now. Got all our priorities in order."

Valera

She takes a moment before she forces herself to look at him again, eyes sharp and lips set into a thin line. He wanted to fix his mistake. He was desperate to. He was willing to jump through any hoop it took, and she had to remember that. Chant it over and over in her head as she made herself nod. "We are." A slow breath in, a hold, and a slower exhale.

"What you did was.. I don't need to tell you. But I think you've beat yourself bloody over it without my help, there's no need for me to salt the wound. You want to make it right. That's the important part." Another breath. She isn't going to lash out. She's better than that, and it wouldn't help anyone. "You are my friend. I want to help you fix this horrible, awful mistake. Because it was a mistake. You chose wrong, and you've had to live with that ever since. When Pentious' airship is flying, we will review this. Shake my hand."

There are no pyrotechnics. No magical flair of lights or ominous humming, nothing to mark the moment binding as she extends a hand towards Alastor. Only the look in her eyes, and the unnatural stillness of her frame.

Alastor

He has fallen. Good. He should. And it means if things start to go wrong, she'll have a higher chance of trying to make sure things fall apart in a way that benefits who it's supposed to rather than in a way that benefits her "friend."

He'll be the one to mark it as binding, then. The lights around his hand are subdued compared to his usual glow; just a few little green threads coiling around and between his fingers.

He shakes without hesitation. He doesn't know what's put on the line in a bargain with a Veci—but this is the one, the only thing he'd sell his soul for.

Valera

The smile she forces is sickly sweet. The grip on his hand curling in until her claws are digging marks into his glove. But she releases before any damage is caused. Even now, she wouldn't hurt him unnecessarily. Anger isn't enough.

"Good. Until we review our terms, the only thing I ask is that you remain a good friend to my love. He thinks highly of you, and the bond you share is good for both of you. Rest assured, after I leave this room, I will treat you as I always have. He will hear nothing about this from me."

Alastor

Oh, he's plummeted. He takes a long, slow breath in. Okay. He understands. This isn't a friendship he deserves.

At her request, his breath catches. His eyes widen. Even after, she'd still trust him with...? "I..." His voice is thick with distortion; he tries to clear his throat with a staticky noise. "I—would do nothing less." He examines the marks on the back of his glove; then clasps his trembling hands behind his back and stands straighter. "I'd do anything I can, for him." Borderline unintelligible beneath the static. Shameful. His station would have been inundated with angry letters if they'd ever broadcast such a poor signal.

Valera

There it is. What she'd been waiting for. The disbelief, the raw emotion. A genuine show of weakness, intentional or no, at the barest trace of kindness he knew from the bottom of his miserable heart that he didn't deserve. Just what she needed. Somewhere, a balance tips.

Her smile turns, as soft and warm as ever, and she raises those same claws to cover her mouth as she chuckles. "I know, Alastor. I've made mistakes too. Nothing exactly like yours, but.." A shrug. "Mistakes that cost me dearly. Don't worry. I'm angry, and I'll need time to really absorb what you've told me here, but you're always welcome in my home. We'll fix this."

Alastor

The switch is too fast. He can't trust it. Suddenly it's only "mistakes." Suddenly it's merely "angry." Suddenly it's "welcome." Either it's a performance worthy of the Academy, or it's true—and of the two possibilities, the latter is infinitely worse. He's afraid that one's true.

He opens his mouth to speak, but he thinks if he tries it will just come out as static. He turns away sharply, and nods without showing Valera his face.

Valera

Oh, this poor man has no idea what to do with himself! She should at least put on a better face about it, but.. No. He'll have to realize at some point, that her emotions are purely her own to process, act on, or shove down into a tiny box and stomp on as she sees fit. Oh, if Pentious could see her he'd be shaking her by the shoulders by now.

She sighs, moving back to the piano to reorganize her sheet music. A polite disengagement, a chance to collect himself while she's busy. "I believe it's your turn now, Alastor. Though I can't imagine you coming up with a question in your current state."

Alastor

In your current state. That's galling enough that now he has to take his turn. "Wh—What—" pardon the interference, "—will it be like—on my end? Do I teleport back? Do I—ride my younger self?"

Valera

She cannot believe that worked. But it's a fine question, and the answer may distract him.

"If I were creating a branching reality, which would be the easy route, I'd take you back on a physical level and you'd simply march up to your younger self and tell him what for. Or kill him and attempt to take his place, I suppose, but that tends to work out very poorly."

A scoff. Oh, to be a being who had more than one version of themselves to worry about. "With what we're attempting, I'd essentially be melding your mind into that of your younger self. Like overlaying old film. Your time appropriate memories would be the most vivid, but you'd keep your current knowledge as reference, including our deal to send you back in the first place. A bit recursive, perhaps, but I'm not a temporal being."

Alastor

A pause. "Melding" sounds a little permanent. "And—at the end—how do we... get old me out of young me's head?"

Valera

"Well my dear, I'm surprised you'd even want to, when it would be so easy to crush you into one being, but the answer is simple!" She glances over her shoulder, grinning with all of her teeth. "I pull him out like a worm from the mud!"

Alastor

"Of course I want to. I don't get to stay there." Still turned away, he roughly wipes his face with the back of his sleeve. "Not after what I've done. But, the me as I was then—his conscience is clean. Let him reap the benefits alone."

Like a worm from the mud. How fitting.

Valera

She twitches, then reaches into her pocket for a handkerchief. Was this one of the ones she stole from Pentious? Yes. But she'll float it over to him anyway, like a tiny ghost. She'll even use it as a prop, dancing it around as she speaks. "And what am I to do with your current self, my dear Alastor? Keep you around like a leashed trophy, a wisp tied to no reality for my own amusement? That seems heartless, and I'll have you know that I've got four hearts."

Alastor

That's definitely one of Sir Pentious's. He snatches it out of the air. Valera's never getting it back.

"Toss me in the trash when I'm done." He laughs bitterly. "By all logic, I ought to disappear with my reality, oughtn't I? As far as things are concerned from your point of view, I'll just suddenly be upgraded to a better version of myself—less baggage, fewer regrets, and consort to the new king of Hell, hah."

He finally turns back around. Still smiling. Pay no mind to the slight redness around his eyes. Have you seen his eyelids?—that redness was probably always there maybe.

Valera

That's fine, she can steal more. Besides, better than using his sleeves. "Were it that easy, dear fellow! But I am not part of this reality, I'm a guest. I'll remember all of our dealings, like I've remembered every dealing I've had. I could toss you out, but why would I? The you that I know is the you that is a friend to my beau. The new you would be unpredictable. Is there any insurance, any reason for me to believe you would still be so kind?"

Alastor

Alastor considers that a moment. "Tell me you're a water spirit, the same way you did the first time we met, and tell me you sent the messenger who kept me from making a stupid mistake. There's your insurance."

It won't guarantee he'll be kind. But unless he changes beyond recognition, it will at least guarantee he'll be respectful enough not to be an enemy.

Valera

Valera mulls it over, turning it round and round in her mind as she approaches Alastor once more. This was too serious for playful distractions. And finally, she nods.

"Very well, Alastor. If you're so willing to sign your existence over to me for destruction, I'll try to play my part." Or something close enough, anyway. "For now, I suggest you do your best to get used to my company. We'll be seeing quite a bit of each other in the coming weeks."

Alastor

That's what he's doing, isn't it? Destruction. Hah. At least he's taking down a whole universe with him, that's something.

No, not destruction; replacement. With a better version of himself. The worst decades of his life scrubbed off like they'd never happened—like he'd never caused them. Cheating the game on a cosmic order. He is going to survive this, and he's going to get everything he wants.

"You say that like it's going to be a chore." He scoffs. "I have no reason to resent your company. I suggest you do your best to get used to mine."

Valera

Now it's HER turn to scoff. "Alastor, my good man, every day I wake up and you didn't sneak into my bed to try and cozy up to Pentious is a day I wake up surprised. We are from very different cultures with very different standards."

Alastor

"Well." Rueful laugh. "If he'd ever invited me to, you'd never get rid of me."

Just saying that out loud sends a shock of alarm through his system; even though there's hardly anything left to hide now, even though he's not saying anything that she doesn't already know.

Valera

Who knew all it took to get direct responses from Alastor was offering him his deepest desires and making him cry? It was so simple all along, how hadn't anyone else thought of it?

"Well! I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Now, I think we've had more than enough excitement for one day, don't you? Unless you've got any other questions you feel are pressing at this current time."

Alastor

Admittedly, the crying was optional.

And make no mistake—the only reason he's offering a direct response now is because he remembers full well that her encouragement is why Sir Pentious offered friendship in the first place. If there's the slightest chance that Sir Pentious would like a second guest in his bed and he conveys that info to Valera, she'll remember this conversation.

He racks his brain. "Poor interviewer that I am, I think I've run out of questions for my interviewee! Although I admit you've been less an interviewee and more an interrogator." Modest studio audience laugh; Alastor's getting back in character. "No queries, but one humble request: the next time you plan to rub my nose in my dirty laundry, let me take the first turn on the piano, would you?"

Valera

She snickers, but makes a show out of curtsying deeply in a grand show of apology. Yes, this is more comfortable. An emotional barrier by virtue of theatrics, something they both knew well. This was good. "I'll do my best, dear Alastor, but is it required after every piano recital, or can I enjoy your talents without the dramatics and emotional anguish?"

Popping back up, she tips her fins forward, then back, quirking one side of her mouth up until the dimple showed. "Oh, I should probably give you some form of resistance to my toxins, hm? I doubt we'll be touching each other often of our own free will, but being in close quarters to Penny means being close to me."

Alastor

Dramatics? The nerve. "The more recitals that conclude without my sins being flung back in my face, the better! I'm a comic actor—I'm just not suited to star in tragedies!"

Exactly how close are the quarters she's expecting to be in? He shrugs. "I'll never say no to a spare antidote. Or whatever it is you're offering...?"

Valera

"I could offer an injectable antitoxin in emergencies, but in your case, I think an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure." And now Alastor gets the pleasure of watching Valera go back to her own cup of tea, slam back the liquid like a shot, and then crush the cup in her fist. Then she turns back and he has a tiny bottle of pills shoved at him, Valera's emblem emblazoned on the lid.

"You get seven. Take one of these each time you anticipate being at risk of my toxins. They're take ten minutes to set in, they're effective for twelve hours, and they wont save you from ALL the symptoms, but they'll stop the worst of it. Don't expose them to high heat, it'll melt the casing off and then the magic will explode out violently."

Alastor

She's basically guaranteed that he's going to drop one of these in a cooking pot on a campfire and then watch from a hill with binoculars.

He examines the bottle curiously. "You simply must teach me how you make these."

Valera

He should. She did, and it was incredible.

The pills inside are the size of a pinkie nail, white and round with a pearlescent.. Actually, they just look like pearls. Did she give him a bottle of pearls? She might have. "You want to learn how to make an antitoxin? Or the magic behind it?" She'd be willing either way, she's VERY proud of her accomplishment.

Alastor

"Both, obviously! A form of magic I haven't played with yet and the ability to brew up my own antitoxin so I don't have to pester you for more after every few visits? Why would I pass up on either?"

Valera

"Hah! Fair enough. Alright. Next time we visit, your place or mine, I'll teach you. I'd love to see if you could master it, I had to create the technique myself and it is quite the hodgepodge." Alastor's going to have to learn to extract toxins from a fish, oh boy.

Alastor

"Everything I know is a hodgepodge! I look forward to the challenge." And he's going to love doing it.

Valera

Well, that's all she can think of-- Oh wait. "Alastor, while we're on the subject, did you want a sampling of Veci flesh to try? Not mine, unfortunately, but the fellow that Pentious disposed of. I saved a sample for you, but never thought to offer it up."

Alastor

"I'd be delighted to! I hope the sample comes with a recommended recipe or two?"

Valera

A dainty gasp, mock offense painted on her face. "As if I'd ever neglect you so terribly! I transcribed a few of my favorites over into English, just for you." She claps her hands, and presents Alastor with a torso sized chunk of tail, chopped straight from the bastard himself and neatly wrapped in cheesecloth and cooking twine. Craving seafood, Alastor?

Alastor

Always.

He accepts the bundle with a gracious half-bow. "As always, a pleasure to deal with you." And one of Sir Pentious's kills, no less. My, my. He looks forward to finally hearing that story.

Valera

A pleasure to deal with her? Of course it was. "Of course! Now. Recipes are on the table, help yourself to the venison. I'd best be off, Penny's sure to get lost in his own mind if I don't check in and harass him to rest. I'll be seeing you, my dear."

Alastor

He glances at the table, almost says something, then just nods. "Until next time."

Valera

And she's off, gone in the blink of an eye back to.. Wherever she was going.

Alastor

And Alastor goes to pick up the recipes and venison from the table... then instead sets down the chunk of tail meat, sinks onto the couch, and stares at nothing.

#autokrates #chat log

19 notes · View notes

inevitably-johnlocked · 3 years

Note

Hey Steph!

Any chance you've got any fics where John and Sherlock come out publicly (an AU or just canon)? For some reason I just adORe the tension

Anyway, thanks for everything you do on your blog, it's hugely appreciated!

Hey Lovely!!

Ahhhh Hmm I thought I had a list for this but apparently not, oof.

Here’s what I can offer you with my tags in my bookmarks and MFL’s! Feel free to add some, y’all if you have any I missed!

COMING OUT

See also:

Homophobia / Sexuality / Pride || [John’s Sexuality]

John’s Friends Find Out About Sherlock

John’s Internalized Homophobia

Ex by Itsallfine (T, 1,248 w., 1 Ch. || Angsty Fluff, Love Confessions, Coming Out, Exes, First Kiss, Fake Relationship, Getting Outed) – One night, in the midst of their post-case high and on the cusp of something more, John and Sherlock run into John’s ex. His ex-boyfriend.

Down with this Ship by FrostedFlame (PinkOrchid) (M, 10,862 w., 10 Ch. || For a Case, Gay Bar, Pining, Coming Out, Slow Burn) – Sherlock drags John undercover to a gay bar - for a case, of course - looking forward to seeing John flustered by their surroundings (since you know, he's NOT GAY). John decides that he has hidden both his orientation and his feelings for his daft flatmate for far too long. He is done hiding, time to be honest with his bloody best friend in the world. He just hopes it won't change anything between them. And then it does.

The Pieces That Fall to Earth by Itsallfine (M, 49,513 w., 84 Ch. || S4 Fix-It, Epistolary, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Parentlock, Past Abuse, Coming Out, Internalized Homophobia, Questioning Sexuality, Mental Health Issues / Therapy, Angst, Happy Ending) – John and Sherlock have hit rock bottom, but with all their armor stripped away, they can finally speak honestly, seek healing, and find the truths that matter most. An epistolary post-s4 fix-it fic. Now complete. (This fic is rated T except for one very clearly marked and easily skippable chapter, which is rated M.) Part 1 of The Pieces that Fall to Earth

Performance In a Leading Role by Mad_Lori (E, 156,714 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Hollywood / Actor AU, Secret Relationship, Falling in Love, Slow Burn, Romance, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Pining) – Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world? Part 1 of Performance in a Leading Role

MARKED FOR LATER

About Being Gay by A_Candle_For_Sherlock (G, 1,088 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Coming Out, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, First Kiss, Romantic Fluff, Older Rosie) – Rosie looks up from Sherlock’s picture book about poisonous plants, gives Sherlock a look and asks, 'Are you gay, Sherlock?' and Sherlock, without missing a beat, just says 'Yes,' and continues drinking his tea, and Rosie says 'Ah,' and goes back to her plant book, and John nearly doubles over in the corner.

A Regular not at all Terrifying-for-unknown-reasons Conversation by Dodoa (T, 5,506 w., 1 Ch. || Asexual Sherlock, Unilock, Best Friends, Coming Out, Self-Discovery, Dialogue Heavy, Self Acceptance) – Sherlock is trying to work something out and goes to John for help. John might not have all the answers, but he's determined to help.

Still alive by LoLecter (M, 8,375 w., 1 Ch. || Teenlock AU || Trans!Sherlock, Suicide Attempt, Overdose, Friends to Lovers, Coming Out, Bisexual Character, Fluff, Transphobia, Asshole Parents, Big Brother Mycroft) – Sherlock has known he was transgender for a while now and he decides to come out to his parents, but they react badly and Sherlock end up trying to kill himself only to be saved by his best friend John who doesn't know anything about Sherlock being trans.

Isolated by CarmillaCarmine (G, 8,549, 6/7 Ch. || WiP || Quarantine From Virus, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Bi-Panic, Cuddling & Snuggling, Coming Out, Bathing/Washing, Bubble Bath, Kissing) – Due to an ongoing pandemic, John and Sherlock find themselves isolated at 221B.

Who I Really Am by agirlsname (T, 13,067 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE [1] or [2] || Post S4, Bisexuality, Coming Out, Grief/Mourning, POV John, Pining, Sexuality Crisis, Alcoholism, Internalized Homophobia, Angst With Happy Ending) – You don't tend to give up your heterosexual privilege without a fight.

Coming Out by LiviKate (M, 13,439 w., 5 Ch. || Teenlock, Homophobia, Coming Out, Friends to Lovers, Pining John, Oral Sex, Drunk John, Bisexual John, Teen Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Reconciliation, Arguing) – John has had feelings for his best friend for a very long time. Feelings he knows will never be returned. When John goes out to drown his sorrows in booze and girls, he finds himself falling into bed with a man for the first time instead. John doesn't expect Sherlock to think much of it, as he had never cared either way about people's sexualities. But when Sherlock finds out, things go downhill quickly, leaving John confused and alone. Can the two friends come back together after such an explosive coming out? If they do, will it be like before? Or might it be so very, very different?

Straight Boy Pain by Glenmore (NR, 18,257 w., 10 Ch. || Coming Out, Pain, Romance, Birds, Sexuality) – Sherlock is in pain. Billy Kinkaid, the Camden garroter and best man Sherlock knows, diagnoses it. Ademar Silver, a male prostitute in south London, attempts to treat it. Lestrade, kindly Detective Inspector of New Scotland Yard, doesn’t notice it. Eventually, John Watson, healer and registered medical doctor, cures it. And a beautician called Penny paints Sherlock’s toenails.

The Lying Doctor by pagimag (E, 44,285 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Fix It, Hurt/Comfort, Past Alcohol/Drug Abuse, Anger Issues, Depressed John, Watson Siblings, Coming Out, Bi John, First Time, Dom/Sub Undertones, Parentlock, Internalized Homophobia, Past Child Abuse, Angst With Happy Ending) – Sherlock and John's relationship is fragile after the events at Culverton Smith’s hospital. John struggles with guilt and anger issues. During a case he decides to visit his aunt, which leads to an unexpected development. He’s forced to reevaluate ingrained behaviours, confront long lasting issues and question how he leads his life.

In Bed by Ellipsical (E, 46,922 w., 12 Ch. || Autofellatio, Vibrators, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Coming Out, Liminal Identities, Christmas, Sex Toys, Sexual Fantasy, Fingering, Jealous John, Therapy, Flirting, Texting, Fluff, Sherlock’s Violin, Anal, Est. Rel., Semi-Public Sex, Harry Watson, Communication, Coming in Pants, Spitroasting, Double Penetration, Dirty Talk, Internalized Homophobia, Self-Acceptance, Happy Ending, PTSD John, Coping Mechanisms, Angst, Hurt/Comfort) – It’s almost Christmas, John thinks, and this, this is bullshit. The epilogue to Guilty Secrets. Part 2 of Guilty Secrets

NO! by Tildathings (M, 50,043 w., 36 Ch. || Homophobia, Bed Sharing, Military Uniforms, Past Abuse, Jealous John, Stalking, Violence, First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Pillow Talk, Coming Out, Sherlock’s Past, Shower, Cuddling, Grief and Sorrow, Hugs, Character Death) – Sherlock has been in a coma in over 8 months after he overdosed on the plane at TAB, during which time Mary and Rosie were killed by Vivian Norbury. This story starts 3 weeks after Sherlock has woken up. John is asking to move back to Baker Street.

What have you done? by Tildathings (M, 63,940+ w., 17/? Ch. || WiP || Interenalized Homophobia, John’s Family, Coming Out, Sherock/OMC, Hugging, Suicide, John Deduce’s, Nightmares, Love Confession, First Date, Bed Sharing, Psychiatry) – John have been invited by Sherlock on a pub night?! Sherlock said to him at Monday that Greg and Mike wanted him to come with them on a pub night. Sherlock is afraid that he would do something wrong socially left alone, so could John come with him? When John arrives at the pub Two Broken Hearts he sees Sherlock talking to a man.

A Change of Heart by SosoHolmesWatson (E, 65,436 w., 20 Ch. || Post-S4 / Canon Compliant, Jealous Sherlock, Past Abuse, Parentlock, Dev. Rel., Idiots in Love, Suicidal Sherlock, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Mollstrade, Coming Out, Love Confessions, Big Brother Mycroft, John’s Childhood, POV Alternating, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Hand Jobs) – After all they have been through, after all the heartbreak and desolation, John and Sherlock want to make their way back to each other, still convinced that friendship is all that can exist between them. Will there be a change of heart? Part 1 of the The Pains of Growing series

Worst Kept Secrets by Sherlock1110 and sherlockian4evr (M, 61,515+w., 8/? Ch. || WiP || Engagement, Coming Out, Angst and Feels, Homophobia, Idiots in Love, Big Brother Mycroft, Fluff, Scars, Weddings, Honeymoon, Playing Pirates, Parasailing, Archaeology, Paintball, Swimming, Golf) – For the prompt: What if the thing Mycroft did to upset Mummy... was to come out? What if, as a teenager, Mycroft decided to tell his family that he is gay, and his parents disowned him for it? It's okay now, he runs the British Government, he IS the British Government, but there's still that tiny part of him that wants his parent's acceptance, especially now he's found the man he wants to spend the rest of his life with. Part 4 of the Sherlock and Mycroft Fluff series

Sacré Coeur by Mamaorion (M, 95,235 w., 27 Ch. || S4 Fix It Rewrite, First Kiss, UST / RST, Eventual Happy Ending, Coming Out, Holmes Family, Marriage Proposal, Husbands, Healing, Evil Mary, Beekeeping, Caretaker Sherlock, Mind Palace, Alzheimer’s Disease, Protective / Big Brother Mycroft, TD-12) – In this s4 fixit, John must piece together the gaps in his altered memory if he and Sherlock are to face the terror that has plagued Sherlock since childhood. As they untangle the web, seven years of hidden love ignite.

Full Court Press by MissDavis (E, 126,123 w. || College Basketball AU || Unilock, Masturbation, Homophobia, First Kiss / Time, Oral/Anal, Coming Out, Switchlock, Blowjobs) – Sherlock Holmes has accepted a scholarship to play basketball at the College of St. Bartholomew's. He expects to be their star player and turn the team's losing record around. He does not expect to fall in love with the team's captain, a certain scrappy point guard named John Watson. Or: Sherlock is the team's best shooter. John is the team's best ball-handler.

Nine and a Half Weeks by CumberCurlyGirl and Kameo (E, 175,094+ w., 35/? Ch. || WiP || American AU || Different First Meeting, Daddy Kink, Bottomlock, Anal Plug, Riding Crops, Spanking, Light Bondage, Anal/Oral, Aftercare, Posh John, Virgin Sherlock, Homophobia, Sugar Daddy John, Rimming, Coming in Pants, Light Dom/Sub, Past Sherlock / Victor, Light BDSM, Public Sex, John in a Kilt, Vibrators, Happy Ending) – Sherlock Holmes is about to graduate from high school in midwestern America. Despite his intelligence, his prospects are bleak due to poverty, an indifferent, alcoholic father and poor choices. One day, at work, he sells a riding crop to a handsome blonde Brit and his life is changed. He doesn't know what hit him - until he does. This is a story of a journey to love and self-acceptance and explores many themes along the way: drug abuse, grief, coming out, age difference, consent. Lots of sex but so much more.

Of Ice and Men by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 176,906 w., 20 Ch. || Olympics AU || Paralympics, Prosthesis, Disability, Established Relationship, Threesome - Johnlockstrade, Angst with Happy Ending, Coming Out, Secret Relationship, Asexuall Sherlock, Pilot John) – Greg wants Sherlock to win his first Olympic Gold medal. Sherlock wants John to win his first Olympic Gold medal. John wants Greg to come to bed wearing all four of his Olympic Gold medals, and you didn't really think this would be that terribly serious after reading that title, did you? Bundle up, it's a Winter Olympics OT3!

Radioactive Trees In A Red Forest by Maribor_Petrichor (E, 280,251 w., 73 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-S4, Suicidal Ideations, Alcohol / Rx Drug Abuse, Coming Out / Bisexual John, Seizures, Past/Referenced/Implied Child Abuse, Hallucinations, Rehab, Celibacy, Sobriety / Relapse, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Psychological Trauma, Nice /Not Anti-Mary, John’s POV, Parentlock, First Time, Angst, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending) – John Watson is what happens when a man can no longer see a reason to go on. John Watson is what happens when a man starts to let go. "It is what it is." John Watson is what happens when what "it is" becomes too much to bear. This is a story of the life, death, and resurrection of John Hamish Watson.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #coming out #my fic recs #sexuality fics #mindless-octopus

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angelic-holland · 5 years

Text

Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy // th x male!reader

Summary: Tom and you go on a real date, and Tom proves once again why you love him as much as you do.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: very mild homophobia, fluffy fluff

Request: Hey can you do a th fic based on the song good old fashioned lover boy by Queen?

A/N: *** with italics indicate a flashback!

The upbeat music background of your otherwise silent flat districted you as Tom places his hands on your shoulders, feet fumbling as he steps backwards.

“No, wait this is a side step!” You laugh, hands warm on his hips.

“It's all so confusing having to be the other one. I can do it just fine if I’m in the lead,” he groans, resting his head on your shoulder.

“Yeah but the last time you tried to dip me you dropped me.”

“Let’s not talk about that,” Tom blushes, nose nuzzling into your neck.

You hum as the music starts over.

“Why are we learning how to tango again?”

“Because! I read somewhere it’s like a fun date activity or whatever,” Tom mumbles, kissing your Adam’s apple before kissing his way up to your lips.

“And I wanna,” kiss, “take you,” kiss, “on a real date.”

“Hmm?” You hum against his lips, eyes widening at the realization of the meaning behind his words.

“But you uh, we, what?”

“It can be like how I told my family we’re dating.”

“I dunno if we want a repeat of what your dad did.”

Tom groans, hands slipping down your shoulders to cover your own hands, still gently resting on his hips.

“He came around though.”

“If that’s how the world will react at first…” you start, remembering Dom Holland’s reaction to Tom bringing you home with him the first time. Well the first time in an official capacity.

You and Tom were friends for ages before he finally made a move, although that move was a little awkward and funny, it still made your heart beat faster to this day.

***

“I uh, I like you,” Tom mumbles as you sit on the couch of him and Harrison’s apartment. Exhausted after the housewarming party they threw. You were both a little tipsy, his hand was resting on your own in the space between your bodies.

“Well you’re one of my best friends, I hope that you like me.”

“No, no, no,” Tom says, waving his other hand, shaking off his nerves at the same time.

“You’re not one of my best friends?”

“No, I don’t, I don’t like you like that.”

Fuck.

You figured he was going to tell you he was uncomfortable with the fact that you’re gay, that he didn’t want to be as close as you felt you were with a man who liked other men.

He noticed the visible change in your face and body, shoulders dropping, lips downturned into a frown as you struggled to understand. He’s known you for so long, he’s known who you are for so long as well, what changed?

“I like you in the way that I wanna buy you flowers and take you dancing and to a fancy restaurant and I dunno if I’m just a little drunk but I like you in the way that I wanna kiss you? Like all the time? You know the feeling?”

What.

Your heart jumped out of your chest as you nodded, “I do, I definitely know the feeling.”

“Is that uh, is that something you might feel too? For me?”

You were shocked, not only because you never thought Tom would like men, but also because he was nervous, stumbling over his words, body shaking with anxiety and fear. He was never like this, usually very smooth and collected.

“Yes silly,” you laugh, and you can see the tension drain from his body, slumping back on the couch, goofy smile on his face, hand squeezing your own.

***

You were visibly nervous about going to the Holland house for dinner, you just moved into Tom’s apartment, his fans made no speculation of anything even though it was a two bedroom and Harrison occupied the other room. You weren’t sure if they knew it was a two bedroom, you didn’t want to snoop and find out.

That same day you went to his house for dinner. You’ve been there plenty times but just as a friend. And tonight was the night he would introduce you as his boyfriend. At first you told him he should wait, come out in an official capacity to his parents before bringing you over.

“If Sam and Harry get to waltz into the house one day and say ‘this is my girlfriend’ then I should get to do the same with you.”

So you nodded, dressed up nice in a suit jacket and dress pants. He told you not to wear a tie but as you sat down and he threaded his fingers with your own you felt underdressed.

“Mom, dad, Y/N is my boyfriend,” Tom says proudly, hand squeezing yours as it shakes below the table.

Dom’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head, you saw his hand squeeze into a fist and you wanted to run but Tom held your hand, steadying you and keeping you right where you were.

His brothers were snickering, they’ve known since you went on your first “date”, he made them all cook with him at his place, setting the table up real fancy before you arrived.

“I’m so happy for you Tom;” Nicki gushed, “you know, I've always had sort of an inkling, I mean you two look at each other like you're the only people in the whole world but I never guessed either of you made a move.”

Dom’s silent and you’re watching him from the corner of your eye, scared of his reaction.

“Okay,” was all he said. About the subject and during the entire dinner.

Afterwards Nicki invited you to stay for a movie with the group, Tom eagerly accepted, excited to be with you and his family, excited that they seemed to accept the both of you.

You sat next to Tom on the couch, normally you’d sling your arm over his shoulder or he’d lay his head on your lap, preferring to be as close to you as possible. You figured this wasn’t the time, especially with the way Dom kept looking at you, with some sort of unspoken anger.

***

“And now he’s even got a rainbow flag on his desk,” Tom laughs as you spin him, “I don’t think that’s part of the tango.”

“Nah, I just love seeing you spin in my arms,” you grin, excited at the prospect of holding hands in public, doing mundane things like grocery shopping together with your hands intertwined.

“Wanna practice the dip?” He asks, hands resting on your biceps.

“Let’s do it,” you smile, grip tightening on his waist as he leans back, foot and leg pressed against yours, you lower him back, his eyes wide and staring at you the whole time as you bring him back up, placing a quick kiss on his lips, “now that is how you dip someone and not drop them.”

“You’re never going to let me live that down will you?”

“Probably not,” you chuckle, “we could always practice you dipping me, as long as you promise not to let go.”

“Never,” He says, nose nuzzling your own, eyes crinkling as he grins.

“I wanna,” you mumble before kissing him.

“Wanna what?”

“Go on a real date. Like you said, uh, I guess I don’t care what other people have to say, I just know that I love you and we’re together and people will have to get used to it.”

“Let’s go tonight.”

“Tonight?!” You say, pulling away slightly.

“Yeah, I think I can get us a reservation somewhere.”

“It’s 5pm now.”

“I can work some magic.”

“Wow you are so cocky.”

“Yeah but you love it.”

“I do,” you sigh.

The first time Tom ever told you he loved you he was drunk. You figured it was a pattern, his heart seemed to open up and he was incredibly honest, telling people anything and everything he wanted to say.

***

“Guess what?” He says, wriggling on your lap, you just got back from a party, he was drunk and you were slightly tipsy. You decided to watch a movie to sober up a little before you went to bed. He insisted that he wasn’t tired even yet so you wanted to kill time.

“What?” You ask, hands running up and down his sides.

You expect him to laugh and say chicken butt or something.

You didn’t expect for him to fully maneuver himself so he was facing you, sighing happily he stroked your cheek with his thumb and you smiled, eyes slipping shut.

“I love you ya know?” He mumbles, a tired whisper.

“You’re only saying it cause you’re drunk.”

“Am not, love you, love you, love you.”

“Tell me the same thing when you’re not drunk,” you whisper, kissing his nose.

You fall asleep with his head against your chest, he’s mumbling in his sleep, incoherent words and sentences as your eyelids fall heavy.

“I love you too.”

The next morning you wake up to Tom groaning next to you, sitting up you rub your temples, the hangover headache hitting both of you.

You’re about to get out of bed and grab water and medication when his bony fingers wrap around your wrist, stopping you.

“I love you, I think I said it last night, but I wanted to say it when I’m not drunk. Because I mean it and oh fuck-,” Tom grunts, racing out of bed and to the bathroom. You hear him kneel at the toilet and you race to follow him, making sure he’s okay.

“Hey, you’re gonna be okay,” you whisper, kneeling beside him and rubbing his back as he pukes.

You help him clean up and get some water, sitting down on the couch and pulling the blanket over the two of you as he rests his head on your shoulder.

“This wasn’t, I didn’t puke because of, I puked because I was hungover.”

“I figured as much,” you laugh, kissing the top of his unruly hair.

“I love you.”

“Love you too lover boy.”

***

“Here, you get ready, I’ll call a few places,” Tom says, tugging you back to your bedroom as he pulled out his phone.

You decided to shower, giving him time to make a few calls, you were doubtful he’d find anywhere that had reservations available on such short notice.

As you showered you couldn’t help but think about how you didn’t care if you went to a fancy restaurant, you didn’t care if you went to a crowded coffee shop and just held hands. You just wanted to be his and him to be yours, for the whole goddamn world to see.

As you got out of the shower you heard him talk excitedly on the phone and you couldn’t help but smile, drying off your hair before wrapping the towel around your waist.

“Guess what I did!” He says in a singsong voice, almost jumping onto your back and he stood on his tiptoes and kissed your neck.

“What?” you giggle as his hair tickles the side of your face.

“Got us a table at a super fancy restaurant, they only had a spot at 9, but I figure that gives us enough time to get ready and drive there, with the traffic and all.” “Where are we going?” You ask as he bounces over to the closet, pulling out clothes.

“The Ritz,” He says, “I’ll shower and then we can maybe, I dunno, get some real food before going? Pizza?”

You can’t help but laugh, Tom wants to take you on a super romantic date, the first you’ve been on in nearly a year and a half of dating, a real date, but he wanted to get pizza first. It was all so Tom, and you loved it.

You dry off as Tom showers and you smile as he sings loudly over the sound of the water falling.

He didn’t have a bad voice, that made one of you, you couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket but he would always smile and hold you tighter when you sang along to songs with him, dancing around the apartment when Harrison was gone. Sometimes Tom would bring flowers for the kitchen table when he was gone for a while, hooking his bluetooth up to the speaker and blasting Marvin Gaye as you would spin him in your arms, never in a hurry to kiss or to be that kind of close because there was plenty of time for that, later that night and long into the future. You loved holding him close to you, dancing like you imagined you could in a club or a wedding.

You put on a nice suit, getting a dark blue tie, one of Tom’s favorite colors. You tapped your fingers nervously against your leg, opening your Instagram. You wondered if just for tonight you should make your Instagram private. Just for the night, or until the crazy hype about you and Tom dies down.

You lay down on the bed, careful not to get your suit super wrinkled and you scroll through Instagram, thinking of what it might be like if Tom and you went public. He was a total cheeseball and a huge romancer, so you guessed he’d want to post about you, at least every once and awhile. Maybe a romantic happy birthday message.

You put your phone down and fiddled with the bracelet on your wrist.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Tom asks, leaning against the door in his towel. His eyes glance from your bracelet to his own, something he got you as a one year anniversary present. Yours had his birthstone on it, on his, your own birthstone.

They were simple silver chains, inconspicuous, a reminder to you and Tom of your relationship, without sharing it with the world.

All that would change tonight.

“Should I be afraid? Of your fans?” You sigh as you sit up, fingers still fiddling with the bracelet as Tom gets changed.

You were hoping he would laugh, try to ease the fear in your head as the blur of homophobic comments that you knew you would come across raced through your mind with his deep laughter.

“I think I should be more afraid of them, but I don’t care, as long as you’re standing by my side.”

“That’s the most adorable thing you’ve ever said.”

“Now come on, let’s go get pizza,” he says, straightening out his tie as he slipped his shoes on.

“You know how ridiculous we will look getting pizza in tuxes?”

“I don’t care,” he laughs, pulling you up by your hand, “just wanna be with you.”

“Well you are with me,” you tease, hand slipping into his own as you make your way out of the room and your flat. Tom grabs his wallet from the counter and hands you the keys to your car.

“The pizza place down the road okay? I’ll call ahead,” he says, hand slipping out of your own as you exit the flat. It was second nature for the two of you, close and cuddly in private, just friends in public.

It was 2019, yes, but celebrities were held to a higher standard than the rest of the world. They were put under a microscope so the entire world could see them squirm. And you didn’t want to put Tom through that.

“Wait, Tom, I uh, are you sure?” You pause as he locks the door.

“I, I mean, yeah, I don’t wanna hide it, hide us, I mean, as long as you want to,” his voice falters, afraid you don’t want to go public.

“I do, oh god Tom, I really do, so, uh, let’s do it.”

“Besides, our love deserves more than dancing in our living room and our dates in our kitchen. Our love deserves the entire fucking world.”

“Jesus Tom you’re gonna make me a sap.” “That’s the plan love.”

You end up sitting in traffic on your way to the hotel, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on Tom’s leg in the passenger seat as he feeds you a bite of the pizza.

“Dude this is so fucking good, I’ve missed this place,” You sigh as he tosses the box into the backseat.

“I can guarantee this’ll be better than whatever fancy food is at the Ritz,” He sighs as you pull up to the valet.

“Then what are we even doing here silly?” “Gotta show the world my beautiful boyfriend.”

“Dork,” you laugh and he sticks his tongue out as you park, leaving the keys in the ignition. You race to the other side of the car and open his door.

Nobody knew who you were, you and Tom were just well dressed regular people going out for dinner. You sharply inhaled as his fingers laced in your own walking up to the Ritz.

“Name for the reservation?”

“Holland,” he says, squeezing your hand.

You two are seated quickly and you smooth down your tie, fiddling with the table cloth.

“You look really handsome,” he says, blushing slightly.

You two talk and talk and the night moves slowly but all too quickly at the same time. You don’t notice the people looking at you, catching on to who Tom was.

The only people in the entire world were the two of you, and you were content.

“I know we don’t really drink wine but uh, do you want to order some?” He asks, eyes scanning the menu.

“I know quite literally nothing about wine.”

“That’s okay,” He says, eyes slipping shut and finger running down the menu.

“What are you doing?” You laugh.

“Just gonna pick whichever one my finger lands on.”

You end up getting a bottle of a quite disgusting choice and neither of you can drink more than a glass without gagging.

“Wanna get outta here? Get some beers?” You ask as they clear away your plates.

“I would want nothing more.”

So they two of you pick up your car from the valet and park it at a nearby bar. His hand fits so nicely in your own, and you walk with a bounce in your step, feeling so free, free to hold your boyfriend’s hand in public, free to kiss his cheek when you slip into a booth at the bar.

“I think we’re a little dressed up,” you laugh as the beers are placed in front of you.

“Nonsense these are the perfect clothes for a first real date.”

“I’ve had a really good time,” you sigh, thumb rubbing the palm of his hand.

You pick up your beer with the other hand, about to take a swig but Tom’s hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you.

“What?”

“Let’s toast.”

“To what?” You ask as he picks up his own beer.

“To many more real dates.”

***

The two of you have one beer and sit in the bar for a while, making sure you’re okay to drive yes, but you also just get lost in conversation. No matter how long you’ve known each other, how long you’ve been friends, boyfriends, you managed to always have something to say, always something to talk about.

“Hi, oh my god, uh, I was wondering if I could get a picture with you, sorry this is inappropriate you’re with a friend-,” a girl stops the two of you as you’re walking hand in hand to your car.

Your eyes watch as she looks between Tom’s face and your intertwined hands.

“you’re with a boyfriend, okay nevermind I’m gonna go now.”

“It’s okay,” you laugh, feeling blush rise to your cheeks at the sound of someone else calling you Tom’s boyfriend.

“Yeah let’s get a picture, I’m sure my boyfriend won’t mind,” Tom says, unlacing his fingers with yours before taking a picture with the girl.

“Thank you so much! You two are really cute together, wow okay,” she rambles before walking away.

The second you and Tom get into the car you’re both hunched over and roaring with laughter.

“You think that’s gonna happen a lot?”

“Yeah but it’ll be worth it.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so.”

When you get back to your flat your phone is blowing up with notifications. You shake your head putting it on night mode. Right here and now it was just you and Tom, the only people that mattered.

He raised his eyebrow at you while hooking up his phone to Bluetooth.

“Shall we?” He asks, hands resting on your shoulders as he begins to sway to the music.

“I’d want nothing more than to dance the night away with you,” you say, hands holding his waist as your feet move to the song as well.

You smile as he sings along, “I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things. Come on, sing with me.”

So you do, and you don’t feel ridiculous because you messed up the lyrics, because Tom makes you feel like you’re the one who’s got them right.

“That’s because I’m a good old fashioned lover boy,” Tom finishes as the music fades, “I love you.”

“Love you too lover boy.”

***

Taglist: @la-bellezaa @tom-hollands-blog @spider-babes @unicornsyy @practicallylivesonline @tom-hollands-wife @quinjetboi @fancyxholland @rageyoudamnednerd @sunnydays0803 @jackiehollanderr @khhbby @thomasthetankson @lousimusician @musiclover1263 @peterbxrnes @relise-thefury @tessathedragon @thewinterslut @euphorictom @rebeccamckirgan99 @starsholland @stucky-is-bae @fandomdarlings @peteunderoos @saysomethingspiderman @therealcap @yamyam515 @dylanrauhl @i-guess-n0t

#tom holland #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine #tom holland oneshot #tom holland x reader #tom holland x male!reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland reader insert #tom holland fic

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otherluces · 4 years

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3, 9, 12, 13, 14, 15, 19, 23, 25 for the ask meme✨

3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year - From a chapter of Dumb Boys I’m working on:

Kenny joined Tweek in line for Wendy’s, but did intend to order anything. It was an unspoken custom in their friendship that Tweek would order enough for both him and Kenny whenever the band stopped for food. They had never discussed it, but it worked for them. It all started while they were returning from the first band competition that Tweek went on. He had freaked out about all of the food options at the particular rest stop and as a result, ordered from every restaurant there, totallng forty dollars in food.

“Fuck! How the fuck am I going to eat all of this fucking food, dude?! Ngh, fuck me!”

“Woah, dude, chill!” said Kenny. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“Will you help me eat it, K?” Tweek asked. “Come on, if I have to throw away all this food, I think I’m gonna have a panic attack!”

Kenny chuckled to himself, remembering what Tweek was like when he first moved back to South Park. The first few months had been difficult as he was transitioning to the new school on top of changing some of his medications. He hadn’t changed much, in all honesty, but now he was definitely able to handle everyday stressors like food selection and moderation.

9. longest wip of the year - Not counting Dumb Boys, cause that will always be the longest wip forever and ever, probably the fic I started writing for Bottom Craig Week, but never finished in time (this was while I was having trouble writing and also had the zines to work on). It’s about 3800 words currently, and I definitely will return to it at some point when the smut is easier to write.

12. favorite character to write about this year - Tweek. Normally I’d probably say Clyde or Kenny given how at least half of what I write is Clenny, but this year I wrote a fair amount of Tweek and I have a lot of fun with him. Between writing a serious Imp Tweek in my zine fic (that will be made public sometime in the spring/summer, probably), “dark” Tweek in “Tweek’s New Project”, oversexed disaster Tweek in the band AU fic, and “Twunk” the barbarian in “Dungeons and Flagons (of Cocoa)”, it was a delight. ^^

13. favorite writing song/artist/album of this year - Probably Halestorm for artist because they show up the most across my two writing playlsts. Also @suckasstakenames introduced me to “Don’t Threaten Me with a Good Time” by Panic! At the Disco and it basically became my number one Kenny song - at least for his fun, playful, probably-getting-in-trouble side. (”Something From Nothing” by Foo Fighters is still my hard working, determined Kenny song)

14. a fic you didn’t expect to write - Pretty much every one-shot I wrote, but I’ll specifically mention “Tell Me I’m Pretty”. I didn’t expect a “Clyde Week” and I told myself to take a break from participating in theme weeks, but...oops.

15. something you learned this year - I learned that as much as I enjoyed being a part of three zine projects this year, I don’t do well under the pressure of a deadline. I am so thankful that the mods were extremely flexible and allowed me to have extra time, and I sure hope the stories are worth the delay.

19. any new fics to start next year - I shouldn’t start any new multi-chapter fics (but if I did, the ideas I’d have in mind would be a fairly short Cryde roommates fic based off that Reddit post where the guy thought he was homophobic cause he hated when his gay roommate brought guys over, but really it was because it was jealous, and the Natural Born Killer AU Creek fic I want to write but never will). In terms of one-shots, if I have a chance,

23. fics you wanted to write but didn’t - Dumb Boys, lol. Back at the end of January, I had said in an author’s note that I wanted to focus on the fic more this year because I’d only written 12 chapters in the 12 months since I had started it. Granted I still have a month until the “second anniversary” of when I started the fic and I should have another chapter by then, but counting that, I’ll have only written 4 chapters.

25. a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read - So I don’t read much in general, but I did read a couple things that I really enjoyed. For a more mainstream selection, the K2 fic “Gold Digger” by indirectkissesiniceland is 90s teen romcom gold, and for something a little different and a little experimental, “Heavy Metal Lover” by zuotian uses interview format to help world build an aged-up band AU for Crimson Dawn.

#thanks horrorpumpkin!#ask memes #end of the year fanfiction author questions #writing stuff

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crepeshifter · 5 years

Text

character profile i use

Full name: add their whole name, including middle names

Preferred name/s: any nicknames they like? what they tell people to call them?

Previous name/s: if they changed their name, or if they forgot it, what was their name before that happened?

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Species: in a multi-species world, it’s useful to specify species just in case someone reading these profiles gets confused as to why your character has blue skin

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Age: if a character is a different species from human, it’s useful to add both their chronological age (the years) and the biological age (in relation to human years, how old would they be in regards to body development?)

Mental age: mental age often differs from physical age. it’s a good idea to specify this so that any behavioural problems can be linked to mental age, if that’s the case.

Birthday: always add this, if you get a fanbase on your story/fanfiction/game/whatever else you may be making, your fans will want to know their favorite character’s birthday, as that’s the best time for fanart!

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Height: this helps keep consistency. if a tall character interacts with a short character, height difference is a good way to make the situation more realistic. forgetting the height difference could be an issue so keeping a note is a good plan.

Weight: again, helps with consistency and story elements. heavy characters will likely be louder when walking, for example.

Blood type: not a super neccesary base point but don’t forget that transferring blood between people is harder than just ‘here have some blood’, especially in a game. crossing blood types can be fatal so adding this point gives a new way to kill characters off >:)

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Eye color: this is simply an appearance point. try to be as specific as you can (i like to take the hex code and copy and paste it in, so there can be no mistake!)

Eye shape: again, just an appearance point however this can help to almost give characters animal qualities! e.g you can make a person seem more ‘cat-like’ by giving them more slanted eyes. an easy way to do this is make an eye shape sheet, numbering and lettering tables for shape, lashes and pupils.

Glasses: this can be really useful especially in game situation. glasses can be used to focus light and start fires, and story element; what if your character has bad eyesight and loses heir glasses? how does this affect their performance - maybe even their overall morale!

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Hair color: as with eye color, try to be specific as possible so mistakes are less likely. giving a loose description such as ‘ginger’ or ‘black’ is fine, but only if you want the reader/player to have a wide scope for their own imagination. e.g ‘ginger’ could be more on the red side or the blond side, specifying even ‘red-ginger’ or ‘gold-ginger’ can be really useful. is it dyed or natural?

Hair length: this one doesn’t need to be super specific - don’t go measuring it accurately, simply stating ‘shoulder-length’ or ‘mid-back’ is perfectly fine.

Hair type: for this one try to describe the texture of the hair, whether it’s thick or thin, greasy or clean, knotty or brushed etc. this gives the reader/player a good visualisation of how they treat themselves.

Fringe/Bangs: again, this helps with visualisation. try to specify if it’s a neat cut, or choppy, or if they even have bangs at all.

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Freckles: this isn’t super important but it can add some uniqueness to your character’s design. specify how dark the freckles are, how they are distributed (many freckles, few freckles) and where they fall e.g cheekbones, bridge of nose, all over face etc.

Scars: this can add some personality as well, if a character has more scars, it can tell a lot about their personality - are they daring? try to describe where their scars are, how deep are they? are they burn scars or gash scars? do they open up under stress? how did your character get them?

Beauty marks: again, a cute uniqueness point. as with freckles, where do their beauty marks fall, on their neck? a dot under the eye? how dark are the spots? are they large or small?

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Skin tone: this can also add personality to your character. for this point, add a sort of rating for the skin tone e.g 1-10, 1 being palest and 10 being darkest. hex color values are also useful because you could have a character with green skin, but if you don’t specify color, how would anyone know from the profile? give reasons for the skin tone. do they go out a lot? where do they live? do they work? what is their skin like, tough? delicate? sensitive? do they have a rash, or a skin condition?

Nationality: make sure you add this, it can be useful to justify skin tone and other pints like their hair and eye colors.

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Allergies: this is always useful, especially for a game character. if your character is allergic to mushrooms, tell the reader/player! in a game situation, a character who eats mushrooms but is allergic to mushrooms could be severely affected. how serious is the allergy? will it kill them, or just give them a headache?

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Any health issues? : this could be mental or physical. it’s useful to add these for plot points, or stats in a game. can it be solved? how does it limit their capabilities? is there someone/something that is an exception, e.g do they refuse to talk to anyone due to social anxiety, but they get really happy and excited when their best friend calls them up? do they have to take medication for it? what if they don’t take their meds? do they refuse to take these medications? how do people judge them based on their health problem? is their issue countered by something which is amplified (this is often the case with autism for example). is their issue noticable at first glance? can they cover it easily or do they have to make excuses? do they even want help?

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Sexuality: oh, this. the ships will roll, when you add this. it’s useful to add, just in case they have a crush on someone whose sexuality prevents them from having a relationship, e.g a gay male crushing on a straight male. it also helps in the way of distractions, are they interested in boys? girls? how much do they like the people they’re attracted to (would they stare at someone they find attractive, or just glance and think ‘cute’, before looking away?)

Gender identity: for this point, add their physical sex, the gender they identify as, and pronouns. if you have a transgender character, add the sex they were born as, then the sex they feel they are, e.g female-male trangender, male, he/him/his.

Crush/Lover/Spouse: delete as appropriate. if they have more than one crush, list them all, if possible. if they’re in a relationship, but they’re crushing on someone else, put ‘Lover: [name of lover], Crush: [name of crush], [who they like more]’.

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Favorite color: useful for personality and helps to decide what they would wear as well as what things they would buy. if they have multiple, just list them, and if they have no favorite, then say that. if they hate all colors, say that too. it’s also useful to mention if they’re colorblind, this could justify their lack of preference. also specify what type of colorblindness they have.

Favorite food: useful to show where they would eat, and what they would eat there. is their favorite food something they’re allergic to? if so, do they eat it anyway, or do they suffer in silence as their friends all help themselves to the peanut butter sandwiches? again, if there are multiple, it’s useful to add that, as well as if they don’t like any food in particular.

Favorite drink: same as with the food. it’s also useful to mention if they can even tell the difference between pepsi and coca-cola for example, especially if one of these is their favorite. can they only drink the branded drinks, or are non-branded drinks just as good to them?

Least favorite color: this is a good plot point. some people associate memories with colors, so maybe your character does too. is there a reason behind their dislike for a certain color, or is it just unappealing? did they used to like it, but went off?

Least favorite food: it’s useful to specify why in this section. why doesn’;t your character like curry, is it the spiciness, or the weird flavor? do they not like meat? is it because they’re vegetarian, or is the issue the texture?

Least favorite drink: same as with food. do they dislike non-branded drinks, or maybe, do they prefer the non-branded ones? do they dislike fizzy drinks because it makes bubbles go up their nose, or maybe do the bubbles give them heart-burn?

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Loves: this is helpful for plot. what do they enjoy? is there a reason behind this? are all the things they love just people? is it something their friend gave to them? is it a hobby which they find peace in? do they take pride in these, or do they try to hide it?

Likes: what do they find enjoyable but not as much as what they love? is it all food?! what if they only like it because their friends do? is it something they get money from?

Tolerates: add things which they don’t like, but they won’t try to argue with. e.g loud people, queue-cutters? cold weather?

Dislikes: this could define their friendships! what if they don’t like hyper people, but they have to work with a hyper person for example?

Hates: the things they absolutely, under no circumstances, ever, will tolerate. spiders? liars? this is an opportunity for plot!

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Weather: the weather they feel most at ease in, or enjoy most. does your character like to read books indoors while a thunderstorm cracks outside? do they love to be at the beach in scorching weather? throwing snowballs? kicking autumn leaves?

Temperature: which temperature makes them happy? the winter chill that clouds their warm breath? the summer air which makes the cool breezes all the more welcome? add the temperature in both °C and °F, and add factors which may affect this.

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Notable strengths: things they pride themselves on. is it their artwork? singing ability? the capability to stay motivated? calming people? physical strength?

Notable weaknesses: things that they maybe aren’t so good at, and may or may not be working to improve. social interaction? sword skills? cooking? maybe it’s as simple as their dissatisfaction with appearance. bear in mind that these ‘weaknesses’ will likely be things that, when mentioned or pointed out, will make them uncomfortable or protective.

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Piercings: do they have ear piercings? are the earrings they wear significant? did they have a piercing, but it closed up? make sure to specify how many they have and if there’s a reason at all, mention it. it could me important.

Tattoos: where is it? did it hurt them? why do they have this tattoo? how old is it? did they even want it? if they have none, but want some, what do they want? are their tattoos faded? did they have any removed?

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Hobbies: things they enjoy and love to do. walking in the rain? stroking kittens? singing along to music? sleeping?!

Style: their clothing choice. do the prefer light or dark colors? do they expose a lot of skin, or prefer to cover up? do they like loose clothing? why? do they prefer to wear warm clothes or ones that let them stay cool? do they have loads of the same hoody?

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Other: this is where you write any other important things. backstory, maybe? quotes? catchphrases? alignment?

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secret-time-is-here · 5 years

Text

Double Stitched (Part 12)

Previous - First- Next - Rewrite

“...Why would you... agree... with that…” Strings voice was still quiet, he barely had enough energy to talk, but at least it wasn’t hoarse anymore. Glitch was sitting in a chair next to Strings’s gurney, talking to him about everything.

Strings was in the infirmary again because he had gotten a fever and his bones had grown weak and fragile. He was on special meds for the pain, to grow back bone marrow, and given a specific diet to make his bones strong again. His bones were growing frail, his body was preparing to die. It hurt to see him like this, but at least it was better than when he was in the cell that night.

“I had to, I couldn’t bare not seeing you. I couldn’t even sleep the night you came here, It hurt to know you were so close but I couldn’t go to you- but we both know I did anyway.” Glitch grabbed Strings’s hand, holding it in between both of his, “And if you get better you could even stay in my room with me, how does that sound?” Strings gave a nod, blushing a bit.

They were allowed to be as gay for each other as they wanted, no one else was in the room to bother them. Doctors only came to give Strings pills and to check on him every hour, so they had a lot of time.

“...it… s-sounds… great…” Strings was tired, the pain meds he was on made him drowsy, but he wanted to talk to his boyfriend. A doctor came in, checking in on Strings- asking questions and writing down some things on his chart- then he left leaving the couple alone to talk again.

“I may have to leave soon, but, I promise to come back after. If Dream thinks that I don’t care for Nightmare and Cross anymore, I can get all of you back home sooner.” Glitch checked the time, he was supposed to accompany Ink on a solo mission at 3:30 pm, this was so he could know what to do and how to do it in the future. It was 3:02 pm, he had to go get ready, “Bye Ri-Ri, I love you. Get some rest while I’m gone.” He gave Strings (or Ri-Ri) a quick kiss on the forehead and then left.

Not a minute after 3:30, Ink and Glitch had reported to Dream’s office for the mission. The mission was on a murderer in an OceanTale timeline, he primarily killed strong single men, giving him no one else in the house. His kills were driven by ego, who can kill you when you can kill the strongest men alive?

Dream gave them the papers and information and sent them off, leaving him alone in the office.

As per usual he felt something watching him, a ghost that was always by his side. When he first felt it, he thought it was the presence of Blue, but it was always there- even when Blue was nowhere near. Sometimes it would annoy him a lot and then not long after something bad would happen, even a guardian has a guardian apparently.

Suddenly it started to nag him, he could never see it- but it felt like they were tapping into his senses, altering him something was happening.

“Hello Dream, happy to see me? Scratch that, you like pissed~” Blue taunted, smirking as always. Dream wasn’t happy to see him, but he could deal with him. Blue was the last thing the guardian needed near Strings, the sick skeleton had enough on his plate right now.

“I’m never happy to see you Blue, and I doubt I would be happy to in any circumstance. Show me what you have so I can wave it away with a sentence and you can leave, I really don’t see why you come back here.” Dream kept his eyes on Blue, not trusting him anymore.

“Ya’know, Our little Glitch and Strings are pretty close~ They were holding hands and kissing too.” Blue ignored the other’s comment, taking as if he never said it- he couldn’t share his motivation for blackmailing Dream.

Dream just sighed and put a hand to his temples, this was so dumb, Blue really thinks he knows more than Dream does when its Dream’s company?

“They’re dating Blue, of course they are. I gave Glitch visitation rights and I’m allowing Strings to even stay with him in exchange for extra hours. Do you have anything else? I swear you make these interventions of yours last so long.” Blue stopped smiling, unhappy. He scoffed, hating the idea of his pawn really moving on- at least he had a backup plan.

“Well, you were pretty open earlier Dream, who was it you were talking about again? I think it was Ani… right? Don’t you still love them…? Oh! How could I forget, you never stopped caring for them, you were with them in their last days. If I was told correctly, you held their hand even after they died, how tragic…” Now Blue had crossed the line, how dare he talk that way about the dead?!

Dream let out a low gallows laugh, smirking and showing off the face Blue would usually wear; except his sun yellow pupils were gone. The Errored skeleton was left to stare at the void, uncertain of what was happening and very confused.

“Funny, you talk so confidently when I can put you away for kidnapping- and probably a few other things too, I even have a testimony against you.

“And from what I’ve heard, you’ve done some bad stuff to Strings, wonder If I could get a testimony out of him too…? Your first pawn’s dying words against yours… how does that sound?” This is what Dream kept hidden? He had to run, now.

Blue took a step back, fear in his glitching eyes. His confident persona was completely stripped away by Dream, no longer could he be feared in the Lord’s eyes.

“You’re crazy! Is this what you keep hidden from everyone?! A secret dark side?!” He couldn’t help but yell, he was frightened- no, petrified, he couldn’t move. Blue stood, waiting for Dream to do something- anything. He didn’t care -good or bad- he just wanted this perpetual game of waiting to end.

“So… tell me, Blue, do you really want to talk about the dead that way?” Dream’s voice stayed calm, but Blue could tell under those layers of control and coolness- He was enraged.

The winged skeleton stood up, towering over Blue. Everything was in his favor only moments ago… now everything acted like a nightmare, the guardian of positivity terrorizing someone? He never thought it would be possible.

“I recommend you leave, you may end up my punching bag… you don’t want that, do you?” Dream smiled more so, making his look more terrifying. Blue took up the advice and left.

The guardian sighed, he had pent up anger and nowhere for it to go- training would have to do.

-----

“Strings...? Are you still-” Glitch shut himself up, seeing his lover sleeping happily. It was late, about 9 pm, and most of the building was getting ready for bed or working.

He tiptoed over, not wanting to wake the other. He sat down quietly as well, opening a window to his room to grab the knitting supplies he had bought. Heavy blankets were supposed to help the sick sleep, right? The needles quietly clicked as he worked, he wasn’t as fast as Strings- but if he stayed up a few more hours he could finish it.

“Glitch?” Dream poked his head into the infirmary, the god put a finger over his mouth to show to quiet his voice. Strings stirred in his sleep a bit, “...sorry, glad to see you back, how did it go? And… are you knitting…?” Dream then whispered, laughing a bit at the end.

“It went well, we found him quickly- capturing was a different story but still. And yeah, I’m knitting, he helped me get better, I think all Errors just know or are taught to. Although sewing is more Strings forté…” Glitch trailed off, whispering himself. He looked over at his lover, happy with how things worked out, “Did you know Strings has been the one anonymously sending the toys to your orphanage? I’ve seen him make a few too.”

“Wait, really? I’ll have to give him a formal thank you sometime, those toys are the reason some of our kids even get any rest.” Dream paused, he hadn’t seen the kids in a while now that he thought about it. Better visit them tomorrow, “...anyways, get some rest. Ink’s going on another mission at the same time tomorrow, you’ll want to have enough energy for it too, it’s going to be a bit harder than OceanTale.” He then started to walk out of the room, wanting to leave the couple alone.

“Alright, you make sure you get so sleep too-” Glitch looked down at his knitting as Dream walked out,“-and you might want to take care of those bruises and the bleeding on your leg before anyone else sees you.”

Dream snapped his head back, seeing Glitch calmly knitting; as if he hadn’t noticed Dream’s injuries. The guardian turned his head away, muttering a thank you before finally heading off.

The thank you echoed in Glitch’s mind as the blanket started to be made, although, soon the thank you was replaced by the steady clicking of the needles, filling the room with quiet white noise.

“...Glitchy…? What... are you… knitting?” Strings was awake, flinching here and there- his pain medication must’ve worn off and woke him up.

“A blanket for you, heavy blankets help sick people sleep… so I thought I’d make you one. Maybe I could make you a doll too.” Glitch chuckled, having the image of his lover holding a navy Blue blanket and small doll version of himself in his head, Strings laughed along with him- coughing following suit.

Glitch dropped his supplies noticing this, quickly going to pat the other’s back to help him through it, Strings was coughing up Dust.

“S-should I page a doctor?” Glitch’s voice was shaky, was Strings going to die? His love nodded, trying to calm his breathing so he didn’t cough anymore- although seeing the dust on the sheets didn’t help him.

-----

The doctor and Dream walked out of the room talking to each other. Glitch’s thoughts raced, he couldn’t hear what they were saying- their facial expressions were calm and relaxed, he couldn’t understand what was happening.

After a few minutes more, the Doctor walked away, leaving Glitch and Dream alone in the hall. Dream looked over at the other, seeing his worried expression. Still calm he walked over to where the god was sitting, sitting down in a chair next to him.

As soon as the doctors got to the infirmary earlier that night, they rushed Glitch out, not allowing him enough time to say goodbye.

It had been hours, Glitch refused to sleep. He had to stay awake, he kept himself awake by knitting the blanket he had started earlier, keeping his mind off the current stressful situation. When Dream walked out of the room he put the now almost complete blanket aside, Dream’s slow walking and perpetual silence didn’t help his anxiety.

Dream, after he had sat down, finally spoke up.

“He’s alive, it really was a close call. If you were a minute later he would be in a coma right now… He’s currently stabilized and once the nurses are done you can see him.” Glitch relaxed, he was alive and he could see him, that’s the most he needed to know.

“Thank you, Dream. Not just for this, but for all you’ve done- despite my situation here.”

“Not a problem, if I could’ve done something for them… I would’ve… but now I can do something for the one you care about.” The Lord paused, “I better head back to my office, I need to get things prepared for when Nightmare and I die, this all has dragged on for so long.” then he left. Once Strings is ready and is physically able to, Glitch had to get them out.

-----

Glitch didn’t run this time, his shoes clicked across the underground stone passage. The prisoners the captured from that day were gone, sent to an actual prison and given their sentence. His few friends and he were completely alone this time.

Strings lay asleep upstairs, barely able to stay unconscious through the traumatizing events of the day. Nightmare and Cross deserved to know what was going on upstairs, Glitch was sure they heard the storm of footsteps earlier that day.

Calmly walking all the way allowed him to take in how many cells they had and how long it took to get to the end.

10 minutes later Nightmare and Cross came into view, they looked half pissed half happy to see him. You couldn’t tell time while you were underground, they didn’t know whether Glitch was coming to talk, or to take away Nightmare.

Everyone stayed silent until Glitch made it in front of the cell. The prisoners didn’t speak, they had no reason to waste possibly their last breaths.

Glitch heaved out a long sigh, sitting down on the cold stone in front of them.

“... I’m not here to take you away, Nightmare. I doubt they trust me enough yet to let me do that. The commotion upstairs earlier was Doctors rushing into Strings room…” Glitch let out a shaky breath, holding back tears- a few did escape. “He almost died. He’s stable now and sleeping peacefully again, but Dream has started preparing everything for your guys' death.”

Nightmare’s eyes widened, he may have lived long but he didn’t want to die. The pain, suffering, and aloneness made him who he is today. He didn’t want to die while his friends were still alive.

Nightmare’s fear kept him quiet, but the same couldn’t be said for the other imprisoned skeleton.

“What does that mean for us outlaws? You’re sitting comfy and we’re going to die?” Cross didn’t care enough to hide his anger in the statement.

“Once Strings is out of the infirmary, I’m getting you guys out. But because of our little hiccup, that may be a few more days. His fever is gone so we don’t have to worry about that at least.” Nightmare looked up, grateful, Cross shared this but to a much lesser extent than his friend.

A moment of silence passed.

“I promise I’ll get you guys out.”

-----

“Wakey wakey~” A voice called, it was like he was waking up a baby. Strings slowly woke up, expecting to see the morning sun and Glitch coming to say goodbye for a morning mission.

“Glitchy…?” Strings opened his eyes, it wasn’t Glitch.

At his bedside stood Blue. It wasn’t morning either, the night sky light up the room with its stars and currently crescent moon. Strings was petrified, he was afraid of what would come next.

He started to hyperventilate, he couldn't handle seeing Blue right now. Blue put a finger against his mouth, trying to silence him. His breathing increased more instead. He may have blushed against this action in the past, but now he furrowed his skele-brows in hatred; trying to calm his breathing so he could talk.

After a few minutes of this, he felt in control of his body again: grabbing Blue’s hand and tearing it away from him.

“...just leave… Blue. I don’t… care enough… or have enough… energy to talk… with you.” He was now struggling to breathe, he started to feel the pain from his wounds again and his throat tightened from fear.

“Now now, That’s no way to talk to me~ I did take care of you after all. I mean- I did so much for you, and this is how you repay me?”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with how I repaid you, why should my boyfriend be any different? I’m sure my tall friend here could help you get back to your senses, and by senses- I mean leaving here.” Blue snapped his head around, why did he always have to ruin his plans?

Behind Blue stood Glitch, but he wasn’t alone. Dream stood next to him, a hint of shock in his eyes but otherwise cool and collected.

Strings was saved.

“Blue? I thought you wouldn’t come back for good after last time, or do you need a reminder that I can easily put you in Jail now? I could always call security.” Blue scowled

“This isn’t over Dream.”

Dreamswap belongs to @onebizarrekai

Dream and Nightmare belong to @jokublog

Cross and Underverse belong to @jakei95

Error belongs to @loverofpiggies

Blue belongs to the undertale community

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years

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hi steph, I hope you enjoyed your break and are looking after yourself! if you’re back and feeling up to it, I was wondering if you knew of any affectionate sherlock fics or ones where john calls him pet names? just that lovey dovey vibe w a cuddly sherlock :) again, thank you for everything you do ❤️

HI LOVELY!!!

AHHHH You are in luck!!! I actually have a Pt Two list that I’ve been just WAITING for someone to ask for, LOL. I hope you enjoy what I have for you today!!!! And as always, add your own fics, my lovelies!! <3

PET NAMES Pt. 2