#There's a real chance my personal and medical information is just floating around out there...

[sleepknoot]

Anyway, my insurance had a fucking data breach so I get some money out of that. . .

[thecitythatdoesntsleep]

Vampire Master-Guide

First of all I want to start off by saying I've gathered inspiration from MANY vampire medias. Fictions, games. The biggest influences are Vampire the masquerade (primarily bloodlines) and Vampire Knight (manga). As well as honorable mentions to Vampyr (game), Queen of the Damned (movie) and Van Helsing (movie, anime). So if anything sounds familiar, chances are it is. I highly encourage you to explore them as they are a few of my favorites.

Second of all this is going to be massive, so I'll be putting it under a cut. But it will be a comprehensive guide to my personal vampire lore that I've crafted and worked with through the years. If you like it, feel free to use it! I'd absolutely love to be tagged (so I can shower the creations with praise) but it's not required. I'm just out here making one more version of vampires that hopefully inspires you. There will be a couple different categories that I will touch base on.

History (this part is super short)

Physicality - Medical Information

Physicality - Appearance/Body

Mental Effects

Society

Anything from my vampire lore will be tagged #vlor

Now follow me under the cut, lovelies. But please be Warned: We'll be discussing blood, violence, physical and mental illness. As well as regular vampire related things. If any of this could trigger you, please kindly skip this post because you're far more important to me!

'History'

The original vampire to walk the earth, cursed by the heavens was Caine. After committing the first murder, a blood-soaked punishment was to forever be banished to walk the darkness with a constant reminder of his crimes. Thirst. Craving for the same blood he shed against his own kin. The sin was carried through the years and he came upon another outcast kindred by the name of Lilith, cursed by God in a different way and hexed with powerful disciplines.

They bonded as kine and Lilith taught her chaos to Caine in hopes they'd rule together. In the end his nature stayed true and his now empowered wrath befalls Lilith, committing murder yet again and taking her life.

To feed upon and be fed, was a now animalistic instinct that spoke louder than supposed human nature ever could. And thus the curse spread. To anyone that drinks from the tainted or is bitten by a rabid, is surely to bear it at the final heartbeat. The path to redemption is sealed but survival is nearly infinite. So long as the beast is obeyed and satisfied, there is no constraint on lifespan. They will be damned to an eternity enslaved to thirst.

(Primarily from VTMB but I really like the idea of it being some sort of ancient curse from the gods so I thought I'd include this tiny historical bit. Onto the good stuff.)

Physicality - Medical Information

Vampires are anemic, let's just establish that all vampires are what modern day medicine would consider anemia. But they also have super aggressive red blood cells that function x100 that of human white blood cells. All in one combo of super cells. No illness spreads. No disease can contract, nothing can live in their system. They don't fall ill with colds or flu. STD's aren't feasible. Their systems are far too strong and combative to infections, bacteria.

Their integumentary systems regenerate about x200 - x300 times faster. Within seconds (if there is or has been fresh blood in the system recently) their skin regenerates and goes even beyond that. Mere hours and limbs grow back, bones realign.

Vampires don't have functioning organs. (If they are turned from humans they are there but they don't work and will eventually wither.) Hearts don't beat, lungs have no need for air.

Vampires can't drown. They don't breathe and even if water fills their lungs, they would be weighted down but not die. They also don't float like humans do naturally.

Vampires can go out in the sun but they have hard times with sun poisoning. Think of a sunburn but more like a rash. They can't process the vitamin D very well and almost all of them have trouble with getting severely burnt very rapidly or having a rash from the sun. Prolonged exposure can make them feverish, nauseated and give them body cramps and fatigue. Even longer can make them violently ill and can essentially melt their skin. It can be healed but takes longer.

Staking their hearts immobilizes them but does NOT kill them. They can be detained this way and it is excruciatingly painful. But it doesn't kill you.

Vampires can't eat food. Only few can consume liquids aside from blood. They have no ability to digest it and no longer make acid. They'll usually heave it up along with whatever blood content is left in their gut.

They have perfect eyesight, hearing, hyper senses of taste and smell. Touch is extremely sensitive as well. Their skin isn't fragile, in fact it's a bit thicker than average skin from how fast it regenerates and is constantly maintaining itself.

They are very resistant but not impossible to scar. Scars from human life are erased with first turning.

Vampire blood tastes like flat soda or icky, room temperature tap water. Unpleasant to other vampires but in a desperate pinch, it will sustain but nowhere near as good as foreign blood does. Even animal blood takes better care of a vampires system than another body of recycled blood. (Think of it as they've already taken the good stuff out of it for their own bodies so all that's left is the taste and a few stray nutrients.)

Vampires fangs grow back indefinite. At about x10 the rate of humans losing and replacing their first set. No matter what comes of them, their fangs will always grow back. No other teeth mutate like this.

Fangs lengthen and retract when around blood or not. It's not something that can be helped or even trained out. When blood is present, fangs will lengthen even if there is no intention to feed. Automatic reaction and a painful one at that. They get used to it but it's a sharp pain like having a human tooth extracted but it doesn't have prolonged swelling or discomfort. Only when getting longer or retracting back in.

Whenever they're in bloodlust or a state of starvation, they gain a sense of x-ray vision but instead it's vein mapping. They can see through skin to arteries and if it's severe blood lust, they can even see the smaller, tinier veins in fingers and faces. This is a sight that ever vampire possesses in order to obtain blood easier or figure out a good place to bite. Anything that is living will be seen in a structure of veins. Animals, humans, other vampires.

Severing the brain stem from the body is one of the few sure-fire way to kill a vampire. Alternatively burning them to pure ash and scattering them or holding them in separate vessels. (If ALL ashes are contained somehow and mixed with fresh blood, there is a reanimation process so beheading them is more permanent.) Silver weapons or exposure to silver prior to wound can result in death as well.

Alcohol is SUPER effective when they drink it. Think of one shot making them drunk because it hits their bloodstream almost immediately. A double would have them seeing double and acting like a hot mess. 3+ for even the beefiest of men would have them blacked out and vomiting on the sidewalks.

Drugs effect them but only in extremely high doses and for nothing really over 2 hours or so. Short, short longevity but they have the same crash that humans do. If it's hard detoxing symptoms for humans, it's the same but faster. They can do a hard drug, feel the high for maybe 1 - 2 hours and immediately go into hallucinating and shaking from the aftermath. The same goes for Pharmacia. There's really no medicine that works.

Garlic is a myth. So is wolfsbane.

Silver on the other hand is a very real, very deadly weapon that still rings true. A single pinprick of a silver sewing needle and it can render a vampire powerless. Slow them down to the speed of a human, take away their rapid healing and remove all of their heightened senses. Silver directly into the bloodstream essentially renders them as they were before they turned in physical response and structure. It's the only metal that burns vampires skin and will char it if it sits in one spot for too long. Silver is the only kind of metal that can forge chain that vampires cannot break and can successfully be restrained in. Any wounds inflicted in silver take longer to heal.

They can't reproduce after being turned. Purebloods + Purebloods are the only exception and it's still extremely rare. (Only 9 children born in over 2,500+ years.)

Physicality - Appearance/Body

Whatever color their eyes are, blood-lust accentuates the brightest color. I.e: Brown eyes turn Yellow/Gold, Blue eyes turn White/Purple exct. (Different powers can change this depending on the vampire and their history, sire.) Just think neon, glowing eyes in the dark if they're thirsty or hunting.

They stay frozen in whatever physical appearance they're turned in. Their metabolism is whack so they don't really lose or gain weight, it's down to cosmetic changes or cosmetic surgery. Which at least it heals flawlessly and doesn't ever change. But there aren't many options for personally invested physical change.

Their hair and nails grow super fast.

Vampires usually have the hair color they have when they are turned but around 15% experience graying or whitening of their hair within a few days of turning. Due to a semi-common genetic string in humans.

Vampires don't tan. They burn. No matter what their skin color is. Most are the palest/pasty tone of their natural skin color merely due to anemia and lack of blood circulation.

They don't blush or show physical signs of fever.

Vampires don't sweat or flush when exerting or exercising. They don't have to regulate their body temperatures.

They get dry skin pretty often and it's important to combat it with baths and soaks and lotions/oils whenever possible.

They are usually a lukewarm body temperature. As low as 15°C|59°F to as much as 21°C|69.8°F.

Every vampire has a certain amount of charming allure to them. In whatever form or fashion suits them the best, it's a natural attractant to their human counterparts. A glint to their eyes, a certain smile, the pitch or timbre of their voice. Endearing, seductive, mysterious, whichever shines through in their personality. They are magnetic, attractive to the human eye, no matter what they tend to look like.

They can see themselves in aluminum coated mirrors. Just not silver.

Mental Effects

There is a staggering 95% probability that 'created' vampires will have amnesia unless turned by a pureblood/noble/king/queen/high ranking blood vampire. They remember nothing of their human lives and this is extremely common. It's actually very rare to remember anything prior to your awakening. (That's why there are usually strict laws about siring without consent and proof of consent.)

It is very easy for vampires to be blinded by fits of rage when starving for blood. They can fly into blind anger and attack people they normally wouldn't or even foes they have no chance of winning against. Depending on their remaining strength when this tipping point of starvation happens; it can be extremely dangerous to be around.

Most turned vampires suffer a psychotic break in their early turning years. (Between 6mo and up to 25 years of awakening age. I.e: from the date of being bitten.) The brain is the last thing to be altered in the physical process and because of this, it's believed that their mental state has to crumble to be built better. It's unknown as to exactly why this happens but it's almost guaranteed. It's the vampire equivalent of 'adolescence'.

Over 75% of vampires experience periodic depression and random bouts of sadness. Another 39% live with bouts of mild to moderate psychosis. (This has been suspected to happen because of the physical stasis and improper circulation of chemicals/hormones/exct. Many believe it's because of the guilt of their King, Caine.)

Mental illnesses that aren't born from physical imbalances are in cases of amnesia, cured. Those that are chemically related are usually worsened by the stagnant physical changes of vampirism. It's rare that those with amnesia remember their traumas or emotional upsets after turning.

The "amnesia" of turning is the death of a human psyche. With the staggering rate of permanent amnesia, it is hard to figure out exactly how it happens but it's widely known.

Society

Humans are not fully aware of vampires. This still rings true with the fear of world war and or wiping out the human race given their species.

There is a high society "government" type of monarchy. Each clan or type of vampires has a leader "elder". This is usually the oldest vampire to date of that specific type. Sometimes it's a group or a family of elders. In most modern day they have adapted to a more "presidential" route and have to establish themselves as leader types to be considered for any kind of law making or enforcement. (I.e: Noble bloodline, diligent efforts of servitude such as public service, military or other.)

There is a strict law against turning humans. Vampires are required to have clearly given consent and the process is to be looked over by an elder or enforcer. They must show strenuous documentation of that persons preservation in the name of probable amnesia. They must have a comprehensive processing of that persons interests, personality traits, societal standing, proof of occupational termination, familial status and situational agreement. (Basically they don't want humans forgetting their lives entirely and they want to make sure that they are able to move somewhere or hide from their families until they're well trained enough to be around them again. It's a very long to legally accomplish it.

Every city handles turning differently. Some require the sire to pay the death penalty and others are strictly against killing the one person responsible of their turned kindred.

Vampires are in every day jobs, doing anything and everything that humans do. From trash collecting, to law and doctors. Fame, fortune, poor, criminal; they all live as many walks of life as humans do.

Anti-vampire establishments are alive and well. Most are run by other vampires. Some humans share their beliefs but most typically it's a resounding amount of vampire extremists. This is legal due to the fact that they try to adhere and coexist for their sanctions ordinance. Helping enforce justice for their regions and implore an opposing force for rampaging vampires or other law breaking kindred.

Most human killings are covered up, tampered with or has someone on the inside working on doing both. It's a constant job but a needed one to keep their existence safe from being proven.

There is a massive shortage on vampire doctors serving other vampires or studying from what little information there is on vampirism. The ratio looking like 1 to 300. 1 doctor for every 300 vampires.

The most vampire dominated and lucrative occupations are generally law, publishing and sex working. There are 3 vampires with these jobs to every human worker.

Here is an additional post about how vampire blood would effect humans.

So that was everything I could think of for the time being. I may continue to edit and update this as I have time or I think of something that I haven't touched base on yet. But this is just the general lore I work with when I do write about vampires or when I think about them in general. Feel free to skip certain parts or like.. adapt it however you'd like. I made this to more so inspire people not to show a list of HOW things should go. Take of it what you like and ignore what you don't! Add more if you think of something!

Some of it gets a bit random but it's still things that I've either incorporated in some unpublished fics or talked about with some friends or just fantasized about in general. There's bits and pieces in all media for vampires that I really enjoy and I think every new style spins something different and makes for wonderful content!

[deathordemise]

Everybody shut up. My turn with the skephalo writing stick >:(.

Okay so, it’s Fae! Au hours

Bad lives in the woods with his dog. It’s a bit far away from the village, and a bit secluded. He’s kind of a medic? Twice a week, he sets up shop in his little stall of the village market and sells plant based medicines. Lavender tea, aloe salve, whatever the hell my grandmother insists turmeric powder can do in bath water, that kind of stuff. The village people think he’s a little odd, but ultimately he’s a kind guy who caters to their injuries. They high key suspect he’s a witch but there’s no magic involved, he’s just hella good with plants.

Bad is lonely though. He lives alone with his doggo. Besides his market stall hours, he doesn’t talk to any other human beings at all. He spends most of his time tending to his garden.

He’s lonely but content with the life he lives for now. He’s calm and complacent.

Until something starts fucking up his garden.

The flowers are trampled, the fruits are eaten,the berries stripped from his bushes. A bite has been taken out of his pumpkin. A whole goddamn bite, skin and all. Who does that??

Decidedly less calm, Bad puts up a fence around the garden to deter any woodland creatures. Maybe they’ve never bothered him before, but hey, the deers may have gotten braver.

It’s a no go. The next morning, something has jumped into the raked pile of leaves and scattered them everywhere. All of his herbs ? Gone.

He digs a ditch all around the fence and fills it up with water. There! If the thing was tunnelling under, there isn’t a chance now. If it was just jumping over the fence, well Bad better pray that it can’t clear both.

Tomorrow comes and there are flowers floating in the water , like a scene from the chapel windows. Shiny ribbons have been threaded through the fence wire, the whole thing is pretty enough that he doesn’t immediately notice the smashed watermelon and by extension, the watermelon juice painting of a dick at the side of the cottage walls.

By then, Bad has come to the conclusion that is a person who’s doing it. At his wits end, he despairs about it to the local blacksmith, Sapnap who’s just like “lmao sounds like fae folk. Put a salt circle around it.”

And he does.

Bad does not anticipate being awoken at 3 a:m by someone furiously knocking at his door. Blearily, he stumbles out of bed draped in two blankets, Rat at his heels, and he pulls the door open, glasses shoved hazardously on his face.

There’s a person on the other side of the door. He’s tall and so very pale. There’s flowers woven into his hair , and he speaks urgently. Bad doesn’t register anything at all, still blinking sleepily. He doesn’t register long pointed ears nor cat-like eyes. He’s vaguely aware he’s being pulled out of the house, and to his garden.

Someone is sitting cross legged on the ground, hands covering their face, while someone stoops behind them, hand on the other person's shoulder. Both of them are shaking with laughter. Someone else comes up to Bad, their hair long and talons on the tips of their fingers. Their entire body seems to be ever shifting, never quite settling on a physique under the moonlight. Also overcome with giggling , they gesture beyond the fence.

A man stands in the middle of Bad’s garden. The absurdity of the situation has woken up Bad quite a bit. He sees shimmering, translucent wings. He sees unnaturally bright blue freckles, almost glowing against otherwise dark skin. He sees the despair and frustration on the man’s face.

“What?” his voice cracks with uncertainty. This is not real, he tells himself. You’re hallucinating and you’re going to wake up tomorrow morning to find a trashed garden with no pretty and strange men in the middle of your herb patch. Bad rubs his eyes, and the fairy stamps his foot.

“Salt circle ?” He cries, “You put a salt circle around it? How am I supposed to get out?”

“How did you get in?” Bad asks. The fairy blushes blue, and shrugs.

“I’ve got no fucking clue. Let me out.”

“Language” he mutters and sweeps his foot across the salt barrier, disconnecting the circle. Immediately, the fairy is up close, looking him up and down. Bad stumbles backwards with a sharp inhale.

“Hello.” He waves nervously, and immediately gets dirt thrown in his face.

Looking back on it, Bad probably should have seen this coming. He shouldn’t have let the fae drag him out of his bed in the middle of the night. He definitely should have kept the salt circle intact. Sue him for poor decisions, but when a fairy throws a little temper tantrum in the middle of your garden, interrogation is not a priority.

And yeah, he was going to ask a few questions but as it turns out, having dirt in your eyes is quite disorienting.

By the time he wipes the soil out of his eyes properly, the fae folk have disappeared into the woods.

Aye, it started out with just a little information post but then the Wattpad fanfic writer jumped out. It just jumped out and I’m so sorry. I haven’t written anything coherent since 2019 so forgive me if it sucks lmao. Uh, asks are open if anybody’s interested, and maybe I’ll get around to writing more ? It was actually surprisingly fun to do, I forgot how much I enjoyed writing . Anyway!

Asks Are Open!

[vanillann]

just the medicine (draco malfoy x reader)

another writing challenge, this time for the lovely @kashishwrites !!

warning: angst (you all seem to like my angst) and swearing, MENTIONS OF PTSD AND MEDITATION!!!!!

word count: 1.8k

“So you’re doing this?”

I let my hands fall to my side, even if they were sore from all the fighting that had already taken place within the first few hours.

“Not now,” Draco rolled his eyes, looking over his shoulder, scared like the little boy he was acting like.

“You’re choosing them over everything that could save you.”

Was I yelling?

The look on his face told me I was but I could barely hear my own voice, everything slowly draining from my body as seconds passed by. I guess that’s what the authors always say, how draining a war can be on everyone good or bad.

“I can’t be saved,” his voice had no emotions, but I couldn’t seem to have sympathy anymore. People were dead, people we loved and took care of and now he’s still picking them. Those people that think there's that much different than the rest of us.

“Maybe because you aren’t letting yourself be saved.”

I heard the yelling that time, I was definitely yelling now.

“Hush, someone might hear you,” Draoc held his finger close to my skin, close enough for the cold nature of it to radiant to my own.

“Why would that matter?”

Why do I have to ask the questions I know are going to break me?

“Because I can’t be seen with you, you know this.”

I knew this, I refuse to “know” this life anymore.

“Then don’t come near me,” my words were pure venom, like that apple from that fairytale my mother used to read me.

“What?”

“If you don’t wanna be seen with me don’t give us the chance to be seen right,” I held my arms out, shrugging my shoulders. I ignored the pain in my shoulder from that stupid curse, I’d make it hopefully.

“I don’t-”

“Frankly this isn’t about you anymore Malfoy. This is about me and my own happiness,” I looked him in the dead eyes of a boy I once knew, a boy I once called my sanity in an insane world.

Now he was the boy that was insane just like the rest, he was even worse than them.

“So you’re going to act like this didn’t happen?”

“Yep, the same way you acted like it wasn’t happening at all.”

I slowly backed up, letting my hurt shoulder hit the wall behind me. I gritted my teeth out of pain, looking back at Draco one last time.

“I hope you get the taste of your own medicine someday, Malfoy.”

*

I let my head fall to my desk, annoyed with the column I had spent the past hour writing. How do you write about Quidditch when you’ve never been to a single match? I should have listened to Ginny all those years ago, or at least her fiancé.

Two knocks echoed in my office, a slight release flooded me.

“Come in Luna!”

Luna blonde hair was seen in the doorway, a nice dreamy smile on her face as she kept her composure so well. You didn’t know how she ran this paper so well but you thought better not to ask.

“Someone is here to see you.”

I knew my fist in the air, happy Oliver finally answered my letters and actually came down to help me while Ginny was away for Charlie.

“Let him in please,” Luna gave me a shrugged, her eyes extra wide as she closed the door and left my office. I smiled, pushing my rough draft to the side and pulling out a clean parchment and a quill for notes.

Merlin knows I needed it.

I heard my door knob twist, my feet flying to rest on my desk as I waited for Oliver's pissed face to walk through the doors of my office.

But of course you never should expect things to go your way.

Draco Malfoy stood in my doorway, a few years older than when I left him but still pretty young. We were both 24 now, much older and wiser than the kids we once were I suppose.

He looked the same, yet different all at once. Maybe it was my broken heart making things up, the wound still awful fresh for something that happened years ago.

“(L/N),” his voice was weak, something definitely new for both of us.

“Malfoy.”

I kept my chin up, the “Harry Potter” pride was slowly starting to rub off on me.

Draco dugged in his coat pocket, pulling out a balled up piece of parchment. He slowly unfolded it and held it up for me to see.

Wizardry Can’t Protect You From Your Own Brain

The article I wrote months ago looked to be folded over and over, little water marks along the paper.

“I thought you were a Daily Prophet type guy,” I trailed off, watching him take the seat directly next to my door.

“I was but I thought I should try associating with my extended family, I didn’t know you worked here till I found this article.”

I knew the article, it was the article that got me multiple letters telling me I helped so many that survive the war find peace within themselves. I felt bad for being jealous, for all that was still a deep fresh wound to my broken soul.

“I read it, made me seek help.”

He chuckled as he spoke, a light hearted chuckle like what he was saying wasn’t serious. I watched him as I waited for more information, watching his hair closely.

It was slightly pale blond, but had a weird tint to it; one I simply couldn’t place my finger on. Maybe it was the lighting-

“I dyed it.”

I looked back to his eyes, much more untroubled than the day of the war.

“What?”

“I dyed my hair a few months ago, took forever to get the bloody color out,” he refused to look me in the eye as he spoke.

“Why’d you do it if you hated it so much?”

“Though it erased everything, maybe I wouldn’t be a Malfoy anymore.”

I felt my heart splinter, his broken frame was something I hadn’t thought I’d see again but he was sitting in my office ranting like nothing changed.

But that was the thing, everything had changed.

“You may always be a Malfoy,” I knew my words seemed harsh, but I didn’t know how to handle this. I was overwhelmed to say the least.

The one person I can’t function without is sitting here in front of me and I can’t help him because I can’t even help myself.

“I know, I had my opportunity and lost it.”

I bite my lip, waiting for him to speak first. I didn’t have anything to say at the moment, there wasn’t anything to be said at all in my opinion.

“Uhm- that’s not why I came here to tell you,” he straight out said, reading over the column again.

“I got help because of this. I have that thing, what do muggles call it?”

He snapped his finger, looking up to the ceiling for a few seconds when he clapped his hands and finally looked at me.

“PTSD, I got that.”

I couldn’t tell if he truly knew what that meant or not, but I thought best not to say anything.

“So I came to tell you, I did.”

“You did get help?”

“No, I got a taste of my own medicine. Literally and figuratively.”

He smiled to himself, laughing like it was a joke as she pushed around in his pocket, pulling an orange bottle from his pocket. Pills floated around in the bottom, my words caught in my throat.

“I got them from this muggle lady, real sweet that one.”

He shoved them back in his pocket, leaning his elbows on his knees as he stared me down.

“I shouldn’t have said that-”

“No, you were right,” Draco cut me off again, but I wasn’t mad. He had been the one to come to me anyways.

I let my hands lay on the empty parchment, not knowing what to do with them.

“No one should ever have to take pills to feel something normal,” I spoke gently, scared to break something.

Whenever it was me or him I couldn’t tell you.

“Yeah, I mean you're right; but some of us don’t get that luxury,” he said so gravely you would think someone had died.

But I guess someone did, the old us died that day on March 2nd. So many people died that day, literally and figuratively as Draco would put it.

“I’m sorry if I made it worse somehow.”

I felt so small, I felt crushed and broken, but this wasn’t my time to vent, it was his.

“A year ago I would have blamed you, but now I see you are the reason I’m trying to save myself. You alway said I never would let myself be saved so I made a compromise with myself, I’d save me.”

I felt a single tear stream down my cheek, one that was quickly wiped before anyone could spot it.

“I’m glad, you deserve that much,” I felt stone-cold. How do I talk to him now?

He was mature, but he looked like that broken boy still in my head.

“I just wanted you to know that I’m getting help I need because of you,” he leaned up slightly, trying to make eye contact as I stared at my desk.

“Yeah, but if I had done more maybe you wouldn’t be on medication-”

“It’s just medicine, if it helps it helps right?”

He shouldn’t be the one comforting me, he was the one who came to me.

“I suppose that’s true, I just wish this didn’t happen to us.”

“The only thing that happened to us was war, it destroys every relationship you hold dear,” I knew he was talking about his mother and father, but deep down I wanted him to be talking about me.

“Can we keep in contact?”

I nodded so fast I thought I pulled a muscle for a second. The sight made him smile, which still magically calmed my nerves.

I couldn’t help it, the thought of walking away again hurt too much.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

I felt guilty still but I tried to push it away, trying to not make it seem like this was about me, because maybe it was years ago but now it was about him.

A hand laid over mine, the cold silver ring I got him in sixth year still fit his middle finger like a glove somehow. I slowly looked up, both our watery eyes meeting like it was the first time we’ve ever seen one another.

“Don’t worry, it’s just medicine.”

It was just medicine, it was just medicine that was saving the only boy I could ever find sanity in.

If it saved him then I’d buy every bottle he needed.

I’d be his medicine if he needed it.

But, I didn’t need to save him because he has finally learned to save himself.

overall harry potter tag list:

@siriusmaraudeers​ @haphazardhufflepuff​ @marauder-exe​ @aangsupremacy​

draco malfoy tag list:

@okaydraco​ @coldlilheart​ @starcross16

[saviorinsilk]

New Life

Pairing: Cordelia Goode X Female OC

Warning: None

The sun was at the highest point of the day, misty clouds covering it, causing the air to not be as stifling as the day before. That made me happy as I had felt sick from the heat of the summer here in New Orleans, Louisiana. I wasn't used to weather like this and even though I had arrived at Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies over two weeks ago, I didn't think I would ever get used to the deathly humidity that made my usually wavy hair a curly, frizzy mess. I had always worn my hair down before, but now I had to get used to a big messy bun sitting on the top of my head. Since that was, unfortunately, the only way it looked presentable. Honestly, though, my new hairstyle was the least of my problems.

Back in Canada, I had managed to live my 20 years of life being an extreme introvert. I had one friend that I kept from high school but I had already moved on from her in the mere 16 days I had been a country away. I had been used to being alone a lot, but that was an unfamiliar concept here at Miss Robichaux's. The only time you were alone was when you showered, but even then there was probably a girl blow drying her hair or fixing her makeup behind the curtain. I had learned pretty quickly to savour the fleeting moments when I was locked up in the bathroom, doing the one thing everyone agreed was not a group event. I Cherished those times. I tried very hard to be invisible but in a house full of witches that wasn't exactly easy. I had managed to avoid most conversations, except one with a girl named Nan, which thankfully had been very pleasant. I sat at the back of my classes and had somehow managed to talk myself out of having to do the introduction that I and a few other new girls had been asked to perform. The real miracle was that I had lucked out with my roommates. I got placed with a girl who only tiptoed into the room late at night once everyone was already in bed and a drama queen who had better things to do then talk to "my weird ass" as she put it. I took a long drag from the small joint between my fingers, the sweet taste of lemony haze filling my lungs. I felt my body relax as I pushed the smoke from my slightly parted lips. It seemed that with every exhale the stress in my mind and the pain in my muscles floated up to the sky as the air was filled with the pungent aroma. Back home I had had a medical marijuana license for my anxiety and it had been hell trying to survive without it in the south. I sat on the lawn in the backyard, studying the huge live oak trees that acted as a tall fence around the perimeter of the property. The freshly cut grass tickled my pale legs through the thin material of a bohemian style dress that Misty, a witch who lived in the house had given me. I had left the beautiful light blue shawl that she had given me as well, on my bed. The clouds provided enough protection from the scorching sun today. "It's beautiful out here." A soft voice spoke. I was dragged out of my thoughts by the feeling of my skin leaving my bones as I let out a loud yelp and my butt literally left the ground. My head snapped around and landed on the source of the noise. Cordelia Goode was standing only a few paces behind me, her head tilted up, eyes closed, feeling the warmth of the sun on her face. My heart skipped a beat and I had to fight my jaw from dropping open.

Miss Goode was the most beautiful women I had ever laid my eyes on. Her blond hair shone brightly as the sun broke through a cloud as if her beauty opened up the heavens. She wore a mint green, long-sleeved blouse made out of the breathable fluid material that I adored. Her petite but splendid curves were enhanced by the black loose-fitting pencil skirt that hugged them. I was completely and fully taken aback by her beauty, even though I had seen her many times.

I had hurried out of rooms every chance I got and when I couldn't avoid her, like during her class or morning meeting, I made sure to kept my eyes focused on something else. I accepted the fact that I was gay, but I sure as hell wasn't eager for anyone one else to know, given what happened last time someone did. Yet at this moment I couldn't tear my eyes away. Just looking at her was enough to give me butterflies. Cordelia smiled brightly and her now open, deep chocolate brown eyes settled on my wide pale blue eyes. "A strong sixth sense might not be an ability of yours," Cordelia said with a light chuckle. I'm not sure if it was her voice that brought me back to earth or if it was the loud bang of a hammer that came from a few houses down, but whatever it was suddenly made me aware of the fact that I indeed had a joint between my black slender nails. I quickly snuffed out the sourcing end of it into the grass in front of me and tucked it in my waist, bringing my knees up against my chest. "I'm so sorry Miss Goode! I'll never do it again, I promise. Please don't tell Myrtle." I stammered, my gaze locked on my bare feet that were sticking out from the bottom of my dress. My head spun as I thought of the consciences that were surely in store for me. One of our instructors, an older woman named Myrtle had given us a very serious talk after finding one of the girls drunk on the front porch after a long Friday night. We may have been away from our parents, but us young girls needed to remember that there was never a witch that achieved greatness by goofing around with drugs, over drinking or silly antics. I could still hear the intense tone she spoke in filling my head. Cordelia's eyes scanned me and her face rose into a sweet smile. "There's no need to be sorry Ellie. At least it's natural, unlike the insane amount of hard liquor some people in this city consume. Sometimes we all need a little help relaxing." Cordelia's voice was caring, her smile turning sympathetic. I was shocked and it took me a second to process all of it. All I could manage to do was to nod awkwardly before beginning to push myself off the plush ground. Cordelia's hand came up to stop me. "Sit." She commanded. I immediately obeyed, grabbing the joint in my hand as it slid away when my butt collided with the ground. "I'm on a short break and some fresh air would do me some good as well." She lowered herself next to me, her legs crossed out in front of her. I realized that she too was barefoot and for some reason it made me smile secretly to myself. Cordelia signed as she leans back on her outstretched arms, her head lazily turning towards me. She looked like an angel with the sun shining on her light pale skin. "We missed you at the morning meeting today. I was worried." Cordelia said. She was worried? About me? Those nasty metaphoric butterflies were back and they were frantic. When I just stared at her silently, Cordelia pursed her plump lips and narrowed her eyes slightly, as if she was concentrating on me. I shook my head and averted my eyes down to my fingers, that were busy rolling the joint against my skin. "I'm so sorry. I went for a walk this morning and I got...distracted. I know how important you said it is to be there on time. I messed up. I'll pick up some extra work around the house to make up for it." I offered, my guilty conscience getting the better of me. I tried to be tough but it didn't always go the way I wanted it to when I was confronted. "As much as I appreciate your civility, I'm not angry with you. I was just concerned because you have been very punctual since you got here." She said, worry in her eyes. I was embarrassed. I had made her worry. I may have been antisocial but I never wanted my actions to upset someone else. I had always been very empathetic and I felt ashamed of my actions. "Where did you walk? Around the Garden District?" Cordelia asked. Oh ya, I had walked around the neighbour for sure, I had studied every inch of it. "Ya, and a bit farther. I may have ended up at Staker's" I said sheepishly. Staker's was the small corner store a fair distance away. I could have guessed the reaction that Cordelia would have to this information but I wasn't excepting her discouraging tone to be quite as present as it was. "Elizabeth! That is at least a 20-minute drive away! What time were you up?" She demanded, her sunny disposer absent. God, she used my full name. No one had used that name since I got here. The last person to call me Elizabeth was my mother. "3:00 am," I said quietly as I peeked up at Cordelia's unhappy face. "Ellie you shouldn't be out on the streets at that time of night! It can get dangerous out there in the dark, especially for a witch and a beautiful young lady like yourself." Cordelia explained. I felt my cheeks getting warm and I could only imagine how red they must have been. Had Cordelia just called me beautiful? "I-I know. I just couldn't sleep because it was so hot and I had a real hankering for an iced tea and a crappy corner story donut." I stuttered, praying that my blushing wasn't too noticeable. Cordelia raised her eyebrows and her expression lighten a bit. "You could have asked one of your roommates where the fans were and I'm sure Zoe or one of the other girls with a license would have taken you to fulfil your cravings at lunch if you had asked," Cordelia said. She was so sweet but she didn't know the secrets some of the were hiding. I opened my mouth to argue that I didn't think the other girls liked me that much and that I had felt like I was suffocating in the house last night and had to make an escape before I saw my grave, but I couldn't. There was something about Cordelia that had an effect on me. I would go along with whatever came out of that woman's sweet lips. I'm sure that's how most cult members had felt towards their leaders and it had never done them any good but I was a hopeless romantic. "You're right. No more late night strolls. Promise." I settled with the polite response. After all, she was my Head Mistress AND my Supreme. Cordelia smiled, satisfied. "Good. Us witches need to be careful. Although there have been lots of people that have accepted us since we have gone public, there are still those out there that would like nothing more than to put a knife to your throat and play the violin." She warned, her words painting an image in my head that I would have been fine with never witnessing. It was true though and I had seen first hand how some people just couldn't deal with diversity. It had been a gloomy day when I had been in the Denver Airport, waiting patiently in line at Annie's Pretzels to get a treat for my connecting flight to New Orleans, when some nosy bitch glanced over my shoulder. I had been reading over a letter from Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies, excited over the invitation to come to see the school for myself. Suddenly the lady exploded in rage, shouting crude language as well as slipping in the words freak, Satanist along with just screaming WITCH over and over. She must have seen the news. I had stood my ground, not about to lose my place near the front of the line. I wanted my soft warm pretzel and no lunatic was going to take that away from me. Luckily she had been in line with a level-headed person, that dragged her away before I had been angered to the point of showing her just how much of a "freak" I was. People had never been kind to those who were different and the deep south was a perfect example of that. I may have felt like I could take care of myself but Cordelia was right. I hadn't left my whole life behind in another country to be murdered within my first month of freedom. "I've been meaning to talk to you for the last couple days but things just keep getting in the way. Life always gets a bit crazy when we have new arrivals. I would like you to come to my office so we can catch up on how you have been settling in. Also, I'd like to do a quick evaluation of your abilities, due to the distressed state you were in when you arrived. It probably wasn't a fair judgment of your capabilities." Cordelia softly placed her hand over mine, stopping my fidgeting fingers. Her skin was warm and surprising soft like silk. The contact was heavenly and I could have stayed in this moment forever if the universe had allowed it. But the anxiety crept back with the thought of the distressed state I had indeed been in when arriving at the academy. I hadn't thought about it today until now. It had been nice to live in ignorance for the short time. "Do you think you would be able to swing by after dinner tonight? Don't worry about the dishes, one of the other girls will take your shift." Cordelia said, answering my question before I even had a chance to ask it. It was almost as if she could see my thoughts in writing. God, that would be a disaster if it were true. All the innocent I projected would be gone with the brutality of my unholy thoughts. I liked the idea of skipping the chores that we had been giving since last week when the number of girls was too much for the staff and the few maids to clean up after. "Manual Labour builds character" Kyle, the butler had told the whiny girls in the kitchen. "Of course Miss. Goode." I replied, forcing a smile, across my nervous expression. It's not like I minded the thought of being alone with the women of my dreams but at the same time, the idea caused my anxiety-ridden demons to claw there way out of their dark hiding place. "Call me Cordelia, just between the two of us," Cordelia said, patting my hand that she still held tenderly. I couldn't help but smile goofily. "I better get back inside, any moment we are likely to hear Myrtle's voice." Cordelia laughed, squeezing my hand before she pushed her slender body up, gently wiping the loose grass that had stuck to her skirt. Cordelia smiled down at me. "I'll see you at dinner." She said before turning her back. No force could pull my gaze away from her as she gracefully made her way to the back door. I blinked when she disappeared into the house, the door swinging shut with a thud behind her. I couldn't help but smile to myself as the last few minutes replayed in my head. I glanced down at the grass in front of me, my eyes settling on the tarnished patch from where I had put my joint out. I extended my hand, lightly covering it. My eyes fluttered closed and I felt a familiar tingling in my fingers as the sunlight caressed my face. A surreal image of a luscious field of natural grasses lay behind my eyelids. The wind blew the praise plants that I had seen every day for the last 20 years of my life, as I began to feel the grass beneath my skin tickling between my digits. I wiggled my fingers slightly as I continued to study the blades of grass in my mind. After a few moments, I opened my eyes lazily and was pleased to see the once grey and burnt grass had grown taller than the lawn around it, and the colour repaired to the deep shade of green. I giggled and let my body weight pull me back, releasing a deep sigh as my body collided with the ground under me. The sun shone beautifully through the live oaks above. Maybe things would turn around. After all, this was a safe haven and if happiness lived somewhere, it would surely be in a place like this.

[simplyclockwork]

Simplyclockwork Fic Recs

Alternate Universe/Crossovers

I am breaking my massive fic rec into pieces by genres.

Performance in a Leading Role - @madlori

Explicit. 156,714 words. 21 chapters.

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?

A Moment’s Surrender - anchors

Mature. 64,272 words. 10 chapters.

Sherlock tours worldwide with the English National Ballet. John dances the Lindy Hop competitively all across the globe. That they would meet, then, by the slimmest of chances in one lonely city, is pure coincidence. The whole 'dancing together' bit is a little more planned. Dancer!AU.

Love or What You Will - @miss-frankenstein

Teen and Up. 31,987 words. 11 chapters.

John is an English professor who specializes in War and Post-War Literature and Sherlock is the brilliant yet impossible Ph.D. student assigned to be his TA because no one in the Chemistry Department is willing to put up with him. And - somewhere between Waugh and Plath, e-mails and takeaway, novels and villanelles - they fall in love.

Two Two One Bravo Baker - abudantlyqueer

Explicit. 114,574 words. 27 chapters.

Captain John Watson of 40 Commando, the Royal Marines, is assigned to protect and assist Sherlock Holmes as he investigates what appears to be a simple war atrocity in Afghanistan. An intense attraction ignites between the two men as they uncover a conspiracy that threatens everything they’ve ever known, but Sherlock is as much hunted as hunter, and everyone close to him is in deadly danger. Can he solve the case in time to save himself and John?

The Jewel in the Tower - PoppyAlexander (@fuckyeahfightlock)

Explicit. 207,079 words. 39 chapters.

"Xie [...] had invented an entire pleasure-industry by combining superior visual aesthetics with impeccable personal attention. Drasha salons were by that time a feature of any even half-decent house of repose in every pleasure district in the British Isles, but once upon a time, when Xie debuted, there had been only one, and Xie had named it: the Icehouse."

* In a contemporary dystopia, Unity is peace--despite the fact unsanctioned information, illicit currency, and every sort of danger flows unchecked in the world's pleasure districts.

John Watson, a weary hired gun, is assigned by the mysterious Mentor to investigate a subversive element lurking in the Icehouse, the world's most famous House of Repose. As accustomed as he is to dealing with the unexpected, John is nevertheless woefully unprepared to meet the gem of the Ice house, Xie, the world renowned "drashaskaya," the living work of art after which all other drashas are modeled.

In sumptuous suites, amid trailing puddles of silk and fervent whispers in the night, John soon learns that nothing is as it seems in the floating world of London's pleasure district. *

Modern-day dystopian/one-world government/espionage/geisha!lock AU

The Loss of Flesh and Soul - deuxexmycroft 

Explicit. 60,000+ words. Unfinished.

Five years after John Watson puts the murderous Sherlock Holmes behind bars, a vicious copycat killer emerges. A reluctant John is pulled out of retirement to seek the expertise of the only man who can help, a man who has developed an unsettling obsession with John himself.

Crossover with Red Dragon/Silence of the Lambs

Simplyclockwork note: Not fully finished, but an alternative ending was posted. Still worth reading without a full ending.

I wake up and I wake up and you’re still dead - thisprettywren (memento/Sherlock crossover)

Mature. 24,226 words. One-shot.

Sherlock isn't the only one who's lost.

The Sinking of the Titanic: Sixty Years Later - flawedamythyst

Teen and Up. 15,340 words. One-shot.

John Watson is interviewed for a documentary being made for the sixtieth anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic. The story he tells is not the one the interviewer was expecting.

The Bachelors’ Handfasting - Jberry

Explicit. 30,624 words. 20 chapters.

After her son is caught in a compromising position, Victoria Holmes must make arrangements for a quick marriage between Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.

Simplyclockwork note: Kilt!Lock and Soft Bab Sherlock (but of age)

Just to Hold You Close - @sussexbound

Explicit. 70,841 words. 18 chapters.

When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

Summit Fever - @jbaillier

Mature. 78,867 words. 18 chapters.

After graduating from medical school, John Watson followed his heart to the Himalayas. Ten years later, he's a haunted cynic working for his ex-lover's trekking and mountaineering company. Will leading an expedition to Annapurna I — the most lethal of all the world's highest mountains — shake John out of his reverie, and who is the mystery client added to the group at the last minute?

The Last Companion - standbygo (@blogstandbygo)

Explicit. 34,101 words. 14 chapters.

Thirty years after the Miranda Wars, there is peace, both on the Rim and the Core planets. There are a number of old social mores still in place, such as the Order of Companions, but there is a sense that even such respected practices are coming to an end…

Sherlock is a Companion - the best Companion on Persephone. With a bit of detective work on the side, of course. Then he meets a man named John Watson, encounters a series of bizarre cases, and finds his world is getting turned upside down.

Simplyclockwork note: Sherlock/Firefly AU!

Out There - @discordantwords

Teen and up. 131,695 words. 10 chapters.

FBI Special Agent John Watson, medical doctor and army veteran, is assigned to assist eccentric genius Sherlock Holmes with paranormal investigations on the X-Files project.

This is a fusion with The X-Files, written for the Fall TV Season Challenge.

Say You’ll Stay With Me - justacookieofacumberbatch (buffyholic)

Explicit. 63,349 words. 21 chapters.

It was just supposed to be an ordinary business trip, but when John's car stalls out on Hollywood Boulevard, he meets someone who just might change his life.

Simplyclockwork note: Pretty Woman/Sherlock AU.

Gimme Shelter - @sincewhendoyoucallme-john

Explicit. 159,368 words. 21 chapters.

All John Watson wants is the feeling of a freshly waxed surfboard under his feet and the hot California sun baking down onto his back. To finally go pro in the newly formed world of professional surfing and leave the dark memories of his past behind him as he rips across the face of a towering blue barrel. To lounge beside the beach bonfire every evening with an ice cold beer tucked into the cool sand beside him and listen to Pink Floyd and the Doors while the saltwater dries in his sun bleached hair.

That's all he wants, that is, until the hot young phenom taking Oahu and the Hawaiian shores by storm steps up next to him in the sand in the second round of the 1976 International Surf Competition.

Apokalypsis - songlin

Mature. 12,125 words. 4 chapters.

There were things I never told you because I thought we had time. There is no time left in the world anymore.

Sensory Science - @sussexbound

Explicit. 80,017 words. 24 chapters.

John Watson has been invalided home from Afghanistan and is struggling with anxiety, depression, PTSD and insomnia, when an old friend from med school recommends something that might help: An ASMR YouTube Channel run by a friend.

One session in and John is hooked, not only by the way the ASMR seems to calm him after nightmares, and help him sleep, but also by the mysterious man who runs it.

Comparative Literature is for Idiots - lookupkate

Explicit. 8,173 words. 4 chapters.

Sherlock thinks he's very bohemian, smoking cigarettes and wearing patchouli oil and writing poetry in the attic. In truth he's just your average seventeen year old, not showering enough and being hit particularly hard by his continued path through puberty.

John is getting his masters in literature. He's the TA for comparative literature and yearns for romance. Romance has other plans, plans that require him to go without for at least ten more years. Plans that put in front of him the exact man he'll finally fall in love with, but in boy form.

When Sherlock happens to see John reading poetry at a coffee shop he is immediately smitten. John holds him at arm's length because he's a bloody child.

How will ten years and miles apart change that view, and will John be able to understand how he's fallen in love with someone he doesn't ever get to see?

Stay tuned for puberty hi jinx and the passing of time to find out. And yes, there will be love.

An Everlasting Inferno - thatawkwardfriend

Explicit. 108,389 words. 15 chapters.

Sherlock and John are both men who operate outside the law. John works for Mary and her hitmen in order to keep a roof over his head. Sherlock does anything his drug dealer asks of him in exchange for free drugs and housing.

They meet one night in a darkened garage to negotiate a deal. But they soon find out that neither of their bosses are being entirely honest with them about their goals or motives. With a little poking around, they stumble upon something much bigger than themselves and discover that perhaps, it might be in their best interests to work together.

(Loosely inspired by StartUp and Little Favour)

Only To Be With You - @sincewhendoyoucallme-john

Mature. 40,768 words. 4 chapters.

I tell myself that next time I’ll come near this same place again. Wait around for the mysterious stranger in his coat to dash past me, hot on the heels of a new criminal in black.

I think this all the way back to my Exit, planning where I’ll wait and what I’ll say when I see him. Scheming on how to get his name. It’s only once I reach the Exit Point door that I realize two hours and forty-five minutes have passed, and I realize that this won’t be the last time I Visit. It won’t be the last time at all.

You Give Me Fever - michi_thekiller

Explicit. 16,122 words. One-shot.

Thou givest fever when we kisseth, fever with thy flaming youth Fever I'm afire; fever, yea, I burn forsooth "He's the kind of boy you want to take apart."

Gratuitous Greaserlock. It's essentially 16k of mostly-porn. Warnings for underage sex between teens.

If you’re one of the authors listed here and have a Tumblr, and would like me to link it (if I haven’t already), please let me know! 

[drakesroyalromance]

I’m the Bad Guy (duh)

Summary: Emma has an accident the morning after her engagement to Drake in the safehouse that turns everyone’s world upside down. Nothing will be the same, no matter how hard Drake tries.

Catch up here!

Pairing: Drake x MC (Emma Barnes), Liam x MC

Rating: R

Author’s note: Please check the trigger warnings in the tags and read the note at the end of the chapter.

Tag list: Drake x MC: @aries-light @notoriouscs

This fic: @marshmallowsandfire @twinkle-320 @ravenpuff02

Chapter 4, part 1: Old me

Liam and Drake sit in the doctor’s office in a tense silence. When the doctor enters the room, both of their heads snap up in his direction.

The doctor takes a seat across from them with a grim expression. “King Liam, if you would be so kind as to wait outside?”

Liam sets his jaw. “No.”

The doctor’s eyebrows furrow. “No? I can only disclose this news to immediate family and since Mr. Walker is the closest thing to family the patient’s got, being her fiancé, I -“

“No.” Liam repeats. “I am the King of Cordonia. That is one of the people I hold dearest to me that you’ve got lying in a hospital bed. So, if you think you’re going to withhold any information from me, you better think again.”

The doctor looks a little scared. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

Tired of waiting, Drake snaps, “Can you just tell us what’s wrong?”

The doctor adjusts his glasses. “There is nothing wrong, per se. As I told you before Miss Barnes woke up, she has suffered a traumatic brain injury, commonly known as TBI. In some cases involving the frontal lobe, the patient acts differently when they wake up. It could be that she’s just confused and will go back to acting ‘normally’ in a few hours.”

“Could? What are the chances?” Drake asks frightfully. He just wants his Emma back.

[[MORE]]

“I wish I could give you a concrete number, but it’s not that simple. Nobody knows. Every brain is different. In rare cases, personality change can be permanent.”

“Permanent?” Drake gasps. Does he mean..he’ll never have his fiancé back?

“Like I said, that happens in extreme cases. I wouldn’t worry about that just yet. For now, just keep an eye on her and if this change in behaviour persists, bring her back for a check up in a month.”

“What do we do in the meantime?” Liam inquires.

“Just act like you normally would. It would be good for her to be in a familiar environment, surrounded by loved ones. Try not to pressure her to act like her old self. I know this is a hard situation for you to be in, but we don’t want to stress the patient out.”

“Of course,” Drake nods. He needs to put Emma first. She has helped him so much, even when she didn’t know it, and she has loved him so selflessly. It’s his turn to step up now. Even if that meant enduring more cracks to his already fragile heart. For her, he would gladly let his heart bleed.

“Other than that, the nurse will give you a few medications when Miss Barnes is being discharged. Make sure she takes them as prescribed.”

“Got it, doc,” Drake says, standing up. “Here’s hoping I’m not back here in a month.”

“Here’s hoping.” The doctor echoes with a smile.

//

Drake and Liam unanimously decide that it’s best to take Emma back to the palace. They call Maxwell and Hana, respectively, and fill them in on what happened. Hana sheds a few tears while Maxwell promises to make the palace as joyous as possible for Emma’s return. Drake feels apprehensive about what that means, but doesn’t protest. He knows this is Maxwell’s way of showing Emma how much he cares.

He signs Emma’s discharge papers and completes other formalities. When the moment they’ve been waiting for finally comes, a nurse stops them and tells them a seemingly never ending number of guidelines.

“A headache is to be expected, but if the pain is too intense, please come back here immediately.”

“Thank you! Can we leave now?”

She replies in the affirmative and they finally depart from the hospital. The three of them settle in Liam’s limo and start the journey to the palace. Drake and Liam try to engage Emma in conversation but she stays silent, opting to stare out the window instead.

Emma suddenly groans and looks back into the car, apparently having been able to feel the men’s eyes on her. They sheepishly look away, pretending they weren’t watching her.

“Obviously this silence is making you two uncomfortable but neither of you have the balls to say something so I will.” Drake shifts uncomfortably in his seat, not used to hearing such harsh words from Emma. Liam looks like he feels the same way.

If Emma notices their discomfort, she doesn’t comment on it. Instead, she muses, “I meant to ask this in the hospital when I first noticed, but what happened to your hand Liam? Injured fighting off the assassins?”

She grabs his hand, gently running her fingers over the bandage before going up his arm, and then back down. Drake coughs uncomfortably, noticing the goosebumps rising on Liam’s skin from her touch. Emma rolls her eyes in annoyance, dropping Liam’s hand.

“What is your problem, Drake?” She was goading him and there was a part of him that wanted to scream out, to take the bait, to plead with her, but he chose to remain silent. It’s the injury talking, not her. Not my Emma.

Liam clears his throat. “I’m afraid it was a more recent injury. I slipped in the stairwell of the hospital and accidentally hit some glass.”

Both Drake and Emma raise a skeptical eyebrow. Drake had a hard time believing that Liam just accidentally got his hand cut after the conversation they had in the hospital. He felt like such an ass for the way he had treated Liam, and to top it all off, he didn’t notice his hand was bandaged until Emma said something. He’d been such a bad best friend.

“How mysterious. I thought that was Drake’s thing.” Emma commented. She looked like she wanted to say more, most probably something that would make Drake want to throw up the bagel he ate that morning, but thankfully, before she could, they hit a speed breaker.

However, when they hit the speed breaker, he caught Emma briefly closing her eyes with a tense expression. He couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his hand around hers and whispering, “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

She snatches her hand from his grasp but gives him a tight nod. Drake counts that as a win.

As soon as they enter the palace, Constantine and Regina attack Liam with a barrage of questions. Liam says to Drake, “I better go fill them in. I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

Drake walks Emma to her room in silence. When he opens the door to her room, a couple of balloons float out. The room is filled to the brim with balloons, with Maxwell standing in the middle, holding a heart shaped balloon in his hands and having a grin on his face.

“Welcome back!” He sings.

Emma looks shocked and unimpressed. “Am I interrupting a kindergartener’s birthday party?”

Maxwell deflates like one of the balloons. “You don’t like it.”

“What self-respecting adult would?”

Sniffling, he says, “yeah, I see what you mean. I’ll go ask the staff to get rid of them.”

He pops the balloon in his arms and heads for the door. Drake gives him a sympathetic smile and a pat on the shoulder as he passes by. They leave the room, only coming back once the staff has assured Emma that her room is balloon-free.

Emma takes in the unlit candles on her nightstand and looks down almost shyly. “This is the room in which we..”

Drake feels his own cheeks heat up at the memory. Hope alights in him and he laments, “you remember.”

Emma looks back up, her expression annoyed. “Of course I remember. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you guys since yesterday. I remember everything.”

Drake can feel his heart breaking. He just couldn’t seem to wrap his head around the idea that she remembered, chose him, and then all of a sudden didn’t.

“What made you change your mind? Was it something I said? Something I did? Was it something Liam said? I just don’t understand Barnes, I’m really trying to.” Of course he knew what the doctor had said, but Drake had a hard time believing that a bump on the head could cause this.

“You said it yourself probably a million times Drake. Liam can offer me the world, an entire kingdom, and you..well you can’t offer me anything other than some hot sex.”

He was truly at a loss for words, his worst nightmare coming to life before him. He’d said pretty much those exact words to her when they talked on the balcony in New York, that he could offer her nothing, but she promised that she didn’t care. What happened to that promise?

“Emma?” Hana interrupted Drake’s spiraling thoughts, gently knocking on the door. She poked her head in and Drake could tell she could sense the tension in the room. It wasn’t too difficult. After all, Drake’s body was rigid, Emma’s face was unreadable, a stone cold look in her eyes as they raked over Hana.

“I’m so glad you’re okay! We were worried about you when we didn’t hear anything yesterday morning, and then the accident.”

“Yes, so I’ve been told. Everyone seems to have been worried sick.” Her tone and mannerisms seemed to mock Hana’s politeness. Drake caught a flash of sadness crossing Hana’s features before they smoothed out, ever the proper lady.

“Personally I think it’s just another reason why I should be queen. Everyone loves me, all of my friends here at the palace, the press - you’re all eating out of the palm of my hand.”

It felt like with every word she spoke, Drake hurt more. He couldn’t stop himself from reminding her, “You said you were going to love me forever, Emma.”

For a moment, Emma looked taken aback. There was confusion on her face, but then she just shrugged. “I guess I lied.”

Drake couldn’t take any more. He stormed out of the room.

Author’s note: Traumatic Brain Injury, or TBI, is a very real and traumatic thing, which both @mind-reader1 and I are well aware of. We have tried to be as sensitive as we can be, especially to Phineas Gage, who this story is very roughly inspired by. If you have something to say regarding this, please message either her or me or send us an ask.

[margoshansons]

Desperate Measures: 2/?

Part Two: Bellamy Blake x Reader

Summary: Unable to sleep, Miller and Y/N celebrate her birthday with some contraband moonshine, Clarke and Finn come back bearing bad news, and things come to a head between Y/N and Bellamy as they search for Jasper.

Warnings: swearing, violence, mild angst, 

Notes: Thank you for all the love! Also, goddamn that gif is beautiful. Based on 1x02 “Earth Skills”

She didn’t sleep at all that night. Instead, Miller snuck her into Monty’s tent, the kid who left with Jasper, he explained. 

“This kid makes the best moonshine I’ve ever tasted.” He explained, scratching at the patchy facial hair that had started to grow in. 

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the petty thief. Monty wasn’t even here, probably out trying to get his poor friend laid, but Miller still felt the need to sneak into his tent as if he would get punished for it.

“Isn’t this the Monty you had a crush on in fifth grade?” She asked, coughing down what Miller had now dubbed ‘birthday juice’. 

“Yeah, so?”

Y/N shrugged before taking another gulp, regretting it as the sun began to peek through the opening in the tent. “Ugh, we should get ready before Bellamy starts clanging the pots to get us to work.” She rolled her eyes at the thought of the older leader, annoyance erupting in her stomach as she recalled the events of last night. She pushed herself off the leafy ground, wiping the dirt off her hands as she stood.

“You know he’s not that bad once you get to know him” Miller offered, stuffing the canteen back under Monty’s bed while Y/N shrugged on her jacket. “I knew him a bit before I got arrested, he’s actually a pretty awesome guy.”

She smirked, resisting the urge to roll her eyes, “This is why I love you, Miller.”

“Because I can get you free alcohol and sneak you into places you’re not supposed to?” His eyebrow twitched upward as he smiled. Y/N holstered her makeshift knife in the band of her jeans, patting Miller’s shoulder. “Because you see the best in people, even little shits like Bellamy.”

As the two exited the tent to catch the first earthen sunrise in over ninety-seven years, Miller would not stop trying to defend the older kid. “I just don’t know why you won’t give him a chance. I think you guys would actually have a lot in common if you just talked to him.”

Y/N spun around, trying not to offend one of her best friends, “Look, Nate, I love you but Bellamy insulted my own family and personal life last night, not to mention him and Murphy don’t even care about the progress of this camp. He and I will never get along, now drop it.”

Miller nodded, the two teens watching the black sky fade into soft colors beyond their imagination. Pink, orange, and yellow stretched across the sky until they all mixed together to create the crystalline blue they had dreamed so long about seeing. 

“Now that you’re eighteen, what are you gonna do?” Nate asked, spreading himself out on the grass to watch the sky morph. Y/N joined him, her ponytail pressing against her skull as she thought it over.

“I don’t know.” She confessed, weight lifting off her shoulders as she played with the silver band around her other wrist, “Sinclair had promised me an apprenticeship back on Mecha, guess that’s off the table.”

A chuckle lifted both of them from their tired night. 

Y/N smiled, contemplating the possibilities. “I guess...I’m a free woman. I can do anything. I can do anyone.” She chuckled at her wordplay, Miller suddenly growing silent. She recognized that behavior. He was trying to find the right words to say something.

“What is it?”

“Your dad” Miller asked gingerly. “Do you think he would’ve floated you?”

She inhaled sharply, her mind racing at a thousand miles a minute as she tried to come up with a probable answer. Her gut told her no. Even if they didn’t share blood, she had to believe a part of him hurt when she had been taken away. But then she remembered the cold gaze in his eyes when he had wrapped the handcuffs around her wrists and, like most situations, her head won out. 

“Probably.” She breathed, the words tasting sour in her mouth. “I was a liability, someone who knew the two biggest secrets aboard the Ark. What better way to shut me up then to float me like my mother?”

Silence filled the space between them.

She continued her argument, more to convince herself than the thief beside her.

“Logically it makes sense, and Kane has always been motivated by logic.”

Miller sat up, turning on his side to face her, a regretful look passing through his eyes, “I’m sorry Y/N, I didn’t mean to bring it up. I guess, I just hoped--”

“I know what you meant Miller.” Y/N mirrored his position, placing a hand on his arm, letting him know his mistake was forgiven. “But that man is not my father. Of course, my real dad wasn’t much better.” 

The two friends shared another laugh until a scream ruined the moment between them. They launched to their feet, sprinting back to the clearing just in time to see Wells tackle Murphy to the ground. 

Emotions disappeared behind a steel wall as Y/N approached the two, ready to separate them again. 

“Hey! That’s enough,” She called, struggling against the raw strength of the boys. “HEY! I said that’s enough!”

She ripped the darker-skinned boy off the other delinquent, ready to defend Wells against another tirade of Murphy’s. “What happened?” Wells breathed heavily, a shaky finger pointing at the paler boy. “He was holding Roma over the fire, I tried to stop it and he attacked me.”

A sneer crossed Murphy’s face as he shuffled forward, launching toward Wells. Y/N reached underneath her shirt grasping the makeshift knife and brandishing it as Bellamy pushed Murphy back. 

“Murphy enough!” Bellamy stopped the delinquent, throwing a look of contempt her way. Her chest heaved up and down in an attempt to calm the anger rising in her throat.

“Crazy bitch” she heard Murphy whisper under his breath as Bellamy talked him down. 

She refused to put down the knife. 

Her hand was extended before her, guarding Wells in case Murphy tried to take him down again, which, from the hateful glare in his eyes, he was definitely thinking about. 

“What the hell is going on?” Clarke asked, mouth wide open. Y/N took a mental note of the campers who had returned. 

Four. One missing. 

No food.

Octavia was limping. 

“Murphy attacked Wells” Y/N responded, shoving her knife back into her jeans, trying to figure out what they had seen out there. “Are you okay?” She asked the group of returning prisoners, the group doubling over and panting from the run back. Finn’s eyes held a seriousness she hadn’t seen since he had been arrested. He shook his head.

“What happened to your wristband?” Clarke asked, rushing over to Wells and grasped his wrist. His empty wrist.

Wells shot a dirty look at Bellamy, Y/N followed suit. 

“Ask him”

Clarke strode over, anger increasing with each step as her brow furrowed, jaw clenching. “How many?” Bellamy was silent, cut off by Murphy’s proud: “Twenty-four and counting.” The freshly pummeled delinquent sent a glare toward Y/N as he said that, smiling at their growing statistics. She resisted the urge to tackle him then and there. One, because he had more strength than her, and because Miller’s words from yesterday rang in her head. 

He wasn’t worth it. 

“You idiots!” Clarke spat, “Life support on the Ark is failing!”

The kids began to murmur again as they realized that what Y/N had been saying last night was actually true and they were fighting a losing battle. Hushed tones began to wonder about the possibility of survival.

“Where’s the kid with the goggles?” Wells asked, suddenly realizing the low amount of returning campers. 

“We were attacked, and Jasper was taken.” 

Y/N’s chest constricted, breathing accelerating. Her body grew still, all of her fear carefully hidden behind the mask of stone she wore on her face. Down here fear is death.

“Attacked?” She asked, confusion crossing her face while she crept forward to join the exhausted group.

“Turns out when the last man from the Earth died on the Ark, he wasn’t the last grounder” Finn spoke ominously, shifting his gaze toward Clarke, apprehension on both of their faces.

“That means we can survive” Y/N spoke up, trying to remain optimistic, “Radiation won’t kill us.”

“But the grounders will” Clarke finished, eyes flickering toward her wrist, relieved to see Y/N still had her wristband on, retreating further into the camp as Bellamy knelt next to Octavia. 

Panicked whispers began to grow around the camp, spreading like a wildfire at the thought of other humans attacking one of their own. 

She flipped her attention away from the dissipating crowd back to the sibling duo. Something tugged on her heartstrings, almost as if the helpless look on Bellamy’s face was asking for someone else to step in. 

What little medical experience she had she learned from her mother and helping Clarke study for the doctoral exams. So it wasn’t much, but she knew how to wrap a wound and that was enough for now.

Y/N moved forward, palms open in an olive branch as she asked to inspect the wound. 

“Why?” Bellamy asked, guard up, “So you can make another sarcastic remark about us?” “Bell…” Octavia spoke softly, her nod enough consent to inspect the bleeding gash in her leg. 

“The good news is that it looks okay.” Y/N responded, cleaning the wound as best she could and retying the bandage, “The bad news is that I am not a qualified professional so take that with a grain of salt.” 

Octavia burst into giggles at the joke, Y/N’s chuckles mixing with the younger girls laughter. 

All Bellamy could do was stare. 

“We’re headed to find Jasper.” Clarke appeared from nowhere, toting Finn and Wells behind her. “We could really use you out there Y/N.”

“Try and stop me.” The engineer smiled, patting the knife on her side, her mind drifting to the scientific journal buried in her pocket, each page containing endless useful information about their unknown home.

Octavia struggled to stand up, “I’m coming too.”

“Forget it” Bellamy ordered, pushing her back down “You’re staying here.”

Octavia looked like she was about to protest until Clarke stepped in. “He’s right, your leg will just slow us down anyway.”

Y/N faced the reckless teen. “I’ll try and find something to use on your leg when I get back.”

Octavia shot a grateful look at the engineer, grasping tightly to the log she was sitting on. 

“I’m here for you” Clarke turned her attention to Bellamy, catching everyone in the vicinity by surprise. “I hear you have a gun.”

Bellamy lifted up his shirt, exposing the pistol stuck into the band of his jeans. Y/N scoffed internally, of course, he would have a gun. Of all the kids in the camp, he was the one with the firearm?

They must really be screwed.

“Good” Clarke began to move out, “Follow me.”

“Why would I do that?”

Clarke’s face pulled back in surprise, “because you want them to follow you, and right now they’re thinking only one of us is scared.”

Bellamy paused for a full beat before grabbing Murphy and following the group out of camp. Y/N rolled her eyes internally as the attacker joined their party, the group heading out into the same woods that had swallowed up Jasper not too long ago. 

“Let’s split up” Finn suggested, sending an incredibly unsubtle look toward Clarke. 

Wells gulped, stepping forward protectively, “I’ll go with Clarke.”

“No!” Clarke jumped in, a resentful look on her face, “Stay with Y/N.” The blonde shifted her gaze before following after the spacewalker. 

“Clarke wait!” She ran after the blonde, grasping her hand incredulously. “You’re just going to leave me with him?”

“You know the most about this place” She rationalized, gaze flickering to her pocket, “someone has to take care of those three” She flicked her gaze back at the trio, “Besides you get along better with him than I do.”

“You know that’s not true.”

Clarke smiled, tearing her hand out of Y/N’s grip. “You’ll be fine, now go.”

She nodded, swallowing the irritation into her stomach as she trudged through the greenery, unable to enjoy the beauty of the planet surrounding her due to the arguing behind her. She could feel eyes watching her every move, although she wasn’t quite sure if it was Bellamy or Murphy. 

The annoyance continued to build and twist until Bellamy spoke for the first time since leaving Camp.

“Must suck to be in love with someone who doesn’t know you exist.” He taunted Wells. 

“Shut up Bellamy.” The teen responded.

“I’m just saying” Bellamy continued, “with Finn around it’s like she doesn’t even see you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, irritation pooling at the stupidity of the argument, “Can you guys finish your pissing contest later? I’m trying to concentrate.”

She pushed forward, her movements halting as Bellamy grasped her bicep, keeping her in place as his hand trailed down her forearm, landing on the steel wristband surrounding her hand. 

“Take this off and I’ll consider doing whatever you say.”

A laugh escaped her mouth involuntarily, catching the leader off guard. She ripped her wrist out of his enormous palm, tilting her chin upward to meet him in the eye. “You want the Ark to think I’m dead? Kill me first.”

“Believe me, it’s not for a lack of trying” Murphy interjected, crossing his arms, a sneer growing on his face as he recalled the events of the morning.

“You know what Blake?” Y/N had reached her breaking point, annoyance bubbling over until she couldn’t handle it anymore. “You can play leader all you want, but don’t pretend it’s for anything other than your own selfish motives.” The words flowed from her brain straight to her mouth, filter forgotten. “You can pretend it’s for your sister, or for some higher purpose but I know the truth. You’re just a scared kid afraid of getting in trouble because he did something the adults wouldn’t pardon him for.”

His jaw clenched at the accusation. 

She had found his weak spot.

Y/N smiled dangerously.

“So go ahead, play leader, hide behind your sister, hell, you can even pretend to see through me, it doesn’t change the fact that I. See. Through. You.”

Her thin finger poked his chest, emphasizing her point further. The guard grabbed the limb in his hand, eyes flickering from Y/N’s face to the bracelet.

Tense silence stood between the two, broken only by Clarke’s voice calling them forward, claiming to have discovered new tracks. 

“Jasper!” Clarke called, running toward the low moaning, Y/N following soon after. The tracks exited into a clearing, a bare tree standing in the middle, Jasper’s limp body tied against the bark.

“Jasper hang on!” Y/N called, searching the ground for a safe way to the tree, ignoring Clarke’s stride forward. “Clarke wait--”

The ground collapsed beneath her, spikes awaiting the kids beneath the trap, Bellamy’s arm the only thing keeping Clarke tethered to the world above. Finn and Wells hurried to pull the two delinquents up, Bellamy still entranced by the trap before him.

“They knew we were coming” Y/n murmured, “That’s why they kept him alive.”

Finn and Murphy moved forward, as the three remaining teens brandished what weapons they held, ready to fight off whatever grounders awaited them. Instead, they were greeted with a low growl and shivering grass.

“Bellamy,” Y/N warned, eyes never leaving the green stalks, “Now would be a good time to take out that gun.”

He nodded, hand moving to the hem of his shirt, ready to fire at whatever awaited in the grass. It only took a second for the panther to lock eyes on one of them. 

“Bellamy,” She warned, pulse quickening, “Now.”

The older boy nodded, hand grasping for the hilt, only to meet empty air. 

Gunshots rang out from Wells’ hand, forcing the panther back into the grass, Y/N’s eyes scanning the edges near her and Bellamy, watching for the slightest quiver.

Instead, she caught the slightest glimpse of black, the flickering of a tail slowing right near Bellamy. 

“Bellamy watch out!” Her heart took over her head, and she jumped in front of the taller kid, pushing him behind her as she braced herself for impact, a gunshot silencing the panther once and for all.

Her breathing grew ragged, eyes locked firmly on the dead animal at her feet, refusing to register any words other than Bellamy’s simple, “Now she sees you.”

His face dropped, mouth hanging open in an ‘o’ as his eyes threatened to bug out of his head. It was the perfect mirror image of Clarke’s, unable to believe someone he hated had risked their life to save his. Unable to believe someone thought he was worth saving.

But Y/N never saw his face.

***

Try as he might, Bellamy could not tear his gaze from Y/N. 

She sat with Clarke and Finn, refusing to take off her bracelet, sharing with the two other delinquents. 

The three people who kept challenging his position in the camp.

The three people he needed to deal with quickly. 

And yet...

He wanted to thank her. To go over and offer his piece of the panther as a peace offering for saving his life. To start a truce. 

She was smart. She was the top engineer back on the Ark. She could offer a lot. 

But she was right.

She saw right through him, and he couldn’t have that.

Ooooh, what’s this? A medium burn again? Perhaps, or perhaps I’m fooling you all, who knows?

Please comment, like, and reblog!

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[jokertrap-ran]

[Yume100] Event! 終焉く冥府の祭り・ 第5話 Hell’s Festival that leads to the End [Chapter 5] Translations

*Yume100 Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Name will be retained as my usual. *As requested by Anon!

Pre-Event talk Prologue / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Last Chapter / Epilogue(Finale)

Cirrocumulus clouds floated in the evening sky beyond the windows…

Lied: Rubel…right?

Lied looked up from his musical work, speaking to Rubel.

Lied: Who in the world are you, exactly? And what relationship do you have with Prince Nox?

Rubel: ……

Rubel: I’m a Prince from the Medical Country of Remedium.

Lucien: Remedium…

Ran: You know of it?

Lucien: I’ve never been there, but I’ve heard about how it produces the generations’ finest Doctors.

Seras: Rubel’s a skilled Doctor. He has done many a house visits back in Seitos.

Lied: Heh…?

Lied: I get your credentials. So, what’s your relationship with Prince Nox?

Rubel squinted, eyebrows furrowed as he thought hard about Lied’s question, as if wrecking his brains for even the slightest clue that would make for an answer.

Rubel: I guess he’s like my partner-slash-saviour of sorts.

Lied: Saviour?

Rubel: He called out to me back in the past, when I was down for the count due to having been attacked by wild beasts.

Rubel: He doesn’t seem to think much of it despite how I owe him one for that. I don’t know what would have happened if he had just left me there.

(A-Attacked by beasts…!?)

Seras: You seemed pretty unperturbed tellin’ us about it, but how in the world did ya’ even end up in that situation?

Rubel: It’s not something I can breathe the details of.

Rubel: Anyway, I started to see more of that guy around ever since that one incident we had.

Rubel: That being said however, the tables suddenly turned one day and he started avoiding me like the plague.

Lied: …You mean, he grew to hate you?

Rubel: I can’t deny the possibility of that happening, but I’ve got not a clue otherwise.

Rubel: In any case, I’ve still yet to return this debt I owe to Nox. That’s how the story goes, and this is why I’m chasing after the guy.

Rubel furrowed his eyebrows, irked after having given us a sound reasoning.

Rubel: There’s also a part of me that’s pretty miffed at the fact that he actually ran from me.

Ran: I see…

(Their relationship’s way more complicated than I thought.)

━━━━━━━∘◦ ✰ ◦∘━━━━━━━

Nox: Wake him up. You’re the only one who can.

━━━━━━━∘◦ ✰ ◦∘━━━━━━━

(Nox was the one who had given me Rubel’s ring, after had been assaulted by Dream-eaters.)

(I can’t wrap my head around Nox hating Rubel. I don’t think that’s the case. If so, why is he running away?)

Lucien: Come to think of it, Prince Lied called Prince Nox a “Grim Reaper”.

Lucien: Prince Nox didn’t make any move to deny to acclamation, but…What’s that all about?

Lied: Even I don’t know much about it.

Lied: But most people seem to refer to the Prince of Necropolia as a Grim Reaper.

He looked down at his music sheet and ran a finger over it.

Lied: He often appears in places that have been ravaged by big disasters or have had fallen into ruin…

Lied: Hence, it seems like he’s been dubbed a “Grim Reaper”, for being he harbinger of death. Or so, the rumours go.

(A Grim Reaper…Nox called himself that back in Saphinia too.) (I wondered why he named himself so, but who knew that such a rumour existed…)

Seras: What an exaggerated name. Surely, there’s a chance of it all bein’ a mere coincidence, no?

Rubel: …No, it’s probably not coincidental.

Seras smiled, trying to lighten things up, but Rubel cut in, denying his claim.

Rubel: Nox seems to be able to see omens of death.

Rubel: He gets premonitions, but he’s unable to do anything to change the fate of those that he sees.

Ran: Fate…

━━━━━━━∘◦ ✰ ◦∘━━━━━━━

Nox: Ran. If you wish to change fate, then…

Nox: We shall meet again in the Month of the Rainbow, under the stars.

━━━━━━━∘◦ ✰ ◦∘━━━━━━━

Nox: I get omens, of when a person’s life burns out.

━━━━━━━∘◦ ✰ ◦∘━━━━━━━

(Many lives would have been lost if we didn’t find the Stardust Flower back in the Country of Stars.)

(Did he tell me that…because he saw a premonition of the Country of Stars?)

Even if that were true, I still had no idea why he’s go so far as to inform me of such dangers that laid in wait.

(I really don’t understand anything at all. But…)

Ran: I think I’ll try talking to Nox seriously, for real.

Rubel: You’re going to?

A surprising smile graced Rubel’s face, almost as If he could sense the confidence, courage, and finality of my decision from my words.

Ran: Yes. I’ve always been curious as to what Nox’s thinking ever since I met him.

Ran: That’s why I came here, to this Country.

(I feel like Nox won’t tell me what his true intentions are if I don’t go straight up to him and ask him about it properly.)

Seras: That’s actually a great idea, ya’ know? Princessa’s real good at gettin’ information outta people.

Lied: It’ll be great if you don’t just get outright rejected for mindlessly charging in headfirst.

The look in Lied’s eyes were gentle, despite how scathing his words were.

Lucien: No…I don’t think it’ll end like that.

Lucien: It looks like Prince Nox also has concerns when it comes to her.

Rubel: That’s true. He normally looks at others without a second glance, but he seems to be oddly interested in you for some reason.

He put his hand to his chin, looking down at me as he voiced his agreement.

Rubel: I think there’ll be a good chance we can catch Nox during the Hell’s Festival, least he disappears off to somewhere after it all ends.

Rubel: I’ll help you block off his escape route, but you’ll have to handle the rest of it yourself.

Ran: Right…! Thank you so much!

I gave a small smile as I nodded at his gesture of support…

To be continued…

[classysassy9791]

Update from the frontlines..

 Hello all my beautiful followers!

I appreciate the messages I’ve received regarding concern for my safety. As some of you know, I’m a registered nurse in the Intensive Care Unit. I work in a hospital located in a suburb just outside of Chicago in the U.S. 

COVID-19 is something that our healthcare system has never seen before. We are very ill-prepared as a country to combat something like this, including the equipment and stocks we have available. We already have a nursing shortage, and governors across the country are actually asking nurses to come out of retirement, and they will reinstate their licenses quickly to ensure enough healthcare workers are available at the bedside. 

As of right now, my hospital so far has no positive cases of COVID-19, although surrounding hospitals have had several. We are using an algorithm from the time people hit our ER to determine if they should be tested. They are then quarantine until their test comes back negative. Unfortunately, we do not have enough negative pressure rooms to contain them all, and thus the CDC has lowered the standard from Airborne precautions to Droplet precautions. We are still using Personal Protective Equipment (PPE) during our exposure to these patients. We are severely low on PPE, especially N95 masks, and thus people across the country are either donating their N95 masks or sewing them by hand to donate. Even Hollywood production companies have donated, including NBC’s Chicago (creators of Chicago Fire, Chicago Med, and Chicago PD) have donated their stores of medical PPE to nearby hospitals. 

The community as a whole has done well with being on lock-down. The streets are almost deserted, with only essential personnel venturing out, or those needing to restock supplies. Paper products and hand sanitizer are hard to come by due to the initial panic. Restaurants and other places of gathering have been shut down except for pick-up and delivery services. It has been a huge, but necessary, change to the community. I praise those who are staying put and doing what they can. 

As a nurse... this time has been difficult. Confusing. Terrifying, Frustrating. The information from the CDC and WHO has been changing so quickly that us at the front-lines are exhausted. We are constantly changing how we care for people - even the simplest of things like “Should be be bagging a person if they’re not intubated, in the chance that the seal wouldn’t be tight enough and risk the virus spreading” or “Do we intubate while the patient is in a non-negative pressure room, or do we move them to one before intubating to contain the virus?” These are real questions that we have posed, and disagreements between doctors and management has arisen as we use evidence based practice to decide how to proceed with care. 

Currently, our plan of action is rapid intubation. That should a person begin to decline their respiratory status, we don’t wait. We immediately intubate, as this virus hits the lungs hard and fast. 

However, during this time, we also have been battling against Influenza A, which has been a very deadly strand this year. We will not have enough ventilators should this continue. We can only pray that containment and progressive action can combat this disease quick enough to save lives. 

Please, for all my followers, stay safe and healthy. Don’t take any unnecessary risks. And stay up to date with information on merit based sources, instead of gossip floating around on social media. As for me, on my days off I remain on-call should the COVID-19 pandemic need more nurses at the bedside. Us healthcare workers appreciate all the love and prayers being sent our way, and for those of you staying home to limit the spread of disease. We appreciate you all so, so much. Stay healthy and stay safe everyone!

[bat-losers-inc]

Kintsugi: Chapter 10

Summary: Final Crisis/Red Robin AU. Dick admits Tim to a psychiatric facility after Bruce is lost in time. Jason finds him suffering at the hands of a Scarecrow-copycat and breaks him out. While safe in Jason’s apartment, Tim still struggles with panic attacks and drug withdrawal. At a loss for what to do, Jason calls Roy Harper.

Pairings: Jason Todd & Tim Drake, Jason Todd & Dick Grayson, Roy Harper & Jason Todd.

                                                    -   -   -   -

Tim woke to the early afternoon sun with his face pressed deep into the mattress and the sheets tangled up around his ankles. He wiped away the drool that puddled against his cheek. A line of plastic tubing snaked across the mattress to follow each of his movements. With inquisitive fingers, Tim followed the trail to its origin point in the crook of his arm where an IV needle was fastened down tightly with medical tape. Too tightly, in fact. Tim could feel where the skin puckered and pulled tightly against the adhesive tape.

“Leave it.”

Tim flinched at the voice from behind him. He stopped picking at the edge of the medical tape and rolled over to see Jason slumped in a chair, one hand massaging his eyes. Had he sat there all night? Tim pushed himself up until his back rested against the wall behind the bed. 

He cleared his throat as best he could with his mouth so dry and managed a throaty request. “Can I have a glass of water?”

Jason stood, thumping his chair down on the wood floor as he went. He appeared again a moment later at the top of the stairs with a glass of water. Tim held out an eager hand to take it from him but Jason stepped to the side and planted it down on the bedside table with more force than was absolutely necessary. 

He returned to his seat. 

Tim blinked.

He’d anticipated Jason’s anger, but the fact that Jason had brought him back to the apartment and cared for him made Tim think it would pass in a day or so. For now, he drank slow sips of his water and waited to see what choice Jason would make: voice some of the thoughts that were obviously consuming him or return downstairs and leave him to sleep.

To Tim’s surprise, he did neither. When his glass was empty and he couldn’t take the silence anymore, Tim asked, “Where’s Roy?”

“Blackgate.”

“Arrested or just visiting?” he said, trying to pull a laugh from Jason. Not even a twitch from Jason’s stony expression.

“He went to talk to Croc.”

“Killer Croc? Why ?”

Jason sighed and squeezed at the bridge of his nose. “He’s Roy’s sponsor. Last night... wasn’t good for his sobriety. There’s an NA meeting this afternoon and Croc told him to stop in.”

Tim placed his empty glass back on the bedside table. “Is he going to leave Gotham?”

Jason sighed and rubbed at his eyes again. “I would say there’s a fair chance of that happening, yeah. He was never too happy being here, and even if you apologize for your little stunt last night, I don’t think that it’s gonna change his mind.”

Tim stared at him. “Apologize? Who said anything about me apologizing for last night?”

It was the first time since he’d woken that Jason met his gaze and now he held it with a critical intensity. “ I did . Things got heavy here last night and you ran off to hide from it the only way you knew how. Addictions are hard to break. He understands that Tim, but you still need to apologize.”

“Sorry... but you’ve got it all wrong,” said Tim. “I didn’t make a mistake last night. I made a choice to fuck up my detox because I’m not ready to get clean yet. So, whatever narrative you’ve been quietly spinning to yourself or anyone else about why I did what I did... it’s a lie.”

Jason held up a hand. “No. Just...no. That’s just your fear talking. You were afraid of Dick when he showed up here, so you ran. When your withdrawal was too much for you to endure you went looking for drugs to feed it. And now you’re afraid to get clean and you’re trying to run from this too.”

“ No , I walked out when I saw the pissing contest you two were having and suddenly realized that neither of you gives a shit about me. Not really. I’m just another means for you to rub Dick’s face in the mud, and vice-versa. And yeah, of course, I’m afraid to get clean— who isn’t— but that doesn’t mean I have to let you force me into it.”

“You really believe—” Color rose in Jason’s face. “Fuck you! Seriously? I broke you out of a mental hospital, patched you up, and risked my ass to get the information you need to detox safely and this is the gratitude I get? You haven’t said thank you to me once. Not once! ” 

“Thank you! For what? Making a major life decision for me and just expecting me to run with it? Gee, thanks !”

“I didn’t ask you because I didn’t think there was another decision. It wasn’t your choice to start using in the first place so I assumed you’d want to get clean as soon as possible.”

“Put yourself in my shoes for a moment, okay? I survive that living nightmare of a situation where nothing I said or did could stop a forced drug addiction from happening. And then I wake up on your couch as you detailed my 12 step recovery plan with Roy—  the sponsor I never asked for— on his way.”

 “Do you have any idea how scary that was? I wasn’t ready for rehab, not even close to ready to go through it when I still felt so raw and shaky. But, you saved me. How could I say no without it being seen as spitting in the face of your kindness?”

Jason rubbed aggressively at his upper lip. “You think you know me so goddamn well. You don’t though and you could have told me!”

“Like I’m telling you now?” countered Tim. Jason’s mouth shut like a trap, hurt flashing briefly across his features. As if sensing how Tim was reading his every expression, Jason turned away towards the window, staring resolutely at the low-hanging gray clouds that floated sluggishly past them. 

Tim plowed on, wishing, no needing , his point to be heard. “Wanting to be clean and the reality of getting there are two very different things, Jason, and my ability to make that choice matters a whole hell of a lot.”

“If it was so horrible here then why didn’t you leave sooner, huh?”

“And go where?” snapped Tim. “With what?”

He counted out the reasons on his fingers— for the bad he’d need to use his toes, for the good he barely needed one hand. “I’ve got nowhere to live that Dick doesn’t already know about and no money to rent a new place to lay low in because by court order my bank accounts have been frozen. And even if I could go somewhere and hide, I’m too sick and broke to get the drugs I need. If I left here, I’d either be alone and sick with withdrawal pains or locked up in another ward. Dead in a week, either way, I’d say.”

Jason’s eyes flickered down to his lap. 

“Fuck, Tim,” he said quietly, “Don’t say things like that.”

“It’s the truth, I’m sorry if you don’t want to hear it.” Tim continued, pleading his case as best as he could, praying he hadn’t killed all of Jason’s sympathy for him. He’d take even just a scrap of kindness. “You were the only one that could keep me safe. I had to stay, even if that meant lying to your face. But now I think it’s time we stop living in this fool’s paradise and face reality.”

“Fine, then tell me for real why you won’t consider getting clean... because I know you’re too smart to make such as stupid a choice as continuing to use an abusive substance.”

Tim dropped his gaze and picked at the bedsheets by his hip. “What does it matter? You’re just going to think I’m crazy like everybody else.”

“What did I tell you about slotting me into the same stupid category as everyone else? If there's one thing you should know about me, it’s that I’m very anti-establishment, especially when it comes to those idiots we call family.”

Tim’s lips twitched and he found himself smiling down into his lap. Well, it was worth a shot… at the very least he’d learn if Jason was as good as his word.

“I don’t think Batman died during his battle against Darkseid. I think he got blasted back to a different time and he can’t find his way home. He’s out there… wherever, whenever, and I have to find him before the trail runs cold. I need to be able to focus on my research. I need to be able to go out and track down clues. That’s why I can’t quit the benzos now. I can’t do any of those things if I’m sitting around for a week or more puking into a bucket, having panic attacks, and generally being a useless sack of shit.”

“And what was your plan if you tracked down a clue that led you into a fight? Especially if it led you to Darkseid, a.k.a the guy who wiped the floor with Batman. You’ve got to know you’re crippled in a fight while on those sedatives.”

“I was planning on figuring that part out when I got to it.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Oh, fantastic.”

“Oh, like you haven’t done it too!” snapped Tim. He turned away, arms crossed tightly across his breast.

It didn’t deter Jason in the least. “Yeah, and the last time I did it got me killed. ”

It was a stalemate of an argument and Tim was smart enough to realize that their points of view were so starkly different, it was unlikely that they’d ever come to see eye to eye. Chalk it up to upbringing, personality, whatever… this was a hurdle they’d probably never cross and he just had to accept it. 

Perhaps Jason was thinking the same. “What if we negotiate a deal?”

“What kind of deal?”

“You agreed to start detox and I’ll let you do your research into Batman’s disappearance. If you catch a lead that needs on-the-ground investigating, I’ll track it down for you. This way you can still work towards getting better without worrying about wasting time being on bed rest.”  

Tim thought it over. Finally, he decided to put a stop to the tension. The truth was he didn’t want to fight with Jason and he also wanted to be better than this version of himself that spent half his days thinking about where he’d get his next fix. 

He sighed. “If I say yes will you please stop with the dead guy comments? Because I swear the guilt trips are worse than the puns.”

A small hesitant smile crept its way onto Jason’s face. When he spoke his voice was full of quiet hopefulness. “You’ll stay?”

“I’ll stay.”

 Jason’s smile seemed like it was also there to stay. “Good. Now there’s somebody else who needs to hear it too. Dial 1.”

Jason tossed Tim his phone and Tim did as he was told, wondering with nervous breath if Roy was going to pick up.

[softbluefanfiction]

Kyoya x Tamaki - Changing Times

Chapter 1: The Artist

Warnings: Thoughts of suicide, mentions of past suicide attempt, self hate, sad times, do not proceed if this is not for you!!

National Suicide Prevention Hotline: Call 1-800-273-8255

Now, to begin! Hello friends, I am very excited to be writing again, and really hope you like my story! Its an idea long in the making and I feel very excited to move it along! I am pretty busy, so it will never be left on a cliff hanger, but you may have to wait a little bit in between parts, and if I ever drop the story I will upload information about what the ending would have been! I just wanna have you be not be worried about being left on edge, as that is never fun!! Time to proceed with the story now, I really hope you enjoy! (Also, its been a hot minute since I watched the show, so bear with me just a bit on that please).

Kyoya is the silent, mysterious type. That is what allures girls in, his aura that leaves all to question. That is what makes the club money, and what gives him the chance to learn proper ways to run a business. That is what makes his father proud.

Kyoya stops at that thought, his fingers, covered in paint, coming to a halt once more. His thoughts always drift when he paints and, like all good artists he thinks, they sway to more unsavory parts of his mind, but this train of thought is forbidden. It goes beyond the palatable amount of pain, and moves into feelings that tighten Kyoya's chest and make his hand stop in its tracks. So, he removes those thoughts, takes a deep breath and continues.

He was using a paint brush when he started painting, and really tried to convince himself he was not going to make a mess. Now, his hands are covered in various sunset shades along with everything in the near vicinity, and his plan to contain himself has failed. He always looses himself in painting though, it is the one time Kyoya truly relaxes, even with his venturing thoughts.

Kyoya never really knows what he is painting, unless the painting starts with a defined idea. Generally, any art piece Kyoya makes comes from a general color palette then moves from there. Then, once a picture starts to form, he moves into it. It is common for landscapes to arise from his strokes, but faces of those around him may come into place as well. Last week he painted the really nice boy from french class, Liu.

He does feel somewhat creepy when he does faces, he did not get permission, why should he have the right to paint the person? He still does though and what does it matter, no one will see it. That thought sends a pang through Kyoya's chest. He truly loves his art, and is excruciatingly proud of it. Its really the only thing he is proud of doing, the only thing that he does for himself. Kyoya takes a break from his work to clear his eyes and take a breath once more.

Looking back up at his piece, he has yet to see a picture forming, maybe it is somewhat cloudy though. He proceeds with an audible hum, making some defined lines then zoning out once more.

He woke up feeling a bit more downtrodden today than usual. As requested by his sister and therapist each, he took his meds and set off for the day. They seemed to work for a small while, but wore off far too quickly, he should start taking extra with him to school just in case. He had to stay after today and work out extra finances. The club just had another theme day and Kyoya wanted everything squared away before going home, and he was grateful finished early enough to paint.

Tamaki had stayed after with him, not wanting Kyoya to be lonely. A small smile crept onto his face at that thought, knowing someone cared was nice. Tamaki had ended up falling asleep on a couch near where Kyoya was filling out his papers. He was informed he would be bored but when did Tamaki ever listen?

He was so adorable though, just laying there in the beams of light. A light blush crept across Kyoyas neck, but his thoughts still wandered across the shades of Tamaki's face. The angles that the light made, how he was laying, the calm, still somewhat glowing expression on his kind face. That painting would have been magical. Honestly, in any position Tamaki found himself, Kyoya would find that painting to be a captivating one.

Kyoya was no airhead, he knew he liked Tamaki. He knew he wanted to kiss him awake today, and cuddle on that couch. He knew that every look Tamaki gave him, he wished it to be one of deeper care. He knew that he read into ever gesture, every touch, hoping to find something there. But it was not meant to be. Tamaki liked Haruhi, and Kyoya liked his family. He had the ability to love women, and was attracted to many, so, he would find one of those to replace Tamaki and to not make his family a scandal.

Kyoya was sadly sure of that future, but for now, he was going to add one more beautiful element to the painting in front of him.

All of Kyoya's strokes were now deliberate, this is the part he liked the most. He added curly hair, and a face looking upwards, with closed eyes. The face was calm. More orange, then he grabbed a circular brush and dabbed a bit at the clouds. Then the painting was done.

It was an angelic face, placed in front of a glowing sunlit background, soft clouds floating all around, no ground in sight, and the blush on the cheeks were not pink, but matched the darker shades of orange in the background. He had tried to make Tamaki, but in all reality with the curly hair it looked more like Huni. He could never get anybody perfect from memory. Either way, Kyoya was proud of his work. He got his hand half way through his hair before he realized he would need to take an immediate shower.

Audibly groaning, Kyoya got up and cleaned his work space, carefully placing his painting in the corner to dry.

Then, just before he set off for his shower, he looked back into his room. Sitting on his desk in a neat row was his medication, alongside the others was his newest anxiety pills. He had tried many, but all seemed to have horrendous side effects, this ones only real issue was stomach aches and how many times Kyoya would have to take it in a day on order to have it work all the way through. His lips tightened as he thought about taking one. He had taken his depression meds earlier and sure, when he was painting he was fine, but was he really?

After some contemplation, Kyoya almost walked away. He stopped barely outside his doorway, thinking back on what happened last time he made a decision like this.  

The day it happened he had chosen not to take his depression medication, and had not slept well. He barley existed that day, only doing what he needed to do to put on airs that he was fine, which was not a lot, and collapsing as soon as he got into his house. Everyone was out, and the maids were told, as always, not to disturb him. Kyoya tried to paint, but only made a brownish mess that he angrily threw away. After that he really does not remember what happened until waking up in the hospital.

Fuyumi found him, and stayed with him right up until he recovered. Thankfully, she had come into Kyoyas room that night to see him, and tried to wake him up. Had she not done that...

Kyoya shook his head, and turned back to his room. He could not hurt her like that again, and he had not been left home alone for awhile, he wanted her to know she could leave. Go hang out with friends, and have fun. He needed to take care of himself while no one was around for her to feel comfortable doing that. So, Kyoya took two small pills and made his way to the shower.

No one outside of the family was to know. Everyone was to be told that Kyoya was contagiously sick, and that is why they were seeking medical care and no one could see him. That was the only thing he heard from his father in the hospital, then he left, never even looking at his son. Kyoya was fine with this, the absolute torture it would be for everyone to know what happened was enough to make him feel sick without his pills. It still very much hurt to have his father care so little. His therapist said it was just his father coping, but Kyoya was hardly sure of that.

Whats worse is members of the club are getting suspicious.  Haruhi, being the only member with any mental dexterity, never really fell for it. She had noticed that Kyoya was off that day and asked about it. Kyoya of course dismissed this as the start of his illness, with support from the other club members, but he still was not sure she completely believed the lie. At the very least she does not seem to have any clue of what really occurred, just that what his family is saying is untruthful.

But now, the other members are getting suspicious. Ever since the incident Kyoya has been going to therapy twice a week and he can also call an emergency meeting if he needs it or simply speak over the phone through a panic attack, instead of meeting on a strict biweekly schedule. This is much harder to plan around club activities, and he has often been absent from meetings, with no explanation.

So, of course, the twins refuse to get out of Kyoyas ass. Not only that, but him being gone is not exactly on the bottom of the priority list for other club members either. The twins antics can be ignored, but the other members also wishing to know what he is doing makes things far more difficult. Of course, Kyoya explaining that what he is doing is simply his business and that they do not really need him there is not working.

As Kyoya begins to formulate a plan to stop the other members of the club from driving him up the wall, he feels his meds start to sink in. With a sigh, he relaxes his shoulders into the warm water of his shower, and allows his mind to take a break. He smiles, proud of himself for not giving into his thoughts, and relived to be feeling better.  

Hooray!! Alright, I was gonna add some more to this chapter, but it all does not feel right, like there needs to be a pause before moving into other things. So, this chapter is more of a set up chapter than anything else, and next chapter we will start to see some more story progression. The time period for this is just after summer, I dont remember when exactly the show ended, but lets pretend it was at the beginning of summer, and Kyoya attempted in the summer, then he started school a few weeks after, more will be explained in the fic but I wanted to give you a short time frame just to set it up. Also, I did not want this to be in first person, but I did want it to show more of Kyoyas thought process, which explains the sort of contradictory thoughts I narrate sometimes. Like, his art makes him feel better, but he still felt sad while doing art, and probably should have taken his meds before starting, but still didnt realize he needed to. This will be fleshed out more throughout the story, and Kyoya is going to realized some of his flawed thinking.

Okay, enough me telling you things before I spoil the story for you!!!

I REALLY hope you enjoyed and I cant wait to start on more! I wish you the most delightful of times, and love you all! Thank you for reading!!

(This was cross posted from my Wattpad account Bendrowned-, So if you wanna check it out there, please do! Thank you so much!)

[pearlescent-words]

Greater Good

“I’m just on my way back to medical; there’s a new patient come in and they need my help, can this wait?” If Derix’s self-satisfied smirk and Kamern’s exasperated sigh were anything to go by I’d say they don’t quite believe me, “I’m afraid not.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This will eventually be a Bellamy x OC story though I do intend it to be quick a slow burn, with a loooot of ups and downs so it’ll be a real ride if that’s what you’re after… :) There’s three chapters that I’ve written so far and I can’t say how many more there will be but, with how many chapters it’s looking to take to get through the first episode it’s set to be an awful lot - hopefully that’s more appealing than offputting.

Anyway, please read, enjoy and let me know what you think!!

Chapter One - Prologue

On the Ark everything is limited; food rations, medical supplies, free time and even oxygen. Nothing can be spared and everything is shared based on need. A nice idea in theory, terrible in action. Being from Alpha Station I can consider myself one of the privileged, only elevated by my status as Medic in Ark Station Medical and then reinforced by being Council Member Dr. Griffin’s personal apprentice. She took me on just after my fourteenth birthday and she’s dedicated every moment since then to teaching me everything she knows, and largely because of her dedication, within a few months, or less with some luck, I’ll also be granted the title of Dr. (Given that I pass the exam’s of course.) And having that higher title will only make my job easier, both medically and in my out of work activities.

Being part of the privileged sector makes it virtually impossible to ignore the Ark’s massive social hierarchy divide. Those working on Stations such as Mecha, Agro or Factory seemed to struggle with the less than satisfactory food rations given and limited quota for medical treatment, especially when factoring in that many of those workers face a much more dangerous job than, say, anyone from my station. But given my position on Go-Sci Station I think I’m more than able to help, and honestly, the guilt of knowing and doing nothing would be crippling.

You’d be shocked the amount of people who are in desperate need for help and under the age of 12, usually they’re attempting to help out struggling parents rather than themselves, but something about that just makes the situation more heartbreaking. The innocence of their childhood sacrificed in place of empty tummies, desperately sick parents and a crushing responsibility unwittingly shoved onto them so soon into their, what is guaranteed to be difficult, lives. I’ve been smuggling extra food rations and medicine to desperate families since I was around 16, at this point I have a list of regulars that sadly just keeps on growing, and then, of course, the popup patients in need of medicine that they’ve already gone over their quota for. Naturally covering this entire operation up is a bit tricky, not at all helped by the fact I’m doing this completely alone and the threat of being floated is looming over my head at every turn.

There are those who say my motivation for doing all of this is less than selfless, those who hate me because of my position on the Ark and take my attempt at assistance as charity or pity –that I’m seeking to make myself feel better rather than a genuine desire to help. Perhaps they’re right; perhaps it’s some deep-rooted sense of superiority that makes me help them despite the danger, a sense of safety from my valued position. Maybe I view myself as some modern-day Robin Hood; a messiah of the people. A twisted mentality of ‘Everything I do is to help the needy & desperate and you should thank me for it’; a side effect of growing up on Alpha station I’m sure. Irregardless of my moral reasoning, standing by and doing nothing just doesn’t sit well with me.

Occasionally, in the particularly difficult weeks, I’ll get the bright idea that it’d be easier to include more people in this little operation; perhaps then with a larger group we could expand and help more people on the Ark. Presently the only ones who know of what I do, are the ones I help. But then you’re given the issue of who to trust, how many to include?, would the risk of everything only go up?, would the risk for my patients go up?. Ultimately I’d elected to keep all of this too myself.

But that still wasn’t enough

Making my way back from food storage, with around 16 stolen rations stashed away on my person is risky enough as it is; having three guards waiting around the corner for you is practically a death sentence. And their slow approach wasn’t reassuring in the slightness.

I know two of them by name, the third appeared to be a guard in training and I absentmindedly note that I should cosy up to him as soon as possible – keep your enemies close and all that. I’d never consider myself friends with the other two, Derix & Kamern, but I’d made it a point to know as many guards as I could, from their names to general shift rotation. Partially to make smuggling easier and well, you never know who you might need a favour off. Nonetheless, we’re acquaintances at the very least, though that really didn’t help with why they were making their way towards me.

Kamern appeared to be leading the group, ironic really considering his small stature and quiet personality; Derix and the new kid towered over him in the back. His blonde hair was parted to the side and combed down as usual, and he was clearly attempting to look stern and give off an intimidating presence – not that that particularly worked with his baby face and light freckled skin, though I suppose he is practically a kid, only recently turned 18. Well he’s younger than me at least.

Derix towering behind him was clearly in his element here. Slowly approaching someone bound to be in trouble, uniform crisp, brown eyes conveying a bored indifference to all like everyone was the dirt beneath his shoe. We never got along particularly well, he’s difficult to talk too and takes everything much too seriously, but we were at least civil.

The new kid looked nervous, though a quite determination marred his brow as he approached with the others. He’d clearly only just started - perhaps I’m even his first bust. That ought to be a treat, the first person your set to float and its Dr. Griffins prodigy caught smuggling rations.

I briefly entertain the idea of running but the notion is dismissed as quickly as it came, there is after all absolutely nowhere I could attempt to hide in the long term. We’re on a ship in space there are only so many places, besides if they’re after me now running isn’t going to stop them coming after me later.

“Miss. Johnson, if you’d like to come with us please.”

Kamern, despite his less than guard-like physique, possessed an inherently authoritative voice that made you want to do anything he said. But this time I really couldn’t, I know I don’t actually have a choice right now, but I also know if I go with them I’m guaranteed to be floated within the week,

“I’m just on my way back to medical; there’s a new patient come in and they need my help, can this wait?”

If Derix’s self-satisfied smirk and Kamern’s exasperated sigh were anything to go by I’d say they don’t quite believe me,

“I’m afraid not.”

Once again Kamern’s authoritative tone left little room for argument, though that didn’t stop the notion of running coming back to mind. I’d have nothing to lose now anyway, if I go with them I’ll undoubtedly be searched, figured out and floated regardless of my position of the ark. But if I run maybe I ’ll stand some kind of chance, maybe the people I’ve been helping all these years can help me out; hide me perhaps.

But I can’t spend forever like that; flitting from room to room, and there’s nowhere else I could possibly go, no one I’d want to put at such great a risk. Perhaps it’d be better to be floated for my crimes, certainly quicker in the least.

Irregardless I seem to have run out of time to make my decision, though I never really had on one in the first place. The small nod Kamern sent to Derix and the new boy had them advancing on me in seconds, giving me no time at all to turn and run and instead be forced into their hands and marched forcefully down the hallway - Kamern leading all the way.

It wasn’t until we reached the Ark’s Go-Sci main hallway that I began to question how they found out about my operation. Being marched through the hallways I was met with concerned looks and quiet whispers, a majority of those I passed aren’t people I help out but the odd one here and there, the ones looking the most distressed at my situation or perhaps at the prospect of their own, I recognised.  And considering the only ones to know about my smuggling are those I’ve been helping, only one of them could have turned me in, which quite frankly made little sense. But I’ve always been meticulous with my plans, always checking guard systems for any changes, forging the medical forms to the letter as well as the food ration forms and after spending the last seven years doing this I’d gotten pretty good at it.

They didn’t bother to search me until after we’d reached the skybox, apparently, they were confident enough in the information they were given, only reaffirming my suspicion that who every ratted me out is presumably someone I’ve been helping for a while now. They did eventually search me however and found exactly what they were looking for (much to Derix’s delight). I was briskly read off my reasons for being put into the skybox and told that the council would review my case shortly, which was completely unnecessary; I was over the age of 18 and therefore guaranteed to be floated for my crimes. All three guards left the room following this and I moved to perch on the edge of the bed as the grating, mechanical locks fell into place.

Life on the Ark; a paradise in space.

Sure.

[bullybyulyi]

flowers are not enough

read on aff 

When arms wrap around Byulyi’s shoulders, her skin crawls. Goosebumps dot the surface of her arms and she hopes that they won’t show on camera, as if they won’t be heavily editing the photos later anyway. After a dozen shutter clicks they change positions and she gets a good look at what kind of person would just hug a stranger.

She’s…cute, Byulyi decides, nothing special. It takes the edge off of how uncomfortable she’d felt in her embrace, but her skin continues to itch where they had made contact.

–

She’s an angel, Byulyi corrects herself a few days later.

It was a small lapse in thought, anyone could have done it, but Byulyi’s anxiety spirals her into dark thoughts of what this kind of mistake spells out for her future. How could she forget her heels? Does that mean she would do this down the line, when it mattered? It was just one tiny error but it was stacked against the other girls who were perfect.

The instructor must see the panic roiling in her eyes because she claps for the attention of the other girls.

“Does anyone have shoes for Byulyi to borrow?” She looks back at Byulyi, who seems a little surprised at everyone’s eyes on her. “What’s your size?”

She mumbles out 235 but the reverb of the studio carries her answer to the others.

“I have an extra pair!” A voice jumps out from the far corner. The girl from the photoshoot. She digs around her bags and runs to Byulyi with a pair of simple black heels. “Here.”

Byulyi dips her head over and over thanking the other girl, who merely smiles and tells her not to worry about it.

Byulyi doesn’t.

But she does feel the weird itch again, this time in the center of her chest. The Photoshoot Girl is more than just another trainee to her now. Now she’s a face and a kind smile and Byulyi likes her, wants to be her friend.

After practice, the instructor gives her a kind reminder to not forget anything next time and the residual strength Byulyi gained from Photoshoot Girl’s smile allows her to feel conviction rather than shame over the small lecture.

“Don’t forget to return the shoes. Who lent them to you?”

Byulyi thinks this is her chance to appreciate the other girl a little. She’s in the back corner with her things, pouting a bit for whatever reason and Byulyi’s convinced there’s no way a face like that can be over 18. She calls her out, informally, so the girl will understand her intentions to become close, like friends.

“That girl over there.” She points a finger directly at her savior. The instructor nods, already moving away to talk to the other trainees.

Photoshoot Girl looks up in surprise at being called out by her voice. Instead of the sheepish look Byulyi expected, the girl looks in shock. Between Byulyi’s confident smile and her pointed finger, and her pretty face twists into a scowl. Suddenly she doesn’t look so young anymore.

Byulyi’s smile drops as the girl approaches her, scowl still fixed.

“Moon Byulyi, right?”

“Yes. Um, thank you for the shoes.” She speaks formally, holding them out. The other girl takes them back stiffly, but her expression has softened to something less offended.

“I’m Kim Yongsun. What year are you?”

Byulyi feels her face twitch as she feels the same hot shame from the morning begin to pool in her stomach. She can tell where this going. “’92.” She answers lamely.

“I’m ’91. Please call me Unnie.” Yongsun requests, her manner unwavering.

Byulyi dips her head so she doesn’t have to look Yongsun in the eyes anymore. “Sorry, Unnie.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Yongsun repeats the same words from this morning and walks back to her belongings.

This time, the words only serve to make the burning shame feel hotter. Byulyi swears to herself she’ll never forget her things, and that she never wants to feel Yongsun’s disdainful eyes on her ever again.

-CHRYSANTHEMUM::SLIGHTED LOVE-

They’re all in the changing room when the girl next to Byulyi starts coughing up a storm. She jumps in surprise before she and the girl on her other side crowd around to see if she’s okay. Everyone else turns their heads curiously.

“Are you okay?” Byulyi asks, when the girl collapses on her hands and knees and her coughs turn into gagging. The other girl next to them is luckily still completely dressed, and she runs out to call for help.

The room is otherwise frozen, watching the girl dry heave on the ground, including Byulyi. She’s never seen someone like this. Her hands float around the girl’s figure uselessly.

Yongsun rushes into the scene suddenly and drops to her side. She briefly meets Byulyi’s eyes and sees a panic in her eyes that’s probably mirrored by all the other girls in the room.

Yongsun grabs the coughing girl by the shoulders and forces her upright. Sure enough, there’s a flower etched right at on her chest. She keeps one hand bracing the girl upright and uses the other to start patting around where the flower is.

“What is – is she okay?” Byulyi’s voice trembles out.

Yongsun bites her lip, hitting harder. “She will be.”

The girl who’d run out before suddenly bursts back in with one of the instructors in a tow, just in time for a flurry of yellow petals to burst out of the girl’s mouth. Byulyi would have thought it to be beautiful if she weren’t horrified. Yongsun had expected it, yet she can’t help flinching. Everyone watches in stunned silence as she finishes choking out the last petal. Then, the only sound is the girl gasping on the ground before the instructor calls out her name. They walk away in the direction of the CEO’s office.

Slowly, murmurs return to the room but the usual energy is completely drained. Yongsun is still still kneeling on the ground as Byulyi looms above her.

“Was that –“

“Oranthoptysis.” Yongsun answers her. Byulyi’s eyes widen. She knew it better as Hanahaki, the disease of throwing up petals. Love takes the form of flowers, small and beautiful, growing on the skin right above your heart. But if the bud on your chest blooms in full and your love stays unfulfilled for however long, the feelings will erupt out of your mouth. The only real cure is to have your love returned, otherwise the flower must be surgically removed. If the disease persists, the victim will eventually die from choking on their own feelings.

Byulyi feels skittish at the thought. Hanahaki wasn’t a very common case, but it happened often enough that the medical procedures for it weren’t too strenuous. The problem was that half the time, people with the disease would refuse treatment. To remove the flower meant to remove the feelings. Despite the agony, in the face of pure love, some just couldn’t let go of the hope of having their love returned.

Sometimes, they wait to the brink of death before surgery. By then there’s enough damage done to the throat that the sufferer will barely be able to speak, let alone sing. Byulyi hopes it never happens to her.

Yongsun still hasn’t moved. She looks as though she was seeing something that wasn’t there, replaying a memory for her mind’s eye. Byulyi wants to ask, what are you thinking? How did you know?

Yongsun stands up and sighs before she can find her words. She watches the older girl walk back to her things. Yongsun’s voice is too beautiful, too rich to have felt the pain of blooming petals, but Byulyi can’t help but wonder.

That night, she falls asleep with an itch in her chest and chrysanthemum petals floating around her mind.

–

The girl won’t be training with them anymore. The instructor gives them five minutes of downtime before practice will start again. A murmur swells from the dozen or so in the practice room and Byulyi is sitting next to Yongsun when they get the news.

(They’ve stopped trying to avoid each other at this point, but they’re not really friends.)

“She should have gotten the surgery.” Yongsun mumbles to no one. Byulyi’s the only one who hears her, and Yongsun somehow know’s she’s listening. “She probably won’t be able to sing ever again.”

Byulyi glances at her then, and notices how her eyes aren’t nearly as cold as her words.

–

Byulyi really hates her relationship with Yongsun. It’s been over a month since their initial meeting, but she still has the nagging feeling in her chest, and she’s sure it’s because Yongsun probably doesn’t like her still. That bothers her. It makes her hyperaware of Yongsun. It compels her to look at Yongsun way too much. Somewhere along the line she realizes, Yongsun is goddamn beautiful.

Byulyi wears her blind confidence one evening and approaches Yongsun after a vocal lesson.

“Unnie,” She makes sure to say properly, “Do you want to come get dinner with me?”

Byulyi had expected restraint and politeness, which she promised herself would change by the end of the night if she played her cards right. Instead, Yongsun’s curious look turns into a shy grin.

“I’d like that.”

Yongsun’s shining smile blindsides her and it makes the tightness in her chest unravel into something warm. Byulyi breathes easily for the first time in what seems like weeks. They go to one of the food stalls nearby and as it turns out, they have the same taste.

–

Her new-built friendship with Yongsun blows all her other friendships out of the water. Byulyi sticks to Yongsun like she’s in a gravitational lock. The others can’t help but notice.

“You’re friends with her now? Isn’t she kind of weird? I thought you guys didn’t like each other.” Wheein asks her bluntly one afternoon. Hyejin, lounging next to them, perks up in interest.

“Yongsun-unnie is great.” Byulyi beams. “That was just a misunderstanding from before. She’s really funny you know?”

Wheein purses her lips. “She’s still weird.”

The older girl is unfazed. “I like her.”

Wheein looks to Hyejin for a second opinion. Her friend merely shrugs. “She is pretty funny. And she seems nice enough.”

Wheein leans back with a huff and the begrudging knowledge that Yongsun’s presence in her life just became an inevitable outcome. Her face pulls into a pout. “She reminds me of my mom.”

–

It’s the four of them. Locked in, slated to be the ones to debut. With only a simple smile, the CEO has made all their dreams see the light of reality. Byulyi feels like she’s flying.

“Yongsun, you’ll be the leader and lead vocal. Byulyi, you’ll be doing rap from now on. Wheein and Hyejin are both main vocal. There are some secondary responsibilities I’ll have you girls take on, but you’ll get those when you start your new schedules tomorrow. You can take the rest of today off.”

His smile is the same, kind, proud, but this time Byulyi is plummeting to the ground and she hopes it’ll swallow her whole. The others nod professionally at him before Yongsun simply can’t hold back any longer and starts squealing. Wheein and Hyejin join in on the eruption, and they’re elated enough to not notice Byulyi only offering tired, empty laughs.

They rush back to the shared apartment, each dipping a bit into their savings pool and buying as many snacks and take-out boxes as they wanted on the way.

“This is our last bite of freedom.” Hyejin had solemnly said with a potato chip in hand. “From today on there’ll be cameras in our stomachs, always watching.”

Wheein groaned at that through a mouthful of chicken. “I don’t want to think about that. Let’s talk about something else!”

Yongsun perked up. “Let’s pick stage names.” Smiled at Byulyi. “I bet I know what Byul’s is going to be.”

The lightness of her voice and smile was almost enough to pick Byulyi up off the ground.

-DAFFODIL::THE SUN IS ALWAYS SHINING WHEN I AM WITH YOU-

Hours later, Yongsun tied up the last of the trash. She’d elected to clean up so the younger girls could sleep, but when she looked up, Byulyi was still sitting in the living room, deep in thought.

“Byul-ah.”

The other girl twitched and turned to face her, a smile forcing its way onto her face. Not fast enough for Yongsun to miss the crinkle in her brow. Something was wrong.

“Thanks for cleaning up Unnie, sorry I was spacing out there. Thinking about the future and all that, y’know?”

Yongsun considered her words for a moment. She had an itching feeling Byulyi was trying to bottle up all her emotions and bury them in her heart again. “Help me take this downstairs.”

“Ah, right.” The younger girl scrambled to her feet and grabbed one of the bags. “I can’t believe we ate so much.”

Yongsun snorted. “I can.”

They tossed the bags in the receptacle downstairs and Byulyi turned on her heel to go back when she felt a hand grab her arm. “Let’s go to the river.”

Byulyi stalled. So Yongsun had noticed, of course she did. Byulyi had never been very good at hiding when she was upset. But this once she’d hoped the others would be blissfully ignorant of her troubles. Yongsun knew Byulyi didn’t like to talk if something was bothering her. Sometimes she let her be. This was not one of those times.

Sensing her hesitation, Yongsun tugged on her arm to let her know she was not allowed to refuse.

“…Okay.” Byulyi relents

They made the trip there in silence. Byulyi had only a myriad of emotions swirling in her head, giving none of her thoughts a name and never lingering on one for too long. She knew she would break if she were to face them.

Yongsun sat them down when they reached their usual spot, a bench overlooking the river. She turned to the younger girl and noted how the glittering lights reflected in the water danced in Byulyi’s eyes like twinkling stars. She got right to the point.

“Byul-ah, there’s something bothering you.”

Cold silence as Byulyi continued to stare at the moving water. Yongsun knew she was heard, so she waited.

“Why would he do this to me?” Byulyi grinds out at last. She’d been trying to hold it together all day. “I…I wanted to sing.” Her voice trembles and finally she feels everything she’d been trying to avoid washing over her. Pain, disappointment, worthlessness. “What am I even doing here?”

Yongsun bit her lip, not sure how to proceed. She couldn’t say she didn’t see this coming when they were given their assignments, but for some reason she didn’t think Byulyi would take it this hard. Byulyi was self-aware, she knew she wasn’t a powerhouse. But Yongsun knew, that wasn’t everything when it came singing. Byulyi’s voice was the warmth of sunshine on a chilly day, it was the rustle of leaves in the wind, it was curling up in bed for just five more minutes. Did Byulyi know this?

Right now, however, she didn’t need forced sympathy or empty words. Yongsun just didn’t know what Byulyi did need. All she could do was be honest.

“I don’t know what exactly he has planned,” She began carefully, “But I know he doesn’t do things like this haphazardly.” She suddenly grabbed Byulyi’s hand, making the other girl jump. “I think he see’s something in you that you don’t.”

She turned to face the river at the same time the Byulyi finally looked up. “Doors are opening for us Byul. Even if…what is behind the door isn’t what we expected. It doesn’t mean it’s not still good.” She gripped her hand tighter. “And you’re not alone. I’ll be there, and Wheein and Hyejin too. You don’t see what wonderful things you have to offer right now because you’re upset he’s shutting you down. And you’re right to be upset. And maybe…maybe that’s his mistake.” Byulyi opens her mouth but she’s not sure what she wants to say. Yongsun’s words aren’t very sensible but somehow the awkwardness of it all makes her feel a bit better.

“What if whatever he sees in me isn’t actually there?”

Yongsun holds her gaze and speaks like she’s telling the truth. “It is there. I can see it too.”

Byulyi feels a hole open in her chest and swallow her up.

–

When she locks herself up in the bathroom that night, Byulyi doesn’t do it so she can cry. She lifts her shirt above her head and stares at her bare torso.

There, right below her sternum where bone gives way to soft flesh, a beautiful, blooming daffodil.

-MAGNOLIA::NOBILITY-

“How did you know what was happening that one time?” Byulyi asks once. They’re walking along the Han river. Things are peaceful, quiet.

“How did I know what?” Yongsun peers at her curiously.

“That time, with the flowers.” Byulyi kicks a pebble off the sidewalk. The incident was months ago, but sometimes Byulyi still dreams of chrysanthemums.

Yongsun is quiet for so long Byulyi thinks she made her mad, their delicate new friendship over before it could really even begin.

Finally, the older girl speaks. “That’s a very personal question, you know.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-“

“But it’s not even my story really.” Yongsun smiles in a way that says ‘you’re forgiven, even if you didn’t do anything wrong’.

“My sister had it when I was 16. It was a magnolia. It was so beautiful on her, I was almost jealous. But then after a while she started coughing, and then the petals, it was endless. Our house smelled like them for months.” Yongsun chuckles humorlessly. “She was dying. She had it for almost half a year.”

Byulyi’s lips turn down at the thought. “That’s such a long time.”

“She told me, when it first bloomed, she had never felt more alive. But then she started coughing, and by the end of it she said every breath felt like drowning.”

Byulyi doesn’t know what to say at that implication. “Is she…”

“She got the surgery.” Yongsun smiles at her reassuringly. “She wanted to keep it so bad, even though it was killing her. But my parents begged and begged because they couldn’t lose her.” Yongsun huffed a sigh. “She got the surgery and month after that she left for England and she hasn’t been back since.”

Byulyi ponders over her words. “Was she still sad?”

Yongsun shrugs. “I don’t know. She only told me how it felt to have the flower removed.”

“What did she say?”

Yongsun gazes out onto the soft ripples of the river, glinting gold in the sunset hues. “She said it felt like she was finally free.”

-

Yongsun blinks her eyes open to golden hour. The sun is streaming through their thin curtains but she knows it won’t last long. She never liked how fast it got dark in winter.

It was a rare full weekend off for them, their last break, the CEO warned them, before things really started. Wheein and Hyejin had elected make a trip home since their next vacation would probably be a long while off. Yongsun didn’t really need to go out of her way to see her parents, and while Byulyi’s family was a little far off, she didn’t really feel the need to see them either.

Yongsun was spends the Saturday snoozing, but now she’s awake. Awake, and hungry. The camera over the fridge had literally been on their diets like a hawk, but since today was a break, Yongsun saw no harm in sneaking out for a bite. Byulyi would probably even come with her.

She rolled out of bed, the girl’s name on her lips when she noticed how quiet the apartment was. Usually around this time she could at least hear Byulyi tapping away on her computer, or a soft song drifting from her tablet.

Maybe Byul was taking a nap too?

She walked over to Byulyi and Wheein’s room, the door creaked open so she could see the corner of the bunk bed. No lump on top, no sleeping Byulyi. Maybe she already went out. Yongsun was about to leave it at that when she noticed movement in the room. So Byulyi was still home.

For whatever reason, the quiet atmosphere, her curiosity, a little bit of mischievousness, Yongsun decided not to make her presence known. She crept up to peer at a better angle through the door and her breath was swept from her lungs, constraining her throat, choking her.

There was Byulyi standing tall and lean, completely naked but for a pair of panties, staring at herself in their full-length mirror. Yongsun shouldn’t have been shaken by the experience, she’d seen Byulyi naked plenty of times before, but something about the atmosphere, the golden tint of the afternoon, the way it gave Byulyi’s dark hair a halo of amber, it seemed like not only was Byulyi’s body uncovered but it seemed like her soul was also stripped bare.

Yongsun’s eyes were locked on the vision of Moon Byulyi, her pale skin, her thin, too thin, legs, the smooth plane of her back but for the dimples above her waist, and in the reflection of the mirror, her flat stomach, her not-quite-full breasts, and there, in the middle, a-

She gasps.

Byulyi’s eyes lock on hers through the mirror and she throws up her arms to hide her front. “Unnie!”

“B-byul!” Solar feels a bit light-headed. “I was just, if you were awake I was going to ask if you wanted to get something to eat. Sorry I didn’t know you weren’t dressed, um, I’ll-“

Byulyi looks at her like she wants to talk and Yongsun absolutely does not want that.

“I’ll just go and you can text me if you feel like eating something. Bye Byul.” She slips the door shut and grabs her keys before dashing out the front door.

-

Byulyi feels herself dying. She feels the old parts of herself decaying and breaking off and they’re being replaced with parts that love the sun, parts have dark desires, parts that don’t know what it is to live without love.

-

“Dohoon-nim.” She ducks her head as she enters his office. There’s steely resolution in her eyes that makes him immediately set his notebook aside and focus all on her.

“What is it, Byulyi?”

She takes a deep breath, and lets the words spill out of her mouth before the tears spill out of her eyes.

“I need to get surgery.”

-

Yongsun comes home after three hours of wandering around and the food is cold in her hand. Byulyi doesn’t mind, and sits in the living room to eat with her and she smiles and jokes and laugh and they don’t talk about it that night.

Or the next.

Or the next.

And so a year passes, they debut, they rise, they cry, they learn to love each other more and more each day, and Byulyi has not laid herself bare again.

Yongsun has a dark anxiety burrowing itself in the deepest parts of her mind. Most of it comes from worrying about how she can make the group succeed, how she can make sure to not let anyone down, especially the girls she loves.

The rest of it comes from Byulyi’s crooked smile and flirty touches, and the knowledge that there’s a precious, perfect daffodil in full bloom and it didn’t bloom for her. She wonders why it bothers her.

-

Byulyi steps out of the surgery in a daze. It was all very anti-climatic. She knew it was a simple procedure, but for something that felt like it was woven to her entire existence to be removed so easily…Well, she doesn’t know what to think.

She lifts her gown to stare at the 5cm stitch where her flower once was. There’s no hopelessness, or despair, or loneliness or depression like her heart told her there would be if the flower disappeared. Instead, somehow, she just knows how to live again. She vaguely recalls how, when the flower had bloomed, she’d forgotten what her life was like before it. She traces the sensitive skin around her center. Who was she before she loved Yongsun?

I am Moon Byulyi.

She was free.

–

The thing about reciprocal relationships, ones that bear fruit, is that there is no easy way out. If your flowers end up wilting, dying, you both can only watch and wait. The hardest part, is that it usually never happens at the same time. You watch the love disappear from their eyes and your heart dies with their flower. And when your own flower wilts, because eventually it will, with no love to nurture it, you have to do all you can to sow the cockles of your heart so that one day, it may be healed enough to grow love once again.

If the flower is surgically removed, there is no heartache, there is no healing, there is simply nothing left at all.

–

Things are easy, they are incredibly easy after Byulyi no longer has the burden of love.

Yongsun is still her best friend. When she holds her close and smiles in her hair, it’s because she loves Yongsun, she loves Yongsun the most, but she’s not in love with her. She knows Yongsun loves her back in the same way. That’s what makes things easy.

When Yongsun agrees to be on We Got Married, Byulyi is apprehensive, but only because Yongsun’s a bit of an airhead and she always wants to protect her. But Yongsun squeezes her hand after the announcement and tells her it’ll be fine, so Byulyi smiles and lets her go.

But then things aren’t so easy anymore.

Figuring out what to do with her free time is stressful. Watching Eric Nam on TV is stressful. Sitting on a panel after working with no sleep is stressful. Listening to MCs ask and tease is stressful. Not being with Yongsun is stressful. The heavy weight of a growing love is stressful.

Byulyi feels a panic when she thinks about it too hard and there’s a familiar itch in her chest that she doesn’t want to acknowledge.

-LILY-OF-THE-VALLEY::THE RETURN OF HAPPINESS-

“You know you’re probably going to win.”

Yongsun makes eye contact with Byulyi’s reflection in the dressing room mirror. “I don’t know that.” She says a little more firmly than she meant to. “The other couples were more comfortable with each other.” She returns to fixing her makeup but she can almost feel Byulyi’s stare burning holes into her chest.

After minutes of silence Byulyi finally breaks.

“You look beautiful.” She says quietly, but her voice is tense.

Yongsun dabs at her lipstick on more time and finally swivels around. “Let me see your phone.”

Byulyi lifts and eyebrow but hands it to her without further question. Yongsun types in the password (their debut date, what a dork) and open’s Byulyi’s gallery. She swipes through a couple of photos before settling on one and handing the phone back to its owner.

“I like this picture. You should post it later.”

Byulyi looks at her screen. It’s a picture they had taken before the opening ceremony started, when they were still fresh in their red carpet outfits, her in her white suit and Yongsun in a white dress (a dress not unlike the one she was wearing now). In fact, the two of them looked a bit like…

Byulyi swallows. Well, they looked good is all. She grins and pockets the phone in her leather jacket.

“You picked a good one.” She smiles, more relaxed now.

Yongsun smiles back. “I picked the best.”

And there it is again, the familiar twinging in her chest. Byulyi knows she should be scared of it, knows she should be trying to suffocate the feeling, but the little moments it brings her feel right. It makes her feel happy.

The voice of their manager rings through the door partnered with a couple of knocks. “Yongsun we have to go!”

Yongsun scrambles to get her jacket and Byulyi follows her lead, grabbing the older girl’s coffee as they exit the dressing room.

Byulyi follows her all the way outside. She’s only wearing her jacket from their performance and it’s biting cold, but all her senses seem dulled watching Yongsun being rushed into the car like a runaway bride. She suddenly remembers the drink in her hand.

“Unnie, your coffee-“ she raises the cup.

But the door is already closed. Yongsun looks at her from the tinted windows and grins. She points at Byulyi and cups her palms and makes a blowing gesture. Then she waves.

You keep it, it’s warm. Go back inside.

A cold wind brushes against Byulyi’s neck and she doesn’t have to be told twice. She skitters back through the glass doors, but turns around to watch Yongsun’s car pull away, off to accept that best couple award, she’s sure of it.

When the car is completely out of sight she shuffles back to the dressing room. Byulyi feels hot all over but she’s sure it isn’t because of the coffee, or the warmth of the indoors. The room is empty, Wheein and Hyejin probably off visiting friends. She locks the door and strips down to her undershirt. She lifts it slowly up, stopping when she sees it.

And she starts crying. Byulyi wishes she at least had the temperance to be mad at herself. Instead, a mix of joy, despair, and relief wash over her in a tide. She wonders, what are the chances that she’d fall for the same person twice? But she thinks of Yongsun she knew it was only inevitable.

When she sees the lily-of-the-valley bells printed gently on her chest, it seems to be saying to her, welcome home.

-POPPY::IMAGINATION-

Eric invites her out to dinner that night, her and the entire production crew. Yongsun is honestly exhausted from performing and being shuffled between events but it would be rude to refuse. She tells herself she’ll stay for half an hour and have one drink, and then she can go home and finally sleep.

She’s honored by the award, really, and all the people she worked with were great, but even through the months they spent filming, Yongsun never quite felt comfortable.

In fact, right now she might even be feeling a little uncomfortable. She had been sipping on some beer, making small talk and congratulating crew members, when Eric slid next to her, arm loosely hanging on the back of her chair.

“Hey.” He says lowly, smiling at her.

“Hey.” She smiles back. She’d been a bit flushed from the alcohol, but the way he’s looking at her now it’s sobering. There’s a beat of silence and Yongsun debates if she should chug the rest or her drink or just leave. Eric is giving her a look, and she doesn’t even feel shame when she half-wishes she was receiving that look from someone else.

He fingers the rim of his glass. “Yongsun.” He smiles when he says her name. Yongsun can’t help but feel this is horribly unfair. He leans forward and she leans back. “What do you think of poppies?”

There it is. Yongsun can only stare at him with wide eyes and after seconds, Eric realizes it isn’t an expression of wonder. It was more like she was caught in the headlights, trapped. He jerks backwards and places his palms on his thighs, just to feel some sort of stability. “Would you-“

Yongsun downs the rest of her drink and twists out of her chair and he’s staring at her shoes now, question caught in his throat.

He wishes he couldn’t hear her gentle voice when she says, “I don’t think about them. Not at all. I’m sorry, Eric.”

And she leaves.

–

Yongsun enters her apartment with a slight headache. From the alcohol, from Eric, from tempering her own feelings for who knows how long. When she sees the sneakers in her foyer, the pressure lessens a bit.

Yongsun looks around her living room and there she is. Byulyi in a large t-shirt, soundly sleeping on her couch. She must be exhausted, because Yongsun wasn’t exactly discreet coming in and Byulyi hadn’t even stirred. The older woman is mindful about being quieter as she moves closer to her unexpected guest. She doesn’t know why her best friend is here, but she can’t complain when just the sight of Byulyi sleeping soundly relieves some of Yongsun’s own stress.

Yongsun squats in front of her sleeping figure and just, allows herself to stare, indulge in the peace that Byulyi’s presence brings her. Then she notices redness around Byulyi’s eyes.

Was she that tired? Or had she been…crying?

The image of Eric’s broken expression resurfaces and she’ll blame it on the alcohol another day, but Yongsun knows inside that the real reason she peeked under Byulyi’s shirt that night was pure desperation.

She never would have expected this. It’d been almost three years since that tempestuous evening that when she suffocated her heart, shut it down because she knew it would betray her and catch feelings if she let it breathe.

But this flower, this beautiful, delicate thing, was not the same. Yongsun feels a wave of nausea at the knowledge that at some point, Byulyi’s daffodil (she remembered it clearly) had withered away, and while she had been playing pretend with Eric Nam, Byulyi had gone and fallen in love again.

–

“It will take me a long time to fall in love, but once I do, I will only think about that person.” Byulyi says when they’re asked about their ideal types.

Yongsun thinks about Byulyi’s two flowers, thinks about how Byulyi has fallen in love, deep and true, two times already and she thinks, liar.

-SCARLET ZINNIA::CONSTANCY-

“Have you ever bloomed?”

Wheein pauses from toying with Ggomo. She deliberates for a moment but decides Byulyi deserves her honesty. “Yes.”

Byulyi jerks out of her dreamy state. “What, for real?”

Wheein gives her a look. “Yes for real, is that so hard to believe?”

“I just – I didn’t mean that. You, it’s just that you…well…what happened then?”

Instead of answering, Wheein asks, “Do you want to see it?”

Byulyi’s mouth drops open but she nods.

Wheein shifts closer to Byulyi and starts to gather the ends of her shirt and sweater. Ggomo scurries off with a toy when he realizes Wheein won’t play with him anymore.

Byulyi feels like Wheein is deliberately taking her time and at last, she sees it. A single, red flower, vibrant and clear against Wheein’s pale skin.

“What is it?” Byulyi murmurs in awe at how alive it is.

“Scarlet zinnia.” When Byulyi doesn’t say anything more, Wheein answers the unasked question floating in the air. “It’s for Hyejin.”

Byulyi eyebrows shoot upwards. She’d thought she was just speaking random thoughts on another one of their beer nights but Wheein seemed keen on blindsiding her. “I didn’t even notice…”

“There’s nothing to notice, we’re not together or anything.”

Strike three. Byulyi felt as if her brain was short circuiting. Why was it that Wheein could sometimes be so obtuse?

“Close your mouth Unnie, you’ll catch flies.” Wheein gives her a cheeky smile. “But if you’re worried, Hyejinnie does have one for me too. If you ask her nicely she might even show you.”

Byulyi’s mind is reeling. Wheein and Hyejin, they did it. They’ve bloomed and they did it perfectly for each other, but…

“How long? Why aren’t you guys together then?”

“Probably six years now.” Wheein shrugs. “I don’t know. We’re a little weird like that I guess.” Wheein rolls her shirt back down. “I just know that people come and go and they’re amazing, but at the end of days, it’s me and Hyejinnie, forever. I guess it’s something like I don’t need to be with her, but I can’t live without her.”

Byulyi nods like she understands, some things, not everything. “I don’t think I would ever be able to do that.”

Wheein looks at Byulyi and sees her endless devotion and bleeding heart and hums in agreement.

–

It haunts her. For days and nights she lays awake and Byulyi just exists next to her like she isn’t tearing her apart inside. How is it fair that Byulyi can have someone she loves and cherishes more than her? How can Byulyi devote all her time to Yongsun when she desires someone else? These thoughts whirl around her like a tornado, it’s impossible for her to do anything else.

They sitting across from each other at her coffee table, writing (or trying to), and she can feel Byulyi’s foot occasionally brush against her thigh.

“You touch me a lot.”

“I touch everyone a lot.”

“I know you touch me more.”

“Do you know?” Byulyi smiles and her eyes are playful but Yongsun feels like she’s just been thrust in limbo. She presses on.

“You spend too much time with me.” What about the person you’re in love with? Yongsun keeps that to herself.

“I only have you, Unnie.” Byulyi says easily.

Liar liar liar.

Yongsun breaks it.

“Then what about your flower?”

Byulyi freezes. All too late, Yongsun wishes she kept her big mouth shut.

“I had it removed.”

That information does nothing to quell the swirling at the pit of Yongsun’s stomach.

“I mean the new one. Your lilies.” Byulyi’s eyes flash and she clenches her fist. Any warm left in between them dissipates.

“How do you know about that?” No one should have seen, because she had been careful this time.

Yongsun tries not to feel like a horrible person but the fact is, she forced herself into Byulyi’s life, breached some unspoken taboo and peeked upon Byulyi’s most tender, vulnerable self. Apologies come tumbling out like excuses. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry Byulyi but I had to know and it was killing me inside and Eric said he had poppies and-“

“Eric?” Byuly interrupted. Yongsun’s mouth slams shut. “He bloomed for you?” Byulyi gathers her hair in her hands, mind reeling. “Wow…Wow, isn’t that just great.” Byulyi gasps. But it’s not great. It’s the worst. She was just a single flower in a garden of dozens, one that was stupid enough to think that the sun shined only for her.

Yongsun doesn’t know how it’s been turned to her. “Why are you saying that? It’s not great at all. I didn’t want it. I don’t want it.”

On any normal day, the sight of Yongsun’s tears would make Byulyi immediately run to her side and embrace her, to keep her safe and surround her with love, hidden but true.

Seeing them now though, after Yongsun ripped her heart open for no reason other than just to see what was inside, she feels like everything is shutting down. Her brain can’t form a coherent thought and every piece of her feels like it’s about to collapse when she feels a crushing pressure in her chest and she knows. This is it, she thinks, I should have gotten rid of it. Even though she knew absolutely this time, that she wouldn’t be able to kill her flower a second time. That this time, she would die with it if she had to. This is my love and this is my curse.

She feels the brush of velvet against the back of her throat and just as she’s about to let everything out, Yongsun erupts first.

-JONQUIL::DESIRE FOR AFFECTION RETURNED-

Yongsun sees it coming from miles away. She thinks it would have been here sooner, if only she hadn’t been in vehement denial, if she didn’t have so much pride. It’s been ready to since the first time she saw Byulyi’s chest.

Yongsun finds it a little funny that every time she see’s Byulyi’s flower, it catalyzes her own hopeless feelings. It’s as if for whatever reason, her heart is eager to bloom just so it can die.

She gently replaces Byulyi’s shirt and sits on her heels. The room hangs in still silence, but for the occasional hiccup of Yongsun’s shoulders. Eventually she takes a deep breath, wipes away the wetness left on her cheeks, and prods awake her sleeping beauty.

Byulyi startles awake, her eyes immediately landing on the woman in front of her. She smiles serenely like she has a secret, an answer. “Yong, you’re back. I didn’t mean to fall asleep here.”

Yongsun pats her knee. “You need to sleep when you can. Go to bed, I’ll be there after I clean up.”

Byulyi nods wearily, takes Yongsun’s hand and squeezes it. “I brought some food in case you haven’t eaten yet.” Her eyes crinkle into a smile but it only accentuates the redness around eyes. Yongsun is endlessly curious why she was crying but she can’t bring herself to pry, not now.

“Congratulations tonight.” Byulyi murmurs.

Yongsun stares at their clasped hands and squeezes back. “Go to bed Byul.”

Yongsun rises and heads to the kitchen as Byulyi shuffles to her bedroom. She pops open the takeout container and it’s, of course, her favorite comfort food. She takes one small bite at a time, not really thinking about anything except Byulyi walking her to the door, Byulyi buying her favorite food, Byulyi waiting for her to come home, Byulyi’s sleepy smile, Byulyi’s cluster of lily-of-the-valleys.

The next bite she tastes is weirdly salty. It sucks her out of her spiraling thoughts and she realizes she’s crying again. Yongsun places her chopsticks down and leans back, sniffles to hold it together, and hopes Byulyi fell asleep again so that maybe she hadn’t heard. Yongsun places the rest of the food in the fridge and washes off her face in the bathroom. She doesn’t peer closely at her chest when she changes, doesn’t even glance. She doesn’t run her fingers over her chest. She doesn’t stare in awe and elation.

Yongsun climbs into bed. Byulyi had been asleep, but feeling the older girl’s movements, shifted sideways before wrapping Yongsun in a hug and sighing contentedly.

Yongsun breathes out the rest of her tears. They’ve been dried by the warmth of Byulyi’s embrace. As she feels her consciousness drifting, she tries to pretend that nothing has changed, but she knows it, feels it. It reverberates throughout her entire being.

Something in her has bloomed. It sings out desperately, love me, love me, love me too.

–

The room is flooded with yellow petals, floating around so gently Byulyi is convinced that time has slowed. Suddenly she’s back in the dressing room, eyes wide in terror as chrysanthemums swirl around her. Suddenly, she’s looking in the mirror after falling in love for the first time.

 Byulyi leaps across the table to Yongsun’s side. The older woman is gagging on the seemingly endless stream of petals but she somehow struggles to say Byul.

Byulyi has no idea what to do. After all these years, after having flowers of her own, her mind’s shut down again and she’s only uselessly clinging to Yongsun’s arms. Byulyi opens her mouth to say something, anything, but instead white shells of petals spill out.

Yongsun’s eyes squeezed shut from crying and coughing, Byulyi has never felt more confused and distraught.

She seals Yongsun’s mouth the only way she’s ever wanted to.

–

Yongsun’s world is fragrant, blind, and suffocating. And suddenly it isn’t. Suddenly, it smells of something crisp, light, soft, and undeniably Byulyi. And the torrent of emotions coming out of her stops. Everything stops.

Byulyi is kissing her.

The younger woman pulls away as frantically as she leant in. There’s renegade petal on her cheek but Byulyi doesn’t feel the smothered by them anymore. Yongsun sucks in a breath and the passage is clear. She stares, wide-eyed at Byulyi, who’s expression perfectly mirrors her own.

The last of her petals float innocently to the ground. The world is still again. They stare.

How is it that her months of doubt could be swept away so easily in this moment of clarity? Yongsun needs to hear it, to convince herself it could be real. “Please,” She breaks the spell, “Please tell me you love me too.”

Byulyi collapses into herself and lets her tears well up with her laughter. It’s joy, pure bliss. “Don’t you know, Yongsun?”

Yongsun wipes her eyes with the backs of her hands. “Please tell me.”

“You make me happy.” She takes one of Yongsun’s hands and feels her grin split when the older woman laces their fingers together.

“You complete me.” She takes the other hand.

“I love you.” Byulyi leans forward, Yongsun meets her halfway, and they seal it with a kiss.

[spacekru-sass]

the ice king’s queen (IV)

A story based on a dream I had of a character set in season 4. But every character has their journey to take, their backstory that tells how they got to where and who they were. And with the hiatus til Season 5? We’ve got time to make up

part 1   part 2  part 3 part 5

tag list: @lovelynerdytraveler@mischievousweasleys @floralfangurl @p3nny4urth0ught5

Warning: there is mentioned underage sex reference in here, please be warned. 

I LOVE LOVE LOVE FEEDBACK so please don’t hesitate to tell me what you love, what you don’t love, what you hope to see for this character! Feedback keeps me in touch with the reader and we all want to succeed, right? I want you to read a good story, which keeps me writing because you’re happy! <3

Avie woke up later that evening to Octavia screaming outside. Bellamy had already sat up, his warm embrace gone from her waist. He held a stiff expression, not even throwing on a shirt as he moved out of the tent to save his sister from the distress outside. Avie followed in suit, clad only in a tank top and some pants, a blanket wrapped around you.

“What’s going on?” she asked, glancing up to the sky as a dropship flamed it’s way to Earth.

“They're coming to help us. Now we can kick some grounder ass,” one of the guys behind her cheers and she rolls her eyes as one of the tarts of camp prayed for shampoo.

“Shampoo is the least important thing, maybe it’s guns or food supplies,” Avie insisted, “Medical equipment; maybe they think with us taking off our wristbands that we’re sick.” She glanced up at Bellamy to see the shocked expression on his face.

10 minutes later, Avie was dressed in Bellamy’s tent. She pulled on her makeshift holster that she’d made and slid her blade in. “What are you doing?” he asked tensely.

“I’m getting ready to go, we should get out there before the grounders do. If it cleared the ridge, it's probably near the lake,” she said but he pursed his lips, crossed his arms.

“No one's going anywhere. Not while it's dark. It isn't safe,” he insisted, “Go back to bed.” His expression was mute, a hidden temple of secrets that Avie had regretfully wanted to crack open.

“Bellamy Blake, I saw your facial expression outside,” Avie’s hands hung from her holster, “You need to tell me what you did, are they coming for you? What did you do?” She pushed but he only glanced away.

“Go back to bed Hummingbird,” he spoke softly, disappearing into the chaos of camp to inform everyone that they were staying put until morning. But when had Avie ever listened to the shaggy haired boy. She turned to blow out the light in the tent when her eyes made contact with the pistol next to Bellamy’s mattress. Better protection, right? She reached for it quickly, and blew out the lantern before disappearing out of the walls.

The trek to the dropship wasn’t that long, maybe a mile or two away but through a passage of trees, she saw the small metal box. She pulled the pistol from the back of her pants, double checking that the safety was off before holding it up cautiously and moving toward the ship. She fanned away some smoke as she heard some fuzz coming from a radio, a radio.

She moved forward before hearing a noise from behind her. She turned quickly only to be met by Bellamy. “Bell, what are you--,” he hit her over the head begrudgingly as she fell to the ground, unconscious. When she came to, she was being shaken by Clarke, dried blood caked to her forehead.

“Avie, what the hell happened to you?” Clarke mumbled, helping her sit up. Avie groaned, her baseball cap on the ground a few feet from her.

“Bellamy,” she grunted, standing up and moving to the dropship. “He was probably after the rad-, oh god, the radio,” she remembered, rushing to open the door. The radio was gone, only to find a young female, bloody and bruised. “Hi,” she breathed out, the girl looking wide-eyed at her.

“Hi,” she replied, matching the same look. She glanced down around her, the helmet shattered, the blood on her spacesuit dried a sickly brown maroon. “I made it?” she asked, looking back to Avie who nodded with a thoughtful grin.

“Yeah,” she helped her out, watching her blissfully turn around as Clarke watched. For a moment, the dangers of Earth, of Bellamy, of the Ark didn’t matter. Clarke and Avie were brought back to their first steps of the ground, merely 12 days before. The raindrops are refreshing as Finn comes into view and Raven kisses him, touching his face affectionately. Finn looks to Clarke, she’s devastated and Avie slid her hand down to grasp Clarke’s. She squeezes as the two interacted, Finn coming over for a tense moment.

Raven explained the situation of the Ark, about how she was supposed to have come down with Clarke’s mom, running back to the dropship. “We have to radio them! Tell them you’re alive,” Raven yelled.

“The radio’s gone,” Avie announced as the three turned to look at her, “This is all my fault, I should’ve shot him,” she raised her eyebrows at Finn angrily. “We have to find him.” Avie turns to run back to camp to confront the man who she clearly no longer knew, the other three on her heels. She saw him in the distance, walking along but didn’t have a chance to speak as Clarke got to him first.

“Hey! Where is it?”

“Hey, princess. You taking a walk in the woods?” he gruffed, his eyes staring straight forward as he continued moving through the trees.

“They're getting ready to kill 300 people up there to save oxygen. And I can guarantee you it won't be council members. It'll be working people. Your people. Bellamy. Where's the radio?” Avie cried out, catching up to them. Being out of breath didn’t stop her from stepping forward and shoving the man forcefully.

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Bellamy’s jaw was tight, locked as he glanced at Finn, chuckling at how crazy you looked.

“You knocked me out in the woods alone, took all my weapons except a small knife and left me stranded,” you spat in his face, Finn stepping forward to pull you away from him. “You really want to tell me you have no idea what I’m talking about?” He was looking directly at you now, eyes filled with regret and confusion. He gulped and turned to catch someone’s eye who would help him.

“Bellamy Blake? They're looking everywhere for you,” Raven stepped forward, standing next to you with her hands on her hips.

“Shut up.”

“Looking for him, why?” Clarke asked, your eyes staring intently at Bellamy’s face, then to Raven.

“He shot Chancellor Jaha,” Raven announced and you stepped back in shock at her words. Mouth agape, you stared openly at him. All the work she did to keep him out of trouble, all the sacrifices Avie had made to keep him from being locked up, from being floated.

“That's why you took the wristbands. Needed everyone to think we're dead. And all that "whatever the hell we want"? You just care about saving your own skin,” Clarke spelt out but Avie had already moved away from the pack, slumped against a tree. Her chest compressed, tightly wound up as all the memories that led her to her sentence a lost cause, he was a criminal regardless. Her state went unnoticed.

Avie’s focus came to as Bellamy threatened Raven’s life, taking a step forward as the two got in each other’s faces. “That’s enough,” she gasped out, everyone turning to look at her. She doubled over, huffing for air.

“Jaha deserved to die. You all know that,” Avie shook her head as Finn came to her side. She held her hand up, signaling she was fine.

“Yeah, he's not my favorite person, either. But he isn't dead. You're a lousy shot.” Avie had heard enough. After learning that Bellamy had thrown the radio into a ravine, she stocked off into that direction. She felt like she was going to throw up or maybe pass out. She lived with her decisions for a year, thinking that what she’d done was right as long as it had saved Bellamy; given him a real chance. He’d been the best in his class, he was smart. He had potential. But everything she’d done had gone to waste.

“Avie,” his voice cracked as she began sloshing through the water, his hand clasped around her wrist.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t come near me, don’t look at me,” she seethed, ripping her arm from his grasp.

“Avie, please understand, I did it-,”

“Don’t you dare say you did it for me and O,” she laughed effortlessly. His head cocked to the side, unsure of how to response to Avie’s attitude. “You want to know what I did to take care of you?” Avie spat in his face, pushing him backward so he fell in the water, splashes rising up to douse his face in water. Everyone turned for a moment before quickly turning away, leaving the drama as a personal moment. “I slept with the guard, for you. I insisted that I wouldn’t tell anyone, that I would take full blame if he let you go.”

Bellamy stared up at her in shock, face gone pale, a frown appearing on his lips as he stood in the water. “Don’t, I don’t want your pity. Hummingbird always finds a way, right? I did what I had to do to give you a real chance at a life and I did it all for nothing,” she chuckled humorlessly again, holding her hands up, “because here you are.” She cleared her throat. “So, do me a favor, leave me alone.”

“I found it,” Raven yelled behind her, holding up the dripping radio from the water.

[simplyclockwork]

Simplyclockwork’s Sherlock Fic Recs

This will be updated as I find and read more fics. I will make it accessible as a link on my blog if people want to follow.

This list is in no way exhaustive. 

Alternate Universe/Crossovers

Performance in a Leading Role - madlori

Explicit. 156,714 words. 21 chapters.

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?

A Moment’s Surrender - anchors

Mature. 64,272 words. 10 chapters. 

Sherlock tours worldwide with the English National Ballet. John dances the Lindy Hop competitively all across the globe. That they would meet, then, by the slimmest of chances in one lonely city, is pure coincidence. The whole 'dancing together' bit is a little more planned. Dancer!AU.

Love or What You Will - miss_frankenstein

Teen and Up. 31,987 words. 11 chapters.

John is an English professor who specializes in War and Post-War Literature and Sherlock is the brilliant yet impossible Ph.D. student assigned to be his TA because no one in the Chemistry Department is willing to put up with him. And - somewhere between Waugh and Plath, e-mails and takeaway, novels and villanelles - they fall in love.

Two Two One Bravo Baker - abudantlyqueer

Explicit. 114,574 words. 27 chapters. 

Captain John Watson of 40 Commando, the Royal Marines, is assigned to protect and assist Sherlock Holmes as he investigates what appears to be a simple war atrocity in Afghanistan. An intense attraction ignites between the two men as they uncover a conspiracy that threatens everything they’ve ever known, but Sherlock is as much hunted as hunter, and everyone close to him is in deadly danger. Can he solve the case in time to save himself and John?

The Jewel in the Tower - PoppyAlexander

Explicit. 207,079 words. 39 chapters.

"Xie [...] had invented an entire pleasure-industry by combining superior visual aesthetics with impeccable personal attention. Drasha salons were by that time a feature of any even half-decent house of repose in every pleasure district in the British Isles, but once upon a time, when Xie debuted, there had been only one, and Xie had named it: the Icehouse."

* In a contemporary dystopia, Unity is peace--despite the fact unsanctioned information, illicit currency, and every sort of danger flows unchecked in the world's pleasure districts.

John Watson, a weary hired gun, is assigned by the mysterious Mentor to investigate a subversive element lurking in the Icehouse, the world's most famous House of Repose. As accustomed as he is to dealing with the unexpected, John is nevertheless woefully unprepared to meet the gem of the Ice house, Xie, the world renowned "drashaskaya," the living work of art after which all other drashas are modeled.

In sumptuous suites, amid trailing puddles of silk and fervent whispers in the night, John soon learns that nothing is as it seems in the floating world of London's pleasure district. *

Modern-day dystopian/one-world government/espionage/geisha!lock AU

The Loss of Flesh and Soul - deuxexmycroft

Explicit. 60,000+ words. Unfinished.

Five years after John Watson puts the murderous Sherlock Holmes behind bars, a vicious copycat killer emerges. A reluctant John is pulled out of retirement to seek the expertise of the only man who can help, a man who has developed an unsettling obsession with John himself.

Crossover with Red Dragon/Silence of the Lambs

Simplyclockwork note: Not fully finished, but an alternative ending was posted. Still worth reading without a full ending.

I wake up and I wake up and you’re still dead - thisprettywren (memento/Sherlock crossover)

Mature. 24,226 words. One-shot.

Sherlock isn't the only one who's lost.

The Sinking of the Titanic: Sixty Years Later - flawedamythyst

Teen and Up. 15,340 words. One-shot. 

John Watson is interviewed for a documentary being made for the sixtieth anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic. The story he tells is not the one the interviewer was expecting.

The Bachelors’ Handfasting - Jberry

Explicit. 30,624 words. 20 chapters.

After her son is caught in a compromising position, Victoria Holmes must make arrangements for a quick marriage between Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.

Simplyclockwork note: Kilt!Lock and Soft Bab Sherlock (but of age)

Just to Hold You Close - sussexbound

Explicit. 70,841 words. 18 chapters. 

When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

Summit Fever - J_Baillier

Mature. 78,867 words. 18 chapters. 

After graduating from medical school, John Watson followed his heart to the Himalayas. Ten years later, he's a haunted cynic working for his ex-lover's trekking and mountaineering company. Will leading an expedition to Annapurna I — the most lethal of all the world's highest mountains — shake John out of his reverie, and who is the mystery client added to the group at the last minute?

The Last Companion - standbygo

Explicit. 34,101 words. 14 chapters.

Thirty years after the Miranda Wars, there is peace, both on the Rim and the Core planets. There are a number of old social mores still in place, such as the Order of Companions, but there is a sense that even such respected practices are coming to an end…

Sherlock is a Companion - the best Companion on Persephone. With a bit of detective work on the side, of course. Then he meets a man named John Watson, encounters a series of bizarre cases, and finds his world is getting turned upside down.

Simplyclockwork note: Sherlock/Firefly AU!

Out There - DiscordantWords

Teen and up. 131,695 words. 10 chapters.

FBI Special Agent John Watson, medical doctor and army veteran, is assigned to assist eccentric genius Sherlock Holmes with paranormal investigations on the X-Files project.

This is a fusion with The X-Files, written for the Fall TV Season Challenge.

Say You’ll Stay With Me - justacookieofacumberbatch (buffyholic)

Explicit. 63,349 words. 21 chapters.

It was just supposed to be an ordinary business trip, but when John's car stalls out on Hollywood Boulevard, he meets someone who just might change his life.

Simplyclockwork note: Pretty Woman/Sherlock AU.

Gimme Shelter - SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John

Explicit. 159,368 words. 21 chapters.

All John Watson wants is the feeling of a freshly waxed surfboard under his feet and the hot California sun baking down onto his back. To finally go pro in the newly formed world of professional surfing and leave the dark memories of his past behind him as he rips across the face of a towering blue barrel. To lounge beside the beach bonfire every evening with an ice cold beer tucked into the cool sand beside him and listen to Pink Floyd and the Doors while the saltwater dries in his sun bleached hair.

That's all he wants, that is, until the hot young phenom taking Oahu and the Hawaiian shores by storm steps up next to him in the sand in the second round of the 1976 International Surf Competition.

Apokalypsis - songlin

Mature. 12,125 words. 4 chapters.

There were things I never told you because I thought we had time. There is no time left in the world anymore.

Sensory Science - sussexbound

Explicit. 80,017 words. 24 chapters. 

John Watson has been invalided home from Afghanistan and is struggling with anxiety, depression, PTSD and insomnia, when an old friend from med school recommends something that might help: An ASMR YouTube Channel run by a friend.

One session in and John is hooked, not only by the way the ASMR seems to calm him after nightmares, and help him sleep, but also by the mysterious man who runs it.

Comparative Literature is for Idiots - lookupkate

Explicit. 8,173 words. 4 chapters.

Sherlock thinks he's very bohemian, smoking cigarettes and wearing patchouli oil and writing poetry in the attic. In truth he's just your average seventeen year old, not showering enough and being hit particularly hard by his continued path through puberty.

John is getting his masters in literature. He's the TA for comparative literature and yearns for romance. Romance has other plans, plans that require him to go without for at least ten more years. Plans that put in front of him the exact man he'll finally fall in love with, but in boy form.

When Sherlock happens to see John reading poetry at a coffee shop he is immediately smitten. John holds him at arm's length because he's a bloody child.

How will ten years and miles apart change that view, and will John be able to understand how he's fallen in love with someone he doesn't ever get to see?

Stay tuned for puberty hi jinx and the passing of time to find out. And yes, there will be love.

An Everlasting Inferno - thatawkwardfriend

Explicit. 108,389 words. 15 chapters.

Sherlock and John are both men who operate outside the law. John works for Mary and her hitmen in order to keep a roof over his head. Sherlock does anything his drug dealer asks of him in exchange for free drugs and housing.

They meet one night in a darkened garage to negotiate a deal. But they soon find out that neither of their bosses are being entirely honest with them about their goals or motives. With a little poking around, they stumble upon something much bigger than themselves and discover that perhaps, it might be in their best interests to work together.

(Loosely inspired by StartUp and Little Favour)

Only To Be With You - SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John

Mature. 40,768 words. 4 chapters.

I tell myself that next time I’ll come near this same place again. Wait around for the mysterious stranger in his coat to dash past me, hot on the heels of a new criminal in black.

I think this all the way back to my Exit, planning where I’ll wait and what I’ll say when I see him. Scheming on how to get his name. It’s only once I reach the Exit Point door that I realize two hours and forty-five minutes have passed, and I realize that this won’t be the last time I Visit. It won’t be the last time at all.

You Give Me Fever - michi_thekiller

Explicit. 16,122 words. One-shot.

Thou givest fever when we kisseth, fever with thy flaming youth Fever I'm afire; fever, yea, I burn forsooth "He's the kind of boy you want to take apart."

Gratuitous Greaserlock. It's essentially 16k of mostly-porn. Warnings for underage sex between teens.

OmegaVerse

The Gilded Cage - BeautifulFiction

Explicit. 326,887 words. 31 chapters.

In a world where Omegas are the property of the elite Alphas, locked away and treasured by those wealthy enough to buy them, John never questioned his flatmate's secondary gender. Sherlock Holmes was an Alpha through-and through.

Wasn't he?

A chance discovery turns the world on its head, and John is left grappling to come to terms with Sherlock's past as events conspire to threaten their future.

Relative Incandescence - orphan_account

Explicit. 35,486 words. One-shot. 

Two musical notes: Every parrot and every construction worker knows them. Shrill and salacious, so Sherlock will remember: You are on display. It’s supposed to be a compliment. Supposed to make him feel good, that they have laboured to remind him.

It makes him feel like a package of meat, set down into the cooler, raw and waiting to eaten.

Supernatural/Fantasy/Magical Realism

Graceless - Belladonna_Q

Mature. 1,296 words. One-shot.

He spins and throws blindly, and another soft whump, that comforting scent of home vaporizing before him. A single raven coloured feather seasaws through the air.

“God damn you, Sherlock!” He shouts, he screams, and there’s nothing in the space he can strike. Nothing he can grab and heave into the darkness.

Beneath the Silver Moon - SailorChibi

Explicit. 85, 993 words. 73 chapters. 

After being bitten in Afghanistan, John was invalided home. Being a werewolf was new to him, and he wasn't interested in any of the help or orientation that the Centre had to offer, but even his wolf knew better than to enter territory that had been marked. Until his first outside change, when he met a strange alpha wolf that wanted John to follow it home into pack territory. John's initial refusal became a challenge for the curious alpha... one Sherlock Holmes.

All Things Inherit - BeautifulFiction (@the-pen-pot​)

Explicit. 53,682 words. 6 chapters. 

"For John, it's not a bullet that throws his existence into disarray – it's a bite."

In a world where twelve percent of the population are Mactiri - people with the ability to turn into wolves at will - John finds himself struggling with a new and horrifying existence. The victim of a shocking attack, he is discharged from the army and sent home, determined never to acknowledge what he can now become.

However, when his health starts to fail, it is up to his enigmatic new flatmate to show him that perhaps his life is not the nightmare John believes it to be.

Inexplicable - emmagrant01

Explicit. 34,664 words. 6 chapters.

So what was in that matchbox, anyway? John and Sherlock find out, the hard way.

Simplyclockwork note: this fic ripped my heart out in the best way.

Riptide Lover - jinglebell

Explicit. 114,090 words. 20 chapters.

The year is 1866. When John becomes swept overboard, he never expects to encounter a living creature of myth. When the merman absconds with John, the lost sailor must use every tool at his disposal to convince Sherlock not to kill him. But it seems that killing John Watson is not what the deadly, beautiful creature has in mind at all...

Victorian mermaid AU. Heed the tags. Complete!

John Watson’s Moon - patternofdefiance

Explicit. 11,314 words. One-shot

“You’ll let me see it, of course.”

It takes John no time at all to realize what is being asked, to stiffen with indignation, but he asks, “See what?” nonetheless.

The look those grey-green eyes level at him says please don’t actually be that stupid far more eloquently than should be possible. “You are loup garou, recently infected under traumatic circumstances and subsequently discharged from military service, most likely from a post in Afghanistan or Iraq. Your wounds would have healed with the passing of the initial fever, so whatever lingering effects you are suffering are likely psychosomatic – and severe enough to bar you from the one occupation where being a ruthless hunter is seen as a qualification rather than a detriment.” Those eyes flick back up from their cataloguing of John’s limbs and body to meet his eyes. “When I say you’ll let me see it, I am then, of course, referring to your wolf form.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Potential flatmates should know the worst about one another.”

Hellfire - PrettyArbitrary

Teen and up. 2,966 words. One-shot.

John learns, with clawing, bloody slowness, how to fend for himself. He learns the capacity to love wasn’t taken from him, or the need for it. He learns what it is to starve. To need things that aren’t given to him.

A prequel to Graceless.

Full Moon - sommerprosson

Explicit. 5,151 words. One-shot.

Sherlock rather wishes the man hadn’t woken. Now, he has to talk to him before he bites his throat during the night.

Tedious.

The Curious Wine - songlin

Explicit. 15,095 words. 8 chapters.

"I want to watch you kill, because I want to see you lose that tiresome battle against your baser instincts. I want to drink from you, enough that you go weak and breathless and can’t stand properly, but I don’t want to kill you, because then you’ll be gone and the thought of never being surprised by you ever again makes me want to go naked into the sunlight and wait until it burns me into ash."

Blue Blood - You_Light_The_Sky

Teen and up. 963 words. One-shot.

"I know you're here," John shouts into the darkness.

The Autumn Moon is Bright - barrowjane

Mature. 23,935words. 3 chapters.

John has two secrets he keeps from Sherlock - he manages this, he thinks, only because Sherlock would find the idea that John is attracted to him just as unlikely as the idea of John being a werewolf. He's not sure what it says about his life, that love and lycanthropy are considered equally impossible events.

The Stars Move Still - BeautifulFiction (@the-pen-pot​)

Explicit. 96,022 words. 5 chapters.

"What could I want so desperately that would make me sell my soul? What could possibly compel me to surrender the part of myself that makes me who I am: the source of my magic, my self-control, everything?"

Say That Again, But In English This Time - janonny

Explicit. 15,842 words. One-shot. 

Lestrade was calling about a new murder, Sherlock was acting strange even for a consulting detective-werewolf, and John was missing blood from the fridge. Just another day in John’s life. (Alternate Universe where Sherlock is a werewolf, and John is a vampire. Everything else is exactly the same.

Darkling, I Listen - You_Light_The_Sky

Teen and up. 73,254 words. 8 chapters.

No one who enters old London ever comes out. They say that the beast devours them. When his sister disappears, John ventures into the dead zone beyond the wall, and finds a brilliant madman under a terrible curse...

The Bite - Laur

Explicit. 48, 214 words. 16 chapters.

Sherlock gets it wrong.

Days, months, even years in the future, Sherlock’s oversight during the Baskerville case will continue to torment him, but nothing about that night will ever be as painfully vivid as the memory of John’s screams.

This is how it begins.

Dark!Sherlock/Dark!John 

Hollow Hands Cling series - misanthropyray

Explicit. 17,718 words. 2 works.

Written for a prompt on the kinkmeme: "John breaks up with Sherlock and moves out of Baker Street. Hurt, angry, and heartbroken, Sherlock implicates him in a murder."

The Most Dangerous Game - gestalt1/chi-chi-chimaera

Explicit. 26,179 words. One-shot.

Written for a prompt on BBC Sherlock Kink Meme : I'd really like to see some secret!serial-killer!Sherlock, either because he's finally gotten bored of solving regular crimes, or he's been doing this all along and framing other people for it.

Extra Dark!Watson would be much appreciated. Maybe he's just seen so many people killed, and killed himself, that it no longer feels like much to be concerned about.

Skinful Canvas - You_Light_The_Sky

Teen and Up. 9,360 words. One-shot.

A person’s sins gets marked on their skin in such beautiful ways. Sherlock has no such marks and yet his hands are the bloodiest of all. He would so like to mark John in etchings of his own… Serial-Killer!Sherlock

Training Dr. John Watson - angelblack3

Explicit. 57,917 words. 30 chapters.

In this universe, Jim got a hold of Sherlock way before he ever met the ones that were meant to save him. Now, they're happy business partners. Though, according to Jim, Sherlock isn't nearly as happy as he could be. He should find someone like Jim found his dear pet Sebby. Sherlock is skeptical, until he finds an army doctor with a psychosomatic limp in a twisted sense of fate.

Simplyclockwork note: Very, very dark. Rape and non-con. Read the tags! 

Post-Reichenbach

One Day at a Time Series - KeelieThompson1

Mature. 35,137 words. 2 works.

Sherlock always had an influence on John, so when he "dies" and John finds his secret stash of cocaine, one thing leads to another. And John is far too proud to admit just how far he is falling or ask for help. Afterall, who is there left that he can really ask?

The Burning Heart - May_Shepard

Mature. 119,150 words. 21 chapters.

When Sherlock dies, John Watson feels like his life is over too. He’s completely shut down, until Mark Morstan, a new nurse at John’s medical clinic, catches his attention, and helps him uncover the long buried truth of his attraction to men.

Although he’s certain he’ll never get over Sherlock, John plans to move on, and build a new life with Mark, unaware that Sherlock is not quite as dead as he appears, and that Mark is hiding secrets of his own.

The Quiet Man - ivyblossom

Explicit. 157,369 words. 58 chapters.

"Do you just carry on talking when I'm away?"

Ford - theshopislocal

Mature. 31,744 words. 5 chapters.

He turns back round then and looks down at me, eyes curious. “Your name, W.S.S. Holmes.” That’s not my name. “Is it Walter? Or Wilbur? Maybe something really awful like, er,” he smiles wryly, “Willoughby? Winchester?”

I feel my face go blank as my body numbs over. “Scott,” I say, voice devoid of emotion. “My name is Scott.”

The Imposter - PoppyAlexander

Mature. 9,802 words. One-shot.

Sherlock has been rescued by his brother and is ready to reclaim his life, his work, and--of course--John Watson.

But John Watson let it all slide in the wake of Sherlock Holmes' death and is living on the streets, drinking, dissociated from his previous life and even from his own name.

Sherlock will have to convince him that he really *is* Sherlock Holmes.

Synapses - theshopislocal

Explicit. 52,725 words. 9 chapters.

“Thrice.”

“Yes.”

John blinks. Shakes his head. Blinks again. “Thhhhrice.”

“Yes.”

Is my mouth moving right n- “Thrice in your entire life?”

“Yess, John,” Sherlock growls, hissing like a snake grabbed by the tail. “Thrice, three times, twice more than once and once more than twice, a veritable triptych of onanism. Thrice.”

Of Nightmares and Memories - @annecumberbatch

Not-Rated. 220 words. One-shot.

Stream of consciousness poem of fragmented thoughts after Sherlock leapt to his death and John tries to continue life without him. -------------

I grab at a stranger

Pulling them out of their life

Trying to pull you back into mine

It left me with empty hands

Ten Days - @engazed

Explicit. 137,212 words. 31 chapters. 

Sherlock Holmes has been dead for forty months, and John is at last beginning to live his life again. But just when he believes he might be happy, his world crashes back down around him.

John is named a missing person. Someone is pointing DI Lestrade in the wrong direction. And as the days pass, his situation only grows more dire. It seems like the disappearance of his best friend is the only thing that can bring Sherlock Holmes back from the dead.

Simplyclockwork note: Intense torture and non-con. Read the tags!

Slow Burn/Pining/Unrequited Love

Drawn to Stars - silvergirl

Explicit. 100,000+ words. 56 chapters.

“Romantic entanglement, while fulfilling for other people—” “—would complete you as a human being.”

After the Culverton Smith case Sherlock is clean, working, and looking for a romantic partner—since John has told him that’s what he needs. Shame John didn’t mention he was interested in that role himself, before Sherlock went off to Rome with a gorgeous Italian copper to try to fall in love and become a complete human being.

Thermodynamics series - entanglednow 

Teen and Up. 16,300 words. 4 works. 

In which there's no heating and there's a dead owl in Sherlock's bed.

the knife I turn inside myself - polyommatusblues

Explicit. 11,307 words. One-shot.

There are a million parallel universes out there in which Sherlock and John are happy—universes in which Sherlock never jumped, John never married, and things never went to hell. Sherlock knows that this is not one of universes. It could have been, he imagines, but it’s not.

They make do.

Ease Your Way into Occupied Spaces - joolabee

Explicit. 11,091 words. One-shot.

One thing’s certain: this wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen.

The Real Meaning of Idioms - feverishsea

Teen and Up. 21,691 words. 13 chapters.

After two weeks away, John finally texts Sherlock. He doesn't expect Sherlock to respond. He doesn't expect Sherlock to keep texting him. And he really doesn't expect things to spiral out of control so rapidly.

The Symposium - orphan_account

Explicit. 2,542 words. One-shot.

"You're going to regret this," Sherlock manages while John sucks on his neck, "Whatever you're doing, I'm not going to stop you, and you'll regret it." He doesn't want to be that, some guilty secret John carries about. Sherlock might not have much in the way of qualms in general, but he does have some standards.

"I'll just add it to the list then, shall I?" John's voice is rueful, bitter.

White Knight - discordantwords

Mature. 69,840 words. 13 chapters.

Green.

The word green was used to convey a great many things. Illness. Envy. Inexperience.

Standing there amidst Janine's chattering bridesmaids, watching Sherlock furrow his brow and study fabric swatches, watching him smile and simper and flirt, John thought it a remarkably apt colour choice. Because he felt quite sick to his stomach, he feared the source of said sickness might very well be jealousy, and he had absolutely no idea at all what to do about it.

Or: Sherlock needs to fake a relationship for a case. He doesn't ask John.

The Progress of Sherlock Holmes - ivyblossom

Explicit. 62,006 words. 25 chapters.

“I had,” he said, “come to an entirely erroneous conclusion, my dear Watson, how dangerous it always is to reason from insufficient data.”

-- Arthur Conan Doyle, The Adventure of the Speckled Band

Angst/Hurt and Comfort/Sick Fics

The Vapor Variant - 88th Parallel (CanadaHolm)

Mature. 72,684 words. 18 chapters. 

They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril.

They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear.

Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”

Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods.

Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him.

kiss me on the mouth & set me free (but please don’t bite) - crysanthemumsies

Explicit. 18,743 words. 6 chapters.

Five times John got drunk and slept with Sherlock, and the one time Sherlock got drunk and couldn't do the same.

Control, Alt, Delete - MirithGriffin

Explicit. 75,196 words. 28 chapters.

If you could delete everything except what was really important, would you? Sherlock and John explore the question and each other. 

Lacuna - coloredink

Explicit. 15,607 words. One-shot.

God, it must have been terrible, to think that he would never have this again.

Second Waltz - Atiki

Teen and up. 6,685 words. One-shot.

"The night I died, you wished I could wait for you."

The Haunting of 221B Baker Street - earlgreytea68

Mature. 10,388 words. 2 chapters.

In which Sherlock Holmes is a ghost.

Warm Me Up - halloa_what_is_this

General audiences. 5,357 words. One-shot.

For days, it’s like living with a sick toddler craving for attention and entertainment. Sherlock stays close to John the whole time, climbs on top of him or next to him every time he sits or lies down and sleeps with his head buried in his stomach every night.

This Time No (Forgiveness) - AtlinMerrick

Explict. 29,464 words. 11 chapters.

It was Sherlock's fault. It usually is. And though he'll ask forgiveness for what he's done, for the very first time John will say, 'This time no, Sherlock. This time, never.' And maybe, just maybe, John Watson is going to mean it.

Electric Pink Hand Grenade - BeautifulFiction

Explicit. 67,718 words. 13 chapters.

"If Sherlock's brain is a hard drive, then these attacks are an electro-magnetic pulse." Sherlock Holmes does not do anything by half, not even a migraine. It falls to John to witness one of the greatest minds he has ever known tear itself apart, and he must do his best to help Sherlock pick up the pieces.

Already Gone - AnneCumberbatch

Explicit. 3,649 words. 7 chapters.

“Sherlock…” John smoothed Sherlock’s shirt out over his chest. “I’m not a good man. I’m not.” “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit, John.” Sherlock shifted his hands to hold onto John’s shoulders. “I think you give me too much.” “John…” Sherlock ducked his head towards John and stopped, hovering above John’s lips. “Please. Kiss me again.”

Emails from the War Zone - trajektoria

Mature. 1,872 words. One-shot.

John returns to Afghanistan for a month to be an army doctor once again and Sherlock is left alone in the flat. The only contact the men have with each other is via emails. Sometimes it's easier to write something than to tell it face-to-face...

carrying up his morning tea - darcylindbergh

Explicit. 34,504 words. 5 chapters.

His fingers tremble as he dials and he can’t force them steady. Familiar number, even though he hasn’t used it in two years. He isn’t even sure he should be calling it now, but she’d asked. She’d made him promise.

You Have Drawn Red From My Hands - J_Baillier 

Teen and up. 67,085 words. 17 chapters.

John getting injured leads Sherlock on a path of guilt and revelations.

Alone on the Water - Mad_Lori

General Audiences. 7,725 words. One-shot.

Sherlock Holmes never expected to live a long life, but he never imagined that it would end like this.

Simplyclockwork note: This fic has Major Character Death in it.

The Wisteria Tree - SilentAuror

Explicit. 29,773 words. One-shot.

Sherlock wakes up from a month-long coma only to discover that he has no memory of the previous six years to his own shock as well as John's...

Without Words - allonsys_girl

Explicit. 12,492 words. One-shot.

John and Sherlock have been together for six months and Sherlock still hasn't said "I love you". Then John gets hurt, and Sherlock expresses how much John really means to him.

When a Man is Wrong - plantsareneat 

Mature. 70,000+ words. Incomplete. 

After the events of The Lying Detective, John and Sherlock attempt to rebuild their friendship, and John struggles with life as a single father. He discovers he is not fully in control of his anger and behavior, and spirals into depression. Follows John through this dark period, and through the healing process he needs to make both for himself and for Sherlock, who has stood by him throughout.

Author Note: *Trigger Warning: pretty graphic depiction of deep depression and suicidal thoughts, including a (non-successful) attempt. Later part of the story follows a hospitalization and healing process coupled with developing/realized romance. Please take care of yourself, dear reader; if this subject is triggering for you, choose another story!

Simplyclockwork note: incomplete but still actively being worked on I believe, very worth the read even unfinished.

Open Your Eyes - AnneCumberbatch

Mature. 4,385 words. 6 chapters.

Sometimes you don't know what you could have had until you lose it.

Winner of the Fall 2019 #keepjohnlockalivecompetition by sherlockswolmes on Tumblr

The Heart in the Whole - verityburns

Explicit. 101,650 words. 21 chapters.

Events after 'The Great Game' leave Sherlock dependent on his best friend and colleague. But John has a secret of his own...

The Emergency Contact Series - blueink3

Mature. 11,763 words. 2 works.

The first time John Watson’s emergency contact is called is the first time Sherlock Holmes finds out that he has the job.

Rebuilding Rome - SilentAuror

Explicit. 94,000 words. 15 chapters.

When a case unexpectedly forces John to acknowledge some difficult truths about himself and his life, he spirals downward, leaving Sherlock to do his best to rescue him from his own darkness and somehow try to build something new on broken foundations.

Radioactive Trees in a Red Forest - Maribor_Petrichor 

Explicit. 280,226 words. 73 chapters. 

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.

Sink Like a Stone - pennydreadful

Teen and Up. 4,348 words. One-shot.

After defeating Moriarty at the pool, life isn't quite the same around 221B Baker Street...it's more peaceful. And stranger.

Dissolution: Our Plague Days - PoppyAlexander

Teen and up. 6,663 words. One-shot.

The bees have been dying for years. A mysterious pandemic has the people of Great Britain quarantined and terrified. Sherlock's solved it; now John must save them.

Evidence of Human Life - thesardine 

Explicit. 16,906 words. One-shot.

Sherlock's sanity deteriorates while he and John are stranded on a deserted island.

Canon Divergent/Fix-It Fics

The Internet is Not Just for Porn - cyerus

General Audiences. 1911 words. One-shot.

John is Sherlock's internet boyfriend - from CANADA.

No one thinks he's real.

Nature and Nurture - @earlgreytea68

Mature. 203,273 words. 57 chapters. 

The British Government accidentally clones Sherlock Holmes. Which brings a baby to 221B Baker Street.

Of Course I Forgive You - allonsys_girl

Explicit. 10,735 words. One-shot.

What if things had gone differently on that train car?

The Pieces That Fall to Earth - Itsallfine

Mature. 49,513 words. 84 chapters. 

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.

The Unfinished Letters - SilentAuror

Explicit. 37,391 words. One-shot.

A fire at Baker Street leads John to read something he was never intended to see: a notebook of half-written, unfinished letters Sherlock wrote during his time away...

Don’t Leave Anything Out - lookupkate

Explicit. 27,422 words. 24 Chapters.

The first letter John writes home from Afghanistan is meant to go to a woman he went on only one date with. How it ends up in Sherlock's hands is completely innocent. What happens next is not.

What do you do when you find out the person you're in love with has been lying about something as monumental as who they are?

What do you do when you're the one who lied?

How on earth do you put the pieces back together?

Equilibrium - augustbird

Mature. 12,351 words. One-shot.

At Baskerville, John is infected by a virus that turns him into a genius. But when the infection progresses into neurodegeneration, it's a race against time to save himself. Flowers for Algernon fusion.

He’s Not Paid Enough to Deal With This Shit - janonny

Teen and Up. 9,829 words. One-shot.

One of the first things John did was to write up step-by-step instructions on how to conduct a proper job interview before handing it over to Mycroft for his perusal. There were no kidnapping, deserted car parks or stolen therapy notes anywhere on that list.

(Or the one where John returned from the war and ended up working for Mycroft as his personal assistant slash doctor on retainer. Everything was fine, until he was sent to post bail for one Sherlock Holmes.

Play for Me - orphan_account

Explicit. 6,105 words. One-shot.

"John had shown up at Baker Street only one day prior, an army duffle slung over his shoulder, the expression on his face like a cracked and ruptured fault line. Sherlock stood aside, holding open the door, and let John ascend the stairs in silence, asking nothing of Mary, asking nothing at all."

The Bee Charmer - dreadpiratewatson

Mature. 3,314 words. One-shot.

Greg goes to 221B to check up on Sherlock after a strange phone call pulls him away from an important case, and is stunned to find himself in front of a gun brandishing soldier with a sleeping Sherlock on his chest.

John Watson is a doctor, a war hero, a husband, and the only one in the world who can soften Sherlock's heart.

Whisper Game - astudyinrose

Explicit. 11,705 words. One-shot. 

John is on his stag night at a gay club a few weeks before he ships out to Afghanistan…when he meets Sherlock Holmes.

Wild Nights, Wild Nights - cassy1

Mature. 32,047 words. 15 chapters. 

If Sherlock had never met John, would he still be on the side of the angels? On his return from Afghanistan, John takes a job working the night shift at a high secure psychiatric hospital, but when the infamous criminal mastermind Sherlock Holmes is admitted as a patient, John begins to suspect that all is not as it seems.

Gone is My Past - cyerus

Teen and Up. 7,800 words. One-shot

John is an army bomb detection dog who has been turned into a human. Angst. No, really, angst.

Illusory Correlation and Confirmation Bias - VanillaBroompolish

General Audiences. 10,448 words. 6 chapters. 

Looking back, there were a few things that should’ve tipped Greg off long before that night at the pub. A few things Sherlock left fairly obvious, that on reflection, made Greg question how he’d gotten his job in the first place.

Unilock/Teenlock

The Awakening - Popcornjones

Explicit. 34,166 words. 9 chapters.

Sherlock is a University student and he's in trouble - good thing a handsome rugby player comes along...

Unilock with a twist.

Simplyclockwork note: this is a really complex fic. It’s unilock, and canon-divergent, and angst, and there’s brief major character death that isn’t permanent. Read the tags! 

Up to Speed - prettysailorsoldier

Explicit. 13,364 words. One-shot.

John doesn't know what he did to deserve this, but, whatever it takes to atone for it, he is more than willing to try, because, if he has to spend one more second with Sherlock Holmes, he might spontaneously combust. Or strangle him. He's currently undecided.

Feeling Seen - jadztone

Explicit. 30,177 words. 9 chapters. 

Rugby player John is starting over at a new university, with the help of friends Molly and Bill. Few people know that John is demisexual, but ballet dancer Sherlock Holmes deduces right away that he has no interest in sex unless he’s fallen in love. John finds this strange genius intriguing and would like to get to know him, but Sherlock has a self-cultivated reputation for only wanting casual sex. John has reason to believe that’s not really true, but he’s not sure he wants to risk his twice-fractured heart to find out.

Invite Me Over - testosterone_tea 

Explicit. 8,443 words. One-shot.

Sherlock lives in a crappy, run-down flat during his grad studies in chemistry when an attractive med student moves in next door. Unilock.

Happy Little Accidents - weneedtotalkaboutsherlock (Paradoxe1914)

Explicit. WIP. 

John had never really thought about art before the man dropped his dressing gown to the ground. Even then, art took a moment to manifest itself in John's mind, for his thoughts had gone as bare as the model in front of his seat: entirely. 

Transition Game - emmagrant01

Explicit. 33,258 words. One-shot.

Sherlock Holmes is a chemistry grad student and a TA for Dr. Stamford’s Forensic chem course at Greenview State University. One fall semester, John Watson, captain of the hockey team, takes that course. (Unilock + hockey AU)

You’re On the Air - prettysailorsoldier

Mature. 20,616 words. One-shot.

The Consulting Detective and The Woman dominate the airwaves of their university radio station, doling out advice on everything from meeting the parents to sexual positions. When their ratings start to dip before the holidays, however, manager Mike thinks it's time for some fresh blood, and who better to fill in the gaps than rugby captain--and notorious flirt--John Watson?

Let me Touch you (The First Summer) - Shay_Fae

Mature. 18,536 words. 14 chapters.

Seventeen-year-old John is spending the summer at Sherlock's country house. Sherlock can't imagine anything worse.

Especially since he may be falling in love with the boy

Case Fics

Midnight Blue Serenity - Beautiful Fiction

Explicit. 151,907 words. 19 chapters.

“This was like nothing John had ever thought to associate with Sherlock: stubble, skin-tight jeans and three small silver rings gleaming at the crest of one ear. It was unbelievable, like stepping into an alternative universe, and John couldn't stop staring.”

When Sherlock infiltrates a club in order to track down a serial killer, his altered appearance is enough to make John question his assumption that Sherlock is beyond his reach. However, is he the only one who appreciates his flatmate's charms, or is Sherlock at risk of becoming the next victim? (Warning: reviews may contain fic spoilers)

The Thing Is - TSylvestris

Explicit. 56,743 words. 21 chapters.

The problem with living with Sherlock, John thought, was that you never, never, ever knew the significance of anything. Like your flatmate's nose buried in your hair. Whilst you're in bed.

Smut 

To a Tee - lookupkate

Explicit. 15,321. 14 chapters.

Sherlock receives a text from an unknown number. The man is under the impression that he needs a sugar daddy. After careful consideration...well, he could be right.

Coin to Travel Twice - entanglednow

Mature. 1,997 words. One-shot.

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone pretending to be dead with such relish before."

Closer - michi_thekiller

Explicit. 8,516 words. One-shot.

You let me violate you, you let me desecrate you You let me penetrate you, you let me complicate you "Sherlock cupped John's face between his trembling hands, the two of them so close together that they shared the same breath. Oxygen and carbon dioxide passed from one set of lungs to another, and he couldn't hear over the pounding of his own heart, and he said, 'I need you.'"

Pentadione, Damascenone, Furanone, Vanillin - peevee

Mature, 2,242 words. One-shot.

Sherlock takes his work very seriously, whatever the job.

Every morning he catalogues. He wants to distill the very scent of John’s skin, his hair, his sweat.

Whisper Game - astudyinrose

Explicit. 11,705 words. One-shot.

John is on his stag night at a gay club a few weeks before he ships out to Afghanistan…when he meets Sherlock Holmes.

Curious Case - Cleo2010

Explicit. 44,653 words. 11 chapters.

After burning his hands, Sherlock's unable to release his 'tension' in the usual manner. Who should he turn to? His totally, completely straight friend and flatmate who's totally not into Sherlock or his boy parts at all. Definitely.

Just a bit of fun that's PWP with a hint of plot, all the way through.

Exquisite - SoftTae

Explicit. 4,755 words. One-shot.

Sherlock and John have been together for a while now, but everytime they get start to get intimate, Sherlock pulls away. What happens when Sherlock stays and John finds out his secret?

Say My Name - mistyzeo

Explicit. 2,611 words. One-shot.

John Watson, my dear partner, faithful friend, eternal confidante, and enthusiastic lover, is the quietest man in bed I have ever known. ACD.

Best of Three - SilentAuror

Explicit. 17,473 words. One-shot.

“You want to have sex with me,” Sherlock announces one evening about a year after John's divorce. John's vigorous denial sparks a three-day wager wherein Sherlock is determined to prove his point, and John is determined to hold onto his heterosexuality. Set well after HLV. (Canon-compliant). PORN. With feels.

Distractions - allonsys_girl

Explicit. 9,677 words. One-shot.

Sherlock's on a stakeout and John's very pretty - distractions ensue

High Voltage - thedeadparrot

Explicit. 2,018 words. One-shot.

John. Sherlock. A gay club.

Not Your Doctor, Not Your Captain - weneedtotalkaboutsherlock 

Explicit. 8,645 words. One-shot.

Daddy Doctor John/Barista Sherlock 

In So Many Words - Mazarin221B

Explicit. 2,613 words. One-shot.

Wine and a post-case high lead to some an interesting conversation and even more of an interesting night.

Oh God, oh God, he should say no, he should, but Sherlock is intense and aroused and John hasn’t been laid in months, too damn busy cocking about with Sherlock and brandishing a weapon with enthusiasm. Oh, fuck it. “Yes. Christ yes,” he says, and the words are lost against Sherlock’s mouth.

In Good Hands - penumbra

Explicit. 1,619 words. One-shot.

John gives Sherlock a hand. 

Nothing ever happens to me - PlainJane

Explicit. 5,575 words. One-shot.

John Watson is a very bored member of the UK Border Agency, assigned to Heathrow. Sherlock Holmes is a very rude passenger who smells pretty interesting to the sniffer dogs. Someone needs to be searched...

I Think It’s A Dare, Johnny - lookupkate

Explicit. 2,110 words. One-shot.

John gets teased by his army buddies on his 40th birthday. They dare him to try to bed a much younger man at the bar. Seeeeeexxxxxxxx.

Best Seat in the House - wendymarlowe

Explicit. 5,014 words. 3 chapters.

AU where John gets a new job bartending at a gay nightclub. He takes the job for the money, but he keeps at it because he loves watching Sherlock dance. Until one night, when Sherlock suggests they make it something rather more.

The Perfect Specimen - Cleo2010

Explicit. 16,066 words. One-shot.

After seeing John undressed for the first time and making certain observations, Sherlock quickly becomes obsessed with a certain body part belonging to his flatmate. This is the story of how that first sighting came to be and the following attempts to learn more. An unashamed masturbation-fest, first person and very detailed. It's rated explicit for a good reason!

Evening Ride - LapisLazuli

Explicit. 8,832 words. One-shot.

John has a series of unexpected meetings with a stranger on the Tube.

Just Browsing - bendingsignpost

Explicit. 3,869 words. One-shot.

“I’m a good kisser,” John says.

Another eye roll. “Everyone thinks that.”

“Everyone? Blimey, someone’s been kissing and telling. Had no idea I was so famous.”

Sandy Toes and Chafed Arseholes - CatieBrie

Mature. 5,506 words. One-shot.

And it all would have gone great, John getting a leg over and Sherlock being the devious whatever it was he was being but they had forgotten one disastrous component of sex on the beach.

The sand.

Or: A cautionary tale against sex on the beach

Perchance to Dream - dorothydonne

Explicit. 7,213 words. One-shot.

Sherlock has been the voyeur to people's dreams for as long as he can remember. It's why he hates sleeping.

That is, until he stumbles into one of John Watson's dreams. Then suddenly sleep isn't so unwelcome.

Fake Relationship(s)

Hitting the Water at Sixty Miles An Hour - what_alchemy

Explicit. 30,568 words. 5 chapters.

“You love your mother, Sherlock?”

John watched the muscles in Sherlock’s jaw jump. He nodded in one sharp jerk.

“Then we’re going to her party and making her happy.” John let out a resigned sigh. “As a ruddy couple, you bastard.”

Reunited - write_for_your_life

Teen and up. 10,880 words. 11 chapters.

Sherlock wants to go to his high school reunion, but needs someone to pretend to be his spouse to attend.

His not-so-platonic flatmate is more than happy to play along.

Funny/Crack/Weird

Revolting Resolutions - PatPrecieux

Mature. 2,793 words. One-shot.

Resolutions for the new year are a good thing EXCEPT when Sherlock is the one making them.

Sherlock Discovers Smarter Investing - buttsnax

Explicit. 1,057 words. One-shot.

John is worried about his financial future, and why shouldn't he be? Like millions of others he finds the treacherous landscape of stocks, bonds, and mutual funds overwhelming to navigate. Fortunately for John, Sherlock--with the help of Morgan Stanley Financial Services--is there to show him the way in the only manner he knows how: with his big, throbbing cock.

The Newlywed Game: Johnlock Edition - patternofdefiance

Explicit. 9,020 words. 7 chapters.

What it says on the tin: John and Sherlock pretend to be married in order to be contestants in a Newlywed Game. Of course it's for a case. Of course it doesn't stay that way.

Survey Says - involuntaryorange

General audiences. 9,048 words. 9 chapters.

Sherlock, John, Mycroft, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson wind up competing as a team on Family Feud. Somehow.

Pranking Sherlock - Random_Nexus

General audiences. 600 words. One-shot.

Sherlock's rudeness about interruptions prompts a reprisal from John.

Dear Umbrella - Jberry

Explicit. 13,027 words. 63 chapters.

Mycroft Holmes has a crush on Greg Lestrade, but he thinks it won't be reciprocated. He joins an anonymous dating website. His handle is limo_to_the_prostate. He starts chatting with Umbrella. Not realizing that Umbrella is really Greg Lestrade.

Obvious; Or, Greg Lestrade is Good At Detecting and Has Five Pounds to One That Sherlock and John Will Shag - the_arc5

Teen and up. 2,269 words. One-shot.

Lestrade isn't the reasoning machine Sherlock is, but that doesn't mean he's blind. And it's obvious to him, if nobody else, that a certain dynamic duo could use a nudge in the right direction.

Boat Chase! - shamelessmash

General audiences. 14,347 words. 6 chapters.

Sherlock, John and Lestrade are on a case that lead them to Brooklyn, NY. Reluctantly, Sherlock accepts the 99th precincts offer to help with the legwork.

Welcome to this Sherlock/Brooklyn 99 crossover, where everyone ships Johnlock, and the case doesn't matter.

I Just Had Sex - pennydreadful

Teen and up. 916 words. One-shot.

Sherlock just had sex and he's going to make sure everyone knows.

He Who Watches - buttsnax

Not Rated. 4,272 words. One-shot.

"The eye is the lamp of the body; so then if your eye is clear, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eye is bad, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light that is in you is darkness, how great is the darkness!" (Matthew 6:22-23)

Simplyclockwork note: this fic is WEIRD, and funny, and dark. 

Captain John Watson, Genetics, and Other Crazy Things - cyerus

Mature. 5,581 words. One-shot.

The explanation for John "Three Continents" Watson? Jack Harkness is his father.

Sherlock doesn't know whether he's going to die from jealousy or sexual frustration first.

Fluff

Five Times Sherlock Holmes and John Watson Hugged, and One Time They Didn’t - longwhitecoats

Unrated. 2,746 words. One-shot.

They're sitting in the living room one night after finishing their curry takeaway when Sherlock looks up from his violin. "John," he says, "would you come hug me, please?"

Quiet - orphaned_account

Teen and up. 4,026 words. One-shot.

"It all comes down to this. John knows Sherlock. Not in his details but in his entirety."

Bed-Sharing Between Flatmates - testosterone_tea

Teen and Up. 5,053 words. One-shot.

5 times Sherlock had an excuse to share John's bed, and the one time he didn't need one.

subtleties that we are not aware of - belovedmuerto

Teen and up. 1,657 words. One-shot.

The first time Sherlock kisses John; the first (and second) time(s) John kisses Sherlock.

But Love Is A Voice On The Wind - Snow

Mature. 1,832 words. One-shot.

From the prompt: Sherlock keeps getting texts from Mycroft with tips on wooing John.

"Take his arm. MH"/"Tell him about the sugar cubes. MH"/"Let him catch you looking once in a while. MH"

Sherlock resents this (I don't need your HELP, Mycroft), but does them anyway.

Other Pairings & M/M/M

Joltolock

Sherlock Holmes Has Two Soldier Boyfriends Series - greyscalemuse

Explicit. 56,632 words. 8 works.

Sherlock Holmes goes to Afghanistan for a case. He meets John and James for the first time and the sentiment of sparks flying is by far an understatement.

Soldier Sandwich - orphan_account

Explicit. 1,099 words. One-shot.

Joltolock is good and pure and we desperately need more of it!!

Morning Cardio: A Joltolock Workout - Smirkdoctor (orphan_account)

Explicit. 5,324 words. 3 chapters.

What if Sherlock Holmes stumbled onto a boot camp class being taught by the sexy-as-fuck couple of John Watson and James Sholto? And what if they wanted a third, and worked *really* hard to recruit their new student?

Happy Birthday, John - stravanganza 

Explicit. 9,350 words. One-shot.

It's John's birthday. His wife, Mary, has the perfect gift for him. After all, she has always known that his husband isn't 100% straight... So, she set up a fun night for him. "He still didn’t know how he had let Mary convince him to do this, without even speaking to him. Nor did he know how she had found out about his inner desires. But the fact remained that she had, and that she had decided to take advantage of it to ‘surprise’ John. And what a damn surprise it was."

Johnstrade

M/M/M

Self-Service - Calico

Explicit. 9,478 words. One-shot.

Gratuitous porn, remixed as a favour from another fandom's double penetration prompt. Yeah, I'm not sure what the redeeming feature is either...

Simplyclockwork note: Sherlock/John/Lestrade dream smut.