#and apparently i can’t actually go to therapy because the wait list is so long

[aspynnwoofs]

hey, anyone else want to slam their head into a wall any time they have a slightly less good thought?

or anything else really

i just constantly want to destroy my head ig

also bite things (my hand)

[subwaysurf45]

Love You to the Moon and Back

summary: Bucky notices you’re feeling down after a bad injury, he does his best to help.

words:  3817

warning: depressive episode, doctors, mainly fluff!

pairing: Bucky x Reader 

Masterlist!

Bucky could tell you were getting bad again. 

And it hurt him to see you like this but it always happened after a big mission, your job was traumatizing and it took a toll on all of you. Bucky knew he had his days but he also knew when you finally let yourself slip it was really bad. 

You were a very headstrong person, you didn’t like letting people see your weaknesses or just you being hurt in general. So it sucked when you had broken your shin and witnessed a school of kids get blown up by a bomb, maybe sucked is an understatement but it was what you always said. 

You had pretended to be a teacher because there was supposed to be a hit on most teachers at a private school, so when the school blew up before everyone was out of the building- including you -it left the memories very crystal clear. There was no way of saving everyone so you saved yourself, and the feeling of selfishness had never been more apparent than right now. You were lying in bed with a cast on your left leg, your left leg was on top of the duvet while the other leg was under. 

A tank top and shorts was all you wore even though you were cold. A pillow was placed between your legs down by your shins to keep the injured one elevated, Bucky had stuck it there the last time he came in to check on you. 

Speaking of Bucky, he walked into your shared room in the compound. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky cooed as he gently opened and closed the door without making any sound, you had become hyper-aware to sound and light so a loud noise or a flash of a camera could send you into a state of hysterics. Bucky sat himself at the edge of the bed at around your midsection, you were lying in the middle and facing him. You barely said hello, all you could muster was a groan that had the same rhythm as the word hello. “How’s my girl doing?” Bucky rubbed your thigh very carefully. 

It was so obviously a rhetorical question, you were absolutely shit and he knew it. You both just stared at each other and Bucky seemed to get the message, he nodded and looked down. The room was so dark from the lights being off and the curtains being pulled you barely registered that Bucky had a plate of cheese, apple slices, and crackers. Bucky saw you turn your nose up and he knew you would, you had been like this for what felt like weeks. 

“You have your two appointments today, you wanna use the crutches or the wheelchair?” Bucky asked as he gently caressed your thigh, a little hum came after a few sections to clarify this wasn’t rhetorical. 

“I don’t know,” you mumbled into your pillow. 

“Okay…” Bucky held onto the last syllable, he glanced over to the wheelchair and crutches. “How about you have a little snack and then when you got food- and I’ll get water -you can make your choice. You also know you can switch and I’ll be glad to grab it for you, alright?” he did a few quick pats on your thigh before setting the plate down on the bedside table, he grunted as he stood up and stuck his arms slowly beneath you. All Bucky did was sit you upright to eat, you had gotten better at eating and now didn’t need motivation to eat but just a little push at the beginning to keep going after the first bite. Bucky also found if he ate a few pieces from the plate you’d be more inclined to eat the rest. 

“Thanks,” your voice was low and barely audible. 

“No need, pretty lady,” Bucky got right beside you and grabbed the plate, he placed it between you and let you choose the first piece. “So, you’re at the doctor at two and then Doc at three-ten, do you wanna nap between for a little or for a while after?” he just took a cracker and plopped it into his mouth. 

“No, no nap between, I wanna sit outside Doc’s office like before to make sure I’m not late.” You mumbled and stacked a piece of cheese on an apple slice. Doc was your therapist that was assigned to you a little while before your injury, Bucky wasn’t the only one who got nightmares and manic episodes; you probably got them more. Bucky knew he couldn’t go into your therapy meeting, he could physically go in but it went against his morals, this was your time to be alone and completely vulnerable to a human that you only see one or twice a week, he didn’t want you to sugar coat anything just because he wa sitting there. 

Bucky nodded and hummed before pulling the notebook out of the bedside table’s drawer, your combat backpack which you used for everything between missions and a picnic in the park was curled over itself in the corner of your room. Bucky picked it up and headed back to bed to let it rest there as he packed. He did this when you weren’t injured, Bucky had sadly realized your memory was a little shot from the amount of bootleg brainwashing and head injuries. You’d constantly forget about appointments or missions, or even the date. 

“Baby, I told you, your birthday is today, that’s why I got flowers.” Bucky said and pointed to the counter with the bright flowers on it. 

“No…” you rubbed the front of your head. “My birthday isn’t today, I forget the day- but it’s not today, I swear.” 

He slid in your journal that you used to write down lists and memories, you had used a guitar pick as your bookmark even though you can’t play anymore. Sometimes when you’d show up to a therapy session you’d forget what you wanted to say, it hurt him when he’d walk you there and you’d be saying the list of things under your breath with your eyes closed. Nightmare, mom, picking my nails, ankle, nightmare, sand, flowers. 

“We gotta go soon, anyways, wanna get ready for the day?” Bucky softly asked, there was no nice way of telling your loved one they needed to shower. 

“Sure,” you looked down at the plate and grabbed the last of it before getting up, the apple and cheese was just curled in the palm of your hand, as you walked over you shoved it all into your mouth because you knew you had to shower and you didn’t like soggy cheese. 

“I’ll keep packing your bag, and I’ll fill a water bottle for you.” Bucky had been your human crutch as you walked to the bathroom, you had an itch down in your cast that was bugging you. 

Tony had wanted to add tech to the shower to help you stand because putting pressure on your left leg hurt after three minutes and seven seconds- not that you were timing to see how long you could go without collapsing. You had said no to tech and just asked for a bar, Bucky even thought it would be cool but it was all up to you. 

Bucky helped you slip out of your clothes before leaving you be, he knew he would have to check on you periodically because you were too stubborn to ask for help if you had fallen or couldn’t get in the shower. You gripped onto the metal bar and helped yourself slip in, you turned the water on right away. 

You liked warm, long showers. You just let the water hit your skin as you stood in front of the shower head, the water pressure was high so you let the bullets hit your face when your eyes were closed. Your hair got wet as you stood there, you reached for the bottle of shampoo and expected it to be where it always was. The was getting into your eyes and when you squinted to see where the bottle was everything was double, as you reached for the bottle you had actually reached for the fake double and knocked the bottle off the ledge. A loud thump rang through the bathroom and it sounded like a bomb. 

There was one second of silence before you heard scrambling from outside the bathroom door, all at once you could see the door swing open by its shadow through the curtain. The curtain was pulled back so hard a couple of ringlets holding it up were ripped off. 

“Baby?” Bucky yelled before he registered you were standing upright. “What?” he breathed heavily, he was completely expecting you to be passed out on the floor with a cracked skull. 

“Shampoo bottle,” you said meekly. 

“Oh, thank god…” Bucky sighed to himself as he reached down to pick it up. “Are you hurt at all, did you fall?” He placed the bottle back on the ledge which made him reach across your naked body, on his way back his hand touched your shoulder then went to cup your cheek and move your head to look at him. 

“I’m all good, babe.” You smiled, an exhausting smile. 

“Alright, back-is-packed, finish up and I'll help you over to physio, alright?” Bucky closed the curtain to give privacy but waited for a verbal answer. 

“Perfect, thank you.” You grabbed the bottle again, your heart ached for him to be in the shower with you, it was something you did all the time before you were injured. 

“Don’t thank me, pretty lady.” Bucky reached for the door and opened it, before he could walk out, your voice quietly called his name, he could barely hear it over the water in the shower. “Yes?” he replied with the same softness. 

“Stay here with me, please.” the ‘please’ came after a beat, and extra plea. 

“Always,” Bucky sat on the toilet seat and gave the company you needed as you tried to stick your finger down your cast to itch that one spot on your leg. 

*****

Soon enough you were sat in the physio room, Bucky was off to the side with paper work in his lap and a binder in your backpack he packed for you. You liked the moral support when you were here because you never really had the best experience with doctors, Bucky would act like he wasn’t even there. That was a good thing, he did need to be the hovering boyfriend all the time because that can get tiring for both parties. He’d look up and listen to the doctor near the end, Bucky would write down the exercises and when to do them so he could gently remind you later. 

“Alright, you’re gonna get a new cast next week,” the doctor smiled at you, when you didn’t pick up on the excitement the doctor’s smile faded. “That means three quarters done!” Bucky had looked up and smiled, even clapped a couple times. 

“Then I have to learn how to walk again,” that was an exaggeration but it didn’t feel like one. 

The doctor gave a knowing look, “why do I feel like you’re already walking without the crutches?” You didn’t say anything because it was true. 

Your leg was examined and x-rayed, Bucky held onto your necklace as you went in. Your mind faded in and out as the doctor spewed ‘doctor stuff’ at you, you just didn’t have the care to listen; but Bucky did. He’s the type of guy to take notes and research later. 

Bucky would look over and see you looking at the floor, not even paying attention. He knew he couldn't get mad at you, you both dealt with injury very similarly. But something about seeing you shut down entirely made his heart ache, he wanted to reach out and lift the corners of your lips up into a smile because they seemed like they were being weighed down, he couldn’t remember the last time you smiled and real smile. He hadn’t been going on mission to keep you company, but now he knew his most important mission.

He walked you over to your therapy session that was still in the building, your Doc would come to the Avenger tower. He’d walk you right to the door of some random debrief room and kiss you goodbye. Bucky would hold your shoulders and gently rub your arms to hype you up before going in, he gave his little speech and said the same thing after. 

“You know I love you, and I know it’s hard.” he’d then kiss your cheeks and forehead. “I’ll be right here when you’re done, don’t even sweat it, pretty lady.” He then wouldn’t leave until the door closed and he heard muffled voices. 

The tower was right in the heart of the city, everything he needed was right there and a walking distance away. He slipped on a long sleeve and his gloves, he knew you took the backpack but you also had reusable bags, he took a few and headed out into the summer heat, it wasn’t humid today which was great but it wasn’t cold either. The tote bag was slung over his shoulder, all that was in it right now as a list. 

flowers 

chocolate

card

stuffed animal 

To call Bucky a romantic would seem weird to someone who only knew of him from the news or a museum, you knew him as a total hopeless romantic. Even in the 40’s, Bucky was the type of person to keep their walls up until he really got to know and trust you. It would normally be one little thing that would allow him to truly be himself around someone, he let his guard down that day you were walking to the restaurant he made a reservation at, Bucky placed himself so that arm or hand you’d hold would be his right but when you caught on you walk around him and looped both arms around his left, metal arm. After that, he was goner. 

He’d leave little sticky notes everywhere, a blue square paper in the coffee mug that read: ‘make sure you only drink one cup!’ or another on your shampoo bottle: ‘you look great naked ;)’. Bucky knew the little things mattered to you and vice versa, he knew that grand gestures didn’t mean anything without a little kiss that came before. 

The flower shop smelt great, Bucky didn’t know much about plants but he knew which ones you’d like. He was thinking of putting one on each bedside so whenever you’re lying in bed- which was a lot -you could look at some pretty flowers. They were a nice shade of purple and the stems were not too long, Bucky bought them and put them gently in his tote bag before heading over two stores to the grocery store you always shop at.

He was envyus of your clean eating, you’d eat what you want but you’d shop at fermer’s markets and organic stores. Bucky didn’t know it made a difference. He went to the frozen section and found chocolate covered strawberries. Bucky picked up a little pack of eight and headed to the front. There were also flowers there but they didn’t look nearly as nice. All he wanted was a very simple cute card with a blank inside, they were easy to find. It was cream coloured with a little sketch of a fuzzy, brown teddy bear holding a yellow balloon. All it said in dainty cursive at the top was: “look at you go!” Bucky knew this was perfect. Near the cards were little toys and stuffed animals. He found a bear that looked eerily similar to the one on the card but without the balloon. 

As he walked into the Avenger’s tower the bag was full and he had enough time to spare to set things up. Bucky headed to the rooms and made the bed, he changed the sheets as well because he knew you liked them when they were crisp. The teddy sat right in the middle with the card next to it. Bucky had written a little note that covered the entire right side of the card. He got a bowl from the kitchen and filled it with ice, he also found that white wine you liked and stuck it on there with the strawberries just to keep them cool but not melted. 

Bucky glanced at his watch and felt almost giddy as he realized it was time to head over to the conference room, he had to work on not giving it away when he’d first see you with his wide smile. The walk to the room was quick because of how fast Bucky was walking, he turned the corners sharp and almost jogged down the hall down the meeting rooms. He only stood there for about three seconds before the door slowly opened, Doc had opened the door and helped you out. Bucky’s smile turned into complete worry when you walked out holding a tissue to your nose, your eyes were red and puffy. Bucky also noticed that your fingernails were red and bleeding, that was one habit you were currently trying to break. 

“What’s going on?” Bucky asked in quiet disbelief, his eyebrows almost touching. 

Doc gave a curt nod, “we talked about a lot of things,” her answers were always so vague. 

You sniffled and waited for Doc to leave down the hall, Bucky was still looking at you. His hands held your shoulders and gently massaged the answer out of you. 

“It was a good cry, I needed that.” you sighed from exhaustion. 

A little piece of Bucky’s heart broke, if you needed to have a good cry then you could have told him, he would’ve listened. Bucky started to go back and see where it went wrong, if he was too overbearing and if this whole afternoon he had planned was created at a very wrong time. He wanted to ask what he did wrong but what came out was different. “Well that’s good to hear, I know Doc is good at that- helping you out.” His words were true but something about the delivery made it seem uneasy. 

“I just-” you looked to the ceiling and hoped to find the words you needed written there. “I like flushing it all out to her because I won’t see her for a week and I don’t need to keep up with what I’m feeling. I always cry to you but Doc is just really good at explaining how I feel, you’re there to validate it and make me feel soothed.” You held his left hand as you both walked down the hallway. “I feel lighter, like, I feel better.”

“That’s always good, sweetheart,” Bucky made sure you were putting weight on him because you didn’t bring your crutches but you really should have. “I have a little treat for you,” He turned to face you when you both stood at his door, Bucky kept his hand on the door handle. “I know it’s been a rough few weeks but I hope you know I love you all the same, and all I see is my strong, beautiful girlfriend.” Bucky saw your confused face, as he opened the door to reveal a dim lit room with flowers, wine and a teddy your eye welled up with tears again. 

You gasped and put your hands on your chest, “for me?” your voice shook as you walked in, you peered into the ice bucket to see your favourite wine and some food as well as a card beside the ice bucket, under the teddy. Tears flowed down your face as the feeling of being overwhelmed washed over you, you could barely string a sentence together. A hand waved the gifts all away, “too much,” was all you could muster. 

“No, baby,” Bucky smiled, he walked over and pulled you into a hug. “Nothing will ever be too much for you.”

He let you cry in his chest for a very long time, you both ended up sitting on the edge of the bed as he stroked all the way up your back. His hand would bunch up your hair as he went up to your neck. His lips were right at your ear, all he whispered were sweet nothings and a calming ‘shh’ once and a while. When you had a little composure Bucky reached for the card, as you read it your lips trembled even more. A hand stayed glued to your heart as your body warmed at loving words, you could barely read it with blurry vision from the tears but it still seemed crystal clear. Your finger traced over the signature: ‘love you to the moon and back, Bucky’. And you crumbled again, your forehead hit his chest as you cried away all the pent up emotion you thought you flushed out at your therapy session. 

With all the crying you were so tired, Bucky had thrown on a movie you two could watch while enjoying your strawberries and wine. You only had two and half a cup before you were snoring on Bucky’s shoulder, he tried to nudge you a couple times but nothing worked at all. He watched the movie on his own and saved the last two strawberries for you in the morning. You didn’t even wake up at him getting up and leaving the room. When he came back he got you out of your day clothes and into something comfy. 

*****

You woke up to the sun hitting your back, when your eyes opened they focused on the flowers and a smile graced your face. It was the first time in a long time since you smiled with your eyes, a little giggle even slipped out. 

At that sound Bucky walked out of the bathroom, “well there she is,” he smiled wide. 

“What does that mean?” you wiped the drool from the side of your mouth, “I had a nap, a really good one, too.” You seemed to be bragging. 

“A nap? Baby, it’s eight.” Bucky raised his eyebrows. 

“Ya, I fell asleep at about five so I had a three hour nap, no biggie.” You rolled on your back and stretched out, your gaze moved back to Bucky when you heard a giggle, “what?” you laughed back. 

“Eight in the morning, the next day. Your three hour nap was actually a well deserved fifteen hour hibernation.” Bucky joined you on the bed. 

“That’s why I feel so good,” you sighed, you looked over to Bucky and swatted his chest at his little smirk. “Don’t think like that.” 

“I bet I can make you feel just as good-”

You cut him off with a kiss.

[argylemikewheeler]

July 1st, 1985

what the first ep of (my) s3 would look like if the main concept was: both Steve and Will are gay in 1985’s Summer of Love and the town’s enemy is a little more human; loving friendships, very confused adults, and Will Byers Actually Getting Help

“Harrington!”

“Yes, sir.” Steve looked up from his desk. He dropped his crossword and looked to be at attention; the police station’s phone wasn’t ringing, though, so there wasn’t really anything he should have been doing. Hopper stepped out of his office, angling himself toward the door rather than Steve’s desk island.

“Do you think you’ll be able to-- Harrington, what are you doing?” Hopper caught sight of the pocket thesaurus sitting on his desk (the last name written on the inside cover not belonging to Steve, of course). Hopper fixed his sunglasses on the edge of his nose, looking over them and down at Steve.

“I’m just, uh, working on my vocabulary.” Steve said. Hopper blinked twice, waiting. Steve wasn’t going to say the truth: he was dating-- well seeing someone-- way smarter than him. This wasn’t for joy or boredom. He was studying to impress. “It’s college prep, sir.”

“The crossword?” The chief evened his stare. “This your old man’s suggestion?” Of all the things Steve’s father was telling him to do with himself, he  wished  some of it was simply pecking at a crossword over a twelve hour shift.  Fucking off  and  being a better piece of shit son  just wasn’t feasible to accomplish in one summer.

“He swears by it.”

“Okay, well. Uh, moving on from that,” Hopper grabbed his hat from the coat rack. The topic of Steve’s father always made Hopper stiffen up; it was definitely the main reason Hopper gave Steve his job at the station, but it still created more questions. Steve knew Hopper and his father went to high school together, but he never asked his father about those years-- beyond his baseball glory stories. “I’ve got plans tonight and I need to head out early. Can you handle things on your own for a while. At least until the night shift comes in?”

“I’ll be fine.” Steve made sure not to acknowledge the crossword on his desk as he nodded. He was really good at his job, he was. He was also just, unfortunately, still a pretty shitty boyfriend and needed all the vocab help he could get. “What’s the pressing story?”

“I have dinner.” Hopper was already trying to walk out the door. “So  don’t  call me. For the love of God.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Chief. I--” Steve was sure it was the cool July wind that slammed the door on the last half of his sentence. Not Hopper. “won’t... Have a good time, I guess.”

The police station was empty: it was another boring and wonderfully quiet Monday in Hawkins. There’d been some calls to break up disturbances at city hall in the past few days, but somehow everyone just seemed to agree that Mondays-- the longest shift of Steve's whole week-- was the day everyone went about their quietest day.

There were a few officers milling in and out of the back lounge and front door, casting a quick glance to Steve as he muttered and threatened fourteen down and six across. Nancy had been helping close the gaps of his post-high school education-- without knowing just what for-- but had been picking up most hours at the Post to try and elbow her way into their good graces; it put his tutoring on hold. So here he was, groaning at some clues about classical artists he’d never heard of.

There were other reasons Steve was sure the other officers thought he was odd-- things he was  sure  his father had passed along in spitting rants-- but Steve didn’t mind. No one said anything to his face.

“Hey Flo! Is, uh, is Steve here?” The question was asked with the answer already in mind.

Steve sat up in his chair, twisting around to see down the hall to the back entrance to the station. There weren’t many parking spots to fill, but he knew a certain someone who preferred it to street parking.

“Jonathan?”

“Oh, I hear him. Thanks-- hey!” Jonathan hurried out from the hall, his camera bumping against his stomach and bag slapping against his leg in the same rhythm. He’d gotten a new haircut recently: semi-wonky bangs and a closer cut in the back. All thanks to Steve’s peer pressure and Mrs. Byers’s kitchen shears.

“What are you doing here?”

“Sorry to stop by your work like this--” he lowered his voice as he stopped at the corner of Steve’s desk. “I know we said we wouldn’t do that, but we got an extra muffin in the lunch order and I know you’re always starving after a Monday shift so.” Jonathan produced a folded brown paper bag from his satchel. “Here.”

“Oh, thanks.” Steve wanted to say so much more, but had to settle. No more. None of what they’d decided they wouldn’t say. Not until the summer had ended. They wanted to see if they lasted longer than the convenience of loose summer schedules.

“Won’t I see you, uh, later, though?” At eight, when Steve got sent home he always drove straight to Jonathan’s. Jonathan started late on Tuesdays and Steve had off; they had the time to waste. “Or is this your way of telling me to stay home?”

“No! No we’re still... hanging out.” Jonathan had gotten really good at cooking and treated Steve to weekly dinner. It was a nice gesture at first, but Steve started growing fond of the company. They both did around mid-June. “But, I think Mike’s going to be over so. Be  cool , alright? Keep it cool.”

“Cool, got it.” Steve leaned back in his chair. He moved his papers to leave a corner of his desk for Jonathan to sit on. No one was in the main office; it was a harmless invitation.

“I have to get going...” It sounded like an excuse, a dive for safety. “And I’m sure you have, um,  puzzles  to do?” Jonathan pretended not to be endeared. He tried, he really did. He  failed , but Steve pretended he didn’t notice.

“Don’t want to sit and help me figure out the title of Mozart’s last opera?” He patted the desk, daring to be more direct.

“I really have to go.” Jonathan was genuine, looking at his watch. “The Post only let me out early today because I have to go pick up Will from his doctor’s appointment.”

“Wait.” Steve put the cap back on his pen. “Isn’t Will’s therapy on Wednesday?”

“Yeah, but with Mom’s schedule and the store being all weird-- we had to move it to today. And you know we typically have a family night after-- so he feels okay, you know-- but we  can’t  . So,  that’s why Mike’s coming over. Hopefully they’ll be idiots and tire Will out and he’ll sleep okay.” Tension rose in Jonathan’s voice quickly, explaining his day as if going over a laundry list; never rehearsing it but having it memorized.

“I can stay home if you need time, Jonathan.”

“No, really. I want you to come over.” Jonathan sighed and placed his hand on the emptied spot on Steve’s desk. “Besides, you can’t break tradition after a little over  one month , then it was just a weird habit.”

Steve Harrington did not consider his summer fling a w  eird habit . If anything, it was the most sensical thing he’d done in a very long time. Even after getting rejected from all his colleges, and never hearing the end of his father’s lectures, 1985 had been very kind to him. And that was mostly due to Jonathan’s inherent nature to be the same.

“I’ll see you after eight.” Steve smiled and reached for his hand-- but averted to grab a piece of memo paper by the phone.

“I’m sorry to leave in a rush.” Jonathan hitched his bag up, checking his watch again. “I just, I really need to get going.”

“Don’t worry. The muffin is  more  than enough.” Steve said. “And seeing you wasn’t too bad either.”

“Slow day, huh?” Jonathan said. The corner of his mouth quirked with a flattered, embarrassed smile. Steve tried to act nonchalant, like he wasn’t so goddamn relieved to see a familiar and happy face. Especially  his  familiar and happy face. “Well, good thing I have another surprise for you.”

“You can barely fit your camera in that bag, what could you possibly-- hey!” Steve missed grabbing Jonathan’s arm as he walked away, heading for the front door. “Where are you going?” Jonathan kept walking, checking his watch the whole way. “Hello?”

“Delivered right on time.” Jonathan pushed the front door open to the station-- but was nearly knocked over as a green  dash  barreled through it.

"Steve! Steve! Steve!” The dash was suddenly grabbing him by the shoulders. “You got the job!”

“Henderson! Oh my god! You’re back!” In an unlikely impulse, Steve grabbed Dustin in a hug, taking advantage of the change of height. “Holy shit, I nearly forgot! First of the month!”

“See you, Steve.” Jonathan walked across the room to the back entrance again. His hand braced the back of Steve’s chair, brushing across his shoulders.

“O-Okay! Yeah, see you!” Steve sputtered, losing his reminded  cool  in an instant. “Bye.”

Dustin pulled away slowly. “What was that?” It looked like  everyone  was too smart for Steve.

“Nothing. He brought me a surprise lunch-- which was an  obvious decoy to the main event! You! How are you, buddy? How was camp?”

“Oh, it was fantastic. Steve, I  have  to show you all my inventions! Camp was the  best  four weeks  of  my  life .” Dustin hopped up onto the corner of his desk. His heels tapped against the empty metal drawers. He was jittery, nearly uncontainable, but still so composed-- if only to be focused all on Steve.

Steve held his hands out, letting him start. “Lay it on me, Henderson! I want to hear everything. I missed you like crazy.”

“Well, first, obviously. I have to tell you about my girlfriend--”

“Whoa! Whoa!  Girlfriend  ? That fast?” Steve hadn’t been expecting any of his dating advice to work. It had been coming from such a poor and confused part of himself, Steve figured it was destined to fail. Apparently, it was just  Steve  that was-- when flirting with women at least. “Damn, there’s something in you after all!”

“She’s  super  smart, Steve. I’ve never met any girl like her. She’s a genius and she’s so pretty. God, I miss her already-- and I  just  saw her.”

Steve looked over his shoulder. He knew the feeling. “That’s great, man. I mean, I’m super happy for you. Like, that’s  crazy . That’s freaking awesome.”

“So what about you? How are the ladies? I mean, you work for the  Chief  now. All the ladies you could need and more, am I right?”

Steve used to be really good at this part of the lie, but with Dustin it felt cheap. He didn’t need to lie to him, but that was the deal; no matter how much that person was Steve’s best and most beloved friend, their secret was a dead-bolt, vaulted secret.

“Eh, not too great. Only girl my own age I see-- besides Nancy, really-- is the night-shift girl, Robin. But she’s not really-- we’re just friends. She’s alright. Leaves me weird drawings in the memo pad.”

“Ooo, she sounds cool.” Dustin raised his eyebrows. “Do you know her from school?”

“Yeah, we didn’t really run in the same crowds but-- it’s not like that, man. It’s really not.” Steve started unwrapping his lunch. “It’s so not like that with Robin.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m not...  looking  at the moment.”

Steve had originally decided to not go looking for trouble. After he and Nancy split in the beginning of his senior year, he didn’t start looking for an immediate replacement. The illusion of thinking he was in love with Nancy-- capable of being in love with Nancy-- was a hard thing to have come crumbling down. Steve needed time to get his own bearings, to put his feet firmly on the ground, and have them lifted off when his father grabbed him by the lapels and--

Steve hadn’t gone looking for trouble. Hadn’t gone looking for love either. But somehow, both seemed to find him.

Jonathan was late. He usually wasn’t but Will was trying not to be worried. It was a different day than usual and he knew how awful Jonathan’s boss and co-workers were. Will tried not to be worried-- he wasn't. It was just that he had spent an hour talking about the night his father left their family; standing outside the doctor’s office was a bit nerve-wracking. It felt too familiar, even with all the talking and note-scribbling.

Finally, Jonathan’s car pulled into the lot. He was speeding, as much as his car  could  speed: he knew he was late, which made Will feel a little bit better. No one had forgotten him. It was just traffic or his bosses or maybe just hitting all the red lights. As Jonathan stopped in front of the curb and waved Will in, Will could see he was jittery-- he was  upset  that he was late. Will felt bad for counting the minutes.

Not that he did it out of impatience or anything. Will just formed the habit after getting his new watch. It matched Mike’s. Completely on accident, of course.

“Hey, buddy! Sorry I’m late. I was-- I had to run an errand really fast. How long were you waiting.” He moved his bag and threw it onto the backseat. Will would’ve held it on his lap.

“I wasn’t keeping track.” Will said, climbing into the passenger seat. Will wanted to ask if his bag had Jonathan’s camera in it. If everything was okay. He didn’t. It seemed like Jonathan had been in his therapy with Will, just as shaken up. “It’s okay. Thanks for getting me.”

Jonathan waited until Will put on his seat belt. “Of course. We’re always here to pick you up. Therapy is important; you have to go.”

Will laughed before he could stop himself. “You sound like Mom.”  Why?

“Because she’s right.” Therapy was still kind of weird to Will-- since  no one else  in his grade had to do it-- but he humored his family. It was helping, if he had to admit it. But it was still embarrassing sometimes.

His therapist, Dr. Bright--  Rose Marie, as she insisted on being called-- was a send-out from the Lab, but disguised within a private practice just outside of town. She was able to listen to Will talk about what he saw and felt during his time with the Mind Flayer without trying to commit him. Almost nothing was off limits. Almost nothing.

Will checked his watch again.

“Are you excited to see Mike tonight?” The question was pointed, but Will wasn’t sure why it made him nervous. “I mean, I feel like I haven’t seen him in a bit.”

“Oh, yeah. He’s always with El.”

Will was sure they  weren’t  dating. El was just on a year-long stint of self-discovery and, besides Max, Mike was the person she trusted the most to help make as many helpful mistakes as possible. He bought her books to read and new music to try. It was really sweet, seeing Mike take such big strides toward helping their friend. But there was also a part of Will that felt dejected:  his  sort of help had to be prescribed and couldn’t be replaced with a warm laugh from one Mike Wheeler.

Will was sick while his friends were growing.

“Is there something wrong?” Jonathan used to ask the question like Will was one trembling lip away from crying-- but this time, he asked it like Will had his hand on the door, seconds from jumping out. “Will, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Will nodded. “I’m fine. Just-- I talked a lot today and I’m tired.”

“Do you want to cancel with Mike--”

“No.” Will had been looking forward to having time with Mike--  just  Mike-- for a whole week. He wanted to sit on his floor with his best friend and be a kid again. Just for the night-- maybe draw some of Mike’s old campaigns or sketch out an idea for his own. He just wanted to remember something good about the past four years. After his hour with Dr. Bright, it all felt painful. Like his childhood naivety had been broken and every conversation he overheard in his house dripped with venom and disdain.

Will didn’t like picturing his house that way. It was a place that loved and raised him, a place he felt safe. He didn’t like thinking the conversations he heard being screamed through the walls were trapped in the drywall.

His arms felt heavy and his chest felt like it was made of metal-- he kept tasting it in his mouth. Will leaned back against the seat and reached for the radio. Jonathan turned it down before Will had even changed the station.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I just want to see Mike.” Will said, his mouth too honest and his mind shrouded in guilt. “I just want to see my friend.”

“Okay. Okay.” Jonathan nodded somewhat somberly. “I understand. Let’s go pick him up. He’s at his house right? Not El’s-- o-or The Sinclair’s or anything?”

“No. He’s at his.” Will crossed his arms and tried to find the loose string-- the thing that could uncoil Jonathan’s still-tightening anxiety. “Are you still dating Nancy?”

Jonathan turned to look at Will, nearly crashing the car. That was the wrong string. “What?”

“Nancy? Are you still dating her?”

“I was never dating Nancy.” Jonathan laughed, shaking his head. “I’m not dating Mike’s sister, don’t worry.” The clarification was strange and felt off-topic. Like Jonathan was trying to talk about something else.

“I thought you were. You guys hung out a lot during school.” Will heard her voice through the walls too. Always gentle, never yelling. Except when she was losing at playing cards. Then she shouted.

“She was helping me pass chemistry. That’s all.” Jonathan turned the radio up a little. Will checked his watch. “And then she helped me apply to the Post internship-- she’s great at writing papers, did you know that? A real wordsmith. Is Mike a writer too?”

He was, he  really  was. Grammatically, Will ran out of red pens trying to help, but creatively? Will envied Mike’s ability. “I don’t know. We don’t really talk about that kind of stuff like you two do… Since you two are dating.”

“We’re  not .” Jonathan laughed. Will took advantage of an upcoming stop sign to lean forward and look at his brother’s crimson face. “We’re not, Will, okay? We’re really not. I’d tell you.”

“You’d tell me?”

“Of course! I’d tell you if I… I had a girlfriend. Which I don’t!” He stayed at the stop sign for a bit too long. “Do you?”

There was an option to play dumb, to make Jonathan ask more directly:  do you have a girlfriend, Will ? but it sounded far more painful than being honest, than being as lonely as he was.

“No. I don’t.”

“And you’d tell me. If you were dating someone?” Jonathan looked at Will, hopeful but scarcely so. “You’ll tell me if anything big happens in your life?”

“Yeah.” There wouldn’t be anything happening at all that summer, that was for  damn sure . “Absolutely.”

Steve had about seventy percent of his puzzle done-- fifty of which was because Dustin was an unstoppable genius with no tolerance for Steve’s careful pace. It was just about quarter past seven, and Steve’s back was getting sore from sitting in his chair all day. He only liked sitting when it was in his car, on his way to the Byers's House, careful, of course, to obey all traffic laws.

Steve was packing his crosswords and pens up in the top drawer of his desk when something clattered the back door open. Steve grabbed a pen and whipped around in his seat, as if to wield it like a weapon.

“Hello? Who’s there?”

“Hey dingus.” Luckily, Steve couldn’t even see Robin yet-- or rather, she couldn’t see him or his emphasized eye roll. She could hear him groan though. “Hey, shut up and quit whining. I’m sending you home early.”

Her head popped out from the hallway. Robin’s ponytail was high on her head, the hair flopping over and getting caught in her stringy bangs. She flung her backpack out from behind her and tossed it toward Steve. She wasn’t in her uniform yet, only wearing the buttoned up shirt-- unbuttoned and showing her torn and dyed shirt underneath. She was wearing jogging shorts, her knees torn up and covered with Band-Aids. They reminded Steve of the ones taped to his face after getting a plate smashed into his forehead. Deceivingly cheerful.

“What are you doing here early?” Steve stood and followed her, holding her backpack awkwardly in his hands. “You’re  never  early.” Eight on the dot. Every time.

“I figure you want to get out of here tonight.” She didn’t even stop to look at Steve as they walked into the back room. “Probably want to see your boyfriend.”

Her words weren’t sharp, but Steve still recoiled. He let his arms, and her bag, hang by his sides.

“Who? Jonathan?” The only way Jonathan and Robin had ever met was in the hallways of Hawkins High. She definitely never saw them interact at the station-- or on any of their nights together: they were always indoors. “He’s  not my boyfriend.”

“First off, I didn't even say a name." Shit. "Second, he came in the other day looking for you.” Robin started buttoning her shirt up, fixing the collar as she finally turned to see Steve. “He was really upset-- didn’t even know what time it was to know you weren’t working.”

“Upset?” Technically, it wasn’t Steve’s problem. It was the deal; they didn’t  have  to care about each other’s lives. It was just summer. It was just like any other summer.

“Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.” Robin sounded extremely sympathetic despite beginning to change her pants. Steve whipped around, covering his face. “You should go see him. Make sure he’s okay. Be a good boyfriend... shithead.”

“He’s  not--”

“Steve, I’m the last person you should be arguing with.” Robin laughed-- and it was only momentarily threatening. Until, of course, Steve realized what she meant.

Like all good secrets kept at Hawkins PD, Steve kept his mouth shut and nodded even if she wasn’t looking.

“Yes, sir--ma'am-- Robin.”

“So, are you going to go or what, dingus?” She tapped him on the shoulder. “Get out of here-- and tell me all about it Wednesday.”

Steve blinked at her, holding out her bag. As if it was enough thanks to give her back her own property. “Are we… friends, or something?”

“No, of course not.” She winked, slapping his arm. “Just looking out for one of my own.”

After picking Mike up from his house, they drove home in uncharacteristic chatter. Jonathan was the only one speaking, humming along to the radio. Will was exhausted beyond performative small talk; the type that had to be done between two best friends when a third party was present. Mike was great at just sitting with Will in silence, but Jonathan didn’t know that. Instead, the three of them passed around quiet jokes and laughter, answering questions about their friends for Jonathan’s upkeep of information.

Once they got in the house, Jonathan let them wander off into Will’s room as he started pulling pots out of the kitchen cabinets. He wouldn’t bother or pester them about any summer work, either. They would be left alone in their own coupled silence.

Mike was sitting cross-legged on Will’s floor, twisting one of Will's crayons between his fingers. Will needed new ones but he felt funny asking for them as a near-freshman in high school. He liked the glide of wax on paper compared to the scrape of colored pencils. Well, that and the fact he ruined half of his crayons the year prior making a full map of Hawkins in a fugue state and only had two crayons able to be used normally.

“You had doctor stuff today, right?”

Will was digging under his bed for his emptier sketch book. “Yeah. Therapy.  Doctor  doctor stuff was two weeks ago.”

“How was it?” Mike let his hand still and rest in his lap. “Like, what do you do in therapy? Just start talking?”

“Yeah, but it’s more than that. You have to think about stuff too. Doctors ask you questions, sometimes.” Will pulled back and drug his old drawing supplies along the carpet. He sat back on his heels and was able to see Mike over the top of the bed. He didn’t know Will was looking. “You have to have answers.”

“What do they ask about?” Mike kept looking at his hands, unaware of Will. “Upside down stuff?”

“Sometimes.” Will shuffled back around to Mike's side of the bed. He could feel the tiniest bit of rug burn starting. “She asked me about my dad today.”

Mike looked up, almost immediately. “Can she do that?”

“Why can’t she?” Will popped the lid on the retired Tupperware, now his art bin. “I talked about it.”

“I thought you didn’t like to.” Will had never said those words which meant Mike had gathered it from just observing him. “Did you… like talking about it?”

“Not really.” Will laughed. He found a few extra crayons, but of all the wrong colors. “She had this big speech afterward about learned helplessness that I… really didn’t like.” Will tried to keep laughing.

Mike put the crayon back in the bin. “Are you okay, Will?”

“Yeah. It’s just… the same old stuff.” Will shrugged. “Sometimes it just bothers me more than other days.”

Mike bit the inside of his cheek, picking at his words carefully. “You never talk about your dad, Will.”

“Why would I?”

“Because it bothers you. You can talk about anything you want-- I… I would listen.”

“You don’t have to listen to it just because it happened to me, you know. My therapist says you don’t have to experience things with me for them to be real.”

“But I want to know.” Mike looked insulted, almost crushed and collapsed as he sat back on his hands. “That’s your dad,” he said. “And you’re my friend.”

They sat in silence for a while. Mike went back to studying a new crayon, picking at the wrapper. Will felt something forming in his throat. A bubble that was hot, thick and sticky. Not vomit, but not impending tears either.

“I don’t get why he left.” Will said. “I don’t know what happened to our family.”

“Nothing happened. Maybe he just… wasn’t good at being your dad anymore.”

“But then why? What did I do?” Will didn’t want to ask Mike, make him feel responsible for answering, but Will was desperate to ask the universe again.

“Nothing.” Mike said. “I just think he…”

“He what? My dad got tired of me? Didn’t want to raise me?”

“Maybe he actually learned how to take a hint and knew he wasn’t good enough for you and Jonathan-- or your mom.” Mike wanted to be hopeful, to be positive, so badly. He ached, his smile tight and weak. He didn't have the answers, and who was Will to put him in the position to come up with them.

“So he gave up.” Will said.

“That’s not what I meant--”

“I know. I know… That’s just how it feels.” Will shrugged. He smiled at Mike, accepting his help and his warmth. It hurt knowing that Mike was wrong, but still. Will could always pretend a little longer. Anything for Mike.

“Hey! You monsters hungry?” Steve clapped his hands together before gently tapping the door. “Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”

The door was open. Steve didn’t have to knock. He wanted to, just to prove he wasn’t  too  comfortable, but he also knew Mike was over. And knocking would announce his entrance rather than letting it just be something that just  was  . Rather than being  cool .

Awkwardly and with a lot of weird, throat-clearing fanfare, Steve opened the Byers’s front door and poked his head inside. Jonathan called him in from the kitchen without even needing to say hello, or being surprised by his walking in:  In here, Steve! Dinner’s almost done .

Steve walked through the living room carefully, as if he’d disturb it. There was a tape playing softly-- some band Steve’s never heard of, but didn’t hate. He’d grown to like the way that every song played in the Byers house was always moody and melancholy. The music was always the opposite of how he felt stepping into the kitchen.

Jonathan was at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled delicious. He had what looked to be tomato sauce stains on the front of his shirt-- where he wrapped his hand up to open the sauce jar. Steve was able to hide his smile as he shouldered off his uniform jacket and toed off his shoes, claiming a chair at the kitchen table.

“How was work?” Jonathan didn’t stop stirring. He moved like the stove was turned all the way up and he was afraid of burning the food. He spoke that way too.

“It was fine. Not a whole lot.” Steve didn’t want to have anything seem bigger than whatever upset Jonathan-- and seemed to still be upsetting him now. “How was your day?”

“Fine. Will and Mike are in the other room.” He was checking things off his list. Steve stepped up to Jonathan and stood even with him at the stove. He was making one-pot pasta. It really did smell fantastic. Steve was so hungry, even after his lunch.

“How was… the other things in your day? Develop any good pictures?” Steve covered how stupid he sounded by placing his hand on Jonathan’s lower back.

Jonathan stopped stirring and looked at him. Steve tried to keep cool, tried not to show his motives-- his attempt to calm something he couldn’t believe he’d missed spinning out of control, even if he didn’t know what it was. “Nancy walked into the dark room today-- she’s actually the one who gave me the muffin-- and she exposed the photos to light too early. So no, actually.”

Steve really was a bad boyfriend. Even when he wasn’t one yet-- or at all.

“Okay… how was. Everything else?”

“You don’t have to ask about my day, Steve. It’s okay.” Jonathan sighed and spoke evenly. “I’m just a little tired. Really. We don’t have to do the whole…  thing .”

The whole thing where Steve was explicit about how much he really cared about Jonathan and admitted he was sincerely and terrifyingly in love with Jonathan.

“I was asking because I was curious. Not out of obligation.” Steve clarified. His hand slid to rest on Jonathan’s hip. He moved closer, lips aiming to place a commitment-less kiss on his cheek.

“Steve! I said to keep it  cool .” Jonathan ducked back, placing a hand on Steve’s chest. “I don’t want Will to see us.”

“Your brother?” Steve was surprised; of all people Jonathan explicitly wanted to hide from Will seemed kind and forgiving-- not that there was anything  to  forgive, but it was something Steve often checked for. Steve was sure that one of Dustin’s friends would be… like Steve. Or like Jonathan-- maybe. All of them seemed prepared to deal with any of their friends suddenly being different. Far more prepared than Steve ever was.

“Yes. My brother.” Jonathan snapped, banging the spoon against the edge of the pot. “I don’t want him to learn I’m not dating Nancy but  instead  seeing her ex-boyfriend in the same day.” he whispered.

“Wait, what? He thinks you’re with Nancy?” Steve wasn’t sure where they went wrong. They were trying to  obscure  the truth, not lead everyone to a different reality. “D-Do you think Mike does too?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t want to ask and seem weird.” Jonathan sighed again. He sounded tense again. “I told Will I’d tell him if I was seeing anyone… And he promised me the same.”

Steve knew not to press the obvious question-- well   are  you seeing someone, Jonathan?  -- but also didn’t want to touch the obvious implication that Will  needed  to share a secret with Jonathan. Instead, he placed his hands into his pockets and turned to lean against the counter.

“Dinner smells really good, Byers.” There was another name that began with “B” that Steve wasn’t allowed to use, but always wanted to. Byers Byers Byers. Baby baby baby. “Thank you, again, for cooking for me-- for us.”

“You think I’m going to let you starve?” His stirring slowed; the stove cooled down. He nudged Steve’s arm with the spoon. “You coming home late and trying to cook? You mean half-drinking a beer and falling asleep face down on your bed in your uniform, half unbuttoned.”

“You picture that often, Byers?” Steve lifted an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Jonathan’s lips quirked into a smile again. “But, if you’d like a beer, I think there’s one in the fridge. No one in the house is going to touch it.”

“I can go ask Will if he wants it.”

“Shut up-- do you want it or not?”

“No.” Steve didn’t like drinking when they were together. He’d never really heard the full story about where Mr. Byers went, but he had a father of his own to make those blank spaces fill pretty fast. “But thanks. Don’t want the habit of needing a beer to forget how boring my job is.”

“I thought you liked your job?” Jonathan took a piece of pasta out of the pot and held it out for Steve to test.

He chewed and answered. “I do! It’s nice to have normal hours-- and I’m happy to help have replacements as Flo gets ready to retire but… I don’t know. Sometimes it feels  boring .”

“Would you rather be chasing down a four-legged monster without a face?” Jonathan let out a bubble of genuine laughter, playfully glaring at Steve.

“Frankly, yes! At least we’d all have something to do. I feel like I don’t see everyone anymore.”

“Then throw a party. Don’t wish for anything bad to happen.” Jonathan said firmly. “Let the record show my brother is a very strange magnet for all this… weird shit.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Steve said solemnly. He put his hand on Jonathan’s forearm. “I wish we were all safely doing something exciting. It felt nice to be needed, even if no one knew it was us.”

Jonathan put the spoon down on the counter and pivoted to be looking only at Steve. There was something resting just on the tip of his tongue, just under the surface of their conversation. It would’ve been a digression-- Steve could tell by Jonathan’s tense and furrowed brow-- but he would’ve listened.

“Jonathan?” Steve squeezed his arm, lifting his eyebrows. “What is it?”

“I--” He clenched his jaw, trying to swallow his words. “I think--” Steve knew there was no end to Jonathan’s sentence; merely starting it meant there was trust between them. A careful admission through omission. Steve knew Jonathan was looking at his shoes and wouldn’t be seen as he took in the secret flinches of Jonathan’s face. The crinkle by his left eye, the twitch of his mouth, double blinking--

They both jumped apart as the phone started ringing, practically shaking on the wall. Jonathan stepped away from Steve and left everything unsaid. Again.

Jonathan tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder as he turned to lean against the wall.

“Hello? This is--” His face changed sharply, his eyebrows furrowing. “I told you to stop bothering us. You’re lucky she’s not here to pick up the phone-- I don’t  care !” Jonathan cleared his throat and looked at Steve in a flash of uncertainty and anxiety. “I have the police here right now and if you don’t stop calling me I will send them to your house-- it’s not a threat if you’re the one bothering us. Stop. Calling.” He slammed the phone down and braced his weight against the wall with his other hand.

“Am I considered ‘the police’ now?” Steve said lightly. It was his way of letting Jonathan know he was listening, but not asking direct questions. “I’m not even allowed to have a badge.”

“It counts.” Jonathan said, letting his arms fall down by his sides. Steve stepped over and kept stirring dinner.

“Who was that?”

“No one. Can you go get the boys in the other room? Dinner’s ready.” Jonathan pushed Steve aside to hunch over the stove again.

“Sure.” Steve nodded, knowing he wasn’t seen. “Hey! You monsters hungry? Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”

Dinner felt weird.

Will couldn’t help but feel like he and Mike had gotten into a fight. Talking about his dad made anything feel sticky, feel like it was violent or volatile. A second from snapping or tearing off, bouncing around the walls and echoing in Will's body. A small conversation between friends-- actually a little  understanding  between  best  friends-- felt like it had been a screaming match, all because it was cut off. There was no apology from Will. He didn't have the chance to tie it all up with an  I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, forget I said anything.

His plea sat heavy on his tongue as he talked to Steve-- who had arrived without notice-- and let Mike make him laugh so hard he nearly shot water out his nose. Will let it all happen under the tremor, the ache, of an apology. And maybe, if he was the best brother and friend he should’ve been, no problems or therapy, it would be enough of an apology.

He wasn't hungry and only ate half his serving of pasta, even though it was usually his favorite of Jonathan's recipes. He did apologize for that though, and it felt right to say aloud. Even if it was misdirected and no one heard it.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm so so sorry. Please come back--

Mike wasn’t tired, Will knew, but he still wanted to go to bed right after their horror movie ended. It was clear Mike hadn't been paying attention to the movie; the entire plot was that dreams were a new horror-scape for monsters to get teenagers. It wasn't too scary to Will; it just felt familiar. The villain looked different, more human, but Will knew what it felt like to dream while wide awake. To watch and be unable to do anything but scratch at the surface--

Convincing Will to get ready for bed, Mike said they’d have all day in the morning. He said that maybe he could convince his mom to let him stay over again if they don’t get all their fun in. Will knew Mike's mom probably would, if only because she felt bad for Will. But he would take the pity. A sleepover wasn't the worst thing to get from pity.

Will could still hear Mike fidgeting in his sleeping bag. He was rubbing his feet together like a cricket and twisting his wristwatch. The plastic scratched the sheer material of his sleeping bag rhythmically: back and forth. back and forth. backandforthbackandforth. It was like Mike was counting the ticks of his silent digital watch. Will began to play with his own watch, keeping it on in bed only because he'd noticed Mike hadn't removed it when they were brushing their teeth that night; apparently the watch was too good to part with.

Time though, was something Will wished he could separate himself from. He could hear the seconds scraping by now. Every moment he kept his friend awake and bored because Will was too weak or (rather and) too  everything  to stay up late again.

Therapy hadn’t even been that bad. Not really. Maybe it could be exhausting but it didn’t count because Will sat in the same spot for an hour. It wasn’t real work. It shouldn’t have counted. Will should’ve been able to hang out with his friend until sunrise, getting in trouble with his mom for being up so late. He should’ve still been a stupid, carefree kid, not a by-gone troubled teenager.

Maybe his dad had seen that from the beginning. Will's dad was always gambling, betting on baseball games he had these incredible "feelings" on. Sometimes he was wrong, but when he was right it was an amazing prediction; having the foresight no one else had. And maybe that was what it was, leaving them when he did. Maybe he saw Will wouldn’t be the second son he wanted after all. Maybe he knew of all the damage that would be done to him, the damage he would cause. Probably saw it from miles-- years-- away. And he left without a single warning to any of it.

What if his father had known? Could've known where he was when he came back into town two years ago? Not gone forever just in the lights. Just out of reach, just through the wall, Dad. What if he had known, been able to see, able to know, but wanted to leave Will Down there being possessed and enveloped and consumed and--

Will felt a chill scurry down his back. The feeling almost had legs. Too many. He felt ice cold, his body going blank-- not numb, but  blank -- for a second. He couldn’t feel his fingers, but could still feel every inch of his body, suddenly pulsing and seizing.

"Will?" Mike asked, sitting up. He gripped the end of the bed and pulled his face closer to Will's. He squinted in the darkness, feeling for Will’s hand. Will couldn’t answer, his jaw tense and breath rattling out of him. "Will, what’s wrong?"

After a (thankfully) non-awkward dinner, Steve and Jonathan washed all the dishes and let the boys watch whatever movie they wanted. Steve didn’t pay attention to what tape he put in the VRC. He was too busy thinking about the hands hidden in the warm soapy water in the kitchen sink. Neither Mike nor Will seemed too bothered by the  disgusting  amount of blood or the scary blade man on the TV. He felt no regret letting them go to bed right after the credits rolled. Jonathan had looked exhausted after putting the last dish away, and dozed off during the climax of the movie-- even slept through the high-pitched screaming.

They waited for the sound of Will’s door closing over before they got into bed.

Jonathan flopped onto his back, a pillow resting between his chest and crossed arms. Steve laid on his side, bracing his weight on his elbow. He poked at Jonathan's furrowed eyebrow lightly.

"What's the problem, Byers?"

"Nothing."

"You are not a really great liar, you do know that right?" That and Steve could still hear Robin's blasé recounting of Jonathan's distress.  Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.

Jonathan sighed and turned to look at Steve. He hated being called out. "It's about Will."

"What's wrong with Will? He seemed alright at dinner."

"Yeah, but," Another sigh. "Steve, I think my brother’s gay."

Steve's first response was swallowed and he nodded. "Okay. Okay. And, um, what's the issue with that?" He adjusted himself on the bed, hoping there was more subtlety in that.

"I can't talk to him about it. I mean," Jonathan smiled and reached to touch his face. "This is a very different thing than being fourteen and confused."

"Who says he's confused?"

"I don't mean with himself-- the rest of the world is so confusing, Steve. You see the news... I can't talk to him. I didn't grow up like that. And being with you is... Different. We dated girls before. Will... I don't know. I think he knows already."

"You think he's got feelings for--"

"Oh absolutely." Jonathan nodded, closing his eyes. "Oh, I'm so glad it's not just me who sees it."

"Hopefully Wheeler does too."

"Hey, keep your voice down, he's only a few rooms over ."

"Sorry. Sorry. Me and my big mouth " Steve rested his head on Jonathan's shoulder. "Shut me up, maybe."

"Not until my mom gets back." Jonathan said, rolling up onto his side too. "If I catch her when she comes in the door, she won't come into my room to say good night. I can't have you distracting me until then."

"Your mom is on a date. She's an adult and so are you." Steve kissed Jonathan's shoulder. "You are a working man who just finished a long day at work-- I think you can cuddle up with your boyf--" Steve choked on his own stupidity, feeling his face go red and charisma die on impact. "With me."

"I will. Once my mom is back." Jonathan kissed Steve, as if a parting promise. Only to backtrack on his words immediately. He tucked Steve’s hair back behind his ear, his hands trying not to hold his face. “No--  no . Steve, not until my mom gets back.”

“I can keep an ear out--” As Steve spoke, the power in his bedside lamp dimmed. The power hummed quietly before flickering back up. Jonathan tensed and pushed himself up in bed.

“Did you see that?”

“Yeah, it was just the light, Byers. It’s windy out tonight, maybe a tree brushed a powerline.” Steve pushed Jonathan back down to his pillow-- and back into his own skin again. “It’s  nothing  . What if I turn out the light? Your mom won’t even  see  us in here.”

“No. No, I have to wait for her.”

“What if she doesn’t come back?”

“What!” Jonathan jerked upright again.

“I  meant  what if she’s at Hopper’s or something?” Steve shrugged. “She’s an adult.”

“Steve, that’s my  mom .” Jonathan hissed, swatting at the hand resting on his shoulder.

“I  meant  because she drove there on her own. If she had some wine, maybe she stayed somewhere and is being a smart, responsible parent.” Steve soothed. “Something you don’t have to be right now. You’re not Will’s parent and you aren’t your own. Lay down, will you?”

Jonathan was reluctant, but let Steve ease him back down again. He pulled the pillow tighter to his chest and sighed, his crossed arms sinking deeper. Steve laid down beside him, nose gently touching the end of his shoulder. As he breathed, his short exhales tickled Jonathan’s skin and got him giggling. It was Steve’s secret trick; something that always worked because Jonathan didn’t know it was a pattern-- didn’t know he was ticklish.

“Sorry I was weird today.” Jonathan said suddenly. He wasn’t even grinning.

“What?” They didn’t apologize. There was no need. “You’re worried about stuff-- it’s okay.”

“No, I like our dinners. And I was so uptight. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” Steve didn’t know what to do with the sentiment. “Apology accepted?”

Jonathan sighed again, blowing it out slowly between his pressed lips. “Lonnie called today.”

“L- your  dad ? Is that who was on the phone?” Steve wasn’t sure what came over him-- or his body-- as he placed an arm over Jonathan’s waist and pulled them together. There was something unspokenly intimate talking about abusive fathers while being nearly sutured together in bed, but Steve pretended he was just having problems hearing Jonathan correctly.

“Yeah.” Jonathan turned, his nose brushing Steve’s. “Said he wants custody of Will. He doesn’t trust Mom, he said.”

“How is he-- He can’t do that.”

“He’s going to try. I don't know where it came from. He still thinks he can win a case because the news says Will just  disappeared into the woods . Like he ran away from us or something.”

“Everyone knows that’s not true.”

“A court might not.” Jonathan sighed, ducking his head down. Steve resisted lifting his chin to hook it over Jonathan’s head, nestling him into his neck. He laid still, listening to his breathing and the gentle creaking of the house--

Jonathan's door was thrown open, both men sitting up quickly, ready to defend themselves and their actions. It was Mike, in his pajamas with his hair sticking out in wild curls. Will stood just behind him in the hallway looking far more awake. Stilted and untousled.

"Mike?"

"Jonathan, quick!"

"What is it?" Jonathan swung his legs around and motioned both boys to come in. "Will?" Mike pushed him into the center of the door frame, although he remained in the hallway, in the light. Will’s hand grabbed at the back of his neck. His face was blank and his eyes were distant.

"Something's wrong." Will said slowly, blinking to focus. "I feel him."

"Feel who?" Jonathan kneeled in front of Will, holding his shoulders. "Feel who, Will?"

"Dad."

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi Steph! reading your blog has become a sort of guilty pleasure for me. Thanks for everything, it’s so clear that you put a lot of time and energy into your content. I was wondering if you have any johnlock fics that feature a particularly well-written or memorable original character? I always love to see how authors integrate their own character creations into johnlock stories!

Hey Nonny!

Ahhhh!! This is a GREAT request, because I like well-written OC’s in fics, so yeah, this is a great list to make. Here’s what I recall from my bookmarks. Please add your own faves, friends!

MEMORABLE ORIGINAL CHARACTERS

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

The Prize We Sought Is Won by deathfrisbees (E, 4,610 w., 1 Ch. || First Time, Mild D/S, Oral, Military Kink, Bottomlock) – Sherlock's in love, or in lust, or both--unfortunately, the object of his affections is not only his completely oblivious flatmate, but said flatmate would probably run screaming into the hills should he find out. John's been invited to a wedding--unfortunately, the groom used to serve under him back in Afghanistan, and requests that John wear a uniform he's honestly not sure he fits into. Unfortunately for both flatmates, Sherlock's got a military kink the size of Kandahar and John wants to know if he actually can fit into this uniform or if his eyes are deceiving him. It goes from there.

Time on my hands by Mildredandbobbin (M, 7,179 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-S3, One Night Stands, Mutual Pining, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Sexual Exploration / Discovery, Desperation, Body Worship) – Virginity’s a construct, a concept—what does losing one’s virginity entail for a gay man anyway? Sherlock wants to fill that particular gap in his knowledge but John won’t, can’t, never will assist and there’s only so much desperately unspoken pining even Sherlock can take.

High and Tight, Soft and Loose by cwb (E, 7,429 w., 1 Ch. || Jealous John, Miscommunications / Misunderstandings, First Kiss / Time, BAMF John, Insecure Sherlock, Clueless Sherlock, POV John, Embarrassed John, Adorable Sherlock, Junk Size, UST / RST) – John pressed the knuckle of his index finger against his mouth and sighed. “So, you're coiled like a spring and ready to be ... sprung?” “If you want to be pedestrian about it, yes.” “Like I said, you should do something about that.” “And like I said, pedestrian. What would you have me do? Take up jogging? Yoga? Oh! Unless you mean –” “I don't mean anything. Let’s drop it.”

Matters of National Security by mistyzeo (E, 8,465 w., 1 Ch. || BAMF John, Doctor John, Jealous Sherlock, Dating, Bisexuality, Arguing, Stupidity, Teasing, First Kiss/Time, Hand Jobs, Frottage, RST, Idiots in Love) – John starts dating a male client of Sherlock's, and Sherlock can't figure out why he's so incensed about it.

High Tide by stardust_made (T, 8,540 w., 1 Ch. || Jealousy, Angst, First Kiss) – A little favour Sherlock stupidly agrees to do for Mycroft leads to John meeting a handsome, affluent man, who is going out of his way to woo him. Sherlock struggles with the situation and with his own reactions to it. Part 1 of The High Tide Series

Iris by slashscribe (E, 11,948 w., 1 Ch. || Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Post-S3) – Sherlock does his best to make John happy when John comes back to 221B with his new baby after the events of Season 3, but Sherlock has a track record of getting things wrong in this area. This story is an exploration of their gradual shift from friends to lovers, told from Sherlock's perspective, full of a lot of pining and lack of emotional awareness.

A Brand of Gold by aquabelacqua (M, 12,757 w., 1 Ch. || Mutual Pining, POV John, Phone Sex, Texting, Masturbation, Long Distance, Drunk Texting) – What am I doing? he wondered. The answer came back at once: Flirting. He let the vital, missing piece snap into place as surely and as cleanly as if it had always been there. He was flirting with Sherlock Holmes.

Twelfth Night by yourdykeinshiningarmor (E, 15,139 w., 5 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Christmas, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Angst & Fluff, BJ’s, Anal) – John is invited to his aunt's Twelfth Night ball. Sherlock offers to attend with him as a friendly face among strangers, but John's family force him to address his true feelings for Sherlock.

Vessel by Rhuia (E, 15,695 w., 1 Ch. || Cancer, Medfic) – That was the surprising bit – the way his doctor said it, eyes shining with sympathy but breathing it out, shifting it off her shoulders and thrusting it onto his, making him take it like an unwanted gift.

A Life Well-Lived by Kate_Lear (E, 20,121 w., 1 Ch. || Original Male Character, Sherlock Woos John, Jealous Sherlock, Reluctant Bi-John, Past Abuse, Insecure John, Reassuring / Caring Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Understanding Sherlock) – John got scared off men by an abusive past relationship. Sherlock has to try and woo him while not scaring him off with protective possessive rage.

Winter's Delights by Kate_Lear (E, 21,173 w., 1 Ch. || Holmes Family, Christmas, Fake Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Bed Sharing, Domestics) – Sherlock takes John home for Christmas to meet the extended Holmes family. Part 1 of Winter's Delights

A Shipless Ocean by myswordfishmind (M, 22,135 w., 4 Ch. || Post-TRF, John has a Kid, Angst, Reunion, Falling in Love, Open Ending) – Ten years after the fall Sherlock goes back to London to find that John no longer lives there. Instead, he resides in a seaside town, a widower, and the father of a seven year old son. Now, Sherlock must struggle with the fact that there may no longer be a place for him in this new world.

Maintaining A Personal Life by Gingerhermit (E, 24,284 w., 6 Ch. || Alternating POV’s, Bisexuality, BAMF!John, Jealous Sherlock, Romance / Drama, Sort-of Case Fic, Peril & Angst, Love Confessions, Toplock, Soft Idiots in Love, Post S3) – Sherlock and John discover some interesting revelations about each other’s sexuality, which lead them both to question the assumptions they've made about one another for years. In the midst of their mutual discoveries, a dangerous psychopath looms on the side-lines who threatens to destroy their new beginning.

26 Pieces by Lanning (E, 28,236 w., 1 Ch. || H/C, Torture, First Time, Happy Ending, Schmoop, Past Abuse) – Mycroft gives Sherlock the apparently simple task of solving a puzzle box containing a stolen microchip. It isn't simple.

Where Else Would I Be? by cwb (E, 34,910 w., 10 Ch. || Retirementlock, Domestic Fluff, Falling in Love, Parentlock, Fluff and Smut, Reminiscing) – John and Sherlock's five-year-old granddaughter spends the weekend with them in Sussex. Sherlock happily indulges her whims, and John takes care of them while quietly revisiting the past thirty years of their lives together.

Classified(s) by blueink3 (E, 36,153 w., 4 Ch. || Wedding Date AU || Fake Relationship, Jealous, PIning, H/C, Idiots in Love, Happy Ending, Mary is not Nice, Escort Service) – Clara's American father is the ambassador to some such territory that Great Britain probably used to own, but she (and Harry’s undying love for her) is the reason John is getting on a flight at 12:30pm, flying across the second largest ocean in the world, and pretending to be in a perfectly happy, healthy relationship with an undoubtedly perfectly coiffed stranger. See, Clara is not only American (and wealthy to boot), she's also best friends with John’s ex-fiancée. Whom she's placed in the wedding party. As Maid of Honor. And John just happens to be Best Man. Bloody brilliant.

Nothing to Make a Song About by emmagrant01 (E, 36,833 w., 10 Ch. || Post-TRF, First Time, Reunion, Jealous John, Pining Sherlock, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending, Sherlock Has a Boyfriend) – When Sherlock returned from his faked death, John could not forgive him for the deception and broke off their friendship. Ten years later, John returns to London in search of yet another new beginning. Sherlock, not surprisingly, is waiting.

Set in Stone by SilentAuror (E, 39,309 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Wedding, Therapy, Fluff and Angst) – Sherlock and John are back from Ravine Valley and planning their wedding. However, as they move past the trial of the human traffickers, Sherlock can't help but wonder if he's imagining that John is becoming a little distant. Surely he isn't getting cold feet about the wedding... Part 2 of The Ravine Valley series

Only To Be With You by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (M, 40,768 w., 4 Ch. || Black Mirror / Future AU || Character Death, Future Technology, Sickness/Cancer/Illness, Heavy Angst with Happy Ending, First Person POV John, Pining John, Heart-Wrenching Angst, Promise of Forever) – 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.

Corpus Hominis by mycapeisplaid (E, 47,709 w., 12 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Case Fic, Fluff, Romance, Frottage, Angst, Anal, Blow Jobs, Rimming, Spas / Massages, Shampoo, Jealousy, Fake Relationship) - John knows the human body intimately. He’s had plenty of opportunity for study as a doctor, soldier, and lover. There’s one particular body, however, he knows very little about. When Sherlock launches himself head-first into a new obsession and they get sent on a case in an unlikely location, the pair discovers each other’s bodies with confusing yet delightful (and sometimes hilarious) results.

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

Coventry by standbygo (E, 52,020 w., 26 Ch. || Dollhouse AU || Case Fic, Slow Burn, Sci-Fi / Fantasy, First Kiss / Time, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BAMF John, Falling in Love) – “Let me get this straight,” John said, wondering when his life had become a science fiction film. “Some guy orders up a personality, a person, to his specifications, and they program this into a real live person, who has consented to do this, and she goes to this person and acts as his wife, or lawyer, or Royal Marine, or Navy Seal or what have you, and she has all the skills, all the knowledge, everything? Then you say the magic words, and she follows you back to The House, and they erase it all until her next appointment?”

Albion and the Woodsman by Glenmore (NR [E], 54,437 w., 50 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post S3, Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Angst, Family, Drug Use, Depression, Sherlock POV, Light Humour, Reconnecting, Declarations of Love) – Sherlock and John are devastated after Mary Morstan makes her final moves. Sherlock relapses at the crack house, John walks around the world … and a lot happens in between. Parentlock, in the good way.

Wars We Fought, Things We're Not by blueink3 (M, 55,204 w., 10 Ch. || Post S3 / Post TAB, Parentlock, Fluff & Angst, Kidnapping, Whump, Post-TAB, UST/URT, 3G, Mild Peril, Slow Burn, Couple for a Case, Protective Mycroft, Infant Death Pre-Story, Friends to Lovers) –  Five months after John's world has fallen apart, Mycroft sends the consulting detective and his doctor on a case that neither is prepared for.

Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time, For a Case, Friends With Benefits, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Spooning) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

The Great Sex Olympics of 221B by XistentialAngst (E, 58,611 w., 10 Ch. || First Time/Kiss, Experiments / Sexual Experimentations, Multi Pairings, Voyeurism) – John Watson thinks Sherlock Holmes should admit that he, Watson, is more of an expert on sex than Sherlock is. But Sherlock refuses to concede the point. He comes up with an experiment plan that will resolve the issue. The results will determine who wins the prize. But sometimes even the best thought-out scientific study has unexpected consequences.

Bridging the Ravine by SilentAuror (E, 58,887 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Couple For a Case, Bed-Sharing, First Times, Confessions, Awkwardness, Sex Trafficking, Massages, Wet T-Shirt Contest, Group Therapy, Past Loss of Child) – Sherlock and John go undercover at Ravine Valley, a therapy centre for same-sex male couples in an investigation into a possible human trafficking ring. As they pose as a couple and fake their way through the therapy sessions for the sake of the case, it quickly becomes difficult to avoid discussing their very real issues. Set roughly six nine months after series 4.

The Bells of King's College by SilentAuror (E, 64,019 w., 5 Ch. || Post-S4, Missed Opportunities, Angst with Happy Ending, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, John POV, Jealous John, John in Denial, Travelling / Holidays, Virgin Sherlock, Wedding Proposals) – It's only been two weeks since Eurus Holmes disrupted their lives when Mycroft sends John and Sherlock to Cambridge to pose as an engaged couple at a wedding show in the hopes of solving six unsolved deaths...

Summit Fever by J_Baillier (M, 78,802 w., 18 Ch. || Mountain Climber AU || POV John, Angst, Tragedy, Suicidal Ideation, The Himalayas, Mountain Guide / Doctor John, Mount Climber Sherlock, Loneliness, Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Injured Sherlock / Sherlock Whump, Pining John) – 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?

Secrets and Revelations by Hisstah (E, 83,535 w., 9 Ch. || Sentinel / Guides Omegaverse AU || Adventure, Violence, Anal / Oral, Omega!John / Alpha!Sherlock, Case Fic, Politics, Mild DubCon) – Dr John Watson has some major secrets that he's kept from his flatmate, Alpha Sentinel Sherlock Holmes. Now the Sentinel Tower is after him. Can John stay out of their hands until he can reveal his secrets to Sherlock? Part 1 of Secrets and Revelations

Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater /  Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John "Five Oceans" Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?

Maintenance and Repair by patternofdefiance (E, 106,650 w., 71 Ch. || Future AU, Augmentation || Augmented John, Depression, Body Modification, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, Sci-Fi, Self-Care, Body Dysmorphia) – John wants to explain the rush of sensation and data, which is just another form of sensation (or is it the other way around?). John wants to say: Augmentation circuits report temperature, pressure, various forms of quantitative input. Sudden changes are reported as pain, since sudden changes are dangerous, and pain is the quickest way to encourage reflexive extraction. But all John can manage is, “Nng.” Because this sudden touch is not reporting as pain. Part 2 of STATIC

The Burning Heart by May_Shepard (M, 119,150 w., 21 Ch. || Canon Divergence, Post-TRF, John’s Sexuality, S3 Rewrite, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV John Watson, John’s Gay) – 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 Swan Triad Series by Pennin_Ink (T, 121,660 w. across 3 works || Swan Lake AU || Magical / Fairy Tale AU, Romance, Falling in Love, Pining, Psychological Torture, Transformation) – Sherlock and John grow up spending every summer together. Their mothers' attempts to play matchmaker only fuel their mutual resentment and scorn. But then, one summer.

Colors by Quesarasara (E, 140,537 w., 17 Ch. || Pleasantville-Inspired AU || Soulmates, Colour Bonds, Alternating POV, Angst, Fluff, Pining, Case Fic, Medical Procedures) – Everyone on earth is born with eyes that see in black, white, and an endless series of greys. When you meet your soulmate, you finally see the world in color. We're all searching for the person who brings color to our lives. John and Sherlock are no exception. Part 1 of The Colors 'Verse

The Adventure of the Silver Scars by tangledblue (NR [M], 142,458 w., 41 Ch. || S3 Fix-It, Post-HLV/ Post-TAB / Canon Compliant, Case Fic, No Baby, Angst, Humour, UST, Slow Burn, Angry John, Reconciliation, Not Nice Mary / Leaving Mary, Dependent Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Caretaker John, Fist Fights, It’s An Experiment, Virgin Sherlock, Dancing, Drugging, John Whump, Pet Names, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Scars) – It’s been thirteen months since Mary shot Sherlock and John finds he’s still pissed off about it. Sherlock had thought everything was settled: John and Mary, domestic bliss. But when John turns up at Baker Street with suitcases, the world’s only consulting detective might not be prepared for the consequences. A new case. Some old scores to settle. Certain danger. Concertos, waltzes, and whisky.

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

Sketchy by serpentynka (E, 184,053 w., 83 Ch. || Post-TRF, Post-Mary, John Whump, Slow Burn Love Story, Case Fic, Art, Porn With Feelings, Switchlock, Travelling, Career Change, Family Secrets, Illness / Health) – What (and who) will be left when nobody cares about your Work? A slow-burn fic with cases, places, mistaken identities, unfair choices, essential changes, violent feels, blatant lies, fearless portraiture, family secrets, high-risk bespoke gifts, durable friendships, bedtime stories, foreign travel and tongues, sickness (and health), and the significance of things which are slow to unfurl -- but cannot be ignored. Oh, and...porn. Part 1: Sherlock takes on an obvious case (barely a 4) and meets someone who will force him to re-examine what it means to see. Part 1 of Sketchy

The Gilded Cage by BeautifulFiction (E, 326,887 w., 31 Ch. || Omegaverse || Omega Sherlock / Alpha John, Friends to Lovers, Dub Con, Reproductive Rights) – 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.

[clonecest-bin-account]

How about this: the Bad Batch all awkwardly flirting with Echo, trying to bring him into their poly relationship?

(ajhsdsjhk yes please I love this)

Echo is many things, but despite what people might believe, oblivious isn’t one of them. He’s an ARC, trained to notice even the smallest details - and in missions, those usually are the difference between life and death. What he wants to say with this is that he has noticed that the bond that unifies the Bad Batch isn’t just a platonic one; it checks out, he thinks: the only people they can lean onto are each other, so it makes sense that they would seek each other out for that too.

What he wasn’t expecting was for them to try and bring him along for the ride, which he appreciates and all but… Well, maybe it’s still too soon, he thinks; he needs time.

Of course, this doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy their awkward attempts at flirting, and what attempts…

 Since Echo’s healthier now he can go back to physical training, which makes Wrecker the happiest.

“I’m gonna show you all my favorite moves!” he exclaims, eager to get started. Although Echo’s eager as well - he really needs to get back on track - he also knows that if he allows him, Wrecker would wreck his shit - he really can see how he got his name.

“Make sure you don’t break anything important, please? I don’t want to be stuck with physical therapy again…” he warns in fact.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle…” Wrecker immediately says, smirking, although it doesn’t last for long as he realizes the implications of what he just said, which makes him cringe and stutter. “Um… I mean…”

Echo can’t hold back a chuckle, shaking his head. This doesn’t last long either, because in a moment he immediately goes on the offensive, taking advantage of Wrecker’s distraction to land a kick on his knee, making him lose his balance.

What? Last time Echo checked, there’s no rule against fighting dirty.

 Tech’s way of flirting is more ramble-y than Wrecker’s, but Echo still finds it adorable. He’s so earnest in the way he begins to explain some complicated mechanical process that even though Echo doesn’t understand everything he’s saying, it’s still a delight to listen to him.

Right now he’s listing all the features he installed on his new mechanical arm; some have already gotten lost, but Echo’s gotten most of them.

“I figured you’d want to be still able to connect to machinery and such so if you close your pink like this…” he begins, gently moving Echo’s finger in the way he’s supposed to imitate next time he wants to do it, and soon a valve opens at the center of his palm, making space for a plug that begins to come out, just like a droid’s one. “There!”

“I’m sure it’ll come handy,” Echo says, “Thank you.”

“I’ve also adapted the shape to the rest of your body,” Tech continues, barely registering Echo’s reply. “You’re so well proportioned that I couldn’t not do it…”

“Well proportioned, huh?” Echo repeats, fighting back a smirk. He’s definitely heard worse - he really has - but still that’s not what comes to his mind when he thinks about complimenting someone.

After a solid minute of Tech stuttering, Echo thinks that he must’ve broken him. It’s cute but also he feels kind of bad now, so he decides to do something about it.

“Thank you,” he says then. “Took me a while to get back in shape, so it means a lot that you’d think that.”

Those words seem to calm Tech down, who sheepishly smiles at him.

Echo, of course, smiles back.

 Crosshair’s idea of flirting is, apparently, not insulting him, which Echo appreciates he guesses, but it’s still peculiar.

“You shoot well for a reg.”

“Thanks?” Echo says. He’s never sure about how to reply to Crosshair when he tells him this stuff; he supposes it could be worse - he’s heard Crosshair says way worse - but it seems that the sniper has some sort of soft spot for him, not that he admitted it of course.

They’re firing guns at the improvised shooting range they’ve created for Echo. Now that he can move better he needs to improve his aim to get back to his previous levels; thankfully muscle memory is still a thing, so it’s going faster than anticipated. Still, it’s hard to keep up with an expert marksman such as Crosshair, though Echo likes the challenge.

“Really, you’re recovering much faster that I thought.”

Oh, this is new: usually Crosshair is a man of few words, but today he’s trying to strike a conversation - at least this is how Echo is interpreting it.

“I am, and it’s also thanks to you,” he replies, smiling at him, because it’s true: they’re helping him in many ways that he would’ve never expected, and he’s truly grateful that they’ve taken him in with so little hesitation.

Crosshair reels back like he’s just been hit on his stomach.

“Yeah, right…” he mutters. “Let’s get back to target practice. We’ve lost enough time already…”

A chuckle leaves Echo’s lips.

“Yessir.”

 The way Hunter flirts is different from the others’: it’s less wordy or more physical.

Echo doesn’t mind that at all - it reminds him of Fives actually - but there’s always some hesitation in the way Hunter touches him, though he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s afraid he’d hurt him or because he thinks he might be overstepping some sort of unsaid boundary, which is beginning to unnerve Echo, especially if he’s doing it for the first reason.

Eventually, in fact, he snaps: they’re walking back to the Havoc Marauder, and Hunter’s hand is hovering over Echo’s shoulder, barely touching it. That’s the final straw.

Echo takes Hunter’s hand and draws it closer so that it’s actually resting on his shoulder. There.

“E-Echo?”

“I’m not going to break just because of a touch, Hunter,” he explains.

“O-Of course,” the other stutters, making a pause and then squeezing Echo’s shoulder with his hand. “… Is this okay, then?”

Echo nods, his hand still over Hunter’s.

At least they’re going somewhere…

 “Wait! So you knew?”

Echo laughs at those words. Many things have changed since those awkward flirting attempts, and now Echo can say that he’s officially part of the group, officially as in he now cuddles with them and kisses them and… other stuff too.

“You weren’t exactly subtle,” he says then. He feels Wrecker shift from behind, but he doesn’t move away. He’s not going to lie: he missed cuddle piles, especially with these many people.

“Why didn’t you say anything then?” Tech, settled between his legs, asks.

That surely is a question. Well, there are many reasons why he didn’t say anything at first, but Echo decides to just shrug. “Was funnier.”

He hears chuckling on his left and he turns towards Crosshair.

“I knew there was a reason why I like you.”

Echo doesn’t have the time to say anything because Cross’ lips are on his. He smiles into the kiss, especially when he feels Hunter hugging his waist.

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

Yes, it did indeed.

Tag list: @maulusque​ @snap-p​ @menac-ika If you want to be added feel free to let me know! Just know that if you are a minor you’ll be tagged only for the sfw fics.

[one-more-offbeat-anthem]

Dean is starting to realize that having choices doesn’t always make things easy.

When he was a kid, he never had a choice--he had to follow along with what his dad wanted, getting revenge, like it would be a rescue mission for their family. Even when John Winchester was long gone, though, Dean still didn’t have a choice; he had to keep going, had to get whatever was out there before it got him. Save the world. Avert the apocalypse. Defeat God. Over and over and over again, Dean had to do these things, and when the puppet strings were finally cut, he thought he’d get peace.

In a way, he was right. His life’s a hell of a lot more peaceful than before--he hunts when he wants to, because he wants to, not because of some crazy sense of duty that used to make him work himself to the bone. He has a house, now--he’ll never regret the bunker, his first true home since a long-burned house in Lawrence, but it’s nice to wake up to sunshine and walk outside and have an honest-to-god deck. Then there’s the whole deal with Cas--Dean had told Jack once that love can get crazier than that, and apparently it can get crazy enough for Dean to journey to the literal void and haul Cas out by the lapels of his trench coat.

(That trench coat now hangs in their closet. It’s not used as often but if it’s a blustery day, Cas still puts it on. Dean likes that Cas has other clothes now, although the first time he saw him in just a t-shirt he was pretty sure he’d actually died and made it to heaven.)

But part of having a choice, part of having freedom, is realizing how fucked up some of the shit before that freedom was. 

Which is why Dean’s been going to therapy.

“I hate it,” he admitted to Cas one night in bed, when they were curled up together, after the fourth or fifth appointment. “It’s supposed to make me feel better, right? But I just feel like she flipped me inside out.”

He said that, but he still goes, because after the inside-out feeling comes some kind of weird clarity where Dean’ll randomly drop his knife while he’s cooking and get all teary-eyed for reasons that having nothing to do with the onions he’s caramelizing. 

And right now, Dean’s especially glad for the patient counseling of Veronica Matthews, Psy.D., because he can’t think. 

He’s at the grocery store, like he is practically every week (when you’re feeding two adults, one adult-sized toddler, and your brother and his girlfriend visit your house near-constantly, plus your sorta-daughter and her girlfriend regularly crash on the couch on the way to hunts, you go through a lot of food), so it’s not any different than normal. Dean’s got the list, carefully written in Cas’s cramped handwriting--milk, eggs, cereal, beer, pasta, it goes on and on. 

(Ice cream is written at the bottom in Jack’s messy scribble, too.)

And Dean’s been going through the store the same way he always does, aisle by aisle, carefully scanning the list that Cas has organized by type of food. He’s going to get some wine in addition to the beer, he thinks, even though it’s not on the list, because Sam secretly likes merlot better than a pale ale, even if he’ll never admit it. 

Then a family walks by, a mom and a dad and a little girl sitting in the basket holding a stuffed rabbit and a slightly older boy walking beside the cart, poking his sister, and Dean hears a snippet of their chatter. They’re planning a barbecue for the little girl’s birthday, apparently, inviting the extended family. It’s so fucking normal, a scene Dean’s seen played out in the grocery store dozens of times, little kids begging their dads for cupcakes or moms carefully choosing what kind of vegetables their kids will like, but it plunges him into cold water, and he freezes up, white-knuckling the grocery cart’s push handle. 

Dean’s not sure how long he stands there in front of the cans of peas, feet glued to the ground, but then he remembers Dr. Matthews’ advice. He takes a deep breath, counts to ten. Exhales. Does that again. 

He’s at the grocery store. He’s not a kid anymore, stealing food because his mom’s dead and his dad’s well on the way, half-drunk on sorrow and all the way drunk on booze. He has a family waiting for him--Cas. Jack. Sam--Sam is safe. Sam is happy. Sam’s not going to starve. Eileen. Claire. Kaia--the list is longer than he thought. 

He’s safe. 

Dean lets out a final breath and pushes the cart past the canned vegetables, on his way to decide what kind of ice cream Jack might like. Maybe birthday cake. Something colorful with way too much sugar. 

Dean is starting to realize that having choices means he��doesn’t have to do all of this alone.

[randolphbellmd]

this is about to get really fucking long but i can’t hold it in anymore and need to shout about it to an audience who absolutely will not listen.

the graduate program chair has been trying to hold “town hall” meetings at the end of every semester. setting aside the fact that this professor is the worst facilitator i have ever met and feels the need to respond to every comment with a defense (that, in most cases, is not necessary, especially at a town hall-style event), the whole premise is stupid because the grad students know that no matter what we have to say, nothing is going to change. grad school is always going to be isolating and awful, there are always going to be unclear expectations and a poor selection of classes, and we’re always going to be lower than undergrads in importance. we know this. we’re not idiots. 

anyway. after the last town hall he was like hey sam, how do you think that went? and i was like um... do you want me to be honest? apparently he did, so i was, and told him to do it virtually and anonymously (like we did in 2020) and that maybe he could send us some questions to respond to ahead of time so we could type out our answers (again, anonymously) rather than speaking on the spot in front of our peers. so he did! he was like alright yo we’re meeting online and we’ll be sending out a survey at the end of this week. 

flash forward to thursday morning at 7 am, where i get a survey that BEGINS with demographic questions. some of which were incorrect. my day started with an eye roll about how “transgender” is not a gender identity and how “prefer not to say” and “another option, not listed” are not synonyms. why a survey about a 30-person group needed demographics at the front of it should have been the first red flag. but alas, i kept clicking. 

the second page (the second. page.) jumped right into what mental health issues have you encountered during grad school? what symptoms do you suffer from? four questions straight out of the PHQ-9 that is administered at a DOCTORS OFFICE regarding depression and anxiety, which i’m pretty sure my employer can’t ask. i kept going but took screenshots of all of these, because at this point at 7:10 am i’m getting pretty fucking pissed. it’s invasive, it’s inappropriate, and it’s unnecessary, and the fact that it’s about to be associated with a meeting of my peers is even worse. the survey concluded with actual questions about the grad program and stuff like that but only after asking what my race was and how many days out of the last two weeks i’ve had little or no interest in activities. it also asked how do you deal with stress? and included options like exercise, tv/movies, pets, baking, weed/alcohol... and i had to click “other” to write that i go to therapy.

so, i take this thing, and then i tell my friend not to. i said listen, wait till the end of the day. don’t start your day with this. it’s just... it’s not good. it’s bad. wait till the end of the day. (she did, and clicked out of it once she got to the second page saying ‘there’s no way i’m telling you this’).

now, i’m a person who’s fine talking about mental health. especially in graduate school. and especially as someone who’s been in therapy for years. i’ve lost people to mental health struggles, and know people personally who are in our field (and in our department) that lost their struggle with depression. 

i’m fine normalizing talks about mental health, not about mental illness. so many of the ways that STEM grad programs talk about it is this rise and grind mentality and that if you aren’t suffering you aren’t doing it right, that you’re always going to be alone and you’ll never find your peers. that’s just not healthy. that’s not a good environment to live in. and it’s really not good to walk into an office and say “sup losers, i’m really fuckin anxious right now and haven’t slept in three weeks” and have everyone else be like “word”. a much more productive way to talk about it is to feel comfortable saying that, and then to have your labmates say, i’m really sorry you’re feeling like that, is there anything i can do to help? or “i remember that time in my research. do you want to get a drink later?” 

ANYWAY back to this dumbass fucking survey and this town hall that is now under 24 hours away. i was so astonished by this survey that i felt the need to find out where the information was going. i had just shared sensitive information with someone and wanted to know what it was going to be used for. i wanted to make sure that it wasn’t going to be be shared out with my peers as “hey, 100% of you reported depression symptoms.” and everyone to be like “lol i know right”. that’s damaging?? i get that you want to collect the data and have a baseline understanding of whether your student population is suffering but you can’t diagnose mental health conditions and you can’t force your students to tell you that they have been diagnosed!! 

so i called the professor who sent it and was like hey, listen, what are you doing with this... it’s really sensitive... i’m just wondering what the purpose was and where the data are going. which felt like fine questions. the one i held back was “hey dickhead who the fuck do you think you are asking questions like this and expecting honest answers when you didn’t tell us any of this was coming”. he answered my questions (poorly, see above about how he’s a poor facilitator and defensive) and i’m absolutely dreading monday because i know that he’s going to put up a slide that says “all of you are depressed and that makes me, as your professor, sad”. also because “all of you” is going to be like, 10 people, because if you send a survey to 30 graduate students, 15 are going to open it and only 10 are going to make it to the end.

i have a line drawn in the sand where if he crosses it by saying that suffering is a part of school or that it’s just covid or that you all should be talking about things like this to normalize it i’m going to have to jump in and be like listen, due respect, but you’re not equipped to talk to us about this. we’re not equipped to talk about this with you. mental health in graduate school is a thing and if you’re serious about handling it, bring in a professional. bring in a counselor. bring in a doctor. encourage each and every one of us to use our insurance benefits to seek out someone to talk to. but you sir, are not the one to do this. and i also always want to tell students that they need to stop treating grad school like an accepted suffering. the first thing i do when new grad students come is tell them to stop following #PhDLife on instagram and to stop comparing themselves to everyone immediately. 

i have so many words of wisdom and idiocy for new students and while i’m also not a fucking expert i’ve struggled with depression my entire life and i know that despite what you might think, sometimes the worst thing you can say to someone who’s opening up to you is “yep. me too.” and sometimes the best thing to say is, “hey, do you want to split some nachos. let’s get out of the lab. c’mon, it’s happy hour at this place within walking distance.” because that, my friends, is a lifeline. that’s the tether we’re all searching for. that’s someone who’s been there and who’s there now reaching out and saying “i know your project is nothing like mine and your experience in life is nothing like mine and that’s why grad school sucks a hundred times more than undergrad because there’s no such thing as ‘good enough’ when there’s no baseline but at least for the next forty minutes we can be two twenty-somethings in a neutral location and maybe share a plate of nachos.” and then maybe the next day is just a little bit easier. because the next day you know you’re not alone. and when it’s your second year and a new first year student comes along, you want to do the same for them. 

okay, i’m off my soapbox now. 

tl;dr: my professor asked a small sample size of students invasive, personal questions about mental health that are borderline illegal and i’m really scared about noon tomorrow when they’ll be shared out to the entire graduate class by someone trained as a microbiologist and not a mental helath professional and it’ll do ten times more damage than good. to a population that really can’t handle more damage than it’s already dealing with. 

[sharkfish]

love ‘em, can’t live without ‘em: early-career writers!

[masterpost of rec lists]

new content creators are the lifeblood of fandom, so here i present stories by folks who have five or less destiel fics published (...so far) as of december 2020!!! 

please give them some love!!! 

under the cut since it got long~ 

the burden of belonging by Newtondale @soft-klaus (8k)

Dean doesn't know where he's going, he just drives.

He meanders. Takes whatever road he wants without worrying about efficiency or speed. He watches the landscape change around him as he heads east, towards the sea. Sometimes he listens to music, and sometimes he doesn’t. Most of the time he just thinks, the way he has always thought best; with an open road ahead and horror close behind.

Cas always comes back to him. Cas has always come back. Whether it takes minutes, or weeks, or months - Cas comes back to him.

But Cas hasn’t come back. How much longer is supposed to wait? Minutes? Months? How long is he supposed to live like this, like there’s nothing else that matters except the space beside him where Cas should be?

So he just drives.

Dean Winchester’s 12-Step Guide to Inebriated Online Retail Therapy for Fallen Angels and Judgemental Brothers With Bad Hair (Suck It, Sammy) by justholdingstill @justholdingstill   (3k) 

Alternatively titled Dean Wayne: The Life & Legend

Dean gets drunk. Dean orders things online. Hilarity ensues.

Hang-Ups by anupalya @anupalya (2k)

A slip of the tongue while hanging up a zoom meeting with Castiel leaves Dean in a panic.

****

Jsksdjdjskal

I'm starting to think you're letting Blueberry walk over your keyboard again.

i'm moving to Thailand

?????

I have to

Dean

I have no choice

... so I take it the meeting went well?

dream root & fumbling through the darkness by visionsofyerface @omnishamblegreg (1.3k)

Dean takes dream root for some fun angsty wanderings into Cas’s head, and then actually goes to the Empty, but Cas doesn't believe it's really him.

How Long? by MinxyOne93 @substitutesalt93 (WIP - 37k)

Dean has been going on reckless hunts by himself. Cas confronts him and all those years of unresolved pining come to a boiling point.

_

"Dean. How long?" The angel said, still quiet but so raw with emotion, eyes still wide with shock.

Dean looked down at the floor and sighed. "Since... always. I knew it for sure in Purgatory. But always." He then added in a near whisper, tears threatening to spill from behind his now closed eyelids, "I'm sorry, Cas."

"Sorry? You're sorry?" Castiel felt dumbfounded. The constant loneliness and longing he had sensed from Dean that seemed to grow worse and worse with the passing of years made so much more sense now.

"Dean," was all Cas could say before releasing his grip on his collar and gently, slowly, deliberately, kissing the corner of his mouth. A shocked gasp left Dean’s mouth of its own accord and he melted into Castiel's tight embrace.

It's The Thought That Counts by oceaxe @oceaxe-ifdawn (3k)

It’s Dean’s birthday and while angels have no birthdays, Castiel has a) been around human cultures for long enough to be aware of the nearly universal customs of celebrating the anniversary of a loved one’s birth and b) has been living with humans for long enough that he’s been included in some of those celebrations. But the art of gift-giving continues to elude his comprehension.

Lucky Winner by natmoose @natmoose (32k)

Dean wins a trip to Paris. In and of itself, that’s an amazing thing, but the problem is: he isn’t in a relationship with Lisa anymore, and the trip requires a romantic partner. The obvious choice is Cas, his roommate and best friend of 3 years, but coming with that are some very very complicated feelings and things Dean absolutely doesn’t want to deal with.

But Dean isn’t selfish and also really wants to give his overworked best friend a well deserved holiday, so the only and best solution is to take Cas to Paris, romantic theme be damned. What Dean doesn’t know is that their whole trip will be documented by a photographer from the company - so to avoid their vacation being cut short, Dean and Cas will have to convincingly play a couple.

Once Upon a Falling Star by GrandestBlood @grumpy-mccat (WIP - 3k) 

Alternate outcome for season 5's Endverse where Castiel never lost his grace but he was tricked to retreat back to heaven with the other angels, leaving Dean behind in the refugee camp.

Prompt for this was: The world has ended 500 years ago. You finally went back to Earth and discovered a voice message. You learn a shocking secret about 500 years ago.

Sending A Message by ivebeenpossessedbysatan @ivebeenpossessedbysatan (WIP - 15k)

Castiel Novak didn't expect to be kidnapped. Sure, he'd seen it happen before, but that was all in movies. Just because his mother had married into money didn't mean that someone was actually going to kidnap him and try to ransom him for money.

Only apparently it did, because here he was, tied to a chair in the corner of the most cliché warehouse he'd ever seen.

Why was this is life?

so leave me // at the roadside by LinkInThePark @saminzat (3k)

”This was exactly what he had been trying to avoid. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone out on his own at all, but he was tired of sitting around in the bunker, where the walls seemed to close in on him and the halls were too empty at the same time. Where everything reminded him of what had happened, of the battles they had fought and the people they had lost.

Of the words left unsaid.”

Dean is taking the Impala on a ride, trying to escape everything that's happened... And, in the process, is finally forced to confront his grief. 15x19 coda.

Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones, but Words Might Get Me Laid by Mrs King of Hell (Slytherkins) @slytherkins (3k)

When Dean's name calling goes too far, Castiel decides to teach him a lesson in manners.

"Take a Sad Song and Make it Better" by Shishquah_CustardTree @shishquahcustardtree (WIP - 27k) 

After being bought and abused by Alistair for many years, Dean Winchester finally gets another chance at life and love by the means of a car crash and a bullet.

The One (1) Time Dean Winchester Tried Something New by archangelgabe @3dg310rdsupreme (2k)

What fun is a relationship that doesn't start with the gross misunderstanding that your crush is hitting on your kid brother?

The one where they get heaven-married by mercurialkitty @mercurialkitty (1.3k)

First a quick chat with Sam in the Impala, then it's off to find Cas.

A finale fix-it where Dean and Cas get heaven-married

There'll Be Peace When You Are Done by diaryofageekgirl @diaryofageekgirl  (5k) 

Somehow, in the middle of severing vamp necks in the dead of night in a run-down barn in Ohio, Dean had a revelation.

Or: nothing stays dead on Supernatural.

This is heaven by madbrilliant84 @madbrilliant84 (800)

“Come on dude! Don’t tell me you don’t know what your legs look like! I bet you could crush melons with those.”

Cas seemed incredibly amused by this. “And that’s something that turns you on?”

Dean smiled while biting is bottom lip. He slowly nodded. His playful tone dropped to something more heated.

“Uh huh. First thing I noticed when I saw you sitting on that bar stool.”

You're Not Alone by Wordsintothevoid @deancas-stan (15k)

Dean has an imaginary friend. Sure, that's weird as hell but he doesn't care. Cas has been there to support him during every horrible thing in Dean's short miserable life and he is not giving up Cas. Sure, Dean may also sorta kinda be in love with him. Oops. And it hurts but Dean will keep it platonic. But then Cas leaves. And then Dean breaks.

We’ll All Arrive in Heaven Alive by invisibledrugs @reasonsweweresinging (1k)

The Winchesters are finally dying, and for good.

But that's okay, because Dean knows what - and who - is waiting for him.

last but definitely not least, @uncastiel doesn’t have any fics yet but is taking prompts! 

[lee-scribbles-and-doodles]

S2 ep5

I'm so pumped!

Asdfff Sam landing on Max and Bosco landing on him

Mr Featherly just knowing they're in the afterlife... because he studied the classics

Aw, Sam actually wants to help Bosco

Oh, a Moleman!

"Serving the finest vegans"

Oh hey, Harry is here

"Aw, cute Max. A little goth moleman."

Harry is death now.

Sam just got cat-called by a moleman

"Ooohee look who can fill out a suit." "Why I never!"

Max is too small to climb the ladder properly so ge has to jump up the rungs 🥺

"You can't see over the wheel, Max." "Facist."

The Desoto died!?

Featherly laid an egg??? Trans featherly???

Max and Sybil are gossip buddies🥰

Ew Sybil and Ave are getting married. 🤢 (Honey date the monster or Superball)

"Cake at a wedding? Ooookay."

Oh, Monster is having a rough time

Aw, Max offered to be the priest at the ceremony 💕 (Sybil declined but still)

Lol, Max has the wrong idea of what a shotgun wedding is.

I can kind of understand Sybil's apprehension at allowing the boys to be part of the ceremony tbh

Ghost Mama Bosco!?

She still looking fine as an old lady tho

She's still after Bosco for wrecking her store (although she still doesn't realize it was her own son)

Aw, she actually wants to see more of Bosco

Flint is still looking for Bosco

Aw, we can give the Ai to Jimmy

Oh no, it woke Maimtron up!

Did we just kill Timmy???

Oh hey, Past Sam. I knew that one cutscene was going to come back.

They sure are making a lot of hell freezing over jokes

Oof the tourette jokes are back. REALLY hope they get swapped out with new jokes in the remaster

Max's big kick before jumping down the manhole

Max landed on Sam's head

The Soul Train is actually cool looking

Jurgen!?

He's being so petty. Why would the boys save him when killed them???

Hugh Bliss!

He's just... staring... with his head on backwards...

"That a list of swear words!" (Proceeds to say every one and gets censored each time)

Brady Culture too. Is everyone here?

"I'm in hell, and I'm happy."

"--But none of that matters because I finally found someone who believes in me: Satan."

Oh hey, the big door had Sam and Msx art on it

Oh, Demon Sam and Max statues

Sam the devourer and Max the destroyer

Bosco's hell is being naked in front of others?

Santa is in hell!

The Desoto is in hell :(

Grandpa Stinky!

Aw, Sam wants to save them all

Sybil still does therapy?

Lol, we can make Bosco scare himself.

"See you around naked Bosco." "I don't think I'll ever stop seeing you." "Save me!"

Imma just take the laughing gas

Santa hates kids haha

Max is allergic to dogs?

The Desoto only goes like 6 mph and only honks :(

"I hope when we die, they put our hells close to each other." "It'll be like a sleepover that never ends!"

Boy it took me a bit to figure out the Santa and Elf puzzel

Let's move on to Stinky

So are Girl Stinky and Grandpa Stinky not related?

I got a book. I think that's all we can do for now until we get Timmy.

Satan won't even give the boys the time of day

Harry is looming over Timmy.

Have to distract him. I guess it's time to put the monster out if his misery.

I feel so bad 😥

Oh, poor Timmy

Welp, back to Stinky's hell

Sam using the karaoke machine 😳

Ok, saved Stinky's soul from internal damnation

Omg it took me way too long to figure out what to do with the laughing gas.

"Vamoose!" *fire's gun*

At least Basco and the Desoto are free

Satan just tricked Sam into trading his soul ��

Max's ears drooping when he realizes Sam is gone 😭

Noooo! Not Peepers!

Sam's personal hell is a life without Max 👀

Sam's sad walk 😔

Leonard is in a hell closet

"Peepers said he was my partner." "What!? Nobody steals my sidekick!" "I always thought you were the sidekick." "Heh, sure Sam."

"Max, meet demon Peepers." "Oh, hi!" "Demon Peepers says he's my partner and best friend." *Max proceeds to kill demon Peepers*

Omg the Soda Poppers are Satan's bosses!?

Omg do I get to kill them now? Pls let me kill them!

They beat Brady to death!?

They've been planing their rise sins s1 ep1???

They're after the boys because of one bad birthday? What crybaby!

They're firing Satan!

Flint, Bosco, and Mama Bosco cutscene us everything.

Mama Bosco is gone :(

"I did wipe your windshield for you." "Oh, I er, must have left my change in my other suit! Max?" "I'm naked."

Satan's proud of the boys haha

The stripper is the monster

All the men are into it. They're all gay, bi, or pan now you can't change my mind.

Bosco likes to be nude apparently

Mr Featherly doesn't have his vest on!

Abe, you really aren't winning me over

Oh, Timmy is a Poppers fan. Poor child has no taste.

Let's steal Satan's stufg

Let's mess with Hugh

"I hope I won't have to bend over provokedly to--" "That's enough, Max."

Oh wait, I didn't check on Sybil

Ew, Peepers is seducing Sybil.

"I hate to say, but Peepers is kind of sexy." "Ha, if you're into short guys with annoying voices!" 👀👀👀 Max, you just described yourself

Dick Peacock!?

Yay, we saved Sybil!

Whizzer is trying to make Girl Stinky eat the forbidden fruit

Grandpa Stinky is alive!

Awe, the Stinky's are a surrogate family

Culinary dark arts

Oh, that's what the baby book is for.

She's a cake!!!

Aw, Grandpa is upset he turned her into a cake

Oh, I think we were suppose to do the Stinky puzzel before the Sybil one.

Specs is trying to win the C.O.P.S. souls?

Ok, figured out how to save Chippy

Hell yeah, Chippy rocks!

Specs didn't give him the golden fiddle! What a rip!

Ok, time to help the Stinky's! Let's get the boys drunk!!!

Poor Monster 😞

Drunk Abe is showing remorse

Yay! Girl Stinky is back!

Of course we can't just give hell back. Poppers gotta make it difficult

Welp, down into the pits or he'll we go.

Oh hey, the sleigh. Yay for tome travel

We made hell freeze over!

Sam letting Max pick up the phone because they froze he'll over 🥺

Sybil decided to let Max officiate ❤

Oh! I see what we have to do

The Miriachi!

By Popper fucks!

To the wedding!

Still wish she were with Superball

Aw, Sybil looks good in her dress

"Hundred bucks say they don't last three months." Thanks Flint

Max stole the flowers 👀👀👀 Him and Sam gonna get married. That's the only option

Leonard!

Aw, the boys let Abe and Sybil take the car ❤

[firstdegreefangirl]

OK, I have no idea what happened to it ((my guess is that the blue hellsite decided it was snacktime and ate the thing)), but ages ago, @kitkat0723 sent me an ask prompting the following: 

May I pleaseeeeee request #11 back hugs and #15 The biggest warmest hugs 

This is my fill for that, in this text post, because Tumblr disappeared the ask when I tried to save it in my drafts. Who knows? Anyway, it got much longer than intended, but I'm chalking that up to that it's technically two prompts, one fic. Heads up, there’s some frustratedDad!Eddie in here. Everything is all good by the end, and it’s nothing too severe, but if that’s not your kinda thing, no hard feelings. Other than that, enjoy!

Eddie’s staring at his hands, wrapped so tightly around the edge of the kitchen counter that he can see his knuckles turning white. His back is strained, muscles pulled taut against the effort it takes to support his head right now. When he flexes his fingers, it’s like he can feel the bones scraping together, hear the grinding echoing in his head.

It’s like a garbage disposal, sucking his thoughts down into its spinning blades. Except that the thoughts don’t go anywhere, and he’s still stuck thinking them.

He’s the worst dad in the world, and his kid doesn’t even have a mom to go running toward.

He can’t believe himself, yelling at Chris, sending him to his room without dessert just because he copped an attitude about his math homework.

(Actually, he did that because Chris kept rolling his eyes and calling his teacher a ‘stupid jerkface.’ Eddie met her at conferences; he might not be wrong, but that doesn’t mean it’s OK to say it out loud. Especially when Eddie told him more than once to stop.)

But it’s been a long day, for both of them. Eddie’s coming fresh off of an 18-hour shift, and apparently Chris had a pop quiz in social studies he wasn’t prepared for. So tensions were already running high before Buck cleared the pizza boxes away, turning the kitchen table into a makeshift classroom. (And honestly, what would any of them do without Buck, swooping in with delivery dinner to take at least one thing off of Eddie’s to-do list?)

Then Eddie had spent 45 minutes trying to remember how to divide fractions. Every time he’d tried to suggest something – anything at all, from “let’s look in your textbook” to “I think you flip one of them upside down – he'd been met with a long-suffering sigh and an eye-roll that would make Anderson Cooper proud.

“Why do I have to do this anyway? Math is stupid, and my teacher is stupid, and I’m stupid, and all of it’s stupid!” Chris would shout, or some variation thereof.

And eventually, Eddie had had enough. Enough of trying to rationalize through it. Enough of Buck looking at him helplessly and shrugging his shoulders because he’s no more useful with fractions than Eddie is. Enough of Chris’ high-pitched whine, the way he flopped back in his chair and groaned. Enough reminding him to use his words, that he’s a smart kid, that they’ll get through this together.

Enough of all of it.

“Fine, you don’t want to do your homework? That’s fine!” Eddie had shouted, pushing his chair back from the table with enough force to wobble it onto two legs. “But if you’re not going to work on this, then you can go put your pajamas on and brush your teeth. No TV and no ice cream until your worksheets are done, I don’t care how long it’s going to take. I’m not doing this with you all night, go to your room!”

Chris had stared at him, eyes wide and mouth agape in shock, before thinking better of it and running off. The sound of his crutches echoing was enough to shake Eddie from his stupor, but when he’d looked at Buck, who was already looking back, concern etched across his face, he’d snapped again.

“I can’t sit there all night and watch him stare at a piece of paper. I don’t want to hear it from you either, OK? Just …” Buck’s eyebrows had pushed closer together, and the anger bled out of Eddie again. His voice cracked as he continued. “Just give me a minute, OK? Please?”

Then he’d pushed past Buck to go stare out the kitchen window, before he could say anything else to hurt someone he loves.

Which brought him to now, clinging to the countertop like the world might swallow him whole if he lets go. Honestly, he’d probably deserve it, for raising his voice at his son and at his boyfriend, all in one breath.

He exhales shakily, screwing his eyes shut against the tears that are threatening to burn hot, salty tracks down his face.

He’s the worst dad in the world, and he sent his kid to his room, and Buck probably left too, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

But he can’t give in to the anger, can’t let it take over the definition of his day. He remembers Frank saying something about that, how it’s maybe not a bad day, just a bad moment that he’s milking all day. And he doesn’t want to do that, especially not where Chris is involved. So he takes another deep breath, and a few more after that.

He’s still breathing slowly, counting every second of air in and out of his lungs, when he feels a heavy, sold weight drape across his back.

He relaxes into the contact, knows who it is before Buck can even slide his arms around Eddie’s waist. Buck holds him tightly, crouches down far enough to bury his face in Eddie’s neck, waits patiently for their breathing to even out until they’re sharing the same rhythm.

Buck stands there, holding him tightly and long enough that Eddie doesn't feel like the world is going to beat him anymore. He holds Eddie until he feels strong enough to let go of the counter with one hand and wrap his fingers around Buck’s where they’re pressing into his stomach. His wrist won’t turn far enough to tangle their fingers together, but Buck lets Eddie hold onto his hand, squeezes back as best as he can when Eddie tightens his grip.

And after a long moment, when Eddie finally turns himself around in Buck’s arms, Buck is still there. He’s there for Eddie to cling to, adjusts his grasp so Eddie can get his hands high enough to wrap around Buck’s shoulders and fist in the back of his T-shirt. He’s there for Eddie to bury his face against Buck’s chest and let out one last long, shuddery sigh.

And he’s there when Eddie leans back, just far enough to see Buck’s face when he opens his mouth.

“Buck, I--”

“It's alright, I know, you’ve had a long day. No hard--” Eddie cuts him off, before he can supply the word “feelings.”

“It’s not. It’s not alright. I overreacted, and I lashed out, and I’m sorry.” Eddie sighs and leans his forehead back against Buck’s shoulder. “I shouldn’t have … I was out of line. You didn’t deserve that. You haven’t done anything tonight but try to help – and you have helped. I don’t know how I’d have gotten through tonight without you. Even if I screwed up royally.”

“You didn’t ‘screw up royally.’” Buck runs his hand up and down Eddie’s back, a hundred times more gentle than he deserves tonight. “You got frustrated, you snapped a little bit, but you backed off before you went too far. Eddie, babe, it happens. Trust me, from having parents who did screw up in a million different ways, I seriously doubt Chris is going to be talking about this in therapy in 20 years.”

“Oh god, Chris.” Eddie rears back again, dropping his hands to Buck’s sides, but not letting go of him. “I … I yelled at him and took away his dessert. Over math homework.”

“Over his attitude toward math homework.” But Buck’s words fall on deaf ears.

“He called himself stupid, and I yelled at him.”

“Eddie, hey.” Buck squeezes Eddie’s bicep gently until he can bring himself to make eye contact. “He’s doing good. I went back and talked with him, helped him get ready for bed. No progress on the math homework, but he’s jammied, and his teeth are brushed, and last I looked, he was working on the latest Captain Underpants book. He was a little worried that you were upset with him, but we talked, and he knows you had a long day, and he was being difficult and --”

“He’s not a difficult kid.” He’s not, truly, and Eddie had long ago promised himself that he’d never make Chris feel like he is.

“Maybe not, but even good kids have their moments. He knows that it’s not his fault, and that we both still love him very much. And you know what?” Eddie hums, but doesn’t say anything. “He asked me to come see if you were OK. ‘Dad must have had a really bad day,’ he said. ‘I think he might need some help with it, but I should stay in here, so I don’t get in trouble again.’”

Eddie sniffles, tears in his eyes for an entirely new reason now. Even after all of the mistakes he’s made – not just tonight, but especially now – he's still got such a sweet kid, with so much empathy, and the biggest heart of anyone he’s ever met. How many 11-year-olds would get yelled at and immediately want to make sure their dads are OK?

He doesn’t know for sure, but he’s willing to be that the number isn’t large.

“I should go talk to him,” Eddie sighs, finally stepping back far enough that he has to let go of Buck.

“I think he’d like that. Want some support?”

Eddie thinks for a moment, then nods. He doesn't know how he’d have gotten through this much of tonight without Buck, and he really doesn’t want to do the next part by himself either. He leads the way down the hall, but Buck catches his hand along the way. This time, their fingers fit together perfectly.

He stops at the doorway to Chris’ room, takes a second to look at his son, lying on top of the covers with his knees bent up to balance his book. He’s completely oblivious to the audience until Eddie knocks gently on the doorframe.

“Hey, Chris,” he starts, then realizes he doesn’t know where the sentence was meant to be going.

“Dad!” Chris sits up and grins. He grins, and Eddie’s heart swells. “Buck said you had a bad day. Do you need a hug?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, stepping forward until he can sit on the edge of the mattress. “Yeah, I think I do.”

The next thing he knows, Chris is all but launching himself at Eddie’s lap. He flings his arms around his dad’s neck and holds on tight. By the time he’s done squirming, he’s situated himself on top of Eddie’s thighs, chin tucked underneath his head.

He’s almost too big to be held like this, but it doesn’t matter to either of them as Eddie hugs him right back. One hand lands on Chris’ head, ruffles through the thick curls for a moment before gently tugging him back by the shoulder.

“Hey, you know how I always talk about setting a good example for the people around you?” Chris nods hesitantly, like he’s not sure where the conversation is going. But Eddie does, and he knows that everything is going to be OK. He takes a deep breath and continues.

“Well, I need to do that too. And tonight, that means that I owe you an apology.”

[irrlicht-writes]

the path we choose to walk on pt.4

So this is it. Part 4, everyone. The last part! We made it to the end! Wooo! (now I have to focus on my bang again) Thank you for being with me. I hope you enjoyed the ride. Tell me what you thought! Tell me what you liked! Tell me what you hated! (be nice though) @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @cass-said-i-love-you @professorerudite @insertdeeplyrics anyone else want on the tag list?

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Ao3

Part 4: let the good times roll

Sam and Eileen gift a painting set to Castiel one day. Dean isn’t sure why but they say it’s because he saved their baby. Later Cas admits to Dean that he barely remembers what happened.

As it turns out, Castiel sees the world vastly different than Dean. Dean’s no art critic, nor could he detect a masterpiece in the making but to him, Cas’ pieces feel alive. There is a certain aspect to them.

Castiel paints mostly with his fingers and the faces of the people are wonky at best but still, they stare right into Dean’s heart.

“They are dead,” Cas says, “but with this, they’re alive. There was a world people cannot understand today. You have changed so much in so little time and yet it remains – you will always look at the world with wonder in your eyes.”

 Charlie helps them sell Cas’ art online. They sell somewhat well and Dean thinks that Cas is happy that he gets to help. Cas had said that he would’ve like to take a real job, but Dean shut him down very quickly.

Nobody would want to hire Cas – first, Cas didn’t even properly exist. And second; there would be too many days where Cas would have to stay at home. Any employer would only allow so many sick days and Dean is afraid of sending Cas to a therapist.

Even though he knows that they all probably need one, how would you even start explaining?

“Yeah, roughly 15 years ago I set off with my brother to find our dad and now our son turned into God. Oh and also we picked up this literal angel as our best friend and all of us – our son concluded who by the way was fathered by Lucifer – have died several times and then we just kind of went going.”

Yeah. No.

Not to mention all the additional bullshit Castiel would have to unpack. Dean’s been in a mental constitution once; he doesn’t really have to go there again. And he certainly doesn’t want Cas to go there – also, again.

The bees are still on Dean’s mind. He doesn’t need a repeat of that.

And anyway, the paintings are selling. And in time, they might even be able to ask for more money. Dean doesn’t really hold out hope but who knows?

 Two years after Maria is born, Sam and Eileen get married. Dean knows that they’ve been discussing marriage for a long time and have never been able to decide whether it was for them or not. But then Eileen proposed and here they are.

“She asked me to accompany her with the ring shopping. I think she just wanted to use me for my fingers,” Cas says to Dean and Dean smirks.

“Do you think Jack’ll show up?”

“I don’t know. I’ve told him; and I’m sure he knows but whether or not he’ll actually show up... it would be good to see him again. But even if he can’t make it here, he’ll be watching over these two.”

They are about to begin the ceremony and Dean’s excited to be the Best Man. He’s never thought he’d get to be that for real so it feels like a dream. Maria’s supposed to be the Flower Girl but she hasn’t shown up yet.

“Cas,” Charlie rushes over to them. Cas blinks up at her, tilting his head.

“Maria doesn’t want to walk, she’s embarrassed. Do you think you can help her out?”

Maria has gotten overly attached to Cas in these past two years and Dean believes it’s just infatuation. After all, who could look into these big blue eyes and not fall for them? Dean, however, is a little bit upset over the fact that she likes Cas better than him. But he’ll just wait until Maria will appreciate cars. And that’s when Dean will win.

“Of course,” Cas replies, “come on, Miracle.”

Miracle has essentially become Castiel’s therapy dog. She follows him everywhere and makes sure he eats and drinks enough. She loves Cas to pieces and anyone who even looks at the angel wrong gets growled at.

Dean watches them walk away and gets his phone out. He knows that there is a photographer here that films things but he wants that piece for himself. And he has to go up there anyway, so he might just go now anyway.

It takes five more minutes before Cas was apparently able to convince Maria to come out – and even then, she’s getting carried. She’s holding the flower basket close to her chest and Cas encourages her to throw the petals down. Dean’s heart melts at the sight of them.

Cas stops next to the pew where Claire and Kaia are sitting and basically tells Maria to throw flowers on them. Claire laughs and playfully shoves Cas away from them. Jody and Donna are also getting petals thrown in their face. Everybody is smiling and Dean’s happy that he’s filming this.

Maria is giggling and throwing petals all over the place. “She was so stiff before,” Charlie whispers in his direction.

“She wasn’t even looking at me and now look at that. How is Cas’ gayness softer than mine?”

“You’re just intimidating.”

“Cas is an angel!”

 Eileen is beautiful when she walks down the aisle. Sam next to him exhales and has the biggest smile on his stupid face.

“Mama so pretty!” Maria proclaims loudly while clapping her hands.

“Yes, she is,” Cas replies a little quieter. He has her sitting on his lap and he has a flower in his hair. Apparently Maria was supposed to give that to her mom but she had decided that it was for Cas, so now he was wearing the flower. It does fit him, Dean thinks.

The ceremony itself goes over without a hitch even though Sam almost breaks down crying twice. Dean was expecting more, if he’s honest. Maybe Sammy practised with Cas – apparently Cas is the solution to every problem.

Later, at the party, Dean holds an embarrassing speech about Sam and after, Sam dunks his head into a pie. This is fair, because Dean definitely deserves that. It’s all good, though. Cas laughs and wipes Dean’s face clean and Maria – still in Cas’ lap – giggles like it’s Christmas.

Dean dances with Eileen and Sam dances with Cas and Maria. Charlie’s taking pictures and Dean loves it. Cas can’t dance for very long and he leans heavily onto Sam but he tries his best for Sam and Maria both.

Dean loves him.

And someday, he’ll man up enough to actually say these words. He just needs a little bit longer. And Cas is here to stay. Dean’ll work up the courage he needs and then it’ll be alright.

 Charlie is dancing with Maria and Eileen is sitting next to Cas. She’s taken her shoes off and is likely complaining to the angel that her feet hurt. Cas is holding the wedding bouquet now and Dean knows that Eileen will insist he keep it.

“I wish she would’ve thrown it,” Claire says and Dean wiggles his eyebrows.

“You were hoping to catch it, weren’t you?”

“Shut up.”

 At the end, Jack didn’t show. The party had ended a while ago, but Dean and Castiel are still sitting on a bench outside. It’s a nice night, and Dean doesn’t want to drive home yet. There are no clouds in the sky and the stars are shining bright. Dean reckons that that’s Jack’s doing. He still wishes he would’ve shown his face.

“Don’t be mad at him,” Castiel says while leaning on Dean’s shoulder. “You know he doesn’t do that well with a lot of people.”

Yes. That is true but still – he hadn’t even come to congratulate Sam? He also still hadn’t come to meet Maria yet. Dean wonders what work a God has to do. Didn’t Jack say he wanted to be hands off?

“Don’t you miss him?” Dean asks.

“Every day,” Castiel replies.

Castiel raises a hand towards the sky and Dean sees a shooting star. But the star stops after it passes Cas’ hand.

Castiel retracts his hand and there’s a golden orb floating above his palm.

“What’s that?”

It glows brightly and it’s almost too much for Dean to look at. It compels him in the same way it tells him to stay away from it. Where did it come from? Why is it here? What’s it going to do?

“Divinity,” Castiel quietly replies and closes his hand, making the orb disappear.

 *

 “Dean, really?”

Dean sighs. He knew it was a mistake to talk to Sam about this. But he knows that Charlie would’ve squealed in his ear and honestly, Claire is still a bit too young for this to talk about it. And yeah sure, Eileen would’ve been an option but even after all this time, Dean still hasn’t improved on his signing skills.

“I know it’s stupid.”

“I didn’t say that. But have you even choked up an I love you?”

Dean is quiet.

“Oh my god, I knew it. Dean, you can’t just propose like that!”

“...shut up.”

He pockets the box inside his jacket. He doesn’t want to propose right now anyway. It’s more like a promise to himself, that one day he might be worthy of this. If – when he’ll find the words one day, he’ll be good enough for Cas. He can be.

He will be.

For Cas, the best thing that ever happened to him.

For Cas, who still thinks he’s barely tolerated.

For Cas, who sees the world as more than it is.

For Cas, who loves so much and has never been loved in return.

 Their first kiss doesn’t quite happen as Dean would’ve imagined it – not that he had ever been imagining it in the first place.

Cas is watching Dancing With The Stars and he’s really fascinated. Apparently, he’s never danced before. Dean’s never told him about Garth and Bess dancing in front of the window. He wonders how they’re doing now. Maybe they’re dancing right at this moment, while Sam and Castiel are finally asleep?

“Dean, please?” Castiel’s blue eyes are pleading and Dean has a hard time saying no. Cas always asks for so little and Dean’s always liked dancing when he got a chance to do it – which sadly is not often. So he sighs and stands up from the couch, offering his hand up to Cas.

“Might I have this dance, milady?”

Cas blinks at him in question, and then looks at the outstretched hand. At last, there’s a smile stealing itself across Castiel’s face and he gently takes Dean’s hand and hauls himself up.

“Of course, my lord.”

Dean chuckles and pulls Cas flush against him. It’s been a while since they were this close together without one of them on literal death’s door. Cas is alive and warm under his hands and Dean starts swaying. He’s never danced a real dance, much less so with another man. But it’s not like Cas could dance at all, so it’s okay. And besides – it’s not about the skill, it’s about the experience. And Cas –

Cas is laughing. It’s a happy laugh and he enjoys himself. It’s truly a sight to see. It’s rare to see Cas so relaxed and Dean feels more than privileged to witness this much less be the cause of it. Dean swirls Cas on the spot and as the swirl ends, Cas stumbles forward against Dean’s chest. Dean holds him tight and it’s a good feeling.

Cas’ hair is brushing against Dean’s chin and he feels calm. He gently puts one hand on Castiel’s cheek and Cas nuzzles into it. Castiel’s hand is loosely laying on Dean’s chest and the volume of the TV playing in the background is already fading away.

Dean’s in love.

He’s in love with Castiel.

He gently directs Castiel’s face upwards and looks at the big, blue, blinking eyes.

He doesn’t understand how he got to be so lucky.

Dean bends down, just a little, and ever so gently presses his lips against Castiel’s mouth.

It’s a quiet kiss, one that doesn’t require anything.

“Dean,” is all that Cas says afterwards but Dean quietly hushes him.

“Shh,” he replies and kisses him again.

It’s easier than anything else he’s ever done.

He doesn’t remember why he was ever afraid of this.

This, right here, is where he’s meant to be.

With the TV running in the background, in his shitty apartment, in worn-out clothes, with a dog sleeping in her bed, kissing Castiel.

Sometimes things are just easy.

Dean holds Castiel tight and thankfully, Castiel doesn’t speak.

It’s the most comforting silence and Dean cherishes it.

He’s in love.

 *

 It’s a soft thing, after. Nothing changes and yet, so much is different.

He kisses Cas in the morning before he goes to work; in the afternoon when he returns; when they make dinner; when they watch TV.

It’s the easiest thing in the world.

And yet, Dean knows that Cas wonders.

I know you don’t love me.

But Dean does. He just can’t say it. If he did, then – then what would John say? Dad would judge him for this. Dad would call him a girl; and a fairy; and tell Dean that Dad hadn’t raised a gay son.

 He’s still thinking about this in bed. Next to him, Cas is fast asleep, holding onto Dean’s arm. Miracle is snoring in her own doggy bed.

“I love Cas,” Dean says toneless into the dark room and is instantly overcome by anxiety. Somehow, even after all these years, he expects John to bust through the door and expose him and nail him to the cross or something.

He turns to his side and looks at Cas. The angel looks so relaxed in his sleep and Dean gently pats his hair. Cas mumbles a bit and burrows closer to Dean as if to seek warmth. Dean puts his free arm around him and pulls him as close as possible, tucking the angel under his chin.

He doesn’t know what to do. Cas deserves to be told. But whenever Dean thinks it might be the right time for it – then there’s John standing in the distance, observing and judging him. Dean knows he just has to do it, that he just has to push through. Dad is dead and nothing can happen anymore. But this fear is far too ingrained inside his brain. Maybe writing a letter would help? But somehow it doesn’t feel like enough.

Dean needs to say it.

He has to say it.

But he can’t.

He can’t.

For all his bravery, for all his courage – he can’t.

 “A bird learns to fly when it falls.”

Cas is not in bed when Dean wakes up.

“Water will whittle away the mountain.”

Cas is nowhere to be found inside the apartment. Miracle is quiet.

“A flower will break through the concrete.”

Dean panics. In his panic, he runs outside.

“Long after its death, a star will remain in the sky.”

 Outside it’s foggy.

But there is Cas.

Cas is standing outside, barefooted, and Dean is rooted to the spot.

There are golden orbs floating around Castiel.

Divinity, Cas had called them.

“Cas,” Dean breathes and the angel turns around.

“Hello, Dean.”

 “What are those?”

“I’ve told you. Divinity.”

“Yes, I know, but what are they?”

“A burden shared is a burden lifted. Ever since I woke all the way back before time existed, a great many stars have died. And still, some remain in the sky. Did you never wonder where they go?

Their physical form shall burn from velocity, but what about the stars? What about them? Who catches them? Where do they go? Shall they forever be lost in space?

I was lost too, you know. I was lost ever since the start. Sometimes I think I remember. Sometimes I think I remember an all consuming light in the dark. Sometimes I think I remember the beginning before it ever began. Sometimes I think I remember the void, the naught.

And then, just as quickly, I lose it again.

Why did Father abandon us?

Why did He create so many of us, if none of us mattered?

Come with us, the stars whispered to me, we have no answers but mayhap we shall find them.

Why did the stars exist, if only to die? I didn’t want them to be lost and so I collected them. I found them in the void and I took them with me for I thought I might find a purpose within them. And in time, they started finding me. I became their haven, their destination.

But still, I was lost. Each time a star would find me, I think I can see the light in the void again, the end after the end. But soon these memories are gone, too, and I can only hold on to scraps. And I wonder.

What if I don’t remember at all? What if what I see are just fragments from the stars, showing me what they saw in their last moments?

Dean, you must know: time is not linear. What happens before will happen after. The end happens before the start and sometimes the beginning happens in the middle. This time, this life is just one stream amongst them all.

Some stars tell me of the end; and others tell me of the start. Maybe some tell me of the middle. And maybe some tell me of all, and all I get is the light in the void at the start.

I’ve wondered.

Why am I broken?

Why am I, of all the angels, the only one that’s cracked?

What went wrong?

Why was it only ever me? Why wasn’t perfect like the others? Why weren’t others cracked as I was?

Why was I the only one that’s ever looked to the stars and collected them?

What if Father never made me?

What if – what if I was created by something else?

And if so, what was it? And why? And why did Father allow me to continue existing? Did He perhaps just not notice? Did He perhaps just not care? Did He perhaps just think me merely another insignificant angel that He needn’t pay attention to?

What broke the connection?

Why am I the only angel to love you?

Was I whole before, perhaps, but if that was so – what shattered me? What put me back together? Where did the missing pieces go?

The light I remember in the naught – what is it? Where does it come from? Why does it matter at all, why do I care if it lights up the void or not?

Why do I cling to a light that does not matter?

I –

I’m lost, Dean.

Amidst the stars, I am lost.

From here on out, where do I go?”

 Dean reaches out.

Castiel is standing there all alone, surrounded by what remains of the stars – surrounded by divinity.

He takes Castiel’s hand.

“Go with me,” he says.

“I love you,” he says.

Amidst the stars, Castiel smiles.

Dean thinks he can see the light that Castiel spoke about.

It’s a soft, shining light and it’s free.

 *

 “I don’t know if I can.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a big thing, Cas, you know? What if I fail?”

“Then we’ll fail together.”

 Dean buys a corner lot. It’s very expensive. But he has a dream. He doesn’t want to work construction forever. He deserves to be happy. And Cas is here. Cas is here, and Sam is here, and Eileen is here – and everyone is here.

He’s not alone and he can rely on all these people. They want to help him; they want him to be happy. He can do this. For the first time in his life, he can do something solely for himself.

For the first time in his life, he doesn’t have to depend only on himself.

 *

 Sam hoists Maria out of the car seat. He wants to go and help Eileen out of the car but if he did, she’d kick him in the shin.

“Are there no balloons?” Maria wants to know. Sam looks up. True, there are no balloons outside.

“I’m sure Uncle Dean’s got some inside, sweetheart.”

Maria grins from ear to ear and hugs her monkey toy harder. Cas had given it to her just a few years ago. It hadn’t even been her birthday; he had just wanted to give something to his niece. Sam is glad that they get along so well. But sometimes he debates: should they tell her that Cas is an angel? It’s not a problem right now, but he and Dean and Eileen will start aging one day while Cas will not.

But, ah well, it might be best to cross that bridge when they’d get there.

“Hunter’s Rest is a nice name,” Eileen says when she finally steps next to Sam. Sam just nods. It’s true. Sam had kept suggesting Roadhouse, in Ellen’s and Ash’s and Jo’s legacy but Dean had always refused. Dean hadn’t wanted to be a copy-cat of what they’ve been.

Dean wants something that’s his own.

And Sam couldn’t be happier for him.

It was a long road, getting here, and even now he could scarcely believe it.

But the Hunter’s Rest is officially opening today.

He smiles at Eileen, takes both his girl’s hands and enters Dean’s bar.

 “Uncle Dean!”

Maria yells as soon as she spots her uncle and throws herself at his middle from across the room. Dean laughs and catches her. He lifts her up and holds her on his hip.

“How’s my favourite tornado?”

She giggles and hugs him tight.

“Where’s Uncle Cas?”

“He’s still in the back, sweetheart. Be nice to him today, okay? It’s not a good day. But I know he’ll be happy to see you, so why don’t you go say hello?”

Maria nods with a solemn expression on her face. She knows about Uncle Cas’ bad days. She shouldn’t be too loud on these and she has to understand that he might not want to play as much with her. She loves Uncle Cas. She wouldn’t tell this to anyone because she knows Uncle Dean would be upset, but Uncle Cas is her favourite. There’s a glow about him that she can’t explain to anyone, but it draws her to him.

Uncle Dean puts her on the ground and she goes to find Uncle Cas. When she finds him, he smiles at her. He looks tired and sick, but he glows so brightly today.

“Hello, Maria,” he greets her.

She steps closer and climbs into his lap.

“I love you,” she says and Uncle Cas hugs her tight.

 “Looks good, Dean,” Sam says to Dean in the meantime. Dean grins and pulls his brother close. He nods at Eileen who waves back.

“How are we coming along?” he asks her and she rubs her stomach.

“Good,” she replies, “the doctor says it’s two.”

“Two, huh? Man, Sammy, you dog!”

Sam laughs and Dean slaps him on the shoulder.

“Maria was really hoping for some balloons,” Sam says and Dean shrugs.

“I have some in the back, but I don’t know if I should hang them up. It’s gonna be a few hours still until official opening, you know?”

“Are Charlie and Stevie coming?”

“Yeah, Charlie’s gonna help me set up the music. The others are coming too, but Donna can’t make it. Some important thing came up but she’s gonna drop by in the coming days.”

Sam nods.

“There should be balloons,” Eileen pipes up and Dean sighs deeply.

“Fine,” he says then, “but y’all are helping me with that. I ain’t the only one blowing these things up.”

“I overheard,” Cas says as he’s rolling out of the back in his wheelchair. On his lap, there are Maria and a big load of balloons.

Dean sighs. “Why am I being set up?”

Castiel smiles at Dean. “Because balloons make everything better. We should’ve gotten glitter, too, you know? We’ll help, Dean.”

 “Bad day, huh?” Sam asks him while they are placing the balloons. Dean nods.

“Last couple days actually. Yesterday was the worst; he wouldn’t even get out of bed. The day before that, he spent almost all day puking into the toilet. But he’s getting better now, I think. It’s just – I know that he’s sick. I know that these days happen and that they’ll happen again, it just – it just fucking scares me, y’know? Knowing that there’s nothing I can do, no spell to find to cure him or anything – it just makes me feel so helpless.”

Sam puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Dean, you’re doing great. What you’re going through – what you both are going through – is extremely stressful. I can’t even imagine. I can’t imagine all the hurdles you had to go through to get here. How scary it has to be to wake at night and see Cas being sick again. I’m proud of you, Dean. I really am. You’re holding it together so well and if – if you ever have to break, I’m here for you. We’re all here for you. You’re not alone. You’re never alone, Dean.”

Dean huffs out a laugh and turns to hug his brother.

It’s true.

Their lone journey is over.

They started with just the two of them.

But they’re never going to be alone again.

 *

 “I love you,” Dean whispers into dark hair.

“I don’t know when I fell in love. I don’t know when I realised. But I love you. I love all of you.

We’ve endured a great many things, you and I. We fell and rose together, we burned and crashed together. And in all this time, you weren’t even supposed to be there. But you were. You fought and clawed your way back to me every single time, and I’ve never even said thank you. I never once appreciated all the pain and misery you had to endure just to get back to me.

No matter what, you were there. You were there for me and Sam when nobody else was. You stayed by your side since the very beginning and you overturned everything you believed in because you started to believe in me. You had faith in me, the man without faith. And through you – you became my faith. I believed in nothing, I had faith in nothing – except you. I had faith in you. When you were gone, so was my faith gone. And when you returned, you brought it back with you.

When we met, you told me that good things do happen.

For so long, I didn’t believe you. But you were right. And know what? That good thing that would happen to me was right in front of me. And we didn’t know. Neither of us knew. Who could’ve imagined?

A man afraid of flying and an angel afraid of falling.

We really did meet in the middle, huh?

I’m sorry, Cas. I never did right by you. All your life you thought you were wrong because you weren’t like the others. You always believed that you needed to atone for your sins someway. And I – I didn’t help you. I made you think that you were expendable, that you weren’t worth anything. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, because I was wrong.

You’re worth everything. You matter so much, Cas – to me, to Sam, to the world. I’m sorry that all of us have fallen short. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll make it up to you for all eternity, because I love you. If you’ll have me for whatever reason, then I’m yours. And I’m never going to let go. If I lose you, I will stop at nothing to find you again.

It’s you and me. Now and forever.”

“Look for the light,” Castiel whispers into the darkness.

“Look for the light and you’ll always find me there.”

 *

 At the end of a long, long life, Dean opens his eyes.

Above him, there’s nothing but endless stretches of blue sky.

Dean sits up and looks around.

He’s in an onion field and he stands up.

He turns to the side and sees him there.

 There’s a trench-coat angel standing in the onion field, surrounded by the golden orbs of stars.

The wings behind him are magnificent and have the colour of a rainbow.

 Dean starts approaching him.

Behind the angel, there is a massive tree.

 “Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

[saltyladynightmare]

Your Jiliu Au, you should totally start a fic on AO3 for it. Also, when does it take place? You mentioned it's Jedi critical. How critical are we talking and do the Jedi get better? Why do you consider the fic Jedi critical? You have me intrigued and I feel there are a lot of details in the two pieces you've shared that I'm not quite understanding. So feel free to splurge a little and hit me with an infodump on it.

This takes place in an Alternate Universe, about four an a half months into the Clone Wars. The Cannon Divergence began shortly after Anakin turned 13 years old (or so I'm claiming. I don't actually know very much about Anakin's apprenticeship...yeah. 13.) Why 13? It's very simple.

Anakin needs literal years of therapy for his literal years of mental, emotional, and physical abuse as a slave on Tatooine. 13 is about a year after Anakin apparently started getting to know Palpatine. I am going with the version of Cannon where Palpatine threatened Mace Windu if he didn't allow Palps access to kid! Anakin. At 12, I figure Anakin would be a ball of trauma, poorly bottled emotions, and several tangled knots of low self-esteem. A year gives Palps plenty of time to work. A year gives the Force enough time to get angry that it's literal child is being manipulated, and his guardians aren't even trying to help him. What do I mean by that?

Before I answer, I need to make somethings clear.

I like the Jedi. As individuals. I love a well written Mace Windu. Or even an okay written Windu. Yoda is a troll with a sense of humor I can get behind. Plo Koon. 'Nouph said. Obi-Wan Kenobi. Beautifully flawed human being that he is, he is, to a certain extent, very easy to write.

The Jedi culture has an unparalleled potential to be one of the most diverse, and wide spread found-family known to Science Fiction, if not The Most. What with how they accept members regardless of species, background, or talent. The only real requirement is that they must be Force Sensitive. Which just makes sense, really, given they are an order of Force Sensitives. I will not be trying to drag that through the mud, because a good chunk of it is...nice.

This fic is going to be exclusively through the perspective of Anakin, and his men. Anakin, in this fic, has spent the last decade getting all of the Jedi's worst traits dumped on top of him with very little help from within the Order. He has seen the good, but very rarely turned toward him...and that came from two people. Obi-Wan, whom I will be *hurting*, and Aayla, whom I love and who is much more observant and compassionate them she really has any right to be, given what I will be doing to her. The 501st, who will be having a rough four months in the War before meeting Anakin, and a rough...ten years or less before even that (Seriously, Rex's past will make you *feel* things if I have anything to say about it) are going to be insanely protective of Anakin. So all they are going to see is how they treat him, and hate it.

And, as the last thing for this list that I can think of for this moment, the point of this fic, is not to be Jedi Critical. I wanted a fic where Anakin was forced to be self sufficient, was forced to mature, had to be more then he was, or die. Only, I didn’t actually want that; I wanted to see what this new and improved Anakin would do. Forget the Growth, I wanted to see the results. A side effect of this is that it is Jedi Critical, because there is no way Anakin ‘I want to free all the slaves’ Skywalker was ever going to be truly happy as a Jedi ‘everything you do reflects on us, we are peace keepers’ Knight. Slave stealing is a very good way to make the Huts angry. Not exactly peaceful.

Will I be using things the Jedi messed up on to push Anakin more? Yes. Will I be doing it for the sole purpose of burning the Jedi at the stake? No. That is a waste of resources, and I am not in the business of such foolishness. Besides. People are rarely so simple.

Beyond that, I cannot get enough of the Overprotective Clones tag. Or the BAMF Clones tag. Except most of that seemed to focus on Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka, and the 212th, which, okay, but I want Anakin to be taken care of too. You can’t tell me that right there wouldn’t have helped...something. Clone piles, for the win. The closest one I could find was Soft Wars on ao3, but that was Anakin getting adopted as a kid, not as a brother, which is what I want. Also, I’ve been waiting for the fourth book in The Making of a Man for over a year now, and I’m salty. (by Project0506, Behold. a Gentle Man, excellent Kix & Anakin interaction, I strive to be so amazing, it is beautiful)

As for details that you may or may not be catching, well. You will have to be more specific because I know things that Kix and Anakin do not, and so it was written around. ;) All will become less foggy in due time.

Also I need questions, or I have no idea what you’re taking about, because I finished writing this stuff days and/or weeks ago, and have since moved on. On top of that, I have things I want to be a surprise (what is one thing that is a rarity for Anakin to do? This Anakin will be doing it.), or have made changes to my Universe so ‘long’ ago that it is now normal to the character and thus not something to spend more then a sentence on (tell me, do you know Anakin’s saber form? It’s good.)

Truly,

Salty Lady Nightmare

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Do you have any good suicidal Sherlock? Or ones where he self harms???

@vg-remy said to inevitably-johnlocked: can we get John left sherlock for Mary after he returns and sherlock grew suicidal

Hey Lovelies! *HUGS*

Remy, I don’t really read many fics within which Sherlock and John don’t end up together, so I can’t recall much in that way. BUT because this fic is looking for Suicidal Sherlock, I’ve decided to attach it to this list.

So, yes, Nonny I absolutely do. I’ve done lists in the past for Self Harm so I’ll link you to those below. I’m going to put both John and Sherlock fics on here, and 95% of these have happy endings, because I can’t do sad stuff too much anymore lately, so I hope that’s okay

SUICIDAL IDEATION

See also:

Self Harm, Danger Nights, and Drugs

Drugs and Drugging Pt 2

Alexx’s Lists:

Suicidal Sherlock

Suicidal John

Suicide Mission Post TAB

Voices by fizzingweaselbee (T, 607 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, Mental Turmoil, Suicidal Ideations) – “We would never do that to John Watson.”

Stay by sussexbound (M, 2,067 w., 1 Ch. || Post TAB, Suicidal Ideation Mention, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Kissing, Love Confessions, Frottage, Coming in Pants) –  “Why? Why did you do it? Hmm…?” He takes a deep breath, waits, lets it out again. “Look at me.” There’s no denying him when he takes this tone. “Why did you kill him? Hmm…? For her? After…” A muscle twitches in the corner of John’s eye, and he clamps his jaw down tightly, swallows and sniffs a little before continuing. “For her? After everything she’s done?” “For you.” Before he can even stop himself. Just like that.

Pen Pals by WerewolfDoctor (K, 2,797 w., 1 Ch. || Epistolary, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Post-TRF) – Most people don’t become pen pals by one of them writing a not-suicide note. Then again, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson have never exactly been normal, have they?

Too Late by SJBHasADayPass (T, 3,390 w., 2 Ch. || Angst, Suicide, Tragedy, Major Character Death, First Person POV, Unhappy Ending) – Six months after the Fall, John is finding it difficult without Sherlock, and Sherlock is finding it just as painful.

Watching You Die by laureleaf (T, 10,340 w., 11 Ch. || Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Suicide, Switching POVs, Sort-of Rev. Reich., Whump) – John watched Sherlock die three years ago, and Sherlock just watched John die. But neither of them are actually dead. Now an AU, with nods to “The Adventure of the Empty House”. Lots of angst and post-Reichenbach feels. No slash.

There’s So Much Labour Just in Breathing Lately by Susan (E, 12,708 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF / Mentions of S3 Events, Romance, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Grieving John, Mutual Pining, Meddling Mycroft, Therapy, Ambiguous Hopeful Ending, Infidelity) – The dreams he hated most – the ones that left him a sweating, shaking mess when he woke – were the ones in which Sherlock was just Sherlock. Laughing or drinking tea. Sitting across the table from him at Angelo’s eating pasta. Trailing his open hand behind him on the way to the bedroom. “C’mon, John. I’m about to have my way with you.”

Software Malfunction by tiger_in_the_flightdeck (E, 16,679 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Android Sherlock, Love Story, Unhappy Ending, Angst, Suicide, Jealousy) – “You think I can’t love you? Just because you’re made with metal, and detailed programming?” The doctor propped himself on his elbow, and looked down at it. “I am nothing but blood and bone, and tissue. Things just managed get mashed together in a manner that made me like this. Just like you were put together to make you how you are. When I kiss you-” he did so, briefly, to prove his point. Then more deeply, and lingering, because he could. “When I touch you, or smile at you, does it make you feel different from when others have done it in the past?”

Wonderful, Etcetera. by VictoryCandescence (T, 16,955 w., 3 Ch. || Wonderful Life AU || Alternate Timelines, Brotherhood, Homophobia, Suicidal Ideations, Mentions of Drug Use, Friendship, Different TRF, Sherlock’s Past, Victor Trevor is Past Boyfriend, Depression, Hallucination, Love Confessions, Christmas, First Kiss) – Sherlock thinks everyone would be better off if he had never existed, including and especially himself. When he finds himself in a world in which his wish has been granted, he begins to think perhaps even he could be wrong – but it takes an unlikely chaperone to make him not only observe, but understand.

State of Flux by Atiki (E, 24,655 w., 4 Ch. || S3 Fix It, Sherlock POV, Slow Burn, First Kiss/Time, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Cuddles and Snuggles, Awkwardness, Insecure/Virgin Sherlock, Romance, Humour, Masturbation, Love Declarations, Bottomlock, Brief Suicidal Ideations) – John’s marriage is over and he is finally back home (i.e. at Baker Street, where he belongs). Sherlock is awfully insecure and John is awfully hesitant, and they’re both awkward idiots, of course, but they figure it out. Many First Times happen.

A Home for Us by sussexbound (M, 30,581 w., 12 Ch. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Heavy Emotions, Clingy Sherlock, Hallucinations, Disassociation, Emotional Turmoil) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

Turn Left at the Park by Glenmore (NR (E), 37,409 w., 28 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting / ASiP Divergence, Case Fic, Depression, Suicidal Ideation, Loneliness, No Mary, Possessive Sherlock, Fluff & Angst, Nightmares/PTSD, Sherlock Saves John, Sherlock Whump-ish, Doctor John) – So what would have happened if John hadn’t walked through the park and met Stamford?What if, instead, he walked around the park and just went home?

Impossible to Feign by achray (M, 49,204 w., 12 Ch. || TRF Rewrite / Reverse Reichenbach, Suicidal Ideations / Discussions, Drug Use/Abuse, Mutual Pining, Friends With Benefits, John Accepts his Sexuality, Anxious Sherlock, Meddling Mycroft, Depression, Hallucinations, Secret Agent John, BAMF John, Reunion, Make-Up Sex, Ambiguous Ending) – Sherlock leant forward, his long fingers curving round to grip John’s.“I won’t let him win,” he said, eyes hard. “I will do whatever it takes to get you out.”

A Hundred Crimson Sols by elldotsee (E, 55,536 w., 16 Ch. || Astronauts AU || Mars Exploration / Space Travel, Slow Burn, Shy Sherlock, Scientist Sherlock / Biomed Engineer John, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, UST, Angst with Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Suicidal Ideation, Zero-G Sex) – Will Holmes is a chemical researcher recognized widely for his contributions to the new Mars exploration program. Thanks to his ground-breaking developments, the IMMC (International Mars Mission Corporation) is one step closer to Martian colonization. Will and his team of scientists are headed out on the first of three manned missions before the first group of settlers arrive. Three days before launch, one of the crew has to be replaced. Will panics because…new people. The replacement is of course one John Watson, biomedical engineer and space hottie who was pretty sure he had retired from actual space exploration and was now content to work in the nice, quiet research lab. Can the crew survive this TOTALLY ROUTINE trip? Will they be able to endure each other for the looooooong trip in close quarters? Gonna be a wild ride… prepare for blast off. Part 1 of SpaceBois go to Space

The Burning by SrebrnaFH (M, 60,658 w., 24 Ch. || Reverse Reichenbach, Suicide, Depression, Hurt Sherlock / John, Separation, BAMF John, Good Big Brother Mycroft, Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, Fake Character Death, Rescue Mission, Reconciliation / Reunion, Hospitalization, Marriage Proposal, Illnesses, Physical Therapy, Happily Ever After) – Something went very, very wrong. John had seemed, if not happy, then reasonably content with his life. Sherlock had never predicted something like THIS might have happened. Not in his worst nightmares. He was the lousiest friend ever, apparently. At least Mycroft found him something to occupy his mind with, so that he didn’t have to go back to 221B and stare at the walls and the chair, where John Watson would never sit again.

Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal, Autistic Sherlock) – 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.

Darkling, I Listen by You_Light_The_Sky (T, 73,254 w., 8 Ch. || Fairy Tale AU || Loosely Based on Beauty and the Beast, Magical Realism, Suicidal Themes, Romance, Creepiness, Adventure) – 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… Part 1 of Darkling I Listen + Extras, Deleted Scenes

Summit Fever by J_Baillier (M, 78,802 w., 18 Ch. || Mountain Climber AU || POV John, Angst, Tragedy, Suicidal Ideation, The Himalayas, Mountain Guide / Doctor John, Mount Climber Sherlock, Loneliness, Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Injured Sherlock / Sherlock Whump, Pining John) – 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?

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

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

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

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

MARKED FOR LATER

Interview by bluebellofbakerstreet (G, 2,791 w., 2 Ch. || Punk AU || Past Drug Use, Past Suicidal Ideation, Implied Mystrade, Punklock / Bandlock, Fanart Included) – What’s better than John Watson and Sherlock Holmes in a punk band? John Watson and Sherlock Holmes on the cover of the Rolling Stone, and giving an interview.

For The Sake Of Being Interesting by SaintClaire (M, 2,797 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF, Suicide / Suicidal Ideation, MCD, Angst, Unhappy Ending) – How John Watson coped after the Reichenbach Falls. Hint - it wasn’t positive.

All we do is hide away by AnneCumberbatch (E, 3,895 w., 38 Ch. || Post-TRF, Depressed John, John’s Blog/Epistolary, Paternal Mrs Hudson, Meddling Mycroft, Hospitalization, Mental Breakdown, Reunion, Fainting, Delusions, Pre-Slash, POV First Person John, Suicidal Ideation / Implied Suicide Attempt) – It’s been 35 days since Sherlock threw himself off of Bart’s hospital in front of John’s eyes. 35 days since John threw himself onto the pavement at Sherlock’s side, his knees soaking up the blood from his best friend. 35 days since John’s world shuttered closed and dried up. 35 days.

Because I Love Him by CumberCurlyGirl (M, 3,991 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF, Angst, Mutual Pining, Alcohol Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, POV Alternating First Person, Love Confessions, Violin, Happy Ending) – John is lost after Sherlock’s apparent suicide and takes a few items from 221B to comfort himself.

Premeditated by Mazarin221b (E, 4,033 w., 1 Ch. || Suicidal Ideation, Dark Thoughts, Torture, Depression, Captivity, First Kiss) – John and Sherlock are captured, tortured, and imprisoned - and eventually, they realize, there’s only one way out.

So True a Fool by ladyxdarcy (M, 4,963 w., 1 Ch. || Soulmates AU || Post-ASiB/Pre-THoB, Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Bisexual John, Internalized Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Sick Sherlock, Fluff and Angst, Angst with Happy Ending, Mild Telepathy, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love) – Every pair of soulmates has one listener and one speaker. It is the listener’s job to find the speaker and embrace their bond. John knew the instant he heard the strange man’s voice that he was his soulmate, but never reveals the truth, resulting in severe consequences. (Based on this prompt)

The Violin of Ruin and Favour Series by PizzaMan (T, 5,923 w. across 4 fics || Post-TRF, Sherlock’s Violin, Angst With Happy Ending, John Plays the Violin, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Depression / Suicidal Mentions) – 3 years after the Fall and Sherlock comes back. During that time, John had learned to play the violin.

The Gun Drawer (Ch10) by CarmillaCarmine (M, 5,985 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF, Five Stages of Grief, Suicidal John, Angst, Depression, Grief/Mourning, Introspection) –  A dive into John’s chaotic mind as he reminisces on the first 18 months after Sherlock’s fall. Part 10 of the The Memoirs of Dr. John H. Watson series

Waiting To Be Known by soera (R, 7,414 w., 1 Ch., LJ Fic || S2 Fic, Implied Bullying, Implied Suicide/Suicidal Ideation, Minor Character Death, Drug Use, Sexual Violence on a Child) – John Watson has been saving Sherlock’s life for a very long time, even if he doesn’t know it.

A Study in Asexuality by ladyxdarcy (M, 8,082 w., 1 Ch. || Asexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Acephobia, Mentions of Rape/Corrective Rape Therapy, Past Suicidal Ideation, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Overdose, Past Mary/John, Emotional Sherlock, Insecure Sherlock, Vulnerable Sherlock, Est. Rel., Angst with Happy Ending, Fluff) – When Sherlock, asexual to his core, fears that John may grow bored of a sexless life, he decides to do whatever it takes to make John happy so he stays. Good thing John is already happy.

bread and honey by weneedtotalkaboutsherlock (M, 8,814 w., 8 Ch. || Farming AU || Second Person POV Sherlock, Angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Therapy, Alcohol Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Abuse, Early Retirement, Seizures, Service Dogs, First Kiss/Time, Happy Ending) – The next thing you are sure and aware of is the mix of mud and water seeping through your shoes as the cabbie drops you in front of the old farmhouse. You do not know this, but today marks the first day of spring.

September 20th by HappyJuicyfruit (T, 10,111 w., 1 Ch. || Time Loop, Angst, Drug Use, Suicidal Thoughts, PTSD John, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending) – Sherlock keeps reliving the same day. He isn’t very happy about it.

You Don’t Need Wings to Fly by Laiquilasse (T, 11,326 w., 11 Ch. || Wonderful Life AU || Bullying, Angels, Suicidal Ideation, Christmas) – John, an angel, is sent from Heaven to help a desperate Sherlock Holmes by showing him what life would have been like if he had never existed.

Mental by Boeshane42 (E, 18,128 w., 1 Ch. || Mental Illness, Discussion of Suicide, Drugs) – Sherlock Holmes is a patient in a closed psychiatric ward. John Watson is his new psychiatrist.

Other Side of The Moon by love_in_mind_palace (T, 23,446 w., 7 Ch. || Post-TRF, BAMF John, BAMF Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Suicidal Thoughts, Angst with Happy Ending) – After the fall Sherlock goes away to dismantle Moriarty’s network while living through different identities and hiding. But then something unexpected starts to happen. After a while of everything going according to plan, he’s suddenly just too late everywhere. Because someone was there before him, and took care of everything. It takes him a while. But then he realises. It’s John. Avenging his death.

The House on Rue des Boulangers by Berty (M, 24,299 w., 8 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Developing Relationship, Hiding in Plain Sight, PTSD, Depression, France, Frottage, First Kiss, Bees and Honey, Suicidal Thoughts, Gardens & Gardening, POV John, Angsty Fluff, Implied/Referenced Alcoholism, Falling in Love, Happy Ending) – After being invalided out of the army and without any other prospects, John Watson has relocated to a small town in northern France. Now he has to decide what to do for the rest of his life. One morning there’s a mad stranger in his garden chasing a swarm of bees, and it seems John’s decision is made.

(Life is) A Series of Risks by SkipandDi (ladyflowdi) (E, 36,499 w., 4 Ch. || Alternate Universe || Post-TRF, Kid Fic, Parentlock, Temporary Character Death, Established Relationship, Suicidal Thoughts, Grief, Violence, Psychological Trauma, PTSD) – The work comes first.

White Tulip by withoutawish (E, 40,624 w., 1 Ch. || TSo3, Copper Beeches / Solitary Cyclist Rewrite, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Drug Addiction (Sherlock), Angst, Suicide Attempt, Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, PTSD, Pining, Metaphors, String Theory, Graphic Depictions of Violence) – Sherlock is in love with John Watson. John Watson is in love with Mary Morstan. Sherlock likes Mary Morstan just fine. Sherlock likes drugs more. And most importantly, Sherlock doesn’t like Sherlock. String theory dictates the laws of the universe. But their story isn’t one that can be boxed up neatly, tied in a heartstring bow. "After all, the axioms of homeostasis dictate that an infinity sign of negative feedback can only loop back in on itself.”

Sunday Matinee by hogwartswitch (E, 44,597 w., 12 Ch. || College / Uni 1980′s AU || Fluff and Angst, Movies, Slow Burn, Happy Ending, Mary is Not Nice, Mutual Pining, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Homelessness, Anal/Oral, Fingering, Rimming, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, HIV/AIDS, Mentions of Cancer, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Depression, Epistolary, Love Letters, Suicide Attempt, Blow Jobs, Time Skips) – The year is 1984 and it’s a great time for movies and movie fans. John Watson is a struggling film school student with dreams of being a screenwriter. It’s a dream come true when his friend, Mike, gets him a job reviewing movies for the university paper. Sherlock Holmes is also a film school student with dreams of directing, but he’s also struggling to get his life back on track. The job at Baker Cinema is supposed to help him do just that, but it’s SO BORING. Until, that is, a young movie reviewer buys a ticket to Footloose and Sherlock’s life suddenly becomes very, very complicated.

Focal Point by PuffleLock (E, 60,913 w., 13 Ch. || Post-TRF Divergence / Different Reunion, POV John, Slow Burn, For a Case, Friends to Lovers, Suicidal Thoughts, Sad Wank, Sherlock in Makeup, Dancing, Mentions of Torture / Depression / PTSD, Love Confessions, Idiots in Love, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Scars, Rimming, Anal, Toplock, First Kiss / Time, Gay Sherlock / Bi John) – John comes home early from a medical conference to find that every once in awhile, Sherlock can surprise the hell out of him. Can John surprise him back?

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

The Improbable Match by elle_m and sherlockianworld (E, 67,626 w., 31 Ch. || Child Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Violence, Texting, Mutual Pining, Drug Use/Abuse, Angst With Happy Ending, Major Character Injury, Alcoholism, Withdrawal, Teenlock, Self-Harm, Bullying, Suicidal Ideations, Friends to Lovers, Homophobia) – When Gregory Lestrade decided to play matchmaker, he did not realise that his harmless plan would change the lives of two damaged people forever.

Patterns of Silver Birds by SincerelyChaos (E, 68,872 w., 20 Ch. || Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Synesthesia, Falling in Love, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Psychotropic Drugs, PTSD, Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, First Time, Autism Spectrum, Internalized Ableism, Tics, Canon-Typical Violence, Suicidal Thoughts, Psychology, Recovery) – In which love could really be considered a chemical defect and aeroplanes are nothing but silver birds.

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”  

Be Here Now by Todesfuge (M, 94,370 w., 25 Ch. || Post-TRF, Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Angst, Action/Adventure, Whump, Suicidal Thoughts, First Time, Depression, Drug Use/Non-Con Drug Use, PTSD, Suicide Attempt, Medical Trauma, Implied Torture) – John Watson was already fighting demons when he and Sherlock met. With Sherlock’s suicide, it all comes flooding back, forcing Sherlock to intervene before he’s solved the persistent riddles of Jim Moriarty and his game. Together they find that something darker lurks behind Moriarty, forcing Sherlock, John, and Irene Adler into an even deadlier game with a much more dangerous foe. Begins six months after the events of The Reichenbach Fall. Part 1 of the Be Here Now Universe

The Paradox Series by wordstrings (M to E, 98,863 w. across 8 Stories || First Kiss / Time, Mental Health Issues, Moral Ambiguity / Dubious Ethics, Angst, Psychopathy, Depression / Suicidal Ideation, Hurt/Comfort, POV First Person, Possessive Behaviour, Homophobia, Sexuality) – In which what’s in Sherlock’s head is never going to get any better, and John is nearly thrown out of his flat.

Will You Take Me Home? by Jobooksandcoffee (E, 114,689 w., 22 Ch. || Post S4, Post Break Up, Angst With Happy Ending, Angst and Feels, Parent-Child Relationship, Therapy, Friends With Benefits, Ex Sex, Messy Idiots, Fights, Mutual Pining, Mutual Jealousy, Slow Burn, Mentions of Drugs/Overdose, Suicidal Ideation) – Inspired by the wondrous "Know You All Over Again” by the brilliant Poppy Alexander, it is story of a painful break up. Two men are looking for ways to cope, to raise their 10 year old girl, to find reasons for going on. They need help of family and friends to make it through. Will each be able to do what the other needs? Will they be able to trust again? Sherlock and John must find themselves and unearth what went wrong, so they can build a new relationship.

Scheherezade by sgam76 (G, 197,576 w., 45 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF/Pre-TSo3, PTSD Sherlock, Implied/Referenced Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Humour, Protective John, Papa Lestrade, Big Brother Mycroft, BAMF John, BAMF Sherlock, Aftermath of Serbia, Past Child Abuse, Childhood Memories, Drunk Sherlock, Canon Compliant, Suicidal Thoughts / Attempt) – Sherlock is home, he and John are returning to cases, and all’s right with the world–right? But a series of minor mishaps and injuries makes two things very clear to his friends and family: first, Sherlock’s time away wasn’t the grand adventure everyone has assumed it was; and second, that time has left Sherlock with a legacy that’s bleeding into his life today. Sherlock is Not Okay, and it’s not going away. Part 1 of the Scheherezade

Conductivity Series by liriodendron (E, 207,367 w. across 7 works || TRF / Post TRF, ReunionCanon Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Friendship, Romance, Sexual Tension, First Kiss/Time, Synesthesia, Power Dynamics, Self-Harm, Drug Use, Case Fic, Est. Rel., References to Drug Use, Homophobic Language, Religious Content, Intercrural Sex, Unrequited Love, Angst, References to Suicide, Injury, Anal, Dub. Con, BDSM, Suicidal Thoughts, Violent Sex, Suicide, Grief/Mourning, Break Up) – In which Sherlock Holmes locates his heart, John Watson learns what it’s like to burn, and there is no darkness that cannot be made bright.

Define Vulnerabilty by TheGracefulBlueCat (T, 240,606 w. 97 Ch. || Canon Compliant, Aftermath of Torture, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Scars, Sherlock’s Violin, Doctor John, John is a Good Friend, Flashbacks, Case Fic, Sedation, Sherlock is a Mess / Not Okay, Nightmares, Big Brother Mycroft, Asperger’s Sherlock, Fainting, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Triggers, Panic Attacks, Hurt Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Blood and Gore, Drugs / Drug Use, Helpless / Vulnerable Sherlock, Protective John, Painful Repressed Memories, PTSD Sherlock, Medical Procedures, Drugged Lestrade, Lestrade Whump, Drugged Sherlock, Recovery, Crying Sherlock, Dissociation, Forehead Touching) – Shortly after Sherlock’s return John realises something is very wrong with his friend. He, Greg and Mycroft try to help Sherlock as he falls deeper and deeper into the abyss called PTSD. But Sherlock is not ready to allow anyone in, but then the events of the current case cause him to hit bottom hard. Part 8 of the Lessons in Friendship series, Part 1 of the Hiatus series

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

The Men Who Talked Between the Words by Odamaki (E, 463,024 w., 30 Ch. || Parentlock, UST/URT, Pining Sherlock, Grieving John, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, Slow Burn/Build, Case Fic, First Kiss / Time, Implied/Referenced Suicide & Drug Use, Slow Burn, Sherlock Whump, Panic Attacks) – John expected to be a father some day; he expected to have the house, and the wife and the nice suburban job. Sherlock never expected to have children, in part because he never expected to make it past 30. As it turns out, you don’t get a choice. Crammed into Baker Street with a baby, John struggles with single-parenthood and his own fears, while Sherlock treads the fine line between doing too little and saying too much.

[andoqin]

Sisyphus: The Myth Ep 1- A Dissection

Okay, so I’ve had some time to process what I subjected myself to today, so I’ve decided to list everything in episode 1 that is just completely insane and an example of how Not To Do it. 

I’m not an expert on Film Theory, but i’ve watched a shitton of media, plus I watch a lot of Youtube Video essays, so clearly I’m half

The episode starts off okay enough even if we get a weird exposition dump and “tense” parting scene between a father and daughter. 

We start in what presumably is the time travel terminal where people stand around in pyjamas waiting to get through.

Okay, fairly interesting if unspectacular but I’m guessing that’s the point, this is now an industry. We zoom in and get this line that made me laugh, because well...

a) humans are living creatures and b) the amount of microbial organisms on human skin is estimated to be at hundreds of billions, or more. And this kind of time travel/teleportation is always hinky because well if you think about it, how does that even work without getting into The Fly territory. I’m willing to cut this drama some slack here and maybe it’s an awkward translation besides. 

This gets... exceedingly long, but if you want a (too) in-depth summary of what happens in ep 1 and why it doesn’t work (for me) read on :D.

But then the real trouble starts, because PSH’s dad (I’m not bothering to learn the character names) says he’s not going with her and this is apparently very sudden. He then makes her repeat some lines that are supposed to create tension? Be exposition? Idk.

“Don’t trust anyone.” 

“Don’t get involved with [CSW]’s character.”

PSH get’s teary eyed, because her dad is not coming with her, but the problem with scenes like these is: I don’t know either of them and do not have an emotional connection to their parting. Sure, it tells us something about PSH (she likes her dad and is worried about him) but I also don’t know how important her dad is going to be down the line. So when PSH asks about her mom and what if her mom dies and her dad just replies everyone dies at some point I’m a bit weirded out, but not to the point where I necessarily want to know more. 

We then smashcut to PSH waking up in a world that’s more similar to ours and she does what her dad told her to do. She grabs her (very inconvenient) suitcase and runs along the tracks she woke up next to. We see that she is somewhat surprised by the running trains and also hardy enough to track on despite bleeding feet. 

Alas, creepy people in gas-masks with guns and drones are waiting for her, so she runs even harder and after some near misses (they are able to track her by some sort of radiation meter) makes it to safety. 

On top of a train car that the TWO DOZEN PEOPLE WITH GUNS AND DRONES are too stupid to check apparently. Clearly if she’s not under the train car, the detecting devices must be mistaken. So she just chills on top of the train car, sitting on her suitcase and those goons trundle off after 5 minutes presumably like they’re Assassin’s Creed Enemy NPCs.

Now we get introduced to CSW in the most insane scene i’ve ever witnessed. Honestly. 

He is just ~chilling in 1st class in an airplane, filming a douche who is rude to the plane staff and epically owning him because he’s So Smart.

First of all, I don’t know what that has to do with soggy noodles(which the other asshole complained about), since by that measure the noodles should be *undercooked* (lower boiling point means longer cooking time after all) and secondly good lord I already hate this guy. He then proceeds to Epically Own (tm) with a convenient Forbes (sorry “Eorbes”) Magazine that he is on the cover of and flirts with the plane hostess. 

So right off the bat, our impressions of CSW are supposed to be: He’s Cool (look at his hoodie and general bearing), he’s Smart (debatable), he’s nice to The Help (I guess???) stands up to bullies, and most importantly he’s fucking rich. I guess we’re also supposed to get the impression that he’s arrogant, maybe a bit of an asshole, but still cool and everything. 

If this had been where the scene had stopped I would have rolled my eyes and then just continued on watching. But no, the writers thought: “Schooling some sexist rich asshole isn’t enough to show off how Cool and Smart and Cocky our main character is. Also he likes the ladies.” Look at him, he’s Tony Stark only from South Korea!!!

So shortly after he sits down, and we have the first moment with CSW where he connected with me emotionally (he sees the ghost of his dead brother and the way he says “because ... you’re dead.” and I thought OOOH this I can work with), the cockpit windshield is hit by what looks to be a suitcase (DUN DUN DUUUN) and something crashes into one of the engines, causing it to explode and catch fire. 

The pilot is knocked out and unconscious and even the co-pilot loses consciousness (after conveniently unlocking the cockpit lock). CSW is the only one who goes to check on the pilots, having grabbed a fanny pack from his onboard luggage and quickly assessing the situation he revives the copilot and welds the hole in the windshield shut with some ducttape out of his fannypack and a plastic notepad. IT’S VERY EFFECTIVE! They did it in WW2, or so CSW tells us so you know it’s true.

I’m not sure that ‘s how plane windshields and duct tape and plastic notepad thingies work, but well the plane is still in freefall we have more important things to worry about :).

The electrics are all on the fritz, the copilot cannot get control of the plane and so CSW takes a seat in the captains chair (having foisted the captain out of it, not even he is so crass to sit on some unconscious dude’s lap i guess) and quickly calculates that they have 3 min and 30 secs for CSW to restart the electronics before the plane crashes. So he hands the co-pilot HIS PHONE with a timer on it for 3.5 minutes so the co-pilot can tell him when 30 seconds have passed. Instead of idk, contacting Air Traffic Control or ANYONE he just sits there and lets his big boy brain work. 

After 30 seconds he has an idea, because he’s Tony Stark-ing it up like crazy now and can just figure out the electronics of a plane cockpit in 30 seconds, but guess what. HIS PHONE RINGS. AND HE ANSWERS IT, because he’s devil-may-care and “haha look at this, friend, i’m in the cockpit of a crashing plane we have 2 minutes before i’m dead.”

Said friend is calling him from the board meeting of CSWs company, bc of course the board is ~unhappy with CSWs antics (I gotta say I can’t blame them) and the friend doesn’t believe it at first, when he says he’s in a crashing plane, but checks on the news to see it’s true. 

I ... I don’t think news work like that, we’ve gone 5 minutes from the initial troubles till now, there won’t be news reports all over the media yet. THEY’RE NOT EVEN TALKING TO AIR TRAFFIC CONTROL YET. Hell he even tells his friend to call 119 or the airport for help. I just... I’m very forgiving of a lot of things in a drama when it comes to writing. I’m willing to ignore obvious blindspots in a narrative, if I think the narrative is strong enough to support whatever it’s trying to say. At this point what could calling the police or the airport do, they have like 90 seconds left...

I don’t know what the writers are trying to tell me with this scene though? It’s so stupid, so unrealistic and CSW is so unpleasant and weird in it, because he tells his friend that he has to confess to taking out the friend’s college girlfriend on a date while they were still together. 

Well since the drama is longer than one ep, they do make it out alive, but the fact that the co-pilot managed to safely LAND the plane (which is insane to me) gets skipped over and we just get news snippets that herald CSW as a hero who singlehandedly saved the planes passengers. 

We then get to see him in his natural habitat “convalescing” in his giant apartment where he is being showered with gifts by worshippers basically. He continues to be an asshole, but his friend tells him, one more stunt and the board will kick him. 

The board will kick the guy who just saved a plane full of lives????? Yeah right, I’m sorry but that’s just fucking stupid from the writers. Why would anyone do that, even if the board hates him, kicking him now, when he’s literally a national hero would be the worst thing they could do for the stock prices. It’s only here so the writers can shoehorn in that CSW is close to OD-ing on pharmaceuticals and that the board wants to monitor his therapy and they have a way of “forcing” him to comply. 

Also he has what looks to be a dental x-ray machine next to his bed. Someone correct me if I’m wrong but lol what’s up with these set design choices. 

His friend tells him to go to fucking therapy or else and the next scene he is actually at a therapist. 

Who’s his ex-girlfriend (they have a whole tangent about that).

Who writes a report about his therapy to the board. 

But hey at least the therapy gets us a flashback of the last time he saw his brother. Big surprise he was an asshole to him as well, so no wonder he’s traumatised by that.

After therapy he *conveniently* runs into the co-pilot who’s incoherent and beaten up and hands CSW a usb-drive. It contains video of the cockpit on the day of the crash and it’s obvious what struck the plane was a suitcase and what crashed into the engine was a human being (DUN DUN DUUUUUUN maybe someone forgot to convert feet to meters when setting up the time travel thingamabob).

As he looks at the (very pixelated) figure of the person about to crash into the engine, he suddenly sees his brother’s face and honestly this scene just made me laugh? I know it’s supposed to be haunting and more evidence of CSW’s deep trauma, but I guess at this point my brain was just completely checked out. 

And that’s what we end our introductory phase of CSW. What the fuck was that plane thing even for. To show us he’s callous in the face of danger? He’s an asshole even when he’s about to die, so he’s got a long way to go? He’s haunted by the spectre of his dead brother and the guilt he feels for not being there when he died? I got a lot of that before we had the insane Plane Adventure!!! There are literally millions of ways they could have gotten this information to the viewers and not made an absurd spectacle of the plot that means that everything afterwards just feels lame, because you already had the insanity that was this plane ride, so it can only go down tension wise.

Now we’re back to PSH, but honestly her parts are kinda boring and bog-standard “UwU I’m unfamiliar with this way of life, I don’t even know how to eat a banana (that looks *nothing* like a banana btw), so I just eat it peel and root and all. Also I’m from the Future, that means I obviously know todays LOTTERY NUMBERS.”

I know kdramas like clichés and tropes, I like them too, that’s why I watch kdramas, but you gotta give me a bit more if you want me to at least invest in PSH, because I’m sure as hell not invested in CSW. 

She gets taken in by some guy, because we can’t have her homeless all the time, and she needs someone to explain this world to her and also how to eat bananas properly and she opens her suitcase. It’s got both future-tech-y looking stuff and a pink notepad that seems to hold specific information on what needs to happen on certain days. 

She also makes this expression and I don’t know if we’re supposed to laugh because she’s not threatening or if we’re supposed to laugh because she’s not threatening, but we know she’s gonna kick ass later, haha you just thought she was harmless. I gotta say it’s the former for me.

Rarrr fierce Elite Warrior PSH coming to get you.

She tries to get in touch with CSW, already breaking one of her dad’s three commandments. Oh, I guess staying with this guy breaks the other two. Welp, so much for that then. What even was the point of that first scene...

Anyway she tries to get in touch with CSW but ofc you cant just call the richest person ever (Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos would get very angry voicemails from me if that were the case), but she manages to get his voicemail. Or a voicemail he spoke for. But oh no, she is just Not Familiar with this world and keeps having a conversation with the voicemail as if it’s CSW himself. 

CSW who has scienced his way to finding the suitcase that crashed the plane and as she begs his voicemail not to open the suitcase, of course he opens it and gasp the combination for the suitcase lock is his birthday!!! Something his brother used to do!!! 

MAYBE THAT MAN WAS HIS BROTHER AFTER ALL!!!! OH NO!! 

But thank fuck the episode is over now.

VERDICT:

Just no. Don’t do this. The latter half of the show is more standard fare, but the first 25 minutes destroy any capability of this show making sense. I can see what the writers are trying to do, but it’s so hamfisted and badly written I’m just not willing to go along.

If you want a show that also has a fantasy action aspect (and this show is all fantasy no matter how much it tries to science it up), watch LUCA instead. That show at least knows how to set a tone, how to get us invested in the characters and does exposition in a way that doesn’t feel obtrusive. 

[etirabys]

The solution to “the lesbians I read about aren’t horrible enough” is, of course, to roll your own. Here’s what I’ve been dreaming up recently (warning: this story idea was simply formed by throwing together every lesbian fiction nutrient I currently feel deprived of, I have not designed it to be ‘good’ at all):

Frances Hareva is a military strategist for the ruling planet of an interplanetary civilization, Mars Delta. Actually, she’s not the military strategist – Zlanna is. Zlanna is the AI who takes input from a massive interplanetary surveillance network and provides most of the brainpower for the job. But the values and core decisionmaking is provided by a human hooked up to Zlanna, who is constantly trained for alignment with the collective will of her planet. Some three years into this extremely demanding job that's damaging her brain in certain ways, Frances orders a hit on a ruling family of a rebellious colony planet, Ftam Quedir. She leaves alive the adoptive daughter, Safi.

Safi is a product of heavy genetic engineering, and Frances predicts she will become an influential moderate representative of pro-gene-engineering, an ethical and material issue that's promising to be divisive enough to lead to interplanetary war. Frances has had very little meaningful human contact for several years, and while doing a job that involves spying on millions of people, some of the people she watches have drifted into the friend-shaped hole. Something that is not quite apparent to her superiors, or to Frances herself until she recommends/orders the assassination, is that she’s become very fond of Safi while surveilling the Quediram clan, and has clouded judgment about her.

Soon after making that call, Frances has a nervous breakdown that impedes her relationship with the AI, and is quietly shipped off to a university to spend all her efforts getting an art degree under a false name, which her superiors figure is a humane way of getting rid of her in a way that doesn't embarrass them.

Safi had an ambiguous relationship with her family, who took her in and gave her a very good life, but also were terrible in some ways. Several months into growing into an interplanetary activist of the exact type that Frances expected her to be, Safi realizes that someone meant to set her on this life path by killing her family, rage quits, and disappears from the public eye. She spends time tracking down everyone involved in the hit so she can ruin their lives. She's 18 and a hothead, more than Frances knew.

Frances is on the top of the hit list, so Safi enrolls in the university she's hiding out at as an undergrad (thereby, yes, making this a college fic – look, I've always wanted to write one), also in disguise. She manages to make contact with Frances by enrolling in a class with her. Frances obviously recognizes her but has no idea what Safi is doing here; Safi's first layer of disguise to almost everyone is "normal vaguely foreign student", her second layer of disguise to Frances specifically is "Safi, but she wants a normal life for a while and an education on the ruling planet, and has no idea who Frances is".

There's some dancing around for a while where Safi befriends Frances, maybe roping her into some intensive and actually interesting school project. Safi spends these months trying to ruin Frances's life in RELATIVELY MUNDANE, PETTY WAYS like guilt-tripping her, getting her apartment burgled, and outing her in a planetary culture where being a lesbian is mildly to moderately stigmatized because it's strongly associated with the semi-fringe monarchist movement, all while observing her to design a coup de grace optimized to make Frances as miserable as possible. Meanwhile, in normal life, they are forming a surprisingly strong connection. (They may make out a bit at this point, Safi arranging it so that Frances immediately turns her down but gets flustered and guilty about it, because Safi is playing a sexually inexperienced undergrad who'll be crushed if the first gay contact she tries to make goes badly.)

Safi quickly figures out that, after all that work tracking down her nemesis, Frances is a total wreck of a person who isn't at all satisfying to ruin because she’s already a huge mess. Lots of rage sloshing around with nowhere to go. Also by this point they definitely want to bang each other and are horrified by it. There's a big confrontation where they shed their secret identities, where Safi really lays it in and then leaves. Frances, in the aftermath, decides that her redemption lies in shaping up and being a satisfying enemy for Safi to take down, and so does everything she can to get herself together and become the perfect political rival...

("Eti, please stop, we get it, you kink on –")

With Frances taking the lead on the shape of their new relationship, Safi steps into the dance, into a Locke-and-Demosthenes dynamic where what they say in public is largely reflective of real personal differences in opinion, but also a deliberate partnership to optimize the debate between them itself to lead their civilization away from war. They do this without ever coordinating personally on their goals.

(They say things like "That said, Miss Frances, I cannot wait to take your argument apart. You have published a 35 page supplementary tract on your views since then and I have read it with interest. ... Attached is my 44-point list of objections, follow up questions, and what I believe to be convincing takedowns to the general Mars Deltan audience with an open mind.")

// At this point I lose conviction in what happens next – I’ve filled something out but it’s not inspired, the stuff I really care about is [gestures above].

This is the case for the next several years or so. They are completely and stupidly obsessed with each other and spy on each other. Safi goes and has a defiantly prolific sex life, hoping that Frances will be upset about it. Frances, incidentally, is not, but she tries to return the favor by going on some dates (which Safi does get het up about) although she's too demi to actually sleep with anyone. Eventually, they start a secret line of correspondence – probably Safi starts it after Frances misses too many therapy appointments and says something snippy about it – that over time turns into what's undeniably love letters.

At some point, one of them has a real personal crisis and the other one just materializes at their doorstep. The one who's having a crisis ignores everyone else, grabs their visitor's hand, and pulls her into the bedroom. They don't leave for a couple of days.

More faffing about Whether We Can Do This, which is rendered moot by the fact that they find it impossible to stay away from each other. Agony. Frances comes up with a long, multi-year plan for arranging their public lives to intersect in a way that naturally culminates in their getting married. Safi shoots off five emails arguing about the pre-nup and quibbling about the strategy, before belatedly realizing that Frances just proposed marriage and Safi... wanted it so obviously much that she never even considered contesting the premise of the plan.

There are some hiccups but they execute this fine and get married. Oh shit oh shit oh shit what now. Frances might be sufficiently neuroatypical that, Derek Parfit style, she can't handle actually living with her spouse and they largely conduct their relationship over the phone and meet once a week to talk irl, cuddle, and fuck.

[noodlewright]

Characters: Clockwork, Danny Fenton, Maddie Pairings: None Rating: G

-

“So will it be between seventy and a hundred, or lower?”

“No. Keep working.”

At the heart of Clockwork's lair, Danny stared unseeingly at the math worksheet in front of him. The numbers were starting to blur together. 

Today, Danny was visiting Clockwork after having a fit of homework frustration that was quickly becoming routine. He was lucky to have found a mentor in Clockwork and studied with him as frequently as he could. Danny had quickly found that the ghost was, apparently, scary good with numbers, but there was nothing to be done to make math less mind numbing.

“No, as in it'll be higher?”

“You know perfectly well Danny.”

Danny wanted to know if all his extra study sessions would pay off when it came to Friday's big test, but he knew what Clockwork was getting at. The spirit was concerned that knowing his future test score would make him slack off, either because of an expectation that he would do well regardless, or that he would see no point in studying with failure to come anyway.

He needed to study for now and later exams, Clockwork insisted.

Danny huffed in annoyance and stared harder at the problem that gave him such grief.

It didn't yield.

“Do you want to go over it again?”

Danny hung his head in defeat. “Yeah.”

Clockwork left his terminal and made his way to Danny's side with a spare sheet of paper, half of it covered in a scrawl from earlier.

Halfway there, the spirit paused. Clockwork stared just over Danny's shoulder, as though a thought had just occurred to him.

It wasn't the first time this had happened. Just the other day, while Danny visited, Clockwork had done a similar action. He hadn't given it much thought then, or the ones before. Everyone did it on occasion. In Danny’s case, it usually happened when he walked through a doorway. Most people though, Danny considered, didn't do it this much.

Maybe Clockwork was a little scatterbrained?

-

It was, by now, what Danny recognized and referred to as one of Clockwork's “Moments”.

Danny had come to learn that Clockwork had these frequently.  Clockwork didn't have all knowledge of all things, the spirit had once explained. Clockwork knew of the past, if he cared enough to know it, and knew of the present, but not all of the present. If he wanted, he could learn it all but there were, he said, very many things that were dull and unimportant, and taking the time to see every bit would be a torture unimaginable.

The future was similar to him, in that he didn't endeavor to see every scrap of it, but even if he tried, it wouldn't have the same easy clarity.

The real take-away was that, when it came to the future, all things weren't set in stone, and as Clockwork explained, the ghost often felt that some events got lobbed at his head and he needed a moment to sort out the new information. Danny could understand that. He had trouble grasping the rest of the hour-long, complicated discussion that included half a dozen different metaphors and some math chalked onto the wall, but he could get that at least, and was glad to gain a little more insight on how Clockwork's abilities functioned.

-

“Are you okay?”

Clockwork’s attention snapped to Danny. The intense gaze made him uneasy. Was Clockwork mad? He got the feeling like he might have interrupted something.

“Uh, sorry.”

Immediately Clockwork's eyes widened, “No no, I’m sorry. I just realized something. I need to go-”

“What?” They had barely started!

A wink was sent his way. “It won't even be a moment.”

Oh right. Well, it wasn't like Danny could just forget the last fifteen years of rigid physical laws that applied to his and everyone else's lives. Clockwork would probably only disappear and reappear between blinks.

A thought occurred to him.

“Wait, have you been disappearing on me this whole time?” he asked. He shouldn’t be surprised, it would be so easy to ditch and return without anyone being the wiser. 

“No, just when you’re already engaged in something.” Clockwork admitted.  

So basically, any time Danny wasn’t actually talking to Clockwork.  Which was a lot.

He shouldn’t be bothered by it.  He hadn’t even caught onto it until just now, but still, it sat unwell with him that Danny was someone who was to be put aside for a later date.  Couldn’t it wait until after Danny had left?  It wasn’t like Clockwork couldn’t just go back to whatever time period he pleased.

It would be polite at the very least.

But what was Danny going to do about it? Clockwork was nice enough, and Danny wasn't about to voice his disappointment when it wasn't actually that big of a deal to begin with. It would just have to be another mannerism to add to Clockwork's growing list.

“Uh, okay. So what's got you in such a rush to go?”

Clockwork opened his mouth to answer, but paused for another faraway look to overtake his face. “. . . Well, how do you feel about coming with me to find out?” he finally said.

There was hardly a thought before Danny agreed. “Sure!”

They set off.

-

Clockwork's portal led them to a large, immaculate kitchen.

“Very nice.” Danny said as he stepped out and oggled at the sheer size of the room. The number of cooking ranges and pots suggested that he was at a restaurant. “Do you come here a lot?”

Clockwork gave a distracted noise of affirmation as he walked over to a glowing red stove top and fiddled with the knobs until it was completely turned off. 

Had he just stopped what could have been a fire?

The ghost then grabbed at unsightly cords that littered the countertops and tucked them into less noticeable places.

“Danny, there is a set of knives to your left. Would you please place them in the cupboard?”

The cutlery in question had been loosely kept in a stainless steel container, not very dangerous in his opinion, but he obligingly shut it away.

From Clockwork's direction, Danny could vaguely make out senseless muttering, “-idiot thinks he's a chef . . . ”

Yeah, no kidding. Idiot was an understatement. Who left a stove on?

Danny startled at a sensation that brushed across his ankles.

He looked down to see a purring cat. “Um. Hi.”

It was long haired, and an obviously very well-kept animal. It was incredibly out-of-place for the current location. The cat gave him a lazy, silent meow. 

“I didn't think cats were allowed in restaurants.”

“It isn't a restaurant,” Clockwork clarified. “This is the home of Vlad Masters.”

Danny suddenly snapped alert and floated off the ground in a battle ready stance. His eyes darted around in search of an unwelcome presence. 

“He isn't here right now.” 

Danny immediately relaxed and found his footing again. He regarded the cat and kitchen before him once more. Now it was looking familiar. This wasn't his first jaunt uninvited to Vlad's house, but he had never paused to really look at the rooms he was darting through.

“Okay, so what are we doing here? I mean, I know fire-safety is important and all, but a blazing house and that guy isn't the saddest combination that I can imagine.”

“I understand,” Clockwork said as he made his way to a nearby window and began working its unyielding frame closed. “Masters has done you a great deal many wrongs. He is, what most would determine, unsalvageable. Unforgivable. Unethical and unrepentant.”

“Yeah. All that times a thousand.”

“He is also incredibly unstable.”

“I could have told you that.” Danny wondered where this was heading.

Clockwork ceased his fiddling and picked up the cat that had only been too content to loll on the ground. It wiggled, displeased at the graceless hold. 

“Before you is the crux of all of Masters’ affections.” He lifted the cat further with emphasis, and spoke with sincere solemnity. “The warmth held for you and your family is but a shrinking mote compared to what he has fostered with this animal.”

Shrinking? Anything that lessened Vlad's attention could only be a good thing. “Really? Does that mean he'll leave us alone now?”

Clockwork didn't entirely look him in the eyes when he said, “Not exactly. Masters is the very definition of passion and he can never entirely drop something once he's set upon it.”

“Not in all the timelines?”

“Most of those are currently closed and the few available are too . . .” Danny thought that Clockwork was about to have another Moment, but the spirit soon found his words, “-dreadful. Which is why it is very important that we curtail his fixations, in what ways we can, and direct him to better . . . things. This cat is crucial to that. He's poured all his love into it and should anything happen to it, Amityville will be a flaming crater, and its residents, crumbling charcoal.”

“He'd kill people for a cat?!”

“He'd kill someone for kicking it.”

“Oh my God. I mean, that's a really mean thing to do to a cat, and they deserve something, but the town is innocent. Why would he hurt them?”

“He’s an idiot when he's angry. And a part of him has always wanted to watch the world burn.”

Danny pulled the, now fed-up, cat out of Clockwork's arms and held it with complete reverence. “We have to protect this cat,” he whispered.

“I know.”

“We need to keep it inside and never let it out.”

“I know.”

“Sam can watch it when I can't-”

“Masters will be consumed with rage should it go missing.”

“Right. Okay. Well, it's- it's a cat, and it's been alright so far, right? It should be okay here. It's happy here and Vlad's happy.”

“But there's a problem. It's why I have to come here almost every blasted day. The cat is suicidal.”

“ . . . Is there a therapy for that?”

Clockwork gestured to the room, heedless of Danny, “She keeps trying to kill herself. Last week she was roadkill and the week before, mauled by a pack of dogs. I stop her from eating poisonous plants and she goes right back to them the next second. I keep her from chewing power cords and she tries and tries again- last time she did it while soaking wet from nearly drowning in the toilet. In fact, had we not been here, at this very moment, she would have deep fried herself! I am confident that I have now seen every possible misfortune that can befall an animal and I grow tired of it.”

Danny scrambled to absorb the dire information. “But . . . the deep fryer isn't even on.”

Clockwork glared at the animal pointedly. “And yet.”

Danny looked at the yowling cat in horror. “What can we do?”

“I'm doing all that I can.”

“But isn't there something we can do that is less hands-on? More permanent?”

“I've been scouring the timelines for that very answer and have come up short. Other possible solutions will show themselves eventually, but we're not at the right stage to begin exploring those.”

“Okay, well if we can't do anything with the cat, what about Vlad? Can't we just stop him?”

Clockwork rubbed his face tiredly. “Danny, a future where Masters has that sort of melt-down, and the city regardless saved, is not a future either of us want.”

Danny wished he could fact-check that, but he wasn't the one with foresight. “Are you suuure?” he needled.

“Yes.”

Well, Danny supposed that was that. He didn't entirely believe Clockwork. It was hard to judge when he knew so little of the information as a whole, it could just be that there was something that had been missed. However, he did trust that it was what Clockwork believed.

“Clockwork?”

“Hm?”

“This future you have in mind, is it a really good one?”

“. . . It's not all good, but it has a great deal many good things, yes.”

Something niggled at Danny. It was a thing that had long been bothering him, and it reared its ugly head whenever altering timelines came up, but he had never earnestly voiced it. Mostly because he had yet to see any bad come of it. “Clockwork, I know you can do all these cool things, but do you ever think that maybe you shouldn't be doing all this? Changing the timelines, I mean. I get wanting to have a better future for people, but what if you don't make the right choice? Why not just let it go?”

“Instead, how about you let it go?”

Danny's mouth dropped open in shock at the sheer rudeness, until he realized that Clockwork was pointing at the cat. She writhed in his arms and gave him warning bites to his gloves. 

He guessed Clockwork's answer wasn’t as much a brush-off as it was a diversion then. Fine.

He, gently, released the cat and planned to get right back to the questions at hand, but Clockwork addressed him before he could open his mouth.

“I've let things go a time or two before, Danny.” Clockwork had taken an interest in one of his many watches, his head tucked down so that shadow eclipsed most of his face. “And contrary to what some would have you believe, I have learned that it is better to do something, even if it's not the very best, than nothing at all. Inaction and apathy are things that I have fought hard to stay buried, and to embrace them again would be inexcusable.”

What could have possibly have happened? How bad did it get? Did he really want to know? 

“What-”

“So, will you help me keep this cat alive?”

And Danny did drop it, just like that. Clockwork clearly didn’t want to talk about it. That didn't mean he wasn't still curious. He was. But for today, and probably for a while, he would leave it be.

-

Vlad returned to the center of his current frustrations. He had been trying to recreate an old family recipe, when suddenly, he had been called away on business. It wasn't a long meeting, but he had felt the need to rush. A thought had dogged at him since he left.

Had he left the stove on?

He swung the kitchen door open and immediately calmed at the lack of raging flames and burning stove-tops. 

It seemed he did remember.

There was also a lack of general mess that often accompanied his random acts of cookery. His ingredients were laid out still, as well as a number of random bowls, but the utensils were nowhere to be seen and the deep fryer had been dumped. Curious. He didn't keep his cleaning staff this late, and even if he had, they wouldn't have been so lazy as to not properly clean up a clear mess.

“Who the shit has been in my kitchen?”

-

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