#like for shit why did i digitally colour this i should’ve just given you the sketcj

[gayfandomsruinedme]

i guess y’all deserve content or smth 

[whumpiary]

[update: this drabble used to be two posts but has since been edited to be one coherent piece!]

content warning: referenced past drugging, implied/discussed drug abuse, paranoid thoughts.

-

Cass is sitting in J’s bedroom, trying to sleep despite the daylight creeping in through the blinds. He’d been confused at first when Josiah had shepherded him in and peeled the sheets back from the bed. When he hadn’t moved to lie down Josiah had said that he needed to put the house back together and Cass needed sleep and that neither would happen if Cass was lying on the couch. Cass felt a pang of guilt through his fog and hadn’t argued. He’d done enough arguing today.

He’s not sure if he sleeps but he’s certainly awake when there’s a gentle knock on the door, followed by a man with long blonde hair and a neatly trimmed beard letting himself him. Whatever Cass was expecting when Josiah said his friend was a doctor, this is not it.

“Hey there,” he says with an easy smile “Wasn’t sure you’d be awake”

Cass tenses, sitting up against the headboard and trying to look less vulnerable, less weak. He hates doctors. Hates them even more when they’re so casual. Trying to act like your friend. They weren’t friends.

“I take it you’re Mal,” he grunts.

“I take it your Cassius”

“Cass”

“Cass. Right,” Mal corrects. He’s got a relaxed grip on eye contact, holding Cass’ gaze a few seconds longer than should’ve been comfortable. There’s something vaguely familiar about the way this man hold his gaze and it settles in Cass’ gut with a rocking sort of unease. Despite himself, Cass looks away.

Mal sets his bag down on the desk with a thud. It’s one of those old leather ones that border on the line between outdated and cool depending on who’s carrying it. Cass rolls his eyes. Wanker.

“How’re you feeling, Cass?”

“What, what do you think?” Cass spits. The other man doesn’t miss a beat.

“I literally do not know, mate. I met you about thirty seconds ago.”

Mal sits down on the chair by the desk, a careful distance from Cass, and begins rolling up the sleeves of his henley, revealing a litany of old-school tattoos that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a Sailor Jerry’s bottle.

“What?” Mal asks, smiling at Cass’ obvious stare. “Did Josiah fail to mention my rugged good looks?”

J had, in fact, failed to mention his doctor-friend’s rugged good looks. He’d failed to mention anything at all about Mal, actually. Cass had half expected a half-dead, half-deaf 67 year old racist who’d scribble a prescription for Valium without looking at him and head off again. Instead he was staring at a 30-something Adonis who looked like he oughta be on the cover of an alternative home-goods magazine selling kombucha.

“You just don’t, don’t really look like a, like a doctor.”

Mal nods like he’s used to that assesment.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m technically a nurse.”

Cass coughs a laugh, “It, it, it does, actually.”

“Thought it might,” he says, smile dancing back on his face “Now. Josiah said you took something?”

Any amount of warming Cass had been feeling toward Mal turned ice cold in an instant.

“I didn’t take shit.”

Mal shrugs, “Alright, well did someone else give you something?”

Cass’ head jerks up and he squints at Mal, trying to figure out the trick.

“You believe, believe me?“

"Well are you lying?”

“No.”

“Then I believe you,” Mal says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. He puts on a pair of blue-rimmed glasses, smiles like this is the only thing he’d prefer to do right now.

Cass stares at him. Right. Definitely not what he was expecting.

“So. If you didn’t take anything, did someone else give you something? Josiah, maybe?”

Cass’ heart falters and his eyes flit to the door. This is a trick. A trap. They’re tricking him into saying something against J so he can be thrown out or hurt or- he takes a deep breath and stops that particular train of thought. It was stupid. It was Josi- J - for God’s sake. And Cass’d named him, anyway, made him tell the truth. He knew J hadn’t given him anything.

He looks back at Mal, suspicious all over again. Why would he plant a thought like that?

“Wouldn’t he… wouldn’t he have told, told you if he gave me something?”

“Well, see, Josiah knows I’m not a huge fan of roofies, so I doubt it,” Mal says, rolling the desk chair closer. “Alright if I take your blood pressure?”

Cass nods blankly and shoves the sleeve of his shirt up to his shoulder, offers his arm. 

“Do you, you, you think he gave me something?” he asks.

“Seems a little out of character but you’re the one that knows what’s going on here, so I figured I’d ask,” Mal straps the blood pressure cuff around Cass’ upper arm “This might be a little uncomfortable, but it’ll just be a minute.”

They’re silent for a moment as Mal pumps air into the tourniquet. He’s right, it is uncomfortable. Maybe not in the way that Mal thinks. The cuff tightens slowly with each pump, cutting the blood circulation in a way that feels far too much like a rough hand gripping too tight. What did you think was gonna happen, Ace?

Cass takes a deep breath, tries to remind himself where he is, who he’s with. “Is Mal short for, short for something?“ 

“Unfortunately, yes,” says Mal and smiles as he makes quick eye contact. “Malory.”

Hipster with a medical degree. ‘Course his name is Malory.

The cuff constricts a little more and so does Cass’ chest. What did you think was gonna happen, Ace? Deep breath. 

“It’s not that bad,” he shrugs.

“It is when you’re middle name is Valerie.”

Cass snorts a laugh. He doesn’t care if it’s true or not. The distraction is welcome.

The fact Mal’s not actually touching him helps. The tattoos even more so.

Classic American sailor tattoos, thick dark outlines coloured with red and yellow, a little blue. Sparrows, an anchor, a swashbuckling lady, a dagger, a heart. Then the less conventional ones. An astronaut, a small cat, an umbrella, a tea cup. Cass’ eyes catch on a trio of roses on Mal’s left arm, warped slightly. Or rather, the skin is. Bubbled scar tissue sits uneven under the ink, spreading neatly along his inner arm, starting at the wrist, stopping before the crease of the elbow. You’d barely notice it if you weren’t this close. Cass leans a little closer.

“You admiring the artwork or the scar?” Mal asks in an even tone, his attention on the blood pressure gage. Cass pulls back away, quickly, cheeks burning hot with the shame of being caught staring.

“Sorry,” he mutters. 

“It’s alright, I don’t mind. It’s a good scar,” he says removing the cuff. Cass flexes his fingers as blood rushes back into them in a hot flush. Mal rolls his chair back to dig something else out of the bag. “It’s from when they cut me open to hardwire in this here biometric, fully automated, life-like mechanical hand”

Mal flexes his fingers, as if to show off the dexterity of each digit. Cass stares. Mal’s face splits in a stupid grin. 

“I’m kidding,” he assures quickly “Hand’s real. It’s the foot that’s fake” And he knocks on his shin, the full thud of hollow plastic helping pitch the punchline. 

Cass frowns, looks back down at the bed sheets. He feels like an idiot for nearly falling for it. But he’s tired and he doesn’t feel right and wasn’t this asshole meant to be helping? Not just fucking around? He feels even more like an idiot because everything Mal does makes him feel small and young and stupid. Like some kid, doe-eyed and staring, about to be tricked by Dad jokes and an easy smile.

“That’s a stupid, a stupid joke,” Cass mumbles. Like a fucking kid. God. There’s something about Mal that Cass can’t place, can’t pick and it keeps sending him off-kilter. Something familiar-but-not that he doesn’t want to think about. 

“Yeah I know. Bad habit,” Mal is picking something else out of the bag now. “He holds up a stethoscope. “Give your chest a listen?”

“Do I have to take, take my shirt off?”

“Yeah,” Mal says with a deep sigh, apology etched into his face. “Unfortunately, while medical science has advanced far enough for me to hear through several inches of muscle, blood, and bone, we have not yet cracked the ability to also hear through a thin stretch of cotton, so…”

He gestures with his hand. There’s a beat. Cass remains thoroughly unimpressed. Mal sighs again, with another smile.

"Yeah I know, stupid joke. Leave your shirt on. I’ll get you to lean forward though, if you can”

Cass obliges silently. He fucking hates this guy, he decides. He hates the jokes and the hair and the tattoos and the one fucking foot. The painfully ‘not your average doctor’ vibe of him.

Complete wanker.

“I know, know what you’re doing,” he spits after a few moments of quiet. The other man hums an acknowledgement, moving the stethoscope to his back “With the, the, the jokes and the stories. Tryna be friend- be friendly.  Just tryna get me, get me more comfortable so I’ll tell, I’ll tell you shit”

Mal sits back, taking the stethoscope from out of his ears. He’s got an impassive sort of look on his face that’s kind of annoying. “Is it working?”

“No. You’re not my, not my friend.”

“I’m not trying to be, mate, I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on,” Mal holds his gaze as he says it. Piercing and ice blue, Cass is overcome with a feeling that he’s being looked into, gently inspected. That he doesn’t need to tell Mal anything. He already knows.

There’s a fear that grips Cass for a moment. J wouldn’t send a reader in without telling him, right? His eyes flit to the warped skin on Mal’s wrist. Hiding a mark?

Then the moments gone. Snapped in two like glass as Mal breaks his gaze to throw the stethoscope back in the bag. 

“The stammer normal for you?” he asks, suddenly.

Cass blinks. “The what?”

“The stammer. You keep repeating, keep repeating yourself every few, every few words, like this, like this,” Mal demonstrates. The not-a-mechanical hand turns in the rhythm of his voice, like a conductor keeping time for an orchestra  “That how you usually talk or is it new?”

Cass frowns, tries to think about how he’s been talking. 

“Uhh… new, it’s new I guess,” he says. Mal hums low, produces a small pen light.

“Follow this with your eyes,” he says “What about the tremor? That new too?”

The flip between conversation and consultation is dizzying, but Cass does his best to oblige. There’s a faint feeling of nervous dread creeping over him. Something’s wrong.

“Um, it… It happens when I’m, when I’m, when I’m tired. Or when I’m stressed, stressed I guess. Been pretty norm, pretty normal for a while,” he says. He’s overly aware of the tripping of his tongue, now, embarrassment and frustration eating at him with every word he snags on.

“Push through’d do it too, I guess?” Mal asks, pocketing the light again.

Cass stares at him, gaping a little.

“You know, push through?” Mal tries again “When you’re spent but you keep using your-”

“I know what, know what push through means,” Cass snaps.

The other man puts his hands up in a hasty surrender. “I didn’t mean anything by it, mate.”

“I’m not your mate.”

Cass knows exactly what push through means. If he spent too much time in someone’s head, if he named too many people one after the other, he’d start to feel the tug of it. Tingling in the hands and feet, faint ache in the chest or the head. But a blood rush, your heart pulsing with something other than blood. Like you could do anything.

So then you’d push through, keep going. Full splitting headache, churning stomach, dizziness, aching joints. But your brain felt electric, so much bigger and faster and you could see so much more than anyone else. So many connections and vibrations.

So you push through, go a bit further, just a little more. Breathlessness, slamming heart, bones like glass, thoughts like fog. And it’s burning now, a little, but the spark is still just in reach. So you push through.

Just a little further, knowing you’ll get it back if you just keep reaching. Memory loss, delirium, pain like your body was going to kill you. Or floating, unhooked, free. 

Cass knew what fucking push through was. Intimately. The question was how the fuck did Mal?

"Josiah didn’t give me anything,” Cass says suddenly. It feels like a confession. Mal doesn’t say anything. “There was... The... The, the, the people I was, people I was staying with. I think they, they… I think…”

“Do you know what it was they gave you?” Mal asks gently. He does everything so fucking gently. Cass squeezes his eyes shut, shakes his head.

“I don’t even, even know for sure that they, they, they did,” he admits. His voice isn’t shaking. It’s not. “I’d just… wake up and I would feel, would feel wrong. Like I’d gone on a bend, a bender or something”

“Like a hangover?”

“More like withdrawal. Then push through on top.”

“Is that why you took the oxy? It felt like withdrawal?”

“It wasn’t an oxy, just a-” Cass stops abruptly, biting down on his tongue. Idiot. “I thought you said you believed me.”

“I thought you said you didn’t take anything.”

Mal’s eyes glint. This isn’t right. What did you think was gonna happen, Ace?

Cass can feel his breath ducking shallow in his chest and he hastens to control it, shove it down, stave off the black spots that are suddenly flickering in his vision.

This isn’t right. He leans forward where he sits, gripping the edge of the sheet. He barely has anything in him but he needs to get this guy away because something isn’t right, none of this is right.

He barely has enough in him but he has enough: “Mᴀʟᴏʀʏ, ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ɴᴏᴡ”

But Mal doesn’t flinch, doesn’t change his face, doesn’t move to go. He just tilts his head slowly, looks Cass in the eye. His voice is so gentle when he speaks.

“That one’s not gonna work on me, mate.”

Cass feels his heart miss a beat, like skipping a step on the stairs, foot sliding through free fall. He thinks about bolting, but Mal is blocking the door. He thinks about trying to name him again but he has nothing left, he was nothing left and it doesn’t matter because it didn’t fucking work.

“I knew, knew it. I fuck, fucking knew it,” he spits. He tries to lean forward, but the dizziness hits him too fast and he sits back “You’re a reader, aren’t, aren’t, aren’t you?”

Mal laughs softly like the accusation is surprising.

“No, not quite,” he says, quietly. 

“Well what are, what are you, then?”

“I’m honestly just a nurse, mate,” Mal leans back in his chair, pushing that long mane back with one hand “And, unfortunately for you, Josiah’s friend.”

He almost looks sad. Cass isn’t fucking falling for it.

“I don’t believe you.”

Mal shrugs, taking his glasses off, “You don’t have to.”

There’s a long moment between them, quiet and still. It’s so silent that Cass can feel the air around them pulsing. Maybe that’s why the yell from the other room is so loud. Something like a crash. More yelling. An argument, a fight. Mal, who has been seemingly unphased the entire time Cass has been talking to him, suddenly seems very, very phased.

Someone is here. Someone has J.

Cass is moving before he has time to register the pain that swoops in at the rush in his head.

“Who’s, who’s here? What’s happening?”

Mal tries to stand in front of him but Cass is already pushing passed. He can barely feel the juttering of his legs. Mal grabs for his arm-

“Everything’s fine, it’s jus-”

Cass doesn’t notice way his heart is suddenly not beating but fluttering, surging, buzzing. He shoves Mal backwards, reaching for the door.

“Everything’s not fine, fuckhead. Who, who did you bring here? What, what what have you done to Josiah?”

Cass doesn’t notice that his lungs are straining to grab oxygen, straining to do anything other than squeeze mercilessly.

“Nothing, mate. Cass, you need to-”

Cass doesn’t notice the blood rush in his ears, drowning out Mal’s words.

He opens the bedroom door, prepared to see anything; prepared to see a bloodbath, prepared to see a gun to Josiah’s head, to see an armed fucking militia. Prepared to see them. The them he’s running from, the them he should know better than to have run towards, the them who could find him and drag him back, and drag Josiah along too if they wanted to.

But that’s not what he sees.

He sees Josiah, standing with his back to the hallway, completely fine. Angry, sure, but when wasn’t Josiah angry? His voice is still echoing sharp across the room but his body language is open and loose. He almost looks relaxed. Comfortable in a way Cass hasn’t seen him since coming back. He’s fine.

And then he sees her. Small and leather-clad and familiar and furious.

Oh.

Cass feels the fear fall off him like a cloak, which maybe was stupid considering who he’s looking at. He wishes he hadn’t opened the damn door.

Lou.

“I assume you’ve met my wife?” Mal says from behind him.

Right. Fuck.

And then.

And then Cass realises someone’s squeezed all the breath from his chest, and that his legs are shaking so hard they shouldn’t be holding him up and that his heart has somehow turned into a wasp’s nest, and that his brain is a brick of dynamite about to explode.

Cass looks at the woman in front of him, looks at Josiah, looks at Mal.

Lou. Here. Right.

Fuck.

And then he faints.

[minimalexertion]

Chapter 3

Lives Worth Saving

Chapter 3: Identifying the most Valuable People

Step 5 - Finding Valuable Lives

Every single character that displays the characteristics of a main character or important side character (e.g. strangely coloured/styled hair, overly-determined about a single goal, somehow inspires others because of that goal, makes everyone like them through actions etc.) will often have a tragic back story. However, you cannot save all of these lives. Some deaths are pivotal in the story to motivate other characters and drive them to accomplish things they would have never dreamed of.

The lives worth saving must tick off the following 5 requirements, known as 'The 5 Principles of Hasamelis':

Must have an important part in the story for the future;

Saving their lives will not, in anyway, impact the progress of the characters around them;

Their existence must contribute to the better good of the collective;

If a villain, they have shown remorse and/or guilt for their previous actions; and

The dimension traveller must not have, in anyway, have saved their lives because they were important to the traveller on a personal level.

Once the person has ticked off all 5 requirements, they are deemed as a 'salvum hominem' and their lives are now under your protection.

Handy Tip #7: Although we love redemption arcs, some villains will not be able to experience this despite your best efforts to push them in that direction. It is better to finish them where they are instead of wasting time listening to their tragic backstory.

Handy Tip #8: Try not get too attached to characters, which will hinder your abilities to perform this step. Instead, try to become friends with the characters that have a 90% ~ 100% chance of surviving until the end of the story {see the character profiles given by your assigned protector eorum for more information}.

Handy Tip #9: If you know the name of the "show" in which the new dimension exists, then the chances are that the show is named after the main character.

Note: Even though the main character is important, it is very rare that they will die, so you do not need to worry about their lives as much as you need to.

Opening the door to the Hokage's office with a quiet, "Pardon my intrusion," You slipped through the door, only to come face to face with 5 'strangers'. Well, you could recognise everyone there, but how creepy would it be for someone (who you don't know) to approach you and suddenly say, "Hey, kid. You don't know me but I know you, and you're going to be a raging psychopath hell-bent on revenge which will get your ass whooped more times than you would like."

Yeah, definitely not creepy at all.

The Hokage seemed to brighten up at your appearance, whilst the other 5 (2 adults and 3 children) looked baffled at your arrival. "Ah, [f.name]! Nice of you to join us at last." The Hokage said, his smile kind and his voice gentle.

Your eyebrow twitched, "No offence, Gramps. But, you literally made me wait outside for 1 hour just so we could have a a dramatic entrance where they'll think that I'm cool, so we'll all get along." You shot back snidely, the smirk dancing on your lips the only indication that it was a jest. Walking right up to the Hokage, punching his shoulder gently as a greeting (which would hopefully defuse the sudden appearance of strange tension in the room). The Hokage only shook his head, chuckling, as the adult with a scar across the bridge of his noise completely lost his mind.

'That man, I feel like I should know him. I knew I should've read those character profiles that 'stink-bag' [your 'guardian angel' was now currently demoted to insulting nicknames] gave me.' You thought, your eyes narrowed and finger scratching your chin as you stood there thinking about his face for a bit too long.

The familiar feeling of the Hokage's hand ruffling your [length] [colour] hair drew you back into the present, as he mockingly asked, "So, are you going to introduce yourself, [f.name]?"

"Oh yeah. Forgot about that." You replied, snapping back to reality. Turning your attention to the 3 kids and single adult in front of you, you quickly bowed, "I apologise for my rude behaviour. I am [f.name] [l.name], feel free to call me [f.name]. I hope we can all get along, like back in middle-school - not like any of you know what middle-school is. I just moved here a couple of weeks ago and I'm here for a good time, not a long time." You stood straight, a large smile on your face.

A small silence followed after your introduction, before the masked man with silver hair (which was, honestly, a little frightening at its apparent disregard for physics) waved, his one visible eye closed, and introduced himself, "I am Kakashi Hatake, your new teacher," He then gestured to the 3 kids, "And this is Naruto, Sakura and Sasuke. We're glad to have you on our team."

Your [colour] eyes scanned over a blond boy, a pinkette, and a gloomy dark-haired boy. I mean seriously, the third kid could probably suck out all the light in a room. Before dismissing them as some random 'side-characters', you jolted, a nervous sweat breaking out on the palms of your hands. When you heard the name Naruto, you could feel the remains of your soul attempting to escape. You were on the team. The team with the main character, which will also mean the team with the hardest work. You had a suspicion that the blond child was Naruto, but now you were sure.

Great, chances of surviving past the age of 15 is probably now dwindling in the single digits.

I narrowed my only visible eye at this [colour] haired girl. She didn't look like she was strong, but she wasn't weak either. I let out a resigned sigh as Naruto immediately thought that it would be a good idea to start rambling about his 'skills' and ambitions, even going as far as to shove his entire body into the poor girl's personal space. Feeling the beginning of what would be the 15th headache of the day, I quickly stepped in as I saw Naruto start to roll up his sleeves.

        "I'm going to be the Hokage one day, believe it!"

                "Sure, buddy. Don't know why you have to scream it into my face, but you do you, boo."

        "You don't believe me, do ya?!"

                "Uh, you asked me if I believed you and I said sure, so I have no idea what you are screaming about."

        "I'll show you!"

                 "Uh... okay?"

Swiftly grabbing Naruto by the collar of his orange jumpsuit, I sigh quietly, shooting the new girl an apology over Naruto's constant yelling, "Sorry about Naruto, [f.name]."

She just shrugged carelessly, finger gunning as she replied with a, "It's cool. Kid must have not had a good support system if he says stuff like that. I get it," Before casually strolling out the doors.

        'She knows something.'

The moment I had exited the room, I felt the tension in my shoulders disappear. About to walk outside to bask in the sunlight before it became dark, I felt a hand grasp my shoulder. Hearing the Hokage's eerie voice, I shuddered, "Ah. [f.name]. Leaving so soon? We're just about to discuss mission details."

Snapping to attention, I quickly replied with a frightened screech and a salute before making my way back into the office, palms sweaty, knees weak, and arms heavy, as I gulped at the forced smile on the Hokage's face. Closing the door quietly behind me, I let out a nervous laugh as I met Sakura's quizzical gaze.

Turning my attention back to the Hokage, I quickly caught the next sentence out of his mouth, which made my jaw drop to the floor, "You will all be bodyguards on this C-rank mission."

Now, I know I haven't seen any episodes of Naruto, but I did read the episode synopsis of the first 20 episodes, so I sure as hell know that this is going to be a hard time for me.

Sweating slightly, I heard Sakura ask, worry evident in her tone, "[f.name], are you okay? You look a little pale."

Gulping slightly, I decided this would be the best time to pretend I was a fortune teller and thus put my excellent acting skills to use. Swooning slightly, I let out a groan as my eyelids fluttered quickly. Sakura quickly grabbed me in an attempt to hold me upright while I grasped onto her, looking her right in her bright green eyes with my own wide [colour] eyes, before muttering urgently, "Mirrors are dangerous. There's no way out!" Before collapsing onto the floor and into Sakura's arms.

"Sensei!!"

Sakura's piercing shriek made me aware of the credibility of my acting skills, which was only further strengthened by Naruto also screaming, Kakashi looking into my blank eyes, and the sound of the chair screeching as the Hokage rushed to my side.

"[f.name], what's wrong?! Are you okay?" The Hokage asked, his voice panicked and urgent. "What do you mean mirrors are dangerous and there's no way out?"

I let my body slump weakly onto the floor, before looking at Sasuke. Weakly raising a finger, I pointed to him, much to his displeasure (which I didn't necessarily care for since I was reveling in the look of disgust on his face) and quietly croaked out, "You will die in the mirror maze, Sasuke Uchiha."

With Sasuke's black eyes widened in shock, I remained a steady eye contact with him as I slowly lowered my arm, before closing my eyes for a quick snooze. If I wanted this to be realistic and say I have an overpowered ability, then there has to be major drawbacks, and the only thing I can think of right now is falling asleep right after a 'prediction.'

Ignoring the exclamations of the people around me, I let myself take a 10 minute nap, and to be completely honest, after all the shit I have been through and the stuff I have yet to experience, I think I deserved it.

Step 6 - How to Gain Trust

Just be "honest" and hardworking. Have the type of personality that everyone likes to be around. But you must have a few believable flaws, such as never being on time, always forgetting to wear socks, never eating breakfast, bringing dishonour onto your family name, etc. 

When this part is done, start to build a meaningful relationship with the people, remembering their likes and dislikes, important dates and people in their lives, and overall just being a really good friend.

Handy Tip #10: The quietest people are often the most interesting and easiest to get along with.

First impressions: 8 out of 10

Acting skills: 15 out of 10

Fortune telling abilities: 9 out of 10

Probability of survival: 43.49%