#my oc's still in progress anyway. hes not even half baked. more like. still in the dough mixing step.

[sho-sketches]

give it up for the boys who inspired me to get back into drawing!! (wooooooooo)

seriously though love them so much!!!

[laelior]

Of Stars And Singularities

Mass Effect Kaidan Alenko/Male OC (the Citadel doctor), Kaidan Alenko/Beth Shepard (flashbacks/background) ~6k words Kaidan receives his orders to go to Horizon, and he's forced to confront the rumors of Shepard’s survival.

Ao3 Links: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Part 1: Marching Orders

“Here, try this.” Beth held out a metal flask to him. It was cold enough by now that her breath fogged, small clouds passing ephemerally into the night air. The campfire crackled energetically, sending embers into the sky and occasionally wafting smoke at them when the wind changed direction. Moths fluttered overhead, occasionally daring to get close to the fire and risk singeing themselves. Half of him was baking due to the campfire, the other half was freezing in the crisp mountain air where the convective warming power of the fire ended.

Kaidan sniffed at the flask before bringing it to his lips. Smoky, but that might have just been the campfire. He took a small sip. No, definitely not the campfire. The taste of smoke and peat filled his mouth until he almost coughed.

“That’s, uh, well, that’s smoke forward,” he managed, handing the flask back to her and trying not to judge her shockingly poor taste in liquor. Her eyes danced merrily in the firelight, like twin stars in the night sky.

“Burns a little, I know. I thought you liked whiskey.”

“Smooth whiskeys, not liquid smoke in a bottle.”

She took a sip for herself, and Kaidan felt a little vindicated when she grimaced, then coughed. “Not the smoothest, I’ll admit. Ugh, okay, it takes like all the bad decisions of my youth.”

Kaidan found himself chuckling. “I didn’t know bad decisions had a taste.”

“They do now.” She took another drink and coughed again. “Needs to age more, I think, but it’s from a new distillery on Mindoir so I wanted to try it.”

Ah. Well. In that case. He reached for the flask and took another sip for himself, this time managing to swallow it smoothly. “Scotch is an acquired taste, anyway.”

“Are you trying to acquire a taste for it, Alenko?” she asked, a coy smile forming on her lips.

“Maybe,” he demurred, taking another slow, deliberate sip. “If bad decisions have a taste, maybe good ones do, too,” he mused aloud.

“Oh, they definitely do,” She reached for the flask again, but he caught her arm and gently pulled her in closer so they were face to face, just inches apart. There was a heat in her eyes that rivaled the campfire, and he felt a matching heat rising in him. She slid her free arm around him and pulled herself in, practically sitting herself on his lap.

“What do they taste like?” he asked, drawing her closer until his lips just grazed hers. Maybe it was the campfire, or the scotch, or just the feeling of her in his arms that made him feel light-headed, even giddy. 

She didn’t answer him directly. She showed him instead.

She tasted of smoke and cinnamon.

Kaidan’s omni-tool pinged, snapping him out of his daydream. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. The elevator ride to the Presidium always took too damned long. It probably didn’t help that he was still somewhere between SSV Stamford’s Alliance standard 24-hour clock and Freedom’s Progress’s 21-hour day, not the galactic-standard clock used by the Citadel. It was close to midnight on the frigate, but early afternoon on the Citadel.

His omni-tool pinged again, seemingly irritated he’d ignored it before. He sighed and glanced down at his omni-tool’s holo-display, only to feel the edges up his mouth tugging up into a smile and the tiredness fading a little when he read the message on it.

You’re supposed to get back today, right? The text popped up in his personal display, accompanied by a thumbnail-sized picture portrait of a handsome man in his mid-thirties with the text Fuentes, T, M.D. floating under it.

That’s the rumor, Kaidan sent back.

Feeling up for drinks tonight? Fuentes, T, M.D. sent back in a matter of seconds. 

Heading into a meeting now. Don’t know how long it will take. Ping you later? Kaidan typed in reply. It didn’t take long for an answer to arrive.

Sure thing. Don’t keep me waiting too long. 

Won’t. See you later, usual spot?

Sounds good. 

Just as he started to close his messages, another ping vibrated his omni-tool. He paused to read the news alert that had popped into his feed, scanning just the first few words of the article headline.

Dead or Alive? TRS Report: New Sightings Fuel Rumors….

He dismissed the alert with a flick of his hand without reading the rest

A trash article from a trash tabloid.

He closed his omni-tool just as the elevator came to a stop, doors sliding open to the pristine, shallow beauty of the Presidium. Water splashed calmly down from the central fountain and a gentle, artificially generated breeze teased at his hair. Over the past two years most of the plants had grown back, lovingly tended to by an army of gardeners. He could barely even see the burn scars on some of the trees anymore. 

His eyes strayed, as they always did, to a young pine sapling on the greenway near the lake. A Mindoir hemlock pine. He’d been there when it was planted on the one-year anniversary of the Battle of the Citadel. The first tree from a human colony on the Citadel.

He tore his eyes away and walked past the tree and toward the embassy suites. 

“Commander Alenko,” the asari receptionist looked up from her terminal with a warm smile as he approached.  “I saw you were on the admiral’s schedule today. Welcome back.”

“Nesira,” Kaidan greeted her back with a smile of his own. “How’s Tahan? About ready to pop, right?”

Nesira laughed. “Any day now. They’re ready for the baby to be here, but I’m trying to enjoy my sleep while it lasts. Oh, and thank you for the baby gifts! Tahan wanted me to pass that on to you.”

“Glad you both liked them. Sorry I couldn’t make the baby shower.” He remembered feeling simultaneously baffled and honored that Nesira and her spouse, an old Alliance friend, had invited him to celebrate their growing family. He’d had to ask his mother for advice on what to get for them.

“I don’t know if human babies are like asari, but what I’ve read on the extranet is making me second-guess our decision to have them carry our first child. Is it true they don’t sleep more than a few hours?”

“Uhh,” Kaidan blinked, caught off guard at the unexpected question. “You know, I wouldn’t know. I haven’t been around too many babies, human or otherwise. Much to my mother’s dismay,” he added with a wry chuckle. He glanced past her to the hallway off behind her. “Is Anderson in?”

Nesira’s smile instantly froze a little around the edges. “He is, but he’s in a last-minute meeting with the Councilor.”

“Ah.” Kaidan’s good mood from the pleasant banter faltered. “Did he mention how long it would take?”

“The Councilor rarely does.” There was the smallest hint of irritation behind the polite façade. “But...I think the admiral wouldn’t mind if you happened to knock on the door before they’re finished.”

Kaidan snorted under his breath. “Thanks, Nesira. Make sure to tell Tahan I said hi.”

“Of course. Have a pleasant day, Commander.”

Kaidan waved casually as he went past her desk and up the stairs to Anderson’s office. He paused just outside the door, listening for a moment. Muffled voices carried through the door, overlapping each other and rising in intensity. Two people having an argument. He pressed the chime next to the door and the voices abated slightly. The door made a pleasant two-note chime and slid open.

Inside the office, Anderson and Udina stood facing off against each other across the large desk in the center of the room. Udina had his back to the door. He was hunched over the desk, both hands clenched in fists and planted on the desk. Anderson stood with his arms folded in front of him like a great, immovable boulder in crisp Alliance blues in the face of Udina’s aggravation. Anderson’s gaze flicked from Udina over to him. His arms relaxed and went to his side.

“Commander Alenko. Please, come in. We were just finishing up.” Anderson’s eyes landed back on Udina, clearly hoping the Councilor would take the hint.

“Admiral Anderson, sir!” Kaidan said, pulling his heels together and putting his hand on his brow in a formal parade-ground salute. It was a juvenile impulse, one designed to further annoy the Councilor. Udina’s shoulders heaved in an irritated huff. 

“This isn’t over, Anderson. We’ll talk later,” Udina threatened. The Councilor straightened his shoulders stalked out of the office. Kaidan held his salute as Udina brushed past him.

“Alenko,” he said with a stiff nod as he passed.

Once the door closed behind him, Anderson gave an exasperated sigh and casually returned the salute. Kaidan let his hand fall to his side. 

“At ease, Alenko. Take a seat,” he said, gesturing to a set of chairs arranged near a low table with datapads piled high on it.

“Do I even want to know what that was about, sir?” Kaidan asked as he settled into one of the chairs. Anderson sat back tiredly in the chair next to his.

“The usual,” Anderson said with a half-shrug. “I’m not sorry I didn’t get the job, but sometimes….” He trailed off with an understated grunt. “He has humanity’s best interests at heart, even if he is a pain in the ass. But enough about that. I take it your return trip from Freedom’s Progress was uneventful?”

“Exceedingly.” Kaidan pulled out a datapad from his pocket and laid it on top of the others on the table. “My mission report, sir.”

“I’ll read the full report when I have the time.” Anderson picked the pad up and laid it off to the side with a smaller stack of pads, clearly marking it as a higher priority than whatever other business was on the table. “I received some new intel that I want your eyes on, Commander, but first I want to hear your impressions of Freedom’s Progress.”

“It was...strange. Really strange, sir.” Kaidan frowned. He’d written all this up already in his reports on the disappeared colony, but very little of it made sense to him. “It was like the reports I read of the other missing colonies. No trace of the colonists. Like they simply disappeared. Except….”

“Except what?”

“Except there were mechs. Looked like someone fought their way through them to a bunker after the colonists disappeared, then left. All of the security systems were disabled. Liang, that’s the forensic specialist I mentioned in the report, she found some boot prints and thinks it’s evidence for quarians and some humans or asari involved in the fighting.”

“That is damn strange.”

Kaidan shrugged helplessly. He’d been puzzling it over the entire return trip, but there was no explanation that made sense to him to rationalize both the disappeared colonists and the apparent firefight afterward. Of the disappeared colonies he’d seen or read about in highly classified reports, this one bothered him the most for reasons he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“You said you had new intel, sir?” Kaidan asked before he could get too lost in all of the things that bothered him about Freedom’s Progress.

“I’ll get to that in a moment. Can I offer you a drink first, son? You look like you could use one.” Anderson turned and reached behind him to grab a decanter of rich amber liquid and two glasses. Kaidan started to shake his head, but then decided it would be impolite to turn his superior officer down when he was the one who clearly needed a drink. Anderson seemed to take his silence for assent, poured a finger in each glass, and handed one to Kaidan.

He sniffed at the alcohol before taking a small sip. Smooth, rich, and a little smoky with a hint of sweetness in the aftertaste. It shouldn’t surprise him that Anderson had good taste. Having taken a sip to be polite, he set it down on the table and waited for Anderson. The admiral, instead of sipping it like a good Scotch deserved, knocked back the glass in one gulp and shook his head vigorously. Kaidan shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Never let yourself get wrangled into politics, son,” Anderson said wearily. 

“I’ll try my best, sir.”

“Now, I know you just got back, Alenko, but I need to send you back out.” Anderson reached into the smaller piles of datapads and handed him one with an Alliance stamp on it.  The words CLASSIFIED X, BIOMETRIC LOCK were printed across the screen in bold scarlet letters. Kaidan put his thumbprint on it and an image of an Earth-like world popped up in place of the red text.

“Horizon?” He asked, scanning the first few lines. “A Terminus colony? 

“I got a….call it a tip it might be the next colony hit. You’ll report to Captain Calloway on the SSV Lagos tomorrow morning to ship out.”

“A cruiser, sir? For transport to a backwater colony?”

“Officially, you’ll be there to oversee the install of a new defense system, which the cruiser is there to transport. The locals reluctantly agreed to it after word about Freedom’s Progress got there.” 

“And unofficially?”

“It might be an opportunity to see if Cerberus is behind these attacks,” Anderson said. Kaidan narrowed his eyes. There was something about the way he said it, something about the way Anderson wouldn’t quite meet his eyes, that set off alarm bells in his head.

“What aren’t you telling me, sir?”

Anderson paused, and Kaidan could practically see him searching for words, the orders that wouldn’t be in the brief, that would give him some amount of plausible deniability. His shoulders tensed as the feeling that Anderson was going to drop two shoes at once loomed

“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors by now, son,” Anderson said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

Kaidan let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in a slow hiss and the knot in his stomach became more like a fist. After months of stonewalling, he was starting to see the destination at the end of the subtle breadcrumb trail Anderson had laid out for him.

“I...I understand, sir,” he said, looking down at the pad in his hands but not really seeing it. Anderson leaned across to place a hand on his shoulder that was anything but comforting. Kaidan reached for the glass again. His hand didn’t shake at all. He knocked back the rest of the scotch in one gulp and it stung like rubbing alcohol on a fresh wound.

“You’re the best man for the job, Commander, or I wouldn’t be asking you to do this,” he said compassionately. He gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, then let go. “Now, let’s hear the rest of your report on Freedom’s Progress.”

----------------------------------------------------

Part 2: The Citadel Doctor

The rest of the meeting was more or less a normal debrief, allowing Kaidan to reclaim his sense of balance.

He stopped by his Alliance housing apartment just long enough to drop off his mission brief and change into some civilian clothes. The picture frame on his desk lit up when he was close enough to activate the built-in motion sensor. He set the datapad down next to it and absently wiped off the thin layer of dust that had gathered on it during his brief sojourn to Freedom’s Progress, ignoring the dust gathered elsewhere on the desk.

Then he left and caught a skycar to Tayseri ward, sending off a hasty ping on his omni-tool along the way.

The entrance to the club was lit in harsh neon colors with letters that rearranged themselves periodically into the languages of various species from across the galaxy. While he watched, they flew around and formed themselves into the words salon de poussière d'étoiles, and from there into the more familiar English Stardust Lounge . A subtle bass beat filled the air, as did the alluring smells of food and alcohol.

It was still early enough that the evening crowds hadn’t filed in yet, making it easy to find a high table with two long-legged stools around it off to the side. The music, some modern mellow beat, was low enough to encourage conversation, and the lights were warm and subtle.

It was, in all, one of the more agreeable clubs in the Citadel to take a casual date.

A small terminal on the table interfaced directly with his omni-tool to bring up a menu, allowing him to place an order from the establishment’s extensive beer, wine, and liquor list. It was another reason this place appealed to him.

Rumor had it that a human diplomat with a hobby for homebrew had snuck some hops vines into the Presidium gardens. She’d been caught by a salarian groundskeeper, who decided to turn a blind eye instead of arresting her for misuse of Citadel resources. Something about the hops growing in the Citadel’s lower gravity gave the resulting beer a richer, more interesting flavor. The human diplomat and the salarian groundskeeper now had a lucrative side business selling their First Contact IPA to a handful of restaurants and clubs on the Citadel. Word was they were working on developing a dextro version of it to further expand the market. 

Kaidan had been on a waitlist for months to buy a mini-keg to send back home to his father, a true IPA aficionado.

But evidently Stardust Lounge didn’t have the same issue that a mere citizen like him did. Before long an asari waitress came by with two frosty pint glasses and set them down on the table in front of him. 

Kaidan slowly sipped his beer, savoring the rich taste of it, while he waited. He brought up his omni-tool and searched for information about Horizon. Once again, he was struck by how ordinary the colony was. It was a little more populous than most other Terminus colonies, probably owing to the Earth-compatible biosphere. The measures taken to prevent Earth crops from overtaking the native plantlife ensured that the big Agri-Bio companies had a vested interest in it. But nothing about the planet, or the colony it housed, seemed all that remarkable.

So what would motivate some unknown entity to strike at it?

Were the rumors of Cerberus activity out in the Terminus systems somehow connected?

And, the real question in his mind, was—

“Planning your next vacation?” A soft baritone voice cut a welcome distraction across his thoughts. Kaidan grinned and closed his omni-tool.

“Something like that.”

“Been waiting long?” The owner of the baritone voice placed a friendly peck on his cheek before sliding into the seat across from him. Kaidan pushed the second pint glass toward him.

“A few minutes. You come here straight from the clinic?” He asked, noting the green-and-white scrubs he wore.

“I know, I’m overdressed for a place like this,” he said humorously. “I had a last-minute client show up so I didn’t have time to change before coming here.”

“I’m glad you could make it, Taylor.” Kaidan reached across the table and squeezed his hand, then let go. Four—or was it five now?—dates in, and making time to spend chatting with Taylor when he was on the Citadel was one of the more pleasant habits he found himself forming. He radiated a sense of good humor and warmth that never failed to put him at ease. Taylor had been surprisingly understanding about his frequent absences and willing to pick up where they left off whenever Kaidan returned. 

And patient. So very patient with how slowly he allowed himself to become involved in a new relationship, which only made it even easier to enjoy Taylor’s company without the pressure of taking the next step.

“What’s the word? How long are you back for this time?” Taylor asked as he settled in with his drink. He took a slow appreciative sip of the beer and

“I’m shipping out again tomorrow,” Kaidan said, resigned to his marching orders.

“Already? You just got back.”

“You can take it up with my CO, if you want,” Kaidan replied, only mostly joking. 

“Think I’ll pass on that.” Taylor said dubiously. “Where are you headed this time?”

“Can’t say.” Kaidan shrugged.

“Can’t because you don’t know, or can’t because you can’t.” Taylor raised a brow over his drink.

“Can’t can’t.” Kaidan shook his head, once again appreciating Taylor’s understanding nature. There was so much he’d seen, so much he’d done that he could never talk about without breaking at least a dozen laws and setting the regs on fire. But if that bothered him, he didn’t show it.

“The unflappable man of galactic mystery rides off into the sunset again, you mean.”

“Something like that,” Kaidan chuckled. 

“You need me to look in on your plant again?” Taylor lifted an eyebrow like he’d just said something suggestive. Kaidan grinned into his beer.

“Thanks, but it should be fine this time. I gave Rufus the Jade plant away to a better home, to someone who’s actually around to care for it,” Kaidan said, then added, “You just want an excuse to rifle through my drawers while I’m gone, don’t you?”

“And cry myself to sleep on your pillows each night while helplessly pining away,” he replied without missing a beat.  “I guess I should probably feel flattered you made time for me tonight.”

“You should. I’m a very busy man,” Kaidan said, trying to sound as self-important as possible.

“You joke, but you really need to take better care of yourself, Kaidan. Get more sleep, take more breaks, or you’ll end up back at my clinic with more migraines.” The joking tone was gone, replaced by the gentle, chiding bedside manner of a doctor.

“Doctor’s orders?” Kaidan asked, taking a long, slow sip of his drink.

“A friendly suggestion,” Taylor responded, then added after a moment’s thought, “It would be inappropriate for me to be out having drinks with a patient, anyway. Unless doctor-patient roleplay is your thing.”

Kaidan’s mouthful of beer came into sudden conflict with the startled laugh that got out of him, resulting in him half-spitting, half-coughing it back into the glass. He set the glass down on the table and grabbed a napkin to dab off the rather undignified goatee of suds he now sported.

“Ah, so the unflappable man is, in fact, flappable.” Taylor’s sly smile grew into a wicked grin that made Kaidan’s heart skip a beat. 

“Is ‘flappable’ a word? I don’t know if it’s really a word,” Kaidan said, wiping down the drops of beer that managed to get onto his shirt and the table. 

“Ha! The words of man who doesn’t have a witty retort.” Taylor’s eyes sparkled in mischievous triumph.

“You’re not wrong there.” Kaidan laughed, managing to take a more dignified sip from his glass.

“You should be flapped more often. It’s a good look on you.” Taylor turned his head slightly to the side to deliver a devious sidelong glance.

“Are you coming on to me, Dr. Fuentes?” Kaidan asked slowly, knowing full well that he was. He leaned over the table toward him and reached a hand across. Taylor laid his hand over Kaidan’s and lightly moved his thumb back and forth across the back of his hand. 

“Depends. Any interest, Commander Alenko?”

It was a small amount of tension around his eyes, a slight hunch of his shoulders that gave it away. Taylor, who never failed to project a sense of smooth self-assurance, was nervous. It was something he’d never seen in him before. 

Kaidan licked his lips, suddenly self-conscious about how dry they were, and met Taylor’s gaze. He never failed to find his eyes startling, an unusual shade of light green-brown hazel with flecks of dark brown in them. He could easily fall into those eyes, eyes that look at him with an uncomplicated want he’d hadn’t seen in a long time.

He leaned in closer, his heart fluttering giddily in his throat. Maybe he was ready to take that next step. Taylor squeezed his hand and moved in to close the gap between them.

And suddenly Kaidan yawned right his face.

He pulled back to cover his yawn with his other hand, then burst out in a chuckle. “Sorry. It’s pretty late for me.”

“Glad you cleared that up. I’d hate to think my attempt to seduce you was that boring,” Taylor laughed. 

“Rain check? I have to get to packing, anyway.” Kaidan opened up his omni-tool to settle the tab for their drinks. 

“Mmm-hmm. Gotta get ol’ Grandpa Alenko here to bed early tonight.” Taylor finished the last swallow of beer in his glass and set it down on the table. “Walk you to your skycar?”

“Glad to have the company.” 

Taylor loosely laid a hand on Kaidan’s elbow as they walked past the growing nighttime crowds to the nearest taxi terminal, chatting amiably. As always, he had more than his fair share of amusing stories about the clients who patronized his clinic.

“...so then Kruhl, he looks at the hanar and tells him, ‘You’re gonna put that syringe down or you’ll be figuring out how to walk without those tentacles’,” Taylor’s voice grew deeper and rougher in imitation of the clinic’s krogan bouncer. “Don’t know if he knew that they use a mass effect field to get around, but damned if the hanar didn’t immediately drop it….”

Kaidan listened to the story, chuckling at appropriate moments, when a small movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention through the passing crowds.

Alliance uniform. Green eyes. Dark hair bound up in a tight bun. A red-and-black N7 pin stood out boldly on her chest underneath the Alliance stars-and-bars emblem. 

She offered him a crisp, formal salute.

“Are you ready to explore the galaxy and protect humanity’s interests? Are you ready to become who you were meant to be?” Triumphant, brassy music swelled over a nearby speaker. “The Systems Alliance wants you. Contact Alliance recruiters in Aroch Ward today.”

Then she was gone, and the words Ad Astra, Per Aspera floated in her place.

Kaidan breathed a soft sigh. 

“It must hurt, doesn’t it?” Taylor said quietly from his side. Belatedly, Kaidan realized they’d stopped walking. He shook his head and consciously refocused his attention.

“It’s just a recruiting poster. I’ve seen them a few times on the Citadel now,” Kaidan replied, turning back in the direction of the taxi terminal.

Taylor didn’t move, just giving him a quiet, measured look. “I’m not blind, Kaidan. I’ve dated soldiers before. But I don’t think I’ve ever dated one before who had a picture of their old CO on their desk.”

Kaidan smothered a small flicker of irritation. “It’s nothing,” he said, then when Taylor gave him an utterly unconvinced look he added, “This isn’t something I want to talk about right now.”

“Kaidan, I know there’s nothing serious between us, but I think we can at least be honest with each other. Whatever she was to you, it was something, and you’re carrying it around like a planet-sized weight.” Taylor stood rooted in his spot, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Tay….” Kaidan rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing he could rewind the last few minutes, just walk on by the recruiting ad without getting stuck on seeing her, to not be having this conversation right now, of all times.

“I’m not judging you for your grief. I know it can’t be easy when there’s constant reminders haunting you.” Taylor gestured at the Alliance ad still displaying the Latin motto on it. “All I’m asking for is some honesty.”

“I ship out in the morning,” he said as tiredly as he felt, then turned and walked the rest of the way to the taxi alone. He didn’t look back, not wanting to see the hurt he’d inevitably inflicted. 

----------------------------------------------------

Part 3: Baggage

Packing for missions was a familiar routine by now after a year of working under Anderson. He didn’t even need to think about it anymore.

He took care of the administrative business first: making sure his will and advanced directives were up to date, and writing a letter to his parents to be sent on a just-in-case basis. It was all formulaic, paint-by-the-numbers kind of business.

Next, he considered the contents of the shoebox-sized apartment and what to pack. The trip to Freedom’s Progress had been short, only requiring an overnight bag. The assignment to Horizon would last anywhere from a few weeks to a few months.

He started going through the usual checklist in his head. His armor and service weapons were still on the Stamford and would be shipped directly to the Lagos. That just left clothes, toiletries, and personal items. He started pulling clothes from the dresser, neatly folding them, and placing them in his duffel. 

There was comfort in routine, a soothing rhythm that brought a sense of normalcy to the inherent chaos his job brought into his life. Fold the clothes, roll them tightly to save space, place them in the bag. Bundle socks in the gaps between clothing rolls. Lather, rinse, repeat. He let his hands take care of the work while his mind wandered.

And if the rumors are true? 

A weight settled in the pit of his stomach, pulling tension in from his shoulders while a mild, familiar throb began to pulse in his temples. No aura clouded his vision, but that it was a run-of-the-mill headache and not a migraine didn’t make him feel any better.

He stopped folding clothes to rub his temples, finding little relief in the applied pressure. It was late, and he was too tired. He should have cancelled his plans with Taylor, focused on getting ready for the mission. Not gotten distracted by—

Focus on the mission.

What little he knew about Horizon was what he’d read in the mission brief. It had warned him that he wouldn’t receive a warm welcome as an Alliance officer, but that he could expect cooperation on the defense installation. There was nothing special about the colony to suggest why it could be the next in line to disappear. But then, none of the other disappeared colonies had been particularly special, either.

Clothes finished, then on to toiletries, migraine meds, other essentials. A few pads loaded with books and the latest vids went into the bag, too, since he couldn’t expect much in the way of social activities with the locals. He’d likely have to find his own entertainment off-hours instead of integrating with the locals.

His omni-tool buzzed with a new message. He opened it up despite the sudden tightness in his throat, half-expecting it to be from Taylor.

Council Spectre, Missing and Presumed Dead, Sighted in Terminus Systems: A Citadel Enquirer Exclusive

A hot spark of irritation flared up in him. He flicked his omni-tool to silent mode, then grabbed the few last pairs of white, Alliance-issue socks in his drawer and chucked them into his bag. He yanked a decidedly less Alliance-issue knit sweater from the closet in case his quarters there were cold and threw that in, too. Almost all packed.

The last thing he put in the bag was always the picture. He picked it up from its spot on his desk and stopped to consider it.

She smirked at him with one her lopsided half-smiles from behind the glass frame, leaning against the railings in the Upper Wards near the large observation windows. The Serpent Nebula bathed her in a muted blue and purple glow. The top few buttons of her Alliance dress blues were unclasped, allowing the top of her white undershirt to peek through. Dark hair tumbled down her back, freshly freed from its usual tight bun and framing her face in soft shadows. 

Are you taking a picture of me, Alenko?

If that’s alright with you.

Be sure to get my good side, then.

Is there a bad side? They all look good to me from here.

Stick around and you might find out.

She seemed to meet his eyes through the glass, looking so warm and alive that even the frame felt warm under his touch. How many times had he wanted to reach through the glass and touch her, to have the feel of her skin under his hand just one more time? 

That night, after the Alliance had awarded her the Star of Terra in front of a delegation of Council races on the Citadel. She’d hated it, the endless smiling and shaking of hands, the political messaging that made the medal ceremony secondary to the night’s purpose. They’d snuck out the moment she was no longer needed and went for drinks at Flux.

That night, when he’d told her he loved her, whispered against her ear when they went to admire the nebula views, right after taking the picture. She’d kissed him, heedless of who might have seen them out in public like that. The warm press of her lips against his was a memory that he’d preserved in perfect detail, a picture of a different kind. They’d stayed the night in a hotel on Zakera ward, allowing themselves a brief indulgence before slipping back into the professional masks that their roles and the regs demanded of them.

A few months later she was dead.

She’d been a star, burning bright and hot across the horizon, pulling him inexorably into her orbit through the sheer gravity of her presence. And like all luminous stars, she’d burned out too quickly, going out in an extinction burst that flared across his universe and left his sky a little darker.

And now maybe she wasn’t dead.

That brief time they had together—little more than a flicker against the lifetime of a star—it had meant everything to him. He’d thrown caution, and the regs, to the wind for her, knowing that whatever consequences came from it would be worth it to him. He’d thought it had meant something to her, too. Maybe it hadn’t.

It was hard to argue with two years of silence from a supposedly dead woman.

He placed the photo back on his desk, face down. He’d packed enough baggage for this assignment already.

He tugged on the duffel’s magnetic seal, but it caught and jammed on the sweater halfway across the top. He pushed it down, but the seal refused to budge. 

Fuck. 

He’d packed these items, minus the picture, so many times in this same bag, always with room to spare. He pulled the seal back. Instead of neatly folded clothes there was a jumbled pile thrown haphazardly in the bag. He sighed and emptied the bag’s contents out onto his bed and started over again, taking more care this time and not letting stray thoughts make him sloppy.

By the time he finished the task, a sense of profound exhaustion settled heavily on his shoulders. He sat down on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, and rested his forehead on his palms while his temples continued to throb. 

Two years. He’d spent two years working on moving on.

There’d been no time to grieve. No funeral or official closure when the Alliance and Council both downplayed her death. No one to turn to to talk without admitting what she’d been to him, not even the Alliance-mandated grief counselor he’d briefly seen after losing her. He’d worked through it, and for almost a year he’d been able to think of her without the clench of grief in his gut that stole his breath and made the universe momentarily stop.

Then the rumors had started.

In her absence, she was a singularity. Everywhere he turned she was still there, exerting a pull he couldn’t escape no matter how far he went. Every recruiting ad, every whispered rumor, every headline snagged at his edges and kept him snared on her horizon. That place in his heart he’d reserved for her had gradually eroded and the gaps filled in with a tangled web of grief and guilt and anger. 

And if the rumors were true….

If Anderson’s intel was good….

Kaidan lifted up his head and reached over to his desk to pick up the photo again. The frame felt cold in his hands, and her gaze seemed to look past him rather than directly at him this time. 

Whatever he felt for her, complicated as it was, wasn’t a switch he could turn off any more than he could turn off the sun. Wherever she was now, alive or lost somewhere in the remorseless void of space, he had to deal with the thorny legacy left in her wake.

And that meant owning up to his own failure to recognize that, and trying to right a wrong for someone who deserved better than to be hurt by his own inner conflicts.

The picture went back to his desk, face up and not among the belongings going with him to Horizon. He fired up his omni-tool and wrote up a quick message.

Taylor,

I’m sorry about earlier. You were right. There’s still some stuff I’m working through. 

I don’t know when I’ll be back. I’d like a chance to talk again when I do, if you want to see me. 

Take care of yourself,

Kaidan.

He logged the message in his outgoing queue and set it to send in the morning when he got underway on the Lagos. 

Whether the rumors were true or not, whether the woman he’d loved was still out there in some form, the galaxy had to keep spinning and he still had a job to do. At the end of the day, there was nothing left to do but move forward. The only thing Kaidan could do was choose how he did so. 

Kaidan straightened his shoulders. He’d always prided himself in at least trying to do the right thing. He could do less now, no matter what waited for him on Horizon.

At the end of the day, that was what mattered.

[abenastrying]

Are you still doing writing requests for Sweet Elite? If so, can you write one about Raquel going to a crowded party and she ends up dancing with a beautiful stranger (scholar before they get to Arlington) but she can't catch his name before they get separated? I'd love to see her thoughts about the situation and her conflicted feelings about him! Thank you!

I’ve been meaning to write/edit/type this for months now! Sosorry for the wait but I’ve finally done it. I paired her up with an OC from one of my longer works in progress. I had fun imagining him int he modern day. Hope you enjoy!

Raquel leaned against the bar, thankful for all her cardio.Dancing in that crowd, even with all her conditioning, had taken it out of her.

“Just a water, please.” The bartender looked harried enoughthat he didn’t question the request. Although her I.D. tonight said she was 22,alcohol would make getting back into Arlington unnoticed even harder.

Raquel still couldn’t believe she’d said yes when Axelknocked on her door with a half-baked plan to sneak out, then sneak into one of the more exclusive clubs nearby. She’d almost closed the door, but hehad some pretty effective puppy eyes. His ridiculous disguise- big, nerd-chicglasses, bight beanie and baggy clothes- also piqued her interest. If Rockstarwanted a night out, he probably needed it. She’d seen how his latest breakuphad gotten to him. Most people underestimated how bad constant paparazzi couldget.

So, here she was, paying too much for a water undermulticolored strobe lights and squinting to find where her friend was. She finallysaw the bright beanie dancing in the crowd.

“Hey! I found someone else willing to pay four bucks for awater!”

The voice was muted under the music. It came from a lanky guywho had enough eyeliner on to rival Axel on a good day. Glittery eyeshadow, acolorful shirt, and tight leather pants completed the look. It wasn’t the moststylish, but Raquel liked it anyway.

She leaned in to respond with a wink. “You could buy meanother if you want!”

He laughed and she liked the sound of it.

“Unfortunately, I only had enough for a water and the entryfee, I’ll have to walk a lot of dogs to make up my losses.” He smiled at her. “Butit was worth it to meet you!”

She rolled her eyes and downed her water, then gestured tothe dance floor. She could keep an eye on Axel nearby. He was talking to hisown cute guy, in-between some shoddy dance moves. His choreographer probablywasn’t paid enough.

Long dark curls bounced as her new dance partner nodded excitedlyand finished his own drink. She waded through the bodies and let the rollingbass of the music take her away. He followed.

Raquel was a good dancer, but her new friend was somethingelse entirely. Long limbs managed to move gracefully in the crowded space. He followedher lead and they moved together in fun, silly ways, before joining the crowdin getting slowly lost in the pulsing beats.

What felt like an eternity later, she was startled to feel ahand spin her around. Axel looked anxious and flushed. His beanie and glasseswere gone.

“We gotta go!” A few girls stood nearby pointing and pullingout their phones. People were starting to look.

“Wait I have-“ Axel pulled her towards the edge of the crowdand she tried to find the boy she’d been dancing with.

Her eyes landed on his in the mass of people. Raquel only managedan apologetic smile and a wave goodbye before booking it to the door, justoutrunning the small mob of people who had finally recognized her friend.

“I told you that Clark Kent think wouldn’t work!”

Axel could barely side-eye her as he focused on their daringescape.

“It would have.” They burstout the doors and cool night air greeted them. “It fell off!”

———————————————————————————————————-

Whoever this stranger was, he had kicked the hell out of thatrogue soccer ball! Raquel ran over to make sure he wasn’t hurt.

“Nice kic-“ She was cut off as his eyes met hers. Glittery eyeshadowwas color-coordinated to match the school uniform, and an embroidered gym bagwas slung over one shoulder.

“Hey stranger. I never got your name!” He beamed at her and itlooked even nicer in good lighting. It made her giggle. She hoped it didn’t soundas silly as it felt.

“I’m Raquel. You must be the new scholarship student, Corbin,Right?”

“I’m famous already! Yeah, I got into the dancing programhere.” He rambled on about how excited he was, asking questions about her, the school,dress code, and anything else that seemed to pop into his head. Raquel was stilltrying to process seeing him in Arlington. Before long, she was beaming back athim, trying to answer his rapid-fire questions. Maybe this year would be moreinteresting than she’d thought.

[femchef]

Suffer Bitch Ficlist

What This List Is: A collection of fics that I’ve read that absolutely fuck me up emotionally, and that I appreciated/loved/needed/have impacted me enough that I’ve saved them for re-reading. If these were paperbacks, the pages would have started falling out long before now.

That said, everything on this list has an emotional resolution (even the few incomplete ones I’ve chosen to include). Nothing on this list is the kind of emotional devastation that leaves the reader feeling empty and used* because honestly I need resolution, and I hate the type of #realism that makes me go “Well what was the fucking point, then”. This list is not comprehensive; if you’re in these fandoms, you’ve likely brushed up against them before. The majority of these authors are well-known, and some of these fics have been around longer than I’d like to be reminded. 

So - what qualifies a fic for this list, anyway? 

Tears and snotty sobbing. Everything on this list has made me cry and also given me emotional chills to some degree in order to make the cut.**

Before You Read: Take any warnings I list below seriously. If it’s something that will fuck you up in a bad way, then don’t read it. Don’t open the link. We all have things that are no-go’s. Full disclosure? I can’t read anything with graphic depictions of sexual assault, though mentions, allusions to, or mild/non-graphic depictions (ex. fade to black scenarios, fuzzy memory recall, etc.) don’t bother me. I take those tags and author’s notes seriously when I’m choosing what to read. Similarly, I’m pretty blasé about a lot of gore or body horror - except, specifically, when someone is rolling around in a pit of used needles (thanks for that, Saw movies). Guess what I avoid reading? In short: be a responsible reader. Don’t be self-destructive and proceed with however much caution you require.

*a life of smoke and silvered glass is an outlier and should not be counted.

**As a baseline, please keep in mind that the first time I read JRRT’s The Two Towers, I threw my book across the room when I got to the end. Also, the scene in Whale Rider where Paikea is on stage is the one time I started gross-sobbing in a movie theatre. Make of that what you will.

On to the list!

Suffer Bitch Ficlist:

(Presented to you in order of least impactful to most)

Invitation/Complication

It’s Green

Skin Deep

a life of smoke and silvered glass

Practicing Liars

Family Night

A Wicked Game

A Piercing Comfort

Loud and Clear

Humans and Ghosts

Digging for the Bones

Chivalry 

In Care Of

A Year Like None Other

Stay

Under Wing

Distorting Equivalency 

I’m Not Broken (I Can’t Be)

[The following are in no particular order because I couldn’t decide]

19. Sacrifices Arc

20. Phantom of Truth/Shadow of a Doubt

21. Like One Sundered Star

1. Invitation/Complication Series [Homestuck]

By saffronHeliotrope

You don’t need reminding that everyone is pairing off while you have village-bicycled your way through this group of morons as if you’d never run out of time.

It occurs to you that maybe you need new friends.

Word Count: 8,033

Status: Complete

This series contains two works, one taking place immediately after the other. Have fun angsting with Dave because he can’t seem to wrap his mind around this whole ot3 thing with John and Rose (on their wedding night, ofc). Consenting (if slightly dumb) adults and polyamory all around. 

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/132165

2. It’s Green [Harry Potter]

By Doodled93

Harry grows up working on his Aunt’s Garden and develops a love for it, meeting Samuel and eventually Max, who gives him a Mark of his own. This Mark is changing him, making him more different than he already was, and he loves it. 

Word Count: 88,549

Status: WiP

This is marvelous kidfic - lots of good fluff. Except. You know - that one OC death that was so heart wrenching that you start bawling. The concept of magical tattoos in this fic is really nice, and Max - a prickly, rough and gruff tattoo artist is the best kind of unintentional parental mentor. The author hasn’t updated in some time, but they’ve also made a note that they’ll come back eventually when they’re ready to update to completion. 

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411709/chapters/683216

3. Skin Deep [Fullmetal Alchemist]

By Batsutousai 

Trisha and Van’s first child, Edith, was born a beautiful, healthy girl. The only problem? Ed knew he was a boy.

Word Count: 17,083

Status: Complete 

As you may have guessed from the description, this is a mostly canon AU featuring a trans Edward Elric. I love it, I appreciate how it was written, especially that it’s not a romantic plot - and not only was I crying after the first read, but rereads still give me the sniffles.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8197400/chapters/18779738

4. a life of smoke and silvered glass [Harry Potter]

By dirgewithoutmusic

Albus Dumbledore rose to his feet, smiling at them in that way of his, like he knew something you didn’t and he was proud of you for it. “Friends,” he began. 

The door thudded open and the Marauders burst in, late and pink-cheeked with cold. The headmaster smiled at them, too, and Sirius gave a cheery little salute back.

Severus sunk lower in his chair, staring witheringly over his butterbeer. “You told Potter about it, too?” 

“He might as well put all that energy to good use,” said Lily. “And to be accurate, I told Remus.” 

“But Potter, really?” said Severus.

“He and Black cooked up a jinx that gives you a boil every time you say a slur to a Muggleborn,” said Lily. “It was either invite them to Alice’s war club or bake them cookies, and I know where my skills lie.” 

Severus sniffed. “Don’t come crying to me if he tugs your pigtails.” 

“Come crying to me if he pulls yours, and I’ll deck him.” said Lily.

(Slight AU in which Severus apologizes, tries harder, and stays friends with Lily.)

Word Count: 22,794

Status: Complete

This is the Severus Snape that canon wanted. The greatest tragedy that never has to explicitly be spelled out (and the reason this fic is so heartbreaking and infuriating) is that the end results are the same.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11457669

5. Practicing Liars [Harry Potter]

By Lomonaaeren

AU of HBP. Harry found out that he was Snape’s son two years ago, and he’s carefully concealed it. But now Snape is his Defense teacher, and Draco Malfoy is up to something, and Dumbledore is dying, and the final battle is coming up, and everything is getting very, very complicated. 

Word Count: 206,306

Status: Complete

Oh boy, bring on the angst. A Severitus fic with a lot of bitter, petty feelings. Half Blood Prince is such a popular point in HP canon to veer off into AU territory (for good reason), and just - the timing, the missed opportunities, the growth. Lots of feelings. Also drarry. 

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/990947/chapters/1955931

6. Family Night [Harry Potter]

By Celebony

As Hogwarts starts a quarterly Family Night, Harry is determined to take part. Facing the heartache of looking in all the wrong places, he’ll have to discover the true meaning of family, and that sometimes it comes from where you least expect it. 

Word Count: 33,000

Status: Complete

Eventual Severitus fic. Unhealthy coping mechanisms, emotional abuse, anxiety, self-destructive behavior, angst, grief, and (eventually) healing and recovery - this fic has it all. To me, I think this is the author’s best work, but obviously I have a preference. Fans of Remus tread carefully, this story may not be for you. 

Read here: https://m.fanfiction.net/s/2682144/1/Family-Night

7. A Wicked Game Series [Fullmetal Alchemist]

By Tierfal

Roy has lucked into the all-expenses-paid vacation of his dreams - all he has to do is convince a bunch of happy couples that he’s head-over-heels in love with Ed Elric. What could possibly go wrong? 

[Modern!AU].

Word Count: 64,884

Status: Story is Complete, but Series is still open for possible future oneshots/additions 

Currently three completed works in the series. Roy and Ed as struggling grad students who share lab space stuck in a cabin full of obnoxious couples. This story resonates so well for me, because it was the first time I read something where a character actively struggles with depression where I really felt like someone GOT IT. So, be warned - suicide mentions, depression, angst, and a lot of puns. Safe Roy/Ed, though if that’s not your jam, better take a miss. 

 Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/372113

8. A Piercing Comfort [Harry Potter]

By talithan

When Harry Potter hits the lowest point of his life so far, it is not his friends who keep him honest. With Draco Malfoy’s patience and guidance, Harry learns to stand on his own. The thing is, after the fact - he’s no longer sure he wants to. 

Word Count: 44,566

Status: Complete

This fic has art by onthecount! It’s lovely. Anyway - Oh my god. When I talk about things resonating on some, soul-deep level. The way depression, and trauma, and PTSD is handled is... Well. I don’t go back to this often, but it’s because (for me) reading this fic is cleansing. Draco and Luna as therapists running a burgeoning wizarding practice is pretty great. If you couldn’t guess by reading the summary, this is an eventual drarry fic - and I’ll be upfront, if the idea of dating your former therapists squicks you out, don’t read. I like how it’s written out, it doesn’t feel inappropriate, or like any sort of power imbalance to me, but I can see where that wouldn’t be everyone’s cup of tea either. 

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/857495

9. Loud and Clear Series [Fullmetal Alchemist]

By Tierfal

The thing with Roy is founded on coffee snobbery and stupid text messages and seriously awesome makeout sessions in the car. Oh, and the love of a lifetime, or whatever.

Word Count: 280,924

Status: WiP

Currently there are six completed works, and one in-progress (with at least one more slated by the author). Also known as ‘The modern!AU Roy/Ed fluffball fic (of doom)’, there is emotional baggage/angst throughout that hints at darker things but nothing too dreadful until the fourth entry in the series, “Another One of Those Heartbreak Songs”. Anxiety, depression, war crimes, rape and consent (and, fyi, one of the best descriptions of what exactly enthusiastic consent IS, is in the current entry of the series, “The Boiling Point”) are all being dealt and felt in this story. Safe Roy/Ed fic that starts with a coffeehouse!AU style meetcute and follows the deepening relationship between Roy (established lawyer who works with veterans) and Ed (making the transition from struggling grad student to frazzled professor), and has a delightful dose of Al/Win tossed in. One of the most relatable things about this series is how all the terrible things about your worst relationships don’t really hit you until you’re smack in the middle of the best relationship you’ve ever had, and it’s ROUGH. Consider this your explicit warning: if mentions of rape/sexual abuse, or abusive ex’s set you off, don’t read.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/167693

10. Humans and Ghosts [Danny Phantom]

By RedHeadsRock1010

If there was one thing Danny Fenton perfected since receiving his powers, it was how to pretend. 

Word Count: 26,751

Status: Complete

ANGST. Angst and neglectful parents. Angst and neglectful parents and two siblings doing the best they can. Jazz is a real MVP in this story. Also blood and gore. And torture. Oh my god. Still makes me cry. Consider this your explicit warning: if mentions of torture, or neglectful/abusive parenting set you off, don’t read. While it’s not a religious fic, the impact of the parenting codes like some of the horror stories you might have heard about being in the closet and growing up with religious parents. You have been warned. 

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12315771/chapters/27999459

11. Digging for the Bones [Harry Potter]

By Paganaidd

Rather than allowing Harry to stay at Diagon Alley after he blew up Aunt Marge, the ministry sends Harry back to the Dursley’s. Harry returns to school after a terrible summer, to find that he’s not the only one with this kind of secret. A student has been killed by his family. New screening measures are put into place by the Ministry: Every student must be given a medical exam and interview to look for child abuse. With Dumbledore facing an inquiry, Snape is entrusted with the task of making sure EVERYONE receives one. 

Word Count: 203,178

Status: Complete 

As the author warns before the fic, there is a character death in the first chapter. The story is an AU of Prisoner of Azkaban. Suicide, attempted suicide, and suicidal ideation are a big part of the story. Child abuse, death by child abuse (and the aftermath), ptsd, and the appalling effects of dementors on a castle full of kids are pretty central to the plot. Eventual Severitus. Also accidental necromancy. This is a monumental hurt/comfort fic and there are a LOT of feelings. And angst. Consider this your warning: if explicit attempted suicide, or suicidal thoughts set you off, don’t read. If mentions of physical abuse/child abuse set you off, don’t read.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598019/chapters/1078847

12. Chivalry Series [Harry Potter]

When Harry appears at the Welcoming Feast wearing a glamor only Snape notices. Snape decides to find out what the glamor is hiding. 

You, the guiltless, will pay for your father’s sins,

Roman, until you repair the decaying 

Temples and shrines of the gods, and their

Images, filthy with blackening smoke.

When you act as servant of the gods, you rule:

From them all beginning, leave them the ending. 

Horace, Odes III-6

Word Count: 123,467

Status: Series is marked as Ongoing, though individual stories are Complete

Welp. Angst, some explicit child abuse (specifically physically violent Vernon Dursley), grief and mourning, ptsd, accidental potions class disasters that lead to more angst, sickfic, hurt/comfort, blood, gore and violence, child neglect, and eventual found-family by way of Severitus and a developing sibling relationship between Harry and Luna. There is a lot to unpack here. The interactions between Harry, Luna and Severus are especially endearing and heartbreaking. This is your explicit warning: if explicit child abuse /physical abuse set you off, or if accidentally forced (yes, I know how that sounds) flashbacks set you off, don’t read. 

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/12306

13. In Care Of

By Fangs_Fawn

During the summer before sixth year, Harry finds an injured bat in the garden and decides to try to heal it... and an unwilling Snape learns just what kind of a person Harry Potter really is. 

Word Count: 45,319

Status: Complete 

I’m gonna be upfront with you. Vernon and Dudley Dursley are very sadistic in this story. Tread with caution. That said, along with the angst this is a very solid hurt/comfort fic that is also a reciprocal hurt/comfort fic (in that, first Snape is helped, and then Harry). It’s a nice emotional exchange. Violence - explicit child abuse and torture, grief, and a very petulant animagus. This is your explicit warning: if physical torture/violence sets you off, don’t read.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023625/chapters/2036909

14. Like None Other Series [Harry Potter]

By aspeninthesunlight

A letter from home? A letter from family? Well, Harry Potter knows he has neither, but all the same, it starts with a letter from Surrey. Whatever the Dursley’s have to say, it can’t be anything good; so Harry’s determined to ignore it. But then, his evil schoolmate rival spots the letter and his slimy excuse for a teacher intercepts it and forces him to read it. And that sends Harry down a path he’d never have walked on his own.

It will be a year of big changes, a year of great pain, and a year of confronting worst fears. It will be a year of surprising discoveries, of finding true strength, of finding out that first impressions of a person’s true colors do not always ring true. It will be a year of paradigm shifts. 

And from the most unexpected sources, Harry will have a chance to have that which he has never known: a home... and a family.

A sixth year fic, this story follows Order of the Phoenix and disregards any canon events that occur after book 5. 

Word Count: 1,465,418

Status: WiP

Currently there are two completed works in this series, and one ongoing. This is a ROLLERCOASTER, omg. Terminal illness, child abuse, explicit, agonizing torture, grief and mourning, bad coping mechanisms, self-harm, self-destructive behavior - hurt/comfort out the wazoo. Eventual Severitus, this is a good, substantial found-family fic with a developing sibling relationship between Harry and Draco. I really appreciate that Severus, Harry and Draco continue to step on each other’s toes as the story moves along. They get as much wrong as they get right, and the familial development is natural. Harry does struggle a bit with the newer experience of a paternal Severus weighted by the previous years of his antagonism and petty behavior. Severus struggles with balance, Draco struggles with extremes - behavior, feelings, intrusive thoughts - it’s a very well-rounded story. This is your explicit warning: The torture is incredibly graphic, and there are needles involved. If that sets you off, don’t read. 

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/41198

15. Stay [Danny Phantom]

By jaeger_soul

Dash Baxter is finally a senior and this year isn’t supposed to be hard. With nothing waiting on him after graduation, he might as well sleep through his classes. He’s already got a job after high school’s over, what’s the point of reaching for anything more? He’s fine with what he has. But when ‘more’ comes in the form of a black-haired boy with similar problems to his own, can Dash really not try for it?

Word Count: 817,287

Status: WiP

This is technically a series, since the author has written one companion piece from another character’s perspective for chapter 27 of the story. Oh my god. Dash is a sweet, sweet cinnamon roll who’s just trying to muddle his way through, and terrible things happen to him. This is not Dash the bully from the canon series. The endgame ship is Dash/Danny, and it is very slow-burn. Lots of hurt/comfort in this fic, and the author’s OC’s are incredibly fleshed out and wonderfully developed. Anxiety and panic attacks are pretty heavy in this story. Small town-typical homophobic slurs, make an appearance. Teenagers having sex with other teenagers is a thing. Mentions of abortion and teen pregnancy and unwanted pregnancy all happen later on. Mentions of suicidal thoughts and attempted suicide are plot points. Abusive and abused ex partners. Child abuse - emotional, mental and physical - is the heavy hitter in this story. It is explicit and painful and heartbreaking. Consider this your warning. ABUSE. Explicit, agonizing depictions of trauma, and being used as a bargaining chip between two different but equally terrible parents - if any of that sets you off, DO NOT READ THIS STORY. 

Read here:https://archiveofourown.org/series/646532

16. Under Wing [Harry Potter/Katekyou Hitman Reborn Crossover]

By Reighost

Prophesies were tricky things and lies are even trickier. Sirius’s death becomes a catalyst and Dumbledore’s lies crumple like a house of cards. Harry is left with a burning question... Who is he really? Crossover with Katekyou Hitman Reborn!

Word Count: 145,771

Status: WiP

This story goes hard on the angst right out of the gate. And I do mean hard. Oh my god. A literal mindfuck that will leave you gasping. Psychological manipulation and torture, mind rape, body horror, and non-sexual indecent treatment of a corpse to start with. However, there is a lot of good content in this hurt/comfort fic. The author has not only brought HP and KHR together but has blended elements and characters from Spirited Away, Cardcaptor Sakura and xxxHolic together in such a way that despite all the horror, there’s actually a lot of redeeming charm. You will never find a better interpretation of the Hibari family than the Hibari’s that Reighost writes about in her universes, and this story contains a flashback to the Hibari parents meetcute and it is adorable and hilarious. While this is a wip, it’s at a very good stopping point that’s more or less the end of a story arc - so don’t let the thoughts of a slow wip put you off. This is your warning: Mind-control and mind-control recovery, and gore, all quite explicit. If that sets you off, DO NOT READ. There’s a reason this story is so far down the list. 

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123387/chapters/2264363

17. Distorting Equivalency [Fullmetal Alchemist]

By Ranowa Hikura

All Ed knows is that he’s been kidnapped by a madman. 

Word Count: 173,000

Status: Complete

Go hard or go home. This is 27 chapters of kidnapping, explicit torture, and unethical alchemical experimentation with chimeras. All those feelings you have about Nina? Dial it up to eleven (to point out, Tucker and Nina are not featured characters in this story - unfortunately that disaster has already happened). A hurt/comfort fic with a very good resolution. Also becomes eventual Paternal!Roy and Ed. This is your warning: If explicit, repeated torture and body horror set you off, AVOID THIS FIC. 

Read here: https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12116762/1/Distorting-Equivalency#end

18. I’m Not Broken (I Can’t Be) [Homestuck]

By [orphan_account]

Guys don’t get raped. 

Okay, so maybe they do, sometimes. But that’s only when they’re ganged up in an alley way and shoved against a wall and get some other guy’s dick in their ass without permission. It’s forceful and bloody and masculine. At least, that’s how the media sells it.

But this isn’t rape.

When a girl buys you drinks and takes you home and crawls on top of you - well, that’s every guy’s wet dream. 

When she’s grinding down onto you and her hands are holding yours to her breasts and she’s whispering filthy, filthy things into your ear, that’s not rape.

That’s not rape no matter how many times you say no.

Word Count: 33,386

Status: Complete

This is your explicit warning: Rape. The scene is non-graphic (lead-up with fade-to-black scenario) and takes place in the first chapter. Trauma, self-harm, suicidal ideation, destructive behavior, mentions of homophobia. If the summary of this story isn’t enough of a warning, then here you go. DO NOT READ if this is what sets you off. Hurt/comfort and ANGSTANGSTANGST aside, the aspect that I appreciate most about this story is how it deals with trying to come to terms with a trauma you don’t know how to articulate (to yourself or others). I don’t generally do stories that rely on miscommunication, but in this case, it makes sense: it’s less about miscommunication for the sake of plot, and more the lack of ability to articulate effectively, which. Yeah. Dark, angsty hurt/comfort that eventually ends on a positive, hopeful note. PROCEED WITH CAUTION. 

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777171/chapters/1462358?view_adult=true

DUN DUN DUN - THE BIG THREE 

Let’s call it a three-way tie, because there is SO MUCH PAIN in each of these stories, honestly I really can’t pick an order for them.

19. Sacrifices Arc [Harry Potter]

By Lightning on the Wave

Harry’s twin Connor is the Boy Who Lived, and Harry is devoted to protecting him by making himself look ordinary. But certain people won’t let Harry stay in the shadows...

Word Count: 3,081,000

Status: Complete

Wrong Boy Who Lived. Severitus, Slytherin!Harry. Drarry. If those are on your radar, this may be the story for you. Just beware literally everything else. Torture, mind-control and manipulation, child abuse, emotional abuse, physical abuse, mental abuse, neglect, rape, cannibalism (is it cannibalism when it’s a werewolf eating a human child), trauma, destructive behavior, violent loss of limb, blood, gore, viscera, necromancy - these are just some of the explicit things that take place in the series. There are eight works in the Sacrifices Arc, and they mirror the canon Harry Potter series in that they start at mild and slightly odd and become darker and more horrifying. This is a very, very long series, and it hits a lot of milestones within the HP fandom. There are lovely moments of tenderness, the OC’s are magnificent and well-developed, and while heavy-handed from time to time, the author explores notions of morality and spends a lot of time on magical theory and world-building. If you haven’t read Sacrifices Arc and want more information, google it’s tvtropes page. I would recommend doing so just to determine whether or not the story is safe for you to read if you’re concerned about it, because there is a LOT going on. Otherwise, start with the first story in the series (“Saving Connor”) and proceed with caution. You will absolutely be wrung out before you finish.

Read here: https://m.fanfiction.net/u/895946/

20. Phantom of Truth/Shadow of a Doubt [Danny Phantom]

By HaiJu

Locked away in a secret government lab with Phantom as her subject, nothing stands between Maddie and the truth... except, perhaps, herself.

Word Count: 366,000

Status: Complete

Do you want to get fucking wrecked? Because this series will do it. Holy shit. I still can’t believe I got through it. This is so well-written and so. Fucking. Painful. The first entry in the series, Phantom of Truth, absolutely GOES THERE. The second entry is... everything that comes after. I don’t feel like it spoils anything to tell you that Maddie is not the person who captures Danny Phantom, or that she does not know he’s her son. Make of that what you will. Also, the first story does have a good resolution and does not end on a cliffhanger, so if you need to take a break after, you should. Bonding happens, and I wouldn’t call it Stockholm Syndrome, since it’s between Maddie and Danny, but I also wouldn’t say it doesn’t overlap. This story is absolute fucking angst. Shadow of a Doubt explores not only the traumatic repercussions on Maddie and Danny and their relationship, but on their friends, family, acquaintances and even enemies. There are some very good OC’s that come into play later on. You know, between all the angst and pain. Tread carefully: If you think you’ll be set off by torture and abuse, DO NOT READ THIS FIC. I cannot stress that enough. 

Read here: https://m.fanfiction.net/s/7476808/1/Phantom-of-Truth

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/9683169/1/Shadow-of-a-Doubt

[It’s worth mentioning that HaiJu has an ao3, but they haven’t finished crossposting Shadow of a Doubt to their account]

21. Like One Sundered Star Series [Homestuck]

By oriflamme

Who are these shining like one sundered star? 

[Like kindled lights in untempestuous heaven,

Fair flower-like stars or the iron foam of fight.]

———

Teenage superheroes deal with hormones, mental illness, and extremely secretive guardians in a world of Horrorterrors, giant mutant lucii, mob violence, nightmares of a past life, warring anti-heroes, and asshole carapacians. Sburb AU divergence from Real Men Wear Tights. 

Word Count: 1,712,155

Status: Complete

Welcome to the AU of an AU that did a double reach-around back into canon and became a reincarnation AU. It’s fucking excellent and also fucking traumatic. Body horror, blood and gore and viscera, torture, emotional manipulation, mind control, child abuse, emotional abuse, unhealthy coping mechanisms, attempted suicide/suicidal ideation, codependency, alcohol abuse, just to name a significant few. This is a huge pale-tango clusterfuck and it’s glorious. The world-building is insane. Richly developed OC’s, good use of languages, images that a slowly incorporated into a story of increasing breadth and complexity - and a fucking bombshell that will hit you really, really hard about midway through the story. So much pain. Again, this is another series with a tvtropes page that you should visit if you have any concerns before reading, because there is just that much going on. There are three works in this series, two are companions to the main body of work. Proceed with caution, because this will squeeze the life out of you. 

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/56682

Welp.

[starspangledbanner27]

**CHAPTER UPDATE – Chapter 6 posted**

Fandom: Saving Mr. Banks (AU)

Description: AU take on the movie, exploring what might have happened if the author of the Mary Poppins books had been someone very different from P. L. Travers.  For Carrie Schultz, the chance to collaborate with Walt Disney Studios to bring Mary Poppins from the page to the screen is a dream come true.  However, matters grow complicated when animated penguins prove to be a point of contention, a friendly working relationship turns into more than she bargained for, and Carrie struggles to prevent Walt’s team from discovering her own hidden afflictions.

Characters: Carolina “Carrie” Schultz (OC), Don DaGradi, Walt Disney, Richard M. Sherman, Robert B. Sherman, Ralph

Rating: T

Genre: Drama/Romance

Language: English

Read on Fanfiction.net, AO3, Wattpad, Quotev, or below.

From the beginning on Fanfiction.net, AO3, Wattpad, or Quotev.

My motivation to update finally returned from a three-week hiatus.  To those of you who’ve been awaiting this next chapter, thank you for your patience. I hope you enjoy it. :)

~~~~~

Chapter 6

“Well, everybody . . .” Don adjusted himself in his seat, “this is it—the last scene.  What do you say we finish this up and then take a break?”

Dick threw his hands up and stretched over the back of his chair.  “I say hallelujah!”  

“I concur with Dick,” I replied.  After almost two solid hours of going through the script—reading, revising, and even returning to earlier scenes to make changes—the four of us were eager for a respite.

“All right, then.”  Don glanced at me over the top of his glasses.  “Carrie, why don’t you read for Mary Poppins; Bob, you read for Michael; and I’ll read for Jane.  Dick, you can start us off with the scene heading.”

“You got it.”  Dick looked down at his copy of the script.  “‘Scene 12—Nursery and Living Room.   In the living room, a worried Mrs. Banks, Ellen, and Cook are talking amongst themselves while the Constable talks on the phone.  In the nursery, Michael and Jane are watching Mary Poppins pack her carpetbag.’”

“‘She doesn’t care what will happen to us!’” Bob read Michael’s line.  

Don cleared his throat, raised his eyebrows, and adopted a girlish falsetto.  “‘She only said she would stay until the wind changed.  Isn’t that right, Mary Poppins?’”  Unlike Dick and Bob, who used their normal voices regardless of whose lines they were reading, Don fully assumed the persona of every character he read for; and I couldn’t help chuckling to myself at his impersonation of Jane.  However, I managed to suppress my amusement long enough to read Mary Poppins’s part.

“‘Will you bring me my hat, Jane?’”

“‘Mary Poppins, don’t you love us?’”  Don pulled his face into such an exaggeratedly pathetic pout that I burst out laughing.

“‘And what would happen to me, may I ask, if I loved all the children I said goodbye to?’” I gasped amidst a fit of giggles.

“There, Don—look what you did.”  Bob gestured to me and shook his head with mock exasperation. “You broke her.”  

By that time, I had almost succeeded in bringing my laughter under control, but Bob’s dry remark set it off all over again.  Then, suddenly, that all-too-familiar tightness took hold in my lungs; and I crumpled forward, pressing one hand to my mouth and the other to my chest as a series of coughs racked my body.  Don and Bob ceased their banter and looked at me with concern.  “You all right, Carrie?” Don asked.  

I nodded.  Liar, taunted a voice in the back of my head, but I ignored it.  Then, mustering all my strength, I drew a long, deep breath and held it, straining against the urge to cough again.  After five seconds, I blew it out slowly, then reached for my glass of water and took a drink.  When I finished, I looked up to see the three men staring at me.

“Sorry,” I sighed.  “I guess I haven’t laughed that hard in a while.”  

“Are you okay now?” Don asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I assured him.  

Dick pointed to the script.  “Should I read the next part, then?”

I nodded.  “Go ahead.”

“All right, where were we?”  He scanned over the page.  “Oh, here we are.  ‘Mary Poppins continues to silently pack her bag.’”

Don took the next part.  “The Constable, talking on the phone, says, ‘Yes sir . . . George W. Banks.  17 Cherry Tree Lane.  About six foot one.  Yes, we rang the bank.  No sign of him!’”  

I read Ellen’s line.  “‘Wouldn’t hurt to let them drag the river!’”

“‘Really, Ellen!’” Bob read for Mrs. Banks.

“‘He seemed to be such a fine, stable gentleman, sir!’” Don read for the Constable again.  “He’s still speaking into the phone at that point,” he clarified.

“That’s the last line on the page,” I observed.  “But that’s not the end, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” Don confirmed.  “The ending is a . . . work in progress.”

“Do you have a concept in mind?”

He sighed.  “Not exactly.  We’ve been tossing ideas around for over a week now, but we haven’t come up with anything satisfactory.”

I nodded thoughtfully.  “I see.  Well, maybe I can help.”

“That’s what we were hoping,” he confessed with a grin. Then, taking a deep breath, he flipped his copy of the script shut and folded his arms on the table.  “All right; now that we’ve made it through that, let’s take a break and meet back here in ten minutes.”

“Finally,” Dick sighed with relief as the four of us rose from our chairs.  

Bob grabbed his cane and headed for the door.  “I’m gonna go ask Dolly to bring in some sandwiches and fruit.”

“Good idea,” Don agreed.  

After Bob left the room, I meandered over to one of the pinup boards and scanned my eyes across the various sketches that were tacked to it.  “What are all these drawings for?” I inquired at last.

“That’s some of the concept art for the movie,” Don explained, coming to stand beside me.  “We find it’s helpful to have a visual—plus, it’s fun.  This one here is Michael in his chalk world outfit.”  He pointed to the one I was looking at, which depicted a young boy clad in white shorts, a blue-and-white pinstriped jacket, and a yellow straw hat with a blue ribbon.  

I smiled.  “They’re charming.  Who draws them?”

“Most of them are drawn by our concept artists—people from the animation department,” he replied.

“Don’s too modest,” Dick interjected from across the room.  “At least half the drawings in here are his work.”

I turned to Don.  “Is that true?”

A self-conscious smile tugged at his mouth.  “Well, since he mentions it, yes, I did draw some of them.”  Returning his gaze to the board, he reached out and straightened a few of the sketches that were hanging crookedly.  “I started out here at Disney Studios working in animation, and most of us animators tend to think in terms of storyboards.  So when I’m working on a screenplay like this one, I’ll often make sketches to help us visualize the story.”  

“He can make entire scenes come to life on paper,” Dick affirmed.  

“That’s quite impressive,” I remarked.

“Well, Dick is rather liberal in his praise, but thank you,” Don replied with a smile.  “I was originally thinking we’d go over the concept art with you tomorrow,” he continued, “but since it’s only 3:30, we might be able to do it before you leave today.”

I nodded eagerly.  “Yes, that’d be good.”

Just then the door opened, and Bob entered the room with Dolly close behind, pushing a cart with a plate of sandwiches and a fruit tray. “Here you go, gentlemen,” she announced. “Oh, and Carrie, your ride’s waiting outside.”

“What?” I asked, bewildered.  “I thought he wasn’t supposed to pick me up till five.”

“Well, Walt figured you might be a little tired after your first day here, so he had me call your driver and ask him to come early,” she explained.

“Oh, he did, did he?” I muttered.  Aloud I replied, “Thank you, Dolly, for letting me know. I’ll be right down.”  Dolly nodded, smiling, and began laying out the food.

With a small sigh of annoyance, I returned to the table to collect my jacket and purse.  “Well,” I said to the three men, “it appears I have to go now.  Thank you for a wonderful first day; I really enjoyed it.”

“Good, we’re glad to hear that,” Bob replied.  Dick, who had just taken a large bite of sandwich, expressed his agreement with a thumbs-up.  

I nodded.  “Well, then, I’ll see you all tomorrow.  Have a good evening.”  

“You too!” chorused Bob, Dick, and Dolly.

“I’ll walk you out,” Don said, opening the door for me.

As we strode through the hallway, I heaved another sigh. “I’m sorry we couldn’t go over the concept art.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Don reassured me. “We’ll just do it tomorrow.”

“But we had enough time; we could have done it today.” I shook my head in frustration.  “Walt didn’t even ask whether I wanted to leave early.  If he had, I would have said no.”  

He shrugged.  “Well, that’s Walt for you.  I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm by it.”  

I pursed my lips.  “Hmm.”

After several moments of silence, Don changed the subject. “I noticed you spoke up a lot more during the second half of the reading.”  

“Just following some good advice,” I replied with a smile, glancing up at him as I did so.

He caught my eye and grinned.  “I’m glad you did.”  

We made it to the front door; and as we emerged from the air-conditioned building into the sun-baked heat of the afternoon, Don asked, “Well . . . anything else before you leave?  Any other comments?”

I opened my mouth to say no, but then I remembered something that had been tugging at the back of my mind for most of the afternoon.  “Actually, yes, there is,” I confessed.  “Mr. Banks—his character in the script seems so . . .”  I trailed off, unsure of what exactly I was trying to convey.

“What?” Don prompted.

“I don’t know, just . . . something about him . . .” After another few seconds, I shook my head.  “Never mind. I’m not quite sure what it is.”

“Well, let us know if you figure it out,” he said. By that time, we had arrived at the spot along the sidewalk where Ralph had parked the car and was standing patiently beside it with his hands clasped.

“Ready to go, Miss Schultz?” he asked.

“Well, Mr. Disney seems to think I am,” I replied wryly. Ralph’s face registered confusion, but he smiled anyway.  Meanwhile, I turned once more to the man still standing beside me.  “Thank you for everything, Don.  I have to admit, I was a little nervous at first; but you and the Shermans made me feel comfortable here.  I really appreciate that.”

A warm grin spread across his face.  “The pleasure is all ours, Carrie.  It’s wonderful to have you here.”

I flushed with delight.  “Well . . . I guess I’d better go now.”

He nodded.  “See you tomorrow.”

“Looking forward to it.”  With a final parting smile, I climbed into the car.  

Ralph shut the door behind me, then hurried around the other side and climbed into the driver’s seat.  As the car pulled away from the sidewalk, I looked out the window to see Don waving goodbye.  I lifted my hand and waved back.

“Nice guy,” Ralph remarked after I turned around.

“Yes, he is,” I murmured, smiling to myself.

~~~~~

Back in my hotel room, I set my purse on the nightstand, kicked off my pumps, and collapsed onto the bed with a sigh.  After staring at the ceiling for several seconds, I turned my head to look at Mickey Mouse where he sat on the floor by the dresser. “Well, we made it through the first day,” I remarked to him.  “And it wasn’t so bad after all.”  

He smiled as if he’d known all along.

With a soft chuckle, I let my eyelids fall shut.  Just a quick rest . . .

~~~~~

When I opened my eyes, the room was dark.  Disoriented, I sat up and looked at the clock on the nightstand.  7:36.  I covered my face with my hands and groaned. How had I let myself fall asleep—for three and a half hours, no less?  At last, with a sigh of resignation, I stood up, stretched, and staggered over to the closet to find a more comfortable dress.  

Once I had changed, I sat down on the bed again and ordered up a belated dinner tray.  Then I propped the pillows against the headboard, retrieved the contract and a pencil from my purse, and settled down to comb through the pages of legalese.

When at last I reached the dotted line, I gave a nod of satisfaction.  The terms of the contract were exactly as my agent had described, including the two most important stipulations—live-action, script approval—all right there in black and white.  Just as I was searching through my purse for a pen with which to sign, the phone rang. I glanced at the clock—8:30.  Forgetting the contract, I set my purse aside and leaned over to pick up the phone.  “Hello?”

“Hey, Carrie, it’s Sam.”

“I figured as much,” I replied with a smile.  “But I didn’t expect you to call this late! It’s, what, 10:30 your time?”

“Oh, yeah.”  She giggled sheepishly.  “James took me out to dinner tonight.  We got to talking and lost track of the time.”

“So I take it you enjoyed yourselves?”

“We did.”  She gave a sigh of delight.  “But enough about me.  How was your first day at the studio?”

“It was great,” I affirmed.  “Everyone was very nice, especially the three men I’m working with.  We spent most of our time today going over the script.”

“And you like it so far?”

“I think so.  There are a few things I might like to change, but I think they’ve got a good start.”

“Good.”  She paused, then spoke again.  “So . . . three men, huh?  Are they cute?”

“They're married!” I exclaimed indignantly.  “Well, two of them are.”

“And the third one?”

“Don’t even go there, Sam.  I can’t be thinking about stuff like that; I need to focus on making this movie.  Not to mention there’s this thing called professional conduct.”

“Aw, too bad,” she lamented.  I rolled my eyes.  “Well, tell me more about these men,” she prompted.  “What exactly do they do?”

“Well, Dick and Bob Sherman are the songwriters,” I explained.  “They showed me some of what they’ve come up with so far—and, Sam, it’s amazing!  I can't wait to hear the rest.  And then there’s Don DaGradi, the scriptwriter—he’s pretty much the one in charge of this whole project.  I think you’d like him.  He was very welcoming, and he seems open to my suggestions, which is a pleasant surprise.”

“Ah,” she said knowingly.  “I’ll bet he’s the one who’s still single, isn’t he?”

“Sam, for heaven’s sake—”

“I knew it!” she exclaimed.  “So, is he attractive?”

I shook my head.  “You are incorrigible, Samantha.”

I could practically hear her triumphant grin.  “And proud of it!”

“Anyway,” I pointedly changed the subject, “things went very well today.  I think this whole thing is going to work out even better than I expected.”

“Well, I’m glad you had a good time,” she said.  Then, after a pause, “So, did you get to meet . . . him?”

“Walt, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes, I did.”

“What’s he like?” she asked.

I furrowed my brow thoughtfully.  “You know, I’m not quite sure.  I mean, when I first met him, he came across a lot like he does on television—all warm and fatherly, like the sort of guy everyone would want as a friend.  But now . . . I don’t know, I’m starting to get the sense that there’s another side to him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s just . . . never mind.  It’s too complicated to explain.  Whatever it is, I doubt it’ll cause any problems.  Oh, and speaking of which, I just finished looking over the contract.  Everything seems to check out, so I’m going to sign it and hand it in tomorrow.”

There was a moment’s pause before she replied.  “You sure you want to do that now?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” I asked, surprised.

“I don’t know . . . maybe no reason,” she answered hesitantly.  “It’s just that I know how much Mary Poppins means to you, and I’d hate to have you run into any unpleasant surprises. And maybe you won’t; maybe it’ll all go smoothly, like you said . . . but if I were you, I’d hold off on signing the contract a little while longer, just in case you need that extra leverage.”  

“I see your point,” I conceded, “but I honestly don’t think it’s necessary.  The terms I specified are right there, and legally, that’s all that matters.”

“I know,” she said.  “But please, will you at least hold onto it for one more day?  And then if you still feel fine about it, I won’t try to talk you out of signing.”

Though I didn’t understand why she was so concerned about it, I also didn’t see any point in causing her needless anxiety.  “All right,” I agreed.  “If it means that much to you, I guess there can’t be any harm in waiting.”

“Good.”  She sounded relieved.  “I know you think I’m silly for worrying about these things.  I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Thanks, Sam.  I really do appreciate it.”  I drew a deep breath.  “You know, I wish you were here right now.  It feels strange being out here all alone.”

“But you’re not alone, Carrie, not really,” she assured me.  “I’m right here, whenever you need me.”

I smiled.  “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”  After a few moments, she spoke again.  “So, you’re still doing okay, right?  You sound really tired.”  

“Sam . . .”

“I know, I know.  I’m sorry.  I just . . . I had to ask.”  

“I’m fine,” I assured her.  “Really.  It’s been a long day, that’s all.”  

“Okay.”  She heaved a sigh.  “Well, in that case, you should get some sleep."

“You're right,” I agreed.  “I love you, Sam.”

“Love you, too, sis.  Talk to you tomorrow!”  With that, the line clicked shut; and I hung up the phone, put the unsigned contract back in my purse, and got up to prepare for bed.  

~~~~~

Half an hour later, I climbed into bed, turned off the lamp, and lay there staring at the wall as my mind replayed the most significant parts of the day—including what my sister had asked me about Don.  “So, is he attractive?”  Earlier, I had managed to dodge the question; but lying in the still darkness, alone with my thoughts, I had to admit that indeed he was.  

But so what? I asked myself.  Heaven knows, I have much more important things to worry about.  Sam had only been teasing, after all; there was no reason to take any of it seriously.  And the strange little flutter I felt every time Don smiled at me?  That was nothing, absolutely nothing.  Thus reassured, I turned over and closed my eyes . . . but the last image that hovered in my mind before being overtaken by sleep was that wide, playful grin with the twinkling brown eyes and the deep dimples in the cheeks.

~~~~~

Tag list… let me know if you want to be added or removed!  

@iwillalwaysreturm | @writings-of-a-narwhal | @24hourshipping

[crowned-ladybug]

Windowsill Hyacinths

And the other OC thing! Bc i promised

When is my writing not, but still, this one is just entirely self-indulgent. Writing’s fun!

OC blog is @menagerie-of-morons

Characters: Jackie, Marvin

Setting: main verse

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: periods (the unpleasant biology kind, punctuation is kind of a given I think)

These are OCs, please keep that in mind and respect it.

Neither of them are morning people. Thank goodness, otherwise Marvin doesn’t know how he could tolerate this living arrangement. But usually Jackie is still up before he is, and even though it’s only been two weeks since they moved in together, Marvin is already pleasantly used to waking up to the shower running.

Except this time he woke on his own, which is lovely for a Saturday actually. But it’s also weird, because it’s a break in an unsaid routine, and broken routine makes him anxious.

He hesitates at the door of Jackie’s room before he knocks, hoping it’s quiet enough that it doesn’t wake him if he’s just sleeping in (and Jackie either sleeps like a bear during winter or lighter than store-brand tissue paper, there’s no in-between, so his chances are still better than none at least). There’s a moment or two of silence before he gets a response – a long groan, unclear whether distressed or just too lazy to talk.

“You okay, my dude?” Marvin smiles, hoping the answer will be along the lines of ‘I just woke up and it’s too early and how dare does the Sun exist’. Instead what he gets is the most noncommital and obviously fake ‘I’m fine’ he’s ever heard in his life. “Can I come in?”

To little surprise and much more relief, he’s granted permission.

He finds Jackie curled up in his bed, forming an amorphous pile with his sheets and pillows and plushies, his disastrous bedhead and barely-open eyes just about poking out from under. He mumbles a ‘hey’ when Marvin enters, though it comes out barely audible thanks to the duvet he doesn’t bother to pull away from in front of his face.

“What’s wrong?”

Jackie just sinks deeper into his pillow and closes his eyes fully. For a moment Marvin thinks the little groan he lets out will be the only response he gets, but then he finally speaks. “Uterus bad.”

“Oh, damn,” Marvin sighs, and he finally shuts the door behind himself and makes his way over to the bed. Looks like poor Jackie’s period is hitting bad again, and it’s not surprising considering all the stress of moving just two weeks prior, but it still sucks. “Can I sit?”

Jackie just nods, and so Marvin picks up the stuffed sheep he finds fallen off the bed, and sits. Jackie fishes out one of his hands from under his mess of sheets and makes grabby hands at Marvin until he receives said sheep, and he hugs it, tucking it under his chin.

“Do you need anything.”

“A different set of reproductive organs, please...” he groans again, because that seems to be one of three things he can reliable do right now, but there’s finally some humour to his tone at least.

Marvin grins, and he’s pretty sure Jackie smiles back, though it’s hard to tell with so much in the way. “I don’t think they sell those at the grocery store.”

“Damn.”

Marvin gives a sympathetic hum and he reaches out to rub his poor, suffering friend’s shoulder. Jackie closes his eyes for a moment.

“Is there anything else you’d like then?”

“Hmm...” he opens his eyes again, and adjusts himself so that his face is less in the pillow now and more turned towards Marvin, for the sake of a better conversation experience. “I don’t know...painkillers, maybe?”

In the end that list grows to painkillers, the heating pad, a nice, warm drink and some snacks, and while he’s at it, Marvin checks if they’ve got enough pads too. Just because they moved in weeks ago, it doesn’t mean Jackie couldn’t have forgotten to bring enough in the first place.

And he’s so right. He scribbles it on the shopping list during his pass in the kitchen.

As a bonus reward from his fetch quests, he also gives Jackie a gentle lecture on how he needs to learn to ask for what he needs instead of downplaying the list to a single, easy-to-get item. It’s good that this isn’t the first period Marvin’s ever seen, but he’d very much prefer to just ask Jackie what he needs than guess it. Jackie looks sufficiently sorry, and Marvin reassures him that it’s okay, it’s just a work in progress (because the last thing he wants is to screw with the poor guy’s already messy emotions), and in the end Jackie ends up adding a new element to his list of current needs – a hug.

He’s granted that, in a kind of roundabout way, when Marvin lies down next to him (because the painkillers have yet to work their magic, and so Jackie doesn’t want to do anything but lie curled around the hot pad) and they cuddle for a while, a little clumsy and complicated, because there’s so many things on the bed to be mindful of now. But Jackie gets his craved physical affection, and he sinks back into a pleasant, half-asleep state as the pain starts to lessen, comfortable in the warmth of the hot pad and the way Marvin’s fingers slide through his hair in an imperfect rhythm. He listens to the in-depth discussions his friend has with some of his plushies, words fading in and out of the edges of his consciousness.

Marvin is grateful as all fuck for Saturdays, because that means neither of them have things to do and places to be. Jackie can stay in bed and eat comfort food as much as he wants, and Marvin can hang out with him and make sure he’s okay and also do the shopping before he forgets.

He eventually gets around to doing the latter too, traversing the thankfully not insanely crowded isles of the supermarket. He’s having a good leg day, so he only brought one crutch, and even that’s sitting in the cart now. He can hold his weight just fine for now and lean on the cart for a few moments if he can’t.

He gets regular, boring kind of groceries, like milk and bread and spices, because there’s always ones running out. Then he heads for the isle that holds sweets, most importantly chocolate-based sweets, and this time it’s not for his own pleasure. He ends up with three different kinds of chocolate piled into the cart after long, careful examination and consideration of all options. Jackie definitely deserves to treat himself to some good sweets.

He skids to a stop (fairly literally, because what sort of person would he be if he didn’t skate with the cart from time to time) at the end of the isle when he notices a selection of jars and bottles with carefully layered various powders and chocolate chips in them. He grins. Jackie loves baking, he’d surely love these funky little “cookie recipe in a bottle” thingies too. He sifts through the selection until he finds one with a nice recipe that doesn’t have pink bows, people in skirts and the last century’s ideal housewife on them, and piles it on top of the chocolate.

Pads are probably the toughest to get from the whole list. Not because he feels shame and a threat to his masculinity looking at period products, because he’s way past his “utter dumbass” phase in this regard, and if he feared for his masculinity so much, he wouldn’t wear skirts half as often. No, it’s because the one very important detail he managed to forget to jot down is the brand and make of the damn things. So now he’s faced with a whole wall of pads and racking his brain for what they looked like when he saw Jackie stash them in their own little box in the bathroom two weeks ago.

Except they all look the same – pink for day, dark blue for night – and the only differences he can spot in this visually uninteresting display are the brand names and prices.

He’d go for cheapest, but – really? It’d make sense, except who knows which of these things is actually comfortable and, like, good at its job? The price surely doesn’t. And Jackie wears boxers, do these things even work with those?

He’s pulled out of his thoughts for a moment when another person – long hair, dress, delicate make-up, all in all feminine-looking – enters the isle and gives him a look that’s...friendly? Friendly people in a supermarket, would you look at that! They’re probably pleasantly surprised by seeing someone on the more masculine end of the scale shopping for these things.

Finally, he admits his defeat and pulls out his phone to text Jackie.

But at least he gets the needed information quickly, and Jackie is sympathetic about him not remembering (“These things all look the same...” “I know, right?!”) and shoves two night and two day packs into the cart, because the particular brand is on sale anyway.

He gets off the bus a stop early to walk the rest of the way, the bag of groceries floating by his side with his magic. The weather isn’t nice just yet, and the wind that whips around him sometimes is cutting, but he enjoys a little walk. More importantly, he’s very much aware that there’s a flower shop on the way.

He stops in front of the shop, appreciating the stock through the window as he pulls out his phone, opting to call instead of text this time. He hates to ruin the surprise, but…

“Hey, did you get lost in the supermarket or something?” Jackie laughs into the speaker as soon as he picks up. It’s nice to hear that he’s feeling better now.

Marvin snorts. “Shut up. I wanted to ask how you dysphoria is doing today?”

“Pretty okay, surprisingly,” there’s rusting from the other end, Jackie adjusting his position wherever he is. “Hasn’t been bitching much yet.”

“Nice!” it is nice. He’ll definitely celebrate that. “Would it get ticked off by flowers, though?”

There’s a beat of silence as Jackie processes the unexpected question. “No, I don’t think it would. I love flowers, I’ve gotten over most of the social bullshit around them already,” he stops, then his tone shifts. “Marvin, what are you-”

“Shh, you heard nothing from me! I just wanted to make sure I wouldn’t end up making you feel worse on accident.”

Jackie refuses to hush just yet though. “Dude, I swear, if you’re buying me flowers just because my organs are back on their bullshit, I’m-”

“Listen,” Marvin cuts in, and he’s rewarded by silence immediately. “It’s my money and I can spend it however I want, so shh. As I said, you heard nothing from me,” he waits for that huff of breath that signals defeat, and laughs when he gets it. “I’ll be home soon!”

Jackie calls him an idiot as the call ends, his voice so full of fondness, and Marvin stays standing in front of the shop and just smiling to himself for another moment before he enters.

“’Elloooooo...” Marvin calls as he shuts the front door behind himself, and he hears Jackie’s goofy ‘’Allo!’ in response from somewhere. First thing’s first he calls his other crutch to himself, because his legs are tired now and he needs it, just in case, and floats his bag over into the kitchen.

He doesn’t even get to start unpacking before Jackie enters after him, perfectly upright and seemingly much more comfortable in his skin than only hours ago. He’s wrapped in a bathrobe and his hair is still dripping slightly, and he must have forgotten his glasses somewhere. Marvin already expects a wild hunt to find them again in like five minutes. But he looks good, in his lanky, dorky kind of way, and Marvin is so glad the day is going a little better for him now.

Marvin grins as he fishes out the potted hyacinth he’s bought from the bag. “Look! I brought you a new friend!”

Jackie stares for a moment too long, and his forehead gets a little scrunched up, and he’s still wearing that dorky, goofy smile on his face...and by now Marvin knows to translate that expression to “Jackie just got emotional as fuck.” He has just about half a moment to put the plant back down safely before he’s tugged forward and wrapped up in Jackie’s arms. He leans into it, and his crutches stay hovering where he let go of them. He makes sure to keep his grip on Jackie cautious, because it’s rude to squeeze someone around the middle when their organs are being disrespectful.

Jackie does squeeze him though, and it’s nice. He sounds a little choked up when he says: “Thank you.”

“Dude, it’s just a flower...”

“No, it’s,” he shakes his head, and Marvin can feel it, because it nudges closer to his. “You know I don’t just mean the flower.”

Marvin takes a moment to respond, as he presses his face into Jackie’s shoulder until he can’t breather properly. He adjusts his head, leaves his cheek resting there anyway, and he doesn’t stop smiling. “I know,” he takes a short pause and risks a very gentle squeeze. Jackie doesn’t wince. “Still, you don’t need to thank me.”

“Nope,” Jackie’s tone switches to something less deeply emotional and more dorky again, and he raises his head, though still makes no move to end the hug. He shakes his head and laughs. “Nope, we’re not doing this argument again.”

Marvin just laughs along, and shoves his face back into his best friend’s shoulder again.