#thank you for opportunity to talk about pre-crisis

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (10)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: as dictated by the results of poll #6, this chapter will include stunt training, clubbing, and an accident. Plus, you've got tub anon to thank for... well... the tub scene :) Oh, and this is kind of 18+. Just a tad.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Matt and the reader eagerly explore the uncharted waters of their budding relationship. Ewan is booked and busy with the preparation for his new franchise. Will Ewan and his darling even find time for each other, or should they just take this opportunity to let go?

The internet, ever so informative, lets you know that Ewan and Jenna’s arrangement is in its initial stages before he even calls to tell you. 

Their first interview with Josh Horowitz is immediately followed by another feature on the movie set, with the two talking about the pre-production, what they liked about the script, and their chemistry, which according to them, came naturally and did not require much work at all. It was practically the thing they had to work on the least. How lucky. 

A lighthearted reprieve came in the form of a meme that started circulating not long after their interview with Josh. In it, Ewan is caught looking like he's either malfunctioning or deep in a philosophical crisis. The internet ran with it, with captions like, ‘When you realise you left the oven on at home’, to comparing him to an NPC glitching out.

When you asked him about it, he quickly stammered that he simply spaced out. Sure. It was hilarious, nonetheless.

Your publicist Mallory had commented that soon Ewan and Jenna would be obliged to go on pap walks, something that would appear casual and separate from the confines of the project that they’re working on. Something that signals that their relationship is making it into the real world.

“That whole casual ‘just friends hanging out’ vibe they’re gonna push? It’s all part of the gig,” Mallory shared. “Next thing you know, they’ll be taking long walks on the beach or grabbing coffee in some trendy LA spot.”

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t sting. Even just a little. Sure, you know what the business is like. You’ve been on the same end of that deal just recently, with your own film’s PR efforts. But this arrangement that Ewan has doesn’t seem like the usual short-term fling to drum up buzz. It feels… heavy, like something that might actually stick.

“I’d be lying if I say I don’t find it all annoying, darling, but I try to look at it now as part of the job, you know?” he had said, when he phoned you one evening – his afternoon – to let you know that his stay in LA would be much longer than expected. 

You responded with, “Oh, yeah, I completely understand.” What else can you do? You aren’t together – you don’t have a claim to him, and vice versa. You thought that would make things better – easier – but you’re still waiting for that sense of comfort to kick in.

This is for the best, you would remind yourself every time a new headline surfaces. 

It’s only been a month since you last properly saw Ewan, since that night on the rooftop. In the early days, he messaged every day, called whenever he had a spare moment. But slowly, the calls have become shorter, more sporadic – chalked up to his increasingly busy schedule. Your tones have become more dispassionate – he blames it on his exhaustion, profusely swearing that he misses you so fucking much, but something feels different. 

Your job keeps you busy, with your commitments related to the new season of House of the Dragon, event appearances, and gearing up for the release of your film with Jacob. You are even invited to the upcoming Vanity Fair Young Hollywood Ball, an exclusive party to be held in New York.

And Matt is a more than welcome distraction. 

Matt, who has begun spending more time in your apartment after Ewan’s temporary move to LA. Matt, who brings you flowers that are apparently ‘beautiful, but pales in comparison to you’. Matt, who is unfailingly a gentleman, respecting your boundaries and not making a move since that time on your couch after your first date, when you told him to wait. 

He sits with you by your kitchen counter, in a disarmingly tight white shirt that leaves little to the imagination, one sturdy hand nursing a cup of coffee and the other on the small of your back to support you as you sit on the high stool, and you suddenly don’t want him to wait anymore. 

“Have you decided on what you’ll be wearing to the screening tonight, love?” he asks. 

“Why? Does it have to be pre-approved?” you playfully quip, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Ah,” he nods, smiling, playing along, “of course, of course. You think I’m an easy man to date? You’ve got to keep up with my standards, as beautiful as you already are.”

You laugh, playfully mussing his hair, and he catches your wrist before it drops back on the counter. He says, “I ask because I wanted to match you, so to speak. We’d be like two peas in a pod.”

“Oh,” you snort softly, “or you know, like Tweedledee and Tweedledum?”

“Funny girl,” he muses, before leaning forward and capturing your lips in a soft kiss, caffeinated and warm and Matty. You notice that his hand on your back is pressed firmer – he didn’t want you to slip when you leaned in. 

Charming bastard. He isn’t making things any easier… or maybe he is. 

Maybe he’s it. 

But the moment’s broken by a loud, offended-sounding meow. You look down to see Sansa, staring at Matt like he’s personally responsible for all the world’s problems.

“Hey, babygirl,” Matt croons, extending a hand toward her. Sansa, the biggest diva of a kitten, just gives him a slow blink before trotting off, clearly unimpressed.

“Calling her babygirl isn’t going to make her warm up to you,” you tease.

“She already doesn’t seem to like me,” he replies, scoffing. “Which is a shock, pretty much, how can she not?”

“So humble, Matthew.” You smile at his effortless charm, his easy personality. That’s all you seem to be doing nowadays. Matt is like your personal ray of sunshine. 

“I’ll win her over,” he declares confidently, sitting upright. “Anything for my lady.”

You roll your eyes. “How very Daemon of you.”

“Actually,” he laughs, “Daemon would probably feed her to Caraxes for being difficult.”

“Matthew!”

“I’m kidding!”

Sansa meows even louder, bounding away towards your bedroom. 

“Leave my Sansa alone,” you say, pointing at him accusingly.

He gives you a sly grin. “I will… if you come here and give me another kiss.”

Before you can respond, he slides your stool closer to his with a smooth movement, catching you off guard. You find yourself practically in his lap, his thighs pressing against yours as he waits, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Okay,” you sigh deeply, narrowing your eyes, unable to mask the smile that graces your lips. “One kiss, but only for Sansa.”

“Oh, shush and kiss me already, love.”

The film screening had been a private event, by invitation only from those who worked on the film. Edward Bluemel, Matt’s good friend, is a fellow actor marking his directorial debut with this film. For a first go, it was impressive, gripping from start to finish. Almost as much as Matt’s hand resting just above your knee, his thumb absentmindedly tracing soft circles into your skin.

Your cheeks had flushed when a particularly steamy scene came on the screen, and it might have been the nervous gremlins in your mind, but you swore Matt’s hand inched higher up your leg.

Now, on your couch, his hand is even higher. He hovers over you, his breath heavy and uneven as his fingers tease at the warmth between your thighs, so close to where you’re already aching for him. 

Maybe it was all the dirty martinis you drank at the open bar after the screening, or maybe this was a long time coming. Either way, you want him, and from the way his lips move urgently against yours, he wants you too.

It dawns on you that the tension is no longer something you can talk yourself out of.

He pulls away, and you protest with a mewling whine, your body arching into him. He nearly growls in frustration, the unspeakable sound you just made having a direct line to his hardened cock. With a gentle tug at the nape of his neck, you pull him back down to your lips, but he resists. 

“We have to slow down,” he chuckles mirthlessly. “Because we’re about to cross a line that I won’t be able to hold back from, love.”

“Matt – ”

“I understand – ” He licks his lips, letting out a slow and controlled breath. “ – that you want to wait – ”

Your confession comes out slow and measured, letting him know that this is what you really want. “Maybe I don’t want… to wait anymore.”

“Say that again,” he says slowly, his eyes darkening in lust. 

“Maybe I… I want you to fuck me.”

“Maybe?” he whispers, his voice rough, practically pleading.

“Oh, just fuck me.”

That’s all it takes for him to snap.

He undresses you in record time, ripping off every item of clothing from your body with an eagerness that betrays just how hungry he is for you.

Neither of you even bother to travel to your bedroom. At some point, your entwined naked bodies slip off the couch and onto your plush carpet. 

And you have a heated… What was it called again? 

Oh right – a damn good roll in the hay. 

The water is still warm in your deep clawfoot tub, steam rising gently from the surface. You lean back, head resting against the porcelain, that blissful post-sex daze settling over you. 

Matt slides into the water opposite you, his movements slow, deliberate. His eyes haven’t left you since he stepped in, and you can feel the weight of his gaze lingering on your skin. It isn’t just the remnants of your earlier intimacy – though that heat still hummed in the air between you – it’s something more. Something you can’t name and maybe you’re afraid to, but it tugs at you all the same.

A small smile plays on his lips, the kind that made your chest tighten – half teasing, half dangerous.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks, voice low and smooth.

You exhale a soft laugh, running your fingers lazily through the water, trailing small ripples across the surface. “I’m not exactly complaining, am I?”

“Good. Wouldn’t want you to have second thoughts.” His tone is light, but the undercurrent of meaning isn’t lost on you.

You close your eyes, letting the warm water soothe your tired muscles, but even with the comfort of the bath, you can’t quite escape the one person lingering in the back of your mind. 

Matt isn’t Ewan, but he’s here, his presence steady, his charm disarming. He makes you laugh, makes you feel wanted in ways that are simple and uncomplicated, and maybe that’s what you need right now. Maybe it was okay to let yourself enjoy this, to live in this moment without overthinking what it meant.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Matt asks, leaning forward.

You open your eyes, catching the glint of amusement in his. “Just... thinking.”

“Dangerous territory,” he teases, reaching for your hand.

“Hmm, maybe,” you murmur, meeting his gaze. “You’re too charming for your own good, you know that?”

He chuckles deeply. “I’ve been told. But I like to think it’s part of my appeal.”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Cocky bastard.”

He grins, leaning in even closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “Takes one to know one.” His hand travels to your leg underneath the water, massaging gently.

“I’m serious, though,” he says softly, his voice taking on a more earnest tone. “I don’t want you overthinking this. We’re good, yeah?”

You nod, but there is a flicker of something else in your chest. Guilt, maybe? But Matt is right here, and he isn’t asking for anything more than what you could give, and for now, that is more than enough.

“We’re good,” you whisper, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

He smiles against your mouth, his hand moving to cup the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. “Good,” he whispers back, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

You laugh, the sound muffled as he kisses you again and positions you on top of him. You shuffle forward and discover a very obvious indication that he’s ready for round two of rolling in the hay. Or in the tub. Whatever works. 

He looks absolutely enraptured when you ride him, your motions causing tremors in the water. 

And in the sheer pleasure he gives you, surrounded by flickering candlelight and the smell of lavender, you allow yourself to let go.

The event has the industry buzzing - an exclusive event by Vanity Fair celebrating the rising stars of Hollywood. A masquerade party, the notion of which excited you to no end. You’d only read about such in books, in its medieval iterations, all poofy skirts and velvet waistcoats, the whole concept full of prestige and mystery. 

You spent days prepping with your team, the anticipation building until it felt like a living thing inside you. Your dress, a beautiful piece from Atelier Versace, fits like a glove, one side made of draped black sequins shimmering like liquid night against your skin. The theme is Midnight Elysium, and you look every bit the part - dangerous and glamourous and untouchable. 

Your makeup team did an impeccable job. Your eyeshadow resembles a swirling galaxy, a blend of silver and noir. Your lipstick is a perfect nude shade that matches your skin tone and your features.  

But then there was the mask. The final, necessary touch. Delicate black lace that settles over your eyes, framed with gold filigree and flecks of silver – sharp and ethereal at once. It was a piece of art, something you personally commissioned from a local designer in your hometown.

In a room where everyone claims to know everyone, a mask can be more than just a costume piece. It can be a weapon – giving you the freedom to be both seen and unseen. 

Stepping into the nightclub is like slipping in between worlds. Black velvet drapes line the walls, catching the glow of the minimal lighting – gold and silver chandeliers hanging like constellations. The bass from the music pulses underfoot, sending vibrations through your veins. Faces are obscured by extravagant masks, but you are able to recognise some of them if you look close enough. Milly is speaking to someone by the bar, and you remind yourself to pull her aside for a chat later. Timothee is introducing his date to a small flock of people. And Jacob is bounding right for you the moment you make eye contact. 

“There’s my leading lady,” he greets cheerfully, swooping down to kiss you on both cheeks. He’s wearing a metallic silver vest and trousers, along with a white mask that covers one side of his face like The Phantom.

“Wow,” you say, making a show of appraising him, looking at all 6 foot 5 inches of his figure up and down. “You look like a handsome disco ball.”

He laughs, the sound unmistakable even in the bustling nightclub. “And look at you! What are you, a cyberpunk witch? A sleek dominatrix?” 

“Careful now,” you warn him, “or I might just hex you into getting me a drink.”

“Coming right up,” he says, but his attention is pulled by someone calling his name. “Hold on a sec, I have to introduce you to some of my friends.” You let him lead you further into the room, and you’re swept into the rhythm of it all, moving through the crowd as if you belong – because you do. You’re slowly getting used to the weight of eyes on you, but tonight, it feels as if there’s a shadow you can’t quite shake. 

Your personal shadow in a room full of masked shadows. Your skin prickles, an awareness blooming under your ribs. In all the fuss leading up to this event, you hadn’t really bothered to check the full roster of attendees.

After several rounds of conversation, you excuse yourself for a moment and stand off to the side to take a breather. 

And then you see him.

Ewan stands across the room, a drink in hand, his black leather overcoat tailored to perfection. The mask he wears, a sharp cut of black and gold, adds a dangerous air to him. His effortlessly tousled hair sports a smattering of gold embellishments, like streaks of pale blonde hair. You take him in, every inch of him, that mischievous curve of his lips and the glint of his blue eyes underneath that mask. 

It hits you like a tidal wave, like a fucking hurricane, the longing you’ve tried to suppress for weeks. 

You shouldn’t want him this much, not when you both agreed to the break. To keep some distance. His fake romantic arrangement had made sure of that. And after everything, you knew that some separation was what you both needed. 

But seeing him now, looking at you like he’s starving… it’s enough to unravel every careful thread you’d stitched together since you last touched. You want to look away, pretend that this is just another night, that he’s just another fellow actor among the crowd. But the pull is too strong. It’s as if your legs move on their own volition, and you slowly move through the crowd, almost subconsciously drawn to him. 

He steps deeper into the shadows of the club as you approach, disappearing into one of the more secluded alcoves draped in heavy black velvet. No one will see you there. No one will know any better.

The world narrows down to just the two of you, and the music becomes a distant hum. It’s quieter, darker, and for all the trappings of the Hollywood elite, Ewan is far more intoxicating. 

“You’re here,” you whisper, half in question, half in disbelief.

But he’s already moving towards you, his eyes dark and hungry behind the mask. The air between you crackles with an undeniable need – weeks of distance, of longing, building up to this moment. He’s close enough that you feel the warmth of his body through your dress, and you so badly want to forget that this is a bad idea.

“I can’t stay away,” he says, his voice low and raw, like it’s costing him to hold back. “Not tonight.”

You swallow, your heart pounding in your chest, every rational thought slipping away as his fingers skim the bare skin of your waist through the slits in your dress. “We… we can’t,” you manage to say, but even to your own ears, it sounds weak. Oh, who are you trying to fool?

“How can I not? Fuck, how can you look like that and expect me to just walk away?”

You want to say something, something sensible, something to remind him of the stakes. But nothing comes to mind, not when his hand brushes up your arm, raising goosebumps in its wake. His other hand slips to your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space between you. He dips his head down, breathing against your shoulders and your neck, taking you in like a vice. 

“Ewan,” you finally croak. “We agreed not to – ”

“I don’t bloody care,” he cuts you off, his mouth inches from yours. “We agreed to give it some time, sure, but I never agreed to stop wanting you. Besides, I make good on what’s asked of me. I play the part. I deserve to be rewarded, don’t I? And you’re the only prize I desire.”

His words hit you hard, melting any resistance you’d been clinging to. 

“Oh? So… so I’m just a prize now?”

He only smiles. “The only one worth winning.”

Before you can think, before you can stop yourself, you pull him closer and crash your lips into his. 

The kiss is hard, fierce, his mouth feverishly attacking yours. He tastes bittersweet, all hard bourbon and cigarettes. You’re certain that the lipstick your makeup artist painstakingly applied would be wiped clean off. His hands grip you harder, fingers digging into your flesh, pulling you closer, deeper, like he can’t get enough.

You break apart, gasping for breath. His lips are slick, shining in the occasional flicker of neon blue and red lights, his mask casting shadows across his sharp features.

A bright flash from the party's official photographer erupts in the corner, thankfully not pointed in your direction. Still, it momentarily shakes both of you back to reality. 

“Come with me.” His hand slips into yours, fingers curling possessively as he pulls you away from the cacophony of the club. You barely have time to react before you’re being led down a narrow, dimly lit hallway. He pushes open a door, leading you into a smaller room bathed in that same cold, electric blue. Plush seating is arranged haphazardly in the corners, but the space is mostly empty. The low hum of the bass still thrums in the distance, but it’s reduced to a faint echo. The smell gives off cigarette smoke and spilled liquor.

“Smoking area,” he says with a half-smirk, glancing around the room as if seeing it for the first time himself. “I think.”

“You think?” You raise an eyebrow.

He shrugs, utterly unconcerned. “Who cares? It’s just us in here.”

You shoot him a look, glancing back at the door. “Someone could walk in.”

He chuckles, stepping closer, that familiar heat radiating off him like a furnace. “It’s a party, darling. They’re probably wasted out of their minds. And besides…” He taps the edge of his mask, his eyes glinting mischievously behind the black and gold. “The masks?”

You bite your lip, trying to maintain some semblance of control. “And if someone does walk in?” you ask, arching a brow. “What then?”

He steps closer, crowding into your space, the tension thick between you. “Then they get a show,” he says, his voice playful and teasing, but laced with something darker. 

“Are you fucking serious?” 

“You can still walk away, darling,” he offers, trying to bait you when he knows full well that he already has you hooked. “Or, you can just shut up and kiss me.”

So much for giving it time. Ewan’s lips find yours once more, just as desperate, and you barely notice when he directs you to the seating, your back colliding with its velvet exterior. His low groan sends a wave of heat pooling in your stomach, and you think to yourself, this was a terrible idea. 

Your hands roam, finding the planes of his chest. He smoothly takes off his leather overcoat, revealing his bare torso underneath. The sight of it makes your head spin, and you croak unsteadily, “Ewan… not here, baby, we can’t – ”

“I know, darling,” he croons, his hand cradling your face. “I just wanna kiss you. I just want you… to touch me…” His other hand takes yours and drags it down the firm lines of his stomach, a desperate plea in his eyes. “Please, just – ”

The moment is abruptly shattered by the sound of giggling from the hallway, getting louder. Suddenly, the door opens and in stumbles a pair of girls, one of them you recognise to be Jenna. 

“Oh!” The other girl exclaims, clearly delighted by the situation she’s just walked into. She pulls off her mask, revealing herself as Emma Myers. “We found him! We finally found your date.”

Your heart plummets, right down on the liquor stained carpet.

“Hi,” you manage to squeak, getting to your feet and smoothing down your dress which had ridden scandalously higher up your thighs. “I’m – ”

“Oh, I know who you are,” Jenna says, shaking your hand, not the least bit bothered by the state she found you and Ewan in. “I love your work. I’m Jenna.”

“Oh… thank you – ”

Emma steps in, grinning. “Hi! I’m Emma. I’m such a fan.”

“Oh my god, I should be saying that to you guys!” you blurt, feeling a rush of relief at their easy demeanour. “I love Wednesday.”

They both gasp, and soon the three of you are exchanging compliments like old friends, chatting about each other's work with enthusiasm. Ewan, still seated, watches the scene unfold with barely concealed frustration. He eventually stands, shrugging his leather coat back on, and glances at Jenna.

“One of our producers is here,” Jenna explains cheerfully. “She’d love to chat with both of us.”

Right. Ewan’s her date. The word echoes in your mind, but the jealousy you expected to feel is oddly muted now. 

Ewan speaks, addressing only you, “Darling, will you – ”

“I’ve got her,” Emma declares, looping her arm around yours. “I’ve got so much I want to ask you!” Before you know it, she leads you out of the room like you’ve been best friends for years.

Ewan’s eyes stay on you, full of frustration and yearning, even as he and Jenna follow you out the door.

But you barely see him for the rest of the night.

The party is a blur of celebrities and conversations, but your mind keeps drifting back to that stolen moment in the blue-lit room. Eventually, your social battery runs out, and you slip out of the club early, unnoticed by most. 

Back at your hotel, you peel off your dress and drop onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as the events of the night replay in your head. The feeling of his hands on your skin, the heat of his body pressed against yours – it’s all too much.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, snapping you out of your thoughts. Ewan One-Eye flashes across the screen.

You hesitate, thumb hovering over the screen, but you pick up. His voice is low, almost cautious. “You left early.”

“I was tired,” you reply, voice soft. “The party was great but it was... a lot.” Mainly because of him.

A beat of silence follows, and you wonder if he's wrestling with what to say next. “Are you okay?” You can almost picture him running a hand through his hair, jaw clenched, eyes dark with worry. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you say, unable to hide the tremble in your voice. 

Another long pause, with only his slow breathing on the other end. 

“I hate this,” he finally says, voice barely above a whisper, the raw emotion in his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. “I fucking hate that he gets to have you, and I don’t… and I can’t… ” He cuts himself off, and you hear the snap of his lighter followed by his sharp exhale.

You bite your lip, your throat tight with emotion. You’ve both been so careful, dancing around each other, pretending that you could stay apart.

“I’m flying back to London tomorrow night,” you blurt out, the words rushing out before you can stop them. It feels like a confession, like you’re admitting defeat.

“I need to see you before you go.”

“Ewan, we agreed – ”

“Fuck what we agreed!” His sudden outburst takes you by surprise, and you hear the raw need in his voice. “I don’t care about the arrangement, I don’t care about the distance. I just... I need you.”

You want to tell him that you need him too. You want to throw caution to the wind and agree to being together in secret despite the false romance he has to portray to the world. But you can’t. 

“I...” Your voice falters. “We’ll see each other soon.” It doesn’t feel like enough. With a soft sigh, you add on a lighter note, “Alyna still has to kick Aemond’s ass, you know.”

A beat passes, and then you hear his tired laugh on the other end. “Right,” he chuckles softly, the sound both comforting and heartbreaking. “Wouldn’t want to keep the fans waiting for that.”

“Yeah, well,” you say, trying for casual, trying not to let your voice crack, “someone’s got to put Aemond in his place.”

“Hmm, well if that place happens to be right in Alyna’s arms, I doubt you’ll hear any complaints about the script from me this time.”

You can’t help but smile at his teasing, but it only deepens the ache in your heart.

“Ewan…” you begin, but the words hang in the air, unspoken. 

“I know, darling,” he replies, his tone resigned yet gentle. “I miss you too.”

The training room is alive with the sounds of clashing swords and laughter, but you can’t help but feel a different kind of electricity buzzing in the air. Maybe it’s just the way Matt looks at you, as you rehearse a scene where Daemon helps Alyna brush up on her sword fighting. 

You lunge forward, initiating the first move with confidence, and he counters effortlessly, the blades clashing in a symphony of steel. The practice moves are intense, each swing bringing you closer. His eyes darken with focus as he follows your movements, and for a moment, it becomes easy to forget the rest of the stunt crew in the room. 

“Nice footwork,” Matt compliments, stepping in closer. His body brushes against yours, sending a rush of heat through you. Ever since your night together, he has only been more brazen with his affections. “But you’re leaving yourself open here.” He demonstrates, his sword brushing against your side as he adjusts your stance.

“There,” he says, his voice dropping lower, “feel that?” You swallow nervously, grateful that the stunt coordinator had moved on to Harry in the far side of the room.

“I think I might be too open,” you manage to say, trying to keep your tone light.

“Maybe,” Matt murmurs, stepping back slightly but keeping his gaze locked on yours. “But I can’t help but want to close the distance.”

As you move through the choreography, you both fall into a rhythm, and almost inevitably, the fight turns into something more playful. You circle each other, exchanging faux blows and laughter, the distracting banter causing the stunt director to approach and get you both back on track. 

Next up, you have to train for Alyna’s pivotal scene where she attempts to mount Caraxes as per Daemon’s command. 

As you practice the mounting technique on the mechanical dragon, you’re hyper-aware of every movement. The crew watches closely, ready to offer guidance. You grip the handles tightly, adrenaline coursing through your veins, and for a brief moment, you lose yourself in the character, feeling the thrill of the scene.

But then it happens. The Buck jolts unexpectedly, throwing you off balance. Time seems to slow as you feel yourself slipping. You try to brace for impact, but it’s too late. You land hard, the pain shooting through your ankle as it twists at an unnatural angle.

There is a stinging sensation too, by the side of your head, and all you think is – oh fuck. The world around you fades to a blur, just as chaos erupts.

When you finally regain consciousness, the sterile scent of antiseptic fills your nostrils. Your surroundings come into focus slowly, and your heart races when you realise you’re in a hospital room. The steady beep of a monitor is the only sound, punctuated by the faint rustle of fabric.

You feel his hand on yours before your eyes even land on his figure, slumped on a chair beside your bed. His head rests on his shoulder, his grip still lightly holding your hand. His brow is furrowed in worry, even in sleep. 

You feel lightheaded, and for a moment you worry that your concussion might be worse than it is, but no. It's just him. 

Then, the sound of your movement catches his attention. He stirs, his eyes fluttering open, and when he meets your gaze, relief instantly washes over his features. 

“Love… you’re awake.”

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Some notes in the margins...

Well, well, well. Yous were convinced that Matty would get the clubbing scene, helped by the red herring of his dancing video. Alas!

Is that Matty at the end there? Or a certain Mitchelly man? Hmm... one wonders. 💖

Complaints? Refund requests? Please direct your thoughts in the comments section below. I can 100% guarantee a satisfying solution. Or 70%.

Or, you know, bugger it. We're all in this together, better or worse ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

[boyfridged]

Regarding Jason's pre-crisis characterization, would you say that he really is just a carbon copy of Dick or did he eventually grow into his own character in the span of his run time? Also, would you recommend it to a Jason fan to read about his pre-crisis days?

i don't think pre-crisis jay has ever been a carbon copy of dick actually! i know it's a popular opinion but frankly speaking, i think people who say that either have not read his pre-crisis run at all or have not cared enough to understand the story.

the fact that pre-crisis jason’s origin and background (in major ways, but not 1:1, that’s also a misconception) mirrors that of dick was not “lazy writing” and it’s not some sign of the general silliness and carelessness of the editorial of the times. it was very much a conscious, well-thought-through decision.

let me break this down (so that it doesn't become another essay):

to make it clear before i get into anything else: jay's background being so similar to that of dick is actually a way to set up a story about their differences. despite sharing so much experience, there are some key variables in both their origins and personalities that the writers clearly wanted to bring readers' attention to. i will circle back to it later.

i reckon a lot of dc fans who never actually got to read these issues have this misconception that the death of the pre-crisis todds was an exact parallel to that of the flying graysons. however, jason’s parents do not die in a way that dick’s parents do; in fact, joseph and trina todd die while aiding dick in an investigation after he requested their help (this is also why dick later says that he would take care of jason have bruce not offered; he feels guilty for their demise.) this is a deeply fascinating concept tbh, because the todds are like collateral damage to vigilantism; sacrificial lambs, and dick is responsible for it, leaving another orphan on the scene. it's a full cycle!

it was also a smart way for jason to enter the narrative this way because it gave him a link to his predecessor. unlike post-crisis, jason’s first contact is dick, which makes sense, because it’s a story about robin (as a disclaimer: the way post-crisis alters it is also sensible for the plot it tries to convey; but these are two various storylines, approached from a much different angle!)

and pre-crisis jay is a very much different character from dick since day one. dick projects on him vehemently, giving him the robin mantle (once jay tries out different identities btw), which jason accepts as a gesture of love but also dreads. he struggles with the concept of vigilantism from the start, while everyone around him assumes that this is simply the way things go because his circumstances are so similar to that of both dick and bruce. he has a seriously tough time trying to reconcile with the concept of dual identities. he questions bruce's motives and actions a lot more than both dick in his early days and post-crisis jason. he stares numbly at the wall after his first patrol. he voices his concerns.

here i also want to say, that while i absolutely do think everyone should read these stories, and there are some storylines that can be incorporated into post-crisis jay canon, it doesn't hurt to consider which of them do not fit into it at all.

post-crisis and pre-crisis jay have completely different backgrounds, and since pre-crisis jay has been brought up in a rather safe and stable environment, as i mentioned, he's much more confident in questioning bruce. on the contrary, post-crisis jay seems to be so delighted to be having an adult at all that his faith in batman is almost absolute (for most of his robin run at least.)

as i said, pre-crisis jay is also much more aware of the duality of the vigilante life. as a former performer, he says that it feels disappointing to know that none of the people whom he helps will know his name, and he is used to having an audience (he is aware that it is a selfish sentiment.) this is not a thing that post-crisis jay considers at all.

i also imagine that post-crisis jay would never tell bruce the (famous) words that he would be perfectly happy to be just his son and not his sidekick (which he does pre-crisis); not because the truth is different but because he doesn't fully comprehend that it's an option. post-crisis robin jay's compartmentalisation is barely existent if at all; bruce "gave him" robin even before he took him in, so the roles of a son & sidekick are almost one and the same for him, which is why i'd say the events of a death in the family occur at all (he "failed" as robin -> he runs away to find another parent).

and well. pre-crisis jay actually has friends. his world does not begin and end with his role as gotham's protector and hope. speaking of which, he also does not possess the same passionate relationship with gotham as post-crisis jay does.

there are of course many traits they share – i'd say they both have even more sympathy for criminals and an even stronger of belief in rehabilitation than bruce does. they are also both, in a way, a victim of the cycle in the family and projection – bruce (and pre-crisis, dick) assume that the way of dealing with grief is to go out into combat, which is not necessarily true for them. but ironically, i think, it's post-crisis jay who remains more innocent and is easy-going in the way he initially settles into the role.

ultimately, i think all batfamily fans should read pre-crisis robin jay's run because it's perhaps the only run that takes adoption and the topic of legacies seriously. and it's before the editorial and writers decided that batman having a child was lame, and that robin's role was just CA, so bruce is truly parenting. while pre-crisis bruce is much more of a sweetheart than post-crisis bruce is, so it may not all seem "realistic" for contemporary characterisation, it still gives a good idea of what a plotline about bruce being a parent could and should look like. i'm not going to lie to you, post-crisis jay's run feels seriously loveless compared with pre-crisis. pre-crisis, there's plenty of family tensions, and at times it appears that no one in this damn family understands each other, and yet there's so much fondness and care and desperate declarations of belonging. pre-crisis jay's story is genuinely, from the very beginning, a story about a child whose parents die entangled in a vigilante's investigation and who is thrown into a family of vigilantes, projected onto from all sides, and who tries to fill in shoes he never truly asked for in the first place. but dear god is there tenderness there. is there self-awareness and a serious attempt to conceive what taking over a mantle of a sidekick means. yeah. much more than it is in post-crisis.

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil,

I’ve just realised something.

In Good Omens, Pollution is a horseperson of the apocalypse instead of Pestilence.

The novel was published in 1990 at the height of the AIDS crisis.

At the time, did you think about how that creative choice would resonate in the context of that particular pestilence? Also, are there ways in which echoes of the AIDS crisis appear in Good Omens? 

[These are genuine, non-judgmental questions. I’m too young to have experienced the pre-protease inhibitor era of the AIDS crisis. But I know it was a time of unimaginable tragedy in creative professions, exacerbated by institutional neglect and suffering. So writing at that time must have been fraught in complex ways. Thanks for your insights]

You might have forgotten the whole quote:

Pollution removed his helmet and shook out his long white hair. He had taken over when Pestilence, muttering about penicillin, had retired in 1936. If only the old boy had known what opportunities the future had held…

You'll find a fair amount of writing about what it was like working and living through that time, and why I created the Death Talks About Life public service comic here in this blog on Tumblr.

[lillified]

regarding your piece “outlaws” is it intended to be like an apartment or a spaceship? until corrected, and probably still after, i’m choosing to believe that swindle is doing the equivalent of living in his van

that being said, where *do* the other (they don’t let him inside 💔) decepticons live? I don’t think it’s been shown thus far

hey, that’s a great question!

the “outlaws” piece you see is from an earlier point in the war, and the location is Swindle’s passenger ship, The Knave. It isn’t meant to be a living space, but he’s converted it and uses it a bit like an RV/motor home. Since he spent most of his time (and kept a lot of his stuff) in there, it was one of his prized possessions. In the Outlaws pic he has it parked in a mostly Autobot occupied part of downtown Protihex, where he operates it like a caravan to sell weapons and things to patrolling soldiers.

This actually brings up a great opportunity to talk a bit more about locations, specifically airships and spaceships (I promise it’s relevant to the main Cons);

So, there are many different types of aircraft (beyond the Bots who can physically fly, obviously). On the smallest side you get tactical drones and fighter craft, which are either remotely manned or manned by one Bot, who physically controls the ship by hooking up to a sensory chamber-style pod. These are much less ideal than having a flightforme, but were developed out of necessity, given the central Cybertronian government and fliers have tended to be on opposite sides at different points of history (this trend remains true for the Autobots, who are at a severe deficiency).

Next up are scout ships, which fit a small squadron of Cybertronians (think the size of the X wing in starwars).

After that you get into passenger ship territory, where aircraft have multiple rooms. Swindle’s ship fits this category. They aren’t intended as mobile residences and moreso exist to carry large quantities of ‘Bots over a longer distance, like a train or a cruise ship with basic amenities, but as the war progressed it was hard not to find different uses for them.

Passenger ships can be very specialized, and the only major difference between the larger varieties and true warships is that passenger ships aren’t outfitted with guns or any other involved defenses. Ferry ships are extremely massive passenger ships designed in Nova’s expansion era with the intent of carrying nearly a city’s worth of people across space, to populate new colonies. As suggested, most of these ships were built well before the war, so their defense capabilities weren’t geared for conflict.

The last category, as suggested, are warships. Most warships were manufactured during the war, but there are some that were recovered from pre-Quintesson era. These can range in size from the capacity of a small hotel to an entire military base, or even a city. Their scope is only limited by the ability to fuel them, and many warships were designed to act as mobile camps in the event of crisis and exodus.

As of the current day, the Decepticons have essentially been exiled. The last major conflict on Cybertron put the Autobots in control of most major territories and left both sides materially decimated. Until they can regroup and establish resource control again, the only real strategy the Decepticons have is to lay low and survive.

This leaves Megatron, Starscream, Soundwave, Lockdown, Ravage, and Knockout on the Determination, which is a small scale warship. Like many slapdash offensive craft, it is flimsy and unreliable, but currently their only real option.

You haven’t seen most of it, but I can give you some sneak peeks:

you’ll see what these are for very soon…

As of right now, that’s all I have for you on spacecraft! I hope that answered your question :) thanks!

[antivan-beau]

@stylographic-blue-rhapsody thank you again for your oc ask! “for athren: 3, 32, 38″

For folks who may not know, Athren Dahana is my D&D character currently embroiled in the story of Waterdeep: Dragon Heist! He’s a 5th level melee-focused rogue in the midst of a quarterlife crisis who dresses like an Elizabethan peacock. He and his parents (to whom he is fiercely loyal) are drow refugees from Menzoberranzan who had to leave the city after a failed coup.

3. How do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?)

God I hate to open with this but I genuinely think he jerks off before reverie, like, on the regular. It’s the turn-your-brain-off stress-relief move.  When he’s staying at Trollskull Manor with his friends/party members, the pre-reverie routine is reading nonfiction. He works at a publishing company manning a printing press (when he actually goes to his job and isn’t off adventuring) and I think he liberally takes advantage of discounted books for employees. History and biographies are his favorites.

32. Do they have a go-to story in conversation? Or a joke?

There aren’t a ton of drow in Waterdeep and Athren is used to standing out. That means his go-to stories with new people are often about being an immigrant, which he has an easy sense of humor about. Transitioning from life underground to life on the surface comes with lots of funny opportunities for culture shock, or funny language-barrier stories as he started learning Common. He doesn’t talk at all about life in his home city, but that’s only partially because he wasn’t happy there. It’s more that he really loves Waterdeep: all the splendors and possibilities and the ways he’s been able to reinvent himself here.

38. What memory do they revisit the most often?

When Athren was young, the printing press was a new arrival in the Underdark. Books printed with movable type were rare, valuable, and much more likely to be printed in surface languages. From the time he was old enough to clean something, Athren worked as an indentured servant to a noble House. As a kid and teenager, he started to smuggle books out of the family’s study to read on his own then return. (Fun fact: Athren’s third language after Undercommon and Drow Sign-language was Elvish, which he mostly practiced through reading books.) His personal lending library was a success; he never got caught! A formative thrill for someone who would one day become a rogue.

Because Athren now works at a publishing house, he thinks all the time of the books he used to hide under his bed before returning to House vaults. He’s never really gotten over the feeling that books are really precious and maybe semi-sacred, so he’s unusually careful with how he handles them.

[androxys]

1, 11, 24 for the ask game

1 - A Character Everyone Gets Wrong:

Starting off strong! My first gut instinct was “all of them” but I think I’m going to have to settle on Jason Todd. Because Jason has had a really rough go of it across three and a half continuities, in terms of characterization, which leads to what I personally see as a lot of misconstruction.

You have Pre-Crisis “Robin Gives Me Magic” Jason who was a ball of sunshine, then Post-Crisis Jason who was young and happy but also with an angry streak… who then died and came back and was a villain, then sort of an anti-hero. And then Flashpoint happened, and you got a Jason who was much more on the heroic side of anti-hero, and all of a sudden back part of the Batfamily, and then that status quo got adjusted a little bit more with Rebirth and Infinite Frontier to where we are now.

So I guess the trouble isn’t that people get Jason wrong, they just don’t get him in context. People get their blorbo machine going and smash post-Flashpoint family dynamics into a Post-Crisis environment and use Pre-Crisis characterization to try to explain their specific interpretation of the events of UTRH. Which even still isn’t inherently bad, in my opinion, so long as you recognize that the character you’re talking about is actually a hybrid of three different instances of a character over forty years of publication. The same could be said for a lot of these characters, to be fair, but I feel like I see it A Lot for Jason because they want him to have a heroic arc, but there are some cases (like the aforementioned UTRH, or the vast majority of Post-Crisis) where he just doesn’t really. He’s a villain, and I think folks just need to lean into the murder and have fun.

11 - Any Fandom Words I Have Filtered:

None! I generally only filter spoilers for stuff that I’m particularly interested in, but at the moment I have no content filtered.

24 - Most Rancid Discourse:

The most rancid discourse I have ever been personal witness to was regarding what holidays the Batfamily “should” celebrate. That was before I had this blog, and I hesitate to even bring it up in case it follows Bloody Mary rules, but I like to think we as a fandom learn from our mistakes.

These days it’s about whether Bruce is/isn’t a good father, or if he’s abusive, or any of the variants on this theme. I think this stems from the same issue as above, where he’s just been so many different characters for different story needs across different continuities, but the fan urge to reconcile all of those into one whole creates lots of opportunities for people to pull equally out of context panels to support their position.

Thanks for submitting the ask!

[ryttu3k]

you should talk about sascha for the character meme <3

Thank <3

Favorite thing about them

God they're so. They're so dang interesting. They've been three distinct people. Pre-Dracon Myca is not Dracon!Sascha is not post-Dracon!Sascha. They're now in a position where they're recontextualising their entire life, coming to terms with trauma that they've been suppressing for centuries, basically dealing with this massive existential crisis but also a massive opportunity to start anew. It's going to be such an uphill battle to effectively rebuild their entire life.

Also, gender goals.

Least favorite thing about them

...where do I even start. Like I have to give disclaimers when I say they're my favourite.

Favorite line

"Vamos trepar?" XD Also, this bit from the Clan Novel Saga:

"Choices are never about what is past and gone. Choices are about what lies ahead. So again, you can choose the past and exist as a martyr, or you can steer your destiny. It's where you choose to dwell that matters."

and this bit from the DA novel:

God they're so cute.

BrOTP

Man I just want to know about their relationship with the original Sascha that died in Silchester. They must have been important if our Sascha literally took their name from them!

OTP

Honestly, just see the OTP sections for Beckett and Ilias XD

NOTP

Michael and Symeon. Michael is self-explanatory. For Symeon, the first time I read the bit of Myca crushing on him I thought it was kind of cute. The second time I read it (now knowing what Symeon had done to them), the Kill Bill siren went off in my head. Myca honey no you can do so much better!

Random headcanon

Predator type: Scene Queen (gay clubs). Just find it really fascinating both about their library in DC and where they chose to stay in Rio. I guess from about the early 2000s, they just started leaning in more to their queer identity?

Unpopular opinion

I don't care if it slightly defangs them, they wear heelies.

Song I associate with them

Third Eye punched me in the face with so many post-Dracon healing emotions I wrote a novel-length fic.

Favorite picture of them

Spoopy alien elf mode.

[clareguilty]

Food for the Heart

My first July commission fic! Thanku to Chip for helping look things over <3 Soldier 76 & Reaper & Jesse McCree & F!Reader Rating: General | Pre-Fall of Overwatch, fluff Word Count: ~3500

Sometimes -- if you thought about it -- the fact that you had some of the highest security clearance in the entirety of the UN, as well as several major militaries, could make your palms sweat and your heart pound. Imposter syndrome sure was a bitch.

You would look out on all of the heroes and saviors and geniuses of the world, unsure of how you managed to fit in and even sit at the same table as Director Petras and Strike Commander Morrison himself.

People wouldn’t stop in the halls to salute you or turn to you for input. Many of your colleagues didn’t even seem to know your name. You were nothing but background to them, just the hand that delivered documents or typed along to broadcasts. It was enough to trick you into believing you didn’t belong.

But there was a reason you were sat at the table with the most influential people in the world. There was a reason that your office was in the same wing as the other heroes of Overwatch. And you had earned your place there -- a fact you had to remind yourself of over and over again as Commander Reyes and Commander Morrison swept by your desk every morning or as Captain Amari chatted with Lieutenant Wilhelm within earshot of your workspace. Occasionally, you would even come back from lunch to find that a cowboy and a ninja had commandeered your desktop and your office chair, respectively.

You were invisible to them. Silent and unassuming. Blending in so seamlessly to the environment that they didn’t seem to notice you were there -- which is how you heard everything. Listening was your job, after all. You were a linguist, responsible for interpreting and translating any documents or meetings or broadcasts that passed through the upper command chain. You had access to the highest security channels, writing down field notes and debriefs for anyone on base who needed them.

Fluent in 14 human languages and 3 Omnic communication systems, you were one of the most valuable assets Overwatch had. Your work during the crisis had earned you a rank and pension that looked like a mistake on all your paperwork. Surely someone as plain as you couldn’t be that powerful?

And the work hadn’t finished after the crisis. You had been swept along into the ranks and shipped off to Zurich to spend your days listening to every piece of information that needed your ears.

And you heard everything.

You heard Captain Amari talking about her daughter and Lieutenant Wilhelm lamenting his losses on the battlefield, Jesse McCree joking and ribbing with Agent Shimada, who barely ever responded when you were within earshot. You overheard Strike Commander Morrison laughing with his friends and hurling orders and sighing over paperwork, Commander Reyes growling and grumbling and occasionally giving a full-bellied laugh when someone made a fool of themselves.

But no one ever seemed to speak directly to you unless they were requesting something or saying thank you. Your days were spent surrounded by people who would lay down their lives for one another but didn’t even seem to notice as you came and went.

It was certainly lonely, being in an unfamiliar country on a foreign base, working long hours in the fruitless business of world peace. You would return to your tiny apartment in the evenings -- luxurious, but small -- and try and make the most of your life of prestige and success and heroism. You had made the space cozy and perfect since you found yourself with more money than you knew what to do with. Your family had retired to one of the nicest homes you could buy them, and you still couldn’t get rid of the stuff.

So you spent your evenings cooking and baking exquisite dishes with expensive ingredients. You had gotten rather good at it. Any time someone on base mentioned a dish that they liked, you made sure to jot it down for later. Every night you indulged in food from all over the world that you had made with your own two hands.

But you found yourself with a lot of leftovers.

You were all alone in Zurich, with just a few friends in other parts of the organization that you only got to see when the stars were perfectly aligned. There was no way you could eat all this food.

So you started leaving gifts for the high command.

Strike Commander Morrison was the one who had given you the idea to make the pie in the first place. He had complained about how much he missed the sweet from his hometown, and you had found a recipe that sounded like what he described.

You wrapped a few slices up as nicely as you could and slipped them onto his desk just before he came in one morning.

The only thing you hadn’t counted on was just how invisible you truly were.

Commander Morrison made a sound of surprise when he saw the sparkling clear wrapping paper and curled ribbons. He poked his head out of his office and glanced around. No one else had come in yet, and you were already hard at work transcribing some Omnic signals that had been intercepted.

He asked Captain Amari about it when she arrived a few minutes later.

“You can’t trust random packages that appear on your desk, Jack. You should have reported a security breach immediately. Where is it? We’ll have to send it down for examination.”

Commander Morrison looked sheepish. “I ate them already.”

Captain Amari whacked him upside the head.

“I skipped breakfast!” he whined. “And it was absolutely delicious. It tasted just like home.”

Hearing those words was enough. You didn’t care that the Strike Commander was a fool who didn’t seem to notice your presence. He had enjoyed your treat, and that was all the reward you needed.

You continued to leave sweets for the high command whenever you could. You were sure at some point they would realize it was you, but they never said anything.

Cookies. Sweet breads. Cakes. Candied fruits. Pastries. You were improving as a baker at an alarming rate, considering you had nothing to do in your free time but replicate the recipes all the soldiers on base missed from back home.

The Strike Commander, Lieutenant Wilhelm, and Agent McCree were the most shameless about indulging in your gifts. The other captains and officers partook as well. You had never even seen Agent Shimada eat, though he would gently wrap a small portion to take back to his quarters, and Torbjorn would always wrinkle his nose and scoff at the sweets, but you didn’t miss him slipping a few into his pockets for later.

Despite how much you were making and sharing, there was one person whom you never got the chance to cook for. Everyone else had mentioned a dessert offhand at some point or another, only to find the exact treat waiting for them the next day. Even Agent Shimada had mentioned a fluffy cheesecake once, though he took his portion back to his quarters to eat it. Only one person eluded your gifts, and you were patiently waiting for the opportunity to strike.

You were up to your neck in transcriptions when you finally got your chance. Something you could cook for Commander Reyes.

It was just him, Agent McCree, and the Strike Commander. You were tucked away at your desk as always, invisible to everyone but listening attentively.

“Can’t believe I was in Mexico for a week and spent the whole time camped out in the jungle. I would have killed somebody for a good churro.” Commander Reyes grumbled.

“You did kill people, boss. A lot of people.” Agent McCree had his boots on the table and was grinning around an unlit cigarillo.

“You watch your mouth,” the commander snapped, but his shoulders shook with laughter.

Churros. Authentic Mexican churros. You could certainly do your best to make some and leave them for the Blackwatch commander.

It only took a few tries to get them how you wanted them, and you strolled into the high command offices the following day with a beautifully wrapped box.

Commander Reyes didn’t have a desk in the command wing, but you knew he would be by early. You left the box on the same table Agent McCree was sitting at yesterday and got to work while you waited for everyone else to arrive.

Commander Morrison lit up in excitement when he saw the enormous box waiting on the table, but, after a peek inside, he realized who the sweets were for and didn’t take any. It would have been fine. You had made plenty enough for everyone.

Captain Amari wasn’t as enthusiastic as the Strike Commander, but she let her curiosity get the best of her and gently pried open the box as well. She smirked, and you could have sworn you saw her glance your way, but you were trying to be as inconspicuous as possible as you listened to a diplomatic summit presentation.

At last, Commander Reyes made his appearance. He didn’t hesitate to go straight for the box on the table, lifting the lid and inspecting the contents with an impassive expression. He was completely unreadable as you watched him out of the corner of your eye.

Delicately, he lifted one of the churros out of the box and took a bite. He chewed for a moment, brows furrowed. You wished he would say something. Instead, you saw the tension in his shoulders ease just a little, and you knew you had done an good job.

And that was the end of it -- so you thought. Commander Reyes shared the churros, and everyone else remarked that they were delicious. The rest of the day carried on as usual.

Until you found yourself alone again. Even when they were on base, it wasn’t uncommon for Commander Morrison and Captain Amari to spend most of the day away from their offices. But now, even the other captains and assistants were gone, and it was totally silent.

Commander Reyes strolled into the command wing with his hands in his pockets. You didn’t think anything of it until he came right up to your desk, taking a seat on the edge.

“They were delicious,” he said, watching you intently.

So he knew it was you. He had probably had known for a while. The Blackwatch commander rarely let anything slip by him.

“Thank you, Sir,” you answered, not able to look him in the eye. “When did you figure it out?”

“You made salted caramel cookies for McCree. Cheesecake for Shimada. I need to know who is eavesdropping on my agent’s conversations.”

You flinched at that. “I only had the best intentions.” You chewed your lip. “The gifts were meant to be harmless.”

Commander Reyes chuckled. “You sure harmed Jack’s diet. The man has a sweet tooth and no spine. Put a dessert in front of him, and he can’t say no.”

“He doesn’t need to be on a diet, anyway. You’re all built like Greek gods,” you rolled your eyes. Then the reality of what you had said set in, and you were panicking in your seat. Leaving treats for your superior officers was only mildly questionable. Ogling their physiques and daydreaming about their strong arms was far less appropriate.

“I mean no disrespect, Sir,” you started to ramble. “I spoke out of line, and it wasn’t my place to say anything. Please just forget I ever opened my mouth.”

Commander Reyes laughed again, fuller this time as he leaned back on your desk. “It’s clear you’ve heard everything said in this office. You think that’s going to get you in trouble?” He was right. Conversations among the officers were far from professional. You had heard your share of inappropriate comments and spicy stories.

You looked at your hands in your lap. This was overwhelming. You were so used to being invisible. Now, the commander was confronting you, watching you closely and chatting as if it was nothing. You weren’t sure you had ever exchanged casual conversation with the Blackwatch commander.

“Why do you hide?” he asked. “Leave everything in secret and never speak up? We all know by now, anyway.”

You didn’t really have an answer for him. Maybe you didn’t feel worthy? Maybe you were shy? Neither of those explanations felt quite right.

“I never meant to hide. When I made the pie for Commander Morrison, he didn’t even seem to consider that I could have been the one to leave it. I know I’m practically invisible around here, anyway.” You shrugged. No one paid attention to a quiet linguist. Your voice was only used to relay the messages of other people.

“You’re not invisible. Not to us. We see you every day. Maybe it’s time that you let us give you a gift, what do you say? We definitely should have shown our appreciation sooner.” Commander Reyes held out his hand, eyes kinder than you had ever seen.

“I don’t- What do you mean?” you asked.

Impatient as always, the commander simply grabbed your wrist and pulled you to your feet. “I’m the boss, so you’re coming with me.” He dragged you out of the offices and towards what you recognized to be the high command quarters. You couldn’t disobey a direct order from your superior, so you stumbled along as quickly as you could.

While your apartment was in a cute little residential building on the other end of base, the high command quarters were housed in a higher security building connected to the command center via a series of secure walkways. Reyes simply keyed in a code and ushered you across the glass skyway.

“Sir, I don’t believe I have clearance to access the command living quarters,” you tried to warn him.

“You have access as Jack’s guest.” He answered as if that would explain anything. Why would you be the Strike Commander’s guest?

Commander Reyes pulled to a stop in front of a door with a mailbox outside labeled 3001. He rapped his knuckles on the metal door, tapping his foot as there was the sound of scrambling inside, and the door slid open. Agent McCree was grinning on the other side.

“You came!” He stepped forward and pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, lifting you off the ground and setting you down inside what you assumed to be the Strike Commander’s quarters. “Jack and I were worried Gabe would scare you away.”

“He scared me, that’s for sure. What am I doing here?” You couldn’t keep yourself from looking around the apartment. It was nice, comfortable, with state-of-the-art appliances and plenty of space for more than one person. Much larger than your own apartment.

McCree looked offended. “You didn’t tell her anything? Did you just abduct her from her desk like some kind of madman?”

“No,” Gabe said at the exact same time you said, “Yes.”

The cowboy rolled his eyes. He took one of your hands in both of his and, with the most earnest expression, begged for your forgiveness. “The three of us wanted to say thank you for all the sweets you’ve been baking lately. Those churros were absolutely amazing, so we all pitched in to make dinner for you. Gabe was supposed to ask politely if you would join us. It would make my whole world if you did.”

You weren’t sure how you could say no to something so sweet. Agent McCree was certainly scruffy and rough around the edges at times, but you couldn’t deny he was a true gentleman, unlike his boss.

You nodded, and McCree pulled you in for another hug. “Atta girl! Jack should be back in just a moment. He had to borrow some stuff from Ana.”

Sure enough, the Strike Commander appeared just a moment late with an arm full of cookware and ingredients. He was dressed down to a faded t-shirt and his combat uniform pants with an apron. When he set everything down on the counter, you realized the apron was printed with the warning “hot stuff coming through,” and you couldn’t hide your snort of laughter.

“Ana got it for him as a gift. Jack has been our barbecue guy for the past five years now.” Reyes explained.

“I like it,” you grinned. “It’s accurate.”

You had never seen the Strike Commander blush. He fumbled with the container he was prying open. “Supper was supposed to be ready by the time you got here, but I don’t always keep cooking stuff here. We’ve got snacks and drinks, and Jesse will probably make you watch something terrible with him on the TV.”

You nodded. “Thank you for all of this, Sirs.”

“Woah, woah,” McCree held up his hands. “None of that shit around here. We do first names around here only, or embarrassing nicknames.”

You were extremely thankful for McCree- Jesse. He had a way of making you feel perfectly at ease even though you were so far out of your element. “Come on, I’m gonna show you some classic films while they cook.” He wrapped a hand around your waist and led you to the couch, flicking through the menu on the wall-sized screen. You had seen how much physical affection the high command shared, and you assumed it came from trust on the battlefield. But it seemed the comfort and intimacy extended to you as well.

“Do you need help in the kitchen?” You asked the Strike Commander.

“Absolutely not,” he winked at you. “You’ve cooked far too much for all of us, and it’s our turn to make it up to you. Your job is to keep Jesse out of the kitchen.”

The cowboy grinned at you. “They say I’m a hazard.”

You nodded. “I can see that.” Gathering all of your courage, you nestled into his side on the couch. He threw an arm around your shoulders easily and selected a movie. “What are we watching?”

“Seven Samurai. Genji showed it to me. Did you know that 1900’s cowboy movies and 1900’s samurai movies are like the same thing? He’s the only one who appreciates my Eastwood classics.”

Reyes chimed in from the kitchen. “For a bunch of assassins, it turns out my entire squadron is made up of nerds.”

“And you’re the Head Nerd. King of all Nerds.” Morrison knocked him with an elbow. “We’ve seen your Halloween costumes.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Commander Reyes is a nerd?”

“Gabe,” Jesse corrected you, “is the biggest nerd of them all. He likes musicals.”

You were smiling widely now. You had been so lonely in Zurich, and now you were being included in teasing and movies and dinner with three of the most powerful men in Overwatch.

Comman- Gabe must have finished his part of the prep work because he sprawled out on the couch on your other side. It felt so nice to be sandwiched between them as the movie played. Jesse’s fingers absently played with your hair, and Gabe’s thigh pressed against your own.

Dinner didn’t take very long at all, and the four of you sat down at Jack’s dining table. There were casseroles, baked potatoes, roasted meat, and vegetables. You made sure to put a little bit of everything on your plate.

“I wasn’t sure what your favorites are, so we made a Morrison family dinner. A taste of the American Midwest.” Jack smiled sheepishly.

“It’s great!” you loved seeing this glimpse of the Strike Commander’s home.

“Next time, I’ll have to show you how we did it in LA,” Gabe was already digging in. “Jack’s Aunt Cindy is an excellent cook, but my sister knows how to make the best tamales.”

You were already putting together a menu based on what your family used to cook. It would be so much fun to treat them to the same meals you had grown up eating.

Jesse cocked his head. “I didn’t eat much as a kid that didn’t come out of a can or a box, but Ana has showed me how to make some things over the years. We’ll have to get her to cook one night.”

The implication that this was only the first of many more nights to come, your heart felt so warm and fuzzy. You tried to hide your blush as you ate.

After finishing dinner, you attempted to help wash up and found yourself forcibly removed from the kitchen by Gabe. “Stop trying to help and just let us treat you.”

And so you found yourself back snuggled up on the couch between them as the movie finished. They were so affectionate, pulling you against them and wrapping their arms around you. It felt natural. You had been working in the same office as them for years, hearing all of their conversations and watching them care for each other. Now, instead of an invisible bystander, you were a part of the family. But you had never truly been invisible. Clearly, everyone else had always considered you as one of them.

You must have dozed off at some point because Jack gently shook you awake. “Jesse can walk you back to your place,” he pushed a container of leftovers into your hand and wrapped you in a hug. “Don’t hide so much from now on, ok?”

You nodded. “Next time, you have to let me help cook.”

[sylvielauffeydottir]

Hi I just saw your post about Israel and Palestinian. I don't know if you're the person to ask or if this is a dumb question but I was wondering if anyone has considered starting a second Jewish state? I was wondering because there's a bunch of Christian countries so why not multiple Jewish ones.

Sorry if I'm bothering you and Thanks for your time.

That’s actually a pretty interesting question. I am going to apologize right now, because I essentially can’t give a short answer to save my life.

I’m not a ‘Jewish Scholar,’ so while I can speak with some authority about the history of Zionism, I definitely couldn’t speak about it with as much authority as others. I mentioned in at least one of the posts I have written about the history of plans for a ‘Jewish state’ when Zionism was originally being proposed, and I can kinda of track the history of Zionist thinking for you if you are interested, though essentially it’s just about arguing where to go. But there are better scholars for this than me, so I would recommend Rebecca Kobrin, Deborah Lipstadt, Walter Laqueur … idk. Maybe just read some Theodor Herzl, honestly. With all of that said, I can speak with some authority about the post-war history of this in the Middle East. So let’s go.

In post-war times, there has really only been one serious discussion of an alternative Jewish state, as far as I know. And actually, this is part of why I find it so ironic that people are campaigning so hard to be “anti-Zionist” and to express views like “anti-Zionism” in their activism, because the Jews in Israel who are most anti-Zionist are actually the settlers of Palestinian territories, who want to secede and form a “Gaza-State” called Judeah. There's a great book about this called The Deadly Embrace by Ilana Kass And Bard O'Neill, if anyone is interested. Anyway, most of those people, who are largely Haredim (the Ultra-Orthodox Jews, though some of those settlers are semi Orthodox), have essentially been waging a “culture war” about what it means to have a Jewish state and what the identity of that Jewish state should look like basically since the 1980s.

There is a really good article about this that you can find right here written by Peter Lintl, who is a researcher at the Institution of Political Science for the Friedrich-Alexander Universitat. I’ll summarize it for the lazy people, though, because it’s like 40 pages. Just know that this paragraph won’t be super source heavy, because it is basically the same source. Essentially, the Haredim community has tripled in size from 4% to 12% of the total Israeli population since 1980, and it is probably going to be about 20% by 2040. They only accept the Torah and religious laws as the basis for Jewish life and Jewish identity and they are critical of democratic principles. To them, a societal structure should be hierarchical, patriarchal, and have rabbis at the apex, and they basically believe that Israel isn’t a legitimate state. This is primarily because Israel is (at least technically, so no one come at me in the comments about Palestinian citizens of Israel, so I’ll make a little ** and address this there) a ‘liberal’ democracy. Rights of Israeli citizens include, according to Freedom House, free and fair elections (they rank higher on that criteria here than the United States, by the way), political choice, political rights and electoral opportunities for women, a free and independent media, and academic freedom. It is also, I should add (as a lesbian), the only country in the Middle East that has anything close to LGBT+ rights.

[**to the point about Palestinians and Palestinian citizens of Israel: I have a few things to say. First, I have recommended this book twice now and it is Michael Oren’s Six Days of War, which absolutely fantastically talks about the ways in which the entire structure of the Palestinian ‘citizenship’ movement, Palestinian rights, and who was responsible for governing Palestinians changed after the Six Days War. If you are at all interested in the modern Middle East or modern Middle East politics, I highly recommend you read this, because a huge tenant of this book is that it was 1967, not 1947, that caused huge parts of our current situation (and that, surprisingly, a huge issue that quote-on-quote “started it” was actually water, but that’s sort of the primary secondary issue, not the Actual Issue at play here). Anyway, I’ve talked about the fact that Israel hugely abuses its authority in the West Bank and Gaza and that there are going to be current members of the Israeli Government who face action at the ICC, so please don’t litigate this again with me. I also should add that the 2018 law which said it was only Jews who had the natural-born right to “self-determine” in Israel was passed by the Lekkud Government, and I really hate them anyway. I know they’re bad. It’s not the point I’m making. I’m making a broader point about the Constitution vis-a-vis what the Haredim are proposing, which is way worse].

To get back to the Haredim, basically there is this entire movement of actual settlers in territories that have been determined to belong to the Palestinian people as of, you know, the modern founding of Israel (and not the pre-Israel ‘colonial settler’ narrative you’ll see on instagram in direct conflict with the history of centuries of aliyah) who want to secede and form a separate Jewish state. They aren’t like, the only settlers, but I point this out because they are basically ‘anti-Zionist’ in the sense that they think that modern Zionism isn’t adhering to the laws of Judaism — that the state of Israel is too free, too radical, too open. And scarily enough, these are the sort of the people from whom Netanyahu draws a huge part of his political support. Which is true of the right wing in general. Netanyahu can’t actually govern without a coalition government. Like I have said, the Knesset is huge, often with 11-13 political parties at once, and so to ‘govern’ Netanyahu often needs to recruit increasingly right wing, conservative, basically insane political parties to maintain his coalition. It’s why he has been so supportive of the settlements, particularly in the last five years (since he is, as I have also said, facing corruption charges, and he really can’t leave office). It would really suck for him if a huge chunk of his voters seceded, wouldn’t it?

Anyway, that is the only ‘second Jewish State’ I know about, and I don’t think that is necessarily much of a solution. I really don’t have the solutions to the Middle East crisis. I am just a girl with some history degrees and some time on her hands to devote to tumblr, and I want people to learn more so they can form their own opinions. With that said, I think there are two more things worth saying and then I will close out for the night.

First, Judaism is an ethno-religion. Our ethnicities have become mixed with the places that we have inhabited over the years in diaspora, which is how you have gotten Sephardi, Mizrahi, Ashkenazi, and even Ethiopian Jews. But if you do actual DNA testing on almost all of the Jews in diaspora, the testing shows that we come from the same place: the Levant. No matter how pale or dark, Jews are still fundamentally one people, something we should never forget (and anyone who tries to put racial hierarchy into paleness of Jews: legit, screw you. One people). Anyway, unlike other religious communities, we have an indigenous homeland because we have an ethnic homeland. It’s small, and there are many Jews in diaspora who choose not to return to it, like myself. But that homeland is ours (just as much as it is rightfully Palestinians, because we are both indigenous to the region. For everyone who hasn’t read my other posts on the issue, I’m not explaining this again. Just see: one, two, and three, the post that prompted this ask). This is different from Christians, for example, who basically just conquered all of Europe and whose religion is not dependent on your race or background. You can be a lapsed Christian and you are still white, latinx, black, etc right? I am a lapsed Jew, religiously speaking, and will still never escape that I am ethnically Ashkenazi Jewish.

Second, I think you raise a really good point about other religious states. There are many other religious majority states in the world (all of these countries have an official state religion), and a lot of them are committing a lot of atrocities right now (don't even get me started on Saudi Arabia). I have seen other posts and other authors write about this better than I ever could, but I am going to do my best to articulate why, because of this, criticism of Israel as a state, versus criticism of the Israeli Government, is about ... 9 times out of 10 inherently antisemitic.

We should all be able to criticize governments. That is a healthy part of the democratic process and it is a healthy part of being part of the world community. But there are 140 dictatorships in the world, and the UN Human Rights Council has condemned Israel 45 times since 2013. Since the creation of the UN Human Rights Council, it has has received more resolutions concerning Israel than on the rest of the world combined. This is compared to like … 1 for Myanmar, 1 for South Sudan, and 1 for North Korea.

Israel is the world’s only Jewish majority state. You want to talk about “ethnic cleansing” and “repressive governments”? I can give you about five other governments and world situations right now, off the top of my head, that are very stark, very brutal, very (in some cases) simple examples of either or both. If a person is ‘using their platform’ to Israel-bash, but they are not currently speaking about the atrocities in Myanmar, Kashmir, Azerbaijan, South Sudan, or even, dare I say, the ethnonationalism of the Hindu Nationalist Party in India, then, at the very least, their activism is a little bit performative. They are chasing the most recent ‘hot button’ issue they saw in an instagraphic, and they probably want to be woke and maybe want to do the right thing. And no one come at me and say it is because you don’t “know anything about Myanmar.” Most people know next to nothing about the Middle East crisis as well. At best, people are inconsistent, they may be a hypocrite, and, whether they want to admit it to themselves or not, they are either unintentionally or intentionally buying into antisemitic narratives. They might even be an antisemite.

I like to think (hope, maybe) that most people don’t hate Jews. If anything, they just follow what they’ve been told, and they tend to digest what everyone is taking about. But there is a reason this is the global narrative that has gained traction, and I guarantee it has at least something to do with the star on the Israeli flag.

I know that was a very long answer to your question, but I hope that gave you some insight.

As a sidenote: I keep recommending books, so I am going to just put a master list of every book I have ever recommended at the bottom of anything I do now, because the list keeps growing. So, let’s go in author alphabetical order from now on.

One Country by Ali Abunimah Rise and Kill First: The Secret History of Israel's Targeted Assassinations by Ronen Bergman Kingdom of Olives and Ash: Writers Confront the Occupation, edited by Michael Chabon and Ayelet Waldman The Girl Who Stole My Holocaust: A Memoir by Noam Chayut If a Place Can Make You Cry: Dispatches from an Anxious State by Daniel Gordis Israel: A Concise History of a Nation Reborn by Daniel Gordis The Deadly Embrace by Ilana Kass And Bard O'Neill Like Dreamers: The Story of the Israeli Paratroopers Who Reunited Jerusalem and Divided a Nation by Yossi Klein Halevi Antisemitism by Deborah Lipstadt Six Days of War: June 1967 and the Making of the Modern Middle East by Michael Oren The Yom Kippur War: The Epic Encounter That Transformed the Middle East by Abraham Rabinovich One Palestine, Complete: Jews and Arabs Under the British Mandate by Tom Segev Hollow Land: Israel's Architecture of Occupation by Eyal Weizman

[qqueenofhades]

Question: were medieval peasants always on the edge of starving, as in couldn't waste food? Or did that vary with time and place? Thanks in adavance!

Well, I have to say that it must be fairly obvious that when we’re talking about a span of roughly one thousand years in an entire continent, in multiple countries/kingdoms/geopolitical situations, and over the course of large-scale, macro-level geographical, climate, crisis, and cultural incidents, it would indeed vary, sometimes wildly, and this is the case for almost any factor that you could possibly think of. It will not surprise you to learn that “medieval peasants were always on the brink of starving” is yet another tired old cliche from the Bad Old Middle Ages grab bag, and while it reflects a different system from modernity, it is not necessarily the case that it was always worse (especially considering the prevalence of hunger in the modern world and the parallel universes in food access between rich and poor, which were simply never that extreme in the medieval era). Today, there’s no relationship whatsoever between how rich people eat and how poor people eat; they exist in completely separate realms. Rich people simply have no worry about disruption to food supply, reliance on local economy or agriculture, the impact of natural disasters, or anything else; globalization and worldwide supply chains means that they can be assured of whatever they want, whenever they want it. Even wealthy people in the Middle Ages did not exist in their own ecosystem the way modern rich people do. Their food was grown on the same land, was subject to the same possible impacts of famine or crop failure, was reliant on having farm labor to cultivate it, and otherwise came from the same place as the food of poor people. Obviously class, status, and money affected what goods a medieval citizen had access to, whether in food or anything else, but food inequality and disparity is WAY more of a thing in modernity than it was in the Middle Ages.

Next, when we say “medieval peasants,” do we mean literal peasants, i.e. manual laborers tied to a single plot of land who worked it, harvested its crop yields, owed rent to a local landlord, and were often rural and on the subsistence level? Because obviously, there are social differences among peasants too, and some of them could be quite wealthy. In his usefully titled “Did the Peasants Really Starve in Medieval England?”, Christopher Dyer points out that the upper class of peasants, who had about thirty acres of arable land and access to common pastures, would easily be able to provide themselves with bread, potage (soup) and ale on a daily basis, have consistent access to dairy and meat, and even enough money to buy extra fish, meat, and prepared foods like pudding and pie from the village or market town. It would be easy for them to eat the usual 2000 calories a day, and their diet would be relatively flavorful and nutritious even by modern standards. Poorer peasants would be more reliant on just bread, potage, and ale, and have less access to meat and dairy, but they still weren’t outright starving. Manual labor doesn’t go well if the laborers are constantly underfed and/or weak from malnutrition, and while the poorest peasants’ diet would have been fairly monotonous and carb-heavy, it still would provide raw calories for energy.

Nor were food economies exclusively local, as that equally tired cliche that people never traveled more than ten miles from home would have you believe (honestly, where did that even come from?) As Food in Medieval Times puts it, “A remarkably wide variety of foodstuffs was available to consumers in the Middle Ages. Besides homegrown and raised products, exotic fruits and spices were brought by Arab merchants into the Mediterranean markets and sold across Europe at premium prices. Although bad harvests resulting in famine and disease occurred periodically, the staple foods -- bread, dairy products, cheap cuts of meat, and preserved fish -- were usually available to the general population. In richer households the foodstuffs were more exclusive and the dishes more sophisticated and varied.” Regional differences would obviously thus play a part. Common people in Iberia, Italy, and southern Europe would be more easily able to access certain delicacies not available in relatively barren England and northern Europe, and would be geographically closer to the Mediterranean markets. They still would not be able to afford expensive delicacies like saffron or other fine spice, but that doesn’t mean they never had it at all. There were many feast days and festivals in the religious and liturgical calendar, and communities would come together with food just as they do now.

There were also social welfare systems and safety nets, wherein, for example, ageing peasants could retire and be provided with a food pension by their landlord (there are numerous legal contracts of this nature, which had to be written down since what a surprise, the landlords didn’t always keep their word or honor their obligations). Even serfs didn’t have to work until they keeled over; they could take retirement and be provided with a portion of the food yield of the estate from their working-age peers, indeed rather like Social Security. There were also almoners at churches, monasteries, and other religious houses, who relied on donations from rich patrons with guilty consciences in order to feed the destitute poor, like a modern-day soup kitchen. These arrangements would obviously not have covered everybody (once again, we note, food banks and food stamps and other arrangements don’t do that for modern people either), but it doesn’t mean there was no recourse.

Of course, the food economy was more perilous than it is now, and more prone to natural disasters and agricultural disruptions. There are certainly famines recorded throughout the medieval period (such as the Great Famine of 1315-18), and several years of bad harvests could have a devastating impact on rich and poor alike. (Since again, the rich didn’t have their own entirely separate ecosystem; their food had to come from the same place as their poorer counterparts.) Climate change, too little rain, too much rain, drought, fire, pestilence, or anything else, in the absence of industrialization, mass farming techniques, factories, or anything of the sort, meant that food supplies were vulnerable to the natural environment, and people did die of hunger in the bad years. While standards did also change and improve over time, the earlier (pre-11th century) medieval period was not necessarily always worse. After the Black Death, when there were simply much fewer people than before, and increasingly so in the late fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, peasants usually had fairly reliable access both to raw food and cash to purchase prepared food. By the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the threat of widespread food catastrophe had largely subsided; there aren’t any major famines recorded in Europe at this time, though we daresay they had plenty of other problems (not least the wars of religion). Of course, that little thing in 1492 had also happened, opening up the Columbian Exchange and new routes of supply to the New World, including large-scale transportation and trade of food.

As I’ve mentioned in at least one other ask, people also knew how to cook food properly; someone studied the latrines at Warkworth Castle in northern England (don’t ask me who thought that this is a fun research project, but it takes all kinds) and discovered a remarkable lack of food-borne pathogens. In other words, even without modern safety standards or exact temperature guidelines, people were well aware how to cook food so it tasted good and wouldn’t kill you. They also took pride in doing so. In “The Evolution of Culinary Techniques in the Medieval Era,” Barbara Santich explores the evolution of written recipes from a few notes intended to remind the chef of something they already knew, to a more detailed programmatic for someone who might not have actually made the dish before. Skilled cooks were highly prized members of middle-class and upper-class households, and people who had money to spend on food enjoyed banquets, diverse dishes, and whatever delicacies they could get from their local merchants and markets. The extensive system of medieval trade networks, as mentioned above, meant that consumer goods could travel a very long way indeed, and while you couldn’t walk into a supermarket and get whatever you wanted whenever you wanted it, there would be at least some opportunity for you to acquire something new.

Anyway, yes. Medieval peasants: usually not starving. There you have it.

[shadowofthelamp]

Partners

Swap Zim and Dib decide to work together. Technically a direct sequel to this thing that was posted a year and a half ago. Like, comments, and reblogs all super appreciated!

Wordcount: 1800

Warnings: Mentions of Dib experimenting on people, I guess?

Zim woke up strapped to a lab table that smelled so strongly of blood that he almost threw up. (Which was quite an accomplishment, considering it wasn’t like Zim was a stranger to animal test subjects, or even getting himself injured.) It took him a few seconds to remember why he was strapped to a bloody lab table, but hearing the familiar voice frantically muttering next to him helped.

“Come on, I need to kill him, but it’s Zim, I like Zim, I don’t want to kill him, but he’s a threat to the mission, I can’t upset my Tallest or the Professor, but maybe I could just wipe his memory...”

That voice was Dib. Dib, the stalker who had turned out to be a real live alien. Dib, the kid (was he a kid?) who must have strapped him to a table.

_____

It had started out pretty easy- he’d already known where Dib lived from the one time Dib had dragged him there when they’d both gotten caught in an explosion and he’d wanted to help patch Zim up. All Zim had to do was use a taser to short out the electric fence and some hacking to get in the front door once he found the security frequency they were using.

It was child’s play, although it wasn’t like it would be easy for anybody else. Zim was special. He was always special, always better than everyone else. Dib had seen that. As annoying as he got at times, Zim was glad that at least he was annoying because he liked Zim.

However, things had started to go south as soon as he got inside the front door. There was a chubby little pig perched right next to it, and it sniffed at him before its eyes lit up bright red.

“STATE YOUR BUSINESS.”

“You talk?” It looked like a regular pig to him, usually talking animals were a lot clunkier and more robotic-looking.

“IRRELEVANT. STATE YOUR BUSINESS, HUMAN.”

“Seeing Dib.”

“NONE MAY PASS.” The pig jolted up on two legs, and Zim noticed a small zipper on its belly only moments before the pig grasped at it, yanking it down and ripping off its- costume? It didn’t look like any fabric Zim had ever seen- to reveal a silvery robot with burning red eyes. A dozen weapons, mostly guns and knives, popped out from its head, and Zim couldn’t bite back a yelp as he fumbled in his backpack for his own laser gun.

“I know how to use this thing, you know!”

“ANY THREAT TO THE MISSION AND TO MASTER GAZ MUST BE ELIMINATED.” 

Zim squeezed the trigger, but the robot- okay, it moved way too fast for a robot that size, Zim’s tended to blow up if they tried any fancy acrobatics, but this one flipped out of the way, his laser blasting a hole in the wallpaper instead. 

He took half a second to breathe before squeezing the trigger again and swinging it around, burning a line through the wall and couch before hitting the robot and getting a metallic shriek out of it as it lunged for him, pinning him down by the shoulders and making him drop his laser.

“ELIMINATED. ELIMINATED. ELMINATED.”

“Release Zim!” Zim kicked up and heard a metallic crack before he rolled to the side, thankful for those self-defense classes he’d taken as the robot plunged about fifteen knives into the spot where his head had been half a second ago. The red eyes narrowed at him before activating rockets in its feet, and Zim ducked as it swung with a giant mallet from its head. He dropped to the floor, fumbling for the laser and swinging it around to take another shot at the thing. 

The gun managed to blast one of the arms off, but that sure as hell made it mad considering he didn’t have time to dodge the second swing of the mallet. He saw stars for half a second before there was nothing at all.

_____

“Dib,” Zim croaked, head feeling rather like it was full of rats that had thrown a dance party inside his skull and left a mess all over the cerebral cortex. 

“But this is a perfect opportunity for some experiments, you wanted that, didn’t you Dib- huh?” Dib looked up from muttering to himself.

Or rather, the alien did. It was still wearing Dib’s trademark goggles that looked heavy enough to weigh his head down with lenses too dark to see anything underneath, but its skin was an even darker shade of green, and it had a pair of twitchy antennae. No nose, no ears, and it had donned a full-on labcoat that was soaked in a whole lot of red and black stains. He’d always kind of figured aliens were real somewhere out there, but seeing it... it was like reality had tilted a little to the left. There were more pressing matters than a crisis about aliens existing anyhow, and Zim was pretty good at repressing things he didn’t like.

It sounded like Dib, though, and the way it fussed with its hands was the same with two fingers and one thumb on each, same as Dib. ‘Machine accident’, his ass. 

“You’re awake?”

“Y-yes, I’m awake. Could you let me go?” His voice came out sickly-sweet and polite, like he was talking to the counselor again to convince her that he was fine.

Dib-alien shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I really would like to, but you know too much. Protocol is pretty clear- dispose of or brainwash all witnesses when the planet is marked for conquest. But brainwashing knocks out a lot of the intelligence, and that would be such a waste, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, yes it would,” Zim agreed. “So let me off with a warning?”

Dib folded his arms. “Nope. But the fact that you actually held your own against a SIR unit for a full minute as a smeet- and one that I modified to be extra aggressive- just tells me that you’re still useful as a specimen.”

“Hey, I’m not a- a- smeeb!”

“Smeet, child, baby, whatever term it is you humans use.” Dib waved a dismissive hand, stalking closer and looming over Zim. His eyes were a deep, electric blue like an unsucked sour candy, and Zim squirmed under the restraints. “That table is where most of my previous experiments died, and I don’t want you to just be number thirty-six, you know?”

“Thirty-six? Thirty-six what?”

“Oh, this and that. Humans are good for experiments, they’re very determined to survive so you don’t have to use as many.”

“Well, so is Zim.” Zim tried to twist away, but something metallic erupted from Dib’s backpack like a dozen sharp insectoid legs, propelling him up onto the lab table before he dropped directly on Zim’s chest, driving the wind out of him.

“I’m well aware. You’re already a survivor, aren’t you?” He ticked off on his fingers, alien butt shifting on top of Zim a bit to get comfortable. “Barely any parental supervision, yet you create machines and work on biological experiments that are beyond the capability of most humans three times your age. You almost get blown up often and yet walk away from it. You’re an anomaly.” Dib leaned closer, and Zim could taste the sugar on his breath. “I like anomalies.”

Zim attempted to buck Dib off to no avail as he continued. “Find the exception and you’ll have found the thing of most interest, the thing that makes or breaks a species. The outlier the proves the rule, and you’re a human that behaves like an irken, showing just how far ahead of the rest of your species you are. According to my research, they’re going to burn when Gaz decides what to do with this place if they don’t destroy each other before she gets around to it, but I just might keep you as a pet.”

“Zim is no pet!” Even with little oxygen left in his lungs, Zim shouted, snarling up at Dib with his lip curled. “Earth may be terrible, but it’s mine, so back off!”

“Oh? So you agree that Earth is terrible?” Dib tilted his head to the side, one of those long antennae twitching, and Zim narrowed his eyes.

“You’re not very good at research, are you? Of course it is! But it’s mine, and I don’t want any buggy alien getting his sticky hands all over it!”

“It’s not exactly up to me,” Dib replied, hearing the wheeze in Zim’s voice and sliding off his chest to the table itself, and Zim sucked in a deep breath, feeling the air reinflate his squashed lungs. “Gaz is the one who’s actually invading, I’m just here to study the planet in case there’s anything useful. You’re a pre-contact planet, or at least that’s what’s logged, so this place is a treasure trove of undiscovered species. I’m trying to convince Gaz to at least set up a preserve so I can study some of them once she’s done with the invasion.”

“Are you even listening to me? I told you to bug off! Leave me and Earth alone!”

“I’m listening, but I told you, it’s not my call. Even if it was... you said it yourself, Earth is terrible. It would be far more useful to the Empire as a sugar-harvesting operation, or a zoo, or something else. Humans don’t really deserve to be in charge, they’re just going to blow themselves up eventually.” Dib shrugged.

“If I was in charge, you wouldn’t say that,” Zim muttered, and Dib’s antenna twitched again.

“What did you say?”

“I said, if I was in charge, you wouldn’t say that. I bet if everybody listened to me, you’d take that back. I’m a human and I know I could fix everything.”

Dib stared at him for a solid ten seconds, and Zim wasn’t sure he hadn’t spontaneously kicked the bucket. Did aliens do that? “You’re a genius. You’re a genius!” 

“Of course I am, but why?”

Dib smacked his hands on Zim’s cheeks, squishing his mouth in like a goldfish. “Of course, how didn’t I see it before? Your potential is stifled by the fact that you only have access to tools that you create, but if we worked together, you could help us because you have intimate knowledge of humanity, and I could help you by giving you limited access to my technology! We could be lab partners- I wouldn’t have to kill you, and you can help reshape your species for a better future!”

Zim blinked. “Does this mean you aren’t going to do horrible experiments on me?”

“I can’t promise that, but I’m not going to kill you right now.”

“Good enough for me!” Zim tried to shake Dib’s hand, before realizing that he was still restrained to the table. Dib leaned over, hitting a button just next to Zim’s head, and the restraints popped off. Zim rubbed his wrists for a moment as he sat up, mind still whirling.

This was a chance to fix everything, to make things the way that they should be.

“So, you won’t kill all humans, and you’ll give me access to cool tech.”

“I’ll consider your input on that, and I’ll give you access to cool tech.” Dib nodded, taking Zim’s hand, and a slow grin spread across Zim’s face.

“Then lead the way, Dib-thing.”

[olivish]

Here it is! Part 3 of the "Who was Alex's father?" / "Melanie becomes friends with Ben" story. (I really should make a title at some point.)

Part 1 Part 2

Quick Recap: 8 years pre-Freeze, in the leadup to launching Snowpiercer's first commercial iteration, Wilford sent Melanie to oversee track completion between Jerusalem and Tehran. While she was overseas, she fell in love with a photojournalist who was covering the refugee crisis in Lebanon.

On the day Melanie was supposed to return to Chicago, there was a massive earthquake in which he was killed and she was badly hurt. We pickup the story from Ben’s point of view:

Part 3

1. When Ben found out that Melanie was alive and expected to make a full recovery, he stopped calling. He considered visiting in the hospital, but one of his coworkers tried that and ran into Wilford, who flew into a rage. He demanded to know if his engineers really had nothing better to do than deliver teddy bears.

“She’s doing more work than you are,” he said. “Now go away!”

Day and night, Wilford guarded Melanie like a gargoyle.

“That’s his guilt,” went the chatter in the breakroom. “Guilt? About what?” “He sent her over there.” “You’re nuts. Wilford doesn’t feel bad about anything.” “And yet, he won’t leave her room.” “Here’s a thought. Maybe Melanie’s really dead, but he doesn’t want us to catch on. Figures we might try and bail before the ship goes down.” “Weekend at Bernie’s?” “She’s fine! She’s fine! Melanie says get back to work!” [chuckles] “Seriously, though. Is she okay? Should we send a card?”

2. Nobody sent a card. In five years of development, Melanie had never given anyone a card, for anything. She once told Ben, cards are a pointless waste of paper. “And the glitter,” she went on, rubbing her fingers together with a grimace. “They all have glitter.”

“They make cards without glitter.”

“Doesn’t matter. They sit next to the cards that do have glitter, and it transfers. And card shops always smell like scented candles. Have you noticed that? The miasma of rose hips and vanilla?”

“I hadn’t noticed.” Also, he wasn’t sure what a miasma was. Ben watched as Melanie went back to work. She seemed to have forgotten why they were talking about greeting cards in the first place.

“So, I’ll just sign your name to this one?” he asked.

“Okay.”

“There’s a party. With cake. And booze.” When she didn’t say anything, he offered, “You should come.”

“Oh. Well. Sure. Maybe. If I finish this work in time.”

Ben knew what that meant. Melanie hated staff parties. If the idle conversation weren’t enough to keep her away, Wilford had started bringing Audrey along as entertainment.

And there was nothing more glittery than Audrey.

3. When Melanie came back to work, her coworkers didn’t find it strange that she kept to herself. She’d always been like that, after all. People welcomed her back and asked how she was, but with Wilford always looming, there wasn’t much opportunity for conversation.

“It’s just a few broken ribs,” she said. “I’m fine.”

She didn’t look fine. It was obvious to anyone with eyes, she wasn’t revealing the half of her injuries. Most glaring of all was a crushed right hand, which Ben knew must be killing her. Not just in terms of pain, but Melanie was a notoriously tactile person.

“You can’t understand something unless you put your hands on it,” she once said. They were testing a new diagnostics program he’d written, and she was sure the readings were off. She could feel it. He disagreed, and when it turned out Melanie was right, she gave him a little lecture.

“Fingertips over sensors,” she said. “Get your hands dirty once in awhile, you’ll have better instincts.”

Ben chaffed at the criticism, but there was no arguing with someone who was always right. When it came to machines, Melanie had the magic touch.

Now, maybe half the magic touch.

But Ben couldn’t bring himself to be cute or ironic about it. Melanie losing her dominant hand only a year from completing her magnum opus seemed like a kind of cruel, cosmic joke.

4. Wilford pulled out all the stops as he tried to help Melanie adjust.

“You haven’t got one hand,” he said, standing close behind her, bringing his arms forward, palms up, fingers wiggling. “You’ve got three.”

“Thank you,” she said. “But really, I can manage on my own.”

“And miss your chance to command two of the devil’s finest playthings? Nonsense! It’ll be just like old times. Perfect sympatico.”

Wilford gave her arm a gentle squeeze, and while he was still behind and unable to see her reaction, Melanie seemed to slip. She was... repelled. Then, her eyes snapped up, realizing for the first time that Ben was standing there.

“Oh, bother,” Wilford sighed, still not releasing her arm. “Can we help you?”

“I have upgrades for the harmonic module,” Ben replied, presenting a thumb drive. “It’s a secondary system, designed to kick in for high volume calculations. It’s stochastic, so it should give us faster results, without-"

"-without a statistically significant impact on accuracy," Wilford finished his sentence. He smiled, impressed for once. "Well, well, Bennett. At least someone was working while the bosses were away. How about it, my dear? Are you in the mood for some nondeterministic computational theory, or is that too dull for this, the week of your triumphant return?”

Again, Ben met Melanie’s eyes. And again, every neuron in his brain screamed, something was very wrong.

Down the assembly line, a forklift dropped a pallet of supplies and Melanie flinched, though her facial expression remained unchanged. Blank. Empty. Not like she was somewhere else, but like she existed nowhere at all.

5. That night, for the first time in fifteen years, Ben dreamed about the car crash that killed his youngest brother.

Everything came back, as vividly as the day it happened. The bang-and-ring. The sickening spin. Shattering glass. Inversion. Crunching. The smell of gasoline and the taste of blood. And little Ian, just 8 years old and perfect, lying in the back seat next to him, his eyes open but unseeing. There were no final moments. He was just gone.

Ben awoke gasping and sweating. He ran to the bathroom and splashed water on his face. “Fuck!” he yelled into the towel as he dried off. What the fuck was that!?

But it didn’t take a genius to figure this one out, did it?

“Christ,” he mumbled, pulling out the bourbon. He poured a double, but stopped with the glass an inch from his lips. With another curse, he pitched the amber liquid down the sink. He filled the kettle, boiled water, and made tea.

As it steeped, he closed his eyes in meditation, counting every breath until his timer went off. 4 minutes.

When he opened his eyes again, it was snowing. Thick flakes, landing softly on the balcony. The Chicago cityscape twinkled in the background.

He thought about Melanie.

He thought about the vacant expression on her face. He’d never seen her like that before. But he recognized the look, from his own reflection, many years ago. 

He remembered being numb, exhausted, white knuckling every moment, startling at the slightest sound. After the accident, his older sister, Cecelia, took care of him. She slept next to him at night. She taught him breathing exercises. She took him to a doctor when things got really bad. And then she took him to another doctor, when the first one turned out to be useless. 

Cee probably saved his life.

Ben wondered if Melanie had her own Cecelia, or if it really was just Wilford. To his credit, the master engineer seemed to be doing everything in his power to put his broken protégé back together. And yet.

Ben frowned as he watched the snow come down. He just knew, something was very wrong.

There is a Part 4, it's coming soon...

[rowanartist]

Fan fiction rec 2020s

Most Important Meal Of The Day by silentkinght I'd love some fan art. marvel; Explicit; Stucky

Training Exercises by BlitheFool comic my hero academia; Explicit; EraserMic

Love you for you by SaltywithSarcasm genderbend thanks to quirk whammie my hero Academia; Explicit; EraserMic

Cry a Little Harder for Me Sunshine by Bronzeflower helping his lover feel/express his emotions my hero academia; Explicit; EraserMic

Allowed to be Loud by ravyn_sinclair mutual masturbation then get together implied.my hero Academia; Explicit; EraserMic

Bliss by notveryheroic "Aizawa finally understood why Hizashi had been so hung up on the idea of romance. The sex was phenomenal, but this was what bliss felt like." my hero Academia; Explicit; EraserMic

Eraserwatch by LuceCannon21 Aizawa cares.my hero Academia; Explicit; EraserMic

A Perfect Opportunity by rhoen I was in a mood.my hero Academia; Explicit; EraserMic

Pieces by Aryagraceling deep thought, insecurity, feelings. Investigate the series. my hero Academia; Explicit; EraserMic

teamwork makes the dream work by ObscureReference two part short series. Relatable. my hero Academia; Explicit; EraserMic

Storytime Always Happens by Accident in High School by NothingEnough a transitioned adult tells part of their story to get there.my hero Academia; Explicit; EraserMic

common room by fehinprogress fan art for 5 + 1 by CallingForHeavenon ao3my hero academia; Fic is Explicit; Bakugou/Kirishima

Abide By by modernmint originally I wasn't sure what to think about this but two phrases are stuck in my head: "W’na b’ttm,” and “I want you to.. I want — praise.”my hero Academia; Explicit; EraserMic

Circadian Rhythm by deafmic Aizawa needs support and struggles to allow others to give it.my hero Academia; Explicit; EraserMic

How Aizawa Accidentally Became a Dad by writers_writers awww! EraserMic become dads! my hero Academia; General; EraserMic

Dear Listener by geniusbillionairegayboy makes me think of my boyfriend's sibling who I feel is represented in some ways by a few of the charactersmy hero Academia AU; Explicit; EraserMic

Tender by SenkoWakimarin chronic pain, what does attraction mean? Does it matter if there is love? my hero Academia; Explicit; AllEraserMic

In Your Arms Tonight by donniedont Aizawa feels the pains of hero work my hero Academia; Explicit; AllEraserMic

Gonna get Mine/Jump the Gun by cursedwurm i think this is the second band AU that hit mel, the first was Stucky my hero Academia; Explicit; EraserMic

go without, 'til the need seeps in by thinkpink ... possibly aromatic aizawa?my hero Academia; Explicit; AllEraserMic

The Wise Man by MsThunderFrost people ask if Izuku is All Might's love childmy hero Academia; now registered users only

To Come Together by dansrusse awww, despite it being heterosexual smutmy hero Academia; Explicit; All Might/Momma Midoriya

Practice, Practice, Practice by B4dandBruj0 mom midoriya practicing her quirk ;) at first i wasn't going to include but then it lingered in my mind my hero Academia; Explicit; All Might/Momma Midoriya

Being riled up isn't fun when you're tied up by DerpDerpDeku one of the reasons that communication makes life bettermy hero Academia; Explicit; EraserMic

Sweet Dreams by Miko odd but interesting thoughts on the widow programmarvel; General; Natasha

Chocolate Cake by daddyissueswho short and sweetmy hero academia; teen; dad mic

Of the flu and issues in the past. By Saratoga3 single dad azawa my hero acadamia; teen; Dadzawa & Shinsou

a mix of six by Argentina dadzawa, characters working through stuff and growing. my hero Academia; series

the roast of class 1-A by catastrophicGallivant funny "chat fic" my hero Academia; Teen; Aizawa-Yamada family

Coming out 5+ 1 times by Just_an_evil_immortal as a cis straight demisexual, this seemed cute - though others could disagreemy hero Academia; Teen; Dadzawa

Silently Loved by eraserheadsmashr sweet and caring! my hero Academia; Teen; EraserMic

When You Have Nightmares and a Gay Crisis but Your Teacher is Gay and Relatable So It's Okay by PastaMic emotions and caring my hero Academia; teen

Good Excuses by lod lovably dense Aizawa, not that I have a right to judge...my hero Academia;Teen; EraserMic & Eri

Mockingbird by angst_goblin adorable deaged Izuku with emotions. my hero Academia; Teen; Dadzawa

More Than Just a Smile by ravyn_sinclairr showing a deeper side to Present Mic my hero Academia; Teen; EraserMic

Goodnight Sleep Prince by tiniest_hands_in_all_the_land very cute and amusing. The last part is the best!! Also, alternativename for Eraser: Energy Saver. my hero academia; teen; EraserMic

Rice by scrawly_times school prioritize mental health of both staff and students!!!my hero Academia; teen; AllMight

The Two Best People in the World by Vagabond insecure Present Mic my hero academia; Mature; AllEraserMic

Adventures in Babysitting by VeryImportantDemon little Iida!! Confirmation that I am Iida (delayed talking, then full sentences). The first in the series is good too. my hero Academia; teen; EraserMic

bOnE?!?!?!? By Vicstaria77 goofy short fic my hero Academia; Not Rated; EraserMic

You better by Asahi_san aka I'm a strong independent hero and I don't NEED my husband :( my hero Academia; Not Rated; EraserMic

Just Enough by Thunder_the_Wolf I commented that I relate to a degree to Hizashi and the author. my hero Academia; Not Rated; EraserMic

Grounded by Aryagraceling from the same series as a fic further up. ^ ponder...my hero Academia; Teen; Aizawa

By the Numbers by ill go with that then (Linelenagain) very cute high school erasermic my hero Academia; Teen; EraserMic

EraserMic Week 2019 by Ryoukon 8 fan arts with fic recommended. Some of my favorites are already shared before this.my hero Academia

whipped by dvntldrr comiserating mom friendsmy hero Academia; Not Rated; Aizawa & Bakugou

Memories by dykenezukor short and sweet get together. my hero Academia; Not Rated; EraserMic

Day Five: Rebuilt by goatman_entrapment "Anyways listen to All Might, kids! Trauma changes you, and that's okay! take the time to mourn the things you've lost so you can start building yourself up from what you've gained!" -author note my hero Academia; Not Rated; EraserMic

Nightmares and Pillowforts by xxInksxx little listener, strong heros admitting fear but coping my hero Academia; Not Rated; Aizawa-Yamada family

Poetry in Motion by xxInksxx cute high school erasermicmy hero Academia; General; EraserMic

Class 1-A cuddle routine by lisanna44 CUTE! my hero Academia; Not Rated

Soothing by DisastrouslyYours innocent intimacy, long hair my hero Academia; Not Rated; EraserMic

EraerMic Week fics by TheGoodKindOfNerdy ch2. ADORABLE! Ch7 amusing... MY HERO ACADEMIA; Not Rated; EraserMic

Fragile Mind by SaltywithSarcasm sweet comfort to anxieties my hero Academia; General; EraserMic

A Fresh Coat of Polish by WearyQueeryReader Aizawa is an amazing teacher! Defying his past...my hero Academia; Not Rated; Aizawa

the skeletons inside of us by firelord_zutara cute AU no quirks with a band, has music recommendations at end of ch2 my hero Academia; teen; EraserMic

A Total Eclipse of Rationality by impulsewriter (trilogycal) cute my hero acadamia; Mature; EraserMic

Day Six: Appreciated by goatman_entrapment cute father's day ficmy hero academia; General

Grounding by SaltywithSarcasm anxiety supportmy hero acadamia; teen; EraserMic

Kinktober 2019- My hero Academia! By Alexander_the_great_nerd ch13 of 31, there's others too like ch11 my hero academia; E; Todoroki/Izuku, various

Relinquishment and Safekeeping by DarklingMoon yes! *blush* my hero acadamia; Explicit; EraserMic

Please Say You Miss Me by MintIceTea very cute! Pre-relationship my heroAcademia; General; EraserMic

One Of Those Days by ghoulvoided once again, i relate to a smaller degree My hero acadamia; General; EraserMic

Duplicated Adoration by BirbIsTheWirb Adorable! And what an opener "To those who know Eraserhead, he is a man of apathy and enigma. And to those who know Aizawa Shouta, he is a man who cares too much for his own good and an emotional catastrophe, but Aizawa will argue to Pluto and back that that is falsified information" my hero Academia; Teen and up; EraserMic

i’ll give it all, take my heart by SammyD adorable and cute laugh :) my hero academia; General; Shinsou and Kaminari

Shouta's Favorite Sound by deafmic later found on a soft fluff fic rec my hero academia; teen; EraserMic

A Little Longer by deafmic sweet in the face of ugly my hero academia; teen; Shinsou & Dadzawa

Obstacles by deafmic cute, especially Shinso's love of erasermy hero academia; teen; Dadzawa and preschool teacher Yamada

The Curious Disappearance of Aizawa Shouta by deafmic wow... my hero academia; teen; Aizawa

Snowed In by deafmic at under school age a canvas tent collapsed over me and an adult, clothing racks protected us but it was still rattling. I was afraid of thunderstorms for a while. my hero academia; General; Shinsou

Helper by deafmic Aizawa is a good teacher my hero academia; General; Aizawa & Tsuyu

Biggest Fan by deafmic AWWW! my hero academia; General; pre canon Shinsou & Aizawa

A Different Kind of Hero by deafmic cute my hero academia; General; Aizawa & Eri

Second Chances by deafmic cute pre canon connected to present; also eraser head costume! my hero academia; General; Izuku & Shinsou

You Can Sing Me Anything by donniedont I relate to Aizawa's disappearing concept. I was tired and felt like I just made people's lives harder, but even so suicide was not a struggle of mine. It frustrated me a lot when people assumed that. It felt like they weren't listening to me. This story was very interesting, from the view point of a cis straight demisexual with a genderfluid sibling. my hero academia; Mature; EraserMic

A Lesson In Opening Up by AWHOOPS ponder, admitting what you want. my hero academia; Explicit

Goggles by modernmint comments my hero academia; Explicit; EraserMic

Aphrodisiac by SenkoWakimarinr either demisexual or some other form of acespec (terminology?), very chill my hero academia; Explicit; AllEraserMic

Have Their Cake And Eat It Too by VulcanAizawa kinky foursome relationship my hero Academia; Explicit;

What's Mine Is Yours by Snekpoetryhor took some time to include it but after I found myself rereading it a few times… my hero academia; Explicit; AllEraserMic

geyser by Spineless comments my hero academia; General; Izuku & Dadzawa & Dad Might & good friends

Absence by SaltywithSarcasm Hizashi is lonely and wants to spend time with his best friend my hero academia; teen

Affluence by modernmint sweet and cute slow burn my hero academia ; Explicit; EraserMic; Single dad Aizawa no quirks AU

Many Hands by rhoen Aizawa and Yamada want Yagi my hero academia; Explicit; AllEraserMic

Four Of Them Oh God by Snekpoetry quirk whammie means 4 All Mights from different points in his life my hero academia; Explicit; EraserMight

Dreaming about you by SaltywithSarcasm lewd dreams making it difficult to sleepmy hero academia; Explicit; EraserMic

September by deafmic sweet and caring in the face of pain, good teacher Aizawamy hero academia; teen; Asui & Aizawa

Lemon Boy by modernmint Aizawa has a blanket! As an adultwith a teddy bear, this is really nice. my hero academia; General; Aizawa & Present Mic

Can't Sit Still by Bronzeflower relatable, found lookingforanother recommended ficmy hero academia; General; EraserMic

Days of My Future Husband's Past by YamiHeart recommended as cute fluffy erasermic via tumblrmy hero academia; teen; EraserMic

Housewarming by KuriKuri cute AU my hero academia; teen; AllEraserMic

One in a Billion by YamiHeart Soul Eater AU. Another fandom I like my hero academia; teen; EraserMic

The One and Only by YamiHeart great little au my hero academia; General; EraserMic

Thinking of You by MintIceTea soulmate AU that i enjoyed, short my hero Academia; teen; EraserMic

Merry Month of Masturbation 2020 Edition by Sonamae ch5 is linked, ch9, ch23, ch26? is a good one too my hero Academia; Explicit

The Ways We Are Loved by Vagabond soooo good! Love and friendship isn't black and white but more of an ombre...my hero academia; Explicit; All Might; Aizawa, Present Mic, Midnight

Kinktober 2018 (BNHA) by Tazii this is ch23 which is cute my hero Academia; Explicit;

Radio Lullaby by TummieStix so Cute!! my hero academia; General; Eri

Reach for the Stars by Demyrie Aizawa stuggles with past trauma, Eri is adorable and class 1-A loves her my hero academia; General; alight EraserMight

All-Nighter by tiniest_hands_in_all_the_land very cute my hero academia; General; Shinsou & Eri

How Did You Do It? By almagwillschu rough but caring my hero Academia; General; Shinsou & Dadzawa

Dead Men Can’t Pet Any Cats by ANoGoodPigeonr rough patch with humor my hero academia; General; Shinsou & Aizawa

Lucky cat by deafmic ADORABLE my hero academia; General; Shinsou

More Than Shinsou Was Promised by keishouta good if you need to cry but has a happier ending my hero Academia; Not Rated; Aizawa & Shinsou

my hero Academia works by keishouta short, emotional my hero academia;

Firsts by keishouta literally fluffmy hero academia; General; Aizawa & Yamada

Showing Him by AgarJelly they show All Might that he's lovedmy hero academia; Explicit; AllEraserMic

Alls Well by goatman_entrapment everyone dealing with emotions and finding family!!! my hero academia; General; Series

Shout & Mute by ill go with that then (Linelenagain) the radio show!my hero Academia; teen; EraserMic

Truth Quirks Are A Double-Edged Sword by bravobeavo comments my hero Academia; Explicit; EraserMic

Patchwork Family by bravobeavo sweet in the face of injury my hero academia; teen; EraserMic family

All Dressed in Black by a_mug_of_ether feeling sexy... my hero Academia; Explicit; EraserMic

Consequences of Quirking by SaltywithSarcasm two separate reading I wanted to give kudos, so that might say somethingmy hero academia; General; EraserMic

Vanilla by a_mug_of_ether emphasizing the sweet simple moments of being together with sex; this is part 4, part 3 is interesting too my hero Academia; Explicit; EraserMic

Never the Good, Just the Bad and the Ugly by deafmic i think this is a reread... my hero academia; teen; Aizawa

Showing Him by AgarJelly sat in my unsure folder, but aftwr rereading it a bunch I realized I should include it here my hero academia; Explicit; AllEraserMic

Another Type of Education by BlitheFool a good laugh my hero academia; teen;

Class 1-d(A)ycare by teaandtumblr cute with hard emotions and a surprise my hero academia; General; Aizawa daycare teacher

we were made of stardust (so i wished on you) by Ibelieveinahappilyeverafter found via a comic on tumblr that I sadly misplaced my hero academia; teen; Shinsou & Aizawa, Shinsou & Yamada

The Waiting Area by MarziPanda95 long haul, worry that finds a good ending somehowmy hero academia; teen; EraserMic

No Man is an Island by mistye_dawne longer one, mic centric, emotional my hero academia; Explicit; AllEraserMic

Day of Rest by luxurias friends caring for each other my heroAcademia; teen; AllEraserMic & Midnight

Loud, Proud, and a Non-binary Pal. By Arkham_Cat comments my hero academia; teen; EraserMic

Teach me to be angry. By Arkham_Cat emotions can be difficultmy hero academia; rating; Iida & Bakugou

It’s a Red Day by Arkham_Cat it sucks that he goes through that, but it seems as if his family knows how to handle it systematicallymy hero academia; rating; Shinsou & parental EraserMic

BNHA pride 2020 by Arkham_Cat so much going on since each chapter stands alone mostlymy hero academia; teen;

Surprises by MikeWritesThings much cute!! my hero academia; General; Aizawa & class 1A + Shinsou

Shouta Aizawa's Weapon: Origin by MikeWritesThings 1. Baby Tenya, 2. Aizawa capture weapon origin!my hero academia; teen; EraserMic

The Right Thing by UnoriginalToast cute my hero academia; General; Dadzawa & Eri

Eight Weeks With Eri by b00mgh soooo much fluff and goodness! Highly recommended! my hero academia; General; Eri & class 1A

Aizawa's Experiences as a Teacher by Soralith comments my hero academia; General; Dadzawa

yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery by braveandthebold cheeky 10yr old my hero academia; General; Eri & Dadzawa

Aizawa and Eri by angel_ponders very cute Series of super short storiesmy hero academia; General

Lonely Painful Mornings by angel_ponders comments my hero academia; teen; AllEraserMic

Snowy morning by Saku015 short and CUTE! MY hero academia; General; Dadzawa & Eri

Nii-chan by Saku015 very cute my hero academia; General; Shinsou & Eri

Kittens and Family Names by Saku015r the author has a bunch of fluff! My hero academia; General; Eri & Shinsou

bass boosted by happywinks i love Tenya knowing about EraserMic my hero academia; General; Shinson...

look what happens with a love like that-- it lights up the whole sky by Maebee cute!! Secret "mission" my hero academia; General; Hizashi & Eri

and i started to feel like i actually matter by Maebee Eri is adorablemy hero academia; General; Hizashi

the stick-together family by Maebee awww my hero academia; teen; Eri & EraserMic

All in Good Time by bravobeavo oblivious dopes :) my hero academia; General; EraserMic

Echo by yamadadzawa (liarielle) comments my hero academia; General; Shinsou & Midoriya

I Would Understand by deafmic i read if before and I don't know why I didn't already include it unless it was end of last year. Really like it and the author! my hero academia; teen; Shinsou & Dadzawa

Last (First) Adventure by deafmic much flailing, and yes the author explains some of the user namesmy hero academia; teen; Shinsou

Come Listen! By deafmic adorable! Could fit in the same universe as others by the author… my hero academia; teen; Shinsou & dad mic

'Cause I know that I am yours and you are mine by Balinese87 cheesy and sweet my hero academia; teen; EraserMic

They say I'm caught up in a dream by Balinese87 cute my hero academia; teen; EraserMic

Alone Together - Erasermic Prompt Week by Maebee cute collection my hero academia; mostly General; EraserMic

like the dawn you broke the dark and my whole earth shook by softjourney so sweet my hero academia; General; Eri

Kinktober 2019-and other smutty prompts! By Alexander_the_great_nerd Chapter 11 and ch3 [had to refind because it stuck with me unexpectedly my hero academia; Explicit;

take a break from seeing the world by Maebee short and sweet my hero academia; teen; EraserMic

(Il)logical by DarklingMoon i relate to Aizawa, while my chosen crush didn't really hit and was never told. The story of getting together with my boyfriend is funny. my hero academia; Mature; EraserMic

Day 12: Drunken Sex by Shinjitsu-san (Lyna_Laufeyson) not taking sex too seriously(Also CHECK OUT the series and spin off series!!) my hero academia; Explicit; EraserMic

Day 4: Blindfolds by SlicedMilk ponder my hero academia; Explicit; EraserMic

pretty in pink by afancyghost Shouta in a skirt + praise my hero academia; Explicit; EraserMic

Come To Your Place, Start a Rumor by Sacramental_Wine suggestion on dealing with sexual performance anxiety my hero academia; Explicit; Amajiki Tamaki/Toogata Mirio

You're So Sweet by Snekpoetry pops into my head every so often my hero academia; Explicit; AllMight/FatGum

BlondeLungs by Wendigobait at first I wasn't sure, but then it stayed on my mind a bit my hero academia; Explicit; AllEraserMic

Leave My Pikachu Alone! (A Story About Shinsou's Gay Panic and Defending His Friend) by PastaMic cute my hero academia; teen; Shinsou & Kaminari

Workload by modernmintor Tenya, the struggle to balance life with mental health, relatablemy hero academia; teen; Iida brothers

Purple Best Boi's How-To Guide to Life by daddyissueswho funny cackle worthy series my hero academia; teen; Shinsou & EraserMic

Stretch Marks and Mentors by wittyjinx part 4 in "Bakugou cares" found because of "Safety In Numbers"my hero academia; General; Bakugou helps Yazorozu

Sexual Healing by Sassywrites77 cute sexual moment my hero academia; Explicit; EraserMight

circumbinary orbit by saigen anxiety during sexmy hero Academia; Explicit; The Big Three

Mute Mind by DarklingMoonor comments my hero academia; Explicit; EraserMic

[jonismitchell]

hey arden. i was listening to maathp and i was looking for a post i liked a while back analyzing the song that i always meant to read but never did and couldn’t find it, so i was hoping you’d give your analysis of it when you can bc you’re one of the only people who will analyze one of her songs in a way that’s more in your own way and not the “this is what the song probably means to taylor” kind of way which i kinda hate that most swifties do 💖

Hello! I read this lying in bed and thought ‘hey, this is an awesome ask, but it’s 11pm so maybe I’ll answer in the morning,’ and then I got too swept up in thinking about Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince. Now I’m up cranking out Taylor Swift analysis in the middle of the night, which is my preferred habit. (Thank you for your compliments on my specific style of analysis! I love looking critically at media and will aggressively take any opportunity to do so.)

The analysis is under the cut, because it is 1000+ words and I do not hate my mutuals. Hope you enjoy!

So, what is MAATHP about? In my opinion (a general disclaimer for this entire answer), this song is about political turmoil and an obsessive romance that anchors you through it. As a greater metaphor for the juvenile state of politics today, it’s set in a high school, which also links back to the idea of public perception being the most important thing and romantic love being all consuming. (Think Lorde’s ‘blow all my friendships to sit in hell with you, but we’re the greatest.’ That’s the vibe I get from this song.)

The first verse is as follows: You know I adore you / I’m crazier for you / Than I was at sixteen / Lost in a film scene / Waving homecoming queens / Marching band playing / I’m lost in the lights. She sets the stage for the song here: an obsessive love, a comparison to being a teenager, and specific allusions to typical American high schools. There’s a reminder of her early, Fearless-era work in the homecoming queens and marching bands, but the idea of being lost in public perception implies a darker edge than we’ve heard before.

* The ‘lights’ were formerly referenced as a context for public perception as ‘another name goes up in lights’ in The Lucky One. 

Swift continues with: American glory faded before me / Now I'm feeling hopeless, ripped up my prom dress / Running through rose thorns, I saw the scoreboard / And ran for my life  Quite a bit more to unpack here! The first obvious political association here is the idea of American glory fading (a reaction to the 2016 election, presumably). Our narrator destroys a standard symbol of ‘successful’ teenage years, the prom dress, in an extension on this theme. A conflict is introduced in these lines: a visual of escape, a view of the scoreboard (nice wordplay—could be a football game or a national election). 

Pre-chorus: No cameras catch my pageant smile / I counted days, I counted miles / To see you there, to see you there / It's been a long time coming, but We’re again looking at the idea of public perception with the pageant smile, which is associated with beauty pageants for young women but is in the song’s context an allusion to the very social nature of political campaigning. It’s reinforced with counting days and miles, as if on the campaign trail around the country, and sets up the complete clash of personal and political for the chorus.

It's you and me, that's my whole world / They whisper in the hallway, "She's a bad, bad girl" / The whole school is rolling fake dice The primary romance of the song—the idea that the world is such a disaster that this one person is your lifeline and your world throughout it. Despite the gossip typical to high school halls, the narrator holds onto the person they love and condemns the rest of the school as liars. (Fake dice to me means a presupposed set of outcomes that don’t actually exist, i.e. there are more choices than others appear to see. Could also be a reference to ‘fake news.’)

You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes / It's you and me, there's nothing like this / Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince / We're so sad, we paint the town blue / Voted most likely to run away with you If you do something stupid, you have to accept the consequences for your actions = if you assume there are only a set number of outcomes, you force yourself into accepting the unpleasant result. (Maybe a bit too leftist for Swift’s intention, but this isn’t about her. Could also be ‘voting for Trump / not voting means you have to accept the consequences of his presidency.’) It’s in essence a condemnation of a narrow outlook. 

We’re drawn back to the romance that forms the backbone of this song; between someone so perfectly American (at least on the surface, conforming to the politically and socially acceptable views of the nations) that they are ‘Miss Americana’ and their lover, the ‘Heartbreak Prince’ here to ruin it all. Both of the lovers are disappointed with their society—unclear whether it’s the school or the country, probably deliberately—so they strike back for change (vote blue), but ultimately want to escape the world that has ostracized them and is actively burning down. 

My team is losing, battered and bruising / I see the high fives between the bad guys / Leave with my head hung, you are the only one / Who seems to care The second verse is pretty impressive to me from a lyrical standpoint. We can see the team as a high school’s home team or a political party, but either way they’re being fought against and beaten down. The opposition is fierce and cruel, the ‘bad guys’ who revel in their victory of cruelty. The narrator abandons this with a miserable look and her lover is the only one there to comfort her.

American stories burning before me / I'm feeling helpless, the damsels are depressed / Boys will be boys then, where are the wise men? / Darling, I'm scared  The typical idea of America—good guys always win, a bootstraps / American dream narrative—is crashing before a narrator who’s held such a strong belief in it. Without the system, she doesn’t know what to do with herself, and sees this reflected in the people around her. The ‘damsels are depressed’ is a typical idea of the role women are meant to play changed by the mental health crisis. (I am extrapolating heavily, folks.) 

‘Boys will be boys’ is a play on locker room talk, the culture of misogyny and assault that plagues America beneath the veneer of glory, and Swift follows by writing ‘where are the wise men;’ a biblical allusion to the idea of singular people that can remedy the faults in the system. She finally reverts back to the lover to share her fear. 

No cameras catch my muffled cries / I counted days, I counted miles / To see you there, to see you there / And now the storm is coming, but We look again at the idea of public perception, a private love that outlasts the outcry in a similar way to Swift’s own ‘reputation.’ She discusses hiding from the ever-present storm (whether it be a debilitating political condition or a flurry of gossip within a high school) and holding onto that lover as a remedy for outward pain.

[Repeat of the chorus as above.]

And I don't want you to (Go) / I don't really wanna (Fight) / 'Cause nobody's gonna (Win), I think you should come home [repeated] And I'll never let you (Go) 'cause I know this is a (Fight) / That someday we're gonna (Win) This repetitive bridge, a play on a traditional cheerleader chant, highlights and contrasts the two settings in this song for a final time. The narrator displays brief hatred, reconciled to the idea of no change, and unwilling to lose her lover.  Soon after (in the typical fashion of young, passionate people), there is a minute belief in the idea that the battle (against another school or political party) can be won, that it is worth sticking your neck out for, and that the narrator becomes willing to sacrifice their lover for. 

It’s in this vein that the song ends with the ‘she’s a bad, bad girl’ line repeated; now symbolizing the willingness of the narrator to sacrifice themselves and their lover for a victory they fervently believe in. This 180, incidentally, is what makes the song less convincing for me—the desperation for escape turning to a preparation to be villainized—but I hope this analysis was interesting and helped you form some of your own conclusions.

[spaceskam]

warning: mentions of past bullying/homophobia because it kyle

Kyle Valenti had prepared for a lot of up and downs in life. It came with the territory of being pre-med.

What he had not prepared for was coming home for Christmas break after his very first semester in college to see that his father had moved in Alex Manes so he didn’t get shipped off to war. He was even further less prepared for the following two weeks of seeing Alex Manes in increasingly more compromising situations--bent over to get something out of the oven, reaching up to get laundry detergent, stretching in the morning, parading around shirtless before bed, choosing tight little biking shorts to run in, sweating after working out, working out, just to name a few. 

By far, the last thing he’d been prepared for was, when his parents were at the station’s Christmas party, getting a little too drunk on whiskey with Alex Manes in a hot tub while discussing Lord of the Rings which somehow led to giving him head on the back porch like a fucking disaster who had no self control.

Now it was morning and Kyle was replaying the entire night over and over, staring at his bedroom ceiling with wide eyes. Up until college, Kyle had figured he was 100% straight. He’d seen cute guys, but no one he’d actually want to do anything with and, to him, that felt heterosexual enough. But those measly three and a half months that he’d spent at UNM had completely fucked up his world. Who knew so many boys got hot after high school?

But, still, he’d never really thought about acting on it outside of a fleeting, intrusive thought. Those thoughts got more frequent and stayed a little longer with Alex in his house, but he thought he had control. He thought it wasn’t a problem. Clearly he was very wrong.

In the next room over, Alex was sleeping in what used to be the guest bedroom. Disgust filled his mind as he remembered his parents explaining that having Alex around would be just like having a brother. You grew up together, they’d said, it’s no different than an adoptive sibling. There was nothing brotherly about the way he thought about Alex.

When someone knocked on Kyle’s door, he sat up and immediately started thinking of ways to explain himself. It was an accident, he didn’t mean to get on his knees. He simply fell. Alex went to help him, it was totally innocent when his shorts slipped off his hips. Water was heavy, you know? Besides, he wet ass-print on the wall had to be dry by now, there was absolutely no evidence that anything had been done for a long period of time. 

“Come in,” he said, voice slightly strained. Funnily enough, he wasn’t even hung over. At least, not on the whiskey.

Alex peeked his head in, seeing a little hesitant as he stared at him. His hair was ruffled, his septum piercing crooked, and, instead of his usual shirtless morning body, he had on a baggy sweater that engulfed him entirely. Kyle wanted to die. Why the fuck was that attractive? Who was calling the shots in his brain? He’d like to have a talk with them.

“Hey,” Alex said, clearing his throat, “Could we, uh, talk for a sec?”

“Yeah,” Kyle said, fidgeting in his bed. 

Alex entered the room completely and closed the door behind him. He seemed hesitant to come near him, but he did anyway. Kyle prepared himself for the absolute shit show about to come. He knew it would be bad because, honestly, he didn’t know what he wanted him to say. Did he want to be rejected? Did he want to find out what his lips tasted like? They’d skipped the kissing stage on accident.

“Um,” Alex whispered, his sleeves pulled over his hands as he tried to look natural. He just looked scared. “I just wanted to apologize about last night. I-If I made you feel like you had to do something you didn’t want to or just made you feel uncomfortable in anyway, I’m genuinely sorry. The whole lead up is blurry, so I don’t know if...”

“No,” Kyle jumped in, shaking his head, “No, dude, no. That’s, that’s not what happened.”

Alex eyed him and nodded slowly, not quite believing him. Which made sense. They had a weird time in high school. Or, just, bad. A bad time in high school. Why exactly was Alex the one apologizing again?

“I’m sorry,” Kyle added, “If I made you feel like-”

“No,” Alex said, voice soft and adorable and what the fuck, “No, I wanted it.” Kyle swallowed harshly. Was it getting hot in here? “I just, I know how you feel--or, felt, I guess--about me being gay and I wasn’t sure if there was some miscommunication happening. Because, like, I don’t actually remember any communication happening at all.”

“No, look, I’m sorry. About high school. All of it, I was stupid and confused,” Kyle told him, watching Alex’s eyebrows furrow a little bit, “I’m still stupid and confused. I do know I don’t... regret it. But I am still trying to wrap my head around it.” Alex didn’t say anything, simply nodding to show he was listening but didn’t want to put any words in his mouth. “Like, does this mean I’m gay now?”

Alex smiled a little in relief, shaking his head, “No.”

“Well, do you know what it does mean?” Kyle asked, “Because I definitely enjoyed myself, but I have never wanted to do that before the last, like, week. Then I get the opportunity and I throw caution to the wind. How’s that for impulse control?”

Alex gave a little laugh and it eased Kyle’s mind a bit more. 

“Um, could mean a couple things. Could mean you were just experimenting which is normal. Could mean you’re bi or something. It, uh, it takes awhile to really find a good word. Even then, it’s hard to know if it’s permanent. Stuff’s weird,” Alex explained, shrugging his shoulders. Kyle licked his lips and then moved his legs to sit criss-cross, giving Alex a space to sit on his bed. It took a little bit of silent confirmation before he did so.

“So, I’m gonna be confused for the rest of my life?”

“Not necessarily,” Alex said, biting his lips momentarily and Kyle really felt like it was on purpose, “Like, for me, I know I’m gay. I know I only want to have sex with men. But sometimes I still am like, okay, am I really though? Which, I don’t know, I think it’s pretty normal ‘cause, you know, heteronormativity is a thing.”

“Heteronormativity?” Kyle repeated. Alex again gave that sweet little smile.

“You know, like, thinking being straight is the default in society and, because of that, it makes it hard to understand your own sexuality and your own outlook on life because, well, it’s different from what’s been instilled in you from a young age,” Alex rambled. Maybe he was a little hungover because it felt like he was getting a little too fancy for first thing in the morning.

“Right, so what I’m hearing is that wanting to see you naked and wanting  to get your dick in my mouth was the beginning to a whole goddamn deconstruction of the way I view my own personality and, by extension, existence,” Kyle responded. Alex’s cheeks were a little flushed as the more blunt statement, but he nodded nonetheless. “Cool. Nothing quite like an existential crisis for breakfast.”

Alex gave a more genuine laugh this time and Kyle felt like, of all the things to be confused about right now, his mouth was not one of them.

“So, you’re not mad?” Alex clarified. 

“No,” Kyle said honestly, “But I’m sorry I was a dick to you in high school for clearly my own issues.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

“Yeah,” Alex agreed, licking his lips. He again pulled on his sleeves. “So... What now?”

Kyle didn’t have an answer. In fact, all he could do was stare at Alex and his lips and his cheekbones and his crooked little septum ring. He glanced up at Alex’s eyes for a moment before letting his gaze drift back down to his lips, feeling a little overwhelmed with desire. It was really hard to have a full freak out about things when Alex was literally sitting on his bed and looking too good to fathom.

Kyle lifted his hand mindless towards Alex’s face and was only remembered that it was weird when Alex flinched in response.

“Sorry,” he said, “Can I?”

Alex looked a little concerned about what he was asking for, but he gave a short nod to say that he trusted him not to be cruel. Kyle took that as the best thing he’d ever seen, but also acknowledged that he had a lot more to work on than just his own self-discovery. He should definitely work on making things up to Alex.

But, for that moment, he straightened out the little metal piece and rested his hand on the side of Alex’s neck. Alex just watched him, waiting for him to be the one to make the first move. So he did.

Kyle moved in slowly, telling himself he’d already gone way further than a kiss and so it shouldn’t be scary. It was still terrifying. He could feel Alex swallow harshly as he got close. Then they closed the gap.

The kiss was short and PG and, honestly, a little awkward. Yeah, they definitely need to fix some other things before this would be as fun as it was last night. 

Alex gave a short little laugh as they pulled apart, eyes sweet and kind and really helping Kyle make more sense of the world. How the hell had he ever been mean to him?

“Maybe we should go downstairs so you parents don’t get any ideas?” Alex suggested. Kyle nodded, tempted to kiss him once more just because. He knew it would be a little weird, though, and wasn’t sure if Alex wanted him to, so he didn’t. “And, don’t worry, I’ll keep your little revelation to myself.”

“Thanks,” Kyle said, feeling a little relieved over that despite not having considered that he would’ve told anyone. This was so fucking weird. 

“And, when you go back to school, you know you can always call me if you need to talk about it. I get that it’s hard,” Alex offered. Man, Kyle really wanted to kiss him again.

“Can I kiss you again?” Kyle asked. Alex laughed and rolled his eyes.

“Just a little bit.”

“Fair enough,” Kyle agreed, leaning forward with a little more confidence. The kiss was better than the first one, more comfortable and expected. It still didn’t go past anything you’d see on Disney Channel, but it had Kyle feeling ready to start his day.

“Okay,” Alex said against his lips, “Ready to go pretend like we didn’t defile your family’s backyard?”

“Yeah,” Kyle said, “But I can’t wait to do it again.”

Alex snorted a laugh and stood up off the bed.

“You sound so sure it’ll happen again.”

“Oh, it won’t?”

“We’ll see.”

And Kyle was definitely willing to wait.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hi steph, is there any mycroft-centric fic?? i just have mycroft feelings recently

Hi Nonny!

Ahhhh, most, if not all, of my recs are Johnlock centred :( BUT do have some where Mycroft is in the fic or plays a part in Johnlock, so I shall direct you to this list below, AND take an opportunity to update another Mycroft List I have had ready-to-go for awhile now, Pt. 2 to my “Mycroft Plays a Role” list :) 

Here are the ones more focussed on Mycroft:

Mycroft Flirts With John

Matchmaker Mycroft 

Big-Brother Mycroft 

Big Brother Mycroft Pt 2 

Whereas in this list below, Mycroft helps Sherlock as a character to move along a plot or helps Johnlock happen (hence the difference in Big Brother and Playing a Role... it makes sense in my head lol). I hope it’s okay I’m using your ask to launch this part 2! <3 I just really like having excuses to post lists I already have done LOL.

As always gang, if you have a fic that Mycroft plays a significant role to help move the plot along, please add them below! I genuinely like Mycroft in fics as the deus ex Mycroft, LOL. :D Enjoy!

MYCROFT PLAYS A ROLE Pt. 2

See also: Mycroft Plays a Role in This Fic

Black Cars by johnsarmylady (T, 1,186 w., 5 Ch. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF) – John is getting on with his life...if only he didn't see black cars everywhere! A short Post Reichenbach tale in 221B style in 5 parts.

3:00 in the Morning is a Great Time to Talk by Aztecwarfareandcrumping (K+, 1,775 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt / Comfort, Friendship, Bed Sharing, First Person POV John, Cuddling, Worried Sherlock, Comforting John, Platonic Affection/Love) – "Are you trying to talk your way into my bed?" "Obviously."

Crisis Averted by Spartangal22 (T, 2,188 w., 1 Ch. || HLV Fic, Missing Scene After Confronting Mary, Canon Compliant, Sherlock Whump / Mary Shot Sherlock, Family / Friendship, Hospitalization, Sherlock POV, Holmes Brothers) – Lying in the hospital, Sherlock receives some surprising visitors, and manages to deal with two problems he's been having lately. A missing scene from HLV about a formal introduction that was never made and a visit that was never shown.

As You Wish by PipMer (K, 3,311 w., 1 Ch. || Bromance/Pre-Slash/Epic Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, John Whump, Hospitals) – When John woke from his coma, he wasn't at all surprised to see the wrong Holmes brother sitting at his bedside. Disappointed, but not surprised.

Caffeine and Adaptive Programming by DemonicSymphony (E, 5,540 w., 1 Ch. || Androids AU / Bond Fusion || Android Sherlock, Coffee Shop AU, Pining John Hinted Bond / Q, Toplock) – Sherlock is a coffee shop android slowly falling for a regular customer. But he's not supposed to be able to feel emotions.

Hide and Seek by Arwen Jade Kenobi (T, 6,934 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, Rev. Reich-ish, Mycroft is a Dick, Depression, Case Fic-ish, Friendship, Reunion) – Pseudo sequel to "The Refining Fire." "You owe him the truth, and you owe me the proof that will convince him that I had no part in this."

What Did I Do Wrong? by Starlight05 (T, 7,880 w., 5 Ch. || Hurt Comfort, Angst, John Whump, Hospitalization, Worried Sherlock, Emotional Turmoil, Nightmares, Sherlock Being Dumb) - After John almost dies on a case, Sherlock disappears. So John is left to figure out what he can do to get his best friend back. Meanwhile Sherlock, guilt-ridden and willingly alone, is doing everything he can to stay away.

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

Shuteye Shenanigans by Ayakae (K+, 13,263 w., 8 Ch. || Post-TRF, Friendship / Epic Bromance, John’s Nightmares, Angsty Fluff, Bed Sharing, Humour, Cuddles, Taking Care of Each Other, Domestics) – John Watson has never slept with Sherlock Holmes. Never ever ever. And never will, thank you very much. Well, there was that one time, but John didn't count that. It was completely different, just like the second time it happened. And the third. And the fourth. Epic bromance, but it can be read as pre-slash if you wish.

The Palmyra Atoll by elwinglyre (E, 16,609 w., 3 Ch. || TSo3 Divergence / Episode Fix-It, Stockholm Syndrome, Kidnapped John Watson, John Whump, Evil Mary, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Toplock, Limited 3rd John POV) – As John's preparing for the wedding, Sherlock is preparing to have his heart broken, and Mary is prepared to do the unthinkable. Intervention required. Enter Sherlock. Set before Sign of Three with a far different outcome. John is drugged, kidnapped, and left on an island, but not just any old island.

Hope for Heroes by Richefic (K+, 16,887 w., 5 Ch. || Post-TGG Fic, Introspection / Flashbacks, Friendship/Epic Bromance, Hurt/Comfort, Worried/Anxious Sherlock, Sherlock Admires John, BAMF John, John Deduces, Fancy Party, John’s Self Esteem, Domestics) – In the final moments of "The Great Game" Holmes hopes he will have the chance to tell his flatmate that he was wrong. Heroes do exist after all and the one in front of him is called Dr John Watson.

I Think I've Come A Long Long Way To Sit Before You Here Today by ArwenKenobi (T, 18,251 w., 3 Ch. || Grief/Mourning, Passage of Time, Major Character Death, Alternating POV, Sherlock Whump, Pining Sherlock, Hospitalization, Coma, Revenge Murders, Hallucinations, Love Confessions, Brutal Accident, Mystrade, Ghost John) – One year after John is killed Sherlock starts to wonder whether John has actually gone anywhere.

The Kepler Problem by kinklock (E, 24,270 w., 1 Ch. || Sci-Fi AU, Alien Sherlock, Space Repairman John, Alien Biology, Horny John) – Working in uncharted space exploration was not as exciting as John had hoped, especially when it turned out to be mostly bot maintenance on uninhabited planets. However, the mystery of the repeated, unexplained malfunctions on planet BAK 2212 might turn out to be exactly the kind of adventure he'd been craving.

The Winter Garden by Callie4180 (T, 31,213 w., 13 Ch. || Post-S4, Retirement, Christmas, Slow Burn, Grown-Up Rosie, Parenthood, Rosie’s Cat, Angst with Happy Ending, Holidays, Beekeeping, Magical Realism, Sherlock POV, Sherlock’s Violin, Future Fic, Sussex, Honey, Magical Healing Honey, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Scar, First Kiss, Touching, Mycroft is Dying) – As Sherlock nears the end of his career, he's given the gift of a cottage in Sussex. The honey from the beehives out back is amazing. Almost...magical.

The Whore of Babylon Was a Perfectly Nice Girl by out_there (E, 32,897 w., 1 Ch. || Past Drug Use, Blowjobs, Toplock, Mentions of Switching, Rough Sex, Background Cases, Sherlock’s Past, Sherlock’s Sexual History, Experienced Sherlock, Past One Night Stands, Fingering, Cuddling, Possessive Sherlock, Paris Holiday, Bed Sharing, Naked Lie-Ins, Bathing Together, Confessions, Worried Sherlock, Laying in Bed All Day, Meddling Mycroft, Naked Lazy Day) – Sherlock walks into a room and takes all the space right out of it. He does the same inside John's head.

carrying up his morning tea by darcylindbergh (E, 34,504 w., 5 Ch. || Post S3, Minor Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Wakes/Funerals, Estranged John, Pining Sherlock, Depression/Insecurity, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Chronic Pain/Injury, Reconciliation, Awkwardness, Loneliness, Scars, Angst With Happy Ending) – His fingers tremble as he dials and he can’t force them steady. Familiar number, even though he hasn’t used it in two years. He isn’t even sure he should be calling it now, but she’d asked. She’d made him promise.

we have never seen a greater day than this by Lediona (T, 36,420 w., 7 Ch. || A Royal Night Out AU || WWII / VE Day, Prince Sherlock, Soldier John, Alternating POV, First Kiss, Bittersweet Ending, Homophobia, Dancing) – Peace. At long last. It’s VE Day and Prince William desires to join the celebrations. It is a night of excitement, danger and the first flutters of romance.

A Week is Just Seven Days Isn't It? by scifigrl47 (T, 39,906 w., 4 Ch. || Humour, Friendship/Bromance, Stroppy/Bored Sherlock, Undercover/Army John, Texting, Pining-ish Sherlock, John Whump) – When John heads overseas for a week, Sherlock's forced to fend for himself. It goes about as well as anyone could have anticipated. Which is to say, very, very poorly. Don't worry, things'll be fine in just seven days.

(Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea by DiscordantWords (M, 39,968 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It || Grief / Mourning, Victor Trevor, Friendship, Sherlock is Not Okay, Nightmares/Flashbacks/Panic Attacks, Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John Comes Home) – Baker Street is very much the same. Only different. And Sherlock is just trying not to drown.

Guidelines by WithLoweredVoices (M, 43,018 w., 15 Ch. || Winglock || Angels, Fantasy, Angst, BAMF! John, War, Jealous Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Jealous John, Falling in Various Ways, Needy Sherlock, Wings) – The Good Soldier, one of the oldest and strongest of the fallen, is offered a bargain: to live as John Watson and to Guide a fledgling archangel so that he will stay on the path of good. Of course, Sherlock Holmes has different ideas about his destiny. Fantasy AU. Warnings for violence, occasional gore, and a whole load of hurt and angst.

The Real Great Perfumers by shelleysprometheus (E, 45,355 w., 68 Ch. || Case Fic, Alternating POV, Gay Sherlock / Bi John, Canon Compliant with Divergence at TRF, Friends to Lovers, Oral / Anal, Pining, First Kiss / Time, Dev. Rel., Drugging, Body Worship, Bathing, Love Confessions, Travelling, Bottomlock, Cranky Sherlock, BJ’s, Alternating POV, Jealous John) – The case, this case. This extraordinary, fascinating, scintillating case. A house. Designed entirely by its eccentric owner, built by no less than five hundred expert tradesmen in the heart of Marrakesh. A house that had, seemingly not only driven its owner out, but also to his quite unpleasant death. And a perfumer, a chemist no less, the very thought of the secrets that house could reveal, would reveal was irresistible. Sherlock had to have this case ... and it seems, he also had to have John! Part 1 of the Forethought and Fire series

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

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

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

Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary's wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn't exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues -- just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.

Never Change a Running System by Lorelei_Lee (E, 54,246 w., 18 Ch. || Pre-TRF, Romance, Humour, Drama, Sex Toys, Anal, Rimming, Masturbation, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Public Sex, First Kiss / Time, Virgin Sherlock / Loss of Virginity, Accidental Voyeurism, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Experiments, Naive Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Straight With an Exception John, Hand Jobs) – Sherlock discovers his sexuality – with far-reaching consequences for John.

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

The Thing Is by TSylvestris (E, 56,743 w., 21 Ch. || Case Fic, Dev. Rel., Anal/Oral, Blow Jobs, Meddling Mycroft, Drama, Romance, Humour, Casual Encounters, Pining Idiots, Possessive Sherlock, Orgasm Delay, Rough / Alley Sex, Public Sex, John Whump, Drugged John, Emotional Love Making, Awkward Relationship, Marriage of Convenience, Switchlock, BAMF John) – The problem with living with Sherlock, John thought, was that you never, never, ever knew the significance of anything. Like your flatmate's nose buried in your hair. Whilst you're in bed. Part 1 of Nitroglycerine

Lunar Landscapes by J_Baillier (M, 57,046 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || S3/TAB Fix-It, Slow Burn Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Confessions, Drugs, Pain, Medical, Injury, Sherlock Whump, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Romance, Secrets,  Tragedy, Trauma, BAMF John, Doctor!John, Drug Addict Sherlock, Injured Sherlock, Grieving John, Idiots In Love, Protective John, POV John Watson, PTSD Sherlock, Sherlock is a Mess, Medical Realism) – An accident forces John to face the fact that Sherlock's downward spiral had started long before his flight to exile even left the tarmac.

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

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

Hell Sent, Heaven Bound by ConsultingHound (M, 64,381 w, 16 Ch. || Angels / Demons AU ||  Fallen Angel Sherlock / Angel Cop John, Alternate First Meeting, Slow Burn, Case Fic, John & Lestrade are Friends Before Sherlock, BAMF John, Mind Palace John, Friends to Lovers, John in Denial, Sherlock Picks Out John’s Clothing, Clubbing / Dancing, Mildly Jealous John, Awkwardness, Kidnapping, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Sacrifice, Worried / Anxious Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Immortal to Mortal) – Ex-War healer and current angelic guard John Watson is not having the best day. He overslept, he’s underpaid, and now there’s someone tagging the Council’s building walls. However things may be about to get interesting: there’s an unusual stranger hanging around (the definition of tall, dark, and handsome), a literal underground cult is brewing, and rumblings are coming from hell. Can he keep his neighbourhood safe, how and why is he being connected to all this, and who the hell is Sherlock Holmes?

Being John Watson-ish by elwinglyre (E, 69,902 w., 17 Ch. || Bodysnatcher AU || Author John, Cranky Sherlock, Angst, Sexual Tension, First Kiss / Time, Falling in Love, BAMF John, Past Soldier John, Feelings, Inside Someone’s Brain, Shy Sherlock, Sherlock Loves John, POV Sherlock, Switchlock, Slow Burn, Internal Dialogue, Mental Turmoil) – When consulting detective Sherlock Holmes steps on one toe too many at a crime scene, he's consigned to a desk job in an archaic office on the seventh-and-a-half floor of the New Scotland Yard. It’s in this bleak office that Sherlock discovers a portal into the mind of renowned author John Watson. Grander than his mind palace, this new wonderland affords Sherlock new vistas of experimentation. To learn more about the mystery behind the portal, Sherlock seeks out and befriends Watson. But then it all goes wrong when others find the secret portal door—including the man whose brain he visits.

The Vapor Variant by 88thParallel (CanadaHolm) (M, 72,684 w., 18 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-THoB, John Whump, Protective Sherlock, Guilty Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD John, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Suspense, Virus, Sick Fic, Big Brother Mycroft) – They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril. They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear. Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods. Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him.

The Monument of Memory by J_Baillier (M, 79,663 w., 14 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It Fic / S4 is Canon, Angst, Family Drama, Guilt, Case Fic, John Loves Sherlock, Complicated Feelings, Mentalism / Hypnosis, Murder, Grieving John, Sherlock is a Bit Not Good, Team Work, Trust Issues, BAMF John, Psychological Trauma, Protective John, Autistic-Spectrum Sherlock, Parentlock, John POV) –  A genius traumatised by a past he's only beginning to recall. The psychopath sister that time forgot. A missing woman and a mentalist who may or may not be a murderer. And, in the middle of it all, stands John Watson.

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Asexual Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Flashbacks, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Case Fic, Sherlock’s Past, Awkward Conversations, Anxious Sherlock, Mycroft Involved with Baby’s Separation from John) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

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

Given In Evidence by verityburns (M, 97,884 w., 19 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Angst, Drama, Case Fic, Romance, BAMF!John, Submissive Sherlock, First Kiss, Humour) – Coming back from the dead can be a complicated business. With a new case on the horizon, rebuilding a life is one thing... rebuilding a friendship quite another. For Sherlock and John, things may never be just the same...

The Cost of a Wish by slashscribe (E, 102,493 w., 12 Ch. || xxxHolic Fusion || Spirits / Ghosts and Magic, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Soul Mates / Fated Lovers, Adventure, Immortal Sherlock, Powerful John, POV John, Frottage, Wish Granting, Angst with Happy Ending, Nightmares) – John has been plagued by a secret his entire life that has made him feel hopeless until he meets a mysterious, seemingly omniscient man named Sherlock Holmes who owns a wish-granting shop. Their meeting sets off a series of inevitable events that will change the course of both of their lives forever.

Two Two One Bravo Baker by abundantlyqueer (E, 114,574 w., 27 Ch. || Military AU || Afghanistan, War Story, Thriller, Switchlock, Rimming, Emotional Lovemaking, Lots of Sex, HJ/BJ’s) – Captain John Watson of 40 Commando, the Royal Marines, is assigned to protect and assist Sherlock Holmes as he investigates what appears to be a simple war atrocity in Afghanistan. An intense attraction ignites between the two men as they uncover a conspiracy that threatens everything they’ve ever known, but Sherlock is as much hunted as hunter, and everyone close to him is in deadly danger. Can he solve the case in time to save himself and John? Part 1 of Two Two One Bravo Baker Universe

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w., 37 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

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