He’s six now and in his eyes, there’s nothing wrong with the world. He always has a smile on his face, hazel eyes bright with joy that can only come with that kind of innocence. He doesn’t know about the monsters that stalk the night or why Dad will disappear for days at a time or why they live in their car now as opposed to a house.
They’re in an extended stay hotel. The kind with the kitchenette and a little living area. It’s slightly nicer than what they’re used to but it only means that Dad plans on staying here for a while. Dean watches Sam from where he is sitting on the couch. A couple days ago, Dean managed to steal Sam a box of crayons and ever since then, the kid has been filling a notebook with scribbles.
Dean tried to hold a conversation with Sam but the moment that he opened his mouth, Sam told him to hush, that he was focusing on what he was doing and he couldn’t have any distractions. And when when Dean walked behind Sam to see what he was drawing, Sam splayed his hands across the sheet, turning to look at Dean with his faux angry look and demanded that he sit on the couch. He couldn’t see it yet.
Begrudgingly Dean obliged and planted himself on the couch as Sam bit his lip in concentration, working away on whatever he was working on. Every now and then he would look up at Dean, his brow furrowed before he went back to work.
Finally, after nearly an hour, Sam leaned back dramatically with a sigh as he picked up what he was working on, hiding it behind his back as he walked over to where Dean was.
“Close your eyes, Dean.” Sam demanded, innocent authority in his voice. “And hold out your hands.”
“Okay, Sammy.” Dean said, doing as Sam instructed. A second later, he felt the paper light weight of what Sam was working on in his hands.
Beside him he could feel the couch dip from Sam’s weight as Sam climbed up on the couch beside him. Sam pressed as close to Dean as he could, his chin nearly resting on Dean’s shoulder.
“Okay. You can open your eyes now.” And for the first time that day, Sam actually sounded nervous.
Slowly Dean opened his eyes, looking down at the paper in his hand. It was a drawing of two people standing hand in hand, one with hair that was slightly too long and the other with green eyes and freckles.
“That’s me,” Sam said pointing to the shorter person with a chubby little finger. “And then that’s you. See. The freckles.” Sam explained, reaching out to touch the freckles that lined Dean’s cheeks before shifting on the couch so that he could look at Dean’s face. “Do you like it, De?”
Dean placed the picture down beside him and pulled Sam into his lap, wrapping his arms around his little brother as he hugged him tight. “I love it, Sammy. It’s awesome.”
“Really?” Sam giggled, his face breaking out into a wide smile.
thirty words in thirty days audaciousdean vs. @call-888-8sparky word #1: jolly; (adjective) happy and cheerful
The Incident In The Room With The Red Curtain,
9k, teen. Friends to lovers. “Holmes investigates the mysterious
disappearance of Francis Colleton, a
case that requires some of Watson’s specialist knowledge.” Absolutely
one of my favorite fics of all time. They are so gentle with each other.
The Adventure of the Doctor’s Heart,
12k, E. Friends to lovers. “Holmes has observed much of Watson’s habits
and tastes over time, which
is why it surprises him when his friend objects strangely to a folk song
sung at the conclusion of a case. Disturbed by the Doctor’s unexpected
display of emotion, Holmes becomes determined to lift his spirits by any
means necessary, with mixed results.” This was one of the first
Doyle-style fics I read. Holmes’ quiet adoration of John is so good.
Grit, 5k, M. Friends to lovers. “Watson, still bruised and damaged from the Afghan War, decides to
hide his inversion so Holmes will remain his friend and
flatmate. He thinks the trade-off won’t be difficult, but in a moment of
weakness he goes to an underground club with an erstwhile lover. What
he discovers there is more than he’d bargained for.” Funny and sad and sweet, with a beautiful ending.
A Man Of Great Character And Better Humor, 2k, gen. Established relationship. Retirement. “When a bit of bad news threatens to crush Watson’s spirit, Holmes knows just the solution.” Absolutely the loveliest little sketch of two old men in love.
Five Times Sherlock Holmes Lied, 5k, gen. Friends to lovers. TAB verse. “Something in Wilde’s persecution has touched a nerve in Sherlock –
snapped that tenuous thread of hope holding him upright – and it feels
as if he has taken to bleeding internally.” This one’s hard, but gorgeous.
The Ill-Tempered Patient, 1k, gen. Pre-slash. “Holmes has a cold and is being disagreeable, but Watson is used to indulging his moods.” A funny glimpse into their affection for each other.
Mon Couer, 1k, teen. Established relationship. “Holmes tries out a new endearment in the midst of pillow talk.” Holmes gets insecure, and Watson comforts him. The two of them trying to figure out how to be sweet with each other–and flustering themselves–is too lovely.
A Taste of Honey, 3k, teen. Pre-slash. Sickfic. “A failure to observe leads to a successful deduction.” Watson becomes deathly ill while Holmes is away, and Holmes is forced to confront how badly he needs him.
The Incident With The Bicycle, 2k, gen. Established relationship. “We know Holmes can ride a bicycle, but when exactly did he learn?” A bit of a wobble in the early days of their love. I adore Watson’s kindness in this.
Wintry Morning, Victoria Station, 1k, teen. Established relationship. “Watson had come to see me off at the station, that chilly morning in
November when a quiet yet momentous shift took place in that strange
thing that existed between us.” Watson and Holmes find words for something deeper than anyone around them could imagine.
The Tempest, 3k, teen. Friends to lovers. “Now that Holmes had come back from the dead, things could return to how they were before.” Aftermath of Reichenbach–Watson is so brave.
As Yes To If, 3k, gen. Friends to lovers. Granada. “Leave for your own sake if you must, but on no account shall you
leave for mine. I can imagine no sadder outcome of the insight you have
gained tonight.” Watson lets slip more of his heart than he realizes, after they nearly lose their lives.
Winter In London, 45k, NR. Friends to lovers. CW: rape. “The last stages of a case go dangerously wrong. Afterwards, Watson tries
to live with the memory of a terrible bargain in secrecy.” This is heartbreaking, and deep, and beautiful. Be careful of the content; but if you can manage it, it’s worth it.
I May Be Speaking To Closed Doors, 2k, teen. Established relationship. “Watson makes a Valentine, and then isn’t sure what to do with it.” Poor Watson, a romantic in a relationship with the world’s most unromantic man–so it seems.
Invasion, 2k, gen. Established relationship. Watson can’t bear mice. Holmes thinks it’s rather silly, but humors him, until he understands. This starts off a bit cracky and then ends so sweetly.
Tea From Terai, 700w, gen. Established relationship. “Sherlock Holmes gets a letter from Terai, and remembers that he does know someone in Terai. Or, knew.” Watson learns a little something about his love’s past.
What Is Right, And What Is Easy, 600w, NR. Established relationship. “There’s a reason that Article 28 (which criminalized homosexuality) was called the Blackmailer’s Charter.” This cuts deep for how brief it is.
The Red Notebook, 10k, teen. Post-Reichenbach. I hesitated to include this because it’s a bit too much heartbreak for me–I can’t believe that they would ever willingly give each other up, after love. But this story’s Mycroft is so good, his relationship with Watson so bittersweet, I had to. And it ends joyously, as it must.
Masked Ball, 30k, teen. Friends to lovers. “Six months after Holmes’ return from the dead, the delicate equilibrium
in Baker Street is disturbed when a stranger walks out of the London
fog with a case–for Watson. Holmes is wary, Watson is fascinated. But
who is the man calling himself Álvaro de León? And what does he really
want?” I love, love, love this story. I love Alvaro, I love the way Holmes deduces Watson’s bisexuality, I love the mystery and the sweep and the humor of it. It’s wonderful.
Text Omitted, 1k, teen. Established relationship. CW: child abuse. “Watson learns something disconcerting about Holmes’ past.” This makes me cry, and smile: the courage with which they love each other.
The Bee Grove, 14k, teen. Friends to lovers. CW: suicide. “Watson travels to Kent to attend the funeral of an estranged friend from
his past who committed suicide. Certain things transpire to make Watson
wonder if his inappropriate love for Holmes could possibly be requited.” Beautiful.
Idée Fixe, 1k, teen. Friends to lovers. Granada. “He does not know what to begin with it. It is too grave a thing to be
treated as a mere distraction, too tenacious to be dissolved in tobacco
smoke. What does one begin with an idée fixe? With a mind bent towards
one single thing.” This is almost infuriating in its restraint, but fascinating, too.
The Thieves’ Den, 6k, teen. “The discovery of a large cache of stolen goods ends badly.” Words cannot express how I love this fic–particularly the meddling Mycroft, and the protectiveness of both of them, in spite of each other.
Since I First Saw Your Face, 70k, M. Developing relationship. “During the Great Hiatus, Holmes, studying in Tibet, reflects on his first meeting with Dr John Watson.” The only WIP I’ll rec, or read, because the wealth of historical detail and depth of their intimacy is such that I’d be immensely thankful to have read this even if it never ended. The author can be found on tumblr at @artemisastarte.
When You Know Something’s Wrong, 1k, M. Established relationship. Sickfic. “Holmes gets it wrong.” This is just 1k of lovely Watson gently forcing his medical attention on a truculent Holmes.
Pilgrims Of A Sort, 12k, teen. Friends to lovers to retirement. Absolute classic. “A pair of young travelers turn up at the Sussex cottage of an aging
Holmes and Watson, searching for proof that love like theirs can last a
lifetime. Watson tells them the story of himself and Holmes–which also
happens to be the story of Mary Morstan, and her own unconventional love
affair.” Featuring a fantastic old married Holmes and Watson and TWO pairs of happy lesbians.
A Matter of Integrity, 3k, gen. Established relationship. “It is a curious thing when a celebrity whom you’ve never truly met is
widely considered your most prominent suitor. Irene Norton sets out in
search of some answers, and discovers that sometimes the truth is a
delicate matter.” Irene is wonderful, Holmes is careful, and this is good.
Cameo, 8k, teen. Friends to lovers. “Holmes and Watson become embroiled in a case Scotland Yard refuses to acknowledge. A soulmate AU.” One wouldn’t think a magical AU in Victorian times could be very delicately done, or mesmerizing. One would be wrong.
Chimera, 800w, gen. Pre-slash. Post-Reichenbach. “My dear Watson, It is with reluctance that I begin this letter
to you, for there can be no doubt regarding its fate. It will follow
into oblivion all the other letters I have written to you over the past
two years, the only difference between them their means of demise.” Poor Holmes.
Something To Retire To, 9k, teen. Friends to partners. Asexual Holmes, miscommunication, jealousy. “Watson contemplates the future while he and Holmes investigate the three Garridebs.” This fic will break your heart into a hundred pieces and put it together again.
Hallowed Be Thy Name, 40k, E. Established relationship. “A word must be said upon the subject of witticisms first, within the
the manuscripts which have begun littering our rooms. My
Doctor’s sense of humour exists in direct correlation to his state of
well-being, and the more active a man he becomes–a felicity for which
grateful as much to his ferocious tenacity as to any higher power–the
grow the invariably poetical descriptors applied to my
person.” Holmes’ past, Watson’s love, and an epic poem of a story. This fic changed me.
Of course, look up each author’s full body of work if you want more. Mistyzeo is on tumblr at @mistyzeo and posts recs frequently. I write Doyle-style here. @granada-brett-crumbs has another magnificently expansive canon fic rec here. @knightfury1895 and @jeremyholmes post canon-style ficlets on tumblr. Basically, there’s a wealth of wonderful fic out there!
They’ve never… never talked about it. What… what Sherlock’s real place in her life means. Sherlock knows, though. Sherlock implicitly knows what they mean to him. What they are to him. What it means that John comes home to them at night. That Rosie coos when he’s back from work and Sherlock drops her into John’s arms. That in the morning it’s reversed and she babbles happily when John places her into his.
He slams the door open and climbs the staircase in a blur…. and then there they are. John humming quietly, rocking the baby in his arms. His family.
They are his family.
John smiles up at him, and Sherlock’s heart expands ever so much more. His family. The one he didn’t realize he had so desperately wanted and then, somehow, made.
First time dm for a Pathfinder game with players ranging from little to no experience. We were using the pre-gens that came with the beginners box. A player dropped out last second so I decided to play Valeros as a mute, as to be able to focus purely on the dungeon. We made it through with little trouble, with Valeros almost 1 shot-ing blackfang with a crit and almost max damage. All well and good, until this happens…
Me: Okay, so with Blackfang gone, Valeros puts his glowing sword away and beholds the hoard in front of him.
Rougue: I walk behind him and stab him in the back.
Me: wait, what?! You want to stab Valeros in the back after all you’ve been through?
Rogue: Hell yeah. More money for us since we won’t have to split it as much.
Me: *sigh* fine. Roll to attack. He is easier to hit since you caught him off guard.
Rougue: wow, a 3. So that’s like a 7 to hit.
Me: With superhuman senses, Valeros detects your betrayal and dodges sideways, drawing his sword with a look of sadness on his face, distraught that you would do this to him. He looks to Kyra for help.
Cleric: Yeah nah, you’re fucked Valeros
Wizard: Talk no shit, still get hit.
Me: Wow, you guys really like money. Anyway, Valeros realises he is gonna die and grasps his sword firmly. Roll initiative.
Longer story shorter; Valeros knocked Kyra unconscious before getting slammed by the Wizard getting knocked unconscious himself. The Rogue slit Valeros’ throat before going through the loot with the Wizard, before going back and spinning a yarn about how the dragon took both Kyra’s and Valeros’ life in the epic fight. Little do the party know I’m tying this into our first game with the characters they make in a betrayal arc, what really happened at Blackreach
Prompt: Jim is injured on an Away Mission and Spock blames himself for Jim's getting hurt. He is also convinced that Bones blames him too.
Spock sat in the quiet Sickbay. His eyes were open but he looked at nothing. He stared, but did not let himself see the form lying unnaturally still on the bed before him. He kept his hands folded in his lap and counted the tones of the computer that sang in time with Jim’s heartbeat.
Jim was alive, Spock told himself firmly. Despite everything Spock had done Jim was still alive.
He replayed the events in his head, images and sounds and smells sharp and accurate to the last detail. Perks of a Vulcan memory. Endless torture for his own self-flagellation.
The planet had been quiet. Peaceful. Remote. All of which should have told Spock that trouble was just around the corner. And in fact McCoy had said that, in so many words, said, “Some paradise, huh? This place is too good to be true. Smells like trouble.”
And Spock had said, “It is illogical to assume that because a planet matches human standards of paradise that it contains ‘trouble.’”
Jim had laughed at them good-naturedly and disrupted the thread of their bickering. But McCoy had picked it up again three hours later with his hands pressed against his captain’s chest, bright and shining from the force of an attack meant for Spock.
“I told you this would happen! Dammit—”
Spock startled from his contemplation and looked up at McCoy. The doctor stood at the foot of the biobed wearing his surgical scrubs and a small frown. His hair was in disarray and he seemed thinner, somehow. Exhausted.
“What are you still doing here?”
“I am contemplating what information I shall include in my log.”
McCoy arched his brow. “Uh-huh. Well can you scoot back? I need to give Jim a once-over.”
Spock pushed his chair back to give McCoy room to maneuver. He sat and watched as McCoy pulled out his medical tricorder and scanned the length of Jim’s unconscious form. He hesitated over Jim’s chest and hummed at whatever his instruments detected. Then he set aside the equipment and pulled back the covers, gently touching the area around the surgical site.
It was ghastly to look at. Spock refused to turn away. He had done this, he told himself sternly. This wound was his fault. If the captain died he would be to blame. He knew it, and McCoy knew it too. That was why the doctor was avoiding him. Refused to even speak to him. Look at him.
“He’s going to be fine,” McCoy said, his voice a scant whisper.
“You are certain?”
The ship hummed in the silent room, then, “As I ever can be. It’s going to take a few days, maybe a week, for me to feel comfortable taking him off the neural stabilizer and wake him up. Think you can handle running the ship for so long?”
Still McCoy did not turn to him, and so Spock addressed the back of his head. “It is never a duty I wish for.”
McCoy hummed. “You don’t wish for much.”
“No.” Spock considered the sloped lines of McCoy’s tense shoulders, the curve of his back. “I do not.”
With a sigh, McCoy turned and leaned against the biobed. Now Spock could see the utter exhaustion in his eyes. The translucency of his skin. “You should get some rest.”
“As should you.”
McCoy twitched. “I’m going to keep watch.”
“Then I will not leave.”
McCoy pushed away from the biobed and stood over Spock, speaking in a harsh whisper despite the fact that no matter how loudly he yelled Jim would not–could not–awaken. “Now you listen here. I’ve already got a patient and I don’t need another one. Especially not if it means the first officer has run himself ragged in a fit of self pity.”
Spock had to turn away. He did not wish to see McCoy’s rage. “The events which occurred on the planet were a direct result of my actions.”
“Please, Doctor. If you will allow me my…self-indulgence?”
McCoy let out an explosive sigh. “Fine,” he said. “You can stay. But only until the shift change and then I expect you to go home and get some sleep.”
“I will order you to if I have to. I can have you confined to quarters and I won’t let you out even if there’s an emergency.”
Slightly miffed, Spock nodded. He recognized this was not a battle he could win. “Very well.”
“Good.” McCoy nodded. He stood there a moment as if he wished to say something more, but in the end he turned and walked towards his office.
Spock went back to watching the Captain sleep and so he did not notice that McCoy had stalled in the doorway until he spoke again minutes later.
He turned and saw McCoy watching him. He shrank beneath the gaze. “Doctor.”
“We’re going to have a long talk later about just who is to blame for Jim’s accident.” At the words Spock shrank even further, mentally berating himself, but then McCoy looked away from him as if embarrassed, grunting, “Just a preview: it ain’t you.”
He blinked in surprise and watched McCoy disappear through the office door. He wondered if McCoy had said that merely to make him feel better–a pointless endeavor, as Spock did not feel.
Spock returned to his watch, thinking. He examined Jim’s ashen face and thought of McCoy’s colorless exhaustion. It was interesting, and frightening, this human ability to hurt one’s self to protect another. An ability he had inherited. An ability he coveted.
He kept watch. Waited. His only company the steady drone of machinery and McCoy, mere feet away yet separated by a thousand walls.
A/N: I have wanted to write Keith and Pidge as best friends/surrogate siblings for quite sometime. Making them grieving roommates at the garrison just seemed so natural.
“Roommate” was a bit of a stretch when discussing the elusive Keith Kogane. Ever since Pidge joined the garrison mid-semester, she barely saw her bunkmate. He dragged himself into the room late, left early, and hid underneath his blanket the other times he happened to be in their shared space. The light of his tablet glowed in the makeshift tent, and Pidge guessed Keith just liked to keep to himself.
Good. She didn’t need him looking into what she was doing or looking too closely at her.
They existed, never talking, barely registering each other until she fell asleep while researching one night, drooling on her screen, glasses skewed. When she awoke, she started at her roommate’s intense glare.
Keith had emerged from his blanket tent, wearing a loose red T-shirt and pajama bottoms; his arms were crossed, face incensed.
“Why are you researching the Kerberos Mission? The garrison’s statement was pretty clear.”
Hi! It was about time to organize my fic in one place. I plan to post it on AO3, eventually, but you can find almost all of it (save a few ancient LJ porn battle stories I haven’t gotten around to re-posting) right here.
All of it is MSR, with varying degrees of sappiness and sadness and smuttiness. If you like it, let me know!
“Give it another hour, Scully,” he put his hands on her face, under her hair. “Let me show you how it could be.”
Loopholes(Halloween smut set during a cemetery screening of the Rocky Horror Picture Show)
Soon Curry and his crew of outer space oddballs are undressing a young Susan Sarandon, stripping her down to her demure underwear. Mulder leans over to whisper in her ear. “When you came into my room on our first case, during that storm, it reminded me of this.”
Narcissistic (unremarkable house pre-IWTB, written ages ago for a LJ porn battle)
Only she and Mulder, convinced that they were at the center of grand conspiracies and perhaps the universe itself, were narcissistic enough to role-play as themselves.
Worry (unremarkable porch smut, set around IWTB, another one from the ole porn battle)
The power was out in rural Virginia, and it was 99 degrees.
Hey! So I was wondering if you had any recommendations for some fics centered around Weasley/Harry stuff. Like, fluffy and warm family-focused stuff. Preferably before next-gen stuff, like during the book timeline maybe? idk I just love those about Harry being accepted and treated like just another Weasley brother it's so sweet and it makes me happy x) Unfortunately I don't really know how to look for them. I mostly just stumble across it. (Some Hinny incorporated in there would be a bonus xD)
ALSO, just any fic with some lovely brotherly interactions between Harry/any of the Weasley brothers. uwu
Ok I picked out some of mine that I think fit, plus some of my favorites from other authors :) [read them I love them].
I don’t tend to read many fics that happen during the books, so these are all post books but mostly pre next gen. If anyone has some during the books favorites tell me and I’ll share!
ALL DIALOGUE, Harry/Ginny. Ron gets all big-brothery about Ginny when he
realizes Harry didn’t sleep in his own room. Or at least attempts to.
“I… you… just… I don’t know. But you didn't… sort of… I don’t know. Did
you?” (Rated T for obvious references, nothing very racy.)
Molly waits anxiously for her daughter to come home, but when she
arrives Molly notices that she’s wearing a shirt that doesn’t belong to
her. Of course Molly is upset, but is it really what it looks like?
Ginny Weasley didn’t intend for Harry to be one of the last people to
find out about her pregnancy. Unfortunately an accidental congregation
in the toilets of The Leaky Cauldron took the decision out of her hands.
In other words how James Sirius Potter was almost called Trevor in
memory of a brave and trampled toad. Slightly inspired by a scene from
BBC comedy Gavin and Stacey.