thispieceofwork
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the life and loves of a dirt-rough wizard by thispieceofwork
Fandoms: Critical Role (Web Series)
12 Jul 2022
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Summary
Before he was Caleb Widogast, he was a boy with love in his heart.
Wulf was the first who ever called him beautiful, a word that warmed him better than any spell. As Bren Aldric Ermendrud--a prodigy of the Empire--he’d blushed in the dark of his student’s quarters, embarrassed. That wasn’t something he was supposed to be. Not beautiful. The softness that made his soldier father worry was to be curbed. Hidden. Clipped from view.
Wulf and Astrid only wanted to watch him soar.
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A series of vignettes and reflections on key moments in the life of Caleb Widogast. Will ultimately resolve in Shadowgast and is more or less canon compliant. The chapters are presented semi-chronologically, though each is more of a reflection on what each person or moment means to Caleb and is less bound by time.
Chapter 8 earns the Explicit rating, but this will be emotional slow-burn city for a while before we get there (though we start with a *bang*, pun intended).
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John Watson is a man of military precision in the mornings, and wakes to a daily schedule: Situps. Push ups. A proper wank. Shower. Breakfast. Earl grey. Start the day.
And sometimes, post-push ups and pre-shower, John wonders if Sherlock locks his door too; if he has a reason to do so at all.
Married to his work. What a shame.
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Early in their first days at Baker Street, Sherlock walks in on John masturbating. And it *might* have been a little about Sherlock.
Borne of trying to break some tropes of Sherlock falling into three categories: virgin, gay and distant, or not interested in sex. Sherlock's an addict, and cocaine is off the table. What else would he use to get out of his head?
Story is complete.
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"Surprised" is too small a word for the blindsided gut-check John experienced not fifteen minutes prior, engaging in the once-harmless pleasure of peeking through the gossips rack at Tesco. No, what John felt when he read that ridiculous headline was nothing short of complete and utter shock. And perhaps, the strangest bit of relief.
Because in black-and-white block letters, the front pages proclaimed, BRAINS AND BRAWN--LONDON’S NEWEST CELEBRITY COUPLE.
And underneath, obviously taken through the window at 221B, was a photo of Sherlock and John.
Kissing. Sort of.
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The jig is up and the news is out, Sherlock and John are a couple. No one is surprised--and that's the problem.
Started as a songfic now we heeeere. Inspired by the song "Good Kisser" by Lake Street Drive
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Despite the countless self-flagellating rundowns of all the reasons not to, John knew one thing for sure. As inconvenient as his developing feelings for Ronon were, they were real.
And John didn't want to be a waystation.
To John, Atlantis was home. Teyla, McKay, Zelenka, and Lorne were home. Golf off the east pier was home.
Ronon was home.
The thought stopped him short. His dog tags clanged gently against his shirt, a subtle weight that had long repressed any feelings that might weasel their way into his chest--wouldn't matter if someone asked. There’s long been nothing to tell.
In the years since Ronon joined the team, John had tried not to want it, tried not to notice the Satedan in the ways the Air Force would not abide--not because he cared. Because he had to. This was his expedition, his command now. John told himself he'd made his choices long ago and Ronon didn't change that.
Career over comfort. Team over partnership.
But for God's sake. John was only human.
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Pull the Thread, or Jack O'Neill's 9-Step System to forget you're in love with Sam Carter by thispieceofwork
Fandoms: Stargate SG-1
18 Feb 2021
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"Just let me say this. I have to say this. For me."
One of these times, Jack thinks, she's gonna come over and I won't be mid-something. Last time, he was grilling. This time, he's intent on drinking away the day--even if it takes all night.
But luck was never his strong suit. Not when it comes to this. To them. To her.
Carter in his living room is not part of the usual "brink of annihilation" routine. For Jack, it's become second nature. Step 1, buy too much beer. Step 2, takeout. Step 3, grocery store cake and the soothing Americana of Simpsons perfection.
Her visit infringes on Step 4, drown sorrows in creature comforts and just be glad you're alive. And that's dangerous. Because if he's not distracting himself with Step 4, his brain will certainly wander to Step 5, thinking about the forbidden. The locked away. The never-gonna-happen.
Namely, her.
But it's different this time. She made it different.
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