#S01E08 The Stand

[ava-deb]

I was so nervous then. I'd been doing stand-up less than a year.

HACKS: S01E08, "1.69 Million" / S04E06, "Mrs. Table"

[lanschpaket]

Caitlyn Kiramman & Vi (Color/Character analysis S02 Act 1+2) 2/2

I had another thought while analysing the first part and wasn't originially planing this to be 2 parts. But at one point this following thought just didn't fit there anymore and that's why I write about it in this 2nd post

We all remember S01E08:

I want to interpret a little further into this and combine this with the color analysis I did with Caitlyn. In S01 both Vi and Caitlyn can be seen as opposites from the very beginning already. One is from top side, the other from bottom side. One is hot tempered, the other cool tempered. And the thing Vi herself says that they're Oil and water.

I personally like to believe that Vi is Oil and Caitlyn stands for water. Why do I think that? For Vi it's because - Oil is greasy and associated with dirt, many people would say that about Zaun. That's where Vi is from - Oil is also very flammable, so combined with fire it gets really dangerous. Vi has a very short fuse and will easily and very quickly reside to violence. Also fire is associated with red, and her main color is pink/red-ish For Caitlyn it's because - Water is mostly associated with being pure and clean, which you would say about Piltover. That's where Caitlyn is from - Water is adaptable. Many associations with water go into calm and tranquil. Caitlyn is mostly very calm about things and thinks first and will not be heading into something without thinking. Also her being a marksman gives her the skill to be very calm, so that way she does land her perfect shots even in extreme situations. Also water is associated with blue and her main color is blue I'm laying all this out for a further analysis for the things in S02. Through the course of S01 Act 3 and S02 Act 1, a lot of extreme situations happen and they both have to deal with all of them somehow. These situations would definitely shake up a personality, which would also lead to a change of it.

In Vi's case I would say her hot temperedness calms down. And I also kinda thing that a big part of her just gave up on it all. She has no goal anymore and doesn't see any light at the end of the tunnel. So what is there even to fight for. When everything she tried fighting for was lost in the end no matter how hard she tried. This is visible in her apperance:

Vi loses her red, her drive and fighting spirit. The latter is something that slowly goes out as she step by step even loses the brawls she's fighting in. But it's not entirely gone. It's still there, dormant or just shoved aside. But it will never truly be gone, cause it's a big part of her to fight for things when they're important to her. And I think that's a part of her she can never lose. Now for Caitlyn, as I already explained in Part 1 her design integrates more red over the course of S02. We know that she is slowly residing more and more to violence. Therefore we see her add more and more red to her and also the scene framing supports this:

For better stills on her red cloak or the red on her in general in S02, take a look at the other post ;3 Caitlyn is more and more pulled into the attitude towards dealing with the entire conflict of Piltover and Zaun that Ambessa has. With reinforcements and violence. But then again, Cait never really loses herself. She still wears her Enforcer uniform and at some point lays down the cloak, return to a self that kinda is just out for personal justice and not wanting to drag others in that don't deserve to be treated badly. Her sense of justice and right or wrong returns after she reunites forces with Vi. I think the encounter gave Caitlyn back her calm and to figure out what's really important to fight for and how her past actions were wrong. And on the other hand Cait brings Vi back the fighting spirit she lost. Both of them combining their new stand on things, makes them overcome past struggles they were trying to cope with and move on together. Not everything is fixed, but this is the first step into the right direction for them both.

Which is important now, because now that these two are teamed up again, they start fighting against "the red", which is Ambessa and all her plans she wants to execute. All things Ambessa is trying to get to are things that oppose both Vi and Cait. On one hand Ambessa is trying to take away Vi's dad and on the other hand Ambessa is risking peace and restoration for both Piltover and Zaun, in ways that aren't true justice in Caitlyn's eyes, because to her peace should not come through violent acts. Which takes me back to her talking to Ekko in S01 (which I also mentioned in the 1rst post). It would just be a vicious cyle, and this has to end. And both Vi and Cait go on about in a way they would never have back then with themselves during S01 Act 3 and S02 Act 1. They learned so much and changed together in a way. I think I lost some thoughts along the way and over the course of the day, cause there were a couple of hours between the first post and this one. But I think I stated most of my thoughts that came to me. Thanks for reading and I just want to say: I love this show so much. It's soooooo guuuuudddd and I need more. But at the same time I'm not prepared and am super scared. How are my emotions holding up? They're not. I'm running in circles, this show is driving me crazy xD

[eleadore]

rec list: hannibal/will 5-10k

none of my recs contain mcd or unhappy endings. everything else is fair game & may not be tagged for.

hannibal/will <5k

my whole existence is flawed by lovetincture (m, 5.1k) ♥️ dub-con, choking, breathplay, s2

After the ortolans, Hannibal invites Will to participate in a trust exercise. Will accepts. Things spiral out of control fairly quickly.

in vino veritas by lovetincture (nc-17, 5.2k) dub-con, post-fall

Will has a drinking problem. Hannibal makes it better, but first he makes it much worse.

simple by tei (nc-27, 5.3k) ♥️ will wants to fuck the ripper, s1

When Will meets Hannibal Lecter, he realizes that Hannibal might be the best thing to ever happen to his career: because Will is finally, finally having sexual fantasies about something other than the killers he catches.

at first meeting by emungere (t, 5.3k) groundhog day, s1

Will relives the day he met Hannibal.

price by emungere (nc-17, 5.4k) ♥️ escort AU

Prompt: Enter Will Graham, escort in D.C. providing the powerful men of Capitol Hill what they need because he knows them better than they could know themselves.

holomorphic by tei (nc-17, 5.6k) ♥️ bdsm, asexuality, post-fall

Hannibal takes what he wants from Will, and Will takes what he wants from Hannibal.

to welcome in the year by coloredink (t, 5.6k) magical realism, s1-s2 AU

Dr. Hannibal Lecter can control time in small, localized ways, but he no longer uses it in surgery; Will Graham can repair small objects, but he works for the FBI. It has been winter for as long as anyone can remember. That's how the story begins.

daylight savings by thebeespatella (nc-17, 6.1k) asphyxiation, s01e08

He’s getting close enough to tie the strings on Will’s wrists and ankles, and then, perhaps, under Hannibal’s marionette hand, he could be glorious...If Will resisted, disappointed—well. There is nothing wrong with a good demi-glacé. A post-Fromage missing scene.

fight the hurricane by spqr (nc-17, 6.6k) pacific rim AU

“He’s the best Jaeger pilot we have,” Jack says, grimly. “The last person who tried to drift with him slit her wrists. The one before that walked off the top of the Hatteras Shatterdome. We trained him before we knew what he was, and now we can’t afford to get rid of him.”

a particular affinity by louise_lux (m, 6.7k) getting together, s1

Will discovers that Hannibal has an olfactory disorder. Hyperosmia: noun - an abnormally acute sense of smell.

haarlem by spqr (m, 6.8k) telepath AU

“Hannibal,” he thinks he says. He gets told later that he doesn’t really say it at all, but that the entire police station—most of which is waiting outside in the rainy parking lot—hears his voice clattering around inside their skulls like someone standing on a roof banging pots and pans and screaming at the top of his lungs: HANNIBAL, HANNIBAL, HANNIBAL.

more a question of feeling by stereobone (nc-17, 7k) s2 compliant

Will lets it slip that he saw Hannibal when he had sex with Margot. Well, Hannibal isn't about to let that one go so easily.

pressure valve by spqr (nc-17, 7.4k) ♥️ D/s, s1

“I believe I understand,” Hannibal says. “You were at the club tonight because you could not sleep. Because you could not stop your brilliant mind from tearing itself to shreds. You needed someone else to stop it for you. Am I wrong?” Will shakes his head, then manages – croaky – “No. You’re not wrong.” “And you imagined someone in that – establishment – might be capable of taking care of you,” Hannibal continues, and Will doesn’t think he imagines the disdain in his voice, the banked fury in his expression. He knows he doesn’t, actually; he just doesn’t understand what it means.

the curious incident of the cucumber in the nighttime by tei (nc-17, 7.4k) getting together, pre-s1 to s1

PT: WILLIAM GRAHAM, 26 YEAR OLD MALE DX: FOREIGN BODY, RECTUM

softly, sweetly by thecountessolivia (nc-17, 7.5k) getting together, first time, erectile dysfunction, post-fall

After the fall, Will can't get it up. As far as Hannibal is concerned, this is not a problem.

oh, to be the life and soul will be the death of me by serindrana (nc-17, 7.8k) will finds out, knifeplay, s1

The third time Hannibal Lecter invites Will to a dinner party, he says yes.

every color at hand by ranstad (nc-17, 7.8k) first time, s1

Will has long been familiar with Hannibal's expertise in the kitchen, but he isn't aware Hannibal applies himself with similar fastidiousness to the finer arts—until the day Hannibal asks him to sit for a portrait.

a good fisherman by tei (nc-17, 8.3k) ♥️ getting together, pre-s1

Hannibal Lecter is in a new country, learning a new specialty. Now he just needs to become fluent enough in English to practice psychiatry-- and to manipulate. Will Graham is finally getting his life together: he's off the beat and into the lab, and settling into the house of his dreams in the middle of the woods. Far away from everyone and everything. It's just, he is a little lonely.

sangservi by tei (nc-17, 9.2k) ♥️ vampire AU

Will's got plenty of perfectly good blood in the fridge, but he orders takeout anyway.

gates of ivory, gates of horn by borevidal (nc-17, 9.7k) getting together, angst, s3 AU

“I miss my dogs. I’m not going to miss you. I’m not going to find you. I’m not going to look for you. I don’t want to know where you are or what you do. I don’t want to think about you anymore.” But dreams are another matter. Will and Hannibal’s relationship plays out in a world where people can send each other dreams. Mid-Season 3 AU.

the here trilogy by petronia (nc-17, 9.8k) ♥️ getting together, post-fall

Hannibal and Will sail across the Atlantic, and slip into further physical intimacies.

sleeping on a leash by mikapim (nc-17, 9.8k) ♥️ rough sex, au

"Wealthy Sadist Kidnaps Fifty People to Hunt for Sport in Oregon Woods" "Humans Hunted in Oregon- One Survivor" "The REAL LIFE Most Dangerous Game" "Man Survives Brutal Mass Murder" For Will, the headlines blur together into an offensive amalgamation of guilt and irritation and despair- his concerns with them being both that they say too much, and they don't say enough.

[unusual-raccoon]

Silver Son (Ch. 2) | by Unusual_Raccoon (JaceLuke)

@livinginafantasysposts, @andromaxeoftroy, @saintbehemoth, @mondstaub1, @the-heartlines, @the-white-w0lf, @potatochips-15, @arkah-archive, @lunar-19, @bimyself06

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark Jacaerys Velaryon, Blonde Jacaerys Velaryon, Jace is Daemon's Biological Son, Complicated Relationships, Political Alliances, Canon-Typical Violence, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Jacaerys Velaryon, Omega Lucerys Velaryon (Son of Rhaenyra), Episode: s01e08 The Lord of the Tides (House of the Dragon), Viserys I Targaryen Lives, Daemyra Have Disney Parent-itis = they died, Brother/Brother Incest, POV Alternating, Political Alliances, Arranged Marriage, Valyrian Culture & Customs (A Song of Ice and Fire), Valyrian Wedding, Loss of Virginity, Explicit Sexual Content, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Multiple Orgasms, Knotting Summary: With few options left, Lucerys travels to Dragonstone to marry his mother's eldest son and heir, Jacaerys Targaryen. WC: 8,9K+ Ao3 Link

It began with a proposal. The promise of marriage in exchange for protection.

A marriage…to the prince of Dragonstone.

Their breakneck pace had consumed two weeks' worth of time in an instant, and before Lucerys had a true moment to recuperate, he was standing upon blue-veined white marble within the Eyrie’s High Hall.

“Prince Lucerys,” The lady of the Vale welcomed him, eyes as blue as the sky creased at the corners in a small sign of fondness.

“My lady,” he greeted, lowering his head in a show of deference to his host.

“I pray your time in King’s Landing has seen you well.”

“It has my lady, and while I am eternally grateful for your hospitality, I’m afraid I will need to depart from the Eyrie soon.”

To her credit, Jeyne Arryn took the news with aplomb.

“Might I ask, who is stealing you away, dear cousin?”

“I am Targaryen, my lady, I worry you may find the truth upsetting.”

She arched a single brow, the same shade of honeyed-gold as her hair. Whatever fondness she reserved for Lucerys in the months since his mother’s passing seemed to vanish at the mere insinuation of him.

What power you wield, dear brother.

The image of pale hair stained more crimson than silver flashed through his mind.

“I see.” She replied with an icy sort of diplomacy that made his teeth clench cold. Her disdain gleamed through in the blue of her eyes.

“And you’re certain there is nothing I can do to persuade you otherwise?”

She spoke with a royal I, not only of herself but also of the Eyrie and all its vassal houses…House Corbray amongst them. He thought of Ser Corwyn – the kind, gentle Valeman that had seen him return to the Eyrie safely.

Corwyn, who carried Valyrian steel upon his hip. He pondered briefly the wail Lady Forlorn might make when she collided with Dark Sister.

The hairs on his arms stood on end. He prayed it would not come to such unpleasantries.

Yet, as he imagined falling sway to Lady Arryn’s suggestions and wedding Ser Corwyn, Lucerys’ mind only conjured the image of Alyssa’s Tears scorched dry by dragonfire, yellow-orange flames shot through with veins of green, and his betrothed’s body severed at the neck, his handsome head gnashed between Vermax’s thorny jaws…

Have care, I will crush him if he intends to deny your departure.

He recalled his brother’s words even a fortnight later, as though he was yet twined in Jacaerys’ arms rubbing mindless fingers against the dried blood, blood his brother had spilled in Lucerys’ name, upon the velvet of his sleeve. He chastised himself still for the thoughtless creature he had been reduced to with his lungs full of his elder half-brother’s scent: the heat of an open flame and the heady musk of white oak.

The thought inspired a conflicting sense of hot and cold spreading through his body. A simultaneous pleasure and pain.

“I think it is for the best, my lady.”

Her smile was amiable, but far from pleased.

“Very well,” She hummed in acquiescence.

It was not until she descended from her carved weirwood throne that Lucerys voiced another rather pressing concern.

“I must admit, dear cousin, I fear how he will take the news.”

Jeyne Arryn offered a soft smile, her hand folded over the delicate expanse of his forearm and he was reminded of the few times the lady of the Vale had taken him hawking in the Mountains of the Moon.

“He loves you, he’ll understand.” she reminded with a knowing tilt of her lips.

Lucerys exhaled. He hoped love might be enough to soften the blow of his elder brother’s proposal as Lady Jeyne escorted him to his apartments in the Maiden’s Tower.

. . .

A long soak in a marble tub had not seen his nerves much improved. In fact, Lucerys felt more disturbed knowing he was avoiding the inevitable.

He sank deeper into the water scented with orange blossoms and rose hips, while it was a distraction, it was certainly a pleasant one; it did wonders for his sore bottom after two hard weeks on horseback.

He hadn’t dithered for much longer before dressing. 

He omitted his usual high-collared samite gown with a laced-tight bodice to accentuate curves nature had failed to provide, in exchange for a soft, modest shift to sleep in. 

He layered a patterned dressing gown over his shift to stave off the everpresent wind of the Vale.

There was a knock at the door and Lucerys grimaced. He wasn’t ready, yet still approached his fate with a raised chin - as mother had taught him.

“Prince Lucerys-”

“Ser Corwyn,” He greeted, voice lilted in surprise.

“My deepest apologies, forgive the intrusion, I was not aware-” the knight stammered at Lucerys’ state of dress.

“There is nothing to forgive, the fault is mine own,” Lucerys murmured, cheeks warm, as demure as any proper worshiper of the Seven desired in an Omega.

The insinuation of his nakedness was enough, even layered in sleepwear as he was.

Lucerys crossed bashful arms over himself and Corwyn reddened further.

“I have heard the news of your departure,” Corwyn informed steadily and to the point, eyes focused on some fixed point just over Lucerys’ shoulder.

“From Lady Jeyne, I have no doubt” he had shared the news with none other,“– forgive me, it is uncouth to speak of my host in such a way.”

Corwyn shook his head.

“It was uncouth of my Lady to share business that was not hers.”

Lucerys swallowed, wringing his hands together, discreetly scratching small scent glands in his wrists until the air sweetened with his natural scent.

Vanilla and browned butter.

“I gather that she has informed you as to why I must be leaving…”

Corwyn nodded, nostrils flaring subtly. His jaw tightened.

“She has…”

He looked away, sheepishly with a dusky color upon his cheeks that revealed what his nonexistent scent did not. He chafed at the thought of Lucerys departing to Dragonstone - to Jacaerys.

“Ser, I pray you will not think less of me now…it is not a thought I think I can bear.”

Corwyn’s eyes were a bluish-grey, a beautiful, but understated color that Lucerys admired as the knight turned back towards him in shock.

“My Prince I would never.”

“I don’t believe our Lady shared this information with the thought that it might sour my opinion of you.”

“Oh,” Lucerys exhaled with the kind of smile that enamored countless at court, “good,” he hummed with a dithering kind of naivete a simpering storybook Omega possessed.

Corwyn appeared ensorcelled.

He prayed silently that Jacaerys might be so simple to gain mastery over.

“I believe my cousin has shared with me this news to embolden me…”

Embolden, Lucerys thought. Corwyn’s eyes focused on him then, breathing a touch shallow like he meant to sling Lucerys down onto the floor to ravage him…

Instead, the knight drew Lady Forlorn from the sheath upon his hip.

Lucerys’ heart stilled for a moment before Corwyn knelt before him, head lowered.

“With your permission, my prince, I would swear myself to you…as your protector.”

His brother’s words rang through his head once more as the knight’s hands clasped the weeping woman carved into the sword’s pommel and grip.

You have gone too long without an Alpha. Too long without proper protection.

Lucerys was not acquisitive enough to think he could have both his brother’s protection and Ser Corwyn’s.

A choice was required.

He imagined yet again the sound that Lady Forlorn might make when she clashed with Dark Sister, yet when he pictured Valyrian steel on steel he could only hear the bellow of a dragon…

“You honor me deeply, ser…but, I am afraid I cannot accept. To bind yourself to me on the eve of my marriage…it would not be wise.  I fear my betrothed will think ill of it. However, I hope that should I ever need such a gallant knight you might permit me to call upon you?”

Ser Corwyn rose with a conflicted look etched upon his face.

His bluish-grey eyes softened as Lucerys draped an effete hand over the knight’s forearm. Corwyn’s gaze lingered on Lucerys’ hand.

“Of course, my prince.”

Again, Lucerys offered that affable smile and his sweet scent and all was well.

“Rest well, my prince.”

Lucerys blinked slowly, a soft smile about his lips, “I shall certainly rest easier now ser, thank you.”

With Corwyn addressed he would face his greatest challenge yet on the morrow.

. . .

In the morn he was awoken by the sound of his door opening and a riotous blur bolting inside. He was spared only a moment before said blur was atop his bed – bouncing.

“You’re back!”

“Joff,” Lucerys hummed, half asleep, partially shielding his body from each spring of his younger brother’s body.

“You’re back!” He exclaimed again with a wide, gap-toothed smile, “What was the capital like? Did you get to see the king? Is it true that you killed someone?”

Lucerys’ eyes widened immediately, what vestiges of sleep remained fled from him. 

He wrangled his younger brother in his hands like catching lightning in a bottle.

Joffrey tugged at the silk sleeves of Lucerys’ shift, irritated at being held captive.

“Where have you heard such things?” Lucerys asked seriously.

“A girl from the kitchens,” Joffrey shrugged, “She said someone died-”

Gods damn Jacaerys Targaryen. Already whispers floated about the validity of his hearing of succession. Matters hadn’t been helped by the same rumor mills purporting that Ser Vaemond’s head had allegedly been fed to his elder brother’s dragon; he had yet to hear the word kinslayer but knew it hung on countless tongues.

“You should not repeat such talk, it is not princely.”

Joffrey tugged upon Lucerys’ sleeve, eager to be released.

“Swear it,” Lucerys commanded with a waggle of his finger.

“Fine, I swear it, let go-”

“You swear what?”

“I swear not to repeat unprincely things, Luke-” Joffrey whined.

Lucerys smiled fondly despite himself and released his grip upon his younger brother, content to let him whirl about.

And whirl he did. He had become so content in the Vale. A part of Lucerys mourned the thought of taking him from what had just started to feel like home. It wasn’t fair.

“Joffrey?” Lucerys called as Joffrey’s dark head bobbed around. His brother fiddled with something on the other side of Lucerys’ apartments; something breakable no doubt.

“Something did happen at court…something important.”

“Is this about you getting married? I already know,” Joffrey said, sounding rather bored as he watched the viscous swirl in a stoppered inkwell.

“Another rumor from your spy in the kitchens?” Lucerys asked, unmoved by his brother’s pout.

“No - and she’s not a spy!” He huffed defensively, “Melara told me that you’ll marry her father. I’m not upset, Luke, I promise. I like Ser Corwyn. If you marry him, do you think he’ll train me to be a knight and give me his sword when I’m older?”

Lucerys felt ill.

“Joffrey, come here,” He beckoned, voice trembling. His brother whined a petulant little noise, but remained at Lucerys’ desk, shaking the stoppered inkwell.

“Now.”

It was cruel, Lucerys knew, but he prayed none of his children were Alphas, that none would ever be so obstinate as his brother - brothers. He prayed for Betas and Omegas to quicken in his belly when the time came, for obedient children with sensible little heads on sensible little shoulders.

“She said House Corbray’s colors are like ours, red and black - and white too, but that we wouldn’t have to change very much.”

Change, Lucerys thought to himself, how much of that have we endured already?

Joffrey continued his blabbering, stubborn at that. Lucerys winced, his frustration mounting to a point of eruption.

“I won’t be marrying Ser Corwyn!”

Distantly, he heard glass shattering as the inkwell toppled to the ground. Lucerys bolted from the bed, taking Joffrey’s little hands in his own. He scrutinized his brother’s palms for any shards of glass amidst the overwhelming pools of ink on his pale skin…

“Why not?!”

“Oh, Joff, look at your hands! You mustn’t be so careless.”

His younger brother tore his hands out of Lucerys’ grasp, visibly crestfallen. The pristine white silk of his sleeve was slashed with ugly splatters of black ink.

“Why aren’t you marrying Ser Corwyn?”

Why? Why indeed…

Lucerys sighed. How could he tell a child of seven years about the politics of the matter? Or worse yet, that in the most aggravatingly primal sense, a piece of him yearned for Jacaerys…

“I’ve been presented with a stronger proposal.”

“But, you said we’d be safe here, that we wouldn’t have to leave!” 

His younger brother argued, what else could he have said to a grieving child who had just fled the only home he had ever known? Their exodus from Dragonstone had been a hasty affair, yet in the midst of their pain and fear, it seemed the only thing they could do.

“This proposal means more protection, real protection,” Lucerys swallowed, each breath scraping the inside of his throat like shards of glass as his brother’s face reddened, “Joff, we can go home.”

Tears welled in the muddy brown of Joffrey’s eyes.

He held his brother’s dirty little hands so tightly in his own, clinging desperately.

“But if I am to keep my word, we must leave soon.”

Lucerys brushed an affectionate finger beneath the cleft in his brother’s chin.

“You haven’t misplaced Tyraxes’ saddle have you?”

Joffrey blinked slowly with a dawning realization, sadness forgotten at the prospect of flying again.

“No…”

“Good,” Lucerys hummed before ruffling his brother’s dark curls, swallowing beyond the lump in his throat as he spoke, “you’re going to need it.”

. . .

The fortnight he had allotted had passed, and for two days and two nights longer, Jacaerys had waited.

He had spent 6 years in the North as a ward of Lord Cregan Stark, estranged from his family, and yet, he had never yearned more ardently for his own blood than he did in the two weeks since leaving King’s Landing.

Every morning he waited on Dragonstone's beaches for a young white dragon to pierce the clouds and the scent of vanilla and browned butter to shower him from the sky; for Lucerys to come home to him.

Each day that passed he weighed the worth of simply collecting his brother on dragonback. Of flying to the Eyrie, Dark Sister in hand…like Visenya on Vhagar, and dragging his little wife home.

But then he thought of Lucerys…of sweet, gentle Lucerys.

He refused to force the matter. Lucerys would come to him in time, he knew it…

And so he waited, morning after morning.

And each morning yet he had been disappointed, though he was not the only one.

Baela was still bitter about his decision to break their betrothal that had been arranged since they’d been born…

A marriage done in the tradition of Old Valyria was binding, unbreakable, a union that could never be undone or annulled. Immutable to the word of any king or council. It was everlasting.

He’d been rehearsing the words since he’d had ears to know them. Leagues away in the bitter cold, they had given him warmth. The knowledge he might one day speak them to the one that he loved, as his mother had, as his father had, as was his right.

He was owed this. Tradition dictated for the two oldest children to marry, as Aegon and Visenya had; there was duty and honor in it. By definition, Jacaerys and Lucerys were their mother’s eldest children - the two destined to wed.

He stared at the sky, awaiting his destiny.

. . .

It was the third morning and the sky was a cool blue, drowsy in color when a bright streak sailed through it…

Descending toward the island like a falling star.

Lucerys. 

Jacaerys had never seen anything so picturesque, so perfect-

Then came the rambunctious squawk of a dragon scarcely large enough to fly. Black and red and chasing after gulls, belching plumes of black flames.

Joffrey.

“Dohaerās, Tyraxes!” A reedy little voice called.

“Ninkiot, Arrax,” Lucerys commanded calmly and Jacaerys watched as that young dragon, glittering pearl white and gold, spread his wings to slow his descent to the island.

The sea breeze rolled over the shore, tasting of salt and morning air, of vanilla and browned butter…

Lucerys was a vision in supple charcoal gray, wool-lined riding leathers. His dark curls were wind-tossed and his cheeks a ravishing shade of red.

Those beautiful brown eyes widened at the sight of him.

His younger brother cleared his throat, calling up to Joffrey.

“Come down here,” He commanded, “now.”

Lucerys’ expression was unreadable as he marched across the sands toward Jacaerys, Joffrey in tow.

The dragonkeepers handled their mounts, even the unruly Tyraxes who had feathers hanging from his maw.

“Jacaerys,” Lucerys greeted coolly, with a defiant little raised chin. Jace wanted him then and there — marriage be damned, he wished to pup Luke in the sand. He pushed the thought away, quite capable of ignoring his hindbrain.

“Brother,” Jacaerys responded smoothly, smile softening, “welcome home.”

Lucerys gave a small nod, dainty gloved hands clasped together demurely.

“I apologize for making you wait,” Lucerys said primly, poised and practiced and perfect.

Jace chuckled, “Oh, I doubt that very much. Come along, we’ll get you both settled.”

They stepped through the Great Hall’s massive red doors, flanked by household guards at every step.

He felt Lucerys gasp as he pressed a palm to the small of his brother’s back, leading him into the hall. Luke walked along, spine stiff, his scent dripping from his pores.

It was surreal, sharing the space with Lucerys once more… It had been so long since they had been here together, lived here together.

“Prince Jacaerys,” Maester Gerardys greeted fondly, “and Prince Lucerys, how comforting it is to see you two together once more…”

For the first time since his brother had returned home, Jacaerys witnessed that icy demeanor thaw. His smile was soft and genuine and beautiful…

“It is…good to be home,” He answered, and to Jacaerys’ surprise, his words seemed sincere. Buried somewhere beneath the stoicism his younger brother wore like a coat of mail, he was happy.

“Your mother would be pleased.”

Lucerys’ throat bobbed and his eyes misted, for a moment he seemed to lean into Jacaerys’ touch upon his back. He steadied Lucerys instantly, naturally — it was what elder brothers were meant to do.

He caught a brief flash of gratitude in the corner of a brown eye when Lucerys glanced back at him.

“I’ll show you to your rooms,” Jacaerys said softly, to which Lucerys nodded, a pliant little thing.

“I know where my room is,” Joffrey called, running off blindly, to Lucerys’ horror and Jace’s amusement. Lucerys seemed mortified of Joffrey’s boyish behavior, like some minute thing would pull the rug out from beneath them, as though he may cast them out to the wilds once more…

He’d sooner fall upon his own sword than permit such a thing to happen.

“It’s alright,” Jace soothed, tasting the frantic spike in his younger brother’s scent, vanilla and burnt butter, “he’s home too.”

Lucerys nodded, swallowing thickly.

“When will the ceremony be?” Lucerys asked, his voice steady like he’d practiced the words.

“When would you like it to be?” Jace asked in return, something that seemed to bewilder his younger brother who stared up at him owlishly. Something he hadn’t prepared for.

“Soon,” he said, a tad uncertain as Jacaerys slowly circled him like prey.

“Soon?” Jacaerys echoed with a wily smirk. Lucerys’ brow dipped in what he knew was annoyance.

“Yes, soon, unless you intend on making me wait.”

There he was, Jacaerys grinned, all teeth - his Luke.

“Had I known you were so eager to be my wife, I never would have left King’s Landing without you…” His lips touched his younger brother’s ear.

Lucerys exhaled a shaky breath that he very badly wanted to be a scoff, struggling to right his mask of aloofness. The rich scent of vanilla and browned butter, nutty and earthen and sweet, betrayed him.

“Is tonight soon enough for you, brother?” Jacaerys asked, his subvocals flanging.

Lucerys turned, blinking up at him, pink-cheeked.

“Y-yes.”

“Good.”

“Good,” Lucerys said with his raised little chin, as though he had been so decisive, to begin with; Jacaerys could only focus on the cute cleft of his chin that he wished to trace with his tongue.

Without another word, his younger brother turned and exited the Great Hall, marching down a corridor after Joffrey.

. . .

Valyrian wedding ceremonies were not as time-consuming as weddings performed under the faith of the seven. The very same priest that had performed their mother’s wedding was summoned to conduct theirs.

The materials had been gathered and garments prepared.

A natural stone dias was dressed accordingly. A thick chalice of inscribed Valyrian steel sat upon the dias, filled halfway from a decanter of blood wine.

Jacaerys’ hands shook as he reached for the traditional robes worn during Valyrian wedding ceremonies. The fabric was a pale cream color, with thick blood-red collars and a gradient along the hem and sleeves.

They were meant to symbolize blood purity… the irony wasn’t lost on him.

“Father was the last to wear these…”

Jacaerys exhaled, fingers trailing over the dyed collar of the robe. He never had the right to refer to Daemon Targaryen as his father publically, yet as he stared at the garment, shapeless against his dressing table, it felt right. His father had worn these robes, and Jacaerys would wear them after him.

“He’d be proud of you…”

Baela intoned, her voice alarmingly gentle despite how angry she had been with him in the past weeks.

“Even if I’m marrying against his wishes?”

His sister smiled a radiant thing. Pretty enough to kiss, but he knew better than to try.

“Especially because you’re marrying against his wishes. You chose your own bride…he’d admire that.”

Baela stepped closer, inspecting the ceremonial garment. The fabric seemed endless when lifted into her tiny hands.

“You have every right to wear them, Jace. You’re a Targaryen.”

He nodded and began unlacing his tunic.

“Slower,” His sister bade, her deep violet eyes raking over every ounce of unveiled flesh with unbridled want. Spice flower and cinnamon hung heavy in the air. There was time when that scent beckoned him like a siren’s call, yet there had always been another scent, more potent —— dragonsong.

“I don’t want to forget a thing,” She added sadly, and Jacaerys felt a twinge of regret…she had always been good to him.

Jacaerys slowed, plucking away each individual lace with the utmost care. The garment swayed open and he heard the sharp intake of her breath.

He smiled softly. He couldn’t marry her, but he could give her this.

. . .

It all felt foreign to Lucerys like something out of a dream. His hair painfully twined into a snug series of plaits and braids atop of which the ceremonial headdress was placed.

The robes were long, the dyed hem puddled like blood around his feet.

Unbidden emotion snagged in his throat as he straightened the headdress. His entire life had led to this moment, from the day he was born and the maester had announced what resided between his legs. He was an Omega, he was born to be someone’s wife. Jacaerys’ wife. His face burned hot for reasons he dared not contemplate.

He was to be married and his mother wasn’t here to witness it…

He glared at his reflection in the looking glass.

He blinked away the tears quickly and straightened his back. Jacaerys wanted a wife and he’d get one…and Lucerys would get the legitimacy he’d been lacking. He would certainly be a wife, but Jacaerys had been born an Alpha —— he would become Lucerys’ weapon. It was all he could find comfort in; for this was not a union borne of love.

Lucerys’ bravado held up quite nicely as they traveled to the dais where the ceremony would be held. Jacaerys looked as he always did, aggravatingly handsome; rakish, even, in the long ceremonial robes with his silver hair bound in twists away from his face.

Countless candles burned around the dias, ensconcing them in a golden hue.

It was surreal, standing on warmed stone in the very same spot, in the very same gown his mother had once worn…

Joffrey stood beside Maester Gerardys, a sour look on his little face, in the same spot where Lucerys had stood as a child. Fragmented memories of his mother’s wedding washed over him like the dewy evening rain. 

A hand in his clutched so tightly. Father had died. Warm lips pressed to his crown, there was no giggling when he pressed his cold little feet to the backs of warm knees; just a need to be sated, and comfort that was given. There was no room for laughter on the grim day. Mother had never looked so beautiful. The hand in his was pulled away. It hurt, that missing piece, like a severed limb…

“Luke?”

Lucerys felt the memory fade away as he blinked his way back to the present. Jacaerys stared at him with unabashed concern.

“Hm?” he hummed, “I’m sorry.”

“Are you ready for the ceremony to begin?” The priest asked.

“Yes,” Jacaerys said without hesitation, and all eyes were on Lucerys.

“Yes,” Luke nodded, the tassels of the headdress bouncing.

“Very well.”

Ceremonial dragonglass daggers were given to each of them.

“I’ll go first,” Jacaerys told him and Lucerys nodded, and when he smiled at Luke, it was the smile of an elder brother. 

Rest easy, little brother, that roguish smile said, I’m here. His hands trembled as he brought the shard to his Jacaerys’ mouth. He didn’t flinch when Luke cut him. The dagger split the supple flesh of Jacaerys’ lower lip with ease. Blood oozed bright and warm. He gathered some upon his thumb, transfixed by it. The candles seemed to glow brighter, the air more fragrant. He painted the sigil upon Jacaerys’ skin.

His own dagger was lowered as Jacaerys approached. A large hand came to grip his chin, stroking the skin fondly. He tensed in anticipation of the sting of the dagger. He met his brother’s gaze, those hypnotic violet eyes, silver lashes brushed gold in the candlelight. He felt warm, very warm wrapped in Jace’s scent. His hindbrain was alight. Gently, the dagger sliced his lower lip, he hardly felt it.

He blinked and Jacaerys’ thumb was wet with his blood.

The liquid crimson felt hot against his skin as his brother painted the accompanying sigil.

Blood would flow, and their line would continue. 

He watched as Jacaerys’ dagger carved a wound across his palm. Lucerys did the same.

The priest carried forth the chalice and spoke the binding words. An embroidered chord of gold tied them together.

“Hen lantoti ānogar”

Blood of two

“Va sȳndroti vāedroma”

Joined as one

Jacaerys’ hand clasped with his, the open wounds upon their palms bleeding into one another. Unerringly intimate; eternally entwined. The golden chord soaked crimson. Red oozed into the chalice.

“Elēdroma iārza sīr”

And song of shadows

“Izulī ampā perzī”

Two hearts as embers

Lucerys stared into the chalice, at the placid surface of the blood wine, small dots of liquid crimson littered the rim, like crushed garnets. His reflection stared back.

The wine smelled of figs and iron and was thick upon his tongue. He’d never known something so foreign, yet so perfect. Heat raced in his veins when he swallowed it. Jacaerys’ eyes never left his, his hand clutched so tightly…they were a perfect fit.

“Prūmī lanti sēteksi”

Forged in Fourteen flames

Fourteen candles stood taller than the rest.

“Hen jenȳ māzīlarion”

A future promised in glass

Jacaerys tilted the chalice toward his lips. Lucerys squeezed at his brother’s hand, fresh blood sticking between their palms.

“Qēlossa ozūndesi”

The stars stand witness

“Sȳndroro ōñō jēdo”

The vow spoken through time

“Rȳ kīvia mazvestraksi.”

Of darkness and light.

“Your vows must be spoken.”

Lucerys nodded and swallowed the urge to mewl as Jacaerys’ hand squeezed his; both comforting and consuming.

“One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever,” they spoke the words in unison. The lingering taste of wine on his tongue deepened. The richness of Jacaerys’ scent thickened in his lungs. He could taste only fire and blood…

The priest lowered his hands and inclined his hooded head towards them to indicate the ceremony was complete. Lucerys’ entire being pulsed hotter than the dragonmont. They were married. Bound in blood.

He stared at Jacaerys, still struggling to fathom when his brother’s lips were on his - kissing him, ravenously; like he had waited his entire life for such a moment. And it returned to him, the frayed pieces of a memory, like torn pages in a book, as Jacaerys’ hands gathered his face between them, tender and so familiar - they had done this before.

Oh.

He felt a fool.

He gasped when his brother pulled away, mouth red. Lucerys’ legs felt boneless. His hand clutching Jacaerys’ sleeve, anchored to his brother, his husband, his other half…

Jacaerys’ tongue chased the trickle of crimson from Lucerys’ mouth. He mewled then, openly, unabashedly, without meaning to.

His brother’s forehead touched his, tacky with blood. A deep flanging purr swelled there and Lucerys struggled to remain upright with his knees turned to liquid. A strong arm curled around his waist.

The sky shook with the triumphant cries of Vermax and Arrax. Blasts of dragonfire burst above them in a spectrum of color, yellow-orange, gold, copper, and bronze, swirls of white, pearl, emerald, and jade green. There were streaks of rainbow light where their flames collided as their dragons danced in the sky overhead.

With the wedding complete, only one thing remained…

Their wedding night.

. . .

The inside of the Lord’s chambers were carved in dark stone, the snarling heads of dragons frame towering columns around the bed, a blood-red canopy draped above it.

Dragonstone was not known for its forgiving weather, and despite the chill that was ever-present in the air, Lucerys felt like the flesh might slough off his bones from the heat that raged within him.

A fire burned in the hearth that resembled a dragon’s maw, with flames crackling between pointed stone teeth.

A touch dragged featherlight over his pulse and he gasped, body burning hotter than the fire.

He looked at his brother - his husband with new eyes.

“Forgive me,” He murmured in apology, “I feel…warm.”

Jacaerys offered a smile, a flash of pointed teeth that left Lucerys breathless.

“‘Tis your blood calling.” His husband explained.

Lucerys flushed deeply.

“Do not fret,” Jacaerys hummed, fingers finding Lucerys’ chin, stroking the skin fondly, “We will answer it.”

Lucerys nodded, struck into a demure state, his heart hammered hard in his chest.

There was nothing entirely complicated about seduction, Lucerys knew, most Alphas simply desired a chase. A submissive bit of prey that they could play with before devouring them whole. It became clear Jacaerys was no different in that regard.

It brought to mind a memory far more recent…

“Tilt your head, just gently over your shoulder. A tad more. Perfect. Lower your eyelids. Less, Lucerys.” Daemon clucked.

“I feel like an imbecile,” Lucerys complained, though his step-father chuckled.

“I assure you, you don’t look like one.”

He snorted, “Is this how mother got you to fall in love with her?”

Daemon hummed a laugh, flicking Lucerys’ ear as he passed by, “Don’t slouch, extend your neck. There. Delightful. Any Alpha with a knot between their legs will understand the invitation. And, no, your mother was the exception in that regard.”

Lucerys rolled his eyes. Unsurprised to find that his mother, as always, was so perfect.

“You have no shortage of suitors, even now, but it never hurts to know how to keep them.”

Lucerys flushed, “I have…suitors?”

Daemon nodded, “Many. Amongst our vassals Houses Bar Emon, Celtigar, and Massey have already put forth proposals for your hand. You even have the attention of an Alpha up North…”

“Truly?” Lucerys gasped, strangely flattered.

“He’s been the most persistent of all,” Daemon said with a wink.

“That’s enough practice for today, little one. With any luck, matters of marriage won’t be relevant for some time. At least not while your mother and I draw breath.”

The fresh loss of his parents' death yawned open once more, like a gash across his heart, at the memory, but he ignored the pain. His blood had already spilled today. Lucerys turned his back to Jacaerys as he began the tedious process of removing countless metal pins from his hair. Discreetly, he nipped at the scent gland in his wrist.

The aroma of vanilla and browned butter, rich and sweet dripped into the air. A Siren’s call.

Unlike Ser Corwyn who had merely blushed and floundered at the presence of his scent, his husband however,  evidenced a more promising reaction.

He heard the sharp intake of Jacaerys’ breathing. The subtle beginnings of a growl left Lucerys weak at the knees.

He shook his curls loose with a soft sigh, he arched his back with an indulgent stretch.

When he turned back towards his husband, he did so employing everything Daemon had taught him. His head tilted coyly, his eyes hooded just right, bare neck extended boldly…

“Husband,” he called with intention, his voice a touch higher than it typically was, “shall we- mmph!”

Being kissed was as disorienting as it had been the first time, scorching, the taste of blood on his tongue. His husband’s hand cupped his bottom. Lucerys considered it a rousing success.

He panted, mouth slick. Jacaerys’ tongue glided against the roof of his mouth and something glittery and warm surged down to his toes. His brother’s fingers curled beneath Lucerys’ chin. A softer, kinder kiss was pressed to his crown, and yearning opened up in him like an old wound.

“I’ve missed you…” Jace whispered against Lucerys’ dark fringe. Longing resounded in his voice, spanning deep like the roots of a tree.

Lucerys swallowed, a strange sense of guilt left him feeling hulled. A part of him wanted to feel what his brother did as well, yet there were still pages torn from their story in his mind; pages he feared he may never recover.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t-“ He stammered, frightened that his husband may be slighted by history Lucerys had forgotten…

“I know,” Jacaerys soothed, thumb pressed to the cleft in Lucerys’ chin. A dizzy back and forth was etched in his flesh by the callused pad of his husband’s finger.

When his brother kissed him a second time, it was a slower exchange. Jacaerys’ mouth and tongue coaxed his into action. It was evocative, sensual, reciprocal; dragonsong. It was the stoking of embers, the spreading of wildfire to every corner of his being.

“On the bed,” his brother growled, a crass hand swatted his bottom.

Lucerys nodded.

Their robes were placed aside and Lucerys settled upon the bed, skin bare and pulsing hot.

He laid carefully upon his stomach, firelight licking at his back. His face burned as he arched his back, his bottom sticking out in subtle invitation.

The bed dipped beneath the addition of another body and Lucerys drew in a steadying breath. His lungs were coated with the aroma of white oak and an open flame; heady and thick. His hindbrain secreted pacifying pheromones that left him strangely at peace.

He was going to be claimed, he realized, holding fistfuls of sheets. He would be mounted like a broodmare…

A warm hand grazed his spine.

A breath that smelled of figs and blood wine caressed his ear.

“What are you doing?”

Laid upon his stomach, Lucerys should have felt vulnerable; his neck was left exposed. He tilted his head against the bedding, curls loose as he caught the corner of his husband’s statuesque visage knelt upon the bed.

“I-” Lucerys swallowed, mouth uncomfortably dry. Even now, as bare as the day he was born, he was meant to exude aplomb. Jacaerys clearly desired a confident lover.

“I am not so naive, journals and written accountings detail that being upon one’s stomach is the most efficient way to ensure a successful mount…”

Jacaerys’ expression remained unreadable, but then he chuckled that pleasant sound that buzzed in Lucerys’ ears.

“...a successful mount.” Jacaerys echoed to himself with a shake of his damnable silver head. Lucerys flushed hot with embarrassment, feeling anything but confident.

A warm hand settled upon the small of his back. The simple touch inspired a strange building pressure. Jacaerys’ lips touched his ear and Lucerys exhaled a flustered sound into the bedding.

“You have spent too long with Andals that do not know how to fuck…”

His husband’s voice dripped thick and hot into his skull, like honey, or blood. His quim clenched. His husband seemed intent on showing Lucerys the error in his ways.

“Fucking is a pleasure. And Omegas were made to be pleased.”

There was lightning in Jacaerys’ voice, raw power, like the crackling of logs in the hearth.

“Here,” Jacaerys murmured, “turn over.”

He blinked up at him, at his pale hair, at his violet eyes that were nearly glazed black, at the sharp contrast of gold light and rich velvety shadows painted by the hearth across his husband’s body. His mouth had grown wet at his lean abdomen and sturdy shoulders, at his firm chest and strong arms…

A picturesque virile Alpha.

“There you are,” Jacaerys hummed, eyes so very fond.

His thighs are eased apart and Jacaerys settled between them. Each touch exchanged between them felt like it might set them alight. Mere kindling to a fire.

Every sensation titillated and overwhelmed.

A finger trailed featherlight from the hollow of his throat to the spot above his navel where that building pressure persisted. He was left gasping. Tears beaded in his eyes.

“Mm,” Lucerys sighed, unaccustomed to such intimacy, such nearness as his husband caressed the spot as the feeling worsened.

His fingers dipped lower toward the dark mound of his quim, wiry curls matted with slick.

Lucerys’ hips leapt from the bed with a cry at the barest touch. A clever, knowing thumb unveiled his bud, teasing it. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, wetting his temples, inevitably soaking into his loose curls.

His husband’s damp fingers teased along the seam of his quim; leisurely, as if skimming the lines of a book he had read before.

He felt as a digit slipped down to the knuckle into his velvety embrace.

“Jacaerys,” He croaked. The concave dip of his stomach quivered as his husband’s attention returned to the pink ache of his bud; his fingers made a lewd sound, so thoroughly wetted with slick.

Jacaerys’ silver head lowered with a knowing look and began to kiss him breathlessly; each press of Jace’s lips against his own selfishly stole what air remained in his lungs, and good sense from his mind.

He anchored a fist in his husband’s pale hair if only for an ounce of control, to claim something in return.

He sucked on Jacaerys’ tongue when it dipped into his mouth; he felt his husband’s body shake with a melodic swell of his subvocals.

“When I claim you, it shall be like this,” Jacaerys murmured through spit-slick lips into Lucerys’ panting mouth, their foreheads were pressed together, tacky with dried blood and sweat.

“Not for a ‘successful mount’, but so that I may look upon you, so that I may see the pleasure writ across this face,” His husband paused mouthing at Lucerys’ jaw, weight steadied on a forearm, Jace gazed down at him with such longing, “to have gone six years without it, ‘tis a crime against our nature. Yours and mine.”

Lucerys longed to pry the words apart, like field dressing a fresh kill, to permit nothing to escape his grasp nor understanding. Yet, his husband’s fingers grazed his cunt once more and all sense was lost, bleeding from the pulsing, open wound of his weeping gash.

A few fingers glided into his heat, effortlessly and Lucerys moaned. Ashamed of how easily his body had been reduced to something so carnal.

He was lost in the pleasure, the thick haze of pheromones in his head, and the scent of Jacaerys in his lungs.

When his hips leapt once more, it was to chase the rhythm of Jacaerys’s fingers spreading him open; shaping the walls of his quim like a smith molded metal — with patience and dedication.

His husband’s digits sought deep, fingers squelching amidst the sticky nectar and slick flesh. Without preamble, that knot of tension above Lucerys’ navel was pulled so readily to its limits, fingers pressing at the tender raised flesh until the tension broke.

Lucerys yowled, the sensation smarted, whip-fast as he came undone. His cocklet, stiff and yearning just above the seam of quim, spurted a few delicate ribbons of white against his stomach and chest. His quim gushed as a more potent release took hold, soaking around his husband’s fingers and onto the bed. A pleasure swallowed him so readily that he could not make sense of an end or beginning.

A garbled stream of hybridized Valyrian and common peppered his ears like a rain of arrows.

“There you are,” Jacaerys huffed, eyes ablaze with awe, “Issa lēkia.”

“ābrazȳrys…” he snarled, “mate…”

His body, so laden with pheromones only longed for one thing. To be claimed.

What power you wield, dear brother.

Jacaerys had tasted his blood once already. Surely he wanted more, needed more, needed to sink his teeth into Lucerys’ neck, where his bonding gland lay pristine and untouched.

“I, I need-”

“I shall give you what you need, wife.”

Pangs of longing littered his flesh, like ground glass in raw meat. He watched, mouth wet as Jacaerys’ cock swayed heavy and thick between well-muscled thighs.

It seemed impossibly large then; too large.

“Mm, b-brother… it won’t-”

“It will fit,” Jacaerys assured with a smile that Luke wanted terribly to believe, a brief kiss was pressed to Lucerys’ lips, “you were made for this,” another kiss, “you were made for me.”

Lucerys nodded, permitting his body to fall slack, tensionless, sedate with pheromones and supplicant for his Alpha.

The fattened head of his husband’s cock rubbed slowly along his quim, gathering nectar along the girth.

His stomach quivered as the glistening crown of Jacaerys’ manhood pressed obscenely large to Luke’s quim, puffy and pink.

“Shh,” Jacaerys soothed. His thumb toyed with Lucerys’ bud, rubbing tender little circles as the head applied a hint more pressure.

His legs spasmed as pleasure frothed in his belly.

He whined, the lips of his quim stretching to welcome the thick, drooling head.

His hips inched higher as Jacaerys’ eased lower. He envisioned the steel-tipped head of an arrow piercing the soft cushion of a straw-stuffed target.

The lips of his quim opened like a flower in bloom.

Jacaerys held himself painfully still as Lucerys mewled beneath him at the thin barrier of his maidenhead halting his brother’s path.

His brother kissed the salty spill of his tears; seeming to savor them as readily as he had Luke’s blood.

He awaited the agony that every maester and septa warned young Omegas of, for a geyser of blood to burst from between his thighs as his Alpha sank down to the bulb of his knot.

Yet, as Jacaerys finally slipped completely inside, it wasn’t at all as violent as Lucerys had imagined. It stretched the walls of his quim to what felt like its limits, certainly, but, the sensation did not inspire any pain. Rather, it felt like a wound being sewn shut, flesh knitted together, a sword in a sheath, a sense of completeness so profound that he wished to weep.

Oh.

“There you are,” Jace panted, a wry turn to his lips before his hips eased back.

A hand cradled his jaw as they laid, forehead to forehead, nose to nose. Blood upon their skin, sharing the same dewy breath.

One flesh, one heart, one soul…

The motion of Jacaerys’ hips was fluid, they beat against him as wrathful as the gale upon the sea. Every wave threatened to drag him under. Devastatingly beautiful.

Lucerys gasped, mouth agape as his brother’s eyes stared into his. Jacaerys’ hips pumped, large cock pushing and pulling his insides; molding him anew.

There was a harmony to it, the creaking of the bed, the crackling of the logs, the wet rhythm of Jacaerys’ hips colliding with his. The blood-red canopy above the bed quivered like a razed kingdom behind his husband’s silver head.

He dug frantic nails into the muscle of his brother’s back. He felt power. True power rippling beneath his fingertips.

The broad tip of his brother’s manhood found the raised flesh tucked away within his walls upon every thrust; pleasure spiraled and screamed within him.

Jacaerys’ grip tightened around his jaw. He began to lose track of what limbs were his and which were not.

Barely-there breasts bounced with every thrust, grazing his brother’s muscled chest. His nipples pebbled stiff as they scraped against Jacaerys, the sensation worsening the tension that tangled in his belly.

His quim fluttered, each pulse yearned to draw his husband deeper.

Lucerys dug a heel into the flexing muscle of his husband’s buttocks, urging him faster.

He mewled. Beyond words. Thrashing to bare his neck; recalcitrant and desperate. That only made Jacaerys fuck him harder.

Bloated stones, swollen with seed, slapped against Lucerys’ milk-white bottom.

Jacaerys’ free hand dug into the pliant flesh of Lucerys’ soft little bottom, urging his narrow hips to meet every harrowing plunge of Jace’s cock.

The wet lips of his quim, stretched thin, kissed the bulbous swell of Jacaerys’ knot upon every perfect union of their hips.

He urged his hips down, guided by his brother’s hand, yearning in a primal mania to have that knot inside of him.

The head of his brother’s cock kissed his womb, caressing that soft pink channel on every deep thrust.

His insides felt molten, like the flesh may slough off his bones at any moment. Like every cant of his brother-husband’s hips urged a tongue of dragonfire to lap at that sacred place. The place he yearned to have filled.

Jacaerys offered the dripping length of his tongue and Lucerys suckled upon it readily, filled by him so completely.

He anchored himself to his husband, nails caught upon the rippling muscle of his back.

He has no words left to give, save for a garbled string of “please”. 

“Are you close, my love?”

Jacaerys asked, voice little more than a growl, his forehead pressed to Luke’s.

Lucerys thrashed at the delicious torment of his building release, tears streamed down his cheeks. He was close, horrendously so. 

His husband’s lips found his, drinking deeply of his anguish.

The cadence of his husband’s thrust had grown all the more ardent in response. The very bed seemed to quake. Yet all he could see was Jacaerys, the silver of his hair, the violet of his eyes, Lucerys’ own blood painted upon his skin…

“Please!” Lucerys cried out, drunk upon the scent of white oak and an open flame, burning with a longing writ in their shared blood upon his very bones. Stripped of all constraints and vanity, he was simply an Omega in dire need of his Alpha.

When he arched his neck, his husband hadn’t the will to refuse a second time. He mouthed at the spot that so dearly needed attention, he adored it with his lips and tongue.

Each thrust fucked him so deeply into the rich, sweat-soaked featherbed. He arched, yowling at the unbearable sensation of his husband’s broad head at his womb.

“Once more, wife,” Jacaerys panted, breath hot as dragonfire ghosted along his lips, “come for me, brother. Shower me in your love.”

His bud was found and assaulted with the unrelenting press of sword-callused fingers; Urging him and higher.

And in a moment, he was undone, his release snapped like their chord of blood-red and gold and his world shook like all of Dragonstone would fall apart around them. His release gushed from his stretched-wide quim, drenching his husband and the bedding further. Jacaerys growled a deeply pleased guttural sound, his hips continued to pump into the squelching mess of Lucerys’ dripping sex, the firm grip of his hand cradled Lucerys’ jaw, forbidding him from looking elsewhere, at anything but Jacaerys.

He could only watch as a trembling look of awe passed over his husband’s face.

Jace’s hips surged forward and Luke bowed off of the bed at the undeniable ache of his husband’s knot popping inside. The thick head pressed against the slender pink opening of Lucerys’ womb. His thighs shook. Teeth were at his neck, kissing then breaking the skin. The bite was clean and perfect and unifying. Lucerys cried out towards the blood-red canopy above them. In that moment he saw a burst of color behind his eyes: the endless rainbow of their combined dragonfire. A third sharp release was upon him; brief and blinding. His cocklet spurted weakly, his quim clenched, milking the fattened bulb of his Alpha’s knot. A desperate whine fell from his lips as he felt it begin to swell. They were tied now, irrefutably: in body and blood.

His unspooling mind retreated to their vows once more as his brother’s seed distended the concave of his belly —— one flesh, one heart, one soul.

A rumbling purr started in his chest and his fingers wound through Jacaerys’ silver hair of their own volition. It was an intrinsic need as primal as the ache to purr, was the need to touch his brother. His husband. His mate.

He became prey pinned beneath his Alpha. His toes curled in atavistic delight.

He felt unbearably whole like he had found his missing piece.

When his brother’s lips inevitably withdrew from the fresh site of Lucerys’ bondmark, he was overcome with the bone-deep urge to weep. Yet, Jacaerys soothed him with a low, nearly musical flange of his subvocals that said, ‘Rest easy, little brother. I am here.’ Lucerys felt the spike of pacifying pheromones filling his frantic hindbrain, putting him promptly at ease. He felt the press of an aquiline nose to his temple, gentle and familiar. He fought his body's need to fall slack and submissive, instead twisting stubbornly upon the bed if only to feel the tug of his Alpha’s knot keeping them tied. A satisfied prickle of overstimulated tears stung his eyes. A dutiful tongue lapped at the slow ooze of blood from the site upon his neck.

A tug persisted at the base of his skull. A nascent thing through which all flowed. Their bond.

There was no word so apt for his current state other than claimed. Even still, adrift within the overwhelming emotion of it all, Lucerys sought some semblance of assurance; some logic to the disorder Jacaerys had made of him.

His mind scrabbled for clarity, despite how his eyelids drooped and his limbs curled into the preternatural heat of his Alpha’s body, wrapped in the woodsy aroma of white oak and the bittersweet bite of an open flame.

He fell deeper still into a place so utterly content as an aquiline nose and warm lips nuzzled fondly at his hairline. It was not long until whisps of vanilla and browned butter roamed in fragrant curls from his sweat-slicked skin.

“I’ll be going soon,” Lucerys said amidst a yawn as firm fingers pressed warm divots into the underside of his thigh.

“Going where, precisely?” Jacaerys asked, indolent, but displeased. The emotion trickled over, like rainwater through a leaking roof. Lucerys frowned at the feeling.

He thought of propriety, of what he’d been taught of formal marriages such as theirs.

“To my own chambers, husband,” Lucerys informed, though he hadn’t the strength to lift his head while he spoke.

“I could use the rest,” he added sweetly, knowing an Alpha’s ego was utterly in want of stroking.

Jacaerys exhaled through his nose before Lucerys felt its straight bridge touch the upturned curl of his own.

“Mm,” his Alpha hummed, “then rest.”

Longing poured over as a hand settled at the dip in Lucerys’ waist where they lay.

“You are my wife now, Lucerys. My chambers are yours.”

Curious, he thought to himself.

It brought to mind a memory formerly lost to him…

“Let me in!” Lucerys demanded in a nasally whisper, lips pressed to the crack in the door.

“Jace-”

The door budged far enough for him to catch the gleam of his elder brother’s silver-gold hair and he felt a swell of victory.

“I can’t let you in, Luke. Mother will have my head-”

“She will not! Oh, Jace, she won’t catch us. She never does.”

Jacaerys’ face twisted in a conflicted expression, but in his heart, Lucerys knew he had won. The door swung open and Lucerys rushed inside. His hand clasping with his brother’s pulling him towards the bed.

“You mustn’t make a sound, hm?” Jacaerys warned, a finger held to Luke’s lips.

Lucerys nodded giddily.

“I won’t. I promise.”

As the memory faded, Lucerys found himself unbearably drowsy, his head pressed to a strong chest, his cold little feet tucked to the backs of warm knees, as familiar as the lines traversing his palms.

I had mastered you once brother, he thought to himself as he squirmed closer into the cage of his husband’s arms, I can do it again.

[dr-futbol-blog]

Home, Pt. 1

Home (S01E09) gives us insight into the characters by delving into their subconscious. The misty alien entity enters the minds of the characters and constructs illusions from their thoughts. The illusions lack a sophisticated understanding of our world. Unlike the others, Sheppard is noted to be capable of manipulating his fabricated reality, which also gives us another level of insight into him while at the same time allowing him to hide parts of himself from both the audience and the other characters.

It has been suggested that Sheppard was able to do this because he lacked any real ties to earth and had no desire to return there, unlike the others. In Letters from Pegasus (S01E16) he claims not to have family back on earth, which we later learn is not exactly true, and in this episode he notes that he had spent 11 months in Antarctica prior to their departure. But -- and I'll return to this topic in the future -- his strong ATA gene also seems to make him mentally different in various ways. For one, he is able to sense or get a feel of the ancients just by being near them. But I also think that it was not just window-dressing that there was an active stargate in his subconscious mind in Doppelganger (S04E04). He is wired differently.

The episode starts in the real world, on the planet of the mist.

The team is really starting to gel together, all of them getting to become familiar with each other. While we meet them in medias res, again we get an indication of Sheppard and McKay spending time together apart from the others (and more than we see on screen) in his line "You talked me into coming here because you thought those energy readings indicated the presence of a civilization." This is the first, but it will not be the last time that Sheppard agrees to go on a mission and to drag out said mission way beyond its expiration date just to please Rodney.

Again, they walk hella close even though this time they're not even alone together:

On the planet, we see John check out hot and sweaty McKay.

Where in the previous episode Underground (S01E08) he was quite unabashed about his gazing at the other man, we also saw a change in him toward the end of the episode. His interest had suddenly become more serious. You can see it here.

He looks, and then forces himself to avert his eyes. He looks deflated, almost sad here. And he very much keeps not looking at McKay after this which is even more noticeable on this planet that has nothing on it to look at. He literally forces himself to look at nothing to keep from looking at McKay (and we are emphasized this not-looking by how both the DHD and Ford are placed between them).

The context here is that Sheppard is having to be the boss of him, the leader. The way he very softly says "Alright, then let's call it a mission" shows that he's not entirely comfortable with it, he's not quite sure how he's supposed to be navigating the situation. Like it's a suggestion, not a command. He also starts explaining himself to McKay, giving him reasons why they really should be getting back.

So, Sheppard attempts to keep a distance. But he can't manage it. After they dial the gate and McKay suddenly gets excited about the energy readings, Sheppard not only approaches him when he could well have made his inquiries from where he was standing by the gate, he walks right up to McKay, right up in his face. This was 100% unnecessary. For some reason, he just wanted to get close to the man. He's not even trying to look at McKay's device or using any other pretense for why he approached. He also utterly forgets his earlier apprehension and is suddenly real animated.

My guy.

This is also the first time of something that we see a lot in the first season but not so much later: Sheppard short-circuiting McKay's brain by saying something unexpected. The dialogue isn't usually correctly rendered in transcripts:

Sheppard: How much is a lot? McKay: What, in terms of joules or ergs? Sheppard: In terms of... lots. McKay: Well, lots and lots. What the-- Enough to open a wormhole back to earth!

They omit the middle part that expresses his utter bewilderment. This is a theme that repeats. Sheppard is forcing McKay to think of things he had never thought of in a way he had never thought of them which is definitely one of the reasons he comes to like the Major so much. McKay is so smart that he is rarely challenged, and Sheppard does it so effortlessly, in effect hacking his brain.

Also, they sure do be looking each other in the eye for a long time here.

Again, upon returning to Atlantis and in a meeting with Elizabeth, when Sheppard quips "You said it wasn't fog" his tone of voice is not in the least argumentative but is actually pretty flirty, like catching McKay contradicting himself is the most adorable thing he's ever witnessed. Accompanied by this, what can only be described as a seductive look.

Sheppard also only really relaxes, leaning back in his chair, once he learns that McKay doesn't actually want to leave Pegasus unless he knew that he could come back. So satisfied, he's suddenly fully on board with Rodney's plan. See his subtle look at Rodney as he leans back, smooth operator that he is.

A bit later we learn that he also does not want to go to Earth. In fact, he pretty much refuses. He can't even meet Weir's eyes when she mentions "home," it seems very much like he no longer considers Earth home.

Also, uh.

Was it absolutely necessary for you to be sitting next to the DHD with McKay grunting and breathing heavily under the table while he was removing the crystal, Major? Good god, the parted lips, the shifting in the chair, catching his breath before he can start talking, putting both of his hands quickly on the table and then deciding he doesn't actually know what to do with his hands right then, interlacing his fingers and pulling them back on his lap. Or... over his lap. As it were.

Please give me an innocent explanation for all of this because I just. Can't. There's even innuendo in dialogue with plugging things into empty slots with McKay making eye contact with Sheppard when he says this like we needed contextual help with eroticizing this scene.

After this, Sheppard actually zones out for a bit. Like he's in a completely different world while the others are having what is a pretty important conversation around him. Military leader in charge of the security of the mission. Where are you?

Not looking at McKay, that's for certain. Not looking at anything at all. But oh, his mind's eye is clearly seeing something, this is made clear with the raise of the eyebrow. Also, we know that he's thinking about McKay here because this is supposed to be when he's doing mental math to calculate how long it would take for them to come get McKay by jumper.

Also important: Sheppard is not the only one with flirty rejoinders and sultry looks here.

Like what is this if it isn't flirting? What?

And then there's the disappointed look on McKay's face when he ever so subtly implies that he might require some assistance on the planet and Sheppard swiftly pawns the task off to Ford. Where he is sitting right now, Sheppard does not think he should be alone with McKay on the dark, hot, sweaty, foggy planet. Like, he's not getting up from that chair for a while if you know what I mean.

But on more serious note, the episode actually comes a full circle and returns to this topic toward the end:

Sheppard makes the calculation because he actually has no intention of leaving Rodney stranded on an alien planet. He would have gone to get him even if it had taken 800 years.

Continued in Pt. 2

[save-the-data]

My Stand-In | s01e08

Thai Drama - 2024, 12 episodes

Episodes | Gaga | Viki | YouTube |iQIYI | WeTV | Catalogue

Native Title:#ตัวนาย ตัวแทน

A: “Professional Body Double” (职业替身) by Shui Qiang Cheng (水千丞)

Genres:#LGBTQ+#Romance#Drama

Tags:#Actor Male Lead#Transmigration#Adapted from a Novel

Cast:#Up Poompat#Poom Phuripan#Porsche Tanathorn#Mek Jirakit#Inntouch Naphat

Couple: #Up x Poom

[neverscreens]

— BILLY BURK IN ZOO, SEASON ONE.

S01E01 First Blood, 30 Screencaps.

S01E02 Fight of Flight, 23 Screencaps.

S01E03 The Silence of the Cicadas, 54 Screencaps.

S01E04 Pack Mentality, 58 Screencaps.

S01E05 Blame It on Leo, 73 Screencaps.

S01E06 This is What it Sounds Like, 66 Screencaps.

S01E07 Sleuths, 69 Screencaps.

S01E08 The Cheese Stands Alone, 43 Screencaps.

S01E09 Murmuration, 55 Screencaps.

S01E10 Emotional Contagion, 44 Screencaps.

S01E11/E12 Eats, Shoots and Leaves, 90 Screencaps.

S01E13 That Great Big Hill of Hope, 40 Screencaps.

Like or reblog if it was useful, every interaction shows us that we should keep making screencaps for y'all ♡

[kewltie]

S01E08 - [untitled 1]

He knows Kacchan, but he doesn't know this older and more subdued version of Katsuki, who can barely stand to look at him. The heat from the bath makes his head swim as he sinks deeper into the water and his eyes fall shut. Maybe the next time he opens them, it'll be all a dream.

izuku being like this oh this katsuki thinks im a burden and annoying while in reality katsuki took izuku into his home, cooked his fav food, and had a quiet panic when izuku wore his clothes like he's v much affected by izuku's presence

[actiaslunaris]

Regina ‘live-watches’ Last Man: Zenmou no Sousakan S01E08.

This time, Minami, attending to personal business along with Agatsuma, attempts to foil a bus hijacking. Godo discovers what has brought Minami to Japan and is not happy about it.

Content warnings for the episode: blood, violence, child death (I do not comment on this).

Ah, Godo isn't jumping to conclusions, but he's aware that he’s not going to like the answers he gets.

OUCH, Godo reacting to Minami not denying that he had an ulterior motive is both heart-breaking and played so beautifully. That little very quiet sob, that indicates he’s trying to hide emotion from Minami, but still revealing so much. He's so invested already while Minami -- apparently -- isn't. (I call bull. Minami is totally invested, but he's shutting off that emotional consideration in favor of a rational one, focused on a goal. Also, he’s unaware of how Godo feels right up until the point Godo breaks composure.)

The one-two punch of betrayal is done quite well. Godo is hurt by Minami, but he does give him the benefit of the doubt before he gets noticeably angry, but when it comes to his family, the anger is well-justified. His sister-in-law knew nothing; you can see it on her face.

Everyone except for Agatsuma is quite angry with Minami, now that Izumi has told them all he knows.

I like the maturity of everyone in response to this revelation. It’s dramatic, but no one is casting blame or guilt-tripping; they’re accepting what has happened and dealing with it from a personal perspective that is actively communicating where boundaries have been crossed.

Enough personal drama, straight into the case of the week. I find this switching gears a bit grinding.

I had to get up and walk around when Minami actually got shot. Picked up my kitty and gave her a hug, lol. And then I replayed it on half-speed. So much good hurt-comfort in this episode.

How much do I love that he just shoved Agatsuma down and was already thinking about her safety first, in getting her to stand behind him? He cares about her so much.

There's some inconsistency on how much blood is on Minami's hand but I'm going to write that off because he did say it hadn't stopped bleeding.

Me, shipping Agatsuma and Izumi, thinking, oh, that's a lovely moment for them there, as she sees him out the window.

The message on the handkerchief made me laugh, not because it's funny, but because I'm fairly certain Masha wrote it himself and his penmanship is so grandiose. I believe it reads: "Search the magazine capacity of the handmade gun. Please Cindy." And it does look like it was written by a non-sighted person, because of the placement of the letters, although there is more evenness in the lines than I would expect.

Points to Izumi for knowing English, good for you, Izumi.

For once, someone acting like being shot is painful. No pushing through pain to unbelievable extents.

Some other parts of this story stretching my unbelief, but when you only have forty-five minutes to tell a story... *handwaves*.

Both of them have been shot on the left side. Nice mirroring.

Godo's rant is perfect. I have no sympathy for the criminal this time. The inciting incident is tragic, but his self-absorption makes it so that I can’t. We’re not supposed to, either.

Awwww. The members of the team that Minami has most impressed are the ones most worried about him, while he's most concerned about the safety of Godo. Agatsuma’s dismay when she realizes she’d almost forgotten about Godo, too, is done well.

Hello, Debbie.

This conversation between Deborah and Godo is very interesting for revealing what preconceptions Minami brought into his relationship with Godo. I keep turning that in my head too: these two children tied together by fate. What if they had met before this? But they didn't. And yet, they have a pre-existing connection regardless of the forty-one years they were not in each other's sphere.

Flashback to Minami playing piano with his mother, his mother from whom he inherited his dimples. I wonder if he's aware of that, that he carries her smile with him. (Splendid choice of casting for that one little detail.)

What an appeal. Godo would have to be heartless to resist.

I don't even need slash goggles for this show. It's all so on the surface.

This little moment of surprise as Godo comes closer is so telling. Minami was expecting something else besides what Godo does.

Two goals of the writers, in this episode, obviously: first) further the relationship between Godo and Minami, via very short-lived conflict that immediately gets tested so that it can leave room to figure out what actually matters and second) tell a ripping good tense story that puts them both into danger. Inextricable from each other, even if a bit rushed, in my opinion. However, still handled well and gives an excellent point about social media that can stand to be pressed a bit more often.

[scratchybeardsweetmouth]

Thanks for tagging me @lodessa in the WIP Folder Meme and for @youcancallme-ray for the Last Line - WIP Meme! I barely write so I unfortunately have nothing for this but just going to share some notes or initial plans or ideas I had that well, were initially WIPs, and now are just rotting in my folder (or brain) left un-giffed.

Goran Visnjic in every episode of Red Widow - I stopped at episode s01e04

Jorah Mormont in every episode - I stopped at s05e08 and have yet to compile for s05e09

Iain Glen as John Manly in Black Beauty - the last scene where he lets the horse roam

Iain Glen as Sonny McElhone in his undies helping a friend out of his heart stopping 

Tedbecca... (Ted Lasso and Rebecca Welton scenes) (see below the cut)

I kinda wanna tag writers that might actually enjoy the WIP Folder Meme and Last Line - WIP Meme but this reply of mine might be confusing lol! For any writer that does wanna check out that tag game, please see the links in the first paragraph.

########################## tedbecca side by side in one scene 1x01 - welcome to england 1x01 - drinking water after press 1x02 - keeley arrives with lion or panda (extra 1x02, standing in front of press) 1x02 - that's y you're the boss / toy soldier 1x02 - cake from sam's bday 1x04 - ted lasso, my god! 1x05 - ted in rebecca's office with head injury 1x06 - just the man i wanted to see 1x06 - ey boss glad u could join us 1x06 - oh spirits 1x07 - rebecca comforts ted/panic atk 1x08 - meeting milk sisters 1x09 - biscuit boost eggplant suit 1x09 - apology 1x10 - toast 'win whole fucking thing'

########################## tedbecca because you loved me by celine dion

for all those times you stood by me 1x08 - don't want to give him the satisfaction

for all the truth that you made me see 1x04 - who sees who he really is? you're not.

for all the joy you brought to my life 2x04 - walking together outside ted's place 2x01 - that laugh cheering from the box

for all the wrong that you made right 1x09 - rebecca apologizes, 'i forgive you'

for every dream you made come true 2x12 - you too ted! champagne to celebrate?

for all the love i found in you 1x02 - toy soldier

ill be forever thankful baby ---

you're the one who held me up, never let me fall 2x10 funeral, ted continues the song

you're the one who saw me through, through it all 1x04 hug or the start of convo --------------------------------------

you were my strength when i was weak 1x04 hug outside the gala

you were my voice when i couldn't speak 1x08 dart scene

you were my eyes when i couldn't see 1x09 i forgive you

you saw the best there was in me 1x09 eggplant suit

lifted me up when i couldn't reach 2x10 funeral, ted continues the song

you gave me faith 'cause you believed 1x09 apology hug

i'm everything i am

because you loved me

########################## struck by fuckin' lightning

1x01 how you holdin up 1x02 fuck me (biscuits) 1x04 *thank you* (end of gala, reacts to ted) 1x08 dart scene 2x12 you too, ted (congratulations)

########################## if you're with the right person, even the hard times are easy

1x04 gala hug 1x07 panic attack 1x08 you wanna leave? 1x09 rebecca's apology 1x10 carrying something besides biscuits 2x04 "hi ted" 2x10 never gonna say goodbye

########################## himbo moments, rebecca's reactions

1x01 ghosts need to believe in themselves 1x03 branding joke 1x03 owner of the sun 1x03 obama arm wrestle 2x12 "still" water

########################## s01e04 gala comfort s01e07 panic attack comfort s01e05 oklahoma s03e04 oklahoma s01e08 hi boss s02e04 hi ted s02e10 traumas

########################### Gifset of them with these lyrics:

God sent those eyes to get me through the night And all the shadows of the past fade into white When all the memories in my head subside You remain here, you remain dear inside, ooh

We try to understand the way the current flows We find the love and plan that only faith can know And underneath the veil of my wild eyes Is a heart unafraid to let love inside,

--  Godsent by Ben&Ben

[3x03spring]

arnold does in fact stand and walk on screen (ypm s01e08) and it feels weird to see But it's just in front of jim not with any other civil servants around

[spockvarietyhour]

[fieriframes]

[WHEN OTHER KIDS WERE HAVING LEMONADE STANDS, I HAD BAKE SALES-- SERIOUSLY. OH, YOU MUST HAVE BEEN ONE RICH KID. BUT HE TOOK ANOTHER LOOK AT HIS SURROUNDINGS. PEOPLE ARE PILIN' IN FOR EVERYTHING MEGAN'S BAKING, LIKE MONSTER CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES]

[lukearys]

S01E08 - "Tomorrow, the Hightowers land their first blow. They force you to your knees and I must stand alone".

[mndvx]

QUANTUM LEAP (2022) – Stand By Ben (S01E08) ››› Anthony Turpel as Roy Bacall

[dr-futbol-blog]

The Defiant One, Pt. 2

They contact Atlantis. The fact that Sheppard and McKay are suddenly on the same page, suddenly of one mind, is underlined by the fact that they keep using the pronoun "we". Just a moment ago, they both were using the passive voice and "I" and "you", and suddenly it's "we". It's a noticeable, tangible change. And other characters notice it too.

"We figure the Ancient satellite shot the Wraith ship down in the final battle for Atlantis."

"The wealth of scientific and military knowledge we could acquire is invaluable."

"We have to go down and take a look."

"All the more reason we should have a look. We're already here."

I want to highlight the fact that they are both doing this, and they are taking turns doing it. They are speaking with one voice and one mind, here. And not only that, but Weir is treating them the same. As an item. She definitely noticed something going on between them in the previous episode, first in Rodney's lab watching them get just a little too excited, get a little bit too close to each other discussing... theories, and then definitely during the siege, watching McKay, hearing Sheppard. There, she wasn't a barrier between them, she was their go-between.

And they are not just using words to communicate. The whole call to Atlantis, they are talking to the city but they are having a conversation with each other using facial expressions, exchanging looks, nodding at each other, moving their bodies. It's a whole conversation that's happening outside of the words used.

I mentioned in connection with Home (S01E08) that we see several times that Rodney has managed to talk Sheppard into doing something he might not have originally intended or wanted to do. Usually, we only see the result, we see them on some mission on a random planet or station that McKay wanted to check out. Here, we actually see him do it:

He mouths the words "Help me!" to Sheppard. That's all Sheppard needs. He does it... automatically, like he doesn't even think about it, it's just his natural response. Sheppard looks helpless, like he would probably do anything for this man if he thought to ask (and, um, in the second season we see how far Rodney can push that, but let's get to that later).

The "our interest is purely professional" is not only extremely suggestive. He's obviously referring to the planet and the distress call, but he could just as well be saying that about himself and Sheppard in general and he would be lying. But also, he's speaking for the both of them here. He is. speaking. for the both. of them.

They both also look really miffed when Dr. Gaul tries to get in the way of their budding adventure, and the poor guy really did end up paying the ultimate price just for having been in the vicinity of fire and powder, which as they kiss consume.

It should also be pointed out that while McKay is clearly doing the instigating, Sheppard is the one who goes so far as to lie to Elizabeth. That is, he goes above and beyond for McKay. Also, Elizabeth clearly did not believe for one second that their interest was purely professional, whether regarding the planet or their interpersonal relationship. She has clearly given up trying to reign them in.

Once they're on the planet, we see McKay apply a chapstick to his lips and act like a real bitchy queen toward Dr. Gaul (and as he stands with his hands folded across his chest behind the title card, we're not left wondering who the 'Defiant One' of the episode is supposed to be; McKay is the defiant one in that he refuses to go by Sheppard's plan to keep him at arm's length). They start bickering, with very little gusto. Sheppard interjects with: "Alright, knock it off, guys. I've spent the last fifteen hours listening to you two."

First of all, Dr. Abrams might have a whole different characterization of what the past fifteen hours in the jumper had been like:

Second, Sheppard is both jealous of people Rodney gives attention to and uses projection as a psychological self-defense mechanism pretty much constantly.

There's a scene in First Strike (S03E20), where Sheppard seeks McKay out for no other purpose than to spend time with him (he was just out discussing comics with Ronan and Teyla, being completely useless) and he walks in on McKay and Zelenka arguing. He quips with "Why don't you guys just make out and get it over with?" (which just tells us that he a) wanted to make out with Rodney or b) had done so in the past, but we'll circle back to that later and c) he thinks that the best and possibly the only way to get McKay to stop bickering is to make out with him).

He wants to be the one bickering with Rodney. He does not like it when he gives that much attention to someone else, no sir. By what we saw of their interaction earlier, it doesn't seem like McKay had been talking to Dr. Gaul very much if at all on the jumper, having been engaged in learning how to steer it and focusing on trying to trying to find that straight line.

Sheppard manages to do two things, here: he stakes a claim on Rodney and he attempts to reclaim some modicum of distance between them because back in the jumper, he had just completely forgotten why he had started doing that in the first place. Now, in his fatigues and with his hand on his weapon, he remembers again.

He cloaks the jumper and tells the others to remember where they "parked it". It's a very fatherly thing to do. Like they're a family on a vacation. But are we to understand him as a dad with three toddlers he has to watch out for, or..?

The other scientists certainly act like toddlers. They're basically doing the "Are we there yet?" routine, wondering why they had to park so far. They have clearly never been out on a mission before, so Sheppard explains mission protocol to them; that there's a reason that he does things the way he does. By this time, McKay already understand this. Sure, he also whines about having to walk such a long way, but it's more to connect with Sheppard and to show the others that the two of them are on the same team: "Don't worry, Brendan. We weren't all built for fieldwork. Seriously, we're almost there, right?"

Yes, he's kind of tired because he isn't built for fieldwork (and Sheppard knew this perfectly well when he chose him for his team; and we have seen McKay try to learn how to work on the field). But he's also kidding, again trying to get close to Sheppard by pointing out that he has a special connection to the Major where Sheppard tries to keep a distance (emotionally, but he's also walking real close to Sheppard).

They happen across the planet's indigenous life, the shiny space bugs (and tell me Rodney's first instinct here isn't to grab Sheppard's arm), and have the following exchange:

McKay: Oh, what's that? Gaul: Is it a bug? Sheppard: A space bug. Abrams: It's giving off a pretty strong life-signs reading. McKay: OK, did I mention how allergic I was to bee stings? Sheppard: Maybe he smells the food. Gaul: Maybe he's just smelling the girlish fear.

Dude. Dude.

What Dr. Gaul says is not just offensive but a really stupid thing to say on an alien planet in a whole other galaxy. You have no idea what that thing is or what it's capable of. Dr. Gaul clearly never left the lab before. Not only is Rodney McKay braver than he could ever fathom, this man was just afraid of knowing the jumper was moving. Of motion.

Note also that where previously we have seen Sheppard exhibiting many classic signs of attraction, here we get one from McKay: wanting to share personal things, personal information. Over the seasons, we learn mostly through Sheppard bringing these factoids up that he has done this quite a lot. In Spoils of War (S04E12), we witness how Sheppard has both received and retained a lot of this kind of personal information about McKay (remembering details pertaining to someone? Also a sign of attraction), how he feels comfortable sharing what amount to rather embarrassing stories with the Major:

McKay: Don't worry, I've got an excellent sense of direction. Sheppard: Didn't you say you got lost in a garden maze once? McKay: I was ten. Plus, I was running from a bee.

This is really rather important, because this is juxtaposed to what takes place between McKay and Keller in Brain Storm (S05E16), when we are to understand that their relationship is starting to bud. McKay tells Keller: "When I was ten I ate a bowlful of strawberries and threw up. Haven't been able to stomach them since." We are explicitly shown that this is something he does when he is intending to bond with someone romantically. We've seen McKay overshare things about his childhood, as with Sam Carter in SG-1, with him literally telling us that he's doing it to bond with her. Only, he does this with Sheppard a lot. And unlike other characters, Sheppard not only remembers these things later but also returns to them, brings them up again and again to reinforce the bond between them.

It's really quite beautiful how here, Sheppard not only doesn't react to Dr. Gaul's words at all (which probably had the intended purpose of masculine bonding with the Major by picking on Rodney), but he actually soothes McKay's concern. Twice. First, he suggests that the bugs aren't out to get them but just smell the food, and then he uses a really gentle voice, smiles at Rodney and (seemingly punning) says "Well, let's leave it be(e) and it'll leave us be."

Not only is he not ridiculing McKay, he's showing that he's genuinely there for him, both against the space bugs and ignorant lab-rats who clearly don't realize what a hero Rodney really is for him (or what fear is. He knows what fear is).

(Also, returning to Hide and Seek, S01E03, where Sheppard himself calls fear unmanly; we later learn that that's his father talking; the part of his father he has internalized and that Rodney has actually unwittingly helped him combat from the start by showing him that fear and bravery aren't mutually exclusive).

Sheppard and McKay are a team. We see it later in the episode, but already here: they make each other stronger, and help each other overcome their weaknesses.

And Sheppard was never going to join in on mocking McKay.

In the jumper, it was he that actually sought out Rodney to mock Dr. Gaul and his unsuitability for fieldwork, reinforcing the bond between them. And I have to emphasize again how gentle he sounds here. He cares about Rodney and has no reason to pretend otherwise here because he neither cares nor values the opinion of these people. If anything, being able to stand strong for Rodney (for a change!) just makes him feel a sense of pride, being able to be useful to him brings him closer to Rodney.

Continued in Pt. 3