#and then of course at the end. in that last moment. a bitter and horrible echo of that very first crozier scene

[wrizard]

tags c/o @boogiewoogieweeb because they gave me CHILLS

#the terror#francis crozier#harry goodsir#jesus; that first gif hits like a truck#not to discount crozier and goodsir's interaction here;#least of all for the tenderness of goodsir's care of crozier being juxtaposed with what he was forced to do to gibson just prior;#but the line “i know lieutenant little's nature” just breaks my heart into a million pieces every damn time#because he does. crozier DOES know little's nature#he knew it even as he gave little the order to take the men and head south; to live#francis was so; so certain that edward would return for him and the others#and he was right! he was right to put that much faith and trust in edward!#just not right enough#because if there had been even a shred more honesty and open communication between them from the very start;#if edward had been even just the slightest bit more self-assured of his standing by francis' side as his second#then yes; i do not doubt for one second that edward would have been back there lickety-split with more than a dozen men in tow;#regardless of whether dundy still took the vote in his absence#no matter how bad the odds looked or how risky such a confrontation could prove to be;#if edward possessed the same kind of confidence in himself that francis did in that moment;#nothing would've kept him from saving his captain and whoever else needed saving; of that i'm certain#but there simply wasn't enough trust between them for francis' belief and edward's determination to become a reality#they both fumbled the bag so monumentally badly when it came to trusting one another;#francis allowing his own insecurities to poison edward; and edward allowing francis' disapproval to cloud his better judgement#like... yes; francis. you DO know edward's nature#you trusted him enough with the lives and well-being of both your men and your ship when you couldn't care for them yourself#but do you also know that YOU planted the seeds of self-doubt in him that led to the situation you now find yourself in?#do you know that despite how strong his resolve and how loyal his heart is; both are crumbling at this very moment#under the weight of betrayal after treacherous betrayal; the very first of which sprung directly from you?#francis; you know edward little; the first lieutenant of the terror. but you have long since lost sight of edward little; the man#who is trying so desperately to keep everything tied together and from falling apart;#but who is failing so miserably that it will cost every remaining life you yet value; except your own

THE TERROR ▸ 1.10 we are gone

[cupcakeslushie]

First || Prev || …

Here’s the next part of the Kendratello AU! I knew it was going to be very dialogue heavy, so I figured writing it out would be fast, but I’m so ready to be done with it that I’ve not really beta read it. So I apologize for any errors. But enjoy!

Splinter loves his sons, but these last few days have been eating away at his already shriveled and fraying nerves. Watching his children ambling around their home, for months, each in varying states of anxiety, fear, and distress, hasn’t been easy on his old heart.

They’ve been through so much, experienced more hardships than Splinter has ever wanted for them. But the latest crucible tearing his family apart was caused, not by some ancient demon, or world-ending threat—but a fiendishly smart, young woman.

One who’d kidnapped his son and replaced him with a stranger that Splinter hardly recognized.

The bitter tale is too familiar for the old movie star to painlessly swallow. It seems fate played such cruel tricks sometimes. Always seeming to strike harsher the second go around. With outcomes even more brutal and painful. His son was stolen by a hateful, sadistic woman, and kept locked away, until she was satisfied with the new toy that emerged from the shadows.

So it stands to reason how…relieved Splinter had been that one, early morning. When his three sons had pulled Purple into his bedroom, piling into his bed, nothing but wide eyes and panicked shouting; one over the other. Looking back now, he can recognize how short-sighted his quick relief had been. But in the moment, as a father, Splinter had only seen this new, strange development as a blessing.

Donatello might have been confused, and irritated with his brother’s manhandling, but Splinter could clearly see more life in those eyes than he’d witnessed in months. Splinter had shushed the rest, and spoken to Purple directly, finally getting a better grasp on what his sons were shouting about.

Amnesia.

So, of course, relief. Because how could forgetting all those horrible, tortuous weeks in that woman’s grasp, possibly be a bad thing? By some miracle, Splinter’s boy had been returned to him. Nowhere near that frail ghost of Donatello, which Splinter would sometimes find curled up on the floor of his own lab, screaming Kendra’s name and sobbing to be returned to her care.

He had been spared all of that, like it never happened. Their family had been handed a gift, and Splinter truthfully wasn't interested in the whys of it all…

Until Michelangelo chose to contact Draxum, and words like “brain damage” and “tumor” were thrown into the mix.

An entire day of testing yielded…varying results. They were able to rule out the scariest of options. No dark shadows were seen in the X-rays of his son’s beautifully brilliant brain, and no concerning squiggles were pointed out by the Hidden City doctors who studied the fast moving waves appearing on the EEG. It was all a bunch of nonsense to Splinter, but Donatello nodded like he agreed, when he was handed the papers over to inspect himself.

Everything was normal, physically.

That left the most difficult part of the day. Getting his son to speak to a psychiatrist—seriously, and without snarking back at every possible question he would eventually be asked.

Draxum had thankfully picked a good one. Briefing her beforehand on…everything. She seemed prepared for Purple’s special brand of cynicism. The sheep yokai was apparently at the top of her field.

A tentative diagnosis of “dissociative amnesia” had been given, along with a small number of pamphlets and printouts. The doctor had informed Splinter that certain treatments might improve Donatello’s situation, but no cure had been discovered for something like this.

They would just have to take things one day at a time. And they’d been doing so well. Almost like everything was back to normal.

Splinter had become very good at ignoring that pending feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He smiled at his sons every day onward, like nothing was wrong. And all of them, in return, began falling back into a more comfortable ease around each other. The stress had just been starting to loosen in Red’s shoulders and jaw. Orange was giving real, honest smiles again. And Blue was no longer a shadow around corners, hiding from Purple like a bomb he was scared to set off.

But the other shoe that had been the root of Splinter’s dread, finally dropped, and the rug was pulled from under their feet once more, violently, with no warning.

Even after they’d managed to calm Donatello down. There was no negotiating the terms of his reality, and he was stubbornly convinced that the world around him was fabricated. Without caring about the consequences, he refused to be civil towards any of them, treating them all like jesters in a play, where no one had the script.

The family’s usual process for dealing with Purple’s anger–letting him cool off alone in his lab until he collected his thoughts–was unfeasible this time around.

Splinter didn’t think he could ever forget the image of his son, turning the knife he held in his hands inwards, and threatening to end his own life.

No; leaving him alone was not an option.

Which led back to Splinter’s previously mentioned frayed nerves.

Four days into this new, stressful change, and his genius son was still managing to find creative ways to sneak past their watchful eyes. Six attempts, in total. Each time, caught with seconds to spare, and just as traumatic for everyone involved.

Raphael and Michelangelo at the moment, were going through their home, removing every sharp implement they could find. Anything that could possibly be used to “put an end to the loop” that Donatello was convinced he was stuck in.

While the two performed their important task, Blue and Splinter had the harder of the two jobs; watching Purple.

Splinter was currently sitting comfortably in his chair, but it was far from his usual level of relaxation. Despite plenty of bean bags to occupy, the twins were locked in a shoving match. For some reason, they were fighting over the single, smallest one they must’ve owned.

“If you don’t get out of my personal space, I swear to Oppenheimer you will regret it, Leonardo!”

“And I swear to Ryan Renolds, that I’ll shred all of your softest hoodies if you kick me in the nuts one more time!”

“That Barbenheimer joke doesn’t even make sense, you idiot, that was Ryan Gosling!”

“Who mentioned Barbie? I’m talking about Deadpool and Wolverine!”

“What does that movie have to do with anything?!”

“Fuck dude, what did I just say about nut shots!”

“Then get out of my kicking radius, and your non-existent nuts will be safe!”

“BOYS!”

Both his sons quickly pause their arguing, giving their father their undivided attention.

“Leonardo, go help your brothers.” Splinter demands. “I will watch Purple. He has not had a moment of free time from any of you in days, and it is clearly wearing on all of us.” Blue gives his father one of his patented unimpressed stare downs.

“No offense, Pops, but how is you watching him, any different than me?”

“Because I will sit in my chair, and Purple will scroll on his phone, and there will be quiet.” Splinter can’t stand the bickering any longer. He knows both his sons will benefit from this time apart. It’s just convincing Blue of that.

Donatello’s gaze is boring holes into the back of Leonardo’s head while his second oldest son matches Splinter’s scrutiny. The rat can see the need for some fresh air battling against Blue’s desire to stay close. But Leonardo is his sharpest son, and even he can admit that his constant presence has become too grating for his brother.

“You need to watch him like a hawk, Dad,” Leo glares at his twin out of the corner of his gaze, “sometimes you can get a little…distracted.”

The new projector, playing Splinter’s same old programs, flashes against the curtain hung on the wall. The volume is set to low, but Blue still looks pointedly between his father and the screen. Splinter doesn’t blame him for his concern, so he tries to put all the gravity he can into his tone, enough that when he does promise to stay vigilant, it seems to convince Blue to place his trust in him.

Purple stays quiet through the exchange, only breathing a sigh of relief once his brother is long past the threshold of the den. He looks ready to lean back into his hard won pillows, but Splinter realizes that Blue had something of a point. Donatello is positioned quite far from him, and he’s suddenly nervous about catching something in time.

“Purple, how about you come sit with me.” Splinter suggests it kindly but firmly, and with a smile– so his son can’t refuse. He pats the bit of cushion next to his legs, “I will honor my promise to leave you alone, but I would be much more relaxed if you were within my reach.”

His boy merely blinks at him, blank faced, and staring at the very spot that Splinter has just created for him.

It isn’t as though his recliner is small, even if Splinter himself is. Donatello had custom made it for him, after one too many complaints about his old brown one hurting his back. It practically swallows Splinter, but remains just stiff enough to provide plenty of support for his lower back. He could even lay sideways and still have some space to stretch.

Splinter recalls very clear memories of all his sons fighting for a spot by his side when they were younger. But it has been some time since those days…perhaps Donatello thinks he’s far too old for such a thing as sitting by his aging father. Yoshi remembers himself at eighteen, and shudders. He’s forever thankful that no matter how lacking his parenting skills might have been, that his boys are kinder to him than he ever was to his Jiji.

Donatello pulls at some invisible thread of his black leggings. Since this new alteration of his memories, Purple has taken to wearing more layers. It’s nearing fall, but not nearly cold enough for the large sweatshirt, black leggings AND socks that his son is currently donning.

Splinter just barely hears Purple murmur a jumbled, “Huh?”

Splinter catches some sort of emotion actively being suppressed behind the bewildered shock at his offer, but it’s hard to tell what it is. Over the years Splinter is ashamed to say, he has grown very bad at reading his own children. Especially Purple, who, if he was being honest, has always been very hard to decipher.

Splinter starts to think the offer will be rejected, when Purple finally climbs to his feet and ambles slowly over. The unknown emotion skittering at the edge of Donatello’s expression morphs into something closer to suspicion. This one easy to identify, especially when it practically drips from his next words.

“Trying to endear yourself to me won’t sway me into falling for your tricks.”

The barb is said just as unkindly as everything else Purple has thrown at his family these last few days. Splinter lets it slide off him like water. He knows his son would (probably) never speak to him like that if he wasn’t stuck in such a painfully clear mode of survival and uncertainty.

“Yes, yes.” He says, untroubled. “Come sit and I can finally lean my chair back.”

Donatello watches him the entire time as he cautiously settles into his spot. He yelps when Splinter grabs his ankles and pulls his son’s long (thin, still much too thin) legs across his lap. For an instant, Splinter freezes, growing worried he’s overstepped. The act had been done without a thought. It’s the way Purple has always liked to sit, finding it more comfortable than any other way. Donatello preferred to keep his distance. A deviation from his siblings, for sure.

Michelangelo would press as close as possible, two sides smushed together like a hug, only without the constricting limbs (though, if Orange were ever to fall asleep in Splinter’s chair, those too would eventually find their way to catching him in their hold).

Leonardo preferred to sit on the arm of his chair, never staying still for long enough to find a comfortable position. But when he slumbered, after a long night of binge watching Novela’s with Splinter–he would curl up, head in his father’s lap, limbs held tight to his body. Like he was afraid even that was asking for too much.

Raphael, his poor, eldest son, hadn’t sat with him in so long. Splinter could still remember a little turtle tot in red, climbing up and splaying out onto his lap when he needed a good cry–or just a moment of peace from his much too loud siblings. Sadly, it wasn’t long before his Red was too big, and his father too small to provide such a refuge. The last time Raphael needed consoling; after the Krang, Splinter had been forced to climb up onto his own son’s knees in order to reach and wipe away his tears.

In the few rare instances of Purple seeking out physical touch, this was all he would allow. Legs stretched over his father’s lap, but his upper body was always off limits. Pulled just far enough away from the threat of any sort of long term contact.

Splinter used to wonder if Purple was scared to ask for anything more, like Leonardo, or if he thought depriving himself of a comforting hug would make him seem stronger, like Raphael, or even the rare times when Michelangelo wished to appear more mature and refused to be comforted. Eventually, Splinter caught on to the truth. His son was asking for comfort, in his own unique way. He was content with the minimal amount of closeness, as long as he felt like he was able to dictate the terms.

But one thing Purple would always allow his father to do, was loop his fingers around his ankles. Trusting the grip would hold his legs in place and keep him stable. He once said the pressure was small enough that it wasn’t overwhelming, but strong enough that it could ground him when everything became too much.

Even now, the act of reaching out to pull his son’s long legs up had been so instinctive. When Splinter looks over and sees the uncertainty still on Purple’s face, he knows he’s pushed too far too quickly.

It’s a risky move, but he’s already pushed, and it’s something that never fails, not once since he’s discovered it.

Purple has always been the most ticklish of all his brothers. Another thing that never really helped his sensory issues. But Splinter long ago discovered that there was a particular spot, which could always earn him a giggle and a brighter smile.

Splinter grips the meat of Donatello’s right knee and jiggles it back and forth. The silly action seems to do the trick and knocks something loose in his son’s overwrought head. His gamble pays off spectacularly, and Splinter is overjoyed to see a small smile erase most of the uncertainty clouding Donatello’s face. It isn’t a full peal of laughter, but the wariness makes way for something softer, and the huff of air from his nose is just as rewarding as a full body laugh.

His boy rests his shoulder and head onto the cushioned back of the chair and Splinter presses the button that will lift up the leg rest, and recline them both into a more restful position.

After a few moments of quiet, Donatello slowly pulls his phone from the pocket of his hoodie. Even without looking directly at him, Splinter can feel his son watching and waiting for the reprimand he thinks will come. Instead, Splinter raises the volume of his show just loud enough for him to hear, but not enough to completely shatter their peace. He wants to make Purple feel more at ease; like he’s not being constantly surveilled–not providing more overstimulation.

They sit like that for some time. Splinter rubs a thumb back and forth across the meatier part of Donatello's calves. He’s learned that repetitive touch is the best kind of grounding technique for Purple. The patterned motion always worked to calm his nerves.

Even still, after only so long Splinter catches Purple lowering his phone.

He keeps his own gaze forward, locked on his commercials. Splinter can see, without looking, that his son is studying him, trying to take apart something in his mind that he doesn’t understand. Splinter allows him all the time he needs to gather his thoughts.

Finally Purple speaks, “Dad…?” It’s so quiet, if Splinter hadn't been waiting for it, he might’ve missed it.

He pauses the repetitive kneading for just a moment, squeezing his hold, and humming in order to prompt his son to continue his thought.

“Can I tell you something?” The inquiry is whispered to him so delicately. It takes everything in him to keep his face open and soft and his movements steady. It’s clear that Donatello is trying his best to remain aloof, but his gaze is locked on his hands that are settled in his lap, the fingers of one pulling on the digits from his other.

At some point he must’ve put his phone completely away. Splinter feels the pressure of having Donatello's complete focus aimed at him.

The tugging intensifies. Splinter wonders if he should reach out, but he’s not sure how well that would be received. It doesn’t look painful just yet.

“I don't know what Kendra is accomplishing by showing me this.” Donatello growls, suddenly digging his palms into his eyes like he can still feel the weight of the screen blocking his vision. “Trying to make me happy, only to rip it all away from me? Or attempting to make me feel, even more like a useless burden than I was?”

It’s the first crack in his armor that Purple has shown in days. A clear sign that he was not as unaffected by Kendra’s lies as he’d been trying to project. Donatello sighs, but as it dies out Splinter thinks it sounds closer to a sob.

“You can’t tell the others…” Donatello looks at him with wet, desperate eyes, and it’s unclear if his son still doubts who he’s speaking to, but Splinter works to ease his fears all the same.

“I swear, whatever you tell me will remain between us, alone.”

Donatello nods faintly, eyes trailing downwards once more. Splinter may have had trouble before, but now the many emotions jumping across his son’s face—fear, shame, frustration, all are easy to catch.

With a shaking breath he whispers his secret. “I lied.” He’s crying now, real tears that he doesn’t even bother to wipe away. The pulling at his skin grows more violent, and Splinter finally interferes to carefully pry Donatello’s hands apart before damage is done. In place he cradles his son’s hands like delicate porcelain and runs a thumb over Donatello’s palm.

“I told everyone that I could tell. That I wasn’t being fooled, but that’s not exactly true. The last few loops have…it’s been getting harder, and harder to remember things— how they really happened. Too much is…plausible.”

Splinter keeps silent. This confession has clearly been weighing on Donatello. He deserves to get it all out, and hopefully feel lighter for it. Even if Purple suspects the family, something is letting Donatello open up enough for him to share his fears.

“There was one loop…Mikey broke…he broke the remote…When I said I didn’t have time to fix it. He threw the pieces at my head. He would never do that, though…right?”

“No, of course not,” Splinter answers immediately, quick to banish the doubt from his son’s mind. Donatello only blinks at him, like his thoughts are moving too slow, and cannot comprehend such a simple, stark contradiction to what he experienced.

“It felt so real…it all feels so real. But…I could feel how one of the sharp, broken corners had cut through my mask and how the wet fabric stuck to my skin with blood.”

Donatello raises a hand and touches the spot where the phantom wound must’ve sat. The pain now gone, but the memory of it haunts his eyes and rattles the tremors building in his hands.

“I thought…I thought I was handling this—maybe not well…But I’d hoped I would be strong enough to last until you all came for me…And now Raph is saying it’s already over.”

It’s a simplified form of the truth which they had tried to get Purple to believe, but even that much clearly doesn’t sit well with him. “If it is over, why does my body feel like one massive bruise? How did you all find me? How long did I last? Was I in there long enough to…?”

He’s clearly scared to ask Splinter any more questions, so he trails off, curling in on himself and pulling his hands up to his chest, pressing there, as if checking to make sure he feels something still beating.

Splinter decides he’s waited long enough and slowly pulls Donatello out of his hunched ball and guides his head to his own chest, making sure his ear is aligned against his own pulsing heartbeat.

Donatello resists slightly at first, but the moment he’s close enough to catch the sound, his breath catches and he glues himself to the spot.

“I don’t want to be there anymore,” Purple murmurs. It sounds like sleep is catching up with his son, the exhaustion pulling him down and slurring his words.

Splinter cups the back of Donatello’s head and carefully tug his fur lined blanket down from where it’s been sitting on the back of his chair. The blanket slots over the both of them and Donatello curls even closer to his father, tucking himself into his warmth.

“Go to sleep, when you wake up, you will be right here.” He’s sure to say it softly but with as much reassurance as possible, and Donatello seems too tired at this point to hold onto his doubts.

“Okay…,” Donatello mutters. Then, practically hanging on to the waking world for one final query hesitantly asks, “…Dad?…Do you love me?”

Splinter doesn’t even think. “Of course, my son.”

Donatello’s breathing finally evens out, and Splinter feels a few tears finally escape.

He’s not sure what next steps they should take, or what kind of state his son will be in when he wakes, but Splinter can only hope this is progress. He prays it won’t be undone…but regardless, Donatello is home. Any steps back or forward will be taken together, and that is the most important part.

[hereforthe911buds]

The party is going great, perfect even.

Too perfect.

Buck Bitter and Benevolent.

Buck had planned out every little detail of Eddie’s going away party. He put all his energy into this as he constantly felt his insides vibrate due to holding something back.

He finally quit denying himself weeks ago. Somewhere between an itch and realizing he found his home. Realizing he found his person. A person that is now leaving him, like everybody else has.

Eddie is leaving for a good reason, he knows that. Chris above everything, something Buck even lived by.

But his entire world has come crashing down around him. First Chris left which was hard enough, a kid who would be his if anything ever happened to Eddie. Then Tommy broke up with him because he wasn’t Buck’s last. Buck is now positive he knows what Tommy was alluding to.

Now Eddie, who somehow through the years of their friendship became Buck’s rock and arguably his everything. He would run into a burning house for him (which would sound more impressive if they weren’t firefighters.) He would dig to the center of the earth for him. He practically already tried.

When Eddie first announced he was moving to everyone, Buck began receiving these sympathetic glances the moment Eddie looked away. Buck didn’t understand why. Sure Eddie was his best friend, but people move all the time. Why would he need sympathy?

Then one day he was helping Eddie pack away some belongings, feeling like death as he did. But his best friend needed assistance so of course he was going to provide it. He came across some loose photos, with a few clustered together of him, Eddie, and Chris. Looking so happy. Like a unit. Like a family.

Then it hit him. Everyone else knew before him. He was in love with his best friend.

He looked over his shoulder at Eddie in the kitchen, plates clanking together as he stacks them into boxes. In the kitchen Buck knows where everything is at. In the house he is not a guest in. With the person he must recognize he built something with. Buck has loved many people before: Abby, Taylor. But the way he loved Eddie, he didn’t recognize it as love because it was so easy. And now that he noticed it, he can’t unsee it.

There are times he wondered if Eddie felt the same. The occasional lingering look that feels like more. He wakes up on Eddie’s couch with a blanket draped over him, one that wasn’t there when he nodded off while they watched a movie. There was a night after a few beers that Eddie rambled about how he was going to miss Buck, reaffirming that Buck is his best friend. Buck wondered if Eddie was going to admit he loved him too. He didn’t. And Buck had to hold back the words from slipping from his lips as he said he’d miss him too.

He then put all that angst and impending doom into making everything perfect for Eddie. He knew a big part of Eddie did not want to move back to Texas. He loved the life he made in L.A., but Chris was there so Buck understood. He did not want this process to be any harder on Eddie than it had to be. Buck can bear it all. He always does. It’s his superpower.

But it was giving out. The party was going along smoothly, but it was solemn. They rented out the backroom at a bar frequented by dispatchers. Streamers hung on the walls, a few unnecessary balloons scattered about, and a table with some pictures of Eddie with friends. Buck intentionally left out any of just him and his best friend. He could not handle another reminder of those pictures they took so easily wouldn’t happen anymore.

He wishes he had not put them out now. The party felt like a funeral.

Buck sits in a back corner by himself, nursing a beer. He is only allowing himself one. Not only for safety in getting home reasons, but because he is scared that if he drinks just a drop too much, he will unravel.

All the energy and distractions he created for himself end tonight. Then he must accept how horrible he feels because he can’t change anything after. Eddie keeps coming around to make small talk with him, that natural pull which defaults to being joined at the hip. Buck feels rude that he can’t contribute much back, but then Eddie is pulled away by people who actually want to talk with him. To Buck’s relief but also his heartache.

The sympathetic glances are becoming too much. He must look like a kicked puppy. His sleep schedule is a mess. Working out extra to relieve the stress. Does he have “in love like an idiot” written on his forehead?

Bobby and Athena step up next to him. They don’t say anything for a moment, whether simply to provide some silent support or waiting for Buck to make the first move. He does not make a sound though.

“It’s okay to be sad,” Athena starts, “Even if it’s for a good reason.”

“I know,” Buck hisses bitterly before pulling back, “Sorry.”

“I hope you know you can talk to us about anything,” Bobby reaffirms, “No judgement. We will always make time for you if we can.”

Buck nods. He still has not said it out loud to anyone yet. He once talked to Maddie about his conflicted emotions regarding Eddie leaving. Her eyes were knowing but she did not press much. The only thing she pushed was he should talk to Eddie about everything he’s feeling.

He can’t though. Eddie already has enough on his plate. Eddie also can’t reciprocate, so what’s even the point? Buck may already be losing their friendship, but he doesn’t want to ruin it by admitting something that will not change anything.

“Maybe after tomorrow,” is all that Buck gives. Bobby gives a nod and squeezes Buck’s shoulder.

“We are about to head out. I have an early shift in the morning,” Athena comments, “Thanks for putting all of this together. It’s been a great party.”

“I scheduled you off tomorrow. See you the day after,” Bobby grins as him and Athena step towards Eddie to say goodbye.

Buck’s chest tightens; his heart begins to pound; it’s hard to breathe. They can’t leave. People cannot start leaving. That means the party is coming to an end.

That means Eddie will be leaving soon too.

He can’t do it. Maybe it’s selfish. Maybe it’s selfcare. But Buck cannot be here a moment longer. He can’t watch it end. He can’t watch every goodbye Eddie receives, knowing it is a countdown till his goodbye.

Buck decides to leave.

He first texts Maddie: I have to go. Please clean up when this is done. I’ll babysit three nights no questions asked.

As he grabs his coat from behind his chair, he sees Maddie pull her phone out to read his text. She shoots him a look and waves him over, wanting more clarity or to comfort, but he does not acknowledge her. He hightails it out of the bar.

It is a surprisingly chilly night for L.A. standards. Not like he can see his breath, but there is a nip in the air as he pulls his jacket tightly around his body. He deliberates where he should go. He could go home and cry until he passes out. He could park his car back at his apartment and take an Uber to get blackout drunk at a bar. He could bootycall Tommy to fuck the sadness out of him. Now looking back, Tommy did remind him of Eddie, but in a way that could not truly compare.

“Buck!” He hears Eddie call from behind him. He pretends to not hear as he walks towards his vehicle through the dimly lit parking lot.

“Hey what’s going on!” Eddie trots as fast as he can, grabbing Buck by the shoulder to stop him in his tracks, “The party is perfect. If you think you forgot something: no you didn’t. And if we must, we can have whatever it is delivered here.”

Buck does not respond for a moment. He contemplates what to say back. Is he really going to lie to his best friend? What lie would he even come up with? Food poisoning at a party they don’t have anything but cake and snacks at? He cannot act like he forgot some random plan, as if his life hasn’t revolved around tonight for weeks.

He is too much of a mess to hide. Maybe he can lean into it doesn’t matter in a positive way. Expelling it from his soul so he never has to wonder what if, while already knowing that answer. The last time he lied to Eddie, about the date with Tommy, he felt horrible. It hung over his head until he unraveled to Eddie a day later. He does not want to leave them like that. What’s the worst that could happen? Eddie never talks to him again? It’s practically already happening.

“I didn’t forget anything. I’m going home,” Buck releases.

“What?” Eddie ponders, looking very confused, “I was going to order us a round of shots once Cap left. This night ain’t close to being over.”

“Eddie, I-” Buck is choking on his words. He accepted he should tell Eddie how he is feeling, but where does he even begin? Buck had never given a moment’s thought to actually telling him.

Eddie’s face immediately softens, reading Buck in a way no one else can, “What’s wrong? Come back inside. We can talk just you and me at the bar.”

“No!” Buck does not mean to raise his voice, but everything is heightened: his blood pressure, his heart rate, his emotions splashing over the dam.

Eddie looks taken aback. Buck telling him no? When has that ever happened, “Then tell me here.”

It’s all spilling out, “What do you want me to say? Not to go?!”

That’s when Buck can see it: the gears of Eddie’s mind locking up.

“That I don’t know what I’m going to do without you? That the last time I felt this horrible was-” but he stops himself. Abby.

“But I can’t tell you that. I want you to be with Chris. Chris is and should be the number one priority,” Buck can feel his voice shake and his eyes burn. He is ruining everything.

“I can’t say any of that. So I have to go,” Buck declares with more confidence than he has.

“You don’t… you don’t have to go anywhere,” Eddie mumbles, “I could come with you.”

Buck feels punched in the gut. Of course Eddie would offer to go with him. Of course Eddie will provide unconditional support, just as he would for Eddie. What is Buck going to do without this?

“No, you can’t.” Buck responds, “You have a party inside full of people who love you and want to send you off. And then you need to get home and finish tidying up so you can leave before the morning traffic rush tomorrow.”

Eddie does not respond to that, because it’s not like Buck is wrong. All of those statements are true. Eddie wants Buck to be wrong.

“So, I’m going to go home, and you’re going back inside. Order those shots and take an extra for me. I want you to have a good time tonight,” Buck declares earnestly, “You deserve it.”

There’s another moment of silence before Buck whimpers, “If you don’t want me over in the morning before you go now, I understand, but please let me know when you leave and when you make it to El Paso.”

“I’d want you there.” Eddie quickly affirms, “I don’t know if I could do a goodbye to you in front of everyone anyhow.”

Buck nods, “I’ll see you bright and early. If you can, let me know when you get home tonight? And tomorrow I’ll grab us some coffee on the way over.” He then turns around to continue to this car.

“Why?”

Buck stops.

“Why do you not want me to go?” Eddie questions.

Buck does not turn around. He can’t bring himself to say it. He can’t bear to put his heart on the line like that. Eddie is not rejecting him. If Buck says it, then he would.

“You know why,” Is all Buck responds. Another brief moment of silence before he steps to his Jeep and drives off.

Eddie is left standing there as his entire life recontextualizes.

[morgana-ren]

Has your opinion/understanding on Astarion's character changed much as you play through the full game?

Actually, yes! Big spoilers again btw.

So, I will admit, my perception of characters is always slightly biased. It's always tilted in favor of my own predilections and desires, so I tend to see things in a skewed way. The less information I am presented, the more my brain will fill in the gaps thusly.

In the early access, Astarion is presented as a selfish vampire spawn clawing for his own survival from the vicious vampire lord that spawned him and has held him captive for centuries. It should be noted that he is one of the only companions open to the idea of abusing the tadpoles rather than removing them and only seeks to cure them if they cannot be controlled. It becomes apparent that he craves power above all else. He dislikes altruistic speech options, tends to veer directly towards ones that bolster said power, especially at the expense of other people. He seems the closest to a stereotypical 'chaotic' follower that you really get.

However, he isn't evil. He's a very rounded character despite his inherent selfishness. He is manipulative and vicious, but he is also desperate and afraid and slow to trust. Most of what he does, he does for his own survival and comfort rather than active malevolence-- though that isn't always the case.

You get an alright idea of him in the early access, as in enough to know if you're going to want to keep him around and invest time into him as opposed to just dropping him at camp perpetually. You catch glimpses of the man he is behind it all, but mostly he appears flamboyant, resourceful, flirtatious, and of extremely dubious morality. Fun, right?

Very, very wrong, actually.

As you progress through the game, you come to understand him better, and it's... tragic.

The first thing to slip is his explosive temper. He is confused, bitter, and frightened. He expects Cazador around every corner, stalking in every shadow, watching and waiting to sling the collar around his neck and yank once more. Paranoid. He has mystery scars painstakingly carved into his flesh that he cannot see because of his condition, in a language he cannot read, with horrible memories he doesn't want to recall. He is angry, and he isn't in the company of people he trusts even remotely at first and literally cannot remember the last time he was in centuries. He bottles up all those emotions to avoid the devastating vulnerability of showing emotion and shoves them down beneath his posh and nonchalant facade, and eventually, it finds a way out.

Occasionally, he snaps. He becomes enraged and has these moments of intense anger.

And then, there is what you might think to be a moment of connection.

Astarion, once he decides that he approves of you, will make a move to seduce you. Should you accept, you might find that he says something along the lines of "Isn't that why you came? To lose yourself in me?"

It seems like typical seduction dialogue at first, but this is very deliberate. The wording is very deliberate as is everything he does. Like a choreographed waltz that he has danced again and again and again--

Until it comes as natural as breathing.

After your night together, he evades a conversation that would take anything any further. No relationship, no nothing. Just a one off that turns you into the equivalent of ye olde fuckbuddies. He stays by your side, of course, but nothing changes between you other than him acknowledging what happened.

So, you progress a little more.

Eventually, both through necessity and happenstance, he does end up opening up little by little. And you find out bits and pieces about him. But there's one that stands out to me:

The crazy blood bitch in Moonrise dehumanizes him, speaks down to him, and refuses to even acknowledge his personhood. She only speaks to you, and makes you an offer regarding your 'property.' An invaluable potion for a moment with 'your pet vampire spawn.'

And he has a visceral reaction to this.

If you have a fucking heart and you don't make him do this, he comes to speak to you later and confides in you. Cazador had used him essentially as a honeypot, forcing him to use his body to lure unsuspecting citizens back to the vampire's den-- against his will. He was so degraded, so dehumanized, and so looked down on for so many years that he has genuinely come to believe that it's the truth. He thanks you genuinely for considering him and viewing him as a real person with emotions and feelings, but is also... confused. He doesn't understand, because that rotten, stagnant belief is still a truth to him: That he is nothing but a tool and a means to an end; that he doesn't matter. That he is a filthy thing to be used and cast aside when convenient. He doesn't understand why you didn't make him do it when it was only his comfort on the line.

And if you ask him to drink from her, he will. He stiffens his upper lip and drinks despite the fact that something is wrong and he knows it. He does it because you command him to. Because that's what he has done for so long that you don't have to have the lord's control over him anymore for him to follow orders.

There is a moment of stark, dreadful realization that sex and seduction have an entirely different meaning to him but he has still been doing it. That the love and connection that he truly needs might be support and a friend and not a bedfellow. That his agency and personhood have been stripped away for so long that he doesn't even recognize them anymore. He is bitter and mean but vulnerable and confused and terrified and he doesn't know how to seek comfort, so he resorts to what he knows while simultaneously distancing and degrading himself.

He does not believe that he is worth loving or caring for, or anything but being an object to be molded. Used. Discarded. He suffered for so long that this is a fundamental truth to him. He is a monster. A filthy vermin barely a step above the rats he's been fed.

You do what you should do: You give him the power. You try to build him back up. Try to help him understand that he isn't a monster or a tool. He is a man; he is a person, and he deserves a say in his own fate. His wants and desires matter. What he wants matters.

If you've done things right, he will take a gigantic leap of faith. He will be with you-- truly be with you. It's slow and he doesn't understand, but he knows he wants it, and you take it as slow as he needs-- but he's still hurt. He is still scarred.

In the Sharess Caress, there are a pair of Drow twins that will attempt to seduce you into what is essentially a foursome. If Astarion is there and he is a love interest and you attempt this, he will say "I'm really not ready for this." while looking extraordinarily uncomfortable, and almost panicked. The scars are still there, and they're barely healing over, and still so, so tender. Easy to tear right back open. Easy to push back into his shell to never come out again, because he tried vulnerability and it burned him.

He does not think he is worthy of love or happiness. He doesn't get to have a loving partner who adores him. Even slipped free of Cazador's yoke, his claws are still stuck steadfast in his soul. He is taking it slow and barely learning to trust another being again, leave alone put his neck out and care for one. He wears his misery as a shield because it cannot hurt him that way. He is a monster who has done horrible things and deserves to be alone forever. And even if that isn't the truth, then Cazador is still lurking out there, waiting to strike-- to rip away that newfound happiness.

Astarion is, above all things, a truly tragic character, and one that I empathize with. It makes my adoration for him slightly guilty. I'm not all the way through the game quite yet, but what I have seen hurts my heart something dreadful. With my character, he is slowly learning to trust and love again, but it's painfully apparent that he thinks he doesn't deserve this, and he is simply waiting for something to fall apart and send him back into the spiraling black chasm that is his life. He still believes all these miserable things about himself. He was forced into immortality, and he believes he's going to spend it alone, reviled, and wretched - not to mention enslaved.

As fun as it is to have a sexy, dark, controlling Astarion, I don't think it's necessarily true to his character as he is presented if you choose to do things right. He isn't evil - he is a complex, tragic man who desperately needs to be able to see his own reflection in a way that isn't horrifically warped by everyone else's eyes.

Vampire. Monster. Killer. Slave. Pet.

It's been so long he's lost track of himself. Of Astarion the man.

He needs to find himself and find peace. He asks to view himself through your eyes, maybe because he's looking for something-- anything-- within himself to hold onto.

If you ask me again in a few days, I'll probably have a fully fleshed out idea of his character, since I'll probably have completed the game or at the very least gotten a bit further, but this is what I have at the moment. Doesn't mean I'll stop writing Astarion as I adore, but I've always openly admitted that my writings on characters are skewed despite their actual content lmao.

[soapymansuds]

Eternity and counting

Pt 4

(Pt1, Pt2, Pt3)

(Ragggggh!! Actually remembered to post on a Tuesday this time lol.)

Obey me! X Angel!MC (They/Them Pronouns)

TW: Suicide, depression, self-deprecation, death, big feelings, lots of sad.

MC just can't handle anything anymore and takes their own life. Imagine their dismay to find even death isn't the end for them.

~/\~

I catch a whiff of fresh lilies as I continue to the castle. Curious. The castle has always smelled like roses. They were never Lord Diavolo's favorite, but they reminded him of his mother. But the closer I get, the stronger the smell, until it finally comes into view. Bushes and vines covered top to bottom in every species of lily I've ever seen in the human realm run elegantly up the walkway, over the entrance, and across the windowsills. I can't help staring in awe as I approach the front doors, I've never seen the entryway so decorated, even for Diavolo's parties or festivals. I wonder what the occasion is.

Within thirty seconds of my knuckles connecting with the door, it's opened with a flourish. Barbatos grins that trained grin I learned to detest in my time here. Nobody ever understood how I did it, but I could always tell when Barbatos was simply smiling for his Lord's image and when he was smiling for his own enjoyment. Part of me was always nervous he could see the same in me, but if he ever noticed, he never brought it up.

"Welcome to The Demon Lord's Castle. Please, Come in." He bows, sweeping his arm to welcome me.

"Thank you." I nod, stepping inside the frame and to the side of the door. Before he can even close the door behind me, I'm offering him the paperwork I was tasked with bringing.

"Ah, actually, if you don't mind following me. Lord Diavolo has requested to meet you. When he heard that Michael was sending a new angel, he insisted on meeting you. I'm sure you know the importance of those papers. It is quite unlike Michael to entrust a task of this magnitude to an angel we've never even met." He explains as he leads me down the hall.

I nod. "Of course."

I shouldn't have nodded. Why would I agree to this? It was instinct, I'm sure. Babatos could ask me to follow him straight into wild seas and I would, without a second thought. And now I've agreed to follow him to my own torment.

He moves silently as he leads me upstairs and out onto the balcony. My heart squeezes itself shut as I see Lord Diavolo, leaning over the balcony to admire the flowers below. He doesn't turn to greet us immediately, but something about the sag in his shoulders and the tension in his knees begs me to hold his hand. Soothe his worried thoughts until he has no choice but to sleep it off and start anew the next day. Something must be horribly, horribly wrong with me.

But the feeling is fleeting as he turns to us, standing tall as ever with that cover photo smile.

"Ah! You must be Michael's new angel! He seems quite fond of you." He strides towards us, clasping my hand firmly in his own. "Though, I admit he never gave me your name."

He poses the question so simply, and I have to fight the gut instinct to answer him honestly. But it burns, bitter and angry in my stomach as I summon the name Michael had given me for the sake of my privacy in the Celestial realm.

"Well it's a pleasure to finally meet you." He nods, but his wording gives me pause.

"Finally?"

"Of course! Michael has brought you up nearly every time we've spoken in the last several months." He laughs. God that laugh. I've dreamt of it. It makes me wonder for a brief moment if the cloaking spell expresses my growing blush.

But I disregard the consideration for the thought of Michael and the absolute hell I'd be giving him when I return. He's been plotting this for months, that bastard.

"Well, I'm glad to hear he speaks so highly of me." I bow lightly, presenting the paperwork to him. He takes it quickly, tossing it onto the table next to him.

As I stand back up, I wonder what to do with the sudden silence.

"Well, It's been a pleasure to meet you." I grin, wings flicking quickly. A nervous habit I've picked up since sprouting them.

"Right! I'm sure you have some important business to attend to." He claps his hands together. "Give Michael my best." He turns back to the railing and Barbatos moves to usher me out. But before I go, a question was lingering in my mind. "If I may, why lilies? Michael always tells stories of your grand rose gardens."

The balcony grows cold with the fall of Diavolo's gaze. Something unsettling burrows itself in my skin, burning like ice in my mouth.

"Lilies were MC's favorite." He mumbles. Practically whispers it into the wind.

But the sound reaches me anyway, and despite the gentle tone, it feels like being punched through the chest. "What?" I heard him, he knows I did. And he's right. Lilies are my favorite. Always have been. But I ask the question anyway. Because I simply can't comprehend why that would matter. It's been over a year now, they should have gotten over it. And yet, here he is. Mourning, right in front of me.

Barbatos places a tentative hand on my shoulder, whispering to me. "MC was a dear friend of ours. They... passed, some time ago." There's a pitch in his voice I don't recognize. Regret?

"And so, we maintain the garden, to show to them when they are reborn." Diavolo adds, smiling softly at me over his shoulder.

Something in the view of it all chokes me. Like swallowing a cotton ball.

They're still waiting for me.

Are they all still waiting? Lord Diavolo is one thing, but the brothers? Do they expect me to come home? Do they want me to? Why would they want that? After all I've done.

Before I can even consider it, I feel the familiar warm slip of tears down my cheek. Emotions I haven't grappled with in some time burn in my throat, clawing at my vocal cords and squeezing my airway shut. I hate this. I hate this feeling so much my hands shake with it. I never should have come here. It's selfish to say, but I could have gone on not knowing this. Had I stayed in the Celestial realm, I could have gone on for eternity, selfishly unaware that I was still wanted.

I swipe pathetically at my tears, wings flicking as I straighten my posture. "I'm, uh, terribly sorry for your loss." It's barely above a whisper but I know they can hear it. "But I... I should be getting back now."

They can tell something is wrong, of course they can. But rather than stick around for questions, I take off, sprinting through the halls of the castle and out through the front door.

I'm running on instinct as I navigate the streets of the city. I don't remember where I'm going, all I know is I need to get there fast. I should just return to the courtyard and wait for Michael to send the portal back to get me. But something in the idea of going back to the celestial realm brings bile to my throat.

So I follow my subconscious blindly, feet slamming against pavement and heart nearly shaking with the effort of it all until I come to an abrupt stop. My eyes, bleary as they are, recognize the sight before me like I had last seen it yesterday. The House of Lamentation looms over me, glass eyes challenging me from within the gate. The elegant iron rods of the gate twist around themselves and each other like a den of snakes. And I feel the same warm comfort from them as I always have. I pointed out the striking serpentine similarities between this gate and himself to Levi once. He was offended at first, but was quickly struck dumb when I pointed out how much I liked snakes.

The urge to press the gate open burns like fire in my hand, but I know that if I do, I won't be able to go back. There's no way I'd leave on my own once granting myself entry, and there's no explanation for my presence if I'm caught.

But if I turn around now, I will never come back. Damned if I do, damned if I don't.

(UGHHHH I hope y'all are still enjoying!! As always, comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist)

-Your friend, The Author <3

*tags*

@spffldlbrnf @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @seraphlies @averageradstudent @sasa-mya @ayshela @miracl3d

[deconstructthesoup]

One thing I really liked about the Scott Pilgrim anime is that Gideon is the only one who remained evil.

Yeah, he got a depression arc, and he got a girlfriend who's scary enough to not take his shit and for him to actually respect her, but he's still evil. He still fully intended to blow up a theater to get back at someone. He got his CEO position back, and we all know that that's only an opportunity for him to be more evil. And if the end credits scene is to go off of, he's got plans.

But the other exes? They got closure. They got character development. They got to move forward. Because they honestly... weren't that bad.

Matthew Patel, who had the biggest glowup, was literally just a middle school thing. Yeah, Ramona ditched him and was kind of sucky, but it probably wouldn't have lasted anyway. And like she said, he didn't really get "evil" until high school, and by then he'd already moved.

Lucas Lee? Maybe he had some mild toxic tendencies when he and Ramona dated, but from what he saw, he was actually pretty sweet during their relationship. In the comics, he's honestly the most reasonable of the exes, deciding to actually have a chat with Scott before Scott convinces him to grind to death. And he didn't do anything to Ramona to make her break up with him---she just dumped him for Todd.

Todd Ingram, while being a little bit obsessive---and based on the comics and the anime, a compulsive cheater---didn't seem that horrible when they were dating, either, unless you count the "punch the hole in the moon" thing. He and Ramona broke up because of a long-distance thing. She went off to college, he went back to Envy. Bit of a douche? Yeah. Actively horrible to her? Not really, honestly.

Roxie Richter, our incredible half-ninja lesbian, is arguably the best out of Ramona's exes. She and Ramona had a genuinely healthy relationship, they actually got along great, and Roxie deeply cared about her... and Ramona straight-up broke her heart. When you look at it, Roxie really is the only ex who fully did nothing wrong. No erratic tendencies that caused Ramona to decide to cut her out, no behaviors that Ramona probably knew would become problematic unless she split. Roxie was sweet, she was Ramona's bi awakening... and Ramona didn't like her as much as Roxie liked her. The whole situation was just mass miscommunication, and it's totally understandable why Roxie is still bitter down the line. Unlike with the others, Ramona's fully in the wrong, which is why they need to reconcile first.

Kyle and Ken---okay, in the comics, they were amazing villains, and it's kind of a crime that they keep getting shafted, but honestly... I get it. Their relationship with Ramona wasn't actually that complicated. They were players, she played them back, they resented her for it until they got over it. Of course they're the exes that are kind of the masterminds in the anime---along with Old Scott---and of course they're the exes that are the most chill.

Gideon, on the other hand, is the only ex who can only be described as a full-on bastard. Out of all seven of the "evil" exes, Gideon's the only one who Ramona outright says was abusive. In the comics, beyond just starting the league, he controlled her and Scott's mind and straight-up imprisoned his own ex-girlfriends, fully intending to do the same to Ramona. He's also the only ex who was defeated by both Scott and Ramona, and it's the most satisfying thing to see him fully get his ass kicked. It's fully unsurprising that his backstory in the anime was that he was an incel who nobody liked, and he got dangerous once he got money.

So of course, when all of the other exes are getting cool redemption arcs, moments of self-actualization, coming-out moments, and instances of actually befriending the heroes, Gideon's the one who stays an asshole. He has a fall from grace and becomes a loser, the girl who he winds up with is also evil and thinks him being evil is hot, and at the end of the series, they're a villain power couple, emphasis on villain. Gideon learned to treat his girlfriend with respect, and probably moved on from Ramona... aaaaaaand that's it. He's still a dick. He's still an evil mastermind.

So... yeah. The Scott Pilgrim anime is great, as are the comics. Check 'em both out.

[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Don't you think it's funny cause actual canon gay characters in BL manga will say "I love you" but only the shounen bromance can spew out some of the most romantic shit akin to a 19th century poet writing a letter expressing his surpressed love for his lover 😭.....

Genuniely can't tell if it's bait or not, but I'm going to treat this ask seriously anyway.

Here, have some examples of beautiful and poetic expressions of love in BL media!

I'm going to start with my favourite murder husbands, Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu from Word of Honor/Faraway Wanderers!

This happens in episode nine, less than one third into the story- it's that early, they've known each other for like a week and are already able to tell they're meant to be. They've made their decision to be together, and over the course of the story:

They defend each other multiple times and fight side by side in multiple episodes, sometimes protecting their adopted kid/mentee Chengling as well

Zhou Zishu is willing to go against the whole martial arts society for his boyfriend. With zero hesistation, might I add.

They both know the other has done horrible things (lots of murder on both sides here) and that's not only okay, it's a big part of why they're soulmates and get each other so well!

Zhou Zishu is slowly dying (poisoned nails in his chest, long story) and Wen Kexing can and will risk his life to save him. Don't worry, they get a happy ending both in the show and the novel even if the show's last episode is behind a paywall and Netflix didn't even include it for some reason?

But enough about them, let's move on to the immortal fantasy genre boyfriends Hua Cheng and Xie Lian from Heaven Official's Blessing!

Please note how Hua Cheng is ready to accept Xie Lian in whatever state he's currently in- as a god, a fallen outcast, even grieving and angry and at his absolute lowest. He's stood by Xie Lian in his worst moments, even if at the time Xie Lian had no idea it was him.

Hua Cheng has loved Xie Lian for 800 years, ever since he was a boy Xie Lian saved from falling to his death during a procession.

Xie Lian became a god, then fell due to horrible circumstances, almost committed a war crime against another nation that destroyed his country, spend 800 years wandering the mortal realm as a poor cultivator with his powers greatly reduced, and eventually ascended to become a god again. Throughout it all, Hua Cheng loved him and did his best to help him and then find him.

They're both adorable and the definition of a power couple once they're reunited- no spoilers, but they eventually fight an incredibly powerful god side by side and win & the last scene in the story is them reuniting for good since there's no more obstacles to their immortal love.

Let's move on to my favourite Japanese BL, Our Dining Table (also available as a series that came out semi-recently, but the examples below are from the manga.)

Yutaka is a lonely salesman who meets Minoru, a restaurant worker and his much younger brother Tane grieving the death of their mother.

Yutaka and Minoru hit it off by bonding through food they cook and share. The series is incredibly heartwarming, and as seen above Yutaka becomes a much happier person thanks to both his new relationship and big brother-like bond with little Tane.

As a little bonus, the whole found family together!

This post can't be complete without Golden Stage (or Golden Terrace, as the English official translation calls it).

Fu Shen and Yan Xiaohan aren't even in love at this point! This is at the beginning of the story, when their marriage has just been arranged by the emperor and they're still bitter rivals.

Yan Xiaohan is already protective of his future husband- later on, he also builds him a mansion meant to accommodate his disability (nerve damage in both legs, which requires a wheelchair and/or crutches). They're both incredibly powerful military generals, and the emperor was an idiot thinking an arranged marriage would humiliate them.

Of course they fall in love, of course they're a power couple, of course they send each other letters through trained geese when they're separated during the war, of course they run to each other as fast as they can across a wide cold river when they're finally reunited! Of course they're important to me!

....Aaand how about some Wangxian to wrap up this post? They need no introduction, an absolutely wonderful and complex relationship in a complex fantasy/intrigue story available in several forms - the books, the animated series (as seen above), the live action series, the audio drama, there's so much!

Some of their most beautiful moments:

Lan Wangji writing a song for Wei Wuxian and naming it Wangxian. Years after it's composed, Wei Wuxian plays it and LWJ is able to recognise him even in a different body.

LWJ begs WWX to come with him to Cloud Recesses, to safety, after WWX makes himself an enemy of the whole cultivation world for protecting innocent people.

They confront the final villain together, and work together to expose his crimes. This is also when their final love confession happens, and it's hilarious- in front of everyone's salad, WWX declares he also wanted to sleep with LWJ.

Despite censorship, the animated series was still able to allude to their wedding, showing them in red wedding robes (unfortunately can't find a gif rn)

Respectfully, if you genuinely think BL doesn't have beautiful love confessions and displays of romance, you need to find better BL.

[whor-ror-forever]

Ash Williams and Pyramid Head x AFAB Reader

Words: 1834

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Dubcon, violence, forced exhibitionism, oral, vaginal fingering and vaginal sex, slight cum inflation

Summary: Ash and you try to warm each other up, but are rudely interrupted

Read on Ao3

Ash was horribly obnoxious, and unfortunately, you were trapped with him. 

The biting cold from outside seeped into the room, forcing your body to shiver so hard it felt as if your bones would break. Your knees were pulled tightly to your chest, visible breath emanating from your mouth like smoke. Several generators to go, but you badly needed a rest, your lungs burning from having been running in the bitter frost for what seemed like hours. 

“You know,” Ash speaks up. “We could warm up if we huddled together.”

You look at him and roll your eyes. “Yeh, you’d like that wouldn’t you.”

“Look, baby, I’m just stating a fact! I’m not exactly happy with this shit show either.” He said. 

At least it was light outside, and the sun never set. 

“Fine, but our clothes are staying on,” you groan. 

“Woah, woah, I never said anything about getting nude,” Ash replied. “That’s your little fantasy, not mine.”

You reluctantly scoot close and press your body against his. He wraps an arm around you. You didn’t hate the guy, he was a good person deep down and he had done some good things, but his cockiness and pride kinda of pissed you off. 

“Damnit, my hand is frozen solid,” Ash groaned, trying to bend the fingers of his metal prosthetic. “If I had my chainsaw, we’d be outta here in no time.”

“No weapons,” you said. “It doesn’t want us to be able to fight back.” 

It just wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve this hell, most of the other survivors didn’t either, shit, you were sure that even some of the killers probably shouldn’t be being punished like this. You felt tears start to form in your eyes, and quickly tried blinking them away. 

“Awe, come on kid, don’t get that way,” Ash said. 

“I’m just….tired,” you replied. “I don’t know the last time I slept, or ate, or bathed, or….”

Ash looked at you, waiting to hear the end of your sentence. “…Yeh,” was all you said. 

The truth was, you had been pent up for the last…what was it, month? How long had you been trapped here? Long enough that your body was badly aching for release, but of course, you never had the time. You knew that some of the others would sometimes sneak away from the campfire, but they were braver than you.

And you hated to admit it, but sometimes when you were being pursued, it turned you on. The feeling of your heart racing, blood boiling, muscles cramping, knowing that it would be all over if you were caught; the thrill got you going. 

You looked up at Ash. His greying hair, his slightly soft but nice body, his confidence, it was all arousing in that moment. Sure he got on your last nerve, but you were desperate, and he was a good looking man. 

“Maybe we should do something to warm up, like get our bodies moving,” you said. 

“What, you wanna do some squats or jumping jacks?” Ash retorted sarcastically.

Shit, was he going to make you spell it out for him?

“No dumbass, I meant…” you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Your face turned red, and you looked down at the floor.

Ash stared at you in silence for a long moment. “Sweetheart, are you…sure? I’m twice your age..”

Ah, so he did catch on.

“So? I’m a fully grown adult, aren’t I? And I’m cold,” you responded. 

Ash sighed. “It’s gonna get colder if we strip.”

“We’ll warm up pretty quick,” you said. “And…it shouldn’t take long.”

Ash scoffed. “I can’t tell if that’s a jab at me or you saying something about yourself.”

“Come on, Ash, is it a yes or no?” You asked. 

The older man put his hand to your groin and started to caress. You took in a deep breath, but mostly unable to feel his touch through your thick pants. 

“No, no, you gotta-“

“I know, I know, here,” Ash muttered, slipping his hand into your waist band.

His fingers found your wet heat. You gasped a little, spreading your legs and giving him room to work. 

“So, uh, how long has it been since you….yanno,” he asked. 

“Awhile,” was all you said.

Ash used his free hand to palm at himself as he started to circle your clit. You closed your eyes and bit your lip. Normally, you would already be close after having waited so long, but the situation was making it difficult. The cold, the hard ground, the fear of the killer, it was all uncomfortable. 

Ash slipped two fingers into your hole, making you yelp. You writhed, trying to enjoy it.

“This doing anything for you, baby?” He asked sincerely.

“I think…I think you gotta fuck me, Ash,” you replied. 

He huffed. “Boy, oh boy…”

You quickly shimmied your pants and underwear off, letting them fall around your ankles. You gasped as your exposed cunt was assaulted by the cold air. Ash returned his hand to you, spreading your folds.

“I know how to prep you,” he said, bending down.

He put his face between your legs and started to tongue your clit. You threw your head back, leaning back on your hands. He lapped up your folds, dipping his tongue inside of you and returning to suckle your hard bud.

“Ash…” you whimper, legs starting to shake. 

“This good?” he asks, lifting his head for a moment, his mouth coated in your arousal. 

You nod, and he goes back down.

“I want you inside me,” you said with a shaky voice. 

Ash hums, sending vibrations into your core. “I don’t carry any lube on me, so I gotta make sure you’re good to go,” he answered. 

His warm tongue swirls around your clit, teeth occasionally grazing it. He fucks your entrance will his tongue, tasting your sweet juices as your cunt throbs for him. Your body responded, and you could feel your stomach start to tighten. 

“Ash, please!” You begged. 

“Alright, baby, alright,” he smirks, and unzips. 

He frees his cock, thick and erect. Your spread your legs wider as he moves between them, lining himself up with your hole. He rubs his cock head over your clit, then nestles it between the lips of your cunt, ready to plunge inside. 

You hear footsteps.

“What was that?” You ask, snapping out of your blissful state. 

“What was what?” Ash replies. 

A tall, hulking figure appears in the doorway behind Ash. 

“Oh, SHIT!” You cry out, quickly scrambling away from Ash.

The Executioner raises his sword above his head as Ash turns to look.

“Fuck!” He shouts, swiftly spinning around and putting his arms out in front of you.

The extreme blade crashes down on Ash’s shoulder, splitting his torso. He chokes up dark blood and collapses to the floor. 

“Ash!” You scream as the Executioner grabs him by the hair and lifts him up to his feet.

Ash coughs up more blood as he thrashes and grunts. You can’t help but look at his softened cock flopping every which way as the Executioner throws him aside. 

“R-Ruuun…” he groans, too hurt to stand.

You try to pull up your pants, but they are swiftly grabbed by the monster and ripped off your legs. He sets his sword aside and takes your legs, pulling them apart. Your still soaked cunt is presented to him, wet with your arousal and Ash’s spit.

“Don’t touch her!” Ash cries, trying to crawl toward you.

The Executioner puts a large hand down to your groin and presses a rough finger to your clit. You close your eyes and whimper, and your face burns with embarrassment as you realize that you’re still turned on. 

“S-Stop!” Ash continues to protest.

The Executioner shoves a finger inside you, curling it in a ‘come here’ motion. You gasp at the intrusion, and the burst of pleasure. Ash groans and writhes on the floor, slowly bleeding out. The monster starts to pump his digit in and out of your tight cunt, pressing against your sweet spot repeatedly. 

You start to sweat and pant, somehow enjoying this. Soon, the huge monster moves his robes aside and lets an enormous, veiny cock free. 

Ash cannot speak any longer, and is forced to watch as the Executioner rams himself into your heat with one single thrust. He is large and thick, and threatens to rip you apart as he starts bucking his hips, fucking you roughly. 

You start to cry, humiliated that Ash was dying while you were getting the life fucked out of you, and loving it. The monster shoves you down onto your back, grabbing your face and forcing you to look at the bizarre metal contraption on its head. 

You whine, begging under your breath, begging for him to let Ash live, begging for him to go faster and make you cum. He pounds you into the floor, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. You grab onto his shoulders, eyes shut tight and jaw dropped.

“I’m…sorry, Ash!” You sob. It was horrible, but part of you hoped that he would die before he had to watch you climax. 

Suddenly, you’re flipped over onto your stomach and taken from behind. The Executioner slams into you, gripping your ass cheeks so hard that you know it would leave dark bruises. You claw at the floor as drool seeps from the corner of your mouth.

The monster’s thrusts become more powerful, increasing in speed. You feel like you were about to break, his giant member impaling you and stuffing your guts in a horrible but wonderful way. Suddenly, you feel a rush of warmth shoot into your womb, and the Executioner slots himself inside of you and holds himself there. He was dumping his hot load into you, holding you still to ensure that you took every drop. 

You cunt clenches down on his length as you climax. Your cries of ecstasy fill the small building, body shaking and eyes rolling back into your head. His cum is unending, continuing to flow into your insides. 

You see stars as your belly swells from the monster’s enormous amount of release. You have been used by a monster, and God, did it feel incredible. He finally pulls out, and you feel his cum dribble out from your abused hole. 

You turn to look at Ash, who was now dead. You dreaded seeing him around the campfire that night, the awkwardness would be painful. 

The Executioner stands and grabs his blade. You don’t even protest, too exhausted. Poor Ash, though, he never got to get off. The monster lifts his sword, and brings it down on your neck, instantly separating your head from your body. It rolls away, leaving a trail of gore. 

The ground is covered in a mixture of blood and cum, and the Executioner tucks himself away before leaving to find the other survivors. 

[gnreadergames]

We can be heroes, just for one day

Pairing: Clark Kent X GN!Reader

Clark and YN’s date is interrupted, forcing Clark to make a choice that could change his relationship with Y/N forever…

Content Warnings: some wine mentions, mentions of a gun, some light kissing, mostly fluff and flirting

A/N: enjoy some short fluff I wrote while being utterly and horribly sick last week. Clark deserves a little wine and a nice kiss.

Word count: 10,085

➽──────────────❥

As they sit hunched over your cluttered and cramped desk in the dim newsroom of The Daily Planet, they will themselves to stay awake.

The aroma of stale coffee and old bagels lingers in the air, a bitter reminder of what’s waiting for them in the break room and their lazy leftovers at home. With a defeated sigh, they contemplate going for another cup of the watered down brew that’s called “coffee” around here. It’s the only caffeine they can get without actually leaving the office besides lukewarm energy drinks in the vending machine.

Their saving grace comes in the form of Clark, who slides the warm cup of some obscurely named café across their desk. “You looked like you could use it,” he smiles, rendering them speechless, but they’re thankful all the same

They perk up with a smile.

“Thank you Clark.”

They found the man charming, although he was less authoritative than his peers and less outspoken, they found his intellect and his shy sense of humor fascinating.

The two of them had talked for a while last month at the office Christmas party, and ever since Y/N had noticed that Clark and them had been spending their free time around the office doing small favors for one another, such as bringing each other coffee.

They notice him drinking from his own cup of coffee, still smiling as he turns to look at them. He takes his time drinking it, but his eyes meet theirs again as he sets the cup down, his smile bright and endearing. "So have you been enjoying the holiday break?" He asks, not wanting to make eye contact in case he ends up staring.

“It’s been good.” They nod. It’s been quiet in their house since their ex left right before Christmas, and for a fleeting moment it dampens their mood, but then the next sip of good coffee that their work buddy Clark brought them cheers them up.

“How has yours been? See any family?” They ask, they know Clark is a big family man and cares a lot for his parents, so you can only imagine he’s been visiting those friends he’s always saying he’s out with and his family at his home home.

"It was great, I had the chance to spend time with my parents and I..."

Clark's voice trailed off as he realized he was about to give away too much personal information. He had never spoken about his family before to anyone besides those close to him, at least not at length, but talking to them felt safe and... different. He wanted them to know they were more than a co-worker, despite the fact he was still figuring out what they were.

"Nothing too exciting" he finished, feeling himself smile uncontrollably once again.

“Well I’m glad you got some rest,” Y/N smiled. They wanted to touch base with Clark about what exactly they were, never quite touching the lines between acquaintances and friends…

But before Y/N could do anything, Clark spoke.

“Listen,” he said, voice low. “Would you maybe…want to get a drink with me after work sometime?” He asked, leaning against their desk.

The two of them stood in a comfortable silence, each aware of how much rides on this simple decision.

"Will you join me?" He asked, looking into their eyes once again.

"Just a drink, let's keep it casual"

They swallowed. It was so soon after their ex had left them…especially for her. They weren’t sure if they were ready yet but….

It was Clark.

They trusted Clark.

“Sure” they said. Smiling softly up at him, they lifted their cup in a silly gesture of cheers. “Toast to it?” They asked.

There it was, he had his answer. He was filled with elation and relief in that moment.

"Of course" he replied, clinking their cups together and taking a sip. They were going on a date, this was really happening.

Clark's heart soared as he smiled back at them, it was going to take time for things to develop, but at the very least, he felt confident they had taken another big step.

-

Time that day had seemed to go ever so slowly in the office. Y/N kept finding themself staring at the clock, waiting for the time when they could clock out and go home to get ready for their meeting with Clark.

Their date with Clark.

The hours dragged on, time felt like it was moving at a glacial pace, but finally, they were able to clock out and head home to get ready.

The prospect of the date had them feeling a mix of emotions, mostly excitement but there was also a hint of slight hesitation, not due to Clark but rather the recent heartbreak.

Time to get ready and hopefully try to relax a little.

They slowly prepared themselves the best they could. After a long shower with their best products, they put on their best collared shirt and a jacket, and their very best pair of jeans that hugged their ass just right.

Maybe that last part was a little vain. Y/N didn’t mind.

They then sprayed their best cologne on them, especially in the crook of their neck and around their jaw. They wanted to be tempting, even if nothing happened tonight.

Which they would also be okay with, they knew Clark liked to do things the old fashioned way sometimes. You could tell he liked to take things slow, but there was a spark, a hint of passion underneath it all.

It would take more time, but it was worth the wait.

Y/N went to the bar they agreed upon at promptly 8. The front looked like a romantic cigar lounge, the inside lit with a warm lighting and deep red interior with dark wood. Y/N liked this.

People on the street milled about, and it was still chilly since it was mid January now, the Christmas lights still wrapped around the light pole outside. They began to look for Clark to arrive, as he was almost always punctual.

Clark had made sure to dress appropriately, he had taken his time, but he was ready for this date. The night and the cool air was a good excuse to wear a coat and Clark was prepared to play the part of the gentleman for every second of it.

It was easy to spot the bar, located in the heart of the town; it was bustling with life and energy. He looks for Y/N and sees them looking out for him, their hair shines in the light and he smiles to himself.

Y/N suddenly spotted a tall but non-imposing figure in the crowd. They were always surprised how much Clark could blend in one minute and stand out the next. It was like a superpower or something.

“Clark!” They called, waving over a few couples walking past. They locked eyes with the man and smiled as he crossed the sidewalk to meet them at the entrance.

Clark's heart raced a little as they locked eyes, he didn't say anything at first, simply choosing to look at them, their eyes glowing in the lighting.

He looks them up and down, appreciating the time they obviously spent getting ready.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting long?"

”No, don’t worry you- you didn’t,” Y/N shivers. They can’t tell whether it’s the cold air or the fact that Clark is closer than usual right now but they feel all warm despite the snow on the ground. “Should we go in?” They asked, cocking their head towards the bouncer at the door.

"We should," Clark replies, moving to guide them inside. He notices the shiver and his heart flutters slightly, he's going to have to be careful. His intention was to take it slow, but with the chemistry between them, his mind kept wondering what it would feel like to kiss them.

‘Calm down, it's been hours not months, one step at a time’ he reminds himself.

As they approached the Boucher side by side, Y/N handed over their ID. They watched the bouncer scan it, scan their face, and scan their age before slowly handing it back to them with a nod.

Quietly, Y/N stepped to the side.

Clark then stepped up, they could see the bouncer inspect his ID, and as he read Clark’s name his eyebrows raised.

“Clark Kent?” The man said. “You’re that one journalist! I’ve read your articles.”

Clark smiled and nodded at the bouncer, he knew his fame would be followed him around, but he didn't mind too much. It was always surprising to see how many men and women knew him, and it always gave him a little ego boost.

"It's my hobby" he responded, before gently guiding Y/N inside with him, hoping he wasn't intimidating them too much.

Y/N smiled, sticking a little closer to Clark’s side. Suddenly, they swallowed their nerves and wrapped their hands around one of Clark’s arms at his side.

“Impressive,” Y/N said as Clark led them both further inside.

The interior of the bar was as expected from the impression outside. It was dim but intimate. There was a short but steady melody of jazz coming from a live band in a corner of the bar towards the front window in a pit like stage.

Clark smiled as he felt their hand wrap around his arm, it was the perfect amount of familiar but without being too much, he liked that.

That was a great atmosphere for a date, the live band playing a mellow and seductive song added the perfect element to the evening.

It was almost like they belonged together, even at this point.

"You know, when I'm not being a journalist I'm just a regular guy" he says, hoping they don't see him as anything other than who he was.

Y/N quirked and eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Why don’t you find us a seat and tell me more about what you do besides journalism,” Y/N smiled. “No other dark serial killer personalities I should be worried about though, right?”

Clark laughed softly, he couldn't resist laughing. It was funny to imagine himself with multiple dark personalities, and he loved that they went back to their conversation from the office.

"Well, there's no serial killer...that you know of," he replied, not able to help himself from teasing them a little.

Dark secret personality number two: Unwitting flirt

Y/N laughed softly. They didn’t know Clark was a tease.

They tucked that information away for another time.

Clark led them both to a booth in a corner, close enough that the jazz was a nice background to their conversation but not loud enough to interrupt.

A waiter came by shortly to get their order.

“What will it be?” The girl said in her neat black and white uniform with her pencil and pad.

Y/N looked at Clark. “I don’t know what’s good here. What are you getting?” They asked shyly.

Clark sat beside them in the booth, he loved how close they were in that small little moment. The dim lighting made it even better, like he was sitting with his significant other. It felt nice and he was a little nervous.

When the waiter came he replied with his order, his voice slightly deeper than normal. "I'll be having the salmon with white wine please."

He turned his attention to them. Hmm, I wonder what that cute little mind of yours is going to order? He thought.

”Can I have the steak with the red wine please, then?” Y/N said after a moment of consideration. Then, they glanced over at Clark staring at them and blushed.

The girl took their order and hurried away to serve more people. They would give her a big tip after this.

“So, Mr. Not a Serial Killer, what do you do in your spare time?” Y/N asked, propping their chin on their hand with their elbow resting on the table near the tea light candle in the center. They locked eyes.

Clark chuckled as he saw them blush, it was too cute to resist, and he enjoyed that he made them blush.

He watched the waiter leave with their attention, but quickly returned it back to Y/N. He couldn’t help but admire how beautiful they were, it was almost hard not to stare.

"I play basketball at the local rec centre, read a lot and go to the gym” he said as part of his reply, he added a bit of a smirk as he did.

“Oh that’s nice!” Y/N said.

The waiter came back with both of their wines respectively and placed them in front of them both. Clark took a small sip of his after swirling it so Y/N did the same.

It was sweet and heady, and went straight to their head. They shouldn’t have more than 2 of these tonight…probably.

“I read a lot too…” Y/N said, placing the wine glass back on the table.

He took his glass and sipped from it, looking up and watching as he saw Y/N take a sip of theirs. The sweet taste was nice on the pallets, and the feeling of the slight intoxication that it gave them was pleasant as well.

"Oh yeah? What kind of books? I like action, thrillers and mystery," he asked, his voice slightly slowed but still under control, he didn't want to seem like a drunkard right now by downing wine too fast, even if he couldn’t get drunk.

Y/N smiled.

“What a coincidence, I love a good thriller and mystery.” They suddenly leaned forward, face lit lowly by the small candle, “But I’m also a fan a good romance.”

Y/N smiled guiltily and pulled back to watch Clark.

Clark's voice caught in his throat like a school boy, his face flushed and his heart was pounding. How could Y/N have just hit him with that information so suddenly, his heart was thumping against his chest.

He wasn't sure how to respond, he had hoped there might be some hint of interest but he wasn't sure enough to try yet.

You idiot, he thought to himself, you'll ruin this if you don't play it perfectly.

The waiter came back with their food soon, and the mood cooled down. They both ate in relative happiness, occasionally taking sips of their wines.

Y/N was obviously becoming more affected than Clark was. But of course, they didn’t know Clark wasn’t affected by human alcohol like a normal person.

The jazz was nice as a filler to no conversation at the moment.

They finished their meals and sat back, ready to talk. Y/N smiled, finishing their last sip of wine.

Clark finished off his meal with ease, he wasn't an exceptionally hungry person, but he was a little surprised by Y/N’s reaction towards the wine. They made a cute lightweight.

He finished his food, setting his utensils down as he settled back in his seat. His attention was still on them, and he could tell the wines had affected something as he saw them smirk and finish their glass. He was a little nervous to ask them out on a second date but he knew he was going to.

”So, farm-boy,” Y/N slightly drawled, “Tell me about yourself.” They set the glass on the table and smirked.

Farm Boy? He hadn't expected that line, it caught him off guard, and his blush was definitely visible now. He could imagine his face was red as a tomato by this point. As they finished speaking though, he had to regain his composure.

He laughed quietly to himself, before answering them. "What exactly would you like to know?"

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Y/N asked, genuinely confused for a moment, but Clark didn’t seem to pick up on it.

Thankfully, at that moment, the band began to play another song that was low and brassy, with a sultry tone.

Y/N nodded along for a moment, enjoying the feeling the wine gave them.

“Anyways,” they continued, “you like to read huh? I know you have family, tell me about them. Your mom and dad? The farm? What’s it like being a pampered only child?” They asked.

Clark laughed at first as he took no offense to their tone, it was a bit sharp and teasing, but Clark knew they meant no ill will by it and enjoyed the flirting that was happening between them both. The change of music also provided a nice cover and backdrop to their conversation, which was nice.

"Oh so you want the full origin story?" He asked teasingly, looking at them and raising his eyebrow.

“Yeah I think I do,” they said.

The waitress came by to refill their wine.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yourrssss…” Y/N teased as they drew their index finger around the rim of their wine glass.

Clark tried to not appear too affected by their teasing but it was no use he was already under their spell, he had to bite his lip to not smile or even laugh at their words.

Clark was tempted to continue with the flirting but held himself back for the sake of maintaining a little bit of control. Instead of going straight into the full origin story he decided to meet them halfway.

"Okay how about we flip a little script?" He says looking them square in the eyes.

”What does that mean?” Y/N asked. There was a very good chance Clark was going to ask for a juicy secret in return for something perfectly mundane.

Clark couldn't help but smile as Y/N asked the question, they were clearly curious now to what he had in mind, and the mystery of it intrigued them.

"Hmm how can I explain this so it makes sense?..."

A light bulb went off above Clark's head as he got an idea to help them understand.

"What if I ask you a question instead?"

“Go ahead.” Y/N said. They were intrigued as to where this was going.

He took a moment to think, his mind running a million miles per hour right now after the wine and their continued flirting.

"Okay, well let's keep this short and sweet, what is your most embarrassing memory?"

Clark thought this would be an easy one to start with, it was a safe bet for him, and also he was secretly hoping it would help get to know a bit more about them. His mind was filled with anticipation and hope.

They flushed harder, and this time it wasn’t the wine.

They couldn’t think of anything for a moment, but then- it hit them.

Could they tell Clark this?

Really?

Well…

They sipped their wine ever so slightly again. This was the best answer they had.

“Oh god…” they bemoaned. “I guess…” Y/N sat backwards in the seat for a moment and took a big sip of their wine, preparing. They sighed.

“Don’t tell anybody this, okay?” They said sitting forward suddenly leaning close to Clark. “When I was a teenager, I had this…boy on my block. We were childhood friends but we hadn’t talked for a few years. Then, when I graduated, all of the sudden at my graduation party he showed up uninvited and dragged me…” Y/N swallowed. The alcohol was getting to them, “…he dragged me to a bathroom upstairs away from everyone and uh…that was my first time. Then I never saw him again after that party but I think about him every now and then and I also think about how I had to use my sister's makeup to cover my hickies in 10 minutes before going down to cut cake.”

Clark's breath caught in his chest as he heard their story, the way Y/N was sharing something so personal and a bit embarrassing was extremely attractive to him. He felt his heart beating faster and couldn't stop staring into their eyes.

As they finished their story he gently grabbed their hand to hold it and support them, it wasn't just for them though, it was also to keep him from reacting more than he normally would. He smiled softly at them as they ended their story.

“Don’t laugh!” Y/N giggled. They couldn’t help it, it was a pretty pathetic and embarrassing story. But now, Clark was at their mercy.

“So, now you owe me one question.” Y/N said.

Clark raised an eyebrow. They were now over the small candle of the table.

“What’s your biggest fantasy?” Y/N asked, quietly.

Clark was tempted to say some joke about his biggest fantasy involving them in the most romantic way possible, but that was too predictable and he realized there was no need to. Instead his mind went straight to an actual fantasy of his.

"Oh boy, my biggest fantasy" he said with a smirk as he thought about it, it was a lot less embarrassing than theirs but still a bit embarrassing.

"Ahh...well, you're not going to like it."

Y/N wasn’t so sure. “Go on!” They said, insistently. “Tell me all the little details, you owe me.” They slurred, crossing their arms against their chest, humpfing loudly.

Clark thought about sharing his fantasy, they had shared theirs, so it was only fair he did the same. And it was slightly cute how much they wanted to know.

Clark smiled, he was enjoying their flirty demeanor, that slur and them crossing their arms, it made him chuckle. He was finding it way more entertaining than he should have, but he couldn't resist, even if was going to result in embarrassment. He was being led down a path he couldn't say no to.

Clark leaned forward slightly, so they could hear him better.

Y/N leaned closer so they could hear at all.

Clark was close enough to almost feel their breath as he spoke.

"So for me, my fantasy is basically…to have a family..."

He smiled nervously, trying to keep his cool but it wasn't working, he felt his face become flushed from their closeness.

"That's it. Plain and simple, my biggest fantasy is to have a family of my own one day."

Y/N’s nose wrinkled as they smiled wider and wider before laughing loudly.

“Really?” They said, catching their breath. But after a moment, they considered it. “Actually…that’s really sweet. You really are a sweet guy.” Y/N said leaning back in.

Clark couldn't stop the smile forming on his face as they laughed, the sound of their laughter was soothing to him that even their laugh was attractive to him.

When they finally leaned away, he did as well, but it was impossible to hide his blushing. The whole interaction he was caught in a trance with how sweet and endearing they looked.

He wanted to reply to their compliment, but all the was coming out was a soft, awkward chuckle.

”You know what mine is?” Y/N said quietly.

Clark leaned in, intrigued suddenly.

“Affordable Housing” Y/N giggled.

Clark rolled his eyes.

“I’m kidding!” They smiled and played with the stem of Clark’s wine glass. “It’s actually to be content. Don’t ask me what that means, I’m not sure I’ll know what it is until I find it, but I think it involves someone special and a steady paycheck.” Y/N sighed.

Clark laughed at their play on words, and even their follow up explanation. They were sweet and playful, and he was growing more fond of them with each interaction. Y/N mentioned something he could agree with, a steady paycheck and having someone special in his life would definitely make him content.

Clark leaned forward slightly, his voice becoming softer, more genuine as he replied to them.

"I can understand what you mean, I think the same too. Especially the second part."

”Yeah?” Y/N said. “I think you’re doing pretty good for yourself Mr. Clark Kent getting recognized by the bouncer and is friends with Louis Lane herself” they rolled their eyes playfully.

He couldn't help but chuckle at that, they were right, he was doing pretty good for himself, but he didn't feel like explaining it to them just yet. Not to mention the fact at he was enjoying their playful teasing, he actually loved it.

"I try." He says smilingly, "That doesn't mean I don't wish my life was a little more stable and less dramatic though."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” They sniffed the last half of their wine. “What do you do on the weekends besides read Sherlock and write amazing articles?” They sighed and their eyes moved up suddenly to look at Clark over their glass.

Clark was feeling comfortable enough with them now to share a little more about himself, after all they had just shared their deepest and embarrassing secret so it was only fair he also said more about himself too. And his answer wasn't much different from their initial assumption.

"On the weekends, I try to read as much as I can, I also enjoy watching documentaries and playing certain games here and there...and that's about it."

“So, I guess you really don’t have any secret B side personality you’re hiding from anybody, huh?” They asked.

Clark started to sweat. They needed to know about him…eventually, maybe just not right now.

Clark was caught off guard, they had read him like a book, he definitely didn't want to reveal too much about the double identity he led, but at the same time Y/N wasn't dumb, it'd be inevitable that they find out, unless he did something to prevent that.

Clark smiled nervously with a chuckle.

"I mean-" he starts to reply hesitantly and hesitatingly, he pauses for a second, he can't just reveal everything now.

"Not entirely."

Y/N smiled. “Well we all have secrets, Clark…” they teased.

“I guess we’ll just have to figure these things out about each other, huh?” Y/N looked at the band playing across the bar now.

Clark would tell them. Not now.

But definitely eventually.

“Maybe I’m the crazy serial killer,” Y/N said, unconvincingly, throwing their hands out half-heartedly and bearing their teeth.

Clark couldn't help but laugh at the idea of Y/N being a serial killer, especially when they bared their teeth. The image of that scene playing out was enough to make him chuckle loudly.

"I mean..." he starts, a sly smile on his face, "I haven't seen any evidence that disproves it, so you never know I suppose."

“Well, if I get caught, you can have the first interview with me in prison.” Y/N promised solemnly, with their hand over their heart slightly drunkenly.

“But I can’t promise I won’t eat your heart out first,” Y/N winked and slid a 20$ bill on the table as a tip to the waiter along with more cash for the payment.

Clark chuckled at the idea of interviewing them in prison, but it was all a nice image to paint.

"I look forward to interviewing you then, you can also count on me to bring you some real food besides me." He joked back, playing along with their teasing.

Clark was impressed by how generous they were with the tip, a sweet personality and generous too, he could definitely see why he was crushing on Y/N, his admiration was growing by the minute.

”We should go, it’s gonna snow harder soon.” Y/N said, slurring slightly. They tipped off the last half of their wine and Clark did the same. He still wasn’t affected by it, but Y/N was feeling warm and confident.

The outside of the bar was a bit colder than it was earlier. There was more snow on the ground, but just barely enough to crunch underfoot as they walked. Y/N clung onto Clark’s arm as they slowly sauntered towards both of their apartment buildings.

Clark was enjoying Y/N's affectionate behavior, the way they were clinging onto his arm, the fact that they were drunk and clingy was quite adorable to him. The whole scene was quite cute, it felt safe and comforting in a way he hadn't experienced a lot before. He enjoyed being here, if not for the weather, it'd almost be perfect. He was enjoying this, it was a lot nicer than he had expected.

The walk home was silent, besides Y/N’s occasional humming of a commercial jingle or show theme. Ever so often, Y/N would find the courage to grab Clark’s hand and drag him along confidently towards the end of whatever street they were walking on at the moment, almost skipping and twirling around happily.

Clark had to admit, their actions when they were drunk were cute and endearing, they were so carefree it was hard not to feel happy around them. They were also rather comfortable with being affectionate as well, which he loved a lot about them.

He continued to follow along the lead, but was occasionally tempted to lift Y/N up for more of a romantic carry, but he wanted them to be comfortable at the same time, as cute as they acted and their actions he didn't want to cross any boundaries.

As they got closer to their homes, they also reached a part of town that was dimly lit. They slowed down, Clark pulling the slightly less sober Y/N closer just to be safe.

He was glad he did, because as they tried to round a corner a man decided to test his luck and step out of the shadows with a gun pointed in their direction.

Suddenly, Y/N sobered up real quick.

Clark could see and feel the sudden jolt of cold reality for Y/N, the sobering and shock was a complete 180 from what was happening only a minute ago. Their whole mood and demeanor were almost instantly changed by the sight of the gun and they suddenly became scared and alert.

Clark instinctively pulled them tight and close to him, his body instinctually shielding them with little thought behind the action, he didn't like that his mind automatically assumed he would protect Y/N but knew it was the right thing to do regardless.

”Clark…” Y/N said, backing up slightly, gripping Clark’s arm.

Clark tried his best to calm Y/N down, by the sound of their voice he could tell they were scared and he tried his best to reassure them.

"I'm right here..."

Clark kept his grip firm around their arm while moving slightly in front of them, he couldn't stop the protective feeling towards them and the fear that took over. They were right there in front of him, the thought of anything happening to them was unthinkable for him.

“Wallet. Now. “ the man with the gun said. He was in a dark hoodie.

Y/N fumbled with their pockets. They had their wallet somewhere they swore.

Suddenly, they heard a step towards them, and the seconds slowed down into a quiet silence in time as Y/N watched the gun raise, Clark step further in front of them, and the muzzle flash.

There was a loud noise. And then silence.

“Oh my god,” Y/N breathed, horrified.

In the clearing panic, Clark didn’t seem hurt, if anything, even more angry than before.

He rushed forward, surprising the man with the gun and jerking his arm so it was pinned and he could slam the guy against the nearest wall and knock him out.

Clark's reaction came as soon as they heard the step behind them and saw the gun raise, he moved on pure instinct, all thoughts of being careful and gentle leaving his mind instantly. He moved faster than he ever had before, his anger and a sudden violent urge to protect Y/N overtaking his entire being. He slammed the man against the wall with little difficulty and knocked him out. He had become almost robotic in his movements, acting purely on instinct and adrenaline.

Y/N was shaking with panic, adrenaline, and guiltily…excitement seeing Clark move like that.

“Are…” Y/N took a shaky step forward. “Are…you okay?” they asked Clark with wide, dilated eyes. They couldn’t see a mark on him despite a deep singe on the stomach of his sweater vest. It….

The bullet should’ve gone straight into him with a mark like that…

It was straight to the gut…

How?

Clark was breathing hard, his body was trembling slightly, he was a little out of breath for now he tried his best to stay put together and not show how affected he was. The adrenaline was starting to slow down in his system and leave him feeling exhausted after the sudden jolt.

He managed to give Y/N a small smile, their concern about him was endearing to him and the realization that they must've thought the worst was a bit heartbreaking. He was relieved to be standing here with them now though, safe and unharmed, that was all that mattered.

Y/N was glad to see that Clark was unharmed. But…more importantly, confused.

“Clark…” Y/N asked with a trembling voice, “How did you do that? How are you okay?”

Clark was still breathing hard, his body was feeling weak now that the adrenaline was slowly wearing off. He decided to be honest when it came to their question.

"I'm...I'm not sure, I just...reacted and went off instinct." He replied softly, he could tell Y/N was still shaken up and he tried his best to steady his breathing and heart rate.

"Why, what did you see? Did anything happen to me?"

Y/N’s voice cracked with desperation and disbelief as they frantically stepped forward and grabbed the bottom of Clark’s vest, pulling it so he could see what they meant.

“That bullet should’ve killed you! It bounced off you like nothing!” Y/N yelped.

Clark was taken a little aback by the sudden and strong reaction from Y/N, but he couldn't blame them at all. If he was in their position he'd be freaking out also. He looked down at the vest and realized there wasn't even a scratch on the skin beneath it.

Shit.

They knew.

“Are…” Y/N behind to realize that Clark’s glasses had gotten cracked when he had shoved the attacker against the wall, and they become concerned about the glass around his eyes, they grab the broken frames and pull them away from Clark.

Suddenly, Clark becomes very familiar when he straightens up a little.

“Oh my…Oh my god you’re…” Y/N shakes, Clark panics.

Shit.

He did not want them to find out this way.

”You’re Superman!” Y/N squeaked.

Clark was startled by Y/N's realization and sudden realization. He couldn't believe they figured him out with such ease, he had been hiding his identity from them for so long, and now all of it was laid bare at this moment. He was in too deep now, Y/N already knew the truth, he was powerless to stop them from knowing that now.

Clark had thought the situation was under control, but he quickly realized it wasn't. There was no way he could spin this to make it seem like he wasn't Superman.

”I…” Y/N swallows dryly. “I have…I have so many questions.”

Y/N stepped forward, dropping the broken frames onto the snowy ground.

Clark felt dizzy. He couldn’t tell whether it was adrenaline or giddiness at Y/N being this close to him that was doing it to him.

“What’s it like?” Y/N asked, in a whispered tone.

Clark cocked his head.

Clark could feel his heart beating faster as they were now closer to him, he felt slightly overwhelmed by how close they were to him, but the words coming from their mouth were more concerning to him now.

The fact that they knew his secret, and now wanted to know more about him, Clark was panicking a little on the inside, he didn't really know what to tell them or what it would be like to talk about his identity. He could trust them, he knew that already, he just had to come to terms with the fact that they knew who he was.

Y/N’s left hand came up to reach the edge of Clark’s vest around his arm underneath his armpit, his white dress shirt was soaked and his jacket was on the ground nearby.

“I’m sorry if I’m being to forward I- I just-” Y/N stammered. “I wanted to know you before but- but now?” Y/N laughs a little breathlessly, leaning more into Clark.

“You’re incredible.”

Clark's heart started pounding faster the closer they came, Clark also felt rather hot and flushed from the heat emanating between their bodies, and the excitement from what was happening in front of him.

He smiled gently at the compliment, their admiration and affection was something so new to him, it was a lot to take in but he understood how they felt, what was he was feeling now was new and exciting for him too. He was glad they wanted to get to know him deeper and not push him away now.

“Glad this isn’t a dealbreaker for you…” he said quietly, shoulders untensing ever so slightly.

“Are you kidding?” Y/N threw their head back in disbelief. “You’re superhuman!”

The free hand that wasn’t clutching Clark’s vest came up to trace along his jaw.

“But you’re also a beautiful, and unbelievably kind man, with a lot of very simple and meaningful dreams.” Y/N said, sort of reverently.

Clark was taken aback by their praise and sudden touch, his heart was now beating out of his chest and it was taking all he had not to take advantage of the closeness and pull them into a kiss.

"You...um.." he started, but the only words that came out were those of a stumbling school kid.

"How... um..."

Clark couldn't formulate a proper word or sentence, he was in awe at what they were saying to him. They loved him, they didn't reject him. That was all that mattered to him in this moment.

Y/N just smiled at him and leaned into him. It was cold.

Snow was beginning to fall around them now.

“Clark…” Y/N started. “We should leave and get back home.” They said.

"Right, you're right..." Clark mumbled, he was also slightly annoyed that the sudden change in weather meant the night couldn't go on as long as possible.

"My apartment or yours?" He asked, he didn't really care which one they chose, he just wanted to be near them again. His mind was still racing, what had just happened was so overwhelming that it would be nice to just relax in the warmth of another person's presence as soon as possible.

Y/N’s face flushed as they realized Clark expected them to stay together for at least the rest of the night. It made them warm and fuzzy inside to think that Clark liked them.

“We can go to either, which would you prefer?” Y/N asked. They wanted to let Clark make the rest of the decisions tonight. They wanted to show that they trusted Clark still.

Clark was still slightly giddy and overwhelmed from the situation, not only was he accepted despite his secret being known, but he was also offered a choice in who's place they would stay together for the rest of tonight.

The whole situation was a first for Clark, but he didn't want to let a single moment of this opportunity go to waste. He was happy to be offered the choice, but he decided quickly which he preferred.

"I'd like to come to your place." He said softly.

“Okay,” Y/N said weakly.

It was cute to Y/N that Clark could literally take a bullet for them and still be this shy directly after. They were glad he was fine anyways.

Slowly, they led the way back to their place and made it to their front door without incident. They fumbled with their keys, small keychains dangling on their loop while they fished it out of their pocket and unlocked the front door.

It was modest, but spacious. Y/N wasn’t sure if they liked that they were probably easily readable from just their living room, let alone the rest of the apartment.

“Home sweet home,” they said, dropping their keys in a bowl by the front door and kicking off their shoes by a rack.

Clark watched as they opened the front door, once they let him inside he stepped into their home, it was impressive how they managed to fill the space with such simple details, their whole home was filled with their personality. He loved the vibe they had going on here, and for him it was refreshing to see an apartment that wasn't filled with every fancy feature a high income level could afford.

He stepped inside, removing his shoes and hanging his coat up before setting his backpack down nearby. He walked over to Y/N, not sure what to say next.

”Hi…” Y/N said quietly, as they turned around to face Clark standing closer than before, having to look up to meet his eyes.

Clark smiled slightly, his heart fluttered as their eyes locked, even if it was just a simple "hi" that was all he needed. He stepped closer to them again, leaning his body gently against theirs, he was more comfortable with their closeness now than he had been earlier.

"Hi..." he replied softly.

“What’s up?” They asked, popping the ‘p’ sound on the last word.

Their hands drifted to rest on Clark’s hips. They loved how large Clark was compared to them but they didn’t expect him to be this close to them.

Clark's heart was beating so hard and he was starting to breathe faster as their hands drifted to his hips. He had wanted to get closer to them so badly, to feel them close to him like this, and now they were right where he wanted them to be.

"Uh..." he said before the words quickly faded, he had lost most of his ability to form words and sentences at this point. All he could manage was an occasional grunt or slight noise as he leaned into their touch.

“So…” Y/N sighed. “Do you want to make some hot coco and sit down…maybe, talk about some things?” Y/N asked. There was a certain implication in his words. He wanted to know more about Clark’s real life. His Superman identity included.

Clark was almost disappointed that the invitation wasn't a direct offer to make out at this very moment, but he understood why they wanted to do something else first. He was still happy with the suggestion and was more than open to telling them the truth about himself, he was ready to trust them.

"Yeah...that sounds great!" he replied, with some more enthusiasm than before.

He loved when Y/N made the decisions and took the lead on things, it was refreshing and they seemed to do a good job of choosing an appropriate option to keep things moving forward.

Y/N shuffled away to make them both a warm cup of hot coco. Clark stood in the foyer. They were both slightly damp from the light snow. Y/N looked stunning in this lighting, low lamps and the cold city lights outside the window.

“Clark, you know you can make yourself at home, right?” Y/N teased. “If you want, you can shower and I can see if I have…anything that will fit you since your clothes are…well..” Y/N turned his head and glanced at Clark’s singed vest with a nearly bullet burned hole in its stomach. His white shirt was none the better.

Clark couldn't help but blush a little at the teasing, he was a little bit flustered in every sense with the flirting and touching now, and hearing them say they didn't mind him showering in their place sent that flustering feeling into overdrive.

"My clothes are a bit wrecked, yes." Clark replied, glancing down at the damage on his clothing.

"It could be nice to get comfortable, if I've been invited to stay the night here..." his words trailed off, but he liked where this was going.

“Sure,” Y/N tried to sound nonchalant about it despite their heart fluttering.

“The bathroom is in the hallway to the left, I’ll just knock on the door when I’ve found clothes,” Y/N mumbled the last bit. They would burn that bridge when they got to it.

Clark's chest was now feeling the heat build up as his heart raced at the implications from their words, he loved the suggestion and their subtle teasing about it. It was so unexpected, like they had his whole night planned for him, he liked it.

"That sounds good, I can shower and you can go through your closet and see what you can find, I'm sure I can fit in some of your clothes." He said, smiling at them.

”Go on then, Wonder Boy,” Y/N smiled. They were stirring milk on the stove now. Clark shuffled off in their peripherals to shower.

-

Wonder boy, he really enjoyed when they called him that, although his thoughts were of other things... Like removing his own clothes. He smiled and then started heading to the bathroom off the Hallway, not even waiting for them to confirm if it really was to his left. They were clearly paying attention and he liked that, he felt their focus on him now as he left the foyer.

During the shower, Y/N knocked on the door. The bathroom was foggy but Y/N didn’t hear a response so they turned the knob cautiously.

“Clark? I found some clothes I-I think may fit.” Y/N said, trying to speak through the warm fog. They resisted the urge to look further into anything as they placed the clothes on the counter, but they turned around and couldn’t avoid getting a fleeting glance of Clark’s shape through the silhouetting shower curtain.

Y/N blushed clear to their chest.

“I-I left them on the counter!” They yelped, heart racing, and tried to leave quickly.

Clark was just standing under the steaming hot water with one arm on the wall, he had lost track of time in there and was now only focused on his thoughts. Until he heard the knock, at which point he froze for a second. He decided to keep it simple and not say anything and let them believe he hadn't heard them.

But he did hear them, and their words made his cheeks flush even more. Hearing them call his name with such a cute tone set him on fire. He quickly exited the shower, wrapping a towel around himself before going to check the clothes.

Y/N was curled up on the couch, clothes changed and hair toweled off. They had fuzzy socks on with tiny cats printed all over them.

“Bet you're used to saving a lot of these out of trees, huh?” They said, sticking their foot out and wiggling their toes at Clark.

Two mugs sat on the coffee table in front of Y/N.

Clark stepped up the couch, looking down at the fuzzy cat socks and letting a small, playful grin form on his face as he saw their foot sticking out at him.

"That's right, I love how innocent and adorable they are, they make me want to put them in my pocket and take them home with me." He said jokingly, playing along nicely with them.

He then sat down on the couch, facing them as he took one of the mugs and took a sip.

“Is it good?” Y/N asked, grabbing their own mug.

Clark smiled around a mouthful of coco and nodded.

Y/N chuckled and took a sip of his own.

“It’s my own recipe.” Y/N said.

Clark took another sip of his cup of hot cocoa, savoring the warmth in his mouth as he swallowed the comforting flavor.

He nodded again as he swallowed. "It's delicious. I don't know what you did to make it so good, but it's absolutely phenomenal."

He took a larger sip as he continued staring at their cute fuzzy socks.

“So,” Y/N crossed their legs. “Tell me about yourself, the real you ,Clark.”

They cross their legs and sit back on the couch, facing more towards Clark.

Their eyes pierced through Clark as he drank his coco.

They fiddled with their mug nervously. The snow continued to fall outside with a soft rush.

Clark watched them shift their position to be facing him, he was enjoying this more than he'd liked to let on, he enjoyed when they wanted to know about him. And now here was a question he could answer truthfully, finally telling them the real him. He took another sip of his hot cocoa, not able to resist their piercing eyes for too long. His cheeks were still flush from the shower and the interaction they just had. He set his drink down before responding.

"You really want to know about me, huh?"

“I really like you Clark, of course I want to know about you,” Y/N said softly.

If it was possible to melt like the snow outside from a single sweet word, he would have been nothing more than a puddle now. His breath became quick and short as he smiled and sighed, this was going to be such a big step, but he wanted this, he wanted to make them happy and trust them. He looked up from their eyes to their face and smiled, his heart beating faster than before. He took a short moment to get his thoughts together before replying.

"Okay...where do you want me to start?"

“Why didn’t you tell me you were…” Y/N found themselves having trouble saying it “…Superman.” They finally said.

“And who else knows?” They asked.

He'd feared this question so much, but he would have to answer it honestly. If he wanted to make things work between them, he would have to be 100% honest about everything. The fact that they wanted to know about the "real" him meant they really did like him, and hopefully their opinion of him wouldn't change now that he was being honest with them. He breathed a sigh and took a second to prepare himself for the answer.

"Well, the only other people who know are the Justice league.And obviously, my parents." He said quietly.

”Does Louis know?” They asked. “And the Justice League? God, I forgot how terrifying your job is outside of Metropolis.”

The mention of Lois reminded him how much he cared for her, and also her reaction when she first learned his identity. He shook his head and smiled at the question about his job.

"Oh Lois knows...she knows everything about me as Clark Kent or Superman, actually, she was the one who figured it out." He said, sounding genuinely proud of her.

"And yes, the Justice League. They're basically a group of superheroes who all keep the world safe from danger and help each other out when a villain or other crisis arises."

”So this is how you get all your good information for articles, huh? Using the superhuman charisma power you have?” Y/N asked.

The truth was that Clark did not have the ability to convince most people to tell him almost anything, he didn't use his powers to get information. But it was more fun to play along, so he nodded his head as his smile turned into a mischievous grin.

"Uh yeah, exactly, everyone just wants to tell their little secrets to me. So I can hear all the juicy gossip, not that I would do anything unethical with the information though."

He said with a teasing chuckle, he liked their playful approach. He took another sip from the mug.

Clark was a terrible liar. Y/N could see right through him, but they scoffed anyways.

“Guess that’s why I find you so irresistibly charming, hm?” Y/N drawled enticingly. They moved closer to Clark on the couch.

Y/N's words sent his heart into overdrive and his mind into a daze, this was exactly what he had wanted, exactly what he had hoped to hear from them. He smiled widely as they got closer to him and he couldn't help but let his eyes trace their figure as they talked.

"Is that the reason why you find me irresistible?" He replied back in the same playful manner, not able to stop himself from leaning in just a little bit.

Y/N smiled crookedly, unabashedly. “You tell me…” they said, leaning in. Clark obviously wasn’t going to break his gentlemanly persona anymore tonight, so Y/N would have to do it for him.

Their lips brushed for a brief moment, and Y/N pulled back a hair with a noise like they’d been burned.

Then, in a surge of desperation and want, both Y/N and Clark surged forward at the same time and met in an open mouthed kiss, mugs abandoned on the coffee table.

The first brush of their lips sent a surge through him, causing him to lean forward without any thoughts or regrets. All he was thinking was how much he wanted them in his arms. Their lips soon joined and he kissed back with as much passion as he could muster, every second felt like an eternity in the best way imaginable.

Finally, it seemed like they both couldn't hold back anymore, and suddenly they were kissing furiously like no one else existed besides them. The mugs on the coffee table could wait, they never should have been there anyway.

Y/N pulled back briefly, slightly, having to use their hands on Clark’s chest to push back in his strong grip around their back that had moved there during their quick descent into madness.

“Clark-“ they breathed. “Wai- wait-” they said as Clark looked at them with eyes like a kicked puppy, kisses aiming for their mouth having ended up on the corners and sides.

Clark was not yet ready for this kiss to stop but that didn't matter to him anymore, he wanted to listen to Y/N as they pulled back. He was more than a little flustered as he looked up from their hands to face them, his heart was thumping wildly in his chest. He wanted to say something but he was having trouble gathering his thoughts.

He was so excited, and a part of him would have been happy to listen to them say something about stopping, but another part of him was worried they might say something else. He could feel the heat rising on his cheeks.

”Can we just-“ Y/N swallowed, mouth red and slightly swollen from kissing, “can we just sit here, put on a movie and kiss? I don’t want to go any further tonight. I wanna’ take it slow with you,” they pleaded.

Clark’s grasp around them became tighter. “Yes, yes, absolutely,” Clark wanted everything with them, but he could wait forever if they needed to. And honestly at heart, he didn’t want anything else tonight either. He was getting so much just from what was happening right now between them.

He loosened his grip on them slightly, as it was still a bit embarrassing for him to have acted like that, but he really couldn't help it. He had wanted it so much.

”Hold on, let me just-“ Y/N wriggled out of Clark’s grasp quickly and scurried over to the tv set, fumbling to turn on a show. A re-run of ’The Notebook’ was playing and Y/N laughed thinking about something so sappy playing behind them and their new lover making out and enjoying each other’s company less than 10 feet away.

Clark watched as Y/N’s body swayed and moved as they fiddled with the TV finally settling on something. Clark recognized it and laughed sardonically a little.

“Where were we?” Y/N said, spinning on their heels and turning to face Clark in their sweats and cat socks.

Clark's eyes couldn't help looking at all of Y/N's curves and their movements as they moved to the TV. He was enjoying all the scenery, he had to try hard not to smirk as they laughed at the TV show that was playing. The notebook was definitely a cheesy watch.

Clark laughed at the last question and got up from the sofa, moving closer to them as their bodies and faces became inches apart.

"We were kissing furiously I believe," he grinned, "and you want to keep that up?

“Yes, please-“ Y/N said, moving to straddle Clark’s lap. They halted suddenly, “Ah- but only if you want to,” they said quietly.

Clark's mouth fell open slightly as they climbed onto his lap, it was one thing to be standing near each other and kissing, but having them straddling on his lap was a whole different story. The fact that they suddenly paused and asked a question with so much hesitance had him almost melting just from the tenderness of the gesture.

He placed his hands on their hips and looked up at them with an eager smile.

"I certainly don't have any objections to that plan."

Y/N smiled.

“Good,” they ran a hand over Clark’s neck and leaned in again to kiss him sweetly while they rested on his lap.

Clark was more than happy to be in this position with Y/N, having them straddling him for a make out session was just as wonderful as he'd always imagined.

He leaned forward himself and wrapped his arms around Y/N's waist, pulling them close against him as their lips pressed together once again. His hands ran up to their back to hold them close to him, he couldn't help but let out a few moans and grunts of enjoyment as he kissed them back with equal enthusiasm.

Y/N felt Clark’s tongue brush against their lips. They opened their mouth slowly, letting Clark take the lead. The room felt nice, and they were glad they had put on an old record while Clark was in the shower.

Clark gently probed their lips with his tongue as he took the lead, he was loving every minute of this and was enjoying every second of being so close to them. Y/N's presence and their scent was intoxicating and his arms wrapped tighter around their waist as he enjoyed them more and more.

After a few moments of savoring the kiss, Clark pulled away just slightly as he was feeling a little light-headed from the heat and intimacy of it all.

Y/N felt warm for a different reason this time. They were just so content in Clark’s arms.

“Sleep in my bed tonight?” they asked with lidded eyes and a lazy smile on their face.

Clark was very grateful for this pause because he'd never felt so giddy and warm in his entire life, this had been beyond anything he could have ever thought possible.

A slight chuckle escaped him as he caught his breath, his gaze looking at Y/N with longing and amusement.

"I'd sleep on your porch if you'd let me. " He replied with a mischievous grin.

“Well then, that settles that,” Y/N laughed, a little ditsy off of the wine from dinner now that they had calmed down and a little bit from how Clark was holding them in his grip.

“Let’s go, screw the movie, I want to cuddle,” Y/N brushed a lock of hair behind Clark’s ear and kissed his forehead softly as they smiled.

With that, they both proceeded to cuddle up together on Y/Ns bed and watch the snow fall gently outside. It was warm, they were happy, and the world spun on.

➽──────────────❥

Final note: okkk thanks for reading everyone :) lmk if yall have any requests for me because i am slowly running out of ideas right now and im in a writing mood so this window will not last long sadly

[slaygentford]

im actually so curious. dean/bela

IS YOUR MIRROR EVER A MIRROR. the most interesting thing about them and about that season in general TO MEEEEEE to me. is all the parallels that they keep pointing to obviously but also specifically the abuse parallels that they keep on purpose and not on purpose both pointing to. they're both so damaged which they both keep saying which is ssoooo fun. I guess she'd dom him or whatever but "takes one to know one" is way more interesting to me I think one of the few good things they did was NOT have them fuck because for once in their lives they maintained the tension in a season for more than 5 seconds. s3 is hilariously despite all odds one of the most intentional and best constructed seasons imo. it doesn't feel slapdash to me and never has, it's just rushed, but it's shockingly coherent for spn and theres actually suuuuch good payoff (getting dragged to hell). anyway idk how to tag this but I'm about to start talking about abuse and sexual abuse and specifically child sexual abuse so stop reading now. it's a crazy coincidence that victor my best friend victor makes that crack about it to dean in the same season that we find out Bela's backstory and I think the idea that they both have sexual trauma is sooo interesting and contributes a lot to their horrible self concept and self worth and self image and "youre so damaged/takes one to know one." not saying dean's is childhood but like obviously he has sexual trauma. an incredibly rare instance of I like what they have in canon and in my mind palace there's not even that much to add unless of course we got some sort of dean trauma backstory in conjunction with Bela's. my millionth favorite thing about them is that they never like each other. there's never a moment where they see eye to eye and share a mutual peace like with dean and victor. they fucking hate each other to the very end because they hate THEMSELVES just THAT much. NO comfort NO resolution. looking out for number one until the BITTER fucking end. you think their development is going to be they start liking each other nope. try again next time. it's SO tasty. and then of course the way on their last phone call that dean thinks he's going to get out of it. he really thinks he's going to get out of his deal. and he's so resolved and sure of himself as he leaves her to die alone. he's so so so fucking sure of it. just like she was so sure of it. and both of them are wrong. and then they get dragged to hell <3

[theamityelf]

"You know," Nagito began, absentmindedly stroking Kazuichi's hair, where the undead mechanic was resting his head against Nagito's knee, "out of all parts of the body, it seems that the brain is most nutritious for them. They get full faster; smaller amounts of brain can satiate them more than a larger amount of any other body part. For those in my class who aren't quite as subject to the ravenous hunger the others feel– Peko, mostly, but also sometimes Gundham –a tablespoon from the temporal or parietal lobe, even as little as a teaspoon from the frontal lobe, tends to suffice. Oh, that's another thing: the lobe seems to matter. I meant to drop in on your next video call to discuss that with Matsu-...Oh."

Both he and Makoto watched warily as Fuyuhiko shoved Gundham out of the way before he could start eating the brain of the human who Class 77 had brought with them to eat. Fortunately, that didn't end up progressing into a fight. Gundham just growled at Fuyuhiko and then proceeded to eat from the torso, like everyone else. Chihiro went to eat from the torso, but Fuyuhiko positioned them, instead, near the brain.

"But that's actually why I brought it up," Nagito continued brightly. "I told my classmates to leave the brain for your class to enjoy, since they seem to need the nutrients. Looks like Gundham forgot, but Fuyuhiko's been vigilant."

Makoto winced at the candid observation that his classmates weren't getting enough to eat. He really needed to hunt more often, especially now that it was so much harder to find things like cranes on campus, but it was also hard to keep his friends from getting loose if he left the room too much. "It seems horrible to thank you for something like this, but...you're right that they do need the food. We just...need to find a way to get more non-human meat for both our classes, and figure out how to keep Akane from getting loose and hunting humans."

"Or we could just let one problem solve the other."

Makoto turned an incredulous look on Nagito, who looked way too calm for what he'd just said. "You don't mean that."

Nagito's gaze was fixed on Makoto's face, and his calm look held for another second before it deteriorated, first into the briefest flash of something like anxiety(?), then into a lighthearted but imploring smile. "Hey, don't look so serious! It was just a random thought. Of course, I agree with you that Akane shouldn't have free rein over the reserve course students. Her appetite is too ambitious. And we don't want human casualties."

"Of course not." Makoto sighed. "I'm sure it's been overwhelming for you. I can barely look at them eating a human being like that, but you don't even flinch. It must be really hard, to have to get used to something like that."

"Hard?" Nagito remembered the fearful face of the last reserve student who had gotten caught in one of his traps, and for the first time in a while, his throat tightened with emotion. He cleared it. "Getting used to it isn't the hard part."

"What is?"

Nagito would have tried to hide his shaking hands in his jacket sleeves, but after months of his classmates biting at his arms and legs, his sleeves had been ripped several inches shorter. "The few moments where I stop being used to it."

Makoto nodded sympathetically. And he slipped his hand into Nagito's.

It wasn't their first time holding hands, and Nagito's starvation for touch had been more than addressed by the aforementioned months of being bitten and clung to and tackled by the undead Ultimates, but he never could take Makoto's affection for granted. Especially now that he felt this unusually acute awareness of all the people he'd fed to his classmates without a second thought.

How worthless he was, to drink in Makoto's sympathy like this when Makoto didn't even know...

"Don't do that," Makoto said sternly. "I know that look. Are you being hard on yourself again?"

"Me?" Nagito said with a big smile. "Never." He tried for positivity and found the bitter, emboldening sludge of his resolve returning to him.

The Ultimates needed food. Makoto was doing his absolute best to provide for his class ethically, and it wasn't enough. Therefore, the Ultimates needed food the unethical way. Makoto...Makoto was too good to do what Nagito was doing, but his class needed food, too. So, Makoto needed Nagito to provide the food for his class, and he needed Nagito to lie about how he obtained it. It was all for the best.

And...if Makoto never found out...If Makoto kept seeing this version of Nagito who he wasn't disgusted to touch...

He tore his gaze away from the excruciating kindness in Makoto's eyes. "Aw, Kaz! You're getting blood on my pants again."

Kazuichi ignored Nagito's complaints, continuing to use his blood-covered mouth to tear away more of the fabric from the leg of his jeans. Most likely to find a new spot to bite.

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

(Link to my Undead AU Masterlist, just because it's been a while since I posted about this AU.)

[elliespuns]

I wanted to ask about Ellie and her idea of relaxation. For a moment, at the library scene where they’re smoking weed, she lets her guard down and gives herself a moment to relax. And in turn she finds out that Joel never came back with Tommy and then suddenly she’s on high alert.

Do you think she associates relaxation with impending doom? Like “oh I have a moment to relax now this means it won’t last long so I won’t engage in it” kind of beat?

Cause when they’re also in Seattle, the minute she comes back and Dina found something she’s already on go like she didn’t let herself take a break until Dina was cleaning her up after Nora’s scene. Idk I could be wrong but it’s just something I noticed because I also felt like it played into the farm life where she couldn’t relax because she knew something was gonna happen.

You're onto something. I don't think you're so far from the truth. I also think that the girl doesn't even know what a feeling of relaxation is.

Of course, when she spent the best part of her teenage years in the safety of Jackson, she knew how that felt. She might have even gotten used to it before everything went down. As someone who never had a proper childhood, she must have been living her best time of her life among people who appreciated her, respected her, and treated her well.

But I also think that spending almost a year on the road with danger trailing your ass along the way must take a toll on you too. Maybe, at some point, Ellie could have missed the 'adventure' of the old days when living her now stereotypical life in Jackson. I mean, her journey across the US with Joel might have been a challenge, but it gave her something to live for; it gave her a person she now cares deeply about. It also gave her an experience, knowledge, and formed her into a person she is right now.

That's why I think she was so quick to start going on patrols (causing Joel to go crazy with keeping an eye on her and 'harassing' Jesse about the shifts she was taking). Joel got so used to the comfortable life of not having to worry about the girl that much anymore, and once she was back to face danger (which she might have missed at some point), he was alerted and worried again. While as for Ellie, it was something she 'needed'.

But yes, the day she let herself relax a bit (and apparently even have sex), something horrible happened to her shortly after, and it must have left a bitter taste in her mouth. I think it might have not only affected her state of mind but also her sex life. 'Cause like, did Ellie blame herself for letting her guard down that day, smoking weed, and having sex, enjoying herself while Joel—someone she deeply cared about—has been tortured in an agonizing way in the meantime? This must mess up your mental state. Replying this moment in her mind, Ellie must have thought about it and blamed herself. Everyone who loses someone important thinks back, trying to relive that moment and imagine what they could've done differently if it hadn't happened. She must have thought about it and thought that maybe if they didn't get caught up in the blizzard and didn't end up in the den, then maybe... then maybe she would have caught Joel somewhere along their way and THIS would never happen.

The girl is so broken, I don't even think she realizes it herself. I think she's in a constant state of high alertness. So maybe she doesn't even associate it with anything anymore. If she does, though, let this girl never catch a breath, because I can't see her suffering any more.

[loganwalkerz]

Call of duty Ghosts fic? Angst fr. Uh got lazy at the end iwl lmao

The Pit was a place that brought many horrible memories for Logan yet the boy couldn't help but continue to keep running back whenever he felt in danger

Maybe it's because Rorkes false promises of safety, maybe its because Logan felt like there was no other place after his dad died

He clings to the over grown roots and vines that decorate the pits walls like its his last hope, the panic attack never soothing over and never stopping.

The dirt so familiar reminding him of the times he desperately tried to crawl and climb out of the dirt cage that held him captive.

The times he used to scream to be let out but most of those screams muffled by the never ending water stream that came from the tube inside his throat

Sometimes its all Logan thinks about when he sees a glass of water, the way his stomach burned and the way his body thrashed in the restraints forced to swallow till he threw up.

The memories were haunting but oddly comforting, their was torture but with Rorke being amazing at mixed signals Logan of course struggled

The group of course tried their best to comfort and support Logan but sometimes they struggled. Seeing the once strong silent solider turn into a sobbing mess was hard for everyone

Especially Keegan, who had always been one of Logans biggest supporters next to Hesh and Elias. But that didn't mean he always did or said the right thing during Logans melt downs,

"I miss the old you, the one that would just..shut up"

Keegan mutters after another one of Logans yelling matches after he's dragged away from the deep jungle, away from the pit

And it's like those words hit Logan like a bullet train, his arms and hands trembling as they were clutching Merricks jacket tightly.

Hesh and Kick both wincing knowing it was definitely the wrong choice of words as Kick side eyes Neptune as if to say "He did not just say that, right?"

Logan was just staring like a Deer in headlights directly at his boyfriend quietly, his lips trembling the only noise was his shaky breath and little whimpers. His mind frozen as he couldn't even think of anything to say or do

But he done what Keegan asked, and he went quiet again. Trying his hardest to not sob or scream as Merrick manhandled him into one of the trucks

Kick glancing to Keegan

"..did you really have to say it like that?"

He grumbled in almost a bitter petty way before he turns and gets into the truck after Merrick and Logan.

Keegan glanced around to the team and gave a quiet

"I..I was just trying to say I missed the old him! That's all!"

He weakly defends as he turns to Hesh who gave a disappointed look

"Not sure that's any better Russ."

Hesh comments before following behind Kick into the truck only to then be followed by Neptune

And it's not like Logan didn't obey keegans wishes anyway, Logan was loyal to Keegan, his savior. So Logan gave him exactly what Keegan asked for.

Silence. Complete utter silence.

Logan once again went back to being mute, used his ASL or the app on Heshs phone that Hesh got years ago when Logan first went quiet.

He was silent through out his happiest moments but he also became silent throughout his saddest moments too. He stopped reaching out when his episodes kicked in.

He stopped talking about what happened inside the pit, stopped talking about the torture and when he felt crazy. He stopped talking about the hallucinations and the nightmares

And that's when it kinda hit Keegan how much he truly missed Logan's voice, the guilt came in large waves as he tried to plead with Logan to explain why he was crying

"Cmon Cookie, you gotta talk to me..I'm sorry about what I said, let me help you, please just let me in..I'm sorry, I truly am"

He begs and pleads

But how are you meant to apologise for fucking up so bad you make the federation look like angels

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What if, through some magic curse, Rosalie feel in love with Carlisle, as in a 'love at first site' type moment?

The last time we discussed Carlisle/Rosalie on this blog.

Things get tragic fast, anon.

Carlisle's already married to Esme, now he finds he's in love with this traumatized young woman who's been raped to death. I doubt it would ever occur to him that Rosalie could possibly interested in him, especially when by his having this sudden horrible interest--it looks very much like he's intending to take advantage. He's faced with the dilemma of trying to suppress his sudden feelings or else have a hard conversation with Esme that this just isn't working after all and it turned out he wasn't in love with her and Edward was wrong. Given what happened to Rosalie, I imagine he chooses feeling suppression and tries to spend as little time in Rosalie's presence as possible.

Rosalie, for her own part, feels similarly in that she's coveting another woman's husband and a man she'd thought was much older than her (turns out he's not, doesn't shake the fact that he was posing as an older man in town for most of when she knew him). Added on to that that this man turned her into a demon, something she'll never ask for, that she can never have children as she wanted, and that her last not-really romance ended in her violent death and Rosalie also chooses the 'suppress your feelings' route and spends as little time in his presence as possible.

Rosalie though doesn't realize why Carlisle's avoiding her in turn and assumes he hates her/regrets his choice. She's very bitter over this.

Edward, of course, could resolve misunderstandings but has concluded Rosalie is a seductress trying to break up Carlisle and Esme simply so that she can confirm she's the most beautiful woman in the room.

Edward does everything in his power to drive her out of the family.

Rosalie likely demands Emmett be turned in the desperate hope that she'll fall out of love with Carlisle Cullen.

It doesn't work.

Canon somehow proceeds except Edward says even nastier things about Rosalie to Bella and Rosalie looks slightly more dead inside.

[rynnthefangirl]

My Top 10 Favorite Breaking Bad Universe Episodes (+ explanations/analyses because I can't not gush about these shows dammit)

"Face Off" (BrBa, S4E13)- this episode had me on the edge of my seat like no other one in the entire BrBa universe. It's not my favorite in terms of themes or character development-- which are my usual priorities in a show-- but good god, it was an EXPERIENCE. And it held up SO GOOD on rewatch, even knowing how it ends the pacing and buildup is done so phenomenally that it almost feels like watching it for the first time. It's just epic. And that final scene... coming off the thrill of watching an evil villain like Gus Fring be defeated... relishing in Walt's victory and relief... then the camera slowly tracking inward to reveal the Lily of the Valley.... that sudden shift as you realize the guy you were just aggressively rooting for is a monster as well... Oh my god. Perfection.

"Ozymandias" (BrBa, S5E14)- do I even need to explain why I love this episode? It's often regarded as the best episode in this universe, and for good reason. It is Walter White's downfall, the epic culmination of 4 1/2 seasons of steady moral degradation, the consequences of Walter's greed and ego finally brought to horrific fruition. This is one of only two episodes in the BrBa universe to actually make me cry (the other being "Granite State", when Walt Jr. tells his father he should just go and die). Hank's death is abrupt and horrible. "I watched Jane die" makes ME want to go die. Walt's fight with Skyler is both devastating and somehow cathartic. The acting is some of the best I have seen in my entire life. It truly is the peak of Breaking Bad, and there will never be anything else quite like it (although my #3 comes close).

"Plan and Execution" (BCS, S6E7)- this episode is so effective, that I could barely even stand to rewatch it. And not just Howard's death, but everything building up to it. Watching Howard suffer and be humiliated, knowing all the while that this is his last day on Earth. That this is how he is spending his final hours. And the fact that the whole thing has the fun and whacky tone of the other McWexler scams makes me want to throw up. Watching an oblivious Jimmy and Kim dig both Howard's and their own graves with joy and gusto. The inevitability of it all too, how every little detail conspires to put Howard and Lalo in that room together. I never thought a cockroach scampering across a screen could make me want to scream, but here we are. It's honestly unbearable. And then of course the final scene is breathtakingly brilliant. Howard's amazing speech, the sudden tonal shift, the horror of his death. The candle. And this all barely even touches on what it means for Jimmy and Kim's characters, but this is getting long enough, so lets just leave it at P&E is their very own Ozymandias.

"Chicanery" (BCS, S3E5)- I love how perfectly rated Chicanery is in the fandom. I feel like an episode like this would be prone to being totally overshadowed by the more action-packed ones, and I'm so glad that it isn't. Because it is brilliant. To me, Chuck and Jimmy's relationship is the single most compelling dynamic in the BrBa universe. And this is their ultimate showdown, both giving their all to take the other down, Chuck with righteous glee and Jimmy with bitter reluctance. Chuck's final breakdown/monologue is incredible both in terms of writing and acting-- this is the moment we see Chuck McGill for who he really is. Years of bitterness, and jealousy, and frustration, and desperation, finally let loose. And while Jimmy won, it's not a triumphant victory. It's a somber one. Because like Kim said, all they did was tear down a mentally ill man. A man who needed help, beneath all the hatred and envy. Aghh. Chuck.

"Felina" (BrBa, S5E16)- I love the vibe of Felina. There's just this palpaple tiredness and resigned acceptance from Walter. He destroyed his family, they will never forgive him, he is going to die alone. He has realized his ego and selfishness, but it's too late. Everyone is just sitting in the ashes of the world they once knew. And yet, with that acceptance, there also comes a sense of peace. Nothing left to do but make things right in whatever way he still can. Finding a way to get his money to his family, admitting to Skyler that "I did it for me", seeing Holly and Jr. one last time, avenging Hank's death. Then there's Jesse and his resolution, "do it yourself", him crying and screaming and laughing as he drives away, a well earned freedom. The final shot of Walt is bittersweet in the best possible way. A conclusion worthy of the phenomenal series that came before it (rip GOT but BrBa is different).

"Waterworks" (BCS, S6E12)- where Saul Gone is the resolution of Jimmy's arc, Waterworks is the resolution of Kim's. And I think Kim's ending hits me harder, because while we always knew that Jimmy would break bad, Kim's corruption felt like such a betrayal. And it made it all the more sweeter when she redeems herself and begins to come back from that dark place she was in. The Florida scenes were utterly unnerving in how empty Kim was, but then it was so cathartic to see her finally let all that emotion out (and Rhea Seehorn absolutely KILLED IT, she was ROBBED at the Emmy's). Her scene with Jesse was beautiful too, and a perfect example of how to do fan-service in a meaningful way. Also, as a devoted Howard Hamlin stan, I loved seeing him haunt the narrative and watching Cheryl stand up for him again.

"Saul Gone" (BCS, S6E13)- another excellent and worthy conclusion to an amazing show! Jimmy is one of my favorite characters, and like with Kim, it was so beautiful to see him find himself again. I'm very fascinated by Jimmy's coping mechanisms for his grief & guilt, and this episode is where we see them finally be torn down. The whole confession scene is wonderful, A+ writing and acting. Particularly him finally saying out loud that his actions led to Chuck's suicide -- that knowledge has controlled Jimmy for the past three seasons, and him facing it at last is the final nail in the coffin for Saul Goodman. Saul is Gone, and Jimmy McGill remains. I love it.

"Lantern" (BCS S3E10)- this one killed me on rewatch. Watching Chuck completely unravel and destroy his home after he was finally on the road to recovery from his mental illness. Howard and Chuck's falling out, with Howard's pain in having to force Chuck out of HHM and Chuck's pain in losing the last good relationship that he still had in his life. "You've never mattered all that much to me."🫠💔 Chuck's suicide, and knowing how it will haunt the narrative, how it will lead to Howard's destruction in P&E and Jimmy's transformation into Saul Goodman. Daggers. The whole episode - Daggers.

"Fly" (BrBa S3E10)- I am so so glad this episode exists. It wasn't necessary towards the plot at all, but it's such a wonderful little character study. The first half is comedic gold, some of my favorite whacky Walt + Jesse banter. Then the slow shift to the more somber and pensive tone as the sleeping pills set in. Everything is just dripping with importance and symbolism. Especially "it's all contaminated" -- one of my favorite lines in the whole show. And Walt’s speech about the perfect moment for him to have died... I don't even know the word for what that evokes in me. "Beautiful" doesn't cut it. It's ethereal.

"Peekaboo" (BrBa S2E6)- if I wanted to show someone why I love Jesse Pinkman and could only pick one episode to do it, Peekaboo would be that episode. It so perfectly encapsulates his character. Jesse goes to a house to threaten and get money from two junkies, and spends the entire episode trying to look after their neglected child. His conscience and decency at constant odds with the necessity of appearing strong and dangerous. And this is reinforced by the episode's bookends - Jesse delights in a small bug before Skinny P comes along and squishes it, foreshadowing the horror of Spooge getting his head squashed. Jesse is a sensitive soul scrambling for control in a world of the blackest violence. I'm so glad it never was able to fully consume him.

Honorable mentions:

"Point and Shoot" (BCS S6E8) and "Fun and Games" (BCS S6E9)- I feel so bad leaving both of these out of the top 10, because they are such phenomenal episodes. But I feel like my favorite moments are scattered across them and "Plan and Execution", and it's really the triad of episodes that makes up one of my favorite arcs in either show. So as individual episodes they don't quite outrank the others I have, but in spirit they are definitely up there sharing the #3 spot with P&E.

"Better Call Saul" (BrBa S2E8) and "4 Days Out" (BrBa S2E9)- I have to give a shoutout to two of my favorite chaotic and hilarious Breaking Bad episodes. Walt and Jesse's dynamic is so perfect in 4 Days Out, and Saul absolutely killed his introduction to this universe (+ the additional heartbreak of rewatching knowing why he was so freaked out about Lalo).

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Still one of my favorite scenes I've ever written. I put my entire soul in this roleplay.

His army, defeated, was standing at his feet, crushed. Not even one of his men escaped the terrible fire that took them in the prime of life. He was the only one still alive. The last general, imprisoned by his mortal enemy who was planning to take his life too in a few moments. He felt bitter. Humiliated.

Even his own brother, sleeping for the gods knew how long at his post, didn't make the slightest movement when the dragon swooped down on his back in a final fight as intense as tiring. But all hope died when the beast forced him to enter its cavern.

Tied on a small pink plastic chair, the general watched the dragon as they hummed along while preparing the vile potion that would end his days, without glory nor honor. Soon after he had been dragged here, the courthouse condemned him to drink the terrible beverage, on the orders of Bashu, the evil penguin leading the appraisal, and to die in horrible sufferings. Yet, the general stayed dignified. He wouldn't give the dragon the pleasure of seeing him break down.

Satisfied with their work, the dragon turned around holding a plastic cup in their hands. They put it on the table with a dramatic slowness. Without mercy, they pointed out the drink, as dark as the night, with their paw. It was an order. He had to drink it. The general sighed. This was the end of the road.

His hands shaking with emotion, he struggled to grab the very small handle of the plastic cup with his fingers. He lifted the potion, being very cautious to not spill any of it - he had standards and was very afraid of Mommy Dragon, who warned him that she'll trash him if he messed up the floor she just cleaned -, he then put the beverage in his mouth.

The potion acted rapidly and the general started to spasm violently. With a dramatic gurgling, he fell on his back on the ground, arms stretched on each side of his body. He would have let his tongue out if he had one. Dead. He was dead.

But as he was delivering his final breath, the dragon abruptly changed their mind and threw themself on his ribcage, trying to reanimate him.

"Papy? Papy, don't die!" the dragon screamed, terrified. "I'm sorry! Please wake up!"

Their lips started to shake and tears filled their eyes, which immediately woke up the furor of Mommy Dragon, who stood up angrily. Toriel - it was her name -, kicked his pelvis hard and picked up her kid.

"Can't you see you're scaring Frisk stupid moron?! Wake up!"

The general growled, but Mommy Dragon was growling stronger, shutting him up quite immediately with one murderous glare.

Papyrus decided it was enough for this play session that slowly turned sour. Frisk, disguised as a dragon, struggled in their mother's arms to get down. She conceded and immediately got welcomed with a guilt-inducing look from the child, arms crossed angrily.

"No hit Papy!" they lectured her. "Papy nice!"

"Of course, sweetheart. I won't do anything to him… Yet. It depends how fast your friend is going to clean everything he took out of the toy box in the next thirty seconds."

The skeleton crossed his arms, analyzing what could happen if he disobeyed, but he concluded the risk was too important. She was a boss monster, after all. Grudgingly, he started to throw the wood soldiers back in the box, aggressively, so everyone could see he was pissed off. In addition, he strongly kicked the armchair where his brother had been napping since they came, two hours ago. The smaller skeleton lost his balance and fell head first onto the blue carpet. Unfortunately, that wasn't enough to wake him up.

Papyrus sighed. How did it come to this? From captain of the royal guard to nanny for a five-year-old human child, he should have killed long ago. If someone told him it would have happened a few months ago, he would have roared with laughter. But Frisk was not an ordinary human child. They were the seventh and last human soul the monsters needed to break the barrier and destroy humanity, except that Captain Papyrus was now protecting them from that exact fate right under Asgore's nose.

No weakness, chapter 1.