#it never sits right when people say the series should have ended in a polycule

[petz5]

i guess in the nicest way possible: look…………….. i am not saying u Have to ship and ONLY ship ranma with akane and vice versa. but i think it’s a huge disservice to the series to not acknowledge why thats the canonical pairing even if its not personally your thing. you know. considering the entire story is about those two. i think overlooking that and treating it like any other anime where the love interest is secondary (if not tertiary) to the story is what leads to akane being largely treated like shit in fanon even if it’s unintentional

man i rlly wanna swing at a hornets nest w my ranma opinions………… its so hard 😭 i feel like ppl constantly miss major points the story is trying to make…

[the-lincyclopedia]

* adapted from @librajiminn on twitter

A fun game to celebrate 2020 ending! The rules are simple: recommend your favorite OMGCP fics so everyone can enjoy them, while trying to fill in enough slots to get a bingo!

This is going to get long, so I’ll put it under a cut. Also, I’m too orderly to try to shoehorn my favorite fics into these particular prompts, so I’m just going to go right to left, top to bottom, taking the prompts literally, until it’s bedtime. 

1. first fic you bookmarked: “Here Comes the Sun” by @doggernaut, 19k, G, no warnings, Zimbits

For the past month, the man with the baby and the sad blue eyes has been stopping in for a cup of coffee an hour before closing. He always sits in an overstuffed chair in the corner and drinks his coffee while his baby sleeps next to him in the stroller. Sometimes he pulls a book out from the diaper bag he carries with him; other times he just stares straight ahead as if in a daze. He never asks for a refill, always respectfully gathers his things and leaves ten minutes before the shop officially closes. Eric desperately wants to ask him what his story is. 

My notes: I read Check Please over the course of two days in June of 2019. On the second day, right after catching up, I looked at @peppermintfeminist‘s AO3 bookmarks and found a fic by @doggernaut. Then I read just about everything @doggernaut had ever posted. It was glorious. This fic in particular is so cute. 

2. most recent fic you bookmarked: “Flight Check” by @edgarallanrose, 15k, E, no warnings (though there is a creepy/handsy guy at a club to watch out for), primarily Zimbits with most of the other popular pairings in the background

Flight attendant Eric “Bitty” Bittle has been working his way up at Samwell Airlines for the past four years, and his new promotion has provided him the opportunity to work with a brand-new crew. Unfortunately for Bitty, that crew includes an incredibly handsome but equally grumpy pilot, Captain Jack Zimmermann, who seems to want nothing to do with Bitty. Even worse, Jack refuses to eat any of Bitty's baked goods. Will Bitty be able to win the captain over? Or is there another reason Jack has been avoiding Bitty?

My notes: There are a lot of great things about this fic--Jack’s character arc, Lardo’s dialogue, that scene in Seattle--but the reason I bookmarked it is the scene where Bitty’s basically slut-shaming himself and Jack gently but firmly tells Bitty not to do that and that it was the creep’s fault. 

3. a fic that made you cry actual tears: “a little bit more” by @ivecarvedawoodenheart, 14k, T, no warnings, Holsom

“I just wanted,” he says, “a perfect day. With you. Because it’s our last day together and our last day being here as undergrads and we’re kissing the ice tonight, and the weather’s supposed to be beautiful, and you’re moving tomorrow and Holtzy I just — I don’t want to be missing you already.” Holster wipes his eyes before he even realizes he’s crying. Behind him, Ransom sighs. “One more day where everything’s the same,” he says, feeling around blindly for Rans’ fingers. He feels Rans nod as he laces their fingers together. “Yeah. Yeah, Rans. I’d like that a lot.” __________________________

Holsom after graduation and throughout the subsequent six months after Holster signs to an expansion team in Oregon, and realizes his feelings for Ransom too late. Holster's POV :) kinda angsty, but there's a happy ending :)

Inspired by shitty-check-please-aus: "Holster moves to Oregon while Ransom stays on the east coast. The time difference makes it difficult to talk and one day they wake up and realize they aren’t best bros anymore."

My notes: I almost never cry at fics. I searched “tears” in my fandom email account and only a handful of my fic comments came up, but Syd is a literal master of Holsom angst, always. 

4. longest fic you’ve read: “Like Real People Do” by @xiaq, 153k, M, No Warnings, Kent Parson x OC

Parson gestures with his spoon toward Hawke. “So am I allowed to ask about the service dog or is that not PC?”

“My medical history is more of a 3rd date conversation," Eli says.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Because. No one sticks around afterward and I like to live in glorious denial for a short period beforehand.”

It comes out more self-deprecating than he intended.

Parson looks…thoughtful. “Well, does this count as one or two?

“Pardon?”

“This. Ice cream. I mean, technically it’s a second location, but still the same night. So is this one date or two?”

“One,” Eli says firmly. “If it’s happening within the same three-hour period.”

“You’re the expert,” Parson says, which, he’s really, really, not, but ok.

“So still two dates to go then?” Parson continues.

“I—what?”

“We’ve got a roadie coming up but then we’re home for almost two weeks. When does your semester start?”

“You want to do this again?” Eli asks.

Parson stops idly twirling his spoon.

“You don’t?”

He does, Eli realizes. He really does. Because apparently he actually likes Kent fucking Parson.

My notes: Okay, this fic has my whole entire heart. I’ve read it multiple times in its entirety, and it’s almost twice as long as the full-length novel I’m querying. Eli is one of my favorite OCs I’ve ever seen in a fic (probably tied with Damian Navarro and Ari Paxton, both brainchildren of @fozmeadows). Anyway, this is probably going to be the next thing @themeaningoflifeischeese and I read out loud to each other. 

5. a fic you almost didn’t read: “when all else fails (i’ll still be right here)” by @whoacanada, 6k, T, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings (and I don’t remember if I think there’s stuff to warn for, sorry), Zimbits

The National Hockey League is resurrecting the Quebec City Nordiques, and the expansion draft hits the Falconers much harder than expected.

My notes: Given that this was for @omgcpheartbreakfest, I was worried this would be all angst--all hurt and no comfort. Which made me sad, because I love @whoacanada‘s writing but I wasn’t up for reading unresolved angst. But @doggernaut reblogged the fic, so I asked if the ending was sad, and it’s NOT! There is quite a bit of angst but the ending isn’t sad. 

6. a fic that convinced you on a ship you didn’t ship before: “it drops with the gravity of rain” by @geniusorinsanity, 16k, T, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings (attempted sexual assault by an OC), Nurseydex

It happens like this:

“I don’t--this is a bad idea,” Dex says, his lips still tingling, his hands shaking on Nursey’s hips where he’s shoved him away. “This is a really bad idea, Nurse. I can’t--We can’t do this.”

And there’s hurt in Nursey’s eyes and his bottom lip is swollen from Dex’s teeth, but he says, “Okay.” And then, “It’s chill, Dex. Just friends, then.”

It happens like this:

“Actually,” Nursey says, talking more to his granola than to them, “I kind of have a date.”

It happens like this:

When Nursey calls, Dex almost doesn’t pick up the phone.

My notes: So I was really confused and a little disturbed when I first found out people shipped Nursey and Dex. Like, Dex just wasn’t someone I trusted. But then I was moving out of the house I’d been living in, and I needed stuff to listen to as I packed and cleaned, and @khashanakalashtar‘s podfics came in clutch. I gave this one a try even though I didn’t like Dex, and @geniusorinsanity blew. My. Mind.

7. a fic from an unusual POV: “Excuse Me While I Kiss This Guy” by @porcupine-girl, 8k, G, no warnings, Zimbits

Jesse Snowden knows all the best restaurants and gourmet food shops in Providence, so when Jack Zimmermann starts bringing in incredible baked goods, he's eager to find out where the new bakery is. When he meets the man behind the pies, he decides that there's no way Jack could really appreciate this guy's talent the way he does, even if they are friends. He starts hiring Jack's chef on the side, in the hopes that maybe once Bitty's done with college he'll come work for Jesse.

Good thing there is absolutely no way whatsoever that Jesse could possibly be misinterpreting this situation.

My notes: Oh my gosh this is so funny. The secondhand embarrassment factor is huge, but like, the hilarity. 

8. a comfort fic: “Don’t Need to Compromise” by @khashanakalashtar, 11k, E, no warnings, PB&J

“Hey,” said Kent, unknowingly setting off a chain of events that would change his entire life, “you said that like you know from experience. Have you done this before?”

Jack and Bitty have not done polyamory before, but they do know Ransom and Holster’s polycule, which contains March.

And March?

March is trans.

My notes: I’m in love with @khashanakalashtar‘s entire Directionverse series (and honestly a lot of their other writing), but “Don’t Need to Compromise,” which is the second fic in the series, just makes my heart swell especially much. The gender feels are so good, and all the characters are so good to each other, and when I listen to this on walks I have to actively try not to arm-flap. 

9. a fic you wish could be a movie: “Ice Crew Please!” by @petals42, 61k, T, no warnings, Zimbits

Jack Zimmermann was drafted first by the Providence Falconers when he was eighteen years old. He is good at hockey. Very good. His team won the Cup his second year and now, in his third year, they are looking good. Jack should be on top of the world. And some days, he manages to convince himself he is.

He’s not, of course.

Enter the Ice Crew.

AKA: The Ice Crew AU

My notes: This fic has its tender moments, but what I love most about it is the sheer goofiness. Ransom and Holster and Shitty are HILARIOUS in this one. I’d love to see their shenanigans in movie form. 

10. a WIP you read as it was updated: “Something Borrowed” by @fozmeadows, 48k, M, no warnings, Kent x OC

All things considered, Ari did his best to prepare himself for the advent of Kent Parson, Potentially Difficult Housemate and New Star Liney. The problem was that his best was an idiot.

My notes: So technically I didn’t start reading this until the first 19 chapters were posted. But there was still plenty of anticipation for the final few chapters. And like, @fozmeadows (as mentioned above) makes EXCELLENT OCs. And I love how their fics consistently convey that having bad things happen to you does not mark the end of your story. 

Okay, it’s bedtime, so have 10 excellent fics. I got bingo twice, because I went straight across on the top two rows.

[goose-books]

goose-books productions: a 2020 review

view the image in higher quality here! (open the image in a new tab to zoom in.) thank you to my dearest @yvesdot for the template

transcripts and month-by-month details under the cut! for reference, you can find my projects here :-) overall, new and old followers, thank you for another good year over here! [holds your hand] [holds your hand] [holds your hand] [holds your h

january

i spent late 2019-early 2020 working on 2019’s nano project, quark, aka the speculative fiction thing about new york city and prophets and dissections of the chosen one trope and gay people. quark is my second-oldest project (five years!), but it’s also probably the most ambitious, so it’s been... difficult to wrangle into place, and i didn’t end up finishing a first draft. oh, well.

enjoy a snippet that is devastatingly emblematic of everything about quark. the tone. the homoerotic tension. the ensemble cast all talking over each other. the fact that caelum has spent pretty much this entire scene crying. fun autopsy report meeting.

Marble stares at the notebook in Shade’s hands. Or maybe he’s staring at Shade’s hands. Dawn feels a little voyeuristic, so she does what she does and says a dumb and unrelated thing: “Augustus, I think this pizza-on-the-floor thing is hurting my ass.”

Augustus flutters his hands. “Sometimes nonconformity is painful.”

“At least we’re originals,” Caelum mumbles into his sleeve.

“Exactly,” Augustus says.

“True originality doesn’t exist,” Marble says.

“Oh,” Shade deadpans, “it’s going to be a fun autopsy report meeting.”

It isn’t.

february

in january i stressed myself out trying to make the plot of quark work. so in february, i decided to take some time and write something Entirely For Fun. like, entirely for fun, no rules. and. my god. how do i explain the project i started calling “third eye for the bad guy.”

it was an unholy mashup of many of my past hyperfixations, including the gone series, a tale of two cities, warrior cats, and the left hand of darkness. one of the characters was a canon scalie and one was a canon fictionkinnie. it centered around a polycule of wannabe-evil-overlord high schoolers. i only wrote like three chapters but i was lost in the sauce for all of february and then i just… like… wiped it from my mind and moved on? somehow??? one character was a werewolf and that literally wasn’t relevant at ALL

I.

Someone was going to die on these steps.

This had been Ivy Lee Palomo’s thought last year during the all-school photo, and it rose in her mind again now. The one hundred marble stairs leading up to the great double doors of Saint Constantine Academy were the school’s pride and glory, steep as the mountain, sharp as the blade under Ivy Lee’s skirt. With the cutting wind and snow glazing the stone more often than not, with the freshmen wild and wired on their first day of their first year, it was really only a matter of time before someone slipped and cracked their fucking head open.

It wasn’t going to be her. Not when she had Doc Martens and reflexes like an electric coil. Still. Ivy Lee didn’t want to watch someone die. She didn’t get along with dead people.

march

in march, i got back to the project i’d started in 2019 - AMT, my podcast! it’s a shakespeare retelling set in a modern high school; this excerpt is funnier and also more unnerving in context. (double, double, toil and trouble...)

INDRAJIT: What the hell are you doing?

[PAUSE.]

DEE (like she’s lying): Making pasta.

[ALL THREE OF THEM LAUGH.]

NONA: That’s right.

MORA: We have the keys to Mab’s office.

DEE: We’re using her stove.

NONA: To make pasta.

DEE: Do you want some?

[A TENSE PAUSE.]

INDRAJIT: No.

april

and darkling rears its head! all of my other projects have existed for at least a year; darkling (specfic king lear retelling) is... special. it was conceived in april, when i started hyperfixating on king lear, and i still managed to write an absolutely ridiculous amount of content for it. it was like the power of hyperfixation let me speedrun the entire process. which. okay.

iv: control

They say Cressida Stayer was nine years old when she turned her hair to gold. They laid her down in bed blonde, and the next morning, the waves cascading down her shoulders were solid metal, glinting harshly in the sunlight, weighing her down, creating that odd head-cocked expression she still wears now. Nine years old. Two or three years before most people develop enough magic skills to dye a single curl. Much less transfigure their hair into precious metal.

People also say Leovald Stayer’s immediate reaction was to hack it off her head and melt it down for cash. But generally they say that part a lot quieter.

may

in may i wrote AMT episode 15, by which i mean that in may there was a day when i sat in my room with the door shut for literally five straight hours listening to the same three songs on loop as i wrote the climax of one of the plotlines of AMT. so. that sure was… a day.

ISAAC: Do you want… do you want someone to drive you home? Hawk, you’re worrying me -

HAWK (almost cutting him off): Don’t. Don’t say that. I’m here to help. With your… thing.

ISAAC (quietly): I… don’t know if you should be here to see this.

HAWK (a little louder, more audibly upset): Well - what else am I going to do? Go home and - and have my dads talk at me and - and not be able to answer them? Because I can’t? I can’t. I don’t know what to say.

[PAUSE.]

ISAAC (V.O.): I wonder if this is what he feels like, on the outside, looking in at me. Watching someone else hurting. Helpless and afraid.

He still fits perfectly in my arms. I rest my chin on top of his head and pull him close to me, like I can stop him from shaking, like I can stop anything from happening the way I know it’s going to. I bury my face in his hair. He smells so familiar. He’s so warm.

God, Hawk. I love you so much. You shouldn’t be here to see this. Something bad’s gonna happen. And you’re not the kind of person who belongs in a tragedy.

june

okay, honestly, i should talk about “night shift” here, because in june i wrote a whole short story in one night (and then foamed over it for a week), but i am still in the process of submitting it places! so i am terrified to put even a sentence of it online. instead: the other thing i did this month was to finish AMT! (sixteen episodes and somewhere around 175k, iirc, but don’t quote me.) these lines are the opener to the final episode!

RAHMA (V.O.): The combined series of sophomore year disasters stretched through November. It’s June now. It’s taken me… a long time to get this all put together. I was going to make a vlog about it, initially - well, calling it a vlog sounds frivolous. I was going to make a video recounting the whole deal. All of it. From when I kissed Avery Fairchilde to the very last night. I scripted dozens of drafts; I put together dozens of bullet-pointed lists of what to cover… and it was never enough. Because Avery and I weren’t the only ones involved. Even if I was only focused on the two of us, it wasn’t just the two of us.

So… I gathered up everyone else. The whole town of Ellisburg is still talking about the week the town went crazy, but it wasn’t just a week. There was a lot leading up to it. And I think if anyone’s going to talk about it, it should be us. The people who lived it. So here we are. The most ambitious Rahma Ashiq production of all time - at least so far.

july

every july i pause whatever else i’m doing to celebrate the birthday of aurum & argentate, twins from my oldest and dearest WIP The Mortal Realm. july fifteenth! mark your calendars. they’re princes, though argentate would really rather not be; you can read the full birthday piece here.

“Do you… plan to get dressed?” A bit of the usual humor crept back into Aurum’s voice. “Although if you want to speak to the kingdom in your underthings, by all means, you have my full support.”

Argentate scrubbed at his face. He wasn’t dressed, no, but the usual malaise hung over his shoulders like a cloak. Guilt. Nerves. The sick sense that he hadn’t done something he was supposed to. The numb knowledge that it was too late to change a thing.

“I meant to,” he said. “Get dressed, I mean.” The rest went unsaid: I have just been sitting here. On the floor. Thinking about how I should get dressed.

“Ah,” Aurum said, extending his hand. “The traditional route. We’ll save the nude speeches for the future, then.”

Argentate took his hand, stumbling a little as Aurum pulled him to his feet. He steadied himself on the closest wall, taking a few deep breaths. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. His hands found their way to the cross, again and again.

august

this summer, i wrote an entire draft of Valentine Van Velt is Dead, AKA “holden caulfield goes to exposure therapy,” AKA the weird little personal side project i keep tucked into my coat. interesting features include second-person narration from a narrator who doesn’t like the main character all that much. so reading it is kind of like the book wants to kill you? with an added dash of general melancholy.

You used to live here. That’s the thing that’s got you feeling so off.

You didn’t recognize your old house. I mean, you kind of did. You remembered that the road was on a hill. That hill felt like a goddamn forty-five degree angle when you were a kid. But if you didn’t have the address written down you wouldn’t have known it at all. It would have been just another little suburban house in rows of perfect little towns that make your skin crawl.

So now you’re in this diner looking out a gross smudgy window trying to block out the elevator music pumping through the speakers in the ceiling or whatever. I don’t know how speakers work. You’re trying to tune that shit out. The waitress comes over and catches you by surprise so you just point at some coffee thing on the menu so she’ll go away. For the record: you don’t drink coffee.

There’s a public library across the street. A little square building. You probably used to go there. The lady comes over and thunks your coffee on the table and gives you a kind of look, like she wants to know what in the goddamn hell you think you’re doing here and not at school. You sip your coffee and look out the window until she leaves you alone again. And then you spit it back into the cup because, for the record: you don’t drink coffee.

september

i spent september and october prepping for nano, so i was mostly working on darkling...

It’s late spring; still, at this time of night, on a rooftop, there’s a chill. The wind plays with the end of Ruby’s coat, with her hair. She hands the bottle off to Jasper, stares up at the fogged-over sky, wishes she were lying in Dany’s arms in Dany’s bed instead of here. Wishes, even, that Dany were the one on the roof with her. At least then they’d be cold together. At least then she wouldn’t have to imagine what Dany would say; she could just listen, and watch Dany’s flashing smile and her flinty eyes.

(She cuddles. This is another thing Dany does that Dany probably shouldn’t do, based on everything about Dany; it’s not like rattlesnakes cuddle. But Dany likes to nuzzle into Ruby’s side and rest her head on Ruby’s collarbones and toss an arm over Ruby’s chest, and hold her down like she’s worried she’ll float off somewhere. She’ll card her fingers through Ruby’s hair and hum. Even though they could get caught, even though she’s probably got better places to be - Dany cuddles.)

Ruby imagines it, momentarily, both of them on the roof together, sprawled like horrifyingly beautiful gargoyles, sharp teeth flashing, blood running hot. Up here - it’d be like they ruled the world.

But whatever. Jasper’s fun. He’s hot. He’s got a sharp tongue in a lot more ways than one. And she likes when he lets the mask down. She likes seeing the soft bits underneath. She wants to sink her teeth and nails into them so hard she draws blood. Masks don’t bleed. Ruby would know; that’s why she is what she is.

october

...though i was also in creative writing class in school, and thus ended up writing a bunch of poems of varying quality (my teacher had a real thing for poetry) and also one darklingverse short story where rory and cressida hold hands! which you can find here.

Lorelai Rory Flowers is afraid of thunder.

This is a bit of an embarrassing thing to admit, as they’re seventeen (“at least seventeen,” they like to tell people, “maybe two hundred, who’s to say?”) and generally wise beyond their years, or whatever it is that adults say about kids with too much psychological baggage. Being afraid of thunder is not a very wise-beyond-one’s-years trait. And yet the state of affairs remains: loud noises make Rory want to melt into the earth. Back when they still went to school, even the fire alarm sent them scuttling under their desk to hide.

Right now, in the elevator, all they can do is shrink into their sweater.

They haven’t let go of Cressida’s hand yet.

november

and then november of course was nano which was an adventure all the way through. (opening tumblr on the fifth day of nano to find out about d*stiel... was something.)

“Apologize to me. Or get out of my house.”

Gracen’s voice is very, very low. For a moment she thinks he hasn’t heard her at all. Then he spins, eyes blazing. “What did you say?”

Gracen watches her own chest heave. She pushes herself up off the desk, stands with the effort of pushing a mountain off of her back. Leovald is six-foot-four. Gracen is six-foot-two. In her heels, in the heels she must wear to be a professional woman, to be a lady - they are the same height.

Gracen wipes her nose. When she lowers her arm, there’s a streak of blood across the back of her hand. Fire shivers in her chest; her heart rings in her ears; her voice could cut steel.

“I said,” she says, low, slow, volume building, “apologize to me. Or get. Out. Of. My. House.”

december

and finally, the poem i posted this year! it’s called the beast sonnet, and you can find it in its own post over here (with commentary! how sexy.)

i kill the beast and drop down to my knees, my blade stained dark with blood of stygian hue, and for a moment these scarred hands shake free, and hold a world unfurled for me anew. but once-mourned victims, victors, vices find; fear winged me; now its absence strips me bare. my sword now dulls, my legs, my voice, my mind; the beast, pried from my throat, leaves no skill there. and still i hear it laugh, O DEVOTEE— O CHILD DEAR, NO GLORY WITHOUT ME.

i was quite productive this year; i have to think it was because i was avoiding things... the peak of my productivity happened over the summer and in november, AKA, college app hell. (almost done with the last applications! pray for me.)

a general breakdown of what occupied me this year:

(no, i don’t know why the “various other things” category ended up so large... i blame all the one-off projects i wrote a single page for, and also whatever the fuck happened in february. yes, i do know why it looks hideous; it’s because each of my WIPs has a theme color

thank you once again for spending some time at goose-books dot gov this year! what to expect for next year: well, i very much hope i can produce AMT... also hoping to get darkling ready for beta readers, so keep your eyes out!

[iwritefanficsometimes]

Polyverse DrPepperony Get Together Fic

So, I think my new OTP might be DrPepperony. Expect more pepper/Stephen/Tony content in the future.

It feels really good to be writing again.

Part 2 coming maybe? Warning! For Stephen having a panic attack at the very beginning. I don’t know how accurate it is, but that’s the intention of the scene, and I feel I should warn for it. I’m posting on mobile, so sorry that there’s no cut. I kind of should be in bed. Will post to Avengers Polycule Series on AO3 eventually.

———

Stephen takes a deep breath through the non-existent restraint around his neck. He knows it’s not real. He’s touched his neck with shaking hands and felt that there was nothing there. He’s reached out with his magic and has sensed that no one is attacking him. He forces himself to breath through the non-existent restraint and closes his eyes to focus his energy on his breath.

Panic attack, his doctor hindbrain supplies, but it’s ignored. Stephen barely has the composure to keep breathing. He can’t analyze the root of his problem, not while he’s in the middle of it.

He forces his chest to expand and contract, to take in air despite his mind telling him that he can’t. His throat is not constricted. His blood needs to be oxygenated. He needs to breathe.

He jumps when a hand touches his shoulder. His eyes open and he’s staring directly at Tony Stark, who should not be able to come into his room without his knowledge, but apparently had.

“You’re doing good.” Tony says and it exasperates Stephen. He doesn’t need coaching. He doesn’t need help. He’s been handling it perfectly fine on his own. He’s always handled it perfectly fine on his own.

He forces himself to breath through the non-existent restraint around his neck.

“You’re doing really well, Strange. Let’s do another one.”

Tony is following along with Stephen’s breath and Stephen finds his eyes focusing on a glowing blue and metal beacon in Tony’s chest, watching it move with every one of Tony’s breaths. It’s easier to look at than Tony’s eyes, eyes that are too familiar, shouldn’t be but are.

“There you go. Whatever helps.” Tony keeps breathing, in time with Stephen’s breaths, not any faster or slower. “You’re doing good, Steph. Pep, yeah, I got him, don’t worry.”

Stephen doesn’t see Tony answer his phone, but he must have, at some point, because he doesn’t sense Pepper in the room. He throws his energy out like a beacon and can’t sense her. He wishes she was there. “Yes, we’re good. Keep breathing Stephen.” Tony squeezes his shoulder and Stephen looks up at him helplessly. He was. He had been. What more did Tony want?

Tony kissed Stephen on the temple, but immediately pulled back when he realized it hid his arc reactor from Stephen’s view. Stephen wished he wouldn’t pull back.

It’s only a few minutes later that Tony pulls Stephen in against his chest, resting his head in the crook of his neck. “That’s right. You got through it. You did good, Stephen, you did good calling me.”

“Didn’t.” Stephen mumbles, still forcing himself to breathe in a regular even meter, not trusting his body to breathe on it’s own just yet.

“Sure you did. Friday alerted me when you hit the panic button on your phone.”

Stephen doesn’t know when he did that, but he’s glad he did.

“You alright for now? Want to stand up? We’ll get you some water.”

Stephen can only nod, his mind still spinning and trying desperately not to end up back where it had been.

They stand together, and Stephen is leaning more on Tony than he’d like to admit. Tony doesn’t mind, could probably pick Stephen up and carry him all the way to the elevator, but won’t. Wouldn’t.

Stephen is eternally grateful to Tony, and Pepper, for the kindness and consideration they show him. Tony doesn’t ask what triggered it. He doesn’t ask if Stephen is “done.” He helps Stephen to sit down in a plush chair and squeezes his forearms before he leaves the room for a glass of water. Stephen follows his life-force to the small attached kitchen in his tower apartment, and then back again. The glass of water is tall and has a straw, which Stephen is grateful for.

“Thank you,” he manages to say when Tony sets the glass near enough to the edge of the table sitting on his side that he can just lean over and sip from it.

“Of course, anytime.”

Tony takes a seat in the identical plush chair on the other side of the end table his glass is set on, and pulls out his phone. Stephen watches him, because the movements of Tony’s hands are a good distraction from the still-racing thoughts that he’s trying not to focus on.

And then Tony starts talking. Stephen breathes a sigh of relief that releases tension he hadn’t even realized he was still holding as Tony explains the intricate details of his more recent schematic, things Stephen probably didn’t have a hope of understanding even if he was in a good headspace. As it stands, he focuses on Tony’s words, makes sense of the ones he knows, lets the rest of them string together meaninglessly as Tony’s voice chips away at the last of the panic.

“And that’s the wife.” Tony smiled, looking at Stephen as the holo-screen of his phone turns into a caller ID for Pepper. “I’m gonna take this, okay? One sec.”

Tony hit “accept call” and was immediately greeted with a hologram of Pepper’s face.

“Tony!” She smiled, and she didn’t look outwardly frazzled except the corners of her mouth were too tight. “I hadn’t heard from you. Everything alright?”

“Yeah, Pep, everything’s all good. Want to say hi to Stephen?” He asked, but didn’t wait for a response before he turned her to face him.

Stephen smiled half-heartedly and the tension in the corners of Pepper’s mouth relaxed. “Stephen, it’s good to see you. I didn’t know you were spending this weekend at the tower.” She didn’t sound accusatory. They had told him that the apartment on their penthouse floor was always available for him, and he’d made use of it before without consulting with them, but it still felt good to have the little reassurance.

“Yeah. The other Sanctum Masters were… concerned that I was overworking myself.”

“You probably were.” Tony said, and Pepper nodded along with him.

“We’re always happy to see you, Stephen. It’s Avengers team night, if you want to stop in? I think it’s…” She glanced away from the screen and focused somewhere just to the side. “It’s Clint’s turn,” she smiled, “He’ll probably bring the kids, which means it’s a Disney or Pixar night. We’ll make extra popcorn.”

She said it so certainly that Stephen didn’t have the heart to turn her down. That had been Pepper’s intention, even if she hadn’t said so.

“It’ll be good to get the team used to you. You’re officially an Avenger in, what, less than a month?” Tony added, “Assuming someone doesn’t screw up the paperwork at the last minute.”

Pepper sighed. “If you just jinxed us, I’m going to throw you off the balcony.”

“Stephen, Pepper is making me feel unsafe. Protect me.” Tony pouted, and Stephen laughed and he felt a little less like a cardboard cut out trying to pass for a sorcerer.

“If she wants to throw you off her own balcony, I don’t have any right to stop her.”

“Thank you, Stephen.” Pepper smiled at him, and Stephen smiled back at her, her eyes bright even over the blue toned hologram. Stephen didn’t think of himself as a romantic, but she seemed to be glowing, and he could have gotten lost in her eyes.

Tony cleared his throat and turned the phone back towards himself. “Pepper, stop making eyes at him, I called dibs.”

“I thought we agreed to share.” Pepper said with a raised eyebrow and a mischievous lip bite. Stephen was a bit caught off guard, eyes widening as they… flirted? With each other through him? But... they were also flirting with him. Maybe. Pepper had the same sort of look that she’d had when she was threatening to throw Tony off the balcony, except it was different in a way Stephen couldn’t quite put a finger on.

“You’re gonna scare him off, Ms. Potts.”

Well, that didn’t answer any of Stephen’s questions, but it did make a mark in the “they’re flirting with me” column of his mind.”

“We tried it your way, all the passive romantic gestures a man could ask for. It didn’t work. Now we’re trying it my way. Turn me back to Stephen.”

Stephen glanced from the hologram to Tony, and back, not exactly following even as the hologram Pepper looked him directly in the eyes. They were flirting with him, but not just flirting. They were also-

“Stephen, we want you to sit with us during the Avengers movie night. Would you like to?”

Stephen stared at her, still not entirely down from the panic attack he’d had just a few minutes before, or maybe it was longer? How long had he been sitting there?

“Don’t keep us in suspense, please.” Tony smiled, just a trace of nerves in the crease of his forehead and the tension in his hand that held his phone.

Suddenly Stephen realized that they were serious. Completely and totally serious. The realization hit him like a truck and he knew he had to accept their offer. He would never forgive himself if he didn’t.

“Su-Um, yes.” Stephen finally said, and when he saw the twin looks of pleasure on Tony and Pepper’s faces he straightened his posture a little bit. “But I’m not looking for a serious relationship right now.”

That was true. He wasn’t. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t even like it. Probably.

“That’s fine.” Pepper smiled brightly. “We know you’re busy, we just… want to spend more time with you.” Her eyes were mischievous, and Stephen forgot how anxious he’d been (three hours) earlier. He forgot that he shouldn’t be letting himself get caught up with personal affairs. He was the Master of the New York Sanctum. When does he have time to maintain a relationship? But a little bit of time having some fun with Pepper and Tony… couldn’t hurt. Probably.

“By more time, she definately means sex.��� Tony cut in and Pepper rolled her eyes at him.

“Subtlety, Tony. Believe it or not, it works for some people.”

“Boring people.” Tony stood up and turned the phone back towards himself. “I’m going to get back to work, you,” he raised an eyebrow at Pepper, “Have a company to be running. Get to it, chop chop.”

She laughed and Tony turned his gaze to Stephen, his look softening. “And you need to have a nap. You look exhausted. We’ll catch you at the movie night, alright?” Tony stepped around the table and rested a hand on Stephen’s shoulder, squeezing it gently to reiterate his point. Stephen nodded mutely, not quite ready to move while he processed what was happening.

“Will that be all Mr. Stark?” Pepper asked and Tony smiled at her.

“That’ll be all Ms. Potts. Say goodbye to Stephen.”

“Well turn me around then!” She laughed, and she was still laughing when Tony turned her to face him. “Have a good nap, Stephen. If you’re not ready by the time team night starts, don’t worry about it. It’s a come and go sort of thing. Friday will direct you where you need to go.”

“I’ll see you then.” Stephen said quietly and she smiled a genuinely pleased smile at him.

“I look forward to it,” with that she hung up and Tony put the phone back in his pocket.

“I was serious about the nap.” He shook a non-plussed finger at Stephen who rolled his eyes.

“I don’t need to be told when to sleep. I’m not you.”

“You only dream of being as amazing as I am.”

“I usually call them nightmares, but sure.”

“God I like you.” Tony said with a smirk and then a small salute. “See you tonight, Steph.” Before he goes he pecks the sorcerer on the cheek, quickly to keep Stephen from trying to fend him off

Stephen couldn’t even be irritated by the annoying pet name Tony had taken to calling him because he was too busy thinking about that small kiss, those twin smirks. Stephen Strange was in trouble from the likes of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts, but maybe just this once trouble wasn’t such a bad thing to be in.