#people who might more usually instead ignore them grabbing on to the both of them for entertainment. little a bullying haha whee

[unproduciblesmackdown]

tayston au where they're coworkers Somewhere Else that's not like the ideal dream job in theory for either of them, nor in practice, where there's still typical nonsense & the [genderdivergent / neurononconforming handshake] is no less relevant, just like In Real Life. elements simplified &/or amplified by taylor not having any especial rank or power, along the lines of how things presumably would've gone as [premise of having been Just Some Intern until getting mentorship & promotions that made it more relevant to stay a while]. they and winston maybe distantly know Of each other just via working in whatever same physical space, & this is how they both know most other coworkers; they mostly interact with who they interact with for official work purposes, they both keep busy enough, they're both othered by what workplace socializing is going on, with plenty of [shared negative opinion] embraced by people & thus both of them as the targets of that being Not embraced. gd & nnc handshake as stated

so, thinking of them both at some General Coworkers Mostly Informal Event at a bar or something of the sort, like, an End Of The Year thing, end of the [ways specific workplaces divide up time for whatever business events. quarters. some other regular event of Assessment] or any other companywide deal that could spur some peak Across The Board "we're going out, theoretically everyone's invited" and of course both winston and taylor happen to actually go. maybe there are preexisting (also mostly informal) traditions here, maybe there's people just making shit up on the spot (perhaps pretending they're preexisting traditions. winston & taylor not having worked there a full year or anything. or maybe one or both of them has, but hasn't shown up for this perhaps annual deal before. etc) but some "playing with [someone othered] for entertainment" organically crops up around winston where the people involved also spontaneously bring taylor into it as accessory, someone they wouldn't involve as getting to be "in on it." lot of flexibility here but what i've landed on after rotating & jostling ideas is roughly like: people very loosely like expressing a celebratory nature to the event via (again perhaps an actual informal preexisting tradition, perhaps being invented just now while perhaps pretending otherwise, or not) like Awards / Honors / Recognitions being doled out to some specific employees. maybe starts out somewhat rooted in more formal things, hooray for someone's recentish birthday, hooray for someone's preexisting formal recognition for whatever work achievement, then branches off into like haha hooray for [person] for [inside joke about some event ya just had to be there for! / other work wins of increasing informality/jokiness] where that jocularity can easily transition into Using this autistic coworker who's never in the In Group as a joke, of course, while maintaining ambiguity to opacity / Deniability about how the figurative arm slung around His shoulder is not actual inclusion like it is for other people

e.g. set winston up like here's some Ironic Recognition that is ostensibly framed as a compliment directly or that the ribbing / insulting Is in fact totally amicable Inclusion just like it is when we do it to these other guys haha....taylor happens to be proximate enough to be spontaneously dragged into it with people exercising the same attitude of like, well they're an object to be toyed with momentarily for our entertainment just like winston is haha. like oh don't you agree with this compliment towards winston Or this insult, it'd amuse us either way. and an idea being this being dialed up enough for like little a [venturing into harassment] all around of like, perhaps: congratulations winston for us all agreeing you Win at being our office's most eligible bachelor haha XD you're soooo single X'D cue whatever transition into building on The Joke like and how amazing when you're, stifled laughter, you're the hottest person here also three cheers for that too....like a) winston like thee nerd amongst nerds, no matter where he works or what group he's in the [an autistic person...] is Sensed, just like in real life, b) being in the impossible position where ofc he's doomed from the start in being targeted by people who can & are ganging up on him here, him playing along while realizing it may all be at his expense = he loses, him pushing back = he loses, him at least at first accepting like oh people are being spontaneous & funny & friendly to me (such as with amicable ribbing truly equivalent to what other popular enough coworkers are getting) & not realizing it's actually different & disingenous & entirely At His Expense = he loses. but whatever his response at first like, it's Escalated by someone drawing taylor into it b/c they're sitting at the next table or walking by at that instant or coming up to the bar or something & it's like oh Hey, we were just giving winston his due as the sexiest motherfucker here, Do you agree & Wouldn't you make out with him. & this obvious escalation / unusual extension of the [figurative arm around winston's shoulder] that isn't happening with any of the other like more at all actually better-intentioned friendly [just messing with you] being like, making winston More uncomfortable (b/c even if he'd accepted the premise / given the benefit of the doubt to the premise / optimistically tried to believe the premise that it was genuinely well-intentioned up to this point, the "this is just pushed onto him" element inherent to it would not be fun for him) & thus yknow Definitely realizing that no matter the intentions like, this is just gonna be a bad time for him & isn't gonna result in being embraced / included in any way he wants here

also the incongruity in how winston sees taylor here, & how taylor sees winston, vs how whatever group of friends being assholes to both of them sees either of them. the Key Element that makes this "oh, autistic & trans handshake moment, tayston moment" at the core. taylor is experiencing someone just on a whim Also trying to like pick them up for a second & mess with them as a desk toy for one's own amusement, as it were, as the [taylor is out here indeed gender nonconforming even if this workplace isn't As ramped up Cis Agenda as canon's, they're also still Unusual enough in demeanor/comport/means of expression/communication & so forth as to get that "honorary" ableism (still just the same ableism) like how in canon ppl are basically calling both of the r word in different ways, degrees, at different points] like Joke's On Them too, we're Ironic in asking their input, they & winston can still only lose no matter how they respond, Their opinion on [Ideals of gender & sexuality? thus Desirability?] can only Deviate from correctness just as winston can only Deviate from correctness in this [in group]'s "opinion" (they have the Facts!) like hilarious if taylor, weirdo who we could also make fun of by how Undesirable they are, also rejects winston, or doesn't, which would also just be hilarious

meanwhile winston is like oh no this hot coworker being dragged into it :[ don't put them on the spot to either be like "ew god" about me Or else also only be playing along in this specific moment and context such that i'm flying too close to the sun with however seemingly positively they might interact with me, even a smile & a Yeah Nice, don't want them to go "lmfao. imagine. as if XD", don't want them to think he himself is In On giving them shit here....then taylor's obvious Lack Of Being Amused Too if not displeasure at some shitheads being like would you Not want all of that (winston) would you totally kiss him for $50, don't answer that $500, all the money in the world & you're the last people in the world then it'd be tempting right XD just etc suffering as the punchline of bullshit improv out here. to winston's compounding embarrassment at both a) realizing yeah this isn't Just amicable razzing, he's only "included" to the extent he's these people's entertainment, perhaps also picking up on the outright like [just being given shit] / contempt to it, & b) again like not wanting to now be involved in annoying the epic & definitely themself sexy mf coworker who is of course just set up to reject him in this moment & also now going forward....while taylor is also in turn is Seeing Winston in a different context than these others are & like recognizing his [winston's discomfited & withdrawing expressiveness] & just indeed that context of likewise suffering bullshit here

some kind of transition here, like, taylor makes some dry in turn ambiguous enough response about like, well yes i think out of everyone present i'd be most likely to make out with this particular person. b/c these shitheads don't confer especial worthiness to any of taylor's input either it's like ohhh shitttt reallyyyy do itttt XD and you know, tall order to then actually do it in this pretty hostile situation & knowing as much, but this is just a specificass What If vs [only outcome possible, in every au in every timeline] and like the added situation of like, taylor already has been aware of bullshit & nonsense & hostility & their not winning the popularity contest which matters, winston has been too, that neither of them are so committed to this particular job that they can't also both engage in some spontaneity here which could, in fact, include "eh yeah maybe i'll just quit after this. maybe this is me quitting"

taylor also of course not actually kissing winston here if he wasn't also into it. but this is a) mutual recognition of a kindred spirit, if even simply in [both being put into this damn situation / held in the same context by these other mfs] & b) winston is, in fact, flustered about immediate [!! they're hot!!] so yknow.

point is we get to the point of winston like, having this aside directly with taylor of like, embarrassed, flustered, being like "augh sorry :( you don't have to. this is just a joke to them" and taylor can be like "yeah i know and i know i'm also just a joke to them, but." and perhaps a little more of a transition into it like, the mutual question of "do You think i'm a joke" where it is of the essence that a) they both already realize that this person does, in fact, not, and b) this is just further confirmation and rather asking like, is this serious enough to you, do you understand i'm being serious enough. again not seriousness in Gravitas to ""play along"" and make out as effective strangers having a moment at a work function amidst hostile parties, but in sufficient earnestness in doing so. like no i'm not actually trying to agree / go along with any terms as laid out by these other people but yeah i'd have This moment of actual acceptance and recognition with you and it Can manifest as making out a bit, sure, and as a way to at all turn things around on this other party, if They play along, if they find they're actually about it at all, if they're just annoyed & drop the act, they lose a bit, even as again like, of course even if they choose some other route, do the "correct" thing and pwn winston, do what'd "win" and try to pwn him And everyone else here, they can't simply get that ultimate permanent victory (this is not billions canon, where they still couldn't do that anyways)

anyways they have their little exchange of recognition, reassurance like but i'm not messing with you, you're not messing with me, even as we're about to mess around(tm) a minute. they have an exchange of messing around and making out a minute. the "well while we're here, suffering bullshit, may as well get this much out of it / sure fuck it" factor can involve now also being [handshake] in like eh yeah think i might have to just quit after that, think that might've just been me quitting, b/c they can keep being Mostly Left Alone at work but this wouldn't really have made things any better, this wasn't either of their dream jobs in the forever career, this was all an Event marking some annual milestone like well i'm not dying to attend the next one either and i may as well peace out now anyways. and everyone might start just being assholes about it immediately and it's like yeah do you wanna get out of here, in the straightforward way, in the "i'd mess around with you further now sure, fuck it, by which i mean me/you, literally" way. Do So even if people are more like okay lol whatever yeah we'll be about as unfriendly as we were before, just a bit more now. be like lol we've actually never really talked, we can go to some other place and get food, hang out, chat too, exchange numbers and plan to at least be friends or allies in "now Ex coworkers lol" like it's sure a way to meet, it was sure relevant that we were just both immediately aware of there being this Understanding between us

bonus: add ben to this newfound companionship b/c he reaches out like "oh sorry you're quitting, yeah people sure can be assholes since i don't have to refrain from saying so to you as [people who also still work here]" or through some other means. or anyone else. billions au, the characters we like / could perhaps save just knowing each other any which way, Not only existing in [zero sum game] hellzone. where they can actually in fact like experience similar / equivalent shit in some ways But react in ways canon would never allow. What Ifs abound. this has been a possible "oh honey i'm a joke to them too" / "but that / this isn't just a joke to you is it" edition

[brokencompass]

「 ☾ 」 ── 𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄

you’re a silent regular at after hours, keeping your distance. felix, the bartender, is intrigued and determined to uncover the story behind your eyes, one drink at a time.

the first time you walked into after hours, felix nearly forgot how to breathe.

it wasn’t just that you were stunning - though you were, undeniably so. it was the way you moved, a kind of effortless self-assurance that drew attention without trying. you didn’t stride in, commanding the room like some people might. instead, there was a calm confidence in your steps, a quiet kind of magnetism. you didn’t seem like someone who sought out the spotlight; it simply followed you.

felix caught sight of you as you shrugged off your coat. his hands, which had been moving in a practiced rhythm as he wiped down the bar, came to an abrupt halt. the towel dangled loosely in his fingers as his eyes followed you. you draped your coat over the back of a stool and slid into it, the smoothness of the movement almost hypnotic.

han, who was stacking glasses near the sink, didn’t miss the way felix had frozen in place. he smirked and leaned in just enough to be heard. “what’s with the look? you act like you’ve never seen someone attractive before.”

felix shook himself out of his trance, his ears burning as he tossed the towel over his shoulder. “i’ll take care of her,” he said with a confidence that sounded just a bit too forced.

han raised an eyebrow, glancing over at hyunjin, who was perched at the far end of the bar with a soda in hand. “oh, this’ll be good,” han said, low enough that felix wouldn’t hear but loud enough to earn a knowing chuckle from hyunjin.

felix ignored them both, straightened his apron, and approached you. he put on his best smile - the one that made his dimples pop and usually charmed customers into leaving a bigger tip. “evening,” he greeted, his voice smooth but warm. “what can i get for you tonight?”

you didn’t look up right away, your eyes still scanning the menu as your fingers drummed softly on the wood of the counter. “whiskey,” you said simply, your voice low and even. “neat.”

felix tilted his head, leaning slightly against the counter as if settling in for a conversation. “whiskey’s a classic choice,” he said, his tone playful. “but wouldn’t you rather let me surprise you with something a little more… memorable?”

you finally looked up, and the brief flicker of skepticism in your eyes hit felix harder than it should have. “i’m not here to be impressed,” you said flatly, though the faintest hint of amusement tugged at the corner of your mouth.

he took a split second to recover, his grin widening as if your response had only encouraged him. “fair enough,” he said, grabbing a glass and reaching for the top-shelf whiskey. “whiskey it is.”

han who had been eavesdropping from a few feet away, let out a low snicker. felix shot him a warning glare over his shoulder but quickly returned his attention to you, sliding the freshly poured drink across the counter with a flourish. “i’m felix, by the way,” he said, leaning forward slightly as if the introduction mattered.

you lifted the glass and took a slow sip, the burn of the whiskey warming your chest. “that’s nice,” you replied, setting the glass down with a soft clink. your tone was polite but detached, and you didn’t offer your name in return.

from his spot at the end of the bar, hyunjin openly laughed. “ouch,” he muttered, just loud enough for felix to hear.

felix, determined not to let you slip away so easily, tilted his head, his eyes sparkling with something mischievous. “you’re new here,” he observed confidently.

you raised an eyebrow, your expression unreadable. “is that supposed to be a question?”

“nope,” felix said, straightening up. “just an observation. you’ve got that look - like you’re still deciding whether this place is worth your time.”

you glanced around, your gaze briefly flicking to the dim lighting, the bottles lined up behind the bar, and the small but steady crowd. “and what do you think?”

“i think it just got a lot more interesting,” felix said, his smile returning full force.

you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head as you finished your drink. “you’re persistent, i’ll give you that,” you said, standing up and slipping your coat back on.

“only when i’m intrigued,” felix replied, watching as you adjusted your scarf.

“well,” you said, your tone light but firm, “don’t be.”

you turned and started toward the door, leaving felix standing there, caught somewhere between admiration and defeat.

from behind him, han muttered, “rough night for romeo over here.”

hyunjin snorted. “called it.”

felix ignored them both, his grin not entirely gone as he watched you disappear into the night. “better luck next time,” he heard you call over your shoulder.

two nights later, when you walked into after hours again, felix was ready.

hyunjin noticed you first, nudging felix with his elbow as he wiped down the bar. “look who’s back,” he said, a sly grin already forming.

felix looked up from the glass he was polishing, his face lighting up the moment he saw you. you were wearing the same confident air as before, but there was something different this time - a flicker of recognition as your eyes scanned the room. when your gaze briefly landed on felix, he felt his heart skip a beat.

“i knew it,” he said under his breath, tossing his towel at han, who dodged it with a laugh.

you settled into the same seat at the bar, pulling out your phone as felix made his way over. “couldn’t stay away, huh?” he greeted, leaning casually against the counter.

you glanced up, your expression as unreadable as before. “don’t get ahead of yourself. the whiskey was good, that’s all.”

felix placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “so it wasn’t my sparkling personality?”

“your unsolicited charm, you mean?” you shot back, raising an eyebrow.

from the other end of the bar, hyunjin muttered, “oof, brutal,” earning a quiet laugh from han.

felix ignored them, his grin never wavering. “alright, tell you what - this round’s on me. no strings, no charm. just a good drink.”

you tilted your head, skeptical. “you sure you can manage that?”

“watch me,” felix said, already reaching for the whiskey.

this time, as you took a sip, your expression softened - just barely. “not bad,” you admitted, setting the glass down.

“not bad?” felix repeated, pretending to be wounded. “i’m crushed.”

you didn’t reply, but the faint smirk tugging at your lips told him he hadn’t completely lost you.

as the night went on, felix found excuses to linger near your seat, sliding in the occasional comment or playful remark. you batted him away every time, but he noticed the way your eyes lingered a little longer, the way your lips quirked into a smile even as you shook your head.

when you finally stood to leave, you paused at the door, glancing back at him. “you’re persistent. i’ll give you that.”

felix grinned, leaning against the bar. “and you keep coming back. i’ll take that as a win.”

you didn’t answer, but there was a flicker of something - amusement, perhaps - before you disappeared into the night.

hyunjin leaned back in his seat, shaking his hand. “you’re hopeless.”

felix’s grin widened as he watched the door swing shut. “hopeless? nah. just patient.”

by the time you walked into after hours a third time, felix was practically buzzing with anticipation.

it had been a week since your last visit, and while felix would never admit it out loud, he’d spent more time thinking about you than he probably should have. he’d catch himself glancing at the door, hoping for that familiar figure to walk through, only to shake his head and focus back on his work. hyunjin and han teased him mercilessly about it, of course.

“she’s playing hard to get, mate,” han had said with a smirk.

“she’s playing not interested,” hyunjin corrected, earning a glare from felix.

but when you finally appeared again, it felt like the room shifted. you weren’t wearing a coat this time, just a sleek black sweater and a scarf draped loosely around your neck. your hair was slightly windswept, as if you’d walked a long way to get here.

felix barely managed to keep his cool as you approached the bar and took your usual seat.

“third time’s the charm,” he greeted, already reaching for a glass.

you glanced at him, your expression calm but unreadable. “and what exactly do you think that means?”

“it means i’m officially upgrading you to a regular,” felix said, grinning as he poured your usual whiskey.

you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “you’re persistent. i’ll give you that.”

“that’s the second time you’ve said that,” felix pointed out, sliding the glass toward you.

“maybe i’m running out of compliments,” you replied dryly, though the hint of a smile tugged at your lips.

felix leaned against the bar, resting his chin on his hand as he watched you take a sip. “lucky for me, i don’t need compliments to know i’m doing a good job.”

you raised an eyebrow. “you’re awfully confident for someone who’s been shut down twice.”

felix shrugged, his grin never faltering. “i’m playing the long game.”

for a moment, you said nothing, your eyes fixed on the amber liquid in your glass. when you finally spoke, your voice was softer, almost contemplative. “and what exactly is the prize in this ‘long game’ of yours?”

felix hesitated, caught off guard by the sudden shift in your tone. he straightened up, his playful demeanor fading just slightly. “i guess i’m hoping to figure that out,” he admitted. “you’re kind of a mystery, you know.”

you tilted your head, your gaze meeting his. for the first time, there was no trace of amusement or skepticism in your eyes - just quiet curiosity. “and you think you can solve me?”

felix shook his head, his voice lowering as he replied, “not solve. just.. understand.”

the air between you grew still, the hum of conversation around the bar fading into the background. felix held your gaze, his usual charm replaced by something softer, more sincere.

then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the moment passed. you broke eye contact, taking another sip of your drink before setting the glass down. “good luck with that,” you said, your tone light again.

felix chuckled, leaning back as the tension eased. “i’ll take all the luck i can get.”

as the night wore on, you lingered longer than usual, occasionally engaging felix in conversation. he learned little things about you - not your name, not your story, but bits and pieces that felt like progress. you liked whiskey, but you hated cocktails. you didn’t come to the bar often, but when you did, it wasn’t because of the company.

still, felix noticed the way your shoulders relaxed the more you talked, the way your smirks turned into genuine smiles. and when you finally stood to leave, you didn’t just glance back at the door.

“you’re alright, felix,” you said, pulling your scarf tighter around your neck.

his grin widened, his dimples deepening. “does that mean i’m growing on you?”

you paused, your hand on the door handle. “it means i’ll think about it,” you said, flashing him a small smile before disappearing into the night.

felix stood there for a moment, replaying your words in his head.

“she’s definitely playing the long game,” han said from behind him, clapping him on the back.

felix laughed, shaking his head. “worth it.”

and for the first time, he truly believed it.

felix was wiping down the counter, the rhythmic motion of the cloth against the wood soothing him as he prepared for another slow night.

the door to after hours creaked open, and he looked up, his gaze immediately finding you. you weren’t rushing this time, just walking in with that quiet confidence, your coat casually slung over one shoulder as you made your way to your usual seat at the bar.

there was something different about you tonight, though. you weren’t wearing the same guarded look you often wore - your shoulders didn’t seem as tense. it was subtle, but felix noticed. he couldn’t help but smile, his fingers pausing mid-wipe as he took you in.

he shook off the momentary distraction and grabbed a fresh towel, draping it over his shoulder before he strolled over to you.

“whiskey, right?” he asked, his voice light, trying to keep it casual.

you glanced up at him, just enough to meet his eyes. “yeah, whiskey.”

felix smiled, moving with practiced ease as he reached for the bottle and poured the drink. the amber liquid sloshed into the glass with a satisfying sound. “anything different tonight? or are we sticking with the classics?” he asked, sliding the drink across the counter toward you.

you took the glass without hesitation, bringing it up to your lips and taking a slow sip. felix watched, trying not to make it obvious, but he was waiting for any sign that tonight would be like the others.

“not really. just here for the drink,” you said, your voice a little quieter than usual.

felix nodded, leaning against the counter, his expression softening as he observed you. there was something else in your demeanor tonight. you weren’t as quick with the sharp retorts or teasing banter, and the air between you two felt a little less tense, a little more comfortable.

“you’re quiet tonight,” he remarked, his tone gentler than he meant it to be.

you set the glass down slowly, the sound of the glass meeting the wood filling the small space between you two. “not much to say.”

felix didn’t push. he wasn’t quite sure what he was hoping for, but he didn’t want to ruin the moment either. instead, he just took a step back and let the silence settle comfortably around you both. his gaze lingered on you - on the way your fingers absentmindedly traced the rim of your glass, how your eyes occasionally flickered over to him but never stayed for long.

the quiet didn’t feel strained, though. it was just... peaceful.

after a while, felix leaned forward slightly, his hands resting lightly on the edge of the bar. “if you don’t mind me asking,” he said, breaking the silence, “why here? there are plenty of other places in town.”

you paused for a moment, your eyes flickering up to meet his. there was a softness in your gaze that hadn’t been there before. “i like it here. the drink’s good. the vibe’s…” you paused, as if you were searching for the right words. “relaxing, i guess.”

felix’s grin tugged at his lips. “well, i’m glad we’re doing something right.”

the two of you exchanged a brief look, one that felt almost... familiar. he couldn’t place it, but there was something about the way you looked at him that felt different than before. like maybe the distance was closing, even if only just a little.

you finished the whiskey in one more slow, measured sip before setting the glass back down, the click of it against the counter sharp in the quiet room. “thanks for the drink, felix.”

he gave a small nod, still watching you with that same soft expression. “anytime,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically sincere.

you rose from your seat, your coat falling naturally back over your shoulders. felix felt an almost painful reluctance to see you leave, but he didn’t say anything. you’d always been a mystery, always so distant, and he knew better than to push you any further.

just as you reached the door, you paused. felix had already turned to give his attention to something else, but the sudden sound of the note hitting the counter made him stop in his tracks. he looked over to see the small, folded piece of paper sitting neatly on the wood.

you didn’t say anything, didn’t give any indication you’d left it. you just walked out like it was another ordinary night.

felix stood still for a moment, the unfamiliar weight of the note staring back at him from the counter. slowly, he moved over to pick it up, his fingers trembling slightly as he unfolded the paper. the handwriting was clean and neat, the words short but meaningful.

felix, here’s my number. xoxo, y/n

felix’s heart skipped a beat. It was so simple, yet so profound. he looked at the door again, half-expecting you to walk back in, to give some explanation or to make some joke. but the only thing that remained was the soft click of the door closing behind you, leaving only the note and the faint echo of your presence.

a slow smile crept across his face as he stared at the paper, the weight of it settling in. maybe things were just starting to change.

[old-fandom]

For those wondering, no, I have no read the Book of Bill yet even though I have both versions on my shelf. So, I'm going off of what I know from other people but it shouldn't be that big of an issue for the scene I'm trying to write. Anyway.

__________

Stancest on the Stan o' War II, fully in a domestic relationship. One night before dinner, they get a knock on the door. Who could it be? The god damn Axolotl. He's like, "Hey listen, your archnemesis never actually died and has actually been going through therapy this whole time. I was wondering if I could put him down here for the night so that he can confront some of his lingering feelings that you, Stanford, may still be into him. Maybe some him what real love looks like?" And before he can tell that pink bastard fuck no, he leaves, and the Stans are stuck with a depowered Bill, unable to harm them on any plane.

They're obviously pissed. Ford and Stan tie him up and plop him in a chair across from their dinner table. Bill is being his usual self, maybe a little more obnoxious and angry, but with no real powers, it means nothing. And Ford is incredibly irritated by this because not only has the one being who has ruined not only his life but the life of his family, his brother, and the people of Gravity Falls on his ship, but it ruins his plans of having hankey panky with Stan.

But then he remembers that the Axolotl asked him to show Bill how he has moved on from him and if he can show that he has, he might move on from Ford. So after dinner, with lots of bickering back and forth, Ford cups Stans face softly and kisses him tendering, thanking him for a wonderful dinner. While they are normally affectionate people to one another now, Ford amps it up, draping himself on top of Stan and holding him close and peppering his face with kisses, and thanking him over and over again for dinner and how he always taking care of him and how grateful he is for him and how much he loves him. Stan ends up being super bashful from it, never fully used to such praise, and especially not in front of company.

Company who is trying everything in the book to grab Ford's attention. Insults, threats, yelling, singing, horrific prophecies to come, embarrassing moments from their time together. Ford's not listening. He decides he's going to go through with his plans after all and really show Bill just how much happier he is without him. Stan slowly gets the picture after Ford wouldn't keep his hands off of him while doing the dishes and instead pushing him up against the fridge to kiss.

They later take it to the bedroom, where they place Bill on a chair. Their bathroom is connected, and Ford wants to shower before they have sex. So, out of view but with the door open, Bill is forced to watch as clothes fly out of the bathroom, the two men giggling and kissing, and eventually getting in the shower. Bill is yelling, talking to himself, firing back insult and injury as he hears them moan in the shower. Finally they come out, naked and clean. Bill, more than ever from being ignored, is fuming. They should be HIM making moan, making him blush, making him feel good. NOT STAN!

Bill is forced to watch as Stan makes love to Ford on their bed. Stan's putting in the work to make this feel good for him, and making it last as long as he can try. Bill starts threatening Stan with bodily harm if he doesn't stop, if he doesn't let him touch Ford, then he begins to beg then whine then finally fall silent. The night ends with them both getting off, and Stan putting Bill, still tied to the chair, outside on the main deck. Stan can't help but tease Bill before leaving him. The next morning, the Axolotl comes to take him away, and Ford is graciously and wickedly happy for doing that last night.

Is this cuck!Bill with Stancest? Yes. Why? Because I hate that yellow triangle son of a bitch and I wanna torture him.

[adarkandmagicalforest]

An Irritation

pairing: Otto Hightower/Targaryen reader (twin to Daemon)

warnings: Mildly Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut

contains: Explicit Smut, Hate Sex, BItter Sex, Cunnilingus, Brief Cock Warming

whenever her twin brother ended up inevitably irritating her in some way, she always had the same threat for him

'well, perhaps the lord hand might enjoy my company tonight'

until one day her threat becomes realized

Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight, Part Nine, Epilogue

It normally got her what she wanted.

Just the threat alone had always been enough to rankle Daemon, his utter dislike of that cunt Otto Hightower and the thought of her going to him over either of her own brothers enough to bother him into submission, or, more usually, at least into compromise. 

But not today.

Today, her threat was treated with a mere bob of his brows and a daring look. "Do as you will, sister dear." Her twin replied. It seemed that she had used this threat one too many times, to the point that her brother no longer believed her capable of it at all.

But she was a dragon - and she would show him exactly what she could do.

So the ivory-haired princess turned her back on her brother, slamming the door behind her as she stormed off to locate the Hand of the King. She did not look back to see if Daemon had followed her - she knew he hadn't. But he would hear of her exploits soon enough, she would make it quite certain.

The small council chambers were empty, so she went to the Tower of the Hand next.

Sure enough, there were men guarding the door, men who opened the door for her after she demanded to be let inside. 

The Hand's chambers were decorated with emerald curtains and held a tower motif that the princess always thought was rather boring. But then, this did fit Otto to a tee, whom she always saw as an equally boring man whose singular desire was to linger with very powerful people. She and Daemon both found him to be a dour cunt, and had in the past (as well as to this day) made sport of infuriating him, as that was the only time he was interesting to them.

Otto Hightower had a rather dull look to him as well. He was tall, but not mountainous. His features were plain, but not so much as to be called ugly. And yet Viserys kept his uninteresting council and his uninteresting presence about him, despite the opportunities to choose any other. She thought it queer. Daemon thought it an insult.

"Princess." The Hand had been sitting in front of his hearth when she stormed in. He'd stood immediately at the sight of her, and she noticed that even while lounging in supposed relaxation, the man still wore his tight doublet and golden pin. He even still had his boots on. "By what reason do you force your way into my chambers?" He demanded of her, as if he had any authority.

The Princess turned her head to his guards. "Leave." She commanded them. 

They did, albeit with a large amount of hesitation – but she was their Princess, whom were they to argue?

"What is the meaning of this?" Otto repeated himself, quite irritated now and coming closer as if he might take her by her arm and drag her out.

If only he could be so daring, she thought with bemusement.

Instead of answering him, (his voice was a low, grating thing) she merely grabbed hold of the front of his doublet and yanked him down, ignoring his grunt of surprise even while her lips captured his in a silencing kiss.

His shock lasted enough time for her to pull him even more into the embrace, her lips dominating his until her tongue finally enterred his mouth, moving against his own hotly as his wiry beard tickled her. It was surprisingly pleasant, with him tasting of bitter tea and saltwater, the wrongness of it all lighting her lust all ablaze - at least until his hands gripped her biceps and he yanked himself away.

"What," Otto nearly growled, low, fury clashing in his eyes. "Do you think you are doing, Princess?" 

Finding his fury to be rather exciting, the dragon was not deterred. Her hands released his collar and instead went to the garnet-studded belt on her gown, making short work of it. "I'm sure you're familiar with the procedure, Otto." She said impishly, dropping the belt to the rug below them as her hands then went to the laces of her gown, vastly enjoying the way his face grew somewhat panicked as she did so.

"You will stop this!" He hissed, his hands reaching for her arms so as to stop her from dropping the red silk to the floor, but to do so he had to get close to her again, which the princess took full advantage of.

This time, when she kissed him she bit him as well - sinking her teeth into his lower lip, just hard enough to hurt, the boring old Hand nearly snarled back. But then, she had always angered him as Daemon had. It was him who had convinced Viserys to marry their brother off to another woman rather than her. It was Otto who had encouraged Viserys to wait to betroth her to a new man, one of good Valyrian stock. Corlys Velaryon's younger brother had been courting her for what felt like years now, but only from his spit of rock and far from court. But then, Vaemond bored her also. 

Otto's blood leaked from where her teeth had sunk in, like iron and salt, and she hummed with satisfaction at the taste, pressing herself firmly against his body as her hands continued their work on her dress. She'd done the hardest part before she had ever arrived in his chambers, and so when her dress fell, it was her naked body that was revealed, all pale milky flesh and pebbled nipples as the cool air washed over her. The only scraps left to her were her black stockings on her legs, embroidered with roaming red dragons around her thighs. She was an erotic sight, and even Otto Hightower could not deny such a fact. 

She felt the moment she got her way from him. It was in his sneer, in the raise of his lip she felt before suddenly his hands were on her waist, grasping her pretty body roughly as the typically quite boring man became even more interesting to her as he suddenly began devouring her.

The princess moaned as Otto yanked her backwards, towards his bedchamber she presumed, his kisses growing deeper and wetter as he hungrily moved against her. He was pulling her so roughly that her steps stumbled and dragged, and soon, he had all but lifted her up into his arms before carrying her to his bed.

"Is this what you came here for?" Otto demanded of her coarsely after dropping her onto the mattress, his shaking anger blowing out the pupils in his eyes and giving him the look of a mad dog. The princess found it rather an attractive look for him, especially coupled with the aggressive way he knelt over her. "You want to be treated this way? By me?" 

"Who else would I be, Otto?"  She asked with a toothy grin, propping herself up by her arms, spreading her pale thighs open to him as if she was a lovely dessert. From what she'd heard, she was one. 

Oh he was pissed beyond all belief, she thought with thrilled delight. She could feel the neediness spread within her, arousal making her cunt wet, so wet that she knew he could see it.

And when he had? 

That was the moment she saw his resolve truly break. The very sight was a fascinating one. 

And so, the previously quite boring man (and hers and Daemons largest detractor) knelt forward onto the bed and yanked her harshly by the back of her knees, spreading her legs wide and a bit painfully before he delved his face there. The touch felt punishing and delicious. His tongue was strong and forceful, though too unpracticed, but that was no matter when she gripped at his hair and began grinding against his mouth - his gruff moan made her gasp with pleasure as she felt it through her cunt.

Otto was better at serving as a tool than a practitioner of the craft. She knew how she wanted to be touched more intimately than he did, and she moved him by his hair in the way that she’d learned years ago that she liked most. A few times from Daemon, when she could stand his company. Once from Otto’s own son. Those memories made her soaking wet upon the Hand’s tongue, more erotic than they should have been while this man was between her legs. What would he think if he was to learn that his son had been where he was now, licking and sucking at her cunt? 

She could not help but moan breathlessly at the thought.

But it seemed he only had a certain amount of patience from her grip on his hair - soon enough, he was ripping himself away from her again, kissing her of his own volition now, the flavor of her core on his tongue, tart like wine. 

His urgency made her laugh - but that only seemed to anger him, as if her giggle was an insult. 

"Cease that at once," Otto demanded against her lips, his hands beginning to roam her again, their course grasping and painful and intense, only softening when they reached her breasts, though the way his thumb rubbed purposefully at her pink nipple made her arch her back and sigh with pleasure. "Do you enjoy that?" He asked gruffly, capturing her nipple between his knuckles, pulling at them. 

"I'd enjoy it far more if you kept on." She breathed, unable to keep her smirk away as his eyes flashed again. He was still fully dressed, but this did not bother her. She almost preferred it, rather enjoying the look of her naked body against his dark clothes and layers of fine wool. The fabric of his trousers rubbing against her inner thighs almost like the coarse body of Cannibal when she rode him.

Otto's hand kneaded at her small breasts, until her nipples were stiff and sensitive. "Pretty," He murmured quietly, the comment somehow sounding unkind. She wished he would have put his lips back to good work – she needed more from him. 

For once serving her eldest brother's comment of he being a fine and thoughtful servant (though if Viserys saw them now, this comment would be never spoken again – at best, Otto Hightower would lose his position and at worse, she’d be married off to him) the older man lodged his leg between her thighs, giving her something firm to grind against while he lowered himself to kiss her again, gentler than she expected, while his free hand reaching up to grasp her by the back of her neck. But soon his kiss was beginning to grow more hungry, especially when she grew tired of his softness and pushed herself forward demandingly, wanting him rough, wanting him cruel. 

The Hand did not fail her in this - his kiss soon broke away, moving against her neck where his coarse beard rubbed against her sensitive skin, his teeth joining against her flesh when she incessantly yanked on his body, looking for more. 

Soon, his hands were punishing, his thigh rocking against her cunt until she ached, her eagerness soaking through the fabric until she was sure it would stain. 

And then he bit her. A proper bite, not the grazing of his teeth against her neck as he had been. No, he bit her, hard, on her shoulder, as if to leave proof of their coupling marred on her skin - this made her gasp loudly and then for her laugh of surprised delight to follow. 

Then, the princess had enough. 

She was a dragon at heart, and if Otto wanted to ride her, then he would have to give an appropriate fight for it. 

It only took a single shove to put the Hand off course and a single push to put him on his back. And so she straddled him as she had once straddled Cannibal, her hands batting his away as she went for his trousers, undoing the laces with skilled fingers as she took in his enraged expression. But by the time he had thought to grasp for her again, she had already taken his cock in hand - not quite a tower, but long enough for her use. The Princess lifted herself up, rubbing the blunt head of his member against her before sinking down upon him in one strong motion. 

"Fuck fuck!" Otto grunted, an amusing thing from such a man who so rarely cursed. The last time she remembered, she had just broken one of her suitors fingers. The suitor had been too familiar and grabby, what did it matter if he was some fancy lord from Highgarden? If one wanted to ride a dragon, they had to be prepared to suffer what would happen to them should they fail. Otto had gruffly cursed her, accusing her of the same mercurial violence that Daemon had, not listening to a single word she said until Viserys had forced him to listen to the truth. And now here he was, between her thighs as she grasped at his hands, leading one between her legs, where she had his cock deep inside of her. 

"Do you know how I claimed Cannibal, Otto?" The princess asked him suddenly, her voice airy with pleasure as she moved, pressing his hand against her so she might grind her clit against it, the ecstasy dazzling. 

"I - no, princess." The older man seemed to be having trouble paying much attention to her words, his eyes were traveling sharply from where the base of his cock was being revealed, soaking wet, whenever his princess lifted her hips as she moved - and then to her face, as was polite when speaking to a member of the royal family, whom Otto had always desired to suck at the teat of. 

"I was naught but a young girl at the time." She explained, moving herself faster now, leaning forward and putting her hand against his shoulder to brace herself as she spread her knees. This gave her more power to fuck herself on his cock, a thing that made Otto's hand reach up to grasp her by her nape, as if he could keep her locked in place. "At Dragonstone, he was the most vicious of dragons. The most hungry - and the flesh he craved most of all was that of other dragons." A moan stopped her then, as she found that spot inside herself, that deep rooted ache that she knew would send her to her peak.

"A dangerous, violent creature. He is well suited to you, princess." Otto commented with no lack of difficulty as he thrust upwards to her, attempting to fuck her rather than be fucked himself. His voice was dark and heady, a well-suited change in her opinion, but she would not allow him the pleasure of riding her, not yet. She hadn't finished her story.

"I went to the caves of the volcano f-first." She breathed, stuttering when the Hand's hand decided to make her story as hard to tell as it was for him to listen to, his deft thumb rubbing harshly over her delicate folds, toying with her clit until he found a motion that pleasured her to the point of trembling. She must give this to Otto Hightower - once he found something that worked, he did not cease nor change his tune. "I... I went with a wheelbarrow full of meat, goats,  cattle and little cakes from the castle kitchens... I even burnt them first." 

She had to close her eyes then, her hand forming a fist against his doublet as she felt herself grow closer and closer to a peak. "And then he came from behind me.. I hadn't noticed him, he was a fright." 

"And he chose you." Otto said, his voice regaining some decorum even balls deep in her, as she'd stopped rocking now. His cock was merely being kept nice and warm inside her cunt while his fingers made her burn hot and wet. 

"By the time I had climbed upon his back, the wheelbarrow was empty and my Cannibal had a new rider... Nyke ivestretan zirȳla naejot dohaeragon issa, naejot rȳbagon naejot issa se ziry gōntan. Issa merbugon valonqar iksos nēdenka, sīr olvie sīr bona ziry daor sagon ōregion isse se zaldrīzes ripo. Jāhor ao dohaeragon se rȳbagon naejot issa hae issa zaldrīzes, Otto?" I told him to serve me, to listen to me and he did. My Cannibal is fierce, so much so that he cannot be held in the Dragon pit. Will you serve and listen to me as my dragon has, Otto?

Her use of High Valyrian fell upon non-understanding ears, but her coy rumble of the foreign language appeared to create a fierce desire in Otto.

As suddenly, he had enough toying - he hated Valyrian. Hated that the royal family could converse in a way that he could not know, even in the same room as he was. That they were above him, that they were more than a common people as he was. Their language was another way they became otherworldly. And the Hand craved this otherworldliness, craved their power, craved their dragons and fire - and now, it seemed he had a craving for her too, as much as he also resented her.

Because then as she had done to him, Otto grabbed onto her hips roughly, his fingers digging into her in a way that would surely leave bruises upon her flesh, and he shoved his cock inside of her again with a single motion - her legs wrapped around his waist, her black stocking-covered limbs digging deeply into his thighs to encourage his action. His kisses returned, harsh and hungry and yet worshiping over her lips, her neck, her chest as he thrust forcefully inside of her. He fucked her like she was the power he craved, the motion making her gasp and grab at him, pulling on his trousers so he was moving as hard as he possibly could - they would both ache in the morning, hopefully. It would please her to no end to still feel what he had done to her while sitting in both of her brothers company at breakfast. 

"Lo - Lo ao keligon, kesan ipradagon ao glaesagon!" If you stop, I'll eat you alive. She threatened weakly, desperately, her head falling back as he forced her peak to come over her, the pleasure making her moan loudly as she came over his cock, especially when he grasped at the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her white hair as he forced her to look up into his angry eyes while he too took his pleasure of her. The princess felt him inside her, filling her with his spend as he grunted another, "Fuck," into her ear.

Satisfaction weighed her limbs like stones as Otto pulled himself from her, his cock pulling from her full cunt with an amusing squelching noise, making her giggle with a bit of a drunken daze to her. 

The Hand didn't appear as bothered at her laughter as he had been earlier as he laid himself beside her, his chest still heaving from the effort it took for him to fuck her. He was hardly a young man, especially compared to her mere three-and-twenty, but at least their fuck had been a rather interesting one. 

"Se hembar jēda ao vēdros nyke sīr, kostan emagon naejot emagon iā tȳne urnēptre, ñuha āeksio." I may require another show the next time i am infuriated with you. The princess murmured softly, turning to use his arm as a cushion, not caring that his cum was leaking out of her and onto his bedclothes, the Valyrian easier to speak for her just then than the Common Tongue. 

"Do you often revert to High Valyrian while intimate, Princess?" Otto finally said, making her smirk into his doublet. His irritation was back and palpable, even as his right arm moved up and draped around her waist, his long fingers smoothing over her hip and down her backside. In an almost delightfully dirty move, his digits ducked between her arsecheeks and down to the petals of her cunt, where his seed was dripping down her thigh. He was annoyed with her for not making motion to avoid making a mess on his bed. She didn't care. 

" Mirri jēdi. " Sometimes.

His hand gripped her arse. His claws dug into her flesh as he lifted her cheek. His left hand brought over a handkerchief from his pocket and swiped over her cunt, rubbing through her sensitive flesh until she was clean, the action less courteous than it was the action of a disgruntled servant.

This thought, the princess enjoyed, and she wiggled her hips slightly, enjoying a brief fantasy of making another mess that he might have to tidy. 

But for this, she received a sharp swat on her bottom. 

"You are an irritation." Otto Hightower accused humorlessly, putting his soiled handkerchief away before lying himself back. She returned to using him as a cushion, and he did not argue against this usage. He was a servant to House Targaryen, after all. 

[flowersdiceandlove]

Hello!!! I don't know if you're still interested in talking about your wip fics (if you aren't , then just ignore me), and I don't know if you have talked about it already, but I am humbly requesting to hear about the Xianle Quartet Fourway-Soulmate Marks AU one. I read that and my interest was INSTANTLY PIQUED, PLEASE 🛐🛐

tagging @happypeachsludgeflower bc you asked about this one too.

Okay, this one is gonna be kinda tricky to explain because I originally was just writing this out as a prompt to post and it got away from me. It got to the point where I was just like "I'm already writing this much out, I should just actually write it." So, the first like, half of the fic is written tumblr prompt style and summary with some actual scenes sprinkled in and the second half of it is mostly actual fic with some tumblr prompt style summary in it. Once I get it all down, I'm definitely going to have to go back and work on the first half. Anyway, I'll do my best to explain without getting carried away. Also, since I'm getting busy, I'm just doing this from memory instead of rereading it.

So! As the working title says, it's a soulmate au where Xie Lian, Mu Qing, Feng Xin, and Hua Cheng are all soulmates. They all have four soulmarks on their bodies, each mark in the same spots and each one representing one of them. However...they take a long time to figure this out. Like, it follows canon really closely, the poly only happening after canon. Also, it's really heavy on the MuLian.

It starts in Xianle era. As Xie Lian's servant that dresses and undresses him, Mu Qing sees the soulmarks on Xie Lian and instantly figures out the two of them are soulmates. He doesn't say anything, though, bc he's all self conscious and insecure, thinking he might be thrown out of the Holy Royal Temple and have people try to cover it up and say he was trying to seduce Xie Lian or smth. So, he keeps his mouth shut, just trying to be content with Xie Lian in this way. One day, while Mu Qing is dressing him when they're 16? Mu Qing's sleeve falls down just enough for Xie Lian to see the soulmark on his inner wrist. He grabs Mu Qing's wrist and is like "Mu Qing! You're my soulmate!? Why didn't you tell me? You had to have known. How many times have you seen me naked after all?"

Anyway, Mu Qing basically says that he's worried about people knowing and that's why he didn't say anything. Xie Lian agrees to keep it secret, not even telling Feng Xin, but they do start a little affair. It's all sweet, shy moments, chaste kisses, and blushing hand holding. They both still want to follow this cultivation path, so anything more is totally off the table, not even considered.

Soulmarks aren't actually talked about a whole lot. It's seen as being private and personal. Asking about it seen as rude, and soulmarks are usually covered unless they're in an area that's too hard to hide. Bc of this, while the four of them haven't heard of people having multiple soulmarks, they don't really think anything of it. And, since they also haven't heard of people having multiple soulmates, they just figure that some people just have more soulmarks and it doesn't really mean anything.

Honghonger-er absolutely hates his soulmarks. Fate was what gave him his red eye and his horrid luck, so why would he want the soulmate that fate also gave him? This becomes an even stronger conviction to reject his soulmate when he decides to dedicate himself to Xie Lian and even goes so far as to tattoo Xie Lian's name on his forearm over the soulmark there, covering the mark of his so-called fated with the name of his chosen. This is extra funny bc the soulmark there is the soulmark representing Xie Lian.

Feng Xin just doesn't give a damn about soulmates. He's seen couples who aren't soulmates have happy marriages together, and couples who are soulmates bicker and fight constantly. So, he doesn't let the idea of soulmates sway him one way or the other.

During Xie Lian's first banishment, Mu Qing still leaves like he does because he needs to take care of his mother. Mu Qing figures that this separation between him and Xie Lian is temporary and that fate will bring them together again in the future when they can really be together. For Xie Lian, though, he views it as his soulmate rejecting him, thinking him not good enough anymore and not wanting to be with him. All that rest still happens, but the feelings just run deeper.

When Xie Lian ascends the third time, he figures that Mu Qing still wants nothing to do with him, knowing how much Mu Qing values his godhood and reputation, thinking he'll only muddy it and drag Mu Qing down. Mu Qing doesn't bring it up bc feelings, and thinks that Xie Lian is the one that doesn't want him as a soulmate, and that Xie Lian continuing with his life and not bringing their soulmate status up is him rejecting Mu Qing. Because Xie Lian thinks Mu Qing doesn't want him, when Hua Cheng enters the picture, he doesn't exactly stop himself from catching feelings for him. Mu Qing is having a very angsty time watching his soulmate, love of his life, falling in love with someone else, and then the cave of ten thousand gods...and hualian being all...hualian... He is not doing well. But, they've both lived hundreds of years without each other and don't want to go back to that. So, they try to make it work. Think: divorced couple trying to still be able to interact and be civil and friendly but also move on from the love they still hold. Xie Lian is doing better since he found a new lover.

When Hua Cheng returns from being away for a year as they're stripping down and making out getting ready to have sex, Hua Cheng sees the soulmarks on Xie Lian, freaks out from happiness, and shows the same marks on himself. They figure out they're soulmates and are happy about it, but Xie Lian is also confused bc Mu Qing's his soulmate. When Hua Cheng finds out about Mu Qing, he barges into the Heavens and Mu Qing's palace while Xie Lian's asleep. He almost strips Mu Qing in his front hall in front of his junior officials to check that he really does have the same soulmarks and he wasn't faking it, but Mu Qing, knowing what he wants and that he can't stop him, convinces him to at least take it to a private room just the two of them, wanting to preserve at least some dignity. So, Xie Lian and Hua Cheng know that the three of them are soulmates, but don't tell Mu Qing about Hua Cheng bc Hua Cheng is refusing to admit it and it doesn't really change anything. Xie Lian and Hua Cheng are still choosing to be with each other, promising themselves to each other. Mu Qing...tries to deal.

post-canon, the Xianle trio get together once a month for tea and snacks, trying to work on becoming friends (f-f-friends). Mu Qing knows he's in love with Feng Xin, and he's pissed about it (he's known for centuries). Xie Lian knows he's still in love with Mu Qing even though he chose Hua Cheng. Feng Xin is fucking oblivious. To all of it. Feng Xin and Xie Lian think that their feelings for each other are Totally Platonic.

Eventually Mu Qing just Can't Do This anymore and blows up at Xie Lian that he's still in love with him and that Xie Lian is the one who rejected him and chose someone else. He says that he can't be friends with Xie Lian anymore, that it hurts too much, and that they need to just end this. Xie Lian doesn't go after him when he leaves because he did choose someone else and he's still committed to Hua Cheng. He does feel horrible though and curls up crying about how much he hurt Mu Qing without even realizing.

Hua Cheng had long clocked the fact that Mu Qing and Xie Lian still loved each other and knew this was coming. He didn't want it to, but knew it would eventually. He'd also never want to hold Xie Lian back, so he hugs Xie Lian and tells him it's okay, that he can love Mu Qing too. Xie Lian goes up to the Palace of Xuan Zhen the next day (after repeatedly checking with Hua Cheng that he's really okay with this) and is basically like "You told me yesterday you still love me and want me, so I'm not leaving until you agree to be my lover again. Yes, San Lang knows and is the one who told me to come; he won't kill you for this, I promise." So, Xie Lian and Mu Qing become lovers again.

...They still have major communication issues. They'll get better though! But, as of right now, Xie Lian still thinks Mu Qing doesn't want anyone knowing about them like he did back in Xianle, and Mu Qing doesn't exactly correct him, and he is a private person, just not worried like he was. Also...they don't really have a conversation about sex. They both know Xie Lian's doing it with Hua Cheng, but Xie Lian still thinks it's off the table with Mu Qing like when they were younger. Mu Qing takes a while, but does decide he wants to with Xie Lian.

I don't really know how to explain Hua Cheng and Mu Qing's dynamic without writing out paragraphs and paragraphs about it, but maybe like ex-husband and new boyfriend, but they're both still with Xie Lian, and Hua Cheng's a super supportive husband and Mu Qing is Resigned. Also they're falling in love. Just starting to, though. They're in the...friends?? stage at this point. Oh, yeah, when MuLian got together again, Xie Lian told Mu Qing about Hua Cheng being their soulmate also. They don't talk about it, but Xie Lian has made it clear he's okay with them getting together if they wanted (they're both repulsed by the idea).

Hua Cheng realizes how much his and Mu Qing's relationship has changed first when, while MuLian were spending the night together (also, Hua Cheng literally commissioned Mu Qing a wing in Paradise Manor for him and Xie Lian to sleep in together when Mu Qing spends the night. like I said, super supportive husband), and Mu Qing grabs hold of Hua Cheng's ashes. Hua Cheng feels it, knows that's not Xie Lian's hand holding them, knows there's only one other person it could be, and is...okay with it. It shocks him, but, he trusts Mu Qing. He knew he did because he trusted Mu Qing with Xie Lian, who he values more than his own life, but it's when Mu Qing holds his ashes that he realizes that he trusts Mu Qing with himself also.

Xie Lian doesn't know that Mu Qing did this, and there's even a scene earlier where Xie Lian instinctively bats Mu Qing's hand away when he reaches for the ring. It's only after that Xie Lian realizes what he did and apologizes saying "A gift from San Lang... I'm very protective of it." Mu Qing drops it, but does feel sour because Xie Lian literally never takes that thing off, even when they have sex, so it's kinda just...between them. Always. A constant reminder of Hua Cheng. That's why Mu Qing grabs it one night while Xie Lian's too out of it to notice, and just holds it in a tight grip. He doesn't take it off of Xie Lian, just holds it in his hand. It's kinda like "haha! You may be his husband and get to love him, but I'm the one with him tonight. Not you."

Anyway, Xie Lian is completely oblivious that Mu Qing touched the ring, and Mu Qing doesn't know that it was Hua Cheng's ashes, just that it was a gift from him. Hua Cheng doesn't say anything about it. He knows that Xie Lian, even if he trusts Mu Qing, wouldn't let him touch his ashes bc it should he Hua Cheng's choice on who should be allowed to do that. And he also knows Mu Qing has no idea what he did because he's acting way too normal for someone who knowingly grabbed his ashes. And, like I said, Hua Cheng's fine with it, with letting Mu Qing touch and hold his ashes.

This is to where I've written, and it's at 46,589 words. I'll keep going, telling you my plans:

Hua Cheng, by this point, has become a lot less hostile towards Mu Qing, and after realizing the ring thing, he doesn't even pretend any more, just going with it. They're relationship doesn't completely change, but there's no chance of a fight breaking out between them and Hua Cheng is more...indulgent to Mu Qing, not holding any ill-will towards him. They're both aware that Xie Lian really wants them to get along (and that's why they've been trying so hard up till this point), so when Hua Cheng starts being nicer to him, Mu Qing tries too, and they slowly get on even friendlier terms. Xie Lian is ecstatic, but they also know he'd really like them to get together. And watch. Or at least have them both at the same time even if they don't do anything with each other. That, though, is something that Mu Qing and Hua Cheng were clear that they are not comfortable with because they hate each other and they're barely getting along just sharing a lover separately.

But, that was before. This is now. So, one year when Xie Lian's birthday is coming up, Hua Cheng goes up to Mu Qing like "Hey...so...Gege would probably really like it if we took him to bed together... What do you think of that for a birthday present?" Mu Qing's gut reaction is NO WAY! but... He's comfortable with it when he really thinks about it. So, they come to an agreement, that they'll both be in bed with Xie Lian, but won't do anything with each other, just spoil Xie Lian for his birthday by having both his lovers at the same time.

It is, by far, one of the best nights of Xie Lian's life bc of how happy he is. He has both his husband and his lover with him. He can't think of anything he'd have liked more.

The next morning, Xie Lian is still asleep and Mu Qing wakes up, finding Hua Cheng already awake and still in bed, gazing at Xie Lian. They have a Soft Moment talking about why they agreed to do this for Xie Lian's birthday and feeling a deep understanding with each other. And, they can't help but just kiss, feeling like they're being drawn together and it's unavoidable. And it is. Because they are soulmates, and they both know it. They've felt the soulmate draw to each other all this time even if they pretend that they don't, and they've been softening to each other. And now...after last night, watching the other make love to and dote on Xie Lian, loving him, being completely open in front of one another for the first time, they can't feel any reason to not just kiss each other.

Xie Lian wakes up to that scene. Of Mu Qing and Hua Cheng kissing over him, and smiles widely at it, watching. It takes HuaQing a long moment to realize Xie Lian's awake.

Anyway, the three get together and it's all happy and they're all good! Yay!

Now, you're probably wondering where Feng Xin fits into all this. Well... I thought I knew. But, then I was writing this next part out and was like "Actually...maybe this would be better..." so I'm not exactly sure anymore. Uh oh. I'll figure it out when I get there. But, as for my ideas. 1) HuaQingLian are all happy together, and one day Xie Lian are leaving Mu Qing's palace and Feng Xin sees Xie Lian kiss Mu Qing goodbye. And, Feng Xin is shook. He goes up to Mu Qing like "What was that??! Why did His Highness just kiss you!?!? Hua Cheng is going to kill you!!!" and panicking and stuff. Mu Qing just rolls his eyes and is like "Relax. It's fine. Hua Cheng already knows. Has for decades." "Decades?" "Yeah." "You and His Highness are like actually together? For decades?" "Yeah. You didn't notice? Idiot🙄" "And Hua Cheng allows it?" "Yeah." Feng Xin is having a whole paradigm shift. "...So you two just...share Xie Lian?" "Basically. But we also--" "That's an option!?" Mu Qing snaps his mouth shut as he watches Feng Xin having a total internal crisis. He suddenly realizes that Xie Lian is an option and that he maybe kinda wants him actually. ...And maybe Mu Qing too. He's still reserved about Hua Cheng, but that'll come in time.

Now 2) which is the one I'm kinda leaning towards right now (but it could change in the future) is that HuaLian realize that Mu Qing has feelings for Feng Xin. Because they're already in a poly relationship, they have a talk about it, and HuaLian tell Mu Qing that they're okay if he wants to pursue Feng Xin. Mu Qing doesn't think he should because they've never really gotten along and he doesn't want to mess things up when their relationship is already so fragile. While they're talking, Xie Lian raises his hand and says, "Um...I think I might like Feng Xin like that too..." MuLian talk about it more and decide that they'll both try to court Feng Xin. Hua Cheng is just being #1 Supportive Husband/Lover and helping his two loves with whatever they need. Despite this, and Xie Lian being pretty obvious with Feng Xin about what he wants, it takes Feng Xin A While to figure out that the two of them like like him and want a relationship with him (himbo Feng Xin my beloved). And he's like "Wait, that's an option!?" bc that's the only way I can picture him reacting to it. And, then he realizes, huh, you know what? I can get with this. Me and Xie Lian have always had a good relationship and gotten along. And, I guess I do like Mu Qing like that too...

Anyway, it doesn't take long for MuLian to get Feng Xin to agree to get into their bed at Paradise manor. They strip him first, and he's more than happy to let the two of them take the lead--always the follower. But once they have him naked, they both pause, staring at his body. They turning this way and that, seeing his soulmarks. Feng Xin is thoroughly confused. Mu Qing screams, and punches something. When that proves to still not get his feelings out, he storms out of the room to go beat something up in the training hall that's built to withstand the three of them's powers. Xie Lian just breaks out laughing. Feng Xin still doesn't know what's going on and is confused about how things went from sexy time to this.

Hua Cheng, seeing his lover storm past him, goes to the bedroom to see what's going on. Xie Lian is still laughing hysterically, bent over and clutching his stomach. Feng Xin is still standing naked (or mostly naked) getting even more confused. He looks up at Hua Cheng when he enters, wondering if he might know what's going on. Hua Cheng sees the soulmarks, puts their reactions together, and just sighs, putting his head in his hand. It takes a long while for anyone to explain it all to Feng Xin.

So yeah. ...I don't know how HuaXin get together. I figured I'd figure it out when I got there. I still have a ways to go when I write to figure it out. But, yeah! That's that! Before the Feng Xin thing, HuaQingLian thought they had this soulmate thing in the bag, not knowing that four soulmarks means four people. They were so hitting themselves over the head feeling like idiots that they didn't realize it sooner. Especially Mu Qing.

I left a lot of little things out bc there's no way I could fit it all into a post like this. If I tried, it'd just be the og post that turned into a fic all over again 🤣

I'm getting busy, so I don't know when I'm gonna work on this. I just noticed that you both asked this a while ago and looked at what was coming up for me and decided I should just answer. I have another wip ask that I'll be answering hopefully soon. Hope you enjoyed this! :) And, if you want to know more about it or have questions about it, you can ask. I don't know when I'll be able to get around to really talking about this more, but I always welcome asks! Fandom is about talking with each other and sharing ideas after all, right? 😄 💕

[firstelevens]

19 and 33 for not together yet sambucky?

19. playing with each other’s fingers 33. bandaging the other’s hand and not quite letting go

okay you didn't specify wanting an au but I was struck with inspiration and I couldn't think about anything else so...here's some kinda angsty pre-canon F1 AU

Not for the first or even fifth time this week, Sam regrets accepting Tony's invitation. He could be back home, enjoying the post-season time off with his family and helping his dad out on the boat. Instead, he's at a staggeringly big oceanfront estate in the Caribbean, ostensibly celebrating Rhodey's retirement from Formula One but mostly doing his best to avoid the nonstop drunken revelry of it all.

It's not that Sam doesn't know how to have fun, or that he'd even be opposed to a celebration like this. He just...he has to be more careful than a lot of others on the grid do, and he doesn't necessarily trust everyone here, even if he likes their company. Steve would usually make a good buffer, but he's in Oxford, probably making nonstop heart eyes at Peggy while she tries to finish her last assignments of the year.

If Sam wasn't such good friends with Rhodey, he might have made an excuse to leave early, but Rhodey was his teammate for three years straight. With a decade of experience and two world championships under his belt, he didn't have to take rookie Sam under his wing, but he had. Sam is resilient and resourceful, but he's under no illusions: without Rhodey's guidance and fierce advocacy for both of them, Sam would never have lasted as long as he has.

But tonight, Rhodey is off getting into trouble with Tony and a few others. He had invited Sam along, but Sam had begged off, citing a migraine, and he's beginning to regret it. Whatever debauchery is transpiring on Tony's yacht right now, at least it's not the surprise rager that has taken over most of the ground floor of the house.

Sam should have known that when Thor said he'd 'just invited a few friends', he'd meant a few dozen, and then Johnny Storm had shown up from his villa with a legion of college athletes who had apparently been in town for some kind of competition. There's pounding music and a very loud game of chicken happening in the pool, along with some beer pong style game that also seems to involve badminton racquets? He sort of immediately lost the thread of that one as soon as it started.

He's been holed up for a while in his room with headphones and a sketchbook, drafting some designs for the porch on the new house. Now that the party has moved outside, thought, he seizes the opportunity to sneak down to the kitchen and grab as much food as possible before badminton beer pong ends in a full clearing of the fridge and pantry.

He's just finished putting together a truly beautiful sandwich—Tony doesn't skimp on anything, and Sam can't bring himself to think about the price per pound of the prosciutto he took from the fridge—when there's the distinct noise of shattering glass from outside. Given that a cheer goes up immediately afterwards, Sam decides that he can ignore it and goes on the hunt for the good snacks. It’s not too much later that the French doors open and Sam, still elbows deep in the pantry, hears two people stumble in.

“Wilson!” calls Thor, jovial as ever and very clearly drunk, in spite of his perfect elocution. “Perfect! See? I told you I could find exactly who you need.”

This last part seems to be addressed to whoever came in with Thor. There’s a vague grunt of acknowledgment that’s familiar, but it’s not until Bucky speaks that Sam realizes it’s him.

“M’fine,” he says insistently, if a little slurred. “It’s just a cut. I got this.”

“Excellent!” booms Thor. Sam closes the pantry door to see him clap Bucky on the shoulder, slightly too hard from the way it makes him sway in place. "Sam, I leave Barnes in your capable hands."

He's gone before Sam can ask any questions, and Bucky doesn't bother to address him either. His left hand is towel-wrapped and he holds it above his head while rifling through the drawers in the island with the other. Every time his search comes up empty, he huffs irritably and moves to the next one. Sam watches him repeat the process four times before he finally says something.

"Are you gonna ask for help, or do you just plan to bleed out in this kitchen?"

Bucky scowls at Sam, but between his wet hair flopping into his eyes and his general state of disarray, it's about as intimidating as being threatened by a kitten. Sam just raises an eyebrow at him and rounds to the cabinet beside the fridge, pulling out a first aid kit and setting it on the counter.

"Come on, Barnes," says Sam. "If you pass out from blood loss, I'll have to drive you to the hospital, and I'm at a really good part in this book right now."

"I can do it myself," says Bucky, sounding tired. From outside, a loud whoop goes up from the badminton beer pong table, and he winces. "It's not that bad. Thor just doesn't take no for an answer."

"It'll take you twice as long to do it with an injured hand," Sam says, rounding to Bucky's side of the counter. Then, on a hunch, he adds, "The faster I finish this, the faster you can go upstairs."

Bucky's eyebrows knit together, somewhere between frustrated and thoughtful. "Fine," he says, after a moment, unwrapping the towel from his hand. "Just be fast. And, uh, thank you."

"You're welcome," says Sam, as he opens the first aid kit. It is shockingly well-stocked, and he spares a moment to wonder exactly what kind of trouble Rhodey and Tony usually get into out here. He decides ultimately that he doesn't want to know and instead pulls Bucky's injured hand toward him, bracing his wrist with one hand while gently pressing his hand flat with the other. A long cut runs down the pad of Bucky's thumb while another slash runs down the palm of his hand. "How'd you even do this?"

"They were playing beer pong and Monty swung his racquet too hard. It went flying and smashed that big ugly wind chime on the deck."

Sam's eyes go wide. "Shit, how far did that glass go flying?"

"It didn't," says Bucky, eyes fixed on his hand as Sam presses a compress against the still-bleeding cut on his palm. His ears have gone a little pink. "I was over there to clean it."

"You were cleaning it up," repeats Sam. "In the middle of a party?"

Bucky scowls again, but it does nothing to cover the blush spreading down his neck. "I don't know what your parties are like, Wilson, but someone cutting their foot open over cocktails doesn't sound fun to me."

"I just didn't realize the guests had spread out that far," says Sam. "The deck just has those uncomfortable chairs and leads to the jogging trail; it doesn't even have a good view of the water."

"I just didn't want anyone hurt," says Bucky.

"Well, I appreciate it," says Sam. "Now I can safely go on my run tomorrow morning."

Bucky snickers. "Of course you're going for a run after a party."

Sam opts not to reply. Instead, he tears open an antiseptic wipe and swipes it over the cut on Bucky's thumb. It stings, apparently, because it makes Bucky hiss through clenched teeth, his eyes briefly closing. Before he can stop himself, on what Sam can only call instinct, he bows his head and blows on the cut to soothe the sting.

He only realizes what he's done the second that it's too late to change anything, feeling the shiver run through Bucky's body. Sam feels his shoulders tighten, his pulse kicking up as regret fills him. Stupid, he tells himself. Stupid and thoughtless and unnecessarily risky. When he makes himself glance up at Bucky to see what the damage is, he's stunned to see that Bucky's eyes are still closed, his lips pressed in a thin line. Sam knows by now exactly where to look on someone's body to find anger, but he doesn't see any of it in Bucky: just something that looks a lot like pain.

"Sorry," he says, clearing his throat when it comes out hoarse. "Sorry. I should've warned you that it would sting."

S’okay," murmurs Bucky, his eyes opening as he blinks a little dazedly. "Just surprised."

"I'll give you a heads-up next time," says Sam, as he swabs antibiotic cream over the cut and bandages it. 

Thankfully, the cut on Bucky's palm has stopped bleeding, so Sam can turn his attention to it, mumbling a warning before he disinfects it and peers closer to examine it. They’re both quiet as he wraps a bandage over the gauze, going around both sides of Bucky’s thumb in hopes of keeping it in place. Sam is securing the end of the bandage when Bucky breaks the silence.

“Can I ask you something?”

Sam feels himself freeze, his hands still holding Bucky’s injured one steady. “Yeah,” he says, trying to project more calm than he feels. “Sure.”

“How come you’re here if you don’t like any of the people here?”

Very suddenly, Sam remembers that Bucky has been drinking. It’s clear in his face that he’s asking a genuine question, his eyes wide and curious. “I like them fine,” says Sam, shrugging.

Bucky waves his free hand impatiently. “But you’re not friends with any of ‘em. You’re friends with Steve, but he’s not here, so why?”

“Why am I here? Is that what you’re asking?” When Bucky nods in confirmation, Sam shrugs. “I wanted to be part of the team, I guess. And Rhodey’s a friend; he’s important to me, so I feel like I should be here for him. I’m just not as comfortable here as the others are. Not all of us can be as fun as you, you know.”

Ordinarily, this would make Bucky preen, or at least toss out some cocky comment about how he’s the reason that the fans stay awake in the stands. Instead, he just shrugs and keeps his eyes on his injured hand. “You shouldn’t have to change,” he says. “You don’t have to be like Thor or whatever. Or me.”

Sam furrows his eyebrows. “Bucky, are you good?”

Bucky makes a vague noise of assent. His uninjured hand reaches for Sam’s, but instead of extracting his now-bandaged hand from Sam’s grip, he pulls Sam’s hand towards himself, frowning down at the ring on his hand. “Wait, did you get married, Wilson? When?”

“Wrong hand, Barnes,” says Sam. Bucky seems unfazed by this revelation as he plays with Sam’s fingers for a moment. “Are you sure you’re good?”

“I’m always good,” says Bucky, his hands going still on Sam’s. “That’s me. Always good, always distracting.”

“Distracting?”

“Or distracted,” Bucky says, his eyebrows furrowed. “I can’t remember what he said. It was late.”

Sam frowns. “What who said?”

“Ollie,” says Bucky. He blinks a few times, like he’s dazed. “Oliver. He’s my- he was a…”

“A friend?” supplies Sam, holding Bucky’s gaze. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’s turning over all the interactions that he’s witnessed at clubs and packed out parties, the people he’s seen Bucky kissing who haven’t made it far enough to be photographed alongside him in a tabloid. Nobody’s ever said anything, but Sam has the sudden understanding that the thing that Bucky hasn’t ever said is a lot like the thing that Sam hasn’t ever said.

“A friend,” says Bucky, swallowing hard but not looking away from Sam. “Oliver’s a friend.”

“Doesn’t sound that friendly, if you ask me. I wouldn’t call my friends distracting.”

“He’s friendly,” blurts Bucky, offended now. “He’s nice. He’s so nice. He just deserves better.”

“Better than what?” prompts Sam, though he has the sinking feeling that he knows.

Bucky’s answer is soft, almost drowned out by the chaos outside, but Sam barely needs to hear the words to understand them. “Better than being a secret. Better than waiting forever,” says Bucky. “He wants a family, and a life, and…and he didn’t want to wait. He shouldn’t have to.”

Sam is quiet for a long time. If there’s anything that he knows, it’s that there’s nothing to say to make this better. Instead, he just gives Bucky’s uninjured hand a gentle squeeze. “He shouldn’t have had to wait,” he says. “No one should. But that doesn’t mean no one will be ready to.”

He wants very badly to look away when Bucky’s eyes lock onto his, but he makes himself look back as steadily as he can. Whatever Bucky finds there, it seems to straighten his spine a little as he moves his hands away, darting a look back at the French doors. 

“I hope you’re right, Sam.”

“I usually am,” says Sam, turning to pack away the first aid kit, and smiles to himself when he hears Bucky snort.

[lokidokieokie]

Under the Lamppost

Summary: You and Sherlock have been secretly harbouring feelings for each other, but it takes a moment of vulnerability for you both to finally reveal the truth

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Fem!Reader

Warning(s): smidge of angst, love confessions, fluffy fluff

You had always been someone who was observant, even as a child. You would notice things that others wouldn't, pick up on details that would slip by most people's attention. It was a skill that had served you well in your adult life, especially in your current job as a consulting detective.

But unlike Sherlock, you didn't make a show of your abilities. You kept them hidden, only using them when necessary. You didn't want to draw attention to yourself, especially not from the likes of Sherlock Holmes.

You had been working with him for a few months now, and it was clear that he was intrigued by you. He would occasionally make comments about your abilities, but you always brushed them off, feigning ignorance.

One day, Sherlock was in a particularly foul mood. You could tell he was upset about something, but you didn't know what. You had been working on a case together, but Sherlock had abruptly left the crime scene, leaving you to finish up on your own.

You found him back at 221B, sulking in his chair. You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should say anything. But something inside you compelled you to speak up.

"Something's bothering you," you said, your voice soft.

Sherlock looked up at you, surprised. "What makes you say that?"

"You're not your usual self," you said, taking a step closer to him. "You're distracted, agitated. And you're avoiding the case we were working on. It's unlike you."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you thought he might lash out at you. But instead, he seemed to deflate.

"It's nothing," he muttered, looking away.

"It's not nothing," you said firmly. "You're conflicted about something. Something to do with me, I think."

Sherlock's head snapped back to look at you, his eyes wide. "What are you talking about?"

"You've been...different, around me," you said, hesitating slightly. "More...attentive. And not in the way you usually are. It's like you're...conflicted about something."

Sherlock stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. You felt exposed, vulnerable, like you had revealed too much. You turned to leave, but before you could make it to the door, Sherlock's hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.

"Wait," he said, his voice low. "You're right. I am...conflicted. About you. About us."

You turned to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "What do you mean?"

Sherlock took a step closer to you, his gaze intense. "I mean...I think I have feelings for you. Romantic feelings."

Your breath caught in your throat. You had suspected as much, but to hear him say it out loud...it was almost too much to handle.

"I feel the same way," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sherlock's eyes widened in surprise. "You do?"

You nodded, feeling emboldened by his confession. "I've been hiding my abilities from you, but I've been observing you just as much as you've been observing me. And...I've noticed how you've been looking at me. How you've been treating me differently."

Sherlock's expression softened, and for a moment, it felt like everything was going to be alright. But then, something shifted in his eyes, and you knew something was wrong.

"I can't do this," he said, his voice rough. "I can't have feelings for you. It's too complicated. It's not...it's not safe."

You felt your heart sink at Sherlock's words. You had been so sure that he felt the same way as you did. You took a step back, feeling embarrassed and exposed.

"What do you mean it's not safe?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sherlock sighed heavily and looked down at his feet. "I can't get involved with someone I work with. It's not...it's not professional. And there's always the risk of danger. I can't put you in danger."

You felt a lump form in your throat. You knew that Sherlock had a point, but it still hurt to hear him say it. You had allowed yourself to hope that maybe, just maybe, you could have something with him.

"I understand," you said, your voice shaking slightly. "I'll...I'll go. I don't want to make things awkward."

You turned and exited 221B. The lump in your throat growing with every step you took away from him. Opening the door, you turned behind you to look at the entryway one last time.

Swiping the tear off your cheek, you exited into the rain. You made it as far as the lamppost before Sherlock grabbed your hand. He spun you around and pulled you into his arms, pressing his lips to yours in a fierce, desperate kiss.

The rain was coming down harder now, soaking through your clothes and plastering your hair to your face. But you didn't care. All you could feel was Sherlock's lips on yours, his arms around you, his body pressed up against yours.

When he finally pulled away, you were both gasping for breath. He looked at you, his eyes intense.

"I can't promise that it will be easy," he said. "But I can promise that I want to try. If you're willing."

You felt a smile spread across your face, despite the rain and the uncertainty. "I'm willing. I'm more than willing. "

Sherlock leaned down and kissed you again, this time more gently. You melted into his embrace, feeling the rain washing away all the doubts and fears that had been holding you back. You knew that it wouldn't be easy, but you also knew that you were willing to fight for this, for Sherlock, for yourself. And in that moment, that was all that mattered.

A/N I miss Sherlock 😔

🏷 @thewaithfuckingannoyme @evelyn-kingsley @moonlight-ee  @otterlycanadian 

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲

99 for 🌲 plus obligatory trip photo:

---

“You need to find a way to get on leave, too,” Buck says, breezing past his own admission. “We don’t know how long this is going to last.”

He’s got a good point. 

“So we’re each on leave, we can try to figure it out?” Eddie asks. 

“That’s the idea.”

Eddie nods, following the logic. And the implication that Buck will not leave him with this. 

“How do I explain this?” Eddie asks. “Really spontaneous tail growth isn’t actually a condition.”

“You’re going to have to make something up,” Buck suggests. 

“Like what? I can’t diagnose myself with anything a doctor won’t also need to confirm.”

“Telehealth?” Buck snaps his fingers.

“Telehealth,” Eddie echoes. “But then what do I tell them?”

“I’d lean into the obvious, Eddie.”

“The obvious?” Eddie is fairly certain the obvious would get him put in a government lab for indefinite study. 

“Mental health,” Buck says. 

Eddie glares at him. He doesn’t mean to. It just comes out. 

“Why is that the obvious?”

“Come on, Eddie. You’ve been through a lot lately. Burnout is really common in our line of work. You’ve been there before. Need I go on?”

“That wasn’t… I mean, that was different.”

“I know. But in both cases I’ve found you having a sort of catastrophic panic attack in your room.”

Eddie shifts uncomfortably. He doesn’t like this. It feels like a pretty big backslide, as far as the healing he’s done in the past goes. All the long, grueling self-reflection and therapy. Learning what in his past he could forgive himself for. Move on from. He can’t do that with anything here.

“Eddie,” Buck says gently. “It’s just an excuse. One that will work on the LAFD. And one other people who might ask questions will believe.”

Buck is right. Eddie knows he’s right. He just sort of feels exposed.

“Okay,” Eddie exhales. “Whatever.”

“How about this?” Buck suggests. “I run home and pack some shit. I’ll stop by the grocery store. We put you in a hat and sunglasses and you stay in the car, and work on making that appointment.”

It’s as good a plan as Eddie’s got. 

“Okay,” he says again. 

“I’m with you a hundred percent on this,” Buck promises. “The only time I’ll have to leave is for my hearing aid fitting and any other follow ups.”

“Of course,” Eddie replies. “God, of course that’s priority number one. You need to take care of your stuff. I’m not dying or anything.”

Preferable though that may be.

🍂

Tommy texts Buck a handful of times during the course of Buck packing his things in the loft. Buck had entirely forgotten they had agreed Tommy would come over this morning. To be honest, if he reflects, Bukc is still pretty unhappy with how Tommy reacted. Especially compared to Eddie, who is literally in crisis. But because of said crisis, Buck can’t really see Tommy right now. And honestly? He finds he’s not unhappy with that. 

He replies to Tommy something about changing his mind and needing some time to himself. To which Tommy immediately asks if he’s with Eddie. Which, okay, yes. But does he really think Buck would be in the wrong for turning to a friend for support right now? Ridiculous. 

When Buck pointedly ignores this question, irritated, Tommy tries to call him. Buck doesn’t answer. 

I think you can guess why the phone is a challenge for me right now, he texts instead. This isn’t about Eddie. It’s about me. I’ll text you tomorrow. 

Tommy gets the message. He drops it.

Buck grabs some larger sweatpants of his own for nEddie. They order some more that they can cut a hole in if need be. The suggestion seems to make Eddie squirmish. Buck gets it. It’s weird. It’s his body. But he’s also not going to let Eddie go pantless or make himself physically uncomfortable. 

He stocks up on more groceries than he usually would. Eddie is missing a lot. Buck checked before they left. He hasn’t been taking fantastic care of himself lately, nutrition-wise. 

[demon-shark]

Percy got Lost pt 7

12-year-old Percy Jackson tries to leave Camp Half-blood before Mr. D decides whether or not to kill him. Only Percy gets so lost he ends up in a completely different universe where a man in green finds him.

Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence

[previous] [next]

Qingqiu gripped his blade tightly, preparing to strike as the voice of the first demon who Percy had called ‘Mrs Dodds’ rang out, “I need to use the restroom.” The other two chorused a similar need and the three started to move towards them. A fight on the bus would put innocent people at risk, not to mention Qingqiu wouldn’t have the space necessary to properly wield Xiu Ya, limiting him greatly. “I’ve got it. Percy, take my hat.” Qingqiu had to suppress the urge to turn to her as she passed her hat over to Percy. Percy had been just as confused as Qingqiu as he asked a quick, “what?”. Annabeth pressed the hat into Percy’s hand as she quickly explained, “It was a gift from my mother and will turn you invisible. You’re the only one they want. So, once you’re invisible you’ll need to move up the aisle, let them pass you. Then maybe you can get to the front and get away.” Percy grimaced as he said, “But you guys-” Annabeth didn’t let him finish off the thought, “There’s an outside chance that they might not notice us, you’re one of the big three. Your smell might be overpowering,”. As logical as the plan was, it was an uncertain one. But as the demons moved closer it seemed like the only one. “I can’t just leave you.” Grover snapped his head over to Percy, “Don’t worry about us, go!”.

Percy quickly put on the hat and vanished, not even a qi signature remaining. Though the women stalled about 10 rows in front of the three, Qingqiu could only guess that Percy had planted himself there, they continued moving back. They eventually blocked them in, transforming to show shriveled leathery hags with bat wings and demonic claws. What was once handbags now revealed to be fiery whips. The first one leaned forward, her gnarled jaws only inches from Annabeth’s face as she hissed, “Where is it? Where?” The women seemed to be ignoring Qingqiu entirely, having assumed he was a mortal. Using this as an opening, Qingqiu stabbed the one he assumed to be the leader. The civilians screaming and cowering in their seats as the other two launched into action, Annabeth brandishing a bronze knife and Grover having grabbed a tin cylinder from the snack bag. 

The bus then took a sudden turn, Percy having grabbed the wheel while the bus driver was distracted. Everyone was thrown to the right as the bus collided with the side of the tunnel, sparks serving as their main light source. Smaller buses cleared the way as the bus skidded out of the tunnel. The vehicle continued barreling down the roads, only the bus driver seemed to have gained back some control as they moved into a more rural area and towards a river. Before anyone could recover the bus suddenly came to a harsh stop, threatening to flip over in the process as the iron carriage wailed and the doors flew open. The civilians all stampede out leaving only Qingqiu, the demigods, Grover, and the demons.

Qingqiu refused to let them regain their ground however, quickly moving forward and cutting down the first demon. However, instead of leaving the usual corpse the demon burst into golden powder. The second demon gave out a deafening screech before lashing out with her fiery whip. In one fluid motion, Qingqiu blocked the attack with Xiu Ya letting the whip wrap around it before yanking it forward. Not wanting to get cut down like her sister, the demon quickly released the whip causing it to get thrown at the feet of Grover. Grover then threw a well-aimed tin cylinder, clocking the demon in the side of the head and getting her attention. The first demon then got up and moved to attack Qingqiu from behind only for Percy to reveal himself, “Hey!”. The furies both turned to him, barring their yellowed teeth as they gave him their full attention. Qingqiu would have scolded the boy for not taking the chance to run; only the first demon slammed him into the side of the bus. 

She slowly stalked towards Percy as her sister jumped on the seats, crawling like a lizard. Annabeth moved forward, dagger in hand as she looked for an opening, as Grover helped Qingqiu get back to his feet. “Perceus Jackson,” the first demon hissed in a thick accent Qingqiu didn’t recognize, “You have offended the gods. You shall die,”. Percy pulled the horn from his bag, the blood of the skinner demon still clinging to it as he said, “I liked you better as a math teacher,”. Mrs Dodds launched forward, giving Annabeth an opening to stab her in the back as Qingqiu caught the second one by the wings and decapitated her. Mrs Dodds slapped Annabeth away, sending her back into Grover, before chasing Percy off the bus. 

Qingqiu picked up Annabeth and Grover before mounting Xiu Ya, flying after the demon. As they closed in they could hear the demon yell, “Hades will have your soul!” In response, Percy slightly turned back and yelled, “Braccas meas vescimini!” What that meant, Qingqiu had no idea. But by the way the demon was practically frothing at the mouth, it wasn't anything good. It was then lightning suddenly struck the bus behind them, the sound echoing in Qingqiu’s ears. Not wanting to be struck next, Qingqiu quickly landed. Dropping Annabeth and Grover before continuing the chase. Sending the sword forward and through the head of Mrs Dodds. 

With the situation finally under their control again they took a moment to breathe. Grover collapsed, sweat pouring down his face as he shivered and brayed, “Three Kindly Ones, all three at once.” Annabeth grabbed Grover, pulling him back up as she said, “Come on! The further away we get, the better.” Percy wiped his own brow as he grimly said, “All our money was back there. Our food and clothes. Everything.” Annabeth turned to him, pointing at the bag that Percy hadn’t taken off at all during the trip, “Not everything. Besides if you hadn’t decided to jump into the fight-”. Percy snapped his head up, cutting Annabeth off, “What did you want me to do? Let you get killed?” Annabeth practically snarled as she said, “You didn’t need to protect us, Percy. We would have been fine.” Grover then piped in with a quiet, “Sliced like sandwich bread, but fine.” Annabeth snapped her head towards Grover, “Shut up, goat boy.”

“That’s enough, what’s done is done.” Qingqiu stepped in, having heard enough of their pointless fight. “First things first we need to find shelter and check our resources.” As he said that the clouds above them grumbled, the rain pouring down and making their clothes heavy. The sooner they found that shelter the better.

[drpeppertummy]

They swallow down a burp they've been holding in, their belly bulging uncomfortably as it builds up inside them for Giuliana?

[stuffing/bloating, discomfort, button pop]

Ordinarily, Giuliana couldn't give less of a rat's ass about who heard her burp. While she was very well-respected, nobody in town had any expectations about her manners; she had a mouth on her that would make a sailor cringe, and she left no wondering what she thought about people who expected her to "behave like a lady." Still, when Dane's grandmother--the only living, respectable parental figure any of them had to speak of--came to visit, she felt inclined to make a good impression.

Angela couldn't cook to save her life, and Dane wasn't much better, so Giuliana had taken it upon herself to make a nice dinner for the occasion. After consulting Dane, she'd decided to try her hand at chicken adobo, having done a trial run the week before to make sure it came out right, along with her specialty, spaghetti bolognese. Dane had contributed a colorful side of squash made just the way his grandmother liked it, and Angela had felt confident enough to prepare a beautiful chocolate cake.

Now, they were sitting around the round dinner table, happily chatting away and enjoying their food. Everything had come out perfectly. Giuliana was relieved that the adobo had been met with approval, and while she was worried that two entrees might have been a bit much, everybody seemed to be enjoying them both. As they ate, though, she became aware of a certain snugness growing in her stomach. She'd been trying all afternoon to avoid burping--something she was not used to doing--and she was feeling much more full than she usually would by this point. Her belly bulged uncomfortably against her jeans, and the waist creaked ominously as she leaned forward to grab a clean napkin.

Giuliana tried to ignore her tightening stomach and pants under the table, focusing instead on the conversation above it. Dane's grandmother was in the middle of telling some wild story about her childhood shenanigans, and Angela was laughing so hard she could barely swallow her food. Giuliana smiled, but her belly let out an uneasy rumble. The pressure building up inside her was becoming unbearable. Her stomach, desperate to release it, tried to push out a burp, but she forced it back down, eliciting another pressurized-sounding gurgle.

"You're awfully quiet," said Dane's grandmother, patting Giuliana's arm. "Are you alright?" She nodded.

"She's always quiet," said Dane. This was true, at least in most situations; it certainly wasn't that she was shy, or even that she didn't have much to say. She was just a quiet type. Right now, though, she at least had a reason. She didn't think she'd be able to get out a full sentence without all the trapped air bloating up her overstretched stomach rushing out in one enormous burp. She wasn't sure how much longer she could hold it; her belly felt like it was about to burst, and her pants were straining hard against it.

A loud rumble bubbled up inside her belly, and Angela glanced down at her. With some difficulty, she gulped the air back down before it could force its way out. Her belly rumbled again as it tightened painfully, bulging against the waist of her pants, and suddenly, to her horror, the button popped right open. Angela covered her mouth both in shock and to stifle a laugh.

"Oh, sweetheart, I hope you're not holding in all that gas on my account," Dane's grandmother laughed, giving Giuliana's distended belly a friendly pat. The light impact was enough to disturb the massive bubble that was trapped inside her, and, much to her dismay, it finally erupted in a long, impressive burp. She covered her mouth, mortified. Dane and Angela couldn't help but laugh at the uncharacteristic display of embarrassment.

"Hey, you'll definitely have room for cake now," said Angela through snorts and giggles, and she wrapped an arm around Giuliana's shoulders and squeezed her tight.

[ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask]

In the nook of a valley that looked like it was ripped straight out of a postcard for “Adventurer’s Paradise,” Vannak-134 and Riz-028 stood awkwardly side by side. The scene was something out of a nature documentary, except the majestic beasts here were two supersoldiers in state-of-the-art MJOLNIR armor, not exactly blending in with the scenery.

Vannak, towering and clad in dark blue that screamed 'I’m here to party, but also I might accidentally demolish your house,' wore his EOD-variant helmet like it was part of his skull. Riz, on the other hand, was a study in black and subtlety, her armor sleek and adorned with a helmet that was more 'mysterious avenger from a sci-fi serial' than 'standard issue.' Those antennas on her head? They screamed 'I'm listening to your secrets, but also, I can't get good radio reception here.'

They were supposed to be scouting, or patrolling, or some other military term that meant 'walk around and make sure nothing explodes.' But there they were, staring at a waterfall as if it held the secrets of the universe, or at the very least, the secret to breaking the ice and admitting, "Hey, I kinda like you."

"Bet I can beat you to the top," Vannak said, breaking the silence with all the subtlety of a grenade in a china shop. His voice had that deep, rumbling quality, the kind that in ancient times made people think, 'Yep, that’s a leader,' or 'Maybe he’s a god,' but now just made Riz roll her eyes so hard she might've seen her brain.

Riz turned, her posture all 'challenge accepted,' but with an air of 'I’m also judging you.' "Wanna bet?" she threw back, her tone light, her dialect crisp with a hint of mockery, as if she was saying, 'Oh, we're doing this again? Alright, Shakespeare.'

The air between them, usually charged with the electricity of unspoken things and the lingering question of 'What are we, really?' was now laced with the anticipation of their ridiculous challenge. It was their thing, finding the most absurd ways to compete because apparently, talking about feelings was too mainstream.

"Okay, hotshot," Vannak chuckled, the sound muffled by his helmet, "loser buys dinner. And not just any dinner, but something from the black market of the mess hall."

Riz’s laugh cut through the sound of the waterfall. It was clear, almost musical, if music was made by sarcastic supersoldiers. "Deal. But when I win, I want one of those steaks you swear are 'just as good as real meat.' You know, the ones you talk about with the same reverence most people reserve for holy relics."

"You’re on," Vannak shot back, his stance ready, like a knight of old, if knights were into futuristic armor and making bets instead of jousting. "Prepare to be disappointed when it's your turn to raid the kitchen."

They squared up at the base of the cliff, the tension palpable, if you ignored the fact that this was all over a race to the top of a waterfall. "Ready to eat my dust?" Riz taunted, bouncing on the balls of her feet like a boxer ready to enter the ring."In your dreams," Vannak retorted, with the confidence of a man who has absolutely no idea if he can actually make good on his words.

Then, they were off, scrambling up the cliffside like two oversized mountain goats with an affinity for heavy metal—music or armor, take your pick. They climbed, occasionally slipping in their haste, the sound of their armor clanking against rock mixing with the constant roar of the waterfall. It was a symphony of chaos, a testament to their stubbornness and perhaps, a metaphor for their approach to personal issues—climb first, think later.

Halfway up, Riz nearly lost her grip, her foot slipping on a wet rock. Vannak reached out, grabbing her arm in a move that was part knight in shining armor, part 'oh no, we’re both going to die.' For a second, they locked visors, the world narrowing down to this moment of accidental intimacy.

"Thanks," Riz muttered, yanking her arm back like it was on fire, her tone a mix of gratitude and 'I'll never live this down.'

"Don't mention it," Vannak replied, his voice a weird blend of smug and genuinely concerned, like a puppy that's just saved its owner from tripping but also kinda caused it in the first place.

The race resumed, with more caution this time, as if they’d both been reminded that, yes, gravity still existed and, no, their armor couldn’t fly. When they finally reached the top, panting and probably a few dignity points lighter, they collapsed side by side, looking out over the valley below.

"So, about that dinner…" Riz started, breaking the comfortable silence.

"We'll see," Vannak replied, his tone light, but his unspoken words heavy with the promise of more than just a meal....

This was excellent. Your gift for imagery continues to astound me, and the ridiculousness of this event was so fun! I love the idea that Riz and Vannak are so bad at talking that they’d rather beat each other up than ask each other on a date.

The pining is adorable and the competition is even better. I loved it all.

[melrosing]

I think the arguments for bi Jaime are interesting but I have seen arguements that Jaime is homophobic based on what he says to Loras. What do you think?

I think:

I understand queer readings of Jaime and I also like them, gender and sexuality are major themes in his story so of course people are playing with that and exploring the subtext

I don’t think GRRM necessarily intended Jaime to be mlm. That doesn’t invalidate queer readings, because queering the text is often about looking beyond the author’s intention

Jaime has two lines that skew homophobic, but within the context of his broader story, this seems to be a reflection of his society rather than strongly held reservations of his own. His relationship with a gay character, Loras, paints a more complex portrait

GRRM doesn’t seem to have thought deeply about what Westeros’ attitude to homosexuality is, so there’s some carry over of negative attitudes towards it from our world, but it seems muted even compared to 20th century attitudes

So the line that usually opens this conversation is:

Jaime grabbed [Loras] with his good hand and yanked him around. "I am the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, you arrogant pup. Your commander, so long as you wear that white cloak. Now sheathe your bloody sword, or I'll take it from you and shove it up some place even Renly never found." (Jaime VII, ASOS)

The one that I think people often forget is this one, when Tywin says he’s considering marrying Cersei to Oberyn Martell:

“Oberyn Martell? The man's infamous, and not just for poisoning his sword. He has more bastards than Robert, and beds with boys as well.” (Jaime VII, ASOS)

So here Jaime’s threat deliberately references Loras’ sexuality, and he puts to his father that Oberyn’s sexuality is a point against him in terms of marrying the man to Cersei. However, I don’t really think GRRM intends either to… say much about Jaime’s attitudes?

With Loras, I think honestly GRRM writing in like…. what, the year 2000, might not have thought too hard about the remark. I think he probably meant it more as Jaime being crass more than he meant it to be a pointed jab at Loras’ sexuality.

The reason I think so is that Jaime doesn’t seem remotely fazed by Loras’ sexuality anywhere else in the text. He strongly identifies with Loras, and is never troubled by the fact that he’s identifying with a gay teenager. He is moved by Loras’ love for Renly, and actually trusts him more once he hears of it. He defends Loras from Cersei who actively worries about Loras’ potential influence over Tommen’s own ‘appetites’.

And overall, I think Jaime likes Loras: he’s prepared to dislike him on the basis that he’s an arrogant teenager, but as soon as he realises that’s really just the same as he was, he decides to be Loras’ mentor instead, esteems him and only ever speaks well of him. Loras doesn’t seem to challenge any preconceived notions Jaime has of homosexual men, because Jaime never thinks about Loras’ sexuality beyond that initial remark: this just isn’t something that bothers him.

For the comment about Oberyn: I think partly this is Jaime trying to put Tywin off the notion of marrying Cersei to Oberyn (I imagine Tywin does very much hold some opinions on homosexuality). Beyond that… I think Jaime probably has to some extent internalised the notion that a man who sleeps around with other men can’t make a good husband for a woman. Westerosi society is an extremely patriarchal one that seems to only understand sexuality and marriage in the most black and white heterosexual terms, and whilst they seem happy enough to ignore what people do behind closed doors - someone like Oberyn who openly consorts with both men and women garners a level of suspicion. So there is still a level of homophobia in Westerosi society, and so in Jaime, too, but again - I don’t think GRRM ever intends it as a strongly held belief of his, or any kind of hatred.

Ultimately I think Westeros’ whole relationship with sexuality is kind of… hazy in ASOIAF? There are a fair few canonically gay and bi characters, and no one seems be subject to hate or hate themselves for it - it’s just unspoken that you shouldn’t make a show of it, and that it… raises eyebrows?? Idk. I think GRRM unthinkingly incorporated some of the homophobia he knew in his own world, but had no desire to make it a point of suffering/hatred for his characters. It just kind of exists. I guess as a cishet guy he just wasn’t thinking too hard about it?? lol

As for bi/gay Jaime readings: I don’t think GRRM intended Jaime as mlm, but i think most people who read him that way know that. Queering the text isn’t about being able to point at a passage and know for sure that that’s what the author intended, but to recognise queer literary traditions they may have subconsciously picked up from other writers, or queer experiences they have unwittingly written about, or just being able to say - ‘that reads how this feels to me’. I think a lot of fandom analysis can be very literal, trying to work out precisely what an author meant by a particular line and what exactly it foreshadows. That kind of analysis is fine, but that’s not what all literary analysis is. A lot of it does mean looking way beyond author intent, not necessarily ‘death of the author’ in every instance, but yes, sometimes??

I think the only times I’ve seen people pushing back against the notion of bi/gay Jaime and pointing at these lines re. Loras is when they think Jaime fans want to wield bi/gay Jaime as a badge that protects him from further criticism. Only I’ve literally never seen anyone who enjoys the reading use it that way, and I think it also entirely misunderstands what queer reading is and why people employ it. Again, it’s the kind of push back that overly relies on fandom dynamics rather than just readerly approaches to a text lol

Anyway with Jaime I think there is SO much that lends itself to a queer reading and I will continue to enjoy these analyses, I think they enrich the character 👍🏻

[morgana-ren]

So I and a dream that I was in BG as a companion of DU Tav. And there was implications of being stuck in a three way with him and Gortash. So I wrote it out. What I can remember anyway!

‐--------

"We were good friends you and I, a shame to be the only one who remembers. But no matter, memories will return in time," Gortash eyes flick to you and back to Tav. "Rather exciting, no? To relearn such wonders."

"I remember bits, feelings," Tav shifts his weight a little, moving half a step in front of you. "Some things, people, are familiar even if I can't quite place them."

"Like your charming companion here?"

"You know her?" Tav ignores him, blunt as usual, focusing on the way Gortash can't seem to keep his eyes off you.

"Hmm," it's an amused sound. "We know her."

You shift uneasily, Tav's sudden tension putting you on edge. 

"We do?" It's a question but not really. You know Tav knows you, even if the circumstances still evade you both.

"She hasn't told you?" The amusement is still strong in Gortash's voice, along with something else, something darker that has goosebumps prickling across your skin.

"She doesn't remember much before the tadpole either," Tav is running out of patience, his fingers flicking and twitching restlessly against his thigh. "This whole mysterious act is tedious. If you know something then say so."

There's a pause, Gortash watching you intently, eyes searching you as if looking for signs of lie. You open your mouth to speak but he cuts you off.

"She was yours," He's bitter, a slight edge to his voice. "a gift from your father, something you wanted beyond anything else apparently." He waves his hand dismissively, obviously unimpressed with Tav's choice of reward.

"Mine?" Tav sounds a little bewildered, but you don't speak up, a knot of panic growing in your chest. You feel dread, fear, as confused as Tav sounds there's something horrid in your heart that's telling you Gortash is not lying. "A... lover?"

He sounds so incredulous that if you weren't suddenly filled with the need to run you might have laughed.

"A lover? Occasionally. more like.... a pet," Gortash smiles, but it's not friendly, his teeth bright and sharp, and its so familiar you feel sick. "Bound to you, dark magic etc etc," he tilts his head. "Such a bond snapped, broken, would be traumatic I imagine. I suppose it would make sense that she doesn't remember either."

You're going to be sick. Bile rising in the back of your throat. "Liar." It comes out hoarse, meek and Gortash gaze flicks to you so fast you almost bite you tongue with how quickly you shut your mouth. That foreign distant voice in the back of your head chiding you for speaking without permission. It makes your lip curl in disgust, why are you thinking such a thing. "He's lying T, you can't seriously believe him!"

"And you? We were close,-" Tav hesitates, but ignores your outburst and that feeling of dread growing in your stomach blooms fully. A feeling of something ending, an oddly familiar misery seems to settle in your bones. "...friends?"

"It is novel to see you so shy to speak your mind," Gortash's smile is different as faces your friend, it's not hungry, not promising pain and torment but fond. "We were close, yes."

Tav sighs, shifting again, although this time he turns sideways slightly, no longer protecting you but more keeping you in his sights, like he knows you're thinking of running. "Again, tedious. Tell me or I'm taking the stone and my charming companion and leaving."

"Still an impatient brat. I'm glad some things haven't changed," Gortash reaches out, thumb brushing over a smear of blood across Tav's cheek and you see it. Not the violent rejection you were hoping for but instead the barest twitch of movement as he leans into Gortash's touch. "We were going to rule together," Gortash's voice drops to a whisper and you whimper in pain and surprise as Tav's hand snaps backwards, grabbing tight hold of your wrist. "We were friends Bhaalspawn. Partners, lovers. We shared-," There's a brief pause, Gortash's eyes flicking over to you. "We shared everything."

Ooh, I love it! Dreams can be the best, can't they?

Gods I love Gortash. Him and my pasty vampire boy and Halsin. Whew.

[soaps-hoe-141]

Back Together

Part 21

Pairing: Soap x Ghost

WC: 4.6k

Synopsis: I'm sorry

Warnings: I'm sorry

“Last one Lt, come on now,” he was standing to the right of the free weight station, watching his leg with a careful gaze as he squatted with the bar across his shoulders. The big man was trying to muscle the bar up, his expression tense with the pain Soap could see written in his eyes. Finally he shook his head and called it, “Drop it no, you’re gonna strain the muscle.” At first Ghost didn’t listen but when Soap gave him a warning look the bar dropped off his shoulders and he stepped forward, chest heaving as he braced himself against the wall. He was balancing on one foot as the tension in his thigh released. Soap walked around the station to give him a worried look, careful not to get too close in front of so many other people at the base’s gym.  Blue eyes searched the masked face before he asked, “You good Ghost?”

The big man gave him a quiet nod as he lifted his foot behind him and held onto it for a second letting the muscle stretch. “Yeah, I’m fine Johnny.” He saw the smile through the mask, reassuring him that everything was fine before he added, “That’s all I’m doing today though.”

Soap nodded quickly “Ok sounds good.” He quickly pulled the weights off the bar, putting them back in their respective places before putting the bar back onto the rack. He glanced worriedly at the big man who was still stretching out his leg but he was quick to receive another smile of reassurance from the man. “Come on Ghost, let’s head out.” The Lieutenant let out an agreeing huff and they headed for the locker room. Soap glanced sideways as the man beside him threw a sweaty shirt into his gym bag. Tracing the lines of his tattoo slowly and then the swell of his ass beneath his gym clothes.

“Eyes up Sergeant,” the rough voice beside him said in quiet words, careful not to draw attention from anyone else that might have been in here. Soap turned back to the bench where his bag sat, a smirk on his face that both of the men ignored.

It wasn’t until a familiar tall German came in that Soap looked back up, examining the black mask that hid the lower part of his face. “Hey Konig,” Soap caught his eye, watching as he pulled a headphone out of his ear and the familiar smile lit up his face. “We still on for tonight, Konig?”

The Germ gave an enthusiastic nod at Soap’s question, answering with an equal amount of enthusiasm in his words, “Ja! The same bar as usual, yes?”

“Tha. I’m gonna go home and shower and then I’ll be there. The rugby game is supposed to start at 19:00 I think. Did you ask Gaz and Price?” Soap’s brow raised as he questioned. 

Konig nodded, “Yes I did, Price said he can’t though, he has to be in early tomorrow. And Gaz apparently has tiktok requests to record, I am not sure what that means though.”

Soap gave a quick shrug, “Oh well, hopefully they can make the next one.” He turned to look up at Ghost then his smile still bright, “You’re coming though right, Lt?”

Ghost did not return the smile as Konig had, instead the man stated with a cold undertone, “I can’t Sergeant.” Soap’s smile faltered then and before he could ask why the Lieutenant said, “I have PT today. I can’t miss it, I’ve only got two more scheduled visits before I get cleared.”

The Sergeant looked down for a second before he apologized, “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s ok though, Ghost, we’ll make sure you get the next one.” Konig gave him a quick nod of agreement and Soap clapped the Germ on the back before saying, “I’ll see you in a few buddy.” The big man nodded as he put his headphone back in and grabbed his gym bag before leaving. Soap turned to see Ghost glaring hard at Konig’s back before the stoney glare shifted down to his face. “I really am sorry, Ghost. I thought your PT was tomorrow, not tonight.”

Ghost grumbled something low under his breath as he grabbed up his own gym bag and growled out, “You could have told me we had plans.” 

He watched the big man as he stalked off, staring at the door even when it shut. Soap whispered to himself after a few seconds, “Fuckin hell, should have just asked.” He grabbed his bag muttering, “Fuck,” before he left the locker room and headed for his car in the parking lot. For the first time in a while he drove himself not back home but instead to the lonely apartment complex. Soap sighed as he dropped his gym bag on the ground by the door, stripping clothes off as he headed for the shower to wash the day’s workout off his skin, not to mention the day’s fuck ups. After he had gotten dressed again he took the time he still had to clean the apartment up, throwing away old groceries from the fridge and all the empty bottles laying around. He was cleaning up the clothes to throw them into his laundry bag when his phone buzzed on the counter.

Germ: Where are you?

Soap looked at the time before he let out a quiet curse leaving the laundry bag beside the counter and hurriedly answering, ‘On my way, big guy.’ He grabbed his keys and ran out the door running down the stairs and out to his car. He drove on two wheels almost the whole way there, it was a miracle he didn’t flip the car. Soap definitely could have passed as a Fast and Furious driver at that moment. He pulled into a parking space and half jogged inside, looking around at the tables, seeing Konig waving at him from the corner the team usually inhabited when they were here. Soap hurried over and gave the Germ a smile, “Hey Germ, sorry about that. Got distracted doing something.”

Konig slid him a beer and the Scot took it, lifting it to take a drink as the big man asked, “Was it Ghost?” Blue eyes went wide and he inhaled a gasp, the beer in his mouth going down with the air. Soap immediately sputtered, coughing wildly as he tried to expel the beer from his lungs. He saw the slight panic in the other man’s eyes as he stood from his stool before giving him a few pats on the back.

The Scotsman finally got his ability to breathe under control and Konig took his seat again, watching him with an innocent look. Finally he managed to choke out, “Wh-What is that-What do you mean by that?”

“You two are together, ja?” The big man’s head tilted and he saw the dark red eyebrows lift with his question. Konig really was just asking, it seemed, curious about the relationship between the two.

Soap shook his head, his face scrunching up in an obvious lie, “What? No we’re not together. Why would you even think that?”

Konig looked down at his beer before shrugging, “He’s always staring at your ass when you’re in the gym and he never lets you out of his sight when we’re training. He doesn’t do that with anyone else. And everytime you send me a snapchat it’s always from his house. I thought everyone knew Soap, I am sorry for making the assumption though.”

“He stares at my ass?” Soap asked with a small smile on his face, not even considering everything else Konig said.

The big man sitting across from him smirked beneath his mask before he pulled it down and took a sip. Finally he answered the zoned out Scotsman, “Ja, all the time. He’s really bad at hiding it honestly.”

Soap’s head shook slowly as he wiped a hand over his face and laughed out loud. It took him a second to get himself back under control before he said between little chuckles, “Germ, listen, you can’t tell anyone that. That stays between us ok? Both of us could get in trouble.”

“Oh ja I know. That’s why I’ve never brought it up before. I just thought it’d be funny to see your face when I asked you though.” The German laughed as he sat back in his chair.

The Scot shook his head, chuckling still at Konig before he said, “You know you’re an ass. Just wait until I get my hands on payback material,” Soap ordered them a couple rounds of shots, Konig buying the next couple rounds as they leaned back in their chairs watching the rugby game playing in the bar. By the time the match was over, Soap was feeling the effects of the alcohol hard enough that he didn’t even consider driving back, and Konig was about to tip over. “Hey big guy, come on. You need to sleep this shite off.”

Konig leaned hard into the shorter man as they exited the bar, throwing Soap’s balance off as they started walking down the sidewalk, both knowing they were far too gone to be driving anywhere. “You know I really don’t feel that drunk right now,” the big man slurred out as they walked. Soap slipped under his arm without a word, letting him walk a few steps watching as he smacked into the brick wall. The Scot let out a loud laugh at the sight of Konig just barely standing up against the wall before he muttered, “That was just rude.”

Soap giggled as he helped the big man back to standing up straight before letting him lean against his side again. “Yeah, but it was funny as shite Germ.” They headed up the stairs to Soap’s floor, Konig leaning head first against the wall as the Scot beside him struggled with his keys. Laughs slipped out of the Germ’s mouth as he watched Soap fail a couple times to get the key inside, “Shhh Konig.” He tried to push the key in again, laughing at himself as he failed for the second time and still trying to shush the big man again before he fell into a fit of drunken giggles himself. Finally, the door opened on the third try and they tumbled inside the small apartment.

Konig braced himself against the counter as he turned to lock the door back. He threw his keys and phone on the counter before letting Konig wrap an arm around his shoulders again, walking the big man down the hall. “Alright big guy, you’re sleeping in my room. Can’t have you breaking my couch.” He felt the chest next to his temple vibrate with a couple giggles that drew out his own again. Soap pulled himself out from under the big man’s arm as he went to turn on the light so they could see. Before he had even turned all the way around though he heard a thud and caught himself against the wall as he glanced back over his shoulder. 

Konig was on his hands and knees as Soap watched from his spot against the wall, unable to stop the laugh as the big man crawled towards the bed and gave up halfway there before rolling to his back. His arms stretched out and he waved Soap off as the Scot tried to help him up, “Nein nein, leave me here. I sleep here now.” The smaller man nearly tripped over his own feet as he tried to step back, just barely catching himself on the door frame.

“Yeah Germ, you stay there. It’s better than the hardwood floors at least,” he slurred out before he disappeared out the door and down the hall. “Goodnight Konig, don’t puke on my floor!”

“Copy that!” He heard from the bedroom as he shed his clothes and collapsed over the back of the couch. Welcoming the comfort of sleep, even if he was wishing Ghost was there. He did always sleep better when the scent of pine and musk was there for him to bury his face in. One night though, he could make it one night.

A loud bang at the door had his tired eyes struggling open, looking around the dark room trying to figure out where he even was. It was unfamiliar at first until his mind came back around along with a pounding headache. He winced as he pushed himself up from the couch, wondering why the hell he was at his apartment. Oh yeah, he had gone drinking with Konig, he’d forgotten about that. Another loud bang had him rolling to the floor with a loud thud, and a muffled curse as he fought to get his limbs in working order. He struggled to his feet and unlocked the door before pulling it open.

Soap stumbled backwards as the door pushed open faster than he had expected. He saw a familiar balaclava looking down at him, and he could see the worry behind those hazel eyes. “Fuckin hell Johnny, I thought you were dead.” Strong arms trapped him in a hug, pressing him hard into the black hoodie he was wearing. Soap took in a deep breath and caught himself smiling warmly at the thing he had been missing. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

He turned his head to the side so his cheek was flush with the warm fabric and answered, “It’s on the counter. I was tired after getting back here so I just went to sleep.”

“Why didn’t you call me? I would have picked you up.” The arms slowly unwound from him and the gloved hands cupped his face on both sides, holding his eyes up at him forcing him to look into the worry that had been wrought on the man others feared but who in turn feared for him.

Soap shrugged and looked down, feeling heat rush to his cheeks when he muttered, “I don’t know. I was kind of drunk so it just didn’t come-”

A tired voice spoke from down the hall, “Soap?” He watched the hazel eyes lift over his head and lock on to the man at the end of the dark hallway who was holding onto the wall for balance as he walked towards the living room. “Oh, hey Ghost.”

The Lieutenant’s grip on his face loosened and his hands fell to his sides. Ghost looked back down at him and then back up, and Soap immediately saw the rage there, the tension in that barely controlled feral form. Konig stopped a couple feet away at their end of the hallway and Soap finally turned to see he had stripped at some point. He felt his stomach drop as Ghost shouldered past him too fast to be stopped. There was a quiet rage in the initial step towards him and a fist shot forward with blinding speed. It happened faster than Soap honestly thought possible, Ghost’s first punch knocked the German down in his still tipsy and very tired state and then he was leaning over him with one hand clamped over his throat and the other relentlessly striking at Konig’s unmasked face.

“Ghost! What the fuck!?” Soap jumped into action then, grabbing the Lieutenant by the arm and halting his next strike. “Are you fuckin crazy man!?” The rage-filled eyes turned on him then, attention turning on him without a second thought. The large hand holding Konig by the throat released and he heard the huge gasp in as he coughed and tried to catch his breath. Ghost’s hand was around his own throat then, not squeezing just pushing him back until his back hit the wall. His head smacked against the drywall and the big man towered over him, a statue of barely controlled rage. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing Lt?”

The man leaned forward a bit as he growled out, “I could ask you the same thing, Sergeant MacTavish.” Konig was the one who broke their tense stare as he shoved Ghost off of the smaller man finding the rage focused back on the German before he growled, “Stay the fuck out of this, git.”

Soap had to break them up next before they came to blows again, “Konig go to my room.” The German narrowed his eyes at Ghost before Soap gave him a firm push in the direction. He waited until he heard the door close before he looked up at the Lieutenant, “What the hell was that about?”

He could see Ghost’s jaw working underneath the black fabric before he answered in a strained voice, “You fuck the one man, the one fuckin man MacTavish.”

Dark brows furrowed before his head shook and he immediately shot back, “Fuck him? I never did anything with him, Ghost. He was sleeping in my room and I was on the bloody couch.”

“Oh really? Why’d it take you so long to answer the fuckin door then?” Ghost pressed a bit closer at the question.

Soap glared hard at the big man before answering, “I fell off the bloody couch and couldn’t get back up, that’s why. Wasn’t expecting a 6 '4 bastard to come beating my door down in the middle of the night.” Ghost’s rage was still barely controlled, even directed at the Scotsman who just shook his head, “You could have at least asked and waited for an answer before you decided to beat the shit out of a man who is our teammate by the way, in case you’ve forgotten that bit.” Ghost looked around at the floor then where Soap’s clothes were piled up at the foot of the couch.

Soap shoved by him to grab his phone off the counter then, ten missed calls and about twenty missed texts all asking if he was ok and whether he had made it home ok. He tossed the device back onto the counter and focused his glare back on the Brit, “You should leave. I can’t believe you would think I would cheat on you for a quickie with our fuckin teammate. Not to mention Ghost, us,” he pointed between the both of them, “We aren’t even anything. You have no right to me, I’m not a piece of property you get to fight over.”

The man turned to find Soap’s face, and even through the mask he could see the disbelief in his eyes. The big man shook his head slowly, “Are you serious?”

“Aye, get the fuck out. I think we need a bit of space, you obviously need to get your head on right, and I have some thinking to do.” The Scotsman’s arms were crossed over his chest now, his jaw set in a stern look. Both of them were blind to the other’s pain now, too wrapped up in their own thoughts at the sudden shock of Soap’s words.

Finally, Ghost looked down and growled out, “Fine.” He turned without another word and was gone in a moment, door slamming shut behind him.

Soap couldn’t move from his spot in the living room, not even when he felt Konig’s hand touch his shoulder as he rounded to his front. Green eyes slipped into his field of vision breaking his eye contact where the door had slammed shut, “Soap?”

Blue hues fixed on green then and he swallowed hard at the lump that had gathered in his throat. He noticed the swelling that had begun around the big man’s cheek and nose where Ghost had been landing blows. “Hold on, I have something for that,” he shrugged his hand off and moved to the cabinet, searching through them until he found the med kit Ghost left in his apartment months ago. Soap opened it up and nodded towards the couch, “Sit down.”

Konig didn’t move at first as he watched the Scotsman before he finally complied with a sigh and sat on the couch. Soap stood in front of him laying the med kit on the coffee table. He inspected the man’s nose carefully before he muttered, “It’s broke, you ready?” The man nodded and Soap braced his thumbs on the spot before he pushed it back where it was supposed to go. Konig winced and held his hand up as blood pooled out of it. Soap was ready with a cotton nose plug, an ointment smeared on the end, and shoved it as high as it would go. It took a second for him to find the cold packs but he finally did. He felt his hands shaking as he tried to fold it over and crack the contents inside but he couldn’t get his fingers to cooperate. Blue eyes closed for a moment and he took in a deep breath trying to settle himself.

He felt Konig’s hands grab his, opening them as he took the cold pack from him. “I’m ok Soap…Are you?” He saw the worry in the green eyes, the desire there to help him but not having any clue as to how.

Soap swallowed hard as he stepped back, tripping over the coffee table. His shoulder hit the hardwood hard and he let out a loud string of curses. Konig stood to try and help him but Soap merely shook his head shrugging his hands off, “I’m fine, I got it Germ. Just go back to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” The Sergeant pushed himself up and didn’t bother to wait for an answer as he disappeared down the hall. He shut the door quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. 

The time passed around him in a blur as he sat there staring at the floor while his mind replayed his angry words. Replayed the hatred he had felt in that moment and the pain he had wanted to cause. Why would he ever think he had cheated, how could he ever think that? When he saw the first hint of the sun he stood up, dressing without a thought. He headed down the hall, glancing at Konig’s passed out form on the couch. He scribbled a quick note telling the big man to lock up before he left and slapped it to the door as he shut it behind him. 

Soap retrieved his car from the bar’s lot, heading to base with a quiet determination to distract himself. As far as self-destructive tendencies went Soap’s certainly ranked higher than most. He made his way down the hall towards the cages stopping only when a familiar voice yelled behind him. “Soap!” The Scot turned to find Price in the hall behind him. He got a beckoning nod and backtracked to his office, eyes narrowing as he looked between Laswell and the Captain. Price spoke first, “You’re next in the rotation Sergeant. Gaz had the last one, Laswell has you for the foreseeable future.”

Blue eyes turned to the woman and he gave a quick nod, “Yes ma’am.”

“I need you to confirm some intel for me on a base location. Strictly recon, that’s all. Is that clear?” Laswell waited for him to nod his understanding before she continued, “You leave in an hour. You will be briefed on the plane. Gear up and head for the tarmac.”

Soap hid his surprise at the lack of time he had before takeoff but merely nodded and said, “Yes ma’am.” He was out the door as fast as he had entered, continuing his trek to the cages. He packed his gear with quick hands, running through a mental checklist that had been burned into his memory after years of service. The Scot didn’t bother looking up when the door opened, busying himself with packing rather than worrying about whoever was now standing at the door to his cage and watching him. He didn’t need to look up though, there was only one person who watched him like that, who made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and his skin prickle with the sensation of being watched. He threw his bag over his shoulder and stood up with a gun case in his hand, staring hard at the masked man in front of him.

Ghost just stood there, blocking his way with a hard stare. “Where are you going?”

He nearly faltered from the hard glare when he heard the hint of worry in the voice. The Scot didn’t though, saying with an even tone, “Solo recon, I leave in fifteen minutes.” He stepped forward but the big man stayed stubbornly in the way, “Move Ghost I have to go.”

The big man shook his head, “I need to talk to you.”

Soap shoved past him, refusing to look back up at him, “I don’t have time Ghost. Maybe you should have talked last night.” He opened the door leaving the cages behind but not the big man who was right behind him, keeping up easily with his long strides. Finally he caved in and grumbled out, “Talk then.”

“I’m sorry, Johnny,” that caught the Scotsman’s attention, blue eyes flicking up to him and nearly causing him to trip over his own two feet. Ghost continued with a strained voice, “I shouldn’t have hit Konig but…He just makes me so fuckin angry. I can’t help it.” They both went quiet as they passed someone else walking down the halls before Ghost added quickly, “I never should have put my hands on you either. I didn’t mean to.”

The Scotsman didn’t stop, staring hard at the path in front of them as they exited onto the tarmac, a jet taking off in front of them and his own ride waiting for him a hundred yards off. He had five minutes now, better make this quick, “You did mean to Ghost. You meant everything you said and did last night and that’s the worst part about all of this. Konig isn’t a part of whatever we are, you should have been able to trust me.” Hazel eyes were watching him with an emotion that not even he could read. “Do you think I’ve never been jealous? That I don’t want to beat someone whenever they look at you, whenever you lift that bloody mask up? Cause you’re wrong if you do. But the difference is that I trust you, and I respect you enough not to put some idiotic restriction on you and your life. I can be friends with whoever I choose to be friends with Ghost, I can make that decision for myself because I’m a human being and I have that right.” Soap turned to make for the plane before he stopped himself and looked back up at the man, “We’ve been moving too fast, Ghost. We need some space. This will be good for us, at least I hope so. Maybe while I’m gone you can find some of that respect I just mentioned.”

Soap turned and took a couple steps, eyes widening and freezing when he heard the deep voice yell over the plane’s engines with a desperate tone, “Please Johnny, I love you.” He turned so fast he nearly broke his own neck watching as the big man seemed to realize what he had said, surprise lighting up those hazel eyes.

He took a couple steps back towards Ghost, getting close enough he could hear the anger there and pressed a stiff index finger into his chest, “No, you don’t get to do that. Not to me, not right now. Christ Ghost,” he shook his head and looked up at the blue sky as if cursing whatever higher power sat up there laughing down at him. “We can talk when I get back, but you don’t do that to me, never again.” Soap turned back to his plane, booking it across the open space as he boarded, cursing the highest power above that the big bastard had said that now of all times.

[mdhwrites]

My Adventures With Superman 1-2 Review: A Super Start That’s Bursting at the Seams... And You Can Feel It.

So my short version is to go check it out. The cast is delightful, I think as someone who’s first Superman media was Man of Steel that this is absolutely NOT THAT version of Superman and that it’s having a lot of fun with these characters just starting out on their journey. However, it’s not quite perfect as it’s ambitious in its scope, even for being two parts, and you can feel the parts where they’re kind of trying to speed things along. Luckily, the cuts are most good but the writing and pacing aren’t the only ones to suffer as while the animation is great for a lot of it, it can get a little clunky, especially in the fight scenes tragically. Still, it’s a good, solid start and the romance is adorable, befitting their age as barely out of college, and there is a definite charm to them that, from my understanding at least, has been missing from Superman media for a while now.

Now, everything from here on out is open for spoilers so that’s your warning!

So the first thing I want to mention is that this show definitely feels like it has a definite focus behind it. It’s one that is pretty normal for a lot of Superheroes but that I don’t know how much a lot of stuff has actually tackled it for Superman, especially at a point where he could be questioning it: Who am I?     

Before both episodes’ title card, this is the question posed by Clark and even what he posits to himself at the end of the first episode. In the second episode, he finally examines the ship that brought him here more properly because Lois wanting to know more about “Superman” makes him curious too. He wants to know more answers and how they go about making it so he doesn’t really get them from Jor-el like usual is actually fun: Kryptonians don’t speak English. So Clark can get some from images but not everything but it’s a start to his journey, just like this is the start of him being a journalist and what that might look like.

Which actually is somewhat paralleled well with Lois in these episodes. The question of how far one will go for a story is something all journalist characters need to tackle but this one is asking Lois the other big one: WHY are you going so far? We can still see her good nature and her priorities are set straight, like her making sure to grab a detonator instead of taking notes or the like, but she is still doing it to make a name for herself. Not to be the biggest in the world though which is a good balance because frankly, an intern just wanting to actually be doing the job she’s interning for is extremely reasonable, even if maybe she’s going too far. Why wouldn’t she though? She knows what she wants to be: Lois Lane, Reporter for the Daily Planet!

And that’s a fun difference. One is firm in their identity while the other is firm in their methodology. After all, Clark is a farm boy. He tells himself he’s going to have a normal day, be a normal dude, and then seeing a missing cat stuck in a tree has him immediately save it and return it before going “You HAD to save the cat. You couldn’t just ignore it,” even though so many would. And this also makes it clear what the priorities of this Superman are: He wants to be normal and his extraordinary self is simply what lets him help people better than he otherwise could.

This thematic framing between Lois and Clark is also VERY good for the show because it’s leaning HARD on the romance between the two of them. It’s a lot of blushing and bits of awkwardness but they’re also probably fresh out of college and in your early twenties, you still act plenty like a teenager. Not that they’re only blushing wrecks though. There are multiple times in these two episodes where they’re bouncing journalistic ideas against each other and coming up with better ideas than either could alone, showing even early on how the two can be good for each other as friends and colleagues and that the fact that they both find each other attractive isn’t going to get in the way of that.

And frankly, with how cute the two of them are, as well as Clark still being... Clark... Yeah, I don’t blame them for blushing at being close to an attractive person or the like.

Then again, in general the show is REALLY pretty and REALLY expressive. It’s still trying to be more for teen and adults I think, especially with the final scene of episode 2, so it can’t be too over the top with its animation but it replaces that effort to make sure characters are being expressive and charming even when just talking. It’s not always perfect, I’m not sure if the characters quite always mesh with their backgrounds, but in general it’s a very charming art style, the designs are good and it sells the energy of the show well.

I am a little more mixed on the action so far unfortunately. It’s not really that the action is bad. There are some really good shots and fun choreography going on, Miss Electric versus Black Ops in episode 2 is especially good, but there are also absolutely moments that are just a bit more awkward and clunky and they do stand out. They don’t overstay their welcome but I don’t blame anyone who notices them.

And speaking of clunky, the writing isn’t perfect. There’s clunky moments and episode 2 especially feels like it’s a bit rushed from how much they’re doing but most of it’s fine for it being the introduction to the show and having to establish a lot very quickly. The entire return to his ship in episode 2 as an adult feels like it needs more breathing room and that they’re compressing what could have been half an episode to only like three minutes at most. It’s not bad and it’s a good place to cut down since the origin of Superman is one of the few main Superman elements still burned into pop culture, but it feels less natural than some of the rest. Episode 1′s warehouse scene with its liar reveal gets a bit less of a pass except that it’s over and done with very quickly and it does setup the question for Lois of if she’s reporting for the truth, glory, promotion, etc. especially when she can’t see a naturally helpful guy directly in front of her. Will her ambition blind her?

Oh, adding this here though I feel bad for not mentioning him earlier: Jimmy Olsen is definitely the comic relief of the series but he gets his own moments to shine as a reporter, his shtick is cute, at least for now, even if I don’t love it, and I love how he plays matchmaker. He definitely could use more fleshing out but frankly, I don’t know how much love Jimmy Olsen gets in most Superman media and he makes a good best friend to Clark here. Even his obsession with aliens and the supernatural is a good fit for making Clark sweat about his identity and leads to probably one of the most charming excuses I’ve seen for a “Is it a bird? I think it’s a plane,” joke. It’s a lot like the other up and down elements of the pilot two episodes but you absolutely can see how Jimmy could develop into being a third leg for the show, rather than just a third wheel.

And that’s why you can feel the seams, feel how much they’re doing and it threatening to all spill out in a mess... But they do hold. The whole thing is really enjoyable, if you like romance then I think you’ll really enjoy Clark and Lois’ stuff like I did, the action is solid and will hopefully smooth out as the show goes on and I know personally I’ll be keeping an eye out each week to give you the scoop on how this take is going. I know personally, as my first charming Superman I’ve really been exposed to, I’m definitely excited.

Excited for My Adventures with Superman.

==========

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past.

I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead, If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

And finally a Twitter you can follow too!

[fairweather-fangs]

CF for the relationship meme!

UHHHHH. So they aren't together, persay, but we can treat the business relationship like any other more significant type of relationship. Also C isn't mine so sorry if he's ooc.

Who starts most fights?

Both of them in a way. F is more likely to bring up an issue but C turns a discussion into a fight. It's probably something stupid.

Who is more likely to storm out during a fight?

F would get annoyed and leave but... F doesn't leave so probably C.

Who is more likely to cry during a fight?

Neither of them I don't think. Whatever they're fighting over it probably isn't worth tears.

Who surrenders at the end of most fights?

F usually. Whatever C wanted to do is worth fighting over, he usually justs lets it be.

Who is more likely to throw things in fights?

C. F is non violent. C is liable to grab the nearest object and toss it in a random direction to emphasize his point.

Who is more likely to bring up past mistakes?

F could make a whole folder of all the shit C has fucked up. He did, actually, and everytime C has a terrible idea he gets it out.

Who is louder in fights?

C, again F doesn't get agressive. If C needs to get his point across he'll yell.

Who is more likely to blame the other?

Depends on the situation. Either way neither of them are taking the blame.

Who is more likely to blame themselves?

Again, neither of them are taking blame.

Who is more likely to give the silent treatment?

They are both petty and will try and ignore one and other in hopes that that works somehow.

Who gets jealous more easily?

C weirdly enough. For some reason he doesn't like when F chooses to smoke with/bang K instead of him. He doesn't like F as anything other than a business partner and fuck buddy but he finds K's existence slightly threatening. He doesn't care if F goes on dates or dose stupid couple things with her it's on the drugs and sex he has an issue with. Perhaps he feels that because he values K's relationship more that everytime F dose something with her that he'd normally do with C, C feels unimportant? Who knows.

Who is angered more easily?

Both of them honestly. F can get really pissy when he's sober but C can blow things out of proportions.

Who is more likely to break off the relationship?

F has told C to leave before. He's told him it's over until C stops being an ass. That's probably the closest equivalent.

Who is more likely to threaten to leave?

C will threaten to "leave the operation" (ignore him for a day) and "snitch and go into witness protection" (tell Roger and move to a dorm furth away from F's) over a fight he started.

Who is more likely to actually leave?

F has other people to fill C's shoes. If he ever gets too much of an issue he'll abandon him, but the benefits of C outweigh the irritation.

Who is more likely to forget the other first?

I don't think they'll forget eachother. C might disregard the fiasco later in life as a weird first job, but F will probably be cursing whoever came to replace C. That and he'll miss the intimate moments. C is definitely one of rhe more skilled of F's boy partners and afterwards he isn't affectionate, persay, but he's the only one of F's hookups that'll let him stay the night with no drugs involved (I mean, they will be, because it's F, but they don't have to be)