#the third adventuring party in

[fanwarrior321]

brennan loves izzy so fuckin' much and it makes me wanna scream (positive). he blew her a kiss and laughs at all her jokes and just looks at her so tenderly it crushes me

[dunmeshistash]

Dungeon Meshi - Kuro & Mickbell extras

[iridescentoracle]

i am so obsessed with how like. taken as read the ot3 are at this point. like on the one hand it feels like they've been building up to this for ages but on the other hand it kind of feels like i blinked and we skipped right past some Major Turning Point where everything got spelled out and we're just already in firmly Established Relationship-land. obviously tarvek is too well-protected for anyone to assassinate openly, look how angry his boyfriend and girlfriend are at the idea of anyone threatening him. at this point i'm half-convinced agatha's just going to refer to her boyfriends in passing to someone else and no one's even going to comment on it until van finds out twenty pages later and immediately starts making everyone pay up

[wisdomweirdstuffandrants]

lou wilson "i don't think i can commit so hard to a voice" FULLY commiting to the pinocchio voice for the entire neverafter campaign will always be the funniest thing to me

[cinnamonsikwate]

watching the first 2 episodes of frieren last year shook me so bad i still can't get myself to continue it, but between what i remember of it and the nightmares episode of dungeon meshi i can't stop thinking about the ways laios would prepare marcille for his death. what would he leave behind to remind her that he (and by extension all the people she loved and who loved her) are still with her in spirit, even if not in body?

[irisbaggins]

"My God, your entire life rests on how you do in three exams in your last year." My god Siobhan, same. The whole American experience is wild to me, that last year is where you're done with everything. Last year meant everything for our High Schools, where if I failed even one exam I was fucked. I'd have to take an elective year just for the chance of fixing that fuckup. I was one ball of stress throughout that whole fucking year, and then I got math and biology as my exams. I thought I was going to die.

So, I guess, nice (??) to know someone else at the table had the experience of their last year in HS being a nightmare of a time. Also, horrifying. What is up with us Europeans where everything hinges on just a few exams that are randomly selected and can be in your worst subject?

[chronicangelca]

Groupie

Link to this fic on AO3. Words: 2963 Date posted: May 27, 2024

Summary: He’s working for an extremely secretive government organization entirely intent on destroying Superman. So which is worse: That he has a crush on a journalist, or that that journalist is also a Superman groupie?

Lex sits in a chair as far away from the center of the room as he can get, chin propped on a fist, elbow propped on a table with some largely ignored snacks on it, and knee bouncing nervously. He hates these sorts of PR events. They always remind him of his days as an unappreciated assistant, whose primary job, above using his genius intellect to build impressive new tech the likes of which the world had never seen, was making Anthony Ivo look good. At least now his job is mainly to make sure that the companies working with the government to fund his newest endeavors stay happy with the projects and don’t spill too much information publicly.

Several feet away from him, he sees two stuffy old men whose names he can’t keep straight talking to each other in hushed tones. Just as he’s pushing himself out of his chair to go check on what, exactly, they’re whispering about at this extremely public event, he bumps into someone fetching something from the snack table, sending all of the food on their plate directly into their chest. His eyes blow wide, and he scrambles to try to grab some napkins from the table while he spits out, “I am so sorry, I should have been paying more attention to-- you!”

The man across from him is at least a head shorter than him, which isn’t hard given how lanky and awkward Lex has always been. He’s almost 25 years old and his sister still insists every time that he visits her that he’ll fill out soon. His suit-- which is nice, but not remotely the right type of suit for this event, and privately Lex wonders how he got in-- is smeared with chocolate cake, potatoes, cheese, and gold flakes, dark colors and awfully textured mush marring the white button-up and khaki vest. “It’s Jimmy Olsen, right?”

Jimmy blinks up at him a few times, long eyelashes practically brushing against his cheekbones, and then smiles like nothing bad has ever happened at all. “Yeah! And you’re Alex, right?”

Lex can’t help but grimace. “It’s Lex, now,” he says, and then adds somewhat lamely, “I’m trying something new.”

“Lex… I like it!” Jimmy says, clapping Lex on the back and then taking the handful of napkins from him to start carefully dabbing at his shirt, trying to at least get some of the chunks off. “So what are you doing here? Ivo’s still in prison, right?”

He gives an awkward cough of a laugh. “I… I think so! I haven’t really kept track since he isn’t my boss anymore and everything,” he dismisses, probably more quickly than is natural. The reality is that he’s sort of the lead researcher for the team trying to figure out what, exactly, to do with Dr. Ivo. Waller figures he’s got a better shot at it than anybody else. “What about you? I didn’t think this event was open to the press…”

“Oh, I’m not here in a press capacity!” Jimmy laughs, waving a dismissive hand. “I have a pretty huge stake in the Daily Planet now and Perry didn’t really want to come, so I’m here as more of a business type of guy.” He looks down at his shirt, messy napkins crumpled up in his hand, having picked up as much as they’re going to. “Man, I think this thing’s done for.”

“Sorry,” Lex says again, rubbing at the back of his neck now. “I can cover your dry cleaning bill, if you want?” He offers. He gets a substantial stipend from the US government now for his work with Waller and Task Force X, and really, he has no idea what to spend on it anyway.

“How about you just buy me a drink? One with gold in it! I wanna hear about what you’ve been up to since our little chat at S.T.A.R. Labs. Clearly you’ve been up to something cool since you’re at this party for whatever mysterious reason you won’t tell me,” he says, throwing an arm around Lex’s shoulders like they’re old friends.

Lex’s cheeks flush as he gets basically dragged to the bar by this guy, sparing a glance to the pair of old guys. They’re not talking anymore, at least.

“Um,” he starts lamely. Lex has never really been a drinker. He pretty much only has champagne when he’s forced to come to these stupid parties, and even then, it’s mostly to blend in with the elite socialite types, so he rarely ends up drinking more than one glass. “Could my friend here get… a glass of champagne? Uh, with gold flakes in it,” he asks the bartender, who nods and immediately picks up a glass.

“Champagne with gold flakes?” Jimmy asks with raised eyebrows, looking at Lex with the most skeptical expression he’s ever seen. “That’s the best you can do? Did you even go to college?” Without waiting for an answer (not that Lex thinks it was really a genuine question), Jimmy waves at the bartender, “Hey, ix nay on the champagne. Get me two starry nights. Put it under Olsen’s tab.”

“Starry night?�� Lex asks, immediately followed by, “Wait, wasn’t I supposed to buy you a drink?”

“Well, you just get the next round then,” Jimmy says with a sly grin. They’re silent until the drinks come, with Lex just staring at Jimmy like he’s an alien. The other man seems completely confident, like he’s not out of place at this sort of event at all. He’s overly friendly, too, like he thinks he can just make friends with anyone. Then again, considering the situation Lex has found himself in, he guesses that must work. Maybe he needs to start projecting more confidence… The drinks that are placed in front of them are two gradients from clear liquid into a rich, coffee brown color, with gold flakes floating throughout. “Now, hold your nose and shoot it all back.”

Lex hardly registers what’s happening before the drink is in his hand, their glasses are clinking together, and then he’s throwing his head back with his nose pinched between two fingers and pouring the alcohol down his throat. It’s not like champagne at all. It burns, and it tastes like gasoline. He almost gags, but he manages to get it down. The aftertaste is like some awful mix between cinnamon and black licorice, and he can’t imagine why college students would drink this on purpose.

“It’s bad, right?” Jimmy asks, and Lex stares at him.

“You’re the one who ordered it!”

Jimmy laughs, and the sound makes Lex’s cheeks tinge pink again, heat crawling up his face. “It’s not about tasting good,” he says, which doesn’t make any sense to Lex at all.

“Then what is it about?”

Jimmy is quiet for a second, staring into the empty glass like it has the answer. To what, Lex doesn’t know-- he doesn’t think it’s the question that he asked. He’s got a sort of nostalgic fondness on his face, like he’s remembering something important to him. Lex wants more than anything to know what it is.

“Sometimes, life is beautiful, but it tastes bad going down. That doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it for the beautiful parts-- gold flakes, the warmth in your gut, the people you’re with. Why waste all your time on boring champagne?”

Lex stares at him for a second. It occurs to him, somehow not for the first time even though this is only the third time they’ve met, that Jimmy Olsen must be a very wise person. He wants to know how he got to be so wise.

Jimmy beats him to the punch. “Aaanyway,” he starts, pointing an accusing finger at Lex, “what have you been up to since the last time I saw you? I mean, it’s only been a couple months, and now you’re at this fancy party for rich people and your boss isn’t even running it. Well, maybe your boss is running it. Is your boss Loren Jupiter?”

He snorts. “I don’t even know what Loren Jupiter does,” he dismisses with a wave of his hand for dramatic effect. “Look, I’m not at liberty to say too much about it, but I’m kind of working for the government now.”

The other man stares for a second, and then turns to the bartender. “Yeah, we’re gonna need more drinks.”

The next several minutes are spent with Jimmy trying to ask Lex probing questions about his new job and Lex expertly dodging them, if he may say so himself. Jimmy orders more and more drinks, until eventually the flush in Lex’s cheeks won’t go away and he can feel himself loosening up way more than he reasonably can. He has to redirect this. “Okay, enough talking about me. What about you, Jimmy Olsen? I know you work at the Daily Planet, but why? Why journalism?”

Jimmy hums in consideration for a long moment, staring into his empty glass again. “My dad was in the military and went MIA when I was a baby. Mom always said that he probably died, but I knew something else had to be going on. I kind of went down this whole government conspiracy theory rabbithole,” he laughs, but Lex can tell from the edge to it that there’s more he’s not saying. “I looked for connections in places other people didn’t. I’ve always known that the world is a secretive place, and I’ve always wanted to uncover those secrets. But nobody ever really took me seriously. I wanted to go into investigative journalism at first, but writing was never really my strong suit. So, I picked up a camera.”

They’re both quiet for another long minute. Lex watches Jimmy, sees the way that sadness dulls the light in his eyes, those eyes the color of chocolate and coffee and whatever the hell is in these drinks. It fills him with a sort of… anger, in a way that he can’t describe. The world is a secretive place-- a secretive and unjust one full of Supermen who take all the power for themselves and narcissists like Ivo who think they’re better and smarter than everyone else while people like Lex and Jimmy do all of the work. No one ever took Jimmy seriously? How dare they? How dare they ignore what Lex can see so plainly-- a genius just like him? “One day people are really going to regret overlooking you, Jimmy. I can tell.”

The smile that Jimmy gives him is half-hearted, and it twists something unidentifiable in Lex’s chest. “Well, all of that is behind me now, anyway. I have a great job at the Planet, and great friends. Lois and Clark have always believed in me. And once Flamebird blew up for my coverage of Superman stuff, the Daily Planet bought it and now I guess I… well I guess people take that seriously, if nothing else,” he says, with that same edge as his laugh earlier.

Lex wants to yell about something. He doesn’t know what. These so-called friends, who clearly haven’t supported him enough? The fact that it took Superman to get Jimmy the recognition he’s deserved from the start? That he still seems to think no one takes him seriously for anything else? Before he can even open his mouth to try to lament any of this, though, Jimmy is smiling again and jabbing him in the shoulder with a finger. “Well what about you, then? How did you start working for Ivo? I mean, why would a nice guy like you build something like the Parasite?”

Even though he’s never felt ashamed of it before, suddenly, Lex doesn’t want to admit that the Parasite armor was actually his idea. There’s something about the way that he says it that makes Lex feel like he doesn’t approve, and he desperately wants his approval. For the first time, Lex is the one who waves down the bartender and requests another round of drinks, and he waits until they’ve been set in front of them and he feels that burn down his throat for what must be at least the half-dozenth time of the night before he starts saying anything. He doesn’t think he would have the guts to tell anyone this sober.

“When I was a kid, my father used to… he wasn’t…” He grasps for the words that usually come to him so naturally, his jaw locking up. Jimmy puts a hand on his wrist and looks at him with furrowed eyebrows, like he’s really concerned. Lex takes a deep breath.

“I grew up in Suicide Slum, here in Metropolis. My parents weren’t… the best. Mom just watched while Dad used to take stuff out on us. Me and my sister, Lena. She was always sick when we were kids, wheelchair-bound when she wasn’t bedbound, and I think my parents always blamed her for the fact that we didn’t have any money. You’d think that would make me the favorite child, but it was kind of like a race to the bottom. And I didn’t want to be the favorite, anyway. I just wanted to keep my sister safe. I wasn’t able to protect her, and it made me feel so… small. That’s why I worked with AmazoTech on the Parasite armor.” He conveniently leaves out the part where he’s the one who pitched it, and where that’s what got him the job in the first place. “I don’t think anyone should ever have to go through that, to feel that way. You shouldn’t have to be Superman to protect people-- and you shouldn’t have to rely on Superman to protect people either. What happens when he decides that the rest of us are like Lena? Sick people he can blame for all his problems?” He tries not to let too much bitterness leak into his voice, sinking in on himself a little. When he looks over at Jimmy, the other man’s jaw is hanging open, and Lex can’t read his face. It makes his stomach twist up in knots.

Finally, Jimmy seems to realize that he’s staring and composes himself, mouth snapping shut. He clears his throat. “I’m sorry that you went through all of that,” he says, and his voice is so earnest. “But I think you’re wrong about Superman,” he adds, and Lex can only stare at him, chest tight again. “That’s the exact kind of thing that Superman is trying to put a stop to in Metropolis.”

“By making himself the law?” Lex snaps, annoyance leaking into his voice. “Maybe he is trying to help people-- but who is he helping? Do you really think that it’s everyone? No one can care about everyone. He certainly doesn’t care about the criminals he beats up. He doesn’t care about the people whose cars he’s flipping and whose walls he’s caving in. He didn’t care about me when he shut down AmazoTech and I lost my job.”

Contrary to what Lex might expect, Jimmy’s face softens a little. He reaches a hand out and rests it on Lex’s shoulder, and Lex’s eyes flash to it for a second. He thinks his face would heat up if it wasn’t already about as hot as it could get from all of those drinks. “You’re hurting,” he starts. “I get that. Honestly, I was once really hurt by Superman, too. It felt like he was one of the people who was supposed to be there for me, and he wasn’t, y’know? But then he was. And I think one day, he’ll be there for you, too. Maybe that’ll take some time. But I believe that.”

Lex considers these words for a minute. Is it possible that Superman could save him, just like he saves so many other people every day? Maybe. That’s not what Lex wants, though. He doesn’t need some superhero to fly in and rescue him. He wants to rescue himself. He wants to rescue the people he cares about. He wants people to know that Lex Luthor is not some weak little boy who cowers in the corner in fear, but a genius who has the power to take down even Superman. No one and nothing is ever going to hurt Lex Luthor again.

But before he can even think about saying any of that or what a bad idea it would be, the bartender announces to the two of them, “Sorry, guys. Event’s over in fifteen minutes. I gotta start cleaning the bar.” Lex stares at him for a second, and then at Jimmy. His hand is still on Lex’s shoulder, and the last thing that he wants is for him to move it. He doesn’t want to part ways at all. He wants to invite Jimmy to continue this conversation somewhere more comfortable.

When Jimmy finally does pull his hand away, it feels like the skin where he touched him is burning. “Well, I guess that’s goodbye for now,” he says with a grin, holding the hand out for a handshake. Stunned, Lex shakes his hand, staring at the shorter man for a long moment. He wants to kiss him. He knows this is a bad idea, for a number of reasons, yet he can’t stop himself from staring at his mouth.

Jimmy leaves not long after that, and Lex watches him until he’s out the door, along with half of the rest of the crowd, his heart pounding against his ribs and his stomach twisted into knots. He’s working for an extremely secretive government organization entirely intent on destroying Superman. So which is worse: That he has a crush on a journalist, or that that journalist is also a Superman groupie?

[morninkim]

manifesting a post-campaign beach date for them

[mylians]

Turn heads in our stunning mini dresses! From chic white to bold black, floral to bodycon.

We've got the perfect spring & summer styles for you. Shop now at www.mylians.com and enjoy free shipping!

[genderdotcom]

i've resorted to making flowcharts for my oc timelines. what the hell is this

[titanclashbattleofthegods]

[queerlyvictorian]

so how effective do we think the nation of Blue Forest is at international relations?

(NEXT ON MY JOURNEY: A Starstruck Odyssey)

[kaibacoded]

Lol 🤣🤣🤣 FUNNY WHEN THIS OLD HAG SHIT JUS TRIES TO GET INTO CHAT WITH ME TO RUB HER NEGATIVE ENERGIES ON ME. YOU SCOTTISH PIECE OF TRASH BAG, YOUR NEGATIVITY AND DRAMA TWISTING SHIT AIN'T GONNA WORK ON ME AND NOT EVEN YOUR FUCKING BEST FRIEND HOLLY SINCE YOU BOTH HAVE THE SAME TOXIC PATTERNS SLUTS

[firstdegreefangirl]

Me: *calls a third party to set up extranet access for myself*

Support Line: ... for non-urgent concerns, we suggest opening a ticket on the extranet ...

Me: I ... don't think you understand what's happening here.

[nyanomachine]

Live reaction of my multiplayer Tav before and after my party members make questionable moral choices.

[viv-id-lee]

A figure/model/toy that can JoJo pose, or transform?

Pfft; get one that can do both 🖤💜