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kingandfireheart · 3 years

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Lucien Vanserra Sass Appreciation Post

For more serious Lucien content see my other posts:

What the fuck is happening in the Autumn Court series Part 1 (Eris) and Part 2 (Lady of the Autumn Court)

What stories are left: Lucien

When Lucien introduces himself:

"Lucien," my captor said quietly, the name echoing with a hint of a snarl. "Behave."

Lucien went rigid, but he hopped off the edge of the table and bowed deeply to me. "My apologies, lady." Another joke at my expense. "I'm Lucien. Courtier and emissary." He gestured to me with a flourish. "Your eyes are like stars, and your hair like burnished gold."

When Lucien is intrigued by Feyre:

"Well," Lucien said, his remaining russet eye fixed on me, "you don't look half as bad now. A relief, I suppose, since you're to live with us. Though the tunic isn't as pretty as a dress."

When Lucien wants to know if Feyre thinks he's hot:

"Thank you for the meal," I said. It was all I could think of. "Won't you stay for wine?" Lucien said with sweet venom from where he lounged in his seat. I braced my hands on my chair to rise. "I'm tired. I'd like to sleep." "It's been a few decades since I last saw one of you," Lucien drawled, "but you humans never change, so I don't think I'm wrong in asking why you find our company to be so unpleasant, when surely the men back home aren't much to look at." At the other end of the table, Tamlin gave his emissary a long, warning look. Lucien ignored it. "You're High Fae," I said tightly. "I'd ask why you'd even bother inviting me here at all-or dining with me." Fool-I really should have been killed ten times over already. Lucien said, "True. But indulge me: you're a human woman, and yet you'd rather eat hot coals than sit here longer than necessary. Ignoring this"-he waved a hand at the metal eye and brutal scar on his face-"surely we're not so miserable to look at."

When Feyre leaves their first dinner together:

He gave a distant nod and motioned for me to leave. Dismissed. Like the lowly human I was. Lucien propped his chin on a fist and gave me a lazy half smile. Enough. I got to my feet and backed toward the door. Putting my back to them would have been like walking away from a wolf, sparing my life or no. They said nothing when I slipped out the door. A moment later, Lucien's barking laugh echoed into the halls, followed by a sharp, vicious growl that shut him up.

When Lucien notices Feyre checking him out:

Lucien paused, and I found him smirking at me, making the scar even more brutal. "Were you admiring my sword, or just contemplating killing me, Feyre?"

When Lucien is a sarcastic motherfucker:

“So is this what you do with your lives? Spare humans from the Treaty and have fine meals?” I gave a pointed glance toward Tamlin’s baldric, the warrior’s clothes, Lucien’s sword. Lucien smirked. “We also dance with the spirits under the full moon and snatch human babes from their cradles to replace them with changelings–”

When Lucien describes Amaratha perfectly:

"What happened to the magic to make it act that way?" Lucien let out a harsh laugh. "Something was sent from the shit-holes of Hell," he said, then glanced around and swore. "I shouldn't have said that. If word got back to her-"

When they run into the Boggee:

"I heard its voice in my head. It told me to look." Lucien rolled his shoulders. "Well, thank the Cauldron that you didn't. Cleaning up that mess would have ruined the rest of my day." He gave me a wan smile. I didn't return it.

When he gives Feyre a title:

"Are you a warrior, though?" Would you be able to kill me if it ever came to that? Lucien huffed a laugh. "Not as good as Tam, but I know how to handle my weapons." He patted the hilt of his sword. "Would you like me to teach you how to wield a blade, or do you already know how, oh mighty mortal huntress?

When Lucien just needs someone to spar with:

“Do you ever stop being so serious and dull?" "Do you ever stop being such a prick?" I snapped back. Dead—really, truly, I should have been dead for that. But Lucien grinned at me. "Much better.

When Lucien and Feyre spend quality time together:

Over the next three days, I found myself joining Lucien on Andras's old patrol while Tamlin hunted the grounds for the Bogge, unseen by us. Despite being an occasional bastard, Lucien didn't seem to mind my company, and he did most of the talking, which was fine; it left me to brood over the consequences of firing a single arrow. An arrow. I never fired a single one during those three days we rode along the border. That very morning I'd spied a red doe in a glen and aimed out of instinct, my arrow poised to fly right into her eye as Lucien sneered that she was not a faerie, at least. But I'd stared at her-fat and healthy and content-and then slackened the bow, replaced the arrow in my quiver, and let the doe wander on.

When Lucien diagnoses Faerie problems perfectly:

A brush of ice slithered across my nape. "He would be that brutal?" Lucien studied the wine in his goblet. "You don't hold on to power by being everyone's friend. And among the faeries, lesser and High Fae alike, a firm hand is needed. We're too powerful, and too bored with immortality, to be checked by anything else."

When Lucien is told to Back Off, so he exacts his revenge:

Lucien's russet eye was bright, though the smile he gave me didn't meet it. The face of Tamlin's emissary-more court-trained and calculating than I'd seen him yet. "I'm unavailable today," he said. He jerked his chin to Tamlin. "He'll go with you." Tamlin shot his friend a look of disdain that he took few pains to hide. His usual baldric was armed with more knives than I'd seen before, and their ornate metal handles glinted as he turned to me, his shoulders tight. "Whenever you want to go, just say so." The claws of his free hand slipped back under his skin. No. I almost said it aloud as I turned pleading eyes to Lucien. Lucien merely patted my shoulder as he passed by. "Perhaps tomorrow, human."

When Lucien hides:

"I had to go sort out some hotheads on the northern border-official emissary business," he said, setting down the hunting knife he'd been cleaning, a long, vicious blade. "I got back in time to hear your little spat with Tam, and decided I was safer up here. I'm glad to hear your human heart has warmed to me, though. At least I'm not on the top of your killing list."

When Lucien and Feyre become friends after he tells her how to trap a Suriel:

Another riddle-and another bit of information. I said, "It's a good thing that while you have superior hearing, I possess superior abilities to keep my mouth shut." He snorted as I took the knife from the table and turned to procure the bow from my room. "I think I'm starting to like you-for a murdering human."

When Lucien is day drinking and living his best life:

“Would you like me to grovel with gratitude for bringing me here, High Lord?" "Ah. The Suriel told you nothing important, did it?" That smile of his sparked something bold in my chest. "He also said that you liked being brushed, and if I'm a clever girl, I might train you with treats." Tamlin tipped his head to the sky and roared with laughter. Despite myself, I let out a quiet laugh. "I might die of surprise," Lucien said behind me. "You made a joke, Feyre." I turned to look at him with a cool smile. "You don't want to know what the Suriel said about you." I flicked my brows up, and Lucien lifted his hands in defeat. "I'd pay good money to hear what the Suriel thinks of Lucien," Tamlin said. A cork popped, followed by the sounds of Lucien chugging the bottle's contents and chuckling with a muttered, "Brushed.”

When Lucien is incredibly casual for a guy going to an orgy:

What?”

Lucien laughed. “Yes—all those female faeries around you were females for Tamlin to pick. It’s an honor to be chosen, but it’s his instincts that select her.”

“But you were there—and other male faeries.” My face burned so hot that I began sweating. That was why those three horrible faeries had been there—and they’d thought that just by my presence, I was happy to comply with their plans.

“Ah.” Lucien chuckled. “Well, Tam’s not the only one who gets to perform the rite tonight. Once he makes his choice, we’re free to mingle. Though it’s not the Great Rite, our own dalliances tonight will help the land, too.

When Lucien is the mom friend:

"You look . . . refreshed," Lucien observed with a glance at Tamlin. I shrugged. "Sleep well?" "Like a babe." I smiled as him and took another bite of food, and felt Lucien's eyes travel inexorably to my neck. "What is that bruise?" Lucien demanded. I pointed my fork to Tamlin. "Ask him, he did it." Lucien looked from Tamlin to me and then back again. "Why does Feyre have a bruise on her neck from you?" he asked with no small amount of amusement.

When Lucien loves drama:

"Accountable?" I sputtered, placing my hands flat on the table. "You cornered me in the hall like a wolf with a rabbit!" Lucien propped an arm on the table and covered his mouth with his hand, his russet eye bright. "While I might not have been myself, Lucien and I both told you to stay in your room," Tamlin said, so calmly that I wanted to rip out my hair. I couldn't help it. Didn't even try to fight the red-hot temper that razed my senses. "Faerie pig!" I yelled, and Lucien howled, almost tipping back in his chair. At the sight of Tamlin's growing smile, I left.

When Lucien bolts:

“I had to keep my hands clenched at my sides to avoid wiping my sweaty palms on the skirts of my gown as I reached the dining room, and immediately contemplated bolting upstairs and changing into a tunic and pants. But I knew they’d already heard me, or smelled me, or used whatever heightened senses they had to detect my presence, and since fleeing would only make it worse, I found it in myself to push open the double doors.

Whatever discussion Tamlin and Lucien had been having stopped, and I tried not to look at their wide eyes as I strode to my usual place at the end of the table.

“Well, I’m late for something incredibly important,” Lucien said, and before I could call him on his outright lie or beg him to stay, the fox-masked faerie vanished.

When Feyre goes to a party:

"Cauldron boil me," Lucien whistled as I came down the stairs. "She looks positively Fae." ...

I squared my shoulders, disinclined to let him see how much his words or voice or sheer well-being impacted me. Not yet. "I'm surprised I'm even allowed to participate tonight." "Unfortunately for you and your neck," Lucien countered, "tonight's just a party." "Do you lie awake at night to come up with all your witty replies for the following day?" Lucien winked at me, and Tamlin laughed and offered me his arm. "He's right,"....

"So there's singing and dancing and excessive drinking," Lucien chimed in, falling into step beside me. "And dallying," he added with a wicked grin.

When Lucien plays a prank:

"I also remember you telling me how witchberries were harmless, and the next thing I knew, I was half-delirious and falling all over myself," I said, recalling the afternoon from a few weeks ago. I'd had hallucinations for hours afterward, and Lucien had laughed himself sick-enough so that Tamlin had chucked him into the reflection pool...."

When Feyre gets drunk of Faerie Wine:

“Tam would gut me if he caught you drinking that.”

“Always looking after your best interests,” I said, and pointedly chugged the contents of the glass. It was like a million fireworks exploding inside me, filling my veins with starlight. I laughed aloud, and Lucien groaned.

“Human fool,” he hissed.

But his glamour had been ripped away. His auburn hair burned like hot metal, and his russet eye smoldered like a bottomless forge. That was what I would capture next.

“I’m going to paint you,” I said, and giggled—actually giggled—as the words popped out.

"Cauldron boil and fry me,” he muttered, and I laughed again.”

When Lucien is hungover and third-wheeling:

Lucien kept rubbing at his temples as he ate, unusually silent, and I hid my smile as I asked him, “And where were you last night?” Lucien’s metal eye narrowed on me. “I’ll have you know that while you two were dancing with the spirits, I was stuck on border patrol.” Tamlin gave a pointed cough, and Lucien added, “With some company.” He gave me a sly grin. “Rumor has it you two didn’t come back until after dawn.” I glanced at Tamlin, biting my lip. I’d practically floated into my bedroom that morning. But Tamlin’s gaze now roved my face as if searching for any tinge of regret, of fear. Ridiculous. “You bit my neck on Fire Night,” I said under my breath. “If I can face you after that, a few kisses are nothing.” He braced his forearms on the table as he leaned closer to me. “Nothing?” His eyes flicked to my lips. Lucien shifted in his seat, muttering to the Cauldron to spare him, but I ignored him. “Nothing,” I repeated a bit distantly, watching Tamlin’s mouth move, so keenly aware of every movement he made, resenting the table between us. I could almost feel the warmth of his breath. “Are you sure?” he murmured, intent and hungry enough that I was glad I was sitting. He could have had me right there, on top of that table. I wanted his broad hands running over my bare skin, wanted his teeth scraping against my neck, wanted his mouth all over me. “I’m trying to eat,” Lucien said.”

When Lucien drops one of the best lines in the book:

"I see," I lied, not quite seeing at all. Lucien chuckled, sensing it, and I glared sidelong at him. "You've been noticeably absent again." He used the dagger to clean his nails. "I've been busy. So have you, I take it." "What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded. "If I offer you the moon on a string, will you give me a kiss, too?"

When Lucien doesn't know what is coming in the future:

Downstairs, Lucien snorted at the sight of me. "Those clothes are enough to convince me I never want to enter the human realm." "I'm not sure the human realm would know what to do with you," I said. Lucien's smile was edged, his shoulders tight as he gave a sharp look behind me to where Tam was waiting in front of a gilded carriage. When he turned back, that metal eye narrowed. "I thought you were smarter than this."

When Lucien admires Feyre's attitude:

“Don’t you understand what Rhys is?” “I do!” I barked, then sighed. “I do,” I repeated, and glared at the eye in my palm. “It’s done with. So you needn’t hold to whatever oath you swore to Tamlin to protect me—or feel like you owe me anything for saving you from Amarantha. I would have done it just to wipe the smirk off your brothers’ faces.” Lucien clicked his tongue, but his remaining russet eye shone. “I’m glad to see you didn’t sell your lively human spirit or stubbornness to Rhys.”

When Lucien is a fashionista:

Lucien had gifted both to me—the dagger during the months before Amarantha, the belt in the weeks after her downfall, when I’d carried the dagger, along with many others, everywhere I went. You might as well look good if you’re going to arm yourself to the teeth, he’d said.

When game recognize game

“Cursebreaker,” some murmured. “Blessed,” others whispered.

I made a show of looking surprised—surprised and yet accepting of the Cauldron’s choice. Tamlin’s face was taut with shock, the Hybern royals’ nothing short of baffled.

But I turned to Lucien, my light radiating so brightly that it bounced off his metal eye. A friend beseeching another for help. I reached a hand toward him.

Beyond us, I could feel Ianthe scrambling to regain control, to find some way to spin it.

Perhaps Lucien could, too. For he took my hand, and then knelt upon one knee in the grass, pressing my fingers to his brow.

When Lucien is scared of Amren:

“I think Amren would probably deny that she feels any affection for us—”

“Amren is a bedtime story they told us as younglings to make us behave. Amren was who would drink my blood and carry me to hell if I acted out of line. And yet there she was, acting more like a cranky old aunt than anything.”

“We don’t—we don’t enforce protocol and rank here.”

“Obviously. Rhys lives in a town house, by the Cauldron.” He waved an arm to encompass the city.

When Lucien is a little murderous:

“You’re working with that prick,” Cassian cut in, whatever catching-up now over, apparently. He moved to Mor’s side, a hand on her back. He shook his head at Azriel and Rhys, disgust curling his lip. “You should have spiked Eris’s fucking head to the front gates.”

Azriel only watched them with that icy indifference. But Lucien crossed his arms, leaning against the back of the couch. “I have to agree with Cassian. Eris is a snake.”

When Lucien volunteers to go on a quest:

“You will be going into the human territory,” Rhys warned. “I can’t spare a force to guard you—”

“I don’t need one. I travel faster on my own.” His chin lifted. “I will find her. And if there’s an army to bring back, or at least some way for her own story to sway the human forces … I’ll find a way to do that, too.”

My friends glanced to each other. Mor said, “It will be—very dangerous.”

A half smile curved Lucien’s mouth. “Good. It’d be boring otherwise.

When Lucien makes a friend

“Not for long—not if Vassa has anything to do with it.”

“You sound like an acolyte.”

Lucien blushed, glancing at Elain. “She’s got a foul temper and a fouler mouth.” He cut me a wry look. “You’ll get along just fine.”

#lucien vanserra #sass appreciation #this is 90% acotar #I didn't include ACOFAS or ACOSF because his sass is not as strong #other than calling Rhys and Feyre assholes #kp analysis #acotar series #mtp

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the-only-ace · 3 years

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can you please write something about taem's enlistment? honestly feel awful i feel like he's lowkey sad about it i just wanna give baby cheese a hug :(

haiii i love this request since it is really well... timely (?). i have been planning to finish this request before taemin's enlistment but yeah, here we are... things been busy. so i hope this one is not that late and may this be some sort of comfort for everyone as we wait for our baby cheese's return.

serve well and always take care, taem! we will be just here and wait for your return with bright smiles on our faces.

taemin scenario: looking forward

pairing: taemin x reader

word count: 2.7k

summary: it is taemin's last few hours before his military enlistment and reader tries their best to ease his worries. both are making sure that they have spent the remaining time together to the fullest.

warning: semi-nudity, implied sexual activity (no smut thought)

send in your requests here!

your eyelids slowly fluttered open and soft rays of sunlight greeted your still adjusting eyes. you attempted to rub the sleepiness away from your eyes before slowly sitting up. your raised both of your arms above your head and stretched with a small grunt. the sheets fell down and exposed your naked torso to the cool breeze from the air conditioner. you looked at your side and smiled gently. you rested your cheek on your bended knee and gazed at the sleeping figure beside you.

taemin was sleeping soundly on his chest and the blanket was comfortably wrapped around his hips while his broad bare shoulders were displayed to you. his head was tilted to the side, facing your direction. his eyes were closed with a hint of dark circles visible underneath them--a sign of his hard work within the last few months. his lips were slightly parted and you can hear his soft breaths. his hair that used to be unruly as they got ruffled by the pillows was now cut short. you can't help but reach out and touch them with your cold fingers.

there he was, the love of your life. it may sound cheesy and a bit cliche but it was true. he was your first boyfriend and you were more than pleased that you're still together given how young you both were when you met years ago. you went through a lot of ups and downs like every other relationship out there. it was also challenging at first especially with the nature of his work since he can not fully dedicate his time to you. you eventually got over it mainly because you knew how important and passionate he was with his career. every after his performances, you can see his eyes lit up and his lips stretched into a big bright smile. it was then you knew you have to support this man. you have to be his rock when things got shaky and unstable.

you two actually hit a big milestone in your relationship quite recently. you were living with him for more than a year already and both of you were still amazed how no media outlet has sniffed it out yet. also considering the number of times taemin recorded a live video around the apartment, you're just thankful there were still no accidental reveals.

your train of thought was cut short when taemin suddenly stirred on his position. "sorry, did i wake you?" you asked softly as you retracted your hand away from his hair.

he shook his head before dragging himself towards you. his arms found their way around your waist and his head rested contently on your lap. you smiled at his behavior and then proceeded to stroke his hair again. both of you stayed like that for a bit and soaked into each other's presence while waiting for the drowsiness to pass.

"is it weird?" his muffled voice broke the silence after a few minutes.

"what is?" you inquired back.

"my hair." he rolled to his back and looked up at you.

"it's... new." of course it was, just a few days ago you were happily playing with his hair and extensions. he always allowed you put it up into a bun whenever he came back home. now, you can barely grip them with your fingers. "it's not weird, just new. it actually made you look younger in my opinion." you reassured him with a small giggle.

he frowned and groaned, clearly displeased on your response. he thought you were just lying to make him feel better. he won't believe you anyway even you deny it so you decided to ignore his sulking. you then began drawing lazy shapes across his skin while he started to hum one of his songs. your fingers eventually linger around his tattoos and you can't help but admire them.

"should i get one?" you muttered more to yourself actually but taemin heard it very distinctly. it made him shot up from the bed and beamed at you widely.

"you should!" he exclaimed excitedly. '"i mean if you really want to. we can even go to my artist and get one together."

"okay, calm down, mister." you chuckled since was almost bouncing with enthusiasm. "where should i place it though?"

"well... it would look nice here." he reached out and touch your rib area. his eyes soon landed on the red mark beside his index finger and a playful smirk slowly made its way to his lips. "or here..." he continued and moved his pointer on your collar bone, on another one of his marks. "here would be good too..." he went on and on while pointing out all of his work while his grin grew bigger and naughtier.

"stop..." you rolled your eyes and push his hand away. "i know what you're doing. someone went overboard last night." you can't help but narrow your eyes at him. it would be a pain to hide later when you go to work.

"i'm sorry, i just thought they would be a great parting gift." he shrugged before leaning closer. "so did you like it?" he raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"eh... it's alright, i guess." you teased with a joking scowl.

"well, that can be fixed easily." he tackled and pinned you down in the bed, making you let out a high-pitch scream. he wasted no time on littering quick kisses all over your neck. you writhed under him as you attempted to escape him since you were feeling ticklish from his soft lips.

a blaring alarm noise interrupted your noises and movements. taemin pushed himself up and looked at the clock on your bedside table. he took a deep heavy sigh before dismissing the alarm. you immediately felt the change in his mood as he got up from the bed.

"i'll go brew us some coffee," he announced and got out of the bedroom.

it was now your turn to sigh. you already tried your best to ease his worries yesterday but just like you have predicted he was still troubled. you can't blame him though, after doing only one thing ever since he was only 12 years old, you get why he was anxious about this upcoming change. not to mention that he will be going through this alone in a way. his other members enlisted at the same time so the thought of someone experiencing the same helped them get through it much easier.

you got up and walked towards the chair near the bed and snatched taemin's shirt that was carelessly hanging from its backrest. you pulled it down your head and you can't help but smell his scent; it was his favorite shirt after all. god, you were going to miss him so bad.

you followed taemin towards the kitchen and the aroma of the coffee greeted you. he looked at you from head to toe and it made him smirk. he knew how much you love stealing his shirts. it was quite comforting to know that at least his clothes will be used even though he was away.

preparing breakfast was peaceful and intimate. taemin was hugging you from behind while you cook your meal; outrightly ignoring your protests since it was not really easy to move around with him clinging to you. in a few minutes, both of you are sitting down at the dining table and quietly enjoying the hot food in front of you.

it felt like a normal lazy morning. days like these were common after his promotions. it was when he has some time to rest and replenish his energy. those were the days you always anticipate since you were able to see him more often and spend more quality time together. if he didn't have a buzz cut, it was easy to fool yourself that this day was one of those.

"do you think, i'll do well?" he suddenly asked when he placed his chopsticks down.

"of course," you quickly replied without missing a beat. no matter how many times you convinced him already, you will never get tired of doing it if that will give him peace of mind.

"what makes you say so?" he looked up and met your unwavering eyes. "what if i'm not fit for it?"

"and what if you are?" you challenged. "look, we'll never know something unless we try it but trust me, knowing you, you'll do just fine. they used to criticize your singing career back then and look where you are now. you don't let external factors affect you and you always work hard to achieve your goals. so what makes this different? i know once you set your heart to something, you'll be able to do it. you just have to trust yourself as well."

"always saying the right words," he sighed and rested his head on his hand. "what will i be without you?"

"still probably as great as you are now." you knew that taemin achieved his success on his own. all those late-night practices and sacrificing a normal life as a teen, it was all him. you were only his supporter who hopefully made the process a bit easier. "besides, you crushed the obstacle course in dream team last time so i believe the drills will be manageable for you." you cheekily added.

"wow, you still remember that? i'm no minho though." he shook his head while chuckling.

"no one's like that competitive monster." you scoffed.

"yeah..." he trailed off, obviously being concern about another matter again. "i hope our fans won't forget me."

"don't be stupid." you frowned and kicked him lightly under the table. "of course they would wait for you especially after being their comfort when the other members were serving their time. i'm sure that they would be counting the days for your return and they would be delighted to see you again. although, no one would be more thrilled than me so... don't forget me as well."

"how can i forget you if i will be thinking of you every single day?" he stood up and gave you a kiss on the forehead. "thank you."

"for what?" you inquired.

"for always being there especially when i need it the most." his tone was warm and heartfelt. "i should probably take a shower now."

you nodded and listened to his footsteps disappear into the bathroom. as soon as you heard the water running, you stood up as well and placed the plates on the sink. you then went back to your shared bedroom and doubled check the contents of his black backpack, making sure that he did not forget anything important. knowing him, there was a huge chance that he does. you also added a few extra clothes and toiletries just in case he did something stupid and end up breaking or losing some of his stuff.

it felt wholesome to pack his things for him. as if you were his wife helping him prepare for his upcoming trip. if only the trip wasn't going to be 18 months long.

the time flew by quickly after taemin's shower and suddenly you were by the doorway, watching him wear the straps of his backpack. you handed him his black baseball cap before fixing the strings of his black hoodie.

"you all set?" you asked trying hard not to make your voice crack. it was finally sinking in for you and you didn't want him to know that.

"yeah," he nodded as he fixed his cap.

both of you stood there, not really knowing what to do or say next. you should probably wish him luck and send him off but you don't want to. not yet, you keep on repeating to yourself. sensing your dejection, taemin suddenly grabbed your wrist and pulled you into one of the tightest hugs he has ever given. your hands quickly wrapped around him and you buried your face on his chest, inhaling his scent and trying to memorize it--even though you already do.

"i'm going to miss you," he whispered tenderly. "so much."

"i will miss you too." you finally let out the sob you were holding back. thinking that it was impossible, his embrace tightened even more around your shaking frame.

he kissed the top of your head and murmured how much he loves you again and again. right then and there, you wanted to be selfish and don't let him go, and as if on cue his phone started to ring. he answered it and their conversation was less than a minute but you know exactly what it was about.

"they're downstairs already," he stated as he let go of you.

"you should not keep them waiting then." you clumsily wipe away the tears in your eyes.

you both bid your goodbyes before sharing one last kiss. he then got out of the apartment and closed the door behind him.

and just like that, you were left there in complete silence. you blankly stare at the closed door and you never felt more alone in your life.

you were about to turn around when the door burst open without warning. standing there was taemin who unmistakably ran back considering his heavy pants.

"taemin?!" you exclaimed from the shock. "what, did you forget something?"

"yes, i forgot to ask you something." he exhaled. "i forgot to ask you to marry me," he said in full seriousness while staring straight into your eyes.

"y-you... what? huh?" you fumbled with your words as your brain tried to process whatever he just said. "w-what did you say? i don't--" you attempted to ask again.

"when i get discharged, will you marry me?" he repeated as he moved closer towards you. you just gaped at him without saying a word and that made the nervousness slowly crept into him. "sorry, i was not able to get a ring since this was... well, spontaneous. but um... here, will this do?" you watched him remove the ring he was always wearing on his right hand. he unceremoniously raised it in front of you and waited for your reply.

you were beyond stunned. sure, you both talked about getting married someday but you didn't think he would propose today. you always knew that when he planned for the special day, you will easily catch on. he was not really the best planner and secret keeper after all. nothing has prepared you for this moment.

"y/n?" he cautiously called out, getting a little concern from your lack of response.

you looked away from the ring and moved your eyes to meet his uneasy ones. he was undoubtedly waiting for your answer.

"yes," you barely managed to blurt out. "yes, of course, i do!" you repeated, this time firmer.

you have practically seen the weight off his back after hearing your response. he broke into a tiny celebration dance before composing himself again and sliding the ring into your finger.

"okay... i didn't think about that part." the ring was big for you which was not surprising. "sorry, i'll just get you a new one soon." he embarrassingly rubbed the back of his neck.

"it's alright, it's perfect." you can now feel another urge to cry but this time it is out of happiness.

"i love you," his expression soften and one eyebrow raised up, a habit of his whenever he says something genuine. he titled your chin up and captured your lips for a passionate kiss. you stand on your tiptoes in your attempt to deepen the kiss which made him smile. his other hand moved to your lower back and pulled you closer to him while you ran your fingers through his hair. it felt right, both of you know exactly that this is where you two belong--with each other.

however, your little heaven was interrupted once again by the ringing of his phone.

"okay, you should definitely go now." you ultimately let go of your hold around him.

he nodded. he knew he cannot delay his departure any longer. "goodbye."

"goodbye," you echoed. "just for now."

he waved his hand before going out and shutting the door. this time though, he did not come back running. you knew he was on his way to his enlistment and you would be alone in the apartment for months but right now, you did not feel that lonely anymore.

you looked down and adored the ring around your finger. 18 months would indeed move slowly but it will be bearable because this time, both of you have something to look forward to.

#shinee #taemin #lee taemin #taemin x reader #shinee requests #shinee scenarios #shinee request #shinee scenario #taemin enlistment #taemin proposal #taemin tattoo #shinee world #shinee x reader #shinee x you #taemin x you

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deberiaestarescribiendo · 3 years

Text

Of Bad Beer and Summer Nights. #Writer Wednesday 04/28/21 Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: it’s just another summer day at the pool. Sunbathing before your shift starts, the day changes drastically when you cannot take your eyes off a handsome stranger.

Warning: mention of alcohol and swearing. NSFW +18 SMUT (oral and p in v sex)

Paring: Javier Peña x F! reader

A/N: Another take on the #Writer Wednesday challenge by @autumnleaves1991-blog !!

Not me basing all this on the label of the beer that’s shown on the cans and my obsession with Javier Peña and his ridiculous fashion choices. This is the first thing I write with a little spice on it and I’m still not that comfortable but we’re getting there. Not beta’d and my eyes are burning so I have read it just once so if they’re any mistakes, misspellings and bad grammar I’m really sorry.

Of bad beer and summer nights

The kids’ screams from the pool muffles the tunes of some old ranchera blasting from the bar’s stereo. The old guard of retire men gather around the plastic white tables drinking cold beer and playing dominoes and you lower your book, sunbathing under this blazing sun, and smile; this is your childhood, your home and even that you had convinced yourself that you were done with this, that you wanted to run away, this speaks to your nostalgia and the fondest memories you own.

The heat makes you lazy and your stretch your body feeling your bones as if they were made of jelly. You drop the book on your stomach; you were not actually paying too much attention to it anyway and look around the pool: kids running around with water guns, angry mothers trying to control them and the men on the bar. Usually they’re around 70 or plus on average, they occupy their usual spot under the parasols early in the morning and spend their time doing their retirement routine: newspaper, same old conversation and complain about the world, beer and dominoes, until it’s time to eat or to switch their drink to coffee. But today a tall, lean, brown haired man is breaking the age median. He’s younger and stands out not only for his strong physic but because he wears a bright pink shirt and some yellow aviators and the tightest jeans you’ve seen on a man. You’re sure you’d question anybody else’s fashion choice if they were wearing that, but surprisingly, it fits him, probably because he exudes confidence, maybe it’s his broad shoulders, maybe it’s his golden skin revealed by the way–too-much-unbuttoned shirt he wears, maybe it’s his dark hair or his striking features or maybe it’s because of his dark coffee brown eyes that are fixed on you. His eyes. Shit.

You were so absorbed looking at him that you didn’t realize he had taken off his glasses and it’s now seated facing the pool and you from the bar. He smirks when you try, ungracefully, to grab your book back, the paper is stuck to your skin since you had spread it generously with tanning oil. The pages are ruined but you actually don’t care, you just open it before your eyes and try to conceal that you were looking at him like a creep. After a few minutes, you raise the novel just enough to see if he's looking but he's gone. Disappointed, you turn to the other side and let the sun bronze your skin and achieve that serene state that you had before he arrived at the pool.

"Hey, you, burnt sloth, it's time" somebody pokes on your shoulder

"Burnt sloth, seriously?" You say, you feel your mouth is dry and your brain is slowly coming back to life "it's my shift already?"

"Yep, actually you're two minutes late" Marisa grabs the elastic of your bikini bottom and pulls it and lets it go until it slaps your skin

"Ouch! I'm coming" you finally get up

"C'mon, Mr. Garcia has joined the party at the bar, and you'll be late for his speech on the loss of traditional family values" she announces. You glance at the other side of the pool, the old man walks with difficulty towards his retired friends table

"Shit, you do it on purpose" you say and Marisa smirks "my shift always starts when there's one of the annoying customers time to arrive, that's not fair"

"Is there anybody attending the bar?!" You both turn to see Mr. Garcia raising his cane and screaming at you

"I'm coming" you answer, grabbing your jean shorts and the white shirt with staffwritten on it. You toss your clothes on over your bikini and run towards the bar.

"Sorry, Mr. Garcia, the usual?" You ask while tying up your apron

"Yes, please. This is what's wrong with this country now the youth has lost the will to work hard to really make an effort…"

Even his friends roll their eyes, but you know it will be a minute until he finishes the list of bad things he wants to rant about.

Marisa has occupied your deck chair and winks at you while she spreads her sun cream. Bitch you mutter towards her and she smiles and lays back.

The rest of your shift consists in ignoring Mr. Garcia and looking at Marisa with jealousy. When the sun is almost gone she joins you on the counter.

"I'll have until Jack comes to pick me up, I thought you needed some company" she says bending herself over the bar to grab a glass

"Yeah, now that they're about to leave, how convenient" you point to the old men table "what do you want?"

"Beer please"

You take two ice cold cans and serve hers on her glass while you keep yours under the wood counter

“Tomorrow you will take my shift by the way" you say leaning on the fridge

"Nope" she says having a sip of her drink

"You wanna bet?" You counter knowing that she likes to play. She thinks about it for a second but when you open the cards box and leave the deck in front of her she nods

"Just for tomorrow though" Marisa shakes your hand and you distribute the cards between you two.

You try to focus on the game, she's better than you and you really don't want to take another shift like this. But all your concentration leaves your body once you see out of the corner of your eyes, a pink bright shirt and a tall figure.

"Hi, are you ready Pops?" He says, his voice is deep while he gently taps on one of the old men at the table

"No, give me a minute, I'm actually winning for once" he says laying one of the domino pieces on the table

"Right" he smiles warmly at him and you think he couldn't be more handsome but he actually approach the counter and now, looking at him closer he’s even more attractive

“Can I have a beer please?” he asks taking a seat on a stool. You nod and grab one from the fridge.

He examines the golden can with an arched eyebrow “Don’t you have a bud?”

“No, we only have calidad (quality) and let me warn you that the title is actually ironic” you answer, for a second you hope he doesn’t actually get mad at your little joke but he smiles widely “I trust you then, I won’t take my chances with this so... can I have a whiskey then?” he pass you the can and you turn to put it back on the fridge and glance over the bottles you have. All of them are the cheapest labels on the market, but you know your boss reserves some good old Jack Daniels well hidden and you crouch down to get it from the back of the utilities cupboard.

“I don’t know if I want that drink either if you took it from where you keep the cleaning stuff” he laughs

“Don’t worry, it’s legit, it’s my boss’s. He doesn’t want to expend one cent on the clients but for himself...that’s another thing” you pour him the amber liquor and you cannot help but notice that he’s looking at you intently

“You don’t serve whiskey often, right?” he gets closer and almost whispers it in your ear

“Why?” you ask and raise your head suddenly realizing that you’re really close. His scent is intoxicating, some fresh body wash and the musk of his cologne mixed with the whiskey you’re serving him

“Normally you will serve just two or three fingers” he explains putting two of his fingers on the glass so you can see what he means, the glass is half full.

“Shit” you stop pouring and leave the bottle on the counter while he chuckles

“Either that or you’re really generous or I’m and excellent costumer” he jests

“You are!” you respond right away and you clear your throat once you realize how stupid it sounded “or I’m a terrible waitress, I think that’s more probable”

“Agreed!” Marisa claims, you actually forgot about her

“I don’t think so” he shakes his head “You were really honest about the quality of the beer, you could have just gave me that trash and say nothing”

“Well, I’m drinking one while working, I keep it hidden under the counter and I’m gambling with my friend to see if I can change my shift for hers tomorrow” you confess, he looks amused at you

“What shift is that?” he asks

“Morning, there’s none” Marisa answers

“You actually cannot take that shift” he looks at you now

“Why?” you say puzzled

“Because you’re busy tonight, probably will arrive late and you should sleep” he sips his whiskey and you still observe him not understanding

“I’m not...”

Marisa smack her lips “she’s clueless”

“I see” he smiles again, that damn smile “at what time do you close?”

“She’ll be off at seven” Marisa answers and you turn your head from one to the other like you’re watching a tennis game you don’t really understand

“What are you...”

“He’s asking you out, dummie” Marisa rolls her eyes at you with a frustrated grunt

“Oh!”

“If it’s alright for you unless you really want that early morning shift” he looks at you from under his lashes and you don’t know how a man like that can be smoldering hot one minute and this cute the next

“She’s going!” Marisa answers before you could make your mind

“Wait, I have nothing to wear and I have to...”

“There’s a dress on my locker, the code is 6754 and I don’t trade my shift anyway, you don’t have excuses” a car horns from the door “That’s Jack, don’t take no for an answer!” she points to the man running towards her boyfriend’s car.

“There’s no pressure, if you don’t want to...”

“No, I want to, really” you say focusing on the stains on your apron

“I’m Javi by the way” he smiles fondly and raises his hand, you respond with your name and shake it

“Really nice to meet you” you say softly

“Let’s go, son, this damned dominoes are jinxed!” his father walks out from the table gathering a few laughs and jokes from his friends

Javi reaches from his wallet when Mr. Garcia raises his cane again “Don’t let him pay, anything he had it’s on me”

You look at him confused and Javier, for the first time in your brief acquaintance looks shy and actually uncomfortable. He thanks the man and walks to his father about to leave the place

“I’ll pick you up at seven” he says, winking at you

“Can we have the check young lady or do we have to do it ourselves” Mr. Garcia gets you out of your daydreaming and you rush to clean up and say goodbye to the old loyal customers before they leave you alone to close.

You don’t actually have time to do much, just shower and look inside Marisa’s locker hoping for the best. You find a white summer dress and some flat sandals that fit you, you try your best with your hair and the little make up you have in your bag. And you wait for Javi to arrive.

He’s punctual, arriving just on time on his pick up car.

“Hi”

“Hi” he has changed for another bright shirt, this time blue that matches his skin perfectly. He wears those yellow sunglasses and the same tight jeans and you cannot believe that you actually think it’s the most gorgeous a man has look ever. You staring more that you should again, how the muscles on his forearm tense and relax while driving

“We’re going outside Laredo, if you don’t mind” he says eventually

“It’s fine by me, unless you’re planning to kill me and leave me in the middle of nowhere” you shot

“No, I’m not planning to do that” he chuckles

He takes you to one of those big restaurants outside the city with live music and the best BBQ you’ve ever tasted. The conversation flows nicely even if you have to slap yourself sometimes because you continue to stare in a very obvious way.

“So, why did Mr. Garcia pay for your drink?” you ask after while “He never does one kind thing for nobody, are you a celebrity or something?” you joke

“You actually don’t know?” he drinks from his beer and he has a curious look on him

“No, are you famous?”

He makes a gesture with his hand “Mmm more or less”

“I go every weekend to the movies so it’s certainly not movies” you guess and you place your hand on your chin “Singing? Do you sing rancheras? it’s the only thing he likes so... c’mon sing!”

“You don’t want to hear that”

“Okay, so it’s not singing” you bite your lip trying to come up with something “are you one of those dude’s that do that thing with the lasso” and you mimic the gesture

“A professional cowboy?” he laughs out loud “No, nothing really artistic about my fame”

“Okay” you reflect on what he said and after a few minutes you slap the table “I got it! You’re actually a very famous mobster and Mr. Garcia owes you money, always thought he had some shady business going on”

“Do I look like a mobster?” he laughs

“No! I don’t mean it like that”

“But you thought about it”

“It’s just...” you stutter

“What?”

“You exude confidence, you look cocky and very sure of yourself kinda like you own the place when you walk in and people do what you say” you explain blushing “dangerous and sexy” the beer is kicking in harder than you thought and you lean on his shoulder “like you can kill somebody” his amused expression fades and a dark and timid veil covers his face

“Oh shit” you answer “ H-have you?” you murmur, he nods softly and averts his eyes

“Well, if you’re not in jail I guess you are...law enforcement? army?”

“DEA” he responds with a deep breath

“How...how does a DEA agent become famous?”

“I was part of the team that hunted Pablo Escobar” he answers, his arms are crossed on the table and he’s looking down

“Are you kidding?” you gasp “Did you meet him? Are you the one that shot him?”

“I was not even there when it happened and never actually met him”

You can see his eyes glowing and how tense he looks now, all confidence and bravado is gone and he finishes his beer leaving your date in an uncomfortable point

“I’m sorry I brought that up” you brush your hand over his, yours looking small against his “I was joking, I’m obviously clueless about dates and have a big mouth, I’m sorry again”

“No, no” he holds your hand between his warm palms “I really thought you’d heard, that’s why I wanted to take you out from Laredo where everybody brings that up”

You hold your head on your hands “I’m an idiot, I’m sorry”

“Hey, hey!” he takes your hands and brushes his fingers on your chin until you look at him in the eye “It’s not your fault, let’s move on, okay?” his thumb is closer now to your lower lip and you see his eyes lowering until he’s looking at your mouth for a second before he points to the dance floor “Do you dance?”

“Not well”

“Me neither”

“Do we give it a go and make a fool of ourselves?” he asks holding your hand and you nod enthusiastically

The people on the dance floor judge you when you actually don’t know the moves that goes with this type of music, but you’re laughing like little kids and you see how he tries to hold you every time he gets the chance, his big hands on your waist, and arm on your lower back that burns like the sun and when finally they change to a slow song, he presses you against his chest and you moan softly when he locks you there with his hands on your back. You reach for his neck and tangle your fingers on his nape.

“I have a confession to make, agent” you whisper on his ear

“Hm?”

“I was looking at you at the pool and hoped that you came back when you left and actually ruined my novel in the process”

“And I was looking back at you and came back to pick up my father when he actually didn’t need it” he responds, his warm breath over your temple, you smile openly and you think your heart could leave your chest in that very moment

“and another thing...”

“Yes?”

“I never actually liked guys with mustache and now all I can think about is how does it feel when you kiss” you hide your face from him feeling his laughter resonate on his chest

“Wanna try?”

You raise your head even though your cheeks burn and your rational brain in screaming that you barely know the guy but then his lips brush over your softly and they’re as soft as they looked, you let him lead you mainly because the sensation is overwhelming and when he gently touches your mouth with his tongue you let him in, you let him taste you and you moan, Javi smiles briefly over your soft expression of pleasure and becomes more eager, hardening the kiss. You don’t know how long you’ve been there but when you break the kiss your head is spinning and you have to hold onto his shoulders

“So?” he says with a cocky smile

“Nice, really nice”

You don’t want this night to end, you park alongside the riverbank in Laredo, he has put down a big blanket on his pickup truck so you’re comfortable seating on it and Javier bought some cold beer at the gas station. The summer night is clear; the moon and stars shine and are reflected on the black waters of the river and you can only hear the soft sounds of the insects and the breeze moving the grass.

“Can I ask you something?” you’re both seated next to each other, swinging your legs until you touch him

“Yes”

“Why did you choose the DEA?”

“I just wanted to get away from here” he shrugs

“You caused too much trouble? Broke too many hearts?” you jest tapping his arm with your elbow

“Why do you say that?” he turns to face you

“You look like someone who could do that” you murmur “Are you going to break my heart?” Now you adjust your position so now you’re both face to face

“I hope not”

You think over his answer, it’s actually pretty honest. You had had promises of eternal love and “never ever going to hurt you” before and then they left you with your heart bleeding and your confidence undermined. So you prefer this, the truth. Neither of you know what’s going to happen, there’s only tonight and that you don’t want to get back to real world. The river, the moon and the two of you on his car are the only thing real, they only thing that exists right now.

You arise on your knees and save the distance between you holding his head on your hand. It’s you who lead the kiss this time and he lets you savor him. He holds your hips and gently pushes you on his lap. You lower your kisses to his jaw and then his neck tasting his perfume mixed with his sweat that it’s the only thing you’ve been thinking about doing since this morning, he emits a guttural moan and you feel your arousal between your thighs. Your hands act faster that you can think and unbuttons his shirt. In the moonlight his skin is soft and it’s splattered in small freckles that you kiss trying to count each one with a touch of your lips.

He doesn’t stay still for much longer and raises your summer dress kneading the skin of your legs, up to your butt and your hips. He separates you from him and you’re about to complain when you feel he’s pushing you softly to the blanket. You lay down taking a deep breath while your gaze at the night sky full of tiny bright dots that reminds you of his skin and how you crave to have him on your lips again.

You raise your head once you feel him touching your calf, his fingers softly trailing over you until he take off your sandals, and when it’s done, he grabs your legs and roam his hands up and down on them until he pulls your legs apart. Javier gets in the space between your legs and without breaking his burning look at your eyes, he takes off his shirt and unbuckles his belt.

“Please” you whisper and reach your hand towards him; he takes it and kisses your palm before bending over you. The hunger you have for his lips is finally over when he kisses you again deep and moaning against your lips.

He mimics what you did earlier and bites your jaw and your neck, scattering kisses over your clavicles. He gets up an instant just to take off your dress and admires you for a second before continuing his kisses where he had left them. You bend your back when your breasts are exposed to the fresh summer air but are immediately cover by his big warm hands and then his mouth graze each one with the most delicious attention kissing and licking your nipples until biting your lip can’t contain your whimpers

“You don’t have to be quite, there’s none” he says liberating your lower lip from your bite with his thumb “Your moans will be only for my ears and I want to listen to every single one of them” he says and leaves a kiss on your sternum before grabbing your waist pressing his face on your stomach and again repeats the action of spattering kisses and soft bites to your skin.

Once he reaches the elastic of your panties he looks at you intently. You’re a moaning mess, squirming under his touch and feeling your flesh ablaze even if the night is actually quite fresh

“Please” you whisper again and he softly raises your hips rolling the lace over your thighs. The midnight air makes you shiver. He kisses again your belly over the tan marks biting gently your hip bones before parting your legs widely.

He softly tortures you avoiding your core. His mouth licking and brushing his teeth on each thigh deeper and deeper and before arriving to the center he changes his position to the other leg

“Javi” you moan

“You’re so beautiful” he murmurs, lying on his side he leans his head on your inner right thigh. He’s as gentle as first as he was before leaving tempting kisses on your mount and folds before opening your lips to drink of you eagerly. His moans resonate through your body as an electric current and your nails scratch the blanket bellow. You call his name like a prayer, the pleasure is uncontrollable while you hope for release, he slides his fingers inside you and pumps them upwards and then you are lost in his presence and in the night above you. You hear yourself scream, your conscience is far away.

He hushes you and holds you in his arm and you waste no time in kissing him again, a deep hard kisses in which you pour all your passion and your lust. Your hands act on their own and you reach for his jeans and force them down enough until your palming his cock.

Javi understand your needs and takes down his jeans and underwear rapidly coming back to the position between your thighs. Your eyes are locked on his body admiring how he touches himself and you raise your upper body to caress his chest

“Please Javi I need you”

“Lay down” he orders, his voice is lower now and you quiver “Impatient girl” he smirks

You obey and Javier grabs your hips and he adjusts himself towards your entrance. You open your mouth once he penetrates you but there’s no sound coming out of your lips. He mutters praises for you and bends over to kiss you again. Your tongues intertwine as he’s deep inside of you, burying himself inside and getting out again and again until you’re panting looking for that ecstatic pleasure.

You cover his moans with a deep kiss once he reaches his orgasm and you hold him there. Breathing the scent of the surroundings, your sweat and his combined, you stay there until you’re calm, relaxed, and exhausted in the sweetest way.

“Thank you for not letting me change my shift” you say after a few minutes

#writer wednesday #Javier Peña #Javi Peña #Javier Peña x F! reader #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña smut #Pedro Pascal characters #Narcos #narcos fanfic #pedro pascal fic #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction

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not-close-to-straight · 3 years

Text

Random Wanda Vision Thoughts--

Episode 1: I am an emotional bitch crying at Wanda and Vision saying “i do” at the end of episode 1, like can these babies please catch a break? they just want to be happy.

Also Agnes and the 70′s show mom are my favorite wtf.

STARK TOASTERS I SEE YOU.

WHO IS WATCHING THEM WTF

Episode 2:

Dottie should die, she seems like the type who needs gently run over by a bus

WHO IS IN THE RADIO

Elizabeth Olsen is so cute in this, absolutely adorable

IS THAT DAVID SCHWIMMER PLAYING THE PIANO

Vision is drunk from getting gum in his gears, I’m actually cackling right now.

Tiny bit culty with the “for the children” thing, huh? Yikes

BABY BUMP!

Some creepo decides to get in on their world and Wanda literally went “i think the fuck not, let’s try this again and this time in technicolor”

is that the cop who asked out Ant Man on the radio?

The difference in “sitcom” Wanda who is happy in her world and “real life” Wanda when she realizes something isn’t right is honestly astonishing and Grade A Face Acting. See what happens when they let women do more on screen then walk around in tight clothes with full lips parted in a sexy pout?

Episode 3:

Seventies Vision’s hair is ENDING ME, I can’t even deal with that.

IT HAS TO BE DAVID SCHWIMMER except he looks like “russ” from friends instead of “ross”

Poor Vision is not handling impending fatherhood well

COMIC BOOK NAME DROP BILLY AND TOMMY I LOVE IT

Poor pregnancy fritzing Wanda. DID WANDA JUST GLITCH A TIME ERASE AND NOT MEAN TO? Listen, I did not expect to love them as a couple this much. EW HER WATER BROKE OMG

A STORK

Oh Wanda, poor baby she’s so afraid, I write way too much fan fiction about how all these characters are secretly terrified to go through life alone to be okay with this.

Why did I start crying immediately when the babies were born, I’m too emotional for this. She is so beautiful and Vision is so soft meeting his son as himself, oh my gosh. THE TWIN SCREAMS while the other twin comes omg this is Grade A Sitcom bullshit.

The doctor knows something is Up and so do Herb and Agnes. *don’t be suspicious, don’t be suspicious*

...have we actually seen Ralph and I’m just blanking on it? WHY DON’T THEY LIKE GERALDINE? WHO IS SHE?

Oh no i’m crying again over pietro and the sokovian lullaby. Don’t let me watch this while I’m PMSing wtf this is torture. GERALDINE KNOWS ABOUT ULTRON

OH SHIT WANDA IS PISSED LOOK AT THAT DANGEROUS LADY. that head tilt is fucking lethal.

I love agnes oh man. I know because of spoilers she’s something of a bad guy? but I love her

WHAT HAPPENED TO GERALDINE OMG DID WANDA KILL HER

Oh no, not dead. Just kicked tf out of the bubble. I just realized the symbol is for Sword. Is this some sort of experiment to keep Wanda contained post Endgame? I should have read more spoilers, I’m fucking confused.

Episode 4: OH HOLY SHIT IT’S MONICA RAMBEAU AND IT’S POST EG SNAP OH MY GOSH SHE HAS NO IDEA SHES BEEN GONE FOR FIVE YEARS MY HEART IS BREAKING MY HEART IS BREAKING I CAN’T TAKE IT

It IS the cop that hit on Ant Man! WHAT DO THEY MEAN WESTVIEW DOESN’T EXIST

Oh it’s Darcy! Damn straight it’s Dr. Lewis. How very shocking, a woman was the one to show a room full of Ridiculous Men what’s going on?

ZOMBIE VISION OH MY GOD “no we can’t” oh man she is starting to CRACK and Vision knows something is wrong OH NO

At this point I should point out that I am 1000% surprised at the quality of the show and 1000% pleasantly surprised by how much I’m enjoying it. The bar for Wanda’s character development was literally subterranean, but this is has been frankly sort of amazing??

Episode 5

Agnes asking about “taking it from the top” WHAT. I love so much the way the characters “break character” it’s so interesting and well done! WHY IS WANDA LYING TO VISION.

WHERE IS RALPH

oh my god the babies are children now?? why isn’t agnes noticing?? THEY’RE SO CUTE I COULD CRY ALL OVER AGAIN

I do not. trust. hayward. Why is he asking about Wandas nickname? Monica knows whats up-- she knows Wanda is grieving and hurting.

THE VISIONS CORPSE WHAT? WHAT IS WANDA DOING OH MY GOD SHE STOLE VISION. Vision has a living will? Don’t you have to be human for that? Are you telling me the woman that loved Vision would straight up ignore his wish to not be turned into a weapon after his death? I have a hard time with this.

Oh no Vision is starting to worry me. He’s onto Agnes, he’s noticing Wanda getting careless...the boys are adorable though. Good on Agnes for not even flinching.

DAMN RIGHT WANDA COULD HAVE TAKEN OUT THANOS LETS HAVE SOME RESPECT PEOPLE. Also, why is Monica being sketchy about Captain Marvel?

EMAIL ALERT EMAIL ALERT “none of it is real.” oh my god what is happening?!?!

“Is this yours?” OH MY GOD. “This will be your only warning” she is so unafraid and I love her for it. I love her accent coming back when she breaks characters LOOK AT HER TURNING ALL THOSE MEN AROUND I LOVE HER.

“Fix the dead” oh my god the shock on her face. The absolute irony of her trying to tell her boys there’s rules when she’s writing the playbook as she goes. Oh my god. “Can’t I?” Jesus, then the credits start rolling because she wants the episode to be over but Vision won’t let her OH MY GOD. My heart is breaking

WHAT DOES IT MEAN SHE DOESN’T KNOW

SHE RECAST PIETRO

Episode 6

OOOOH look at the classic costumes! Pietro is slaying me. I mean, it’s the wrong pietro but its still very funny. The way Vision calls her out and then plays it off is.... spooky. She is fully aware thats not her brother. “Be good.” holy shit.

Look at me not liking Hayward again. “which one is the sassy best friend” i feel like that’s....racist. “don’t use the last five years as an excuse to be a coward” DRAG HIM SIS

Listen Uncle Pietro being a little shit head is my favorite. I use the OG Pietro in my fics but this one is hilarious.

Vision lied about being on duty? Yikes. The one house where people are stuck in a loop? YIKES. Its crazy how everyone is starting to be super aware of Wanda pulling the strings--MAGIC CHILD OMG.

Whats past ellis avenue? Is that the limit of Wanda’s powers? I don’t super understand how Vision has his powers if he’s technically dead. HE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT THE AVENGERS ARE she really just gave him enough life to exist just barely. Agnes knows he’s dead so she wasn’t snapped??

Agnes’s witchy laugh while dressed like a witch is legit awesome. We call that FOREEEEEEEEESHADOWING! Oh and there’s Ellis Ave. Got it.

Monica’s blood is changed?? Idk how to feel about Black Character willing to die for White Charaxter? I mean I know Wanda should be Jewish but still. Uncomfortably close to icky tropes but maybe I’m reading too far into it.

YIKES where was she hiding the kids till now? How’d she do all this? “I’m not a stranger or your husband” YIKES.

OH MY GOD DEAD PIETRO

OH MY GOD VISION STAY IN THE BUBBLE SOMEONE SAVE HIM SAVE HIM OMG BILLY CAN HEAR HIS DADDY DYING SAVE HIM

“The people need help” oh Vision you are truly Worthy

She literally expanded her world to save him omg

DARCY WHERED YOU GO geez look at power of this girls mind it’s about damn time we got a glimpse at just how intense her powers are

Season 7

Ok is this like a reality show? Oh man she is GLITCHING.

Oh no it’s just Wanda not Wanda vision cos she feels alone? So sad. She really is losing it isn’t she and not in a “lol how awkward” sortnof way but in that truthful hard to watch way that so many of us feel when we’re at the breaking point

“I actually did bite a kid once” I literally ugly laughed right there

I KNEW I COULDNT TRUST HAYWOOD

It’s so nice to see Darcy used in a real way. Her character was totally wasted in Thor

The way Wandas little interviews get more and more sad :(

Uhhh what does that mean Agnes is quiet on the inside? Again with the Ralph thing. I’m starting to think there’s no Ralph at all??

LOOK AT THIS GIRL WITH HER SPACE ROVER . She’s got that same look of determination her mama had. WHAT IS HAPPENING TO HER WHY ARE HER EYES BLUE

“....soooo Wanda killed me?” I’m ugly laughing again and I shouldn’t be but the comedic delivery is excellent. The whole “office” vibe with the cameras is making an otherwise devastating episode fairly funny

LOOK AT THIS GIRL STANDING UP TO WANDA we love a sharp cheekbones beauty

“Maybe I already am” I mean, I would have loved to hear that post Ultron when for some reason everyone blamed Tony for everything?? But hearing it now is just horrifying and I hate it

Oh vision deciding to go get to his wife is beautiful.

WHERE ARE THE BABIES WHERE ARE THE BOYS OH MY GOD IM FREAKING OUT WHAT BASEMENT THATS NEVER GOOD

Uh hey what the fuck is up with Agness creepy basement of horrors??

AGATHA HARKNESS OH MY GOD

This song is a BOP wtf she deserves an Emmy for this shit

Snoopers gonna snoop what?

Episode 8

Of course it’s Salem, where else would a witch story start

“They simply bent to my power” What a queen

lmaoooo THAT ACCENT COMES AND GOES Agatha really said what we’ve all been thinking

Wait so Wandas power drew Agatha in? I thought maybe Agatha trapped her here?? SHE DOESNT KNOW WHAT WANDA IS

THE BABIES

Oh ouch this trip down memory lane is gonna hurt me isn’t it?

Oh no her mama I’m dying inside send help. The TV sitcoms. Oh my god is this her last memory before her parents died. HELP ME I CANT WATCH THIS

Oh my god, she had powers when she was little?? SHES NOT AN EXPERIMENT???

Listen I generally think telling a story retroactively is lazy writing? Just give us a well developed story the first time?? But this is BRUTAL and brutally well done.

SHE SAW HERSELF IN THE MIND STONE???

Would it have been so difficult for them to give us even a PEEK at this version of wanda vision in CACW? Marvel has the worst habit of just popping up like “oh hey these two love each other all the sudden with no real reason for it” but this is wonderful. So much character development.

Oh listen to this woman begging to be able to bury her husband omg. WAIT SO SHE DIDNT BREAK IN AND TAKE HIM?? WHAT ARE THEY DOING TO VISION?? DID HE PUSH HER INTO THIS PSYCHOTIC BREAK?? HE TOTALLY PLAYED HER INTO RECREATING VISION SHE JUST WANTED CLOSURE. He literally showed her visions dismembered corpse and said “say goodbye” I will kill this dude wtf

“I can’t feel you” guys I have to pause this so I can cry for a minute

“I can’t feel you” and then she leaves. Totally alone in the world. My heart is an empty husk.

Why the house though? Why west view?

OH FUCK ME UP ARE YOU KIDDING ME VISION WAS GOING TO BUILD THEM A HOUSE I CANT TAKE THIS ANYMORE

It’s not even real vision? Just the projection of her broken heart? “Welcome home” I am broken. Physically broken.

CHAOS MAGIC

SCARLET WITCH

I CANNOT

OH MY GOD WHITE VISION??? NO NO NO

#WandaVision

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rachelbethhines · 4 years

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Tangled Salt Marathon - Queen for a Day Part 2

So this is the continuation of my review for Queen for a Day. My personal favorite episode in the series, but it does have some flaws that needs to be pointed out.

You can find the first part here https://rachelbethhines.tumblr.com/post/622226424477171713/tangled-salt-marathon-queen-for-a-day-part-1

Summary: The King and Queen are stranded in the blizzard and Eugene and the Pub Thugs must rescue them. Meanwhile, Varian rushes to ask for Rapunzel's help freeing his dad, but Rapunzel tells him that she can't help him because of the blizzard, leaving Varian feeling betrayed. Rapunzel orders the evacuation of the island, but then remembers about a legend told earlier by Xavier about an underground machine with the power to change the way of the blizzard.

The Show Tells Us Things that Contradict What We’ve Already Seen

No they didn’t.

If it was up to Frederic you’d all be jailed, hanged, or banished. Don’t try to pretend now that the King is somehow better than any other leader when it’s his crack down on crime is what causes 75% of the conflict in the first season.

Rapunzel gave you a second chance. She’s the one to thank. And she only did that because she befriended you, not because she thought the system unjust.

Look at All This Time Spent On This Very Important Note, No Way the Writers Would Dumb Enough Not Follow Up On This Finely Crafted Set Up.

Why is Season Three So Bad!!!!?????

Evacuation is a Dumb Plan to Begin With

So throughout the episode Rapunzel is being pressured into evacuating the populace off the island. With the idea that, as an island, they’d be cut off from food supplies and whatnot.

Which is beyond dumb because they’re currently inside a castle. Castles are built specifically for withstanding sieges. They should have all the supplies and room that they need right there for weeks if not months.

Everyone is acting like risking exposure is somehow a better option then just staying put, inside the comfy palace.

Also keep in mind no one knows that this is a magic storm. They think it’s just a regular blizzard and it’s not even been one day of snow. You’re telling me that King Frederic is such a poor leader that can’t even keep the kingdom stocked for one day?

You know what. I'd believe that. Corona is a shittly runned country that can’t handle emergencies.

Cass Can Clearly See and Hear What’s Going On

The show will later act as if Cass didn’t know the truth about what happened between Raps and Varian, but that’s a load of bull. She clearly sees and hears Varian talking about the rocks and his dad. In short, Cassandra winds up looking like a horrible person because of poorly thought out framing.

Rapunzel Has More Options Here But She Doesn’t Explore Them

Look Rapunzel being inexperienced and not knowing what to do, leading to her making poor decisions; is a perfectly fine set up for a conflict. And the choices she makes are understandable.

However the show acts like these were the only options available to her; stay and help her people or go with Varian right then, and that’s simply not the case.

Here’s a list of things she actually could have done.

Send someone else with Varian. Cass isn’t doing anything right now. She’s not needed for the evacuation, as evidenced by her going with Raps to the demantius device later (a task that she doesn’t actually help much with) and she already is in on your secret about the rocks and is friends with Varian. Alternatively there are other guards you could have sent with him, but Cass is the best option for the job.

Keep Varian with her until the storm was over with. He could have helped with the demantius device and then you both could have gone to Old Corona afterwards.

Order the evacuation and then actually go with Varian. Once again, Rapunzel isn’t honestly needed for the evacuation, as evidenced by her taking off to find the demantius device later. She also. at the this point, doesn’t know if the demantius device is real nor does she have a plan in place yet to use it. It would have been a worse idea, yes, but it’s still an option that she failed to consider. (Unless they came back to the device after failing to save Quirin, cause it’s fiction and the writers can decide the time frame however they want)

Go check up on Varian after fixing the storm.

None of these options would have saved Quirin, obviously, but any one of them would have given Varian the emotional support that he needed. So while it’s understandable that Rapunzel did what she did, it’s still not excusable.

Therein lies the failure of the show. It tries it damndest to excuse the protagonists at every turn even when they do quite clearly mess up, all while shifting all the blame onto an easy scapegoat. The series then acts like, we the audience, should just blindly accept it’s manipulation as fact.

The Show Implies That the Heroes Just Threw A Child Out Into A Deadly Blizzard

Rapunzel’s ‘orders’ falls on deaf ears and that’s honestly on her. She’s in charge and ergo she needs to keep her guards in line. It’s up to her to give clear and concise orders.

Cause what we see is the garuds dragging away a 14 year old begging for help and next we see him, he’s back out in the snow storm. The snow storm that’s been deemed a national emergency and could potentially kill people stuck out in it.

If the show didn’t intend for us to think that Stan and Pete just chucked the poor kid out the door, than it needed to establish that Varian left of his own accord. But it doesn’t do that. So everyone is Corona just winds up looking like an bunch of asses instead.

Rapunzel Breaking Her Promise isn’t the Point

The show gives way too much focus on Rapunzel’s promise. Because not being able to keep a promise is understandable and something that everyone experiences. No, in truth what Rapunzel does here is much worse than that. She fails at her responsibilities as a leader, as an adult, and as a decent human being.

Her promise to Varian doesn’t actually matter. Her friendship with Varian doesn’t actually matter. Her even knowing him doesn’t matter.

Had Varian came to her as a stranger with this same problem and she failed to help him, she’d still be in the wrong. This is a child in need that she ignores. A subject that she is in charge of and responsible for.

Once again, I’m not hating on Rapunzel here. I’m fine, glad even, for the protagonist to make a mistake. But the show fails to even acknowledge that what she did was a mistake to being with; hence the real problem with the character.

Let’s Talk About ‘Daddy’ and How The Creators are Full of It

OK so there was some debate about whether or not Varian actually said the word ‘daddy’ in this scene. It was confirmed by one of the creators, Chirs, that yes, Jeremy Jordan (Varian’s VA) ad libbed this line and that the writers decided to keep it.

Which, in of itself, is fine. This scene still hurts like hell and is the most powerfully emotionally hitting scene in the show. It’s awesome.

The problem is the Chris’s reasoning for including the line.

According to the creator, Varian saying the word ‘daddy’ means that’s still immature and not ready yet to know whatever secrets Quirin is keeping from him.

OK first off, calling you father ‘daddy’ does not make you immature. What a stupid thing to say. My siblings and I are all in or 20s, 30s, and 40s, and we still call our father ‘daddy’ as well. (We’re quite spread out in ages)

Secondly, what secrets!? We’re never told what Quirin is hiding from his son. Varian never learns the truth of any earth shattering secret that involves him.

We get lots of behind the scenes hints that the writers prematurely cut Varian out of the plot in later seasons, despite his conflict not being resolved and the fact that he was presented as being integral to main plot.

We’re never given a real reason why Varian’s story so poorly was edited out and any excuses that the series creators, Ben and Chris, have given is nothing but that same BS as this line here and I’m going to call them out on it.

Xavier and Monty Should Have Been Streamlined Into One Character

Xavier is given no real introduction and yet he’s suddenly an important part of the main overarching plot. Nor do we ever get any backstory for him or insight into why he does what he does and knows what he knows. He’s just there to give exposition and that’s it.

Meanwhile Monty is given a whole episode worth’s of introduction and insight, but then proceeds to add nothing to the series afterwards.

Just imagine if Monty and Xavier were made into one character. Introduction, insight, plus actual story importance. As an added bonus, it would have forced Raps to deal with someone she doesn’t get along with in order to save the kingdom. Which would counterbalanced the ‘friendship saves the day’ bs of later seasons along with the idea that anyone who doesn’t kiss Rapunzel’s royal arse is a villain.

Once Again, Why Do you Know this Legends and No One Else, Xavier?

It’s lazy writing. You need to either set these things up beforehand or give reason for them later.

Pascal’s Story Makes Far More Sense After This Scene

The consequence of showing things out of order is that context is lost.

I Love the Reprise but it Gives the Game Away too Early

The writing team can’t decide where they want Varian’s fall into villainy to start and where to have it’s ‘twist’. This is suppose to be foreshadowing, but having it then undermines the ‘surprise betrayal’ in The Alchemist Returns. Not to mention that Varian doesn’t actually do anything truly ‘villainous’ until Secret of the Sundrop anyways.

In short this scene winds up being pointless and the insistence of having a shocking reveal later winds up being redundant. Which in turn then becomes a poor excuse for not featuring a episode dedicated to Varian’s side of the story.

Conclusion

I still love this episode, and I’m saddened that most of the series does not live up to this quality nor its own hype. On its own Queen for a Day is 40 mins of wonderful entertainment. As part of the an on going story it’s a bitter reminder of the disappointment to soon follow.

#varian #rapunzel #tangled #anti-tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #tts #rta #queen for a day

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nameless-sovereign · 3 years

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clowns in the gutter

i did this while the songs were on shuffle which wasn’t my best idea so the quality of a big all over the place, but... i tried and that important 😅 but i’ve been told i listen to music poorly and have a bad method of playlist making which is ‘this singular line’ or ‘i’m not sure what is said but The Vibe™’ so i felt i should add the reasoning behind the songs

this is my playlist for @rachie-neyiea ravenous on ao3 [ https://archiveofourown.org/series/1714627 ]

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0mbuQyTM0ILmUmrfjRwFvn?si=tr4S8pa2RQGgHGHBNfkNhA

horror of our love - i’m not going to go into this one since i kinda already talked to you about it

campus - “it must be lonely knowing what you knowing” - because the twins may not know a lot about themselves, but a part of simply existing is being in shock of how it changes and how time is always moving, and with how time works for them i imagine the disconnect between society and themselves is so astounding that it gives them an unique perspective of humankind, yes they’ve been cut off, but they do need to integrate, to some extent, to pick their victims, so i decided at least

oleander - “if you leave me, rest assured it will kill me” [ also the fact that oleanders are these beautiful plants that are also pretty deadly i think fits, because thy can make themselves appear unsuspecting [ if they want to appear and they’re pretty, if they’re presenting that way ] - i feel like this is very much the twins towards bruce because he had become such a big part of themselves, they literally gave him a part of them now, and while he may not have liked it i think it was a big show of dedication. a way of saying they don’t mind hurting for him they’ll even go as far as to do it themselves.

hollow - “i’m ill with all that i know, cause it show what little i know” - this bruce because he is a very curious person by nature, he naturally seeks to find answer for him problems, and these problems don’t have answers, but he knows so much at the same time that it probably drives him mad being able to taste the knowledge yeah not devour it

volatile times - “look at me, what have i become i am lost i was once a gentleman” - i think this is bruce reflecting on the twins, and their effect on his life, how he had the potential to be a normal kid with the silver spoon, how he had a taste of that once upon a time but he became batman, and while he knows it wasn’t only because of the twins, he is pretty sure if they didn’t exist, if he wasn’t made to balance them out, then he wouldn’t be batman. he wouldn’t be some rich boy playing dress up and punching people in the middle of the night, he would host party, and laughing as he sipped champagne

under my skin - there’s no lyric in here that screams it’s just the general idea, kinda like unwanted animal, but it’s like “i can fit two people under my skin” and that just reminds me of this line [ i’m not sure if it was in one of your stories or if i read it somewhere else and it reminded me of it, so i apologize ] it was saying how one of the twins want to break open bruce’s ribcage to and be absorbed into him and taunt him from the inside and how they’ll never be parted then, and i just vibe with the twins being like that and i don’t know who is even speaking because i think there’s a merge ce of all of them mirroring one another, well bruce mirroring the twins and vise versa because the twins are still quite guarded but they are opening up quite a bit as the story progresses.

like lovers do - “Getting you off is my new favourite hobby, lipstick on your neck brands like a tattoo” and “I see you watching me, eyes on your target” this song reminds me a lot of when the twins found party boy bruce, [ the next two are also going to be written shittily ]

animal impulses - this one is just the overall vibe of the song v. andy particular lyrics, the song being about repressing and being controlled by your instincts basically and i think that vibes with this

baby you're a haunted house - “i’ll be the only one who likes the things you do, i’ll be the ghost inside your head when we are through” this reminds me a lot of the twins to each other, because they are alone, but their alone together and even if that doesn’t always feel like enough to be without the other would be unbearable and the next lines are “Sometimes you scare me, but I come around to you, I'll say hello hello hello hello, And I'll find a way to scare you too” which i believe to represent bruce to them because he’s had such unique reactions to them, and by he way he treats them is so… gentle and i don’t believe them to have ever been exposed to that previously and so Bruce hold a price of their heart in such a terrifying way.

unwanted animal - there’s so much in this song that i can’t pinpoint any exact lyrics that i associate with anything in particular [ the one that hooked me was “you touch my skin peels off like paint” but there a wild desperateness to the singing that i like fits them well. the comparison to animals i like for the twins, because they are savage and ruled mainly by their id they want something they take it, and i’m not looking at the lyrics right now, and i’m so bad at actually /listening/ to songs, but the whole song it feel like the singers are both fighting and working together and it’s just this dynamic that i think fits my interpretation of your series i guess heheh

this is love - there’s a lot of small lines that i think reflect the story well, “you done nothing to get out of the pattern of pain washed away by the rain” [ this reminds me of the underground tunnels being at risk of flooding and Bruce being like welp, gotta try ] “but i just love to pick a fight” [ the twins finding fighting as a valid means of flirting ] “once you chase me down the hole” [ the twins as bruce comes following after the twins ]

foreigners god - “she feels no safety in my arms” stanza vv bruce being on edge around the twins this is the twins because i think they all know none of them could truly intentionally maim one another, they’ll play at fighting, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t ready to fight for each other. each knows logically that they are safe, that past experience dictates that trust in personal safety has been earned, yet it's impossible to relax around one another yet, after so long of being on edge it seems impossible to fully step away.

bitter and sick - “break me down i’ll let you ruin my day flow through my veins” “i need a fix bitter and sick, sicker than love” - the first one is the twins to bruce and the second is bruce to the twins. in the first the twins are basically saying that they’ve lived one way for some long, existed alone together and never changing their ways, but now that bruce is here they are willing to adapt to make him fit into their lives. they’ve killed less because they’re not as hungry, they could still eat and the desire to hunt is still there, but with the knowledge that bruce doesn’t actually like it they can step back, allow him to save a few lives they learned gentleness for him. the second one is bruce’s addiction towards them. how his mind is never far from them, even when they sleep because he hates that he feel this way, he knows its wrong and it floods him with guilt, but he also can’t leave them, because he knows them now, had tasted their flesh on his tongue and while that would’ve not been his preferred union it was a union nonetheless, one he can’t ignore or suppress anymore

an unhealthy obsession - this is so self explanatory and in the words of john mulaney, “and i am lazy by nature”

#gotham #jerome valeska #bruce wayne #jeremiah valeska #music #Spotify #i meant to post this on my gotham account but it’s fine 😅

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quicksilversquared · 5 years

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Plagg’s School

Plagg isn't much interested in being any sort of teacher, but when the opportunity arises for him to spend some time with Marinette, he jumps on the opportunity to try to unteach some of the less healthy lessons that she's been taught.

He didn't expect it to be this hard, or for there to be so much for her to unlearn. But he's no quitter, and Paris needs Ladybug to be at her best.

A continuation of sorts for my story Superhero Lessons

Plagg hadn't thought that this would be so hard.

When Tikki and Master Fu had decided to have Marinette and Adrien switch Miraculous temporarily (thanks to a subtle suggestion from Plagg, but framed so that they thought that he was kidding), Plagg had thought that all it would take to knock her out of her mindset of having to feel responsible for everyone else's actions and reactions all the time would be to just make some snide comments when he saw adults behaving badly. Marinette- Ladybug- was smart, surely she would pick up on the clues fast enough and then Plagg could sit back for the rest of the week, relax, and enjoy the plethora of cheese bread that came along with living in a bakery.

He was wrong.

Sure, there had been plenty of opportunities for side-eying and "offhand" comments, and Plagg had taken pretty much every single one. But Marinette had brushed the comments off or repeated the party line of "I have to be the bigger person" every. single. time. It was enough to make Plagg want to scream.

Not that it was a bad thing for a Ladybug to be kind and caring and self-aware, of course! Those were very good things. And yet. And yet.

Marinette's parents were caring and loving, sure, but they seemed to have higher expectations for Marinette than they did for actual adults sometimes. They- and Tikki, and probably the teachers in Marinette's life, too- had drilled in the lesson that Marinette had to be kind, had to be understanding, had to be accommodating and giving and accepting and not hurt people's feelings and always apologize when she did something wrong and-

Ugh. There was such thing as too much. Teenagers would make mistakes and have honest reactions sometimes, and it was supposed to be up to the actual, literal adults to understand that and not get disproportionately upset about it. Maybe an apology would make sense some of the time, but when Marinette was the only one apologizing for an honest misunderstanding?

It was just one more thing on the pile of stuff to stress about, one more subtle push towards you have to be perfect, you can't ever make anyone upset ever, everyone else's feelings and reactions are your fault.

Plagg had had kittens who were sensitive and anxious before. He knew how they thought. There most definitely was such thing as taking on too much of the blame and too much responsibility.

If a grown-ass adult got akumatized because of something a frustrated teenager said... yeah, that was definitely on the adult.

So that was annoying, and Marinette seemed to be slipping further and further down the path of fully believing what she had been told, always careful to try to keep her own emotions under control but taking what seemed to be full responsibility for when other people couldn't manage to do the same.

And then there was the whole overworking thing.

Plagg had thought that Adrien was busy for his age, with all of his activities- the fencing, the basketball, the Mandarin and piano and modeling and commercials. But Adrien at least had plenty of time set aside in his schedule for homework and studying and projects. If he was scrambling to get stuff done, it was usually because the akuma attacks at that time had been longer than usual (or more numerous than usual) or because Adrien had spent too much time on the Ladyblog. If Adrien mentioned that he didn't have enough time to study or do a quality job on his homework, Nathalie would rearrange his schedule at once to give him more time, canceling extra lessons for a week or two while Adrien got himself caught up.

Marinette's activities could largely be framed as self-imposed, but there were so many of them that it was honestly a miracle that she could balance everything.

Or...maybe less a miracle and more a necessity, because she just couldn't say no and people took advantage of that. Like, a lot.

"It's not that bad this week!" Marinette told Plagg on their third evening together as she finished hand-sewing a seam on a doll that someone- Plagg had neither caught the name nor cared- had commissioned from her so that they would be done and put away before Alya and Nino brought their siblings over for Marinette to babysit so that the two of them could run off and suck face together instead of being responsible older siblings. "Sometimes I have commissions and tests and other stuff all in one week. Tikki helps me study, sometimes. And then other weeks, I have almost nothing and I can catch up."

...seriously, how was she living like this?

"I didn't hear them asking you to babysit," Plagg said instead of vocalizing any of his concerns, because he couldn't give away his lazy cat reputation right away. "What, did I sleep through that or something?"

"No, it's... it's kind of an ongoing thing, I guess." Marinette didn't look at all enthused about that. "They asked once, a few months ago, and I said yes then because they sounded so excited about this movie that was running and they wouldn't be able to catch it during their normal date time on the weekend, and they, uh..."

"Took that as a standing invitation to keep doing it," Plagg filled in, entirely unimpressed. "Wow. Great friends you have there. What if there's an akuma attack while you're babysitting? What if you have stuff to do? Don't you have a test to study for on Friday?"

Marinette's shoulders hitched up, just a little. "I just- I'll study tomorrow, over lunch. Then I can catch up. And I'll tell my parents that I can't play video games with them until Friday evening at the earliest."

"So let me get this straight- you don't get any free time so that your friends can have more free time to go groom each other's faces?" Plagg demanded. "Fun trade-off you have going on there. Also, I didn't hear an answer about the akuma thing."

"I just like helping!" Marinette protested. "That's- that's all, really. I can handle it."

And that was the end of that conversation. Even with Plagg's increasingly heavy-handed comments, Marinette seemed determined to ignore the issue and assure him that she could handle it. Even when Twin No. 2 pulled the pinned pieces of fabric off of Marinette's mannequin and spilled a box of sewing machine threads, taking away an hour of Marinette's sleep as she tried to put everything back together. Even when one of her classmates asked Marinette to fix a torn shirt right away, eating up half an hour of her study time. Even when Manon got dumped on Marinette for a bit of emergency last-minute babysitting with absolutely no warning and without really asking her if it was okay.

Seriously, did no one else notice how much work they were dumping on her? Even without taking her superhero activities into account, it was a lot. With the superhero activities, it was crossing the border into too-muchland. And if Marinette wanted to do anything fun? Anything for her?

There just wasn't any time.

Had Tikki said nothing? Plagg knew that she was all about being productive and staying busy and making the most of opportunities and potential and helping people, but not to the point of running her Chosen into the ground!

Thankfully, Plagg was going to get another week with Marinette. Tikki had requested an extension under the guise of Adrien needing more time to actually figure out how to use Ladybug's powers, since during their one swapped-Miraculous battle so far, Lady Noire had told Mister Bug how to use the Lucky Charm that he had gotten. To Plagg, she had said something about teaching Adrien to enforce his boundaries.

Well, okay, maybe she had been a little more specific than that, but Plagg had gotten distracted by the news and had been trying to think of how he could knock Marinette out of the frankly toxic mindset that she had been pushed into when Tikki was talking and so he hadn't quite caught all of the details. But the gist of it was that Adrien didn't push back enough when people made him uncomfortable and Tikki was working on changing that somehow.

Plagg wished her luck. His advice whenever Adrien had commented on people clinging to him had been to bite them. Or, alternatively, shove them off. Adrien had been horrified by both suggestions, and that whole thing had gone nowhere.

Nowhere, like how things with Marinette seemed to be going. But it was the weekend now, and so Plagg had time to absolutely drive Marinette up the wall until she cracked enough for him to drag her frustrations out and actually push her towards doing something about them besides just "work harder".

It would be more effort than he normally put in, but Paris needed Ladybug to be rested and focused and not overwhelmed with responsibilities. If she fell and Adrien was left to fight on his own...

Plagg wanted to believe in his kid, he really did, but Adrien had a habit of relying largely on Ladybug to lead the battles and decide a course of action. If Ladybug fell in battle, or if she ended up akumatized because of all of the pressure that was being put on her...

Well, it wouldn't be pretty.

So naturally, Plagg decided to antagonize Marinette. And by that, he meant that he presented her with a list of completely unreasonable demands for her to fulfill since they were going to be spending a second week together, and he kept ramping it up until she had gone from being mildly irritated to gritting her teeth to being so frustrated that she was on the brink of screaming at him.

And then, very deliberately, he pushed her that little bit more.

"I can't!" Marinette finally snapped at him, glaring at Plagg with a poisonous expression. "I just can't! You're asking too much- I'm busy, and you know that! I need time to sleep and study and get caught up on my school projects and work on that draft of Clara's dress and do my class rep duties and I just told you that I have to remake Ivan's Kitty Section mask because it fell in the river and I don't! Have! Time! To do a special run to the cheese market all the way across the city to find some really rare cheese that might not even be in stock this week, and I don't have time to make you a special embroidered bed with thirty-three pillows or a monogrammed bathrobe, and I don't have time to do anything on your list, really! I already don't have any time to myself, and you're not! Helping!"

"But I require it," Plagg said haughtily, though he was keeping a careful eye on the window. If he was going to wind Ladybug up, he had to make sure that he could pull the plug if needed. "You make everything else work, don't you?"

"Barely!" Marinette was barely holding it together, he could tell. There were frustrated tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. "I'm so busy this weekend, and I have more tests this week and I'm already so worried that I'm going to fail because I don't have time to study, and if there are any akuma attacks this week then I'm absolutely screwed, because I'll fall behind again and won't have time to catch up!"

Very deliberately, Plagg yawned as wide as possible and then made a show of inspecting his (nonexistent) claws. "Mm-hmm. So...about the cheese-"

"NO!" Marinette half-shrieked. "No, no, no, I refuse. I can't, I literally can't, so no, I am not eating up even more of my sleeping time just so that I can go across the town and comb through some out-of-the-way cheese shop to find some cheese that they might have. I cannot. I'm tired of giving up all of my free time to bend over backwards and meet everyone's expectation, okay? Enough!"

There was a pause, and then Plagg smirked.

"So you can say no. I was starting to wonder."

Marinette's eyes snapped to him, still glimmering with frustrated, stressed tears. The first one finally broke free and started to make its way down her cheek. "Huh?"

"You say yes to everything that people ask of you, no matter how much it inconveniences you. No matter how busy you already are. Even if you want to do your own things, and other people are being selfish in their requests on your time." Plagg zipped around Marinette's head, forcing her to spin around to follow his progress. "How many of the things that you have coming up this week aren't necessary? How many are other people's responsibilities that they're shoved onto you? Aren't you supposed to have a vice president to help you with your class representative duties? Why is other people's free time more important than yours? Why are other people setting deadlines for you when you're the one who has to work under them and you'd prefer a deadline later on, so that it doesn't coincide with tests and result in you pushing yourself so hard?"

Marinette swallowed hard, not saying anything as she stared at him. She was still shaking, and even if Plagg wasn't nearly as attuned to emotions as Nooroo, he could still tell that she was brimming with frustrations, all ready to come out.

So, if Marinette was actually being truthful with him and with herself, he might as well get it all out.

"So if we're being honest, how do you feel about the babysitting?" Plagg prompted, zipping closer. "About giving up your free time so that your friends can run off and suck face more? About having three rambunctious kids running around your room for hours and tearing everything up? Do you like that?"

Marinette wavered for a moment, but clearly he had done a good job with pushing her frustrations to the top. "I hate it! It's fine some weeks, but most weeks I don't have time to deal with getting distracted for three hours and then having at least an hour of clean-up afterwards! I have homework and commissions and superheroing and- and everything to do! And Alya has the Ladyblog, but clearly she's not lacking for time to work on it considering some of the highlight videos that she's put up recently. And there are weeks where they ask me to babysit more than once, even though I don't have time for it, and- actually, it's not so much asking so much as telling me that they'll need me to babysit, because they just assume that I'll be able to do it!" Another frustrated tear slid down her face. "And then they have more free time and I have less, and I'm already starting with less free time than they have, and they- they know that!"

Plagg hovered and waited for her to get it all out.

"I thought that the babysitting would be a one-time thing, that's why I agreed- well, that and the fact that I just can't- can't say no," Marinette said, finally starting to sound actually angry. "And they know that, and it just feels like they're taking advantage of that because they want more than one date per week- and it's more than two, too, if you count the times when they eat lunch together at the park or outside of school! And they always talk about what a fun time they had, and how nice it was to be able to spend some time together and relax, and then here I am, not having fun or relaxing at all!"

...okay, so there was maybe more frustration there than Plagg had been expecting.

"I'd be much happier if I didn't have to babysit anyone besides Manon, and only Manon if I get some warning and actually get asked," Marinette continued, fiercely wiping away yet another tear before it could get too far. "I'd get some time back to myself. It wouldn't make everything better, but it would take off a lot of stress- but they don't see that! They're apparently blind to everything except for their dates! Never mind that Marinette is falling asleep in class or that she's working on homework literally whenever she can fit it in, let's add some more stuff to her plate!"

If Marinette got akumatized while Plagg was with her, Tikki would actually kill him. So maybe it was time for Plagg to step in.

"So say no," Plagg cut across before any purple butterflies showed up. "You can, I know you can. Set boundaries. I've seen you stand up to people before. What's different this time?"

Marinette glanced at the floor, worrying her lip. After a moment, she sighed and looked up. "Because they're my friends. And when Madam Chamack shows up with Manon, she's a family friend and an adult. And I don't want to let them down."

"Yay! Honesty! Almost as good as cheese." Plagg smirked at her eye-roll. She was still a little wobbly-looking, but a small distraction was good. "If they're taking advantage of you to the point where you're stressed and strung out and they still don't back off, then is letting them down a little really the bigger evil?"

There was a pause, and then Marinette shook her head.

"Are you the only babysitter in Paris?"

That got a laugh out of Marinette. "Not even close."

"Is there some law that says that they can only ask you to babysit?"

"...no."

"Do they need to respect your needs and boundaries if they're your friends?"

Finally, Marinette smiled. "Yeah. I- I'll tell Alya next time I see her that if they want to go on a date when they're supposed to be babysitting, they need to find someone else. I can't do it anymore. Even on my slower weeks, I just- I need a break from their siblings." Then she paused, suddenly unsure. "Is- is that selfish? To not help out on weeks when I can spare the time?"

Plagg paused for a moment, still stuck on that when they're supposed to be babysitting. That sounded a whole lot like Alya and Nino were shirking their responsibilities without their parents knowing, which made the whole situation even worse, but that- that was beside the point right now. He could pick at that little tidbit later. Instead, he yawned, flopping down on the desk. Now that Marinette's emotions had stabilized again, he could get back to his normal careless persona. "Who cares? If you get a slow week, in my eyes, you earned it and get to enjoy it. Sit back, sleep in some sunbeams, eat some cheese..."

Marinette laughed at that, her shoulders relaxing just that little last bit. "Thanks, Plagg." Then she paused, glancing over at him. "I'm still not getting you your crazy fancy cheese, though. Or any of that other ridiculous stuff."

Plagg did his best to hide his grin. "Ah, well. It was worth a try."

By the time Monday rolled around, Marinette had gotten all of her pent-up and packed-away emotions worked out and had started an action plan list on how to become less stressed. The name had made Plagg gag- action plan? That sounded like a lot of work!- but after seeing the list, Plagg had to admit that it wasn't nearly as bad as it sounded.

First of all, there was the end of all babysitting for her friends for her foreseeable future and Marinette had told her parents that she would only babysit Manon when it was an emergency, and she reserved the right to say no without being questioned as to why she couldn't do it.

That was important for her to say up front so the adults wouldn't try to make her feel guilty by questioning why she wanted her free time for herself, and Plagg was proud of her for doing it- not, of course, that he was going to let that on too much. She would think that he was getting soft on her.

The second part of her plan was entirely Marinette's idea, though she was giving Plagg the credit. No longer was she going to let other people set inconvenient commission deadlines for her when they could easily wait a week for their pieces and put not even a quarter of the amount of stress on Marinette. And while she was more than willing to help people with their problems, she wasn't going to take over their responsibilities for them, and if they had something that, say, needed mending but wasn't needed right away, it might have to sometimes wait a day or two until Marinette could actually spare the time. She would actually use her calendar for keeping track of her own deadlines out a ways, and then all of her activities and responsibilities would be spread out and more manageable instead of hitting her with all the grace of a brick wall.

All of this, of course, was easier said than done. People had gotten used to Marinette shoving aside absolutely everything that she was doing to help them that second, and no doubt some people might question the change and that might be hard to stand up to- especially if Tikki was in Marinette's ear and trying to convince her that she could manage just one more thing. But Marinette seemed determined to stick to her plan.

Which was great! Now Plagg could just sit back, relax, and enjoy the cheese bread that he was getting in place of his Camembert (he would have asked for a baked Camembert bread bowl, but, well, Marinette did have exams coming up and even without the babysitting and with the deadlines for her other, non-school stuff pushed back, she was a bit busy). Marinette seemed to have a handle on how to most effectively use his powers, which wasn't surprising. Back when she and Adrien were starting out, she had given him directions on what he should be using his Cataclysm on more often than not. Learning how to use the staff to helicopter herself around had taken a little practice and it was obvious that she didn't have the fencing background that Adrien did, but she could batter stuff into submission just fine.

In fact, just fine was maybe a little bit of an understatement. Her battering was actually kind of terrifying. Not that Plagg was worried about his own life, of course- the ability to phase through things came in handy at times- but, well...

Adrien had made a mistake. Or perhaps Plagg should say Mister Bug had made a mistake.

During the previous akuma battle, Lady Noire had apparently made some comment about how Mister Bug's outfit was more interesting than her usual one, just as a little side comment. Plagg was willing to bet that she had been glancing at Mister Bug's outfit to try to get ideas to change her own usual suit, but that was neither here nor there. Instead of simply accepting the comment and moving on, Mister Bug had said that he was close to the fashion industry, so of course he had creative design ideas and did she maybe want him to help her come up with a new design for her Ladybug suit?

Plagg had winced at both that and the dog-whistle pitch that Marinette had reached while relaying that particular comment. Mister Bug was really, really lucky that the akuma had made a reappearance right then so that Lady Noire hadn't had time to respond.

"Okay, so I gotta have a talk with my kid and tell him to shut his big fat mouth, got it!" Plagg said loudly before Marinette could descend any further into displeased mutters. He had frankly been incredibly surprised to find out that Ladybug's civilian self was so interested- and so successful- at design and fashion when he first learned her identity, but after talking with Tikki and finding out how unsure Marinette had been when she first transformed...yeah, okay, he could understand the footie pajamas look. It probably had just become too engrained for her to consider changing it before. "Though I wouldn't be surprised if Tikki has already told him the same thing."

Marinette finally giggled, some of her murder look finally slipping off of her face. "I can't see Tikki ever telling anyone to shut their 'big fat mouth'."

"She might word it a bit differently, whatever." Plagg landed on Marinette's desk, confident (at least for the time being) that she wasn't going to go berserker on him. "So, redesigning the Ladybug suit?"

"I didn't realize that I could, before." Marinette tapped her fingers against her desk before reaching for her notebook and a pencil. "I just- I'm used to what I have now. And I know that I shouldn't design anything that could snag, or get in my way, or- I don't know." She frowned. "That leaves me with- what? Black paneling and trim?"

"And armor and padding," Plagg added helpfully. He paused, then lowered his voice conspiringly. "My kid doesn't actually have a six-pack or ripped arms. The suit just makes it look that way, because that's what he wants."

Marinette giggled some more.

"And the way his costume looks has less to do with design and more to do with his obsession with all things anime," Plagg continued loftily, yawning widely. "And comics and magical girl cartoons. I just put his wishes together in a tasteful manner."

"I like this whole exchange kwamis thing. I'm learning quite a bit." Marinette tapped her pencil against her lips, then started sketching. "I want to be careful about where I put any armor, I think. I need to stay flexible and not have excess resistance when I'm dodging. But maybe some protection on my arms and legs would be good, and if I put some black here..."

Plagg let out a relieved breath as Marinette threw herself into her sketches, Mister Bug's comment apparently forgotten in favor of designing, and tried not to think of how close Adrien had come to getting gutted for implying that he was better at design than a contest-winning aspiring fashion designer.

Hopefully that was all the drama there would be for this week, because Plagg wasn't sure how much more he could take.

Plagg clearly needed to stop thinking that his job was done. Every time he did- every time that he thought that maybe now he could nap the day away instead of sitting alert and making sure that Marinette wasn't crashing and burning with her resolution to not get herself crazy overworked- something came up.

Thankfully, it wasn't the reporter girl trying to get Marinette to change her mind about babysitting again after having taken the day before off. No, she seemed to have accepted Marinette's decision well enough. But it did have something to do with the reporter girl. The reporter girl, and his regular Chosen.

So naturally, Plagg had to get involved.

If someone had asked Plagg before to describe Marinette, he would have said that she was confident, yet sometimes randomly turned into a tongue-tied mess around Adrien.

...there may have been some misconceptions there.

He was partially right, of course. It would have been hard to be completely off, considering how much time his Chosen spent talking about his friends. But the panicking...

Yeah, not random. Not random at all.

Plagg watched with no small amount of bemusement as Marinette got pretty much railroaded into coming along on an outing with her friends where the goal was clearly to shove Adrien and Marinette together so that Marinette would have some space to ask Adrien out. Marinette clearly wasn't comfortable with the idea (and Plagg didn't blame her- he had, unfortunately, seen the results of what he could only assume were similar set-ups), but Alya clearly wasn't taking no for an answer.

...seriously, was this the girl who had pretty much branded herself Best Friend of the Year? Couldn't she see how panicky Marinette was getting?

Plagg sank back into the bag, frowning at the air. Okay, so he couldn't be his usual brush-off self here, that much was obvious. That was not what Marinette needed. Her emotions were already high enough, and that was dangerous.

What was Tikki doing in these situations? Was she just encouraging Marinette along? That seemed likely, but couldn't she tell when endless encouragement just wasn't helping? It seemed like Alya shoving Marinette into situations she wasn't ready for could easily turn into prime akumatization territory, considering how often it seemed to end in anything ranging from embarrassment to full-on humiliation. Add in the fact that both of them knew that Adrien was pretty much entirely hung up on his superhero partner (and had been minorly distracted by Fencer Girl, but that- Plagg knew that that wasn't serious at all), and trying to get Marinette to confess just didn't seem like a good idea at all.

Seriously, when had he turned into the kwami who did all of the advice stuff? It was weird and he didn't like it.

"How often does that happen?" Plagg asked as Marinette dropped her phone back onto the desk with a groan. "When she tries to set you up when you don't want to, I mean?"

Marinette had to think about it. "Bigger set-ups like this? Every other week, maybe? Smaller things at school...whenever she can manage it, really. And since she's dating Adrien's best friend..."

Plagg could fill in the blanks there. It was happening really, really frequently.

Well.

"Doesn't seem like she's being that great of a friend if she's not listening to you when you say no," Plagg said, making sure to adopt his laziest voice. He threw in a toothy yawn for good measure as he rolled into a ray of sunlight. "Especially when you're practically melting down over the idea."

"I just- I just need a push or I'll never do it, that's all!" Marinette defended at once. Plagg suspected that that was what she had had Alya tell her over and over before, and ugh, how had Ladybug ended up with so many bad lessons drummed into her head? "I mean, maybe I'll be uncomfortable when I confess, but if I actually manage it- and if things go well, I guess..."

By the way she trailed off, Plagg deduced that she was trying to convince herself, too.

"Do I gotta make you cry again so that you'll be honest with yourself and with me, or can we skip the excuses this time?" Plagg asked bluntly, and was faintly amused to see the startled way that Marinette blinked at him. "How do you feel about the whole situation?"

There was a pause. Plagg waited. Then...

"I don't like it."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Sorry, I didn't hear that. Repeat louder, please?"

"Ugh, you're so annoying!" Marinette scowled at him, but that didn't last long. "Fine, I don't like it! I always feel so uncomfortable and make a fool of myself and maybe Alya finds that amusing, but I don't! Adrien is going to think that I'm a complete nutcase and then even if I ever do manage a confession without immediately walking it back again, he's not going to be interested! Not that he's interested now- I know he likes someone else, but Alya always insists that maybe he would change his mind if he knew that I liked him, which- how likely is that, really? Maybe it worked for her and Nino, but that's an exception to the rule!"

Plagg settled in. It seemed like this was going to be a long rant.

"And I tried letting Adrien go and moving on before, but they said that I couldn't give up!" Marinette continued, and Plagg cocked a brow at that. Oh, THAT was interesting. Also something he could use. "And I don't- I mean, I understand the value of staying positive, but I just don't..." She sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I don't know if it's realistic anymore."

"Well, at least we've gotten past the denial stage," Plagg commented. He had wondered. Instead of saying that, he shuffled into a more comfortable position and turned an eye to watch Marinette. "D'you ever feel comfortable around model kid?"

"Yes! We're friends now, and we can talk most of the time. It's just when I'm expected to be trying to ask him out that I get all tongue-tied and make a fool of myself." Marinette flopped back in her chair and- yeah, she and Adrien were meant to be together. They were both crazy dramatic people. "I just don't know what to do."

Plagg snorted. "Isn't it obvious? Don't try asking him out, duh. Problem solved."

Marinette narrowed her eyes at him, suddenly suspicious. "Why do I get the feeling that you're trying to get me to give up on my crush so that I'll date Chat Noir instead?"

Plagg snorted, resisting the urge to bash his head against the wall. "D'you really think I want my kitten dating? He's sappy enough when he's just at crush stage. And he would be even more self-sacrificing if you two were dating, and that's already gotten real old, real fast."

Marinette's wary expression stayed in place for a minute longer, and then it dropped as she glanced away. "I- I can see where that would make sense, but if I don't at least try, I just feel guilty for not making use of the opportunities Alya sets up for me. Like, that just feels rude somehow."

Plagg snorted. "The opportunities that pretty much get dropped into her lap because of her boyfriend and that she's set up even though literally everything about you is telling her no, you don't want to and aren't ready? How very generous of her to keep going against your wishes."

He didn't get a response to that. He hadn't expected one.

Plagg forged on anyway. "Like, kid, I've been with you- what? A week and a half? And I could tell that you didn't want to get pushed into confessing again, so it's not as though you aren't being plenty obvious about it. And clearly the 'shove you in the deep end and hope you swim' method isn't working. It's not suddenly going to start working. And if model boy already likes someone..."

"Then I'm just setting myself up for disappointment and failure," Marinette finished. Her expression- no, her entire being- drooped, but then she straightened back up, and this time, it was like a weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. Which kind of seemed like the opposite of what should have happened, but maybe the whole 'keeping her hopes up' thing had been harder on Marinette than he had thought. "So I should just give up on my crush, then."

"I mean, it might be a good idea." Adrien would 100% chop Plagg's cheese supply in half if he knew that Plagg was encouraging Ladybug to stop crushing on civilian-him, but it was better than Marinette actually working up the courage to confess, only for Adrien to reject civilian-Ladybug and potentially mess up their friendship. "Or at least, like, not act on it. If your friend sets up 'opportunities', then just hang out with model-kid as friends. And, uh." He waved at the pictures on the wall. "I mean, if you want this kid to come over and hang out..."

Marinette drooped, and seriously, her spine was getting one hell of a workout with this conversation. "He's already seen them. When we had Jagged Stone over here, he missed seeing the bathroom and came up here and broadcast live to all of Paris. And Adrien was watching. But now he thinks I just have them because I'm a fan of his father's designs!" she added quickly, as though Plagg didn't know that already. Adrien had been rather puzzled by that explanation at first, Plagg knew, but had decided to just accept it eventually.

"It might still be weird for him to come over and have his face staring back at him all over the place," Plagg said helpfully instead. "'Specially if he's the only model that you have featured on your wall."

That made Marinette pause.

"Just something to think about," Plagg added airily. "That, and the fact that I've already heard your friend complain twice about you missing stuff when you were out fighting akumas, so if you were dating someone..."

Marinette caught on right away and she threw her head back and groaned. "You're so right! How did I not think of that? Even if Adrien did like me, even if I did actually successfully ask him out, even if he did say yes- I would be just like his father, flaking out on him all of the time! We'd never last, and I'd just end up hurting him in the process. And that means that it wouldn't ever have been a good idea to try to move on from him with Luka," she added. "And I shouldn't even think of dating before Hawkmoth is defeated."

Plagg breathed a little internal sigh of relief. Thank goodness. Crisis averted. Marinette wouldn't date anyone until Hawkmoth was defeated, then they could do their little reveal, find out that her partner had been model boy all along, and start dating and being all mushy. No one would be dating anyone else and mucking things up, and they would be in a good enough mood that he might be able to persuade Adrien to buy him the really fancy cheese.

...or they would be so busy being mushy and gross with each other that they would forget about Plagg and he would go unfed, but he was trying to think positive.

"So what are you going to do on your little outing tomorrow?" Plagg asked, rolling over so that he would stay in the middle of his sunbeam. "Are you going?"

"It would be nice to. I have time." Marinette sent him a small smile, and Plagg grinned in response. "Besides, if I don't go, then Adrien will be third-wheeling for Alya and Nino, and that's no fun. I would know, I've definitely done it plenty. And the last time he got to come out, it was on a group outing and Lila spent most of the time clinging to his arm, which is also no fun."

"Mmm."

"Lila was Volpina and Chameleon," Marinette told him, as if Plagg didn't already know that- and okay, maybe he wasn't supposed to know that, whatever. "The liar. She's been pretty much completely discredited now by our class, but she still likes trying to cling, even though it's obvious Adrien hates it. Last I heard, she was trying to claim that she just wanted to fit in and that was why she had made up all of the stories she did, but I don't think anyone has bought that."

"I'm surprised she got to come along on the class outing at all," Plagg commented. He had said the same thing to Adrien at the time, and-

Marinette sighed. "We don't really exclude people when it's an entire class outing, or Chloe wouldn't have been invited to most of the stuff we've done. There's some stuff like birthday parties where we don't have the entire class come, but everything else..."

-Adrien had given the exact same excuse, almost word-for-word.

"At least Chloe's been better recently," Marinette added absently as she reached for her mouse to wake up her computer. "Ever since Adrien put his foot down with her, she's really been trying to improve. And then when Chloe behaves better, Sabrina behaves better. So we don't mind having them along as much, it's just Lila being an annoyance now."

Ah-hah. An opening! Tikki was apparently still having trouble with getting Adrien to enforce his boundaries (because he was dense as a fruitcake and didn't understand that he could have boundaries, seemingly) and Master Fu had said no on a third consecutive week's swap, which meant that they had to try something different. And different might, in this case, mean using a friend as their mouthpiece.

"Maybe you could help Adrien get Lila off of him," Plagg suggested. "He would probably appreciate that."

Marinette paused, glancing over at him. "...I guess that would be a good idea. I mean, I know Nino's mentioned it a few times before, but..."

Okay, maybe this would be harder than Plagg thought. But Adrien had to catch on eventually. Maybe. Hopefully.

...a kwami could hope.

By the time Plagg was returned to Adrien on Sunday evening, they had accomplished several things.

First of all- and most importantly, in Master Fu's eyes- Ladybug and Chat Noir had a deeper understanding of each other's powers and would be able to use the other person's Miraculous in an emergency. Adrien had used Lucky Charm without help from Ladybug several times in a row now, and well, Marinette had mastered the baton. But that wasn't all.

Marinette had gotten her schedule sorted out and the perfection complex addressed, and seemed to have figured out how to use the word no. She had successfully gone on their friend group's outing without stuttering at all around Adrien, and while Alya seemed a bit miffed that Marinette hadn't even tried to ask him out, Adrien seemed plenty pleased to have been able to hold a normal conversation with Marinette.

(Although a 'normal conversation' was not what Plagg personally would have called it. They had started out a little awkward after Alya unceremoniously dragged Nino off- and that was something that maybe should have been addressed, because Plagg knew that Adrien was missing spending as much time as he used to with Nino- but after Marinette had accidentally punned and Adrien had lit up in utter delight, they had ended up spending a great deal of time giggling over absolutely ridiculous puns together. Then Adrien had decided to be dramatic about something- a pun that Marinette had pretended not to be impressed by, if Plagg's memory was serving him correctly- and, well, they were pretty hopeless after that. Calling them normal would be completely and utterly inaccurate.)

Marinette had even managed to score a point on the 'enforce Adrien's personal space' board by commenting on Lila's insistence on clinging to Adrien's arm when he was clearly uncomfortable with it and throwing in the word 'harassment', just loud enough for a nearby teacher to overhear. Madam Mendeleev had been on the case at once, and from what Plagg had heard, Lila had gotten detention and Adrien had finally been convinced that he didn't have to put up with unwanted clinging, thanks in large part to their teacher's intervention.

It was a very devious way of going about that, but Plagg couldn't say that he didn't approve, because he very much approved. If he had been assigned to Marinette from the start- well, she might have been a better fit with Tikki, but she would have made a fantastic Black Cat as well.

"Did you have a good week?" Adrien wanted to know as Plagg wolfed down a giant wedge of Camembert. Cheese bread had been good and it was always good to mix things up, but Camembert was always going to be Plagg's true love. "Tikki was loads of fun!"

"Oh, yeah, all smooth sailing," Plagg lied at once, choosing not to tell Adrien about having made Ladybug cry. It was all for the greater good, after all. Besides, Tikki would probably end him herself once she found out. Then, a thought struck him, and oh, yeah, he probably should say something before Ladybug transformed again with her new suit and Adrien decided to open his big mouth and comment on it. "But Adrien?"

"Yeah?"

"Do me a favor and don't say anything that might sound like you're implying that you're a better designer than Ladybug," Plagg demanded, remembering the absolute ire that he had felt zing through Lady Noire when Mister Bug had made his comment. "If you value your life. Seriously. Don't."

Adrien has the audacity to look puzzled. "Wait, why? I was just trying to offer some help!"

"Can't tell you. Identity stuff." Adrien would be kicking himself as soon as they did the reveal, whenever that was, but he just had to have an ounce of self-preservation between now and then. When they did, though...

Well, based on what Plagg had seen over the past two weeks, the reveal would go really well. By the time it happened, Marinette and Adrien were pretty much guaranteed to be fantastic friends. There would be feelings on both sides, he was willing to bet, and while Plagg was already gearing himself up for plenty of moaning about how gross the two of them were together, well...

After doing so much to save the city, the two of them deserved some cuddly mushiness. He could tolerate it.

#Miraculous Ladybug #my writing #marinette dupain cheng #Plagg #we support healthy character growth in this house #healthy character growth and not punishing Marinette for being human #*side eyes the show some more*

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alazyamateurgamedev · 3 years

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Inaugural Post

I’m going to ramble a bit about some basics of game design on a far too philosophical level, but I think it is something to consider if you are considering game design. I end up feeling like this is something developers end up ignoring when they develop their games. For this particular rant, I’m going to focus mostly on video games, since by and large, they don’t have to involve other people, which makes the overall experience much different. So as I refer to gaming below, think mostly of video games, but I also think it still applies to all kinds of game design.

First of all, games are, by my definition at least, a form of art. This is at the core of a lot of my musings about gaming, and it supplies the main challenge in making something good. Sure, they have an extremely technical requirement in terms of making it, but it is still basically a form of art. I’m sure a lot of people who don’t get gaming would say “Oh its not art!”, but really the goal with a game is to achieve some sort of emotional response (IE Fun, joy, fear, etc) or possibly intellectual response (IE “Let me stop and think about this), and that is all I think any artist who is trying to achieve. In this particular case, I am defining an artist as anyone who creates some sort of creative work, and can include art, literature, music, movies, architecture, etc. Medium is not important in this context.

Now, I am also going to focus on the idea that a game designer wants to try to a) Share their game with anyone interested and b) make money. Now, there are many reasons to make art, and some of them don’t involve public exposure, for example, painting or drawing as a form of therapy. If that is the case, this discussion isn’t targeted at you. In completing your project, you have hopefully achieved what you wanted. So if you are designing and building a game for some personal reason with no real intention of exposing it to the public, then this does not apply to you. However, I presume most people who publish a video game are trying to achieve something else like making money, accolades of people, or just sharing something they think is fun. The first two may seem self-serving, but I don’t think it is wrong. You should get credit for the work you put into something.

Because it is a form of art, that makes creating something “Good” much, much more difficult. In engineering, you can pretty often easily define “good”. Your basic goal with a non-artistic product (say a refrigerator) is to make something that does what is expected (It keeps the inside cold at a fixed temperature), and mainly to do it for a profit. So, you can define your general goals pretty easily, and then test against them to know “Hey I did a good job” or “It does a bad job”. Things like “Does the temperature stay constant while it is running?” “Does it stay on?” and “Do the doors fall off if I open them too much?” are all things you can define and test against. This is a bit of an over-simplification, as the appearance of your fridge is quite important and subjective and also because it isn’t always easy to define what parameters are acceptable, or how to define the parameters, or how to test for them, but hopefully that doesn’t happen to you as an engineer, or if it does, that is why you are paid the big bucks.

Now, this long-winded explanation leads to why gaming is hard to design. At the core of almost any game is the idea that it should be “fun”. But it is extremely hard to define “Fun”. What is fun? As a baby, sucking on your toes could be considered fun, but most of you probably do not consider it fun now. Some people think hiking or running is fun, but I do not. So fun is different to different people, and different to the same person at different times. This means you have an impossible to define goal post when trying to design a game, at least from an engineering standpoint. I bring this up, because this is probably why you see major AAA game publishers publish substandard products, and sometimes why you see Kickstarter funded games take 3 extra years to develop (more on Kickstarter in future rants). For a software company, the company’s goal is to make money, and so to make a profit, they will need to sell enough copies of the game to cover the cost to develop it. Part of that cost basically boils down to time, since it costs money to pay employees, and the more time you take to develop a game, the more it costs the company, and the more copies they need to sell.

This is just an educated guess (I’m lazy, so I’m not going to do any research on this, but I’m sure it exists), but I expect many of the “Terrible flops” were actually the company defining some sort of timeline for the game’s development that ended up not working out. They either skimped on Quality Assurance (QA, also known as testing) and the game didn’t work right, or they skimped on development, and so the gameplay just wasn’t good. Sometimes, it is just a flawed design, and you figure that out too late, and you’ve already sunk a ton of money and time into the project and need to decide what to do about it. Do you go forward with a crappy design or do you go ahead and release a substandard product in hopes that you can make some of your money back? Most larger companies will choose the latter, because they need to stay in business. A handful do not, and they are interesting cases: Blizzard before they merged with Activision and Valve. Both were notorious for not releasing games quickly, and I think you can see the polish in the Diablo and Warcraft (But not World of Warcraft) series, as well as the Half-Life series. I made the possible mistake of playing Half-Life Alyx before any other VR game, and its beautifully defined controls have spoiled me as compared to other similar VR titles. However, I’m pretty sure they worked on that for ages before releasing it as perfect as they could. However, they have loads and loads of cash and can wait. Looking at Cyberpunk 2077, to me that looked like they ran out of testing time, and thus why it was such a buggy launch, despite the delays, and they were forced to launch. Finally, I expect the entire lack of tangible Diablo 4 news is because they think they are missing some major component to make it what they want it to be.

My overall point on all of this is that it can take time to develop something fun, especially something that can be as complex as a game. And on top of that, a game has technical challenges that other forms of art do not. Not only do you have to create a fun system, but you have to make it work, and do it in a visually and acoustically engaging way. So not only do you have to make the Art, sounds, story, gameplay, but you also have to make sure it all works right. There are some ‘shortcuts’ you can take, like using established game engines (Like the Unreal Engine or Unity) so you don’t have to invent from the ground up, but that both adds cost and a possibly restrictive framework to work in.

Now, you are probably asking why am I rambling about all of this? This goes back to what I was originally rambling about, which is why are you making a game. You are probably aiming for your game to be well received, and either make some money off it, or at the very least, get good reviews and encouragement. So my point is if you wish to be successful, please make sure your game is, at the core, fun. If, after you make it, you look back on it and think “I would never play this.” Or “I’d be bored with this after two minutes”, you probably didn’t do a good job. Most of this blog will probably revolve around this idea of what is (and isn’t) fun, so I hope you’ll keep reading it. If you take anything away from it, I think you should aim to make a game that is fun to the audience you want it to be fun for, but just remember that the more restrictive your audience, the less successful game you probably will have, and really to make sure your game is, in fact, fun.

#gaming #dev #development

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reliciron · 4 years

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Exploring Arcann’s Romance: Part 1

So Arcann’s romance, huh?

Kinda sucked, didn’t it?

So I’m going to throw down some ideas that might flesh it out a bit. Again, these are just some of my interpretations, and since I love thinking about his romance I would really like to hear other ideas because some of mine are getting stale from how often I’ve run through the scenarios in my head.

Strap in, it’s another long one.

Part 2 here

Like any in-game romance, there are as many different ways to introduce a romance as there are fans of that pairing. No two are going to be exactly the same, but I’ve found that fans seem to get more creative about a romance the less satisfactory the in-game scenes are. If there’s several scenes with good emotional weight that lead to a satisfying confession/kiss/sex scene then a fair number of fics will include the canon scenes in some form. I’m not saying that this is lazy fic writing, I’m saying that its a testament to how good the canon content is. If what we got is shit, then we’re more motivated to make our own; if it’s good, then then we can focus more on the unseen parts of the existing scene, like their internal dialogue, rather than creating a completely new one. Ex. Fenris from Dragon Age 2. All these years later, I still love his romance. I find the flirting and romance scenes satisfying and true to the characters. I’ve read a lot of Hawke/Fenris fanfics, and a large portion of those who addressed their getting together tend to follow the canon scenes closely. They’re not exact of course, often there’s enough of the author’s flavor to make the scenes feel new again, but I feel like this illustrates the trend.

On the other end of the spectrum are romances like Arcann’s. I understand of course, his romance is an afterthought in the game. An addition that came after the story was concluded and tacked on in a single companion alert that could easy be overlooked. Add that little scene variation before The Nathema Conspiracy flashpoint, and we’ve got two measly little scenes and one or two messages. Compare that to Theron Shan’s romance. Assuming you ran through the Prelude, Shadow of Revan, and Ziost, then you’ve been flirting with him for months if not years. (Quick note, I’ve only romanced Theron as an Imp-side character so I’m not sure how different it is Pub-side) We get to see him flustered by our interest in the Prelude. He subtly checks if we’re still interested when we first see him again on Rishi and acts more accepting of our flirtations. He’s even more confident on Yavin 4, going as far as expressing his worry and his own flirtations. We even get kisses! One on Rishi, one on Yavin. And he seems genuinely regretful that we have to part ways. We don’t get much on Ziost, which makes sense since things are happening so fast, but we get enough to know that he hasn’t forgotten us, and he still harbors interest.

In KotFE, we find that sweet, sad, nervous message waiting for us once we get to a mailbox, and once he enters the story we get plenty of opportunities for flirting, kisses, and soft emotional scenes straight through to the end of Nathema (assuming you didn’t kill him or break up).

Arcann’s content looks pretty pathetic in comparison, so it’s no surprise that the few people putting out fics for him have their work cut out for them.

The first major division we can make are: fics that assume Arcann fell for you after he joins the Alliance, and fics that assume his interest started much earlier, when he was still the villain. The second one is: fics who include the canon confession scene, and those who make their own.

Honestly, I think I speak for everyone in that the content for Arcann is so sparse that most readers don’t have a preference. Beggars can’t be choosers after all. But such categories can help us corral our ideas on his romance.

The companion alert itself is seems very heavily predisposed toward someone looking to romance him. He made you armor so you can always be protected for god’s sake! Even if you’re not looking to romance him, it still makes you think that he’s crushing on your character big time (which he actually admits in a message post-confession). Add those pre-romance messages to this scene and it makes it painfully awkward for anyone who doesn’t romance him.

But even then, the whole thing is extremely abrupt. The last we knew in the game, our character is at least on civil terms with him, but his speech is still very formal and his actions still scream nervous subservience. He still seems very unsure of his position in the Alliance, so he’s probably falling back on what he knows from his years serving Valkorian. Emphasis on serving.

I don’t think I need to tell you guys how bad that is; going into a relationship with the person you feel subservient to.

So it’s little wonder that most fics either put way more distance between the end of KotET and the confession or put more work into advancing Arcann’s headspace into a healthier place, often a little of both.

It’s important to me that I don’t fall into the trap of “love fixes everything” because I don’t personally like that kind of relationship.

Arcann’s so messed up that it would take years to get him in to a completely healthy state of mind, and most fics don’t have that sort of time, but we can at least try to get him into a more confident position before we dive into the romance.

Now, to the romance scenarios. Specifically, the ones where he started being interested in you after he joined the Alliance.

The fics I’ve read who do include the canon alert scene, tend to change it a little. It seems best to let it play out normally without picking the flirt option. That awkwardness can then be used in a more natural confession later on.

Either your character hadn’t even entertained the idea of romancing Arcann, or they had but assumed he wouldn’t return their feelings. Depending on how careful and emotionally insightful they might be, they could also worry that their interest would not be appropriate for the situation. They could worry that even if Arcann was interested he wouldn’t be ready for a relationship. At worst, if they’ve noticed his subservience, they could even worry that he wouldn’t refuse their interest out of some misguided need to appease them or because he feared for his position in the Alliance if he refused. After all, your character is the Commander and they are technically in a position of power over him. Do I think he would actually do that? No. But an overly anxious character, or one looking for any excuse not to confess, might worry about it.

Either way, Arcann gifting them armor, showing an almost desperate need to protect them, and his messages paint a pretty obvious interest. They could be too surprised or flustered to properly respond right then, but they could take the hint to start making moves on him. Whatever that means for your character, whether it’s blatant flirting looking to get a reaction out of him, or its more subtle, like little innocent touches and spending more time with him. The response is up to you.

I admit, I’m all about that pining, so I tend to assume that he has already come to the conclusion that he’s interested in your character and that there’s no way they could possibly like him back. So I figure that any flirting will be coming from your character. How long it takes for him to catch on depends on your character’s personality, what kind of flirting their doing, and how unusual it is for them to act that way.

For those who disregard the confession scene entirely, the sky’s the limit. I have a few ideas of my own but there aren’t really any guidelines here so long as you try to keep them in character (if that’s something you want to do, writing OOC characters is an option, just not one I enjoy). And if you DO need them to do something that would be out of character, then spend the time and do the work to get them to a point where it wouldn’t be. If you need Arcann to take control and push your character up against a wall you can’t go from an unsure regretful man to playful sexy man in 3.5 seconds, work on him to get him there. Throughout a reasonable amount of time and circumstances, boost his confidence, make him feel as if that action would be welcome to your character and not frightening. The actions that lead us there, however, are up to you.

As for Arcann’s falling-for-you process:

I think it was first rooted in respect and a little hero worship.

Assuming that he was honest when he said he didn’t feel anything but negative things for you pre-ritual, let’s consider what those might be.

At minimum you were an annoyance. Some little shit who didn’t have the sense to bow down, and kept foiling his plans. The longer you kept making yourself a nuisance the angrier you made him. You somehow managed to find the one ship who could stand up to the eternal fleet, effectively spitting in the face of his military might. You survived what should have been a fatal blow. You had the gall to come back to Zakuul while there was an active bounty on your head. You subverted his own subjects, showed his automated army was not immune to sabotage, stole the majority of his treasury, and came within striking distance of disabling the entire fleet. He went from being mildly amused and faintly irritated at the mention of you, letting you run around Zakuul with only an offhand warning to the people, to being so fixated that he willingly ignored that Scorpio had taken the throne just so he could attack you.

You were willful, persistent, cunning, and absolutely infuriating. A Robin Hood to his Prince John.

But now he’s on the other side. He’s part of your Merry Men. And those qualities take on another light.

With his rage pacified, his newly reemerged empathy has shown him the cost of his actions. Actions that Vaylin is now mirroring. Suddenly facing down the might of the eternal fleet with its legions of Skytroopers and Knights, the shear impossibility of the task finally hits home for him. This is what the Commander has been fighting for months. Through charisma and shear force of will, they’ve managed to convince people to band together against ridiculous odds, and through guerrilla tactics and their own considerable strength they’ve actually been able to hold their own.

If that doesn’t earn his respect nothing will.

And with their continued dogged attacks, even in the face of such adversity, I don’t know how he wouldn’t admire them.

But your character’s been through a lot by the time he joins up. They’ve been at this for months if not years, all the while toting around the ticking time bomb known as Valkorian. We don’t see it in-game, but they have to be exhausted. Mentally and physically. And now he’s in a position to see those cracks start to form. The shadows under their eyes grow darker, their movements more sluggish, and their patience thins. He watches the way their gaze goes distant or they track someone with their eyes when there’s nothing there, and knows that it’s his father haunting them. Every loss hits them harder and weighs heavier on their shoulders, and Arcann’s admiration for them grows alongside his fear.

Fear that they will break under the pressure.

But to his increasing surprise, that worry is less and less about what that would mean for the galaxy, or even the Alliance, and more what that would do to the Commander. He finds that he’s grown to actually like them. The perseverance that once enraged him now leaves him in awe. The tone he’d thought was mocking is now charming or soothing. The depths of their strength is no longer frightening, but inspiring.

There is a light in their eyes. And every day, every appearance from his father, every loss, causes it to dim a little more. And he’s become terrified that it will go out.

I agree that the scene in the throne room is the turning point for him. When admiration and fondness turned into romantic feelings.

“It was not until you defeated Valkorian and took the throne that I realized my feelings had evolved beyond admiration.” - In-game Message

Seeing his father taking control of the Commander must’ve been terrifying. I’m sure he felt it.

There must have been a surge of Valkorian’s power, and then the Commander’s presence all but disappeared.

Our character was so badly broken that they took on Valkorian’s image just to survive. [Brief side note: I loved those scenes where you have to reassemble yourself by stringing your memories together. But taking on Valkorian’s image never made sense to me. If I address this in a fanfic, I’d prefer being a formless glob of light, or maybe a walking collection of shattered glass.]

You were unconscious for so long and Arcann got so scared that we was willing to go in there after you. He even expresses his worry to Senya that he “wouldn’t be strong enough”. Whether he meant he wouldn’t be strong enough to resist falling to the dark side again, or he simply wasn’t powerful enough to defeat Valkorian is unclear, but the important thing is that he was willing to risk it for you.

I cannot emphasize this enough, he was so scared of losing you that he was willing to face down the man who abused him for decades.

And this close call made him realize how important you were to him and how deep his feelings for you actually ran.

Part 2 here

#swtor #arcann #arcann tirall #character analysis #arcann romance #kotfe #swtor kotfe #kotet #swtor kotet

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stressedspidergirlsfandomblog · 4 years

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(I highly recommend you read on ao3 for formatting reasons b/c tumblr is rude about italics and I’m lazy about going back and fixing it.)

Ivana wakes him by pushing herself away from his chest. He lets her, crestfallen. She’s too warm and she also needs to use the privy. She informs him she is going, pointing out the small outhouse, and he nods. As she walks off to do her business she brushes her fingers through his hair again, fascinated. Relief courses through him like poppy syrup, the heady feeling of knowing the girl hadn’t turned on him making him dizzy. At least, perhaps it’s relief. If he can bring himself to ask Jaskier, Jaskier will tell him.

He always does. He’s felt this before, many times, but he hadn’t realized it was an emotion.

He had thought those had been beaten out of him, almost quite literally, and then mutated away. Geralt feels a bit like this every time he wakes up and Jaskier is still there with him. When the bard stops off to spend some time with a comely woman, Geralt stays behind. Which means Geralt wakes up alone, wondering if the bard will come back.

Geralt himself usually tries to avoid seeking out women. He enjoys sex, but he hates going through the process to get it. Simpler in a brothel, but he finds he doesn’t much want to pay for it, either.

One of his first experiences with women had been in a brothel. He knew all about human anatomy and physiology but had no working concept of sex between men and women. There was no practical application at the keep, nor an explanation of the mechanics of it. None of the books around had any information, either. Humans mated for procreation, and for pleasure. Witchers could not procreate. Their mutations rendered them sterile.

The whore had been oddly kind to him. After one of his first contracts, he had found the nicest brothel he could reasonably afford without spending too much of his coin. He did not want to test the theory that witchers could not contract disease.

Geralt had not known what to do, and had admitted it, and she had not mocked him. She had taught him the very basics, and not been overly put off when he had remained silent throughout other than to ask a question or two. He didn’t know she’d thought him younger than he was. His inexperience had been sweet, and his concern of making her uncomfortable had also touched her.

His offer to keep his eyes closed so she wouldn’t have to see them had amused her. Clearly he had never seen a real live naked woman before her, and she knew it. She had encouraged him to touch and to seek pleasure. He had not been especially brave or daring. But he had certainly been gentle, afraid of hurting her. When he’d come, he’d gripped the sheets rather than her, knuckles white with the force of it; clearly afraid if he’d held onto her, that he would have bruised her.

While plenty of her group was happy to discuss their clientele and mock them after, she had never once mentioned him to anyone. He had been sweet, and curious, and had thanked her, of all the odd things. He had also told her she was beautiful, which she knew he was sincere about. Idiot pup hadn’t known any better. All the same, she had not added him to the list of first timers she mercilessly mocked afterwards with the other girls in the bordellos.

He watches Ivana make her way back to him and he lifts a brow when she holds up her hands to be picked up and carried. She’d lightly splashed her hands in the trough on the way back over and her frock and hands are wet. Bemused, he lifts her back into his arms and takes a breath before heading inside the farmhouse. He doesn’t knock. Yennefer had told him if he’d already been invited in, unless he thought he’d interrupt something he should just let himself in again. No one would think it was amiss. He wasn’t a student waiting outside of the office for permission, or a servant. If he’d been given free run of a place, he should just take it. Being awkward about it would make other people awkward in turn, and eventually he would find himself chased out again.

The girl is still sleepy, and rests her head against his chest, quietly playing with his medallion. He doesn’t mind the metal sound of the hasp over the chain, and she lightly runs her thumb over it, careful not to yank it on his neck much. He’s never known a human to be so gentle with him. Other than perhaps Jaskier. But that’s different. Jaskier is his friend. Most children are also much rougher, still learning motor skills. He sees her mother, Milena, wears a necklace. Perhaps she’d learned to be gentle after constant reminders.

“Oh, you can stop her,” the woman says looking up as Geralt walks in and he hunches. “If she’s not bothering you, she likes the feel of the metal under her fingers,” she lightly touches her fingertips to her own necklace and he feels pleased that his guess was right. “She used to fuss with it as a babe... though I suppose she still is a babe, at that,” she says, feeling silly. She brushes hair out of her face and watches as Jaskier continues to bundle herbs. “Ivana, can you tell the nice witcher about the herbs I have?”

“Yes,” she says sleepily around her thumb. She points them out, telling him their names. For all she mispronounces several, he never tries to correct her. He’d been a little older than her when he’d been left to wander the woods near the keep. He was better able to speak clearer, and as such had been taught to pronounce everything correctly. The fact she’s as small as she is with a memory that capable awes him. Then again, he muses, he has no real concept of how much she should or shouldn’t know at her age.

“I’m going to start lunch, Master bard. Do you mind continuing without me?”

“Not at all,” Jaskier smiles. He finds he loves how easy Geralt is, here. The witcher looks around the room curiously and freezes when he sees the world’s fattest tom cat lazing in a sun patch by the window. Cats hate witchers. Jaskier follows his glance and tries not to laugh. “That is quite the fat cat,” he crows, delighted. “Oh, look Geralt, I bet his belly drags the floor, his little legs are stubs!” He’s never been sure if Geralt is afraid of cats, or if there’s more at play there, but the witcher’s reluctance to be around them has amused him for years.

“Unfortunately for poor Tom, we now call him ‘Fatty.’ Between my boys and Ivana, they feed him so many scraps he won’t chase mice anymore. He’s the most worthless mouser now. Not much of a cat, honestly.” She has to cross the floor to get some garlic hanging by the window in a braid and nudges the cat with her toe. The animal doesn’t so much as twitch a whisker. “I keep thinking he’s dead,” she admits. “He knows if he just lays about someone will bring him food.”

“Come pat him,” Ivana tells Geralt, wriggling in his arms. He puts her down hurriedly rather than hurt her trying to hold on, or worse, drop her.

“No,” he says quietly, with a little shake of his head.

“Come pat him,” she insists, taking his hand and pulling.

Melina turns around, “Ivana!” she snaps. “He said no, when is it okay to ignore when someone says no?”

“When it’s about chores, and farm work, and eating your vegables,” she says.

“Is this any of those things?”

“No,” she digs her toe into the ground, clutching the front of her apron with both hands.

“Apologize.”

“I’m sorry.”

Geralt watches the interaction with trepidation, but nothing bad happens to Ivana. Her mother doesn’t spank her or scream at her. The girl isn’t even especially upset. If there had been a rule in the keep about that, and he had done what Ivana had, he wouldn’t have had time for a reminder. He would have had his hands on the wall and his britches down before he knew what happened. If he’d complained, or cried out, or shown any sign of pain the count would have started over until he could manage. At some point, you hurt so bad you couldn’t feel more, and so there was no way to truly fail. Eventually it stopped.

“He’s soft,” she tells Geralt as a means of explanation. He nods to show he’s understood her, but he doesn’t want to talk much in front of her mother. Or anyone else.

The bard watches Geralt under his eyelashes. He’d seen the other man tense and he knows that look of dull panic Geralt gets. “How’s about we pet the cat, and we can tell Geralt all about it. Then later, after he has heard about petting the cat, maybe he will change his mind and pet the cat too.” He glances up ruefully at his friend. “It sounds a bit like a euphemism, doesn’t it? I had no idea saying ‘pet the cat’ that many times in a row would make it sound strange.”

Geralt snorts to show he’s heard, and he glances at Melina. She smiles as she chops vegetables and crushes garlic under the blade of her knife. It’s a bit dull, he knows just from watching. He winces when it slips on a carrot and almost cuts her finger. He divides his attention between the bard, girl, cat and woman for a few seconds. When Ivana shows Jaskier how to pet the cat’s belly, because it’s too fat to bite them or scratch them for it, he decides he can safely focus on Melina.

“Blade’s dull,” he tells her quietly, not sure she’ll understand what he wants her to. But he can show her what he means. He pulls his belt pouch open and shows her a small whetstone. He’ll fix it for her. The words are theoretically simple, but she did not ask him to tell her. She did not ask him to fix it.

“I’d be grateful if you’d sharpen it,” she tells him, and passes it over handle first.

It’s nice that she knows not to hand it over blade first. Not many people do and he never likes the idea of someone thrusting anything at him blade before hilt. He sits at the table without permission and freezes, but she’s ignoring him, tearing up herbs to season their lunch. Carefully, he puts a new edge on the blade, surprised the quality of the metal is so high. This isn’t the most prosperous farm he’s seen, and she’d claimed they had little coin. But they clearly had some kind of life here. There’s signs of love and family all over.

He passes it back when he’s done, having checked it would cut easily by cutting through one of the frayed threads of his shirt with little pressure. “Sharp,” he cautions her.

“I’ll be mindful.” She looks over at her daughter. “Ivana, remember, stay away from Mama’s knives. What could happen?”

“Lose my fingers!” the girl tells her wiggling them and holding her hands up in the air.

“Do you want to lose your fingers?”

“No, Mama.”

“So, what do we leave alone?”

“Knives!”

Geralt follows the exchange with no understand of what’s happening. Why not just let the girl cut herself? She’d learn from that. He looks at her as she pats the cat’s white belly while it lays there like a slug. Those small little hands don’t need scars, or blood all over, and he wonders if he should have sharpened the knife. What if she disobeys?

He’s broken out of his reverie when he hears people coming. He stands up from the table. He was not invited to sit, but he isn’t sure what to do with himself either. Wha he does know is that he doesn’t want anything to do with the tom cat. Jaskier watches him and raises an eyebrow, and Geralt looks away. “People,” he tells Jaskier, realizing the eyebrow is a question and he is supposed to answer.

“Oh, good. That should be my boys, and my Roderick,” Melina smiles. “The boys will pester you. But unlike their sister, they’re old enough to know when you say you’ve had enough, you mean it. And I’m serious, Master Geralt. When you’re done letting them pester you, tell them to stop.”

He nods once, not sure what to do beyond that. He shifts his weight as subtly as possible, deeply uncomfortable.

“Ivana, show our guests where the dishes are, and help clear up the herbs for later.”

“Yes, Mama.” She can’t reach where things need to go, but she knows where they should be. Geralt hoists her onto his shoulders again, handing her bundles of herbs to hang on hooks so that the table is mostly cleared. Then, following her gestures and wiggles, he walks over to where the cups and plates are, taking them from her as she passes them to him one at a time. The forks and spoons are also easy to find, and he carefully sets the table. “You put the fork wrong,” she tells him indignantly.

“No,” he argues before he can stop himself. Yennefer had shown him. She’d even shown him there were books for proper noble ladies to learn this sort of thing from. She’d told him while it was honestly all stupid drivel, at least no one would accuse him of not knowing his ass from his hand. He’d know which fork to use for what, even if he’d never have to set a table in his life.

“Ivana,” Melina is exasperated. She looks over at how the witcher has set the table and can tell from how neatly he’s done it and how confused his eyes look that he’s probably learned somewhere far fancier than a farm.

Jaskier is shaking with mirth as he watches Geralt attempt to remove the child from his shoulders. She squeaks and squeals which makes him freeze, and to her it’s a great game but the poor witcher has no idea what’s happening. Eventually Jaskier takes pity on him, scooping her off his shoulders in a swinging motion that prompts cries of ‘again, again’ as the back door bangs open and Geralt just about flies out of his skin. Jaskier sets Ivana down and she runs to greet her brothers and papa. He puts a hand on the small of Geralt’s back. Loud noises don’t always mean something bad is happening.

Geralt seems to shrink down, becoming less. Jaskier hates when he does this, because he shouldn’t have to, but it does make him look less threatening.

“Roddy,” Melina smiles, kissing her husband happily as he pulls her into a tight hug.

“Mel, I tell you, Anders will be able to run the plow on his own, and then I’ll be able to take…” he trails off to see guests in their home. Geralt seems to shrink down further, and Jaskier gently propels him forward so that they can shake hands and be introduced properly. “I see you’ve got company.”

“A bard, and a witcher,” she smiles. “This is Jaskier, and Geralt.” She waits as her husband shakes the bard’s hand and then takes his hand in her own before he can reach for Geralt’s. “I’ve told them you’d set them on the course of the wyvern first thing tomorrow. Ivana ran off this morning and they brought her home. Jaskier has helped me bundle the herbs for market at the end of the week, and Master Geralt has been Ivana’s minder for the past few hours.”

Roderick relaxes and Geralt does, too. “I’ll be taking the boys. Anders, say hello, and then my younger son Petyr, Petyr say hello, then take your sister and go wash up.” The children go running off and Roderick grins a bit. “Ah youth.” He can’t be much past thirty, and Jaskier snorts at the joke. The man’s dark eyes and dark hair are reflected in his children, for all they got their mother’s olive skin. “I’ll be taking the boys up to one of the back fields. The wyvern was last seen around there, taking up some sheep, maybe a person or two. Hard to tell. Some people drink too much and drown in the river. Thought it was drowners some time back. Just stupidity.”

Geralt tips his head a bit in agreement. Half the time there are no monsters, just stupid people. Roderick steps around the table and almost trips over the cat. Swearing, his arm flails and Geralt steps in before he can think to stop himself, catching the other man under the forearm and bracing him before quickly letting go and retreating. Jaskier again puts an arm out, stopping Geralt from going too far back. He’s done nothing wrong. A glance confirms that the cat didn’t move. Perhaps it is dead.

No, it’s alive, he sees the small ribcage expand and deflate with air.

“Damn you’re fast,” Roderick breathes. “Thank you. I’d have hated to make such an ass of myself, having just met you.”

Jaskier glances at Geralt. “You’re welcome,” he translates.

Roderick looks at them askance, but after sharing a glance with his wife decides it doesn’t matter. If the witcher doesn’t want to talk he doesn’t have to. Perhaps whatever mutations he’d gone through stopped him from being able to. “Here, sit down with me, I’ll get us some water, unless you’d prefer something stronger? I think we have plenty of beer.”

The witcher allows Jaskier to press him in closer to the table until he’s forced to sit. “Geralt?” Jaskier presses. “I wouldn’t mind just water,” he says, glancing at Geralt again. He lightly rests his hand on the other man’s thigh. Too many people, too much stimulus, he can’t cope with a question about preference right now. The bard decides for him. “I think water will be fine for us both.” He hates having to do that, but he knows Geralt won’t answer. Can’t answer. He squeezes his leg gently.

Geralt carefully rests his clasped hands on the table, showing he is unarmed. He doesn’t move them and keeps his hands as loose as he can. He wants to squeeze them together and his knee bobs up and down frantically until Jaskier gently squeezes his leg again, patting it. The touch is so soothing that Geralt calms again. He should be outside, perhaps. Maybe it would be better if he waited in the barn with Roach. He can’t ask to leave, though, it would be rude and no one has asked him anything about where he would like to go.

Melina sets a trivet down on the center of the table before lifting the pot from the fire and setting it onto the trivet. She leans over to gently set a hand over Geralt’s on the table. Jaskier digs his fingertips into Geralt’s leg, willing him not to pull away. Don’t react badly , he prays.

Quite the accomplished mimic, Geralt simply turns his hand palm up, allowing her to squeeze his hand and squeezing back before she pulls away. The bard breathes a sigh of relief. He knows how much the witcher fears being touched.

Geralt had learned as a child not to touch others for comfort, or to allow touching in turn. Holding hands meant a beating. He’d forgotten what a hug was within days of beginning his training. No instructors picked them up to comfort them if they fell. They were told from the start, again, and again, witchers don’t feel. Witchers are not weak. Witchers hunt monsters or they die. You had to be strong to survive the training, and then you would go out and take contracts. You were there because no one wanted you. Geralt had protested, his mama had just lost him, she would find him. She’d told him she would find him, people bound by destiny would always find each other . He had bolted after that, knowing he would not like what happened to him for speaking up.

And he had not. His mother had not used a belt on him, for all he had received the occasion swat for misbehaving. This was nothing like that. The witcher had yanked his belt free of his trousers and folded Geralt over his knee within seconds. The boy hadn’t even had a chance to get ten paces before he was howling and squirming. ‘This doesn’t stop until you’re quiet,’ the voice had told him, and he had screamed himself hoarse because he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t master himself. Once his voice had given out, it had stopped. He had snuffled and sobbed and laid there in the dirt after when he’d been pushed away. ‘Get up or we start again.’

He had gotten up.

Another boy had risked everything that night to comfort him. He could not sleep on his back or side he hurt so bad. He couldn’t sleep at all. He wanted to leave so badly, and the pain did not help. Eskel had become his best and dearest friend. As much as they were able to be friends. Fortunately, the boys were so miserable as a whole they never took it out on each other. No groups formed; the bigger boys didn’t torment the smaller. They were all in the same miserable castle together, and the least they could do was not add to each other’s suffering.

Geralt flinches when the boys come back in, loud and bright and laughing. Jaskier again squeezes his leg and starts up the gentle stroking. The bard could have shifted the touch to the inside of his thigh and it wouldn’t have aroused him, it was unmistakably meant to be kind and nothing more.

“Manners,” Roderick protests, coming back with two pitchers of water in his hands, having just pumped it from the well. It’s safe to drink and sweet. He sets them on the table on either side of the food. “Boys, be quiet... or at least try,” he says in exasperation. “I promise, we didn’t raise them like this.”

“They’re young,” Jaskier smiles. “I was far worse at their age.” He snorts when Ivana crawls up next to Geralt on the bench and drags herself into his lap so she can peer over the table. He pulls his hand away in time to avoid startling her. Or her noticing and wanting to know why he was touching the witcher’s thigh. “Oh, let him eat by himself,” he scolds gently, hoping that one of her parents will take it as a cue to remove her. Geralt won’t be able to relax to eat until she’s out of his lap.

Melina scoops her up and deposits her in her father’s lap. They settle together and say a short prayer to Melitele before Roderick dishes out food to his children and himself. Melina offers their guests the ladle and Jaskier serves himself and glances at Geralt. He’d given himself about as much as Roderick had, not wanting to take too much, but also being hungry. The apples had slowed down his hunger pains but hadn’t quelled the ache entirely. He has a feeling Geralt feels the same. There’s plenty in the pot for seconds, if he’s wrong, and he serves Geralt without asking. It’ll save the witcher some kind of internal debate.

He’d seen Geralt drift off at the table moments before, his jaw clenching, and knows the stress of being around so many people for so long is getting to him.

“After lunch, do you mind if we find a place to sleep? Is there room in the barn?” he asks.

“The barn?” Melina asks. “Oh, no, we have an attic room. My mother used to sleep up there. She passed a year ago- not in the room. She was out in the fields when it happened. We keep the room clear of dust, and use it mostly for storage, but the bed is sound.”

“Well, how about that, Geralt?” Jaskier smiles brightly. “A nice meal, good company, and a bed. We’ve found the nicest family on the continent. And all you have to do is kill a measly wyvern.”

Geralt grunts in agreement, and leaves one hand on the table in view, and uses the other to scoop up his food with the fork. He’d waited to eat until he saw the others start. Yennefer had warned him about this, too.

Some places might wait for their guest to eat first, but usually you wait for the host. If they don’t start to eat, pick up your utensil and see if they do. If they copy you, you have to eat first. Don’t take extras unless they’re offered. I’ve yet to find a place where it isn’t rude to take more than you’ve been given. Wrong fork, this is seafood. Yennefer had actually sort of loved teaching Geralt some of the intricacies of table manners. Mostly because it gave her an excuse to eat all sorts of things just so she could show him how it was done.

His delight in trying new foods and experiencing things with her had made it fun. She’d also liked watching him fill out some, bones not standing out like his skin had been stretched too tight across them. Shellfish had been perhaps the most fun, watching him attempt not to break the little fork used to pry the meat from the shell. He’d been disgusted with how much effort it took for such little food.

‘You’re joking,’ he’d told her when she’d shown him crab. ‘That’s a bug.’ When she’d eaten it, cracking the shell with her hands, as was acceptable in coastal regions, he’d decided to try it. Lobster hadn’t made him pause at all, after the crab. Snails, he’d told her, were much better cooked than raw. That had made her shudder a bit, but she couldn’t argue with him. She’d never had them raw. He did not care for anything with tentacles, and she didn’t either, but it had been worth it to see him make a face.

In some ways, sharing those meals had reminded her that all the money and power she was amassing was actually worth something. It wasn’t just to have it. She’d wanted to live the life she’d deserved, and she’d gotten it and then had quite forgotten to enjoy any of it. She’d never forget his reaction to trying various desserts, and loved that he’d developed a fondness for rhubarb.

“Thank you,” he manages, forcing his frozen tongue to move in his mouth. Melina leans forward again, squeezing his hand on the table just like she had before. He turns his palm up again and squeezes back. That seems to be the appropriate response or she wouldn’t have done it again. Jaskier pours them both some water, and he drinks it, hand still under Melina’s on the table. Should he pull away? But she squeezes his fingers gently again. Some part of his brain registers she’s comforting him, she can sense his distress. The rest of him dismisses that, because he can’t feel, and therefore doesn’t feel distress. He decides that she is playing some kind of game that peasants of the region play, and since her husband is utterly unconcerned it must be nothing sexual or flirtatious.

Jaskier finishes eating, surprised that the children are relatively quiet. He watches as Roderick supervises Ivana eating from his plate, helping her use her spoon. The little family eats, chatters, and Jaskier answers their questions about gossip from the road. This king is doing this, trying to make an alliance here, all things Geralt couldn’t care less about. He’s more interested in the wyvern. He glances a few times at the pot of food still on the table and wonders if he’s allowed to have more.

The boys ask for seconds and their father helps them with it. They’ve been nonstop pushing and chatting and teasing each other and talking to Jaskier all while shooting curious glances at the witcher. They’re too well behaved to pester him, able to see that since the man isn’t talking they shouldn’t try and force him to.

“If you’re still hungry,” Roderick notices the witcher’s focus, “you’re welcome to more. We’ve had a good few years, and there’s plenty of food here to go ‘round. We take the cart weekly to sell the extra and what we can’t sell we give to the temple.”

Geralt tenses, but Melina squeezes his hand again and he gives into the urge to take seconds. “Thank you,” he says again, because it’s polite. He has no idea if there’s something else he should say, and he feels the bard pat his leg again. He’s fine.

“Fill your plate,” Jaskier urges him softly when he only takes a small scoop. “If you’re that hungry, take what you need,” the bard encourages him.

“Eat as much as you’d like, it’s no trouble.”

Geralt chews the inside of his cheek but does add more food. He’s not sure how much is enough, and he’s leery of taking more than he can eat.

Greed was not becoming of a witcher. Taking too much and not being able to finish meant food wasted. It could have been saved for later or fed to someone else. Waste not want not. You cleared your plate or you went hungry the next day. He had learned that his eyes were often bigger than his stomach and it was better to be vaguely hungry all the time than outright nauseous.

After clearing his plate, he’d felt horribly ill. He had learned he had overdone it when, after slipping off the comb, he’d puked. He’d also broken his arm. It had been set and splinted, and oddly enough he hadn’t been punished. He’d been allowed to spend two days in the infirmary where he’d mostly been left to his own devices. Able to read, and work on his studies without interference. He had missed his friends but had been grateful to avoid punishment of any kind for two days provided he did whatever the healer asked. If he didn’t finish all his food, nothing came of it.

Jaskier watches as Geralt eats carefully and has a feeling the witcher didn’t give himself enough. He winks lightly at his hosts and serves himself a little extra. He picks at it mostly, waiting until Geralt is done. “Here, I can’t finish,” he slides his plate over. “I wasn’t as hungry as I thought. It just smells so good, thank you both so much for your kindness.”

Geralt looks around and looks at Jaskier. He’s not so socially inept he doesn’t know what the bard is up to. But Jaskier wasn’t wrong, and he is still hungry.

When everyone is done, the children are set to work clearing the table. “I’ll show you to the room upstairs,” Melina offers. Jaskier nods.

“C’mon Geralt, you’ll need some extra sleep anyway, the gods know you’ll be up all night hunting, tomorrow.”

“Roach,” he protests hesitantly.

“Here, I’ll go check on her, you go get settled. Anything you need out of the saddlebags?”

“No,” Geralt tells him.

“After dinner, we’ll go out together and you can look her over, but you’re dead on your feet,” Jaskier tells him softly. “It’ll be alright if you sleep a little. She’s fine. You saw her in the barn safely, I’ll make sure she’s still there and has food and water.”

Geralt nods, able to accept the compromise. He offers Melina his arm and she smiles and gives him a little curtsy. He realizes it was a stupid thing to do when she leads him around a wall and up a small staircase to the attic room. She isn’t some fine noble lady, he had no reason to do that. At least she didn’t laugh at him or pull away.

The door shuts and he feels grateful. He'd rather have the ability to put up a barrier. He can hear the boys in the background, begging their father to have permission to go talk to the witcher. They’re firmly denied and told since they were quiet at lunch, they can talk to him after supper if he chooses to stay. If he wants to go back up and sleep however, they’ll let him be.

They reach the top and he looks around the cluttered room. She hadn’t lied, they have been using it for storage. It was relatively dust free, and the bed looked comfortable enough. He vaguely wonders if any of the things have been left here because they’re broken and no one has time to fix them, or if it’s just junk. Either way, it’s fitting he would be sleeping here.

“Did Jaskier tell you my pa was saved by a witcher? He never did get his name, though,” she smiles. “But he did tell us to be good to witchers we saw. You’d never know when you needed help and it would be better not to have them refuse it because of past sins.”

Geralt swallows and wants to ask her what the witcher looked like. He looks at her when she pats his arm before pulling hers free of his. It’s not to be unkind. She isn’t trying to get away from him, she just needs her arm back.

“There’s extra blankets here, if you need them. It’s been nice out, but cool at night.”

He nods to show he’s heard. He wets his lips to try and ask her but he can’t do it. Jaskier isn’t there to give him courage or smooth it over if he messes it up.

“Maybe you know him? The witcher? Maybe you’d met. I know it’s possible you haven’t. But the monster scarred his face,” she drags her fingertips across her own cheek.

“Brown hair?” he asks. “Red, he wore red,” Geralt offers her.

“I don’t know about his clothes, Papa never described that. He had a medallion like yours, with a wolf’s head. And brown hair cut shorter than yours.”

“Eskel,” Geralt tells her. He tries to do something with his face that will make it look like he’s smiling but all he manages to do is twitch the corners of his lips. He wants to offer her something back. “We grew up together,” he manages. He breathes in deeply, nostrils flaring as he looks at her. His eyes travel down to the hand she has resting on her belly, and he stares.

She smiles and presses a finger to her lips. “You can smell it?” she asks him quietly.

“Baby?” he asks her, fairly sure that’s what she smells like. There’s less human smell in the attic, he hadn’t been sure before. While he can still smell the family, and the farm, the flowers, and the food, it’s more removed. Less powerful. He lifts a hand and then drops it.

“Yes, a baby,” she smiles and holds out her hands for his. “If it’s a boy, my father had always wanted to name a son after the witcher who saved him, but he had only daughters. Now I know his name.” When Geralt gives her his hand, she lightly presses it to her stomach. “Nothing to feel yet. No one else knows. Sometimes, sometimes you lose them, I’m not sure it’s taken root properly yet.” She lets him pull away.

Geralt worries being around her, something horrible like him might make her lose the baby. Although if a wyvern disrupts their lives enough the stress might do that, too. “Girl?” he knows Jaskier would tell him to speak in full sentences.

“Then we’ll name her after Roddy’s mother. Eilidh. As much as I’d like to honor your friend, I would love another daughter,” she confides in him.

“I won’t tell,” he promises, his thoughts spiraling out of control. What if someone finds out he knew about the baby and didn’t tell? Of course, why would they? How could they?

Jaskier waits at the bottom of the steps blinking away tears. He hadn’t meant to listen in. He’d been worried about Geralt, but he hadn’t wanted to intrude. He hadn’t meant to hear about the babe, but his heart pounds and his eyes continue to water. He can almost imagine the scene above him. Finally, he knows he’s waited too long and scuffs his boots on the steps on purpose and heads up them, humming.

“Get some rest,” Melina admonishes them, and heads back down the stairs.

#wiedzmin #the witcher #geralt z rivii #geralt of rivia #jaskier #gerlion #geraskier #my fic #(also yenralt tbh)#yennefer of vengerberg

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imperiuswrecked · 4 years

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Thank you so much for the Namor content and allowing us to ask all kinds of Namor questions. If you don’t mind me asking: what’s his MBTI and what would you say are the key things to know about him personality wise if you were a stranger who just happened to cross paths with him & wanted to strike up a convo. at one of these restaurants/events he seems to like (at least I think he does) to frequent.

Hello! And you’re welcome! I’m always open to answering questions as best I can. I know I discussed this once with a mutual but it was a while back so I took a MBTI quiz again for Namor and it says Namor is a Logistician ISTJ-A. I have included the explanation of this under the cut and tried to cross out things that didn’t really fit with Namor’s character.

I think the key things to know about Namor’s personality is:

- He hates cowards and bullies. Basically people who abuse their power over others is also someone he would hate. Also he hates Nazis.

- He dislikes people who don’t respect him and get in his space or touch him without permission.

- His mood shifts a lot even in conversation, so be ready for these changes especially when he gets angry.

- He is compassionate even if he doesn’t show it all the time.

- His compliments are very roundabout unless he is trying to woo someone then he is all poetry and dramatics.

- He likes doing stuff and having fun, so he is very adventurous.

- He is loyal and protective of those he deems as “his” whether it be friends, lovers, or family.

Basically he’s a salty grumpy charred on the outside and a little gooey on the inside, undersea marshmellow.

If you were to cross paths with him in a public setting I think it would depend entirely on who the person is, if it’s a commoner person Namor might ignore them, if its a person of importance then he would acknowledge them. He is very slow to make friends so that won’t happen right away. Flattery and compliments are usually the best way to go because he does like having his ego stroked. Hope this helps!

Logistician ISTJ-A

The Logistician personality type is thought to be the most abundant, making up around 13% of the population. Their defining characteristics of integrity, practical logic and tireless dedication to duty make Logisticians a vital core to many families, as well as organizations that uphold traditions, rules and standards, such as law offices, regulatory bodies and military. People with the Logistician personality type enjoy taking responsibility for their actions, and take pride in the work they do – when working towards a goal, Logisticians hold back none of their time and energy completing each relevant task with accuracy and patience.

Logisticians don’t make many assumptions, preferring instead to analyze their surroundings, check their facts and arrive at practical courses of action. Logistician personalities are no-nonsense, and when they’ve made a decision, they will relay the facts necessary to achieve their goal, expecting others to grasp the situation immediately and take action. Logisticians have little tolerance for indecisiveness, but lose patience even more quickly if their chosen course is challenged with impractical theories, especially if they ignore key details – if challenges becomes time-consuming debates, Logisticians can become noticeably angry as deadlines tick nearer.

Associate With Those of Good Quality if You Esteem Your Reputation...

When Logisticians say they are going to get something done, they do it, meeting their obligations no matter the personal cost, and they are baffled by people who don’t hold their own word in the same respect. Combining laziness and dishonesty is the quickest way to get on Logisticians’ bad side. Consequently, people with the Logistician personality type often prefer to work alone, or at least have their authority clearly established by hierarchy, where they can set and achieve their goals without debate or worry over other’s reliability.

Logisticians have sharp, fact-based minds, and prefer autonomy and self-sufficiency to reliance on someone or something. Dependency on others is often seen by Logisticians as a weakness, and their passion for duty, dependability and impeccable personal integrity forbid falling into such a trap.

This sense of personal integrity is core to Logisticians, and goes beyond their own minds – Logistician personalities adhere to established rules and guidelines regardless of cost, reporting their own mistakes and telling the truth even when the consequences for doing so could be disastrous. To Logisticians, honesty is far more important than emotional considerations, and their blunt approach leaves others with the false impression that Logisticians are cold, or even robotic. People with this type may struggle to express emotion or affection outwardly, but the suggestion that they don’t feel, or worse have no personality at all, is deeply hurtful.

...For It Is Better to Be Alone Than in Bad Company

Logisticians’ dedication is an excellent quality, allowing them to accomplish much, but it is also a core weakness that less scrupulous individuals take advantage of. Logisticians seek stability and security, considering it their duty to maintain a smooth operation, and they may find that their coworkers and significant others shift their responsibilities onto them, knowing that they will always take up the slack. Logisticians tend to keep their opinions to themselves and let the facts do the talking, but it can be a long time before observable evidence tells the whole story.

Logisticians need to remember to take care of themselves – their stubborn dedication to stability and efficiency can compromise those goals in the long term as others lean ever-harder on them, creating an emotional strain that can go unexpressed for years, only finally coming out after it’s too late to fix. If they can find coworkers and spouses who genuinely appreciate and complement their qualities, who enjoy the brightness, clarity and dependability that they offer, Logisticians will find that their stabilizing role is a tremendously satisfying one, knowing that they are part of a system that works.

Strengths & Weaknesses

Logistician Strengths

Honest and Direct – Integrity is the heart of the Logistician personality type. Emotional manipulation, mind games and reassuring lies all run counter to Logisticians’ preference for managing the reality of the situations they encounter with plain and simple honesty.

Strong-willed and Dutiful – Logisticians embody that integrity in their actions too, working hard and staying focused on their goals. Patient and determined, people with the Logistician personality type meet their obligations, period.

Very Responsible – Logisticians’ word is a promise, and a promise means everything. Logisticians would rather run themselves into the ground with extra days and lost sleep than fail to deliver the results they said they would. Loyalty is a strong sentiment for Logistician personalities, and they fulfill their duties to the people and organizations they’ve committed themselves to.

Calm and Practical – None of their promises would mean much if Logisticians lost their tempers and broke down at every sign of hardship – they keep their feet on the ground and make clear, rational decisions. Peoples’ preferences are a factor to consider in this process, and Logisticians work to make the best use of individual qualities, but these decisions are made with effectiveness in mind more so than empathy. The same applies to criticisms, for others and themselves.

Create and Enforce Order – The primary goal of any Logistician is to be effective in what they’ve chosen to do, and they believe that this is accomplished best when everyone involved knows exactly what is going on and why. Unclear guidelines and people who break established rules undermine this effort, and are rarely tolerated by Logisticians. Structure and rules foster dependability; chaos creates unforeseen setbacks and missed deadlines.

Jacks-of-all-trades – Much like Analyst personality types, Logisticians are proud repositories of knowledge, though the emphasis is more on facts and statistics than concepts and underlying principles. This allows Logisticians to apply themselves to a variety of situations, picking up and applying new data and grasping the details of challenging situations as a matter of course.

Logistician Weaknesses

Stubborn – The facts are the facts, and Logisticians tend to resist any new idea that isn’t supported by them. This factual decision-making process also makes it difficult for people with the Logistician personality type to accept that they were wrong about something – but anyone can miss a detail, even them.

Insensitive – While not intentionally harsh, Logisticians often hurt more sensitive types’ feelings by the simple mantra that honesty is the best policy. Logistician personalities may take emotions into consideration, but really only so far as to determine the most effective way to say what needs to be said.

Always by the Book – Logisticians believe that things work best with clearly defined rules, but this makes them reluctant to bend those rules or try new things, even when the downside is minimal. Truly unstructured environments leave Logisticians all but paralyzed.

Judgmental – Opinions are opinions and facts are facts, and Logisticians are unlikely to respect people who disagree with those facts, or especially those who remain willfully ignorant of them.

Often Unreasonably Blame Themselves – All this can combine to make Logisticians believe they are the only ones who can see projects through reliably. As they load themselves with extra work and responsibilities, turning away good intentions and helpful ideas, Logisticians sooner or later hit a tipping point where they simply can’t deliver. Since they’ve heaped the responsibility on themselves, Logisticians then believe the responsibility for failure is theirs alone to bear.

Romantic Relationships

Logisticians are dependable through and through, and this trait is clearly expressed when it comes to their romantic relationships. Often representing the epitome of family values, people with the Logistician personality type are comfortable with, and often even encourage traditional household and gender roles, and look to a family structure guided by clear expectations and honesty. While their reserved nature often makes dating Logisticians challenging, they are truly dedicated partners, willing to devote tremendous thought and energy to ensure stable and mutually satisfying relationships.

Happiness and Moral Duty Are Inseparably Connected

Blind dates and random hookups are not Logisticians’ preferred methods for finding potential partners. The risk and unpredictability of these situations has Logisticians’ alarm bells ringing, and being dragged out for a night of dancing at the club just isn’t going to happen. Logistician personalities much prefer more responsible, conservative methods of dating, such as dinner with an interested coworker or, in their more adventurous moods, a setup organized through a mutual friend.

Logisticians approach relationships, as with most things, from a rational perspective, looking for compatibility and the mutual satisfaction of daily and long-term needs. This isn’t a process that Logisticians take lightly, and once commitments are established, they stick to their promises to the very end. Logisticians establish foundations, fulfill their responsibilities, and keep their relationships functional and stable.

As their relationships transitions into the long-term, Logisticians gladly see to the necessary daily tasks around the house, applying the same sense of duty to their home life that they do in the workplace.

While this may not translate into particularly exotic intimate lives, Logisticians are dependable lovers who want very much for their partners to remain satisfied. It takes patience on the part of more adventurous partners, but if different activities can be demonstrated as equally or more enjoyable than those already within Logisticians’ comfort zones, they are perfectly capable of trying something new.

However, emotional satisfaction can be another matter. While Logisticians are able to provide surprisingly good emotional support, this only happens when they realize that it’s necessary, and there’s the rub. Logisticians are not naturally receptive to others’ emotions, not unless they are stated clearly, and a partner usually only says “I’m angry” when it’s too late to address the initial grievance.

Let Your Heart Feel Their Afflictions, and Give Proportionally

People with the Logistician personality type can get so caught up in the belief in their correctness, in “winning” arguments they thought were about facts, that they don’t realize their partner may have viewed things from a perspective of consideration and sensitivity. Especially with more sensitive partners, this can be a huge challenge for the relationship. Ultimately though, Logisticians’ senses of responsibility and dedication set the tone, and they spare no effort in noting to this distinction moving forward, the consequences having been demonstrated as real.

While Logisticians’ staid approach may seem boring to some, there is an undeniable attractiveness to it, though felt perhaps more by respect and admiration than emotional passion. Logisticians’ shells hide a strong and quiet determination and reliability, rare among other personality types, which can benefit even the flightiest personalities, allowing them to stay connected to the real world while still exploring new territory. Partners who share the Observant (S) trait are the best fit for Logistician personalities, with one or two opposing traits to create balance and to expand Logisticians’ sometimes overly isolated world, such as partners with Extraverted (E) or Prospecting (P) traits.

Friendships

Logistician friends are not spontaneous. They are not talkative, or particularly playful in their affection. What Logistician friends are is loyal, trustworthy, honorable and dependable. Others may come and go with the ups and downs of life, but Logisticians stay by their friends’ sides no matter what, with a deepness of commitment that other types may not even believe is possible.

True Friendship Is a Plant of Slow Growth

Logisticians are a very methodical personality type, and this loyalty isn’t given away lightly. Often slow to make friends, Logisticians usually end up with a smaller circle, but they consider that circle to represent a promise to be there for the people they care about, and Logisticians’ promises are not easily broken.

Expressing emotional affection isn’t one of Logisticians’ stronger skills, but they nevertheless find ways to show it. As Socrates said, “To be is to do”, and Logisticians’ follow-through, their willingness to take action as a show of support, stands in for their words.

These actions convey a sensitivity that many fail to see, but it is a quality that Logisticians’ friends come to admire and depend on in the long years of their friendships.

But all of this sounds terribly serious, and indeed it only shows the one side of Logisticians and their approach to their friendships. The other side knows how to stop being quite so staid, and especially in the company of joyful and talkative Extraverts (E), Logisticians enjoy relaxing and having fun with a good discussion about work, life, and current events.

People with the Logistician personality type don’t like conflict, and this applies to how they select their friends as well. Seeking out friends with similar principles and opinions, Logisticians most often befriend other Sentinels personalities, who are likely to share their perspective and world vision. While they are unlikely to become friends with substantially different types – it simply takes too much energy to bridge the communication gap – Logistician personalities still recognize and appreciate others’ strengths and qualities.

Knowledge Is the Surest Basis of Happiness

In fact, as if to prove the point, Logisticians almost always have at least one Intuitive (N) friend in their inner circle, despite the disconnect the two perspectives bring. These are very much relationships built not on mutual understanding, but out of respect for their mutual differences. Logisticians marvel at Intuitives’ breadth of thought, being very much in tune with their own intelligence, while Intuitives admire Logisticians’ realism and dependability, something they are often hard-pressed to find in themselves. Knowledge, as always, is the great equalizer.

Parenthood

As parents, people with the Logistician personality type are often the most comfortable. Their sense of responsibility and honor blends well with a tradition that has been in place since time immemorial: to raise one’s children to be respected, contributing members of home and society. As with most commitments, Logisticians do not take their roles as parents lightly, and will make it their work to ensure that this tradition is upheld to the highest standard.

This doesn’t always come easily for their children though, as Logisticians tend to be strict, with high standards and expectations. Logistician personalities establish stable, clearly structured environments for their children, always with an eye on helping them to develop a sense of place in society, and to fulfill useful roles.

A clear sense of hierarchy is a part of developing this identity, and Logisticians work just as much to ensure an appropriate respect for authority as they do with family and societal structure.

All this loyalty, devotion and structure are of little use though when Logisticians’ children need the warmth of emotional support. While Logisticians can be sensitive towards those they care about in their own way, it’s hard for younger children and especially adolescents to recognize this tough love for the love that it is. Often Logisticians need to rely on a more sensitive partner to fill this role and mediate between rational purpose and the more ethereal sense of emotional well-being.

Success Is Owed to Our Parents’ Moral and Intellectual Teachings

People with the Logistician personality type are strongly principled, valuing patience and hard work, qualities children often struggle with. Nevertheless, Logisticians’ children are expected to meet these standards and share these values, for their own good. This approach often bears its fruit in the long run, but Logisticians must keep in mind that their approach creates natural barriers and distance that often leave their children wondering if they’re on the same team.

Taken too far, or with mutual stubbornness, this may even set in as a permanent state in the relationship, something both Logistician parents and their children ultimately regret. It is best for Logisticians to embrace and hold to their own values, but to also recognize that each person has their own goals, and to meet their children halfway in attaining theirs. Combining their natural devotion and purpose with this flexibility in support of their children’s own vision leads to a sense of mutual respect and accomplishment that any Logistician parent would be proud of.

#namor #namor mckenzie #namor the sub-mariner #marvel comics #long post #thanks for asking!#Anonymous

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hoodoo12 · 5 years

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Beetlejuice is my man ❤️. Honestly, him showing up and interrupting a bad date, and the fem reader leaving with the Beej would be great. Only if you want to of course. Ps, love your fics. ❤️

Thank you for this fun idea! I had a blast writing it and hope you enjoy it. SFW, Beetlejuice/f!reader, mild swearing. Stand alone story, although a second (nsfw) could be added . . . 😉. If anyone is interested in something like that, let me know!

Bad Date

You fiddled with your fork. The droning--the god awful, incessent droning--from the other side of the small table never ceased. The man sitting there, the man who you agreed to go out on this date with, hadn’t stopped talking about himself. The. Entire. Time.

It wasn’t as though he had interesting or fun stories either. He had opinions on everything, no matter the subject, and considered himself an expert on everything too. He worked at a car dealership, for the love of god, and although he bragged about how much money he made and the fancy vehicles he drove, you had a suspicion he was more on the level of a lot attendant instead of a top salesman.

Why did you ever swipe right on his photo?

You slipped your phone into your lap and discreetly checked the time. You’d been at this restaurant for thirty minutes, and although the waiter had taken your orders, you’d only gotten drinks and a basket of bread so far. This was insufferable. How were you going to last through salad and an entree with this guy? You didn’t even want to think about coffee and dessert.

While he continued to prattle on about the border wall or car tires or whatever, your mind drifted.

Beetlejuice had not been happy you’d gone out tonight. He’d expected another lazy evening in, but it wasn’t like the two of you were exclusive or anything! Who knew how many people the ghost had on the side? It wasn’t like you could keep track of him. And whenever you dared try to mention the word ‘boyfriend’ or ‘partner’ or anything of the sort, he stammered and turned a more sickly shade of pale, and found excuses to change the subject. That, or he just left, no matter what the two of you happened to be doing at the moment. Sometimes, for fun, you teased him about it, just to make him squirm.

Tonight you’d give anything for it to be real. Then you’d never be in this mess.

You wondered if typing his name into a text message would summon him.

No harm in trying . . .

With a quick glance up at the guy across the table flapping his lips--oh god, he saw you looking and thought you were encouraging him!--you quickly dropped your gaze to your phone again. Because Beetlejuice wasn’t listed in your phone, you pulled up a cousin’s contact page as a proxy.

Quickly you tapped out, “Betelguese, Betelguese, Betelguese,” into a new text message.

You hit send. You could explain to your cousin later.

Nothing happened. You gave it a few more minutes while the yammering from your date continued, and still nothing happened.

You decided to try again, with a phonetic spelling this time.

“Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!”

You crossed your fingers this time that he’d appear.

Nothing.

Your date continued to be oblivious to the fact you were completely ignoring him.

Nothing.

Then a tiny ‘ping!’ from your phone!

“What the hell? Is this some kind of safe word?” your cousin texted back.

With a wry smile, you thought your cousin had no idea how the answer to her question was the truth. You also hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath until you got some kind of response. You let it out in disappointment that it wasn’t Beetlejuice, but used it as an excuse to leave the table.

“I’m sorry, I have to take this,” you blurted, interrupting your date and getting out of your chair before he could respond. You darted away from the table towards the restrooms.

In the restroom, you ignored your phone and stared into the mirror. Someone else was in one of the stalls, but you disregarded that too; you just wanted help!

Watching your lips form the words, you muttered, “Betelguese, Betelguese, Beteguese.”

You closed your eyes at the last syllable. When you opened them, he was standing right behind you, his mouth curled into a snarl and his eyes dark under furrowed brows.

You spun on your heel to him.

Before you could tell him that you needed rescuing, he spit,

“What the hell do you want?”

Startled, you couldn’t answer. Typically he was pleased to hear his name--

“I thought we weren’t seeing each other tonight,” he continued in an angry growl. “You had your date, and I was supposed to sit around, twiddling my thumbs, watching reruns of the shit they show on TV in the Netherworld--it’s all garbage like Manimal and My Mother the Car, nothing even entertaining like the Jerry Springer Show--”

“Beej, you’ve got to help me!” you interrupted. “You’ve got to get me out of this date!”

At least he had the decency to stop talking when you said something, unlike the guy still sitting at the table.

Beetlejuice fixed you with an undeniable “I-told-you-so” expression, but it didn’t soften his anger. “Nope. You got yourself into this, you get yourself out of it.”

That was not the answer that you had expected. Beetlejuice was usually ecstatic to rain chaos down on the living. He usually jumped at the opportunity to harass people. And now, at all times, he’d decided to, to . . . make you pay for one measley mistake?

Tears welled in your eyes. Deep down, you knew you deserved it.

You grabbed a tissue from the box on the counter and dabbed your eyes. Okay. He wouldn’t help? Then you’d sit through the rest of this horrible date, pray to god the guy didn’t get handsy or expect anything physical in return for paying, and then you’d take a long hot shower when you got home to try and wash away the memory of this disastrous night.

“Okay, Beej,” you told him quietly. Because tears began forming again, you couldn’t see the expression on his face. You imagined it was triumph. “I’m . . . I’m sorry about tonight.”

With the apology, you reached for his hand, gave it a quick squeeze, and left the restroom. As the door began swinging closed behind you, you heard an old woman’s voice from the stall exclaim, “I heard a man’s voice! There better not be a man in this ladies room, or I’m speaking to the management--”

The door closed completely, and you never heard a retort from Beetlejuice.

⁂

You made your way back to your table. Your date was there, looking annoyed he’d lost his audience. You sat down again, murmured a quiet lie that your cousin’s dog was sick and she was giving you an update, and your date launched into a diatribe about how veterinarian medicine was a money-grabbing scam.

You went back to fiddling with your fork, feeling miserable. Once or twice you tried to at least look interested in whatever nonsense erupted out of the mouth of the guy sitting opposite of you, but it wasn’t a facade you could maintain.

Luckily, a waiter bumped into your table. It broke your date’s soliloquy, thankfully. Salad plates were dropped in front of the two of you. Your date looked annoyed, but you were just happy to have something else to focus on. You thanked the waiter without looking up.

To keep yourself occupied, you tried to remember and list all the ingredients in a Ceasar salad while you stabbed some with your fork. Now your date was talking about some other fancier restaurant he’d gone to, with grilled romaine lettuce for the salad, and croutons made daily with their own milled flour for the bread, and wild-caught yeast, and, and, and--

Mechanically you chewed. Nothing had flavor.

“--it was nothing like this! These are obviously store-bought croutons!” your date was saying, because he’d suddenly become a celebrity chef along with a veterinarian and car dealer. “Subpar ingredients! I’d hope that they are saving money so the steak I ordered will be higher quality, but I know that won’t be true--what the hell is this?”

You couldn’t even fake enough interest to lift your head.

“What the actual hell?” he exclaimed, then more loudly, he snapped his fingers and called for the waiter. “Hey. Hey! Waiter! Get over here!”

You stabbed another bit of lettuce. As you raised it to your mouth, the waiter got to your table. “Yes sir? Would you like some freshly cracked black pepper on your salad?”

The waiter’s voice was soft with a bit of a scratch that made it sound like he may have the beginnings of a sore throat. You didn’t look up at him, but from the corner of your eye saw that his trousers were faded black with uneven pinstriping. Wasn’t the rest of the staff in solid black clothing?

“No!” your date admonished rudely. “There is something in my salad and I want to know what it is!”

Curious beside yourself, you looked over the table.

Your date was red-faced and angry, pointing at his plate. You didn’t see anything in it. When he tapped it with his fork, however, some of the lettuce moved on its own.

The waiter reached into the salad with dirty-looking fingernails. In slow motion, everything happened at once: you looked up his arm to Beetlejuice’s face, a decidedly evil grin began to widen his lips, and he plucked a tiny, four inch, black and white sandworm out of your date’s salad to hold it up in front of him.

Time snapped back into proper speed as your date gasped.

Still holding the wriggling, hissing sandworm, Beetlejuice grabbed a chair from another table, swung it around so he could straddle it backwards, and plopped himself down between the two of you. He didn’t say a word to you.

He held the angry sandworm in front of your date’s face.

“This, Matt,” he said, putting an obvious tone of dislike on your date’s name. He grabbed your date by the shoulder to keep him seated, then continued like this was a nature show and he was presenting a fascinating creature. “This is a baby sandworm. Look at the little fellow! See his little stripes and blue lips? That’s because he’s poisonous. He’s warning predators off! But, interesting fact, he’s also venomous. Those teeny tiny fangs’ll inject you with venom and paralyze you so you don’t struggle as he’s swallowing you! Look how mad he is!”

Beetlejuice shoved the sandworm closer to Matt’s face, making him flinch back.

“Oh, he’s so mad you can see his secondary mouth! Usually those don’t appear until they’re older!”

The sandworm writhed and continued to hiss wildly.

“Now. Matt. Listen,” Beetlejuice continued like this was a perfectly normal conversation, even though you could see Matt wanted to bolt. The ghost’s grip was white-knuckled tight on him. “This little guy, yeah. He’d mess you up some. Make you sick if you ate him, or if he got shoved into some bodily orifice. But he probably wouldn’t kill you.”

You imagined you almost saw a look of relief pass over Matt’s face.

“His mother though . . .” Beetlejuice mused thoughtfully. “Sandworms are really protective of their young. This baby gets inside you and his mama is going to come looking for you, and she’s gonna be fifty solid feet long of pissed off.”

The expression of horror on Matt’s face made a small smile crack your lips. Beetlejuice grinned too.

“So Matt, what do you say? You wanna apologize to the lady for being a total d-bag and wasting her evening with your non-stop drivel and an ego that is, to be honest, even impressing me a little bit with its size? Or would you like to see how quickly little Sandy here can wriggle his way into your brain or stomach? He’d fit in an ear, I bet, and if not, definitely down your throat--”

Matt managed to wrench himself away from the grip holding him in his seat. He stood up so fast his chair tipped over as he backed away. That caught the attention of the other patrons, but your date didn’t care. He stumbled through some creative, cussing descriptions of you, Beetlejuice, and the whole situation, his voice growing louder as he continued.

Restaurant staff began converging on the table. You were mortified but felt a little surge of warmth that Beetlejuice hadn’t abandoned you. Beetlejuice’s expression was a mixture of amused and bored. Matt’s voice rose until the ghost stood up abruptly and grabbed him again.

“Apologize,” he ordered, “and don’t even think of contacting her again.”

Being held with the still hissing sandworm dangerously close to his face, Matt choked out an apology to you. Beetlejuice released him, dusted Matt’s jacket off, and gave him a slight shove.

By then the restaurant’s manager had arrived. Matt, since he wasn’t restrained any longer, continued to swear, trying to describe what just happened to him, talking about the sandworm and being accosted and this establishment going to be shut down--

--he was escorted from the premises.

Before anyone could turn their attention to you and the ghost poorly imitating one of their wait staff, you and Beetlejuice hurried out the door as well.

Outside, you threw your arms around his neck. “Thank you! You don’t know how much it means to me that you did that!”

Beetlejuice pursed his lips like he was a little disgusted with himself for coming to your rescue, but the quick kiss you planted on him erased the expression.

“Are sandworms really protective of their young?” you asked. “Is one really going to come looking for that baby?”

“Hell no!” he scoffed. The tiny sandworm he still pinched between his fingers had calmed down a little. That, or it was tired from all the activity. “They give birth and then its every one of them for themselves! If the babies don’t bury themselves quick enough, the mother eats them! Nasty little buggers.”

“Ugh,” you agreed. “Well, get rid of it, then. And I owe you big time.”

At that, Beetlejuice looked you straight in the eye and leered. “I’m going to keep you to your word on that, baby.”

He offered you an arm, so you hooked your hand through his elbow, and the two of you left for home.

fin . . .?

#beetlejuice #betelguese #fanfiction #writing #sfw #request #sandworm info

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