#but he’s a tad problematic on top of the reasons I don’t watch him

[nexahexagon]

On a Sneegsnag binge watch rn.

[amoretheiwa]

Closet Conversation

Tim and Kon have had a thing going for a little while now--a friends-with-benefits kind of things. But Tim isn't sure he can't keep up the pretense of only friendly feelings towards Kon. So things start to come out... That's basically it.

Read on AO3

Read on Tumblr below the cut

Tim found himself hating Kon just a little bit when the Kryptonian finally pulled completely away and didn’t seem even nearly as out of breath as he was. Sweat made Tim’s face damp and he willed his arm not to swipe at his forehead, chest still heaving.

Kon grinned at him—teeth blindingly white and lips still swollen—as he began to reach for his costume pieces.

“I think I have a new favorite room here,” he said with a wink.

Tim pushed down the emotions—and arousal—that evoked and rolled his eyes.

“If every place we did anything like this in ended up as your favorite room, half the Tower would be your favorite.”

Kon raised and wagged his eyebrows.

“Exactly.”

Tim scoffed and turned around, searching for the discarded pieces of his uniform. In the midst of their little…tryst, the oddest things ended up in the oddest places. His boots were in opposite corners and his cape was stuck over the door handle.

“One of these days someone is going to need something in one of these closets and they’re going to find way more than they expected.”

Kon snorted.

“So what? Good for them.”

Tim tensed for a split second before going back to getting dressed. Their friends with benefits arrangement was mutually beneficial. Kon got out his insane amounts of pent-up sexual tension, Tim got stress relief and the added bonus of close proximity to his current crush/best friend. If he could even still call it a crush after the past few years.

Maybe it was the Bat-training, maybe it was his attempt at keeping feelings out of the whole thing, whatever the reason, Tim was finished getting dressed even as Kon was still looking for his top. Tim allowed himself to watch as his friend floated up to the top of a cabinet. His butt looked good at this angle. Tim felt his cheeks flush and turned around, crossing his arms. Robin tradition or not, he mused bitterly on the stories he had heard from Dick, messing around in random rooms in Titans Tower does not seem smart or safe.

“That was dumb,” he muttered under his breath, closing his eyes.

“What was?” Came Kon’s voice most definitely too loud and too close.

Tim whirled and glared at his…friend.

“This,” he gestured at them both, at the room. “This whole thing was and every time we have done it and probably every time we will do it. It’s a dumb thing with dumb perks.”

Kon furrowed his brows, blue eyes glinting.

“What’s dumb about it?”

Tim scoffed.

“Everything. It’s firstly unsanitary,” Kon outright laughed. Tim pursed his lips. “Secondly, it could end causing problems between teammates.”

Kon tilted his head.

“How so? Unless you don’t like my skills,” here the half-Kryptonian wiggled his  hips, “I don’t see any reason to stop.”

Tim felt his heart jump and his blood roil. Ignoring the fact that Kon could hear all the ways his body was betraying him if he was even bothering to pay attention, Tim continued. He turned around again, crossing his arms.

“Say you and Cassie get back together, or you meet someone else. It just would be problematic!”

Kon shrugged and pulled his shirt on. He went to tuck it in as Tim spoke again.

“That was dumb.”

“I know. I heard you the first three times.”

“Crazy dumb. Crazy, stupid sticking fingers into light sockets kind of dumb.”

Tim glared at the wall, not saying anything else. Before he knew what was happening, Kon was pinning him against the wall just as he had been before, only this time both his hands were above his head and Kon wasn’t touching him anywhere else.

“What’s so dumb about this, Tim?” He asked in a low, sultry voice. It wasn’t exactly the same as his sex voice, a little more serious and less out-of-breath, but still far from his hero's voice.

“Is there something that bothers you about this Tim, or is it something about me?”

Tim swallowed, his throat suddenly extremely dry. Even though they had just spent quite a bit of time in there, certain parts of his body were telling him they were more than willing and ready to go another round, maybe even two, with Kon.

“This isn’t a personal commentary on either of us, Superboy.”

Kon leaned in closer to Tim but still didn’t touch him anywhere else. The familiar tingling of his TTK wound its way up from his ankles to rest low on his hips, pushing him further into the wall. He attempted to swallow again.

“Isn’t it though? You don’t have any problems with Bart and Jaime, or Steph and Cass.”

Tim tensed and a good portion of his arousal went away.

“Because they’re all in a public, committed relationship. Any of the potential fall-outs are at least partially anticipated.”

Kon pulled back some.

“Really, Tim? You’re going to go full-on Bats on me like this?”

Tim resented the fact that even Kon called him out on his more Bruce-like qualities—it wasn’t like Jason and Dick weren’t enough. He grit his teeth and tried to pull his wrists free from Kon’s hands. The clone didn’t fight him but didn’t let him just slip away, either.

“This has nothing to do with being a Bat, and even if it did that wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing.”

Kon floated back some, giving Tim some more space without really freeing him.

“No, you’re right,” Kon put a hand through his hair, “this has nothing to with being a Bat. This has everything to do with you and your repressed emotions. It might make you fit in with the rest of your crime-fighting clan but you didn’t inherit it from them.”

Tim contemplated slapping Kon right then and there. The only thing that stopped him was knowing that being the one to initiate physical contact would mean Kon had won in some sick twisted way.

“I’m no detective but I think there’s something else that makes you see this as dumb,” Kon said softly, almost gently.

Tim flinched and closed his eyes. He was by far not prepared for this change in tone. Fighting, he could do—it’s all he and Kon had ever done before they became friends. But emotions, pity? Hell no.

The silence in the closet was deafening, and if his heartbeat was even half as loud to Kon as it was to him he knew there was no point in hiding. They stood there for what felt like hours before he opened his eyes. Behind his mask, he felt a sense of anonymity rarely afforded to Timothy Drake-Wayne. But in front of Kon? Kon-el, Conner Kent, the clone of Superman himself and containing Lex Luthor’s DNA, was not stupid. Even if he liked to be underestimated as such. He knew it was a lost cause that he was going to have to either come up with a really good lie (even by his standards) or tell the truth, as heart-wrenching as it would end up being.

Tim was just about to open his mouth and say—he didn’t know what, but something—when their communicators went off.

“All Titans, come in. We’re needed ASAP!”

Kon pulled all the way back this time and sighed.

“We’ll finish this conversation later.”

Tim didn’t follow Kon out immediately, instead letting his head fall back against the wall.

If I have any say in the matter we won’t.

Tim had almost forgotten about the uncomfortable conversation that happened after his and Kon’s most recent…meeting. Almost. And God did he hate that he couldn’t bring himself to just calling it what it was—sex, ­unattached and as platonic as it can get sex. Fucking, banging if he wanted to be crude, but it wasn’t much more. No making love for Tim Drake. No, he is much too busy and sleep deprived as it is, let alone emotionally repressed as others had so kindly put it.

He would have completely forgotten about the fact that his best friend (are they even still best friends at this point? What were they supposed to be?) still wanted to talk if it wasn’t for said friend. Tim had hit the showers—finally—after their quick mission. A gangbanger that had gotten too big for his britches decided to dabble in Venom and wrecked a few city blocks by the time they were able to stop him.

While he pulled on some civvies, Tim winced. It was far from the worst battle he had ever been in (hello Ra’s al Ghul, Damian) but bruised ribs were bruised ribs. ­­­­A knock on his door had him tensing. His schedule did not allow him to spend much more time at Titans Tower. After all, he had business back in Gotham of both the suit-and-tie kind and the crime-fighting kind.

“Come in,” he called out. Whichever Titan it was hopefully wouldn’t take up too much of his time.

He heard his door open but knew immediately it wasn’t Bart or Cassie; both of them would have instantly been chattering about something or other. Tim knew in his gut it was Kon before he turned around.

“Do you need something?” He asked, voice cold in a manner he didn’t frequently use on friends and family, just barely keeping himself from crossing his arms.

Kon made sure the door was shut before walking over to Tim’s desk and sitting in his seat. The clone leaned back a tad, just enough that his t-shirt rode up his jeans some. Tim was suddenly very grateful for Kon’s fashion taste and the fact the high-waisted jeans covered skin that otherwise would have been visible and very distracting.

“Yeah, I do, but not right now. This is more of a…a prelude to talking about what you and I need.”

Tim made the split-second decision to not sit down but did finally give in and cross his arms.

“Fine. I don’t have much time so spit it out.”

He hoped that the minute shaking he could feel wasn’t noticeable, but who was Tim kidding? Even with half of Superman’s genes, this was still a superpowered Kryptonian. He leaned against his dresser, the distance exactly enough to not be awkwardly far away but not so close as to make the conversation too intimate, too personal.

Kon eyed Tim. It wasn’t a sensual checking out or aggressive sizing up, just a drawn out and unsubtle observation. Tim began to fidget, a tell and a nervous habit Dick and Bruce had yet to fully train out of him.

“Well?” He finally prompted, undeniably impatient.

Kon leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and hands clasped together.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you brought up earlier, man, and I want you to know that I wasn’t just being a jerk for no reason.”

Tim snorted.

“Like you’ve ever needed a reason to be a jerk.” Kon snapped his head up and glared at Tim.

Tim raised his hands in surrender, genuinely regretting the words.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. Continue.”

Kon pursed his lips for a beat before doing just that.

“Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I still stand by what I said earlier even if some of the…personal digs weren’t relevant. It’s a Bats thing to stay emotionally unattached and I’m not like that. I hate it, I actually really hate it. So even though we’ve got this friends-with-benefits thing going on you’re still one of my closest friends. Besides,” he leaned back again, grinning now, a glint in his eyes and the beginnings of a smirk around his mouth, “it’s not liked we don’t keep each other happy.”

Tim swallowed. His heart was racing but he also felt kind of faint. Instinctively the oblivious side of him wondered if he had maybe been poisoned but he knew instantly that that wasn’t the case.

“So you’re saying that you want to keep this up, nothing changing, even though I think it’s dumb?”

Kon groaned and closed his eyes, rubbing his hands over his face.

“I don’t know man. Ideally, there’d be more than just amazing sex in random rooms but since that’s all you’re gonna give that’s all I’m gonna take.”

“Fine b—wait, wait what?” Tim’s voice squeaked in a way it hadn’t in a few years. Kon’s eyebrows furrowed and his cheeks flushed slightly.

“Do you like me?”

Kon looked miffed at having been interrupted but shrugged.

“Yeah, man, I guess. We are friends after all.” Tim stood up and shook his head.

“No, no, you don’t understand. Do you like like-like me? Like, physically and emotionally attracted to me? As in don’t want to just fuck?”

Kon rolled his eyes.

“Well duh. Why do you think I broke it off with Cassie? I straight up seduced you dude, I just realized pretty quickly you weren’t into me on the same level. It’s cool though.”

“Why did you think I’m not into you? I thought it was obvious and you were just humoring me while getting all the benefits.”

Kon raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth to speak but froze. He dropped his head back and started laughing.

“What’s so funny about this?” Tim said, speaking louder so that he could be heard over Kon’s laughter. Emotions were racing through him like a heard of horses but the most prominent one had rapidly become confusion.

“It’s, it’s just that this whole time I, I tho-thought,” Kon wheezed, “thought that you. I don’t know, I just didn’t think you were interested that way.”

Tim felt his jaw metaphorically drop.

“Are you kidding me? We could have been dating this whole time?”

Tim ran his fingers through his hair and gripped it, pacing. Kon stood up and smiled. He walked up to Tim who had begun muttering at light speed, and gently stopped him, holding his shoulders.

“Tim, hey, Rob,” he said softly.

Tim looked up at him and sighed. He bit his bottom lip, and Kon’s eyes flashed down toward his lips.

“Let’s let go of this whole mess and just start over, okay?”

Tim nodded vigorously. Kon grinned and leaned in, kissing him softly. When he pulled back, Tim seemed to be a little in shock.

“So, Robin, Tim Drake-Wayne, would you like to go on a date with me tonight?”

Tim pulled back a little and stared Kon down.

“As much as I want to say yes, I’m way too busy tonight. How about tomorrow? I can make time for a few hours if you can.”

Kon grinned and kissed Tim again, lingering this time.

“I can always make time for you, babe.”

“Babe?”

“Well, yeah, if we’re boyfriends then I reserve the right to call you babe.”

Tim couldn’t deny that he wasn’t getting flustered and flustered quickly.

“Alright, Kon,” Tim grinned, “it’s a date.”

[365days365movies]

February 2, 2021: Pretty Woman (Review)

Before I jump right into this review, I would like to say something about this movie: it’s timeless, while not aging super well for a couple of reasons. Those reasons make this film a tad problematic, and they are as follows, at least according to me:

Prostitution: Look, in NO WAY can I claim to be an expert, or very knowledgeable on culture in the world of sex workers, duh. But, given changing opinions in this during the past three decades since this film came out, this is bound to seem a little dated. Still, some credit for Edward not being...terribly condescending to her throughout this movie. Again, this is just something I’m noting. If anyone with more expertise knows more about how sex workers feel about this film, hit me up; I’m quite curious.

Edward: Speaking of Edward, though, I know that his character came off at the time as similar to Gordon Gekko from Wall Street (can’t confirm, never seen it), and stereotypical businessman characters (and actual people) from the time, and that he was probably considered quite suave and cool at that time. And don’t get me wrong, Edward is...fine...but living in 2021, and in the current political climate in America...dude comes off like a STRAIGHT sociopath throughout this movie. Yeah, no, less Prince Charming, more Prince Harming. I saw somebody describe him as a romantic Patrick Bateman, and GODDAMN does that resonate. That Zodiac Killer joke from the Recap? That was only slightly kidding, real talk.

I’m sure there are more (especially in terms of gender politics and sexism, but I AM NOT QUALIFIED ENOUGH FOR THAT), but these are the ones that came to me during the watching of the film. Anyway, shall we continue? Because I really DID like this movie, despite some problems with it. Let’s get the Review started!

Review

Cast and Acting: 9/10

Edward might be a sociopath, but I don’t lame Richard Gere for that at all. He works through the character to create some legit emotional development for him, and I appreciate it quite a bit. But he’s not the draw here. First, let’s talk about the supporting cast here. Yes, really.  Héctor Elizondo, a Garry Marshall regular, IS A GOD in this movie. I love Barney so much, you have no idea. Laura San Giacomo is a quirky best friend, and I love her. Ralph Bellamy plays a very sweet man in David Morse (even if I disagree with his business). And finally, Jason Alexnder’s Phil Stuckey is IMPRESSIVELY slimy, if a little much at times. Still, he made a good villain in a film that didn’t necessarily need one.

But you all know. You know who takes the entire show here, I know you do. That 9 up there? Sure, the supporting cast carries about 2 of those points, and Gere has one...but JULIA FRIGGIN’ ROBERTS, ACTRESS QUEEN OF ROMANCIA is the star and glue of this movie! She’s perfect, she’s charming, she’s quirky, and she’s absolutely fantastic. Holy shit, I understand solely from this movie, why Julia Roberts became as much of a star as she is.

Plot and Writing: 8/10

Roger Ebert called this a good take on the Pygmalion and Cinderella formulas, both of which the movie heartily acknowledges. And, uh...yeah, it’s a legitimately good take on those formulae, while still being its own unique film, and it’s getting credit for that! It’s interesting to me that J.F. Lawton is the writer, because he...he didn’t do any great things after this one. Under Siege, maybe. Blankman, maybe. I haven’t seen either, so I can’t comment. However, he also wrote Cannibal Women in the Avocado Jungle of Death. Um. What. Pardon me. Wut. Anyway, plot’s good, character development is apparent through the writing and story, and the only real problem I have is that the time scale is literally a week. And it’s a fairy tale, yeah, and the cheesy nature of some of it definitely shows that. So, not perfect, but still good and unique!

Directing and Cinematography: 7/10

Garry Marshall, former advisor of the land of Romancia...yeah, you did alright. Nothing over-the-top amazing, but not bad by any means. It’s good, but it’s an average kind of good. Same goes for Charles Minsky’s cinematography, which is quite good, but never really breathtaking to me. Good, just not necessarily a cinematic masterpiece.

Production and Art Design: 8/10

The dichotomy between Vivian’s street world and Edward’s high-society world is very well visually portrayed, I gotta say. Most of that isn’t exactly iconically distinctive, but it’s still good. I say MOST of it because, well...Julia Roberts, man. The outfits she’s given in this movie are insanely iconic, even to this day, and they really pick up during the second half of the film. The polo dress, the Rodeo drive dress, the GODDAMN RED OPERA DRESS! It’s all gorgeous, and I genuinely love it all. But one wardrobe does not a movie make. Hence, it’s not perfect, but it’s still up there.

Music and Editing: 7/10

How goes it, James Newton Howard? This won’t be the last time I see you this year, I’m sure. And your score here is great! ANd I don’t remember it...at all! Literally, all of that music is drowned out for me by Roy Orbison’s “Pretty Woman.” By the way, DID NOT REALIZE that that wasn’t Elvis Presley, nor did my girlfriend. You learn something every day. But anyway, here’s the deal: this film is Dirty Dancing in reverse, in terms of music. And slightly worse than that. A lot of pop songs are peppered throughout this movie, and they’re all famous and good...but they aren’t really tied to this movie much, outside of “Pretty Woman.” But they’re mostly fitting with the times presented in the movie, unlike some of Dirty Dancing’s soundtrack. Not as iconic, but better fitting with the atmosphere. There you have it.

I mean, yeah, a LOT, even. At least 78% approval from me!

Pretty Woman is a cheesy yet heartfelt fairy tale of a movie, and it’s sweet all throughout. Problematic or not, I understand how this film but a crown on the heads of the King and Queen of Romancia. ALL HAIL KING GERE AND QUEEN ROBERTS!

But wait...on the horizon. A rival, and far larger nation, is arming its people, led by a fearsome warrior Queen, and one of her most faithful Kings. The Holy Romance Empire is on the march, and it wants blood. Until then...they will get no sleep.

February 3, 2021: Sleepless in Seattle (1993)

[mikauzoran]

Lady Noir/Marichat/ Adrienette/Adrichat: Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses: Kiss Forty-Nine

Read it on AO3: Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses: ...out of necessity.

“Let’s get this over with quickly,” Ladybug grumbled as she landed beside Chat Noir on the upper gallery overlooking Le Grand Paris’s ballroom where a young man who had been in attendance at the New Year’s Eve party had been akumatized because he was upset that he didn’t have anyone to kiss at midnight and was now terrorizing the other guests, shooting them with beams that, when they hit their target, made them partner up and kiss.

“Someone’s in a crumby mood,” Chat chuckled teasingly, raising an eyebrow at his partner. “What’s up?”

“This akuma attack is interrupting a hot date,” she hissed, scanning the supervillain for clues, trying to ascertain a weakness. The wand with a heart at the tip was an obvious candidate for the akuma’s object.

“Tell me about it,” Chat sighed.

Up until the screams had started, he had been enjoying a lovely evening of flirting with Adrien and Marinette and admiring his girlfriend’s latest design in action. Marinette looked like a movie star in her red evening gown with its halter-style top and myriad straps crisscrossing over her otherwise bare back. The slit up the side was just enough to show off her toned legs while still keeping within the bounds of modesty.

“Are you and your…uh…partners doing anything for New Year’s Eve?” Ladybug inquired politely, if not a tad awkwardly.

Chat nodded. “We were actually at this party, so I’m kind of worried.”

“Marinette and Adrien will be okay,” Ladybug replied encouragingly. “They’re more than capable of taking care of themselves.”

“That’s not really the problem,” Chat muttered ruefully. “They have a bit of a thing about playing hero and getting themselves in trouble.”

Ladybug winced. “Oh. Yeah. I guess that would be problematic. Well, let’s get this taken care of before your people have a chance to do anything altruistic.”

“Sounds good to me,” Chat agreed. “What’s the plan?”

“Lucky Charm!” she called out and got a sprig of mistletoe for her trouble.

She pursed her lips, brow furrowing as she inspected the object intently. “What the heck, Tikki?”

“Maybe if we get closer, you’ll see something you can use it with?” he suggested, not sounding all that sure.

She shrugged, willing to give it a try in the absence of other viable options. “We’ll have to be stealthy, though. Those beams he shoots are kind of wide, so I think they’d be a little challenging to dodge. Best to fly under his radar.”

With a nod of accord, they hopped over the side of the railing when Matchmaker’s back was turned, landing softly before scurrying to hide behind one of the pillars holding up the upstairs gallery.

Ladybug sighed in frustration as she surveyed the open area between them and the akuma. If they attempted a charge, they’d be defenseless with nowhere to take cover.

She could send Chat in first as a decoy and let him possibly take a hit while she snuck up on Matchmaker and grabbed the wand, but…the thought of potentially sacrificing him made her feel sick to her stomach.

“How are we going to get close enough without getting hit?” she muttered to herself, desperately searching for something to use with the mistletoe she’d gotten as her Lucky Charm.

Chat’s eyes fell on the mistletoe, and he came up with a stupid idea that just might work. “What if he thinks we’ve already been hit?”

Her brow knit in confusion as her lips parted to ask what he meant.

“He’d have no reason to hit us again if he thought we’d already been hit,” he clarified excitedly. “Maybe we could trick him into letting his guard down by making him think that we’re defenseless.”

She blinked, eyes still narrowed, not getting it. “How are we going to do that?”

“Trust me,” he entreated, taking her hand and tugging her out into the open.

“Chat Noir!” she hissed, eyes wide in panic.

“Keep your eyes open and keep my body between you and him,” he instructed before crushing his lips to hers.

She gave a jolt, startled and confused for a moment before the familiar feeling of his mouth gently moving against hers gradually calmed her down. Slowly, she began to kiss back.

“Ha!” Matchmaker crowed when he spotted them nearly a minute later. “Even Ladybug and Chat Noir have succumbed to my power! Now everyone will have someone to kiss at midnight and no one will ever have to feel lonely or inadequate ever again!”

Chat had positioned them with his back to the akuma so that even as they kissed, Ladybug had a line of vision on Matchmaker.

She watched as the telltale magenta butterfly outline glowed around Matchmaker’s eyes as Papillon gave instructions to his minion—instructions that Matchmaker seemed not to like.

“But I haven’t found a partner for everyone yet, and midnight is only an hour away!” the akuma whined indignantly.

The butterfly outline pulsed as Papillon retorted.

It occurred to Ladybug that now might be a good time to sneak up on Matchmaker while he was distracted, but the way Chat Noir was teasing her bottom lip between his teeth was very preoccupying.

“Fine,” Matchmaker snorted, his attention returning to the snogging superheroes. “I’ll take their Miraculouses now while they’re defenseless, but you’re not getting them until I make sure that everyone has someone to kiss.”

Matchmaker advanced, and it took a little effort for Ladybug to pry her attention away from Chat’s wickedly delightful mouth. She eventually succeeded, but it was a true test of her willpower.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Matchmaker sighed, “but I need to take your jewelry before Papillon takes away my powers. You can go back to making out once I have your Miraculouses.”

As soon as Matchmaker was within range, Ladybug pulled back, and Chat ducked out of the way so she’d have a clear shot at his wand with her yoyo.

In the blink of an eye, she was snapping the wand in half, purifying the akuma, and tossing her Lucky Charm in the air to activate the magical ladybird swarm.

She turned to her partner for their customary fist bump only to find him blushing and sheepishly rubbing at the back of his neck, avoiding her eyes.

“Sorry,” he muttered, feeling her gaze on him hot like tongues of fire. “I shouldn’t have kissed you like that without your permission, even if it was to defeat an akuma. I wasn’t thinking, and I’m sorry, Ladybug.”

“Hey,” she called softly, reaching out to rest a supportive hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. It was a good idea, and it worked, so… Don’t worry, Chat Noir. I’ve kissed you before in an akuma emergency, so it’s not like it’s something I wasn’t willing to do. It would have been nice if you’d warned me first, but it’s fine. Seriously. We’re good.”

He tentatively looked up at her then, a hopeful smile waiting in the corners of his lips to come out. “Yeah?”

She nodded, assuring, “Of course. …Um…I mean…so long as you feel like we’re good.” Her face started to burn as she remembered how she’d practically attacked him with her enthusiasm. “I’m sorry I kind of got a little carried away with the kissing,” she chuckled awkwardly, trying not to make things weird. “I know you’re one hundred percent faithful to your partners, so I didn’t get the wrong idea or anything. I hope I didn’t give you the wrong idea. I probably shouldn’t have been so…uh…into it.”

She looked away, unable to meet his gaze any longer as she internally died of embarrassment. She wanted to melt into a puddle and seep into the floor in order to escape this mortifying situation.

“No worries, Buguinette.” Chat gave her shoulder a reassuring pat. “We’re good so long as we both understand that tonight was a one-time deal and don’t let it get in the way of our friendship.”

He held up his fist, offering it to her. “Bien joué?”

Slowly, she looked up, taking in his patient smile.

Suddenly, the embarrassment left her, and she knew she hadn’t ruined their partnership.

“Bien joué,” she confirmed, smiling wide as she tapped her fist against his.

Her earrings gave a telltale beep, bringing them both back into awareness of their surroundings.

“Well. Looks like I need to jet before I turn back into a pumpkin,” she chuckled, fighting a grimace at the fact that her Miraculous still ran on a five-minute timer after all this time. “Have a nice rest of your evening with Marinette and Adrien. Tell them I say hi.”

“Will do.” He grinned as he gave her a salute. “Good luck with your hot date.”

 About fifteen minutes later (after giving Plagg and Trixx a quick break to recharge), Adrien and Chat Noir found Marinette leaning on the gallery’s railing, gazing down at the crowd milling on the dancefloor below.

“There you are,” Adrien sighed in relief, running over to his girlfriend and pulling her into a tight hug.

“We were worried, Princess,” Chat informed, letting the doppelgänger have a minute before he cut in to take a turn hugging Marinette. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she replied tiredly, slumping into his hold. “I found a hiding spot and stayed put until it was all over, so nothing to report on my end. Are you two okay?”

Adrien and Chat both nodded.

“I hid out in the coat check with a guy who was convinced he was the next Jagged Stone,” Adrien invented of his own volition, further cementing Chat’s hypothesis that in creating the Adrien doppelgänger he had accidentally tapped into some dark, eldritch power which allowed a wondering soul trapped on the earthly plane to inhabit the Mirage whenever Chat summoned him into being.

Because there were times when the Mirage did and said things that Chat definitely hadn’t instructed or intended, and sometimes he got the feeling like there was a real person in there and not just a projection of his own consciousness.

…At least he seemed to be a friendly, benign wondering soul with a sharp sense of humor. He just said some bizarre things from time to time, but Chat couldn’t fault him for that.

“Was he the next Jagged Stone?” Marinette giggled, already guessing the answer.

“He most certainly was not,” Adrien laughed. “But he was really funny, so it made for an interesting akuma attack experience.”

And then Adrien turned to Chat Noir, eying him knowingly. “How was your akuma attack experience, Nyan-chan?”

Chat mentally recanted the “benign” part. This was definitely an evil spirit he was dealing with.

“Interesting,” Chat allowed, trying to play it off as totally not a big deal. “I ended up kissing Ladybug.”

Adrien gasped, pretending to be scandalized. “You what?!”

Marinette’s eyes widened, surprised that Chat Noir was so forthcoming about it.

Adrien turned to Marinette, feigning hurt. “Are you hearing this? He’s finally leaving us for a superhero.”

“I’m not leaving you, Bishi,” Chat sighed, shaking his head at the double’s theatrics.

Was he always like this when he was Adrien? Marinette didn’t seem to think that Adrien was acting out of character.

“So you’re just cheating on us, then?” Adrien snorted.

“Adrien, it wasn’t a big deal,” Chat coaxed in an attempt to calm his other self down. “It wasn’t even a real kiss. It was a fake-out make-out.”

Marinette quirked an eyebrow. “A what?”

Chat and Adrien stared at her for a beat and then turned to one another to share a meaningful look.

“We’ll make her watch Danny Phantom later,” Adrien decreed, and Chat nodded resolutely in agreement.

“For her own good,” Chat added solemnly.

“Because we’re good boyfriends,” Adrien assured. “Except for some of us who apparently make out with Ladybug?”

“It was a rouse,” Chat explained, rolling his eyes. “The akuma was making everyone kiss, and the attacks would have been really hard to evade. I kissed her because I thought it would make the akuma lower his guard because he would think he already got us. It worked, and now you two are safe and fewer civilians got forced into making out with people against their will. I’m sorry, but it was a good plan.”

“Minou, it’s okay,” Marinette assured, stepping in and resting a hand on his shoulder. She turned to look at Adrien. “It’s okay.”

Slowly, Adrien began to nod. “I guess…if it was an akum kiss, it doesn’t count.”

Marinette nodded, turning back to Chat Noir. “It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. Good job keeping Paris safe.”

Chat’s expression softened as a small smile slowly spread across his lips. “Thanks. …But you know I chose you, right?”

Her eyes widened in surprise.

“I chose you, Marinette, because with or without a Miraculous, you’re a true hero and the bravest, most amazing person I know. Never doubt that I’d choose you again and again, given the chance.” His voice lowered as he confessed, “I want to keep choosing you every day for the rest of my life.”

There had been a few minutes earlier as she leaned against the railing and waited for him to find her again after the akuma battle when she had reflected on the kiss between Chat Noir and Ladybug and wondered about his feelings for her.

He’d really been kissing Ladybug just like he kissed Marinette, and she’d wondered what that meant, so hearing his earnest reassurances that she was the one he wanted to spend his life with cleared away her doubts.

She surged forward, catching his lips in a quick kiss, pulling away before anyone could see.

“I believe you,” she assured. “…And I like the sound of a future where we both keep picking one another every day.”

“Yeah?” he chuckled, unable to contain a wide grin.

She nodded, beaming back at him. “Yeah…. Would you want to head back to the bakery? I kind of feel up for snuggling…and maybe watching Danny Phantom?”

She looked back and forth between Chat and Adrien.

“Sounds good,” Chat confirmed easily.

“I’m in,” Adrien agreed, “but, earlier, Chat Noir said that he thought you were amazing with our without a Miraculous. When did Marinette have a Miraculous?”

“I wish I had pictures of Multimouse,” Chat sighed, giving Adrien’s hair a playful tussle. “You would love her. Two words: twin buns.”

Adrien’s jaw dropped, and he whipped his head around to gape at Marinette. “Could you maybe wear your hair like that just for fun sometime?”

Marinette arched an eyebrow, an amused smirk twisting up the corners of her lips. “You have a thing for twin buns?”

Adrien looked away, blushing as he gave a nonchalant shrug and quickly changed the subject, “So, now that two-thirds of our members have kissed Ladybug, I guess we need to update the rules of our polycule to include that we each get one freebie kiss with Ladybug?”

Marinette gave a surprised snort of laughter, taken aback. “No thanks. As the only one who hasn’t kissed or gotten kissed by Ladybug, I don’t think it’s necessary to update the rules for my sake. I’m good.”

“Really?” Chat waggled his eyebrows. “Don’t you want to kiss Ladybug, Marinette?”

“Nope,” she chuckled.

“You’re not even a little tempted?” Adrien teased.

She shook her head, rolling her eyes fondly. “No, I am seriously good. My boys are enough for me.”

“Aww,” Chat cooed.

“That’s sweet,” Adrien completed.

“Come on,” Marinette giggle-snorted. “Let’s head back to my place so we can all three kiss away from prying eyes at midnight. We’ve only got about thirty minutes.”

“She drives a hard bargain,” Chat snickered, turning to lead the way.

Adrien, as Marinette’s official date, held out his arm to her with a smile. “Shall we?”

She nodded. “Let’s.”

[tiaragqueen]

Dubious Honor

✂ Pairing: Yandere! Jeon Jeongguk x Princess! Reader

✂ Word Count: 2k+

✂ Trigger Warning: Possessiveness, mentions of death

✂ The story is fictional and for amusement only. I don't believe any of the members would do this in real life. As always, thank you for reading and I hope you have a good day!

Do not re-upload my writing to another website or use it without my permission.

[Edited]

***

If you like my writing, please support me on ko-fi!

“I’m growing madder by the day. It doesn’t matter, anyway. Over dramatic and insane, but you look at me so differently. Oh, me specifically.” - Problematic [Get Scared]

         To be engaged with a stranger or an acquaintance was common in the royal family. It might sound restricting because that meant you would be married to someone you barely knew, but the life of royalty had always been predestined since birth. Clearly, it wasn’t all wealth and elegant garments like most people thought. They had an image; a reputation to uphold. One blemish was all it took for everything to go downhill, and for them to lose their honors.

          Jungkook was the second and the last son of the Jeon siblings. However, just because he wouldn't be the next king, doesn’t mean he had more freedom than his brother. He was still a prince after all - had an area that he needed to look after as his responsibility - and a prince needed his partner as well. Jung Hyun, his brother, was already betrothed with a princess from the Gwangju Kingdom. Thus, with Jungkook's 19th birthday drawing near, his parents decided to drop a bombshell on him.

          “Darling,” Queen Jeon spoke up once her younger son had seated in front of them.

          The butler had approached him after his meeting with the officials, asking for his assistance in the great hall as requested by the king. Jungkook was confused but obeyed nonetheless in case it was important.

          “Your father and I have discussed regarding your future partner. We know that you’ve received a lot of marriage proposals from other kingdoms. Thus, we elected Princess [Name] from the Daegu Kingdom as your consort.”

          She paused, taking in Jungkook's silence before her husband continued. “We shall visit them tomorrow after breakfast.”

          Jungkook remained quiet. He supposed he should be angry that they had decided such an important thing without his knowledge – for God's sake, they wanted him to marry a woman he had never met! – but Jungkook felt... content. Content because that meant he shouldn’t have to undergo the laborious process of wooing and courting. That, and because Jungkook was too shy with the opposite sex. So with this engagement, he just needed to proceed without having to worry about who he would marry later.

          “This engagement will strengthen our relationship with the Daegu Kingdom. I hope you understand, Jungkook.” Queen Jeon said softly, fearing that her son might lash out to them. Not that he would, though. Jungkook had always been an obedient child, and a tad naïve too.

          He nodded dutifully, much to their satisfaction. “Of course, I understand.” he murmured.

          “I’m glad, son.” King Jeon reached out to pat him on the shoulder, smiling proudly for Jungkook's compliance despite the guilt that gnawed on his chest.

          Every parent wants their child to be happy, and this arranged marriage was less than ideal. Yet how he could object, when he had been ordered to marry Queen Jeon either? Sure, they had eventually 'grown' to love each other - to make the best of it because they didn't need to trouble their families - but to marry someone that you loved would better.

          “But I should forewarn you that Princess [Name] can be a little... aloof. So I hope you don’t take her attitude too personally.” King Jeon said, his expression turning a bit serious.

          Jungkook shook his head. “I won’t, don’t worry.”

          ‘A little’ was an understatement. You were as distant as your oldest brother, Yoongi, if not more. Taehyung, the middle child, was friendlier and slightly eccentric. Although he did retain a somewhat aloof aura like the other two. Jungkook noted it was a trait that ran in the family, despite the fact that their parents had made the efforts to be more welcoming.

          Even though Jungkook had been informed by King Jeon regarding your demeanor, he couldn’t help the sadness that prickled his chest by your lack of enthusiasm over their arrival. Other than a curtsy, you didn't bother to start a conversation with him. Jungkook might be shy, but he still wanted you to be comfortable around him. How would he know about your true feelings concerning this betrothal if you refused to talk?

          The answer came very soon – fortunately for him and unfortunately to you – when your mother asked you to bring him to the garden for a ‘chat’. You complied without a second thought, leading him to a huge backyard. Flowers and plants of various sizes, types, and colors bloomed magnificently under the warm sunlight. Dare he said it was bigger than his own garden back at home.

          “You have a gorgeous place,” he murmured as an icebreaker. His chest squeezed painfully when he picked up the sound of your quiet scoff.

          “I don’t like you,” you said bluntly, face emotionless and lips stretched into a thin line.

          Jungkook's eyes looked like they were about to pop off from their sockets; the abruptness of your response completely threw him off guard.

          “The only reason why I agree with this engagement is that I don’t want to have unnecessary problems with your kingdom. Because, obviously, a peaceful relation is more important than a loveless marriage. I don’t even know you.”

          You sneered, oblivious to the tears that stung his eyes when you said those acrid words. Did you really hate him that much even though you claimed that you didn’t know him? Wasn’t it a bit unfair though? You hadn’t given him a chance to show more of his personality yet. How could you suddenly decide that you despised him?

          “Why...?” he whispered, afraid that if he raised his voice any higher he would accidentally break down. He wasn’t a weak man, but even he wasn’t insensitive to pain. Just because men are often taught to be tough, doesn’t mean they don’t possess feelings. Just like women aren't always sensitive and a crybaby.

          “Isn’t it obvious?” you huffed as if his question wasn’t worth answering. “I don’t like you. I’ve said it a few minutes ago if you bothered to listen.”

          Jungkook scowled. “You're so judgmental.” He didn’t intend to be sassy, especially at first meeting, because his parents had told him over and over again to make a good impression before they arrived. Yet, your senseless hate was starting to irk him.

          “Aren’t we all?” you retorted offhandedly. Jungkook noticed your gaze drifted towards a man in the distance, crouching near the roses. It was discreet; others might dismiss it as you staring off the distance.

          But Jungkook wasn't a fool.

          The man looked about in his mid-twenty; with big physique, natural black hair, and handsome profile. Maybe too handsome for a mere worker. He wore a plain top with brown overalls and dirty dark boots. He carefully cut the flowers, brows furrowed and pink lips pouted. Sweats dripped from his forehead, and Jungkook observed the way your eyes watching them disappear under his shirt intensely.

          Jungkook pushed his tongue against the hollow of his cheek. It didn’t take a genius to know that you liked him – that gardener. Both sexually and romantically. Your body language practically screamed longing and attraction; lingering yet wistful glances, one foot pointed towards that man's direction, body shifted slightly to him, head turned away a little, brows furrowed, and lips lowered. However, you refrained from approaching him due to Jungkook's presence, as it could indicate disrespect to the current partner.

          At least you knew how to be polite, despite your bluntness and captiousness.

          Still, that just wouldn’t do.

          Growing up as he did, Jungkook was used to people paying full attention to what he said. And now, here you were, ignoring him and instead of indulging yourself in watching some lowly worker.

          He needed you to focus on him, and him only.

          If you said that everyone was judgmental, then surely you wouldn’t mind if he was being judgmental to that scum?

          “I see now...” Jungkook nodded to himself, ignoring your curious and confused glance. He raised his head and stared straight into your eyes.

          How pretty, he thought. If only you’d look at him the same way you looked at that man. After all, Jungkook was your betrothed. Not that man. Jungkook deserved better treatment than this. And if he couldn’t get it with a gentle approach, then he just had to use the hard way.

Jungkook didn’t want to do this, but boundaries need to be drawn. He was a prince; he wasn’t born to be treated like trash, especially by his own fiancée. The one person who should revere him the way he revered her.

          “It is pleasant to talk with you, Your Highness. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to tend to some important matters.” He bowed and headed inside before you had a chance to reply.

          Of course, just because that bastard was the object of your affection, doesn’t mean you were free from punishment either. But Jungkook was a lenient man; willing to overlook an error as long as you learned your mistake and promise not to repeat it.

          The next month, he visited the Daegu Kingdom again. This time, he came without his parents' assistance. You appeared in the threshold of the castle, having been informed that he'd like to see you in person, with a stoic face. Yet, one could see the deep sadness and grief in the crevices of your hollow eyes. And although Jungkook felt a bit guilty to see your state, he knew that it was the right choice to make.

          Nobody messed with Jungkook and stole what was his.

          “Your Highness,” he bowed respectfully and deeply because even if you were rude to him before, you were still a princess. And you deserved your honor.

          Jungkook was optimistic that you would open up to him very soon. How could you not? All a grieving person needs is reassurance and consolation, and Jungkook was more than happy to share them with you. Thus, a closer bond would eventually be formed.

          It was such a simple plan, yet it still required great thinking and accuracy. Everything needed to proceed according to his bidding; to ensure that there would be no evidence left. Jin’s body shouldn’t be found in any way, be it a strand of hair or even a lint. He had to disappear. Literally and figuratively.

          Jungkook frowned, assuming the front of a concerned prince. “Your Highness, you seem a little pale. Is everything alright?”

          You nodded, unable to look at him in the eye like you used to. Jungkook mentally scoffed at your stubbornness. It was obvious that you weren’t in your best condition, as you appeared that you would rather be on the bed than here. But Jungkook understood the importance of appearing healthy even if you weren’t.

          For the sake of other people. It was always like that. Unchanging.

          “I’m fine. Thank you for asking,” you mumbled. Jungkook detected the slightest crack in your voice and resisted the simper that twitched his lips.

          “I’ve heard about what happened to your gardener...” he trailed off, discerning your tensing shoulders. Great reaction, just as he expected. “It was truly an unfortunate accident.”

          You looked down. “I know...” Was all you said before drops of tears trickled down from your reddened nose.

          “Oh, Your Highness.” Jungkook gently pulled you into his embrace and noted with great satisfaction your lack of resistance. Instead, you accepted it as if it was the last hug you would receive from a living human being. “I’m sorry. It must be hard to lose such an important person.”

          You merely sobbed against his chest, unaware of the emphasis he purposefully put on the edge of the sentence. Not that you needed to know, anyway. Jin was already gone. Once and for all.

          “He left...” you hiccupped, your tears staining his crimson vest but he didn’t care. “He left... just like that. He didn’t even say goodbye...”

          “Shush,” Jungkook stroked your hair affectionately. He knew it was rather inappropriate to exhibit an intimate action like this, especially when there were a lot of guards nearby. Then again, since when did Jungkook ever care? You were finally in his arms, and he’d be damned if he let such an opportunity to pass by. “It's all right. You don’t need to say anything. Just let it all out; I promise I won’t judge you.”

          It was true; you really didn’t need to say anything. Because Jungkook knew. Because he was the real mastermind behind Jin’s accident.

          Because he was the manipulator. The cause of it all.

          Not that you needed to know, anyway.

[ineffably-good]

Flufftober #28: Souvenirs

Summary: Crowley doesn’t collect souvenirs. Of course he doesn’t. Souvenirs are stupid.

__

Humans and their constant need for knickknacks and souvenirs was something that had long puzzled and occasionally disgusted Crowley. He didn’t understand the instinct to crowd your surroundings with cheap little pieces of plastic that served only to remind you of something you were already going to remember fondly. Does looking at a snow globe really make you more nostalgic for your trip to the beach, he wondered. Does a shot glass emblazoned with a tacky lizard really take you back to Mexico?

He thought not.

He would never stoop so low.

No, his souvenirs were entirely different.

++

“When did you get this?” Aziraphale called from another room, on one of his rare visits to Crowley’s apartment in the days before Armageddon loomed.

Crowley hurriedly finished with putting the groceries away and wandered out to see what the angel was looking at now, only to find him running a hand over the eagle statue he’d liberated from the church after it was bombed. The church with the Nazis, where he’d rescued Aziraphale and Aziraphale had, in turn, saved them from incineration.

“Oh,” Crowley said. “Caught my eye when we were, you know – and I just decided that it would look nice in here.”

Aziraphale looked at him, one eyebrow raised coolly. “You stole this from a church?”

“No!” the demon said, a tad defensively. “I stole it from an exploded church. That’s entirely different.”

The angel, to his relief, laughed and didn’t press him any further, or question his explanations of why he had a piece of (formerly) consecrated statuary in his abode.

++

Several years later, as Crowley moved into the bookshop, Aziraphale tried to be helpful and assist him with some of his unpacking. This quickly became problematic because the demon was almost as fussy with his belongings as the angel was, and trying to help quickly led to having orders barked at him, being handed a box and then screamed at to “no don’t touch that” or “for fuck’s sake, be careful with that angel, it’s old!” until Aziraphale finally sat back and quit.

“I think I’ll just watch, if that’s all right, my dear,” the angel said, leaning back in the armchair and whipping himself up a whiskey – no, better make that a double – and taking a deep, calming breath.

“Perfect,” Crowley said. “Company is good. Helping is not.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and sipped his drink. He wasn’t truly put out, though, because he enjoyed watching Crowley do almost anything, and he had to admit that a fascinating array of items were emerging from Crowley’s boxes.

“What’s that?” he asked at one point, when Crowley pulled out a hunk of what looked like iron link chain.

“Oh,” Crowley said, “that’s nothing.” He looked around for a small wooden chest he’d unpacked earlier and quickly crammed it inside, but not quickly enough to prevent the angel from catching a glimpse of a variety of odd-looking objects inside.

“No, it’s not,” Aziraphale said, “what was that? It looked like chain.”

Crowley looked at him for a long beat. “Okay,” he said finally. “It’s a piece of chain.”

“From where?”

“From the Bastille.”

Aziraphale sat up with interest. “You have a piece of the chains from the Bastille? Why?”

“Well –” the demon sputtered for a moment. “Because I’m a demon, aren’t I? Never know when you’re going to need chains. Might have to secure something. Always pays to be prepared.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, but he could see the demon’s discomfort from where he was sitting, so he decided to gracefully let it go.

++

It was nearly two years later when it came up again. Both demon and angel had gradually shed many of their secrets, learning to reveal themselves, slowly and carefully, to each other. Aziraphale supposed the process would never really stop, finding new layers, peeling back the surface just a little bit more. It was almost addictive, really, the sudden surprise of finding something new about oneself that your love wanted you to open up about, the shock of pain and fear (lessened over time) wondering if this was it – the one thing that the other would not be able to accept, the one thing they would turn away or laugh at. And then the wonderful warmth and glow of being accepted, continually and constantly accepted, just as you were. It was better than any kind of drug, it was scarier and more rewarding than the highest roller coaster. It was the best kind of falling.

So when they decided to renovate the bedroom a little bit – expand the walls to make a little more space for a seating area, move Crowley’s big black wardrobe to a different wall, paint it dove gray – and the small wooden trunk appeared from its spot where it had been hidden in the corner behind the wardrobe, Aziraphale felt they’d progressed far enough that he could ask the question he’d wanted to ask at the start.

“Love,” the angel said carefully, “can you tell me about that trunk?”

Crowley sat down on the bed and looked at the item in question. It was a small, black wooden travelling chest, the old kind that were designed to be strapped on the back of a carriage and were reasonably-sized enough that they could be carried by hand if needed.

“I got it in Lisbon,” he replied evasively. “It’s old.”

Aziraphale gave him a look. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

Crowley took a deep breath and picked it up, placing it on the bed next to him. “Okay,” he said. “Come see.”

Aziraphale walked over and sat down cross-legged across from the demon and smiled encouragingly. “Only what you want to show me, of course. But it seems like it’s important to you and I’d love to know more.”

“It’s things – things I’ve collected over the years,” the demon said. “Silly stuff, mostly.”

Crowley opened the lid. Inside were a hodge-podge of items, none of which made any initial sense to the angel from his vantage point.

The demon started with the chain segment, which was on top. “Already know about that one,” he said, laying it aside.

The next thing he pulled out was a piece of charred wood, about the length of his hand. “This…” he cleared his throat, nervously, “this is from the fire, at Glastonbury, where I pulled you out at the last moment.”

Aziraphale blinked, utterly surprised.

Crowley laid it carefully on the bed next to the chains. He pulled out a small bundle of red cloth and unwrapped it carefully, revealing an ivory-colored hunk. “This is a tooth from the big wolf that almost ate you in Germany in the 1100s.”

Aziraphale reached out and touched it, curious. “I’d forgotten about that. You saved me, ran him through just as he was landing on top of me.”

“Yep.” Crowley refused to look up. He continued to finger through the contents of the box, trying to decide what to pull out next. He came up with an old-fashioned metal pomander, a small silver sphere full of holes, with what looked like an ancient crumble of herbs and flowers inside it. It was attached to a long slender chain.

“This,” he said, “is from the fourteenth fucking century, when you got the plague.”

“I didn’t get the plague,” Aziraphale admonished.

“Oh, didn’t you?” Crowley said hotly. “Ran around helping and healing everyone until you were literally fainting on your feet left and right, drained all of your grace, then showed up at more door literally swaying and moaning about how you didn’t feel so good? You definitely got the plague. You just didn’t die because you weren’t human. But I had to nurse you back to health for almost two weeks, you fucking idiot.”

Aziraphale fidgeted his hands; he had to admit his memory was rather fuzzy on that whole point, but the demon’s words had a ring of truth to them. It sounded like exactly what he would have done. And there was a suspicious two week break in his memory of that time.

“Still a sore point, then, is it?”

“Damn straight,” Crowley said. “Why do you think I hated the fourteenth century so damn much?”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. He reached out and took the pomander and took a sniff of it, then sneezed explosively. “Well that was foolish of me,” he said ruefully.

Crowley grinned a little, but his eyes looked oddly vulnerable.

“So, Crowley, my dear,” Aziraphale said softly. “Are you telling me that you’ve been saving something from each and every time you’ve rescued me? For all these years?”

Crowley blushed. Watching a demon blush, Aziraphale had discovered, was an unmitigated pleasure. For all his swagger, Crowley was incredibly easily embarrassed, and he blushed beet red from his hairline down to his collar when he felt exposed.

“Perhaps,” he finally mumbled. “Just, you know, something to remind me that you’re a bloody moron and I better keep an eye on you.”

Aziraphale laughed softly, not fooled for one minute. “I don’t think that’s the reason,” he said.

“What do you know? You’re the angel who got the plague, for fuck’s sake.”

Aziraphale smiled and leaned in to kiss the demon soundly. “Well thank you for showing me your souvenirs, love… it’s wonderful to see them!”

“For heav – for hell—for Satan’s sake, they are not souvenirs, angel!” the demon snapped. “Souvenirs are stupid, tacky little coasters and keychains made in china and weird hats that don’t fit anyone right. I do NOT collect souvenirs.”

“Of course not, my mistake,” the angel said soothingly.

“These are my memories, that’s all.”

“That’s good enough for me, dear.”

Crowley snapped the box closed again. “All right, enough of that. Let’s get that wardrobe shifted, ok?”

Aziraphale let himself be distracted, knowing full well that he was going to ask the demon to show him the rest of the box at the next possible opportunity. He had learned, through six millennia, to be quite patient in his pursuits. He knew he would get there eventually.

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

I think pupper is under stimulated and needs more running around time.

And that’s an interesting stance to take when you have no concept of the situation. She’s 6-8months old, low socialisation and/or training, there’s a routine of play, rest, meals and training that is followed each day to get both the girls up to speed.

She can even go outside with just her sisters now, and they play with one another; though when you take her out, half the time she’ll go get her marrow bone and chew it to pieces, loves that. We play until it’s determined they need to rest, she and her foster sister will keep playing until they fall the fuck over, so we’re working on ‘finished’ and ‘no’ to stop games without getting disappointed faces.

It’s the proverbial child and the cake scenario, with these puppies. You give them a slice, they love it! Maybe they get another, later, after dinner, bc as the adult you know that altogether it’s too much. The child, if left to their own devices, would eat the majority of the cake, and feel ill; because their understanding of ‘why it’s a bad idea’ isn’t properly developed yet. 

She’s chewing because it’s a common puppy behaviour that was exacerbated by her stay in a small cage at the Pound, awaiting euthanasia, where the only thing she could do was tear up the bedding/towel beneath her. Etc.

Other dogs we’ve had have had this behaviour as puppies and they grow out of it. It’s a little like sucking their thumb, and isn’t too problematic, only that you lose a few things and have to check anything they do manage to actively eat gets passed through safely. (If it’s large, hazardous, oddly-shaped or sharp/edged/poisonous/likely to get stuck, always call the vet immediately).

-

It can be a very difficult thing to break if the animal is doing it as a trauma-based behaviour, or they are older and have no training or socialisation, or they’re trying to tell you something’s wrong with their teeth/tummy and you misinterpret it as bad behaviour. Etc. It’s all about knowing the animal, or what to expect, like using the Life Cycle theory to establish client environment based on age, socioeconomic status, etc.

And in some animals, like a horse we once had, it can be a very dangerous boredom-behaviour. He’d been a racehorse, when he was younger, and when not ‘in use’ they’d leave him in the stalls for hours with no stimulation. So he did as many horses do, and developed Windsucking.

If you’ve never seen it, imagine there’s a post about head-height for a horse.They put their top teeth on the post, and sort of pull backwards (it’s a whole-body movement) as they suck in a great gulp of air. Can also go on fences or similar surfaces. It’s an addictive thing, a learned behaviour. Very hard to break them of it, and a primary example of a boredom behaviour; but they tend to have horses such as he was, disposed of the minute they are no longer useful, so it didn’t matter the long-term implications of it.>He had tummy issues, had to be constantly watched, and got colic frequently. Which, as you may know, takes a lot of time, effort and funds. It has a detrimental impact on horse health so please, don’t just stable animals most of the day, they’re not made for that; and if you see them windsucking, there are ways to discourage it. (We used to get this sticky stuff from the local produce store that you smeared on surfaces they favoured; tasted awful, and deprived them of places to windsuck). 

- - - 

In short, she’s doing as puppies do; and considering we have no background information on her, we have to assume it’s age-based, not so much trauma-based bc she was far healthier and more sociable than the other foster puppy we received. It appears she’s had no real training, including housetraining.

To start with, we’d spend hours wandering around with her on a leash, encouraging her to ‘do a wee’, bc she didn’t have words, and would go straight for the nearest dark room to pee/defecate. Which was frustrating, but you anticipate such things.

The main issue with trying to get her to pee NOW, is that unless you take her out separately, she’ll forget any toileting attempts midway through, to go play with one of the other dogs. Which can be a tad messy. 

The predominant reason she reacted this way was that I was forced to do something all yesterday, without warning, so her routine was off a little; bc the sibling doesn’t follow it as closely as I do, and also, isn’t out here with the pair to determine immediate needs. Have to find a solution, bc I have to keep doing the thing, but they’re now able to be outside ‘unsupervised’ which is going to change things for the better.

- - -