#i sort of shoved every characteristic i like in a character

[frootbyethefoot]

every breath you take - the police

[magnoliamyrrh]

Paul is a fucked up manchild who berates his mom the second he gets supernatural powers and sees himself as better than everyone. That’s only if you can get past herbert’s awful writing where his villains gotta be fat and gay and he repeats these facts every single time they switch povs as if the audience has somehow forgotten (seriously, highlight every time herbert mentions the villain is fat. It’s so common it’s just boring stale writing). Paul in dune is the worst kinda self insert fanfic. Dune is such a shitty book girl how do you enjoy it

ohh he definetely is a man child; i feel bad for him in like the first half of the first book mainly bc hes a teenager, hes 15, like, a teenager teenager not an almost adult 17-18. he may come from a powerful family but hes just thrust into very messed up circumstances, more or less tortured to prove hes human, has to grapple with being some sort of raised-to-be-exceptional genetic experiment and being used in some weird intergalactic lie and war, and incredible amount of historical pressure and other things. like, at 15, hes more kid than adult dealing w this. but also, while being 15, he is smart, and charming to others, and he quickly rises to great infleunce and is good at manipulation. and yea the moment he gets some more power he turns it even against his own mother, against himself, and against others and the longer they go on the more insufferbale he becomes; what ground of expeptionalism in him existed gets raised tenfold -hes an inherently flaued character by all means who even when he tries he fucked up badly many times. i mean like hell, among all the shit he ends up doing, even just that thing that he himself didnt have the power to put shit in order, so he ends up forcing it on his son, like how he was shoved into a bunch of things when he was younger

and yes lol i am well aware of the villan thing. i do get that in this context the "fat" thing and even the gay pedo thing is moreso an allegory for greed and the keeping of and hoarding of precious things (im Not saying fat ppl are like this mind u, im not saying its good either, but in many cultures fat has or is indeed revered as a sign of wealth; and this is used to contrast to those who dont have, and i reckon this is where it comes from in the story). but yes, i do think thats uhh i hate this word problamatic. the fat thing, the gay thing, the pedo thing. definetely part of an ongoing issue of attaching several of those characteristics to villans, and also of making villans generally ugly, thus associsting the two together. like yup, its definitely not good

idk tho, i think. dune was written in the 1960s by a white dude. like, it doesnt suprise me that that stuff is in there. ive read plenty of things that have parts of them that are problamatic or outdated or offensive and it just,, is what it is. like idk i can enjoy something while also being aware and critical of the parts of it that are fucked up - i think if i wasnt able to, i wouldnt be able to like,,,, explore a lot of the literature that exists out there, especially older literature, no matter from where its from in the world or if its written by men or women. most of it or most authors at least have written some weird shit or held some weird shit. idk just a stupid parallel off the top of my head i love the 1001 nights stories - i grew up with them - but theyre filled to the brim with weird shit and problamatic things and sexism and racism and slavery and whatever else, like absolutely filled - to an extend they reflect the times. i still, however, enjoy reading them tho

i also dont know how much paul is a self insert - maybe. ive never read the dude as sympathetic or a sympathetic anti-hero much. i did find the idea that out of this all-female order theyd have the idea that a male would be the one w the greatest power and some sort of prophesied force of power weird, sooo idk maybe. but idk, if its a self insert i rlyyy dont think its supoosed to be a flattering one much. the dude just gets worse and worse as the books progress, and he ends up after fucking up so much and being too weak to fix it, exiled, alone, spending his last yesrs wondering in loneliness and deep regret. so, i dont think its shown that his superiority complex or anything else brought him something good; it just lead to tragedy

mostly i like the series for the intricacy of its plot and the way its introduced, the messages it tries to send even if it at times fails or does so badly. like yea, its not perfect, but it is trying to ssy something about foreign meddeling and co-opting of religions and cultures and desperste situstions, or colonialism and capitalism, of exploitation, greed, power, etc. and also in very large part its lore, its scifi elements, its weird out there mysticism, and all the parts of it that are very, very weird. i am fascinsted by the world that this dude created. im a really big fan of magical realism and to an extent the books are like this - because they start more normal and over time become more and more mystical and fantastical and weird and less grounded as more concepts, creatures, and affects of the spice are introduced. i also do like that the main character isnt an actual hero. all this talk of prophecy and whatever, but its all bad, and it goes so fucking bad. its to an extent a subversion of classical fantasy tropes, combined with space scifi.... and yes. there are times when the writing isnt great, or when its outdated, or when it hammers things again and again (like the villan thing). i also think in many places the writing is intriguing, careful, and calls for attention and contemplation of what is happening

and idk apart from something like 1001 nights..... to an extend, i feel abt dune as i feel about game of thrones. i rly love those books. yes theyre writing by an old white man. yes there are parts of them (less than the show id say) which are problamatic and outdated and i could go on a whole list about that. but, i still enjoy them. i think the world grrm martin created is insanely insanelyyy complex, beautiful, fascinating, the lore is some of the deepest and most intriguing ive ever seen, and the character writing - the sheer complexity of the characters, the willingness to show how fucked up humans are and how often things are so stupidly complicated, the way he can get us to love even insufferable characters, the way there are no perfect good heros, the broader anti-war and even climate change message, the harsh and grounded realism of much of the series,,, the way theyre also kinda like magic realism, bc over the books magic keeps coming back more and more, the world becomes more full of mystic and mystery and prophecies which arent 100% true, the way the books are largely a subversion of fantasy tropes. like, yea. theyve got issues, grrm martins writings got issues. but i think theyre brilliant in many ways at the same time 🤷‍♀️

so i guess. yea. im definitely not saying the books dont have issues or theyre perfect or theyre the peak of literature. but im still able to enjoy parts of them

[philosophicalparadox]

For the deranged ask, 4, 5, and 6!

4. Do you write in public? Like where people can see your screen?

Hell to the hell no lolllllll I would rather die. Writing discreetly at home on my phone is one thing. But no, never in a public place. I won’t even write essays in public. Won’t do art either. Inevitably some nosey nobody ends up looking over and trying to start a conversation about it and nope, I’m good. I’d rather not.

5. Who's the sexiest non-human character in your current fandom? (must actually diverge from human sexual characteristics - no elves or asari)

Hmmmm….pure monster-fuckery huh? Dunno if there really is one that has no human traits at all, but among the fandoms I presently occupy probably Farcille. (DM) If I’m going to completely ignore the no-human sex characteristic (how, exactly, is that meant to be taken????) then unironically Amaimon. (Blue Exorcist) Dunno why it is but that demon boi is something else. Mephisto’s got his appeal but Amaimon wins by a hair just because I like his aesthetic better lol. In the newly revisited Naruto fandom 100% young Orochimaru wins for me. He’s so pretty. (Especially in the manga, which makes him look younger overall)

6. What nasty/evil/maladjusted character traits do you enjoy exploring in your little meow-meows?

What traits don’t I enjoy exploring is a better question 😝 I’m open to pretty much anything as long as I’ve got the right character and the right angle. That said I gotta say, I am a sucker for possessive characters, and for general “mate guarding” behaviour, be it strictly jealousy or justifiable defence. Also a real sucker for the “runs away from love or affection because they don’t believe they Can be loved” trope.

Also fond of exploring power dynamics, and love to pick apart where a character is in their respective hierarchy and sort of centering my character interactions with them based on that to some degree; if character A were to push, would B shove back? Or bow out? And while this does not inherently seem toxic, or maladaptive, believe me it absolutely can be. Some characters just don’t know when to back off or seem to misunderstand the disparity between where they think they are and where they actually are in the pecking order. I inexplicably love to sort that stuff out, by fair means or foul; sexy or downright disgusting.

Speaking of foul, in the spirit of the question, by far the most “evil” thing I’ve explored in a blorbo however is probably a rapists mind frame. (Thank you Berserk for making that so easy). That was honestly an interesting character study moment for me, and weirdly cathartic, but I ended up scrapping the scene because it was just a litttttttle too much for that particular narrative (somehow) at the time.

I have since revisited the concept mentally a few times, with other characters, at least one of which ticks every box — maladaptive, nasty and evil — but I’ve not written any of it down just yet. It takes a braver soul than I to post a one shot scene of such brutal depravity solely because I know I can never write just one chapter 😮‍💨 and I don’t need more tummy-hurting projects right now lol

Thanks for asking @thebeingofeverything !

[kipo-lacks-thoughts]

I'm thinking about characteristics and tidbits about my OCs that nobody would otherwise know

like how Kipo has a massive shapeshifting weapon that typically takes form as a large fantasy battle axe that is black and purple but I don't know how to draw it, it's sickle variants, it's dagger variants, it's spear variant, it's scythe variant, or even its frying pan variant.

and how despite having the weapon of a god that materializes out of thin air and can turn into any weapon of choice from a select list, Kipo's weapon of choice is a walmart filet knife.

or how unless you paid attention to the comics veeeeeerrry closely you wouldn't know Connie works as the CEO of a construction company, and a detail im certain only I know about is that he is in college for a robotics engineering degree and already has a degree in civil engineering.

or how Kipo has only done 3 jobs ever, because she's perfectly happy living as she is, is stable, and isn't a legitimate troublemaker (AKA doesn't have enough reasons to get fired). Those 3 jobs are being a paperboy from 15-18, a McDonald's worker in an airport 19-22 and a milkman from 22-27.

another one is how Carl had a rather flamboyant early life before settling down and having a full ass litter of wretched wolf-cat-bird hybrid children. He's 63 and his favorite drink is Dr Thunder and he likes to dadstare out at the city from his balcony with a good magazine. He's just a fella

Rufus is a character I don't draw as much as of late, and she's quite fine with laying low. If you've seen her bef, she's the Rufouse potoo with long hair and no arms. I decided to have her with no arms as a sort of experiment, and I quite liked the result, so I kept her and put her in the main squad. She's 28 and quite likes it alone, where she stops being so unemotional and vwomp and chills out into a silly goof. little fake ass emo bird. Doesn't particularly care for conversation, but enjoys hanging out with people. Kind of a situation where Connie or Kipo may come home to find her randomly in one of their apartments watching TV or sleeping face first on the counter sitting on a barstool simply because she enjoys being near people she cares about even if they don't even look or talk to her, the comfort of being trusted to just vibe nearby.

then there's Poe. Does anyone even know about Poe. I honestly don't know if I've even put him in the comics. Poe is a hoopoe bird, and is more of a basic white midwestern man personality. He's just a dude. Literally. Nothing wrong with him, he's fine, he has the normal ups and downs, he works at a steakhouse. Just a normal dude. He's the oldest child also, at 31.

and Kisha, oh sweet Kisha. they're literally just me putting myself into the comics to justify why the 4th wall breaking every once in a while is acceptable. I'm shoving myself into my comics and telling these whores to brush their hair and nobody can stop me! also I feel it should be said that the frames where she talks to both Kipo and Connie are simultaneous. They can appear multiple places at once, so long as one person does not see multiple of them at one time. Neat huh?

then there's Trouble Trio, Micheal (I guarantee you didn't pronounce his name right in your head or aloud), Makken, and Mike. I made them as a sort of practice comic and kind of a pilot-y thingey (so I called it) for their short comic series I called Wrkr brds. They're triplets and Makken is transfem, and the logical one. Michael is the loudest of the 3 and usually brings up the most wackass conversation topics. Mike is employee of the month, usually doesn't talk unless spoken to, and generally prefers it that way. Mike's a happy normal feller and just wants to live and vibe. Makken makes the best logical questions for Connie and learns a lot from when Connie blabbers random construction nonsense. Also did I mention or wasn't it clear that the 3 are construction workers in Connie's company? They are. And they're easily his favorite ones.

Susie? We don't talk about her. She's probably moved to Japan by now.

Gayle and Giuseppe, they're complicated but you probably won't see them in the comics anywhere anytime soon. No need to dig up the custody battle now! I don't have time to rant about that story.

Archie is their uncle, a wackass funky- the fun drunk uncle who takes ya to chuck-e-cheese on a babysit and says 'don't tell your parents!'

that's all the tidbits and personality explaining I'm doing for now

[hchollym]

What are your thoughts on Slytherin!Percy?

Ooh, I love this question! 🥰

Before I answer, I just want to be clear that I'm a firm believer that the house system at Hogwarts was fundamentally flawed. One, it shoves kids into these little boxes of characteristics that ultimately define them for the rest of their academic careers (and beyond, in many cases), and two, most people could easily belong to several houses. For example, I think Percy would have fit well in every house (he’s brave like Gryffindors, ambitious like Slytherins, smart like Ravenclaws, and he values hard work/fair play like Hufflepuffs). So in an ideal world, there would be no houses, and this wouldn’t even be an issue. 

That being said, Hogwarts does have a house system, and as such, I have a soft spot for Slytherin Percy. This is because Percy embodies all the Slytherin traits in a positive way. He’s cunning, resourceful, a leader, and ambitious, but he uses all of those characteristics to do the right thing. JKR had a tendency to make most Slytherins the “bad guys.” Yes, she made characters from other houses villains too (like Peter Pettigrew), but being sorted into Slytherin was essentially a precursor to becoming bad/evil. Having Percy in Slytherin would have been a good step towards making Slytherin House more balanced. I also think Percy could have been a positive influence on other characters too, because he represents a better way/choice - he can still be a Slytherin without going down the wrong path. 

However, I think Percy’s relationship with his family would have seriously suffered from this, because the Weasleys have a deep prejudice against Slytherins (whether they want to admit it or not). There’s a reason Ron said this on the way to Hogwarts for his first year:

“What house are your brothers in?” asked Harry. 

“Gryffindor,” said Ron. Gloom seemed to be settling on him again. “Mom and Dad were in it, too. I don’t know what they’ll say if I’m not. I don’t suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin.”

Ron hasn’t even started Hogwarts yet, and he already has a highly negative view of Slytherins. That’s not coming from nowhere (and I’m willing to bet that Arthur encouraged this opinion, since he blatantly insulted Lucius to his children). 

The Weasleys likely would have been horrified and disappointed in Percy, wondering where they went wrong. I think all of his siblings would have ignored him (at best) or made his life hell with insults/pranks. I don't even think his mother would have doted on him as much (she would have still loved him, but she definitely would have been more distant and blamed herself for what she saw as a flaw/failure). 

That would have been really tough for Percy, but in some ways, it might have been better for him in the long run. Up until the beginning of Book 5, Percy still obviously craved acceptance from his family, and unfortunately, they never truly gave it to him (he was just too “different” for them to ever really understand). If he’d been sorted into Slytherin, he would have had to accept this fact much sooner, and it’s very possible that he would have stopped being so concerned with their opinion and just focused on being himself instead (which likely would have felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders). 

Some of his fellow Slytherins probably would have treated him poorly at first, because he's a Weasley, but I think that would have fizzled out pretty quickly once they realized his strenuous relationship with his family. The Slytherins tend to have a “protect our own” mentality (which makes sense, given how they are usually judged by the other houses), and that would have extended to Percy. I actually think he would have had more friends in Slytherin than he did in Gryffindor, because as @mirrorofliterature said in this post, most of his siblings' friends have a more negative view of Percy than the rest of the student body, and since his siblings were all in Gryffindor, that didn't leave Percy a whole lot of options for friends. In Slytherin, he wouldn’t have been judged by his housemates because of the way his siblings perceived him, and in turn, he likely would have felt more comfortable opening up to others (like Adrian Pucey). 

I also think Percy being sorted into Slytherin would have all but ensured that he was a spy during the war. With Slytherin connections, someone like Percy would seem like the perfect recruit for Voldemort - he’s smart, ambitious, a pureblood, and distant from his blood traitor family - and the Dark Lord would have assumed that he could manipulate Percy into being loyal to him. I think Percy would have played the part well and quickly rose in ranks amongst the Death Eaters until he eventually became part of Voldemort’s inner circle. This could have changed the books tremendously, and it would have been fascinating to read! 

Sorry for rambling, but thanks for the ask! 😊

[akitokihojo]

Stay

Woah, two posts in one day? Yeah... yeeeeeeah. I don't usually post so late, but as I sat here staring at this document, I realized that if I don't post it now, I never will.

Okay, look, this story is extremely personal for me and I want to give a warning about that. If you know me or have been following me for a while, you may have noticed I tend to keep to myself, I'm quiet, and I'm private. But, as most humans, I have things I battle, too. I've been through things, too.

My coping mechanisms are humor and "add to cart." My therapy is writing. I decided to give this a shot. I've gotten personal with older fics before, but it's vague and I sort of lightly mix it in there like food seasonings. "Everything's Okay" and "A Moment" are examples of which. This story is largely based off something real. The emotion behind it is real. Very real.

Now, I will admit, the comfort added isn't. It's something I've realized over the past couple of years that I both crave and deserve. It's something that would help me incredibly, and maybe it's unrealistic, but that doesn't take away from the fact that I want it. So bad. So, I wrote. I made it happen.

I decided to project everything into my comfort otp, so if either Kagome or Inuyasha seem out of character, it's because they are. Sorry about that. It was difficult to keep their characteristics in tact. Particularly, Inuyasha. He's unbelievably soft here.

This is sloppy. I did my best to edit, but like I said, the longer I sat on it, the less likely it was bound to be posted. Just consider it unfiltered emotions if it seems messy, because that's what it's supposed to be.

Some disclaimers that I'll open up about: Yes, all of those negative things have been said to me by a past ex. What Kagome tells Inuyasha is very real for me. Also, replace "abusive father" with "abusive mother" and you've got it. :) I just didn't feel comfortable disrespecting mama higurashi with such slander, so since Kagome's father isn't in the picture, it was simpler.

Okay, I'm done. Thank you. If you read this, thank you. Again.

---

“Come on, Kagome. Show me.” Inuyasha encouraged supportively.

Kagome sighed, adjusting the shorts a bit better around her waist as she stared at herself in the mirror on the inside of the door. She’d comfortably tucked herself away in the walk-in closet of her boyfriend’s bedroom, preferring the space she had and the length of the mirror as opposed to the bathroom that only showed her up to her hips unless she bounced to her tippy toes.

“Houston, we have a problem.” She spoke.

“Define ‘problem.’” Inuyasha proposed. “Because, I realized a long time ago that you and I have two totally different definitions of the word.”

No, this was a definite problem. Unfortunately, it seemed she’d purchased clothing from one of the retailers that didn’t quite grasp that some woman had thicker asses and thighs. The shorts fit, but they hugged her in places she needed a little more room in. God forbid, she sit down. Then, they’d fit her like underwear.

The band was comfortable along her hips, but felt a little better if she pulled it up a smidge toward her waist. But then the underside of her booty cheeks popped out, and that for sure wasn’t something she could sport in public. Or, she could. She just wouldn’t be comfortable doing so. It wasn’t her style. She preferred a hint of more modesty. Not to mention, the shorts were very tight against her lady bits, and that was definitely something she didn’t want her clothing riding up on.

“Babe.”

“Curse these thighs.”

“Oh, see what I mean?” He chimed from the other side of the door. “That’s the exact opposite of a problem.”

“It’s a problem if the shorts don’t fit, Inuyasha.”

“Show me.”

“They don’t fit.”

“Okay, we’ll return them. But, show me first.”

“Why do you want to see them if they don’t fit?” She laughed lightly.

“Why wouldn’t I? Do I have to spell this out to you every time?” Inuyasha asked, making it obvious that he was feigning irritation.

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“Alright, first of all, I know you’re ridiculously critical of yourself. I have a more objective point of view, and therefore that makes my opinion the only valid one here.”

“Hey -“

“I’m not finished. Second, I love seeing you in tight clothing. That’s a given. You don’t have to keep it, and you should always wear things you’re comfortable in, but at least do the right thing and let me see first. I think I deserve that much. Third, and most importantly, ass and thighs. Your ass and thighs.” Inuyasha made a chef’s kiss motion even though she couldn’t see, losing himself in the thought of some of his favorite assets of hers. “You know damn well how much I love them. So, please - please - come out and show me, Kagome.”

Behind the door, she fought her smile, losing so quickly it was as if she hardly stood a chance against it. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her body, but he was right. There were some imperfections that had her self-conscious at times, and he knew without saying when they started dating over five months ago that her thighs were one of them. And, she could tell the half demon she called hers genuinely adored everything she deemed unworthy.

Giving a minor adjustment to make sure the area between her thighs had enough room to breathe, she sighed out any apprehension and opened the door. Inuyasha sat on the edge of the bed waiting, golden eyes instantly on her. He skimmed over the way she’d tucked her shirt into the underside of her bra to keep it out of the way, gazed at her tummy for a small moment, then drifted his sights down to the shorts hugging her snuggly.

He barely blinked, his expression practically blanking, and Kagome’s cheeks went red hot.

“Inuyasha?”

“Shh. I’m concentrating.”

Kagome laughed, turning away from him bashfully.

“Shit, no! I wasn’t ready for that!” He cried, pressing the heels of his hands into his temples as if he were in a panic. Her ass. It looked phenomenal. He wasn’t mentally prepared to see just how plump it looked in those bottoms, and it sent his mind reeling.

“What!?” She gasped, her hands instinctually falling to cover her butt as she spun back to face the way she’d originally been.

“Oh my god.” Inuyasha mewled. “Are you kidding me, Kagome!? Where’s the problem!? Where’s the mother fucking problem!? Because, I don’t see it!”

It was thought to be impossible, but she felt her face flush even hotter. So hot, she wanted to hide it, knowing full and well her embarrassment was visible and prominent. She kind of tucked her head down slightly, hoping the dim lighting in his room would be her ally and shade her blush while she presented her issues with the garment of clothing.

“Well, it’s tight on my thighs. See, when I do this -“ She explained as she lifted her leg slightly as if she was going to take a step forward. The bottom hem of her shorts tightened against her quad, squeezing around the plush before riding up an inch. “It’s not very comfortable. I like a bit of a looser fit. And, then my butt. It’s suffocating. I’m scared one wrong move will make these shorts rip.”

“God forbid.”

“Inuyasha, seriously.” She deadpanned.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m listening. Anything else?” He apologized with a grin, conceding.

“Yes. I can’t sit in these.”

“Why not?”

“Too tight.”

“So, you literally can’t sit?”

“No, I mean I’m sure I can. It’s just not a good idea.”

“Because, they’ll rip?”

“That. Or, they’ll turn into chonies.”

“What?”

“Underwear.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware you got such versatile clothing. I could have sworn we were nowhere near the lingerie section.”

Kagome laughed through her groan, tossing her head back in minor exasperation due to her boyfriend’s sarcasm. It was going to be hard to describe, and she was sure if she attempted such he’d only throw more jokes her way, so she shut her mouth and decidedly took to demonstrating her vexation. She crossed the floor, hoped for the best, and plopped into a seat right next to Inuyasha. Her thighs fluffed out and her shorts effectively rode all the way up, giving her legs the attention they apparently demanded.

Inuyasha’s eyes were glued to her thighs and the way her clothing wrinkled along her anatomy. He’d had to press his lips into a tight line to prevent their proud and joyful crinkle, but it was so desperately difficult to fend off. Kagome was quick to notice and her brows pinched together, a small pout forming.

“You tricked me.” She murmured. “You wanted me to sit down, didn’t you?”

“I’ll admit, it was a lot easier than I expected it would be.” He said, gently stroking the pads of his fingers over the softness of her legs. “Again, I find it important to remind you that you and I clearly have very different definitions of what a problem is. This… this is not a problem. Not at all.”

“Well, see, I sort of wanted to be able to wear these outside of your apartment.” Kagome giggled, inadvertently melting into his touch. It was so light, it almost tickled, but she felt his warmth radiating from his hand, she felt his attraction, she felt his good-natured and honest feelings toward her body, and it was nothing short of what she both wanted and needed right now.

“I know, I know. We’ll return them and get a larger pair. Still, not a problem.” He grinned, planting his whole palm on her thigh and sliding it inward, shoving it to sit in the heat between. He leaned over and kissed her temple.

“Don’t even think about it.” Kagome hummed, leaning into his tender touch.

“Hm?”

“You’re about to lay down on my thighs, aren’t you?”

“What? I can’t?” The half demon pouted with legitimate shock on his brow.

“The moment you’re down, you’re down. You know damn well you’re not getting up if I let you, and I want to get out of these shorts.”

“But, Kagome -“

“Boy, if you knew exactly how these are constricting certain areas, you’d understand.” She laughed, playfully shoving his hand off of her as she stood. Before walking toward the closet where she’d left her skirt, she turned to face her boyfriend, bending at the waist and pushing his bangs from his forehead to plant a kiss against his skin. “I should get going soon, anyway. It’s getting late.”

“Don’t go, then.” He said, tone gruff as his amber eyes met hers. “Stay with me.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked her to stay the night, impromptu. Far from it. Every time, though, caused something in her chest to stir, something in her stomach to flutter, something in her bloodstream to effervesce in both a wonderful and unsettling way - the unsettling part deriding from a different emotion she’d recently noticed planting its roots somewhere inside of her. Inuyasha grabbed her hand, running his thumb over the tops of her fingers while his expression shifted to one of seriousness. No jokes, no funny business, no sarcasm was present any longer.

“I don’t feel like I got all the time I wanted with you. Since we were out and about most of the day, I feel like I had to share parts of you with the world, so now that it’s just you and I, I’m not quite ready to let you go. Will you stay?”

Internally, Kagome was telling herself to keep it together. It was such a small gesture, such a tiny request, but it was always the little things he said to her, like this, the mannerisms he displayed when he was sincere, the way his amber eyes met hers when he waited for her answer that had her feeling unstable. Like, she could cry. Like, she was more afraid than she was thirty seconds ago, or an hour ago, or when she saw his smile earlier this afternoon when they met up, or last night, or when she crashed and burned upon realizing what, exactly, it was she felt for Inuyasha a month ago. She swallowed, forcing herself to show none of that as she made a small smile appear on her face.

“Can I borrow a shirt to sleep in?”

A grin sprouted on Inuyasha’s lips as he kissed the hand he held, standing to cross over to his dresser.

“You want your favorite, or a different one?” He asked, ignoring the twitch his own sensitive ear gave as the wood scraped open.

“Whichever. Can I take a shower?”

“Of course.” He said in a manner that suggested she knew she didn’t have to ask by now. He was well-acquainted with her routine and how she preferred showers before bed as opposed to first thing in the morning. That, and they’d recently gotten her some extra toiletries to store in his bathroom for times she stayed over. He was equipped for her company, and sooner or later, Kagome was bound to learn that she was more than welcome to treat his place as her own. Her scent, her voice, her contagious laughter were all he needed, and if his apartment was filled with it, Inuyasha couldn’t think of anything that would make him happier.

Kagome took the large band tee the hanyou offered with a grateful smile and snagged some boxers from the top drawer he’d just opened with a playful, little scrunch of her nose before ambling over to the closet to pick up her skirt and reach for a towel on the shelf.

Why? Why was her heart thumping uncontrollably? She was so happy. So, so, so content. But, yet a crippling sensation was crawling its way up her esophagus to make home in her throat; to grow large, and dense, and sit there to make it impossible to swallow any longer. Ever since that night a month ago, when she’d hung up the phone after a goodnight call with Inuyasha - who was traveling at the time for work, was beyond tired, spoke to her in that husky tone she was utterly weak for, and who’d called out of mere courtesy to let her know he’d made it to his destination safely - she hadn’t been feeling secure. Not because of him. He hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, despite their little, bickering spats and his tendency to get a bit jealous over guys she spoke to, he was doing everything right. He wasn’t the one giving her reason to fear. It was her.

It was what she’d been through.

It was something she was so terrified he would turn around and say to her, that it practically debilitated her rational mind.

But, still, the feeling it stemmed from grew and expanded, the tree roots burying themselves in the soil of her heart, and Kagome was positive by now, after thirty days had passed with no decrease but, instead, the exact opposite, that there was no convincing herself that it wasn’t there. Because, every time she saw him smile, every time he held her hand, every time he expressed himself to her, it banged on her walls like an innocent prisoner demanding freedom.

When she was sure her emotions weren’t superficial, when she was positive there was no changing anything on her end, Kagome had to really look within herself to figure out how to maneuver about things. Did she openly tell him? Was there a right time to say these things? She even debated never saying anything at all, and for a good while, she was settled on that option. It wasn’t the right thing to do, though. It was like she was allowing her past, her previous broken heart, to dictate how she expressed affection toward others, and the potential ‘others’ who hadn’t done her wrong didn’t deserve that. Kagome had always been the type to wear her rather large and vulnerable heart on her sleeve. The cage she held it in now, it wasn’t locked. She wanted to put it back where it belonged, but she was so scared, it made her nauseous. The cage door was opened, held cracked from the inside, the weary organ protecting itself behind a barrier that just needed some encouragement to come out from.

Again, she’d wondered to herself countless times: was there a right moment to say something like this? Was there a procedure she needed to follow? She’d said it first last time, and nothing ended in her favor, so maybe she shouldn’t be the one to initiate this topic? Maybe it applied too much pressure? Should she just keep it to herself behind lock and key? Was he going to be receptive? Was it going to scare him away? Please, don’t scare him away. Please, please don’t leave.

And, countless times, she ended up in tears from the crushing weight of it. Kagome knew the truth. She didn’t have to consult anyone to know what the right thing to do was. It didn’t matter how many nights she stared at the ceiling obsessing over right and wrong, this or that, pros and cons, yes and no’s, because in the back of her mind, the answer was right there in big, bold letters. She was just trying to dance around it. It was so stressful. Something that was depicted as a happy and liberating occurrence was reduced to horrifying and anxiety-inducing for her.

The fact of the matter was, no one should have the power to change her heart. More so, Kagome shouldn’t give anyone that power. The way she felt so deeply was, in fact, a good thing. It was. It was. It was a fight just to get herself to understand that again, feeling like she was convincing herself of something she no longer believed, but she knew the only way she would, once more, feel that freedom was to open up. Stop hiding.

The thought was heavy. It didn’t sit comfortably with her. There were certain things Kagome was okay talking about, and there were certain things Kagome would rather eat up, swallow, and take to the grave. But, that was vulnerability, and she understood that if anyone deserved that part of you, it was your partner. Inuyasha was her partner. He was patient. He listened to her about things that made her uneasy, he took into account how she could be both a social butterfly sometimes and introverted during others, how when she was overwhelmed she had a tendency to shut down, how physical touch was her love language, and he even went so far as to ask her how she would prefer he respond to certain predicaments if she were to ever get overstimulated with him around.

Inuyasha had proved time and time again that he not only wanted to experience every side of her, but that he deserved it. He deserved it.

It jostled her to the core as she considered telling him now, her stomach churning, her heart pounding erratically, her bottom lip quivering as she’d learned to expect rejection. It was why she struggled initiating anything. It was why she had trouble saying the words to anyone but herself, “I want.” It was a learned reaction to her past trauma, but Inuyasha, the half dog demon she called hers, the silver-haired man who always did everything he could to make her feel safe while with him, the person who treated her as special as he’d insisted she was, wasn’t the one who’d hurt her. So, she’d decided over a week ago, she was going to do it. She was going to do it and let him know. Best case scenario, it was always nice to hear you’re loved and he may end up appreciating her confession. Worst case, things were going to get awkward and tense and it may end their relationship for good.

Kagome wanted to be Kagome again. Not the person she was before she’d met her ex. Not exactly, at least. She still wanted the lessons she’d learned with him to be applied to who she was. They were valuable, and not everything she learned had her closing off. As an open-minded thinker, she realized that not every wound left a scar, so not everything that happened made her a victim. Some things are just incidents that taught her lessons to take into tomorrow. So, she wanted to return to Kagome, the bright girl who faced her fears, who wore her precious heart on her sleeve, her loved with everything she had no matter what, but who was just a few experiences wiser. But, no one could do that for her. No one could give her that push she needed. It all came from within.

Of course, so did fear. So did nausea. So did that anxious part of her brain that said, “Let’s do it tomorrow, instead. Or, the day after that.”

Kagome took a deep breath, trembling as it may have been, and looked over to her boyfriend. He’d just removed his shirt from over his head, his short, tousled, silver strands appearing slightly messier than before once he was free, and he glanced over his shoulder her way, most likely feeling her eyes on him.

“Inuyasha,” She tried to come off as stable as possible, but there was an obvious waver in her tone that gave her trepidation away.

“Hm?” He hummed, the corners of his lips twitching downward before he dropped his shirt on the floor and faced her better.

“Can I - um…” It was impossible to hold her eyes steady on him, her deep, brown gaze falling to the floor every time she picked them up to look at him. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Okay. I’m all yours.”

Kagome took another breath, willing her body to stop fidgeting. It was Inuyasha. It was just Inuyasha. As soon as she realized there was no stilling her fingers beneath the clothes and towel she held, or the way she bit hard into the inside of her bottom lip, she felt the best course of action was to simply carry on; wavering eye contact, trembling fingers, quivering lips, and all.

“Let me first preface this with: please don’t say anything. Just let me get it out there. I don’t expect anything from you in return, there’s no pressure whatsoever, and I would rather you not say anything at all. Like, at all. Okay?”

Truthfully, Inuyasha was freaked out. Had something happened? Was she about to admit to something bad? Kagome looked about ready to breakdown and cry, and the fact that she was asking for him to remain completely silent only told him she was afraid of judgement. Never had she asked him to stay quiet before. And, he hated how apprehensive his girlfriend looked right now. His instinct was to solve the problem, so what was he supposed to do here but agree to her terms?

“What’s going on, Kagome?”

“Please?”

“Alright. I won’t talk. Now, spill.”

She pinched the back of her wrist to stay grounded, to keep from crying. God, she was so pathetically nervous, and three times now, she’d almost convinced herself to back out and pretend it was a joke. That wouldn’t be right, though. She wanted to cry so bad and she hadn’t even said anything yet, so she pinched herself harder, her nails incidentally digging in. As soon as she felt a degree of control fall back into her grasps, Kagome leveled her gaze at him.

The words sat on her tongue, weighted with the shackles she’d placed there herself. A lump had formed and solidified in her throat, clinging for dear life and making everything so much harder than it needed to be. God, she was really shaking. Her breathing was becoming unsteady as if she’d already started crying and she could feel her expression crinkling into something terribly sad. She knew that was how she appeared only from the way Inuyasha’s lips parted, how his brows curved in worry, how he wanted to reach for her but seemed so confused that he could only stand there and wait.

Like a bandaid. Once the words were out, it wouldn’t be so bad anymore. She just had to get through it.

“Um - I - I - I am -“ The stammering was relentless, and out of sheer obstinance, Kagome shied away for one moment, took a short breath, huffed it out, then faced him again. “I’m in love with you.”

There was a slight arch to his brow, and his chin inched to the side minutely. Very slowly, Inuyasha’s lips sealed and his gaze hardened, falling to the ground. Hastily, Kagome followed her confession with disclaimers, irrevocably panicking.

“A-and, I don’t expect you to say it back! You don’t have to say a word about it! There’s no pressure at all, Inuyasha! I swear!” With each statement, he seemed to be growing more and more tense, and Kagome was terrified she was only making matters worse, but she blinked profusely so her tears didn’t have the chance to breach the brim of her lids. “I just wanted you to know. So, yeah. Now you know.” Her voice had fallen to a hitch just above a whisper at that point, admonished.

Inuyasha kept his promise. He didn’t speak. Kagome was stiff in her spot, not quite knowing what move to make next. She hadn’t thought this far ahead. It was hard to think beyond her admittance in the first place. It was too quiet, and she could hear the clock in the living room loudly ticking seconds by.

“Just nod or shake your head; do you still want me to stay?” She asked sheepishly.

Finally, Inuyasha’s glowing stare rose to hers again, and it frighteningly seemed to grow harder, more tense. She saw the rigid muscles of his jaw clench, and his chest rose with the very slow inhale he took through his nose. Steadily, the hanyou responded with a firm nod. In the next moment, he gestured for her to head down the hall to the bathroom with a notch of his chin, which she wasted no time in complying to. Kagome bit her lip, hard, shakily turned on her heel, and left Inuyasha alone in the room.

The second he heard the bathroom door lock and the shower turn on, Inuyasha dropped his seat on the bed, crumbling forward as he braced his forehead in his hands, elbows jabbing into his thighs. His chest was physically aching, his throat tight, and Inuyasha felt thoroughly crushed. He could literally see the fear in her eyes, the anxiety holding her by the neck. Why? Had he given her some reason to worry? Had he made it seem like that was a taboo topic?

It didn’t take long to rationalize. Logically, he knew it wasn’t him. It wasn’t personal. And, he knew that because he knew exactly how it felt to be afraid of unadulterated vulnerability. It felt like you were naked, exposed to the world, trusting someone with something so valuable and important when you weren’t even sure if you could trust yourself with something like that. It was hard. It was nerve wracking.

But, there was something deeper to it.

Why else would she insist he didn’t respond? It was clear as day. He knew that feeling. He’d been hurt before, too. They’d been together for almost half a year, he knew a good portion of her story, and she knew just as much about his. It was impossible to know it all quite yet, though. Five, six months may seem like a long time to some, but it’s honestly nothing in retrospect. They’re just scratching the surface. He knew the general aspects about her abusive father, he knew she had an emo phase in high school, he knew the superficial shit like her favorite colors, foods, drinks, what medications she needed to take and how often, he knew how she tasted, her tickle spots, where the heating pads were stashed in her apartment - because she had multiple for easy accessibility depending on what room she was in while she was down for the count on her period, and he knew she’d had her heart broken before. But, he didn’t know every little detail about certain things yet.

Inuyasha had had his heart broken before, as well. He knew that feeling. He knew how gruesome and tedious it was to start over, how awful the idea of opening up all over again was, how awkward and weary it felt to tiptoe around specific subjects until you felt comfortable enough describing them, so on and so forth. He knew. Just, apparently, not as well as Kagome did. He was willing to guess that her heart wasn’t just broken. It was trampled on.

His most recent relationship was up and down. He and his ex were never on the same page. He fell quickly but his feelings were unrequited. Then, later on, she began to show more affection, but he’d become closed off by the time that came. Nevertheless, neither of them spoke those words. They never truly opened up about what they felt, how they felt, or why they felt anything, especially romantically. Up until now, Inuyasha had never heard the words, “I’m in love with you.”

Up until recently, Inuyasha had never felt the urge to say, “I’m in love with you.”

No.

That’s wrong.

Sure, recent was a broad term, but it happened several months ago. Several months too soon, he’d deemed. Kagome was playing with his niece, teaching the six year-old how to use a toy compass she’d brought home from class, and congratulating her excitedly whenever Rin got something right. His niece wasn’t shy by any means. She was talkative, playful, bubbly, and bright. But, she had this thing about being touched. She didn’t like it. Only certain somebodies could hold her, hugs were off the table unless you were one of four people, high fives were a maybe, and yet he watched the little girl ask Kagome to watch a movie with her when she was done with the compass, cuddle up next to her on the couch, and fall asleep on her lap without persuasion.

That was it. Kagome respected Rin’s autonomy and boundaries, and Rin let her in by the third time they’d met.

And, Inuyasha fell. Hard.

Again, too soon. So, not saying it was easy. No big deal. After a while, it sort of began spilling out in his idiosyncrasies, in the way he touched her, worshipped her, in the way he craved the knowledge on how to properly care for her. In his terms, he was being painfully obvious. It was almost humiliating how obvious he was being.

It just looks like it wasn’t obvious enough. How could he have expected her to understand? It’s not like she was fluent in his body language or habits. At this point, if she needed it spelled out to her, he’d happily do so.

Because, despite her overwhelming and damn near crippling fear she’d just waded through, Kagome still told him the truth. Kagome courageously stood there, attempted to look him in the eyes, and told him she loved him, no matter how scared or nervous she appeared. If he needed to say it back in order for her to understand, he could return the gesture without hesitation.

First, though, he needed to comprehend what was going through that head of hers. He wasn’t going to jump to conclusions. This wasn’t the time to do so. What she was feeling, that look in her eyes, it stemmed from something deep, something that wasn’t quite healed. He needed, desperately needed, to know what happened. He’d promised to keep his mouth shut earlier, but he hadn’t promised how long he’d hold that. She may have meant about that topic entirely, but that was something he couldn’t and wouldn’t agree to. There was no way in hell he was going to let this slide. Eventually, they were going to have to discuss this.

Now was that time.

Inuyasha suddenly stood, filled with a rage that had surfaced as soon as she shakily asked him if he still wanted her to stay, feeling so irate that he could only clench his fists and pace the floor. There was a good fucking chance this originated with her ex. Maybe her father, but his gut told him otherwise. The things he knew about that relationship were vague. Kagome didn’t like to fixate on it, which was reasonable for anyone who’d moved on, and they never really found a good time to open up about nitty gritty details pertaining to failed relationships; they were more focused on one another and their individual lives. He was fuming. What the fuck had that motherfucker done?

He knew they broke up over two years ago. He knew he’d dumped her just before their anniversary. He knew their relationship wasn’t entirely horrible, but much like he and his own ex-girlfriend, they were rarely on the same page. That’s about it, though. He’d heard a thing or two about how she’d realized way after they’d broken up just how toxic their relationship actually was - one of those late night, shower-thought epiphanies - but she never much elaborated. Hell, she talked about it all so rarely, Inuyasha had even forgotten the fucker’s name. He was her ex-boyfriend so that naturally deemed him irrelevant, because Inuyasha was her current boyfriend and that was all that fucking mattered. But, now he wished he remembered because it would make it at least a little easier to track the bitch ass down and punch his lights out.

She’d opened the door, and he needed to know what was on the other side of it. Inuyasha not only craved, but found it a foundational necessity to understand what had her so anxious to tell him how she felt. First, he recognized he needed to calm down. He couldn’t approach this with heightened emotion because it would cause Kagome to feel insecure and unsafe, which he would never allow her to feel around him.

That was hard for him to do, though. To swallow his frustration, push it aside. He felt things passionately, much like Kagome did. For her, for the light he always looked to for a sense of peace and felicity, for the woman he respected and cherished, he would do it. He could do it.

It took a moment, but Inuyasha left his room and headed to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water to sip on and an extra one for his girlfriend. The shower had stopped running moments ago, and the hairdryer was now blowing. She was biding time. Kagome, more often than not, let her hair air dry. This was killing him. The fact that she was so afraid, so nervous, the fact that she felt anything but contentment in the face of pure and unbridled emotion. Inuyasha just wanted to burst through the bathroom door and tell her to stop, demand she look him in the eyes and say it again and watch how he would never turn away from her. What could he have possibly said that had her more content with silence?

Content wasn’t what she’d felt at all though, was it? Even after he’d kept his mouth shut, Kagome was still trembling, still incredibly uncomfortable.

He was going to the bottom of this.

But, something in his heart wrenched. Overall, he just hoped with everything he had that she didn’t regret telling him.

There was careful deliberation on where he should wait for her. He’d debated standing outside the bathroom door to guide her back with him, but that would apply a lot of pressure straight from a safe zone. There was always the option to sit on the couch until she emerged, but still, he was worried she’d feel like she was under a spotlight. No matter what, Inuyasha was going to be taking her back into his bedroom. It was cozy and comfortable, and he just wanted to fucking hold her. The best course of action was to let Kagome come to him. When she was ready. No matter how much patience wasn’t his virtue. So, he ambled back through the doorway with both water bottles in hand, placing them on the nightstand as he got himself into more comfortable clothing. He’d never finished changing after dropping his shirt on the floor. He grabbed his grey sweats off the end of the bed and shoved his legs into them after removing his jeans, then fished a black tank top out of his dresser, easily and quickly pulling it over his head.

It wasn’t a bad thing that she’d told him. Kagome should be proud of herself. Over and over again, she’d repeated that in her head, but she couldn’t stop herself from feeling like she’d done something wrong. Maybe she’d put him on the spot and made him uncomfortable. She should have at least given him the space to tell her he wasn’t ready to say it back if that was how he felt. That she would have completely and wholeheartedly understood without fault.

Now she was stuck in an unknown area, her head was foggy, her fingers kept trembling, and her eyes were puffy from crying like a baby in the shower. The goal was to tell him how she felt. It was a step in the right direction. A step toward who she truly was behind the protective walls. From this point on, depending on how Inuyasha was feeling, it might be best to pretend nothing happened. Sweep it under the rug.

Everything was so conflicting, so turbulent, and Kagome could bring herself to do nothing but stare at the bathroom doorknob. Her hair was dry, she was dressed in her borrowed outfit, smelling purely of Inuyasha, and even though he still wanted her to stay, she couldn’t believe anything other than the possibility that she’d ruined everything.

What would happen once she exited the bathroom? Would things be uncomfortable? Would he be laying down in bed, facing the wall away from her, silent? Would he ignore her? Would he say something she was terrified to hear right now? Or, was she trapped in her unhealthy thoughts? Was she preparing a response to something that wasn’t waiting for her outside that door? Was she not giving Inuyasha the opportunity to respond in his own, organic way, expecting all the responses she was trained to anticipate before?

With a deep breath, Kagome reached for the knob, twisting it to exit. The apartment was as quiet as it was when she locked herself inside, the clock in the living room ticking loudly as she slowly sauntered through. Lights were dim, but the bedroom, through the opened door, was inhabited. The lamps shaded the white walls in warm hues, and as she got closer she noticed a very soft hum of music playing through the bluetooth speakers he had set up in there, quiet but still melodic and comforting.

Though her heart was pounding and a jittery sensation within her chest was causing her to tread cautiously, she followed the path into his bedroom, spotting Inuyasha sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. He was quick to notice her presence, sitting up and glancing at her, and even though she faked a smile with a curious notch of her head, it was clear he saw right through her. How wouldn’t he? If he already didn’t know her so well, it was obvious she wouldn’t go from cripplingly apprehensive before her shower to sweet and happy immediately after.

Inuyasha noticed the pink in her cheeks, the stupidly cute but feigned upturn of her plush lips, the way her deep eyes bounced away from him before coming right back only to repeat the same motions. His Kagome. His sweet, hurting, beautiful Kagome.

With an arch of his brow, the hanyou wagged his finger at her, ushering her over to sit on his lap. She was hesitant at first. She knew what was coming, but still, despite her slight discomfort, he released a small, breathy chuckle so she knew he wasn’t upset with her.

“C’mere.” He requested softly, patting his thighs.

“What?” Kagome returned, unsure.

“I want you. C’mere.”

Slowly, she crossed the floor, accepting her boyfriend’s support as she straddled his lap and got comfortable. An uncontrollable pout formed on her face when he looked into her eyes, she felt it, and humiliation washed over her, causing her to hide her expression between his shoulder and neck.

Inuyasha was patient, making sure she was secure in her seat before his hands traveled over her. At first, he couldn’t help but hug her tight. In this moment, Kagome seemed so fragile and he could already feel her body shaking against him. She knew he was going to talk whether she liked it or not.

Still, he gave her a little more time, relaxing against him, her chest melting on his, her arms wrapped around his shoulders but accepting his full support as his hands rubbed over her back soothingly.

“You want to tell me what happened back there?” He asked, opening back up the topic.

“Did I do it wrong?” Kagome spoke, her voice small.

“I’m not worried about right and wrong here, baby. Can you look at me for a second?”

Carefully, Kagome leaned back, giving him the attention he requested. His large, warm hands cradled her jaw, his thumbs caressing her cheeks, his eye contact firm.

“I never want you to be afraid to tell me something, okay? Especially, how you feel.”

Immediately, Kagome began to crumble. Her cheeks grew hot and her lips twitched downward sadly. Tears too quickly threatened her eyes, and Kagome was hasty to hide her face in his shoulder again.

“I need you to talk to me, Kagome. What’s going on?” He asked, returning to rubbing her back. In the silence as he waited, he picked up the back hem of the large shirt she wore, pushing his hands beneath so he could gently massage her skin. The heat from her, the softness, he craved it right now. “Was it something I did?”

Kagome fervently shook her head against him.

“I’m never going to understand unless you tell me, baby. That wasn’t the normal amount of nervousness you’d expect when saying something like that. So, what’s going on?”

“I just didn’t want you to feel obligated to say it back if you weren’t ready.” Kagome sniffled, hugging him tighter.

“Okay, I get that. And, what else?”

“That’s all.”

“You can’t lie to me.”

“Can we just pretend nothing happened and go back to our happy date night?” She whined playfully.

“Unfortunately, no.” Inuyasha chuckled, catching her small attempt at laughing off her problems. “I can’t do that while you’re crying on me, Kagome.”

“I’m not crying.” She sniffled again.

“Oh? You’re not?”

“Nope. These are just allergies.”

“And, what are you suddenly allergic to?”

“Feelings.” Kagome giggled, though she began crying harder, only because her boyfriend was being sweet and obviously getting through to her. She both hated and loved it at the same time.

Inuyasha kissed her shoulder, holding her a little tighter as his hand slipped higher up her bare back. The curve from her little slouch against him had her spine popping out slightly, and ever so softly, Inuyasha traced his fingers over the bones.

“What were you so afraid of me saying?” He all but whispered.

Mustering up some courage, Kagome leaned back, using one hand to meagerly clear her messy face of tears. She took a few unsteady breaths before speaking, her eyes falling to the hem of the collar of his black top, and she allowed her fingers to distractingly drag along it.

“I didn’t want you to tell me you loved me if you weren’t ready or felt pressured, because I don’t want you to take it back later on.”

The hanyou’s brows furrowed inquisitively and he was unable to bite back the reaction of his head cocking to the side in bemusement.

“What?” He almost hissed. “Why would I do that?”

Kagome didn’t answer, continuing to play with the shirt he wore.

“Kagome, why are you afraid of that happening? Don’t tell me -“ Inuyasha had to tense his breath in his lungs to refrain from letting his upset get the better of him. “Did your ex…?”

She responded with the littlest nod, worrying her bottom lip incessantly. “Multiple times.”

“Multiple times?” He echoed on an exhale, his expression widening. His hands were holding her hips, squeezing as comfortingly as possible, but Inuyasha was struck cold. Not only had someone shattered her, but someone managed to look at this woman on top of him and take back their love on more than one occasion? This girl? How? He’d only had her for half a year and he was scared shitless of losing her, so it didn’t make any fucking sense that someone would just toss her aside like that as if she meant nothing.

Slowly, Kagome curled forward, tucking herself against his shoulder. It was like a safety net. Inuyasha was so warm, he held her perfectly every time she felt emotional and vulnerable. As much as she didn’t want to talk about this, she knew this topic would come up eventually. It was a staple of her by now, something she was clearly conditioned to expect after years of receiving it, and even before she fell in love with the man stroking her back beneath her shirt, she knew this issue would arise. It wasn’t going to be easy or quick to work through, that was a given, and she knew he was ultimately going to need to know some of the toxic occurrences of her previous relationship; things that were done to her and things she’d done, as well. She’d considered it was going to be something he’d want clarity on as soon as she admitted her feelings. It was fair. Being on the other end of things, he deserved to know what she’d been through and why she inadvertently responded the way she had.

It was just hard. It was hard to think about and hard to talk about.

But, if she could power through her fear of admitting her feelings, then she could give him everything else, too. It was another step in the right direction, no matter how unsteady the pathway seemed.

“I told him I loved him first, and he responded by telling me I shouldn’t. He was my first love, so I didn’t really know how to react or what to say to that. It’s not like I could just take it back or agree or something.”

“Right.” Inuyasha almost hummed, listening intently to her explanation as he kissed her shoulder here and there.

“Almost a year later, he told me he was falling in love with me. A few months after that, he took it back and said he wasn’t so sure anymore since we’d been arguing.”

The half demon couldn’t control his reaction to hold Kagome a little tighter. It was like an attempt to protect her from things he knew he couldn’t begin to protect her from. If he could control it, no one would ever speak to her like that. No one would ever hurt her this way. No one would ever be able to apply that pressure to her shoulders, because how could she not feel obligated to be perfect and compliant in order to feel valued and cherished?

“Then, I don’t know how long later, he told me he loved me again. It stayed consistent for a while. He’d tell me periodically, particularly when I did nice things for him or if I said it first. Then, again, he ended up taking it back. I had felt it that time and asked him if he still loved me. He said, ‘I don’t know.’ Followed by,” Kagome’s fingers clutched Inuyasha’s shirt, exhaling tremblingly, though she had been doing so well at keeping it together. “‘Maybe soon I’ll love you again, though.’ So, I idiotically stayed. I held onto that hope. I waited and waited until we got into this stupid fight and he broke up with me the next day. He made sure to emphasize that he didn’t love me. But, said he might in the future, we’d just need to stay friends. ‘You never know what the future stores.’”

God, Inuyasha wanted to kill him.

“There was one night after we finally found separate places, we were packing, getting ready to move out of our shared apartment, and we were talking about old things. He told me he never loved me. And, I just never understood why things went on for so long just because he wasn’t sure. Why would you say it if you didn’t? Why couldn’t he have let me go sooner? What good was I if he didn’t even want me there? I wasn’t strong enough to leave, but he was because he literally hung that over my head for most of the time we were together, threatening me with leaving if I didn’t do something right. I have so many things to work through because of him, so many trauma responses to correct, trust issues that I’m projecting unto you, and he walked away like nothing ever happened.” Kagome cried, once again shaking against Inuyasha.

All he could do was kiss her, hush her soothingly, hold her tight, rub the hot flesh of her back. Let her cry. He understood now. He got it. It was why she struggled to take compliments the first time around. It was why she second-guessed sweet gestures. It was why she assumed everything was sarcastic and insincere. It was why she thought her love for him was problematic. She didn’t want him to say anything because she was scared of the words, “I love you.” They meant nothing to some people, they were used as tools, and so easily, they could be erased. Sad thing was, Inuyasha was sure that even if he said the words right here and now, she wouldn’t even believe him.

“Of course, he’s obviously not the sole reason for why I am the way that I am. Can’t give him credit for everything.” Kagome gave a wet giggle, again laughing through her problems. Her coping mechanisms were all over the place, but it was still cute.

Inuyasha sighed defeatedly, laughing lightly as he rested his head on her shoulder.

“So,” He breathed. “You didn’t want me to say anything because you figured nothing was better than something I could hurt you with.”

Her silence was as good as confirmation.

Inuyasha pulled her in firmer, an arm supporting her low back as he picked her up, rotated their bodies, crawled a little further on the bed, and laid her beneath him on the mattress. He had a knee between her legs, but rested on her side, an elbow propping him up while he used his free hand to gently swipe her tears away.

“It was more because I didn’t want you to feel pressured.” Kagome finally spoke after moments of peaceful silence, taking the opportunity he provided to calm down before continuing. “But, then I started to panic. I felt like this is supposed to be a good thing, right? Not everyone is going to respond the way he does, right? I just wanted to tell you so bad. It’s supposed to be a good thing, but I got trapped in my head thinking history would only repeat itself.”

“Baby, are you sure you were ready to tell me?” Inuyasha inquired, dragging his finger along her temple to clean the tears that followed gravity.

She nodded, her bottom lip quivering. “It’s bad enough that I’m afraid of love. I didn’t want to allow myself to sink and be afraid to love, too. That’s not me. I feel like I’d only be letting him stick around in my mind if I did that, but I just want to love you. I do.” Kagome cried, eyes falling away from him. “I wanted you to know, and I’ve been holding onto it long enough.”

Inuyasha leaned his head down, kissing her shoulder. It wasn’t enough for him. He needed to feel her skin beneath his lips so he pulled the baggy collar away so he could leave a tender and invisible mark on her clavicle.

“How long?” The hanyou breathed.

“A month or so.” She matched his soft tone, trying to steady her lungs and bring herself back to a calm. “The night you went on your business trip.”

“Europe?”

“Mhm.”

“Not too bad. It was the groggy voice, huh?”

Though her eyes were still wet and the hair at the sides of her temples were soaked, her cheeks flushed, Kagome glanced back over to him with a hint of surprise. “How’d you know?”

“Because, I knew I’d get a response from you. Always do.” He smirked, planting sweet kisses against her cheek, and moving up to kiss tears away.

“You know I like that?”

“It’s my job to read you like a book, baby. I take my work very seriously. You’re subtle, but I see things I do that you like. You’ve got little mannerisms that give you away.”

“Like what?”

He hummed a decline. “I’m not giving that secret to you. Let me have this. You know what I will tell you?”

“Hm?”

“Do you promise to hear me out? No interrupting, okay? Just listen to me.”

There was an increase in the tension that climbed through her muscles, and her pout turned weary. Inuyasha took a moment to continue kissing her temple, her cheekbone, his palm finding its way beneath her shirt to softly stroke her tummy. When she relaxed a little, he leaned back to look at her.

“Remember that day Rin took a nap with you? I stayed up that night. Couldn’t sleep. I had you here next to me, and I just couldn’t stop listening to the sound of your breathing. I was scared shitless, but the crazy fucking part was, even though you weren’t awake, having you right here helped keep me calm. It was counterintuitive. I was both scared of you and at peace with you. I wanted you to wake up and do that thing where you tickle the small of my back with your fingers because, god, nothing feels better than that. It was like you held all of me in the palm of your hands, and you could easily drop it in the trash at any given moment. But, it’s you. I knew you wouldn’t. That was my night, though. That was the moment I realized I was in love with you.”

Kagome hardened slightly, and he could literally hear how hard her heart was thumping within her chest. She didn’t smile, didn’t frown, didn’t make much of any expression really, aside from her brows giving a minor, inward twitch.

“That was quite a few months ago. Nothing’s changed. If anything, it’s gotten deeper. I’m so worried one day you’ll walk out those doors and never come back. I don’t want to lose you just as badly as you don’t want to lose me.” He was the one to hide his face this time, tucking it within her neck as he threaded his arms around her back, holding her close. He hadn’t expected her to clutch him in return, but she did. Immediately. Kagome supported him through his own moment of vulnerability, but more importantly, he felt it was a way to communicate her reception. “I don’t care how many times I have to say it until you begin to believe me. I don’t care what I have to do to make you feel secure in our relationship. I’ll do it all. You know I don’t say shit unless I mean it.”

“I believe you.” Kagome whispered, a small hiccup at the tale end that jostled her chest. “That’s the scary part.”

He nodded again, pulling away to gently press his forehead to hers for a moment.

“I get it.” Inuyasha breathed before leaning back to look her in the eyes. “But, one of these days you’ll understand that no matter what happens, I won’t take a damn thing back. You’ll see that I don’t want it back. I feel like my heart’s safer with you, anyway.”

“Stop it.” She pouted, but he knew that was her way of conceding. Even as she cried a little harder and tucked herself into his chest so he couldn’t see it. “You’re being too sweet. Be mean to me again.”

Inuyasha chuckled, raising his hand, “As you wish.” He said, smacking it down against her butt.

The little yelp she released was so sad but adorable as she flinched away from the sting, but it inadvertently brought her to cuddle closer to him. The hanyou laughed, brushing his fingers through her hair and massaging her scalp.

“Can you do something for me?” He asked.

“Hm?” She grumbled into his chest.

“Tell me again. This time look right at me. Don’t look away, don’t fidget, just trust me. That was my first time hearing it. I gotta hear it straight.”

She hadn’t realized Inuyasha hadn’t heard the words before. She didn’t know that. This was big for him too, if not bigger. Was she his first love? Was she the first person he’d ever said that to? Kagome felt a warmth course through her, and even though she was slightly nervous, she didn’t feel unsteady. Not while he held her. Not while his amber eyes were above her, watching her with an emotion she’d never before seen. She came out of hiding with a level of ease she hadn’t felt a moment ago, secure, one of his hands lightly trailing her side beneath her borrowed shirt.

Her fingers had a mind of their own, reaching for his cheek as she softly caressed it, her thumb tenderly rubbing over his bottom lip. “I love you, Inuyasha.”

It was like a sigh of relief left his lungs, and the corners of his mouth inched upward. His eyes were hooded with affection, and he leaned down to kiss her, lingering on her soft lips.

“Your turn.” Kagome whispered as he pulled away, her brown eyes shifting from his eyes to his lips.

It felt incredible that she wanted to hear it now. And, though he knew everything was going to take time until she felt comfortable with the idea that he wouldn’t take a damn thing back, he knew it would take time to work through her trust issues little-by-little, he didn’t mind. Because, she was his and he was hers, and he was all too happy to hold her hand and walk by her side while they figured everything out. He couldn’t fix this for her. He hated that he couldn’t take her pain away. That’s not how it worked, though. He knew this. She knew this. Inuyasha was her partner through everything, and he’d be the best fucking partner he could be.

He grinned with their foreheads pressed together, his hand on her waist gripping tighter as he couldn’t help but chuckle from sheer bliss. “God, I’m so fucking in love with you.”

Kagome smiled, pushing Inuyasha over to roll on top, once more straddling his hips as she gazed down at him. She wanted to burn this image of him in her mind. She never wanted to forget that soft look in his eyes, or the way he reached up and tenderly wiped away any remaining tears that stained her face. He meant it. She believed him. And, she hoped with everything inside of her that he never took it away from her.

She curled down, cuddling into her chest and Inuyasha immediately turned his head to kiss her forehead. He held her close, gently stroking her hair back and basking in her incredibly comforting heat. He loved her. He loved her so goddamn much. His Kagome.

“What do you need right now, baby?”

“Nothing.” She hummed.

“What do you want, then.”

He knew she struggled with that one, but whenever he asked, she did her best to communicate properly. “Touch my butt again.”

Inuyasha laughed huskily, his hands gliding down her back to take a firm and wonderful hold on her ass.

“And, pizza.”

“Oh, see, I’m a step ahead of you on that one. Ordered a couple before you got out of the shower.”

Kagome gave a short half whine - half squeal of happiness as she cuddled in closer and kissed his neck. “Thank you.”

[misterscenequeen]

It’s always been kind of shitty and blah that the PJO fandom has always cornered Annabeth into this weird pigeonhole of “southern white girl who listens to Taylor Swift and probably rushes for sorority at Georgia Tech and has a barn themed wedding.”

I mean sure, she can be those things, those things are inherently neutral. It’s just weird that all of this highly speculative fanon not based on any concrete evidence became this monolith of who Annabeth is without any sort of input from the actual source material. Despite the fan base causing such an uproar about keeping the characters book accurate, the fan base has made up an entirely false persona for Annabeth that is such a stereotype. I think that’s why so many people were taken aback by the casting choice of the show, because it doesn’t fit the republicansona adjacent personality the fandom cultivated on her behalf.

Annabeth was never once shown to particularly enjoy any stereotypical teen things. In fact, a big part of her character is dedicating herself almost entirely to the cause of being the perfect daughter of Athena, and is interested in things that further that cause. Creativity, ingenuity, wit, charm, integrity, ambition. Those are the strong characteristics of Annabeth, and those are the traits that should matter when categorizing her.

For a fandom that made a huge stink about how Annabeth is suppose to defy the dumb blonde stereotype, y’all kind of just shoved her into an equally stereotypical blonde girl box.

Annabeth had every likelihood of being a blonde Spaniard who liked jazz and Radiohead or a Québécois obsessed with playing squash and listening to Celine Dion. The fact that her dad happened to live in Virginia at the time of her birth and shes blonde doesn’t mean anything about her actual personality. It’s like everyone looked directly at the pages that said “do not underestimate Annabeth or write her off as something she isn’t” and everyone went “ha too bad cause I can’t read.”

[fellowstrangetownappreciator]

Curious and autistic-coded

Hello there! April draws to an end and with that I think it’s high time to hurry up and write this. What does April have to do with anything, you ask? April is the Autism Acceptance Month. So what better month to do this?

Unfortunately I didn’t make it. I failed. It’s already 1. 5. when I’m posting this. But at least I tried to deliver on time.

In this mini essay I’ll present my case about why I think the Curious brothers from TS2 Strangetown display autistic-coded traits and my personal takes on it.

It’s basically your average headcanon post but with a funny top hat!

0: Preface: What do I mean by “autistic-coded”?

When a character is coded as something, it means that they have traits that are associated with the demographics in question to make the consumer knowingly or not link the character with the demographic, although the character's "label” is never explicitly disclosed.

In the nutshell, it means that there are canonical reasons to read the characters as autistic, although you won't find the word "autism" anywhere in the game nor in the developer's commentary.

In this particular case I do believe that the developer may not even be aware of the code, as there is no evidence to suggest otherwise. If there is, I’m not aware of it and I would be happy to learn.

So, let’s start!

1: “The white male who is very good at science”

Unfortunately autistic representation in pop-culture has a long history of being rather straightforward in which traits the characters often have. This stems from the belief that autism is “a boy’s disorder” (that’s why some autism charities to this day use blue in their symbols). Among popular examples of autistic-coded characters are Big Bang Theory’s Sheldon Cooper and Death Note’s L and Near. I’m sure you can think of more but you’ll find that most of them are men and either explicitly white or racially ambiguous white-passing. They also tend to be gifted in tech, logic or other science-y activities.

There’s nothing wrong with that! Nothing wrong with being an autistic with those “stereotypical” characteristics and there is nothing wrong with people being represented. What is wrong is the monotony and afab people/people of color being underrepresented which leads (among other factors) to harder access to diagnosis and resources for those people in real life. But! That’s a topic for a different day. (and not for a simbrl, mind you)

Back to the Curiouses! I just wanted to say that autism in media is traditionally associated with characters whose gender presentation, race and interests align with theirs. Those characteristic thus make a very convenient template for autistic-coding.

2: Inconsistent performance, huge gaps between strengths and weaknesses

Pascal, Vidcund and Lazlo are very skilled Sims by default, extraordinarily even for their age. Pascal has a skill maxed while his younger brothers both near maxing theirs.

But as you can see in Pascal’s default skill panel, apart from Creativity, all his other skills are extremely low, 0 points for Mechanical, Body and Charisma, 1 point for Cooking and Logic and his second best skill, Cleaning, has only 3 points. The same situation can be observed in Vidcund’s and Lazlo’s, except their strong suits are Logic and Cooking respectively.

Huge discrepancies within performance in different cognitive areas is a common trait found in those on the autism spectrum. We’re often talking extremes here and the scale of the difference is the defining factor. Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses, it’s just in neurodivergent people those tend to be unusually noticeable.

I think that skills, simplified as they are, are the closest The Sims has to possibly simulate that because they track the character’s performance and expertise in different areas and allow comparison. In real life, of course, this comparison is not nearly as possible and exact, nor desired, but for all our analysis-loving enthusiasm, here we’re still talking fictional characters.

3: Struggle with social cues

It is widely known that one of autistic traits are difficulties with processing social situations, picking social cues and successfully replicating socially desired behavioral patterns.

But these three are Sims, are they not? They cannot possibly display this trait, since they’re programmed the same way as others.

Yes and no.

It is true that there is no specific in-game feature that would allow Sims to behave with explicit neurodivergency in mind* but with the right combination of traits they can simulate behavior that really hits close to home for neurodivergent players.

*at least not in TS2, TS3 has traits that simulate some possible neurodivergencies but their names tend to be rather... ableist unfortunate and they’re not relevant to this post since they’re not autism related, and even if they were, we’re focusing on TS2 exclusively

Let’s take look at Lazlo here. He is, indeed, a playful soul. He likes to goof around, tell jokes, make others laugh. And since he’s very close to his brother Vidcund, close enough even to Tell Dirty Joke (an interaction that needs quite a high relationship to unlock), he autonomously does just that.

And oh boy, does Vidcund disapprove.

From my personal experience playing them, their relationship usually takes quite a hit from every cheeky joke Lazlo throws Vid’s way. They usually autonomously repair it very quick but it happens often.

But that’s a standard behavior. Vidcund’s very serious, he doesn’t take well to jokes.

No. I mean technically yes, Vid is definitely a grumpy old plant dad but, at least in my game, he tends to accept Lazlo’s jokes. All kinds of them, actually, except for the dirty ones. And Pascal, who technically has even lower Playful points (0 in comparison to Vidcund’s 4), doesn’t seem to mind Lazlo’s poor attempts at grown-up humor.

But! What is it that makes Lazlo try still? What drives him to attempt to make Vidcund laugh with a dirty joke over and over again? (and fail?)

I my interpretation, Lazlo doesn’t do that on purpose, he is just really poor at evaluating “dirtiness” of a given joke and frequently misinterprets Vidcund’s cues. The animation of a dirty joke being rejected even supports that as Vid doesn’t signal his discomfort with any exaggerated easy-to-read facial expression until Lazlo gets to his punchline.

No only that but as I mentioned, the invisible lines between spicy and too vulgar are often hard to thread. I can recall many times I thought I was saying a witty quip on an “adult” topic and was met with awkward silence or someone shushing me because “that’s not how you speak in public”. I can well imagine myself in Lazlo’s shoes.

A situation of social cues being misinterpreted or ignored can be observed also in Vidcund. Programming-wise, those are just his low Niceness and extreme Shyness showing but combined they again paint a picture of a very neurodivergent-looking behavioral pattern.

He often behaves like the concept of politeness or social rules doesn’t exist because the combination of the aforementioned traits makes him come off very blunt (lecturing and shoving telescope-peepers with no warning whatsoever) and distant (having a high chance of rejecting simple small-talk socials).

(That’s Jasmine Rai casting the “Summon Vidcund” spell.)

Yes, I am fully aware that it makes a stronger case for him being an a**hole than autistic but... there’s no reason he can’t be both. Not all autistic people are sweet cinnamon buns, all personalities you can think of can be neurodiverse and, for some their neurodiversity can even amplify their inconsiderate ways, as I believe it is the case with our dear grouch Vidcund.

4. Their bios

“No matter what happens, Pascal believes there is a logical explanation for everything. In his free time, he practices home psychoanalysis and collects conspiracy theories.”

(that’s how I imagine practicing psychoanalysis looks like, sorry Freud)

“Serious and exact, Vidcund strives to fit the universe into a nice tidy package. He has an unnatural fondness for African violets.”

(let’s collectively pretend those are African violets)

“Not as studious as his older brothers, Lazlo got his degree in Phrenology. He likes to call phone psychics and spends hours trying to bend forks with his mind.”

*error: screenshot of Lazlo bending forks not found*

(but here he is hanging out with Erin Beaker, the closest thing to “calling phone psychics” you can actually do in-game)

Both Pascal’s and Vidcund’s bios point to a pattern-focused worldview with a strong emphasis on rationality as the center-point that anchors the way they understand the world around them and build their principles on. This “pattern-ization” of thinking is a common autistic trait, with rationality being a popular theme because emotions tend to be difficult to access and asses for many of us.

Lazlo’s biography is an outlier. But it still has something significant in common with those of his brothers: All three of their bios allude to a potential special interest of sorts.

Special interests as an autism-related term are very specific, in-depth and long-term hobbies or areas of expertise that make an autistic person happy and they tend to go to seemingly exhausting lengths, often at the cost of other areas of knowledge and most likely the person’s ability to talk about anything else for a long enough time. (a loving hyperbole, no disrespect meant) Mine are my characters and cats. An even more intense but a short(er)-term passion is called a hyperfixation.

Them potentially having a special interest is yet another possible autistic-coded feature.

5. Wait. Why does it matter?

Right. What does it matter if a Sim (A SIM) (or two or three) is autistic? What do I hope to achieve, pushing my autistic Curiouses agenda down your throats?

I got to write a long rant-piece about some of my favorite TS characters and I feel like I can finally die satisfied.

Apart from that and me sharing my happiness of finding some good pixels I can relate to, it is a matter of representation.

Remember by the very beginning I wrote how most of the representation our community gets in media tends to be just a one specific type of character?

And how the Curious brothers seem to fit the stereotype to a point?

There is something I omitted, something I saved for the last on purpose.

The role. The role in their story, the role in the society the piece of media portrays.

We often see neurodiverse, autistic or autistic-coded character as children, students, villains, lone savants, victims in distress, comedic relief sidekicks, either very vulnerable and needing protection, or detached and having their role defined only by their academic prowess or their special interest/profession.

What we rarely get to see them as, are... parents.

That’s what many of us autistics are or plan to be someday in the future. The dogma around autism has started to dwindle relatively recently and there are little to no examples of autistic adults being the care-givers for once in the media around us.

The Curious brothers are just that. They are chaotic, they are eccentric, they can be a little too much... but they are dutiful and loving fathers/uncles to their little aliens they raise.

They make it work. Even if they face difficulties, even if they don’t exactly fit the standard.

“Sometimes, a family truly can be three brothers raising alien babies, and it’s beautiful.”

It encourages us to define family by love rather than traditional structures and it shows us that portrait of a functional neurodiverse family we need to see.

And goodness, is it a powerful sight.

[imthepunchlord]

Alya Best to Least

Marinette, Adrien, Nino, Kagami

Alya is a pretty spread out individual that makes her one of the uncommon characters who can actually match with up to three miraculouses, which sets up her potential as another miraculous prodigy like Marinette. Alya has full capability of being a teamplayer and follower, but she has her moments of leadership, as we see that Marinette and Nino will follow Alya, and between the two, she is usually the one who takes charge of girl squad meetings. She is a very straight forward, direct, and pushy individual at times (though she often means well in her pushiness). While known for her flamboyance, excitment, and being a reactive character, she does have her moments of calm that allow her to be a solid supportive friend when required (and when the writers allow it). And with her curiosity and drive, she is eager and ready to get involved in whatever catches her interest. Between her broad imagination, how reactive she can be, how involved she likes to be, and having capability of thinking and planning, there are three miraculouses that suit her best and can work off her strengths. 

Alya’s best are Bee, Turtle, and Peafowl. All allow her to be direct and have a support role in battle, and meet different aspects to her. Bee works off her energy and straightforwardness; Turtle plays off her wanting to be a supportive friend and to be on the front lines; Peafowl plays off her quick ideas and preferring to play by her own rules. 

Bee matches Alya with her straightforward characteristics, being active, and her goal to see her interests through to the end. This miraculous also leaves it open if she wants to be a follower or leader. And as Alya is not an aggressive character herself despite how direct she can be, this won't be a power that's recklessly used by Alya. And as Venom requires some subtlety and calculation in use, I have a lot of faith in Alya using it well. Seen in Darkblade, she can be crafty and sneaky, catching Chloe off guard as she’s recording her. In terms of symbolism, this miraculous matches her as a character as bees are very involved with each other, and expect things to run as they should. This matches Alya as a very involved character and can work off her pushiness as she expects things to go a certain way. 

Growth wise, this expands on her critical thinking and tactics. As Venom requires being smart and sneaky in use, this can elaborate on how Alya approaches a situation, while not discouraging her directness. 

With Pollen I see a similar outcome with Marinette, Pollen would be a good source of support and devotion, and can grow through her interactions with Alya who will want a kwami who feels more like her equal. She will not shy away from Pollen’s praise though, she would enjoy the validation that she’s a queen. 

With Turtle, it also matches Alya as a very direct and straightforward character, but works more off her as a supportive friend that’s here to be in the heat of things, but not being the direct confronter. As pushy and direct as Alya can be, she’s not an aggressive character. Marinette’s actually more likely to throw hands than Alya (and that’s when push comes to shove). As seen in Origins, Alya ultimately backed off from Chloe, taking Marinette with her as a show that she chose to sit with Marinette herself instead of it being through Chloe’s own decision. This largely shows she’s ready to be in the heat of things, but not be the confronter. For Turtle, this works as you want the user to be in the thick of it, but have that goal more set around watching over allies than facing the direct conflict themselves. This isn’t an aggressive miraculous about fighting, this is more about having your friends’ back and being a shield for them. Similarly to Adrien, this offers Alya protection as well as she does have tendencies of self endangerment. 

Growth wise, this can help her be smarter on her approach without discouraging her involvement. And as a miraculous that can count for self-protection, can ideally help her learn to be more aware of her own safety without being reckless with it, but not discouraging her from involving herself. 

With Wayzz, I see them getting along, if headbutting occasionally as Alya can be headstrong and is on the fiery side of things whereas Wayzz is more passive but grounded. Alya as a reactive character that is on the go, she can be too responsive at times, which can lead to Wayzz calling her out, reminding her to slow down and consider everything, not what's before her. 

With Peafowl, it matches with Alya’s tendency to play by her own rules and makes use of her imagination. She gets to make whatever golem she desires, and allows her to think and create what she believes would be best choice. As every golem is made from a section of her fan, this can allow flexibility and a learning curve if the first idea she latches onto didn’t work. This miraculous allows flexibility in where she wants to be in the field. It’s not a must for Peafowl to be in the field but if it wants to, it can. This miraculous does still keep in her being a support role as she and her golems can actively assist allies in fights. She can even take on a protective role while her golem takes on the aggressive, taking on a role that she herself isn’t inclined to do. 

Growth wise, this would expand on her quick-thinking and creativity, and add onto her observation skills and detail gathering as she needs to consider what would be a desirable golem to use. 

With Duusu, they would be a very energetic and chaotic pair. Duusu’s goofy energy and flare would add onto Alya’s, which could make Alya an even more expressive character than she already is. With very similar energy and being affectionate characters, I see them becoming very fast friends. In terms of advisement, I do see Duusu reminding Alya to consider everything and to truly look and not latch onto what’s on the surface. 

As Alya is solid with 3/5, she has no least fit, but these two are a not so ideal matches. She can technically be able to pull them off, but she would struggle more with Butterfly and Fox than the other three. 

Starting with Butterfly, Alya matches Butterfly that she wants to help people, she wants to lift them up and push them to face their challenges head on. She can also know what to say to reassure, support, and comfort people who are in need to hear what they need to hear. She’s also open to reaching out to new people, is fully capable of sending others out to assist another (Kung Food sending Adrien over as translator), and this miraculous can allow her to be a leader or to be a teammate, and Butterfly is flexible for where in the field she can be. On surface level, this miraculous is very appealing as a match. But the issue is Alya’s pushiness, tendencies of being oblivious and inconsiderate, and she can be dismissive of others. As much as Alya can be helpful emotionally, she does have tendencies of being too pushy and is oblivious of the anxiety she can cause. Biggest example is her trying to help Marinette which has left Marinette a very anxious mess as she pushed Marinette forward before she herself is ready to go forward. And to use this miraculous well, you need to have an idea as to when to back off and let go; something Alya would struggle with as she’s the sort that likes to see things to the end and can be dismissive of others. Biggest example is New York special, Marinette tells Alya she wants to move on from Adrien but Alya keeps trying to push the Adrienette agenda, ignoring Marinette’s words as getting these two together is her biggest goal. 

Growth wise this miraculous has potential, it works to Alya’s strength and want to help people and being emotionally invested, and can help her learn to be more aware of others feelings and conscious of what they’re telling her. That would come with learning to listen and opening up her mindset more and putting some distance between herself and others issues. But to learn these things will take time and chances are good that she can wind up overwhelming her champions around the start of using this miraculous. 

While I do see Alya and Nooroo as an amiable pair, I do think she has more energy than he would like. Very soft spoken, I don’t see him always catching Alya’s attention, not to say he never would though as she can be calming and listening when she wants to be. 

Now Fox. Like Butterfly, this has a lot of surface level appears and should be a good match. Alya has a lot of characteristics that make her a good fox: she is curious, she is willing to be sneaky and use underhanded tactics, she has an eye for detail, a broad imagination, and is a risk taker. This miraculous is a support role and also plays by its rules, which also fits her. The issues though stem that Alya is a very straight forward character, both in her actions and how she thinks, this leads to her illusions being very basic. To do a masterful illusion, it requires having all the facts, and taking a moment to consider what the best option is; Alya as a reactive character who latches onto the first thought she gets doesn’t set her up to do immediate skilled illusions that will be elaborate and complex. Another issue is that this is a limiting miraculous for Alya in the field. Fox is meant to be more background support, manipulate from the shadows. Alya doesn’t have that level of cunning or manipulation required for a good Fox at the start, nor is she the sort to step back and work from the shadows. She’s incredibly limited as Fox, like the s2 finale, when you watch Rena Rouge closely, she does little to nothing in that fight which made her inclusion pointless and costing as her being turned into Rena Rage had Carapace immediately give up. The last big issue is all with Lila and how they wrote Alya’s interactions with her. She’s not a very encouraging Fox to see knowing how easily led and manipulated she is. If she had Bee or Turtle assigned to her instead, this wouldn’t be as big of an issue as those aren’t about looking deeper into things. But she is the Fox, the supposed to be master trickster and manipulator, and she’s being easily lied to. It’s niether impressive or encouraging. 

Growth potential is there, but you’re not going to have an immediately good Fox on the team when Alya has it. She is limited with one illusion to use per transformation, but she can gradually learn to get better and more elaborate with her illusions. Especially if she allows creativity to flow and consider more options than the first idea that comes to mind. She can also learn subtlety and get better at working people around her. This can also work on her observation skills and looking more into things than trusting them at surface level. 

I see Trixx largely having a similar dynamic with Alya as he would with Adrien. At the core friendly and playful, but easily leading and manipulating her to what he will perceive as the best route for her. This will help her grow and question more and consider all details, feeding into her curious nature. This will largely start out one sided in terms of mental equality, but I do see Alya getting wise to Trixx game as she grows mentally. 

Between Ladybug and Cat, Alya should receive Ladybug. Like, neither of them are an entirely ideal fit, but between the two, Ladybug would be better for Alya. 

I can see Alya having some potential for the Ladybug as it requires quick thinking, having an eye for detail, and being quick to respond to situations; but it also requires taking in all factors and thinking outside the box. As Alya works off the first idea that comes to mind, Lucky Charm will be a struggle as its usually not so basic or clear what to use it for first. I do her able to figure it out, just not immediately. Despite this, it would allow Alya to be more involved than Fox would as the Ladybug does have to be in the field though not close to the heat, which is where Alya would like to be. 

Alya and Tikki though would be a good match over all, though I do see them headbutting occasionally. Tikki can help Alya learn to be more conscious of her friends and their feelings, pointing out when Alya’s pushing too much, and Alya in turn is more than capable of not letting Tikki have full sway over her and know her limits. Unlike Marinette, who naturally wants to please, Alya is not a pleaser and won’t take on more than she can chew. No risk of a developing Atlas complex with her having Tikki. 

Cat would have a lot of the appeals of Bee, plus Turtle’s natural set up to protect and watch out for allies. And of course, Alya wouldn’t be reckless with Cataclysm and be smart with it, using only when necessary. Big issue is that this could be more aggressive than what Alya would like. Cat has a role that has it be up close and personal with enemies, to be very engaging and involved. Alya will face that heat, but she’s not one to prefer really fighting it. She’d be able to get it down quickly but it wouldn’t be her preference. 

With Plagg, he can be a nice contrast to Alya, not just in fun interaction potential, but also in his personality as he is Alya’s opposite (lazy and not one to involve himself). Ideally when Alya’s getting too caught up in herself, Plagg can help bring her back down to the ground and help her slow down, but I can see potential possibilities of them having similar issues that Adrien and Plagg have in canon: Alya deciding that Plagg isn’t always worth listening to. I can see her listening to Plagg more than Adrien, but I can also see her dismissing him quite a bit as well. 

[reginarubie]

Daenerys and narcissism, she also displays it

Daenerys, when the story starts, is a character with which it’s easy to empathize, having been raised on the run by a clearly narcissistic young man (which sets the example for her, because children learn through example and Daenerys has had two examples in her life: Viserys self-entitlement and his weakness and the Dothraki way, she coupled the two things, strength with self-entitlement and she became what Viserys was but more powerful) who abuses her.

But slowly we see her starting to become as narcissistic as Viserys if not more.

Here you find a list of the characteristics of people with narcissistic disorder:

- Have an exaggerated sense of self-importance

“If I were not the blood of the dragon, she thought wistfully, this could be my home. She was khaleesi, she had a strong man and a swift horse, handmaids to serve her, warriors to keep her safe, an honored place in the dosh khaleen awaiting her when she grew old … and in her womb grew a son who would one day bestride the world. That should be enough for any woman … but not for the dragon.” (A Game of Thrones, Daenerys VI)

In this excerpt we see her choosing this entity with which she identifies herself (the dragon) over that of a woman. She chooses to see herself as special instead of common. Even though in her world she has been raised to believe herself special (and didn’t feel like a princess until she rode Silver) in this moment she is at a crossroads: being a normal woman with an happy life with her husband and son or choose to be a dragon. She chooses power, to be the dragon.

Now I do believe that as a victim of Viserys and Drogo both as often happens to kid victim of abuse (especially by family) she dissociated and in the rupture she identified with the dragon she sees in her dreams.

But in this moment she believes to be happy with her new life with her first abuser gone and could easily choose happiness in being just a khaleesi and live her life with her family or pursue her brother and hers ambition for the Iron throne.

- Have a sense of entitlement and require constant, excessive admiration

“And I am Daenerys Stormborn, Daenerys of House Targaryen, of the blood of Aegon the Conqueror and Maegor the Cruel and old Valyria before them. I am the dragon's daughter, and I swear to you, these men will die screaming.” (A Game of Thrones, Daenerys IX)

“Dany turned on him angrily. "The dragon feeds on horse and sheep alike."” (A Game of Thrones, Daenerys VII)

“They never saw me for a queen, she thought bitterly. I was only an afternoon's amusement, a horse girl with a curious pet.” (A Clash of Kings, Daenerys III)

Which I am sorry, but that is reality doing a check in. No one in Qart cares whose blood she has (from what kings she descend) they care for what she has done, her achievements and for now she is just “the horse girl with a curious pet” we see her own self entitlement, remember this comes immediately after she is thinks that she is not being given not even a cup of water from the Pureborn since she knows she offer poisoned wine to people they deem dangerous.

- Expect to be recognized as superior even without achievements that warrant it

“When her son sat the Iron Throne, she would see that he had bloodriders of his own to protect him against treachery in his Kingsguard.” (a Game of Thrones, Daenerys IV)

I choose this snippet for a precise reason, until now Daenerys has done nothing, but be a Targaryen that could warrant her a claim to the Iron throne but her brother is still alive, by her own conception Viserys is the one with the claim to the Iron throne (which it doesn’t apply since House Targaryen was dethroned and he had to take the Seven Kingdoms by right of conquest, but I digress) not her. So why does she assumes that her son will sit on the Iron throne? Her brother’s ambition has already become hers, she does not care her brother might marry and have heirs and kids of his own. Her son will sit on the Iron throne.

And she tries to get the Dothraki to recognize her son’s and hers claim to the Iron throne trying to convince Drogo to take the Seven Kingdoms for her and not for her brother. Despite either of them having done nothing to actually take the Seven Kingdoms.

“Across the road, a girl no older than Dany was sobbing in a high thin voice as a rider shoved her over a pile of corpses, facedown, and thrust himself inside her. Other riders dismounted to take their turns. That was the sort of deliverance the Dothraki brought the Lamb Men.

I am the blood of the dragon, Daenerys Targaryen reminded herself as she turned her face away. She pressed her lips together and hardened her heart and rode on toward the gate. [...] Slaves, Dany thought. Khal Drogo would drive them downriver to one of the towns on Slaver's Bay. She wanted to cry, but she told herself that she must be strong. This is war, this is what it looks like, this is the price of the Iron Throne.” (A Game of Thrones, Daenerys VII)

Here we see that despite having done nothing except working behind her brother’s back to get her son on the Iron throne, she is ready to sacrifice the life and freedom of whoever because that is the price of the Iron throne. If that’s not entitlement without achievements to warrant it, I don’t know what might be.

- Exaggerate achievements and talents

In many instances she keeps reminding everyone who crosses her, or tells her no that what she dreams come true, and therefor she is special.

Her whole behavior in adding title after title, her being convinced that if she dreams of it, it will come true... it’s a good attitude, a powerful attitude, until you use it to justify every wrongdoing you do or to obtain what you want in the way that you want without caring for the prospect of the others.

- Be preoccupied with fantasies about success, power, brilliance, beauty or the perfect mate

“He should never have done that. He is thrice my age, and of too low a birth for me, and I never gave him leave. No true knight would ever kiss a queen without her leave. [...] Sometimes she would close her eyes and dream of him, but it was never Jorah Mormont she dreamed of; her lover was always younger and more comely, though his face remained a shifting shadow.” (A Storm of Swords, Daenerys II)

And while, yikes Jorah really is thrice her age and there is nothing wrong with wanting her lover to be handsome, that of too low birth for me never sat right with me, because Daario was even lesser of birth than her but since he was handsome to her and she liked him better than Jorah she took him as her lover.

She likes pretty things and worries about power (see also when she is disappointed in Qart they do not consider her a Queen) and more, she cares to take back the Seven Kingdoms and have power to make her realm filled with fat man and maidens, but she never really puts effort to think how to achieve that. She thinks only how to achieve the power and she realizes that herself “"Aegon the Conqueror brought fire and blood to Westeros, but afterward he gave them peace, prosperity, and justice. But all I have brought to Slaver's Bay is death and ruin. I have been more khal than queen, smashing and plundering, then moving on."”

- Believe they are superior and can only associate with equally special people

All the times she spews about being the blood of the dragon (they are too many) and uses her being of the Blood of Old Valyria as if she is a goddess among men and should be treated accordingly.

As I have said in the beginning many of this aspects of her personality are due to what she has been taught (that she is special, a notion reinforced because she walked into the fire and survived, but she brings it to the next level and if it was anyone else in real life we’d say they have taken a power trip) and the examples she has been given. I have little doubt that if she had seen people behaving better and in a non pathological way she could stand a chance of not turning in Viserys. As things stand I think she dissociated to survive her trauma (a trauma that still haunts her - she still dreams of Viserys haughtily provoke her) and she identified with the dragon to the point that bit by bit every ounce of humanity is discarded. She still does good, she helps the ill in Meereen and I do believe she is convinced she is helping in the Bay even if she is doing the opposite.

Now, I am no psychologist, I just read and research a lot. If someone else, who is more knowledgeable than I in the matter, wants to give his input I’d be grateful to learn more.

[thegeminisage]

Here's something I'd love your take on: I read a meta recently (would link it but I can't remember where, ack) that suggested that Sam is able to forgive John in later seasons because a) he's had the whole "family making unilateral decisions for your own good" thing repeatedly shoved down his throat, and b) whatever John did under this umbrella in their childhoods, Dean has done far worse by that point, and Sam HAS to forgive him so by extension he can't really be mad at John anymore (1/2)

(2/2) As someone who has admittedly only seen bits and pieces of the later seasons, this seems to jive with Sam losing a lot of his characteristic early-seasons anger, letting Dean call the shots almost all the time even when he thinks it's the wrong move, and moments of sympathy for John (contrasted w/Dean's growing resentment, which is so interesting!). But! I got some big ol' gaps in my spn comprehension, so was curious if you had any thoughts on this dynamic

wow okay long answer warning! i got carried away and forgot how to use punctuation. nobody is obligated to read all of this lol and the biggest part of the answer is behind a cut. anyway!!

first things first: i think a big thing to remember with sam’s characterization in later seasons is that it’s like...not there, and when it is there, it’s sometimes flat and inconsistent. because dean became sole the main protagonist after the first 8 (arguably the first 5 or even first 2) seasons, sam sort of got demoted to “side character we don’t know what to do with” along with cas and crowley. they all had good arcs pop up now and then (sam had some fun stuff going on with lucifer in s11 and s13) but most of the time the writers either don’t know how to give him a meaningful characterization or don’t care (or both). so we have to do a lot of that work ourselves. 

so, for example, when we talk about sam losing his anger, i like to read it as him OVERCOMING that anger to avoid becoming his father (which may even be where some of the seemingly sympathetic comments come from, because he’s trying to be forgiving instead of angry), but really...it’s that the writers forgot he had anger issues. in-universe explanation vs irl explanation, yk? and i think pretty much all meta about sam in late seasons is written through that lens, whether the writer of that meta knows it or not. including this one! i can’t prove any of this shit, it’s my personal reading, i’m making it up. like there were just SO many different people involved in the production of supernatural that there was a lot of conflict and contradictions in things like continuity and characterization. (most of the writers room hadn’t even seen every episode!) so there’s not one definitive way to go about it. in many ways it makes the characters more nuanced and in many other ways it makes me fucking insane.

as for sam and john and whether or not sam forgives him, i’m actually glad you asked because this has been driving me nuts for a long time and it took me SO LONG to pin it down - sam’s relationship with john is very different to dean’s, and i couldn’t figure out WHY. it’s not that he was “abused less,” it’s not that he loved john less or was less hurt by his actions, so why doesn’t he seem as INVESTED in everything that happened to them as kids? like he says in season 14 he had to learn to let it go and that it was all a lifetime ago for him. meanwhile i think dean still deals with it every day. he’s still stewing in it to some degree 24/7. so like what’s the difference??

i think it comes down to two things. firstly, that while dean didn’t have anybody parenting him except john (and mary, but only for a very short time that he could actually remember), SAM’S parents were john AND DEAN. most of the time dean was the one raising sam, and in fact he arguably did way more parenting of sam than john did. so the person that made dean feel safe and like he could fight back against monsters, the person he was grateful to, was john. but the person who made SAM feel safest was dean. he doesn’t have that same gratitude towards john that dean does and he never will, because of how john made him feel alienated and excluded from their family growing up. dean’s resentment of john is so tangled up in this very deep and unconditional love and gratitude for him that sam just doesn’t have. 

secondly, i think dean has a serious case of “i can fix him” re: john that sam doesn’t have and possibly never had. john just never showed sam the same kind of inclusion and warmth and trust that he showed dean (however rarely he showed it, and however fucked up it was). i think sam figured out very very early on that their quest for yellow eyes was either a long shot or straight up impossible, and that they couldn’t waste their entire lives doing it, and that even if the demon died, john was never going to change. dean 100% drank the koolaid - he really truly believed in a world where someday they’d kill the demon and all retire from the life and be normal and be a family again, because that’s what john said and dean took his father’s word as gospel. sam knew better.

so i think what sam did was just disengage. partially because he felt he couldn’t afford to nurse that kind of anger and not become either his father or lucifer, and partially because even though sam loved john, still loves john, he never needed him the way dean did, because sam had dean. so it doesn’t hurt him as much to just “gray rock” it. i think if sam stopped and really dug into it he’d find that he’s still quite angry (probably more angry on dean’s behalf than his own, at least at first, because in his mind he was able to move past it and dean was not, dean had it worse, HIS OWN trauma isn’t real etc etc), but he doesn’t do that because he doesn’t want to be that angry, and possibly even thinks that if he brought it up dean would jump to john’s defense and it would cause a fight, which the opposite of what a gray rock does.

as for being forced to forgive john because if he didn’t he would also have to condemn dean...i don’t think i buy that at all. sam is fine making dean his exception and he allows dean to get away with a lot of deeply horrible shit he would condemn other people for. partially because he’s dean and sam loves him, but in my ~personal reading~ of sam, this is also because once sam became an adult the weight of everything dean did and had to give up to raise him really sank in, and part of him felt guilty (even though sam arguably didn’t have a childhood either). you know how kids take care of their parents in old age to repay them for raising them? that’s sort of how sam is with dean in later seasons - he implies multiple times that he would leave the hunting life forever and not look back if it weren’t for dean.

and as a side note - sorry, this is only tangentially related - dean implies several times in later seasons that the job is where he finds his sense of accomplishment and self-esteem and meaning - he believes the world is a better place because of what he and sam do, and even though he doesn’t always like DOING the job, he likes the outcome. it’s weird because this is as close as we see dean get to even HAVING self esteem. sam, emotionally intelligent, would have picked up on that - and since he and dean have both tried to leave the life multiple times and have always come to regret it, i also think part of sam believes you CAN’T escape - certainly SAM could never escape so long as dean was still in it, because whether he meant to or not dean would always pull him back in. and part of dean doesn’t really want to escape because he’s made his peace with it. so sam stays, and i think even if he can’t find the same meaning in the job that dean does, he finds a lot of meaning in being there for dean. (this, like gray rocking, is also consistent with the seasons where sam’s sole character trait is caring about dean lol. but i’m happy enough to read it in a kinder and less bitter/resentful way.)

it IS worth noting i think that the most forgiving sam ever was about john was in the adam episode, where he said he understood why he was the way he was and why he did what he did, and when dean said they were alike sam decided to take it as a compliment. sam in season 4 is arguably at one of his lowest points - struggling with addiction, consumed by anger and hatred and the need for revenge. he WAS like john in many ways, and i think he justified what john was doing because it also justified what HE was doing. but what he was doing led to breaking lucifer out of hell and the apocalypse that followed, which is why i like to think sam worked so hard to reign in his anger afterward - both to avoid his fate and avoid becoming his father.

in short: i don’t think sam has actually forgiven john so much as disengaged from him and moved past it. because if he DID engage with it, it’d bring up a whole lot of stuff he didn’t feel prepared to deal with. one of the risks of gray rocking things is doing it to the point that you lose touch with your own wants and needs and personality, so i think by late seasons sam’s repression, which is much more sneaky and quiet than dean’s, has settled in to the point where he’s like “yeah whatever” about dad out of sheer self preservation - because otherwise, he’d end up going crazy about it like dean does. i think it’d do him a hell of a lot of good to be able to get to shout at john and finally say his piece/ he’s really afraid of his own anger, but i think it’d be healthy for him to get back in touch with some of it.

[spn masterpost]

[hachichimitsu2]

how can randy get out of his ne-te loop? does stan have his own loop?

Every single MBTI type can get into a loop! For Stan, since he’s an ISFP, his version of a loop would be Fi-Ni. I’m planning on doing a full-length analysis on both characters (as well as other characters) and how a loop manifests in them soon, but that’s like later, later on, so I’ll just answer it to the best that I can here!

Randy’s Ne-Te loop can basically be summed up as “work mode”. ENFPs associate a Ne-Te loop as a sort of comfort zone for them. They use their Ne (Extroverted Intuition) to come up with multiple ideas and possibilities, and they use their Te (Extroverted Thinking) to execute these ideas “un-emotionally”. You can tell Randy LOVES using Ne and Te because he gets to accomplish so many things in life when he gets into that state. There’s a reason why ENFPs, such as Randy, are regarded to be talented in multiple fields because they’re open to new ideas, hobbies and interests (Ne) and have the motivation to execute them to their liking (Te). However, it’s not always good to stay in that state for long.

While it’s good for ENFPs to execute multiple ideas, it can get to a point that they’re CONSTANTLY getting things done that they sacrifice their own feelings and personal happiness. In episodes such as “Creme Fraiche”, Randy gets more and more stressed as he’s trying to climb up the culinary social ladder. He’s constantly executing new food, without even considering how his family feels about this. Despite being the school cafeteria chef, he couldn’t even make food that school kids would actually like since he’s so busy getting in that “zone” where “feelings” don’t matter. And in that process, he gets into the habit of slowly losing himself.

The same goes for the Tegridy farms arc. He wants to churn out as much specials as he possibly can, but at the cost of that, he slowly loses his “Tegridy”, the defining characteristic that made him want to sell weed in the first place. To ENFPs in that state, churning ideas and getting them done is beneficial. Getting their emotions involved will only “slow them down”. And that’s what prevents ENFPs from wanting to break out of that loop in the first place, the fear of slowing down and not accomplishing the things they want to do. That it’s “too late” and “time is running out”. Randy is scared of slowing down and thinking of the consequences because it’s a whole lot easier to just shove down his emotions and get to work. It’s a lot easier to achieve things and move forward without thinking of the after effects. It’s a lot easier to care less.

The only way for an ENFP to get out of that loop is to reconnect with their Fi (Introverted Feeling) and their Si (Introverted Sensing). Basically, Randy needs to get in touch with his introverted side. Fi is all about being connected to one’s emotions, morals and values. Instead of pushing away those feelings, Randy needs to stop and ask himself how he REALLY feels about things. Is he really happy doing all this? Is he scared of becoming irrelevant? Is he proud of the things that he’s done? It’s questions that are uncomfortable and kind of awkward to speculate about, but it’s something that ENFPs need to contemplate over. Randy needs to rethink his morals. He needs to remember what got him there in the first place. He needs to get his “Tegridy” back again. And most importantly, he needs to acknowledge that he’s human. He has to remember that his “feeling” side is just as important as his “workaholic” side.

As for Si, Si is all about reflecting on the past. Randy’s scared of doing so due to the many regrets he’s had in his life, but he also needs to remember the happy memories too. He can’t change the past, but what he can do is forgive himself and the people around him. He needs to look back in order to not make the same mistakes again. He needs to ground himself with nostalgic pleasures. He has to actually spend time with his family instead of using them and focusing on work. He has to take a BREAK really. In “Creme Fraiche”, he was able to break out of the loop thanks to Sharon’s magic hand stuff (lol), in which he has no choice but to take a break. In the Pandemic special, he was so, so close to getting out of it: “How do I even begin to apologize? You guys were right. I think all the marijuana really did go to my head. You said it: a drug is a drug, and... I'm not who I used to be. It's time for me to own up to everything. It's time everyone knew what started this pandemic. (sounds like heavy Fi + Si reflection)” But In the recent special, he was able to get out of the loop by getting in touch with his Fi, which is giving away his weed and forgiving his loved ones, as well as making weed that actually has “Tegridy” in mind. He didn’t do that to make a profit. He did that because he wants to help people forgive one another, to make a genuine difference in the world. Randy always seems to make a breakthrough when he slows down and reflects on himself, which is how he can break out of that cycle.

It’s still too soon to speculate if he’s truly gotten out of it, but the recent special seems to highlight this. As long as he’s self-aware when he gets into that severe workaholic state, then he’ll be able to get out of it by being in touch with his human side.

Now, as for Stan, his loop is pretty much different from Randy’s. Stan’s Fi-Ni loop can be equated to a sense of hopelessness and fear for the future. Things suck, and there’s nothing he can do. He feels “trapped” in a sense, where he can’t get out and no source of positivity can ever make things better. He uses his Fi (Introverted Feeling) to acknowledge his negative emotions, and his Ni (Introverted Intuition) to project how he sees the future. Stan has a hard time exploring other possibilities when he’s in this state: “We just gotta face it. A death metal band is never gonna make real money anymore. The only band that would get approved by China would be all vanilla and cheesy. [gets emotional] I'm gonna have to live on that fucking farm forever.” He sees one negative possibility and holds onto that, thinking that’s probably the future of his life. The same goes for The Pandemic Special, where he “just wants his life back”. Or in “Raisins”, where he remarks: “Dude, I don't have time to start over with other girls. I'm nine years old, dude! If I don't work things out with Wendy, I could be alone my whole life!”

To get out of that loop, Stan needs to reconnect with his Se (Extroverted Sensing) and his Te (Extroverted Thinking). Basically, Stan needs to get in touch with his extroverted side. Se is all about being present in the moment and being pragmatic in regards to the state of reality. Instead of assuming “change” to be a bad thing, he needs to look around. Is he making negative assumptions without any real, concrete basis? Has he truly explored all realistic probabilities. Is the world really as bad as he assumes it to be, or is it just all in his head? Stan needs to have his “Assburgers” self-realization moment: “You were right, Kyle. Sometimes, the only way to go forward, is to take a big left turn. I've been resisting it, but I'm ready now. I want you to stay with Cartman Burger, dude. It's okay. You're gonna do this and I'm gonna do my thing and…my mom and dad aren't getting back together. But you know what? It's okay. In fact, it's better. Change is gonna bring new things to all of us. Where will Cartman Burger go from here? That'll be cool to see. And it opens me up to a whole new adventure, exploring... new relationships with all new people in town. Maybe this kid will become my new best friend. Or maybe this kid will. Maybe it won't be like before, but... at least it'll all be new. And that's what's gonna make it so that I can keep going. For the first time in a long time, I'm really excited.”

As for Te, Te is all about prioritizing empirical data in an “unemotional” manner. Stan needs to be rational about his assumptions. He’s using his Fi to continue feeling bad, but he needs to use his Te in order to take action. Having a defeatist mindset is leading Stan into the loop, but to break out of it, he has to be rational about the way that he’s handling it. Drinking himself just to satiate the pain can only do so much. It’s only a temporary solution for his fears and projections. He has to do “something”, anything, to make the future at least a little bit brighter than what he expects it to be. He CAN change his future. He CAN change himself for the better. He CAN do something to make the world a better place. He just has to be open to change and adjust accordingly.

He also has to stop self-isolating and putting up walls from his loved ones to get to that point. Stan often keeps his feelings locked up, until it explodes in misplaced anger or impulsive behavior. But, he simply needs someone to help change his perspective a little. Stan can be stubborn about the way he views the world, but he also has to be open as to how others view it as well. It’s how he can have a realistic, pragmatic attitude on reality. How can you have a justified view on reality if you’re just stuck in your own interpretation of it? Listening to the consensus of those around him plays a huge role in not seeing the world as “total shit”. Stan simply needs to just “get out” and be open with people and new things. Of course, lockdown didn’t do him any favors, but he could at least talk about his perspectives on things with others, letting go of any fear of looking weak and vulnerable in order to be free from the fears of a “bad future”. He needs to have a realistic mindset regarding the future, instead of assuming things will only get worse from here. Life doesn’t work like that, there’s always highs and lows to any given point. Stan has to be open to change, both in the environment he’s in and in the way that he views things.

[yeenybeanies]

Could u do #36 with Hawkeye? If not Hawkeye then could u do Logan?

you can still send prompts & questions -^w^-

36. “ what do you want me to do about it? i’m three inches tall. ” 

clint would be great for this but i gotta go with my favorite manlet this time :> also i am once again spending time designing characters that i’ll only use once smh

marvel | logan howlett / wolverine & joy fredericks / heartbreaker ( oc )

1,394 words

mild language warning

thanks for sending!! 

A guttural growl rumbles, sounding like something that would come from a beast more than a man. There’s a familiar pressure in his forearms, but he holds the metal claws housed within at bay. They wouldn’t be particularly useful in this situation anyway.

“ I could use a little help here, ”  the man snaps. He glances down at his flannel shirt, at the pocket on his breast.

“ Hmm. Looks like you’ve got it to me, ”  comes a reply from within the pocket.

“ Kid. ”  He growls again, both in frustration and from exertion. He shifts his grip on the crumbling concrete to try and hold it better. It’s only just barely keeping together. Every second, every movement, threatens to bring the whole wall and ceiling down.

“ Yes, Logan? ” 

“ Ghrr––help me with this damn wall! Before it buries the both of us! ” 

The pocket shifts. Out pops a little head-full of tight, red curls. From underneath them, proportionally tiny eyes look up at Logan, and then at the wall, unimpressed. Her lips purse.

“ What do you want me to do about it? I’m three inches tall. You’re Wolverine. ” 

“ Kid, I swear to god––– ”  Logan starts, but another jolt in the wall cuts him off. He leans into the weight, eyes closed, features pulled into a snarl.

The little one rolls her eyes and sighs, exasperated. She pulls herself further out of the pocket, then summons up her mutant abilities. Her minuscule weight lifts into the air, powered by her telekinesis. The casual clothes on her body start to glow a bright pink and morph, leaving her in her pink-and-black uniform when it fades. A black mask appears on her face in a similar fashion.

“ Fine. Heartbreaker clocking in for hero duty. ”  She flies out from between Logan and the wall and raises her hands, fingers splayed. With another breath, she channels her energy, her willpower. For several seconds, nothing happens, much to her alarm.

“ Any day now . . .! ”  the man says. His arms are shaking.  “ Joy! ”

“ I’m trying. Hold on––– ”  She pushes again, willing the concrete back with growing desperation. Under her breath, she curses. Focus, she tells herself. Push. Lift. She squeezes her eyes shut in concentration. The concrete is much heavier than she’d anticipated.

Fucking LIFT!

The rubble starts to move, no longer pulled by gravity, but by mind power. Joy moves the large chunks away from Logan, using her hands to guide her energy. Her breath is heavy. Once the weight is off of his shoulders––literally––Logan backs away. Any abrasions from falling and scraping concrete quickly seal shut, vanishing as though they’d never happened to begin with.

“ Attagirl, ”  he says. His hands lift up to cup around her tiny body. With her in his hold, the man turns on his heel and breaks out into a sprint, making for the door. Cracks in the ceiling match his not-inconsiderable speed.  “ C’mon, Joy, hold it for another minute . . .! ” 

A minute is about all she has left in her. Logan only just makes it through the door as the ceiling comes down behind him. The shock wave pushes him down to his knees. Acting on instinct, he curls around the little one, surrounding her, using himself as a shield from any flying debris.

Though her efforts were not physical in nature, Joy still suffers physical and mental fatigue from her exertion. She lies limply in the man’s hand, her chest rising and falling with exhausted breaths. Logan stays curled around her for several long moments––longer than she’d normally allow without some sort of snarky comment. Luckily for him, she’s too tired to come up with any such comments.

Only when he is sure that the rubble has settled does Logan unfold himself. He pushes himself to stand, hands still cupped around Joy. He spares a quick glance over his shoulder to the collapsed building, then turns his attention to the little mutant.

“ Hey. Still alive? ”  It’s a rhetorical question; he can hear her breathing and her heart’s beating.

The initial answer he gets is a groan. Joy sits up, a hand to her forehead to try and nurse her rapidly-worsening headache.  “ No, ”  she says flatly. Dust covers her, muting the fiery red of her hair. Everything hurts.

“ Yeah you are. ”  Logan gently hooks a thumb under her chin and tips her head up towards him. One corner of his mouth is quirked up in a half smile.  “ How ya feelin’? ” 

Joy does not resist him. She meets his eyes, her brows furrowed.  “ I feel like shit, Logan. ”  On top of her exhaustion, she feels a sense of shame. She couldn’t hold the collapse. Any other psionic mutant wouldn’t have had a problem with it! 

“ You did good, ”  Logan says, sensing her internal turmoil.  “ Maybe a little less lip next time. ” 

Joy rolls her eyes and groans. Logan picks the worst times to make jokes.  “ It still came down. ” 

“ It was coming down anyway, ”  the man says with a shrug.

“ I should have been able to hold it, ”  she huffs.

“ Nah. You did fine. You’re still learning your powers. ”  He looks back to the debris, thoughtful.  “ I’m more curious about what caused the collapse. I didn’t detect anyone else in there with us. ”

“ Neither did I . . .. ”  Joy shakes her hands through her hair to try and clear some of the dust, then gathers her focus and levitates up from Logan’s hands. His head whips back around to face her. Were she in better spirits, the little mutant might tease him for being so outwardly concerned. Unfortunately, both her spirits and energy are pretty low. She only manages to hover for a few seconds before dropping back down. Logan, having not moved at all, easily catches her again. His fingers curl, giving her something to lean on.

“ Easy now, pipsqueak. You’re gonna have to rest a while. ” 

Joy huffs indignantly and supports herself against the man’s thumb. This is embarrassing. She hates feeling so weak.  “ I’m fine. ” 

“ Uh hunh. And you’re gonna rest while I investigate. ”  Before she can offer any sort of retort, Logan stuffs Joy back into his breast pocket. She squeaks in protest, but he pays her no mind.

“ Logan! ”  Once she’s regained her bearings, the little mutant pushes her head out from the pocket and glares up at the underside of Logan’s jaw. She narrows her eyes and pushes with her mind, but finds a familiar barrier blocking her out.

“ Can’t read me, kid, ”  he says knowingly. There’s a smug twinkle in his eye. He gives his temple a tap.  “ Steel trap. Well––adamantium. ”

“ I wasn’t going to read you, ”  she says.  “ I was gonna insult you. Telepathically. ” 

Logan pushes a sharp, amused breath through his nose.  “ Heaven forbid. ” 

“ But that’s fine; I can just do it out loud. ” 

“ Can’t wait. ”  He shoves Joy’s head back down into the pocket, more teasing her than anything, and makes for the door he’d come through. For the most part, debris obstructs it. He can’t squeeze through. With a contemplative hum, the man lets his eyes wander, looking for alternative entrances.

There.

“ Hold on, ”  he says. He jumps to grab a handhold in the cracked brick face and clambers his way up to a barred window on the second story. Joy peeks out from the pocket in time to see the Wolverine’s famous claws slip out through his knuckles with their characteristic snikt! 

Gross.

She grimaces, but keeps her comments to herself. She knows it’s worse for him; he has to feel the pain every time he pops those claws.

Logan makes quick work of the bars, dispatching them with two easy slashes. His claws slice through them like a hot knife through butter. They retreat back into his knuckles with another sickening noise, freeing his hand to punch through the glass.

“ The building was already unstable before we got here, ”  Joy points out.  “ It was probably, like, a cat or something that stepped wrong and sent it all down. And you weigh more than a cat. ” 

“ Guess you’ll just have to catch me if I step wrong then, ”  he says. Though his face doesn’t give anything away, Joy can hear the implicit smirk in his voice. 

“ Ugh. Y’know, I don’t think I could yet, even if I wanted to. ”  She sits up further in the pocket, arms folded over the lip.  “ So if you fall, you’re shit outta luck. ”

[sometimesiwrite]

The Way It Is

Prompt: Fake Dating

Pairing: Lambert & Essi Other Characters: Julian (Jaskier), Eskel/Geralt

Rating: Teen Content Warnings: No Archive Warnings; platonic/queerplatonic dynamics; pressure to engage sexually; coarse language; alcohol/intoxication; modern AU.

Summary: When Essi and Lambert are setup on a blind date, they don’t expect to get along as well as they do. However, when they decide to keep their relationship platonic and non-romantic, they realize they might face some uncomfortable pressure. For the sake of simplicity, they decide to tell people they’re dating, but is it sustainable? 

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo​

Essi fidgeted with the bent corner of her cafe menu, looking around at the various styles of local artworks hanging on the walls. She was early by about ten minutes, but that didn’t stop her from checking the pearlescent dial of her watch every thirty seconds. Finally, the bell above the door tinkled and a man walked in. Essi could tell from the way he was looking around that he was there to meet someone—her. The only other people sitting alone in the cafe were working on laptops and tablets; no one else waiting for a date. And this man was most certainly looking for one. 

He was handsome in a ruffled sort of way, though he’d clearly put in a bit of effort. His black casual dress shirt and slim light-wash jeans fit his lean frame impeccably, and a subtle quantity of mousse was clearly doing its best to tame his short, scruffy brown hair. Even his bristly beard appeared to have been trimmed recently. Though there was nothing particularly remarkable about his clothing, there was something striking about the way he carried himself, a devil-may-care sort of presence that Essi appreciated. For a blind date, she thought, it certainly could be worse. Allegedly, they knew each other, at least based on his abruptly out-of-the-blue text, and the closer she looked, the more her memory of him crystalized. 

A loud ping! emitted from Essi’s phone and the man looked up from his own cellular device, clearly having just texted. 

“Uh, Essi? Essi Daven, right?” He took a step towards her and leaned in, pointing to his phone screen. 

“Yes,” Essi stood to shake his hand, “hi.”

“Nice to see you again. Lambert.”

They sat down awkwardly, both struggling to find the will for smalltalk. 

“So…” Lambert had become keenly interested in a black-and-white digital photograph behind Essi’s shoulder.

“Listen,” Essi could feel the words start to tumble out of her mouth, and it was too late to do anything about it. Lambert raised an eyebrow,  “I don’t really know how to say this, so I’m just going to be honest and probably regret it later: I don’t really do this. Dating. I find it strange and uncomfortable and if I’m perfectly honest I think I’d rather die.” She didn’t cringe apologetically, which would have been the expected behaviour to accompany an outpouring of disinterest. Instead she stared at him, wide-eyed, lips slightly pursed as a muscle in her neck twitched, waiting for his response.

Lambert laughed. Genuinely laughed—a joyful release of tension and dread, “Oh, thank Fuck!” Essi blinked in pleasant surprise and watched as Lambert began to relax.

“Excuse me?” Her startlingly blue eyes widened in amusement. 

“No, no, I just mean—I would absolutely and one-hundred percent, without a doubt, rather die in a hole than date,” Lambert slotted the edge of the menu under his fingernails and let his eyes wander a little more freely around the cafe. 

“So then… why?” 

Hm. Direct, frank, amusing lack of filter… the memories were starting to come back from what limited, heavily inebriated, time they’d spent together.

There was something about the straightforwardness of this endearingly odd woman that made Lambert feel infinitely more comfortable. Usually, any kind of interaction with the potential of building mutual interest made him feel like he was playing a game he didn’t know the rules to. The signals, the code words that never meant what they said: having sex on the first date means you’re a slut; not having sex on the third date means you’re a prude; grabbing coffee means this; having dinner means that; if they your arm but don’t invite you up, it means that they’re actually a KGB operative and need to give you the launch codes for a super secret missile...

Fuck that, we have words for a reason. Say what you mean and don’t waste my time. For that reason alone, Essi was already scoring quite well in Lambert’s books. 

He shrugged, “You somehow remembered me from the KM Christmas party almost six months ago, and still asked for my number. I figure that at least deserves a coffee and a conversation.”

Essi was bewildered, “I didn’t ask for your number, you texted me.”

Lambert shook his head, “Impossible. No offense, but I absolutely guarantee you I did not.” He produced their short text exchange and scrolled to the top of their conversation: 

Hi, is this Lambert? From the KM Christmas party? 

You might not remember me, we got talking about 

the political situation in Kashmir after about…

Too many drinks. Eeep! 

Anyway, I’d love to get a coffee sometime, if 

you’re interested. 

Sorry, this is Essi Daven. 

You called me Goldilocks at one point and 

seemed amused XD 

Hope you’re well! 

Essi snatched Lambert’s phone, shocked and slightly outraged as she reached for her own device, opening her thread with Lambert. The text at the top was not from her, but from the man across from her: 

Yeah, hi, this is 

Lambert-from-the-KM-Christmas-party. 

As it happens, I remember you and our 

conversation quite well. Not many folks 

happily get into drunken political discussions

You know what, I wouldn’t mind grabbing a 

coffee. 

Let me know if you’re free in the next couple 

weeks! 

Lambert gestured emphatically at Essi’s phone screen, “In what world is this an acceptable way to ask someone out?! I wouldn’t have said yes to that!”

“I don’t know,” Essi fired back, “It was straightforward! I found it charming, okay? Is that a crime?”

“No, but I have some serious concerns about your taste in men.”

“Like you’re in such a fine position to judge after the hollow, paltry invitation you accepted—which I absolutely did not write, by the way. I want to make that perfectly clear.”

“Alright, alright, cool your jets, we’ve got bigger fish to fry.” Lambert narrowed his eyes as he passed Essi’s phone back to her, “You didn't fire the first shot, so who texted me from your phone and cleared the history?”

Essi nibbled the inside of her cheek, “I can think of a few.”

“Okay, next question,” Lambert pocketed his phone, “who added you to my contacts before you texted. Because we did not exchange numbers six months ago, but your name was already there when I received it.”

Essi shrugged, “Who has access to your phone?”

“I dunno. Really just Eskel and Geralt and neither of them would—”

“Geralt.”

“Why him?”

Essi’s bright blue eyes turned steely and murderous, “Julian… They’re working together.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Are you telling me that Geralt the-last-thing-I-need Rivia and Julian Alfred these-aren't-my-pants Pankratz think we're so helplessly undateable that they decided to secretly set us up?” 

“Eskel doesn’t know me that well; he wouldn’t try to set you up with someone he hadn’t vetted. Who did you talk to first when you got that text from me?”

Lambert’s eyes widened, “Holy shit, they’re working together.”

Essi nodded, a flood of embarrassment warming her cheeks. “Sorry to waste your time. You’re very nice but, um, I should just…” she got up to leave.

“Wh-hey, hold up. I mean, if you wanna go, go, that's fine, but there's something you might want to know first.”

Essi tossed her yellow bangs out of her eyes, “Oh? What's that?”

“This,” Lambert produced an Amex credit card from his breast pocket, “is Geralt's.” The cheeky glint in his eyes was a very convincing argument.

“Fine then. Coffee and a conversation.” 

The coffee was hot and decent, and the conversation meandered through the usual topics of music, movies, and television, but also dipped into deeper waters as they grew more comfortable with each other’s company. Of course, it didn’t hurt that neither of them had any stakes in the outcome of this “date”. It made it easier to be frank and open, which in turn led to them quickly enjoying their time together. So much so that coffee turned into lunch, which turned into a long walk in the pleasant weather, which finally landed them outside Essi’s apartment, just around dinner time. 

“I have to say, this was actually a pleasant encounter,” she said, turning to face him with a characteristic toss of her bangs. 

“Yeah, who’d’ve thought two people forced together by meddling friends would actually find it enjoyable?” 

“In light of that,” Essi squared her shoulders and found Lambert’s hazel-brown eyes, “I think it’s fair to say I want to see you again.”

He cringed regretfully and scratched the back of his head, “Ahh, yeah, so… I don’t know if that’s really--”

“Oh, relax,” Essi smirked with a casual touch to Lambert’s forearm. “I don't mean like that. I just mean--you're interesting and fun and, well I don't have many close friends and I feel like we connected well today.”

“Well…”

“I'll make it even simpler: I absolutely, one-hundred percent, am not interested in dating you.”

“Easy there, you know I love it when people get all straightforward with me.” 

“I mean it, I just want to be friends,” she toyed back, trying her best to look sultry. It kind of worked.

Lambert bit his lower lip in mock arousal, “Mmm, oh yeah...”

She swayed her shoulders forward and back, doing her best to emulate the seductive actresses and models of the 1950s, “I want to Netflix and chill with a documentary about Soviet propaganda.”

Her last comment prompted a playfully stern look from her companion, “Careful now, you’re wading into actual turn-on territory.” 

“You're such a weirdo,” Essi chuckled, giving him an endeared shove. “Seriously, though, would you like to do this again? Friends?” 

He nodded sincerely, “Yeah, I think I'd really like that. Just one problem, though.”

“If we claim not to be interested in each other but keep hanging out we’ll never hear the end of it?” 

“Bingo.” 

Essi hummed thoughtfully and nibbled the inside of her bottom lip, “Well… we could always… pretend?” 

***

“Sounds like you two are hitting it off. I’m glad. I know Essi’s been feeling a little isolated between work and being new to the city.” Geralt closed the fridge with his foot and headed towards the sofa, popcorn in one hand, three beers in the other. “I’ll take my card back, by the way.” 

Lambert reluctantly handed the Amex back in exchange for a beer and perched on the arm of the sofa. “She’s really something. We’re, uh—yeah, hitting it off is a good word.”

And hitting it off, they were. The last ten days since their first “date” had been more enjoyable than all the dates he’d had in the last year combined. Essi was a fantastic companion: sharp, witty, kind, took no bullshit… They had done absolutely nothing but hang out, and no one had pried them for many details about the nature of their relationship. As far as their friend group was concerned, they were simply dating in the way that most adults dated. This also meant more time to themselves without unwanted interruptions (namely Julian barging in with his spare key to gossip about whatever fires were currently alight on twitter). The first night Lambert had been over, it took Julian all of five minutes to “grab something from the fridge” before parting with a knowing wink. 

To her credit and imagination, Essi had expertly fielded her cousin’s initial barrage of questions when she first announced their “involvement.” It wasn’t that she didn’t like her cousin, Essi adored Julian, but she was also the first to admit that the man had no boundaries. What he lacked in that arena, he certainly made up for with opinions, which he was always more than happy to bestow on his younger cousin—usually dating advice, almost always unsolicited. Lambert had a much easier time convincing his side that he and Essi were taking it easy to see where things went. Between Eskel being a consummate gentleman and Geralt having his own Delicate Sensibilities, neither of them had demanded any details. 

“As long as you’re both happy and everything’s healthy, that’s all that matters,” Geralt’s partner reiterated, reaching into the bowl on Geralt’s lap. 

“Jesus, Eskel, you sound like my Nonna.”

“That's no way to talk to your father,” Geralt smirked into his hand of popcorn

“You're no better,” Lambert took a swig from his beer, lips popping as he lowered the bottle. “I swear, you've turned into a couple of mother hens since you two got together. Quit fussing and watch the game.” 

Geralt put his arm around Eskel’s shoulders, “We have gotten a little soft haven’t we?”

Eskel huffed out a laugh, “Probably. Hey, Lambert, don't fuck it up or I'll kick your ass into next week.” 

“Thank you. See? Was that so hard?” 

“Eh,” Eskel shrugged, helping himself to another handful of popcorn, “I stand by my original statement. Geralt agrees.” 

“It's true,” he said between mouthfuls. “Essi’s a good woman. Smart, talented, kind, attractive.” 

Eskel cleared his throat.

“Eskel, she is, it's just a statement of fact it doesn't mean that she doesn’t have other…”

“I know it doesn't but I still think you could bear to be a little more…”

“Funny thing,” Lambert interrupted, “I still can’t figure out how this smart, talented, kind, attractive woman’s number programmed itself into my phone. Because I may have been drunk the night we first met, but I have never in my life forgotten a successful number grab. Fess up, fellas. Who was it?”

Eskel’s eyes widened, “Geralt, you didn’t.”  

“I… may have… helped Julian gain access to Lambert’s phone.”

“Unbelievable. The betrayal,” Lambert shook his head, eyes still on the game. “If only there was some way to square things up…”

“You charged everything to my company card, didn’t you?”

“First two dates and a fresh pair of pants. Thanks, bud.” Geralt accepted a pat on the back as Eskel began gently but sternly berating him.

Lambert shook his head, smirking as he took another swig of beer, leaving the two lovebirds to bicker amongst themselves. His hip pocket buzzed and he checked his phone: Essi. 

Next Wednesday? Pizza and a movie?  Still can't believe you haven't seen  Ocean’s Eleven. 

Yeah, okay, fine. Jeez :P 7:30 my place? I'll provide beverages. 

If by ‘beverages’ you mean watery beer…

Fuck off, I'll get the good stuff. Unless  you prefer Arbor Mist or some shit. 

*gasps* I am offended! (but also it's delicious)

*sigh* do you want me to get you some?

*turtles into hoodie* ...peach or cherry pls? 

Haha okay, fine, I'll get a bottle. Can't promise  I won't judge you forever, though ;) 

It's okay, I deserve it.  g2g, see you tomorrow! xox 

***

Lambert groaned contentedly, massaging his stomach as he sprawled back on his aging brown sofa, long legs resting habitually on the coffee table. The now-empty pizza box lay abandoned on the far edge, accompanied by four empty beer bottles, and a nearly-empty, unfavourably warm Peach Arbor Mist. The toilet flushed and Essi emerged. Her dark gold hair had long ago been pulled into a messy bun, but her indigo skinny jeans had been replaced by soft-looking grey leggings. 

Lambert shook his head in amusement as she settled back next to him on the couch, "I still can't believe you brought your own lounge pants"

"That's because I'm a genius," she quipped, crossing her legs and adjusting the height of her waistband. "Besides, when else will I have the opportunity to actually be comfortable during a date?" 

"You took your bra off, too, didn't you?" Lambert asked without missing a beat, eyes never leaving the screen. 

"Yup!" Essi confirmed, her sparkling blue eyes glinting with joy as she raised her glass to her lips.

The movie continued as the new friends settled into comfortable silence, their food-drowsy, alcohol-fuzzy states lulling them into a new level of comfortability around each other. Legs fell asleep, positions were adjusted, and shoulders leaned on as the two sought maximum comfort for minimum effort. Soon, an arm was around Essi's shoulder as she settled her cheek on a comfortable spot on Lambert's chest. 

"You good?" Lambert asked, only half-irritated at her seemingly endless search for the perfect angle. 

"I'm sorry, I thought I'd found a good spot, but..." A few more adjustments of her head and Lambert couldn't take it anymore. 

"Jesus, woman, here. Get up for a sec."

Essi sat up as Lambert rearranged himself into a sort of semi-recline with one foot on the floor so his other leg could make room for the tiny pain-in-the-ass that was taking up the rest of the couch space. At his invitation, she wriggled up to the crook of his arm and quickly settled in. Lambert hadn't really thought about what they were doing. Not when Essi had harmlessly leaned against his arm; not when their weight settled into each other; not when Lambert had put his arm around her; not even as he was rearranging to get to where they were now. It had all just... happened. Now, though, with Essi lying still, Lambert felt the weight and warmth of her body shifting gently against his, and it dawned on him that this had the potential to be, well, weird.

But the strange thing was, it didn't feel weird. He'd fucking cuddled before, but there was always a sense of holding back, a tension in his body, being on the lookout for signals from the other person to move onto the Next Step. But now, he actually felt comfortable. There wasn't anything that was supposed to happen after this. Nobody was asking anything of him, no one sending signals he could pick up on but never read properly, no sinking feelings of dread as the other person moved in for a kiss that always felt too soon. Essi was just there, breathing, content. And Lambert was relaxed.

The woman half-on top of him gave a twitch as the credits started to roll, and Lambert let out a private laugh, "Hey, Sleeping Beauty, show's over." 

Essi inhaled heavily through her nose and lifted herself up, "Hmmm?" 

"Movie's over." 

"Did I fall asleep? I'm sorry!" she sat and rubbed her eyes, taking a sip of water to rinse the stale taste from her mouth. 

"Eh, only a little." Lambert exited Netflix and tossed the remote back on to the table. "Thought you might wanna start heading home before it gets too late." 

Essi nodded in response as she grabbed the pizza box and brought it to the kitchen trash, leaving Lambert to bring the empties. 

"You going to finish this atrocity of a beverage?" Lambert waggled the near-empty wine bottle at Essi as he passed on his way to the sink. She merely scowled and shook her head, letting him pour it down the drain 'where it belonged anyway'.

Essi gathered her things and met Lambert by his front door, checking her pockets for her phone and keys one last time before putting her shoes on. 

"You okay to walk? Want me to come with?" 

It was only 10:30 on a weeknight, and she appreciated the gesture all the same, but it was fine to walk. "Thanks, though. And thank you for tonight. I really needed to get out of the house. I hope, um..." 

She trailed off, not sure how to ask. She didn't have the same physical boundaries that most others seemed to have. She was affectionate—often overly so, and it had led to more than a few misunderstandings in the past. She didn't want Lambert to feel as though she had ulterior motives when the simple fact of the matter was that she hadn't really been thinking. Between the instant relief of not actually being on a date and Lambert's easy manner all evening, she'd forgotten that most friendships didn’t generally involve that much physical contact. Would Lambert be confused now? Thinking they were onto something more than friendship? Had he been wanting more? Had she pushed past a point of no return and doomed their friendship?

She inhaled, "Were you comfortable tonight?" 

For a split second, Lambert flailed, wondering whether he’d made her uncomfortable. Fuck, she'd seemed comfortable, if anything it felt like he’d been following her lead but maybe...

"I—yeah. That was, I enjoyed that. Were... were you not—?" 

Essi smiled and Lambert relaxed again, "No, I was. I wanted to ask in case, that's all. Boundaries and all that. I'll text you when I'm home." 

Lambert opened the door and waved her off toward the elevator, "'Kay. 'Night!" 

The door clicked shut. 

Okay, alright. Fine. Did they cuddle? Yes. Did he enjoy it? Fuck yes. He absolutely didn’t care what anyone might think about how he chose to enjoy his time with other people. However, this didn’t stop him from acknowledging that he was in uncharted friendship territory. More than anything, he was worried about how Essi really felt. Of course, she had no reason not to be honest with him. But the last thing he wanted to do was play fast and loose with someone’s emotions, especially not a friend, and definitely not one as close as Essi. Time would tell. As Lambert’s head hit the pillow, the memory of her warmth and weight settled over him again, and he slept soundly for the first time in months.

***

“Yes Poppet, but have you slept together yet? Honestly, you’ve been dating for almost three weeks now, what could you possibly be waiting for?” 

Oh, I don’t know, hell to freeze over? You to mind your own business? Whichever comes first… 

“I mean, you clearly adore one another, I’ve never seen you happier. What’s there to lose?’”

Essi scoffed. 

Julian placed his hands on her shoulders, “I know it’s been a while for you, but I think you can afford to let yourself go a little, have some fun, hm? Besides, it’s better to find out sooner rather than later if you’re sexually incompatible.”

She took a deep breath, “That’s a very good point, Julian, I’ll think about that.” The dating act was starting to wear a little thin, but it was worth not having to explain to anyone that they weren’t doing exactly what it looked like they were doing. 

Julian took time to give his cousin a scrutinizing look, “Well, by the look of things it won’t be long anyway. If you spend all of your time together as tangled up as you were the other night when I came over, it’ll happen sooner rather than later. Just trust your gut, and when in doubt, a little hint never goes awry.”

Needless to say, Essi more or less ignored her cousin’s advice.

As the weeks stretched on, it became evident that they were quickly becoming what most people would consider to be more than friends. The first time they pulled the covers back and climbed into bed, each on their half of the mattress, they were aware that yet another boundary of friendship had been pushed a little farther into the grey zone. But, they woke up the next morning feeling happy, content, and refreshed, and surely there was nothing wrong with two people sharing a comfortable bed. Essi had woken up with crust in her eyes and her nightgown bunched around her waist. Lambert had woken up with morning wood and his hair a mess. Neither of them cared. People wake up in the morning, big deal. 

Still, it didn’t stop the questioning that oscillated in the background of Lambert’s mind. Was he unknowingly leading Essi on by allowing her so much closeness without a clearly defined relationship? She’d made her own disinterest clear enough on their first “date”,  but feelings change over time. What she’d told him three weeks ago might not be true anymore… 

And then there was that soft warm tingle in the middle of his chest every time she lay her head in his lap, every time he ran his fingers through her hair. He knew he wasn't in love. Not that he was an expert, but what was all that "when you know, you know" bullshit if he couldn’t trust his own feelings? He loved her, sure, but more like a... not a sister, that would be weird. He didn't know what like. Whatever. Fuck it. Eskel had said it best three weeks ago: “As long as you're happy and everything’s healthy, that’s all that matters.” Yeah, sure. We’ll stick with that.

As far as Lambert and Essi were concerned, it was what it was, and whatever it was was working… wasn’t it?

***

"Fuckin' finally!" 

The door to Essi's apartment clicked closed as the tenant wilted against it, emitting an exhausted groan, "Two. Hours. It took me two hours to get home!" She toed off her penny loafers and abandoned her purse and jacket in a pile by the front door, ignoring the hook three inches to her left. She flopped heavily onto her living room carpet. 

"I see you found my spare key," she added, not at all surprised that Lambert had managed to let himself in. 

"Yeah, you should probably put that in a less obvious spot," he answered, crossing to the door to hang her things up. "So, I see it's a lying on the floor kind of evening. Can I interest you in a drink to start? Vodka pairs well with the general vibe of Done-With-This-Shit, or we also have tequila if you feel like shouting out the window after a couple shots. Alternatively, there's gin if you want to cry later." 

Essi smiled with her eyes closed, feeling her body slowly relaxing into the spongy throw rug underneath her, "You know me so well." 

"Vodka?" 

"Vodka. Euch, I need to vacuum!," Essi peeled herself to a seated position as clinks and clatters began in the kitchen. She hopped in the shower to rinse the day off, and after a few minutes, there was a knock on the bathroom door. 

"Yeeees?" she called, playfully. 

"Drink delivery!" Lambert hollered back, "you want this now or later?" 

"Why are you so good to me?" 

There was a draught of cool air as Lambert opened the bathroom door, "Because you only marginally annoy me. Here," he passed his hand between the shower wall and the opaque fish-scale-patterned curtain. "What's on the docket for tonight?" 

Essi groaned, "I don't know, I'm sorry. I used all my brain cells trying not to murder people on the streetcar." 

"Okay," Lambert sat on the lidded toilet, "here's the thing. I kinda maybe figured that might be the case so I kinda maybe picked up a few things to make dinner." 

A shampoo-piled head poked out from behind the curtain, "You're kidding." 

"Nuh-uh." 

"I love you." 

Lambert chuckled, "Yeah, you're alright. Come on, hurry up, this bathroom's a fuckin’ sauna, and I don’t want the croutons to get soggy." Essi burbled an answer about conditioner and almost done, and Lambert took that as his cue to leave.

Dinner was simple: pan fried Salmon with crispy skin (delicate and buttery on the inside); wax beans in butter (tender and not overcooked); grilled brussels sprouts (just beginning to brown on the edges); and a fresh caesar salad. Everything done to perfection. Full, content, and ready to take their relaxation to the next step they settled themselves on Essi’s blue-grey sectional to begin the arduous task of deciding what to watch. 

This was proving particularly difficult with the addition of Essi's caveat that whatever they chose not be "too plot-heavy" which so far had included Masterchef, an interior design show, and program about shepherding in the Orkneys. 

"Sweetheart, you gotta give me some slack here. I thought I was on track with the sheep!" 

"I know, I'm sorry!" Essi muffled into his shirt sleeve. "I do like animals..." She gasped loudly. "BLUE PLANET."

Lambert stopped the endless scrolling and pushed play as the soothing voice of David Attenborough filled the small living room.

"Hey! Why'd you pause it?" 

Lambert was standing up, "If we're going to do this, then we're doing it right. Hang on." 

Essi slumped on the sofa as the microwave kicked on. In a few minutes, there was popcorn in their laps and half a bottle of vodka on the table with an ice bucket and lemon wedges in a bowl. Lambert read off his phone screen.

"We will take a drink when: 

-David says 'Extraordinary' -David uses a clear understatement such as 'But then again, living in an active volcano is not without its risks' -An animal is being eaten -An animal is mating -There is sped up footage of a plant growing."

"Oh no," Essi lamented, chewing her popcorn ungracefully, "I'm going to get so drunk." 

"You got it, Goldilocks. Fill up."

And with that, they were off, taking it slow with their vodka twists, but nonetheless feeling the warm buzz start to tingle under their skin. The box of microwave popcorn was empty by halfway through, and the remains of Essi's exhaustion had almost dispersed entirely.

"Ooh! Understatement! Drink!!" 

By ten o’clock, pink-cheeked and feeling boisterous, they had finished with their favourite parts of Blue Planet, or at least the ones they had patience for, and had moved on to Planet Earth II.

“Holy fuck, that’s a lot of snakes—Go, you little fucker! Go!”

The drama on the screen had caused the two to separate from one another while Lambert invested himself in the success of the small lizard. Once the baby Galapagos Iguana had made it to safety, they were once again able to recline without Essi risking an elbow to the face.

She bundled against him, scooting farther between his legs where he leaned in the corner of the sectional. He gathered her hair and draped it over her left shoulder so it wouldn't get caught in his buttons—they'd learned that the hard way. It was still damp, cool to the touch, and smelled like verbena sea salt shampoo. He felt a pulse of affection ripple through him as her weight resettled. He loved that feeling. It had taken some time to get used to it. But now it was high on his list of favourite things. He was happy. And it was healthy. And that really was all that mattered. 

Right?

Eskel’s words turned themselves around again in his mind as he wrapped his arm around the front of Essi’s shoulders. He let himself indulge in the texture of her cotton knit nightshirt under his fingers. He relished in the peace of mind at being able to just be there with someone who meant something to him and made absolutely no demands. He let himself relax. 

Essi felt a kiss land on the top of her head with a playful, "Muwah!" 

She giggled quietly, "Thank you!" Then, upon further thought… Did he want to kiss her? Her mind did a double take as she tried to get on top of the ball.  

It wasn’t impossible. They were close after all, and she wasn’t opposed to the idea. She’d recently found herself in a balancing act of realizing she could, in theory, have a deeper kind of feeling for Lambert. Only if, for whatever reason, it turned out he felt the same way. These weren’t the helpless uncontrollable feelings of ride-or-die infatuation; they were malleable, translatable, general feelings of affection and fondness that belonged in any number of different relationships and dynamics. 

No sense risking it, she thought. They'd found a liminal space of comfort and safety that she'd never experienced with anyone else before, and if the options were between being a little confused and ruining everything, the choice was an easy one. Then again, if Lambert was developing feelings for her, she didn’t want to miss an opportunity. Shit. Her cheeks burned as she felt the question rise closer to her lips. 

"Lambert?" she sat up abruptly and turned to her friend who was still moulded into the corner of the couch, watching the mating rituals of exotic birds with bewildered skepticism. 

He jolted at Essi’s sudden movement, "Hello, yes." 

Her bright blue eyes were now slightly unfocused, "Do you—? Nevermind." She lay back against him, suddenly skittish..

"Mm, nah, try again," he said, sluggishly. "What’s up, buttercup?" 

She swayed a little when she sat up, "Are you happy with what we are?"

Lambert blinked, caught slightly off-guard. The question was easy enough to answer, "Yeah! I mean I don’t know what the fuck we are, but I’m feeling pretty good about it. Shit, why? Are you not? I can be less… whatever. Or… more?" It wasn’t like he was repulsed by the idea of anything else happening between them—in theory it was a possibility. In practice, however...

Essi put an emphatic hand on Lambert’s knee, her glassy eyes going wide, "Do you want more?" 

"What? No! I dunno, I—maybe. I haven’t really thought about it. I mean…” Lambert searched Essi’s face for any clue that might help him know how to proceed, “I don’t not want anything else. Fuck, I don’t know! I’m used to doing things the other way around. You know the drill: uncomfortable date, smoosh faces together, have sex, hope feelings fall out. Lather-rinse-repeat. I dunno, do we have to… But what if we try something and...? I don’t wanna lose this." 

Essi leaned in close and whispered, “I have an idea.”

"Why do I feel like I'm going to regret this?" 

"We should kiss."

Lambert nearly swallowed an ice cube, "What?!"

"Just once. Quickly. Just... in case." 

"You want me, Lambert, to kiss you, Essi Daven, on the lips."

She nodded sincerely, "For science."

There was a brief pause during which Essi felt the beginnings of panic brewing in her stomach, but by the time she'd finished grappling with potential consequences, Lambert was filling their glasses. 

"Alright. Fine. My friend wants me to kiss her for science? Fuck it. I'll drink to that." 

They downed their drinks and squared up, knee to knee on the edge of the sofa as they each prepared for their best form—or as good as they could offer given the circumstances. They counted down, 3-2-1...

The kiss was quick, over as soon as it had begun, and both friends pulled away with questioning looks. Inconclusive. They tried again for a little longer, still returning with the same quizzical expressions. They went in for a third time, committing more thoroughly, and for a brief moment it seemed they might have found the semblance of a spark. But it didn’t build. It felt… fine? But no different than if they were lying together on the sofa. It was just another thing they were doing. They each tried to find the right word for what they were feeling, but were soon distracted by the oddness of it all.   

Essi started to giggle. Less than a second later, Lambert joined her, and they both pulled away, thoroughly satisfied that their experiment had yielded a strong No on the subject of More. There was a dull thud as Essi slid from the couch and onto the floor, still holding her drink in one hand and laughing hysterically. 

Lambert sighed and shook his head, "I think it’s time we got you to bed."

Headaches and dry mouths greeted the two friends the next morning when they blinked awake. Essi’s hair was a cotton-candy mess, having still been slightly damp when Lambert put her to bed. The brunet himself didn’t look much different from his usual scruffy state as he gathered Essi up in an armful of duvet and squeezed tight.

“Gods, Lambert, I still need to breathe,” Essi chuckled, pressing her back into his chest. 

“You’ll get over it,” he teased and self-indulgently nuzzled even closer. “You feeling alright? I mean, aside from the hangover. About last night?” 

“Oh no,” Essi groaned, “I’m so sorry, Lambert. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just—you kissed my head and then that got me wondering about whether you might want something else, and then I didn’t really know what was happening and—” 

“Hey, easy on the rambling, okay, I’m running on limited brain cells, here. Look,” Lambert sat up to find those big blue eyes, now shining brightly, “I have no idea what the fuck this is that we’ve got going on, but I like it fine just the way it is.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And we can keep talking about that. Just, you know, maybe next time something’s on your mind, don’t wait ‘til we’re wasted at 2am?”

“Okay, deal. Can we go get bacon now?”

Lambert chuckled, “Yeah, alright, fine. Make me put pants on, I see how it is.”

Their conversation continued over strong coffee and eggs benedicts. Between their check-in that morning and everything that had happened the previous night, it was well-established that they were perfectly happy where they were. Rather, the main topic of conversation was their growing desire to level with their friends about the nature of their relationship. Eskel and Geralt, they both agreed, would be the easiest—Lambert could tell them that evening. Julian and Essi’s friends on the other hand would be a little more difficult. 

Telling Julian together would be best, Essi thought. He was bound to have questions, and if both she and Lambert were there to answer them definitively and explain that no, they didn’t have secret feelings for one another; and yes, they really were just friends and not at all interested in exploring the relationship further thank you very much. Exactly when this discussion with Julian would occur still wasn’t clear. Realistically, they could pick any time, but they decided to wait until Lambert could tell the Old Men. At least then they were assured some less invasive support. 

Their reaction was easy enough to predict: Eskel reassuringly repeated his standby “As long as you’re both happy with things…” and twirled a forkful of pasta; Geralt tilted his head thoughtfully and said, “That sounds very nice. I’m happy for you.” Lambert had expected mild disapproval, concern that they were deviating too far from the norm and into a complex dynamic that would be too messy to manage. Instead, Geralt simply said it ‘sounded very nice.’ Lambert smiled into the open refrigerator on his way to get a beer. 

The following weekend was Julian’s birthday, and, as per their annual tradition, the group all gathered on Friday evening at the birthday boy’s favourite restaurant—Vegelbud’s. The two decided to tell him the week after his birthday so as not to detract from his Big 3-0. Just one more week, and it would all be in the open. Easy breasy.

The afternoon of the dinner, Eskel and Geralt received a group text: Haven’t told Julian the details yet. Keep the beans to yourselves please (I’m looking at you, @Eskel). 

“Why me?” Eskel turned to Geralt over his paperwork, looking a little hurt. 

Geralt chuckled, “You have a slight tendency to overshare when you want to be supportive.”

“I do?” He turned on the bar stool to follow his partner on the way upstairs.

“It’s not a bad thing, but…” Geralt sighed, “Lambert has always needed to feel in control of situations like this. He doesn’t want one of us bringing this up before he’s ready to talk about it, especially in a public place, you know how he gets when he feels cornered. And Julian is Essi’s cousin…”

Eskel raised a hand, “You’re right, you’re right. All points taken. Are you showering?”

Geralt smirked as he headed for the stairs, “Come on then.” 

Four hours later and halfway through dinner, everything had gone swimmingly. The food had been expectedly delicious, the company and conversation excellent, and so far no one had felt the need to bring up Essi and Lambert’s relationship on any level. That is until Julian got a few drinks under his belt, and decided it was time to document the occasion. Geralt and Eskel were the first victims. 

“Aww just look at you two! So in love, so vivacious and full of adoration,” Julian held up his phone as Geralt touched the side of his head to Eskel’s. Beep-Chk! A perfect image of a happy couple was captured and posted to Instagram (#julianturns30 #dinneratvagelbuds #dinnerout #cutiesofinstagram #favoriteotp #gaycouplesofinstagram #livelaughlove…). There were a few more photos of the three of them together, the white chocolate raspberry cheesecake with the candle in it, a group shot taken by the waiter. It was all so close to being over, Essi could practically taste the refuge of the streetcar. 

"Come on, lovebirds, show us a smooch!" Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Essi’s stomach lurched and she felt her cheeks start to warm. Lambert’s hand landed gently on her knee under the table, his fingers pressing firmly into her leg as she desperately tried to think of something to say. 

"Oh, um..." 

Across the table, Geralt and Eskel shared a wordless communication: de-escalate, distract, redirect.

“You’ll want to eat that cheesecake before it gets warm” Geralt offered. “I hear it’s so light it’ll disintegrate in a heartbeat.” Eskel nodded in encouragement, taking a bite of his own. 

“I know, I know,” Julian shrugged, “Just a quick one. Say Cheese!”

"Not right now, Julian," Essi tilted her head, her eyes flashing a little. 

"Oh come on, Poppet! I know you don't like PDA, it's just one little picture--"

“Don’t call me Poppet.”

Eskel cleared his throat loudly, "Doesn't seem they're that keen on it. Maybe let's try for one another time." 

"It's past your one-month-a-versary, let everyone see how in love you are." 

"Julian," Geralt growled, "leave it." 

Julian covered his mouth in alarm, "I’m so sorry, have you not used that word yet? I didn’t mean anything by it, I just want the world to see how happy my beautiful cousin is!" 

“Really Julian, it’s not necessary we—” Essi’s fingernails were starting to dig into Lambert’s palm from the sheer effort of maintaining composure. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to cry or disappear, and with neither of those being an option, it seemed the only possible escape was for them to kiss. They’d done it before. No big deal. It would feel off, but they’d just go back to her place and drink about it after. 

“Essi, what’s the matter with you, it’s just one little picture, and we all know you’re not camera-shy. On three, ready? One, two…”

"For fuck's sake we're not dating!" 

The table all silently turned their attention to Essi whose cheeks had been turning progressively redder. 

“What?” Her cousin laughed incredulously. 

“We’re not a couple, Julian. We’re friends. We have been from the beginning, but we didn’t want to tell you because we knew you wouldn’t fucking leave us alone until you could boast about having set us up.”

Lambert shared a brief look with Eskel before lowering his eyes to the tablecloth, his hand still firmly clutched in Essi’s. 

Julian gaped, “So, it was all… the cuddling, the laughing, that time I came over and you were asleep on the couch, that was all… a ruse?” 

“No, Julian, that was real. I told you, we’re friends.”

“That’s not friends! Since when have friends watched a movie half-on-top of each other?” 

“Two people can enjoy each other's company lying flat, Julian,” Eskel’s rich voice interjected across the table and the discussion ground to a halt. 

Geralt shrugged with his tea at his lips, “It is the twenty-first century after all.”

Julian’s cornflower blue eyes flitted back and forth between the two friends, utterly bewildered. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well what with your complete and utter invasion of privacy for the sake of hooking us up, we didn’t necessarily trust you to believe us,” Essi answered curtly, her hand shaking slightly. 

“Poppet, you could have just told me—”

“Stop. Calling me that. And I did tell you, Julian!” she exploded. “I told you the first day I moved here. The first. Day. I said, ‘Julian, I think I want to take a break from dating until I’ve been settled for a year.’ And what did you do? Conspired with my well-meaning former mentor to hook me up with someone I had one good conversation with at a Christmas party. And do you know what? We are happy. But we’re happy in our own way. And maybe our boundaries with each other seem a little strange to you, but we’re not fooling ourselves. We don’t want to kiss each other, we don’t want to have sex, and we don’t want a relationship. And even though it’s absolutely none of your damn business, I’ll tell you anyway: we’ve talked about it. All of it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I don’t think I want to be here anymore.” 

The chair legs scraped against the floor of the restaurant as Essi stood to leave, throwing her purse over her shoulder as she went. Lambert looked hesitantly around the table, “I should probably, you know…” He gestured after Essi with his thumb. Eskel gave Lambert the go ahead and he quickly stood to follow his friend out of the restaurant, leaving a very stunned Julian with the other two. He found her perched on the parking barrier in the small lot to the left of the front doors. He called to her and she looked up. Eyes shining, mascara running... 

“Ah shit, you know I’m no good with this kind of thing.” 

“I’m sorry, Lambert, I just—” she blew her nose, “—he just wouldn’t stop and I didn’t know what to do or say, and it all just came pouring out. I didn’t want it to. The whole time I was begging myself to stop, but I just couldn’t, it’s been bottled up for so long and-and—but it’s his birthday, and—oh, he must feel so awful! I didn’t want to make him feel bad, but—and with Eskel and Geralt there too! They must think I’m horrible! I’m so sorry, Lambert, I didn’t want it to be like this, I wanted to have him over and sit him down and be patient, and instead I’ve just made a complete mess of things. And on his birthday! It’s his birthday, oh God, this is the worst thing I could have done.” Essi choked back bitter tears as she tried desperately to stem the flow with her soggy tissue, “Are you upset with me, Lambert? If you are, I understand. Maybe we should take a break of some kind, you know. Not see each other for a while and—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold it right there. Look, I’m probably not going to say any of the right stuff here, but I am absolutely not upset with you. You got that? And for what it’s worth, I don’t think us taking a break from spending time together is going to do anything. Unless you’re looking to punish yourself by taking away a nice thing which, okay. But the fact that you’re willing to ditch me instead of Arbor Mist says something about our friendship I’m not too pleased with.” 

Essi turned her wide, pleading, bloodshot eyes to Lambert who cracked a smile, “Jesus, I’m kidding! You adorable fucking mess, c’mere.” He pulled his petite friend into a hug and rested his chin on the top of her head until she quieted down. Neither of them was quite sure how much time had gone by, but Essi found herself wishing it had been long enough for everyone to have gone home so she didn’t have to face whatever aftermath she’d left behind. 

Meanwhile, Eskel and Geralt had settled the bill and offered to give Julian a lift back to their place for a night cap, not wanting to leave the evening on such an unsettled note. Essi needed space, and whatever company she needed, Lambert was clearly capable of providing. It was for the best, they suggested, and dissuaded Julian from trying to call her. 

“Best to sleep on things,” Geralt said, tucking his card back into his wallet and giving the waiter a nod in gratitude. “We can meet for coffee this weekend and sort this out. For now, just let her cool down.” 

Eskel clapped Julian encouragingly on the shoulder as they made their way into the damp summer night air. As they turned into the parking lot, they came face-to-face with Essi and Lambert who had clearly just turned to come back inside. Both cousins looked like they had seen better days: Essi’s eyes were puffy and red, her cheeks blotchy and streaked with inky makeup stains; Julian was perhaps less dishevelled, but the dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced, his boyish features now dejectedly weighted down with remorse and hurt. 

“Juian, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—” 

Essi’s cousin raised his hand, “Don’t. Please don’t. Essi, I am so, so sorry. I never meant to push you like that, I didn't realize... you both have been so happy this last month and—"

"It's okay, really, we can talk about this all another time. I'm just so sorry I ruined your birthday. We wanted to sit down with you and talk properly but..." Essi's tears welled up again, and Julian smiled weakly. 

"But we both did what we always do?"

She sniffed, nodding emphatically with a tearful, "Yeah.” Julian pulled his cousin into a fond embrace while the other three clumped together to watch the reconciliation. 

“Oh! Here,” Essi reached into her purse and pulled out a small, neatly-wrapped box. “Happy birthday!” 

Julian opened his gift without a second thought, his face brightening instantly. The box contained a set of premium ultra-light guitar strings and a pair of concert tickets. The perfect gift. Overwhelmed with gratitude, and the atmosphere having been recovered, Julian suggested they all attend brunch together that Sunday morning, his treat by way of apology. Geralt offered to split the bill as a peace offering for his part in the initial setup, and the five made a date. 

A fresh start, a promise of spending time together with fewer secrets and, Julian conceded, a few more boundaries. 

[nerdlifecentral]

Unknown Secrets [3]

Summary: Y/n joins the hunt for the mysterious nephidemon, but she finds out some shocking information that brings them closer to saving this town from the clutches of Asmodeus’ child.

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, reader, Gabriel, Castiel, Mick, Ketch, Asmodeus

Pairing: everyone platonic

Genre: Angst, bit of fluff

Word Count: 3,906

Warnings: none :)

A/N: Sorry this took so long, but here it finally is! <3

I pull up next to Baby in front of the small motel. "So we meet again, beautiful." I say lovingly, patting the roof of Dean's beloved car. I walk up to room number 63. The six has a loose screw which makes it look more like a nine, so I hope it really is room 63.

My anxiety is quelled when I see Ketch open the door with a wide, relaxed smile. "Hello, darling. I hope you didn't spend all of last night trying to research just to show off,” he says while giving me a hug and playfully winks, prompting Mick to shake his head from his spot at a small table across from Sam, whose laptop is open and running some sort of crazy code.

"No, not this time. Although I have always been the brains behind the operations when it comes to you two." 

Mick let out a chuckle while Ketch simply rolls his eyes and went to lounge on the couch. Sam then gets up, somewhat awkwardly and offers a quick hug.

"So," he starts, "me and Dean tried to dig up anything extra we could have skipped over in either demon lore or any offspring they could produce." I nod for him to continue as he takes a seat and turns his computer towards me. "The only thing that could be a possible lead is the tracking spell Rowena used and there's been a history of weird weather patterns - especially lightning storms for almost forty years. So that means that either Asmodeus or his child has been here for at least forty years."

I rest my chin on my hand and think about what could explain this Prince of Hell living in my town for forty years. I mean, how have I never ran into him or seen anything weird even once?

The door opens and in walks Dean with lots of beer and various snacks, along with a pie that I assume to be cherry.

"Alright, what's the game plan guys? FBI or some basic computer research?" Dean asks, putting away his items and walking over to his bed and plopping down looking at me.

"Sam was just catching us up on the weather stuff y'all found last night." I respond, noticing Sam's open laptop. "Although I think it would make the most sense if Asmodeus was here for, let's say, twenty years, scoping the place out and getting other Hunters to believe that the storms would be normal so no one bats an eye once his child is born, and they could live here for maybe twenty more years, completely undetected."

After a short pause, Mick speaks up, "It is certainly possible and the most likely lead we have. Why else would he want to risk staying in one area for that long?" 

Sam sighs and nods in agreement and slides his computer to face himself again.

"So, y/n," Dean starts and I pick my head up and look to him, "has anyone ever seemed off to you or someone you heard of being born thirty to forty years ago?"

I snort a laugh and respond. "You named most of the folks in this town. Most people have grown up here all their lives and don't really have the desire to move away. Not many long term or consistent visitors either."

Ketch stands up from the couch and walks over to Mick snatching a notebook sitting next to him. He says, "alright, who could be the most likely candidates for being this monster, y/n?"

I rubbed my eyes and leaned back, trying to narrow down who to say, but all I could see were faces morphing into each other and names swirling through my thoughts. "How should I narrow it down?" I ask with my eyes closed for a moment, opening them only because of the sound of Sam typing on his computer and Ketch speaking.

"Let's start with anyone especially strange or out of the ordinary, people between thirty and forty who have lived here their whole lives, only children, maybe anyone who doesn't know their parents or their mother died in birth."

I take a deep breath and start naming people that fit any or all of the criteria Ketch described while explaining which characteristics they have as Ketch writes the addresses that I can remember and Sam types up the list.

It takes us a few hours of narrowing down and organizing everyone into sizable chunks and who our most likely hidden monster is. Luckily, everyone lived nearby and Dean brought back some good food choices. Well, as good as gas station and tiny grocery store food can get.

"I vote we get a move on with this list and split up a bit to cover more ground." Ketch suggests.

Sam glances at Dean as he says "Works for me. We going for FBI on this one?"

The group nods as Dean butts in saying, "We'll go through the people in these neighborhoods," he waves his hand over the section towards the east, "and you three can take the rest." He says while pointing at me.

"Alright, let's get ready and get a move on." I say, standing up and walking out to grab some gear. I can’t help but think how odd it is that I have grown up with these people and all this time one of them could be such a horrible, dangerous creature. My palms almost itch with the anticipation of making my town, and the world a safer place. But I can’t help but wonder if we’re making the right decision.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Last house will be just to the left of Willow Street.” Mick says from the passenger side, directing Ketch to our final stop before it got too late.

I don’t even know how we’re gonna find this nephidemon at this point. No one we’ve talked to all day has said or remembered anything that would help us remotely. Hopefully Sam and Dean have had some better luck, I think as Ketch pulls up to the curb across from the house.

We all climb out of the car and casually walk up to the front door, Ketch and Mick with their badges and me prepared for the endless complaints this case will earn me from the locals for bringing the feds to their doorsteps. But, if I can possibly help out Mick, Ketch, Cas, and the Winchesters with something like Asmodeus or his freak kids, then it’s worth it. The door opens revealing Fred and his wife, Josie with polite smiles on their faces.

“Hey, Fred and Josie! How have you guys been?” I ask, smiling warmly.

Josie responds for them both. “We’re doing just fine, dear. You should join us for game night next time!” 

I laugh and nod enthusiastically, about to explain and introduce the two "agents" beside me when Fred beats me to it. “Who are your friends? They visitors?” he interjects with slightly narrowed eyes and hands shoved in his pockets.

“Of course, my apologies. These are FBI agents McCullough and Morgan.” They both hold up their badges with calm expressions. “They’re old friends of mine and have been looking for someone they think might have been hanging around here for awhile. I figured you both have excellent memories and I was hoping you wouldn’t mind us taking a few moments of your day to help them find a potential suspect?” I slightly tilt my head and try to look as innocent and eager to help as possible. Fred and Josie have always treated me as one of their own children and I certainly hope Ketch doesn’t offend them in any way.

“It’s no problem at all. Very nice to meet you gentlemen. As y/n stated I am Josie Hutcherson and this is my husband, Fred.” Josie, being the polite and kind person that she is, shook hands with Ketch and Mick, welcoming us all inside.

One nice thing about living in a small town is how nothing really changes; not the people, the drama, and not any buildings save for the occasional fresh coat of paint or new lamp. Having something constant is always welcome, especially when it feels like the world is ending.

"What case did you say you were helping them with, y/n?" I'm drawn out of thoughts by Mrs. Hutcherson kindly sitting down across from Mick and Ketch, Fred still choosing to stand near his wife with crossed arms.

"They're trying to track the movement of a very dangerous criminal, they have reason to believe he stayed here awhile back and then left." 

Josie smiles at me and turns back to the "agents" to speak, but Fred says, "Uh huh. And why does the FBI want to take up your time in this what I would think would be a highly classified search?"

Fred may mean well, but words were always something he left to Josie. Hopefully he's only put off by Mick and Ketch, I would really hate for them to be hiding this demon kid.

"Y/n here knows almost every person in this town, and from what she's told us she is extremely attentive as well." Mick offers, "We were looking around aimlessly until we met her. My partner actually was interviewing her and she offered to help us look around town for a little bit." He gave a reassuring smile towards Josie and a firm nod towards Fred.

"Now, have either of you noticed anyone strange at all in the past thirty to forty years? They would be extremely charismatic but slightly arrogant as well. And maybe looked something close to this picture." Ketch asks while pulling out a picture of the current vessel of Asmodeus. Even though we aren't sure he was in this vessel when having a kid, it's the best bet we have in recognizing him at all.

Both Josie and Fred denied anyone acting out of the ordinary or ever seeing that picture before. I could tell Mick and Ketch wanted to keep interviewing Josie since she was more open, so I tried to get Fred a little ways away to get through to him better. "I know that you don't really care for the FBI and sticking their noses where nothing has happened, Fred. "He uncrosses his arms with a sigh and a reluctant nod. "But this guy is a really bad guy and they asked me who would be the most attentive people to ask about. And you and your wife were the first I thought of, that's all."

After Fred agrees to be more open to answering their questions, I smile and thank him before walking back out toward the living room where Mick and Ketch are standing up.

"Y/n, I believe we shouldn't take up anymore of these people's time. Thank you both so much for all your help." Mick says with a kind smile and handshake with Josie, then Fred.

"Thank you Josie and Fred, I'll come over when I can," I say with a wave out the door and down the sidewalk. Mick and Ketch also exit and walk back to their car.

"Anything you guys picked up on?" I question, lowering my voice with caution.

Ketch closes his eyes and with a short huff of air responds "Not really. The only odd thing Mrs. Hutcherson mentioned were the persistent lightning storms that drove everyone inside, except for this one time. There was a man and a small child who were outside in the middle of the road, completely unprotected. Just gazing up into the sky for a few hours...."

Thunder, so loud that it feels as though the earth beneath my feet shakes. I look up in wonder as brilliant flashes of lightning take over the dark sky. A warm hand rests on my shoulder, its presence keeping me focused and grounded.

I glance up to the man, who has a prideful smile and warm eyes, and I remember feeling safe despite the chaos and danger surrounding us.

The man speaks, sounding southern and calm. "My daughter, this will be our last night together, I was hoping for more time with you but it's far too dangerous." I tilt my head in question, turning to face him more. He continues, "Someday all of this will seem like a dream for you. That's when your purpose will become clear. And we will be united once again."

I feel tears starting to form, this is my father, he can't abandon me now! "But father, when will that happen? And how long after I remember will I see you again?" He bends down to my level taking both my hands in his.

"I know I will miss you, my child, but I would rather feel this heartache than know you are at risk from Hunters. They are so dangerous and you must always be careful around them. Alright?" I nod my head and hug my father, one last time. I hear him speak once more. "I love you, never forget that." And the whole world goes silent.

I faintly hear voices speaking to me but I couldn't make out what they are saying. I know it’s Mick and Ketch. What on Earth are they doing here? The entire case comes flooding back to me, the Winchesters, Asmodeus, his kid, my strange hallucination. I struggle to open my eyes met with blinding light and someone, Sam, I think, sitting next to me.

"I'm sorry Sam, but there is no way for me to understand why she fainted. She appears to be in good health, not dehydrated, having enough food and energy. I can't find anything wrong." Cas says, slightly leaning his head back from his place at the end of a bed, near a small mirror on the wall.

I try to sit up and ask what's going on, but Sam gently pushes my shoulders back onto the mattress.

"Hey, y/n don’t sit up yet, alright? You've been passed out for a while. Do you remember anything?" Sam speaks calmly and softly, as though speaking too loud may cause me to lose consciousness yet again.

"I remember helping you guys on a case," I start, realizing how quiet my voice is and how hard it is to speak clearly. "You and Dean went to interview some people and Mick, Ketch, and me did the same. I remember leaving their house and walking out to the car..." I trail off, too unsure of how much I should reveal before learning whether it's a weird vision, or... a memory? I shake my head at the thought. It's simply impossible. I glance at Sam then Castiel while saying "I think that's all I can remember, sorry."

Sam gives a gentle smile just as the front door opens, revealing Dean, Ketch, and another person. He's the shortest out of all the men but has a confidence about himself, sandy blond hair that's longer than Dean's but shorter than Sam's, with beautiful whiskey colored eyes.

"Morning, Sunshine. Feeling any better?" Ketch asks, dragging my attention away from the newcomer.

"A little. My brain is still kinda foggy though. What happened?" I ask, looking between Mick and Ketch hoping they can help me discern reality from fiction.

"Well," Mick begins, "we had finished interviewing the Hutchersons and walked out to our car. I told you what Mrs. Hutcherson had told us about seeing a man and a child during a lightning storm, and you fainted."

He explained, taking a seat on my other side. I just stared at him for a while, trying to understand what had happened. I'm not a person who regularly faints, and this simply cannot be a coincidence.

"Okay, um thank you." I say, surprised at how numb I sound. "Also, who are you?" I ask, looking at the strange man sitting at the table with Dean.

He smirks and responds "I'm Gabriel, like the Archangel." He puts his hands next to his shoulders, waving them to mimic flying.

Dean rolls his eyes while Cas stares annoyed at Gabriel's actions. I guess that sort of makes them brothers?

"Naturally. Well, I'm y/n and didn't realize you were joining us." I tilt my head at Mick slightly and he makes a point to stare at Sam across from me.

"Yeah well neither did we." Dean speaks up, glancing at Cas.

The angel sighs and faces me "Gabriel was kidnapped by Asmodeus for his grace, a little over four months ago. Ketch used to work with him and was able to get Gabriel back to the bunker." I look to Ketch who looks down, almost in shame. Then to Gabriel who simply rests his head on his hand and shrugs. Cas continues, "I called Gabriel here since he deserves to be in on taking down Asmodeus, and it certainly won't hurt to have his help."

"But enough about me," Gabriel exclaims suddenly. He looks over to Sam, raising his hands up in question. Why can these idiots never just say what they need to say rather than act all secretive?

Sam takes a deep breath and turns slightly to better face me. "Y/n, I know you're not going to remember everything. But, " he pauses, searching my eyes while being careful to not give anything away.

"But...?" I prompt, looking around only to be met with Gabriel staring with anger towards me. Which is unbelievably rude and unfair, considering how I literally just met him.

"But, are you sure there's nothing else you can remember? Any detail or generic thing?" Sam finishes, with an understanding smile. I don't know what he could mean by that though, I mean, I was passed out for a long time and I don't think people can speak while being unconscious in that sense.

I shook my head no after thinking for a moment. Gabriel let's his head fall back in dramatic fashion while mumbling something under his breath.

"Sorry my answer isn't the one you wanted, Gabriel." His head snapped up and glared at me. What is this guy's problem? "But I barely remember even walking out to the car, let alone any specific details of our last interview."

"You're lying," Castiel said from the corner of the room, a perplexed look on his face. I wanted to ask what he meant but he continued, "you woke up in Ketch and Mick's car and described something very disturbing." I try not to shrink under the angel's condemning gaze; because I actually don't remember waking up at all until being in the motel. The disturbing thing I described, I don't think I will ever be able to forget.

"I don't remember that at all. I had no idea I woke up before five minutes ago."

Gabriel stands up and snaps his fingers in one motion and I immediately find myself in the backseat of the Impala with Castiel next to me.

"What the hell was that for?!" I say trying to steady myself from falling to one side or the other.

Castiel barely spares me a look and explains "Gabriel snapped us both here to have some kind of privacy I assume."

I try to open the door handle but Cas reaches over to grab my arm, and locks the door. He refuses to let go of me whether because of my continued swaying or because he thinks I could outrun him or something.

"Okay, and what exactly are you doing here? I wouldn't think he would want privacy from you if he's saying his piece."

Castiel finally releases my arm but gives no answer, and instead, looks out the window.

I do the same hoping that Gabriel and the Hunters don't take all day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Back in the motel room)

Y/n and Cas had disappeared from the room thanks to Gabriel.

"Really, Gabe? You probably could've just asked them to leave the room for a minute." Sam says, exasperated with Gabriel already.

Gabriel takes a deep breath and slowly walks around the room, in deep thought.

Dean uncrosses his arms, letting them rest on either side of the motel chair while watching the archangel pace the room, waiting for an answer.

"What have you got to say that you didn't feel y/n or Cas should hear then?" Mick stands from the bed and asks, squaring his shoulders and walking towards Gabriel with annoyance.

Gabriel pauses his movements, stopping in front of Mick while saying, "Cas already knows what I'm gonna tell you, that's why he's with y/n right now." He turns back looking at Ketch. "She did just wake up after being knocked out for a few hours and I'd rather not be responsible for a casualty already."Gabriel brushes by Ketch to sit on the spot that he vacated. "And I doubt she would appreciate her being told how probable it is that she is this nephidemon we've been looking for."

The room falls silent as the Hunters process his words.

"And why exactly do you think this?" Sam asks Gabriel, a shocked expression on his face. "She literally volunteered to help us with this case without any kind of convincing from any of us. If she is the nephidemon, then wouldn't she want to get as far away from all of us as possible?"

Gabriel closes his eyes and leans his head against the bed's worn bed frame, "Sam, I can't put my finger on it but when I first saw her, she reminded me of Asmodeus all over again." He slowly opens his eyes, keeping them focused on the ceiling missing the spark within them. I can only assume that kind of trauma doesn’t leave a person - or archangel I guess unaffected.

"Well, try to. We have to figure this out now, or come up with a plan on testing her or something," Dean says, rubbing his temples still trying to understand how y/n could have played them all along. How she could have played Ketch and Mick for even longer.

Gabriel sighed saying, "I don’t know if this will make you feel better, I doubt she knows herself if she's related to Asmodeus. She doesn't act like him at all, and from what you've said she sounded confused, scared even by what happened when she passed out."

The group relaxes but only slightly. "How could she possibly not know?" Ketch thinks aloud, "and why would a single memory or hallucination suddenly reemerge right now?"

Gabriel only shrugs, not really being able to provide any kind of a possible answer or solution. Mick shakes his head and offers "He could have wiped her memory in order to protect her. That is why we initially thought the nephidemon would be here for so long." Dean slowly nods while Sam rubs his eyes in frustration. "And maybe Ketch describing what Mrs. Hutcherson saw triggered part of her memory to come back; why she passed out."

The men sat in silence, mulling over everything Gabriel brought up, before anyone could move to suggest anything further, the archangel snapped his fingers and slowly let his hand drop back down to the bed.

"Figured it might be smarter to ask her about it, maybe search her memory or something." He states, beginning to act a bit more normal, as they wait tensely for y/n and Cas to walk back through the door.

[lettheladylead]

avoid the unhappy ending (ch1-2)

ships/characters: Goldie, Quackfaster, Gyro, Fenton, Lil Bulb, Manny, Boyd, Launchpad, Scrooge/Goldie words (so far): ~2800 summary: Goldie comes to town to see Scrooge. Instead, she somehow manages to run into literally everyone else. ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27108943

First two chapters are up!

It was a Saturday afternoon. Normally she wouldn’t be in Duckburg, but she was passing through on her way back north and thought a little stop could be nice. Just pop in and say hello, maybe stay for a swim in the money bin or a sleepover if Scrooge asked. He wouldn’t ask, but she was always up for it.

Security at the bin was the same as usual. It always felt like there was a gap just for her - though obviously Scrooge wouldn’t be foolish enough as to leave his guard down for a professional thief. That being said, she was in his office quicker than usual, and a brief scan of the room told her she was alone.

“Huh,” Goldie breathed out, wiping her hand along his desk and taking a seat in his big chair. She spun around a few times, then stopped and looked at the different drawers. They were all locked, which didn’t change anything for her, but she knew this desk was mostly paperwork. Nothing of note, nothing of interest. Even a spare few dollar bills wasn’t worth the effort.

She stood up and walked over to the vault. It was closed, but perhaps Scrooge went for a more...private swim. That’d be fun to interrupt (and/or join in on). Her left shoulder made a terrible cracking sound as she slowly opened the door and she groaned a bit, popped her head in, and listened closely.

No sounds whatsoever.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Goldie groaned, rubbing at her shoulder and stepping fully into the vault. She looked up and down, left and right, but there was clearly no Scrooge to be found.

She sighed and closed the vault door on her way out in a sudden burst of politeness. Alright. Often Scrooge spent his Saturday afternoons catching up on work that he missed during adventures out of town. Apparently this was not one of those Saturday afternoons. Her shoulder was still a little sore, so Goldie decided to exit the normal way. Maybe someone would see her and call Scrooge to let him know. That’d be fine with her, she didn’t want to spend the whole day just looking for him.

But she had no such luck as it seemed the majority of his administrative employees weren’t working on a weekend. Made sense. Goldie poked her head into every other room to see if Scrooge was in a meeting or doing something or whatever, but he just...wasn’t there! It was agitating. Just a little bit.

The next door she spied was to the Archives. Goldie spent very little time in this room, since she had a pretty decent memory and didn’t need a piece of paper to remind her what year something happened in. Scrooge loved to talk about himself and his accomplishments, so there was rarely anything she needed to know that she didn’t already.

With a shrug, she entered the room anyway, considering the possibility that Scrooge could just be reading through old files like the old fogey he was. The door creaked loudly and almost immediately, Goldie made eye contact with the only other person there.

“What the…”

Goldie frowned as the other woman spoke and started walking towards her. This was not someone she’d had to interact with in a long time.

“Goldie O’Gilt, is that you?”

“Ah...Quackfaster. Nice to see you,” Goldie responded with a characteristic smirk. “Still working as Scrooge’s secretary, then?”

Quackfaster snorted and looked down at Goldie’s hands, clearly checking for stolen items. “Archivist. But you already knew that.”

“I did.”

Emily didn’t see anything on Goldie, and nothing near her seemed to be missing, so she turned around and headed back to her cart. “What are you doing here, O’Gilt? I know there’s nothing in this room you’d want to take.”

Goldie glided a finger against one of the shelves and cringed at the amount of dust that accumulated so quickly. “You can’t know that for sure.”

Her response was just a brief glare before she went back to filing.

“Alright, yeah,” Goldie stepped a bit closer, relishing in the way that Quackfaster flinched and reached for the sword that Goldie knew she had on her. “I’m just looking for Scrooge. Do you know where he is?”

“He’s not here,” Quackfaster said as she struggled to shove a certain book into a spot that was a little high up for her. “I assume, anyway. I haven’t seen him.”

Goldie rolled her eyes before reaching over and grabbing the book, getting on her tip-toes and putting it in its place. “Don’t you know his schedule, Secretary?”

“Archivists don’t keep schedules, Thief,” she scoffed. “Even if I knew where he was, I wouldn’t tell you. So have fun walking around town like a lovesick puppy.”

“Excuse me?” Goldie couldn’t contain her offense at the simile and proceeded to knock over Quackfaster’s cart of books before rushing out - leaving a loud crash and a pile of old papers in her wake.

Emily sighed and looked down at the pile. At her next salary meeting, she was definitely bringing this up.

Goldie, on the other hand, was back to business. That conversation had been entirely unhelpful and mostly unpleasant and very incorrect. Lovesick puppy? What was she, a teenager? She just wanted to see Scrooge so she could brag about her latest exploits - remind him of how nice it is to not be boggled down by family...maybe get some food. Sure, she loved him (or whatever), but she wasn’t sick over him. She wasn’t some kid in a bad romantic comedy. She was Goldie O’Gilt!

Quackfaster told her Scrooge wasn’t around, but she didn’t really know. And then, even she had, she might’ve told Goldie the opposite of the truth. There were a lot of angles to consider, as there usually was. So Goldie did what any sharp shooter would do - she decided to check out the last place in the Money Bin that Scrooge might be...the weird underwater lab.

--

She didn’t normally take elevators. They weren’t safe or secure. She could still remember when elevators first became a common thing...people became so reliant on them so quickly.

This was all she could think about in the slow, slow ride down to the lab where she was desperately hoping she’d find Scrooge. It’d be a shame to find out this trip to the Money Bin was a waste. If he wasn’t down here, she’d be stealing something for sure.

The doors opened and she was welcomed by two incredulous stares. She crossed her arms and stuck out her hip, staring back at them.

The two men looked at one another and then back at her.

“I don’t have time for this. Inter- er, Employee! Go!”

“Yes, Sir!”

Goldie stepped out of the elevator and looked around to see a distinct lack of Scrooge McDuck. She frowned. The shy-looking duck waddled up to her and smiled.

“Hi there! Welcome to Dr. Gearloose’s lab!” Fenton reached out a hand. “What can we do for you?”

She looked down at his hand and then back up at his face. “You seem familiar,” she said cautiously, grabbing his hand with two fingers and giving him a single shake before letting go. “...were you ever a Sheriff?”

“No, ma’am!” He didn’t give any sort of negative reaction to her odd question. “But mi mama is a police officer, so that’s close! Sort of!”

“Mama…” Goldie paused and put a hand to her beak in thought. “Oh! Are you Cabrera’s boy?”

“Wh…” Fenton blinked several times in surprise. “You know her?”

“You could say that,” Goldie said smugly. “We had a run-in a little over two decades ago. I remember you being much smaller.”

Fenton scrunched his face and considered her words, realizing after not long that this was someone on the other side of the law. “Um…”

She strode past him and towards the other man she’d seen earlier. “Is Scrooge here?”

Gyro sighed as loudly as possible before turning around to point in her face. “ Why would Mr. McDuck be here? This is a scientific laboratory, not a bin filled with coins.”

He realized briefly after speaking that this woman was familiar - familiar, as in, he’d met her just a few months ago for him and many many decades ago for her. Considering the recent controversies regarding unsanctioned time travel, Gyro started to sweat.

“Huh.” Goldie eyed him carefully. “You look familiar, too.”

“That’s not possible,” he said quickly. “I’ve never-”

“Gearloose, right? Any relation to Ratchet?”

He paused. “Uh...my grandfather?”

Goldie smacked him on his back. “I knew it! You’re his spitting image, you know that?” She laughed and continued to look around the room on the off chance that Scrooge was purposefully hiding from her. Why would he be? Who knows. Scrooge was a mystery sometimes. “Damn, I guess I owe Scroogey some money.”

“Why’s that?” Fenton asked, coming closer when he determined the intruder wasn’t a danger to the lab.

“Well, I bet Ratchet would die a virgin. Seems I lost.”

Fenton blushed and Gyro grumbled, turning back to his work, which Goldie just realized was also quite a bit familiar.

“Hey, I know this robot, too. This whole lab is turning into a trip down memory lane.”

“Hi! I’m Boyd!”

“Yes, I remember that,” she said with her eyes on the exit. “I’m guessing you’re not determined to kill anymore?”

Gyro glared at her and Boyd just clapped a hand to his cheek, producing a metal clang. “Aw geez, no I’m not! I’m sorry if you got hurt at Doofus’ party, Miss O’Gilt.”

Goldie shrugged and looked back at Fenton, who almost looked like he had a light bulb over his head. Or, well, actually. He did have a light bulb over his head. And then it jumped down onto his shoulder.

“O'Gilt! As in... Goldie O’Gilt?!”

“The one and only.”

She didn’t react as the light bulb jumped from him to her and then from her to the grumpy scientist behind her. She started to walk towards the door when she decided she’d made a mistake in coming here.

“You’re Mr. McDuck’s longtime, ah, paramour, one might say?” Fenton asked as he followed.

“One might.” She had to admit that it was interesting to know how Scrooge described her to his coworkers, but something told her that he’d never called her that.

“Then, from what I’ve read, you’re well over 100 years old, and I have never had the opportunity to ask Mr. McDuck about that, but I’m deeply fascinated!”

He started rambling, following Goldie the entire way to the elevator, and even stepping inside the elevator with her. She frowned deeply at this fact, and then there was the giant stone horse thing with Scrooge’s head clopping its way towards them that she very much wanted to get away from.

The talkative guy didn’t seem frightened by it, though - in fact, he waved at it as he continued to rant about chronological physics or whatever the hell was happening.

Not wanting to deal with this anymore, Goldie took this opportunity to grab Fenton back the back of his shirt and toss him towards the statue thing - repeatedly pressing the Close Door button on the elevator as fast as possible.

Fenton just squeaked and Manny caught him without a problem. “Hm...I guess I’ll have to save my questions for next time!”

Gyro barked at him from the other side of the lab. “There won’t be a next time! This lab needs to be more secure!”

Goldie breathed out a sigh of relief as the elevator dinged and she was back to being surrounded by no one and nobody. The Bin was still mostly empty and she was very happy with that. Though now she’d have to make her way over to the manor - where she was more likely to run into Bentina. After their last interaction, she knew it wouldn’t go well and didn’t want to deal with it. She’d just have to do her best to avoid the kitchen.

She headed out the front door, but on spotting a security camera, Goldie smirked and looked around for something to take. She spotted a few umbrellas sitting in a holder by the door, and shrugged. Something was better than nothing. Plus, it was getting kind of cloudy out there. So she grabbed the nicest looking one and stepped outside.

The clouds didn’t seem as thick once she left the building, but whatever. The umbrella was going to be hers either way. And now she had an annoying journey to the manor - normally she’d find a faster way over there, but the streets were pretty empty and she didn’t have any of her fancier gear on-hand.

So: walking it was.

Her knees started to hurt after only a minute. The road she was on was not made for feet, it was made for wheels! Why didn’t Gearloose or Cabrera or Quackfaster have a car she could steal? Were they all commuters? Did Scrooge pay any of his employees well enough to afford a car?

Just as all these complaints were charging through her brain, Goldie was cut off by the sudden sight of a familiar limo coming up towards her. She couldn’t contain the big smile on her face as she stepped in front of it - bringing the car to a halt.

She brushed invisible dirt off her pants and posed - leaning gracefully on the umbrella - in anticipation of Scrooge coming out to greet her.

Instead, a tall, muscular man stepped out of the driver’s seat and rushed towards her.

“Whoa! I almost hit you!”

Goldie sighed and stood up straight. “Is Scrooge with you?”

“Huh? No, he-” Launchpad pouted as he looked down at her, clearly dealing with the gears in his head turning a little faster than usual as they deciphered the data in front of him. “Oh, man! You're Mrs. McDuck!”

“Mrs....” Goldie looked like she’d bitten into a lemon. “I’m not -”

“I was just on my way to visit Fenton, Mrs. McD! But I could take you back to the manor instead, if you want!” He took off his hat and held it to his chest, looking a little nervous. “Please don’t be mad I almost hit you. It wasn’t that bad!”

“You didn’t-! I’m not…” Goldie was so confused by his assumptions that she didn’t even know where to start. But...a good con always knew where the benefits began. “...alright. Sure. Fine. Mrs. McDuck won’t say anything to Scrooge if you drive me back to the manor and not say a word about this to anyone. Does that work for you?”

“Oh, yes ma’am!” Launchpad quickly stepped back and opened up the back door for her so she could slide in. He closed the door on her foot and she scowled - leading to another slew of apologies before he closed the door for real.

She sighed and looked out the car window, feeling like she’d lost her touch. Usually she just knew where Scrooge was. Right away, she was always able to find him. And this was going to be one of those days where she ran around like a chicken without its head.

Launchpad was humming along to a tune on the radio, and Goldie felt the urge to have him change it to something more her style. But she wasn’t here to put on a show. She needed to find something else to focus on.

“Who told you to call me Mrs. McDuck?”

The redhead lowered the radio volume and looked at her in the mirror. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” She shuffled a bit in her seat. “Did Scrooge tell you to call me that?”

There was quiet in the car for a minute as Launchpad seemed to be thinking about her question. She was ready to tell him to forget it when he finally spoke up again.

“I don’t remember! But I don’t think so,” he said with a nod. “Did I do something wrong? Do you still use your maiden name? Or should I call you something else?”

Goldie didn’t respond to that as she looked down at the seat next to her and noticed a stray white feather. She reached down and picked it up, realizing immediately that it was Scrooge’s. A hint of an embarrassed blush came to her cheeks as she tossed the feather back down - being able to recognize the smell of Scrooge on a single feather was ridiculous.

“No,” she finally said, deciding that the unfamiliar warmth spreading through her chest was kind of...nice. “That’s fine.”