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my1oves · 23 days

Note

Your ask box is probably so overrun rn but I had another idea!! Post-manga spoilers? I wish there was a way to like spoil asks

Laios talking to Falin and Marcille about how Yaad keep pressuring him to find a queen for the kingdom. They start making suggestions of other Kingdoms he could connect with or the orc girl (can’t remember her name) but Laios just shuts them down. Then Falin asks “what about (Y/N)? You told me you thought they were really pretty when you asked them to join the party.” And Marcille is like “[gasp] Yes!! And he always wanted to sit next to them during meals!!” So Marcille and Falin just start recounting all these romantic moments that happened between Laios and reader (like Falin’s are all pre-Marcille joining the party and Marcille’s are all post-Falin being eaten) meanwhile Laios is just sitting there with his big red face embarrassed like “I-I wasn’t that obvious, was I?”

I don’t know if it should conclude there, but like maybe Falin and Marcille try to convince him to ask reader but he’s a little hesitant to potentially ruin their friendship or maybe reader shows up and they tell him to go for it? Whatever you think is best :3 I love the idea of Falin teasing (playfully) Laios for his feelings and Marcille being obsessed with his love life (romance books go brrrr). I really like your writing and I can’t wait to read what you have coming soon 💕💕💕 but take your time and don’t over work yourself!!!

matchmaking

꒰ includes ꒱ ⸻ (dungeon meshi) laios touden.

꒰ warnings ꒱ ⸻ fem! reader (she/her pronouns), fluff.

꒰ blossom's note ꒱ ⸻ I did leave the ending a little open but with a very obvious route on what Laios is going to do. This was such a cute request! ヽ(>∀<☆)ノ thank you for requesting!!

“You must put some thought behind this, Laios.” Yaad sighed, “For the kingdom, please.” And with that, Laios was left by himself, as Yaad took his leave. This was the third meeting this week to talk of potential suitors, and all of them were rejected for one reason or another. Slumping in his chair, Laios lets his gaze fall outside the window to see you in the palace gardens. He lets his gaze linger on you, a small smile finally forming.

“Laios?” Falin peeked her head in, pulling his attention away from you towards her. He straightened up, clearing his throat.

“Come on in,” Falin enters, Marcille following behind her. “How can I help?” Falin falters, sharing a glance with Marcille and he instantly knew where this was going. He lets out a sigh, “Did Yaad send you?”

“He thought we could offer some better insight to your potential suitors.” Marcille clarifies. Laios nods, offering them both a seat- which they both take.

“I don’t see the need for a queen,” Laios mumbles, sparing a glance back outside only to see you’re gone. He frowns, looking back towards Falin and Marcille. “The kingdom is doing fine without one, right? Yaad is overreacting.”

“Well, a queen would help solidify your position, and she could help stabilize the kingdom.” Marcille says, “I’m sure Yaad just wants what is best for you and the kingdom.” Laios knows that, but it doesn’t make this matchmaking any less annoying. Running a hand through his hair, leans against the table and gives them a sheepish look.

“Well, do you have any suggestions?”

With that, Falin and Marcille begin to exchange potential suitors. All nobility from surrounding kingdoms. They offer up descriptions of how they look and what their personalities are like (much more than what Yaad was giving him). Marcille gives powerful options, whilst Falin gives eccentric ones.

“No, not that one… Nah… I dunno…” Laios is beginning to grow bored, and it’s obvious by his general lack of listening. “Mm, maybe? No. No, not them either…” Laios’ head hits the table as he lets out a loud groan. He’s done listening. “Maybe we should just-'' But before he could redirect the conversation, Falin’s demeanor grew mischievous.

“How about (Y/n)?” The way Laios tenses up doesn’t go unnoticed by Falin and Marcille, who exchange a sneaky glance. Laios clears his throat (although choking on his own spit would be more accurate?) and tries to act nonchalant.

“(Y/n)? They’re not nobility though… Are they?”

“No, but it doesn’t have to be someone with political power, it could be anyone.” Marcille says, “In fact, at this point, I’m sure Yaad would accept a monster if you said so-”

“Really?!”

“No- Ugh, Laios, seriously?” Marcille shakes her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Obviously (Y/n) would be better than a monster.” Laios nods. That’s probably true.

“Don’t you remember? You said you thought she was pretty, back when you first asked her to join our party.” Laios becomes bashful at that. Of course he remembers when he first met you in that tavern, smiling brightly- it was as if someone stole all the stars and put them in your eyes. He could never forget the way you laughed with your friends, nor the way he approached you so confidently and informed you he was looking for someone like you (very smooth) to join his dungeon party.

Nor did he forget how he embarrassingly pursued you for the next week, saying your skillset (he truly had no idea what skills you had at the time, but surely he needed it on his team) would be perfect for his team. You agreed, although that teasing smile told him you did enjoy the chase. That smile that would be the downfall of him.

Marcille slammed her fist into the palm of her hand, perking up with excitement. “Oh! Well now it makes sense why he was always wanting to be near her!” Marcille says, nodding. “Wow, so you had a crush on her this whole time?” Laios slinked down into his chair, wanting to hide away from the two, hoping his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.

“Mmhm!” Falin nodded, “Once,” She giggled, “Once Laios worked a whole ton of odd jobs in between dungeon exploration, at a whole bunch of odd hours too- just so he could afford to get her a birthday present!”

Ah, Laios remembered that too. He worked more than he slept that week, just to buy a book you had mentioned wanting. It was completely worth it, he had deemed, when he handed the book over with a boyish smile. Your eyes lit up, and you excitedly thanked him, leaning in to give his cheek a kiss.

Laios smiled at the fond memory, only to grumble in annoyance when Marcille let out a sweet squeal. “Aw! That’s so sweet!” She exclaims, “Oh, but listen to this, Falin!” Marcille says, taking Falin’s hands to grab her attention.

“When we were searching for you, Laios ended up getting pretty sick, and he refused to eat.” She paused for dramatic effect, “Unless it was by (Y/n)~” She sighs dreamily, “She spoon fed him back to health. Isn’t that so cute?”

“Laios has always had a soft spot for her.” Falin nods, “I remember we were facing a pretty big monster at the time, and Laios was all like “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,”” Falin made her voice deeper to try and mimic her older brother, “And (Y/n) was like “No, protect yourself~”” Falin’s giggles made Laios’ ears ring.

“Was… Was I that obvious?” Laios asks meekly, his whole face as red as a tomato. Marcille and Falin nod, poking some more (harmless) fun at him by continuing to recount many stories in which his affections and adoration were very, very obvious.

It isn’t until Falin is retelling how he nearly beheaded a previous member from trying to impress you with his swordsmanship skills that Marcille remembers what this meeting was originally for.

“A- Anyways! You should totally ask her! She’d make a great queen.” Marcille concludes. Laios snaps from his flustered, standing up abruptly, and with a frown.

“I can’t do that.” Laios said, “I…” He glances off to the side. If he could ask you, he would, but… “We don’t even know how she feels about this, and it could ruin our friendship and many years of trust. I wouldn’t want to jeopardize that.”

It’s in moments like this that Falin and Marcille can see his more king-like side. Falin offers a reassuring smile, taking her brother's hand. “Laios, I think you should go for it.”

Laios was deep in thought, when a knock on the door interrupted him. A head peeked into the room and sure enough, it’s you. It’s you, and Laios’ palms begin to grow sweaty.

“Sorry, am I interrupting? I can come back-”

“No! I mean, no, no you’re fine. Please, come in.” Laios tries to relax, but he’s tense after having been told how obvious he was. Did you know? And if you did, how did you feel about it?

“We were just leaving,” Falin says, winking at her brother. Laios goes rigid. Right. This would be the perfect time to confess, should he decide to do it.

“We were? But I wanna watc-” Marcille whines as Falin ushers her out of the room. “But how are we going to know if- wah!” Falin gives you a thumbs up before closing the door. You and Laios listen in horror as both Marcille and Falin press their ears to the door.

“That was… strange.” You comment, wondering what was going on with those two. Laios gives a very forced laugh, which causes your concern to skyrocket. “Is everything okay?” You ask, reaching over and placing a hand on his. Laios looks down at your hand, his breath caught in his throat. Damn it, he was hopeless. It was either you, or a lifetime of solitude, and for the sake of his other dear ones, he should at least give it a shot.

“Actually… we have a lot to talk about.” He says, hesitantly interlocking your fingers with his. He enjoys seeing your shocked expression that melts into something more shy. “And I mean a lot.”

꒰ ❀ ꒱ thank you for reading. have a wonderful day, darling!

#dungeon meshi x reader #dungeon meshi imagines #dungeon meshi headcanons #delicious in dungeon x reader #delicious in dungeon imagines #delicious in dungeon headcanons #x reader #fluff #imagines #laios x reader #laios fluff #laios imagines

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steviesummer · 9 months

Text

Bet

written for @steddiemicrofic prompt: ‘pool’ | wc: #442 | rated: G | cw: none

“So,” Steve started as he plopped down on the floor next to Eddie, handing him a beer. “Who do you thinks is gonna win the pool?”

All the older teens stared at him, previous conversations stopping. “The pool?”

“The betting pool the Party has on when Eddie and I will get together.”

Jonathan frowned. “I thought you told them you were dating?”

“I did.”

“Alright, explain this to me.” Robin demanded, leaning forward from her sprawl on the couch.

Steve laughed. “So Eddie and I went on a date about a month ago, right? When we went stargazing.” He directed that last part towards Eddie. At everyone’s nod, he continued. “The Party asked if they could watch movies here that night. I told then no and well, you know how they get - they immediately started asking why they can’t have movie night here.”

“Oh boy.”

“So I told them, ‘I’ve got a hot date.’ But that’s not enough, they’re so nosy, they started demanding to know who I was going out with. Pretty sure Dustin was hoping I would say Robin.” He rolled his eyes.

“When is he going to give that up!” Robin grumbled.

Steve nodded his agreement. “Seriously, I have no idea why he is so convinced we are dating. Anyway, when they wouldn’t stop asking, I told them Eddie and I were going to the quarry.”

“Let me guess,” Nancy broke in, “they all groaned and made some comment about keeping your secrets.”

Steve grinned. “Got it in one. They stopped asking but then I overheard them yesterday talking about when we would actually get together. Apparently we are still pining over each other, maybe because they’ve never seen us make out?”

“Oh my god.” Nancy and Jonathan both looked particularly despairing given that their brothers were both part of this.

“Yeah, they were bringing up different things as ‘evidence.’ For not realizing we are actually dating, they were surprisingly insightful.”

“Like?”

Steve nodded, holding up his hand to count off examples. “Us watching each other, that time Eddie brought me lunch at work, letting him play his music in the Beemer, that one NPC couple he made. Also apparently we are always gazing longingly at each other when the other isn’t looking.”

Everyone laughed. “I mean, they aren’t wrong.” Eddie said. “But also, you’ve told them we went on a date. How are they not getting it?”

"Beats me.” Steve shrugged. “I swear, those kids are so smart but so little common sense.”

Robin nodded. “It’s true. But I think the real question is, are you going to tell them or let them figure it out themselves?”

#steddie #fic #mine #microfic #getting the wc just right was hard but fun

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halemerry · 8 months

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hii first of all, i absolutely love your metas on GO s2! your breakdown of the last few minutes of ep6 was really insightful and i love you for your meta about aziraphale and his role as a protector - it is a very astute look into his character and motivations which not a lot of people acknowledge in their theories/speculation after s2.

more to the point of this ask: this is something i've been mulling over and is the only thing that still doesn't make sense to me in ep6. why is crowley so nonchalant, or at least not noticeably worried, about the metatron showing up to the bookshop (a space he is very protective of) and taking aziraphala away for a talk after aziraphale has already been threatened by micheal? throughout the whole season crowley has been extremely protective over aziraphale and is very much aware of the real danger he is in (re: the book of life). this is also right after crowley has returned from heaven and has learned what the metatron was willing to do to gabriel to ensure 'institutional integrity' and that much bigger plans were afoot. i find it hard to wrap my head around his calm demeanor when the metatron enters the scene and takes aziraphale away, even if it's supposedly for a harmless talk. i wonder if you have any thoughts/speculation about this?

(opps this got too long and rambling). i would love to hear your thought but ofc please don't feel pressured to answer :) love your posts about the season and i look forward to reading more from you. have a lovely day!

Hi!! Thank you so much! This ask has had me by the throat basically since you sent it. It sort of touches on some things I already wanted to write about so forgive me if this spirals a bit.

So in a lot of ways I think this is a question that can have a one word answer. But since I do wanna talk about the way the show gives us this answer I actually want to start with Nina. Specifically I want to start with the thing she tells Crowley as Aziraphale’s off with the Metatron.

“You’re the hard bitten one that can’t trust anyone ever again and Mr. Wherever He Is is the soft one that still believes in magic people being basically good and all that."

I’ve talked a little bit about this line before in my meta about the build up to the Confession here because I think it’s important to view from the perspective of how it preps Crowley for the following conversation he’s about to have. But, aside from that, I think it's really important because it's wrong. Nina is describing herself here, not Crowley. She’s projecting her own issues onto him and Aziraphale in the way that she perceives herself relating to them. Crowley himself is actually the one that calls out her trust issues for what they are explicitly.

Nina doesn’t trust and she sees herself in Crowley far more than Aziraphale both in demeanor and aesthetic so she assumes he doesn’t trust either. But she has it backwards. Because Crowley isn’t hard bitten as much as someone who tries very hard to be perceived as such. And, most importantly in this specific context, Crowley actually trusts quite a bit.

And he nearly always has. Even as far as back as the Starmaker.

Just look at the way that the Starmaker and Aziraphale both talk about interacting with God. Aziraphale is nervous, anxious and pretty much immediately clocks that what the angel that would become Crowley is saying is going to get him into trouble. But the Starmaker? Even upset about the information he’s been given, he remains confident in the fact that it can’t hurt to ask a few questions. He trusts there to be no consequence for expressing an objection. He trusts that his opinion is valued. Even if he ends up wrong here there’s no inclination at all that he thinks his words will be taken inappropriately. And even the Fall itself doesn’t burn this out of him.

We see him trust Aziraphale, the cherub who was supposed to be guarding Eden from things like him, not to smite him on sight. And trusts him enough to not only have a conversation but express his own worries about his own actions. He then approaches Aziraphale like a friend at the Flood and makes no attempt to censor his horror at what is happening there.

Job is the first time we see Crowley act in a way that implies mistrust between them. This is the first time they’ve met since the Flood which I suspect is contributing to his reluctance to be honest with Aziraphale here. They fall into their roles and then very rapidly fall out of them. The fact Azriaphale reaches out to Crowley here is important. As is the moment where Crowley asks Aziraphale if he’s sure. After Aziraphale more or less agrees to be all in something changes. Crowley is surprisingly honest about his view on the world, mostly trusting Aziraphale not to use it against him. He places himself in front of a host of angels, trusting that Aziraphale would not expose him. And then later he’s even more honest, admitting to Aziraphale he’s lonely in an attempt to show solidarity.

The entire Arrangement could not exist without them trusting each other. Crowley’s pushing at Aziraphale’s boundaries is a constant exercise in trusting that Aziraphale will come around eventually - or that he at the very least isn’t about to weaponize the treacherous things Crowley is saying against him. As early as 1601 we see Aziraphale voicing active concern for Crowley's well being. We then see Crowley actively trust Aziraphale with both their safeties in 1941 - whether it’s trusting Azriaphale to save them from the bomb about to drop on them or trusting Aziraphale’s trust in him to not accidentally discorporate him during the bullet catch. They even explicitly talk about their mutual trust in this year during their shades of gray conversation.

During Armageddon Crowley shows up trusting that Aziraphale will help him fix this and once Aziraphale agrees never once seems to consider the idea that Aziraphale would hide anything from him (even when Aziraphale is actively doing so).

He also critically knows that Aziraphale tried to reach God and got himself discorporated as a consequence. And likely specifically knows that Aziraphale talked to the Metatron and came away from that conversation realizing that Heaven would not help him. It's worth noting whether Crowley knows this bit or not that in this conversation Aziraphale not only explicitly questions the Metatron's authority but also uses the conversation to extract information from the Metatron.

Aziraphale leaves this conversation with an active lie to the Metatron and attempts to call Crowley to tell him everything he knew. He then continually chooses Crowley over Heaven. They pick their own side and help stop the world from ending.

And then, all season, Aziraphale keeps proving that the trust Crowley has always had in him is well earned. Aziraphale, even more than Crowley himself, brings up ideas of 'us' and 'our side' and 'our car'.

Aziraphale openly talks negatively of Heaven. Not only does he agree with Crowley's disbelief that Heaven managed to stay in charge sending people like Muriel down, but he even goes a step further, implying that they perhaps never had control over earth in that way.

He also, most critically, immediately and without hesitation, tries to turn down the Metatron's offer to even have a conversation. Aziraphale, who has also just brought a group of archangels to order, reaffirms his lack of interest in Heaven right then and there in front of Crowley. Right when the Metatron has reaffirmed the threat of the Book of Life is out of play.

Crowley trusts Aziraphale. He always has. And more than ever lately Aziraphale has given him proof that he doesn't have to worry about where he allegiances lay.

But. It's also worth noting. I don't think Crowley is as chill as he maybe seems like he is. Yes, he's sprawled out and speaking casually here, but to some degree this is a bit of posturing. He's playing it cool and also not encroaching on the control Aziraphale has managed to wrangle on this situation. But he also doesn't just let them wander off either. As soon as they hit the door, Crowley is out of the chair and walking to the front of the shop to watch them leave through the window. He's keeping tabs as they walk away.

He then banishes Muriel and promptly starts to clean. Now I'm always a little wary to mix Book and Show canon, but I do think his cleaning of the bookshop (as well as him carrying around stacks of books while babysitting Jim) are manifestations of Book!Crowley's tendency to want to stress clean. He's keeping himself busy and gets done too quickly then promptly glances at his watch before throwing himself into the chair with a frustrated noise. He's anxious and stressed the entire time Aziraphale is out of his line of sight.

In other words, Crowley's not actually as calm as he's presenting himself to be. He's trying to take that nervous energy out in a way that doesn't conflict with giving Aziraphale agency. Because he trusts his angel. And that in part is why it hits him so hard when it all blows up in his face.

#good omens #crowley #good omens meta #good omens spoilers #gos2 spoilers #good omens season 2 #answers #oh yeah this got waaaay long #oops

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adventuringblind · 7 months

Text

Oscar the Matchmaker: Chapter Six

Oscar Jack Piastri x Reader x Max Verstappen

Summary: The media goes crazy over the trio

Warnings: some sexual innuendo

Notes: considering the next chapter to continuation of their steamy encounter at the end. What do y'all think? 🤔

Masterlist

The build-up to the next race was terrible. The media had been swarming her at every opportunity. Even taking liberties to follow her places.

Her PR team had been keeping things as controlled as they could, but the fans are a force to be reckond with.

They left for Hungary early. She had requested they do so. She wanted time to settle down before she had to run around through people. A request which both boys made happen.

Now, she lay wrapped between them in their arms. It's a peaceful place to be. If she never had to leave, then she'd gladly stay here forever.

"Do you think the fans will still like me?" She whispers into Oscar's chest.

"My answer is still the same. Yes, they will still like you."

"If they start saying shit then I'll personally see that it stops." Adds Max. His words vibrate against her back in a soothing way. "The teams know your story. They saw what happened. You have no obligation to share that information if you don't want to."

The fans seem to be divided. Some say she has the money to make it look like she's the victim. Others say it's obvious she's the victim. Some fans are even saying that their relationship is just a massive cover.

Thankfully, her grid friends had come to the rescue. They all posted about her; about them. All of them writing things so kind it made her cry.

Media day came around far too soon. The boys make sure to walk her all the way to AlphaTauri, as is routine.

This time, they are joined by Lando, then they pick up Charles and George, and at some point Carlos and Alex.

The group waves her off to the safety of her garage. Watching her meet up with Yuki at the door.

"If any of the vultures ask about it, I will be setting the media pen on fire." Max claims through gritted teeth.

She thought she would be in the safe with the Thursday driver press conference. She was wrong to assume anything. Apparently, drama makes them bring her back.

It gets a little better as she sees that the other two didn't escape it either. They make space in between them for her to sit down. Charles and Pierre are on the far end of the couch chatting before things get started.

All three of them lean in for a hushed conversation.

"Plans for answering unwanted questions?" She asks.

"Sarcasm. Unless you want to answer differently." States Max and Oscar shakes his head in agreement.

They make it through the first part without any odd questions. It's the open floor where things start to get tricky.

"Will Buxton, Skay Sports: question for Max, Oscar, and Y/N." She tries to suppress a groan. Of course it would be him. The one who loves to make Max out to be a villain and her to be a slut. "How does it feel to be out to the world? Could you give us any insights into your relationship and if there is any truth to the rumors?"

Cue an angry Max and stone cold Oscar. She almost wants to laugh at Will and his poor choices.

Max goes first without anyone having to ask. "I personally feel great. It wasn't how we wanted it to happen, but I'm glad that I can hold their hands in public now."

Oscar goes next. Probably to give her time to think. "So me and Y/N have been dating since F2, and Max joined us early this year."

A shock rolls through the crowd. There's one rumor taken care of at least. Now, she can choose to do the rest nicely or sarcastically. She chooses both.

"There are a few rumors going around right now. The one about us being fake is a lie. We've been together for a while now." She looks between her two counterparts for reassurance. They give her warm smiles and encourage her to move forward with whatever she wants to say.

There is definitely a shake in her voice this time as she continues. "The rumor about me being the aggressor is also a lie. I don't need to prove anything to anyone. I've been through enough already and am not keen on reliving it. Oscar and Max can attest to the fact that I will make myself sick trying to talk about it. I order to not cause a scene, I will no longer be speaking about the matter."

She comes out of the press conference and immediately falls onto the ground, clutching her stomach. She's grateful her PR manager is there waiting for her. Otherwise, she probably wouldn't be able to keep going.

Oscar and Max help her up, watch her drink some water, and then return to their own garages.

"Do you want to try and get media over with now? Or do you want to wait a bit?"

She can't help but admire the level headedness of the kind woman beside her as she will be losing her patience with the questions she's been trying so hard to push away.

Max wants to scream. Maybe even punch something. Or preferably, someone.

He storms his way through the media pen. Nobody even stops him as he does. His PR manager told him to him to go find Oscar as the Aussie has apparently been getting the brunt of the inappropriate questions since their female counterpart had been escorted away for a break.

The trio and their PR managers have a new group chat for this very reason. The drama of their coming out has made all six need to stay in communication.

So, when he got word, he was released to go help his partner escape the awkwardness of the situation. Because nobody is going to mess with Mad Max and make his partners uncomfortable.

He finds Oscar in the middle of answering a question. A microphone to his mouth and eyes flickering everywhere searching for an answer he doesn't have.

Without any hesitation, Max stands right next to his boyfriend and interjects himself into the conversation.

"Speak of the devil, here is Max right now!" says the interviewer enthusiastically. "I was just asking about the nature of your relationship since you are a world champion and dating not one, but two rookies."

Oh, the nerve. Max has half a mind to ask the interviewer who's dick he had to suck to get his job and see how he likes it. "Not sure what you're implying, Mate?" Max tilts his head in feigned confusion. He can just barely see the two PR managers almost giggling out of the corner of his eye. The Dutch has a way of making the media regrat they ever asked such things.

"Just wondering how things between the three of you work. You know- If you're helping them in their career at all."

He feels about ten seconds away from jamming the microphone into the reporter's skull. But he refrains since his PR manager is even letting him do this.

"I honestly don't think they need any help. If you're implying that they are using me, I'm using them, or this is anything other than our love and respect for one another, then I will kindly ask you to fuck off." Max grabs Oscar's hand and the Aussie tries to give a PR worthy smile. The two walk over to their managers and both are shaking their heads at him.

All three of them collapse in a heap on the bed. Media day was absolutely exhausting. The trio had been dragged through a PR nightmare on loop.

"If I never talk to a reporter again, it'll be too soon." Max grumbles. The other two hum I'm agreement.

It took a minute for the two males to make out the small whisper of 'I'm sorry.' The female had been guilty about everything that happened. She has started to constantly apologize for things out of her control.

"I think I know the perfect way to relax and pull your head away schat."

Oscar runs his fingers along her spine. His eyebrows quirk up at Max in curiosity.

A bath.

Max's plan is a bath.

She's grateful that the Dutch has a bath bigger than the other two. It's not massive in the way of a hot tub. Yet it's perfect for the three of them.

The water is warm on her skin. Her back rests against Oscar's chest. Max is facing them to make the space more comfortable, but she wishes he were right next to them so she could lean on him too.

Even after everything, they are still here. Something about that thought makes her feel warm and fuzzy inside.

"Have you heard from your family this weekend, Osc?" She asks. The Aussie had been summoned home by his mother and demanded he bring his two partners along with him.

"Pretty sure my family loves you two more than me." He laughs. "What about you, Maxy?"

Max lets out a heavy sigh and sinks further into the water. "Dad has been texting me occasionally, but I've been ignoring him. Mom and Victoria want to meet you both in person soon." A small smile tugs at Max's lips. The Dutch loves his sister and his niece and nephew. "And you Schatz?"

She grimaces at the thought. "A few texts here and there."

"About?"

"How I should come home and pray away my sins." She rolls her eyes. "They think you two should do the same. That all of us need to stop whoring around."

Oscar smirks into her neck. "The only thing I intend on worshipping is you."

She can feel the heat rise in her cheeks at the implications.

Max sits up again and leans closer to her. "Or maybe you want to be on your knees praying to a different alter."

And there is is. Every working brain cell turned into mush. She whines at the thought. Almost shocking herself at the noise.

It's going to be a long night.

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karingu · 7 months

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inukag's conversation in ch 176... yea that one

This scene at the well in Ch 176, when Kagome asks to stay by Inuyasha, meant a lot to me… so I decided to do a whole ass formal translation for myself (which you can read at the way bottom, but it's probably not too different from what's already out there.)

While translating, I came across 3 details from the original text that I felt were super important 🤧

①　Everyone knows Inuyasha said that he must "give Kikyo his life" in the official Viz translation. Yes, in the original text, Inuyasha says:

命懸けで応えなくちゃならねえ。 In return, I must stake my life for Kikyo.

But that bolded part implies that staking his life for Kikyo is not something he necessarily wants to do out of his own free will, but something that he must do beyond his own will, if that makes sense. Right here, Inuyasha conveys clearly how he feels about the matter.

If he meant to say that he chose this out of his own volition, he would've said something like "...なくちゃいけない" which implies a will out of choice... But no, he said ならない, which implies it's "out of his control", so that gives clear insight to his feelings. He's not doing this because he wants to. He wants to stay with Kagome if he could, but he thinks his duty binds his fate to Kikyo, so therefore, this must be so.

②　Usually, Kagome is translated saying (to Inuyasha) "I want you to live." But I noticed something. She says:

"生きててほしい" ....not just "生きてほしい".

You might think, "Wha? That extra little word changes things?" HAHA well, if you care to know why... yes... bc she's using the present progressive form of that verb. So, I feel there's something missing in that translation.

Kagome doesn't just want Inuyasha to live (as in "be alive"), she wants him to keep on living. She wants to see him live past his trauma, to not give up his life. So, this is a bit of an interpretation, but I personally would translate what she's saying as "I want you to live on." Like when we wish for a friend going through hard times to not succumb to darkness :(

③　Finally, Sunrise had Kagome say something different in her final monologue (wow, what a surprise). (Note, Viz actually did translate this appropriately in the manga.)

In the anime, she just says...

楽しんでほしい。 I want you to be happy.

It's cute, but in the manga, she says...

楽しいことがあってもいい。 -> literally: It's okay to have happiness. -> It's okay (for you) to feel happy.

She's reassuring Inuyasha that it's alright to feel happiness, presumably despite his survivor's guilt. He told her at the start of their conversation, "But… to feel happy, to laugh, I shouldn't be doing these things." This is a response to that. It's so sweet.

+++

THAT'S IT!! There was A LOT of weight to this scene. It made me ugly cry until my eyes got swollen lol...

(if you'd like to read my full translation of their conversation, it is right here below~)

Note: I tried to translate as close to the original nuance of the Japanese text, so the sentence structure may sound unnatural at times.

(SFX: refreshing breeze)

Inuyasha: Kagome...

(Kagome sees him and begins to speak.)

Kagome: I thought about this the whole time I was back home. About you, Kikyo, and me…

Inuyasha: Kagome… I…

Kagome: I know. I know what your feelings are; that's why… I thought I can't be here anymore.

Inuyasha: Kagome… until I met you, I couldn't trust anyone. But you cried for my sake, you were always by my side. When I'm with you, Kagome, I feel happy. My heart is at ease. But… to feel happy, to laugh, I shouldn't be doing these things.

Inuyasha: Kikyo… she followed after me in death. In return, I must stake my life for Kikyo.

Kagome: I understand. I can't compete against her... because I still live.

Kagome: I thought about her a whole lot too. Kikyo and I, we're so completely different. Even with all this stuff about how I'm her reincarnation… well, anyway, I'm not Kikyo. My heart is my own.

Kagome: But you see, there is one thing. How Kikyo is feeling... I get it. I feel the same. We both want to see you, Inuyasha, one more time.

Kagome: You know, somehow, when I thought, "Don't Kikyo and I share the same feelings?", I became a little more at ease. Like, our feelings of wanting to see you are the same, aren't they... So, I gathered up the courage, and came to see you.

Inuyasha: Kagome… As for me, I wanted to see you too. But…

Kagome: I want to be with you*, Inuyasha. To forget about you, I can't do it.

(*T/N: She does not mean "be with you" in a romantic sense. She means to literally be near him, to exist by him, etc.)

Inuyasha: Kagome… what's the best way for me to respond to you?

Kagome: Inuyasha, let me ask you just one thing?

Inuyasha: Yeah…

Kagome: Is it okay if I stay with you?

(SFX: surprise...)

Inuyasha: You'll… stay for me?

Kagome: Yeah… (she smiles.)

Inuyasha and Kikyo's bond absolutely cannot be severed. That... I understand. But you know, Inuyasha? I thought about it… Our meeting was not just a coincidence either.

I want you to live on, Inuyasha.

Kagome: Let's go, Inuyasha.

Inuyasha: O-Oh, yeah, okay...

It's okay to feel happiness. I want you to laugh a lot. I don't know what I can do for you, but…

I will always be by your side.

#paying homage to the scene that rewrote my brain chemistry #my:translations #inuyasha #kagome #kagome higurashi #inukag #inuyasha x kagome #kagome x inuyasha #inuyasha anime #inuyasha manga #inuyasha translations #inuyasha ch 176 #inuyasha e48 #犬夜叉 #かごめ #犬かご #my:posts #my:inumeta

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corroded-hellfire · 5 months

Note

I don’t know if this would be of interest to you to write for the AYW universe, but I’m kinda curious about Eddie & Brittany in the early years. Like Eddie’s reaction to becoming a dad for the first time, poor sweet Eddie trying to make things work with Brittany (I’m a sucker for angst, what can I say 🤷‍♀️) just a little insight to how our favourite mechanic was in the beginning

I love the opportunity this gave me to think about Eddie's past, especially in relation to his relationship with Brittany. @munson-blurbs was kind enough to write this with me and she came up with the best possible title for this story: It's Brittany, (The) Bitch

Warnings: childbirth, pre-Reader, Brittany being Brittany

Words: 4.6k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Eddie pulls his rusted van into the driveway of the small shoebox that currently serves as the Munson residence. He’s been working overtime to help save up for a bigger house, proving difficult with childcare expenses already beginning to pile up despite the fact that the baby won’t arrive for two more weeks.

He takes a deep breath as he kills the engine, preparing himself for the daily crisis; sure enough, he hears Brittany yelling on the phone before he even sees her. It can only be one of a few people that she’s talking to, and he just hopes she’s at least sitting down in a chair and not pacing back and forth.

Eddie lets out a sigh as he steps into the kitchen to find Brittany basically walking laps around the kitchen as far as the phone cord allows, one hand holding the receiver and the other on her 38 week baby bump.

Careful not to interrupt her conversation—if one could even call it that—he clears his throat with a soft ahem. Brittany raises an eyebrow at him in question, to which he responds by nodding his head to the vacant kitchen chair closest to her.

Brittany looks irritated, but takes the seat nonetheless.

“I have told you,” she shouts into the phone as she lowers herself into the chair, “I don’t give a shit what you think Uncle Julian is entitled to, he’s not getting a goddamn dime of Dyeda Alex’s money.”

Eddie long ago learned that it’s all around better for him to stay out of whatever drama Brittany’s family is currently brawling about—and there always is something. If there isn’t, they’ll create it, as evidenced by the Great Cheesecake Battle of 1990.

Eddie presses a kiss to the top of Brittany’s head, and she gives him a small smile as he walks out of the cramped kitchen and down the hall to the bathroom. He cleans himself up from work, washing motor oil from his palms, and slips back into the kitchen to start preparing dinner. Sometimes Brittany would make it, but Eddie’s been more and more insistent that she stay off her feet lately. Besides, Wednesday evenings mean that Wayne is coming for dinner; there’s something about providing a meal for the man who put his life on hold to raise him that warms Eddie’s heart. He only wishes that his cooking skills improved with practice, but based on the food he makes never tasting any better, they’re not.

He’s in the middle of tediously peeling potatoes when Brittany pushes herself up out of the chair, waddling over in the direction of the phone base on the wall. “If you tell her that, I swear on all that is holy, I will end you.”

Eddie smiles to himself as he goes back to the potatoes. He very well knows his wife means what she says, and her threat should not be taken lightly.

“Whatever. Bye.” Brittany slams the receiver down on the phone base and lets out an irritated groan.

“So,” Eddie starts off smugly, “how’s the Sobachkin family doing?”

“They’re all assholes,” Brittany mumbles as she walks over to get a water bottle from the fridge, chugging it like she’d just run a marathon.

Your sister is the biggest asshole of all, but you seem to love her, Eddie thinks as he washes off his hands, drying them on a nearby dishtowel.

“How was work?” Brittany asks as she plops herself back in her chair, already relieved to be off of her feet again.

“Okay,” Eddie says with a shrug of his shoulders. “Wish they’d fire Mark, though. He’s more trouble than he’s worth with all of us having to fix his mistakes every time.” Eddie glances over his shoulder and sees Brittany staring at her nails, tuning out his side of the conversation. He sighs and goes back to preparing dinner. His fault for thinking she might actually be listening to him, he thinks. “How’re you feeling?”

“Pregnant,” she says flatly, placing a hand on her stomach. “Remind me why I decided to have your kid again?”

Because you allegedly love me, he says to himself, biting back the retort to avoid her wrath. But he’d be lying if he said he hasn’t been thinking the same thing.

After a dinner of roasted chicken and mashed potatoes (neither of which were burnt, to Eddie’s delight), Eddie and Wayne sit on the front porch in identical wicker chairs. It’s a warm summer night, the fireflies occasionally blinking in the dusk, crickets chirping their familiar mating calls.

Brittany is inside resting; Eddie had asked if she wanted to come out with them, but she’d just wrinkled her nose and said it was too hot.

Wayne watches his nephew’s leg bounce up and down and his grip tighten on his can of Budweiser. They remain in silence until the older man can’t ignore it any longer.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on before you crush that full can of beer you got in your hand?”

Embarrassment paints a blush on Eddie’s cheeks, unable to deny the surge of relief flooding his body that Wayne brought it up. “Just…anxious, I guess.”

“‘Bout what?” Wayne asks, taking a swig from his own can.

“Becoming a dad. I mean, I had you raising me, but before that…” he bites his lower lip as he searches for the right words. “I’m worried I’ll be more like my old man than like you.”

Wayne shakes his head. “Eddie, you were meant to be a dad. And that kid is gonna adore you.” He offers a small smile as he recalls, “You’ve always taken care of people. Even back in high school, you were always looking out for the younger kids in that fantasy game club you ran.”

Eddie chuckles, but everything Wayne says is true. If he saw someone looking lost and lonely, he brought them into the fold. Don’t know how to play D&D? We’ll teach you. Welcome to Hellfire.

“I guess so. It’s different when it’s your own child, though.”

“I know you can handle it.” Wayne claps him on the back. “And I’m always here for ya. Whatever you need.”

Eddie smiles at him as Brittany comes outside, wearing the frown that seems to be permanently etched on her face.

“Eddie.” Her tone is clipped and irritated, though Eddie can’t remember doing anything wrong.

He quickly stands up, nearly spilling his drink. “Is everything okay? Did something happen?”

She rolls her eyes. “You left me inside by myself while you two bullshit out here.”

“Eddie just needed to talk to me,” Wayne tries explaining. “We were about to head back in.”

Brittany crosses her arms on top of her baby bump. “Forget it. Clearly, I’m not a priority for you.” She motions to Eddie. “I’m going to bed, and I want to lock up, so you can come in now or sleep outside tonight.”

Eddie bites back his anger. She’s having your baby; just be patient. “Yeah, let me just toss this…” He shakes the empty can.

Brittany huffs, waddling back into the house without even saying goodbye to Wayne.

Eddie stops and gives his uncle a long hug. “Next time I see you, I might be a dad,” he grins. “Scary to think about, isn’t it?”

Wayne chuckles. “Nah, kid; you’re gonna be great.” He pauses for a moment, contemplating his words, before deciding to say what’s in his heart. “Listen, Ed; about—”

“Eddie! Let’s go!”

Eddie shoves his hands in his pockets. “I, uh, gotta get going. Thanks for coming over.”

Wayne slowly exhales as he watches his nephew shuffle into the house. “God, I hope he realizes he’s worth so much more than how she treats him.” He shakes his head and trudges to his car.

The sound of crying jars Eddie out of a peaceful sleep. His first instinct is that he needs to go check on the baby, only…the baby hasn’t been born yet. The fogginess of sleep clears away just enough for Eddie to realize it’s not the sound of a baby crying, and it’s coming from right next to him.

The moment he recognizes Brittany’s sobs (as he’s heard them many times over the course of this pregnancy), Eddie bolts up in bed and flicks his bedside lamp on.

“Britt? Honey, what’s wrong?” he asks, voice hoarse from disuse.

Brittany’s shoulders shake as she cries into her hands, awkwardly—and probably uncomfortably—leaning back against her pillows. She tries to calm herself enough to speak, but she just keeps sputtering over her words. It makes Eddie even more nervous as he scoots closer to her and gently rubs his hand along her arm.

“T-The nursery isn’t done y-yet,” Brittany weeps before hiding her face back in her hands. She leans forward, bent in half as much as she can get with the swell of her belly so large.

The adrenaline coursing through Eddie’s body starts to calm down now that he realizes the life of his wife and child aren’t in danger. He yawns and reaches one hand over to rub soothing circles into the back of Brittany’s silky pajama top. Slowly, she pulls away from his touch and situates herself so she’s able to face him better.

“It’s not done yet!” she repeats, as if he didn’t hear her the first time. A hint of anger has joined the despair in her voice, the amalgamation of hormones creating another perfect storm.

Eddie lets out a sigh and runs a hand over his face. “Britt, I—”

Brittany doesn’t let him finish; she throws the blankets off of herself and starts pacing back and forth in the space between their bed and the wall. It’s not a large area, so really, she mostly looks as if she’s waddling around in a circle. Under different circumstances, Eddie might laugh.

“The baby could be here at any time and the nursery still isn’t finished!” A wail comes from Brittany’s lips and he knows that, as difficult as Brittany could be sometimes, this is fueled by hormones—not even she would be this worked up in her usual state.

Quickly, Eddie jumps out of the bed and walks around to her. He places his hands on her shoulders and stands in front of her so she can’t continue her walking. When she doesn’t look at him, Eddie ducks his head until their gazes catch.

“The walls are painted. The crib is put together. The shelves are up. Clothes are in the closet. All that’s left to do is put the last pieces of furniture together.” He tries to logic this out with her, hoping it’s the best course of action to get her to calm down.

“The dresser, the changing table, the toy chest…” Brittany rattles off the list.

“Which all can be done after the baby is born if it needs to be,” Eddie assures her. He cups her cheeks in his hands and takes a deep breath, wanting her to copy his actions.

Brittany begrudgingly takes a few deep breaths with Eddie, following his inhales and exhales until her system is a little calmer.

“They should be done before the baby is here,” Brittany says, sounding only slightly less upset than a few moments ago. She rubs at her runny nose and Eddie wipes a few stray tears from her face.

“We’ve got two weeks until your due date, hun. Don’t worry, it will get done.” Eddie truly believes this, but he knows his words probably don’t sound the most convincing since he was just jolted out of sleep.

Brittany nods but the emptiness in her expression leaves Eddie unsure if she actually heard his words or not. He’s too tired to question her on it though, so he gently leads her back to bed and helps her get situated. Or at least, as best as she can be this far along. Eddie knows how hard it’s been for her to get comfortable being this close to the end of the pregnancy, so he does anything he can to help.

Finally, Brittany is settled down in bed and Eddie goes back around to his side. He sits down on the edge of the mattress and flicks the lamp off. Regardless of the dark room, Eddie closes his eyes just to give himself a moment to try and compose himself.

By the sounds of the steady breathing, Brittany is already back asleep. These last two weeks were going to be hell for Eddie, he just knows it. They’re almost at the end of the tunnel when it comes to the pregnancy, but who knows what insanity will come along when the baby is finally here.

Figuring he should try to lighten the load that will be put upon him, he pushes himself off the bed and walks into the bedroom across the hall. Eddie tugs on the longest string connected to the ceiling fan and light floods the room, illuminating the partially completed furniture and the pale yellow walls. Eddie winces at how bright the lights are and tries to avert his gaze until he finds the small pile he put his tools into once he finished putting the crib together.

“Well,” Eddie sighs, “here we go.”

His stiff bones protest as he sits down on the floor. A few plush rugs are rolled up in the corner of the room, but since they’re not yet laid out, Eddie’s bony ass is about to be sitting on a hardwood floor the whole time. Pulling the necessary tools over to him, he gets to work on the remaining pieces of furniture.

By the time he’s done, he only has about an hour until his alarm goes off for work. The tightness and achiness in his body are even worse than they were before as he trudges back to bed, ready to take full advantage of those precious sixty minutes.

When his alarm goes off, Brittany gets up as well—she has to pee, unsurprisingly. Eddie takes a cold shower to try and wake himself up, and the moment he steps out of the bathroom, Brittany is sobbing and wrapping her arms around his neck.

He wasn’t expecting her to be there, let alone, coming at him with a force like that, so he staggers back a few steps as he holds onto her. He’s glad he tied the towel around his waist as securely as he did, or he’d be a lot colder standing there in the hallway.

“Whoa, whoa, what’s going on? What’s wrong?” Eddie asks. Brittany sniffles as she pulls back and looks at her husband through watery eyes.

“You put the rest of the furniture together,” she says through some wetter sniffles.

“Mhmm,” Eddie hums, still half asleep.

Brittany just buries her head in his neck again. Eddie loosely drapes his arms around her waist and lays his head on hers. He’s pretty sure he almost dozed off that way when Brittany pulls back and wipes the tears from her rounded cheeks.

“Thank you, Eddie. I know I overreacted last night.”

Eddie knows it too, but he’s not dumb enough to say that out loud.

“You’re allowed to have emotional reactions to things, babe,” Eddie tells her. He softly trails his fingertips down the swell of her belly. “You’re carrying our baby. Kinda gives you a bit of a hall pass.”

A week later, Eddie’s finishing up a brake job at work when his boss tells him his wife is on the phone. Immediately, Eddie knows it’s about the baby. He could probably count the number of times that Brittany has called his work on one hand in all the years he’s been working here.

“Hello?” Eddie answers the phone, not caring that he’s getting black, greasy fingerprints all over the receiver.

“In labor,” Brittany pants out, clearly in pain. “M-Meet at the hospital.”

“I’m on my way, hun.”

Everything is a blur as Eddie washes his hands, punches out, and climbs into his truck. Brittany’s in labor. Which means the impending arrival of the baby is upon him. Eddie feels a little dizzy at the thought, which is probably not great since he’s going about twenty miles over the speed limit on the way to the hospital.

The truck is barely in park as Eddie hops out of it and jogs over to the hospital doors. He asks the woman at the front desk where the maternity ward is, and he keeps mentally repeating the directions to himself so that he won’t forget them.

A nurse tells Eddie that Brittany is in room 361 and points him in that direction. The only noise filling the sterile, white corridor is the occasional beeping of machinery from the different rooms, and the squeak of Eddie’s work boots on the shiny linoleum tiles.

The first person that catches Eddie’s eye when he walks into room 361 is Sandy, Brittany’s sister. It takes everything inside of him to keep the disgusted noise he wants to make to himself. She’s not really his focus right now though, so Eddie forgoes a greeting to push past and get to his wife. Brittany is lying in the bed, a hospital gown on, and what seems like dozens of wires connected to her.

“Hey,” Eddie says as he approaches the bed. “How are you—”

“Jesus Christ, Eddie,” Brittany gripes, looking him up and down. A nurse steps into the room, walking over to read some of the numbers on the machines Brittany is hooked up to, so his wife leans in and says through clenched teeth, “This is a hospital, and our baby is about to be born. Go home and clean up.”

Eddie’s tired and frazzled. He figured Brittany would want him by her side while she’s dealing with this initial pain. But her face clearly tells a different story. Eddie looks down at his coveralls and sees the oil smudges and grease handprints all over it. He should change, but he can’t bring himself to leave.

“Go home?” Eddie asks, voice small and confused. “By the time I get there, get cleaned up, then back here, it might be too late. Babe, what if I miss the birth?”

Brittany doesn’t seem too concerned with this, simply shrugging her shoulders and eyeing every little speck of dirt on the dark blue jumpsuit he’s wearing.

The nurse who is inspecting the machines looks up at Eddie and gives him a smile. “It’s still going to be some time now before the baby is born,” she assures him. “How far do you live?”

“Uh, about ten minutes away,” if Eddie recalls correctly—which he thinks he does, there’s just a lot flying around his brain right now.

“Oh, you should be fine, sweetheart,” the nurse says, waving a dismissive hand. “She’s still not fully dilated yet.”

As reluctant as he is to leave, the nurse’s words make the hesitancy lessen a little.

“I’ll, uh, be back.” Eddie turns and heads out of the room. He follows the reverse directions that got him to the maternity ward, back to his car in the parking lot. With speed that any NASCAR driver would be jealous of, Eddie gets back to the house and jumps in the shower.

In total, Eddie was probably in the house for ten minutes. But to him it felt like eternity. He’s itching to be in that hospital room with his wife and zooms back down the way from where he just came.

When Eddie gets back up to the room, nothing has changed—except for his clothes and cleanliness. Brittany’s in the same position, same miserable expression on her face. But in what is a pleasant surprise, Sandy vacates the chair next to Britttany’s bed so he can sit at his wife’s side. Eddie gives his sister-in-law a nod of acknowledgment as he takes his seat.

Eddie reaches for Brittany’s hand, and this time, she lets him touch her. He presses a few kisses to her knuckles before he gives her a small smile.

“How ya feeling?”

“Like I’m about to shit a bowling ball,” she responds, flopping her head back against her pillow. She does give Eddie a small smile in return though, which has him questioning how much pain medication they’ve already given her.

“Did your water break?” Eddie asks.

Brittany nods and her eyes dart over to her sister. “Sandy came over to keep me company and went into the kitchen to get us something to drink, but as I went to sit down on the couch, I could just feel this trickle of water going down the leg of my pants.”

“I heard the pop and thought she knocked something over with her pumpkin of a belly again,” Sandy says from behind Eddie.

“I’m glad you weren’t alone,” Eddie says. No matter how much he may dislike Brittany’s family, he does have to give credit to Sandy for always being a good big sister to Brittany.

The nurse from before wasn’t kidding when she said that Eddie would be fine to come home and then come back. The next couple hours just turn into a waiting game. Each time a nurse comes in, the three in the room will perk up and hope there’s some news about when Brittany can start pushing. But so far, no dice.

Eddie tries to talk with Brittany to keep her occupied and her mind off the pain. Anything that seems to come to his mind is deemed stupid by Brittany and she won’t carry a conversation. So, Eddie tries to get her to talk about things that she enjoys.

“Do you still want to see that surfer movie that’s coming out soon? Hmm? The one with Patrick Swayze, who you love so much. Should I be jealous?” Eddie smirks, to show he’s just playing around with her, but Brittany couldn’t care less.

“Do you honestly think I’ll be able to go to a movie theater at all this month, Eddie? Really? I think I’ll be a little busy being up to my eyeballs in dirty diapers,” she snaps.

Her constant putting-down of his attempts at conversations is wearing on Eddie. He clenches and unclenches his fist as he takes a deep breath. I can’t even imagine what she’s going through right now, he thinks to himself. Eddie nods to himself, as if he’s psyching himself up to take all of this in stride.

Finally, one of the nurses’ visits pay off when she brings a doctor in who informs them that Brittany is fully dilated. Now, the staff scrambles to get necessary tools that are needed and set up near the foot of the hospital bed.

“They couldn’t have done this earlier?” Brittany grits out through her teeth, low enough for only Eddie to hear.

“All right, Mrs. Munson,” the doctor says as he slips his hands into a new pair of latex gloves. “Are you ready to try pushing?”

“You’ve got this,” Sandy says. She walks over closer to the bed and Eddie can feel his knuckles turn white from how hard he’s grasping the bed rail. The nurse who told him that he had time to go home earlier is in the room now and must notice Eddie’s obvious distaste for Sandy. The nurse catches Eddie’s attention by walking into his peripheral vision. When he glances up at her, the nurse looks in Sandy’s direction, then back to Eddie. Her eyebrows raise and eyes widen, as if she’s asking, “You want this bitch gone?” Eddie gives a subtle nod of his head, and amongst the flurry to get the room ready, the nurse leans in so that Sandy and Brittany can hear.

“It looks like we’re going to try pushing now,” the nurse says, a sweet professional smile on her face. “Which means we can only have the father in the room.”

Part of Eddie knows he should feel bad. But he’s paying for this room, and he wants it to be just him and his wife welcoming this little bundle of joy to the world for the first time.

Sandy presses a kiss to the top of Brittany’s already sweaty head, and even pats Eddie’s shoulder before heading out the door to find a waiting room to relax in.

Eddie tentatively takes Brittany’s hand, unsure whether or not touching her is the right choice, breathing a sigh of relief when she accepts and squeezes the hell out of it. Maybe it’s to offset the pain—or to punish him for getting her pregnant in the first place—but he chooses to believe it’s because she sees him as a source of strength and support.

“You’ve got this, Britt. You’re strong as hell, you can do this,” he cheers softly, tears already prickling in his eyes in anticipation of meeting his child. “Come on, baby. Just a little bit more to go.”

Thirty minutes and nearly one broken hand later, shrill little cries fill the room. It’s the most beautiful music Eddie’s ever heard.

He cries as the doctor announces that Baby Munson is a healthy little boy, handing Eddie the clamp to cut the umbilical cord. His son—his son!—is still covered in blood and vernix, but he’s still absolutely perfect.

While the nurses take the newborn to clean him up and wrap him in a blanket, Eddie takes the opportunity to give his wife a kiss on her perspiration-soaked forehead. “I’m so proud of you. You did so, so well. And…and now we have a son.”

Brittany is exhausted, making her a bit more mellow, and she hums her approval. She moves her head to kiss Eddie, eyes starting to flutter closed from exhaustion.

Once the baby is all bundled up, the nurse hands him to Brittany, maternal instincts kicking in as she awakens to hold him. Eddie watches in complete awe, unable to comprehend that this baby is his son. A little being that’s half him.

When Brittany hands the baby to Eddie, he holds him close and starts crying again, this time through a beaming smile. The way his tiny body fits perfectly in the crook of his arms sends a surge of overwhelming joy through Eddie’s veins. He instantly knows that being a dad is the best thing that’s ever happened to him and is the best thing that ever will happen to him.

He brushes his forefinger against the baby’s knuckles, comically small compared to his own. “Hi there. It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m your daddy.”

“Do Mom and Dad have a name picked out for this little guy?” The nurse asks with a grin.

Eddie nods; they had already decided on Ryan for a boy or Riley for a girl.

“Ryan Wayne Munson,” he announces proudly. He’d always planned to honor the man who had raised him, even if it meant arguing with Brittany, who had claimed the name was “too old-fashioned.” Eddie rarely put his foot down with his wife, but this was a matter he’d insisted upon.

Two hours later, between constant check-ins and breastfeeding demonstrations, Brittany is able to sleep. Eddie sits in the corner of the room, just holding Ryan. He stares down incredulously at the baby in his arms, unable to take his eyes off of him.

Softly, Eddie begins to speak to his son. “I promise you that I will be the best dad I can be for you. I won’t be perfect, but I will do my best.” He takes a deep breath before continuing.

“It’s amazing how I’ve loved you since the moment I knew about you. And now you’re here, in my arms. God, I love you so much more than you will ever know. My little Ryan.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #AYW #AYWS

250 notes · View notes

cyberp-1-nk · 1 year

Text

HOMESICK S/O + OBEY ME BROTHERS.

☆ Masterlist / Requests ?

SYNOPSIS. How they'd react to you feeling homesick, and assuming that you're going to leave them behind forever.

PAIRINGS. Lucifer x Reader, Mammon x Reader, Leviathan x Reader, Satan x Reader, Asmodeus x Reader, Beelzebub x Reader, and Belphegor x Reader.

GENRE + WARNINGS. This is angst, but with a comforting/fluffy end.

WORD COUNT. 3,066

TAGS. @xpixie

LUCIFER !

☆ He's not stupid. He knows that you miss your home— he hears the way you talk to your human-world friends on the phone.

Lucifer had solely just been passing by your room— he hadn't intended to invade your privacy, but curiosity gnawed at him. You never really spoke about the human world, and to hear another human talking to you had piqued his interest. Listening intently to your conversation with your old friends. He had been curious about what was happening in the human-world lately, and he thought eavesdropping on your calls might give him some insight.

As he listened in, he heard your friend excitedly recounting their latest adventures. They had gone to a concert, tried a new restaurant, and hung out at the park. It sounded like they were having the time of their lives. Occasionally, he heard more of your friends interrupt each other, all equally excited to speak to you again. It's clear you were loved in the human-world as well— a pang of jealousy throbbed in his chest.

But then your voice came through the phone, and Lucifer could hear the sadness and longing in it. "It sounds fun," you said quietly. "I wish I could be there with you guys." Lucifer felt a pang of sympathy for you. He knew what it was like to feel homesick and lonely— when he had first arrived in the devildom after the celestial war, he had missed the celestial-realm deeply. He wondered if there was anything he could do to help you feel better.

He listened a little longer as your friends tried to cheer you up. They promised to take lots of pictures and send you updates, and they told you how much they missed you too. Lucifer could hear the genuine affection in their voices, and he felt a flicker of hope that maybe you would start to feel better soon. As he glanced at your face— he noticed how little beads of tears started to prick at your eyes. You quickly cleared your throat, and wiped your tears.

☆ He won't mention this to you unless he needs to. He'll silently try to bring more of the human world to you— he'll do some research on human-customs, holidays, and even your personal culture. You'll notice he starts to ask more questions about the human world, your favorite things about it. You'll eventually notice this, and reassure him that he doesn't need to put in all this effort to make you stay— you love your home, but you love him more.

MAMMON !

☆ Mammon is an idiot, but he's an observant idiot— only when it comes to you though. He notices the way your expression changes whenever you reminisce about your family, or how much fun you've had with your friends.

You leaned against Mammon's shoulder, your voice laced with bitter-sweet nostalgia as you spoke about your memories of your friends back in the human world— something you rarely did. "We used to do everything together," You said with a smile tugging at your lips. "Parties, road trips, late-night hangouts. It was so much fun." Mammon listened intently, a small smile creeping onto his face as he watched you reminisce. He loved seeing you happy and carefree, even if just for a moment.

But as you continued to talk, Mammon noticed a shift in your tone. Your voice grew incredibly quieter, and Mammon could see the tears starting to prick at the corners of your eyes. He put his arm around you, pulling you close. "I miss them so much," You said, your voice breaking. "I miss everything about being back there. The smells, the sounds, the people. It's just not the same here."

Mammon's heart ached for you as he watched you struggle with homesickness— he wordlessly adored you, he didn't want to let go, but he also didn't want you to be so sad. He knew that you loved the devildom and all the adventures you had together, but he also knew that a part of you would always long for your old life. "It's okay to miss them, ya know," Mammon said softly, tracing circles on your back. "You don't have to pretend that you don't."

You nodded, a tear rolling down your cheek. "I know," you said quietly. "It's just hard. I feel like I don't belong here sometimes, like I'm trapped in a world that's not really mine."

Mammon hugged you tighter, offering you a small smile— a hue of blush overlapping his face. "Ya know we all love having you here, right?" he said. "We wouldn't be the same without you."

☆ He loves you so much— and doesn't want to let you go back to the human-world, and it's extremely hard for him to come to terms with the fact that there is a chance you might leave him behind. He knows he won't be ready for something like that. When you pull him close, and reassure him that you're here to stay. Please, you're gonna make him sob.

LEVIATHAN !

☆ Jealousy starts to eat at him when he notices how often you start to call your old friends. He starts to distance himself once he assumes you're going to leave him for good. He loves you, and can't bring himself to let you go.

Leviathan had been noticing a pattern in your saddened behavior lately. You had been spending more and more time on calls with your friends from the human world, laughing and joking with them. He could hear the longing in your voice every time you said you missed them. Leviathan couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. He had grown so used to having you all to himself that the thought of you leaving him behind was unbearable.

One day, when you were finishing up a call with your friends, Leviathan couldn't contain his feelings any longer. He looked at you with a sadness in his eyes that you had rarely seen— it worried you. "Why do you spend so much time on calls with your human friends? Don't you know that I'm here, waiting for you?"

You were taken aback by Leviathan's sudden outburst. You had never seen him like this before— usually he'd only lash out in jealousy towards his brothers, he'd never seemed to mind your friends. You tried to explain that you missed your old life, but that didn't mean you were going to leave everyone behind. "Leviathan, I'm not going anywhere. I made a promise to you, remember? I'm here to stay."

But Leviathan wasn't convinced. "You shouldn't have made me fall for you if you were just going to leave me behind," he said, his voice cracking with emotion. "I thought you were different, but I guess I was wrong."

You could see the hurt in Leviathan's eyes, and you knew you had to do something to comfort him. You took his hand and looked into his eyes. "Levi, I'm not going anywhere. I promise. But I can't just forget about my old life. I need to stay in touch with my friends."

Leviathan looked at you, his eyes softening. He knew you were right. He knew he was being irrational, but he couldn't stand the thought of you leaving. "I understand," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just don't want to lose you."

You pulled Leviathan into a warm embrace. "You won't lose me," you said. "I'm here for you, always." Leviathan buried his face in your shoulder, feeling comforted by your words.

☆ He knew that even though you missed your old life, you were committed to your relationship. And that was all that mattered. He was just happy you were here to stay.

SATAN !

☆ He brought some famous books from the human world, and started questioning you about them. It led to you talking about how you were gifted some of these books at some point in your life, which ultimately led to you reminiscing about your family. He let you ramble since you probably needed to get it off your chest.

Satan had recently returned from a trip to the human world, and he had brought back a few books that he thought you might be interested in. As you sat together in your room, he pulled out the books and asked you about them. Your face lit up as you recognized the titles. "Oh, I remember these! My family bought them for me when I was younger," you said, flipping through the pages. "I used to read them all the time."

Satan watched as your eyes glimmered with fond memories, but as you continued talking, he could see tears starting to well up in your eyes. "What's wrong?" he asked, gently wiping away your tears.

"It's just...I miss my family," You said, your voice cracking with emotion. "These books remind me of them, and how much they cared about me. I wish I could see them again." Satan didn't say anything, but he listened carefully as you talked about your family, and the memories you had with them. He could see how much they meant to you, and he felt a pang of sadness knowing how much you missed them.

After a moment of silence, Satan spoke up. "If you want to leave and reunite with your family, I'll let you go," he said, his voice soft. "I know how much they mean to you, and I don't want to keep you here if you're not happy."

You looked at Satan, surprised by his words. You knew how much he cared for you, and how much he had sacrificed for you. "I...I don't know what to say," You said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Satan took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I'm not going to force you to stay here if you're not happy," he said. "But if you decide to leave, just remember that I'll always be here for you. No matter what. Even if you don't return, I'll always be watching over you."

☆ In that moment, you felt grateful for Satan's kindness and understanding. He seemed saddened at the mention of letting you go, and the sour expression that twisted at his face— but you simply laughed, and pressed a gentle kiss against his lips. You reassured him that you're not going anywhere.

ASMODEUS !

☆ When noticing how sad you seem, he tries to remind you of all the great things that are in the devildom— aka, him. Why would you wanna be anywhere else when you have someone as perfect as him always by your side?

Asmodeus had noticed that you seemed more down than usual lately. You spent a lot of time looking at old pictures from your home in the human world, and he could tell that you missed it deeply. He didn't want you to be sad, so he decided to try and cheer you up. While you were scrolling through your phone, Asmodeus noticed that you were looking at pictures of your old house. He could see the sadness in your eyes, and he knew he had to do something to make you feel better.

Without a word, he gently pushed your phone aside and took your hands in his. "Why would you ever wanna leave when you have me?" he said, looking deep into your eyes.

You were taken aback by his words. You had never thought of it that way before. "I...I don't know, Asmo," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Asmodeus smiled and took your face in his soft hands— tracing his delicate thumbs alongside your face. "There are so many great things in devildom. And I'm one of them," he said, his voice full of confidence. "Why would you wanna be anywhere else when you have someone as perfect as me always by your side?"

You couldn't help but laugh at Asmodeus's words. He was always so confident and sure of himself, and it was infectious. You looked at him, really looked at him, and realized that he was right. Asmo was one of the greatest things in your life, and you were lucky to have him. "You're right, Asmo," you said, leaning in to kiss him. "I do have you, and that's all I need."

☆ Asmo grinned and pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you. He knew that he couldn't replace your old life, but he was happy to remind you of all the good things you had in the devildom. He was happy to be there for you whenever you needed him.

BEELZEBUB !

☆ When he notices that you seem homesick, he can't bring himself to come to terms with it. He wants to be selfish and keep you all to himself, but he knows it isn't right. He can't keep you here if you aren't happy. He unknowingly distances himself from you, and seems to be eating more than usual.

Beelzebub had always been close to you— ever since you had made that pact with him. He enjoyed spending time with you, sharing meals and laughs, and he had come to think of you as someone he loved dearly. But something had changed recently, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it. You seemed more homesick than usual, and every time you spoke about the human world, your eyes took on a faraway look that made him worry.

You had noticed that something was off with Beelzebub lately. He had been avoiding you, not showing up to meals or events you had planned together. You decided to confront him about it, and found him in the kitchen, scoffing down large amounts of food as his back was turned against you.

"Beel, can we talk?" You asked, your voice gentle but firm— your eyes narrowed slightly as you questioned him. It was very unlike him to just— avoid you without saying anything. Usually, he was very straightforward with you. Beel turned around slowly, and your heart sank at the sight of his red, puffy eyes. "What's wrong, Beel? Are you okay?" You asked, stepping closer to him.

Beelzebub hesitated for a moment, then spoke softly. "I'm sorry for avoiding you. I just...didn't want to burden you with my problems."

Your gaze softened, and you reached out to touch his arm. "Beel, you can always talk to me. You don't have to go through things alone."

Beelzebub nodded, his eyes downcast. "It's just...I don't want you to leave. I know how much you miss home, and I can't bear the thought of you leaving us."

Your heart swelled with warmth at Beelzebub's confession. "Beel, I'm not leaving. I may miss home sometimes, but the Devildom has become my home too. And you guys...you're like family to me."

Beelzebub's eyes widened, and he looked up at you with a mix of surprise and gratitude. "Really? You mean that?"

"Of course I do," You said, smiling. "I don't know what I'd do without you guys. And I especially don't know what I'd do without you— I love you, a little more than the others. Don't tell anyone that though." He was caught completely off guard as you walked up closer to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in with a soft, but tight grip. He lightly flinched when you put your hand on the back of his head, but his muscles relaxed when he felt yout soft hands run through his hair. You smiled when you could hear his heartbeat, and it was beating fast.

☆ He knows you're here to stay— even if he gets worried sometimes.

BELPHEGOR !

☆ He probably gets really upset. He doesn't want you to leave, he doesn't even want you to have thoughts of leaving forever.

Belphegor had always been a laid-back demon, preferring to spend his days napping and lounging around. But lately, he has become more attentive to you. He had noticed how homesick you seemed, and he couldn't bear the thought of you leaving them behind— he already lost Lilith, he can't lose you too.

So whenever you were on the phone with your friends from the human world, Belphegor would cuddle up to you, nuzzling his head against your shoulder and purring contentedly. And whenever you tried to look at pictures on your old phone— the one you had bought in the human world, he would immediately sprawl out on your lap, his weight making it impossible for you to move.

At first, you found it amusing. Belphie was always so lazy, it was funny to see him so determined to distract you. But as time went on, you started to feel frustrated. You missed your friends and family from the human world, and you wanted to talk to them without any interruptions. One day, you had finally had enough. "Belphie, can you please get off me? I'm trying to talk to my friend," you said, trying to push him off your lap.

But Belphegor was fast asleep, his breathing deep and even. You sighed in exasperation, but something about the way he looked so peaceful made you hesitate. You looked at him for a moment longer, then spoke softly. "Belphegor, why do you keep doing this? Why won't you let me talk to my friends?"

Belphegor stirred slightly, then opened his eyes and looked up at her. "I don't want you to leave. I like having you here."

Your heart swelled with warmth at Belphegor's words. "I'm not leaving, Belphie. I promise. But I need to talk to my friends sometimes. It doesn't mean I love you guys any less."

Belphegor blinked slowly, then yawned and stretched his limbs. "I know. I'm sorry. I just...don't want you to be sad."

You reached out to stroke his head gently. "I appreciate that, Belphegor. But it's okay to be sad sometimes. And it's okay to talk about it."

Belphegor gazed up at you with sleepy eyes, and you felt a surge of affection for him. Despite his laziness and his quirks, he cared about you in his own way. You leaned down and gave him a soft kiss on the forehead.

☆ He eventually learns that you aren't going to leave, and it reassures him— he loves you, and just doesn't want you to go.

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emblazons · 11 months

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So (because I cannot go three seconds without noticing new little things that tell the wider story in this show):

Let’s talk about how the music that plays during the S3 Byler fight is the exact same music that plays during the S4 conversation Mike & Dustin have with Lucas as they walk to class after the pep rally—

—and how that parallel gives us insight not only into how Mike (and his devotion to Will) has evolved between seasons 3 and 4….but also how The Duffers are evolving Mike as a character in the wake of the "conflict" of forced conformity they introduced in S3.

To start: here are snippets of both scenes where “Not Kids Anymore” plays, both in Season 3 and Season 4.

Now, even though Mike is present in both scenes, it’s not entirely obvious why these things would be parallels, given the radical difference in tone. That said: when we look at these scenes in their wider contexts, we see that they are both exploring the exact same issue, only with Mike on opposite sides of the convo each time—

—namely, whether or not its worth it for Mike to embrace conformity, given that there are behaviors/roles he is meant to fill when trying to keep up with being normal/growing up...and "society" says that DnD / nerdiness (and a refusal / lack of desire to participate in performative relationships) stands entirely apart from that.

Let me see if I can explain.

First: these things are parallels because they are asking us to compare the Mikes in each situation—to notice how he took Will’s words to heart, and decided on some level that Will was right, not him. How do we know? Because in the time between these two convos (aka the rain fight and then the first few episodes of S4), we learn that Mike has made a point to address and rectify all criticisms Will had of him & his behavior during the rain fight.

As of the very first episode of S4, we are shown that Mike is 1) paying attention to both the party/DnD the way Will criticized him for not doing (to the point of calling out Lucas for not prioritizing it the way he now wants to)—

—2) he is focusing on keeping closeness with Dustin (even to the point of judging Lucas for not doing the same), because Will accused him of ignoring Dustin as readily as he ignored him—

—and 3) he has entirely stopped "swapping spit" with El (to the point of removing her from a hug at the airport, kissing her on the forehead...and then never kissing her again lmao) while letting his relationship fall apart without much of a fight…right before apologizing to Will for letting El get in the way of their time spent together in the first place.

Basically: even though he is still struggling in many ways to defend himself from being bullied/being an outcast by hiding behind his relationship with El (the same way Lucas is with “being popular” and basketball), we can see that Mike has made clear strides towards embracing the sides of him that aren’t conformist, which is reflected in all of his decision-making in Will's absence.

Though Mike is getting older and the party “aren’t kids anymore,” them paralleling these scenes is showing us that Mike, at least on some level, has realized that growing up is not at odds with embracing the things he enjoys & his various identities, whether that be through playing DnD—

—wearing clothes he chose on his own—

—or willingly choosing closeness with Will over the performance of relationships with girls (the same way Will already had in Season 3, and Dustin reflected as well).

Now...this isn't to say that he's entirely succeeded at the task, given how many times we see him fumble through actually implementing these changes/revelations in himself, whether with clothes (hello 'shitty knockoff'), embracing his actual interests, or even letting himself want to admit he wants to be with/around Will and not El—

—on top of the fact that I've already talked (many, many times) about how the journey of "feeling like you lost" the Duffers took us on had Mike ending up in a position where "conformity" temporarily wins, how that plays into his relationship with El versus Will, and why it matters for his character even outside of his queerness.

Still: I think this parallel in particular is important to understanding his character because it rules out any idea that Mike is somehow oblivious rather than intentionally working through to the changes happening in himself, whether they be in regards to him re-choosing DnD, making decisions about his clothing for himself...or wanting to be closer to Will / not participate in "liking girls," which is what he gets projection-mad at Will about during the rain fight.

tl;dr: Mike has realized on some level that he wants to be more like / closer to Will than his S3 "conformity" self—and the war we see on his face throughout the season in conversations with Will has a lot to do with that, among other things.

This musical parallel in particular draws attention to the fact that there have been changes happening within Mike that he sees and recognizes—he just "lost" like every other character this season, aka failed at walking into a more secure sense of self / out of his "conformist" relationship in its entirety...which we'll resolve in S5. :)

#byler #anti mlvn #mike wheeler #will byers #mike wheeler core #this could have gotten SO MUCH LONGER and I know I'm gonna do a companion piece on lucas right after this but lmao I had to START SOMEWHERE #like? one day I'm just gonna have to write a fucking book on mike wheeler because I have SO MUCH TO SAY LMAO #my st commentary #st parallels #stranger things #st music analysis

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life-is-more-than-just-a-game · 3 months

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♠️ Lustful Glances ♠️

A/N: So, ehm. Actually, this was a request from an anonymous sender, but since Tumblr spun yesterday and the question is no longer there, I have to write it as a normal text now, for better or worse. 😞

I hope the sender reads it anyway and likes the little story! ✨

Characters: Chishiya

POV: fem!reader ; Smut!

Warnings: NSFW, please don't read if you don't feel comfortable with sexual content and when you are under 18 years old!

I've known Chishiya long enough to know what he's like. Unlike most people I've met at the Beach, Chishiya is not only a rather quiet and introverted person, but he's also a person who doesn't think twice about drugs, sex and alcohol. He lives his life in a sober state and doesn't have any great lust potential that makes him want to sleep with someone on a daily, weekly or monthly basis. He can be proud of that.

However ... these are sides of his personality that most people are aware of. To be precise, it is no secret. Well, but because of the relationship we have with each other, I have knowledge about him that people around me would define as ... unbelievable.

It's days like these when Chishiya can show a different side of herself. Where he is no longer just the quiet and well-behaved little guy he usually presents himself as. It's hard to believe - but it's true: there are days or moments when even he throws all rationality overboard. Especially at times when his testosterone level tries to play a few tricks on him.

What do I mean by that? I'll tell you.

Imagine the initial situation as follows: I'm just sitting in my room reading one of the books I've discovered in the hotel library. A little more permissive, considering that the temperature is sometimes unbearable. If I had to define "permissive", I'm sitting on the floor in a pair of shorts and a bandeau, leaning against my bed while eating some snacks that Chishiya brought me after a game he finished yesterday.

The man in question came into the room. We spent time talking to each other, as we do very often. We exchanged new experiences or insights in Borderland- the usual. And although nothing happened between us, at some point I noticed Chishiyas eyes on me.

Later, we're laying in bed together. Next to each other. I keep reading my book and pretend not to notice how he keeps his eyes on me while he tries to just rest and relax a little. But when I see him start to look at me for the third time, I can't just leave it at a hidden smirk. And so I close the book and turn my attention to my comrade, who seems to be a little preoccupied at the moment.

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what again?" It is difficult to say whether he meant this question seriously or not.

His words sounded ironic, but his face shows that he knows exactly what I'm talking about.

"Looking at me ... with those eyes." I smirked at him, sliding down a little and turning on my side to be at eye level with him. "Those eyes I see way too rare, if you'd ask me, Chishiya."

"It was just a gaze", he says, but all I could do was shake my head "no", before sitting up a little again, just to look down on him.

"Stop kidding me", I whisper, "I know how you look at me when you are kind of aroused." It's clear to me. "We know very well that I know that best ..." He gulps.

And with his inability to speak I know I was right with what I'm saying. So I took the chance to lean over him, so that our faces are dangerously close to each others. Yes, I can feel his heavier getting breath against my lips, which makes me smile just a little. Especially when I look into his brown, beautiful eyes, giving me the opportunity to tease him.

"So lustful, babe ..."

"Y/N ..."

"No." I know he wants to deny it. "I saw them. Many times. During conversations. While you were talking to others. In our most intimate moments we share together." We aren't a couple so far- yet we slept so many times with one another. ”The sparkle in your eyes is the same they spread when I kissed your lips so intensely. I saw it when you tried your best to make me as horny as you and the sparkle was there, when you fucked me until my biggest satisfaction ..." While I'm talking, I take the liberty of running a hand over the bulge that has already formed in his pants.

A quiet "Hm~" escapes his lips, his eyes do close in contenment.

”Try to convince me otherwise, love ..."

”No." That's all what he says- for now. ”Please ..."

"Please?"

"Don't ... take your hand away ..." What was that?

Chishiya Shuntaro begs me not to take my hand off his dick? Pathetic. But ... not in a bad way. It ... is arousing ... and I like the fact that it seems to be me who has him - in the truest sense of the word - in my hand today.

"Chishiya ..." Starting to place soft kisses on his neck, I can't help but have to grin which gets wider and wider with every moan he tries to hide from me. „You want me that bad today, huh ...?" Now I peck him a kiss onto the corner of his lips, moving my hand, which rested on his even harder getting cock, making him hissing in pain and desire. "Then you have to tell me ..." Whispering these words in his ear, I'm pretty sure it's giving him goosebumps. ”Tell me how much you want my hand around your cock ... Tell me how much you need me right now and tell me what you want me to do to relief you from suffering ..." Looking him into his eyes while saying all those things, is fun to me.

I love how he just gulps and stares at me completely helpless, not being able to say what I want him to say. And because he isn't saying what I want to hear from him, I grin cheekily, giving him a kind of sadistic "Such a pity ..." and hint at letting go of his aroused member. Nothing he allows. Rather, he's overcome by a "Don't...!" as he grabs my wrist jerkily to stop me from letting go of him. Chishiya even goes so far as to simply guide my hand under his pants so that I have even better access to him. That wasn't what I wanted to achieve, but at least I have him where I want him- he's horny. And wants nothing more than to cum through me.

"Want me to satisfy you, Chichiya ... ?"

"Nobody could better than you, Y/N ...", he says, his words making me kind of happy. "Guess you're not in the mood, b-but I need you ... I ... I need you to make me cum ..." His hips are moving as if he were somehow trying to make himself more comfortable than with a still hand, which only increases the pressure he feels. "I'll do what you want. If you want me to cum all over your face, I will. If you want to swallow my sperm, you can. I'll make a mess out of you but please ... please fuck me with your hands as well as you always do ..."

"Just with my hands?"

"I'd like your cunt more, but- damn!" Guess he wasn't expecting that I gonna start the show.

His head abruptly rests on the back of his neck, just as he had to abruptly interrupt his sentence. Only because I started moving my hand up and down to do him a favor. Still:

”But ...?" I look him into his half closed eyes. "Talk to me Chishiya ..."

"Ngh~ ... but ... fuck ... it's so good ... Y/N ... you make me feel ... so good ..."

"I know ..." I say, "but that's not what you wanted to say."

"I-I ... but ... your hands would be enough for me ..." Chuckles. "A blowjob would be nice, too ..."

"You love it when I suck you out, huh? You enjoy it when you see how my hand getting covered by your sperm and you really do like it, when you see me swallow your whole juice with just one gulp, don't you?" He nods.

"Imagine these situations makes me crazy, Y/N ..." He smiles to me, stretching up a little to indicate that he wants to enjoy a kiss, which of course I give him.

Intensive. Lustful. But above all very passionate. I meaned what I said: we are not a couple yet. But sometimes, making out with him - having sex with him - makes me feel like we are. Our kisses are something magical to me. How he adapts to my rhythm. How he grabs my lower lip with his teeth and starts to gnaw on it playfully. And his tongue ... He can work well with it. He do know so well how he has to use it, no matter what.

And so do I know how skilled I am with just my hands. Stroking him up and down, faster and slower, harder and softer- it mades him moan so amazing, it's music to my ears.

"C-Coming ...", he says and breaks away from the lovely kiss we shared.

A loud groan comes over him while I bumped his shaft, sucking and biting his sensitive skin on his neck, to place some hickeys here and there, after which it only takes a few more movements to ensure that my working hand is flooded with warm secretions. Not gonna lie, felling this makes me kind of proud- it's just:

"We have just started, love." His eyes are half-closed as I say these words. "Pull down your pants, darling, I've got something nice planned for you ..." He can try to hide his satisfied grin, while I was licking my hand clean, but he won't be able to.

And although he is still a little out of breath, as is the case when you have just reached your climax, he obeys. Making myself prepared for what is coming now, I lean over him once again, to kiss his lips passionately. To place kisses everywhere where I'm able to. The corner of his mouth, his cheeks, his ears, neck, shoulder, chest, abdomen ... until I finally reached the point I made my goal. Glancing up to him as innocent as I am lol, you are not I kiss along his lower abdomen, placing some hickeys there, too, further along his cock, at the height of his groin. I can feel how he's moving his pelvis, trying to lead me in the correct direction, but that's not working on me.

"Patience, love ...", I whisper up to him, noticing his left hand on the back of my head, burying his fingers into my mane. "It's interesting to see how easy it is to get you hard again ..."

"Don't say such things ..."

"Why not?", I ask, grinning in a little mean way. "Feeling ashamed because of that? Since when? I thought you like to talk about facts ..." His grip on my hair tightens. "So assertive, Chishiya ..."

"Y/N, please ... you ... torture me enough ... please ... seeing you laying in front of my like that with your head almost between my legs, it makes me going insane ..."

"It really does." To tease him a little more, I finally licked over his blood filled cock with just the tip of my tongue, making him hiss another time. "You really want me to suck your dick out, huh? Would that make you happy, Chishiya ...?" He gulps, trying to find his voice back.

"I-It would ..."

"Sure it would", I said calmly, smiling up to him. "You better enjoy this then, honey ... and don't you dare moving your hips yourself or my head, making me suck you as deep as you want- you know what that means, otherwise, so be a good guy~." With that I start taking his dick as deep with my mouth as I could.

He gives me a loud "F-Fuck ...!" but I don't care about it. I concentrate on the essentials. On his satisfaction. However, I can't deny that I'm not getting horny myself from what we're doing here, which is why I occasionally let out a little moan myself. Good for him, I guess. The vibrations that arise for him must bring a certain something with them. At least, he seems to enjoy it.

This is made clear to me by his increasingly loud tones, which leave his lips uncontrollably. Every time I let his cock enter my mouth - where I lick my tongue over his tip, which is covered by his precum - his pleasant voice comes into play.

"Y/N, I-I'm ..." In my head I already say the sentence: do it.

Come inside me. But I can't bring myself to say it. Admittedly, I don't even want to. I don't want to make him wait any longer and deny him his orgasm, so I just keep sucking and bumping my head up and down, until he finally starts shaking a little and starts calling my name, pressing my head a little down by reflex, to inject his seeds as deep as possible into my throat.

And I swallow it. I swallow every drop he is losing or even pressing out of his shaft, until his dick feels finally empty again. I lick and suck him completely clean- and with a satisfied grin, I let go of him with the aim of lying down next to him again while he tries to catch his breath, watching him.

"And?", I ask, "you feeling better now?"

"Stupid question", he says, but laughs while shaking his head and puts his pants back on, before immediately and unexpected rolling a little over me. „Anyways ..." He looks me deep into my eyes, putting his hand onto my naked belly, which now makes me gulp and him smiling a little evil. "Now it's my turn to give you what you deserve ..."

#chishiya smut #alice in boderland x reader #chishiya shuntaro #alice in borderland #alice in borderland imagines #alice in borderland smut #chishiya x you #chishiya x reader smut #chishiya #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya imagine #chishiya x reader #aib chishiya #shuntaro chishiya x reader #shuntaro chishiya #aib x you #aib #nijiro murakami

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thekingofwinterblog · 7 months

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The Importance of Banter: Varric Tethras

So one of the more interesting takes I've gotten on my breakdowns of Dragon Age characters is the argument that Varric in terms of character development is one of the lesser characters in the game.

He stays the same, doesn't change much from beginning to end, and while enjoyable, his inclusion doesn't add nearly as much as some of the other characters in the game, and relies way too much on the goodwill from da2 to do most of the legwork for his inclusion in the game.

Now this isn't an argument without merit, I might agree a lot with this take... If it wasn't for the inclusion of one Dragon Age's staples, and one of the aspects that Inquisition arguably does better than ether ADO or DA2.

Character Banter.

Character Banter is extremely important because it gives us an insight into how characters think, how they interact, and showcases the more subtle elements that aren't always on display in the game itself.

Compared to the rest of the Characters, Varric is a bit different in that because he was a companion in the previous game, we can see how he's changed since the previous game.

Cassandra Pentaghast

So it's not an exaggeration to say that Cassandra and Varric has what is easily the most dynamic relationahip between any of the companions, having far and away the most interactions together out of party(And thats not even including the fact that all of DA2 is technically them talking to each other.

And this is reflected in their banter as well, where the two of them go back and forth like a married couple.

The thing that most be understood about Cassandra and Varric's banter though, is the fact that Varric is way, way smarter than Cassandra, who isn't dumb, but is not a genius by any stretch, which is reflected in the Dwarf's tendency to run rings around her all the time.

Cassandra: Have you heard from any of your Kirkwall associates Varric?

Varric: You're asking me? So you don't read my letters?

Cassandra: You're no longer my prisoner, much as you like to act like it.

Varric: Yet I still get all the suspicion.

Cassandra: I am not without sympathy, especially given recent events.

Varric: Why, Seeker, I would never accuse you of having sympathy! By the way I tend to refer to my "associates" as "friends". Maybe you're not familiar with the concept.

Cassandra: (sigh)

---

Varric: You know, Seeker, for someone with your tact and charisma you assembled a... pretty good little Inquisition. I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt and assuming you didn't drag them all here by force.

Cassandra: How kind of you.

Varric: I mean, you never know, you could have kidnapped Ruffles and she'd be too polite to say anything.

Cassandra: Leliana recruited Josephine. They're... friends.

Varric: So there's a rational explanation after all. Just when I thought you had layers.

---

Varric: It makes sense that Leliana did the recruiting when the Inquisition started. Not everyone can be intimidated into signing up after all.

Cassandra: I recruited Commander Cullen.

Varric: Lucky him.

Cassandra: He has made no complaints about my manners.

Varric: His last boss was a raving lunatic who turned into a statue. That's not a high bar.

All of these three bits of banter is from early in their shared chain, and illustrates their dynamic very, very well. Varric reads Cassandra like an open book, and is able to completely take control over a situation just by playing the role of the ass who is just sniping at her because he feels like it, when what he's actually doing is maneuvering the conversation so it can end on him having the last words by playing on the things Cassandra knows she cannot refute without lying.

That takes a lot of sponanous wit and an ability to think on the spot, something cassandra does not possess, but Varric has in plenty.

Of course this dynamic is only at the start as they have plenty more as the story develops. One innparticular is their relationship regarding Varric's liturature, which is one of the more entertaining side quests in the game, but it does tell us more about them in the followup banter.

Varric: Seriously? Swords and Shields? How did you find that serial? Scrape it off the bottom of a barrel in Dust Town?

Cassandra: It was research! I thought I might learn more about the Champion.

Varric: I did write a book about the Champion. You might remember it. Had your knife stuck through it last I saw.

Cassandra: I already read that one. Twice.

Here we learn how much Cassandra actually loves to read Varric's work, but more importantly we get something we rarely see in Varric. Him talking about his own failures.

Varric likes to pretend he's this amazing writer who always produce masterpieces, as he himself says to Bianca, as if he'd write about his own failures and mistakes...

And yet there is swords and shields, a book that Varric has deemed an abyssmal failure. A joke, a mediocre piece of trash not worth the paper it was printed on... And yet it has it's fans. This work that varric despises still managed to find an audience, and despite how much satisfaction he had smugly giving it to Cassandra, that still grinds his gears.

People shouldn't like his bad work. It should be forgotten in favor of his masterpieces. A very dwarven way of thinking.

Varric: I can't believe you picked the absolute worst of my books to read. Why not Hard in Hightown?

Cassandra: I have enough mysteries and investigations of my own.

Varric: What? You don't want to solve more in your spare time?

Cassandra: Then you killed my favorite character in Chapter 3, so I threw the book across the room.

Varric: Ah, a critic. Say no more.

In this one, we get Varric both genuinely questioning Cassandra, as he seems to have assumed she actually does like investigating mysteries(she does not), but also tries to nudge her over to read High in Hightown instead.

Cassandra: Varric, how could you let the Knight-Captain be framed for murder?

Varric: Well, I did spent three entire chapters setting it up.

Cassandra: But she didn't deserve it! You'd already put her through more than enough!

Varric: Look, Seeker, if you love a character, you give them pain, ruin their lives, make them suffer. Maybe even throw in a heroic death.

Cassandra: That makes no sense!

Varric: You care enough to argue. If she had a nice afternoon and took a nap, you'd stop reading.

I could deconstruct this, but basically it's just a bit of meta commentary on what makes a good story. Not only will it not be the last, but it's not even the most blatant. After all, this one could apply to other people besides Hawke.

Cassandra: What made you write about Hawke? All your other books are complete fiction.

Varric: Someone had to set the record straight about the Champion.

Cassandra: Yet your book is still full of lies.

Varric: But true ones. That's important.

Varric loves stories... But he understands what stories are at their heart. The difference between a Recounting, and a Tale. That's what history is after all, the Tales everyone passed down.

And what good tale doesn't have a bit of exaggerated bullshit?

Cassandra: Why is the second Hard in Hightown so completely different from the first?

Varric: (sigh) Because I didn't write it. Shit, did you pay actual coin for that book? One of these days, I'm going to find the duster who wrote that garbage and introduce him to my editor.

Cassandra: By "editor," do you mean your crossbow?

Varric: No, my actual editor. Best in the business. She runs half the Coterie in Kirkwall. Stickler for grammar. She once killed a man over a semicolon. I'd never print anything without her.

This one is more meta commentary, but it does have a bit more meat to it. Varric's whole spiel about his editor being super powerful in the Coterie could be the truth, it could be complete bullshit. Or it could be something in between.

That's not the important part. The important part is that he wants Cassandra to guess, to assume, to speculate, because that is far more powerful than just laying it all out could ever be.

Cole: She has to reach the other side of the hill.

Cassandra: Who does?

Cole: The Knight-Captain. But she's injured.

Varric: (sigh) Good job, Kid.

Cassandra: Is she alright? Is that how the book ends?

Varric: Not anymore.

Cassandra: Cole, what happens to her?

Cole: I don't know. The hill went away.

So here we see that Varric is one of THOSE authors. You know the kind, the ones who will rewrite an entire storyline because the big twists was leaked ahead of time.

It's not that important in the grand scheme of things, but it's interesting how through the game we see a very consistent picture of how Varric likes to write. He's a gardner variety writer, but unlike GRRM he's not the kind thst sticks to what he had in mind and sets up if the big twist is learned before it's finished.

As for His banter with Cassandra related to Hawke, it's entertaining, but not exactly that enlightening. Except for one.

If you chose in DA2 to save carver or Bethany by making them grey wardens, you get this bit when Cassandra Questions him about them.

Varric: Aveline took him off somewhere when the Calling started going nuts, but he'll tag along. He always does.

Varric: Aveline took her off somewhere when the Calling started going nuts, but she'll try to keep Hawke out of trouble.

Cassandra misses the obvious, but you probably didn't.

Varric knew about the calling from the start. Oh he didn't know the details, and he didn't know why... But he knew there was something up with the calling from the very start, and probably figured out this was the key reason from day one.

And he didn't share it. At all.

That speaks volumes of where his true loyalties lies, and it's something a lot of people miss.

Cassandra is right. Varric's heart will never truly belong to the Inquisition so long as Hawke and his Kirkwall friends exists outside of it.

There is also a turning point in their conversations, starting around the point where Varric's personal quest with Bianca happened.

Cassandra: Am I to understand your Bianca is married?

Varric: Oh, have we reached the stage where we gossip about each other's love lives?

Varric: Did you hear that, boss? Don't worry, I'll tell you whatever she says.

Cassandra: Forget I mentioned anything. It was a simple question, Varric.

Varric: There was nothing simple about it.

Varric actually blatantly questions wheter they've reached the point where they are now talking about each others love with each other. The truth is though, they actually have.

Varric: You brought up Bianca, Seeker. Does that mean I can ask about your conquests?

Cassandra: I would rather you didn't.

Varric: No tantalizing secrets to divulge?

Cassandra: None.

(If the Inquisitor is in a relationship with Cassandra)

Varric: So no one within, say, a five foot radius has caught your eye?

Inquisitor: Really? No one at all?

Cassandra: This... is not a discussion I want to have here.

Varric: (laughs) Are you blushing, Seeker? Maker, the world really is coming to an end.

Inquisitor: Perhaps Cassandra—and her conquest—would rather not discuss this in public.

Varric: Spoilsport.

Varric: Nothing? You do know he's standing right there...

Cassandra: I... have no conquests.

Varric: How about dalliances? Liaisons? Illicit affairs?

Cassandra: No.

Sera: Enough poking, Varric.

Varric: Is it, Buttercup? Is it?

It a rather humorous affair, but it does show that Varric at this point is comfortable prodding Cassandra's love life, figuring out how far he can push.

Which speaks for itself at how close these two have gotten at this point.

Cassandra: Very well, Varric. If you wish to know about men I have known, I will tell you.

Varric: Look, Seeker. I was only...

Cassandra: You are right. I pried first, and fair is fair. Years ago, I knew a young mage named Regalyan. He was dashing, unlike any man I'd met. He died at the Conclave.

Varric: Oh.

Cassandra: What we had was fleeting. And years had passed. Still, it saddens me to think he's gone.

Varric: I'm sorry.

Nothing to add here, just that Varric sorta gets sad when he realizes that was friendly prodding touched a very bitter and sad point from Cassandra's pain.

For which he apologizes.

Varric: Look, Seeker, I didn't mean to make you talk about your mage friend.

Cassandra: I know. I was not trying to make you speak of Bianca. If I was, you would know. I would yell, books would be stabbed.

Varric: (Chuckles.) I'll keep that in mind.

Also as the game reaches the end section, Varric and Cassandra begin to really banter in a much more friendly way.

Cassandra: I still don't understand how drakes take that hand.

Varric: ...Hmm. Maybe we should start you on Shepherd's Six.

Cassandra: Isn't that a children's game?

Varric: Yeah.

When trying to teach Cassandra card games at this point in the story, Varric has the perfect set up for a punchline like he did in the early game, but he doesn't use it, because he isn't mocking cassandra here, he's genuinely trying to teach her how to play cards.

And so he suggest starting her off with something simple, like a card game for children, cause he understands thats where she has to start at her level.

There are plenty more, but most of it is just well written, engaging or funny back and forths. But before moving on, i wanna highlight two of them.

Varric: Did you really think the Conclave had a chance of making peace, Seeker?

Cassandra: You do not?

Varric: What was the Divine's plan? Bring everyone together and hope really hard that they would all get along?

Cassandra: Most Holy did not confide her plan to me. Perhaps she thought they were tired of death and conflict.

Varric: Oh, when is that ever been true? For Templars or mages.

Cassandra: I will not mock a dead woman, Varric. She did what she could, and that is more than most.

This conversation is very important for one simple reason. It showcases how much Varric has changed since DA2. Varric used to be one of the big believers in compromise in that game. He didn't come out and say it out right, because in that game the Templar far and away were the more evil faction, and so there was way more chances for Varric to stick up for mages, but Varric really, REALLY didn't want the mages and Templars to go to war.

He had so many friends in both factions, friends he knew would die if it ever did come to true blows.

I would say that varric was probably the best example of what neutrality in such a situation should have been. Someone who is neutral because he understood thst fundamentally, both sides even at their worst, were people. Not demons, not monsters, but human beings or elves. But unlike many others who clamor for neutrality, Varric wasn't stuck up his own ass about it.

If he saw one side go over the ljne, regardless of which it was, he would not just stand by wheter it was power hungry necromantic blood mages, or Templars like Ser Alrik.

But here, he mocks the very idea of neutrality. He has completely given up on it, and he's accepted that the only solution here, is for one side or the other will have to decisively crush the opposition.

Of course he doesnt come out and say it like that, but that's the message to take away here. So long as there is a templar or mage on the field, this war will continue. He doesn't like that fact, but he has accepted it.

Cassandra: I hear reconstruction is progressing well in Kirkwall.

Varric: I know things are bad there.

Cassandra: I wasn't trying to...

Varric: You weren't trying to remind me how bad is it in Kirkwall? So you decided to talk about it?

Cassandra: About its recovery!

Varric: What you're talking about are the buildings, and even that will take years. People don't recover so easily.

Kirkwall, that is to say, the Kirkwall Varric was born in, grew up in, and spent the happiest years of his life(When he was running there with Hawke), is dead and gone, and never coming back.

He is never getting it back.

Which will be very important for the next companion's banter.

Blackwall

Blackwall is different than the rest of the crew in that he's utterly reliant on the Banter to have any sort of presence. He has no charisma in the actual game, but he does showcase a much more entertaining character in banter.

In regards to Varric though, his mian purpose is to showcase aspects of Varric we don't often see.

One of the most important comes very, very early into their relationship.

Blackwall: I once met a dwarf who made the best home-brewed ale.

Varric: I once met a Grey Warden who got possessed by a spirit and then blew up a Chantry and killed a hundred people. What makes people think you want to hear what others of "your kind" have done, anyway?

This is a moment that is:

1. Very uncharacteristic of Varric, who usually loves talking about other people if he gets any excuse to do so, and will be demonstrated in a very similar moment in his banter with the Iron Bull, only with a different reaction.

2. It's here to showcase Varric's hatred for Anders. Other than Sebastian, Varric misses pretty much the entire DA2 cast, his true best friends... Except for Anders.

Varric LOATHES Anders for his actions, for kickstarting the Mage Templar War and getting lots of his friends killed, but also for destroying his home and making his own worst fear come true.

Varric's biggest fear as shown in the fade is becoming his parents... And that's exactly what he has become in DAI. The depressed exile from a home city that he can never return to, and if he does, it won't be the same life they miss so dearly. Varric misses Kirkwall. He misses it's people, the Hanged man, and always thinking back on the glory days of his life.

And he misses Hawke.

All lost to him and never coming back, all thanks to Anders. Varric can never return back to that time, that place, that era, that friend group that was the highpoint of Varric's life, because the city of Champion Hawke and Varric the sidekick is as dead and gone as his parents.

The hanged man will never be the same, Hawke will never be the revered Hero they were after act 2, and every single one of the countless friends that Varric misses will not come back.

And so he hates Anders with a level of hatred he reserves for very, very few people.

The rest of Varric's starting relationship with Blackwall is about him trying to figure out what makes him tick, innitially pegging him as another Sebastian. Boring, safe, droll.

He also has more banter where he shows how depressed he actually is about Kirkwall.

Blackwall: I've been to Kirkwall. The Hanged Man, actually, probably been twenty years now. It was a dive if I remember correctly.

Varric: It's the dive. Filled with the best and worst people in the world.

Blackwall: Yes, I heard it was a haunt of yours.

Varric: Haunt? It was home.

He finally clicks with Blackwall, as they get into a shared passion nobody else in the party has. Jousting. The sport consistent of knocking people of horses with pointy sticks.

As a Free Marcher Varric has grown up with the Grand Tourney as a focal point of his identity, and loves the sport, so he and Blackwall bonds and argues over the sport, with the most notable part being their disagreements over who is the better jousting knight, where he also gives his own cents in the form of a meta commentary between who is the better protagonist, the Hero of Ferelden or Hawke.

Blackwall: You can't really think Reeve Asa is a better knight than Honorine Chastain. Her record's flawless. Four hundred jousts, never unseated. No one's ever come close to it.

Varric: Oh, she's easily the most skilled. That's a fact. It's just "scrappy" is better than "flawless." I like heroes who try their damnedest, even if they fail a lot. It's easy to be valiant when you always win and everything goes your way. There's nothing great in that.

The rather unsubtle meta message here, is comparing the protagonists of the first games.

The warden is the stronger, more skilled and more competent protagonist who ultimately always triumphed, changed the world, and became heralded far and wide as the greatest hero of her age.

Meanwhile Hawke is the scrappy underdog hero who always gets back on their feet regardless of how hard they fall, and never actually suceeds in anything. Hawke is a failure Hero who couldn't save their mother, their city, at least one of their siblings, maybe two, Ketojan, couldn't prevent the Qunari attack, and constantly failed to save the day through DA2.

Now i don't really agree with this rather simplistic reading of the Warden, but it's a good scene, because it shows that Varric is more than capable of overlooking all the work, effort and time it takes to produce a "perfect" result, as well as show that Varric has a very hard preference for underdogs, and the stories they produce.

Which leads into his reaction when Blackwall confesses his sins.

Varric: Maybe I've been too hard on you.

Blackwall: Oh, so you don't think I'm dreadful now.

Varric: Actually, I thought you were boring before. Completely different. We're all dreadful. Every one of us, fundamentally flawed in a hundred different ways. That's why we're here, isn't it? Take all the risks, so the good people stay home where it's safe. With the whole "Blackwall" thing, you told a story so compelling even you started to believe it.

Blackwall: That's much nicer than saying "You're a dirty liar.", I'll take it.

Varric: A story-teller's got to believe his own story, or no one will.

Here we can gleam a sad fact. Varric very pointedly notes "we're all dreadfull", as Us, as in, him included.

Varric doesn't really consider himself a good person anymore, if he ever did.

It's not like the Varric of Yesteryear considered hinself a saint or some knight in shining armor, but there was a sense that he was happy with himself during that game, in a way he is not in DAI.

Something has changed, and that something is guilt over unleashing the red lyrium on the world, and probably guilt over killing his own friends.

It's not really focused on as much as it should be, but Varric had plenty of friends amongst both the mages and Templars... Which meant that when Anders blew up the chantry, regardless of which side you picked, Varric was forced to kill people who genuinely mattered to him.

Hence why he's so quick to forgive Blackwall for his lies.

For the most part this generally manifests itself in regards to Red Lyrium, which he blames himself for bringing into the world. I would argue that the more subtle parts you get to see in Banter though, is far, far more interesting and better told than the stuff in the main quest.

Because despite his flaws he "takes all the risks, so the good people won't have to.", just like Varric and Hawke.

This is in large amount what Varric in Inquisition is for the most part all about. Guilt, self loathing, and wanting to be a better person.

He just masks it with his usual wit, charm and charisma.

Kinda like Blackwall, only he doesn't really have much charisma or wit to hide behind. Hence why he is so accepting of, and willing to give him another chance without question.

On a final note before we move on from Blackwall, we also get to see varric try to play matchmaker between Blackwall and Josephine which is cute, but not exactly surprising, or give us further insight into Varric's character.

Cole

Now, I'm not going to cover Cole here, not because the banter isn't interesting, or we don't learn anything, but that's all from the way we learn about the world, or Cole himself.

Varric's side of these banters can be summed up in one sentence, for pretty much every single banter.

Varric is Cole's dad.

Rinse, repeat.

Dorian

Similarily, I will not be covering the banter with dorian, not because it's bad, far from it, it's some of the most entertaining in the game, but it doesn't exactly add much beyond the fact that both Varric and Dorian love to gamble, and share witty banter.

Also nugs has some creepy ass feet. The stuff of nightmares.

The Iron Bull

Far more to be dissected, can be found in Varric's banter with the Iron Bull.

There is so much to learn from this banter, from Spy work to how the Antaam is viewed by the other Qunari and so on, but we'll focus on the stuff relating to varric, as he and bull talk about a lot of things.

Varric: You're not the first Ben-Hassrath I've run across. Hawke and I went on a caper with one named Tallis.

Iron Bull: You don't say.

Varric: She caused us no end of trouble. You wouldn't know her by any chance?

Iron Bull: Hey, one time I ran into this dwarf on the road. Short, grouchy. You think you might know him?

Varric: I'm in the Merchant Guild. Ten royals says I not only know him—he owes me money.

Iron Bull: Oh. Well... no. I don't know Tallis. Sorry.

In stark contrast to his talk with Iron bull, when not involving Anders or other people he hates, Varric loves to talk about people. To the point that in his comeback to Iron Bull, there is an invitation here for Bull to specify who this random dwarf was, because chances are, he actually might know him, and could elaborate on the guy.

Varric: How could you possibly be a spy?

Iron Bull: Well, it's a pretty easy job. I do some fighting, and drinking, and then once in a while I tell Par Vollen about it.

Varric: Heh. Where's the sneaking, the plotting, the subtle machinations?

Iron Bull: If you do that, everyone knows you're a spy. Drinking, fighting, writing notes, that's all it really takes.

Varric: Shit. You're either the worst qunari ever, or the best. I can't decide.

He also showcases great frustration with the way Iron Bull pokes holes in his Bond like spy writing, in favor of the mundane realities of Cloak and Dagger stuff.

Because for all that he prides himself on tall tales, varric does like his writing to somewhat be plausible. Its why he gets pissy at the inquisitor when he tells him how stupid so many parts of DA2 were writing wise, cause Varric wrote it how it happened, and while embelishing it, it was mostly true.

And if his spy writing isn't realistic enough that it might plausibly happen... Then it's not as good as it could be.

Iron Bull: By the way, Varric, you write some nice fight scenes.

Varric: Well, thank you. I'm surprised you think so. They're not exactly realistic.

Iron Bull: I figured that out when the good guy did a backflip while wearing a chain mail shirt.

Varric: And that didn't bother you?

Iron Bull: Back in Seheron, I fell on a guy who tried to stab me in the gut. I felt the blade chip as it went through my gut and hit my back ribs. But I was alive, and on top. I sawed through the armor on the rebel's neck, back and forth, until it went red. I don't need a book to remind me that the world is full of horrible crap.

Varric: Impossible swashbuckling it is.

Meanwhile, this bit is surprisingly layered.

First off, there is Bull's retelling and describing the way he dealt with the Vint while bing impaled as "realistic". If this was not a world with magical healing such as potions or poultices he'd had died from this incident, due to infection if nothing else. That's meant as a bit of meta irony.

But the actual meat of this, is that Varric is just letting Bull rant.

The whole "Backflip while wearing chainmail armor" is something Hawke can literarily do in DA2, Provided you are a rogue Hawke and has high enough stats. If so, when hit by a trap, Hawke will simply backflip out of the way, even if wearing chainmail armor.

It is the kind of shit that for a long was normal for Varric, and he writes it into his fight scenes(Which he has a self dig at calling them not realistic, despite having seen shit like that for himself all the time).

But he doesnt say any of that.

Instead he just lets Bull rant, get it out there how shitty he really feels, because varric knows when to talk, and when to listen, and here is a time to listen.

Varric: So, Bull. You and Dorian?

Iron Bull: Mm-hmm.

Varric: "Two worlds tearing them apart, Tevinter and Qunari, with only love to keep them together."

Dorian: I don't see how this is even remotely your business, Varric.

Iron Bull: Could you make it sound angrier? "Love" is a bit soft.

Dorian: Please stop helping the dwarf.

Varric: How about passion?

Iron Bull: Yes, that's better. Love is all starlight and gentle blushes. Passion leaves your fingers sore from clawing the sheets.

Dorian: You could at least have had the courtesy to use the bedposts.

Iron Bull: Hey, don't top from the bottom.

Varric: Passion it is, then.

Also, i wanna highlight his banter with bull, if he and dorian hook up, and if both are with him in the party. It's really the only bit of Dorian varric banter with real character meat to it, as it puts Dorian's rarely seen tsundere side on full display, and why he makes such a good match with the easy going, yet equally passionate iron bull.

Iron Bull: Hey, Varric, I was reading your stuff... Where do your bad guys come from?

Varric: Well, some of them come from Tevinter and some are Ben-Hassrath spies... but I like the stories where the villain was the man beside you the whole time. The best villains don't see themselves as evil. They're fighting for a good cause, willing to get their hands dirty.

Iron Bull: All right, that's really deep and all, but I meant where do the bad guys come from literally? The way you write it, it's like they just fall from the sky and land on top on the hero.

Varric: I like to leave some things to the reader's imagination.

Also, final bit i'll cover of these two here. It's both a meta hit of writing in that it's supposed to be about solas, but can also apply to Iron bull, and is a self depreciating dig on the single worst gameplay mechanic from DA2.

Sera

So, as with Cole and Dorian, im not covering this sequence of banter as it doesn't really reveal much about Varric as a character. Its generally just Sera trying her usual bullshit, and Varric taking the piss out of her, much to her frustration.

Im not exactly a big fan of Sera, and even here, where most of their dialogue is about Varric basicaly running rings around her, don't really makes me smile.

There is one bit of banter though, that i do want to highlight.

Sera: (sing-song) La la la la la, Sentinals are shits.

Varric: Like it or not, Buttercup, that’s where you come from.

Sera: Says the undwarfiest dwarf ever!

Varric: Fair enough. Paragons can be shits too.

So, this one i feel is extremely important, for the reason that it goes to showcase that 1. Sera doesn't understand Varric in the slightest, and 2. Really goes to showcase Sera's complete and total lack of self awareness, and just how out of touch she is, raiding other people's homes, and calling them shits for defending themselves.

But that second one i'll save for Sera's banter review.

For this one, I want to highlight how Varric, just like Dorian understands and more importantly loves the Culture he originates from. He knows how shitty dwarven culture can be, and will never avoid taking the piss out of it for all it's flaws, but he also admires it. He admires their ability to create marvels, their grit and determination that has seen them take on the Darkspawn for a hundred years and still stand, and the individuals that stood up and above the rest to serve as legends, just like Hawke and the Inquisitor.

There is a reason his hangouts in both games are decorated full of very traditional dwarven furniture. Because he wants to live in a home that looks dwarven.

Because the past is important.

It's a bit of wisdom he tries, and fails to impart to Sera, that you simply trying to pretend your roots don't exists never works. And he's right. Even though Sera never admits wrong on her own part, she fully admits she burnt out on this spiteful hatred in Tresspasser.

Solas

Solas and Varric's banter though, is far, far more interesting.

Both of them are tricksters, both value the past greatly in their own way, both understands the power of a story, both of them lie to the Inquisitor, and both would rather remain the side character than step up to take the spotlight.

And yet they are different. Opposites almost.

One of Varric's defining feature as a person is that he cares about all his friends and how those friendships transcends the chains of status, having become friends with dwarves, Qunari, kossiths, humans, elves, templars, mages, seekers, antivans, fereldens, kirkwallers, orlesians, tevinters, anders, revains, avvar, and so on.

Solas single defining feature is how he sees everyone he does not knows except for his own, very small list of what he considers countrymen, as not things, and is willing to destroy the world for them to prosper.

Varric stays out of the spotlight cause he likes being the power behind the throne. Solas does it because as the Herald's Judas, he doesn't want anyone to question the many, many questions about him further than they have to.

Varric lives in the present, but respects the past. Solas in the past, and is terrified of the present.

Which leads to some of the most interesting banter in the game.

Solas: By the end of Hard in Hightown, almost every character is revealed as a spy or a traitor.

Varric: Wait, you read my book?

Solas: It was in the Inquisition library. Everyone but Donnen turned out to be in disguise. Is that common?

Varric: Are we still talking about books or are you asking if everyone I know is a secret agent?

Solas: Are there many tricksters in dwarven literature?

Varric: A handful, but they're the exception. Mostly they're just honoring the ancestors. It's very dull stuff. Human literature? Now there's where you'll find the tricky, clever, really deceptive types.

Solas: Curious.

Varric: Not really. Dwarves write how they want things to be. Humans write to figure out how things are.

Solas questions Varric about the to him, alien Dwarven liturature, trying to figure out what the new, "lesser" dwarves might write about when no longer part of a hivemind.

Varric gives it to him straight, but there is a deeper bit of character here.

Varric is able to explain this to Solas, because as a man who understands Dwarven culture, strengths, flaws, and weaknesses, and how it ticks, as well as undoubtedly having read a lot of dwarven literature, Varric is able to point out all it's shortcomings, or more accurately the way Human and Dwarven literature trends differentiate due to different cultural values.

Varric: You really spend most of your time in the Fade?

Solas: As much as is possible. The Fade contains a wealth of knowledge for those who know where to look.

Varric: Sure, but I don't know how you dream, let alone wander around in there.

Varric: Especially when the shit that comes out of the Fade generally seems pretty cranky.

Solas: So are humans, but we continue to interact with them... when we must.

Here Varric pries a bit into a topic he(If you took him with you in night terrors) only has experienced once before for himself, from someone who knows more about the fade and the veil than anyone.

Solas ends it on a much darker note than Varric assumes though, as what he means is, we have to tolerate them "for now."

Solas: Is it true that the entire dwarven economy relies upon lyrium?

Varric: Mostly. We've got the nug market cornered as well.

Solas: And the dwarves of Orzammar have never studied lyrium?

Varric: If they have, they certainly haven't shared anything up here. Why?

Solas: It is the source of all magic, save that which mages bring themselves.

Solas: Dwarves alone have the ability to mine it safely. I wondered if they had sought to learn more.

Varric: The folks back in Orzammar don't care much about anything but tradition.

So here we have Varric flat out bullshit Solas in several ways. He knows way more about lyrium than most, having studied red lyrium himself, and yet he does not give that information to Soals, the way he does with the Herald, showing that deep down, Varric trusts you far more than Solas, if not as much as Hawke.

He also knows that both surface and underground Dwarves have deeper knowledge of lyrium than any human, being it's the source of all the enchantments and magic, and that while they might not know it's origins, they understand how it works, and how to use it, transport it, store it, and so on.

If there is one thing Orzammar is good at, and not stuck in tradition, it's exploiting Lyrium to the hilt.

And yet he bullshits Solas about it completely. Because this is an early banter, the likely reason is simply that he does not trust him.

Which given his other important lies is not surprising.

And solas later recognizes this.

Solas: I find the fall of the dwarven lands confusing.

Varric: What's so confusing about endless darkspawn?

Solas: A great deal, although that is a different matter. Dwarves control the flow of lyrium. They could tighten their grip on it.

Varric: It's hard to get the attention of the humans when the darkspawn aren't up here messing with their stuff.

Solas: You're active in the Carta. You know your people could tug the purse strings. You could claim sovereign land on the surface, or demand help restoring the dwarven kingdom, but you don't.

Varric: You're not saying anything I haven't said myself, Chuckles. Orzammar is what it is

Solas Attacks Varric's arguments from adifferent angle here, without directly calling him a liar from the banter before, as he points out just how much power Orzammar has through it's economic might, how even if they know how to use Lyrium so effectively, they haven't been wielding that might to effecrively hammer out an anti Darkspawn coalition to crush the darkspawn in their own dens and wipe them out from the source.

Realistically, the dwarves are rhe only ones who could see it done, and yet they havent. Because before Bhelen, there was never a king willing to upend the entire system to get results.

Varric doesn't actually give his direct thoughts in this bit of banter, but it goes into future ones. Before that though, im gonna quickly cover another bit of banter.

Solas: Do you ever miss life beneath the earth? The call of the Stone?

Varric: Nah. Whatever the Stone - capital S - is, it was gone by the time my parents had me.

Solas: But... do you miss it?

Varric: How could I miss what I never had?

Varric: But say I did have that sense, that connection to the Stone. What would it cost me?

Varric: Would I lose my friends up here? Would I stop telling stories?

Varric: I like who I am. If I want to hear songs, I'll go to the tavern.

Solas: You are wiser than most.

Solas worships the past, to such a degree that he thinks being part of a hivemind under the titans, must have been better for the Dwarves, because of what it allowed them to accomplish by magic, and more importantly that it's what they used to be.

And what they used to be, must be better than what they are now, because the past is better.

Meanwhile Varric is content with the present. He never had stone sense, so why worry about it? Why dream of it, why become his parents? That would be absolutely awful, so why not embrace what you have now.

Though Solas doesn't know it, his backhanded praise here is actually even moreso than he knows.

Its backhanded by intention, because he acknowledges that varric is wiser than those who would wail about their lost glory... But as we'll see in the following banter, he regards all Dwarves, regardless of wheter they are like Varric, as lessers and fools. So varric is better... But he is still a fool.

Meanwhile, on Varric's part, it's even more backhanded than Solas intends because Varric is doing exactly what he's saying he isn't here.

Dreaming of glory days when all was simplier and he was a happier man. He's not dreaming of stone sense itself, but the sentiment is the same.

And he knows it. That's one of the saddest things about Varric in DAI. He became his parents, his worst fear, but he's very much aware of that fact.

Solas: Is there at least a movement to reunite Orzammar and Kal-Sharok?

Varric: What is it with you, Chuckles? Why do you care so much about the dwarves?

Solas: Once, in the Fade, I saw the memory of a man who lived alone on an island. Most of his tribe had fallen to beasts or disease. His wife had died in childbirth. He was the only one left. He could have struck out on his own to find a new land, new people. But he stayed. He spent every day catching fish in a little boat, every night drinking fermented fruit juice and watching the stars.

Varric: I can think of worse lives.

Solas: How can you be happy surrendering, knowing it will all end with you? How can you not fight?

Varric: I suppose it depends on the quality of the fermented fruit juice.

Solas: So it seems.

---

Solas:: I am sorry to have bothered you with my questions about your people Varric. I see so much of this world in dreams. Humans, my own people, even qunari. Dwarves alone were lost to me, save scattered fragments of memory where some spirit cared to watch. Now I know why I see so little.

Varric: And why is that?

Solas:: Dwarves are the severed arm of a once mighty hero, lying in a pool of blood. Undirected. Whatever skill of arms it had, gone forever. Although it might twitch to give the appearance of life, it will never dream.

Varric: I'd avoid mentioning that to any Carta, Chuckles. They might not take it the right way.

---

Varric: What's with you and the doom stuff? Are you always this cheery or is the hole in the sky getting to you?

Solas: I've no idea what you mean.

Varric: All the "fallen empire" crap you go on about. What's so great about empires anyway?

Varric: So we lost the Deep Roads, and Orzammar is too proud to ask for help. So what? We're not Orzammar and we're not our empire.

Varric: There are tens of thousands of us living up here in the sunlight now, and it's not that bad.

Varric: Life goes on. It's just different than it used to be.

Solas: And you have no concept of what that difference cost you.

Varric: I know what it didn't cost me. I'm still here, even after all those thaigs fell.

---

Solas: You truly are content to sit in the sun, never wondering what you could've been, never fighting back.

Varric: Ha, you've got it all wrong, Chuckles. This is fighting back.

Solas: How does passively accepting your fate constitute a fight?

Varric: In that story of yours—-the fisherman watching the stars, dying alone. You thought he gave up, right?

Solas: Yes.

Varric: But he went on living. He lost everyone, but he still got up every morning. He made a life, even if it was alone.

Varric: That's the world. Everything you build, it tears down. Everything you've got, it takes. And it's gone forever.

Varric: The only choices you get are to lie down and die or keep going. He kept going. That's as close to beating the world as anyone gets.

Solas: Well said. Perhaps I was mistaken

This entire banter line is about Varric and Solas.

On solas part it's about his very well spoken and articulated racist opinions on the modern dwarves compared to those who came before and trying to rack his brian around them not going to the lengths he himself would have gone to save their race.

Also the fact they are no longer part of the Titan hivemind. He's really stuck on that for reasons we don't really fully understand.

However, far, far more importantly this is about Varric's entire storyline in DAI.

Varric talks about Orzammar, about the loss of the deep roads, and yet they are all still there, still fighting, still marching on, rather than laying down and dying.

That is the true strength of the Dwarven race.

The ability to keep going even after losing everything. The original dwarves lost the titans and their magic. They marched on.

The dwarven empire lost the deep roads, and all but two thaigs. They marched on.

The surface dwarves lost their caste the last remains of their magic, and their status in dwarven society. They marched on.

Varric lost kirkwall. He lost his entire friend group that was the people who he loved more than any other group of people he has ever know. He lost his home that he grew up in and loved. He lost his parents and he lost Barthrand, the only remaining family he had, and who despite it all deeply, deeply loved. He lost Bianca, a teenage infatuation he never was able to get over.

And he lost Hawke. Either to Anders kickstsrting the war, or to the fade.

He lost everything he loved.

And yet He. Marched. On.

Varric's story in DAI is an understated one, one that isn't really given story focus, but unlike all the rest of the attempts at telling a more subtle story with the companions, this one actually worked.

Varric's story, is about his march onwards.

He lost everything due to Anders actions, and yet here he is. Marching forward through life. He hasn't laid down and died. He's still here. He's still fighting.

He still has hope.

And so he marches on through the twilight of his life, and keeps going, even if he loses Hawke forever... He keeps going, and he makes it through his depression, and grief to make a new life for himself in Kirkwall.

A new Kirkwall, but Kirkwall nonetheless.

Solas: That crossbow is remarkable, Varric. I am surprised the dwarves have not made more of them.

Varric: The woman who made Bianca would rather that not happen. Wars are bloody enough as it is.

Varric: A crossbow that fires this far and this quickly with so little training? Every battle would be a massacre.

Solas: Indeed. I am surprised, not disappointed.

Here we get a lot of insight into Varric... But also a moment of great moral ambiguity.

Everything Varric says here is true... But it would also mean his people finally, finally being able to destroy the darkspawn for good and all. Such a tech advantage would allow them to wipe the blighted Creatures from existence with ease.

Varric is more than brilliant enough to understand this... But he chooses not to think about it, or wheter it's a good course of actions, because he is shackled to Bianca even now, even still.

Bianca wants this crossbow not to be on the market, so he doesn't put it on the market, regardless of good or bad.

Varric: Hey Chuckles, do you ever play Wicked Grace?

Solas: I'm not much of a gambler anymore.

Varric: You don't have to play for real coin, that's just for keeping score.

Solas: What do you play for?

Varric: Conversation mostly. That way I win no matter how the cards fall.

This is a followup to Varric's original introductionary short story from way back in the day.

From that one we learn that Varric doesn't actually drink anything served at the Hanged man, he just orders a wine glass or beer mug, because he knows people get nervous if you don't drink in a bar, so he crafts an illusion to aid him in his rogue life.

Vivienne

So like a number of these I'm not gonna cover them in full, as while good, and well written, and paints a very clear picture of Vivienne, they're not exactly deep character pieces for Varrix... But I do wanna cover a few.

Vivienne: Am I to understand, Varric, that you knew the apostate who destroyed Kirkwall's chantry?

Varric: Unfortunately, yes.

Vivienne: What could he possibly have hoped to accomplish with such madness?

Varric: Exactly what he got: a whole lot of innocent people killing each other.

Vivienne: I take it he's no longer on your Wintersend gift list.

Varric: Depends. Does a flaming sack of bronto dung count as a gift?

Vivienne: Only if you tie it with a silk ribbon, my dear.

More Varric hating Anders, and laying all the blame of the Mage Templar Wars and ruining his life on him.

Vivienne: Tell me, Varric, who is the protagonist of this serial?

Varric: You know, we're so far into spoiler territory right now, I think I better stop talking.

Vivienne: Come now, darling. You can tell me.

Varric: Not on your life, Iron Lady. The best way to ensure a book's nevered finish is to tell someone your entire plot.

More Varric showcasing he cannot stand spoilers coming out, and it destroys his entire ability to write.

Vivienne: You know, Varric darling, I read your Hard in Hightown.

Varric: You did? Seriously?

Vivienne: Most of the Imperial Court did. It was in fashion a few winters ago.

Varric: Just how much gold is my publisher stealing from me?

One detail i really like about Varric, is that he tries to create this image of himself as always bring in control and all that... And then he has moments like this where his regular ass publisher swindles him for a shit ton of money.

Vivienne: How many chapters will this book be, Varric dear?

Varric: Well, the first one will come out in twelve chapters.

Vivienne: The first one?

Varric: I've read enough Orlesian fictions to know you never tell a story there in fewer than three complete books. They think you're just warming up after one.

Vivienne: And what happens to the scheming duchess in the first book?

Varric: Are you asking for spoilers, Madame De Fer?

Vivienne: Hints, darling. Not spoilers.

More Varric showcasing he understands other cultures and how they write stories.

#dragon age inquisition #dragon age #dragon age 2 #varric tethras #hawke #solas #cole #the iron bull #cassandra pentaghast #dorian #vivienne de fer #blackwall #thom rainier #sera #the inquisitor #the herald of andraste #meta #banter

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