#i assume the only way you could naturally (as in without saving and preparing and knocking alfira out) is by alfira being killed

[mirrorhouse]

kind of interesting that quil, the alfira alternative for the durge murder camp event, is so hard to naturally encounter but she also has unique dialogue for a dragonborn pc

[ro-is-struggling]

The Princess and The Wolf || PART 1 || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Summary: A look inside the complicated love story between the runaway princess and the lone wolf that saved her.

Warnings: fluff, angst, mutual pining, really bittersweet, heavy narration and not much dialogue, female reader (use of she/her pronouns//reader is a princess), mentions of blood and injuries (reader heals Geralt’s wounds), my shitty titles (I’m so bad at it, I’m so sorry)

English is not my first language

Word count: 5000

Notes: Look,  I was in the mood for writing something cute and fluffy and magical (but also it's Geralt so it as to be angsty). I know those are probably not the words that come to your mind when you think of Geralt, but let me change your mind! Also I love writing healers/nature witches. Can you tell my fav character as a kid was Flora from Winx Club? 

This is my first time writing something like this (as in this style of narrative and for this character in particular) so be gentle!

READ PART 2 HERE

Geralt was not used to feeling that way. In his many years of living on this earth, he had never missed anyone the way he missed her. He was a lone wolf who, despite having his pack, enjoyed traveling from town to town with his horse as his only companion. He enjoyed the silence and tranquility, and did not tend to miss home too much —finding that his annual visits in the winter were more than enough to catch up with his brothers while healing his wounds. 

However, he did miss her when he was traveling. He missed feeling the warm touch of her skilled hands on his wounds as she healed him. He missed waking up to the sound of her laughter, talking to her cat as she prepared breakfast. He even missed her scolding and the look of concern she gave him every time he arrived at the door of her cabin hidden in the forest, injured. She made him feel special, often occupying his thoughts and dreams. He knew what it was, but refused to call it by name —if he did, it became real and he didn't know if he was ready for that.

Such was his longing to see her that he was almost happy to be wounded in battle, finding the perfect excuse to show up at her door once again. His wounds were deep, the beast's venom slowly spreading through his system. Were it not for the fact that he was close to her home, Geralt was fairly certain he would not have reached her in time. His healing skills were limited and only served to make his journey to the hut more bearable. Yet, the closer he got to her, the less his body ached. The promise of her company alone was enough to cure his afflictions.

Geralt was weak when he arrived at her door. From the way her natural cheerful expression turned into a worried grimace when she saw him on the other side of the wood, it was safe to assume he was not looking good. She rushed him to bed, asking him a thousand questions as she paced back and forth, gathering the necessary herbs and potions to treat his wounds. He answered no more than necessary, giving her just enough information to treat him and sparing her the details of his journey. 

He was distracted, his mind clouded by the lack of blood and the poison spreading through his body, but also by the sweet floral scent that surrounded him. It was a perfume he could only describe as the very essence of her, a mixture of jasmine, roses and a hint of vanilla that followed her everywhere, leaving a special scent in the air that assaulted the witcher's nostrils, rendering him powerless. 

"Drink this," she told him as she offered him a vial of a pale green liquid. It was a potion that would help with the poison, she explained, though he needed no reason to obey her. Geralt trusted her completely and would have drank anything she offered without question. 

"Try to hold still, this might sting a little." She warned him, pushing his clothes aside so she could treat the deep gash in his chest. She smeared her fingers with a paste that had a peculiar odor, rubbing it over her hands to warm it before directing them to the wound. Geralt was met with a burning sensation that spread from his wound to the rest of his chest as soon as her fingers made contact with his skin. He let out a grunt, fighting the spasms of his muscles to allow her to work comfortably. However, the burning was soon replaced by a sensation of pleasant warmth as she uttered an incantation in the ancient tongue. 

He concentrated on the harmonious sound of her voice, letting the words transport him back to that first time they had found themselves in a similar situation. He had been hired by the king to assassinate the beast that had killed the princess. It was said that it prowled the forest after sunset, it was there that the young girl had met her fatal fate. Her love for nature and the long walks under the moonlight was what had ultimately made her an easy prey for that monster. Geralt did not retain the specific details of that story, only what was useful to analyze his enemy. Had he done so, he might have realized that there were strange things in the story that would make any Witcher suspicious. And perhaps then he would not have been so surprised when he found the princess very much alive and well, wandering through the forest alone.

"Please, don't make me go back there." She had begged him after explaining that she had taken advantage of the beast's convenient appearance to escape from her home. "There's nothing waiting for me back there, only a future of unhappiness and subjugation to a man that doesn't respect me."

"I was hired to kill a beast and that's all I intend to do." Was his reply. He was more than ready to continue on his way, to leave her behind to sort out her fate while he dealt with what he had been hired to do, but the princess did not give him the opportunity. She begged for his help to escape from there, she didn't care where he took her as long as he got her as far away from her kingdom as possible. Her escape had not been planned, but a last minute decision that had not allowed her to pack supplies or even steal a horse from the stable. Still, she had been able to travel a fairly long way on foot, but it was evident that she could not continue like this much longer.

"I can't pay you in coin," she told him. "But I can make sure you survive your battle."

Geralt felt sorry for the young woman and was going to help her without asking for anything in return. He really doubted that she had anything valuable to offer him. He was a Witcher, an assassin highly trained in both combat and the arts of magic, tools he used to keep himself alive in the high-risk situations he lived in on a regular basis. However, his mercy proved useful after the battle, when the young princess demonstrated her healing abilities.

His wounds were deep, he was tired and his skin was painted with the reddish sticky liquid that ran through the beast's veins. But still, he was able to crawl to safety where she waited for him with his horse Roach. When she saw him approaching on the horizon she jumped to her feet, hands full of herbs she had gathered in preparation for that moment. Geralt could see nothing but a halo of light in the distance, a figure of hope running towards him with hair flying in the wind as it called his name.

He collapsed against a tree trunk, his breath hitching as the world around him became blurry and dark. He was not unconscious, but neither was he able to process what was happening around him. His memories of that moment were blurry, like a dream slipping from his mind upon awakening. The only thing he remembered clearly was a sweet female voice calling him back to life as soft hands caressed his skin, spreading their comforting warmth inside him.

Geralt had felt peace for the first time in a long while as her hands worked their magic on him, just as he felt at this very moment as her fingers caressed his skin once again. It always happened, her touch alone flooded his insides with peace and tranquility. Maybe that was why he missed her so much, maybe that was why he found himself visiting her for the simplest injuries that even he could heal. Unlike other healers, she was the only one who could calm his tormented soul, the only one who could quiet his thoughts and remove all traces of bitter negativity from his heart. 

"Rest." He heard her whisper in his ear and as much as he wanted to, he didn't have the strength to open his eyes and look at her one more time. Geralt knew he was tired, but only now, in the quiet of her company and wrapped in the warmth of her body, did he realize just how much. 

When he opened his eyes again it was morning. The rays of sunlight streaming through the window touched his face in a warm caress. His pupils were forced to adjust to the light as he opened his eyes, narrowing to almost two slits identical to those of the black cat resting beside him. The animal meowed contentedly as he shifted between the sheets —letting out a grunt of pain at the heaviness of his muscles. He stroked the cat as it purred at him, scratching its head and behind its ears as he knew it liked, before making an effort to get out of bed. His body ached and he still felt tired, but given what he had been through, he was lucky to be alive. 

Geralt heard the sweet sound of the young woman's voice echoing down the hallway like a melodious murmur that filled his heart with joy. It came from the garden, so that was where he went. He found her having a conversation with Roach, brushing the horse's mane while complaining about him to the animal as if it could talk back. They were harmless comments that he knew she didn't mean, though he'd heard them in the past —complaints about his recklessness and lack of responsibility as a horse owner were never lacking. She was especially fond of animals, so she loved to talk to his horse as if he were a human being. She did it with her cat as well, and with any animal that crossed her path. Geralt found it entertaining, though a bit excessive —especially when they traveled together and she made him stop every so often to pet and chat with every rabbit and squirrel in their path.

"What are you doing out of bed? You need to rest!" She scolded him as soon as her eyes landed on him. As firm as her gaze was, he could see concern rather than anger or annoyance reflected in them.

"I would have stayed in bed if I hadn't felt the need to come out and defend my good name." He played along, the corner of his mouth curving ever so slightly upward in an almost imperceptible movement. "I can't have you filling Roach's head with lies about me."

"They are not lies!" She grumbled, folding her arms in exaggerated annoyance. "You are reckless and you don't give poor Roach enough attention." At her words, the animal thumped its front left paw against the ground as if it understood what she had said and agreed. Geralt huffed, shaking his head slightly in disbelief.

"You already turned her against me." She laughed and it was like music to his ears, a melodious tone that awakened happiness within him. 

"I don't have to, she is a smart creature." She fired back, giving the horse a couple of gentle pets before setting aside what she was doing to focus her attention on him. "But seriously, you need to get back in bed."

"I'm fine." It wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't the truth either. She looked at him steadily and Geralt knew she thought she looked intimidating, but with the way the light of the rising sun framed her figure and the gentle breeze moving her hair, he saw nothing more than a forest fairy. The most beautiful and innocent fairy he had ever seen. He was tempted to challenge her just to tease her and make her grumble. She looked adorable when she pointed an accusatory finger at him believing that something she did or said could intimidate the Witcher. In the end he decided not to do so and instead accompanied her back into the house, though he did not lie down again, but sat with her at the kitchen table. 

She insisted on preparing breakfast on her own, arguing that he was her guest and that he was badly injured, so Geralt had the opportunity to admire her as she moved about the room, humming under her breath melodies he did not recognize. It made him genuinely happy to see her acting so freely around him, thinking about how far their relationship had come. When he had first met her, she was far from the confident, free spirit she was now. She was quiet and reserved, barely asking him questions from time to time to fill the void of silence and always apologizing for everything.

It was more than mere distrust of a stranger, Geralt could see in her eyes that she was trapped inside herself, a cocoon of fears and insecurities that trapped in its intricate net the beautiful butterfly that lurked within. She would show her true colors from time to time, like when he would catch her talking to Roach when she thought he was sleeping, or when she would make them stop to help a wounded animal. But she always apologized immediately afterwards, as if she realized too late that she had done something wrong, something she wasn't supposed to do. It made Geralt wonder what kind of life she had left behind when she ran away from home. 

He was not a man of many words and was used to traveling alone and in silence, accompanied only by the chirping of birds and the crunching of dry leaves under Roach's hooves, but when it came to her he felt a strange need to hear her speak. Perhaps it was the harmonious tone of her voice, or maybe the fact that he could tell she needed to express herself, but he didn't mind when she rambled absentmindedly as they traveled, putting into words every thought that crossed her mind. 

"I was never meant to be a princess, no matter what my blood says." She had confessed to him one afternoon as they walked through the forest. "The traditions, the politics, the expectations... I was never good at any of that."

"Is that why you ran away?" His question took her by surprise. He barely spoke to her so she assumed he wasn't listening to her most of the time. When she turned to look at him she found his yellow eyes fixed on her, making her feel small under his intense gaze.

"I wanted to be free." She answered honestly. "I refused to live trapped inside a castle for another day, pretending to be someone I'm not, pleasing everybody but myself... I want to forge my own path, build my own destiny. I have no idea what I'm doing or if it will even work, but I owe it to myself to try."

Geralt admired her for that. She wasn't sure what she wanted, but she knew what she didn't want and had had the courage to do something about it. That was why he was so glad things were going well for her. She deserved her freedom, she deserved to have the space to find herself and live her life on her terms. Her bravery had been rewarded.

"How are you feeling?" She asked him as she set a plate of food in front of him, her voice bringing him out of his thoughts. 

"I'm fine."

"Are you? Or are you doing that thing you do all the time when you pretend not to need anyone's help?" She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, proud of herself for knowing him so well. 

Geralt sighed. "I'm a bit sore and tired, but I'll live." He finally confessed.

"That's normal, you were really hurt. I'm amazed that you got here in one piece." 

"You should have seen the other guy." He joked sarcastically and she rolled her eyes.

"I'm being serious, Geralt. The poison could have killed you."

"It didn't."

"Only because of your slow heartbeat, but what if next time you don't get so lucky?" The tone of the conversation suddenly changed as they looked into each other's eyes. The familiar heavy tension in the air, making it hard to breathe. 

It was her greatest fear. She feared there would come a day when Geralt's wounds would be so bad that even she wouldn't be able to heal them. She feared it almost as much as never opening the door again and finding him on the other side. The thought of him dying, at home or out on the battlefield, terrified her. She knew it was stupid since he was a Witcher, a being genetically modified to face the greatest dangers, whose purpose in life was to kill monsters. She knew the smart thing to do would have been to get away from him in time, before his absence hurt her as much as it did. She knew there was no point in worrying about someone who had made peace with the idea of dying in battle, but she did it anyway. She couldn't help but fear for his safety the moment he set foot outside her home, worrying until he would eventually show up there again.

"Just... be careful." She muttered after a few seconds of silence, swallowing her emotions as a lump formed in her throat.

Geralt could see the pain in her eyes, the fear and worry shining in them clearly. He felt the need to assure her that he would be all right, but they both knew that was a lie. In his line of work one could never be sure of anything. Things could change very quickly and even he could be surprised with the cold caress of death sooner than expected. The best he could do was to assure her that he would do everything in his power to get back to her.

"I will be." 

That wasn't enough to dissipate the young woman's fears, but it was enough to calm her worries for the moment. Instead of concentrating on things she couldn't control, she chose to turn her attention to the things she could. After breakfast she inspected Geralt's wounds once more to make sure they were healing properly. With the help of her magic and the speed with which the Witcher's body regenerated, the deep gash that adorned his chest was now no more than a scratch. The skin was still red and irritated, but it was in better condition than just a few hours ago. The same with the rest of the cuts and scratches that graced the rest of his body, some of which had already disappeared completely, leaving behind a slightly discolored line on the skin.

She sat beside him as she worked, rubbing a healing paste of her own creation over what was left of his wounds. She focused her energy on him, eyes glued to the skin of his chest as she let her fingers work their magic. She knew it probably wasn't necessary, given the rapid evolution of his cuts they would most likely be practically healed in a couple more hours. But she wanted to do it. She didn't like to see him hurt, even if it was something that happened regularly. He always came to her bruised and bloody, but even then she never got used to seeing him like that. She hated to see him suffer, so when he was with her she would go out of her way to heal all the wounds on his body no matter how small or insignificant. She wanted to make her home a sanctuary for him, a place free of pain and danger where they were safe to be together.

Geralt could feel her energy enveloping him, the warmth her body radiated caressing his skin delicately. The scent of her hair flooded his nostrils, filling his lungs with that sweet floral perfume that was so distinctive to him. It was intoxicating, a drug he couldn't quit. He allowed himself to get lost in the moment, enjoying the soft touch of her hands on his chest and shoulders as he admired her work. She was beautiful, like a flower full of color and life that only grew stronger with each of his visits. Her smile, a ray of sunshine that lit up the gray, cloudy sky that was his life. And her eyes... oh her eyes. Geralt could get lost in them for hours, reading in her reflection every little thought that went through her head. To him she was an open book, the most fascinating he had read in a long time.

She became slightly nervous when she looked up and met Geralt's intense gaze fixed on her. They were close, too close to each other for her not to feel intimidated under the watchful admiration of his amber orbs. And yet, she couldn't look away from him. She couldn't help but marvel at the sharp angles of his features, counting the small scars that adorned his skin as her eyes traveled down his face. Those were two traits that people normally found intimidating about him. He had the face of a reckless warrior, a lone wolf with no feelings that augured trouble. But she knew him better than that, she knew the man behind the rumors and knew there was much more to his story and his character. When she looked at him she saw more than the dangerous Witcher. She saw the man who had saved her from her terrible fate, the one she missed and longed for when he was far away, the only man who occupied her thoughts. 

Geralt's eyes strayed to her lips as she caressed them with her tongue. It was an innocent act but he felt it as a temptation, a challenge he had every intention of accepting. He leaned forward, feeling her warm, slightly quickened breath colliding and mingling with his own. He held still for a moment, waiting for her to pull back and move away. When she didn't, Geralt moved a little closer to her until he felt the tip of her nose brush against his. When he looked up one last time, he noticed that she was looking at him with half lidded eyes, completely at his mercy. She was in a trance, lost in the deep amber of his eyes, with no thought in her mind but him. It was the moment they had both been waiting for, the culmination of all the tension that had built up.

But before they could join their lips in the long-awaited kiss, the sound of the cat jumping on top of the table interrupted them. The animal's meow broke the trance and she realized what was about to happen. Embarrassed, she pulled away from Geralt immediately, mumbling something about feeding the cat as she disappeared from his vision. He would be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed, still longing to feel her lips on his, but perhaps it was for the best. If he kissed her he would never want to stop or leave again, and he knew that wasn't possible. His place was out there on the road with his horse as his only companion. He was not meant to stay in one place for long, his profession had taken that privilege away from him long ago.

“Your wounds are almost healed.” She stated as she returned to the room, picking up the cat and setting it down off the table. It was an excuse so she wouldn't have to look him in the eye when talking, something to occupy herself so she wouldn't think about what had just happened.

"Guess I'll be leaving tonight then." He was in no hurry to leave, he would gladly stay another week there with her if he could, but he knew that wasn't wise. He could never stay too long with her since he always feared the effects it might have. The more time he spent with her, sharing moments of domestic intimacy, the harder it was for him to get back on the road. The last time he had been there he had ended up running away in the middle of the night, knowing he couldn't leave if he had to look her in the eye and say goodbye. And now he feared that nothing had changed, so he had to get out of there before it was too late.

"I would rather you stay one more night and rest here." She said in a soft tone, trying to hide the true meaning behind her words. She didn't want him to leave, not yet. "Your physical wounds might be healing fast but don't forget that you were poisoned and you almost died. Witcher or not, that's a lot." 

"I'll be fine."

"Maybe, but would it kill you to stay here one more night for my own sake? Because if you walk through that door now, I will spend the rest of my days worrying about you until I see you again." She finally worked up the courage to look at him, pleading with her eyes for him to listen to her. She knew that if he wanted to leave there was nothing she could do to stop him, so she hoped he would have mercy on her. "I just want to make sure that you're alright."

Geralt couldn't refuse her even if he wanted to, not when she was looking at him with big, bright eyes full of love. Not when her voice was almost a whisper, as if she was afraid he would hear her. He understood the feeling, the fear of admitting what he really felt. But it was easier that way. It was the best thing for both of them. Their lives were incompatible as were their personalities. 

She was a nice sunny summer afternoon and he was a harsh winter night. She was a ray of sunshine that with her warm touch awakened life in everything around her and he was the cold, cruel snow that buried everything under a layer of ice. Maybe that was why he felt this inexplicable attraction to her, as if they were connected by an invisible thread that pulled him to her every time he tried to walk away. Her warmth melted the ice around him, allowing new things to blossom in the fertile soil. Only he didn't know if there was anything left under the ice that could bloom. If so, he had to be careful because her warmth, though pleasant and comforting, could lead to his doom.

Still, he ignored his brain's warnings, giving in to her pleas. They spent the day together and Geralt allowed himself to lose himself in the intimacy and domestic bliss of the moment. He indulged in the fantasy of a life by her side as he admired her dancing around the kitchen while cooking or moving among the plants as she tended to her garden, talking to the squirrels and birds that wandered by. He delighted in the sound of her voice as she called his name and enjoyed her melodious laughter. 

When the sun went down, she lay beside him on the bed, talking nonsense until her eyelids began to feel heavy. She denied being sleepy several times, assuring him that she was just resting her eyes. Geralt snorted, but said nothing, listening intently to the story she was telling him about a deer she had saved from death between masked yawns. She didn't get to finish the story, not consciously at least. She mumbled a couple of almost inaudible gibberish before falling asleep, fighting her last battle against her body's need for rest.

Geralt watched her sleep for a good while, his eyes admiring the peace on her face in the dim candlelight. She had never looked so ethereal, with her hair spread out on the pillow like a halo around her head, and her chest rising and falling slowly with her calm breathing. Her skin was soft under his touch, a stark contrast to the roughness of his fingers bruised from all the fighting and constant use of the sword. She was the most beautiful piece of art, a sculpture carved by the gods themselves. He almost felt unworthy to be by her side, the softness of her features reminding him once again how different they were, how wrong his feelings were. 

He got out of bed with a heavy heart, searching for his things while being very careful not to make a sound so as not to alert her. He couldn't stay there one more night, if he woke up in the morning with her by his side he would never want to leave and he knew very well that it wouldn't end well. So, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead, just a brush of his lips against her skin as a farewell.

Geralt disappeared into the darkness of the night without leaving any trace of his presence. When she opened her eyes the next morning she was disappointed to find herself alone in bed. She didn't have to leave the room to know he was gone, she could feel his absence in the air. She felt lonely and cold again, already missing the warmth that filled her whenever he was around. Letting out a tired sigh, she dropped into a chair near the door. Her eyes were glued to the wood, her mind filled with thoughts of Geralt. She wondered if he was alright and if he was missing her as much as she was missing him. 

And just like that, the cycle continued, his departure leading the way to the stage of uncertainty and worry that grew in her with each passing day as she awaited his return. Her eyes remained glued to the door at all times, her ears attentive to the sounds waiting to hear Roach's footsteps approaching in the distance. She hated this moment. She hated not hearing from Geralt. She hated not being able to hear his low, raspy voice or feel the warmth of his body against hers. She hated the amount of energy she wasted worrying about him. But most of all, she hated knowing that all her suffering would be worth it the moment he came knocking on her door again.

I have more ideas for these two so if you guys like it let me know!

PART 2 HERE

[randomshyperson]

Morning Grumpy Witch - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: The one where moody Emo!Wanda has a bad morning, but luckily, she also has a soft spot saved for her girlfriend. [Requested]

Warnings: None really, all fluff with Avengers being a family and Wanda being a simp. | Words: 1.197k

A/N-> I deviated a little from the original request and ended up writing a shared POV with Reader and Bucky Barnes my precious baby. This is pretty small and sweet as requested.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

It was common knowledge in Avengers Tower that Wanda could be a temperamental person. And so it was best to keep a distance until she regained her temper, especially after things went wrong, like failing Natasha Romanoff's same combat challenge four times in a row. Not that anyone was keeping score.

But Bucky was a recent member of the team, and well, he's trying to be a more considerate person and had no idea that while he was preparing breakfast, Wanda was falling down her ass, again and again, and having to deal with the provocative giggles of two veteran captains and a spy who seemed to take some kind of personal pride in managing to defeat a witch.

And just for this, when the team left the gymnasiums for the kitchen, he greeted them amiably and joined in the loose talk and jokes even if he didn't know exactly what the others were laughing at.

Clint - who had spent the morning reinforcing and repairing his bows - appeared in the kitchen and like the father he was, his first instinct was to ruffle the hair of an already irritated Maximoff, grinning at her grumbling protest as he leaned over to get a cup of coffee.

Bucky didn't do anything wrong. He just wanted to make conversation. The problem was the subject.

"So, Maximoff, everything went well in training? Someone needs to kick Natasha's ass one of these days. I imagine it's easier with your magical advantage." He commented, but Wanda remained silent to the countless giggles that arose from the Avengers present in the gym at the time of the training.

Natasha made an expression of false interest, which hid the teasing. "Yeah, Wanda, tell him how your magic tricks helped you fall flat on your face on the tatami four times?"

The table exploded into giggles, Wanda grunted in irritation and embarrassment, before standing at once with a small breakfast plate in hand. Bucky swallowed dryly when she offered him only an angry glance of red irises before turning away to the kitchen counter.

He leaned a little in Nat's direction. "Was it that bad?" He whispered, and the widow laughed before clarifying:

"She has potential, but she relies too much on magic tricks. She can't get past the first wave of challenges, because she can't charm a training hologram." Nat explains.

The table falls into a brief conversation, and Bucky steals a glance at where Wanda is sitting - and shattering a loaf of bread with more force than necessary.

From the small living room, two figures then emerge to join the meal: the Starks of the Tower. Unlike Tony and his fancy robe, you are dressed casually, and he vaguely remembers you mentioning that you had a meeting at SWORD later.

It is Tony who greets the team first- You follow him, smiling briefly before your gaze circles the room. 

"Where's my little witch...?" You ask distractedly, almost sighing when you see the crestfallen figure in the kitchen. 

"Careful." He warns naturally. "She's kind of moody today."

You chuckle through your nose, turning away without missing an opportunity to steal a sweet bagel from Tony's hand, and ignoring his protest to catch up with your girlfriend at the counter.

Well, Bucky assumes you are a couple at least. He has never asked about it, but it is in the way you look and behave around each other. 

And it's definitely in how you come up behind Wanda, hugging her and completely breaking her pouting expression with kisses all over her neck and face.

The team only pays attention to the display of affection when Wanda breaks into a giggle a minute later, the sound muffled between kisses that you steal from her.

Clint has a fond smile as he comments to the rest of the staff:

"It's nice that they get along so well." 

The Avengers hum in agreement. Natasha is swiping cream cheese on a cracker when she comments to Steve:

"Let's invite Y/N to watch the afternoon practice." She says turning her face to the two figures on the counter. Wanda's stool has been spun by your hands, and despite being all over her, you both have your attention on the table at the mention of your name. Natasha gives a little smile. "It's just that Wanda fights better when she wants to impress her girlfriend. Isn't that right, Maximoff?"

All Nat gets is a raised middle finger that makes the team laugh. You chuckle at the interaction too but lean your face to hide against Wanda's neck, your arms closing around her body and hugging her properly. Wanda ignores the team to hold you back.

"I like this." She whispers, arms tightening and making you hum in agreement against her skin. Still, the position is not ideal because of the height difference between your standing figure and her sitting. Wanda sighs in your ear. "Can we go back to our room? Take a shower together..."

You groan at the amazing idea, kissing her neck before pulling away to look her in the eyes. "I can't, babe. Business meeting" You remind her, mimicking the pout she displays with your response. "Sorry. How about later?"

"Natasha didn't lie, I really do have practice. I like the idea of you watching, though." She replies, and you flash a small lopsided grin.

"Hmm, I also like the idea of watching you sweat..." You tease, managing to make her cheeks acquire a pink color. You kiss her softly before commenting, "It's a date then."

You are kissing her again when Clint hisses in warning, his gaze on the clock on the wall.

"You'll be late if you don't leave now, Stark." He tells you, and begrudgingly, you pull away from Wanda, stealing a few kisses before doing so completely.

"I'm going to borrow your car, Tony. The Silver Bugatti." You declare as you walk past the keychain. Your brother grimaces.

"No way! You have your own cars!" He protests but only receives vague excuses before you rush out of the kitchen - Throwing a kiss in the air to your girlfriend before leaving completely.

Tony spends the rest of the coffee complaining that no one respects their older brothers anymore. Bucky is impressed that five minutes ago, Wanda nearly bewitched him over a question, and now she was having trouble hiding the silly grin on her face.

He got up to drop some dirty mugs in the sink, and ventured, "You two are sweet together. And you seem to really like her, with your puppy dog eyes."

Wanda's expression changed on the spot, the red returning to her irises but also to her cheeks.

"Are you mocking me?" She retorted but looked so adorable at having been caught that he just chuckled, his attention on his mugs.

"I wouldn't dream of it." He merely replied, chuckling to himself as Wanda stormed out of the kitchen the next moment. Stealing a quick glance at Steve across the table, he wonders if it would be a good idea to set up a double date, maybe even invite Maria and Natasha if the widow promises not to torment the witch.

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

A Fresh Start [24]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: [18+ only] controlled training combat, self defense lessons, smut (we're finally here, folks), oral female receiving

Word Count: 6,444

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

[a/n: so sorry this took nine thousand years. i probably have more announcements here but i'm bone tired so let's get on with it lolol also lowkey i did not edit this one to the degree in which i should have i am so sorry]

#24: RIGHT BETWEEN YOUR THIGHS

"i'm not sure what this is between us, but i am sure that i don't want it to stop, whatever it is." -j.a. redmerski

What does one wear on a date where combat was the plan? It wasn’t a question you thought you’d ever be asking yourself, yet here you were. After staring at your options for another beat, you grabbed something you’d be able to move in. The more athletic clothing you owned weren’t really the cutest, but your goal with them was focused on utility. You could always save the cute outfit for your part of the date tonight. The idea of impressing Din by being competent on his date and then pretty on yours was appealing to you.

Din was dropping Grogu off with Peli until tomorrow morning. With every second he was gone, you found yourself more nervous. Being with Din was always so easy. That was part of the reason why you fell for him so fast. Having him as a cemented part of your day was natural. So, it made no sense that you would be nervous at all, but it seemed the butterflies in your belly didn’t give a damn about logic.

You wandered back out into the main room of the house and let your eyes glance over the decor you had already set up. The second Din had left the house you had tossed up the decorations. In preparation for tonight, you had food prepped in the fridge for dinner and you had hung string lights all over the kitchen and living room. A blanket was laid out on the floor with a few pillows just for comfort. It was a simple set up and initially it had excited you, but in the time it took for you to get dressed for your combat date your anxiety had grown. What if it were too simple? What if you didn’t know Din as well as you thought you did?

Before you could second guess yourself any further, you hurried out of the house. Din had told you to meet him at the tarmac which caught you off guard. You assumed this would be taking place at least on world. It made you curious as to what he had planned exactly. On your way to the tarmac, you returned the greetings to those who waved to you. A few even tried to stop you to ask about something medical and you had to politely point them toward the clinic where they’d find Aayla. Any other day and you’d linger to help, but you had a Mandalorian waiting for you.

You had only stepped a few feet onto the tarmac when a hand was suddenly in yours and dragging you through rows of parked ships. “Din?” You questioned the shiny, beskar covered man. “Hi to you too, honey.”

“I’ve had three different people try and stop me to ask about one problem or another.” Din grunted.

“Aw,” You chuckled, “I had people try to stop me for medical advice! Look at us. Staples of the community.”

“Today, they need to make do without two staples.”

It had been a surprise when Din pulled you onto the little starship, but you were completely caught off guard when said ship broke through the atmosphere of a small, green world. You gazed out through the glass at the greenery that formed the large jungle you now flew over. He said he was taking you to a nearby, abandoned and uninhabited moon.

“Din…” You breathed in shock. Maker, this no named moon was gorgeous.

“You said you missed seeing the color green.” Din replied simply. Your eyes snapped to him in awe. It had been a toss away comment made quite some time ago. Growing up on Naboo, you had raised with forests and bodies of water. Then you bounced from Coruscant to Tatooine to Nevarro where the ground was non-existent or dry. 

Din steered the ship toward a clearing in the jungle that sat on the edge of a cliff side where you had a view of the never ending trees. It was just shades of green and blue as far as your eyes could see. As soon as the ship was safely parked, you leapt out of your seat and rushed down the now lowering ramp. 

The air was cool and humid. You took in a deep breath and marveled at how the smell of earth and vegetation filled your lungs. Din’s heavy steps came up behind you, and you glanced over your shoulder to give him a broad grin. You were beaming in the reflection of his visor.

“So, this is okay?” He asked with an almost nervous tinge to his voice.

“Okay?” You laughed. “Din, this is…” You shook your head and threw your arms around his neck. Din didn’t hesitate to wrap his own arms around your midsection and hold you close. “Thank you for this.”

“You may want to hold off on thanking me.” Din chuckled in your ear. “We haven’t even gotten to the rest of the date.”

You pulled back with a smirk and held a finger up at him. “I think you mean ‘courting session’.” Din let out a soft laugh before letting his hands fall from your side. You watched curiously as he began to unlatch portions of his armor. Your eyes widened and you glanced around outside the ship as if there would suddenly be a crowd where there hadn’t been one before. “What’re you doing?”

“We’re going to spar.” Din replied simply. “I want to make sure you can defend yourself.”

“And you need to strip down… why?”

Din huffed, “I’m not stripping down. I’m just removing my beskar.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You crossed your arms with a quirk of your eyebrow, “Who says you’re not the one who is gonna get hurt here?” Din laughed while pulling off his chest piece. The laugh was accurate. There was no way in hell you were going to even land a hit on him unless he wanted you to, but you feigned shock and disbelief. “Wow. How smug of you, Mandalorian.”

Din tilted his helmet at you in a ‘really?’ manner while pulling his cloak off. It left him in just his dark brown flight suit and you shouldn’t have found the plain outfit as attractive as you did. You continued to stand there and stare with a smile as he pulled off his gloves and kicked off his boots. Din set his hands on his hips, and you motioned toward his clothes. “Feel free to keep going. I won’t mind.”

“Alright, enough.” Din chuckled and set his hands on your shoulder. He turned you around and lightly pushed you out of the ship. You laughed under your breath and once you stood where he wanted in the field by the ship, he let his hands drag down to your hips. You expected him to spin you to face him, but instead he just took a step closer. You sucked in a sharp breath through your nose at the feel of his chest against your back. In a softer voice, he leaned his head closer to the side of yours. “How much self-defense do you know?”

“Oh, you know, the basics.” You mumbled with a little shrug. If you had to quantify the self defense you knew it would probably add up to less than the basics. Suddenly, before you could even blink, Din’s right arm wrapped around your neck in a choke hold. Your eyes widened and your hands lifted to grip the crook of his elbow to try and pull him away. “Dank farrik!”

Din flexed his arm enough for you to feel it but it wasn’t cutting off your air flow. You felt nervous for a whole other reason. His helmet was pressed against the side of your face in this hold, and he was so close that you could hear the slight static hum of his modulator. “Escape me, ner kar’ta.” You swallowed nervously and tried uselessly to tug Din’s arm away from your throat. He chuckled and you tried to kick his legs but even when you did make contact he didn’t budge. “You can do better than that.”

You thrashed your shoulders with a grunt, but he locked his grip. Din lifted you up so your toes only barely brushed the ground and began to drag you backwards. You yelped in surprise and rapidly tapped against his arm⏤ the universal sign for giving in.

Din set you back down and loosened his arm to hold you by the arms, “You alright?”

“Yeah, I am.” You replied. “I just didn’t see myself getting out of that anytime soon.”

He chuckled and slipped his arm back where it had been. Din nudged you and your hands went back to the crook of his elbow. “Step one foot forward.” You stepped out with your left foot. “And use your other foot to slip to the side and turn around. You wanna⏤”

Without waiting for the rest of his sentence, you tried to slip to his right side, but the second you tried to turn you found his hold around your neck tighter as he pinned you to his side. Din let out a soft laugh, and you beat on his back a bit to try and pull out.

“You slipped out the wrong way.” Din said.

“I noticed, thanks.” You muttered.

Din loosened his hold enough that you could straighten back up. “Try the other way.” You did the same thing, but this time you spun toward the left. Now, you were facing Din’s chest with his arm resting on the back of your neck and shoulders. “Good. Now push me away.” With all your strength, you shoved against Din’s midsection and you stumbled apart. “Very good, ner kar’ta. Again.”

He made you do it a few more times with his arm tighter each pass, and it got easier and more smooth every time you did it. You did it one more time, grinning triumphantly when you pushed him away, but this time Din lunged to grab you. His leg hit the back of yours and you went sprawling back. A cry of surprise left your lips and you braced for the blow of hitting the ground. However, at last minute Din caught you and carefully laid you against the grass the two of you were practicing on.

You opened your mouth to complain, but found your voice missing. Din was straddling you with his knees pressed to the ground on either side of your hip. He held himself up so he was carrying his weight on his knees and not crushing you. The sight of Din towering over you like this made you ache with need. He was right there. You could drag your hands up his thick thighs and to his belt with such ease. If this was affecting him the same way it was you, he didn't show it.

The sound of overhead thunder from distant storm clouds made Din look up as he searched for the source. Seeing your opportunity, you sat up and threw yourself forward to push Din backwards. Caught off guard, he fell back and you threw yourself on top of him. “Ha! I⏤” You didn't register what Din did, his movements were a quick blur of color, and suddenly you were on your back again, “Hey!”

Din grabbed your wrists to pin on the ground by your head. Rather than straddling you, this time he was situated between your legs. Oh, Maker. This was worse in the best kind of way. Din tilted his head, “That was cheating.” 

“Whoops?” You gave him a sheepish smile. Din shifted so his weight was pinning your arms down rather than resting on the back of his calves. You swallowed the lump in your throat. “You know, I thought combat meant I was gonna get to punch and kick you more.”

“Should I be worried about how eager you are to punch me?”

You laughed, “Really though.”

“The chances of you being in an actual fist fight is lower than you being placed in a hold.”

“I mean, I’m planning to avoid both of those options.”

“I like that plan, but it’ll help me sleep at night knowing you at least know how to free yourself.” Din replied with a low chuckle. His hands lifted off your wrists to place a light hold on your throat. Your chin tilted up, making room for his large hands, and your reflection in his visor showed you that you were not hiding how badly you wanted him. Din didn’t apply any more pressure than the light hold he already had on you, but he did lower his face closer to yours, “You think you can focus and get out of this hold before we get rained out?”

You squirmed under him, hips shifting against his, and you felt his body stiffen. A slow smile crossed your face as you moved your hips more deliberately this time. Din let out a soft grunt, and you chuckled, “Guess that depends. You think you can teach me how without getting distracted?”

“Wayii, ner kar’ta.” Din murmured. He lifted a hand off your neck to grab your right hand and set it on the wrist of the hand still pretending to choke you. “Hold here and…” Din set your other hand on his left shoulder. “With this hold, you’re gonna pivot out from under me and put me in an arm bar.”

“Um, sure.” You said skeptically.

Din nodded to your left leg, “Put that foot against my hip so you can lift your other. You need it across my shoulder blades.” You tried to do as he said and it forced your hips up from the ground in a position that felt unnatural. “Good, good. Now that foot on my hip? Lift it and throw it over my head so both your legs are resting on my same shoulder.” With a grunt you did just that and it left the arm you had been holding trapped between your arms. Naturally, the hand that was on his shoulder fell to hold his wrist and you pushed your hip back down to the ground and it forced Din onto his back as you straightened your body. “Good, that’s⏤ah!” He tapped the thigh laying on his throat. “Good.”

 You let go of him, but the moment you did he was on top of you once more. You cried out, startled, but Din had his hands at your throats. “Again. Faster.” 

He squeezed just enough to get you moving. You followed his instructions, trying to remember each step, and you successfully got him into another arm bar. You let go of his arm so you weren’t accidentally hurting him, but you kept your legs where they were. One rested over his neck, right under his helmet, and the other on his lower chest. His arm bent so he could rest his hand on your thigh and he gave it a playful squeeze. 

Din began to laugh and the sound was so relaxed, so boyish, that it brought a warm smile to your face. You sat up, leaning back on your hands, and stared down at him. His entire body was relaxed as he lazily dragged his hand back and forth on your thigh.

“This position can’t possibly be comfortable.” You teased.

Din’s helmet turned to look back at you. “Ner kar’ta, I could spend the rest of my life right here.” He squeezed your thigh again and chuckled. “Right between your thighs.” Your face grew warm at his words and Din rubbed your leg. “You’re doing so good. Making me proud.”

You bit down on your bottom lip and watched as a drop of water plinked against Din’s helmet. Then there was a second, then a third, and then you and Din were in a downpour. You pulled your legs off him and the two of you scrambled off the ground and back to the cover of the ship. 

“Just… Just give it a minute or two.” Din stood at the edge of the cover so he could peer up at the now dark sky. “It’ll pass.” The clouds had rolled in quick and sudden, but they lingered. A full ten minutes passed and Din stood in his frustrated dad pose at the end of the ramp. You wandered down to stand beside him. He sighed, “I'm so sorry. If I had known it was going to rain I would’ve taken us somewhere else.”

“Din, this place is perfect.”

“It’s storming.”

“Yeah, but,” You set your hand on his arm, “We’re together.” Din turned his head to glance at you. “That’s all that matters.” The tension in his shoulders seemed to melt. You held your hand out to feel the rain against your skin. A thought occurred to you. “When’s the last time you felt the rain on your face?”

Din shrugged, “I fell into the Living Waters.”

“That’s called drowning,” You shook your head, “And it doesn’t count.”

“I took a shower last night.”

“Still not the same.”

He shrugged in response.

You squeezed his arm, “Well, this moon is uninhabited according to you. I can sit in the ship with the ramp up, and give you a second.” He tilted his head in what you assumed was confusion. “Everyone deserves to feel the rain on their face. Just to⏤ to feel alive, and we’re not getting any rain storms in Nevarro anytime soon.”

Din nodded once. You turned to walk back into the ship, but his hand slipped into yours. He squeezed your hand and pulled you out into the rain. You flinched at the first few drops, the cold water startling even knowing it was coming, and on instinct you lifted your head up so the rain splattered across your face. Din’s hand left yours but it was quick to find your skin once more. He cupped your jawline and you tore your gaze from the sky to his visor. His thumb dragged against your cheekbone.

“Close your eyes.” Din whispered.

Without hesitation, you let your eyes fall shut. Din’s hand fell away from your face. You heard the hiss of his helmet followed by the soft thud of heavy beskar landing on soft grass. More than anything in the worlds, you wished you could watch him experience this. Din let out a quiet sigh, close to a soft moan, and your lips twitched up into a smile. A pair of hands cupped your face and your own hands rose to rest on top of his. Din was close⏤ his body radiated heat. The tip of his thumb traced your bottom lip. 

“Gar're bid mesh'la.” Din murmured and he was close enough that you felt his warm breath fan across your mouth. “So beautiful, ner kar’ta.” Warm lips slotted against yours and you breathed Din in. As always, Din kissed you with every part of who he was⏤ every single time was its own unique experience. His hands roamed down your body, never leaving contact, until they found your hips. Din’s lips broke from yours but continued to brush against yours as he sucked in a breath, “I… You’re so important to me.” The hands on your hips slipped up and under your shirt. His touch hot against your cold, damp skin. “Everything, ner kar’ta.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck to pull his lips back against yours. The kiss was bruising. A desperate tangle of teeth and tongue in a attempt to get closer⏤ as if he wasn’t already pinning the two of you chest to chest with his strong arms. The kiss began to simmer in desperation, but the passion remained. Even when it seemed slow as you caught your breath, he continued to lightly press his lips against yours in soft, chaste kisses. As if he couldn’t stand being apart. 

“Din…” You murmured softly. Thunder rumbled overhead. The power of the sound competed with the pounding of your heart. Din nipped at your lower lip before dragging the tip of his tongue against the spot. You let out a soft sigh, and he pulled your lower lips between his own. His hands had slipped out of your shirt so they could instead cup your face and tilt your face at the ideal angle to allow him to continue his onslaught. He dragged his lips across your cheek until they pressed against the skin right under your ear. An involuntary shiver rocketed down your spine and you trembled enough that Din must have felt it.

“I need to get you out of the rain before you catch a cold.” Din mumbled against your skin.

You sighed and when he tried to pull back you trapped him by wrapping your arms around his torso, “That’s an old wives’ tale. Being in the rain doesn’t make you sick.”

“Fine, doc. I need to get you out of the rain before we get struck by lightning.”

“If you want I can make up some statistics about lightning strikes.”

Din chuckled, his chest rumbling with the sound, and you felt him kneel down. You stayed in place until the cool metal of his helmet pressed against your forehead. At the reassuring touch, you let your eyes flutter open. In his visor’s reflection, you saw what a mess you were. Soaked to the bone with swollen lips. You groaned, “Maker, I look like a drowned porg.”

“A very cute, drowned porg.”

You shoved at his chest with a laugh and Din chuckled and began to drag you back toward the ship. The two of you left puddles in the ship and you helped Din get his armor back on. It couldn’t possibly be comfortable with how wet his flight suit was, but he’d be parking in a populated area of Nevarro and couldn’t go without it. 

“I’m sorry we couldn’t do more.” Din said as you sat down in the co-pilot seat.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t you dare apologize for the best first ‘courting session’ ever.”

Din let out a soft laugh and brought the ship up into the air. His hand reached over to rest on your thigh⏤ fingers curling into your skin as his thumb rubbed back and forth. You leaned back in your seat and despite the gorgeous scenery right outside the window, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his form.

There was never a lull in the conversation with Din. Talking to him always came naturally. It made you silly for ever being nervous about your portion of the date in the first place. After getting back to Nevarro, the two of you had gone back home and when Din saw the decor you babbled through an anxious explanation of your plans. He had been delighted at the sound of it. It took no time for the two of you to clean up after the courting session episode. Din traded his armor for a t-shirt and sweatpants, and you had tosses aside the wet work out clothes to put on a simple dress that made you feel cute with buttons down the torso.

Din hovered over you while you made food and helped despite you telling him he didn’t need to. Then, the two of you just enjoyed one another’s company. Back to back, eating dinner, and basking in the glow of the string lights you had hung up.

“This really is so incredible. Thank you.” Din said.

You set aside your bowl with a chuckle, “You don’t have to thank me for that, Din.”

“No, I do. I know this isn’t…” Din paused and there was a tension in his voice you couldn’t quite place. He sighed, “This isn’t typical. I’m sorry I can’t take you to a restaurant in town and sit across from you for a normal meal.”

“Din, you don’t have to apologize for that.”

“But⏤”

“I don’t care about any of that.” You shook your head. “I’d have every single meal, for the rest of my life, hidden away or in private as long as it meant I got to have them with you. That’s all that matters.”

You felt him begin to turn and immediately shut your eyes with a mumble that he was safe. Din’s fingers found the side of your face and you allowed your body to follow his movements as he pulled you to face him. His lips were on yours again with no preamble or hesitation. It only lasted a brief moment, pure and chaste, before he separated to lean his forehead against yours.

“You’re too good to me.” Din’s voice sounded hoarse as his hand traced the side of your face. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve to be cared about⏤ you deserve to be…” The word ‘loved’ sat on the ip of your tongue, and you only barely caught it in your mouth before it tumbled out. You were confident of how you felt, and you were highly suspicious that Din was on the same page as you, but it was still terrifying to consider saying it out loud. “You deserve this and more, honey.”

“Have I told you how much I enjoy hearing you call me honey?” Din leaned back in and began to pepper kisses across your lower face.

“It’s come up a time or two.” You teased in response. He ghosted up your jawline, his breath hot on your skin, until they wrapped around your earlobe⏤ teeth nipping at it lightly. You couldn’t hold back a soft moan. “Maker, Din.” You felt his chuckle as he wrapped a hand around the back of your neck. Din carefully tilted your chin up and to the side so he could finish his line of kiss down your neck. “Keep this up and I’m… I’m not gonna want to get up, and I have dessert in the fridge for us.”

Din shook his head and dragged his nose up against the column of your neck to find your ear once more, “I have dessert right here, ner kar’ta.” His words, in that deep, honeyed voice, sent shivers down your spine. Want pooled in your belly as you melted into his hands. “Do you trust me?”

“Always.” You murmured. Din pulled away from you and you groaned at the loss. “Wait, no,” Din laughed at your whine and the sound was distant, “Come back.”

“Be patient!”

You heard his approach and felt him as he settled in front of you again. Din was wrapping something around your eyes and tied it behind your head. “That feel, alright?” You nodded in response and adjusted the blindfold to sit comfortably on your face. “Just want you to relax and not worry about accidentally opening your eyes or not. This okay?”

“Only if you start touching me again.” You grinned and tilted your chin up a hair. 

“Oh, mesh’la,” Din was quick to cup your face once more and he pushed you back to settle on the blanket softly, “I’m more than happy to.” You had never been happier in your choice of clothing than now with Din unbuttoning the front of your dress. One large hand cupped your breast while the other stayed wrapped around the back of your neck. Din let out a breathless whisper of Mando’a before adding in Basic, “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

You shook your head, “I swear to the Maker if you stop I’ll kick your ass.” Din chuckled and shifted so he could rest between your thighs. You accommodated him by letting your legs fall open to rest on either side of his hips. “I know how to do that now since you taught me.”

“Teaching you how to get out of two holds is a little different from kicking ass.” Din replied amused. His hand left your breast and you felt the tips of his fingers brush against the scar along your collarbone. You stiffened slightly⏤ more out of self consciousness rather than discomfort or fear. Din leaned down until his lips pressed against the skin there. “Do you know how beautiful you are, ner kar’ta? Absolutely gorgeous.” You buried your hand in his soft hair, letting out a sigh, and Din kissed your scar twice more before letting his lips taste the skin of your chest. “Breathtaking.”

His mouth found the curve of upper breast. Din was careful as he pulled your bra down and when the cold air met your now bare nipples you gasped. More breathless Mando’a filled the air and only ended when Din’s lips wrapped around your right nipple as his hand held the underside of your other so his thumb could trace lazy circles around that nipple. Din’s tongue circled your sensitive skin and you groaned⏤ hand tightening in his hair. 

The Mandalorian was new to using his mouth, but just like with kissing he was quick to pick it up and passionate about exploring with his tongue. All of his movements were focused and completed with the discipline of a bounty hunter. Even in a situation that was new to him, he used his body with confidence by dedicating to the action. Din’s mouth spent ample time tasting the skin of both your breasts, sucking and licking, and your entire being felt like it was on fire. Every inch of you craved his touch, you were drunk on him and were left a squirming mess under his strong hands. Pinned to the ground under his broad body and blind to everything but the sound, feel, and smell of him. 

“Maker.” You gasped and tugged on his hair. “You’re killing me, honey. It’s…” He let his teeth lightly graze your overly sensitive nipple and your back arched in an attempt to follow his mouth as he pulled up. “Fuck. It’s so much. Too much.”

Din squeezed the breast his mouth wasn’t on and then crawled up just enough to press a soft kiss to your lips, “Sorry.” He hummed and you could hear the smile he was wearing. “Just can’t help myself.” Suddenly, you felt Din’s hand brush against the outside of your leg. It trailed back and forth from your knee to where the edge of your dress laid. You were already an absolute mess but having his warm touch against your thigh was making the need for him a hundred times worse. “Can I taste you, ner mesh’la kar’ta?”

You sucked in a sharp breath nervously. Your teeth bit down on your lower lip briefly. It had been a little while since you had anyone go down on you, and with the way you felt about Din you wanted things to be perfect. The thought of Din not enjoying himself or just feeling obligated haunted your mind and the anxiety dulled the pleasure. “You know you don’t have to do that, right? It’s not⏤”

“Have to?” Din’s fingers squeezed into the meat of your thigh and your hips involuntarily rolled up marginally to find a source of friction to ease the ache in your core. “There is literally nothing I could want more. I cannot even begin to describe how often I’ve thought of this moment right here.” You gave a small, weak nod. He squeezed your thigh once more. “Wanna hear you say it, ner kar’ta.”

“Yes, Din. Want that⏤ want you now.” Your desire beat out any anxiety you may have felt. 

Din crawled down until he could press a kiss to the inside of your knee. His strong arm wrapped around your thigh, settling on his left shoulder, and you found comfort in that hold. You let out a relaxed breath. Din was safe. There was no reason to feel any anxiety in the arms of this man. With that, the anxiety began to ebb away and with every kiss Din laid on the inside of your thigh gradually traveling up the ache worsened.

The edge of your dress was pushed up with his left hand and it splayed across your abdomen. “This is my first time doing this with my mouth, mesh’la. Tell me if I’m hurting you.” Goosebumps formed across your skin at the cool air that now washed over you, but the weight of his hand seemed to burn straight through you. Din’s mouth pressed against your clothed heat. He kissed through your sinfully soaked underwear. 

“Din,” You gasped, your hand refinding his hair, “Fuck. Din.”

His right hand slipped under the side of your underwear to tug them down your thigh. Din kept your right leg on his left shoulder, unmoving, and he hummed, “Knee to your chest, mesh’la.” You did as he asked and he used the movement to slip your left leg out of your underwear. The second you were uncovered, Din groaned, “Good girl.”

He buried his face into your wet folds in desperation. What Din lacked in precision he made up for with eagerness. He mumbled words of Mando’a straight into your pussy between licking long stripes through your lips. Din worked in broad strokes of his tongue, and every few seconds his nose would find your clit. It’d either brush too lightly for you to fully enjoy or press firmly against it and send jolting strikes of pleasure straight up your spine. 

“Din, Din.” You moaned and he pressed in deeper, his tongue circling your hole. He hadn’t come up for air in a bit and you wondered how he managed to keep this up. Regardless, it was driving you wild. “Baby, please.” Din lifted his head and the sound of him panting was unbelievably attractive to you. “Shit, Din.”

“You alright?”

“Yes. Maker, yes, but…” You groaned. “I know you’re probably not meaning to do this, but you’re teasing me and it’s got me right on the edge.” Din shifted, you heard him chuckle, and before you could try to explain to him what you meant specifically when it came to his mouth, his thumb dragged through your folds up and straight to your clit. He circled it with insane precision and your mouth fell open in a silent cry as the arousal pooling in your lower belly grew and the ache almost sent you over the edge. “Maker! Din!”

Din pulled his thumb away and you were breathless. He placed a chaste kiss to your thigh where he could reach, “I’m not that unfamiliar with it, ner kar’ta. I told you I've used my hands.”

“Gotcha. So you were teasing me on purpose?” You scoffed and Din chuckled. You tugged on his hair and his breathy laugh grew louder. You grinned and shook your head. “You ass.”

“How about I make it up to you?” Din’s lips were back on you and this time he wasn’t just broadly tasting you. His precision had turned deadly and it was devastating how fast he drove you right back to that edge. “Taste so fucking sweet, mesh’la.” His tongue circled your clit before he began to apply enough suction that stars filled your vision. Your body began to tense as you spiraled into your quickly approaching orgasm. Din hummed and spoke against your clit, teeth and tongue brushing against it as the vibrations of his words buzzed against you, “Gonna come, ner kar’ta? Fall apart for me. Let me devour you.”

His lips wrapped around your clit again and the onslaught of his mouth had your orgasm washing over you. You let out a loud cry, his name garbled on your tongue, and as you came down from your high it felt like you were falling into a soft cloud. It was only then that you realized Din hadn’t stopped for a second. The slurping sound of him devouring you was downright filthy and you moaned again.

“Just like I said before, ner kar’ta.” Din dragged his wet lips up to kiss your abdomen in any random spot he could reach. “Could spend eternity between these gorgeous legs.”

You sat up on one elbow and blindly reached out to grab the collar of his shirt. “My turn, honey.” You gave his shirt a few tugs. “Want to taste you too.”

“Who said I was done here?” Din teased. He crawled up your body, still between your legs, and his hips pressed against yours firmly. You felt his hard cock straining against his sweatpants and he let it grind against your messy pussy. You reached down for the waistband of his sweatpants and Din’s hand rested by your neck to hold himself up while his other caressed the column of your neck and along your jaw. “I’m not done eating dessert.”

Your lips curled into a broad smile as you recognized the similar position you were in to what had been going on earlier today. Quickly, your right hand grabbed his left, the one holding him up, and before you could second guess yourself you let your legs kick up just like in the courting session until you were able to push him off you into an arm bar. This was the exact position he had been in last time, but this time you were unable to see him. Still, you felt your legs across his chest as you held his arm between your thighs. 

For a beat it was silent, and you were worried you had upset him in some way, but then he began to laugh. Without the modulator of his helmet, the sound was clear and downright musical. You’d trade your soul if it meant getting to see the way his face looked right now. You wanted to see his smile, wanted to see the lines that formed on his face when he laughed like this.

“Maker, you’re so perfect, ner kar’ta.” Din breathed as his free hand came up to caress your legs. “I can’t begin to… You’re… I…” He let out one more laugh. “Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum.”

“What does that mean?” You didn’t recognize those words.

“I’ll tell you one day. I promise.”

You chuckled, “Bold of you to deny someone who has you in an arm bar right now, honey.”

The hand you were holding between your legs suddenly tightened around your wrist and he pulled you toward him while pushing your legs off of him. With a yelp of surprise, he had you flipped so your arms and head were laying on his chest while your legs were sprawled out behind you. Din grasped the side of your face to pull you to his lips. His hand raked through your hair lovingly, and you sighed against his kiss. Din swallowed the sound of your content.

You felt so warm and comfortable against Din, and as if you hadn’t been aware of it before, it was startling how much you loved Din Djarin. 

mando'a translations:

ner kar'ta: my heart Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum: I will know you forever Wayii: Good grief Gar're bid mesh'la: You're so beautiful mesh'la: beautiful

taglist (closed):

@aheadfullofsteverogers @yyiikes @kneelforloki @c-ms1ut @sgt-morgan @luthienaliceisilra @missbabyjay @coldlamaspersonspy @dilfsaremyfavourite @emily-roberts @djarinxore @impala1967666 @shelbyteller @faithrenner @dindjarindude @dankfarrick29 @garbo-lesbo @anythingforattention @tearfulsolace @onceinamando @catharinaroxastova @modiddys-blog @harriedandharassed @stagerightlauren @mini-bees @adoringanakin @sagegreensensei @spidey-3 @thepascalofus @hrtsforpascal @lil-dragon-draws @guccistardust @ideajpeg @leithatnight @elfamosotoga @damnzelsoul @the-anchored-sailor-girl @morks-watermelon @katelynmarieyt @taylorann2013 @chonkercatto @dheet @liadamerondjarin @fallinallinmendes @missdicaprio @jennaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @alphaash99 @djarinsmixtape @pcrushinnerd @closedaddition

[gojos-whatnow]

『Trust Me!』⇝♡

⭒Synopsis: That friendly jellyfish you found forever ago, now your boyfriend, wants to try something new with you...

⭒Warnings: Jellyfish!Rui, could be seen as virgin Rui/reader, tentacles included, semi-public I suppose, p in v (as in tentacles do NOT go inside), unprotected??, creampie??? (It's okay they can't breed), very fantastical/unrealistic in ways

⭒Setting: On the beach! (On the beach...?)

⭒Notes: Happy Birthday, Rui!!!! (I'm so in love with him WAHHHHH) Also my first time making my own divider gif! Did it turn out alright...? I took the video myself 🤭

Nearly sunset, high tide, a relatively warm night... those were the conditions where, undoubtedly, Rui would be waiting for you at the shoreline. And so, with your flip-flops making their trademark sound as you walked, you made your way towards the wet sand at the water's edge of the beach. When the foam of your footwear started to sink into the watered-down sand mush, a few emerging splashes sounded. Before you, rested half-against the yellowish ground, laid your... odd interpretation of a "boyfriend". As per the usual, his eyes were wide and puppy-like, mixed with a soft smile that spoke his appreciation for your return.

Upon seeing him, you approached and crouched down before him. He leaned up, hoisting his torso upwards with one arm while the other reached for your cheek, cupping it and pulling your lips to his. They felt cold, in contrast to yours, but not quite as cold as usual.

After a moment, he pulled away and laid back down on the sand, a smirk-like expression on his face.

"Your lips are warmer than usual," you commented.

"I had hoped. I had a thought. But, I'll let you talk your day out first."

"It was nothing special. What's up?"

"You sure? You know I just love hearing about common human antics on the day-by-day."

"Yes, I'm sure. Very few antics on this day. What's your thought?"

"Well, if you're sure... There's a... peculiar human act that I witness often on this beach. I'm assuming it's rather intimate... one saved for couples... like kissing!"

"Yes, like kissing. So, what's it this time? Hugging? Dancing?"

"Hmn, maybe? Do either of those have anything to do with procreation?"

"Pro... creation...?"

"Y-you know... mating? Breeding? Reproducing? What do you humans call it...?"

"Wha... are you... talking about... s-sex...?"

"Yeah, that sounds like what I heard! I originally saw no reason to try it with you, since my kind reproduces without such a process... But seeing and hearing it so often, it seems to be a lot more about love and enjoyment than reproduction with you humans. Is that right?"

"Uh... yeah... If that's how you want to put it..."

"Hmn, well, I'm sure you often crave such an act, no? It's only natural for any species, asexual or otherwise."

You were speechless, face easily a deep red as you floundered.

"I just wanted you to know that I'm open to such an act! I believe I'm actually well-prepared for it at this very moment, if you wish to try it now."

"Y-you're... prepared...?"

"Mhm! When I had this thought, I swam down to one of those volcanoes in the depths and made sure I was nice and warmed up for you! Cold tentacles would be quite uncomfortable, no?"

"R-right... Then... there's other things that need to be sorted out... I can't exactly breathe underwater, and crawling up onto the beach will dry you out too much..."

"That's hardly a worry. I'm a much stronger swimmer than you land-life, so I can be sure at least your head is above water at all times! Anything else?"

"Uh... yeah... Y-you're not planning on putting one of your... tentacle thingies... in..."

It took him a moment to understand as your sentence trailed off, but he then smiled welcomingly. "Of course not! I'd never treat you that way. Besides, they have no business being there. They're for grabbing, not-"

"G-got it, thanks! Then... you're prepared for this, but I..." you huffed, "not so much..."

"You mean... mentally?"

"Well, mentally, yes, but..."

"...is there some process your body has to go through? Need I remind you, this isn't real reproduction, so if you would usually need to prepare your eggs or something-"

"N-no, no! Nothing like that! W-we humans have something we call 'foreplay'."

"Ah, I've heard of that! Is it... really necessary? Anytime I've heard it spoken of, it's usually asking permission to skip it."

You scoffed. "Knowing the people around here, they fucking would... All you need to know is that... f-for insertion to take place... there needs to be lubrication... an-"

"Did you bring any?"

You paused. "W-what?"

"I'm assuming 'lube' is short for lubrication, yes? It comes in a little bottle. I see people use it sometimes!"

"R-right. No, I didn't bring any. Such costs money, and it seems unnecessary when the human body can make it itself."

"It can? Fascinating!"

"Yes, well, anyways... this preparation, foreplay, is necessary to get the body to produce it."

"Ah, I see! So, how does foreplay work?" He asked eagerly, eyes starry. You shied away slightly.

"It... requires a process similar to sex itself. Just... without the insertion..."

"Interesting... could you elaborate?" He looked at you for a moment, noticing your anxiety upon asking his question. "Ah... is it... uncouth of me to ask?"

"No, this is just... a rather obscene topic as a whole."

"Oh! Why didn't you tell me sooner? I could have tread more carefully from the start! Though, it does seem odd of humans to deem reproduction 'obscene'. Though, of course, the bare human body is too..."

You nodded along bashfully, remaining quiet.

"Well, would foreplay consist of... removing your clothes?"

"It... it can... depending on how it's done..."

"Then, let's start there!" A few of Rui's tentacles lifted out of the water, one of which waved to beckon you over. "Could you come a bit closer, my dear?"

Nervously, you inched closer, slipping your flip-flops off and tossing them towards the dry sand where the tide wouldn't sweep them out. Your bare feet slipped into the chilled ocean water, warmer at this time of day thankfully. Once you were closer to him again, he leaned up to kiss you once more, his hands rising to your face again. You flinched slightly as one of his tentacles, a bit cold, slid under your shirt, making goosebumps rise all over you.

He pulled his lips away, just a little, to whisper to you. "Forgive me, Sweetheart, I'm gonna have to get your clothes a little wet." As fast as they had left, his lips were on yours again.

It only took a couple minutes for your slightly damp shirt and shorts to be tossed towards your footwear. Being this exposed in front of Rui wasn't a rarity for you. Hell, you'd met him in a bikini while going for a swim. But moving forward is what had you bashful.

"How was that? Do you feel more prepared now?" He asked, his cat-like smile and matching tone musing. In all honesty, you were surprised you weren't soaked through your underwear. It was shameful, what you were about to do.

"Y-yeah..."

His smile only grew, and one of his tentacles wrapped loosely around your bare waist, tugging tou even closer. A chill ran up your spine at the coolness of the water. By contrast, Rui's tentacles weren't warm, but definitely warmer than the water. The cool flesh rubbed your side reassuringly.

"Sorry, Love, I know. The water must be cold, yeah?"

You nodded with a soft hum. He gave you a caring look as you felt one of his tentacles push just past the waistband of your underwear.

"I don't wanna get these too soaked either. If we take these off too, you can get in the water the rest of the way, and then I'll keep you warm!"

"Ah... o-okay..."

"Would you like to do the rest yourself? Or should I keep going?"

"Y-you can continue..."

He gave you a warm expression and brought you further into the water, carefully tugging your bra and underwear off (with the help of you unclasping the covering on your top half). Once they were also tossed, and your face became unimaginably hot, he started to gently tug you into the cold water.

Once in the water with him, Rui wrapped his tentacles around you tightly, hugging you to him and nuzzling your head. "There's my lovely sweetheart! You're shivering, but you'll warm up soon, Dear."

You curled into his appendages, finding solace in how they covered you in something slightly warmer than the water, even if still colder than you.

As expected, within a few moments, you had stopped shivering, finally comfortable and relaxed in the cool water and warm tentacles of your boyfriend. With that, he started to kiss up your neck lovingly, but considering why you were naked and up to your neck in sea water, it felt a bit more sensual.

His limbs started to wriggle in a way that felt like a nice massage and a heated rub-down at the same time, and then Rui spoke into your ear.

"Do you need more foreplay?"

"I... I dunno..."

"Ah, wait, we're surrounded by water! Won't that work just fine?"

"Y-yeah, I guess... Not to mention, I was pretty ready earlier..."

"Well, then here goe-!"

"Wha- w-wait!!"

Rui froze. Every single limb. He stared at you.

"Y-you can't... you can't just go..."

"Ah, really? What now?"

"Y-you're supposed to go slow... And with warning..."

"Alright, alright, I can do that! I suppose I'm just getting a bit impatient is all. I want my sweetheart to have a great time and feel really good!"

"Y-yeah...! And I will... if you just... go slow..."

"Right. Then... can I start now? Can I enter you?"

You felt something press between your legs, right against your folds. Through the water, you could see what exactly he wanted to "enter you" with. You swallowed nervously at the sight, then nodded.

"Mhm... s-slow..."

You shuddered slightly as you felt the ends of two tentacles slip between your legs. You gasped, almost saying something to Rui as they pushed into you shallowly, but you stopped when they stopped entering. Instead, they pulled your lower lips apart gently, allowing Rui to slip in easier.

"Does that hurt?"

"N-no..."

"Can I try to open a little further? I'm not sure this is enough..."

"Yeah, j-just a little..."

The tentacles pulled just a little more, and you could feel the stretch of your hole. Not a full breath later, Rui's tip started to nudge into you, bit by bit. You held your breath with nervousness, shivering as he reached deeper and deeper. Eventually, you could feel him bottom out in you, and God was it just too much.

"There we go! All in. Doesn't hurt, no?"

"N-no, no- mmf- n-not at all..."

"Are you sure? You seem to be struggling... Is it... that it feels good already?"

You nodded your head, just struggling to breathe without moaning. He smiled, squeezing you close, your back pressed tightly to his chest.

"Great! Then all I have to do is start moving. Slow and progressively faster and faster until you're ready for my sperm! Fufu, not that it'll do much to you..."

He slowly pulled out and pressed back in, filling your body with an overwhelming feeling that made you whimper.

"You'll tell me if it hurts, yeah? I don't know what I'll do if I hurt you and keep going..."

He hugged you tight and started to speed up. The more your noises increased, the more he got addicted to them, speeding up to hear more and more. You felt like nothing more than a doll. A doll who felt really, really good.

"You're being so loud! I think the people in your neighborhood might even hear you. That means you feel really good, right? I'm so happy I can make you feel like this! I-it... kinda feels good for me too, hehe..."

Fuck, was he ruining you. You could feel yourself rapidly getting closer, and before you could even choke out the words, your body was spasming with euphoric bliss. If you hadn't been underwater, you were certain you would've squirted.

Rui seemed to pick up on how you were feeling, giving a few more thrusts and excited praises, before you felt his cock unload into your depths.

It took a good bit for you to come down from that, gasping for breath as Rui lifted your upper half out of the water. His cock remained half inside you, with you too unbothered to change that and him not quite ready to try. Once you'd caught your breath and laid back against his chest, he finally slipped out of you.

"Was it good?" He asked with wide and eager eyes.

"Yeah... yeah, really good..."

"Great! Then you feel loved? You feel like you can understand how much I love you?"

"Mhm..."

"You look a little tired too..."

"Y-yeah..."

"Maybe you should go home... I'll be here tomorrow, so we can do this all over again, fufu!"

[destinysbounty]

I am generally of the opinion that Kai should've been the one to confront the Ice Emperor instead of Lloyd, BUT if they were really committed to the idea of giving that solo arc to Lloyd then they could have made it work in a way that is narratively satisfying and wouldn't drastically change the season's overarching plot.

Allow me to demonstrate with a proposal for an ns11 rewrite:

At one point in the Fire Chapter, Zane confesses the details of his vision, apologizing for not telling them about it as he'd been hoping it was just a bad dream. But because of his wishful thinking, his friends were ill-prepared to face Aspheera. Bonus points if we have Jay apologizing for being so dismissive of Zane's vision and convincing him not to do anything about it.

While explaining the contents of his vision, Zane also tells them about the recurring detail where Aspheera blasts and presumably kills him. In a rare moment of vulnerability, Zane confesses that this part of the vision scares him - he's died once before, and while he doesn't regret his decision, it was still a profoundly unpleasant experience and the thought of dying again frightens him. Lloyd promises to make sure the rest of Zane's vision never comes true, he personally vows to keep Zane safe. Yes, we're drawing parallels between Kai's promise to Lloyd in season 5, and yes it ends up exactly as angsty as it sounds.

Optional: change Zane's fear reflection to him being dead again instead of him as just a machine. Better yet, have his reflection show him as he was in his fight with the Overlord, broken faceplate and all. I do personally like his canon reflection the way it is, since it sets up some good foreshadowing for both the Ice Chapter and Crystalized - but if you really want to hammer the point home that this is an outcome Zane's afraid of, then changing his fear reflection is a great way to do that. Plus, this could even be the moment where Lloyd personally assures Zane that the vision will never come true.

This particular change would achieve three things:

It makes Zane's banishment more angsty AND more narratively satisfying, by making it part of a character arc. Making Zane more outwardly afraid of dying by Aspheera's hand provides us with the opportunity to explore Zane's trauma from his s3 sacrifice a bit more, as well as his relationship with his sixth sense. Plus, it would make his banishment a much more compelling character moment - not only is he sacrificing himself to save Wu, but he's intentionally subjecting himself to an experience that frightens him and has traumatized him in the past. He was scared of the vision coming true, but he himself is the one making it happen. Something something, self-fulfilling prophecies.

It adds emotional consequence. In canon, Zane got blasted, was assumed dead for a few days, and then they realized he was alive and set out to save him without any lasting emotional consequences for the characters. But if they had all promised to keep Zane safe and to make sure his vision never comes true, well. Even when they find out he's alive, that doesn't erase the fact that that they couldn't keep their promise. And now the ninja are all filled with a deep, painful sense that they let him down. When they set out to save Zane, they aren't just rescuing a friend - they're trying to rectify what they believe to be a failure.

It gives Lloyd a much more personal motivation to go out and face the Ice Emperor on his own. Yes, he already has a motivation in canon - he's the leader, he's Zane's friend, of course he wants to save him - but giving Lloyd a deeper, more nuanced investment in Zane's rescue keeps things interesting. His feelings of failure are compounded by the fact that he had personally vowed to keep Zane alive. Maybe we could even dedicate a few scenes throughout the Fire Chapter to establishing the nature of Zane and Lloyd's friendship, just to make things more interesting narratively.

This also adds a layer of complexity to Lloyd's confrontation with the Ice Emperor - now he is burdened with even more guilt, blaming himself for what Zane has become. He considers himself responsible for this; if he'd just kept his promise, thinking if he'd just been strong enough to keep Zane safe, then the Ice Emperor never would have existed. He even blames himself for his inability to help Zane snap out of the corruption.

But then, as a resolution to his guilt complex, while fighting the Ice Emperor he realizes it wasn't actually his fault. It was Zane's decision to fulfill the vision. Zane made that choice, and it's not fair to either of them to take away his agency in that by Lloyd blaming himself. Lloyd isn't responsible for Zane's choices.

Zane's belief that he alone was responsible for protecting his friends pushed him to increasingly self-destructive ends. And Lloyd realizes that he too has been pushing himself to extremes out of a warped sense of responsibility. It wasn't his fault that Aspheera banished Zane, and it's not his fault that the Scroll has corrupted Zane and that Vex has controlled him. He can't force Zane to let go of the Staff, or to remember who he really is, because that's ultimately not his call to make. All he can do is try to help Zane make that decision for himself.

And in the end, that's how Zane snaps out of it. For the first time in 50 years, someone has encouraged him to make his own choices instead of trying to control or manipulate or coerce him. And he remembers a time, long ago, when he was free.

Anyway, like, I still think Kai totally should've gotten the solo arc rather than Lloyd, but if they absolutely had to give that subplot to Lloyd then this is certainly one way it could've gone.

[drippingheart]

I cherish you, went without saying, but she knew it, didn't she? Solace did not arrive by holding a one sided conversation while pretending it was an actual back-and-forth. He could not fathom why people willingly spoke to the dead; speaking with a person in coma seemed ridiculous enough. Hospitals, no matter how nice, were filled with noise and off-putting lighting. Even though he doubted a comatose person was aware of their surroundings, he still felt the pangs of unease that his sister was surrounded by frigid situations.

So, while he did not talk, he did play music on his phone to dispel the loneliness. Fushiguro Megumi was straight forward. He was not a dreamer nor did he waste his time hopping and wishing, even as a toddler. Simply, there was no conclusive scientific evidence that comatose patients could perceive the world around them, yet while he did not speak to his sister, he did always bring her presents. Fushiguro Megumi realized it made no sense, and he was not prepared to justify his actions. It was guilt — plain and simple, and guilt took on many ridiculous forms.

Potted plants, crane and star origami, and plushies occupied the window sill and the bedside table; Tsumiki's favourite pusheen keychain plush remained on the hospital bed beside her hand, always. With the conclusion of Brahm's Serenade 1, Megumi, too, concluded his train of thought; somehow talking to himself in his mind seem less foolish than speaking aloud . . Megumi shut the music player on his mobile device, shoved the device into his pocket, and offered his slumbering sister one last somber look for the day. We'll figure it out, Megumi. His benefactor's words only seemed to mock him and fray already very rough sides . .

Veils never ceased to amaze Megumi even if he never displayed it outwardly, save for the first time Gōjō Satoru had created one for educational purposes. It truly was amazing the things sorcerers were capable of doing — creating veils to keep the civilians in their ignorance, veils which excluded sorcerers, and wards to alert of undesirable energies. Jujutsu was something else, but more importantly, how did non-human animals perceive curses and sorcerers? Looming stairs leading to Tokyo's Jujutsu Technical school called to his curiosity, but he did not dare step foot nor hand forward. Whatever immature feelings of being an outsider were dispelled with an upright and fuzzy tail appearing in his peripheral vision.

A glance downward revealed an orange cat emerging from one of the perfectly maintained bushes inside the school property. What could that cat feel and see? Upright tails is a step below a cat hug. Solemn nature of Megumi's normal appearance was shattered like sun after a monsoon, and the teenager dropped to his knee to pet the friendly feline. Megumi still carried several pale, lingering scars from his childhood when he used to be too greedy for feline attention. His desire was still present, of course, but the child learned his lesson many years ago. The cat emitted a friendly crossover between a meow and a chirp as it proceeded to bounce upwards to meet Megumi's hovering hand.

From henceforth, he did not hesitate to offer the stray ( he assumed ) much deserved and gentle physical affirmations. Only thirty seconds in and the cat's senses kicked in quicker than that of Megumi's. With ears perked and eyes slightly widening, the feline peered past the onyx haired teenager to the new presence, and it forced Megumi to turn his head while dropping his smile. Stone faced, the teenager was greeted by foreign energy and an equally unfamiliar face @aeternic. If Megumi was . . well, normal, he would have flushed being caught in such a vulnerable position. He remained crouched on one knee. Although the cat continued nuzzling its face against his hand, Megumi's malachite eyes remained fixated on the bothersome sorcerer.

── ❛ Am I in your way, or is this cat yours? ❜

[starmanbyler]

very important question ANY GCSE ADVICE i'm starting my gcse courses and i'm acc panicking sooo do u have any revision advice or anything!!!

and a fun question!! if u could be any animal for a day what would u be

ILY HAVE A GOOD DAY /p

HII RUBI I CAN TOTALLY SORT OF HELP??

first advice, don’t panic too much yet. or at all. i was freaked out when i started doing my gcses, but for now all you need to do is focus in lessons and if there are things you don’t understand, don’t be afraid to ask questions or look stuff up so that you aren’t left behind, because trust me, being confused about certain topics when everyone understands can be very frustrating. so if you need to do some extra revision to work on weak topics, that’s cool, but you will be fine if you don’t. at least take note of your weak points so you can focus on them later, because you’re saving yourself some unnecessary time. id suggest having a little notebook for that kind of thing.

if you want to revise this year (i’m assuming year 10) then i’d suggest maybe half an hour to an hour per subject in a week. and btw i did NOT revise at this point at all. i did revise for physics towards the end of the school year (like march-may) because i had a gcse a year early. but unless you’re really behind and stuck then just do the best you can and only intervene if you notice there are things you don’t understand, because again, this will really help in the long run.

i’ll be honest i didn’t start revising for the rest of my gcses until april this year. most of them i revised the night before. not to brag but then got 98877776666 😭 so in some cases you will do alright even with little revision. but you know yourself better than i do. look at how you do currently in exams and whether you struggle a lot without doing revision or not. some people tend to naturally be better at taking in and memorising content, but others need to work a bit more to solidify it which is totally okay and very normal. so if you do struggle then you should try and revise properly for the actual exams. start out just revising when you have specific topic exams throughout the year. revise for like a week before (cus these aren’t that important) and focus FIRST on your weak topics. that’s the key thing. don’t skim through easy stuff just cus it’s easy. it won’t help you much and is just a waste of time. you need to be honest with yourself and really try to improve the parts that are holding you back. try out different revision techniques every so often or when you have exams to see what works for you. i can’t give many specifics since i don’t know how to revise but there are a lot of resources and ideas online. some that worked for me are:

flashcards (i used quizlet over and over to memorise case studies and vocab)

free science lessons is a GOD

also mr salles is good for english! there is a little community on youtube of english teachers that i found helpful (and i’m doing a level now so hey i guess they worked) also just youtube in general is good for a lot of things, revision advice, actual specification content + explanation and whatever you want to find

if you play around with these now (and anything else you find useful) then you can be more prepared for actual exams.

when it comes to mocks (y10 and y11) they aren’t as important as people act like. unless there is a sudden awful outbreak of covid and they have to cancel exams (which is unlikely in a year or two), your mock results don’t have much effect. they may make you feel bad (i can promise you mine did) but even just a little bit of revision can make a difference come may of year eleven. from february mocks to gcses, i went from a 5 to a 7 in biology, and a 5 to an 8 in geography. i didn’t revise at all for mocks, and i did a day or two last minute for my gcses. i’m not saying that’s a good idea… but what i’m saying is that a little goes a long way. so don’t panic if you don’t get the results you want in mocks. i do suggest revising for mocks, to practice revising and so you have a better understanding for real gcses, mine is sort of a cautionary tale that just happens to have a happy ending. but if you don’t because you’re tired or struggling, don’t beat yourself up about it like i did, because it just makes you mad at yourself and it doesn’t help you motivate yourself. use this as fuel to try harder for the real exams.

id say for actual gcses, start properly revising in the january of year eleven. january is mainly mock revision, but after mocks, you can focus more on the right topics from march-may. and make sure to continue revising before each exam. it can work to just go over your weaknesses over and over again until it’s basically branded on your brain. even if you forget these the second you walk out of the exam, you will still succeed. especially with right-wrong answer kind of subjects (maths, science and maybe geography) gcses are 1% inspiration, 19% motivation and 80% memorisation. that’s probablt an exaggeration, but my point is, it’s okay if you don’t really have the capacity to fully comprehend every concept, just memorise things so you can regurgitate it into your exams. no harm done really. it’s only important to fully understand the subjects you plan to continue onto a level and beyond.

i knoww this is mostly year eleven focused so it might not be as relevant now but trust me the main point is do not stress right now. you are safe so don’t freak yourself out. it’s good to try and get ahead if you have the motivation, but now is your time to have fun and relax before all the academic pressure piles up. not slacking off, but just don’t worry! especially when it’s just september. you don’t need to start immediately, just try things out and work your way up to a system that works well for you!

and out of interest, what gcses did you choose? (besides the obvious maths english etc) and does ur school make you do religious studies?

and good luck of course!! i sincerely hope you do really well and you deserve it :) just work hard and do your best really.

also, if i was an animal for a day it would not be any bug cus i’m dead. if i had a human brain maybe so i wouldn’t act like an idiot and annoy people. or a dog because they’re chill. and cats can climb shit so maybe cat.

anywayssss love you i hope you have the best time at gcse cus i’ll be real with you i wish i could go back sometimes. sixth form is super interesting but way less worry free; so save your worrying for later!!

can’t believe i just put a lana gif in a post. lmao

[psychhound]

My first thought for the skill check challenge was a high-level rogue making a stealth check, so I'll start there: a level 17 or higher rogue with expertise in stealth (+12) and 20 dexterity (+5) automatically gets a +17 to all stealth checks, meaning a natural 20 gives us a 37. If we have a druid or ranger in the party, the Pass Without Trace spell will let us add +10 to all stealth checks for up to an hour, and a cleric with the Guidance cantrip could let us add a d4 to a single ability check. Bardic inspiration at this level would be a d12, so max rolls on that and the Guidance plus the Pass Without Trace gives us a stealth check of 63 on a natural 20. Assuming our DM allows the artificer class, a party member with at least 7 levels in artificer and 20 intelligence could use their Flash of Genius feature to add +5 to our roll, bringing us to a total of 68!

That's without using any magic items; a high-level rogue with an Ioun Stone of Mastery (+1 to proficiency bonus), a Manual of Quickness of Action (+2 maximum dexterity), and a Stone of Good Luck (+1 to ability checks and saving throws) could theoretically get as high as 72.

Even without an artificer in the party or a ridiculous combination of magic items, I can think of one other way to get a stealth check of 68 or higher — but not with a rogue. A high-level ranger with the same 20 dexterity and expertise in stealth can go even higher, if they have a minute to prepare first, by using their Hide in Plain Sight feature to camouflage themselves. This ability only works as long as they don't move or take actions (which is why the Nature's Veil option from Tasha's is better), but it does give them an additional +10 to stealth, which combined with Pass Without Trace, Bardic Inspiration, and Guidance gives us a maximum stealth roll of 73!

That's 78 with Flash of Genius, 82 if your DM has truly just given up and let you have all the magic items your sneaky little heart desires.

i feel thoroughly bested ... i feel like vizzini getting my ass got at my own riddle ... amazing work. the scaling of this is truly bonkers. 5e considers a dc 30 to be of godly difficulty and yet a ranger just being really really still can nearly triple that. what does that even look like in universe ... i think they just literally momentarily cease to exist. the gods forget about them. one with the trees. i think taking a nap during an 82 stealth check would fix all my problems permanently

anyway because you got me and this is so inherently hilarious i think you should get two free homebrew downloads so let me know which ones you want. humbly offering my wares like an old tricksy merchant who saw goodness again and has decided to stop scamming people. im turning a new leaf (i promise i dont scam people)

[mortemoppetere]

TIMING: current LOCATION: outside the hospital / xóchitl's office PARTIES: @vanishingreyes & a mysterious man… SUMMARY: someone's looking for answers about emilio, and xóchitl is next up on his list of people to ask! CONTENT: none!

Of all the things he’d expected when tracking Emilio Cortez to the States, to a small town in Maine, he hadn’t been prepared for this. A hunter building a life for themself was a strange thing to see; like a deer on roller skates, uncoordinated and unnatural. There was a sense of something that was almost like discomfort in the observation. The man wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Would it make things harder, or easier? Would it make what he’d come here to do simpler to achieve, or push it closer to impossible? 

The answer didn’t matter much. He would continue down this path, even if his goal was an impossible thing to accomplish. He had every intention of doing what he came here to do; if he died in the process, he would be fine with that, too. So long as he did what was necessary. 

So, here he was. Still picking apart the hunter’s life, still looking at the people he’d built it with under a proverbial magnifying glass to decide who stood the best chance of giving him what he needed. Finding a woman had been of little surprise. There was always a woman, in cases like this, wasn’t there? His observations proved that the dynamic was sexual without an ounce of romance — also not surprising. There was still a wedding ring on the hunter’s finger, after all. 

But there was friendship there, too. And friendship could lead to information. There was nothing more powerful than this.

The man approached her as she left her office. It seemed the safest location. He doubted any hunter would ever go near a therapist’s office, but especially one like Emilio Cortez. He stood only a few inches taller than the woman as he came to meet her, waving her down in hopes that she might stop, might make the conversation an easy one. “Hello!” He greeted, the word unsteady on his tongue. “I, ah… Hoping to ask you some questions. Do you have a moment?”

(Couldn’t the hunter have stayed in Mexico? Settled in a Spanish-speaking community? It would have made things easier, but… the man doubted that the hunter would have made things easy for him at all, given a choice.) 

—

Xóchitl did not consider herself a jumpy person by nature. There was plenty of evidence to prove it to the contrary, but she liked to at least consider herself stable and not easily scared. So when she saw a strange man – strange, and yet looking somewhat familiar – she did jump, just a bit. “I - yes. Though if you’re looking for an appointment, I’m not in charge of booking things.”

Xóchitl did her best to calm herself (not that she was scared, or anything like that, but calming down still felt warranted right now.)

“But yes, of course I have a moment.” His voice sounded similar to her grandparents, back in Monterrey. She hoped that if he decided he preferred to talk in Spanish, he would. That she didn’t scream ‘ignorant American who doesn’t know any Spanish’, because while there were a lot of things that could insult Xóchitl, that rose to the near top of the list.

“Should we walk and talk, or go get a coffee?”

—

“I don’t want an appointment.” The man bristled at the thought, almost offended that someone, even a stranger, might think it necessary. But he supposed it wasn’t a strange conclusion to jump to; he was approaching the woman outside her place of work, so perhaps it made sense for her to assume that her place of work was what interested him. In reality, he just found it… easier. Thus far, he’d made it a point to approach most of his ‘targets’ either at their place of employment or just outside of it. It made him more difficult to track, and this was a good thing. This was a thing that might save him, now that the hunter likely knew he was around.

He studied the woman for a moment, watched the way her mouth formed the words she spoke. There was a hesitation, and then, “Do you speak Spanish?” His first language fell from his tongue much easier, in smoother syllables. It was a gamble, but one he hoped would pay off. In Spanish, he’d be able to pick up on more. Things she said, and things she didn’t. He’d been at a disadvantage before, with the kid and the reporter. He’d been playing a game on an uneven field, even knowing that he’d still had more information than either of them. Perhaps this was where he could make up some ground.

Her question elicited an indifferent shrug. It didn’t matter to the man whether they walked or sat, though perhaps the former would be safer. If they were stationary, there was always a chance she could somehow signal for the hunter to show up. Facing him before the man was ready would be a disastrous thing. “Walking is good,” he said. “I think it won’t take long.” His previous encounters had been brief, with too many unwanted questions. He was hoping this one might be a smoother thing.

—

“Sorry, instinct.” And it was, to ask that, even though Xóchitl halfway recoiled at the thought. That she’d become so affected by her work that she automatically wanted to ask people if they wanted to come and see her. The therapist who only halfway even believes in therapy herself. Not that she even remotely advertised that, but still. 

She’d been right about the Spanish, and Xóchitl felt perhaps a tad too good about guessing that. “It’s one of my first languages – neither of which were English, just to be clear.” Grinning at him, she couldn’t help but semi-coyly tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I prefer it.” Maybe she should’ve questioned why this stranger was asking to talk to her, but she felt confident enough in her looks to assume that perhaps that was the cause of it. Even if it wasn’t, she certainly wasn’t going to pass up any sort of opportunity to show off.

“I’m not opposed to however long it takes.” She grinned, “but I like walking. Any sort of exercise, of movement, is always a good sort of thing, I think.” Of course, Xóchitl easily could’ve made a far more crude remark, but there was a time and place for that, and that wasn’t right now. “What can I help you with?”

—

She responded to him in Spanish, and in spite of everything, there was some childish sense of comfort in that. There shouldn’t have been. It shouldn’t have mattered one way or another. After all, the man was hardly someone who sought comfort these days, was hardly someone who’d ever sought it at all. He told himself his relief was tied to the fact that it would be easier to pick up on the unspoken answers to his questions if they were in the language he knew best, but… he didn’t quite believe it. It was a stupid thing, getting so hung up on a language. He wondered if the hunter still did it, too.

“What is the other, then? Not English, but something else?” It wasn’t a question whose answer he particularly cared to learn, but asking it might lower her guard. Maybe that was the mistake he’d made in his previous interrogations; he’d gone for too much too soon, and neither party had been interested in answering as a result. It was difficult to know what to do and say here. In truth, the man had hardly spoken to anyone at all in years now. So consumed with his goal, everything that didn’t feed into it had fallen by the wayside. There was the man, and there was the hunter. Nothing else had mattered for a while now.

He could see why the hunter liked the therapist, though. In spite of her profession, which the man suspected might have made him uncomfortable, she seemed approachable enough. Maybe the sort that would be useful; only time would tell. He began walking, falling into step beside her. It was a nice night, he thought; a walk would be good. “I’m looking for someone who lives here in town,” he said, folding his hands behind his back. “Or… Looking for the best way to approach him may be a better way of phrasing it. I’m hoping to get a reference for his frame of mind, to figure out the best way to go about things. From what I’ve heard, you know him pretty well, and you clearly know the mind well, too. So… I thought you might be able to help.” It was misleading but, then, so was all of it. Telling her the truth would get him nowhere. Pretty lies could do much more for him. “His name is Emilio Cortez.” 

—

“Haitian Creole,” Xóchitl responded, “my other mother speaks that. I have two moms, just so we’re clear.” That had never been anything she’d been shy about, but she wanted to make the point abundantly clear, now. Not some step-mother (which wasn’t something she had anything against), but her two parents. Because she’d never had a father, and she was fine with that. “Didn’t speak English until I went to kindergarten,” the memory of course, came with a whole host of other, complicated feelings. Ones she’d only just gotten into with Emilio, ones she’d touched on with Siobhan and Metzli, but ones that she was absolutely not going to get into with a stranger, even if said stranger did speak Spanish.

Then he started talking about looking for someone, and the look on Xóchitl’s face involuntarily turned into one of confusion. “Well,” she’d begun, twisting a strand of hair around her fingers, batting her eyes (maybe a little too much) at the man, “I do know a lot of people, I can’t violate patient-doctor confidentiality but I can–”

Then the name came, and Xóchitl’s mouth fell agape (which was distinctly unsexy, no matter how much she might’ve tried to play it off.) “I – yes, we know each other well.” What kind of well did the man mean, she wondered? “He’s a friend,” maybe switching back to batting her eyes at the man would distract both her thoughts and his own. “What are you looking for him for?” Maybe he wanted help with some sort of investigation, or maybe he was a friend (though Emilio didn’t seem like the sort to have loads of secret friends all of a sudden appear in town). “He’s not my patient.” Just to make that clear – because they were friends (and of course, with a bit more now and then), but she liked having Emilio as a friend, and so saw it fit to be able to boast about that, or, in the very least, talk about it. “He’s a friend.”

—

“Ah, I see.” The man had little reaction to the revelation; in truth, he’d known it already. He’d done his research, after all, scoured the public profile for each of his marks before approaching them in order to find out as much about them as he could. He was not a modern man. The concept of a family like the one the therapist had been raised in was strange to him, though he had no strong thoughts about it be they positive or negative. These days, the only thoughts not met with harsh indifference were those of the man he’d come here to find. Emilio Cortez certainly had a way of inspiring… strong feelings. Call it a talent or a curse; it all depended, he knew, on which way those feelings went. For his own, he suspected the hunter would consider it something far more akin to the latter. “I didn’t speak English until well after that. You’re ahead of me.” The man barely spoke English now, and didn’t often want to. He much preferred to converse like this. 

She was professional. It was something he noted, something that went in that ever-expanding internal ‘file’ he had on her. Later, he’d scribble it into his physical notebook next to everything else he’d learned, because he’d always found it easier to collect his thoughts when they were written down. The man was old fashioned in that way. He liked answers he could touch, liked things he could feel. It was so much easier to organize your thoughts when they were tangible beneath your fingertips. 

But professionalism had no place in the therapist’s relationship with the hunter. The man knew that well. Even if he hadn’t known about the nature of the two’s relationship, he would have known the hunter wasn’t spending time sitting in the therapist’s office, talking about his thoughts and his feelings. Hunters, after all, liked to think they didn’t have either. Sometimes, the man thought they might be right about that. “Oh, good.” He forced an expression of friendly relief onto his face. The friendly part was far more feigned than the relief. It wouldn’t have served him much use if she’d known the hunter less than he’d thought she did. “I knew him back in Mexico. I’m not surprised he isn’t your patient. He’s not the therapy type, is he?” Not an insult; he’d made that mistake with the kid before, and they hadn’t taken kindly to it. The therapist probably wouldn’t, either. “But a friend is what I was hoping to find.” Friends were more useful to him. “As I said before, I’m just trying to determine the best way — and time — to approach him. I haven’t seen him in quite some time. I’d like to know his state of mind before I talk to him. Just to make sure he’s not too volatile.” It was an innocent enough question, from an outside point of view. There was something lurking beneath it, of course, but the man was so much better at hiding these intentions in Spanish than he was in English. It came so much more naturally to him. 

—

“Well, English is overrated. I only learned it because I was in the states and went to school here. I still prefer either of my first languages.” There was something comforting about even a stranger going to speak Spanish with her – it was how she and Anita had met, and Xóchitl wasn’t sure if she recalled quite so many people in town being so adept with Spanish when she was a child, but that was certainly not anything she was going to start complaining about. “So this works well for me, plus I get a certain thrill at the confused looks some people give – though I do keep meeting more people here who speak Spanish, so maybe there’s something good coming about.”

It was too optimistic for how she usually talked, but the man didn’t know that, and so Xóchitl could go on however she pleased, and he be none the wiser. She had gotten exceptionally good at appearing cheerful and exuberant even when she didn’t feel it, and she could keep that up. Keep that up and keep on hitting on this man, even though he knew Emilio, but he couldn’t expect Xóchitl to not flirt with every single person who knew him, right? That would just be unreasonable.

“I’m not permitted to divulge that information, nor my opinion on it, but many people don’t consider themselves the therapy type,” myself included, she added, internally, “so that’s not something I judge anyone on.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear (and yes, it did happen to be a strand that she’d tugged on just to do exactly this, but that wasn’t the point). “I’m sorry you haven’t seen him in some time, but I do happen to know a good bit about him – and some new information, such as how he has very handsome friends.” Xóchitl fell into step a tad closer to the man. “He’s hardly volatile – I don’t really know why that would be a concern, but he’s never been anything but absolutely delightful around me.” 

—

“Given a choice, I don’t think I would have learned it myself.” It had been a necessary thing, the inclusion of English to his vocabulary. So much of the world used it to communicate, and the man couldn’t afford to be cut off from the world. Certainly not now, with everything that had been done and everything left to do. “It is nice to be able to speak in a language where you’re fully understood, and nicer when eavesdroppers can’t understand it. You say a lot of people are fluent here?” That was an interesting tidbit. Was it part of why the hunter had chosen this town as his settlement? The man filed the information away. It could come in handy later. He could use all the ammunition he could get.

She was flirting with him. It took the man a moment to pick up on it. It had been some time since anyone had though, in honesty, it had been some time since he’d allowed himself in a position where it was possible. He lived a life of distance by design, left as little mark on the places he visited as possible beyond the occasional… things that needed doing. It was a necessary thing. The hunter had been on a warpath since Mexico. If he knew the man was here, that would only be multiplied.

So it was funny, in a way, to hear him described as delightful. The man had to fight to hold back a shocked laugh at the word. Was the therapist referring only to how the hunter was in bed? Surely his personality couldn’t earn such a term of endearment, could it? Not from anything the man had seen. He raised an eyebrow at her, a little uncertain. “How well do you know him? Please, understand, I don’t mean to insult you. Or him, for that matter.” Maybe that wasn’t entirely true, but the man thought he’d earned some right to insult the hunter, at this point. “But that isn’t a word anyone I’ve known would use to describe him. I want to approach him… safely. I can’t do that if I don’t know where his head is at, can I?” Another half truth. He wanted to approach the hunter with the upper hand; that was all. “You’ll be helping him by helping me. Ensuring the best case scenario.” 

—

“That’s very fair, and I respect you all the more for it. Not that I don’t respect people who speak English, but I certainly think less of people who don’t bother learning any language other than English.” Xóchitl wanted to clamp her hand in front of her mouth to force herself to stop talking. She didn’t usually ramble. In fact, she often prided herself on being calm and collected at all times. Or, at the very least, seeming such. Right now she knew she didn’t seem either calm or collected, which, in addition to being not the vibe she wanted to show new people, was distinctly unsexy. At least for her. She didn't mind it in others, but for her? That was an absolute no.

“I don’t know, I can’t attest to that from a scientific point of view, but I’ve been lucky to meet a number of people who also speak Spanish. Incidentally, a fair few who are also from México.” Not that this especially mattered, but it had made her feel somewhat more at home.

She couldn’t help but make a small face at the questioning of her description of Emilio. “Well. He’s – one of my closest. Companions. Friends, you know?” Xóchitl nearly threw up her hands in frustration, but did her best to keep herself together. “He’s wonderful, and I value him a great deal.” Not for reasons she was going to let slip to a stranger, even if it was a stranger who knew Emilio. “Yes, that makes sense, but I swear he’s – he’s good. Barring whatever was going on with his brother, but that wasn’t her place to say. I only ever want to help him.” Of course, she could’ve turned that comment dirty, but she would’ve only done that if she were talking to Emilio. Not this strange man. “I’m happy to help you in however many ways you’d like.” That much earned a wink, driving the point home, because also maybe some flirting would make him forget that he was very clearly judging her for thinking Emilio good company.

—

It was clear that she was uneasy; that had been his intention. Approaching the hunter’s friends outside their places of work, bombarding them with questions before they had time to wonder why those questions were being asked to begin with… it was all a carefully curated tactic. The hunter had spent the last two years hunting, and that put the man at an immediate disadvantage. This, what he was doing now? Its whole purpose was in leveling the playing field. And the therapist, with her uncertainty and her loose lips, was the perfect person to help him with this.

“Really? A lot from Mexico? What part?” Was there a chance the man wasn’t the only one here looking for the hunter? Or perhaps he’d managed to find friends, people from before. The latter seemed unlikely, but not something to rule out entirely. Considering every possibility on the table was the best way to prevent unexpected complications from arising. 

More interesting than the fact that many people of his country of origin resided here, though, was the fact that the therapist seemed so frustrated at the idea that the man didn’t agree with her description of the hunter. It reminded him a little of the kid, of how angry they’d gotten at the notion that the hunter was being insulted. Had he really managed to carve out such a life for himself here? Such loyal friends? Something flared in the man’s chest, brief but present. He pushed it to the side. The man held his hands up, a quiet surrender. “Like I said, I’m not trying to insult him. I just want to know what I’m getting into.” But something else she said sparked some interest. “His brother? What’s going on with his brother? Is he okay?” There was only one person left alive who that descriptor could belong to. The man had seen Everett Tangaroa around town once or twice, always from the shadows, but not recently. Was he hurt? Out of commission? That would make things a little less dangerous, in any case. The warden was bound to be just as volatile as the slayer these days. The man tried to sell his interest as concern as he waited for more details.

—

“I don’t know. Various parts.” Which was true, she wasn’t sure if any of them were from exactly the same part, but just being from the same country was uniting enough. Or whatever. Xóchitl wasn’t used to feeling like she wasn’t the one with the upper hand, and the man hadn’t even done anything that should’ve unnerved her and yet here she was, unnerved and her hand flicked back and forth, wanting to reach for her phone, to call Emilio, or anybody else, just about, to make up an excuse and leave.

But in some sense, maybe that was what he wanted? Xóchitl had no clue what he wanted, because here he was, asking her question after question but also refusing to fold to any of her flirting (which was frankly offensive, mostly because it involved her not getting the attention that she wanted).

“And like I said, he’s delightful and someone I value and enjoy and he can be grumpy, I suppose, but usually not with me.” At least she liked to think that was the case – and Xóchitl did have a decent bit of evidence to prove that, and she also had just decided that was the case. She wasn’t the sort of person people got mad at, least of all people like Emilio, friends-with-benefits-turned-friends-who-cared-more-about-friendship-than-delightful-benefits. “I don’t know, I’m not as close with his brother as I am with him. Besides, why does that matter? I thought you were curious about him.” Her lips twitched. “You sure I can’t get you to go get a drink with me?” She needed one. Or two. 

–

“Ah, well, naturally. It would be odd if they were all from the same area, I think.” Still, good to know. The man could find these other people if he needed to, could find out what relationship they might have to the hunter, find out if they could be useful. If they were important to the hunter in any way. Friends, enemies, lovers. (He had more than one, the man knew; slayers to avoid, a bartender he was only comfortable studying from a distance, a few who knew him for a night and no longer. It was something else to note.) Regardless of their relationship to him, everyone who knew the hunter could be put to use in one way or another. The man would see to it that they were. 

Starting with her, he supposed. Already, she’d given him more than most he’d spoken to, though he didn’t think she’d done so on purpose. Would the hunter be angry with her, he wondered? Would he lash out? He seemed to have a habit of doing so. He was all rage and violence now, from what the man could tell. How would that come into play? He couldn’t help but wonder.

From what she said, it seemed the hunter was gentler with her than he was with most. That, too, was something the man filed away. “It’s nice that he has you, then,” he said, and pretended that he meant it. It was unjust, in reality; the idea that the hunter got to have this, after everything. It was hard not to resent it all. “I am curious about him. But if his brother is hurt, he must be having a difficult time. I know how much he cares about people.” That was the long and short of it, wasn’t it? The thing that drove the hunter, that made him who he was. Call it what you would — love, vengeance. The end result was violent all the same. “I’m not much of a drinker, really. And I’m afraid I don’t have much time to spare.” Not if it meant risking her contacting the hunter and forcing a confrontation before the man was ready for it.

–

“Very odd, especially as it is a rather large country.” She looked off into the distance, just a bit. Besides, she hadn’t been born there, even though she felt connected enough to have been, and she’d been back enough times with her parents. She’d found comfort in running into people around here who came from similar places, it had made her feel less alone than she’d felt in a while, even if she hadn’t planned on any of that. None of it, at all. Which was fine, and she’d even enjoyed some of the outcomes of it. (Such as Emilio – and Siobhan – and Metzli – knowing bits about Mackenzie. Nobody knew as much as Emilio did, but none of the others had actually seen some wild sort of mirage-slash-hallucination of a Mackenzie who never got to be). 

She did her best to squash any nervous ticks that kept threatening to reveal themselves. Ticks she hadn’t really used much ever since she’d been a child, one of the times when her parents decided that maybe she did need to be on some sort of medication to deal with everything. Just to keep her calm enough. Xóchitl didn’t take it any longer, even though there were times when she wondered if it would have been useful.

“I mean, I think it’s nice he does, and he seems to think the same.” Xóchitl pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth, focusing on that, because it was true, and she had no reason to doubt it. It was just this… man, and whatever he was doing that made her feel this way. Which was vile and unsettling, and not in any sort of fun way. “He might be,” a shrug. “Like I said, I don’t talk to his brother, was informed I shouldn’t try to hook up with –” She pressed her lips shut, firmly as possible, “not important, but he – that’s not information I’m at liberty to give.” She raised her eyebrow at the next comment. “Oh? That’s a shame. Would’ve loved to buy you a drink.”

—

“With more people than some assume.” It was a silly pet peeve, the way he let himself get irritated about the way people in this country sometimes spoke about his home. It was the kind of thing the man should have left behind a long time ago, and he knew it. But… some things were easier said than done. And home was home, even after you’d left it. Given the look on the therapist’s face, he thought she might know it, too. The hunter certainly did. It was one of the many things on the man’s list of things that could be used against him if he needed to. The therapist made the list now, too. 

After all, she’d said it herself, hadn’t she? The hunter thought it was nice that he had her in his life. How many people could make that claim? The hunter had more friends here than the man had anticipated, but even so… How many people could really say that Emilio Cortez enjoyed having them around? The list was short; the man knew he needed to keep an eye on those whose names were on it. The hunter’s vengeance wasn’t the only he had to fear.

There were things she wasn’t saying; the man saw them anyway. If his brother was hurt, the hunter would be in a vulnerable position both physically and mentally. After all, hadn’t the last two years of throwing himself into danger spawned from grief and loss? The fear of repeating that was bound to put him into a tight spot. It was the best information the man had gotten yet. He held onto it, cradled it in his mind. It was a good thing to know. “I’m sure you would have,” he said, and there was a time when he might have made some attempt at being charming. There was a time when he might have offered her a smile, but it was long gone now. Most things were. “Is there any information you are at liberty to give?” He filed away, too, the fact that she’d been asked not to hook up with the hunter’s brother, though he wasn’t sure what it meant. Jealousy? Something else? It was hard to say.

—

“Far too true.” However this man was making her feel, Xóchitl did have to agree with at least some of what he was saying. This town was her home, even if it also wasn’t. Even if she felt far more like a visitor than someone returning back to their hometown. Which maybe she was, on some level. Just a visitor. She’d certainly done everything she could in order to forget where she was from. Or not forget, but separate herself from. Except you could never escape your past, or something dramatic like that, right?

Emilio was someone she felt safe with, despite the fact that neither of them had agreed for that to be the result of whatever they were up to. Except then they’d both had things revealed that were deeply personal, and now they were close. She was safe. With him, even if she still worried she’d cause him to get in trouble in some horrible, irreversible way. Which maybe she was doing now, with all that the man was asking her. Xóchitl shook her head, shook her thoughts away (best as she could, at least), and plastered on a smile that was entirely fake but entirely believable (she hoped) for those who didn’t know her.

“You should still let me.” Now would’ve been the perfect time to be fond of chewing bubble gum and to blow a bubble and pop it, just like all the cool and collected girls did in movies she’d watched with Mackenzie, and then watched by herself – After. “I’ve told you plenty. You’ll have to ask for more, I don’t give things away so easily.” Xóchitl shrugged. “What else do you want to know?”

—

She was stubborn. He could see it on her, the way she carried herself. The hunter had a habit of that, didn’t he? Surrounding himself with stubborn people, staying close to them. Normally, those people were also dangerous. There was a reason why the man was choosing which of the hunter’s friends to approach so carefully. The kid, the journalist, the therapist, the roommate he planned to pay a visit to next… They were all among the hunter’s most human acquaintances. Easy to deal with if things went terribly wrong.

But he didn’t think that would be the case here. The therapist was stubborn, but not in the kind of way that meant bad things for the man. Not yet, in any case. He could sit here, could speak to her in his native tongue, could get some of those answers he so badly needed. If she were someone else, he might even let her buy him that drink, in spite of the fact that alcohol didn’t interest him much anymore. But she wasn’t someone else. If he went with her to a bar, there was a chance the hunter would meet them both there. And, after everything, the man couldn’t risk that. He wouldn’t.

“I’d hate for you to waste your money,” he replied with a thin smile, shaking his head. She told him to ask for more, and he weighed the pros and cons of that. How much more would she give him? How much more could he take without her wanting something in return? “How well do you know him?” Did she know, he wondered, what happened in Mexico? The hunter’s part in it, the man’s part in it? Maybe that was a question he needed answered before he asked much else.

—

“It wouldn’t be a waste.” Xóchitl had no intentions of getting into details about her financial status and how it really wouldn’t be any issue (and the fact that such a thing was good, given how much she enjoyed drinking), but that was enough to say. Her hand twitched near her pocket again, wanting to pull out her phone and text Emilio. She’d probably already said far too much and owed Emilio half a dozen apologies just for talking about him with someone who wasn’t Jade or Teddy (or his brother, she supposed). But that also wasn’t good to focus on right now, given Xóchitl’s intense uneasiness that she just couldn’t seem to shake.

“I know him well. He’s one of my closest friends and – well, we’re close in a lot of ways.” She felt protective of Emilio, even though she was fairly certain he wouldn’t have wanted her to be that way, she told him to buzz off in her brain. Because she appreciated him, and he deserved to have people appreciate him. Xóchitl shook her head. “We’ve shared a lot, he knows more about me than a good number of other people here, and I like to think it is the same with what I know about him.” She tutted her tongue against the back of her teeth. “Is that a sufficient answer?”

—

“Maybe another time.” Was she trying to lure him somewhere? Was that why this insistence was here? Paranoia tickled at the back of the man’s throat, uncertainty rising up for the first time since the conversation began. Maybe she’d somehow contacted the hunter without him knowing, made some plan to meet somewhere. It would be disastrous, if that were the case. It would ruin everything. The man shifted his weight.

The more she spoke, the more he realized she probably knew far more than he’d expected. The idea that the hunter would have shared any details about his past with anyone from this town had never so much as crossed the man’s mind. He’d thought, at the most, the biggest threat to his plan would be the hunter’s brother, a fear which had dwindled when he’d become privy to the warden’s state. But this? The hunter had friends here. And the ones the man had approached likely weren’t a threat — humans rarely were to the man — but there were others, too. People he hadn’t spoken to. Other hunters, supernatural creatures, even an undead person or two. 

And any one of them could ruin what the man was after.

He looked to the therapist, forcing another smile that didn’t quite look real. “More than sufficient, really. Does he have a lot of friends like that?”

—

“Clearly you know where to find me.” Xóchitl responded, and she knew it could’ve come off as snarky, or even rude, but right now, she didn’t so much care, given how absolutely unnerved the man was making her and how much she utterly loathed the idea that anybody, particularly a stranger could make her feel this way. Besides, Emilio knew how she could be, and so she wasn’t particularly worried about getting a bad reputation through being reported to him. She liked to think that he knew her well enough that he wouldn’t believe unnecessary negativity about her.

Though she didn’t really know, she supposed. But right now Xóchitl was far more focused and curious on who this man was, and why he wanted to know more about Emilio. She’d make it her goal to poke around a bit more and see what she could manage to find out. Though she certainly didn’t consider herself any sort of detective (even if detectiving was part of why she’d come back to this town in the first place), she also liked to think that if she set her mind to something like this, she’d be able to figure something out eventually.

“Like me? I don’t think so, and I mean, I do like to think I’m one of a kind, but I also don’t know every detail about all of his friends, so who knows?” His smile tripped her up again, and she frowned at that, “I am, however, starving, so if you won’t let me get you food, I have a burger and fries with my name on them waiting for me a diner.”

—

“Clearly I do.” There was something in his tone there — not quite a threat, but maybe a prelude to one. A reminder that he’d found her this easily, that he could do it again if he had to. He almost hoped he wouldn’t have to. The man found her a little amusing, and certainly more helpful than his previous attempts had been. Still… his goal here was too important to risk. He needed her to know that, even if he had no intention of sharing said goal with her.

He nodded as she spoke, committing the words to his mind. Maybe the hunter wasn’t branching out quite as much as he’d feared. Maybe the therapist, and what she seemed to know, was an outlier in an otherwise expected group of acquaintances. In any case, the man could recognize that he’d gotten all he was going to get out of this particular conversation, and he clicked his tongue.

“I’d hate to keep you from your burger,” he agreed. “It was wonderful to speak with you, Xóchitl.” Genuinely, this time; this conversation had been productive. “I’ll be seeing you.” And he turned then, making his way back in the direction from which he’d come. 

It wouldn’t be long now. He knew it.

[faeriefully]

I know you’re reformed, and this is a genuine question on my part. Since we are elected, and we know that not everyone (in fact MOST) are not going into His new Kingdom, then why did he make the other people? It’s not to make them to be damned or anything, but for what purpose do they serve, if they are every so much as human as the rest of mankind?

if you could answer, or lead me to a place to answer this, that would be awesome.

First off, I’m going to break down that last part of your question— “what purpose do they serve, if they are every so much as human as the rest of mankind?”

Within that phrase, there is an underlining assumption— that by being human, there is innately something deserving or a right to salvation.

That assumption is incorrect. All of mankind is undeserving. Humans, by our sinful nature, deserve hell. We, as humans, have sympathy on ourselves because we are calloused to sin. We don’t see the utter depravity of mankind because we, ourselves are depraved. And it’s pride to assume humans deserve anything from God besides wrath.

God didn’t save us because we are human. God didn’t save us because of anything within us. There is nothing lovely or worth to be saved about humans.

When understanding this question, we have to remember at all times: Creation isn’t about us. None of it has been about us. Salvation, redemption, time— it isn’t about us.

God loves us, yes, I’m not negating that at all in any way. He loves us with the very love He loves the Son. But the entire scheme of time and space— this divine display, isn’t about us.

Then, what is it about? Displaying the glory of God. The entire gospel is the love between the Father and The Son and the Spirit on display.

God has ordained that which will glorify Himself to the fullest. Every aspect, every attribute. And above all, encompassing all, God is Holy, Holy, Holy.

Because of this, he is fully love— and fully wrath. You cannot separate them. You cannot have one without the other.

And God has ordained that we should know Him and His glory. All of His attributes. All of his Glory.

If God did not condemn us, we would not know mercy. If God did not punish sinners, we would not know his wrath. If God did not elect some and not others, we would not fully understand his Grace. If he did not redeem us, we would not fully understand his love and faithfulness. If he did not damn others, we would not know his faithfulness and holiness— or the depth of our own sin.

So, when considering humans’ depravity and God’s holiness— the question isn’t, “why do the others exist?” It’s… “why do I, a redeemed sinner, exist?”

“And not only so, but also when Rebekah had conceived children by one man, our forefather Isaac, though they were not yet born and had done nothing either good or bad—in order that God’s purpose of election might continue, not because of works but because of him who calls— she was told, “The older will serve the younger.” As it is written, “Jacob I loved, but Esau I hated.” What shall we say then? Is there injustice on God’s part? By no means! For he says to Moses, “I will have mercy on whom I have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I have compassion.” So then it depends not on human will or exertion, but on God, who has mercy. For the Scripture says to Pharaoh, “For this very purpose I have raised you up, that I might show my power in you, and that my name might be proclaimed in all the earth.” So then he has mercy on whomever he wills, and he hardens whomever he wills. You will say to me then, “Why does he still find fault? For who can resist his will?” But who are you, O man, to answer back to God? Will what is molded say to its molder, “Why have you made me like this?” Has the potter no right over the clay, to make out of the same lump one vessel for honorable use and another for dishonorable use? What if God, desiring to show his wrath and to make known his power, has endured with much patience vessels of wrath prepared for destruction, in order to make known the riches of his glory for vessels of mercy, which he has prepared beforehand for glory— even us whom he has called, not from the Jews only but also from the Gentiles?”

‭‭Romans‬ ‭9‬:‭10‬-‭24‬ ‭ESV‬‬ (emphasis added)

[kiss-my-freckle]

Many people assume that Elena slept with Damon a day after she and Stefan broke up even though in 4x07 the start of the episode shows them preparing for the pageant a day before and Klaus asking what time he can pick Caroline up tomorrow to pick her up to go to the pageant making it at least 2 days after the breakup that she slept with Damon. Also many Stefan fans love Stefan and dislike Elena and say that Stefan deserves better than someone who doesn't sleep with his brother a day after breaking up. They act like falling for someone else and having sex is worse than Stefan's kidnapping and attempted murder. I used to be active in the fandom back in the day and many of these fans didn't pretend to like human Elena during the earlier seasons. I never heard them say things like they love human Elena or early seasons Elena. She got a lot of hate, like people calling her a whore for kissing Damon in 2x22, and slut shamed by people saying things like they're over Elena's doppleganger vagina. After the show is over they say things like I miss human Elena or I only like s1 and s2 Elena (maybe 3 if they're feeling generous) to look less biased. But when you talk to them their examples include Elena martrying herself and self-harming, her hating Damon (even though she didn't hate him that much and when she did she had the right), etc. But ask them about the things Stefan did to her and they minimize him manipulating and abusing Elena. Recently I came across such a stan who was shitting on Damon/Delena because he force fed Elena his blood in season 2 and claiming to point it out of concern for Elena and say that's why SE is better but Stefan fans always neglect the fact that Stefan force fed Elena his blood. Stefan force fed Elena his blood for revenge and to turn her into a vampire and Damon did it out of concern so in case she died in the sacrifice she could come back to life as a vampire and immediately regretted it and apologized while Stefan never did. They also assume Stefan wouldn't have gone through with his plan to drive Elena off the bridge and turn her into a vampire even though he was blinded by revenge at that point in time that he didn't care about her or Jeremy but cared enough about Damon's life. Plus I don't think he believed Elena would've kissed Damon considering how hard she fought for Stefan when he pushed her away and her behavior in general, so he felt entitled to treat her however he wanted. When Elena says there's nothing Stefan cares more about revenge and that's why she roped him into her plan with Esther instead of Damon he smirks in 3x14. A lot of Stefan fans lie that his humanity was off in 3x11 when he turned it on to save Damon in 3x09. Plus in 3x11 I believe Damon talks about Stefan potentially having a dimmer switch. Damon also assumed that Stefan had his humanity off in 3x01 even though he didn't. He does make efforts to not throw Stefan under the bus even though his antis claim otherwise. Even though Delena can be toxic, they're not more toxic than Stelena or Bamon. This show is filled with toxic ships in general. The reason why I prefer Delena over Stelena is because Damon wouldn't have pulled the bridge stunt, punched near Elena's face when she was trying to help him, etc. Damon wouldn't use Elena for revenge against someone or want to hurt her directly. He would make more of an effort to protect her than Stefan. I don't get why they think Stefan respecting Elena's wish and causing her to drown in 3x22 was right when Stefan himself got mad at Matt and regretted his decision. Damon's hurt her indirectly through his actions without necessarily wanting to hurt her. Stefan's natural ability to conform with the people in her life isn't perfect, but is stronger than Damon's. But when it comes to shipping I'd prioritize the way the other person in the relationship is treated above anything else.

Thanks for pointing out that two day thing with the pageant. I'm too often focused on general timeline that I miss certain things lol. I know that Stefan and Elena were only together for 10 months when he left town with Klaus, and 3x6 is their year anniversary. So it took Stefan a year to rip into Elena.

Fans use that "deserve" word too much. He's not entitled to anything. As for deserving better than Elena, she's their lead female for a reason. There is no better than her. Fans may like certain characters more than her, but she is everything Stefan wants for a reason. I may love Bonnie more than Elena, but I won't downplay Elena's character. She's gold. Fans are just pissed that Elena actually went for the brother she wanted rather than settled for the brother she'd actually prefer to be friends with. She outgrew Stefan in his absence.

Stefan didn't start fighting for Elena until he found out she kissed Damon. If not for her admission, would've continued to treat her like shit. What's laughable is the fact that it wasn't Elena who flipped Stefan's switch, but Katherine. Fans can say what they want, hate on Damon/Elena/Delena all they want, but they look like idiots to me when they do.

[kyndaris]

The Nature of a Thing

Ever since I was young, there were two things that captured my imagination. The first were stories that mostly revolved around the hero’s journey. It could be from books or games, but the idea of saving the world always encouraged me to be the best version of myself. The second, of course, was mythology. Greek, Norse and Egyptian were the main three that caught my eye. I was obsessed about stories revolving the gods, demi-gods and whatever shenanigans they might have gotten themselves into. Many of these are already known by the wider world and through emphasis in popular culture: the drunken adventures of Loki and Thor, the murder of Osiris by the envious Seth, or Heracles and his twelve labours.

What I didn’t realise was that many of the character I looked up to played into very stereotypical archetypes. After attending selective high school and learning about tropes in high school, as well as watching copious amounts of video essays on YouTube, I like to think I’m now a dab hand at pointing at a character on screen and rattling off their attributes. This is, after all, their ‘nature.’ It doesn’t matter if they’re reluctant heroes at the start or attractive anti-heroes, in the end, the end of their story was dictated by them. And the journey that they go on has very predictable beats. The self-doubt that creeps in, the mentor that steps in to bolster their confidence...

Tell me, how many of you, dear readers, can hear the word ‘Japanese role-playing game (JRPG)’ and not know that the game will have the main protagonist start off in some small rural village doing something as innocent as rescuing a cat up in a tree before slaying the cruel god of the world right as the credits roll?

Form and settings can change, but the nature remains the same.

And this is the very thing that is explored in God of War: Ragnarok. One that is excellently brought to light when Kratos and Freya visit the Nords and realise that prophesy is merely the understanding of the moving parts of the world.

But we’ll get back to that later.

Years have passed since the events of the first game. Atreus has grown up into a curious teenager, eager to find his own place in the world and chafing at the direction his father sees for him. True, he doesn’t always make the right decision, but he’s learning. Kratos, on the other hand, feels like he’s been stuck in a rut since the revelations at Jotunheim. He has seen the patterns and fears for the safety of his son. During the long years of Fimbulwinter, he has prepared his son to live without him but, it is clear as the game progresses, Kratos is also scared of leaving his son alone. A typical parent fear, if you think about it, when children have grown up and want to leave the nest.

Honestly, I hadn’t expected Kratos to be such a protective parent when it came to his son, having seen his rage dictate most of his actions in the Greek era of games and his more stoic and standoffish approach in the first game. But while he does make the occasional misstep, it’s clear that Kratos loves his son dearly and wants only the very best for Atreus. 

Besides, you have to also love the fact that Mimir also essentially serves as a second father to Atreus. What with his stories and the occasional pearls of wisdom that he drops. A far different approach to what Kratos brings to the table.

And so, from a simple hunting trip out in Midgard, where they are attacked by a still vengeful Freya, Kratos and Atreus are soon roped into a quest to stop the end of days: Ragnarok and rail against fate. Or, at least, that’s what they initially assume. As the game goes on, and prophecies are unveiled, their quest becomes one to stop the machinations of Odin, the All-Father. In comparison to the first game, it’s a bit more complex with a lot of moving parts. In fact, rather than keeping the game solely focused on Kratos, the game also puts gameplay focus on Atreus as he tries to find a way to keep his father safe and forge his own path.

It all plays well with the theme of letting go of one’s preconceptions. And, when it comes to parenting, allowing your children the agency to make their own choices and mistakes rather than dictating them at every turn. Something Kratos initially struggles with but learns to accept after his trip with the Norns.

And, just like last time, there are no cuts when it comes to the camera. While this did make transitions between scenes more difficult to manage, somehow the team of Santa Monica managed to pull it off. Even if it was a little awkward at times - such as with the dream sequences, and the change in perspective from Kratos to Atreus and vice versa. I mean, let’s be honest, I couldn’t have been the only one that thought Atreus placing his knife on a barrel, only for Kratos to pick up the exact same knife was a little strange, right? Nor did I much like how the walls and bedding had to be placed behind Kratos as he transitioned from a dream with Faye to being back in his soft bed. 

It was like seeing the magic behind the scenes rather than being pulled into the story.

Still, I have to commend Santa Monica for committing to their artistic vision. Even as I was frustrated at the fact that half the time, the camera was solely focused on Kratos and his reactions whilst other character flitted in and out of the scenes from behind or entered just out of view of the camera. What’s worse was that there were no footsteps or acknowledgement of the other character until they stepped into view.

I know Kratos is unflappable but he merely grunted when Hildisvini came up from behind in Muspelheim to say that he was taking Mimir with him to Niflheim.

This might have been an issue in the combat but thankfully companions are able to provide ample warning, allowing for frequent blind dodging on my part, as well as the occasional use of the block button. From a combat perspective, I did feel like the Ragnarok was a lot more fluid than the previous game. It helps that Kratos begins the game equipped with both the Blades of Chaos and the Leviathan Axe. But the Spartan Rage ability was also a lot more versatile. Yes, Kratos can still unleash it to pummel an enemy into oblivion and regain health but he is also able to simply use it solely to heal and in an all-out attack.

Unfortunately, during the intervening years of Fimbulwinter, Kratos also somehow lost the armour he previous had and the skills he had acquired over the course of the last game. Why? Who knows. But hit skill tree was woefully empty and all my maxed out armour pieces were missing. Kratos did provide a semi-explanation but I don’t feel like it was adequate.

So many hours...wasted...

Still, I felt like the sets in Ragnarok were better able to cater to my play style. In fact, it’s probably the only reason why I was able to nab the platinum for this game. Yes, you read that correctly, dear reader. Another platinum has been claimed! And that was because this game was much more forgivable than its predecessor. You gotta love armour perks that heal you!

The one other thing that irked me about the game was how wooden characters would be when it wasn’t a cutscene. During my treks through Yggdrasil or the other realms, Kratos, Mimir, Freya and Atreus would occasionally banter. But when I looked back at my companions, the dead-eye stare I received back was perturbing to say the least.

Other than that, I very much enjoyed my time with Ragnarok and the story it wanted to tell. As well as the philosophy many of our protagonists had in terms of fate and prophecy. After all, this wasn’t so much a battle about free will and determinism so much as it was the choices one makes can dictate the path we walk in a bid to ‘be better.’ 

And while Kratos, Atreus and Freya understood that assignment, Odin - who was adamant about knowing what the future might bring so he could change it to his benefits and be in control - was ultimately unable to acknowledge that he could make a choice to end the vicious cycle he found himself in. During the final battle, he highlighted that fact with his dialogue, exclaiming that he “didn’t have a a choice.” Funny how the person who wants the most control is always the one that seems to have the least of it or claims that his failures are not the result of their own actions but those that had been put upon them.

After all, he didn’t have to kill Thor.

He could have chosen to give up his quest for knowledge and lived a happy life with his sons.

Could have stepped down from being the All-Father.

But he chose none of these alternatives.

So, I suppose if there’s one good thing about Odin, it’s the fact that he’s tenacious. And really really really good at deflecting personal fault and blame.

Music-wise, the game was excellent. Bear McCreary is talented at creating evocative pieces that sell the story beats. Did it deserve to win the Game Award for Best Music? Honestly, I’m going to have to say that Xenoblade Chronicles 3 was robbed. 

What about Best Narrative? To be fair, A Plague Tale Requiem’s ending pulled at my heartstrings more. That was a story about a girl and her brother trying to live out their best lives and hoping to find a cure to his condition. The problems they faced might not have been supernatural Gods but their battle was so much more personal and heartfelt - and more in line with the 2018 version of God of War. 

Still, God of War Ragnarok is still up there as one of the best games that came out in 2022. And when you play quite a bit of the smaller titles, rather than just big budget releases, that dig into elements of the human condition, 2022 was a pretty good year for video game releases.

Overall, I’m sad that we didn’t get the story of Loki turning into a horse to distract a stallion and coming back after 9 months with the 8-legged Sleipnir, but I’ll take what I can get. I do hope that if there is another God of War game, it’ll follow Atreus and see his wanderings across the realms of myth and legends. Hopefully we, the players, can join him as he looks to uncover more hidden giants. Preferably in Celtic folkore. It would certainly be a better choice than Egypt - a mythology that’s already been done to death in popular culture.

That, or the franchise can take us somewhere completely different.

Can you imagine: Kratos against Sun Wukong? I wonder how that might work. 

P.S. LOVED that Deborah Ann Woll was in this. I didn't quite recognise her voice but seeing Faye's model, I was like: isn't that? AND I WAS RIGHT!

[chaos-event-horizon]

"You have an update on the girl's condition?"

All Might asked that question without bothering to turn around. He could always feel Eraserhead's scathingly pointed glares well before he saw the man himself.

"Yes."

The blonde turned now, using a cloth to wipe the blood from his hands as he stepped away from the man he'd beaten into unconsciousness. "Good things, I hope... That little girl has been through way too much. Eri deserves better than what cards she was handed."

"Her quirk is still dormant for the most part, but occasionally it wakes back up."

"We're almost lucky, in that the shock and stress of her rescue depleted whatever energy reserves her power feeds off of..." All Might murmured, leaning against the wall next to his subordinate. "We've been able to evaluate that bitch Chisaki's research notes and prepare for her to live comfortably. Not to mention that we were able to get LeMillion his quirk back without hassle, after finding that the yakuza bastards had already synthesized a cure."

"It's already been almost a year..." The quiet assassin murmured. "It's hard to believe... She's grown a lot. She smiles often. She's discovered her favorite foods and favorite colors..."

"You poor bastard," All Might said with a good-natured chuckle. "You really have started loving that little girl. It's just as well, since you're the only one who can help her if something gets out of hand... But never in my life would I have pegged you as being someone's father-figure."

"Look who's talking... You went from being a seemingly violent tyrant who feigned heartlessness, to suddenly taking in a bunch of strays like me," Eraserhead quipped. "Then you went from adopting subordinates, to adopting your pet husband, then a teenager, and now you have a daughter."

"Maybe we're all just getting a bit older."

"Don't rope me in with you."

The blonde snickered. "Fine, fine... But I assume you have something else to say about Eri, or you would have told me to fuck off and walked away by now."

"Yes... She has a request for you."

The older vigilante blinked, brows furrowed as he met the other man's eyes. "She has a request? Well... How can I be of service?"

The tired looking assassin hesitated, then sighed. "Eri wants to meet the little princess, and also see your protege again. She sees LeMillion often since Nighteye and I work closely together, but she wants to see the other boy who saved her... And once she heard about your daughter, she became determined to see her. She's even worked harder to control what little power she has, in case you'd say no because of that."

All Might couldn't help but give a soft smile. "Oh dear... It seems a playdate will be in order, then. I'll talk to Rian."

"Just like that?"

"Of course... It's a reasonable request. The poor kid is probably very lonely, and honestly Hinata is at an age where she needs to start socializing anyway. If I know Rian, and I do know him quite well, he'd turn on me if I had the nerve to say 'no'."

"I see..."

The blonde bruiser stretched walking back towards the man he had previously been pummeling. "Very well then... I'll contact you after I've nailed out a few details. Don't work too hard."

"Sure, sure..."

All Might didn't have to look to know that Eraserhead had left, but he did anyway, fighting a smile. "...We didn't even casually threaten each other this time... We're both getting soft."

[erikahammerschmidt]

I have some Thoughts and Opinions about the idea of the Sunk-Cost Fallacy.

Here's an example of the sort of situation where that fallacy comes up for me:

A: "I went through so much work to get a bunch of new materials for a project. And then I realized there's another method to do the same project, and it's better in every way and uses simpler materials I already had! ...I'm still going to use the stuff I just got, though."

B: "Why? It's an inefficient way to do the task and it will have a worse-quality result!"

A: "Yes, but I know from experience that I'm gonna feel even worse if I waste all the work I did getting this stuff."

B: "But the only reason you even feel so bad about waste is because your goal is to do things efficiently!"

A: "Well, on a deeper level, my goal is to be happy. And, in this case, I'll be more unhappy if I don't at least try a version of the project that uses my new materials."

B: "That's a classic sunk-cost fallacy. Just be logical, and choose to be happy about the more efficient method instead."

In that example, I identify much more with viewpoint A.

And I'm not even really like that anymore! Over many years of this kind of situation over and over again with my creative projects, I've actually grown much better at letting go of sunk costs.

These days, if I realize there's a better way, I'll feel mostly just happiness that I've discovered it, and I'll gladly give away all the supplies I just put days of work into finding and preparing, without even a twinge of regret!

But there was a time when I was different, okay? And back in that time, I knew I absolutely was gonna feel agonies of regret if I let go of my sunk costs.

I did not have the ability to just switch off those agonies! Overcoming them was not some sudden choice, it was a very very very long and gradual process of growth. And it NEEDED all those years of experience before it could happen.

So, back in those before-times, when it hadn't happened yet, and when Viewpoint B was haranguing me like in that dialogue-- I knew that person had a completely unrealistic idea of how my mind was capable of working.

The typical accusation of Sunk-Cost Fallacy assumes that:

1. There is an Objectively Best Outcome that is possible for the scenario. (The most efficient use of resources, saving the most money, making the objectively best product, etc.)

2. Your goal is, obviously, always, to achieve that Objectively Best Outcome.

3. You have complete control over your emotions, and if your emotions want something that is not the Objectively Best Outcome, you must force them to change, or else you are Behaving Illogically.

4. And even if you can't change them, you should still aim for the Objectively Best Outcome, because that is more important than how you will feel about the outcome you get.

But, see... logic is for deducing conclusions from premises. Some people who claim to be logical keep forgetting that emotion is how we choose the premises-- especially when the premise is "want to achieve this goal."

Basically, some people confuse "wanting to achieve a goal that I wouldn't want" with "logical fallacy."

Here's another example that feels, to me, like pretty much the same argument:

A: "My partner and I really want to have sex that could get me pregnant if I'm not careful. ...I'm going to use birth control."

B: "Why? It's designed to prevent you from having a baby!"

A: "Yes, and I know from experience that I hate pain and discomfort and being responsible for child care."

B: "But the only reason you like sex, and hate pain and inconvenience, is because evolutionarily those feelings increase your chance for survival and reproduction!"

A: "Well, on a deeper level, my goal is to be happy. And, in this case, I'll be unhappy if I don't get laid, and I'll be even more unhappy if I get knocked up."

B: "That's a classic anti-baby fallacy. Just be logical, and choose to be happy about fulfilling your sex drive's natural purpose instead."

I'm not sure why B's viewpoint in this example seems more clearly unreasonable, to most people I know, than it does in the previous dialogue.

Well, I do sorta understand. It's because:

1. One's preferences about "the ideal process and ideal goal for a craft project" are not considered as much of A Very Personal Matter Of Opinion as one's preferences about "whether to get pregnant right now."

2. One's feeling of "not wanting to waste things I just expended effort on" is considered more of a consciously controllable choice than one's feeling of "wanting to have sex" or "wanting not to get pregnant."

But I don't quite get WHY these things are considered that way.

In my mind they really aren't.

[citadelredlightdistrict]

What would your OC's First impression on Drac. Just by appearance alone. Jacwyn (male/female), Samael, Tink, Dew and Loti. (Up to you if you want it be descript or not. Just trying to get a feel on the surface level personality)

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First Impressions and thoughts

Jacwyn Female: "Whoa, is that an angel or... no, right?" She looks over the young man intently, he was so pretty, petite, and yet she could sense a kind of power that only her sister Samael had ever given off before. She both felt comforted, and scared by him.

Jacwyn Male: "Are you part... bird? Whatever, you're clearly not an elf so I assume you're a servant, you can fetch my dinner then. Now!" He looks over the other petite man, he could sense the power in him, but he couldn't afford to appear weak. His mother was already angry with him, the staff already saw him as a joke. So despite his instincts telling him to submit to the young man, he had to assert himself as the dominant party. He just really hoped the stranger didn't put him in his place as a result.

Samael: "You're not meant to be here. Name yourself creature, and identify as friend or foe." She'd long since sensed him coming, had prepared for this moment for several hours now. At a thought there were over a dozen powerful wards ready to snap into place, including an anti-magic field, an area of silence, and a barrier. If he broke through those she had the spell Banishment prepared, sending him back to his home realm should buy her enough time to prepare stronger countermeasures. She didn't know who or what he was, but she couldn't risk him trying to steal away HER beloved if he was a foe.

Tink: "Dew! Dew where are you? Oh! Hey there, have you seen Dew nearby?" Tink flitters around him, looking around for her friend before sitting down on top of his head without bothering for permission as she tried to think through where Dew could have gone. "Hmm, I don't remember being here before, maybe Dew is still back at that lake? Damn it, boss is going to be so angry if we don't find that stupid elf soon. But I have to find her first..." (She's a bit too preoccupied, Powers like him aren't common in the Fae Wyldes, but he's hardly the first she's met.) Dew: "Hey! I'm sorry to ask, but have you seen an elf nearby? Umm, let's see where is the description we were given, ah! Ok, so umm they're pretty, light skinned, bright eyes, light hair... I mean, probably the only elf in the Fae Wyldes I suppose." Who is this guy? Oh man I really hope boss didn't send him too, there's no way we'll be able to claim the reward if one of the Powers grabs him first! Tink where are you? Oh I really hope you've found the elf first and you're making your way back to the lake! Loti: "AH! H-hey, hey there, umm sir, I mean, please forgive me, I meant no insult." She kneels and bows her head, her mind racing as she is met face to face to one of the Powers of the Wyldes. It was one thing to encounter one of the Authorities, another to meet a Power that was an Authority, both of those were beings who created order and the rules of the Wyldes, but rogue Powers were something else entirely. Beings like him were usually out to become an Authority, and that usually meant death and destruction in their wake. The only way she knew to save herself in a situation like this was to prove herself more useful alive than dead.

(Jacwyn isn't involved in politics and is lacking in the proper context to be afraid of him. So as a female she's more curious than anything else, as a male he's too focused on proving himself worthy of his family and is confused by the feeling of attraction. Samael despite her relative youth compared to most elves is already arguably the most naturally powerful and gifted mage in the material realms, given a few more years she might even be a rival for some lesser gods. So Samael sees him initially as a potential threat that might need to be dealt with before he harms her Jacwyn. The two pixies are too focused on their mission to get Jacwyn, and Loti has never met a Power within the Wyldes and just knows the terrifying stories of what they're capable of.)