#what i lack is proficiency in everything else

[animentality]

You posted a while back (I think it was you, the post is buried in your durgetash brainrot archives) that you're vulnerable to psychic damage but gives advantage on wisdom saves. I think I'm the opposite, I'm resistant to psychic damage like a necromancy wizard is resistant to necrotic, but I have disadvantage on wisdom saves and the only action I can use is "Perform a Task" where I have to succeed on a wisdom save or take 1d4 psychic damage and end my turn.

I have disadvantage on all intelligence saving throws, if that makes you feel better.

[planetnini]

LOVE TO KEEP ME WARM !

࿔･ﾟ*࿐ for the first time ever satoru is left puzzled just by a simple question from tsumiki, but he knows just how to prove his love for you + gn!reader. fluff with some angst— use of nicknames (baby, sweetheart), found family trope <3, girl dad satoru agenda, he is a bit insecure but it gets resolved, cutest fucking declaration of love ever, surprises! snow shenanigans, mistletoe kiss, satoru is the best boyfie ever i love him (5.8k words)

notes. this is a gift!!!! so it will cater to the interests and personality of my person but everything else is very vague :) merry new years secret santa thing @scarameows-world !!!! very late by the time this gets published but whtever.. i'm the reindeer that's been up in your inbox <3 we had alot of good talks and i hope we can stay in touch after this :") now here's a cute little fic i made for you about the one and only gojo satoru. title is inspired by this song

gojo satoru is a man whose proficiency knows no bounds. he is a force to be reckoned with ushering a new era of powerful sorcerers and curses due to his possession of both the six eyes and limitless technique. he could do almost anything as one might expect and everything came naturally to him. he never had any doubts about himself, but then came along you. 

satoru was a natural when it came to flirting, but he was not accustomed to the rejection he faced in his early days when you would ‘let him down easy’– it was nothing short of disastrous, always ending in banter between you two. yet somehow you had your wicked ways of making him chase even though all you two did was flirt. after several attempts to woo you and you finally stepping up, one thing led to another now here you were, co-parenting two kids with the man you once swore you’d never be with. satoru was 100% sure that he would be yours for infinity, but it wavered on this particular day. 

satoru was on a little errand run with tsumiki whom he had entrusted with pushing the trolley around as he scanned the list you had made for tonight’s dinner and activity. she was a young and incredibly happy girl who was much friendlier than her brother, megumi. when satoru adopted the two, tsumiki had taken a liking to him immediately whilst megumi took a liking towards you so he had taken her on the trip. it had been going well, with them doing the final grocery run after spending what felt like hours picking out the perfect wreath for the front door, however tsumiki’s question stopped him right in his tracks.

“do you love y/n?” she asked, a little curious look decorating her features.

“that’s a silly question. of course i do!” he uttered, scanning the wreaths with his eyes picking out the perfect one because quite frankly, he didn’t know how to react. 

people naturally assume that growing up from a family who viewed him as an ornament and coddled him that he would be a closed book or lacking in social skills but his first few years at jujutsu tech proved everyone wrong: he was not just a pretty face who could get away with just that. in the end, his love for others was his weakness and tsumiki had brought up something that satoru had failed to anticipate. what did she see that satoru couldn’t and was that even possible?

she took the wreath from his hands and put it into the trolley bringing him back to the present, “how do you know you love y/n?” she paused, and tsumiki must be sadistic for making him suffer like this, “what does it feel like?” she asked, looking up at him.

satoru looked down at the child, surprised by her questions. he paused for a moment, considering how to articulate such an answer to a complex question. was it that hard to believe that gojo satoru was capable of loving someone?

while satoru would never admit it at the start, he needed megumi and tsumiki more than they needed him. after suguru’s defect, they especially reminded him that sometimes blood wasn’t all that important when it came to the people you loved. he loved them but in a completely different way than he loved you. a love so unequivocal that it was impossible for people not to know how truly and deeply in love satoru was with you, so he wasn’t sure where he went wrong but perhaps it wasn’t enough.

“well,” he began a thoughtful look on his face, “loving someone is different to everyone. i guess i can’t really explain it other than a warm, fuzzy feeling inside and it makes you feel like everything is right…” he replied, her eyes lighting up with understanding, “you care for their happiness the most, that you’d even share your favourite candy.” he chuckled with a playful glint in his eyes, trying not to sound too sentimental.

“so you feel warm and fuzzy when you see y/n?” she looked up curiously at satoru.

he chuckled, ruffling the child's hair, "yeah, exactly. now come on, let’s finish this quickly so we can go home. get something for yourself and your brother.” he winked to which tsumiki nodded eagerly, seemingly satisfied with his answer as she rushed down the aisle finding something to bring home.

the atmosphere between satoru and the girl was no longer tense but satoru’s mind was swirling. he was reflecting on the innocence of the question as he took control of the trolley now, finished with his chores for the day. he even went as far as buying you something too but tsumiki had inadvertently planted a seed of doubt in his mind and now satoru was spiralling. did he love you enough? was his warm and fuzzy feelings strong and genuine, or was it something he convinced himself of after everything that went down? the simplicity of her question left satoru questioning himself and for the first time in forever, he is unsure of his relationship with you.

“i thought i told you that they can’t stay up late.” you spoke while washing the dishes. satoru could only lightly chuckle as he rinsed the plate, putting it on the drying rack. he knew you only meant well but he enjoyed seeing you like this more than he had expected: seeing you so worried and being such a caring person towards them. it was not like he had forced you to take care of them, it was through your own volition that you practically raised them.

“come on…” he drawled a little pout on his lips, “they said they didn’t want to decorate the tree without you tomorrow.” he reasoned, knowing that the two children in the living room were your true weakness and that just as much as you do for them, they’d do for you too. the way a simple sentence morphed your furrowed brows into a look of gratitude proved his point.

“do they actually want to decorate the tree with me or is it only because you bought them sweets today?” you accused.

“they’re much older now,” he reassured with a tone you doubt has any good intentions, “besides, i think it’s fair if we stop their ban on sweets, don’t you?” he asked with a simple hip nudge and you roll your eyes at the gesture.

he was happy with this, with how things were going in your life right now, in fact he couldn’t get enough of it. his request was simple, but you wasted no time immediately retaliating, “you just want to freely eat your sweets and use them as an excuse.” 

“what little faith you have in me!” he gasped and you have to stifle a laugh, “plus, they’re kinda scary when they don't get their way.” he joked, leaning back on the counter with his arms crossed to get a better view of you who had just finished washing and drying your hands after dinner. 

“how the higher-ups trust someone like you on those missions, i have no idea. i wonder how they would react if they found out you can’t handle two children.” you said, flashing him a smile. mentioning the higher-ups in the conversation made satoru’s blood boil but it had been tamed when he caught that little shake of your head combined with your smile. he had been contemplating the nature and depth of his feelings for you but tonight had proved that it was all a fluke– just seeing you was enough to remind him that nothing about loving you could ever be doubted, because loving you was as natural as breathing.

satoru leaned down to meet your eyes as you turned to face him, “sweetheart, if you want me home instead of on missions, you could just say so.” he smirked– a signature gojo satoru look that you couldn’t tell if you loved or hated.

you narrowed your eyes at him, “i hope you get put on more missions.” 

“you wound me.” he grunted, a hand over his heart feigning hurt but you knew that he was joking.

“you can take it.” you hummed, eyebrows scrunching as he stared down at you lovingly with a smile etched across his face.

there have been so many moments between you, satoru and the kids that blossomed with joy– something that felt lost in a world rife of evil– but you forget that you’re both still fairly young, thwarted into roles of guardians. you loved satoru since you were teens and seeing that this was your first relationship ever, it is only normal to feel insecure, and normal that you have doubts that satoru could ever truly love you.

while staring at satoru your mind can’t help but swirl with thoughts and he catches on immediately, perceptive as ever due to his six eyes and well, being gojo satoru. he sees it in your contemplative sighs that he had been hearing throughout the week, in your crafted smile, the way your shoulders are tensed and your jaw clenched: he knows you’re feeling some way right now because even your eyes don’t have their usual spark. your name rolls off his tongue so naturally, as if he was born to say it, as he reaches up to brush his hand across your cheek.

“what’s on your mind?” he questioned with a tilt of his head, thumb caressing your cheek. to him, the signs are as clear as day that you were troubled with thoughts of something and he wouldn’t rest until he found out what was going on in that beautiful mind of yours.

that warm fuzzy feeling intensified, secret moments between the two of you that the young girl was unaware of. it’s times like this you’re grateful that satoru is so in touch with how you felt most times and you can’t help the relief that settles in your heart when you realise you were so lucky to have him in your life, “it’s nothing,” you shook your head with a smile plastered on your face, “just… thank you for everything you did the other day,” you said, genuinely appreciative of his contribution to megumi’s birthday dinner, “i know you don’t think that he likes you but he really does look up to you.” you admitted.

“my charms aren’t all that bad.” he hummed, a proud nod as you snorted at his holier-than-thou tone.

your eyes closed at the soft contact of his lips on the crown of your head, warmth spreading all throughout your body during the cold winter month. you crave him and his touch, and you’re lucky that he hasn’t been put on any missions, specifically requested (he threatened the higher-ups knowing his status) to stay home with you and the others for just a couple of weeks. a small sigh left his lips as he started moving his hands away from your face up over his blindfold, the loss of contact made you pout slightly. your hand came over his, stopping him with a simple action, “are you sure you want them off?” you whispered, your voice dripping with concern.

“i want to see you.” he said, without an ounce of hesitation in his response. 

“i don’t like the migraines it gives you when you have them off.” you retaliated as you shook your head resolutely. he wants to listen to you, seeing how much you cared for him and laid your heart out for him. the love you had for him was overflowing and he did not know how he got so lucky.

“i can take it,” he insisted, voice a mix of both amusement and affection, “besides, i’ll endure any and all amounts of pain just for you.”

“after that declaration, i better not hear a complaint out of you.” you said, smiling up at him as you begin to unwrap the blindfold yourself. your delicate fingers moved the bandages around his head, undoing the white bandages. the gesture made satoru relax in your touch as you pulled them away from his face. being able to let his guard down after suguru had been difficult but you were a rare (and lucky) case.

once the bandages are undone, you can see that he’s wincing and squinting, probably due to the oversensitivity. adjusting to his surroundings, you brush his cheek with your thumb and his eyes flutter open to have a look at you, “hi beautiful.” he breathes out, utterly captivated by you.

you mirrored his look, squinting as you leaned forward with a smile wanting nothing more than to kiss him until– 

“what’s taking so long?” tsumiki yelled, surprising you and making the two of you jump from your spot. if satoru was masking his pain before, he wasn’t doing so now as he screwed his eyes shut and you feel extra protective of satoru now that his blindfold was off. he was extra sensitive to loud surroundings so when she came in shouting the two of you with his guard fully down, you knew satoru probably was still adjusting to having his blindfold off with the kids.

“did your brother put you up to this?” you asked.

“we were just wondering where you two were.” she replied bashfully.

“i told you they were kissing.” megumi groaned from behind her and if you weren’t embarrassed before, you wanted to dig your grave now that he had said it out loud.

“actually, we were rudely interrupted.” satoru complained, narrowing his eyes at megumi. living with them, you know how much megumi truly looked up to satoru but moments like this question why they were always at each other’s neck

megumi rolled his eyes, “have some manners you two,” you ordered, making tsumiki chuckle a bit, “i’m sorry for making you guys wait so long.” you apologised and you see megumi nod slightly at you.

“are you two in cahoots?” satoru whispered in your ear but you pushed him away jokingly. megumi was first to leave the room and tsumiki followed suit, but before satoru joined the two, you reached out grabbing his hand, “i know you said no presents this year, but-” you said, handing him a wrapped rectangular box.

“you said no presents for christmas.” he blurted out, confusion taking over his features.

“well, i sometimes doubt if you ever listen to me,” you looked up at him and you would be right because satoru had bought and wrapped your gift already, “just think of it as a very belated birthday present then.” you smiled at him, anticipating his reaction to your gift.

he opened the box carefully and he could see an engraving on a case, and his heart sunk. he knew he was in love with you, but was it possible to love you even more than he already had? he picked up the case and took out the special glasses he wore when he went out instead of the usual blindfold.

“i remember you said you needed new ones after they broke.”

“correction, when megumi broke my other ones.” he corrected. you rolled your eyes at him, and give him a light peck on the cheek, “thank you.” he spoke before you could make your way to help the children. 

“don’t break them again, i’m not made of money satoru.” you warned and situated yourself on the floor, sitting cross legged as you peered over at what the two had been up to when you and satoru were in the kitchen. tsumiki was unboxing some tinsel and megumi was taking care of the ornaments. to be honest, you weren’t sure when you became one of those families who went full out for christmas. the only things you ever really did was presents or stockings and having dinner together. you were overlooking the process, not really helping, or rather not knowing how to as you had never really had a tree let alone decorate one. 

“you’re not going to help?” tsumiki questioned, with a tilt of her head as she began to decorate the tree.

all the attention is turned to you now as you shake your head untangling some of the lights for the tree, “i mean, i’ve never really celebrated christmas with a tree and it’s for you guys right?”

“that’s sick and twisted!” satoru gasped, slumping down right next to you with his new sunglasses, “so you mean you’ve never had a christmas tree?” he exclaimed, and quite frankly you don’t really see the big deal.

“i wasn’t blessed with being born into a family like yours.” you teased and he took serious offence to that, not because he was offended by your comment but more so your nonchalance. 

“well, anything you want to do for christmas?” megumi asked, putting some of the ornaments on the tree. he always had an artistic perspective and you were glad he was putting so much thought into where each one went.

“i’m not going to be home until late at night, but i guess i’ve always wanted it to snow big enough that i could build a snowman.” you shrugged, looking at the kids.

“that’s impossible.” megumi groaned.

“how are we going to get it to snow?” she exclaimed.

“exactly. it’s alright,” you reassured as you stood up from your spot, “as long as i’ve got you guys, that’s all i could ask for.” you winked at them as you helped them get to the higher spots of the tree. satoru sits there watching as you now start to help the two decorate the tree and decide to help out. you are too distracted to see that his mind is swirling with ideas– he is determined to make your christmas a little more special and he has some ideas up his sleeve that he can’t wait to use.

you feel the exhaustion of staying up late last night settle deep into your bones when you’re on your way home from the mission. it wasn’t like you didn’t get enough sleep, you got just the perfect amount but not being home today to celebrate with the kids and satoru kind of made your heart sink. it had always been the four of you the entire day and sometimes occasionally with the others but being away from home, away from them had taken a big toll on your heart.

you wiped at your eyes with a yawn as you began making your way down the path to your house. the cool winter night was in full swing, trees moving slightly in the small rush of wind that passed by along with the small sprinkles of snow.  you took a deep breath and rubbed over your arms as you looked up at the sky. you weren’t lying when you said you wanted snow, it had always been a dream of yours to see falling snow, and enough that it might be enough to build a snowman, it was just something that hadn’t happened in a long time. 

you reached the house but the eerily quietness and lack of light concerned you, were they watching a movie or something or did they go out and not tell you beforehand? you brushed off your worries, unlocking the door walking into an empty house. the whole room was dark, nothing could be heard and your heart was stuck in your chest, stopping at just the mere thought of not being completely alone right now. 

you could hear some whispers and instinctively your hand went up, charging up your cursed technique as you hear some shuffling until an array of fairy lights went off above you, decorated meticulously going up the stairs and some nice garlands all around, warm lighting and while you’re staring at the lights, you don’t notice the three standing right in front of you.

“welcome home.” they shouted, and you swear you had felt that much relief in your entire life.

“i could’ve hurt you guys!” you exclaimed, a hand over your heart. the soft vinyl record you distinctly remember shoko gifting you after seeing you eye it last christmas playing from the living room, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“well that defeats the whole point of a surprise if i told you, right guys?” he said, and it is only now you realise that he has a santa hat on with the other two in ugly sweaters. you know megumi would be less than happy to be dressed in this right now but you assume he did so for you and couldn’t help the way the corner of your lips curved up at the sight. this… this is what you loved about your little family, and you knew it was wrong to call it a family– the two kids aren’t yours, and you’re not married to satoru but this moment, combined with the cute late night you shared with them just the night prior confirmed that you were all closer than that and how much they loved you.

“you did not need to do this for me,” you sighed, a little overwhelmed by how well decorated everything was. you hadn’t even noticed the holly, the bells, candles, and a bunch of other festive decorations– they really went all out. you wonder just how they pulled it all together but then you remembered that satoru would stop at nothing when it came to his gestures, “and you definitely did not need to drag them into this.” you added, kneeling down in front of them so that you could hug tsumiki and as you stood up you looked at megumi and ruffled his hair despite how much you know he hated when satoru did it, when you did it, you weren’t met with the same grumpy huff.

satoru gasped, “hey, these two were asking if you’d like them and i pointed them in one direction okay?” he defended but as you looked down at the two they were shaking their heads as if to refute his words, “don’t listen to them. they did it because they love you just as much as i do.”

respectfully, you hated satoru but not in a way that was malicious but for always making you feel like the luckiest person on earth. for being friends with you back then when it seemed like the world wasn’t on your side, for allowing you to stay in his life after losing his friend, for letting you take care of two of the most beautiful children ever. he was one of the sweetest people you ever knew and you doubt any gift or gesture would be enough to make up for the man that he is. without realising you had tears stream down your face, and you bring your hand up over your face to cover it. you weren’t usually the type to cry over something so trivial but here you were.

“i can’t believe you made y/n cry on christmas.” megumi complained, trying to lighten the mood as tsumiki’s mouth dropped.

"y/n's fine!" satoru reassured and you can’t help but laugh as you wiped away some of the tears. before you could speak satoru went over to you, engulfing you in a hug, “you better not apologise for crying. there’s nothing you need to be sorry for.” he reassured, rubbing circles on your back. you nod profusely, trying to keep yourself calm in front of the others (not that they’d never seen you cry before) before pulling away from the hug. you stared into his cerulean eyes, out and free from their usual blindfold or glasses, “it’s nice to see you my love.” he whispered, meant only for your ears. 

you chuckled, pressing your lips into his cheek before turning around, “how about we open some gifts? how does that sound?” you smiled and their eyes lit up, brighter than the lights all inside the house and they scattered off like little mice to the living room where the tree was, with quite a few presents under the tree (courtesy of satoru’s money but joint in terms of thinking of what to get them) and you followed behind. satoru threw his arm over your shoulder as you took a seat on the couch as they got ready to unwrap their gifts.

“are you hungry?” he asked softly as they started unwrapping their gifts, the one in the penguin wrapping paper which satoru had wrapped up himself.

“i had something to eat on the way back.” you reassured and he nodded.

the two had spent quite a while opening satoru’s gifts. you noticed that the presents were some things the two children had mentioned once a very long time ago and were quite surprised that satoru had hand picked these gifts himself without asking you for help. you knew that he noticed every little detail about the people in his life but it made you wonder if he got you a gift after you said not to. you wouldn’t be mad if he didn’t get you one and vice versa.

“i got you that one.” you spoke, trying to contain your excitement as megumi picked up your gift, wrapped in some candy cane paper. you watched as he unwrapped it, revealing a digital camera and you hear tsumiki exclaim, excited for her gift now.

“a camera?”

you sat up, moving away from satoru as you leaned forward, “i know there aren’t that many pictures of you guys around the house so i got you that so we could start printing some out and putting them up.” 

megumi couldn’t hold in his gratitude any longer bringing you in for a hug, “thank you y/n.” he said, and you hugged him back, kissing him on the cheek. satoru was going to make a comment about how he also wanted a hug after all the gifts he gave but it was a special moment shared between the two of you and he was not going to ruin the moment.

as megumi was setting up his camera with satoru’s help, you turned to tsumiki and watched as she unwrapped her own gift, she looked up from the box to you with shock all over her face, “y/n…” she whispered, voice cracking, “i can’t take this.” she said, handing you back the box.

“hey.. it's okay,” you reassured, lightly pushing the box back in her direction, “it’s a gift tsumiki.” 

you watched her pull out the necklace, the stunning small heart shaped engraved with her initial on it but that wasn’t all you got her. after observing the necklace and helping her put it on, she opened a box that contained a letter, telling her of how much you adored her with special keepsakes from some memories you shared throughout the year. you have never seen her so happy and when she hugged you, you catch the stare that satoru is giving you– absolutely entranced by how much you loved them. a simple flash takes you off guard as megumi takes his first picture on the camera.

“how about you guys get your coats, i have something to give y/n.” satoru stated and they ran off with excitement in their bones at his plan. he had filled them in but they weren't convinced he could pull it off.

“talk about a successful night.” you chuckled, picking up the wrapping paper and throwing it in the bag that satoru was holding. 

“get changed.” he spoke, taking the bag from you and now it’s your turn to be surprised again.

“what? where are we going?”

after getting changed, suspicion arising from his sudden ask of getting changed. you walk out of your room seeing everyone in their coats, scarves, and you watch as the children begin to walk out first leaving the two of you alone. 

“what are you up to satoru?” you questioned, furrowing your brows. 

“since you thought you could cheat your way around buying me a gift,” he replied honestly, which took you off guard, “i thought it was only fair if i got you some things as well.” there was a small box in his hand, and you took it from his hand. you held your breath as you unwrapped the paper to see a box tied with a ribbon. you opened the box, revealing nothing but a sheet of paper.

you definitely weren’t the ungrateful type but you were expecting something else like maybe a ring, a necklace or something else but as you examined the paper you looked up at him with your mouth wide open. it was a receipt of something you had been eyeing for a couple months but nothing you could excuse spending money on. you had been an avid lover since you were young and it was always your dream to have one of these.

“satoru.” you said, honestly starstruck at his gift.

“you have been eyeing that for so long,” he reasoned with a simple nudge of the shoulder, "merry christmas."

“i can’t accept this.” you shook your head, giving it back to him but you know it is relentless to deny his gifts especially after you pulled your little secret gift on him the other day.

satoru gave you a stare and pursed his lip, “you are keeping it. end of discussion.” he smiled as he started to wrap a scarf around you. satoru had always looked good in winter clothing, a scarf tucked around his neck and due to his infinity, he was never cold but still dressed to the occasion with his designer brands. he was so handsome…

“and since you’re not saying anything i'm assuming you don't like it?” he taunted. you told your brain to make a coherent sentence or at least move so you don’t make a fool of yourself just looking at the gift. you stared up at him, you used your free hand to push the scarf down from the bottom half of your face, "you know i thought you weren't going to get me anything?"

satoru had never stopped at any words faster than he had those, "what?" he answered with a shaky voice.

you scoffed holding his hand in yours, looking anywhere but into his eyes, "i thought you might do a whole 'i'm your gift' thing," you admitted, a little ashamed you had such little faith in him, "i guess you do love me."

"y/n..." he uttered, "if i have ever made you doubt i love you then i have failed as your boyfriend," he spoke and you could feel your whole body warm at his words. "you are everything to me even if you and megumi are in cahoots and pray on my downfall." he said and you shoved him. he winced lightly at the push and smiled as he pulled you close to him once more, eyes moving down to your lips then back up to your eyes.

“that was really sweet of you.” you uttered, looking up at him.

“sweet enough for a kiss?”

“unless you make it snow, i’m not kissing you.” 

“i think i deserve just one…” he teased as he leaned closer to you.

a hand suddenly grabbed yours, tsumiki's gloved one, and once again stealing that moment between you and satoru, "y/n! didn't you hear me?" she gasped as you saw the wet snow on her coat go from crystal into a wet drop.

"what happened? is megumi okay? are you okay?" you asked, hand brushing over her face as if to check for any injuries.

"it's snowing!" she exclaimed as she made her way back out.

you looked over at satoru baffled but you could just see him smile at you mischievously and you run out and to your surprise, the snow is pouring down from the sky and you now know that your christmas wish has been satisfied. looking up at the sky, you put your hand out as the snow falls into your hand and you chuckle even though you are freezing your ass off.

the children began throwing snowballs at each other and one hits you at the back of the head and you turn to see all three of them standing there staring at you. they all point at gojo before you decide to pick up some snow for yourself throwing it at him back, thankful his infinity was still down.

you truly appreciate satoru doing his best to make you happy because it was all you ever wanted. he got a snowball in the face before falling down on the floor, and all of you chuckled at him landing on his back as he began to sit up, snow covering his whole back side and all in his hair.

you knelt in the snow and began to make the snowman you've always wanted to during christmas with the help of the two and when you're done you notice him standing at the front porch just staring as tsumiki started doing snow angels and megumi's two wolf shikigami joining him in the snow. you don't know when he let them out but you just smiled as you approached satoru, "what are you doing here?"

"just admiring you," he complimented and you shake your head, "did i do okay?"

you stare at him in bewilderment before moving to press a kiss to his cheek, "you did well satoru. more than that if possible."

he smiled cheekily and you move your hand to drag him back into the snow, "come on..." you hummed as you tried to pull him away from the front porch but he refused to move and you stare at him with a tilt of the head, "what's wrong?"

"you said you would kiss me if i made it snow.” he recalled, hand on his chin as he tried to refresh your memory.

“how the hell did you manage to make it snow?” you snickered but he didn’t look like he was joking. you don’t know how he managed, he would never say but you shook your head, “sorry babe, i don’t think you can control the weather… it is quite unpredictable.” you shrugged, giving him a fake guilty look.

“it’s a christmas miracle!” he yelped with his smile that you know and have grown to adore so much and you follow his gaze to the mistletoe above your head, "you know the rules." he seethed trying to seem nonchalant.

"you're an idiot," you laughed before holding his face in your hands, tiptoeing a bit before pressing your lips to his. you pulled away and brushed his lips with your thumb a little, "i love you satoru, always."

he could only pull you back in for another kiss, smiling as he did so as the kids exclaimed in disgust and horror at the sight. "i love you y/n. here's to many more years with you." he whispered when he pulled away. it was a christmas you will never forget and one that tsumiki and megumi will also never forget, dramatically reminding you that they were traumatised from your little kiss.

tags! @stsgluver @sukxma (thank you for hosting the event)

i hope you love this lynne, i apologise it's not my best work and i'm sorry it took so long. i love you, i hope you're doing well

[servingrobin]

oooo what about yandere zoro who’s with someone who can actually match his freak ☝🏽

oooo what about yandere zoro who’s with someone who can actually match his freak

Omg yes!!! Zoro is one my faves for Yandere because he is generally so stoic and cool, this is brilliant

WARNING DARK THEMES!!!

Warnings: smut, dark themes, threats of violence, mutual obsessiveness, sword/knife play, creampie/breeding kink, bondage, dub-con

✨ requests are open ✨

- Zoro was wary at first, the way you pulled on his heart and dick was strange and made him extremely uncomfortable

- But as time went on he grew obsessed: the way you fought, the way you dressed, your mannerisms, your body, everything drew him in

- And he just had to have you. But there was a beast inside Zoro he’d never known before - not only did he have to have you, he could be the only one, no one else should so much as look at your perfection

- You responded extremely well to his advances, agreeing to his date ideas, making great conversation, letting Zoro take you to bed after a few weeks, it was perfect

- Until that damned cook started flirting with you. Nami was away for the weekend shopping so all of his attentions shifted to you and Robin, and Zoro was ready to violently kill the man

- But for the sake of his crew and Luffy he decided to ensure you’d stay with him instead

- You woke up in the night with your wrists above your head, spreadeagled on your bed. A quick glance showed thick black ropes tying you down, knotted in extremely proficient bows

- Zoro sat at the foot of the bed, his three swords splayed out at his hip. He ran soft hands up and down your legs and hummed softly when he saw you were awake.

- “Zoro? Baby what’s going on?”

- “I can’t stand the way he looks at you Princess, I need you to understand you’re mine. No one else’s. They can never have you. “

- He grew more heated as he spoke and with the speed of a bullet unsheathed two of his swords, bringing them to rest gently against your neck in a cross

- You gasped as the cool metal grazed your skin, deadly afraid but a weird fire building in your belly. You were completely vulnerable in this state (and naked to boot), but you adored it

- You looked up at your boyfriend with wide eyes and he glared back down at you.

- With one hand holding a blade strict to your throat, the other lowered and got to work removing his trousers enough for his hard cock to spring free, bouncing against his abdomen.

- You tried to squeeze your thighs together and Zoro noticed immediately, smirking as he lowered himself to nestle his mouth against the shell of your ear

- “You. Are. Mine. You understand?” He whispered threateningly, “Of course you do, you’re dripping for me already.”

- Zoro was delighted by the way your body reacted to him, enjoying that he would not have to hurt you (not that he had actually planned to - he didn’t think anyway)

- You whimpered and bucked your hips upwards, desperate for friction

- Zoro groaned and lined up to your entrance, head poking at your folds but not entering

- “Tell me what you want Y/N - tell the truth who do you belong to?”

- You moan out and try not to jostle against the smooth metal still pressed against your neck

- “You Zoro, you own me, need you so bad, want you to fuck me Zoro, all yours.”

- The words came out in pants, eyes glazing over as the heat in your belly bubbled and quaked at the pressure of the man above you

- Zoro chuffed out a breath and sank into you to the hilt, stretching your walls impossibly wide

- You winced at the discomfort from the lack of preparation, but the pain only enhanced the pulsing heat inside you

- Zoro thrust into you roughly, throwing his swords to the side in order to grip you tighter

- His hands around your hips, dragging you into his cock with each thrust towards you

- He set a bruising pace bouncing you up and down, you barely holding on for the ride. You could feel your wrists burning from the friction of the rope and tried to hold tight, knowing they’d be ringed blue in the morning

- Zoro fucked you for what felt like hours, smacking and your tits and ass as he rammed into you

- You babbled ceaselessly, moans of “yours” and “please” and “so good”

- Zoro joined in your chanting, chasing his release

- “Such a good little slut for me, taking my cock so well Y/N, a perfect whore for your boyfriend and no one else.”

- He grunted as he got faster and faster, rhythm becoming sloppy as Zoro chased his high

- You clenched around him, shouting out as you squirted a storm up both yours and his stomach, juices flowing across the bedsheets

- Your eyes were perfectly glazed over and tears formed in the creases, picture perfect to Zoro above you

- “That’s it baby girl cry for me, so dumb on my cock you can’t even think. Don’t worry you don’t need to think anymore, just take this cock like a good girl. “

- He grew extremely close to his release and held the grip of his sword to your mouth, indicating what he wanted you to do

- You took the hilt between your teeth like you’d seen him do so many times, and sobbed as you came again, wetness now a puddle beneath you

- Zoro let out a grunt and started spurting his seed, bottoming out with great ramming jolts of his hips

- “That’s it Princess, milk my cock, take it all. Making you a momma would keep you here forever huh? Taking my seed so well you obviously want it.”

- You are numb at this point and can only nod, feeling Zoro’s cum squish around his cock and down your thighs

- With a sigh he slips out of you and lazily undoes the ropes keeping you spread

- You shiver and curl into his side, sword forgotten next to you

- Zoro kisses your forehead and hums you to sleep softly, holding you tight in his arms

- You took that better than he thought you would, and he didn’t even have to threaten any limb removal, which he counted as a big plus

[seasidefallenangel]

“what was your family like?”

the question causes dazai to freeze in his tracks, in the middle of grabbing a bag of chips from your cabinet. you’d never once asked something like this, anything about his past life at all. he was immensely grateful for the fact you’d let him reveal parts of himself over time at his own pace, leading to the comfortable spot in your current relationship. 

until this moment, that is.

with a nervous laugh, he calls back out to you, “why are you asking, hm? do you plan to offer them a dowry in exchange for my hand in marriage?”

deflecting an undesirable situation was a specialty of his in most cases - those of which generally didn’t involve you. unfortunately for him, you had become rather proficient in the vernacular and signs of dazai-ese, and can easily tell what he’s trying to do. even so, nothing about your tone nor body language indicated anything forceful ; rather, it was similar to as if you had questioned him about dinner plans or that one faulty fire hydrant near your house.

“obviously not, dumbass,” you snorted, scrolling on your phone for a bit before finishing the thought, “i was just curious. neither of us ever talk about it.” those words struck yet another horrible truth in dazai’s mind - that despite how much he desired as such, he did not know every last detail about you, every thought that ran through your head, every movement you would make before your body reacted. he was well aware he had never heard about your family from your own mouth, but the reason as to why hadn’t necessarily crossed his mind until this moment. and well, if he were to ask you the same but refuse to answer the question you originally asked, he’d seem a bit too hypocritical.

he finds his way back into the living room where you lay on the couch. you pay him no mind as he sits across from you, gazing at your figure and the simplicity of what you two have shared. it was almost too natural - the progression of acquaintances to friends to whatever exactly was going on now. the word “boyfriend” had never spilled from your mouth in reference to him, but what else would you call someone that you essentially live and share a bed with every night for months on end? that you get a good morning kiss from when you wake up and give a goodnight kiss to before drifting off? were all the outings you had classified as dates, or just two very close friends hanging out constantly?

dazai disliked not having answers, but he hated the idea of asking you for them even more.

as he watches you relax on the couch, dazai comes to the conclusion that he probably hated you as a whole in some alternate life ; even in this one, had you been unlucky enough to know him 5 years prior. you were so polarizing in the sense that you accepted everything as it came, never tried to fight the reality that had been thrust upon you. whereas dazai had struggled to understand his own humanity, or lack-there-of, you embraced it and never bothered to deny what was truly in front of you. to say he was jealous of you sounded a bit childish in his eyes, but there was certainly something about you he wanted to take and give to himself.

“i’m all ears, my love. tell me about the people who graced me with such an angel as yourself!” he responds in hopes that you’ll give in and let him avoid revealing the painstaking truth once more.

you quirk up an eyebrow with a sardonic smile and shake your head, resting back on the arm of the couch. “i’ll tell you once you tell me, deal?”

… dazai supposes he’ll have to live in ignorance about your family for the time being.

[phntmeii]

♡ Dating Jaime Lannister Headcanons:

❝ He kept saying… burn them all. ❝

[SFW + No Gendered Terms]

General Warnings: Angst with comfort, Trauma, Mentions of Incest, Mentions of torture, Mentions of sex

A/N: Sadly this got taken down before so this is a redone version :( This isn’t an identical list to the previous one but hopefully more detailed!!

Redemption Era:

> Jaime has been through hell and back. The disillusionment of everything he ever pushed away setting in and he doesn’t feel worthy anymore.

> He could masquerade his regrets with his ego for so long. Failing innocent after innocent, he could hold himself in high regard for the one thing people shames him for most: Being a Kingslayer, as he knew it was for a good reason.

> But being so long away from his family for months on end, being a captive prisoner who was constantly berated and abused, and being mutilated, he’s become a shell of himself.

> Being with him in these moments is an uphill battle because he simultaneously craves being loved but pushes you away constantly.

> He doesn’t know how to be loved outside of how Cersei treated him. After all, he was infatuated with his sister but it was a constant toxic push-and-pull relationship.

> Jaime is more closed-off, more stoic and perhaps a more temperamental even. He would hesitate to even entertain the idea of intimacy with anyone.

> Then those feelings start to build and he’s confused. He’s not an idiot nor blind—he knows when someone is objectively attractive but he’s never acted on intimate feelings because he was loyal to Cersei. But now he’s treated with disgust for his lacking hand and you’re still there.

> Jaime would simply stare for a while at you. Trying to figure out why you. Why couldn’t his eyes keep away from you?

> He would imagine what it would feel like to be with you behind closed doors. To hold you and touch you when everything and everyone was shut out besides you two. But who wants a one-handed man?

> You would have to be the one to initiate. He’d hesitate and flinch away at the close contact at first before giving in and softly meeting your lips.

> He's incredibly gentle with you. It's as though he worries he could break you with the slightest touch.

> "It is not that I wish to be away from you. But I feel as though... I do not understand how to love the right way anymore."

> Jaime is slow to open up, if ever within the first few months and it's understandable as to why. Even in this state, he has more faith in you than anyone else.

> Jaime's main Love Languages are: Acts of Service and Quality Time.

> Jaime wants to feel useful even with his missing arm. If he can do something for you even without it, he considers it “proving his worth”. :(

> This can be any sort of thing that he can be of assistance in so long as it helps you out in some way.

> Jaime would be more than happy if you asked him for help in something. He's dropping everything he's doing for you immediately.

> This would also include in the bedroom. Highly doubt Cersei wouldn’t have taught Jaime what felt good for women or not so he’s quite proficient in pleasing you. It’s one of those moments where he can brag.

> “Still good with this hand, love, don’t you worry.”

> While he can be busy or taken up by his duties, that is why quality time is so important to him. He wants specific, well-thought out, dedicated time just for the two of you.

> Often times, it may be a lunch or dinner of sorts. It's time just for the two of you to talk with no interruptions.

> He's also a fan of the lingering moments after bedding, wrapped in each other's arms. There's something about the warmth of each other's bodies in the after-bliss that just melts him.

> Jaime’s favorite Love Languages to receive are: Physical Touch and Words of Affirmation.

> Unfortunately, due to Cersei’s treatment of Jaime through their own relationship, Jaime values himself through sexuality.

> He feels something is wrong if sex is not on the table at each interaction you two have. It takes a while for this to be unraveled.

> Touching him in an intimate and romantic manner: holding his cheek, brushing through his hair with your fingers, kissing his scars, etc. has him confused.

> He stares for a while blankly and can feel himself for once feel something he hasn’t in a long while: fear. Such affections were unknown to him in the way you did them. They weren’t for favors, manipulations, or to be used for selfish gratifications. They were for him to know he’s loved.

> Jaime can honestly cry at this. Just going limp in his posing rather than having his shoulders back and head high and planting his head into your chest or on your shoulder and silently crying.

> Another thing is reminders on how loved he is. He’s more uncertain of himself. He is still a Lannister, don’t get me wrong. He keeps an ego and level of confidence to him. But he’s not sure as to if he’s doing well by you.

> A compliment on his sword skills while he’s sparring has him returning to that cocky grin he always used to have while brushing it off as nothing. Inside, he feels warmth in his chest that he’s still good at that with his left hand.

> Admiring his body even with his missing hand is initially met with disbelief and disregard. No one looks at a one-handed man and says anything good. Slowly over time with you though, and it puts a warm smile on his face.

⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune

[tokyogruel]

Tell me more about the idea that muu is lying and not actually rich please. Ive only ever seen one other person consider that before but they never elaborated + changed their mind post INMF so im really curious. Like what do you think supports it?

im so sorry this took me a few days, work tends to drain me a lot more than id like haha

but i would be more than happy to elaborate!

unfortunately a few of my claims are based off of evidence/supportive pieces that are in a discord server i no longer have access to, so please forgive me

to start off, it was pointed out to me at one point that muu goes to a more expensive private school, though there are grants and scholarships that allow those without the proper funding to attend these schools regardless of their financial status (i.e. haruhi in ouran high school host club). i believe muu is a very intelligent young girl who is capable of earning one of these scholarships easily

muu also has a recurring theme of "foreigner in a place that is new and scary to her" her being a blonde-haired light-eyed half-french, lesbian GNC-girl in a private school filled with dark-haired dark-eyed japanese straight feminine girls. muu is the kind of person who likely feels totally outcast by her peers.

as well, taking a peek at this conversation in after pain:

with a very rough translation (i am not proficient in japanese, but this is the gist of the conversation)

it should be noted that muu's friends "A-" and "Sayu" appear to be talking about muu as if she is not present in the conversation, and their tone is almost mocking. muu retorts by claiming she has plenty more, and that her lipstick (which they are likely making fun of her for it being a cheap brand, though im not sure about this detail) is just an extra she had on hand. she gets defensive, and is likely lying to protect her "rich girl who has everything" image.

i would also like to point out that muu seems to have gotten nothing in return for her lipstick- and was likely lending it to her friend with no expectation. muu acts like she isnt a giving person, but genuinely seems to be thoughtful and generous towards those she cares about. this can also be seen with muu giving haruka "hand-me-down" hair clips. its a small gesture, but haruka wears and appreciates them- they keep his uncut hair out of his eyes, and its a small piece of her that he can wear. its a thoughtful gift

and secondly... doesnt anybody else think that its weird that weve seen NOTHING about her home life? with other prisoners, we see at least two aspects of their lives, if not more. haruka with his house v. the forest. yuno in the car, on the stairs, in the brothel-room, on dates. fuuta in the tunnel, the arcade, on the basketball court. shidou in his house, hospital, greenhouse. mahiru in the forest, her house, several pictures of her on outings in TIHTBILWY. kazui in his house and the bar, on the altar. amane in her house, on the street, though MAGIC primarily takes place in her "inner world". mikoto in his home and train station. kotoko in the warehouse, a bar, on the streets etc.

muu's videos take place entirely in her school. even her inner-world with the bright white walls and floors, where herself and her peers are bugs- its still her mental depiction of school. her home life is totally void in her videos. why? sure, it may not be important to her murder- but maybe, its more important than what we see in after pain and inmf

did you know that most bullies use bullying as a way to cope with lack of control in their lives? that bullies most often face harrassment at home, and that school is their only escape from abuse? those who bully their peers often mirror their own parents' actions towards them. school is likely the only place where muu has any sense of control in her life. yes, its bad that she bullied her peers, but she is a child who has no proper outlet for the pain that she faces

(i also believe that her hourglass imagery lends to a cycle of violence- that muu was likely bullied, became the bully, and lost her status only to get bullied once more)

but im going on a tangent

unfortunately at this point i am running out of steam and good examples to lend to why i believe muu is poor (please, if anyone else has any evidence to back this up, please do add on to this post! i love to hear the community's thoughts!)

but for one last, small point. let's take a look at muu's lunch. a simple bento

this bento is very small (a side note: i am also of the opinion that muu struggles with an ED) and it consists of a few simple ingredients.

a leaf of lettuce, cherry tomatoes, rice, a small amount of sauce, a single hot dog cut in the shape of an octopus, and what appears to be a hunk of protein, like chicken

well, thats not a lot of food. certainly nothing high-quality or expensive. lets take a look at some school lunches in japan. lets search up "学校 べんと" "gakkou bento" "school bento" and look at the images

muu's lunch certainly doesnt look all that filling. it most certainly does not look bougie and expensive

edit: i would also like to note that she parallels shidou as a partner prisoner. both feature the concept of lying and upholding a good image of oneself

[remidyal]

What is Fig Doing? - Mechanical Discussion edition

So! I know a lot of people who watch D20 are relatively new to DnD, or may not have much experience with the game itself at all, and as a lover of exploring weird and mechanically ineffective multiclasses I thought I might dive in in advance of whatever the hell Emily's about to do to Fig's character sheet following episode 7. Spoiler alert: Weird it may end up being, but this is absolutely NOT going to be anything like an ineffective multiclass.

First, here's Fig's character splash screen as of episode 7:

In addition to the information shown here, we know that she's currently subclassed into a Hexblade patron and into being a Lore bard. The Lore bard part is less important, but Hexblade is an incredibly common subclass for multiclassers into warlocks and might actually be the most common multiclass subclass in the entire game for reasons we'll get into.

There is a very small elephant in the room: Multiclassing into or out of Barbarian would, by the rules as written, require 13 strength; multiclassing into or out of Paladin requires 13 strength and 13 charisma. The charisma Fig has in spades, but she's short on strength, and in fact I would actually argue that Fig's overall stats are the worst of the entire party - she has a whole lot of 0s or +1s, where most everyone else either has multiple +3s or higher or has almost all +2s past their primary. However, the multiclass requirements have been consistently ignored in Dimension 20 as a whole and have been ignored in Fantasy High in particular in the case of Gorgug going into Artificer back when he was at 8 int; I think it's safe to say that if Fig/Emily wants to add Paladin and/or Barbarian that either they'll move around stats to allow for it or just ignore the requirement, because that strength stat is, in fact, completely irrelevent to this build.

So let's get to the meat of this: There is almost no combination of bard, paladin, and warlock that Fig could end up with that is not going to be an incredibly effective build, as long as she has pact of the Hexblade and is at at least two levels of Paladin for access to Smite (the first level of paladin gets her almost nothing). There are some that are going to be better than others, but mostly it's going to reflect different strengths and focuses, and the reason for this is this little section of the Hexblade level 1 abilities:

The influence of your patron also allows you to mystically channel your will through a particular weapon. Whenever you finish a long rest, you can touch one weapon that you are proficient with and that lacks the two-handed property. When you attack with that weapon, you can use your Charisma modifier, instead of Strength or Dexterity, for the attack and damage rolls. This benefit lasts until you finish a long rest. If you later gain the Pact of the Blade feature, this benefit extends to every pact weapon you conjure with that feature, no matter the weapon’s type.

Fig is a one-trick pony, statwise. Being a hexblade allows everything she would want to do in combat across all of these classes to use that trick. She'll have dials she can tweak across the three classes, and they're going to impact just what she can do, but if she's really decided to leave being a Bard behind it wouldn't surprise me to see her ditch Bard levels for Paladin and Warlock ones over the course of the season.

For those dials, one key thing to consider is the spell slots she'll have, which are WEIRD to calculate for any warlock multiclass with another caster. For every other caster class in the game, there is a pool of spell slots that go up as you level any of them that refresh on long rests. Warlocks, however, have a seperate pool from any of those, so her warlock spell slots are seperate and refresh on short rests. If she stays at level 2 in warlock, this pool will be two slots of first level. If she levels in warlock, the level of these spell slots go up but the number of them doesn't (unless she somehow were to end up at level 11, when warlocks finally get a third slot.)

The paladin and bard combo is a little simpler to look at - she's going to have spell slots from the table that a primary caster would have at the level equal to her bard level plus half her paladin level. Just as an example, let's say she by the next combat were to drop two bard levels for two paladin ones and she were to end up 7 bard/2 paladin/2 warlock. She would end up with the two warlock first level spell slots that refresh on short rests, and 7 + .5*2 = level 8 from the primary caster spell slot table. (4 1sts, 3 2nds and 3rds, 2 4ths). A very deep pool for using Divine Smites - a full paladin wouldn't be able to match this until level 16, and that's not even counting the warlock first level spells!

Key level breakpoints that might be worth looking at: At level 5 of Paladin, she would have multiple attacks; at level 6 Paladin gets one of the best abilities in the entire game, an aura where she and allies within 10 feet get her charisma mod as a bonus to ALL saving throws. In Fig's case this is an absolutely incredible +5 - at their level, this is a bigger boost than being proficient is! If she really wants to guard her president, this would allow even Kristen to have a +2 on dex saves! I'm not certain I could overstate how good this ability is in general; with a +5 it's completely insane.

She can also get multiple attacks through either Bard or Warlock, but neither is automatic. For Warlock, she would have to choose to take Pact of the Blade at level 3 (warlocks have, somewhat confusingly, two more-or-less subclasses, and Hexblade and Pact of the Blade are in fact different things) and Brennan has been HEAVILY hinting at wanting her to take Pact of the Chain so that Baby can be a class feature instead. She'd then have to get to level 5 in warlock and take the Thirsting Blade eldritch invocation, which are sort of little bonus powers warlocks get. I think this is the least likely path to multiple attacks but it is there. (Mechanically, while it's all still fine, I also think leveling warlock would be the worst of the three in a three-class build.)

Bard CAN get multiple attacks at level 6 but Fig would need to change subclasses to either Swords (which is what Fabian is) or Valor (which is, frankly, a worse version of what Fabian is, though it's still fine.)

Getting multiple attacks is a really big deal - Paladins can smite multiple times per round, and given being able to lay on mid to low level spell slots for ages Fig would likely want to.

I have no idea what Oath Fig would pick for a paladin if she gets to level 3, but honestly the level 3 subclass features for Paladin are mostly not that big a deal; she'd need to get to level 7 for the subclass aura for it to really matter all that much.

You'll notice I haven't been talking much about Barbarian above. If Fig dips into Barbarian mechanically at all, it's almost certainly just for one level given how spread thin she might be. This is a level she won't get any spell slots for, but she will get two rages per day, which will add 2 to damage rolls if Brennan allows it (technically it wouldn't apply normally because it does specify only to rolls made for attacks using strength) but much more importantly will halve quite a lot of incoming damage - bludgeoning, slashing, and piercing damage, more or less all of the physical attacks in the game.

Barbarian is a massively bad combination with caster classes in general because you can't concentrate on spells or cast them while raging; there's been a lot of in-character noise made about Gorgug's multiclass being unique and a bad fit together for exactly this reason. The exception to this, as Porter demonstrated to Fig in their last scene together, is that Smiting things is burning through spell slots but is NOT casting and you CAN do it while raging.

So, if by the end of the season, we see some wild 6 Paladin/5 Bard/2 Warlock/1 Barbarian build, know that it's going to be an absolute menace. And if Fig and Gorgug keep trending the directions they are, where she's adding heavy hitter abilities and he's shedding Barbarian levels for Artificer ones, don't be surprised if on the last boss she's the one up on their face and he's casting spells next to Adaine or casting the key Revivify.

[a-person-whos-alive]

Why TotK fails Zelda

Heads up, this is a long post. Ive cut this down like a motherfucker but it still reads very long. My thoughts are divided into four main categories;

1. Her relationship with her magic & tech

2. Her relationship with Hyrule

3. Her relationship with Link

4. Her relationship with the player

Also, these are my opinions, I'm certain there are people with far better analysis skills than me! I am just in love with this franchise and a little disappointed with the recent game. Zelda as a character holds a special place in my heart and its sad that her character was done dirty like this.

Theres a TLDR at the end and before I forget, SPOILERS!!!

1. Her relationship with her magic & tech

Zelda is not someone who magic came easily to, and I think BotW & AoC did a great job exploring that. They contrasted her natural interest with the sheikah technology and her lack of power and it was 😘👌

How did TotK do? With the Zonai tech being the main selling point, how would Zelda, a scholar at heart, interact with it? To my memory, the only interaction she has is to put Mineru's soul into a piece of Sheikah tech and hand it to a construct.

Well what about magic? Finding out she has light AND time powers was at first a great throwback to OoT with the Sage of Time. The fact that her Time magic awakened immediately unlike the Light magic in the last game was a nice contrast. But then, she immediately has a similar dilemma, she can't USE her magic to propel herself forward because she doesnt know how. Unlike BotW though, she has the "mother" she was lacking to teach her. This was a decent set-up. It was different enough to be its own thing but still was familiar enough. This is up to memory 4 - Mineru's Council

The issue the NEXT MEMORY, memory 5 - Gerudo Assualt shows her being even more proficient than Sonia. We don't see her train, or struggle, or even ask a question about how the stone works. She just does. It's not until memory 8 do we see her get any guidance about her powers? And even then we don't see her attempt recall at all. In the next memory she simply uses it perfectly and effortlessly.

The purpose of her strengthening Time Magic was to get back home. Yet, she gets back home by swallowing a sacred stone, that she already had the ability to do at any point. She turns into the LIGHT dragon, using her LIGHT magic to strengthen the Master Sword. Her whole arc about her magic was pointless because in the end she used the powers from the previous game for everything important.

2. Her relationship with Hyrule

Positives first! Its clear that Zelda loves her people, and during the 7? year gap she obviously took the time to connect with them and problem solve. Penn's quest really demonstrates this, and so does the Hateno school quest. (Even if the children don't believe in the Calamity). I found it very endearing that the people had such faith in her, that even with Ganondorf causing havoc with her face, people refused to believe it. The Great Fairies MUST have seen wrong because it was dark, Dorephan MUST have been mistaken, the Stable Trotters MUST have seen someone else - Zelda wouldn't do that.

I additionally liked that Zelda wasn't immediately trying to set up a monarchy again. In fact, she seemed to be doing the opposite. She wasn't living in Central Hyrule, at Looking Landing, she was living in Hateno. She was a teacher, and on some level a researcher (even if the Don Dons were scrapped ideas from the first trailer).

But the second she goes to the past, she is put back in her box. Her interests in tech are non-existant, she does not interact with anyone who isn't royalty, the King doesn't listen to her about Ganondorf and tells her to not to worry - after all she's just supposed to wear that white dress and hope her magic works soon. She's regressed back to before the Calamity, waiting for something terrible she knows is coming and is powerless to stop.

Crucially, she doesn't speak to Ganondorf once.

This is by far the most egregious waste of their characters in my opinion, and I've just deleted a 3 paragraph Ganondorf discussion - another time. But come on! This is legitimately the PERFECT scenario for Zelda to find about about WHY people opposed her royal family, WHY everyone she's ever loved died in Calamity caused by this guy, WHY she's had to go through all this. But no, if they did talk, it wasn't on screen.

Ive seen in translations of parts of one of the interviews with a developer saying she was able to see what a ruler should be like by going to the past, but until a see an official source I'm going to hope that's not true

3. Her relationship with Link

"Link is still entrusted with the role of protecting Princess Zelda." - Hidemaro Fujibayashi https://www.npr.org/2023/09/13/1199307678/zelda-tears-of-the-kingdom-dlc-video-game. Maybe I'll write a post about Link sometime, but I'm focusing on just him and Zelda.

Whether you ship the two or not, the pair would obviously have a unique bond from both fighting the Calamity and losing the Champions/everyone. So, how did the pair cope with the destruction of everything the love? How did Zelda come to terms with the ruins of Castle Town, the harsh reality of all those who were dead? Zelda doesn't have Link's amnesia to temporarily soften the inital blow.

TotK explores none of this.

Similarly, there is a level of formality on how Zelda speaks of Link. When she tells Rauru of Link she starts, "He is a royal knight. He had been originally appointed for my protection, but later he became a hero by saving both me and Hyrule from a great evil". Not "he and I became close" or even "he became my friend". Zelda is talking to the two people closest to her right now,

All their interactions are the bare minimum.

Link has ALWAYS been a self insert for the player, but he's still a character, and more recently Nintendo has been acting like having emotions means a player can't project onto them. Zelda is Link's closest person, and when she returns he is piece of cardboard, at least help her up!

4. Her relationship with the player

First, as everyone who played BotW will know, many things were removed or changed in TotK to allow it to be standalone for new players. Sheikah tech was removed, important characters forgot Link, the majority of the last game was rarely if ever mentioned. Kass

However TotK does not properly establish Link and Zelda for new fans AND doesnt not elaborate for old fans. They interact twice until the end - the intro and memory 1. All of her characterisation is in that little history moment, the rest of it is 50% sacred power lore and 50% time power lore. Additionlly, anyone who is new to the game has no context for her light powers.

Actually, TotK literally retcons her light magic to be from Rauru and not Hylia. Which was the WHOLE POINT of BotW so great sequelling there guys.

TLDR: The Conclusion

Wow, you made it this far. Or you skipped to end, I would too. My main gripes with Zelda:

> She doesn't interact with Zonai Tech.

> Her arc is about learning time power to go home, only for her to not use said magic and instead use the light magic from the last game to fix the sword and be a light dragon.

> Having her worries about Ganondorf shot down by the King and not holding her ground/ insisting (did you learn nothing from Rhoam??)

> never interacting with Ganondorf him being in Hyrule as a diplomat

> nintendos approach to her and link, they dont once touch while both conscious. Not even a handshake or pat on the shoulder. See images above with prev. Zelda and Link.

> the instance on making it not complicated for accessibility to new players, but also not fleshing it out enough to be compelling on its own.

[bunglestraydogs]

Nobody but Oda and Atsushi really care for Dazai.

Before ANYONE starts coming after me viciously and saying that obviously it's not just them that care for Dazai, I know. I'm not saying nobody else cares. I'm just saying that these two cared the most and are genuinely worried for him. Well, were. RIP Oda. <3

Let me explain why.

We all are very much aware of the jumpscare we got in BSD Wan, right? Where we thought it was all cute and happy, and BAM we get fucking shot in the chest by Dazai's "When I go, I hope to go out just as beautifully."

HELLO? This was not okay. Usually, when we hear Dazai talking about suicide (save for Fifteen and The Dark Era) he's pretty whimsical about it, not ever really serious. Yet, here, we see just how serious he is. Atsushi does think he's half-joking at first, before he looks towards Dazai and just sees this dead, dull look in his eyes whilst he smiles at the sky. Atsushi is rattled by this, and genuinely distressed. Fuck me, I sobbed when I first watched this scene, I was not expecting the wholeass 180. Anyways, we see how upset Atsushi is by this statement. "Please don't say stuff like that, even as a joke." We still get zero reaction from Dazai. Nothing. Here, we see him without his usual comic relief mask, but he's still guarding himself.

Let me get into why I think.

Dazai has not had anyone genuinely care about him at any point in his life (excluding before he was 14, fuck knows what happened there) so far. Mori, who was essentially a really twisted and fucked up father figure, didn't care about his wellbeing much, except for the fact that he stopped him committing suicide multiple times for the first year that he knew him. Not out of the kindness of his heart, but due to the fact that Dazai was still a necessary pawn in Mori's plans, and he couldn't let him die yet. It literally says so in the Fifteen LN.

Chuuya cares about him to some extent. When Dazai gets wounded (and it's not inflicted by Chuuya) he gets worried and concerned. Prime example being during their fight with Lovecraft, when Dazai gets fucking slapped against a tree. Chuuya punches Lovecraft with a "heavy fist" and then immediately runs over to Dazai, making sure he's okay. When Dazai eventually looks up, Chuuya becomes shaken at how bad his wound is. Then, the next time that Dazai gets slapped again, Chuuya is very very shaken, as Dazai starts spouting off about how he's going to die, and his final words. Chuuya is clearly rattled, and is trying to get him to shut up, asking him what the hell he means. Then, obviously, Dazai is messing, and Chuuya grows anger. Despite Chuuya's hatred for Dazai, he is clearly concerned where his partner's wellbeing is involved. The first time they meet, Chuuya is once again shaken by Dazai when he says to "kill him now then", and is taken aback. Through the years, however, Chuuya becomes desensitised to Dazai's suicidal antics, and he even teases him when they reunite, asking him if he still wants to kill himself, then grows disappointed when Dazai outright admits to it.

Kunikida is of course concerned about his partner, but is also exasperated and annoyed by him. When Dazai goes missing, he even jabs at the fact that he could of actually succeeded in killing himself this time (he mentions that he's probably floating in a river somewhere). As he does mention, though, "That man's ability to avoid death approaches nightmare proficiency." Then Ranpo, "Not even the Port Mafia would be able to get the better of him." And Kenji, "Even after all those suicide attempts, he's still as lively as ever." This is obviously fucking true, all of it. He sees through everything and each step of his is carefully planned and atriculated. However, as Atsushi says, "Still, aren't you worried?" He knows this, and he understands what they're saying, but he is taken aback by their lack of care. Then, Tanizaki steps in, saying that he'll help look for him. King. Atsushi is happy about this clearly. Atsushi really cares for him already, and he doesn't understand why everyone else is so calm about this situation. It's because they all know that he'll get himself out of there in one piece, as he is able to avoid these types of things expertly and deftly. However, Atsushi still is worried for Dazai. Kunikida has been Dazai's partner for two years now, and so he knows all of his antics and tricks, much like Chuuya. Chuuya, however, knows him better and more in depth. Because the ADA Dazai isn't really him. Of course, it is him, but with his darker side hidden a lot more. I don't think he's ever revealed it to any of the members except for Kunikida during his entrance exam. The rest all think of him as some goofball who's good at what he does and has a passion for suicide and women. However, Chuuya knows him as a twisted, unwell guy with a passion for suicide and all things dark, with a but of a wacky side to him. These two parallells still have one thing in common, however, and that's obviously suicide. Anyways, sorry, I was getting out of hand. Kunikida clearly cares for Dazai and his wellbeing, but again, is also infuriated by him and his attempts at suicide, which nobody takes seriously.

Mori. Fuck, man. This guy? Real piece of shit. Sees Dazai as an asset in his plan, nothing more, nothing less. He values him as a Port Mafia member, not a human being. The dehumanising nature of Mori greatly impacts Dazai and his quest for death; Mori exacerbates this multiple times. Yes, he stops him continuously from killing himself, but once again, only because he needs him as a piece in his game plan. He was the sole witness to his promotion as the boss of the Port Mafia, he can't have him go die on him now. So, he keeps a close watch on Dazai, surveillance constant. He controls and manipulates the shit out of him, using his craving for death as a means to get him to do what he wants, bargaining a drug for a comfortable way out in exchange for him doing missions for him, to which Dazai expects, wanting him to make him that drug. Mori saved him at 14, yet Dazai continues to attempt suicide countless times in just that one year. Mori does not care for his wellbeing, mentally or physically. He drives him out of the mafia with Oda's death, yet still expects him to want to come back as an executive. Despite claiming that he didn't drive Dazai out of the mafia, he indirectly did so. Now, I don't know if he sent Oda into this with the expectation that Dazai was going to leave, but I think he did but also don't think he did? I think he did this as a means to get Dazai more under his control and manipulate him, because he knew how close they were and he knew exactly what strings to pull to get Dazai to snap. Except, I don't think he predicted Dazai actually leaving the Port Mafia, because he couldn't of predicted what Oda would say to Dazai, and he couldn't of predicted how deep their bond was.

This brings me to my main and next point; Oda was the only one who ever cared for Dazai. Ango of course did, but not to the extent of Oda. I don't know if many people have read it, but if you haven't, spoilers for 'The Time I Picked Up Dazai' under the cut.

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

In the book, we see just how much Oda begins to really care about Dazai, despite him initially being some shady kid that turned up half dead on his doorstep. He ties him up to his bed just so that he won't try and escape and kill himself, as he exclaims to Oda. Oda goes through so many measures to make sure Dazai doesn't kill himself. Three times. Three fucking times. The first time being Dazai crawling to the door to try and get out so that he can get out of Oda's way and die in peace. The second time, he literally fights Oda because he's trying to stab himself. Then, two seconds later, tries to kill himself with the kettle. Oda has to physically stop him. Oda has to fucking strangle him unconcious to get him to stop. Despite meeting him only three days prior, he cares about his wellbeing. Part of the reason is obviously that he doesn't want a dead kid on his hands, but the other part is that he's growing to care for Dazai. All throughout this little book, we see little glimpses of Oda's genuine concern for Dazai. Obviously at first, he was debating just leaving him on the doorstep, because it wasn't really his issue. Yet, he still drags Dazai back to the bed and ties him up when he tries crawling out the house. In the Dark Era, we see him (in the alley scene) tell Dazai to stop talking after he almost gets shot, because he knows that he's just chatting shit. However, in the book (holy shit, it made me cry when I read it) this happens instead;

The way he described Dazai at the end of this scene kind of broke me. "That of a child about to burst into tears." Now, I don't know whether he meant that Dazai was so happy to finally just, you know, die, or that Dazai was just a troubled child. Both, I think. Odasaku sees Dazai as a child, just a child, and the fact that he wants to die so bad and has such a warped perception of the world genuinely hurts Odasaku. He doesn't want to see Dazai like that; it upsets him. He's genuinely angry at what Dazai did, much like how a father would be angry. He can't stand when Dazai's like this because it breaks his heart. Despite Ango scolding him for letting Dazai speak like that, as he will just start going more off the rails, Oda does tell Dazai not to be like that, and is concerned when he is and when he's serious about it, as opposed to him being whimsical about it in the bar. Ango and Odasaku are like father/brother figures to Dazai, they're fond of him and care about him deeply. Which is why it hurts Dazai so much when it starts falling apart. Bungou Stray Dogs fucking breaks me, because in the scene (I haven't finished The Dark Era LN yet, I'm sorry-) in the anime where Dazai is talking about how everything he loves or wants always leaves in the end whenever he obtains them. And so, when Odasaku died, despite how much Dazai prepared for the things he loves to be lost, he couldn't prepare for it at all. And when he finally loses it, he's lost the final stable thing in his life. His attempt at wanting to live had left. His friendship with Oda and Ango was stained with Ango's betrayal. His life in the Port Mafia became dull and depressing. His attempt at trying to live failed. And his best friend died in his fucking arms.

Then Atushi comes in, and reminds him of all he's lost, yet also all he wants to save and achieve. He raises Atushi, because that's what Oda would have wanted. He raises him because it's the right thing to do, and he wants to be there for him. But he doesn't expect Atsushi to begin to actually hold a deep fondness of him. Dazai, as we all know, cannot handle compliments or being cared for, because it's something so rare and foreign to him. So, even though it's supposed to be funny and nice, BSD Wan really hits fucking hard with this one. He doesn't realise that anyone actually cares for him; evil expects evil from others, as he said. Dazai is constantly on guard, cautious and reserved and shielded. He doesn't want to be hurt again. And so, when Atsushi says shit like this, it catches him off guard, but he can't let that show. He can't let anyone see him vulnerable, because everybody has an ulterior motive. He's going to be used for something.

Sound familiar?

SIGMA.

I know, jumpscare, right?

Bet you weren't expecting me to fucking jump to him.

But, I think that's why Dazai actually cares for Sigma in the little time he's come to know him. "I see. So that's how it is." He says after we see Sigma's internal monologue. Not going to lie, I think Dazai sees a bit of himself in Sigma and is trying to save him from that, and show him that not everyone tries to use him, and that he's safe with him and the ADA, which fucking works when Fyodor tries to manipulate him and Sigma pulls out a fucking UNO reverse card on him, and stands his ground, because he won't be used anymore. Dazai has never been able to confront Mori properly about anything, and so if he can let someone else feel what he wishes he could, then that would make him happy. Plus, Sigma's technically an orphan lol.

Another thing of importance to note is

Okay sorry I've been sat here for about five minutes trying to remember and I can't FUCK.

Anyways, the care from Atsushi that Dazai gets is foreign to him. He doesn't know how to respond, so he just doesn't respond at all. Because it hurts too much, and reminds him of Oda.

I THINK I REMEMBERED BUT I DON'T KNOW IF THIS WAS IT.

Anyways, despite it being what I thought of or not, it's a key point to make. When Atsushi's orphanage Director passes away, and he doesn't know how to feel, it's Dazai there to help him through it as he faces the loss of a "loved" one. He doesn't know how to feel about the Director's death. He was someone who raised him, someone who was always there. Except, the Director was a sick, twisted and cruel man, despite him only trying to prepare Atsushi from the worst and save him from what he went through himself and what Atsushi's parents did to him. Clearly not the correct way to raise a kid. However, Dazai tells him "When someone's father dies, they tend to cry." Dazai; emotionless, inhuman and uncaring. This is how Chuuya sees him in his Port Mafia days. This is how everyone saw him; someone to be feared for his lack of humanity and twisted way of dealing with things, his warped perceptions of the universe. Yet, when Odasaku dies, it's the only time we see Dazai crying, and it's the most upset or nervous or emotional we've seen him; the guy's a fucking wreck. This just broke me when he said that, not just because poor fucking Atsushi, but also because Oda was a father figure to Dazai. The only time we have seen him cry was of course Oda. And when he says that to Atsushi, my heart breaks. Literally crumbles. This series is actually god awful, I hate it.

In conclusion, Dazai obviously doesn't respond well to compliments or worries about his wellbeing, and Atsushi reminds him too much of Oda. Everything Atsushi is and does; Atsushi, who he's took under his wing as an orphan. Atsushi, who doesn't see the value or meaning in killing people. Atsushi, who asked Aku to be a mafia member who doesn't kill. Atsushi, who took in Kyouka, despite her flaws, and Dazai had to be there to explain that no matter what, she could be in the ADA, despite her kills, despite being an assassin, despite being in the PM. This shit hits hard for him, and I hate it so much.

Anyways, sorry for this long ass rant but it just kills me how nobody actually thinks to look deeper into Dazai's suicidal tendencies, as he's clearly not okay. Atsushi and Oda are the only one's who have ever thought to pursue it, and actively stop him from thinking like that.

I hope you're all having a lovely day/night! <3

[climbthemountain2020]

Your Eyes Whisper Have We Met - Chapter 11

Part 11/18 | Ao3

Thanks as always to my babies @witch-and-her-witcher and @cauldronblssd

Feyre was lost in thought looking at a tapestry in a shop’s front window, the vibrant colors blending and melting together like paint rather than woven strands. She wondered how it would feel under her fingers, how the threads might move or shift beneath her touch. It depicted a night sky amongst tall columns of clouds, the moon and stars nestled in between and an ethereal glow lining the edges. It was filled with deep navy and purple tones, but it also had the bright highlights of periwinkle and lavender. It was a masterpiece, and she couldn’t help but think of Rhys, as she had been for days.

Feyre’s thoughts had been a jumbled mess since her discovery more than a week ago. Rhys–her Rhys–was the illustrious, nefarious High Lord of the Night Court. It was almost laughable to think about–more so that she’d missed so many signs. She’d spent the last months scared of this male she only knew of through stories while pining for her strong, soft, sweet Rhys. She’d saved the Lord of Nightmares’ book for last because of the lack of chance she thought she’d had to encounter him. And yet, there he’d been, those violet eyes so poorly captured in the magical book, lacking their mischief and joy and love. The galaxies shone in his eyes when she’d stood face to face with him, and no book, magical or not, could ever hold a candle to that.

“I can see you outside, somewhere beneath the stars with a clear view of the sky,” he’d said to her the night they met. Cad. She nearly laughed now at the ridiculousness of it all.

She’d tried over the course of the last few days to remember what she knew for certain, having unfolded and refolded those pieces of paper with everything she knew about him until the creases became worn and fragile.

Rhys was beneath the mountain and had been for the better part of fifty years.

Rhys had somehow snuck into the human lands and attended her family’s masquerade ball, meeting her and changing the course of both of their lives.

Rhys’s presence that night had a domino effect, causing her to get to know Vincent, then meet Vilja, then Lucien and Tamlin and Calla.

She had somehow repeatedly met Rhys in her dreams since then and fallen in love with him there. If she’d been uncertain before, the last week had convinced her. How else could she have reconciled him with the terrifying Lord of Night and not run screaming?

She’d looked at that picture more times now than she could count, and yet, she could not find it anywhere within herself to feel any ounce of fear towards him, to what he was. Other than the fact that she knew the truth now, she’d shocked herself to find that absolutely nothing had changed. She would still do everything in her power to get Calla to break the curse. And if she couldn’t, Feyre knew she would be going Under the Mountain, every bit of her heart and soul ready to free him, even if he was the High Lord of Nightmares.

“-eyre!” She jumped. Calla was waving a hand in front of her face, and Feyre looked down to where her fingers were absently stroking the glass of the store that held the tapestry.

“You’ve been so lost in your head lately. What is going on?” Calla hadn’t been around quite as much since Calanmai, but Feyre couldn’t find it in her to be upset. It meant she was spending more time with Tamlin, and every single day counted. Feyre spent most of her time now with Lucien, the training becoming nearly second nature. She was still not as proficient as she’d like to be, either with her strength or with her magic, but she reminded herself often that the improvements she was making were all steps towards her final goal.

He had asked her the previous week if she’d ever tried winnowing, and they’d practiced to disastrously frustrating results. She couldn’t summon even the smallest bit of her magic towards it, making her more and more irritated and finally culminating in Lucien insisting that they stop for the day.

She’d tried twice since and still nothing.

“Sorry, I’m just tired.” It was her go-to excuse these days. She wasn’t ready to tell any of them what she’d learned–she wasn’t sure she ever would be. If she loved Rhys, if it was meant to be, and the people she considered her family hated him, where would that leave her?

“You’ve been tired a lot lately. Is everything alright?” She nodded, faking a smile to Calla and stepping back from the window.

Today, Calla and Feyre had wandered into the nearest town, only about a twenty minute walk away from the manor. Feyre had badly needed a distraction to keep her mind from wandering in circles, and Calla had offered to join. It was a beautiful town, thriving and busy, and Feyre had filled a bag with fresh treats and apples from the market, as well as some small tins of paint and canvas.

Feyre forced a laugh. “Lucien must be losing his edge in training. I’ll need to rib him about it.” Calla looked unconvinced, but nodded anyway.

“You ready to head back?”

Feyre nodded, tucking her bag into the crook of her arm and turning from the store. Feyre was ready to get home. Another nightfall meant another chance to see him. She hadn’t managed to dream of him–or otherwise–since Calanmai. Truly, she didn’t want to dream of him anymore, or whatever was happening. She wanted to be back in his arms for good. She wanted to feel him the way she had before, his skin against her skin, heartbeat to heartbeat. She longed for it in a way she’d never longed for anything in her life–a bone-deep need that ached through her every time she thought about it.

Lucien had noticed her distance too, noting it not just in their training but her general demeanor. She had tried to distract where she could, shifting the conversation to Tamlin and Calla, which usually seemed to be enough. Their new and tentative physical relationship was a big difference in the day-to-day happenings of the manor. Of course, barbs were still being thrown, but there were also covert touches being passed back and forth that neither Feyre nor Lucien failed to note. It was hard not to be giddy about the possibility unfolding before their very eyes, but Feyre stringently tamped it down, refusing to get her hopes up too high.

After the second night of Calanmai celebrations, Lucien and Feyre hadn’t said a word when Calla had joined them for drinks on the back porch, and they had elbowed each other and giggled like school children when neither Calla nor Tamlin showed up the following night, congratulating each other on their scheming successes.

Calla, of course, refused to talk about it, but Feyre found it endearing that she would blush any time it was brought up.

And she did bring it up as often as she could. “So…have you guys, you know…” She turned to Calla and wiggled her eyebrows while Calla turned ten shades of scarlet, filling the time while they walked back to the manor.

“Feyre.”

“What? Inquiring minds want to know.”

“You mean you and Lucien want to know. Busybodies.” She stuck her tongue out at Feyre, who laughed.

“This is what friends do–talk about things.”

“Oh, is it? Or are you just nosey?”

“Why can't both of these things be true?”

Calla shoved her playfully, but relented. “Okay, yes, maybe we have…been physical–”

In the distance, the thundering of hooves startled them out of the conversation.

Cresting over the hill coming from the direction of the manor were Lucien and Tamlin on horseback, clouds of dust flaring furiously up from the road in their wake as they galloped near violently towards the women. Even from this distance, Feyre could tell something was very, very wrong.

As they neared, Feyre could see they weren’t slowing down. She turned quickly to Calla.

“Hold your arms out and get ready to jump.” Calla looked panicked, but followed her directions, and the two males were suddenly upon them, sweeping them onto horseback without even breaking stride.

“What happened?” Feyre yelled over the sound as she gripped Lucien, the two horses making a wide turn to race back in the direction of the manor.

“There's been an incident. We had to make sure you were safe,” Tamlin yelled across the space between them.

“What incident?” Calla pried, her eyes squinted from the harsh speed of the air hitting her face.

But Tamlin stayed silent while all manner of things whizzed through Feyre’s mind, her heart racing as she began to panic.

What had happened? What had Tamlin seen that he didn’t want them to know?

Suddenly, she found herself seeing the same road but from somewhere else–someone else’s eyes. Then she was pulled violently backwards into a different place, the dining room. It was different, though, as though she was viewing it all from the head of the table, from Tamlin’s seat. She could feel emotions that were not her own: possession, anger, fear.

She could see Lucien in his seat, back as stiff as a rail as he looked towards the doors. Her chair and Calla’s were empty, but the males were wearing the same outfits that they currently had on. She was seeing the lunch they'd missed while in town.

She had unintentionally slipped into Tamlin’s mind.

Her eyes–Tamlin’s eyes–focused, and saw a figure parading into the manor of Spring where they ate every day.

It was Rhys. He was there, the same beautiful male her heart beat for, just as he’d appeared that first night at the ball. He was dressed in his fancier clothes–he’d been much more casual in their dream visits. His hair was lovely, pushed back off his face, the lights from above illuminating his cheekbones and feral smile.The air about him was different, cocky, toying as he paced around the table like a predator cornering prey. It wasn’t in the teasing, coaxing way that he’d done it that night at the masquerade, though. This was a dangerous fae male in front of her here, and Tamlin’s anxiety and anger at his presence had Feyre feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

She couldn’t hear the words he spoke in the memory, muffled like they were being spoken underwater, but she could feel the wavering emotions in Tamlin, see the clench of Lucien’s jaw and angry retorts as Rhys baited them, his smirk getting rise after rise out of them.

But then Rhys suddenly stopped prowling, his entire body language changing, seizing up and freezing like he’d been forcibly stopped by something. He gripped the back of the chair in front of him–Feyre's chair, empty since she and Calla had been in town, and all the sound came through at once.

“Who sits here?” His voice was calm, but the undercurrent held a promise of violence, the words spoken through a suddenly clenched jaw.

Tamlin and Lucien had remained silent.

“Who sits here?” His fingers tightened, cracking the polished hardwood that made up the back of the chair. “I can smell her. Now tell me, who sits here?” He smiled, but there was no mirth in it, only a threat.

“A human girl. She was here, but she’s gone.” The words came out of Feyre, but it was Tamlin’s voice she heard.

“Gone?”

His face was the picture of cool nonchalance, regality rippling off him in waves. But Feyre could see his eyes were wild, that normal calm and polished demeanor gone in favor of something near-crazed.

“She was a human girl. We brought her here for the treaty, but she was miserable. She could never have loved me. So, I sent her home.” Tamlin’s voice was powerful too, and Feyre’s mind shook with the command in it.

Rhys snarled, shoving forward and seething as he got into Tamlin’s face.

“Where. Is. She?” He punctuated each word with the gnashing of teeth. Feyre knew she should be afraid, knew that someone with his sort of power could rip straight through her and that her instincts should be screaming at her to run. But the red hot sensation curling in her lower belly at the thought that all this stemmed from him scenting her wasn’t born of fear.

Suddenly, she was ripped from Tamlin’s mind, the memory spiraling away into nothing. They were stopped in the yard, Calla and Lucien already dismounting the horses, but Tamlin was staring straight at her, his expression as shocked and bewildered as she felt.

Lucien pulled Feyre down from the horse by the waist, already trying to push her back towards the manor. Tamlin broke his intense stare to tell Calla to go with them while he resurrected the wards. Feyre could see it now, if she focused, the bright strings absolutely in shambles near the forest edge.

He'd come in right there. He'd been here. And she'd missed him.

Something sour and crestfallen twisted in her chest. She was barely able to walk as she stumbled up the steps.

“What is going on?” Calla demanded while stomping her foot like a child. Lucien tried to keep ushering them in, but Feyre had stopped to watch Tamlin reweave the wards.

“Someone was here, and we need to get you somewhere safe. Keep going.”

But Feyre remained on the manor’s steps, listening to Lucien and a protesting Calla disappear into the house.

She could smell him. She could smell him here in the breeze, the scent lingering. She felt like her heart was breaking.

She'd spent all this time keeping him from here. But he'd finally come; he’d found her anyway. And he'd missed her, and now all she wanted to do was cry.

She lost track of Tamlin, jolting when his hand touched her shoulder, eyes both wary and full of concern. She wondered what it was he saw on her face. He knew now, at least about her daemati powers. He’d felt her there, and there was no use denying it.

“What did you tell him?”

“That we’d had a human girl here that we’d sent away. I gave the name of a girl that Calla had spoken about from her village. Clare Beddor. It seemed to be enough to get him to leave.”

Feyre nodded. “Will he return?” The hope in her voice felt badly disguised.

“I don't know.”

She thought of the memory, the way that Rhys had seemed so different, so intentionally frightening. She still couldn't find it in herself to be afraid. It was as easy as breathing to see that mask he wore, as obviously as the one from the night of the ball.

Was this what Vilja had been trying to tell her about things not being as they appeared? Had she assumed Feyre would see him, see the role he had to play and find him lacking? Too twisted and wrong for her?

The lack of faith punched the air from her lungs, and the longing and sadness and heartache swam roughly within her. She knew his heart, the steady beating of it as familiar as her own, it seemed. She could see him, all of him, and she found it still didn't perturb her at all. In fact, all she could think about now was how much she ached to see him here in Spring, standing in front of her and not at all a dream. She didn’t care about how mad he’d be, consequences be damned.

“Come, Feyre. Let's get inside.”

Lucien and Calla were arguing when they entered, Feyre feeling like an outsider in her own body as she dragged herself through the doors and into the foyer.

“Calla, go to your room and pack.” Tamlin’s voice was soft, but the command in it was clear.

“Pack? But I'm not leaving–”

“Go.”

“No, I–”

“GO,” he bellowed, startling Feyre out of her daze. “I will not risk you. You'll leave tomorrow. I'll come to discuss with you in a bit.”

Calla went to object again, but Feyre's haunted eyes met hers and the words seemed to die in Calla’s throat. She turned on her heel and made her way up the stairs to her room.

The smell of Rhys was stronger here in the foyer, the citrus scent burning her eyes with unshed tears.

He was here. And she’d missed him.

She couldn’t make herself think of anything else. She felt a single tear drip down her face, hot as it carved its way to her neck. What was wrong with her? This had been what she'd fought for

Lucien put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Feyre. We will keep you safe.” He’d misunderstood her tears, thinking she was scared of the intruder they’d had, not that her heart was breaking in two at the thought of him coming and going without her.

But Tamlin stood across the foyer, emerald eyes focused through his mask on Feyre and Feyre alone.

She took a deep breath. No more lies.

“It’s time we talk.”

She made for the back porch, to the seats she’d come to know so well, the place of comfort with those she cared for the most.

“Please don't hate me.” She sighed as they all sat. “Actually, you probably should hate me. I’ll understand if you do. Just agree to hear me out first.” They looked at her skeptically, but Tamlin spoke first.

“You have powers.”

“Yes.”

“More than fire?” Lucien added.

“Yes.”

“Which ones?”

Feyre swallowed hard. “All of them?” Lucien looked lost, but Tamlin seemed skeptical more than anything, his brow furrowed over his eyes as they looked at the arm band she wore and never took off. He’d given it to her because he cared about her; he wanted her to be able to protect herself. She could almost see him wondering if she’d done it to make a fool of him.

“What are you?” he asked.

“Human.”

“You're not half fae?” Lucien seemed genuinely surprised.

“I'm not. I'm a human girl, and I made a bargain.” She lifted her sleeve and let the glamour drop, the three stars shining darkly against her freckled skin. Lucien and Tamlin exchanged a look. “I think it's best I start from the beginning.”

So she did. She told them about the ball, the dreams, about Vincent. The ache in her heart when she thought about the months away from him was palpable, and she hoped he was doing well.

She told them about how she'd wandered into the woods at his prompting, finding the fae female she now knew was Vilja, to which Tamlin’s eyes shot to hers.

“She's okay?”

“Oh yes, gave me quite a run for my money, in fact.”

He laughed a little wetly, looking away. “She'll do that.”

“But she's fine, Tamlin. Very cozy in her cabin of lovely trinkets, and well protected in the woods, and very pushy. She made a deal with me that she would give me the powers of the High Lords, allow me to cross into Prythian, and to help. She told me that I had a part to play in helping stop her, and that if I could get my fae male to love me, openly and without pretense, then I could become immortal and stay forever.”

The silence seemed to stretch for ages, even though Lucien had already gotten an inkling of the story. She’d wondered how much he’d shared with Tamlin.

“So, it isn't your father you seek then?” Tamlin asked, piecing his information together.

“No, it is not.”

“But your betrothed is ...trapped there?” So Lucien hadn't told him about their conversation. She had a brief flare of gratitude to him for keeping her secrets.

“He is.”

“And you are going to help with everything, in hopes of what?”

She went to speak, but in anticipation of the coming words, her throat twisted–the hold on all of them prevented her yet again from speaking plainly. Feyre grunted as she rolled her eyes. “I am so sick of this. Yes. I am here to help. I'm still not sure if the intent was that I was simply to lead Calla to love Tamlin, or if there's something more to it. Vilja couldn't tell me much either, and Vincent didn't know more specifics. As soon as I passed into Spring, I lost the ability to discuss it, too.”

Both males sat in stunned silence, Lucien leaning back in his chair and running his fingers through his hair.

“Does Calla know?” Feyre shook her head.

“Have you been in our heads?” Lucien asked, his voice more wary than it had been.

“I slipped into Calla’s once accidentally, then Tamlin’s today. Another accident. I've been teaching myself how to control the powers, but some of them I clearly still don't have a good hold on. I'm so sorry I lied to you both.”

Tamlins eyed her. “Why did you?”

“Vilja warned me to play my role. And I was scared. Then I grew to care for you both, and for the first time in my life I felt like I had a real home somewhere.”

Lucien's eyes softened at that. “The friendship wasn't a lie then?” The question was so abruptly vulnerable that it stole Feyre’s breath away.

“No! Gods, no. It's what kept me from telling you for so long. I understand if you don't want me here, but please know I felt it was the only way. I never intended to hurt either of you.”

They exchanged another glance with each other, then Lucien spoke.

“Truly, we only kept you here so willingly at first because we thought you'd be good bait if we ever caught a human woman with the treaty.” She caught a glint of mischief in Lucien's eye, the relief hitting her so squarely that she thought she might sob. “And then we realized we didn’t mind having you around.”

“So you aren't mad?” She was scared to hope. Could she tell them everything and still keep them in her life? They seemed okay with things so far. Would that change when she told them exactly who her intended was?

“We can move past it,” Lucien readily supplied with a smile, but Tamlin held her gaze.

“There's something else, isn't there?” He’d seen the way she reacted in his mind about Rhys. Seen how she’d cried on the steps. There was no way he didn't know, and there was no more time for secrets anyway.

“Yes.” Her voice was a whisper.

“What is it?”

“I didn't realize until recently, until I was reading the books on the courts. I knew his name but I didn't….”

Tamlin’s eyes found hers, and it was like he knew before she even opened her mouth. “No.”

“No, what?” Lucien looked between them, clearly having missed something.

“The ring around your neck. I thought I'd seen it before…” Tamlin spoke, his eyes faraway. Lucien, clearly having never noticed it, peered at her chest while she scoffed.

“Hey, eyes up–”

“It's Rhysand, isn't it? He lost his mind here because he could smell you.” Feyre nodded, feeling as though she’d possibly just wrecked the only family she’d ever truly chosen for herself.

“He isn't what you think he is,” she supplied before he could say anything else, trying to minimize the blow of the information she’d just dropped on them.

“My family is dead because of him, Feyre.”

“And his because of you, right?” There was no bite to her words, no venom, and she spoke then softly, but she may as well have punched Tamlin in the face for the way he looked at her. Hurt, then betrayal, then rage crossed his face in the flash of a second. She tried to explain, but Tamlin was already shifting with an inhuman roar, the great beast unleashing and tearing off across the steps of the manor and to the woods.

Feyre and Lucien let the silence sit between them for a few minutes.

“If what you say is true then he's a convincing actor.” Lucien didn’t bother hiding the distaste in his voice, refusing to even look at Feyre as he spoke.

Her emotions were warring. The need to defend Rhys was roaring within her, a writhing, unfamiliar thing that felt like she’d swallowed a beast. But the ache of Lucien treating her so coldly when she’d come to care for him so much easily tempered the edges off her fury. She knew she deserved this for keeping the truth from them, but it hurt.

“What if he has to be? You're the only ones not….there…right? If he's been there for fifty years? Can you imagine what he's had to sacrifice?” Lucien looked at her incredulously.

“Do you know anything about him?” He stood up to walk back inside, clearly angry and frustrated and done with the conversation.

She thought about it. Did she? The amount of time they'd actually spent together was laughably small. Perhaps she didn't know him as well as she'd thought. Gods, what if she'd made a mistake?

But that feeling inside her, that glowing well where her magic rested within her chest seemed to vibrate even at the suggestion. Her very instincts roared in offense that she'd even suggest such a thing.

No. She did know Rhys. She couldn’t explain it, but she was sure she knew him better, arguably, than anyone else. Somehow, she saw the parts of him that he did not allow others. She felt it when their magic tugged and pulled and wanted to play together. She was his, but he was hers, too.

“Just consider, Lucien, that maybe you don't know the real him.” Lucien scoffed, dismissing her, and that beast within roared again. She leashed it with all the willpower that she had. He didn’t look back at her, his focus squarely on the house in front of him.

“They call him her whore, you know.” It was the cruelest and coldest she’d ever heard his voice. A barb meant to harm.

All the blood in Feyre's veins slammed to a halt, the air whooshing from her lungs.

She couldn’t stop her breathless “What?” and Lucien laughed mirthlessly.

“They call him her whore. When he is in her court, he is warming her bed. He's doing her bidding.”

No sounds came from Feyre. There were no words for Lucien on her tongue. He kept his back turned to her, only turning his head slightly to look coldly back at her.

“I just thought you should know that.”

The words tore through her, and she remembered the pain and aching on Rhys’s face. The bone deep exhaustion was so clear and obvious to her, and the heartbreak she felt at knowing what he endured there was enough to bring a sharp burn of tears back to her eyes. Not for herself, for this new information, but for Rhys. For the pain and suffering he had been through–was still going through.

In my current home, I am unable to make any propositions, and it would kill me to make you a promise I couldn’t fulfill. You deserve more than that. More than me.

She remembered the way he’d said the words that night, the way he’d openly dropped that mask of cocky confidence for the first time. She remembered how shocked he’d seemed when she offered to wait, not just for marriage, but for him.

She was certain that if he was prostrating himself to that evil woman that there was a reason–something that he was sacrificing for. Had anyone ever sacrificed for him?

“He isn't some demon, Lucien. He could have taken me if he was. He'd never hurt me.” Lucien did not respond. “Consider that he might need saving just as much as everyone else.” Her words were soft, no bite left in them past what she hoped was the appeal of her honest belief.

Lucien didn't speak or turn, he simply walked back inside and closed the door behind him.

+++

Feyre sat curled in the deck chair for what felt like hours, watching the sun sink and the colors change in the sky. When the stars began to come to life, she saw Tamlin appear on the forest edge, walking back to the house in his human form. He looked ruffled, haggard, his clothes torn and his hair windswept and full of brambles. He didn't stop to sit with her, and she didn't ask him to, but as he passed she spoke.

“I'm sorry.” She didn’t look at him, keeping her eyes trained on the distant horizon, the words not being ones that had ever come easily to her. She hated admitting she was wrong. She’d usually fight tooth and nail to place blame elsewhere at every opportunity, but she knew she’d been the one in the wrong here. She’d lied, hidden the truth from her friends, and they both had absolutely every right to be furious with her. They would be well within reason to tell her to leave.

He stopped next to her, a deep sigh wringing out of his lungs.

“I don't know what to tell you, Feyre.” His voice was hoarse, and she winced wondering if it was from roaring his dissent towards the skies.

“Lucien told me plenty.” She couldn’t keep the hurt from her voice, even if she deserved it.

She’d been sitting here for hours trying not to dwell on what manner of horrors Rhys had experienced in the last fifty years, why he'd looked so emotional when she’d told him she would wait. He likely thought he’d never be free–likely knew the promise he made to her would never come to fruition. She’d die a human before he ever saw freedom again. She rubbed her eyes.

“He is...he's not good, Feyre. You are smart and strong and stubborn and many things, but mostly you are good.”

She still didn't meet his eyes, not sure where her warring emotions would take her if she did. She knew nothing she said would erase the history between the males; nothing she could tell him would make Tamlin feel any less for him.

“He's good, too. I know he is.”

He didn't speak, but he didn't move either. She wasn't sure if he was looking for the words or deciding if he should say them. She beat him to it.

“Do you love her, Tam?” She could see his shoulders release a bit, his whole body deflating as he sank to sit on the arm of the chair next to hers.

“No,” he said finally. “I could, one day, maybe. I care for her, even when she grates against my nerves. But no.” She did look at him then, and she was struck by how incredibly sad he looked. “Heart of stone, remember?” He thunked a broad hand over his chest, a small, sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before it disappeared. They’d joked about it before, but something in his eyes felt serious this time.

“Then what would be the point?” Feyre shifted in her chair to watch him while he answered. After everything, he deserved her full attention, at least.

He closed his eyes, leaning back as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “She only has to love me. That’s the bargain. Bargain’s are tricky things–all about the wording.”

She nodded. Holding the silence for a few moments as the crickets and cicadas’ swelling song filled the air around them.

“I’m not asking you to storm her court and save him yourself. I'm not even asking you to forgive him for your past. All I am asking is you both try to remember we've all had to make choices and sacrifices. I'm only asking you to remember things aren't always what they seem. For me.” She stroked that leather band on her wrist again, wondering if they’d ever have that level of trust, of friendship, between them again, and her heart twisted.

Tamlin sighed again, but nodded, looking back out over the woods.

Feyre rose, the creaking in her too-still joints audible in her ears, and left Tamlin sitting out on the porch alone.

+++

When she got back to her room, Calla was already there sitting on the bed.

“They’re sending me home.” Feyre was exhausted, the hope actively dying in her chest like a death knell. But deep down, she knew they couldn't depend on Calla like some sort of sacrificial lamb. She was a human, another person Feyre had come to care for. If there was no chance of her breaking the curse, keeping her here risked her life. She was brash at times, but Feyre had warmed to her. She wondered, not for the first time, if this was how her own older sisters might have seen her too.

“It’s for your safety, Calla.”

“I don’t want to go back.” Feyre came and sat next to her on the bed. Calla’s face was streaked with drying tears. Feyre was looking at their last hope for salvation–the only one who could break the curse and free everyone from Amarantha. Keep them from having to bring themselves under the mountain and making Feyre find another way to use her limited powers against the female who had captured every high lord. She tried not to react, but that panic was rising in her chest again. How would she ever manage such a thing?

She felt as though she were losing hope, plummeting to her imminent death with nothing left to stop it.

Maybe it wasn’t too late. She needed Calla to love him. She needed to keep that hope alive.

“Do you love him?”

Calla’s eyes looked tired and guilty. “I don't know.”

Feyre didn’t respond right away. Her brain and emotions were warring and she felt as though she were being torn in too. Was it selfish to want that chance? Was it testing fate to push it, even when her empathy begged her to let Calla go? It truly was too much pressure to place on Calla, too much to ask, especially when Tamlin didn’t even feel the same. How could they expect all this of her?

“What is it like?” The question shocked Feyre and left her unsure of how to respond.

What was it like? As cliche as it sounded, what she had with Rhys felt like more; it had since the beginning.

“Well, it’s hard to describe. When I think of him, I am excited for the future. It doesn’t feel so open and frightening. It seems thrilling–the promise of things to come with him.” She paused, remembering that list of all she knew and loved about him. “He consumes my thoughts, but in a way that brings light to my days. I ache to know every single thing about him; I feel hopeful about spending the rest of my life doing so. Every single day, he is my first thought in the morning and my last at night. The feelings that I have for him are so overwhelming and wonderful that sometimes they don’t even feel like my own–like I can’t even keep track because everything I feel for him, I feel so deeply. It all caught me off guard.” She chuckled a bit. “I know it sounds silly–” She stopped short, turning back to Calla and finding tears rolling down her face and an awestruck look in her eyes.

She shook her head sadly, a rueful smile on her lips. “Then, no. I do not love Tamlin.”

This had not been Feyre’s aim. She had gone too far and it had produced the opposite effect.

“Calla, it’s not the same for everyone…”

“I might, one day. I could.” The same answer that Tamlin had given, and it somehow made this a million times worse. Had they found her sooner, had they had more time, it could have become more on its own. They could have broken the curse and found the love they deserved. How could they be so close, and still have fallen short? “But if they send me away I’ll never know.”

Feyre knew that If Tamlin had already made up his mind, there was no talking him into letting her stay.

“I am sorry. Calla.” Sorry for her, sorry for them, sorry for everyone who was losing this last chance before it had even begun. Calla got off the bed, wiping her tears with the back of her wrist and heading to the door.

“Goodnight, Feyre.”

“Goodnight, Calla.”

That night, Feyre laid in bed alone, thinking about everything that had been said while she tested her magic halfheartedly. She took the ring off the chain around her neck and slipped it onto her ring finger. It was much too large, the ring meant for the hand of a male. She took it in her hands and willed her magic to shift it down, small enough to fit snugly on the finger meant for a betrothal an oath. It looked right there, the stone still reflecting the night sky, but smaller and more delicate now.

What would things look like when time ran out? When the curse wasn’t broken? Would Tamlin and Lucien be summoned under the mountain? Killed? What would become of Rhys, forced to warm that nightmare's bed to keep people safe?

They were sending their singular last hope away. Should she go, too?

She couldn’t; the thought didn’t even last a moment.

She wouldn’t abandon Rhys, or Lucien or Tamlin for that matter, not after she’d come here and learned so much. She could never go back to that life she knew before; it wouldn’t be worth it.

She would stay here and go beneath the mountain with them when called, no matter what they’d say. She’d shapeshift into more fae features, find Rhys, and at least she would be with him if she were to die. They would get their time together, even if it would be miserably and unfairly cut short.

He’d be furious with her for what she’d done–for the risk she’d taken and failed at.

She crawled into bed that night feeling more miserable than she could remember, more hopeless than ever as she cradled the hand with the ring to her heart and fell into a fitful sleep.

+++

The dawn rose red as blood over the horizon the following day, the colors bleeding out into the sky like a portent of things to come. Tamlin had been called to the border again early that morning and was still gone, allowing Calla another day at the manor before they sent her home for good. The mood was dour, Calla refusing to leave her room for almost the entire day, Lucien holed up in his study, and Feyre left to her own devices to wallow about her next steps.

She skipped breakfast, still not sure she wanted to see anything, and brought the rest of the court books back to the library. She spent the whole morning there reading more about Rhys and his family until her tired eyes blurred.

Things were tense with Lucien at lunch when she finally risked her presence, but Feyre pushed the last apple tart towards him wordlessly at the end. Her heart warmed when she saw a small smirk twitch on his lips, though he still hadn’t spoken to her, and he did not join her on the porch as the afternoon sun sunk down into the trees.

When evening fell and Tamlin returned, Feyre pretended to not see Calla waiting for him at the stairs, going up with him and taking the hallway to his rooms instead of hers. The hope may be dead, but Feyre supposed there was no reason they couldn’t at least enjoy the small feelings they’d let bloom for one another before they said goodbye.

When Feyre finally slept, she woke quietly with a presence at her back. It wasn’t a harsh awareness like when they’d slammed together the last time, but a peaceful, slow awakening, his hand drawing circles down her side, pulling goosebumps from her flesh in the comfort of a dim room. She could see a massive set of windows, but they weren’t on the open mountaintop palace where she usually saw him. She could see a river in the low light outside, winding slowly through what appeared to be a city. They were surrounded by mountains whose peaks danced amongst the stars, the view breathtaking even from below. The silk sheets were smooth beneath her naked body and the comfort of the room thrummed notably in around her while his mouth found her neck and pressed a kiss to it. She couldn’t explain it, but this felt like home.

She turned to face him, his exquisite, lovely eyes taking her in. He looked ruffled by sleep, hair tousled and eyes hooded–a small smile on his face as he looked at her. She supposed there was no point pretending anymore.

“Where are you, Feyre?” His voice was rough with sleep, the deep tumble of it making her shiver.

“Rhys,” she whispered, her hands coming up to touch his face. “I know what you are, who you are, High Lord.” He pulled back as though he’d been hit with an arrow, a look of fear in his eyes and the terrifying press of his anxiety so deep and profound that Feyre could feel it in her own chest.

Feyre simply smiled, pressing a hand to his warm, bare chest. She could feel his heart hammering like a hummingbird beneath the skin.

“You do not scare me, Rhys. You never have, and you never will.”

The vulnerability and fear in his eyes was so palpable he might as well have told her himself what it was. She could see it in his eyes, she could feel it in her heart.

“Tell me you're not in Spring.” The words were soft but pleading, a last grasp at hope that he’d already all but lost.

“I'm not going to lie to you.”

He deflated, pretty eyes slipping closed as he pressed his forehead to hers.

“Why did you come here, Feyre?” He pressed a kiss to her lips and she melted into it, the warmth of him encompassing her fully.

“I came for you. I will always come for you.”

Suddenly, his eyes shot open as he pulled back, only pure, untempered fear coursing through them now.

“Run. Feyre, wake up. You have to run.”

“What?” She was taken aback by the frantic tone of his pleading; it was so unlike him.

“RUN–”

Feyre shot awake at the sound of her door being slammed out, the light flooding the room as her nightmares came to life. She could hear yelling and screaming downstairs, large crashes of things breaking and Tamlin’s loud bellow through it all.

There in the darkness, horribly and grotesquely framed by the light of the hall, was the attor.

Her eyes adjusted to the light in time to see its horrific, cruel smile, the fangs even more terrifying when they were real.

“What a delicious surprise.”

Taglist: Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed!

@cauldronblssd @buttercupcookies-blog @witch-and-her-witcher @yeonalie

[tokidokitokyo]

Language Learning Plateau

Recently I have found myself on a Japanese learning plateau and I just feel stuck. I have felt stuck for a long time, like I will never get off of this plateau. Have you ever felt stuck in your learning?

I decided that I wanted to make a real effort to escape from the plateau and to see some real improvement in my Japanese language ability. So here are my collected notes and advice on the process of overcoming the language learning plateau.

What is a Language Learning Plateau?

Your language acquisition was moving along smoothly, and then suddenly everything ground to a snail's pace. The most popular textbooks are too easy, native materials that suit your level and aren't too hard are challenging to find, and making your own study plan seems daunting.

Apparently this plateau is inevitable, because when you first start learning a language you make progress quickly with new vocabulary and grammar and writing systems, but as you learn more and acquire more skills, you naturally slow down. The language learning plateau is most common when learners reach an intermediate level of language proficiency.

The good news is, there are ways to get over this plateau. The challenge is that it will take some work on your part.

Why I have trouble finding resources

To try to overcome my learning plateau and feel like I was moving forward, I started looking for new resources. The trouble is that there are so many resources available online and in print, but the number is so vast that it feels difficult to pick one, and I worry that I will pick the Wrong One.

Reviews: Reading reviews of language learning materials can be endless, or it can be difficult to find a review of a particular book or online resource for anything other than beginner materials. There may also be a plethora of suggested materials, but you might waffle on which ones to pick.

Level: I am not entirely sure of what my level is since it is difficult to measure without an exam, but I think I have an idea of my general level (lower advanced - N3/N2). I have outgrown most early textbooks, and I often pick out JLPT workbooks because it is easier to judge their level. However, JLPT resources tend to be geared toward test taking and therefore sometimes they can be a bit limited. Non-JLPT materials are more difficult to determine the level for, so some may be too advanced and some may be a bit too low level.

Money: I don't have an unlimited budget, so I have to read reviews and try to gauge if I think the resource is worth the investment. Sometimes I purchase a resource and then I don't touch it because I don't have the time to sit down and work through it. I also download lots of apps but I often don't sit down to get used to them and figure out the best way to use them. Free materials are very useful, but I also find myself downloading too much and then I don't touch more than half of them.

Time: I am busy and don't have much time to dedicate to studying, so reviewing resources can be a huge time sink for time that I'd rather spend studying. I can spend so much time looking up resources that I don't actually pick one to use. I also don't have unlimited time to study, so while the JLPT workbooks or non-JLPT textbooks are good resources, I have to break each section into very small chunks to fit them into my schedule and it takes a long time to finish a resource.

How to overcome the Language Learning Plateau

Here are some tips on how to overcome the language learning plateau:

Set clear goals If you don't have a clear goal on what you want to work toward, your studying will be less focused and you might become frustrated with your lack of progress. Set clear goals that are based on what you want to achieve with the language to provide focus. Be realistic with your goals and your current level, and set a specific timeline for them.

Try new methods If you've been relying on textbooks thus far and are burnt out or don't find them useful, try something else. Get creative, and look to see what approach others take. Try immersion, finding a tutor, playing a game in your target language, or downloading a new app.

Focus on problem areas This aligns with setting specific goals. Where do you struggle the most with the language? At the language plateau, bad habits or mistakes become more ingrained, so it's time to correct them. Figure out where you are the weakest and find creative ways to practice those weaknesses. Reading books, finding conversation partners on HelloTalk, and writing a diary could address those weaknesses. If you aren't sure where you are struggling, review things you already know and see where you get stuck. Try a mock JLPT exam near your level and see how you score. Focus on those weak points and strengthen your knowledge. You'll also be moving ahead as you discover new words, grammar points, etc.

Learn more vocabulary Limited vocabulary is one thing that can prevent you from overcoming your language plateau. Try reading books, articles, websites, etc. or find vocabulary flashcard sets that challenge you. Building up your vocabulary will help you to communicate more clearly and concisely in your target language.

Interact with native speakers This may be difficult where you live, but you can always look online for people who want to exchange languages with you. Writing messages or talking via voice calls are both great ways to improve how you think and form sentences in your target language, and you can get feedback from native speakers to help you fix mistakes and improve. Mimicking native speakers is a great way to sound more natural, so you could also try shadowing podcasts or videos.

Don't give up! Most importantly, don't get discouraged. You've come a very long way, and the plateau is a sign that great things are ahead for you. Be confident and make time for language learning in your daily life. Your journey is what you make of it, and with confidence and practice, you can achieve your goals.

[aemondsbeloved]

Helloooo, may I request headcanons about which words or actions that would make Aemond’s heart skip a beat? 💕

Like The Fairytales

summary: Aemond has a distaste for the romance in the fairytales the ladies of the court read, knowing someone’s heart could never skip a beat. At least he thinks it is impossible, until he meets you.

notes: this might be the fluffiest thing I've ever written. enjoy!

The very first time Aemond had met you was when your family had arrived in the Red Keep for a feast the King was hosting celebrating his elder brother’s name day celebration. Then you were just a lady from some house that Viserys was obliged to invite and he had not seen you until you were at the feast that eve.

When sitting at the high table he had done his best to ignore something Aegon was saying but in one of the tables far away he had notice a shimmer in the candlelight and the movement of hair as you had sat besides your family. Aemond was usually subtle, a master in observing without needing to be observed in return, so he had no fear as he looked at you for a moment. You were talking animately and your smile was a large grin as you turned to the young boy next to you and said something to him with what seemed to be a laugh.

Then you turned your head to slightly but it still led you to looking at him and Aemond stiffed, though he knew you could not tell from the distance. You did something he found strange, you smiled at him. It was no grin but a soft, kind smile that almost seemed... gentle to Aemond, as strange as that was. The ladies in the court looked away from him or only pretended to pay attention to him because he was a prince, both of which was something he found distasteful.

You did not strike him as the latter and you surely were not the former as you had not only looked right at him but smiled. It was very strange indeed, especially when the young boy you had been talking to before had nudged you with his elbow and said something that was a jape by the looks of it. It was only then that your eyes widened and you glanced on the young boy, and Aemond thought you almost looked flustered.

He ignored the feeling your stare and smile had incited and pretended that the light feeling in his heart usually so heavy was nonexistent.

Events like feasts such as these were not something that Aemond hated in itself but more so what came with it, dancing. He was a fine dance, proficient as he was in everything else he studied but he never did dance. Over the years he had rather begun to detest dancing at feasts. As usual at these celebrations he would do what duty begged him to and nothing more — he would dance with his mother and sister, one time each, then he would retreat back to the side of the hall until it was acceptable to leave.

He never had the urge to dance with a lady not when they were never interested. His elder brother danced plenty and the ladies of the court would flock to him even if they knew his reputation to be true. A drunken craven prince was more suitable than Aemond merely because of his scar and lack of two eyes. The bitterness this knowledge had grown in him was something he found comfort in. He did not need to be the prince whose hand every lord wanted for his daughter.

And yet, this eve he had wanted to dance with you and he might have enjoyed it if his mother had told him tomorrow how your father had asked Viserys to betroth you to him.

But when people had begun to move to the space in the middle of the hall to dance as music had started, Aemond had frowned and looked down at his plate still full. He had no intention of eating. Now, he felt the fool. He did not know your name and since when did he care for ladies of the court.

Helaena had insisted Aemond dance with her and he could not deny her but as soon as she switched to another dance partner he had turned from the crowd, intent on standing on the outskirts.

“You do not dance, my prince?” a voice so sweet had asked him and he moved to face you, the very person who would not leave his mind since he saw you his evening. again, he had ignored the way you made his heart nearly flutter like one of the characters in those idiotic romantic fairytales.

If you noticed his stiffness and lack of approachability, you did not make it known, merely tilting your head in the side, your hands clasped in front of your stomach as you wore that gentle smile.

“Only on occasion,” he replied and noticed how you did not seem fearful in his company. “Most ladies prefer my brother’s company.”

“They must have spent time with a different Prince Aegon than I then,” you smiled and he thought maybe you enjoyed the surprise on his face as you grinned. “Or perhaps they are all overly fond of wine. Either way, not to my taste and a drunkard makes for a poor dance partner.”

He should have reprimanded you for your words but instead he huffed a laugh. When you looked something close to flustered at his amusement with something near fondness in your eyes, he felt lighter and though he knew it to be impossible, he could have sworn his heart skipped a beat.

Aemond thought himself brave but when he knew your family would be leaving he did not say goodbye. It would be foolish, would it not? At least this is what Aemond told himself. Later in the afternoon he had promised to have supper with his mother and Alicent had given him a letter. “Lady Y/N had her handmaiden give this to Talia who gave it to me. It seems she wished for you to write her.”

“Who?” Aemond asked before he had the sense not to. When his mother smiled softly he realize this lady was the one he had talked to yesterday eve.

“The one you talked to at the feast,” she told him what he recalled now with happiness. “You forgot her name?”

“I did not ask for it,” he replied and felt foolish. This was not the order of things. The prince was supposed to ask for the lady’s name and he was supposed to ask her to dance. He was meant to ask to write her, not the other way around. He could get nothing right it seemed.

And yet the prospect of her wanting to write him set his heart fluttering no matter how much he pushed the feeling down. His mother surely saw the smile on his lips but did not say anything more.

The first letters sent were stiffly written on Aemond’s part but you always had much to say. Despite the one conversation you had he had learned all about you in — your interests, your homeland, your favorite colors, all of it. In turn, he had told you on his. How he enjoyed spending time with his sister, his favorite things to do were riding Vhagar and finding a new history his uncle Ormund would bring from the Citadel.

It was many moons before you arrived in the Red Keep again but this time Aemond had been there to greet your family. Again, your smile had seemed to captivate him and he had barely hidden his own joy upon seeing you. Later when you had taken his arm and walked with him through the castle, all the while animatedly talking to him about everything, he had realized this was the first time he had held you near. As slight and minimal as the touch was he nearly felt lightheaded and his chest felt tight in way almost pleasant if it weren’t for the lack of control.

That night when he laid on his bed he wondered if this was love was, being weak and embracing it. Was it surrendering your heart to someone even if they would step on it? Even when he woke the next morning Aemond realized that what love was when all he could think about was seeing you.

He would ask you to stroll the gardens today, he decided. He would ask if you had affections for him and if you would agree if he asked his father to betroth you two. Aemond had not felt sure of much in his life so far, not like he was sure you would agree to this.

When he posed the question later by the rose bush you had commented you adored in one letter, you looked much like you did the first time he saw you in the hall, eyes widened and looking flustered. Only now you have an air of happiness around you as you smiled sweetly at him and told him that was all you wanted, to be his.

Perhaps it was possible for his heart to skip a beat, Aemond decided. He forgot propriety as he wrapped his arms around your waist and brought you close, kissing you on the lips with what he tried to convey as love. When you kissed him back, placing a hand on his chest and the other on his shoulder Aemond was sure you loved him too, now more than ever.

For the first time Aemond was looking forward to the feast this eve. He even wanted to go dancing.

reblogs and comments are always appreciated!! <3

[kydrogendragon]

Dec 8

(Ao3 Link)

Hob made sure that when he was remodeling The New Inn that the fireplace was updated and functioning. He’d gotten used to having the steady crackling of a fire in the evening after his six hundred years on this planet and the comfort it brought was one he wasn’t willing to part with. Morpheus sat with him in the opposite armchair in his living room above the inn. His mismatched sock covered feet were curled up underneath him, a book in his hands.

He truly was a sight. Even now, with his messy hair he hadn’t bothered to style for their lazy Saturday in and the large black jumper with a hole they’ve yet to sew shut at the bottom hem, he was beautiful. Hob supposed that even after retiring from Endlessness, if you’ve been something more-than-a-god for so long, that level of grace and beauty sticks with you, even if you’re now a human.

Hob rested his cheek on his hand, laptop abandoned, feet propped up on the coffee table in front of them. Adjusting to this new way of life had been a challenge for Morpheus. He’d known, to a degree, what he was signing up for when he “retired” but the reality of the situation was more than he expected. The entire bathroom debacle had been an interesting one. It felt like he was raising Robyn all over again in some ways. But it hadn’t taken long for Morpheus to get comfortable and proficient with his brand new body.

This was one of their first weekends where everything had gone relatively smoothly. They’d gone shopping and the lights and sounds didn’t overwhelm Morpheus like they had before. (They had picked up a pair of noise canceling headphones and brought them just in case. They didn’t need them until checkout.) Their visit to the library had gone well (as usual) and Morpheus even inquired about job opportunities there and nabbed a volunteer form on their way out.

He’d confessed to Hob a while ago that he’d felt restless. He’d gotten so used to always having something to do or think on that the quiet of his mind and the lack of purpose had been slowly eating at him. Hob insisted that he didn’t need a job or anything, he’d plenty of funds to care for them both for a long while, but it still made him happy to see Morpheus look into a position at the library. It really was a fitting place for him.

All in all, today was a good day. Now, they get to relax in front of the fireplace and simply enjoy the quiet.

Morpheus looks up from his reading, cocking a brow at Hob’s staring. Hob chuckled, shutting the top of his laptop. “Sorry,” he said, tugging on his ear. “Just good to see you this content.”

Morpheus’s brows furrowed. “Do I not normally look content?”

“No, I mean. You do, more than you used to. I just,” Hob sighs, leaning his head back against the back of the armchair. His eyes trail over Morpheus with a smile. “I’m just happy.”

Morpheus stares at him, eyes widening slightly. He reaches over to the table next to his chair, blindly, and snags the bookmark resting next to his cup of hot cocoa. His slender fingers slot the thin rectangular paper in the book, shutting it.

“You are… happy. Because I look content?”

“Yeah,” Hob says easily. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“I…” Morpheus looks down, rubbing his thumb across the well-worn cover of the novel they picked up from the library that day. “No. It is not hard to believe. Since it is you.”

Hob’s heart clenched. “Good,” he managed, clearing his throat. “That’s good. I just. I know this transition has been hard. It’s a lot. Being human is a lot. And you’ve handled it so well, through all of this. And I’m so proud of you for it. And seeing you, sitting here all curled up by the fireplace with a cup of cocoa and a good book and you’ve got that faint smile on your face and it just... It just makes me happy. That’s all.” He looks down and huffs. “Sorry, just me being a bit of a sap. What else is new?”

He fiddles with the edge of his laptop, feeling the warmth rise in his cheeks. It was harder with each day, now that Morpheus wasn’t reliant on him for every little thing and his old friend was starting to come back to his usual self, to keep a lid on his feelings. They still come out, like now, in the form of staring just a bit too long or caring a bit too much. He can’t help it, though. Not when he gets to see his best friend so relaxed and actually looking like he enjoys life for once. He just hopes that Morpheus either doesn’t pick up on it.

“Hob,” Morpheus’s voice calls out. Hob tilts his head to the side, meeting his friend’s gaze. His blue eyes were watery, something Hob could tell, even from this distance. “Thank you. For... For caring, as you have.”

Hob tugged on his earlobe, shifting in his seat. “Yeah, ‘course.” He said, lamely. He clears his throat and sets his laptop off to the side. Pushing himself off the chair, he grabs his own mug and nods to Morpheus’s. “Want some more? I’ve a bit more marking to finish up so I’ll probably be up a bit longer.”

Morpheus reaches over and hands his own cup to Hob with a small smile tugging at his lips. “I would like that very much.” Taking the two glasses, Hob retreats away from the warm glow of the fireplace and towards the kitchen. Unknown to Hob, Morpheus’s eyes follow him the entire way until he’s out of sight.

[rottenpumpkin13]

SEPHIROTH HEADCANONS

[these are my headcanons, meaning the way I view him in my head and may not follow popular fanon]

↘︎ Sephiroth is a big enjoyer of puzzles of any kind. Mahjong, sudoku, jigsaw puzzles, riddles, you name it. He doesn’t see the allure of video games but will jump at the opportunity to play a multiplayer that has him competing against someone else.

↘︎ He’s generally a calm and intorverted person in his day-to-day life, but when angered he becomes scary as hell. For lack of better words, he shows signs of the in-game callous monster he is.

↘︎ He does have a sense of humor, okay?? It’s just what most people would describe as dark and dry. His kind of humor is saying the most off-hand comments with 0 expression and making people lose their shit. He is also proficient in sarcasm but has to be annoyed beyond measure to use it.

↘︎ He can drive, however friends and people who have previously been driven around by him refuse to do it again. He drives likes he’s playing Mario Kart while maintaining a scarily calm composure. He manages to do this while still abiding by the traffic laws.

↘︎ Sephiroth maintains a healthy diet and prefers not to stray from his strict regimen. Having said that, he will never turn down: a) Angeal’s cooking, b) pasta, c)sweets. 

↘︎ Due to his sheltered childhood, Sephiroth was never allowed to indulge himself in sweets and other junkfood like the other kids. So when he’s old enough to control his own diet, he includes moments of utter gluttony where he inhales candy like a madman. 

↘︎ “Sephiroth why don’t you cut your hair?” With his JENOVA cells? If he cut it shoulder-length one morning, it’d be down to his waist again by the following afternoon. After many attempts at keeping it at a reasonable size during his youth, he gave up. 

↘︎ Now he simply keeps it long because he thinks it looks cool. Vanity spares no one. He also has a habit of sitting on his hair accidentally. 

↘︎ He’s notoriously knows as being cold and unwelcoming toward people. However he does a complete 180° when he’s with his friends, and people have even reported seeing him act extroverted.

↘︎ Unintentionally a cocky bastard. 

↘︎ Sephiroth isn’t a very creative person, which is something he laments greatly. He isn’t apt at drawing, writing or anything that could allow him to express himself artistically

↘︎ Give our boy any mathematical equation though and he can solve it

↘︎ Sephiroth takes joy in fucking with troopers and other SOLDIERs. He loves saying weird and uncharacteristic things and watch the realization that he’s joking dawn on them

↘︎ Big into astronomy and loves reading books about it. And he has a disdain for astrology and thinks it’s nothing but drivel

↘︎ He abhors gossip and thinks it immature and unprofessional. But if you feed him certain tales he’ll become angrossed and not let you leave until you’ve thoroughly recounted every detail of it. 

↘︎ Claustrophobic. It may have everything to do with being given mako showers and being kept in those tight tanks for hours. He developed a certian disdain for being enclosed in tight spaces. He also can’t stand to wear multiple layers of clothing and can only handle one layer at a time. 

↘︎ Yes he likes cats. 

↘︎ People who say he’s humorless don’t know he once laughed so hard, he had to be sedated because he was on the floor unable to breathe. Context? Genesis angered a chocobo and it chased him for an hour. Angeal has it on video.

↘︎ Sephiroth can cook. How? Do you really think a SOLDIER trained to survive in the wilderness wouldn’t know how to hunt, prepare and cook his own food?

↘︎ That being said, he can only cook very basic things.

↘︎ He yells at the TV, but only when it’s a nature documentary and the prey is making unwise decisions while running away from the predator. 

↘︎ He makes overexaggerated faces while eating something he doesn’t like, but that’s as far as he’ll go complaining about food-wise

↘︎ Sephiroth’s favorite kind of gifts are the practical and functional ones like socks, blankets and sword oil. 

↘︎ Impulsively buys toys and childish knick knacks. Proceeds to keep them in a secret drawer with a lock and key. Don’t judge him. He’s making up for lost time.

[capricornlevi]

bokuto x reader // sfw, gratuitous fluff, established relationship // wc 1.6k

planning birthdays is just one of bo's many talents <3

an: this is a little birthday present for my favourite bo stan in the entire world @brainrot329 ! she is a ray of sunshine and one of the best people i know and it is an honour to write a bo fic dedicated to this wonderful human !!!

you had never figured bokuto for much of a chef. you've been together for four years, lived together for two, and so you feel you know him pretty well by now -- the man has multitudes of talents, but preparing food is not one of them.

he has no trouble with eating, obviously, since pretty much every team barbeque ends with him being physically dragged away by a teammate or long-suffering coach, begging for someone else to be allowed their pick of the steaks.

but his appreciation for food does not extend to cooking or baking, shopping for ingredients or meal planning. his lack of culinary proficiency is not from any form of uselessness or incompetence -- he's good at pretty much anything he turns his hand to, plus the msby nutrition team supplies most of his meals anyway -- he just doesn't have much of an interest. which is more than fair; nobody can be expected to be good at everything.

but this is also why you find it to be very shocking that today, your birthday, he has offered to prepare you a four-course meal to mark the special occasion.

he had informed you of his plan this morning over pancakes at your favourite diner while you were mid-sip of coffee. as you smiled and expressed gratitude, you had to put in a copious amount of effort to prevent your jaw from dropping open and accidentally spitting coffee everywhere.

again, it's not that he's incapable of achieving this task. he’d likely be very capable should he puts his mind to it, but it's just ... this is his first time cooking. you don't attempt the tour de france before learning how to ride a bike, and you can't imagine that a four-course meal (with accompanying wines, he informs you) is the easiest introduction to the culinary arts.

but he seems certain, and the last thing you want to do is discourage this newfound enthusiasm.

the rest of the day was spent out with friends and family as bo headed home to get everything ready. he didn't give many hints as to what the rest of the evening would entail, but he did say that he knew you'd love it.

(and you will; regardless of the final product, you can see how much effort he's put in. you just hope you won't arrive home to the scent of singed hair and an eyebrow-less bokuto standing forlorn in the kitchen.)

when your college friends took you out for cocktails in the early hours of the evening, you stuck to just two margaritas so as not to take away from the rest of the night. they dropped you back home with gifts in hand and plans to meet up again next week to get your nails done – a strange suggestion since you haven’t gone to the salon as a group in years, but you wave it off. 

now, standing at your doorstep, you take a deep breath before twisting the handle and letting yourself in.

the place smells ... nice. really nice. it's a medley of scents from multiple dishes but they all come together to paint a very positive picture; hints of citrus, the buttery aroma of your favourite pasta sauce, something sweet you vaguely recognise as being your grandmother's french vanilla cake recipe.

suddenly overcome with a sense of awe and burning anticipation, you make a beeline for the kitchen.

you find everything in it to be clean, perfectly presented, except for bokuto himself. he stands by the countertop, spatula in hand, covered with a light dusting of flour and with a scorch mark on his light-blue shirt.

"never promised it'd go completely without a hitch, did i?" he grins, expression as close to bashful as you've seen it. setting down the utensils and dusting himself off with a kitchen towel, he closes the distance to take your hand, guiding you to your seat at the table. with a professional flourish he pours you a glass of sparkling wine, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head once you've sat down.

"you enjoy that while i go change," he mumbles against your hair, "and i’ll also make sure I'm not still smouldering."

you laugh as he walks away, heart swelling in your chest as you survey the space around you.

he's bought a bouquet of your favourite flowers from that little old florist who lives three doors down from your apartment, the one whose displays you always admire when you head out to work in the mornings. he has your favourite album playing on vinyl, the low reverberations of the music filling the candle-lit kitchen.

distantly, you wonder if bo's fire incident came from the cooking or the decoration.

but before you have much time to consider, he's arrived back in the kitchen with a fresh shirt and almost-tamed hair, paired with that signature bo smile that lights up all of his features.

"ready for course number one?" he exclaims, clapping his hands together as he heads over to the counter space. once you voice your assent he produces two dishes as if from nowhere, heading over to the table and setting yours down in front of you.

you find yourself looking down at a perfectly presented salad, crisp leaves and a citrus dressing that reminds you exactly of the one you had --

"on our first date!" you burst out before even taking a bite. "this is the salad from that bistro by college!"

the bistro where he had taken you after finally mustering up the courage to ask, waiting until after you both had graduated to make his move. you're still not sure why he was so anxious since your class had no qualms about intra-departmental fraternisation, but you're just glad he went for it eventually.

he nods, clearly relieved you picked up on the connection.

the salad is wonderful, a light and refreshing starter for the evening, and you inform him as much.

your response clearly encourages him. he gets up again to start heating the next dish, pouring you a glass of wine beforehand for you to nurse while he gets things ready.

this time, he presents you with a bowl of soup. the same type of soup ...

"that you made for me that time i got the flu!" he informs you this time, voice achingly fond as he watches for your reaction. "and no word of a lie -- it cured me."

his earnestness draws another laugh from you, the soothing smell of herbs and vegetables bringing you back to that afternoon.

you had never seen bo so sick before and you haven't seen it since. with the combination of his healthy approach to life and sheer stubbornness to remain top of his game, he ends up avoiding most illnesses, and so when he called his coach to inform him he wouldn't be making 8am practice, you knew things were serious.

he ran a temperature, cheeks flushing an adorable shade of pink that you would have appreciated more were he not suffering, and had started shivering by noon.

"you need to keep your strength up," you had whispered softly to him, setting a glass of water down at his bedside and perching yourself on the edge, watching as he slowly started eating the soup. it was difficult with a sore throat but he managed to polish the whole thing off.

that soup was the only thing he could stomach for forty-eight hours, eating it for every meal until his shivering subsided and his muscles stopped aching.

it's one of the few dishes he knew how to prepare before tonight, since he insists on making it with you whenever either one of you starts to show any signs of impending sniffles.

once the soup has been finished and cleared away, the third course is presented with another glass of wine and near-giddy smile from bo. just as you had guessed from the hallway, he serves up your favourite pasta dish, the recipe having been scribbled down on a napkin after the chef from the aforementioned first-date bistro was kind enough to let you have it. 

bo managed to replicate it perfectly, albeit not without slightly singeing the accompanying garlic bread (explaining the scorch mark on his shirt).

as you take your first bite, you realise that he was right earlier when he promised that you'd love this.

it wasn't that the food was michelin quality (though it was undoubtedly delicious, especially for a first-timer) -- it was the thought that went into every dish, every ingredient, every element. the effort that went into telling a story with each course.

you've never felt as loved as you do in this moment.

that is, until he brings out dessert in the form of your grandmother's french vanilla cake. it’s been frosted to the best of bokuto's ability, with 'happy birthday my love!' edged in pink font and surrounded by flickering candles.

there's also a design under the words. a little shape, something you can't see without squinting.

he carries it over to you proudly, though with a slight tremble in his hands you can't quite understand ...

after blowing out the candles, you lean in to examine the cake closer.

it takes a few seconds for it to land, to determine what bo attempted to draw in icing format, but once it hits you ...

"is that a ring?"

your heart pounds in your chest, each word leaving your lips in a flurry as you try to gauge whether or not your exhilaration is merited.

and in lieu of an answer, bo sets the cake on the table before getting down on one knee, producing a velvet-bound ring box from the pocket of his new shirt.

[therichantsim]

I'm all caught up on the Blackburn legacy! What a mess! Though, thankfully not everything...

There was so much, but here are the highlights for me:

Isaiah and Octavia's trip down memory lane was really soothing for some reason

Andraya "Zero Regrets" Cloud

"Ehh, doesn't make him a good man." - Trin just can't help herself

I really like Zahara with short hair.

Hi, Michaela!

Loved the Sulani marketplace

--Also the shade on the looted artifacts

Vi getting wrapped up in her privilege, though I don't know why Bo apologized. I don't think Bo was in the wrong for having boundaries

Soon as Kenny said Pamela Woods, I just started thinking, "Oh Michaela, "fraternizing with the enemy~" That aside, I wondered why Kenny consulted with his father if his wife was the one who was to represent them. I'm assuming she practices family law, otherwise they would be looking for someone else to represent them. If his wife needed mentoring, I could understand her checking in with her FIL, but Kenny consulting with his dad and not his wife seems dismissive of her talents and proficiency.

Loved the back and forth leading up to the reveal on "Parental Advice"

Billie!

Looking at Zahara's new place, her style, or at least the color palette has changed quite a bit.

Cry for You!

Some of my favorite lines:

Quinton: Oh I'm real good at manifesting babies.

--I knew this was going to come back to bite him. Sometimes I can't help but consider if a line has a double meaning and I really felt this doing double duty.

"manifesting"

Yasmine: I's married now

Noemy: Aren't you going to talk about my glow?

Chanel: See why I have standards?

Ida: Life is DRAMA in all caps.

Zahara: …and that day you chose her not me.

That last one really got me.

Another thing I really liked, because I really have a thing for the display of boundaries (or lack there of) in stories, is that exactly. Isaiah in reference to Quinton's situation. Billie about her private affairs. Michaela vs Pamela. Bo, as I already mentioned. Trin's attempt to pull the plug. Quinton with Noemy's bid for a whole house. Zahara with everything. Even just a bit with Malachi and Sydney during the water gun fight. I love it so much because even the smallest displays tell you so much about a character.

Thanx so much for continuing to share the Blackburn family drama with us! I had a great time catching up and I'm looking forward to their return!

WOW what a nice surprise! Thank you so much for reading and it’s always such a pleasure to read your feedback. I love your highlights and favorite lines and yes, they are intentional and I’m very happy to see you caught them. Yes they do often times have double meaning. As far as Kenny consulting with his dad vs his wife the Pratt men often times overlook the value their wives bring to the table, but there maybe be more on that later on in the story. Just keep in mind Malachi is also a Pratt since you mentioned him and Sydney. Zahara’s new place was the watcher trying something new when it comes to interiors. 😂

Anyway… Again thank you so much for reading. I’ll be back with the story soon kind of taking a break from the Sims and the Simblr community for a minute. Grace and Peace.