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ANZSCO Codes and Its Importance in Skill Assessment
ANZSCO codes are unique numbers given to particular professions listed under the Australia and New Zealand Standard Classification of Occupations.
Verify your ANZSCO codes for various occupational categories and select the appropriate code that fits your skills and expertise to apply for job opportunities. Visit our latest blog to learn about why it is important to skill assessment
#cdraustraliawriter#cdr report#careergrowth#skilledmigration#engineers australia#skillselect#australia migration#engineersaustralia#cdr#anzsco codes#skill assessment
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React Developer Technical Assessment Test for Hiring: Best Practices
In the competitive world of web development, hiring the right React developer can be a game-changer for your projects. ReactJS, with its component-based architecture and virtual DOM, has become one of the most popular libraries for building modern web applications. To ensure you find the best fit for your team, conducting a well-structured react technical test is essential. In this article, we will explore the best practices for designing a React Developer Technical Assessment Test that effectively evaluates a candidate's React skills, problem-solving abilities, and coding proficiency. By following these practices, you can identify top-notch React developers who will contribute to the success of your projects.
Where to Find Qualified React JS Developers?
Online Job Boards and Platforms: Start your search by posting job listings on popular platforms such as LinkedIn, Stack Overflow, and Indeed. These platforms have a vast pool of qualified ReactJS developers actively seeking opportunities.
Freelance Platforms: If you require freelance or contract ReactJS developers, platforms like Upwork, Toptal, and Freelancer offer a wide range of skilled freelancers.
Dedicated Developer Platforms: Consider using platforms like Hired, Gigster, or Gun.io, which specifically connect businesses with top-tier developers after a rigorous vetting process.
Tech Meetups and Hackathons: Offline events like tech meetups and hackathons can be great opportunities to network and connect with passionate and proactive ReactJS developers in your local community.
How to Hire a ReactJS Developer?
Determine Your Project Requirements: Clearly define your project's scope, technology stack, and specific ReactJS skills required to find the right fit for your project.
Conduct a React Assessment Test: Use a well-designed React assessment test to evaluate candidates' technical prowess, problem-solving abilities, and practical application skills. Include scenarios relevant to your project to assess real-world capabilities.
Conduct a Technical Interview: Follow up the assessment test with a technical interview to delve deeper into candidates' problem-solving approach, communication skills, and project experiences.
Review Past Projects and Experience: Examine candidates' portfolios and past projects to assess their coding quality, problem-solving capabilities, and domain expertise.
Finalize the Contract: After shortlisting promising candidates, finalize the contract with clearly defined terms, project scope, and compensation details.
Top ReactJS Interview Questions
Basic Understanding and Knowledge Questions:
What is JSX, and how is it different from standard JavaScript?
Explain the differences between functional and class components in React.
Elaborate on the purpose and advantages of React Hooks.
Practical Application and Problem-Solving Questions:
Develop a React component that fetches and displays data from an API.
Describe your approach to managing state in a complex React application.
Discuss the benefits and drawbacks of using Redux for state management.
Questions Specific to Your Project:
How would you implement [specific feature relevant to your project] using React?
Have you worked with [specific technology or library used in your project] in your past projects?
React Assessment Test-Based Discussion
Defining the Test Objectives:
Clearly outline the objectives of the React assessment test and the specific skills you aim to evaluate.
Aligning Test Objectives with Job Requirements:
Ensure that the test questions align closely with the ReactJS role's necessary skills.
Assessing Problem-Solving Skills and Knowledge:
Include coding challenges and real-world scenarios to assess candidates' ability to handle practical problems.
Emphasizing Practical Coding Tasks:
Prioritize hands-on coding tasks to evaluate candidates' practical skills.
Designing the Test
Choosing Problems and Setting Time Limits:
Select problems that challenge candidates within a reasonable time frame.
Balancing Theoretical Questions and Practical Coding Tasks:
Achieve a balance between theoretical questions and coding challenges to assess both knowledge and application.
Including Real-World Problems:
Integrate real-world scenarios to evaluate candidates' approach to authentic challenges.
Test Content
Focus on Core Concepts:
Assess candidates' understanding of fundamental ReactJS concepts, such as JSX, components, and props.
Incorporate Real-World Scenarios:
Present problems that reflect real-life challenges faced by developers.
Assess Coding Skills:
Include coding exercises to test a candidate's ability to write clean, efficient, and maintainable code.
Implement Time Constraints:
Set appropriate time limits to evaluate candidates' time management skills.
Include Domain-Specific Challenges:
Incorporate relevant challenges to assess candidates' domain-specific knowledge, if applicable.
Managing the Process
Choose the Right Platform:
Select a suitable platform or testing environment to administer the React assessment test.
Set a Regular Review for Biased or Discriminatory Questions:
Ensure the test questions are unbiased and free from discriminatory elements.
Pilot Testing:
Conduct a pilot test with your team to identify and rectify any issues with the test before candidate evaluations.
Conducting the Test
Providing Clear Instructions:
Furnish candidates with clear instructions for taking the React assessment test, including time limits and specific requirements.
Ensuring a Fair and Consistent Testing Environment:
Guarantee that all candidates have an equal opportunity to take the test under fair conditions.
Monitoring the Test:
Monitor the assessment process to address any technical issues that may arise promptly.
Evaluating the Test
Grading Rubric:
Create a grading rubric to evaluate candidates consistently and fairly.
Assessing Clean and Efficient Code:
Evaluate candidates based on their ability to produce clean, well-organized, and efficient code.
Understanding of React Principles:
Gauge candidates' understanding of React principles and best practices.
Problem-Solving Skills:
Assess candidates' problem-solving skills based on their approach to and resolution of given challenges.
Providing Constructive Feedback:
Offer constructive feedback to candidates, regardless of the outcome, to assist them in improving their skills.
Conclusion
Designing an effective Technical Assessment Build with React is crucial for making informed hiring decisions and building a skilled development team. By aligning the test objectives with job requirements, including practical coding tasks and real-world scenarios, and providing constructive feedback to candidates, you can ensure a fair and thorough evaluation process. Remember that an ideal React developer should not only possess strong React skills but also demonstrate problem-solving abilities, clean coding practices, and a deep understanding of React principles. Implementing these best practices will help you attract and hire talented React developers who will drive innovation and excellence in your web development endeavors
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#assessment built with react#react technical test#react assessment test#react developer test#react assessment#react coding test#react skills test#react skill test#Technical Assessment Build with React
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all's fair in love and medicine
Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x F!Doctor!Reader
Rating: Explicit
Summary: Dr. Robby teases you with some well aimed dirty talk before work and the two of you struggle to keep the building sexual tension from revealing your relationship while on the clock.
Word Count: 5,053
Warnings/Tags: Established Relationship, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, No condom but reader has an IUD don't worry, Dirty Talk, "Good Girl" is used liberally, Praise Kink, Slight Degradation Kink, Breast Play, Aftercare, one single spank
Not Beta Read
Note: Expressive Aphasia = a neurological condition where individuals struggle to produce language, even though they understand it.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Torture. That’s how you would describe this shift.
Usually, you get lost in it. The never ending ebb and flow of the emergency department. A wave that carries you from one patient to the next, from one test of your knowledge and skills to another.
But today, all you can think about is what Robby whispered to you this morning when you were still half-asleep and tangled up in each other.
“Be a good girl today and I’ll fuck you so good tonight.”
It rattles around your skull as you walk between trauma rooms, as you sit at a computer charting, when you stop to take a sip of water. The silky grate of his sleep-ridden voice. The warm press of his lips on the slope of your neck. And the heat of his hard body leaving you cold and wanting in bed when he so viciously got up to start the coffee machine.
The seconds feel like minutes, the minutes like hours. There’s a hum beneath your skin, a coiling tension that seems to build and build no matter how hard you try to throw yourself into your work.
Because he’s always there. His dark eyes finding yours across the room. The electric trail of his fingertips sliding across your back as you pass each other on the way to opposite trauma rooms. The stifling heat of his presence beside you as you assess a new patient.
You’ve always worked so well together. Both of you are so quickly able to leave your relationship at the door, to focus on the work. Today, however, you can hardly think of anything but getting home and jumping his bones.
A couple hours into the shift he has the absolute gall to ask you, “You doing okay? You seem a little tense.”
As if he isn’t the reason you feel like crawling out your own skin. Or shoving him into the nearest on-call room and having your way with him. But you can’t do either and so you settle on giving him a taste of his own medicine.
You lean in close, closer than you should out in the open of the ER like this. And you whisper, sickly sweet, “I’m being a good girl, aren’t I?”
You pull away from Robby, and look up at him with the most innocent eyes you can muster. The change in his demeanor is instantaneous and almost imperceptible. He’s hyper aware of the fact that you're surrounded by watchful eyes and yet he can’t help but be affected. You can see it in the rigidity of his spine, the slight tick of his jaw.
You don’t even give him the chance to respond, turning on your heel and away from the nurses’ station. His hand reaches for you before he can stop it, before he remembers himself. You feel Robby’s eyes boring into your back as you stride down the hallway, turning over your shoulder for a brief moment before the hall bends to find him standing exactly where you left him.
The next time you see each other is in the heat of a code. You’re climbing on top of the hospital bed, focused solely on the rhythm of your compressions. The room is a flurry around you and Robby breezes into the chaos to ask what he can do to help. But you’ve got it under control. The patient’s stats are rising, rhythm returning to that steady and all too familiar beep. There’s a chorus of exhales and nurses and doctors shuffle out and onto the next.
Robby reaches over to help you down from your position straddled on the bed, the warmth of his hands seeping through the sharp cotton of your scrubs. Before you know it, you're the only other people left in the room. A now stable patient seemingly in the hands of two very capable doctors.
Save for an unconscious woman, it's the first time you’ve been alone since you arrived to work this morning. At separate entrances and 8 minutes apart, like always.
The quiet of the room is deafening. You wonder if he can hear the pounding of your heartbeat. Neither of you say anything, the air thick with want.
You’re standing too close but you don’t move. You don’t dare look at his face, eyes focused on the string of his hoodie that trails down his chest. Scared of what you might do, what he might do now that you’re alone.
Robby fingers the hem of your scrub top and laughs, but there’s no humor in it.
“You’re not playing fair,” he grits out. You bite your lip but don’t say anything. He fists the hem of your top now and pulls you closer to him.
“Look at me,” he says, his voice low and dark. Your eyes snap to his, spine alight with anticipation. You know that voice and what it means. As much as his words read like a command, you can see the pure desperation in eyes. He’s a man hanging on by a very thin thread.
“I’m not the one who started the game,” you bite back. Raising your chin and baring your neck in the process. An invitation, a supplication.
Robby’s hand releases your top and presses into your waist, trailing upwards until it rests just beneath your bra. So close and yet so far from where you want it. You open your mouth, a plea on the tip of your tongue when Dana bursts in.
“Incoming trauma. Two teenagers pulled out of a burning building,” she calls out.
You’re angled away from the door and you know that she can’t see where Robby’s hand rests. But she can see how close you stand and you can hear the mirth in her voice at finding you both in this position.
“We’ll be right there,” Robby responds, his eyes never leaving your face. The door swings shut behind her and his jaw ticks as he shakes his head. He steps back and massages the bridge of his nose for a moment. When he opens his eyes once again they’re burning hot with need.
“You’re killing me,” he whispers. His hands placed on his hips to keep himself from reaching out for you again.
“How do you think I feel?” you ask, shifting between your feet. Wanting to move closer and further away at the same time. The decision is made for you when a stampede of nurses and doctors pass by the door, pulling you from the quiet tension of the room and back into the fray.
It’s not until there’s only two hours left in the shift that you actually have a chance to think again. And of course Robby is there to fill every open millimeter in your mind. You stand on opposite sides of the nurses’ station and he hasn’t quite noticed your arrival, stuck in conversation with an intern.
The doctor turns to go and Robby reaches his hands up to clasp them, bending his arms at the elbows so his fists rest between his shoulder blades for a deep stretch. The movement causes his sweatshirt and scrub top to ride up, revealing the skin of his soft lower belly and the wiry happy trail that disappears into his cargo pants.
Your mind goes blank, flashes white hot with pure desire. You absent-mindedly lick your lips and when you finally tear your eyes away to his face, you find he’s already looking at you. You’re caught.
His eyes are unreadable but dark and Robby all but prowls around the station to reach you. He relaxes his back against the counter beside you, one arm bent to rest on the vinyl surface and the other one, the one closer to you, hangs down between your bodies.
There’s a beat of silence before he speaks. His voice is low, and his words burn through you.
“I don’t know if you’re being good enough, honey,” he murmurs. Just barely loud enough for you to hear over the room around you.
You try not to react and you think you’re successful besides the way your knees wobble for a brief second. You think maybe you’re delirious and the shift is getting to you because he couldn’t possibly be saying this to you right here, right now. But Robby continues.
“I was gonna make you come on my tongue at least twice before I gave you my cock. But now, now I’m not so sure,” he says, voice as even and neutral as if he was telling you his lunch order. He doesn’t look at you and you don’t look at him.
You gulp and your lips part but no words come out. He fills the silence anyways.
“Maybe you shouldn’t get to come tonight,” he whispers. “I’m not sure you deserve it after you’ve had me half-hard this entire shift.”
Your eyes flash to his at that and you swear you can see glowing embers in his irises. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from begging.
“Maybe I won’t even touch you,” Robby rumbles. “Make you watch as I—”
Your hand darts out to grab his wrist so fast it’s almost a reflex. Nearly your entire body is tense now. The thought of spending the night without his touch to ease the tension that has been building for hours is too much for your fried brain to handle.
“Robby,” you grit out. “Please. ”
The corner of his mouth quirks up, self-satisfaction evident in his face.
“Ah there she is,” his voice carries praise now. “Guess my good girl came to work after all.”
The words wash over you like honey, the sparking fire in your belly replaced by warm, ambling lava. Your shoulders finally relax and Robby’s hand pulls his wrist from your grip so that he can interlace your fingers and squeeze. After a second they slip away.
Your eyes narrow at him.
“You, Doctor, are inhibiting my work,” you admonish now that the moment has passed.
His grin is full and he pushes off the counter with his palms up as a peace offering.
“Guilty as charged,” he admits as he backs away.
You pick up your discarded tablet and try to remember what you were looking for when Robby interrupted. After a moment, Dana comes to stand in front of you.
“What was that all about?” she questions, eyebrows quirked over her glasses.
“Oh, just discussing a patient,” you lie through your teeth, hoping she can’t see the way your skin still burns.
“Sure kid,” Dana relents, a knowing smile on her face. “Whatever you say.”
She departs, fielding questions as a couple of residents return from their patients. You blow a deep breath out and glance at the clock. 1 hour 53 minutes left in the shift. You roll your shoulders. You can do this.
The promise of sweet relief finally comes in the form of Jack Abbott marching through the emergency department doors. His arrival means that shift change is thankfully upon you, and not a minute too soon.
The night shift shuffles in behind him, their rested and renewed faces a stark contrast to the dozen or so hours you and all your fellow day-shifters wear.
You make your way to the nurses station to return your tablet and find Robby and Abbott embraced in what can only be described as a “bro hug.” As you put the device back on the charger you overhear the two talking.
“Okay, so that’s all for me. I’ll see you in 12,” Robby finishes recapping the shift. You can almost hear the way he shoves his hands into his zip-up pockets from his voice alone.
“You’re eager to get out of here,” Abbott remarks, and as you turn around you see the way his eyes dart between you and Robby. “Got a hot date or something?”
Robby looks over to meet your gaze for a moment, and you see the promise of what’s to come in them.
“Something like that,” he laughs, taut and almost painful, as you turn and make a beeline for the locker room.
You’re practically shoving your belongings into your tote, suddenly filled with renewed energy despite the draining shift you’ve endured. Robby enters the room as you’ve just about finished and doesn’t even check to see if he has everything in his backpack, just pulls it from the locker and slams the door shut.
In an uncharacteristic move, you make your way out of the emergency department together, forgoing the usual staggered exit by unspoken agreement. You’re so close your fingers brush with nearly every step but you don’t dare move further apart. You think the effort of doing so might actually kill you.
The silence between you stretches all the way to the car. Both of you a razor-thin edge away from losing control and knowing that if you break now, there’s no way you would make it out of this parking lot without scandalizing at least a couple of your coworkers.
Robby still opens the passenger door for you and slips your tote off your shoulder to place it in the backseat with his backpack as he always does.
The car ride is silent too, the quiet before the storm. At a red light you lock eyes and can’t help but smile at each other. He leans over to press a kiss to your forehead. A tender moment in the eye of the hurricane.
When you finally make it home, he carries your bags up the steps as you unlock the front door. The buzzing under your skin returns in full force now. Sweet anticipation crawls up your spine as you watch him hang your things in the entryway.
“Shower,” Robby bites out, breaking the tenuous quiet. He takes a step towards you.
“Alone,” you add and he stops, his eyes nearly begging. You know what will happen if you take one together and you want him in the warmth of your bed. For hours.
“Don’t even think about deep conditioning, Robinavitch,” you warn him and he struggles to bite back a smile as he scratches the back of his neck. You want, no need , to wash off the day but that doesn’t mean you can wait a second longer than you absolutely have to.
“Yes ma’am,” he agrees and you take off in opposite directions through the house, grateful for the guest bathroom in a way you never have been before.
You’re clinical and efficient as you scrub your body in the shower, not even waiting for the water to warm to your preferred temperature before jumping in. You barely towel off and definitely don’t bother to squeegee the glass shower door before you make your way to your bedroom, a robe haphazardly tied around you.
Robby is already there, pacing in just a towel tied loosely around his waist. The outline of his cock pushes against the fabric, half-hard, just like he said. Your eyes flick up from his waistline and you don’t bother hiding the smirk on your face.
“Guess you weren’t kidding,” you tease and relish in the tightening of his jaw.
“Jesus,” he groans and shakes his head, “You think this is funny or something?”
He stalks towards you and his fingers tangle in the tie at your waist.
“Maybe a little,” you bait him, and he falls for it. Robby rips the robe open and off your shoulders. His considerable hands settle on the soft skin of your hips. He grips them and pushes you towards the bed, somehow gentle and insistent all at once as he lowers you down onto it.
He follows a rivulet of water as it cascades down the slope of your tit with his thumb and quickly follows another with his tongue, deviating course to trace your nipple. You can‘t help the gasp that escapes you, and your back arches, pushing your body towards his open mouth. He gruffs a laugh out against your skin and now his whole mouth closes around your nipple.
He pops off one tightened bud and places open mouthed kisses across your sternum to reach the other. He doesn’t dare leave either wanting, his palm massaging whichever is neglected by the wet heat of his mouth.
It’s too much and not enough at the same time. You’ve been aching for him all day and he’s barely scratching the surface of the pure need inside you. You try to reach for the towel, hoping getting him all the way naked might speed things up. But he just swats your hands away.
“Greedy,” Robby mocks into your chest. He pushes up from your body and you feel the loss of him keenly. You buck your hips up into his but it doesn’t sway him.
“Good girls know how to be patient,” he chides as his thumb leisurely trails across your abdomen.
“I need more Robby, please,” you whimper. You can’t control the shifting of your hips or the tight grip your fists have on the comforter beneath you.
His hand trails further down your body, two fingers finally sliding down to your cunt to swipe through the pleasure dripping from you.
“Oh she needs more does she?” Robby taunts. He can see your expression begin to shift before it even happens, that pout you get when he makes you wait. You’re on the edge and he can tell.
“Okay honey,” he says and he gives it to you. Thrusts two thick fingers into your pussy without any warning and watches from above as your body arches obscenely off the bed, a moan pulled from deep inside you. The pace he sets is unrelenting and it’s exactly what you need. His other hand comes up to grip the back of your neck, grounding you. You grip his wrist.
Without ceremony he adds another finger, not stopping to give you a moment to adjust. The burn is delicious, pushing you towards a long-awaited peak. He curls his fingers inside you.
“Fuck–uh–uh–uh,” you hiccup. “Yes. ”
“My fingers feel good, baby?” he asks, breathless right alongside you.
You nod your head and don’t stop as his thumb moves to circle your clit. It’s the final push you need, your climax fast approaching.
“Was I good?” you whimper, thighs pressing together around his hand inside you. “Are you gonna let me come?”
You’re not sure you could stop it even if you tried but you don’t have to worry. Robby’s pace picks up, somehow, and the thumb on your clit presses down harder.
“Perfect,” he whispers, reverent. “You’re perfect.”
And that sends you over the edge. Robby swallows your scream with his mouth, your kisses messy and tactless but filled with aching passion. He keeps his rhythm through the aftershocks, working you through it as the pulses around his fingers taper out.
He pulls away from your mouth with a final press of his lips and you pant into the warm air. His fingers slide out of you with a squelch and you whimper at the loss. Robby brings his fingers to his mouth, eyes closing as his lips do, as if savoring the taste.
You hum and your arms reach out for him but his mouth moves down your body, like he’s searching for more, for the source of you. He’s gentle as he bends your legs to rest your feet on the bed, settling between your open thighs with his wrists around your ankles. He descends on your cunt without preamble. His mouth moves between your clit and your hole with ease and precision. It feels good, amazing, but it’s not what you want.
“No, baby, ” you cry out through the pleasure. “I want you.”
Robby doesn’t stop. His tongue curls into you, around your clit.
“I’m right here,” he murmurs when he comes up for air. His eyes peer up at you as his mouth continues its assault.
You push up onto your elbows and reach a hand down to thread through his hair. You tug his head back, pulling him off of your dripping pussy, mouth still hanging open and beard slick with you.
“No,” you command. “Inside me.”
That gets Robby moving, wiping your slick from his mouth on the inside of your thighs as he moves his body up yours. Your feet push at his towel, unraveling it from around him. He tosses it to the ground, careless.
He settles his weight over you. His lips press into your collarbone, into the slope of your neck, across the apple of your check. Finally he kisses you fully, deeply. The taste of you remains on his tongue.
There’s a shift of Robby’s hips as he notches his thick head into your aching hole and then he’s pressing inside. Wide and heavy, and almost too much to bear even with the slick that eases his entry. The inches keep coming, stretching you open in a way that feels indecent.
When you’ve finally taken every delicious inch and the tip of him presses into that spongy spot inside you, his head collapses into the juncture of your neck.
“So fucking good,” he mumbles into your taut skin.
You wiggle your hips, searching for more. His hands press them down into the bed with a huff. You whine and Robby lifts his head to find your eyes.
“Just give me a sec,” he pleads, completely undone by the feel of you. You’d be smug about the fact that he’s struggling not to come from just pushing inside you if you could feel anything beyond the raw and unadulterated stretch of him.
You’re trying to be patient but every second he’s not moving makes it harder and harder not to chase the pleasure that simmers beneath your skin. You sneak your hand down between your bodies to circle your clit. You get maybe two desperate swipes before Robby shoves your hand away and pulls out of you.
He thrusts back into you so hard and fast you think you might actually see stars. The noise that leaves your mouth sounds inhuman even to your own ears.
“Nu-uh honey,” Robby tuts, as he sets a pace that has you gasping with every thrust.
“Mine.”
The word is gritted through his teeth. Your hands come up to grip his biceps. Your nails dig into the thick muscle, looking for something to ground you.
“You just lie back and be good,” he rumbles. The words send warmth rushing through you. You can do that. You can be good for him.
Your hands glide across his shoulders, down his chest, and to his back. You pull his body closer to yours. The friction between your nipples and the hard and hairy lines of his chest sends sparks of pleasure coursing through you.
You’re almost at the peak of another orgasm and he can feel it with the way your walls are beginning to close in around his aching dick. Robby’s hand hooks under your right knee and hoists it up and past your hip, pressing it into the mattress and opening you up even more for him.
It feels ridiculously good and the sensation of being so stretched open has you babbling. A string of whiny pleases and whimpering moans followed by a singular plea.
“Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop.”
Robby’s thumb traces over the knee he holds hostage. His tender and soft touch, a juxtaposition to the way his cock slams into you.
“Wasn’t planning on it, sweetheart,” he teases and leans down to kiss the furrow between your brows.
Your orgasm explodes through you, feet kicking out and head tossed back with the sensation. Robby’s pace doesn't let up, just carries you through the waves of pleasure washing over you. Only when he’s wrung out every last squeeze of your cunt does he slow to a stop inside you.
He peppers kisses across your cheeks and nose and forehead as you pant and return back to your body. His tongue darts out to cull the droplets of sweat gathering at your hairline. Your moans are content as you bask in the afterglow.
“Good?” Robby asks as he noses at your ear.
You nod and mumble an affirmation.
“Soooooo good,” you sigh, words slurring.
He chuckles and suddenly you’re reminded of the fact that he’s still rock hard inside you.
“That’s my girl. I’m not done with you yet,” he rumbles as he pulls out of you, sticky and wet.
You whine. Didn’t he just say he wasn’t done with you.
Robby shushes you and he’s careful as he maneuvers you over and onto your knees. A warm palm on your back pushes your chest into the bed and you settle your cheek on a cool patch of sheets. Your spine stretches out as you relax into this new position.
“Just like that, baby,” Robby groans, settling behind you with a grip on your hips. “I’ve been waiting for this all fucking day.”
“Yeah? All day?” you ask, mirth back in your voice as you turn over your shoulder to look at him.
His jaw ticks and he presses his hard cock against the curve of your ass.
“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?” he grits out.
“Actually,” you taunt as you push back against his cock. “I think you’re the one who’s a pain in my aa –”
Your banter is cut short as Robby pushes into your wet and waiting cunt. You think you should be used to it by now but the stretch of him always catches you by surprise, has white hot bliss spreading through you like wildfire.
“That’s what I thought,” he hisses as he pumps in and out of you. “All I gotta do is put my cock in you and you can’t even speak.”
You try to respond but all that comes out is a gurgle of moans. He picks up his pace and his thrusts have you moving up the bed a couple inches.
“Guess I should have done this when you were mouthing off to me at central,” he huffs, panting with the effort of the tempo he’s set.
“Asking me if you were a good girl in front of the entire ER.” His palm comes down with a smack across your ass.
You keen and push back to meet his thrusts.
“Bet you would have liked that,” he laughs. “Come on baby, tell me what we look for when a patient presents with expressive aphasia.”
Is he seriously fucking quizzing you right now? That smug bastard. Your brain struggles for the answer. It’s on the tip of your tongue but every time you get close to the answer his cock hits that spot inside you that has your brain going blank.
“R-Robby, I can’t…I don’t–” you whimper into the bedsheets.
“I know, honey,” he coos from above you. “Maybe you’ll remember how much of a mess my cock makes you next time you want to be such a fucking tease at work.”
You clamp your cunt down around him. He grunts and his pace stutters.
“You s-started it,” you cry out. You squeeze around him again.
Robby’s tempo turns erratic and you know he’s close. You can feel yourself riding the edge of a third orgasm and you want him to come with you. You know just how to get him there.
“Dr. Robby,” you plead, voice breathy and sweet. You feel the way his fingertips dig into the plush skin of your lower back. “I want you to come inside me.”
He moans, breathes out a trail of curses. The way you say his name like that, the way you beg for his cum when you know it drives him fucking wild. Robby can no longer think of anything else.
“Please. I need it.” you beg.
With a final, brutal thrust his orgasm slams into him, and you shatter right alongside him. He spills deep inside you, warm cum coaxed from his impossibly hard cock by the fluttering of your tight cunt. Your name is a stuttered moan on his tongue.
He collapses on top of you, teeth finding purchase in your shoulder as you float back down to earth together. Robby eases his bite with a soft press of his lips and he’s tender as he rolls you onto your sides together. His hand slides up from your hip to splay across your belly and he nuzzles into the back of your neck.
You both hum when Robby slips his softening cock from you, his spend spilling out and down your thighs. He pulls you back into him as you stretch your legs out beneath you.
After your heart rates settle, Robby pushes up from the bed and stumbles into the bathroom. Knowing that if he’s done his job right, and he has, you won’t be able to walk over there by yourself just yet.
Warm and sated, you hear the tap run. And then he’s back, sliding a warm washcloth between your legs. You sigh at the care with which he cleans you, all the delicacy and precision of the incredible doctor you know him to be.
He settles back onto the bed beside you and pulls a blanket over your intertwined bodies. You nestle into Robby’s chest and his hands come to thread through your still damp hair, brushing it out behind you.
“I’m way too old to be trying to hide a boner at work,” he laughs into your hairline. You giggle and pull back so you can look in his beautiful, brown eyes.
“And whose fault is that, hmm?” you tease and the corners of his mouth quirk up. His thumb comes up to trace along your cheek. He leans in to press a soft kiss to your lips.
“I wish I could say I was sorry,” Robby smiles, “but fuck baby, you drive me crazy.”
“Ditto, old man,” you agree and he rolls his eyes. “Next time, save it for a day off, or at least shift change.”
He grins and pulls you closer.
“Yes doctor, right away doctor,” he sighs, always the theatric, in between kisses across your face. Now it's your turn to roll your eyes.
Bliss. That’s how you’d describe this post-sex cuddle in the bed you share.
_
Thank you for reading! This work is also posted on AO3
dr. robby save me.
...dr.robby.
save me dr. robby.
#michael “robby” robinavitch x reader#dr robby x reader#dr robby smut#michael robinavitch smut#dr robby x you#michael robinavitch x reader
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The thing about perfect pitch is that it's a combination of having an inherent knack for it, and having that skill honed with a musical education. Someone who could recognise a specific note by the ear but was never taught notes cannot do it, and someone who simply wasn't born with the potential for it can't learn it no matter how thorough of a musical education they have.
I think the same thing applies to what I've come to refer to as "a few raisins is five raisins" type of instruction-giving. The ability to instinctively assess how much information and detail somebody wants or needs when they're asking for instructions. People who cannot do this are enraged by the idea that someone thinks they can, btw. How dare somebody arbitrarily decide to withdraw information and take away someone's agency concerning choices that they don't want to make and whose outcome doesn't matter much.
I'd consider that I have a pretty good knack for it, myself. It's been honed by working both with people who refuse to give exact instructions, my own difficulties in asking for sufficiently exact instructions when I've needed them, and working with people with varying preferences towards instruction-exactness.
People who refuse to give clarifications to their instructions and guidelines in things that they are familiar with leave you no other choice than to demonstrate just how wrong their vague answers can be interprated before they're willing to clarify. If you ask someone "how long does this usually roughly take?" and they just go "I cannot answer that, it varies so much from person to person, every single individual case is different" on and on, refusing to give the roughest of rough estimates, all you can do is say "okay so it can take anything between 20 minutes and 20 years." And only then will they say "oh no, it's more like 3-6 years on average", which was the exact answer you wanted in the first place.
It's not really a comprehension thing, but a moral code to them. I don't believe in having ethical principles that serve no other role than inconvenience absolutely everyone including myself, so I have no qualms about giving simplified instructions. If someone who needs exact instructions is trying to follow a recipe that tells them to add "a few raisins" freezes at the vagueness and asks "how much is 'a few' raisins?" they want an exact number.
Someone who isn't comfortable trusting their own assessment of how much is 'a few' won't be helped by being told to follow their heart and make their own choices. They specifically want somebody to just give some sort of a guideline about this. And being the type that's more comfortable just eyeballing things, I can assess that in this context "a few" means roughly half of a small handful of raisins, and quickly estimate that one half of a small handful is roughly 4-6 individual raisins.
And instead of getting needlessly difficult about refusing to say it, I can just say "oh, that's about five raisins", and everyone can carry on with their day.
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Another Round
Yan Demons + Secretary Reader
[While this Reader is intended to be male, no pronouns are mentioned in this particular blurb. Regardless of Gender, Reader wears a skirt. Mentions of alcohol consumption]
-
Wordless chatter congregates around you - blended conversation from neighboring tables mixing into a cocktail of intelligible gossip. Akin to a second skin, your spine molds to the leather cushions uplifting your weary body. It's not a perfect fit. Stiff, almost plasticity compared to the soft, breathable material you're used to. You wouldn't expect some run of the mill bar to import real leather anyway.
Pardoned from the bite your work heels have on your ankles, you roll your foot lazily beneath the table - an empty glass invading your peripheral. It not every weekend you have time off, but on the rare occasion you are your job is still never done.
Your friend taps the rim of their glass, a sluggish smile plastered on their face.
"Y/n, my man! Mind pouring me another beer?"
Speechlessly, you grapple the glass slide across the table towards you Folding a napkin, you clean the its innards of any residue, motioning for one of the few unopened cans of beer left. Cracking the tap, you hold the glass at a perfect fourty-five degree angle as you pour.
You pause as it fills halfway, tilting the glass upright as you complete the process - a neat inch of foam setting at the top.
A round of applause commends your skill.
"That's amazing, Y/n! You're faster than some of bartenders here!"
"I know your new job is top secert and all, but you sure you aren't some bottle girl for some rich business people?"
They aren't entirely wrong with that assessment.
"Yeah! How did you get so good at this? You don't even drink!"
.....
-
A serpent's tongue trails the length of your neck, talons hooked on the hem of your skirt as blackened feathers join the dance circumference around you. You aren't just a part of the party, you're the eye of the storm. The protect arm of a fallen angel hook around your waste, a snake mouthing at your jaw - lapping up spilled alcohol sprayed across your glowing skin.
"Sorry about the mess, Dove~" He hisses - throwing his head back to swallow the remaining filth at the bottom of his glass. It isn't nearly as sweet as it is when it has the taste of you as a chaser. Nor as filling.
"Do me a solid and pour another? Nobody does it quite like you. You got the magic touch, Dove!"
Charged by that special code word, the room erupts with chanting.
"ANOTHER ROUND!"
"ANOTHER ROUND!"
"ANOTHER ROUND!"
A single voice stands out from the crowd.
"Hey, Guys! Whoever gets the waiter to make a contract with them gets to drink the next one off Y/n's chest!"
All eyes point to you.
You shrug. "I'm game."
The entire room rumbles with energy matching an earthquake as your coworkers roar with victory.
"WOOHOOOO!"
-
....
"Just something I picked up at an afterwork party."
#yandere x reader#yandere imagines#yandere x you#yandere#yandere headcanons#yandere blurb#yandere scenarios#yandere oc#yandere insert#yandere demon#yandere drabble#yandere teratophilia#yandere harem#yandere demon x reader
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An 18-year-old hacker who leaked clips of a forthcoming Grand Theft Auto (GTA) game has been sentenced to an indefinite hospital order.
Arion Kurtaj from Oxford, who has autism, was a key member of international gang Lapsus$.
The gang's attacks on tech giants including Uber, Nvidia and Rockstar Games cost the firms nearly $10m.
The judge said Kurtaj's skills and desire to commit cyber crime meant he remained a high risk to the public.
He will remain at a secure hospital for life unless doctors deem him no longer a danger.
The court heard that Kurtaj had been violent while in custody with dozens of reports of injury or property damage.
Doctors deemed Kurtaj unfit to stand trial due to his acute autism so the jury was asked to determine whether or not he committed the alleged acts - not if he did so with criminal intent.
A mental health assessment used as part of the sentencing hearing said he "continued to express the intent to return to cybercrime as soon as possible. He is highly motivated."
The jury was told that while he was on bail for hacking Nvidia and BT/EE and in police protection at a Travelodge hotel, he continued hacking and carried out his most infamous hack.
Despite having his laptop confiscated, Kurtaj managed to breach Rockstar, the company behind GTA, using an Amazon Firestick, his hotel TV and a mobile phone.
Kurtaj stole 90 clips of the unreleased and hugely anticipated Grand Theft Auto 6.
He broke into the company's internal Slack messaging system to declare "if Rockstar does not contact me on Telegram within 24 hours I will start releasing the source code".
He then posted the clips and source code on a forum under the username TeaPotUberHacker.
He was re-arrested and detained until his trial.
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Cas is right. Dean, with all of his free will intact, would NOT have murdered the Stynes kid.
Like Cas, with his free will intact, would never have murdered Samandriel.
Their assessments of one another are actually correct.
///
Both are on their way to becoming mindless super-soldiers who feel nothing.
And essentially, they tell each other, "you're gonna have to go through me" (to become that).
///
Some similarities in the fight scenes:
They both reach out a hand to the other's shoulder, saying the other's name:
///
Both twist the other's hand away:
///
They ask each other to: "Stop," both telling the other in so many words that "this isn't you."
Their styles differ, of course. Dean goads Cas defiantly: "Come on you coward, do it!" Cas tries to remain level-headed and controlled, only moving to block and restrain.
Essentially, their desires are the same, for the other to stop.
///
With everyone telling them who they should be, and trying to make them into things other than what their big hearts would actually want, they beg each other to stay as they are.
I don't want you to be what they want you to be.
Just be you. Just be.
///
///
And then, much like Cas in the crypt... flight. Cas leaves.
Dean leaves.
///
And here's what's on my mind... They were both GOOD at being soldiers. Unbelievably good.
Their talents were recognized early and exploited. They became chained to their respective battle aptitudes.
Both had to reckon with becoming addicted to war, to the feeling of adrenaline and black-and-white causes (see: Purgatory, hunting, etc.). Both often feel too much responsibility, punishing themselves and undertaking penance.
They struggled with thinking it's all they were good for, battle or WORK.
Or worse. For Dean, it was often being one of the "crazy ones," only "good for a fling." For Cas, it was often "being expendable."
They're looked down upon by the likes of Metatron: Cas is like a "dumb puppy," a "stupid, lumbering jock." Even Crowley talks to Dean this way on occasion: "It's math (idiot)."
It's also like when Death calls Cas a "stupid soldier." Or when the British Men of Letters call the ones on the ground doing the fighting and getting their hands dirty "dogs." Or when Henry calls hunters "apes."
Despite their supposed "legacy lineage," Sam and Dean inherited the Campbell class. The soldier class.
Interesting to me that Jack inherits this, too. Despite his aptitude for nearly everything he touches (computers, research, even blossoming machete skills when he kills Noah the Gorgon), Jack too will inherit this Campbell-coded "stupidity."
That's what Chuck charges him with in Unity: "TOO STUPID."
Jack has Cas and Dean's class: the soldier class.
#spn 10x17#jack kline#sam has the soldier class too kind#but he's continually striving to be a men of letters so i don't view him so simply#he is also more often ASSUMED SMART until proven otherwise#spn 8x17#cas doesn't want to be king of heaven#dean doesn't want to be a knight of hell#jack doesn't want to be god#they undertake these burdens on behalf of family#mary doesn't want to be natural born killer mary#someone please let jack dean cas and mary eat their jerky and pork rings and watch their dumb movies in peace
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I’m genuinely surprised how much I love nursing. Every shift, I get to meet and help so many people. I’m float pool so I go to the whole hospital, but I’ve also been floating for a while so everywhere is familiar. Sometimes it’s hard for me to walk through the hospital because I know so many people I pass, and we keep stopping to chat. I float to seventeen different units. That’s crazy! I know so much about the hospital! Every night I’m somewhere else, working with a different team and a different group of patients. The constant novelty and familiarity of floating is delicious.
And I love my patients! I know this all sounds so goody two shoes, but I love that I get to help so many people in so many ways. I only get them for one night, so I try to give them my best. I love tucking people in with warm blankets, I love explaining what I’m assessing to a patient with a new diagnosis, I love having heart to hearts with patients at three am when they can’t sleep, I love making people hurt less and stop throwing up. And you can be a real scamp about it. I love stealing snacks from other floors. I love when a patient is like “god I’d love some chocolate” and I get to be like “sir I know the location of every candy drawer in the hospital, I can get you some chocolate.” Or like figuring out like a cheat code for alleviating symptoms. When someone’s like “wow this heating pack rules” and then falls asleep instantly? It feels good and it’s fun. I have a lot of fun figuring out how to cheer up my patients in minor little stupid ways.
I never have to wonder if my job contributes value to the world. When I go home at the end of my shift, I can always think of something I did that makes me feel proud. That rules! It’s so fun to be proud of yourself! It’s so fun to know that what you do matters and that you are doing it well. And if I don’t feel proud, I have a drive home to think about why and I get a chance to do better next shift. And that’s good too. There are nights where I can feel the way I let someone down, and I have to sit with that, and I have to learn from it.
(And I don’t want to sound like I’m crushing it always super-nurse style, like I’m completely immune to ableism and the other -isms, or that I’m never lazy or callous or checked out. I’m new and I’m learning and I’m human and I’m tired and I’m not always living up to the person I hope to be. But I do get a lot of opportunities to make up for it and try again. That feels good.)
And I love teaching new nurses! I love having to constantly keep studying so I can be in a position to teach anyone anything. I love watching people get better at stuff. And I love that as I’ve gotten more confident as a nurse and a person who trains new nurses that I’ve started coaching more and more on the soft skills of nurses. Those are really hard! We should get as much practice with therapeutic communication as we do with Foley catheters!
Also where I work pays good, and I’ve got great job security, dude, I can buy so many stupid little trinkets. I was so nervous when I decided to go to nursing school that I was fucking up my life and other people’s plans for a job I wouldn’t even end up liking. I’d literally never worked something remotely close to healthcare when I decided to go to nursing school. I’d been in a hospital like once. I feel like this big life change shouldn’t have worked out nearly as well as it has, but hey it’s really fuckin cool it did
#nursing tag#augh I am being so earnest#I’m frankly the most earnest person I know and I’m still always a little embarrassed by it#lemme put a stupid joke down here in the tags#uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh fuck I got nothing#just pure earnestness
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Beyond the ring
desc: after your final battle, you shared the drinks with Champion of Arena
protective Jinrang x reader, depiction of violence (a bit), some mentions of family abuse towards reader
notes: why Jinrang is so kengan-coded? He’s just built different. I need some spin-off about him becoming the champion of Busan in kengan style, with big tournament for 100 chapters

“Fight!”
Two figures rushed toward each other in the ring. You tried to dodge the direct hit, but your opponent managed to slice your brow. Blood streamed down, clouding the vision in your right eye. In response, you countered with a swift punch to his left side. He retaliated with a wild swing of his arm. You evaded the blow and kicked his left leg, attempting to knock off his stance.
He stumbled but maintained his footing. Switching tactics, he lunged forward, trying to drag you down into a ground fight—his turf. You anticipated the move, leaping back and driving your knee into his face. The impact left him dazed, giving you the opening to twist his arm and pin him down. One final strike—his body went limp beneath you.
The referee raise his hand. “And that’s it! The fight is over! Tonight, we witness the end of an era! Making their final exit from the ring—a true warrior! What and incredible victory!”
The crowd roared with cheers. Even amid the deafening cheers, that familiar sensation crept over you—the feeling of being watched. It clung to you like a shadow, an ever-present companion during your matches. You will left this mystery unsolved. Pushing aside the unease, you headed to the changing room, determined to make this your last appearance in this place.
Unknown to the crowd, Jinrang observed from his usual spot. It was the same spot where he had witnessed all your fights, his gaze a mixture of professional assessment and carefully hidden affection. As he watched your final victory, memories flooded in his mind: the infamous night that changed everything, every battle scar you’d earned, and his growing resolve to shield your from a world that had shown you nothing but harshness.
---
Hours later, you were on your hands and knees, swearing like a sailor.
The place had emptied long ago, yet here you were, searching for your missing keys. The irony wasn’t lost on you—on the night you planned to leave this place forever, it seemed determined to keep you here. The desire to leave this damned place was not strong enough to sleep under the stars in a park.
A quiet throat-clearing behind you made you jump. You spun around, instinctively creating distance between yourself and the source of the sound.
“Greetings to the Champion” you acknowledged, trying to keep your voice steady.
Jinrang sat perched atop a storage container, his presence both understated and commanding. He held up your keychain, shaking them.
“Looking for these?” he asked, tossing them in your direction. You caught them with a grateful bow.
He raised a bottle in silent invitation.
You weren’t particularly close. In fact, you had barely spoken to each other—not just because of his quiet nature, but because there wasn’t any reason to. Yet, declining his invitation wasn’t an option. Part of it was practical—nobody wished to make enemy such as the King of Busan and his gang. But more than that, it was your last chance to share a moment with the man you’d admired from afar.
Your respect for him went beyond his fighting skills. Jinrang appeared out of nowhere, rising through the ranks to become the Arena’s strongest Champion, then the savior of Busan and the King of Busan. Despite his intimidating aura, he possessed an undeniable magnetism that drew others to him. (and his ass. the best ass I’ve seen in this manhwa)
Your climbed up to join him, letting your legs dangle alongside his. The height offered a different perspective on the place.
“Th-thank you”, you said, accepting the bottle he offered. It was your favorite brand—whether by coincidence or design, you couldn’t tell. Lady Luck must have been on your side tonight—you closed the painful chapter of your past and now you were sharing your favorite drink with the man you admired. The Champion passed some snacks between you, bridging the gap with a quiet camaraderie.
“Good fight,” he said simply. You bowed deeply, the praise meaning the greatest honor you could dream of.
“I appreciate that,” you replied, taking a careful sip. Jinrang did the same, the comfortable silence stretching between you.
“Your last?” His tone was ambiguous—was it a question, a statement, or something more?
“Yes,” you confirmed, gazing at the empty ring below. “I’ve been planning this for a while. Finally followed through.”
His silence invited you to continue.
“I never chose this life,” you admitted. “But thought if I did, he would acknowledge me one day”
The story was well-known in their circles—how your father had forced you into the Arena, his obsession with power bordering on fanaticism.
“But it’s over now,” you added, forcing a small smile. “Though I can’t help feeling… strange about it.”
As you shared the snacks, your thoughts drifted to that nigh. The fight against your father had been more than a match—it was a brutal culmination of your story, one of the most violent confrontations in Arena history. That fight was a pure depiction of ultraviolence. You remembered the horrified silence of the crowd before darkness claimed you.
Jinrang remained quiet, but his presence felt supportive.
Unknown to you, that night had tested his resolve as well. He was dangerously close to stepping in. The thought of losing you, of watching you fall dead in that ring dead clouded his mind. But he had held back, respecting your desire to end this yourself. Your victory had to be yours alone.
Still, he had acted in other ways—arranging the finest medical care, ensuring your bills were paid, sending anonymous gifts during your recovery. Small gestures that he hoped had helped to ease your path to healing.
He couldn’t pinpoint when his interest in you had begun, but he remembered the first match he’d watched. What started out of boredom, had grown into something deeper. Your movements in the ring had captured his attention, awakening a protective instinct in a way he didn’t know.
What began as a professional curiosity evolved into a genuine care, then something more profound. He wanted to protect you, to ensure you never had to fight again. To see you smile without the weight of survival on your shoulders. To offer the security and affection you’s been denied.
And deep down in him, it was a hunger to touch you, to kiss you, to make you his.
You broke the silence with a nervous laugh. “Things are looking up now, though. Got myself an office job—sold my soul to the corporations,” you joked, voice slightly unsteady.
Jinrang’s soft chuckle surprised you.
“Going to live a normal life: morning commute, after-work drinks, just an ordinary life far from all this chaos…” you caught yourself, suddenly aware of how this might sound to the owner of Arena. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
Your apology was cut short as Jinrang gently touched the fresh cut on your face. The gesture was tender, almost reverent.
“You’ve shown incredible strength,” he said quietly but firmly. “You’ve earned this peace.”
The simple validation broke something inside you. Tears spilled over before you could stop them. Jinrang drew you into his embrace without hesitation.
“I’m so tired,” you confessed through tears. “All I wanted was a real family. To feel loved. To not be alone anymore.”
You clung to him, your tears soaking into his black shirt. Gradually, surrounded by his warmth, you found yourself relaxing. As sobs quieted, you became aware of his heartbeat agains your ear.
Rapid.
Strong.
Like it carried a message his words couldn’t express.
Jinrang tenderly wiped away your tears with his large finger. You looked away, feeling exposed, but he wasn’t finished. He titled your chin up, forcing to meet his gaze.
His next words came soft yet certain, filled with promise:
“Then… let me be the one to love you”
[P.S.]
Despite your earlier determination to avoid sleeping under the stars, here you were, lying atop of a container beneath the night sky—though in a way you never could have anticipated
“How did you find my keys?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.
“In the dressing room,” he replied, his deep voice rumbling through his chest.
You shifted slightly to look up at him. “But when did you—”
“I went to leave a gift for you, for your last fight.” His fingers traced idle patterns on your shoulder. “But you’d already left. Found the keys when I was there.”
The revelation struck you silent. All those years of feeling watched of sensing that presence in the shadows—it hadn’t been paranoia after all. The mystery you planned to leave unsolved, was solved.
“How long?” you whispered, barely trusting you voice. “How long have you been…”
“Watching? Caring?” His arm tightened slightly around you. “A long time. Long enough to know every move you make in the ring. Long enough to worry about every hit you take and to know every scar you have.”
The admission hung between you, beautiful and frightening in its honesty. The stars in the skies and ships navigation lights witnessed the moment of vulnerability between two fighters who had spent too long being strong.
final notes: pushing Jinrang agenda☝️🐺
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Grandpa Sukuna Buys a Phone
Ft. UncKuna Ryomen Sukuna, Retail Worker GN!Reader, Gen Z Android User Itadori Yuji, Millennial iPhone User Inumaki Toge (Can & will speak), Hot Crush at First Sight Fushiguro Megumi
Normal Modern AU - No Curses/No Powers Summary: Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, discovers the horrors of modern technology while trying to buy a phone. Yuji drags his immortal uncle through the chaos of retail hell, Inumaki records everything for clout, & Megumi accidentally becomes the Internet’s newest thirst trap. Or: In which Sukuna learns about Bluetooth while he and Yuji gets a crush, & Inumaki becomes the worst kind of friend. (Feat. awkward flirting, grandpa rage, accidental simping, & enough secondhand embarrassment to power a small city.) A/N: Hey, besties! ✨ So, this fic is 80% crack, 20% feral demon king trying to understand iOS vs. Android while getting his first crush in 1,000 years. 😌 You know, normal JJK things. Expect chaos, TikTok clout chasing, and Sukuna having a midlife crisis over Bluetooth. Also, if you’re here for tall, dark, & broody men with questionable tech skills, this is for you. (And if you’re not, wtf are you doing here? 👁️👄👁️) This fic is dedicated to everyone who’s ever had to explain technology to a relative who still yells at the TV remote. I love you. 💖
A neon-lit Android store in Shibuya. The walls pulse with LED ads for the latest tech, promising “LIGHTNING-FAST SPEEDS” and “CRYSTAL CLEAR DISPLAYS.” You sit behind the counter on a swiveling stool, scrolling through memes and pretending the customer in front of you isn’t about to snap the demo phone in half.
Ryomen Sukuna stands over your counter like a disgruntled RPG boss. Tall, covered in tribal tattoos that definitely don’t follow workplace dress code, and radiating an aura that screams, “I don’t belong in this century.” The demo phone in his hand creaks under his grip.
“This device,” he growls, glaring at the phone like it owes him money, “what does it do?”
You suppress a sigh, eyes darting to the store’s emergency exit. “Uh… everything? It’s a smartphone. Internet, calls, apps—whatever you need.”
His scowl deepens, eyes narrowing like you just insulted his ancestors. “Explain ‘apps.’”
You blink. “They’re like… little programs that do specific things.”
He leans in, crimson eyes glowing. “Specific things like trapping human souls?”
You pause. “No.”
“Then what?”
You’re struggling not to laugh when the door slams open, and two guys stumble in, mid-argument.
Yuji & Inumaki Enter the Chat
“Uncle Sukuna!” the pink-haired one—Yuji, 21—calls, grinning as he pulls out his earbuds with the kind of energy you’d expect from a puppy on five shots of espresso. His hair has those soft, fluffy highlights that suggest either a TikTok influencer or a guy who let his little sister pick his dye job.
Yuji knows Sukuna is his “uncle” thanks to a totally legit backstory Sukuna fed him two days ago: he’d woken up from a 1,000-year coma caused by “Super Rare Amnesia Disease Syndrome” (SRADS™), a condition that erased all his modern knowledge but conveniently left memories of being Yuji’s estranged uncle intact.
Yuji, being both kindhearted and gullible, bought it immediately.
Beside him, Inumaki—a 22-year-old with the energy of a stressed-out millennial, oversized hoodie, and fingers glued to his phone—sips a violently purple bubble tea, eyes flicking to Sukuna like he’s assessing the final boss of a horror game. He’s got the disinterested aura of someone who just lost all faith in humanity and is about to roast someone for it.
Yuji jogs up to the counter, clapping Sukuna on the back. “Whatcha doing, old man?”
Sukuna snarls, baring fangs. “Do not touch me, boy.”
Yuji just grins, unbothered. “Trying to buy a phone? Good luck, dude. You’re gonna hate it.”
Sukuna’s eyes flicker. “You dare mock me?”
Inumaki steps up, flicking his bangs out of his eyes. “He’s not wrong, though. You’ll have a mental breakdown trying to figure out the Wi-Fi settings.”
Sukuna glares. “Don’t patronize me, brat.”
Yuji just grins wider. “You’re literally 47.”
“Old age brings power, boy.”
Yuji pats his shoulder like a nurse dealing with a particularly confused patient. “Uncle, it’s a phone. You can call people, text, watch cat videos, whatever.”
Sukuna squints. “It contains cats?”
Inumaki snorts into his bubble tea, the pearls clinking against the plastic. “Not literally, Grandpa.” He taps his iPhone. “iPhone’s better, though. No debate.”
Yuji rolls his eyes. “Bro, no. Android’s superior. More freedom. Better battery life. Customization.”
Inumaki leans against the counter, smirking. “Yeah, if you want your phone to look like a Craigslist ad.”
Yuji’s grin sharpens. “At least my phone doesn’t cost a kidney.”
Inumaki flicks a bubble at him. “iPhone has FaceTime.”
“Discord exists.”
“Better camera.”
“Pixel 8.”
“Ecosystem.”
“Android has an actual file system.”
You glance at Sukuna, whose eyes are twitching like a demon contemplating mass slaughter. You’re pretty sure if he knew what Wi-Fi was, he’d try to curse it.
He lifts the phone again, staring at the bright, mocking icons. "What is this 'Bluetooth'? Does it refer to a creature?"
You press your lips together, trying not to laugh. "It's for wireless connections."
His eyes narrow. "Connections to what?"
"Speakers, headphones, car stereos..."
He glares at the phone. "Does it speak?"
Yuji snickers. "Nah, but Siri does."
Inumaki lifts his iPhone. "Yeah, and it actually works, unlike whatever knockoff AI your Android has."
Yuji bristles. "Bro, don't disrespect my Google Assistant."
"Literally no one uses that."
"I use it!"
"Case in point."
Inumaki pulls up TikTok, flashing the screen at Sukuna. "See? iPhone's perfect for this." He hits play, and a chaotic, ear-splitting sound erupts from his phone. "Crisp speakers. Smooth playback."
Sukuna's eyes flare. "This... this device screams?"
You bite the inside of your cheek, watching as Sukuna's patience with modern tech frays like an overused charging cable.
---
Yuji claps him on the back, nearly sending him into a murderous frenzy. "Relax, Uncle. You'll get used to it. Just buy the Android. It's way more user-friendly."
Inumaki shakes his head. "Don't listen to this peasant. Buy the iPhone. It'll save you from having to watch pixelated TikToks."
Sukuna glances between the two phones like he's choosing a weapon before battle. "Which one is superior in combat?"
Yuji frowns. "Bro, what?"
Inumaki deadpans. "Neither. They break if you breathe on them too hard."
Sukuna's eye twitches, and you're pretty sure you see him clench his teeth.
Yuji groans, like he's been waiting for this. "Bro, don't start. Android's superior."
Inumaki flicks a pearl at him, which Yuji barely dodges. "Better camera. iPhone wins."
"Yeah, if you're an Instagram model," Yuji fires back. "Androids are for real users."
Inumaki raises an eyebrow. "You mean broke ones?"
Yuji's jaw drops. "Say that again, I dare you."
You rub your temples, regretting every life choice that led you here.
---
While the boys bicker, Sukuna corners you again, red eyes flashing.
"What is 'storage space'?"
You sigh. "It's how much data you can save."
He scowls. "And this... 'RAM'? Is it a type of curse?"
You deadpan, "It's memory for multitasking. Not a curse."
His frown deepens. "Why does this one have a 'triple-lens camera'? Are three lenses necessary for mortal eyes?"
You bite your lip to keep from laughing. "For better photos."
He snorts. "I don't need mortal 'photos.' I'll remember your faces when I'm tearing you apart."
Yuji, still mid-argument with Inumaki, calls over, "Uncle Sukuna, stop threatening people!"
---
A few minutes later, Yuji grabs Sukuna's arm, yanking him toward the counter where the demo phones are lined up. "Here, look. I'll show you how to take photos."
He flips the camera to portrait mode, about to snap a picture of you, when the door chimes. A guy walks in - tall, dark-haired, and dressed like he's about to drop a million-dollar tech startup. He heads for the headphone section, expression unimpressed.
Both Yuji and Sukuna freeze.
The guy, oblivious, casually picks up a pair of noise-cancelling headphones, turning them over with an appraising look.
Yuji's fingers tighten on Sukuna's arm. "Holy shit."
Sukuna narrows his eyes, for once at a loss for words. You glance between them, confused.
Inumaki, who has been aggressively snapping selfies for TikTok, finally looks up. "Oh. Damn."
The guy's eyes flick over to the trio for a moment, brow furrowing slightly before he turns back to the headphones.
Yuji's mouth hangs open, and you're pretty sure you can hear his brain cells frying.
Sukuna leans in, voice low and strangely unsteady. "Who is this mortal, and why do I feel the urge to... validate my existence in front of him?"
Yuji looks equally horrified. "Bro, same."
Inumaki deadpans, "That's called a crush, grandpa."
Sukuna sputters, genuinely looking alarmed for the first time since he stormed into your store. "Crush? I am the King of Curses! I do not 'crush'!"
Yuji hisses, "Dude, he's looking this way. Play it cool!"
Sukuna stiffens, lifting his phone like he's about to curse it. "How do I 'play it cool'?"
Inumaki just smirks, pressing record discreetly on his phone pointed at Sukuna and Yuji. "Good luck, old man."
The mysterious guy - tall, with spiky but soft-looking hair, sharp-jawed, and wearing a designer coat that probably costs more than your rent - wanders over to the checkout counter, noise-cancelling headphones in hand. He's got that lowkey irritated vibe of someone who hates small talk but needs to get this over with.
You mentally brace yourself.
"Hey," he says, voice deep and slightly raspy, like he's been up all night brooding on a fire escape. He sets the box down on the counter, hands long and elegant.
You swallow. "Hey."
Behind you, Inumaki's phone is definitely recording. Yuji, for once, is silent, eyes darting between you and Sukuna like he's watching a slow-motion train wreck that includes him.
You scan the box - a pair of Razor Kraken V5.2 Ultra-Supreme Noise-Cancelling Headphones with 360-Degree Spatial Audio and Bone-Rattling Bass. Price tag: ¥85,000.
Nice. The man has taste.
"Buying the fancy ones, huh?" you say, trying to sound casual.
He raises an eyebrow. "I like good sound."
Yuji, not-so-subtly whispering to Sukuna: "Bro, that's a voice."
Sukuna, glaring: "Shut up, brat."
You slide the headphones toward the register. "So, uh... you into gaming or just vibing to, like, lo-fi while you contemplate the universe?"
He snorts, eyes flicking up to yours. "Both."
God, why does his eye contact feel like a judgemental cat sizing you up?
"Nice," you blurt out, swiping the barcode. "Uh, you know, these are great for drowning out existential dread."
He pauses, lips twitching slightly. "Good. I have a lot of that."
Inumaki is barely containing his laughter behind his cup.
"Yeah," you say, forcing a laugh. "Same."
The air between you is so awkward you could cut it with a plastic spork.
Beside you, Sukuna's fists clench, and you can feel the temperature in the store drop by about five degrees. He's glaring at the mystery guy like he's trying to decide whether to curse him or write him a love haiku.
The guy - completely oblivious - taps his card against the reader.
"Thanks," he says, meeting your eyes again. "Have a good one."
"Y-Yeah," you stutter. "You too."
He turns, strides out of the store with the grace of a noir film protagonist, and disappears into the neon haze of Shibuya.
The door closes, and the silence that follows is deafening.
Yuji, in a stage whisper: "Bro, what the hell was that?"
Sukuna's fingers twitch, veins popping. "He has the presence of a king."
Yuji's eyes snap to his uncle. "Uncle Sukuna, did you just—"
"Silence."
Inumaki finally breaks, letting out a wheezing laugh as he stops recording. "Oh my god. You guys were so awkward." He immediately starts typing the TikTok caption: "Retail Worker and Demon King Simp Over Guy with Expensive Headphones While I Watch" #Cringe #NoRizz #SimpGrandpa
You groan, burying your face in your hands. "I want to die."
Sukuna snarls, still staring at the door like he can mentally will the guy to come back. "I do not 'simp.' I am the King of Curses."
Yuji pats his back. "Yeah, bro, you also just got verbally bodied by a guy who didn't even break eye contact."
Sukuna growls, shadows flickering around him. "Cease your insolence, boy."
Inumaki snorts, sipping his bubble tea. "You're both hopeless."
Yuji leans in, whispering like he's plotting a heist. "Dude, we gotta find out who that guy is."
Sukuna's eyes gleam, fangs flashing. "Yes."
Inumaki just shakes his head, already uploading the TikTok. "I'm so posting this."
As Sukuna's internal monologue spirals from "Why is this mortal so captivating?" to "I should just eat him to stop these cursed feelings," Yuji grabs both phones and slaps them on the counter.
"Uncle Sukuna," he whispers, eyes darting to the door. "Dude, breathe. You're acting weird."
Sukuna growls, shadows flickering like he's about to spontaneously combust. "I do not 'act weird,' boy."
Yuji rolls his eyes, pushing both phones toward the register. "Just buy these and let's go. You're embarrassing me."
Sukuna, still in a post-crush haze, slams a thick wad of cash on the counter, the bills spilling everywhere like the world's least organised drug deal. You stare at it, stunned, because you're pretty sure you just saw a 10,000 yen note that looks older than your grandparents.
He grabs the bags, one in each hand, and turns with a flourish, nearly knocking over a display of overpriced phone cases.
"Keep the change, mortal," he snarls, stalking out of the store with the energy of a man who just rage-bought his way out of an emotional crisis.
Yuji facepalms. "Bro, you bought both phones."
Sukuna freezes, one foot already out the door. He turns, slow and deliberate, like a vengeful spirit. "What?"
Yuji sighs, rubbing his temples. "You bought both. That's like ¥400,000. You just got scammed by capitalism."
Sukuna's eye twitches, jaw clenching so hard you half expect his fangs to crack. He looks at the bags in his hands, then back at you, like this is somehow your fault.
"Foolish mortal devices," he mutters, storming out, nearly shattering the glass door with his exit.
You exhale, leaning against the counter as the air pressure finally normalizes. Inumaki's phone is still recording. You glance at him, too tired to even protest.
"This is going viral," he declares, flicking his bangs aside with a smirk.
---
Later That Night
The door slams open. Sukuna looms in the entrance, the Android's screen flashing an angry red error message.
"This infernal machine mocked me."
Two hours later, he returns, now glaring at a system update prompt.
"What is this 'system update'? It demands I agree to its terms."
You stare blankly. "You have to accept to use it."
"I will destroy this wretched device," he snarls, shadows flickering around him as you reach for the return forms. Retail hell just got a supernatural upgrade.
---
One Slow Tuesday Later
You're stacking overpriced phone cases when the door chimes. There he stands - the headphones guy, dressed in another sleek, all-black fit, the kind of effortless style that screams, “I’m emotionally unavailable but in a hot way.” His hair is slightly mussed, jaw clenched, eyes sharp enough to cut through your last remaining shred of dignity.
Your pulse spikes like a faulty heart monitor.
You swallow. Your palms are suddenly clammy, and you’re pretty sure you’re about to do something embarrassing again.
He strides up to the counter, setting down a phone case with the kind of precision that makes you question your own motor skills.
"Hey." His voice is gravel wrapped in velvet.
“Hey,” you manage, praying you don’t sound like a 12-year-old meeting their K-pop bias for the first time.
He leans in, voice low, eyes narrowing slightly. “Why the hell am I all over TikTok?”
Your brain blue-screens.
“What?”
He reaches into his pocket, pulls out his phone, and flips the screen to face you.
Your soul exits your body as he shows you Inumaki's viral video: 3.4M views, comments glaring up at you.
“Retail Rizz at its finest.”
“Bro, who’s the dude in the coat? I’d let him ruin my credit score.”
“Not the tall, dark, and broody customer giving main character energy.”
“Lowkey want him to step on me.”
Oh. Oh no.
Your eyes dart to the store’s corner security camera, then to the still-displaying LED ads for the same overpriced headphones this guy bought last week. You feel your sanity crack like a cheap phone screen.
“I… I didn’t… It wasn’t me,” you stammer, your brain flipping through excuses like a malfunctioning Rolodex.
"Didn't say it was."
“Oh.” You blink. “Right.”
He pockets his phone, the weight of his stare making your knees weak. “Just… tell your friend to stop being weird.”
Your brain finally catches up. “Oh, yeah. Definitely. Sorry about that. I’ll, uh, talk to him.”
He stares at you for another beat, like he’s trying to decide if you’re worth the effort of being mad at, then turns and heads for the exit.
You exhale, heart rate slowly returning to a somewhat liveable BPM as the door chimes again, and the guy vanishes into the Shibuya chaos.
A second later, your phone buzzes. It’s a group chat notification.
Inumaki 👁️: Bro, did your crush just come back to the store? I see him on the camera feed. LMFAO
Yuji 🦑: WAIT WHAT WHERE
Inumaki 👁️: Nah, too late. He left. I’m posting the part where you both froze like NPCs again. 😂
Yuji 🦑: BRO I HATE YOU
You: I’m blocking you both.
---
Meanwhile, In The Cursed Geriatric Group Chat
Cursed Geriatric👑: Boy. This ‘FaceTime’ feature. Why does it demand my ‘contact permissions’?
Yuji 🦑: LMAO, you gotta allow it or it won’t work.
Cursed Geriatric👑: Allow it? I will not allow anything. I am the King of Curses.
Inumaki 👁️: Old man can’t work his phone 😂
Cursed Geriatric👑: Silence, brat. I will curse you through this wretched device.
Yuji 🦑: You’d have to accept the terms and conditions first.
Cursed Geriatric👑: What are these ‘cookies’ it demands I accept?
Inumaki 👁️: Not the demon king getting ratio’d by iOS settings.
Yuji 🦑: Bro, chill. Just click accept.
Cursed Geriatric👑: Fools. I have clicked it. I will not be controlled by your cursed ‘clouds’ and ‘Wi-Fi.’
Yuji 🦑: You literally have two phones now.
Cursed Geriatric👑: They shall become my weapons. Fear me.
Inumaki 👁️: This is going on TikTok too.
Cursed Geriatric👑: I will end you.
---
A/N: Thank you for reading! 💥 Now that you’ve survived Sukuna trying to understand modern tech: let me know in the comments or I’ll assume you hate me & my serotonin will flatline. 🙃 (Jk, but not really. Please comment. I will fold like a cheap chair.) Okay, love you, bye! 💜✨
All Works Masterlist
Beta - @blackrimmedrose
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk crack#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x you#jjk fluff#jjk x reader#sukuna crack#sukuna fluff#inumaki toge#inumaki fluff#toge inumaki#jjk sukuna#ryomen sukuna#sukuna ryomen#sukuna#itadori yuji#yuji#yuji itadori#itadori#megumi fushiguro#megumi#itafushi#sukufushi#megumi x reader#sukuna x megumi#yuji x megumi#megumi fluff#fushiguro megumi#megumi x you
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Fix it
Platonic Alastor x tech savy/graphic designer reader
He didn't quite understand you
In fact people never expected you to be friends, and it certainly didn't start put that way
You started out working at Voxtech, you spent hours designing advertisements and editing commercials but when Vox told you to start working for Valentino and editing his porn videos you refused. Vox gave you an ultimatum: work for Valentino or be fired. So with no job you decided to try your hand at redemption
You didn't count on Vox's greatest enemy being the facility manager
At first Alastor threatened you. Suspecting you might be a spy since you were associated with Vox but Charlie convinced him to give you a chance
So he mostly ignored you. Keeping conversations short. Especially since it seemed you guys had absolutely nothing in common
Charlie wanted to find away to put your skills to use for the good of the hotel. You suggested creating a website
Charlie loved that idea so you got to it. You designed and developed it. You made it simple but eye catchy. And you decided to regularly upload edited videos of the shenanigans going on the hotel to attract new patrons (and to give yourself some fun).
Charlie being the person that she is wanted Alastor and you to get along better so she came up with the brilliant idea for you to interview him and create a page on the website for first hand accounts
Alastor agreed and as long as it was not a filmed interview
You had prepared a list of questions
Q. Why did you decide to join the hotel?
A. I decided to help the pathetic princess in her silly little dream to watch others fail miserably in attempt to change their already determined fates as entertainment for myself
Q. What has been your favorite moment here at the hotel?
A. Possibly when Niffty released an entire colony of roaches into Angel's bed. That was quite hilarious!
Q. What progress do you think you or someone else has made thus far that's worth mentioning?
A. I finally managed to get my new radio tower to look exactly like the old one. It was nice gesture really. But I do have preferred place for everything
After that you didn't know if Charlie was still going to be for this idea
You really didn't think you and Alastor would ever see eye to eye until one night you woke up to a knock on your door
You jumped out of bed still in your pajamas and opened the door to see Alastor standing there
You were... quite surprised. He told you he needed your help and it couldn't wait till morning
You followed him to his radio tower to see his system short circuiting. He warned you not to get to close or you'd get a nasty shock
"You're the one who deals with this technology stuff, fix it!" You thought to point out the two issues here
1. You don't fix technology, you utilize it to make things
2. This radio recording system is really old and you only knew what you were doing with MODERN technology
But you could tell he was very agitated. You wondered how it even got broke in the first place
You decided to do the only thing you could think and you Voxtubed it
You found some weird guy with obsession for fixing ham radios and old vintage tvs and watched a few of his videos. After assessing the broken system there were a lot of similarities. And after one boring audio book and online purchase of some parts you fixed it
Alastor was impressed. He tried very hard not show it but he couldn’t help it.
Before he could get back to it. You decided to listen to last chapter of the audio book one last time to make sure it was up to code. Unfortunately you forgot to connect your Bluetooth
Alastor standing in the tower with impatiently tapping his foot waiting for you to give the ok so he can give his listeners a much delayed broadcast stiffened at the sound coming from your phone and static buzzed loudly in the air
"Lovely I imagine the imagery to this is just flashy and distracting as it always is" he says rather annoyed
"Actually" you replied "it's an audio book. There is no visuals. It's just sound. Someone reads aloud a book and records it for people to listen to" you pointed out
It was not that much different from radio
You apologized and told him you would connect back to your headphones so he didn't have to hear it
"You may leave it on" he said surprisingly. So you did
Finally when you were done you went about your business. Everything went back to normal. Except... Alastor kept calling upon you before every broadcast demanding you play your audio book again to look over his system to make sure it won't crash on him mid broadcast
And each time he told you there was no need for your headphones
You finally decided to grow a pair and challenge him
"Once again I'd like you to check it over and make sure it's up to code. Play your dumb sound book again and get to it" he spoke as if the audio book did not matter at all but you knew better
"Oh I have it memerized by now. No need to play it again" you responded mischievously
His eyes narrowed and you could hear the sound of a record scratch. "Now, now. I won't allow for any mistakes that would not end well for you. Now play it again" he demanded
"You know if you liked the audio book you could just say so. Also you don't have to listen to the same end chapter over and over again. I have other probably more exciting books" you proposed
He acted offended. "How dare you insinuate that I would enjoy something as pointless and boring as that." Of course he didn't want to admit that anything that came from technology could possibly be good in any way and he could never ACTUALLY like it. No way
"You know its not a lot different from radio. Telling stories with just your voice. Like any kind of art this is just another medium. Another way of expressing oneself. You don't have to suddenly be Mr. Technology guy to like audio books" you said
Alastor seemed to pause in thought. "Hmmm... fine. I guess... it wasn't too horrible to listen to literature being read aloud in a soothing voice. Maybe I'll give some other pieces a try"
And after that you were at the radio tower all the time. Playing audio books for him. You eventually showed him your art skills and showed off the new website. He taught you a lot about his Era and about radio. You guys even redid the interview live on his radio show. Though the results were still quite similar
Though Alastor still hated technology he respected that it was something you enjoyed. And he did listen to the occasional audio book, although it was more like he made you play it for him
An unlikely friendship had formed. And nobody saw it coming. But you wouldn't trade it for the world
#vivziepop#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#alastor x reader#platonic hazbin hotel#platonic alastor x reader#hazbin x reader
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58- "Do I make you nervous?", just finished TLOK, and well not seeing Kya in the final season was so uncool👎So really need your Kyalin's fic right now 🙏
Kya should've gotten more screen time, fr.
Thanks for sending me a prompt, I feel like this one is so Kya-coded.
Check out my ao3 // send me a prompt from this list
Prompt: "Do I make you nervous?"
Lin hadn’t meant to come to Air Temple Island.
Okay, maybe she had. Just a little. Enough to tell herself it wasn’t about avoiding the station’s healer who’d definitely tattle to the Chief if she found out Lin got herself banged up in a routine patrol. It was just that the injury wasn’t serious. Just a pulled shoulder. A bruise. Some stiffness.
So when she stumbled into the island’s courtyard, gritting her teeth and hoping for a quiet monk with decent healing skills, the last person she expected to see was Kya.
She stepped out of one of the side halls, her robes half undone, her hair wet and curling around her shoulders like she’d just come from the bathhouse. She froze mid-step, then smiled slowly. “Well, look what the badgermole dragged in.”
Lin scowled before she could stop herself. “The fuck are you doing here?”
Kya raised an eyebrow. “Charming as ever. I live here now. Again.”
“You were in Ba Sing Se.”
“Was.” Kya shrugged. “Came back last week.”
Lin shifted, wincing as her shoulder twinged. Big mistake, because Kya noticed immediately. “You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine.”
Kya stepped closer, eyes narrowing. “You’re not. Come on.”
“I said I’m–”
But Kya was already walking away, calling over her shoulder. “Kitchen. Good light, no monks. You’re lucky I’m bored.”
Lin considered turning around and leaving. But her shoulder throbbed, so she followed her inside.
The kitchen smelled like tea and ginger. It was warm and full of soft shadows from the afternoon sun. Kya rolled up her sleeves, humming under her breath as she filled a bowl with water and set out a cloth, like this was just something she did every day, like she wasn’t about to put her hands on Lin in a way that made her entire nervous system rebel.
“Sit,” Kya said without looking up.
Lin didn’t move. She suddenly felt awkward.
Kya turned and pointed at the stool beside the counter. “Sit, Beifong.”
Reluctantly, Lin sat, but she immediately regretted it. The stool was too low. The counter was behind her. And Kya, well, Kya stepped between her knees and the edge of the counter without hesitation, crowding her. Lin tried to lean back, but her shoulder screamed.
Kya reached for her jacket. “Off.”
“I can do it,” Lin insisted.
“You’re not doing it.”
Lin gritted her teeth but let Kya help. She shrugged out of the jacket slowly, biting back a wince when her arm resisted. Once the jacket was off, Kya pressed her palms to the sore muscle, assessing her injury, and Lin stiffened all over again.
“You’re tense,” Kya said.
“I’m fine,” Lin said, very clearly not fine.
Kya bent a stream of water out of the bowl and began to work, her hands, along with the glowing water, moving along her skin. Lin could feel the warmth pooling just beneath. Kya worked in slow circles, quietly, and Lin focused on the tile behind her head so she wouldn’t do something stupid like look directly at her.
“Relax,” Kya murmured.
Lin felt her face warm. “I am relaxed.”
“You’re holding your breath.”
“I’m not–”
Kya pressed into a particularly sensitive spot with her thumb and Lin inhaled sharply. Dammit.
Kya’s hands slowed, and her voice dropped, teasing, “Do I make you nervous, Beifong?”
Lin’s spine went ramrod straight as the tips of Kya’s fingers brushed along her collarbone, trailing up the side of her neck to gently lift her chin, coaxing her to meet her eyes. She smiled, slowly, as she waited.
Lin opened her mouth, but closed it again, as she stared into bright blue. She swallowed hard. Her whole body wanted to bolt, and she couldn’t move an inch. “You’re—”
Kya raised an eyebrow. “I’m…?”
Lin’s jaw clenched. “You’re annoying.”
Kya smiled again. The kind of smile Lin hated because it was soft and amused and saw right through her. “Mhm. That wasn’t a no.”
Lin looked away and scowled at the tiles again. Her face was too warm. Her whole body was too warm. She hated this. She hated how close Kya stood, how calm she was, how she smelled like cedar and sea air and something Lin could never name without wanting more of it.
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Rain of Shadows
FT: Simon x gn!reader
Warnings: Emotional detachment and isolation, Conditioning and dehumanization, Mentions of violence and combat situations, Subtle introspection on trauma and identity, use of code name for reader, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏
SUM: You are thrust into an unfamiliar world filled with new faces and unspoken challenges. As you navigate the tension between duty and something deeper, questions begin to surface—about loyalty, purpose, and the bonds that tie people together. Change is in the air, but whether it’s for better or worse remains uncertain.
A/N: This story is my attempt to blend introspection with action, exploring the psyche of someone forged into a tool but yearning for something more. Rain’s journey is both literal and metaphorical, as they navigate the challenges of missions and emotions alike. Also, writing Soap's quips was dangerously fun, and if you can imagine his voice while reading, you deserve a biscuit. 🌧️🪖
Rain of Shadows Masterlist
Part 1 - A New Assignment
A familiar coldness curls around your heart, a constant presence you’ve carried for as long as you can remember. It doesn’t stab or ache—it suffocates, a frost that numbs the shards of longing you don’t fully understand. What is there to long for when you’ve been raised to forget?
Your earliest memories are a patchwork of harsh fluorescent lights, echoing orders, and the sterile tang of disinfectant. The concept of a childhood is as foreign to you as warmth or family. Those luxuries were stripped away before you could form an attachment, replaced with a relentless regimen of drills and exercises designed to carve you into something beyond human. A weapon. Efficient, unyielding, and devoid of unnecessary emotion.
And yet, in the quiet spaces between missions, that hollow ache lingers. It’s not enough to distract you—distraction is a failure in your line of work—but it gnaws at the edges of your purpose, whispering of something missing.
Your code name is Rain—chosen with precision by those who forged you. Fluid, relentless, unobtrusive. Like the rain, you move quietly, leaving destruction in your wake. But unlike the rain, you bring no renewal.
The sky above the training grounds burns with the last remnants of sunlight, the horizon painted in bruised hues of purple and gold. Shadows creep over the facility, deep and sprawling, mirroring the ones within you. The whispers of your handlers cut through the stillness, sharp and deliberate, carrying the weight of yet another mission.
This one feels different.
Task Force 141.
The name carries an air of infamy, even among the circles you operated in. Their reputation is sterling, their methods unorthodox, their success rate unparalleled. They are a unit forged in battle, bonded not just by skill but by a camaraderie you can’t begin to comprehend. And now, your handlers have decided to throw you into their ranks.
It’s not the first time they’ve embedded you with other operatives, but there’s an unfamiliar edge to their instructions this time—a hesitation, perhaps, or an unspoken expectation. You don’t bother speculating. It isn’t your place to ask questions, only to obey.
Captain John Price stands at the forefront as you approach, his silhouette backlit by the fading sun. He doesn’t move like a man weighed down by rank or responsibility. Instead, he carries himself with an ease that speaks of experience, of surviving where others didn’t.
His face is lined, weathered by years of battle, but his eyes remain sharp, assessing you with the precision of a tactician. You’re used to being appraised, but Price’s gaze feels different—not cold or clinical, but weighted, as if he’s not just measuring your skill but your soul.
“This is Rain,” Price announces, his voice steady and commanding. “They’ll be working with us from now on. I expect you to show them the ropes—and learn a thing or two in return.”
There’s no fanfare, no embellishment in his tone. It’s clear that, to him, you’re a soldier, not an experiment. The thought is… unusual. Unsettling.
Before you can dwell on it, another figure steps forward, breaking the tension with a grin as wide as the horizon.
“Show ‘em the ropes?” says Soap—John MacTavish, his Scottish accent curling around the words. “I was thinkin’ more like throwing ‘em in the deep end. Sink or swim, eh?”
Soap radiates energy, his mischievous expression framed by a mess of auburn hair. He doesn’t seem to view you as a threat—or if he does, it’s in the way one warrior sizes up another before a friendly spar.
Beside him stands Gaz—Kyle Garrick, his posture more subdued but no less confident. His dark eyes sweep over you, assessing with quiet intensity. “Don’t underestimate them just because they’re new,” he says, his tone measured but edged with a subtle challenge. “You might be the one sinking.”
The banter feels alien to you. Familiarity between teammates is not something you’ve been taught to expect—or value. Among the operatives you’ve worked with before, loyalty was transactional, fleeting. Here, it feels… genuine.
And then there’s Ghost–Simon Riley.
He stands apart, a silent monolith in the gathering shadows. The skull-patterned balaclava he wears is stark against his dark uniform, lending him an air of menace that seems almost deliberate. His posture is relaxed, but his presence is anything but.
Simon doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, but you feel his eyes on you, cold and unyielding. Unlike Soap’s teasing or Gaz’s quiet scrutiny, Simon’s gaze feels like a scalpel, peeling back layers to expose what lies beneath. It’s unsettling, but not unfamiliar.
You’ve been watched your entire life—studied, measured, judged. And yet, Simon’s scrutiny feels different. It’s not clinical or calculating. It’s… human, somehow.
As Price continues to speak, laying out expectations and protocols, you find yourself glancing between the men who will now be your teammates. They laugh and rib each other with a warmth that feels out of place in the world you know. You wonder, briefly, what binds them together. Shared experience? Mutual respect?
When Price mentions camaraderie, the word catches in your mind like a thorn. You’ve read about it, observed it in others, but never felt it yourself. It’s a bond that doesn’t fit into the cold, efficient world you inhabit.
Soap nudges Gaz with his elbow, whispering something you can’t quite make out, and the two share a quiet chuckle. Simon doesn’t join in, but there’s a subtle shift in his posture, a tilt of his head that suggests he’s listening. Even in their silence, there’s an understanding between them that you can’t begin to fathom.
For the first time in years, a flicker of doubt worms its way into your mind. These men are not like your handlers, nor like the operatives you’ve been paired with before. They don’t see you as a tool to be wielded, a weapon to be pointed at a target.
You don’t know what they see.
The thought lingers as the sun disappears completely, leaving you standing in the growing darkness with strangers who might one day call you their own.

If you would like to be tagged in this story, let me know!
Here's the current post schedule with some upcoming stories to look forward to!
#bt extra#call of duty#fanfic#cod fic#cod#simon ghost riley#gn reader#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#task force 141#tf 141#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#ghost cod#ghost#rain of shadows
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Ranking Octopath Traveler II Characters on How Sick They'd Be as Tony Hawk Pro Skater Secret Skaters
With the advent of THSP3+4 right around the corner - and having just played through one of the best RPGs ever - I thought it might be best to sort out just which of Octopath's namesake Travelers would make sick af cameos in THPS, with notes. Enjoy, feel free to agree or disagree with this assessment.
8. Osvald
This man objectively despises fun, in all of its form, including skateboarding. He's way, way too busy puzzling out the mysteries of monster blood to spill his own by eating shit on a halfpipe. He doesn't care about what's going on in the haunted house in Suburbia, or where exactly the Evil Tiki portal leads to, because neither have answers to the One True Magic. If only he knew the true heart of magic is found by getting a 99.9 during the Rio skate competition, by grinding the outer edge of the skatepark (seriously, try it - there is nothing better in this life than hitting that full loop).
7. Temenos
I love Temenos. He might be my favorite character in all of Octopath Traveler. That said, he is 100% too busy working on his Fire Emblem 7 LTC on an original GBA cartridge to worry about learning the optimal route around Skater Island. He's overly concerned in sorting out an optimal army in Final Fantasy Tactics, without using Ramza as a monk (but he still uses Cid). He's a great character, but he would be such a chore to deal with at the X Games. He was the first to call out Otto Rocket for not actually nailing that Super McTwisty 9000. Doubt is what he does, after all.
6. Castti
While Castti doesn't choose to shred, I believe she still can (it's just really easy for me to picture her doing a cannonball grab through the greenhouse glass on the Cruise Ship level). Still, I think she'd prefer to sit it out, too. Love her character. She might even have one of the best stories in the series. Doesn't mean she likes skateboarding, though... but I don't think she'd hate it. It likely keeps her in business.
5. Throné
This is the purest "sure, I guess" choice on this list. She was my starting character and I loved every chapter of her tale, even with how dark it got. She's way nicer than your typical femme fatale - but can she land a Christ Air off the Skyway Gap on Downtown? Actually, yeah, I think so. She'd nail it with style. Throné proves herself to be chill af time and time again, I think she'd respect skateboarding for what it is.
4. Hikari
Hikari shreds for his friends. Also, can you imagine a THPS level based off of Ku Castle/Castle Town? Because I can, easily. That entire palace might as well be the Burnside of Solistia. Not to mention, if you punch in the Konami Code then you also unlock Shadow Hikari. he would 100% have the sickest board designs, too.
3. Agnea
This is kind of easy pickings, she's not only a dancer but an incredible entertainer. You know her Special moves would be absolutely beyond extra, though maybe a little hard to pull off. Her rail and manual stats would just come blasted to max out the gate. Agnea Bristarni is the closest thing JRPGs will ever have to Rodney Mullen (sentences you will never read anywhere else, follow me for more).
2. Partitio
This is 100% vibes. But I know, I just know that I am not the only one who can easily picture this guy pulling off a 1080 Madonna off the final ramp of Downhill Jam. He just has the right energy. It's not even a skill or character thing when it comes to Partitio, even though I think he is the heart of Octopath Traveler II's team. I just know in my heart that he's friends with Tony Hawk. Partitio is currently retrofitting Roque Isle into a free-for-all secret level.
1. Ochette
Consider the following: using an owl to help you bridge sick gaps. Boards designed after Tera, Glacis, and Acta. Busting out even more monsters for Special moves - plus, unlike the guys at last place here, she'd absolutely love skateboarding, and that's what's most important here. Every skateboarder I knew in real life was basically fueled by Slim Jims and Monster, so if ever there's been a perfect fit, it's our favorite beastling.
And that's it for our list of Octopath Traveler II characters that would make for awesome Secret Skaters in Tony Hawk's Pro Skater. If you have any other popular JRPG filled with characters you believe could shred, let me know and I'll rank them. I'm playing through Final Fantasy 6 again right now, so those guys might be next.
Safe/sick travels to you all.
#octopath traveler#octopath 2#octopath traveler 2#thps#tony hawk pro skater#skateboarding#osvald v. vanstein#temenos mistral#castti florenz#throne anguis#hikari ku#agnea bristarni#partitio yellowil#ochette#tony hawk
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Daddy Issues in Like Minds: Sally and Martin Edition
As a fandom, we have extensively discussed Alex and Nigel and their daddy issues from a number of different angles. The other day I was considering this central theme and the post I made about it here: The Sins of the Father.
It occurred to me that both Sally and Martin are also caught in the same trap, unable to escape the legacy of their own fathers.
Martin McKenzie:
By inheriting his profession from his father, he is in some ways simply a copy of his own dad, following the same path and attempting to follow his dad's moral and professional code. At the same time, he also inherits membership in the Order and the expectations that come with it. When Dr. Forbes presses him to release Alex, those expectations come into play. Dr. Forbes chides him for not following along with the script, as his father would have done. Martin asserts that his father would have done his job properly, abiding by the rule of law. In the end, it's not clear which of them has the correct assessment of Daddy McKenzie, and given what we know of the Order, I think either thing could be true--or both are.
While Martin chooses to adhere to his faith in his father's sense of duty to the law, either way he chooses, he's still caught up in Daddy McKenzie's legacy--and perhaps, his sins. Ian's confidence that Martin would help a fellow Brother indicates that this IS a standard practice among members of the Order. The way he phrases it even suggests that he personally knew Daddy McKenzie and perhaps had examples of Dad's past behavior as his basis for the assumption and the belief that Martin would behave similarly. Martin might have an idealized version of his father up on a pedestal when it is entirely plausible and even probable that the man was guilty of bending and breaking the law to aid the brotherhood.
Is Martin upholding or subverting his father's real legacy? Can Ian presume to know the son by the actions of the father? In the end, Martin renounces membership in the Order, but does he actually escape his father's sins? Isn't he just as willing to bend the law to suit his own purposes? He takes an immediate disliking to Alex, decides that Alex is guilty, and charges him with no solid evidence to avoid having to let him go. He calls Sally in and pressures her to "find him culpable". This is a gross undermining of the due process of law. He won't break the rules for the sake of the brotherhood, but he has already broken them extensively for his own purposes. He has deluded himself into a self-righteous belief in his own ethical rectitude, but he merely repeats his own father's sins in the service of a different cause. Perhaps that IS his father's true legacy...and sin.
Sally Rowe:
We're given much less material to work with pertaining to Sally and her father, but the key piece of info we do get feels very illuminating. When Sally is trying to go home and her car won't start, she opens the hood herself and tinkers with what seems to be the distributor cap*. From her lack of hesitation and confidence in pulling the cap off, we can guess she's had this problem before and fixed it herself. Dr. Forbes offers assistance and they have a brief exchange in which she explains that she inherited a passion for difficult cars from her dad.
Sally's dad imparted both a knowledge and a love of cars, including a particular fondness for types that are prone to frequent mechanical problems. She doesn't just have an interest in these cars, it's a "passion" for them. One can surmise this was a pastime they shared as a bonding activity, Sally shadowing her dad as he fixed the latest problem in his favorite car. One might be tempted to say that Daddy Rowe's legacy then was one of empowerment for his daughter, encouraging her to occupy traditional male spaces and giving her the skills to solve issues that most people need to pay a skilled professional to handle.
I think this trait gives us a window into Sally's psyche far beyond just an automobile hobby. Her passion for "difficult" cars--cars that break down frequently, cars that are tricky, unreliable, and temperamental, cars that can turn on you and leave you stranded a hundred miles from home--feels like a character trait that applies to more than just cars. It gives us a window into the inner forces that led her to choose a career in forensic psychology. Her job duties entail a careful examination of "difficult" people in order to diagnose problems and offer an assessment to law enforcement to determine legal next steps. Sally is effectively opening the hood and tinkering around with the complex human mind to determine the functional status of each patient.
A piece of advice from a practicing forensic psychologist to those who are considering the career:
You have to be able to convey your thinking into well-written, well integrated, and professional reports that will be read by judges, attorneys, clients, and other professionals involved in the case. You need to have a complex understanding of personality adjustment, psychological assessment, the law and the legal process, the relevant literature, and be attuned to one’s limitations in forming opinions.
I find the last portion particularly relevant here. While her instincts led her to choose this profession, they also present a type of limitation to her ability to objectively assess patients. She doesn't just want to fix a car when it breaks, she has a "passion" for the ones that break down often. Most people would want to get rid of a car that had frequent issues, deeming them more trouble than they are worth. But Sally is drawn to problematic cars--and people. There is a subjectivity inherent to her interest in the cars/people with frequent problems which drives her to remain attached when others would give them up as a lost cause.
This trait underlies her entire interaction with Alex, and I think it plays a major role in her downfall. In this post, I examine all the ways that Martin and Alex are very much alike. I would also suggest that their similarity is why Sally was/is drawn to both of them. We know Sally and Martin were previously in a relationship, though that has ended prior to the film's events. Regardless, Martin demonstrates that he at least still knows Sally well enough to push her buttons and enlist her help with his cause. Upon meeting her, Alex immediately starts to probe this woman in an attempt to find her weak spots so he can manipulate her for his own ends. Sally has a similar reaction to both of them, essentially conveying that she sees through their patently obvious attempts to influence her. Her ability to recognize their problematic behavior doesn't actually stop her from caving to their wishes--she cannot resist the "difficult" cars.
It seems likely that most others in her position would have given up on Alex after hearing even a part of his frankly preposterous claims, deeming him beyond the point of any repair. Sally is blind to her own limitations - the tenacious to a fault need to figure out the problem and fix it - and this impedes her ability to remain objective. Her satisfaction at solving the problem is on display as she presents her analysis to her peers--she basks in the pleasure of diagnosing this complex psychological dynamic and preens at the recognition she receives for it. And with poetically perfect timing, while she stands at the highest point in her professional career, Alex reveals that she has been deeply deceived. All her satisfaction at having solved the problem and "fixing the car" comes crashing down in the realization that she was so very wrong. The instincts instilled by her father, rippling outwards from this simple hobby into her personal and professional life, are what cause her downfall.
In Like Minds, there is no escaping your father's legacy.
[*Distributor cap source: I was raised in a family of mechanics including my own father, and I have pulled off a distributor cap to check the cap and the spark plugs when my car was having trouble starting. Feel free to look up pics of the distributor caps to verify my assertion (you won't).]
[Like Minds Masterpost - Main]
#trying desperately to get sources on more images in nigel's book but a few of them are proving problematic so here's a very random post#no one:#me: let's deep dive into sally and martin's character flaws#like minds#alex forbes#like minds analysis#murderous intent#like minds 2006#sally rowe#martin mckenzie#ian forbes#toni collette#richard roxburgh#patrick malahide#i'm sure there's a huuuuge roxburgh and malahide fandom on tumblr
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Dungeon Meshi Liveblog: I think we all know I basically spent these 3 chapters cackling maniacally
In the demon business, we call that BAIT!
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I'm all but wiggling happily. I love a good game of chess. I'm not entirely sure it actually is a game of chess beyond in Kabru's mind.
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OH GOOD HE'S A LITTLE BIT STUPID. This comic really does take care to portray people as badass, hyper-competent, and kinda stupid, all in different ways.
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oh, ALWAYS love a Santa-coded crime boss.
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I appreciate that Kabru's pride is solidly among the things he's 100% willing to temporarily ignore in order to be someone's friend/get them to do what he wants. I like that in a man.
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Interesting - clearly he's being magically influenced, but not so...directly? as to have the hourglass pupils.
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^ words of a man who is about to get his ass, and his entire criminal organization, absolutely WHUPPED by like 6 elves. I suspect the Canaries are underestimating the tallmen and other denizens of this dungeon, because they're arrogant pricks, but the locals are underestimating this elite team of elvish warriors a LOT more. I can't wait to find out what they're actually doing while "sight-seeing." Spreading out into tactical positions, maybe?
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ASS! WHUPPED! omg it's like an evil version of the Wink.
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I want to see this fight animated so fucking bad.
I dunno, Kabru, he clearly uses the combination pretty fucking effectively.
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WHY DO YOU THINK THAT A VISIBLE DEMONSTRATION OF MONSTERS WILL GET THROUGH WHERE WORDS DIDN'T? These people already know there are monsters down here... And at best, of course, a bunch of people will die... But they're just short-lived races so I suppose it doesn't matter :)
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While I do appreciate this dedication to making Mithrun look as cool as possible at all times, sending a giant, zombie-making walking mushroom into the middle of the Level 4 lake is going to be SUCH a disruption to that ecosystem!! Somewhere, Senshi just groaned in pain like Obi-Wan when Alderaan was destroyed.
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Mithrun has recognized that Kabru is going at picking out unusual people in a crowd, and is now using him as a manhandled tool to do so, and I just think that's Neat.
And it works! (So now it's their turn to get their asses handed to them.)
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This chapter cover is giving me a lot of feelings about...love, and families of choice.
Except for how I'm holding Laios in one arm while brandishing a knife at that lion fountain behind him. Get the HELL away from my boy, you tiny manifestation of the granting of wishes, and all you greater ones as well.
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oh are they now? They're definitely canaries in a coal mine, then. Badass and valued for their skills, but disposable. Hmm AU where Marcille...
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oh my god holy shit never mind, it turns out Thistle sucks at this when facing an opponent who isn't caught off-guard.
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It is possible that Mithrun is honestly, earnestly trying to help Thistle? As best he can?
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Sharing food as love!!!
MY GIRL!!
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STILL A TEAM!
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Oh Mithrun actually only has one eye, it's not just dramatic anime effect + hair flop? Hm. Should have a cool scar to make it clearer. I'm impressed with what depth perception he's shown, though, with the teleporting!
Obviously this does mean he ranks up in the Favorite Characters list.
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Kabru: Ooh nice strategy, manipulating all those people in order to manipulate that one person!
Kabru: Wait, right, I still don't like you.
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Yes! Yes! The Kabru's inner desires is OUT! He is impulsively risking this chance to prevent another Utaya - his stated goal, the obvious greater good, definitely very genuinely his primary focus - in favor of demanding the answers he WANTS, and the independence from long-lived elves.
YOU TELL 'EM, BUDDY! TAKE A STAND! BURN YOUR BRIDGES!!
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I appreciate that Mithrun isn't bad at this personal assessment thing.
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brb need to go chew a wall or something!
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