#it's fascinating because it then makes the struggle even harder. no?

[forlix]

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・1.2k / 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・chan x gn!reader / 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲𝘀・fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship, berry being the perfect girl she is. inspired by these bubble messages and @cosmic-railwayxo's treachery. (love u deni)

𝟬𝟲:𝟯𝟲 — “Where’s my baby, hm?”

This is the question on Chan’s lips the moment he lets go of the bedroom door, closed with agonizing caution as to not wake the figure still curled up under the duvet inside.

It’s early. Early enough so the walls are colored a rich beige by new rays of sunlight, so his footsteps are the only sound reverberating around the hallways when he commences his search. Early enough to evidence how he was only bestowed a few hours of sleep before waking up with a budding headache and leaden eyelids.

But he doesn’t mind the lack of rest, not this time. Not when there’s a wad of love with a freckled snout and floppy ears under the same roof for the first time in too long.

“Berry?” Chan calls, his voice tattered and low, like sandpaper. He rakes his eyes over the spots he remembers to be her favorite. Maybe they’ve changed since he was last home. Maybe everything has changed since he was last home.

The thought causes a familiar pang to go off within him, poignant and powerful, but the quiet scuffle of paws against hardwood takes the edge off the guilt straightaway.

Chan finds the beginnings of a smile on his lips before she even rounds the corner, and when she does, well. His grin might as well split his face down the middle. He’s on his knees in seconds, outstretched hands rediscovering home in the puppy’s silky fur as she clambers onto him with blown pupils and excited pants.

His adoring coos of her name falter into muted laughter, which then fragments into a sob. His vision narrows to his precious girl and then starts to blur. When Berry climbs up to give his cheek a few happy licks, she’s fascinated by its saltiness.

You emerge from the bedroom a little over an hour later. Sleeping is hard enough when you’re jetlagged, and even harder when there’s only mattress where you remember Chan’s warm solidity to be. The fabric of Chan’s hoodie suppresses your vocalization of his name as you ungracefully pull it over your torso, still struggling to rouse your body from sleep.

Your beckon produces no response. You wrap a hand around the nearest door frame and peek your head into the living room, a little more alert now.

“Chan? Baby?”

You feel silly. How many visits has it been for you to still feel this nervous, wandering around Chan’s family home? Yet you undoubtedly are, whether because of your absentee boyfriend or that his whole family is a few walls away. You pad through the silent abode with mounting trepidation and intense care to not make any more sound than necessary.

Then you reach the family room and instantly come to a standstill, hands drifting to your sides, features deliquescing to a soft smile. 

Lying on the nearest couch is your boyfriend, head propped up on top of his elbow, his fluttering lashes and gently oscillating shoulders indicating that he’s asleep. You can’t see his face below his eyes, as he has his nose nuzzled into the Cavalier spaniel resting securely in his arms, snoring tacitly into his sleeve, slumbering as deeply as her human companion.

You’ve been stumbling upon Chan sleeping in unexpected places for the better part of two years now, but you still liquefy every time as if it’s the first. These are the moments, you’ve come to realize, when you can care for him in ways he would never let you while conscious: a lift of his laptop off his thighs, a brush of your lips against his hairline, a cardigan draped lightly over his back. These are the moments when you understand in full how far you’ve come together, for him to trust you with his exhaustion with such transparency, to be so vulnerable as to leave you with memories of him that he’ll never have.

Despite your prolonged experience, it’s hard to describe what exactly you’re feeling in this moment. The mere mention of Berry has always dissipated the shadows that veil his face, has always chased off the burdens that cling to his spine. How do you put it into words, seeing your happiness at his happiest?

It suddenly occurs to you that the window beside them is cracked open. That, and you spotted extra quilts in the top shelf of Chan’s closet last night.

Chan’s eyelids lift when he feels the gentle weight of a blanket fall upon his body; so do the corners of his lips, when the culprit materializes before him. Sitting on the edge of the couch, a hand hovering over his frame, face creased into a flinch.

“Sorry,” you whisper, closing the distance between your fingers and the curve of his neck. The pad of your thumb moves over his cheekbone like a willow branch skimming water. “I didn’t think that would wake you up.”

Both of you up, you mentally amend, seeing as Berry has noticed your presence and is wagging her tail with enough vigor for it to thump against Chan’s chest. He lets her wriggle out of his arms and into yours; you emit a noise of glee and gather her into you.

If only you had seen the expression he wears then, watching your eyes scrunch closed at the frenzied kisses she presses to your face. His first love and his very last.

“Don’t apologize,” he answers. “I’m the one who should be sorry for leaving you in bed, I just…”

His voice trails off, but he knows by the softness in your irises when they meet his that you already know.

You move like clockwork. Chan presses up into the back of the couch, the quilt’s edge lifted in wordless invitation. It is your chest that Berry burrows into this time, the top of her head sliding into the space between your chin and the sofa’s cushion. It is Chan’s chest that you’re folded into, the arms around your waist like the coziest of cabins in a sun-spattered wood. It is the back of your neck that he nuzzles his nose into, but not before he litters gossamer kisses across the expanse of skin, as if printing the notes to a lullaby he knows well.

Everything is warm, so warm, so right, and jetlag starts to feel like a distant trouble.

You open your mouth while teetering on the cusp of a dream.

“Baby?” 

He hums into you, listening.

“Always be happy, okay?”

You don’t notice the solitary tear that traverses the bridge of his nose, lands in the cotton of your hood, and dyes the bunched-up fabric a few shades darker. You don’t notice how his embrace around you tightens marginally, like how one’s eyes can’t help but find their dearest possession when the building’s on fire.

“Okay,” he whispers, and kisses your nape once more. Your and Chan’s eyes close together. Berry licks your chin again, then follows suit.

(Another hour later, Chan’s parents walk into the family room. They decide to go out to breakfast for fear of making too much noise in the kitchen, Chan’s mother blotting away tears as she ducks into shotgun, Chan’s father laughing at her sentimentality while blinking back his own.

Another few hours later, Hannah takes maybe fifty-some photographs of the triad of unmoving heaps occupying their couch. Then she grumbles at Berry for being dead asleep at eleven in the morning: “Those two arrived here from across the world yesterday. What’s your excuse?”)

🔖 (send an ask or reply to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp・ @automaticpersonabatpaper・@aceofvernons・@linos-kitten・@newhope8

© 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘅 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support.

#bang chan fluff #bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #skz x reader #skz fluff #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #bang chan imagines #chan x reader #chan fluff #chan imagines #bang chan x you #bang chan scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids soft hours #*writing #*drabble #*d: chan #k-labels

[moonastro]

peoples first impression of you

pick a picture

left to right(top)-> 1,2

left to right(bottom)-> 3,4

°DO NOT take this as literal, take everything with a grain of salt as this is purely and intendedly for entertainment purposes. °Don't be afraid to give feedback and opinions about this post (as I would entirely appreciate it). ° This is a GENERAL reading, take what resonates and leave and pass on what does not!

***IMAGES ARE NOT MINE***

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pile one-

people perceive the resilience that you give out, they are aware that you are not easy to mess with and you aren't as careless as they would have though you are. People often see you as closed off, most likely because of other worries of occurrences in life. You have this courage that is very noticeable and often people see that you are fearless. They see no weakness in you, you will approach life with full confidence and power. Sometimes, you can break your cool but its not because you are needy or arrogant, its because you cant stand unfairness, people notice your ambition to fix a problem especially when it is so obvious. Yeah, you have a very fixed presence and most people can be quite scared to mess up, this can be because of your facial expressions or you could be someone that is hard to impress especially with new people as you don't show your inner self to them yet. Yet you might be seen as someone gullible too. you also can be perceived as someone with their head up high and ignoring their surroundings. This can make it harder for someone to approach you as they see that you are someone who may not be in the mood to talk to people. you may struggle to trust your intuition and you may just take the leap without thinking much of it with the mindset of whatever happens- happens.

first that people notice: your physical health (you may workout or are in great physique), your beauty, your style of clothing (may be very put together and neat), your smile, your limbs.

your vibe to other people:

chic, modest, unbothered, chill, independent, cool, grounded, intellectual, business oriented, career opinionated, vintage, fashion

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pile two-

people may not necessarily notice you, this can be that you don't show yourself or you just prefer to observe from afar. Yeah, people notice how you isolate yourself so they rarely see you hence why others don't see you very much. This may also be that every time someone sees you, you may not have changed that much in terms of style, appearance or attitude which may leave them not have a new impression of you. people notice how you are stuck with old patterns. this may not be a bad thing its just what others observe about you. there is lots of loneliness and others may think you are struggling with something but they feel that they cant help you because you wont allow them. they feel useless. you may have lost someone close or these transformative occurrences keep happening so you may be in constant mourning and grief and may not have time to heal. this is not the end of the world though, they may think that you have something that others may want but you are too focused on he negative. you are very good with words. you have a poetic way of speaking and when you do people are fascinated. people notice your way of thinking and how you come up with solutions very easily and quickly. you may write a lot maybe journal and get your worries out on a piece of paper.

first thing that people notice: your walk, your head pieces (may be headband, ribbon, hair clips and whatever else you wear on your head, may even be glasses), your right hand (may wear significant jewellery on that hand, your clothing colours, odd style.

your vibe to other people:

eccentric, colourful, tired, unbothered, baggy clothing, indie, untidy style, unconventional, alternative, eyes blocked/ covered, unapproachable

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pile three-

people notice your positive view of the world, you may talk or have relations to other people who like your attitude and they may give you job related opportunities. you have good news with money so people give an impression that you are financially stable. you may not like to be in big groups and may not work as well in a team. this may make you quieter that you are or this may make you feel small and useless. you also may not address problems and keep them in. people usually only hear you speak about the positives in life and they wonder what you truly go through as you don't really address those topics. you are rather serious and don't take things lightly. you can take some things too seriously and people notice that about you. you take whatever you have and make it work for you. you are very vocal about your possessions and are not afraid to show off your ideas and abilities. yet, others notice how you work with whatever you are given and you do it well. you are proud of your creations and skills and are not afraid to use them and show them off. people see you as someone who is very proud of themselves. you are quite flirty in nature, you tend to show off your financial earnings in order to get others attention. you are every good with emotions and others see your empathy and interest through your expressions- this makes you very approachable and friendly. people feel like you are someone who they can trust in the long run. on the other end, you constantly regret your actions from the past which can change your mood completely. you have matured well and others notice that.

first thing that people notice: your creativity, your potential (you seem like someone who is on the path to success), your inspirational nature, your ideas, your fighting nature, your motivation, your hair.

your vibe to other people:

classy, successful, positive, fiery, showing your legs/arms, confident, powerful, smiley, expressive, formal, sexy.

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pile four-

you are very hardworking and are always keen to learn and master your skills. people notice how patient you are and very detailed. you take time to get to know something so you will be able to teach someone else. people notice your ability to teach and coach others. you are are very peaceful soul, very laid back and very reserved. you will give others the chance to shine instead of yourself and i feel like only some notice that about you. you sometimes are on the verge of giving up and you are vocal about it. yup, you always give give give. you are the most selfless person that anyone knows. you are so generous that most people can think you are putting up an act but truly you believe that what you give out comes back to you. people notice your curiosity, you may question a lot of things and ask lots of questions to other people. you may also observe and talk about the things others don't care about. you always seek the truth and it may be why you question everything as you wish it would give you answers.

first thing that people notice: your pet (may walk your dog a lot of you may spend time with an animal a lot), your leadership, your vision, your determination, your honesty, your stubbornness, your friendly nature, your structure.

your vibe to other people:

casual, simple, comfortable, easy going, in your own world, warm, natural, open, free, informal, effortless, sincere, not extra, relaxed, placid, flexible.

That is all!! thank you so much for reading, have a good day and i hope something amazing happens today.

#tarotblr #free tarot #tarotcommunity #kpop tarot #tarot cards #pick a card tarot #tarot #tarot pac #tarot pick a card #tarot reading #tarot witch #tarot community #tarot deck #free tarot reading #free readings #free reading #intuitive readings #style #pick a picture #pick a card #pick a pile #pick one #pick a photo #kpop astrology #kpop moodboard #moodboard

[teyamsatan]

ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ xxɪɪ - ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʀɪᴠᴇʀ

pairing: dilf!jake x omatikaya!reader

➽ words: >800 words

➽ a/n: i honestly don't know if i should keep writing these, but i couldn't help myself with this one. dilf!jake thoughts will what do what dilf!jake thoughts do best, it's like a trance taking over me.

➽ warnings: it goes without saying, but all of these works (kinktober-related) are smut and therefore minors should NOT interact with them. other warnings include: pet names (doll, kid)

➽ taglist (x) ➽ kinktober masterlist (x)

Your muscles are aching and sore, a common occurrence recently, since the Olo’eyktan has decided everyone needs to work harder to pull their weight, to ensure the clan is ready for the inevitable offensive onslaught brought about by the demons coming from the stars above. It’s been non-stop, the training and drills, your body so drenched in mud at all-times, it almost became a second skin. You can feel your satin top clinging to your form, perfectly moulded to the shape of your breasts, accentuating your hardened nipples and your flawless, fuckable little body. 

Jake felt like such a perverted old man, staring at you making your way to the riverbank, no doubt trying to wash away the day, trying to loosen the tight knots in your shoulders and back. It was so strange - never before has Jake found someone to look somehow even better all disheveled and muddy, but there you were, a beautiful doll with the most perfect tits in the world and an ass that was begging for a thick cock to sit on. Luckily for Jake, he had some time to spare and just the perfect solution to… loosen you up after such a hard day.

You jumped a little as you noticed how close the Olo’eyktan has gotten to you, his musky, earthy, woody scent inundating your senses and making slick pool in your already clinging tewng. It was hard, being close to him. You tried to avoid it, because you hated feeling week, or like a child, but around him, taking in his rugged beauty and his muscular, strong body, bulging muscles always on display, thick thighs almost calling out for you to ride them, dragging your soaking folds against the tight, taut, azure skin until the pressure exploded all around you... let's just say all rational thoughts went swiftly out the window.

"Alright there, kid? I didn't work you too hard now, did I?"

"N-no, sir."

"Sir?" His eyes bore into your own, and you couldn't break away from his gaze, preying and teasing, intense and fascinated. He swirled the word around his tongue like a precious liquor, before he made his appraisal. "I like that. Sounds good coming from your lips."

It took no time for him to join you in the river, the icy temperature of the water not eliciting as much as a bat of an eyelash to this hardened specimen of a man.

"Let me help get you cleaned up, what d'you say? It's the least I can do after pushing you so hard these past few weeks."

His muscles tense as he sits down, the water falling in a tumultuous stream as it hit his back. He pats his lap lazily, welcoming you in between his legs. Your breath hitches in your throat at the sight, at the way he was maintaining eye contact, at the way he was devouring you with his darkening stare.

"C'mon, doll. I won't bite, I promise."

Unable to resist any further, you oblige, turning your back to him and dropping until you were perched in between his thighs, allowing the water to submerge you to your collarbones, feeling your nipples harden again, as you struggled to adjust to the coolness of the river.

"There you go, good girl."

He took no time in reaching across and caressing your body with his huge hands, moving them across your abdomen and back in soothing motions that did wonders for your tense disposition, making you instantly forget that you were in public, and that anything too conspicuous would inevitably be visible to all the other Na'vi scattered across the ever-moving body of water.

You moan and keen into his touch, throwing your head back as his fingers find the sensitive skin of your breast, kneading them carefully, catching your erect buds in between his thumb and index finger, twisting and pulling. The sensation was intoxicating, heightened by the hard-on pushing against your aching, desperate, needy cunt and the way his tongue was dragging across the nape of your neck. You start moving on his length involuntarily, dry-humping him through both your messy, wet loincloths.

"Let me take it off, baby girl. Need to feel you take every inch of my cock."

When his fingers wrap around the band of your tewng, undoing it expertly, you gasp - it was big, so big, bigger than you've ever imagined.. or ever had. You were almost scared, intimidated at the thought of being stretched by him, filled to the brim and split open until you were merely a toy, to be used and abused however he saw fit. There was excitement, too, stupid relief at the thought, at how it'd feel, at how good you'd feel.

"S-s'big, sir. 's not gonna fit."

As he dragged his tip across your folds, teasing you before pushing in just past the entrance, you mewl and push back into him, silently begging him for more.

"Shh, doll. So fucking needy, aren't you? So gorgeous, make an old man like me drop to my knees. Gonna look so good, bouncing up and down on daddy's cock."

taglist: taglist: @pandoraslxna @sulieykte @blue-slxt @eywaeveng @neteyamsikran @elenamoncada-ibarra @spicymayyo @itsjazzsworld @daddysmurfslefttoenail @eyrina-avatar @iameatingmyhair @neteyamyawne @eyweveng @tiredwitch1113@hadesbabygurl@linydoll @the-mourning-moon

#lunaskinktober2023 #break my back like a glowstick daddy #jake sully #jake sully smut #jake sully fic #dilf jake sully #avatar smut #avatar twow #avatar #avatar fanfic #jake x reader #jake smut #jake sully x reader #jake sully x yn #jake sully reader #avatar reader #avatar fanfiction #avatar jake #jake sully x y/n #jake sully drabble #avatar way of water #avatar the way of water #step dad jake sully #stepdad!jake sully #dbf!jake sully #dbf!jake #lunaskinktober2023 re: teyamsatan #༊*·˚ andra's works #◘ andra's oneshots/drabbles

[pixiedustandfairypowers]

So about that scene with Bowser and Kamek...

I find their relationship to be quite interesting because Kamek is INSANELY powerful, yet he is afraid of his master's anger. Doesn't it seem odd to you that Kamek has a spell that can torture people, and yet he never dares to wield it to stand up to Bowser whatsoever?

And back to this scene... Bowser is clearly about to lose it when Kamek interrupts him when he's in the zone, playing to his heart's content. But instead of screaming at him for interrupting, he visibly struggles to hold back his temper, and collects himself before responding.

Bowser does this again when Kamek mentions that another human has arrived in the mushroom kingdom, but this time it's even harder for him to hold back, with smoke flaring out of his nostrils, and Kamek jumps back in fear.

After this exchange happens, Bowser calmly tells Kamek to play piano with him and waits for him to feel easy enough to join.

So all of this is to ask... Is Bowser self aware enough to know that he has anger issues, and that's why he struggles to hold back his own wrath? Is this a character flaw that he's actively trying to overcome? That would certainly make him to be a more fascinating character, but then I remember this:

Bowser deliberately closes the piano cover on Kamek's finger, telling him that pain is the best teacher. But in this instance, Kamek didn't even do anything wrong. If Bowser is so eager to deal out abuse, even to his closest advisor, why was he holding back after being interrupted? Do they even have a real friendship going on or does Bowser just see Kamek as a means to an end?

It just seems like a dangerous ploy to take a powerful wizard for granted in this way. If Kamek can dispatch an entire army with a levitation spell and torture people with magic, then shouldn't he be able to overthrow Bowser if he really wanted to?

BTW @jell-o101 I'd love to hear your thoughts on this (if you have the time OFC)

#the super mario bros movie #bowser #kamek koopa #character analysis

[thebigsl33p]

Last Words of A Shooting Star (Part One)

A/N: this is the longest fic I've ever written, and this is only part one. A lot of love has gone into this, I'm super excited to share it! If there any mistakes or stuff please let me know. Uh, Aleksander's kinda OOC bcs it's early days and I'm not traumatising him yet but I am gonna make everyone so miserable in Part Two, I promise, and then he'll become a mardy bastard. Masterlist will be up with the second part, and my main will be updated.

Main Masterlist

people I thought might appreciate being tagged: (If not, sorry!!!):

@augustwithquills @myanmy @noortsshift @archangelslollipop @vaguekayla @budugu @inlovewithfictionalmen444 @weallhaveadestiny @dreamlandcreations @bookloverfilmoholic @lost-tothe-centuries

Warnings: Violence - murder, not too graphic, I don't think. I think that's all, if not please let me know. tbf, canon level I think but maybe I'm delusional

Word Count: 8260

Fic Playlist:

Aleksander has always had a fascination with the night sky. He can’t help it. It’s the darkness, he thinks, it runs in his blood and makes up his flesh, how couldn’t he be absolutely enamoured with it? 

Maybe it’s because it was the only constant. 

So much of his childhood, his years as a teenager and as a young adult were spent travelling, creating new identities, learning new landscapes, new faces, new names, new buildings, all of which would disappear and be replaced every two weeks. And sure, the daytime was nice with the sun and all. But it wasn’t as peaceful, didn’t bring him that same tranquillity as when he would lay down in a field, gaze up and try to name all the constellations, find new shapes and make up new stories. 

Perhaps it all changed due to the incident at the Grisha camp. He had loved sunlight, the dark had scared him. But now, something was different - that air of peace was replaced by a penchant for the tenebrosity that the night brought with it, and a love for the small lights which decorated the dusk. 

No matter where he went, whether he was North, East, South, or West, the night-sky was the same. Always that deep monumental blue speckled with little dots - little lights, little moons, little stories - which people like him called Stars. There was nothing quite like laying in a field, feeling the cool summer breeze or the biting winter gusts and knowing that you were so small, so insignificant compared to everything that burned up in the cosmos. 

He was young then. Young and naive. And it was before her.

Looking back on it, Aleksander should’ve known better. Hadn’t the incident at the Grisha Camp taught him that? Wasn’t it what his mother drilled into him constantly? Trust no one. Never show your abilities. Touch no one. He was, politely put, a fool. 

He was a young man when his life changed, for the better and for the worse. It’s hard to remember exactly, but he believes he was around nineteen, and he remembers it was a hot summer’s evening. The day had been spent working. He couldn’t have known then, but that ‘work’ was the beginnings of The Little Palace. But back then, it was him being - as his mother would put it - foolish, and helping other Grisha travel across Ravka. They were hard to find, and even harder to trust, but gradually, slowly yet surely, he was building a good network.

But during the nights, just for a little while he could let that go. He could lay in the tall grass, head tipped towards the dark vast sky and he could stare up at the stars and pretend he was normal, that shadows weren’t absentmindedly curling around his fingers.

For some reason he struggles to remember memories before that time. They’re blurry and vague, little snippets and days that he’s lost with his extended age. But that particular night, he remembers it vividly - his long hair brushing his cheek in the wind, the hard dirt under his head, the hum of nature and bugs, the bustle of a town not so far away carried on the wind, and the stars. They were the brightest he’d ever seen them, almost restless, buzzing in their eternal placeholders. Something, he could feel, was wrong.

The image of the star falling to Earth is eternally seared into his memory.

It appeared faster than he could comprehend - one second it wasn’t there, and then one second it was. He sits up on his elbows, completely transfixed and stunned by, what he at first presumes, is a shooting star. But gradually, he realises it’s getting bigger, faster… closer.

This burning bright ball of cream yellow light, tumbling through time and space and existence, tumbling towards him. Sitting there in the field, stunned by the sight, he’s sure he can hear it fizzling and crackling, knows it’s completely impossible from this distance, but he’s certain of it. Something tugs in his chest, somewhere between unbridled intrigue and panic, his mother’s words of warning echoing in his head. The intrigue wins, it’s an easy internal battle of common sense and childlike wonder which he thought he had long abandoned. 

Aleksander scrambles to his feet, accidentally getting dirt on his palms and his trousers but he barely notices, head still tilted to the sky and his breath caught in his throat. He can see the trajectory of the star, where it will land in a section of the forest just a bit off from where he’s camping out. His eyes widen, a small smile, and before he knows it he’s stepping towards the tree-line, his black boots thudding on the ground as his footsteps get quicker and quicker. 

To anyone else, the forest might’ve seemed daunting, especially so late at night. But the Shadow Summoner stepped into it without hesitation, the wizened terrain underfoot switching to a softer crunch of twigs and leaves. Once inside, he loses sight of the star, the canopy of the forest shielding it from him, its only indication being the unnatural light it shines through the leaves onto the forest floor, making his journey easier. He dodges twigs, branches, spider-webs, ducking and batting them out of the way quickly, balancing looking at the floor and where he’s going with gazing up at the foliage covered sky for any indication he’s travelling the right way. 

He doesn’t know why he’s following after the star. He doesn’t know how he knows it’s a star. It feels more akin to when you’re in a dream, and you just know something is. Something about it compels him, drags him forward and pushes him on, deeper into the forest.

When the star makes impact, he feels it. In fact, Aleksander’s sure the entire world might’ve felt it, the shake in the trees and the ground, the birds disturbed from their midnight peace quickly fleeing their homes at the rattle of the branches and leaves, the dust-like dirt stirring. And it guides him to the star - the cracking noise it made as it hit the ground unmistakably came from a fraction to his left and so, he followed that way. 

He knows he’s getting closer when the damage becomes more destructive. It’s no longer just disturbed birds and dirt, it’s entire trees tilted at an angle as if God had pushed a finger into the dirt and tilted them, their roots peeking through the soil. But in the middle of the makeshift clearing it is dark, the disturbed dirt floating and drifting through the air and concealing his surroundings. The ground is severely dented and compacted, forming a large dark crater which Aleksander can barely peek over. 

He shuffles from the damaged treeline, his boots creaking on the soil as he tries to catch a glimpse over the edge of the vast crater, but it’s wide and deep, and the edges are loose. He’s careful, his Shadows waiting obediently for his hands to move - for some form of attack or defence. But it never comes. 

Instead, as the clouds of dirt clear, the centre of the crater gradually became more visible. The middle was, overall, smooth but it slopes and nicks here and there. He had expected to see a rock, some large grey bland thing which ultimately would’ve made this all less exciting. But what he sees instead has his eyes widening. There, in the middle of the crater, is a young woman. She’s asleep - passed out maybe - her arms loosely stretched outwards, her hair splayed, messy and white. It’s not even like he can say it’s grey, or silver, or blonde. No, her hair is white, paper white, as white as the dress she’s wearing. It fits her well, skims over her body without constricting too much movement.  He notices she has no shoes on. It dawns on him that this sleeping woman, this girl, is the Star and his brow furrows softly. 

He barely hesitates before he’s sitting on the ledge of the crater and sliding down it, his boots landing on the compacted soil with a thud. In a few strides he’s standing over the sleeping girl, and then in another quick action he crouches down and picks her up, the back of her knees bent over his arm, her waist in his other as he supports her back and her head lolls. He huffs in soft amusement, and walks back the way he came, gently hoisting her up the wall of the crater with as much care as he can, using his shadows when he has a spare hand. It’s hard, and takes a bit of manoeuvring, but he gets there eventually before he pulls himself up. It’s a surprise to him that she hasn’t woken up yet. 

He didn’t feel comfortable leaving her there like that, asleep, vulnerable and barefoot where anyone could’ve found her and not have known what they had stumbled on. He picks her up again, and begins his journey back through the forest, a little slower and with a little more care, mumbling to himself - to her - as they go. She doesn’t stir once, her head propped against his chest, her hair tickling his arm slightly. 

The journey back to where he was camping out is peaceful. It’s quiet, save for his footsteps or the rustle of clothes. Occasionally, the moonlight catches her and she sparkles a bit. Literally sparkles, reflects it like a goddamn mirror. It really is a sight to see and it makes his lips quirk up a bit. 

When they get back to the field, he’s careful. Aleksander lays her down on his mat, adds a few more logs to the fire and covers her with his coat. He thinks of checking her for injuries or damage, but decides that can wait until she wakes up. He doesn’t want to be a creep, and if she’s in pain she’s probably better off telling him when she wakes up, than him finding out for himself. 

And so, he settles himself on the other side of the campfire. He leans his head on his pack - considering the girl next to him has his mat - and tries to get what little sleep will come. 

-

When Y/N wakes, it’s in unfamiliar surroundings. The first thing she’s aware of is the cold. It’s not freezing, but it’s uncomfortable, and she tucks her legs up under her until she’s in a ball, tugging the blanket under her chin. Blanket? No. She shouldn’t have a blanket. It shouldn’t be cold… 

She sits up fast and quick, all lethargy gone from her body as her eyes widen and she takes in her surroundings. She’s in a field. On a mat. And someone’s dark, large coat is over her body. It’s early morning, the sky a pale grey, a low mist settling on her surroundings and a light dew coating the grass. She can feel heat on one side of her, but her head is turned towards the foggy treeline. She tries to recall the last things she remembers… being in the sky, existing, and then a sudden gap which she can’t figure out, and then she wakes up here. 

She’s caught in thought, trying to make sense of her surroundings when a voice says, “You’re awake.” and her head whips around. On the other side of a fresh campfire is a young man, dark eyes, long dark hair, pale skin and dark clothes. He’s roasting a rabbit over the fire - no doubt freshly caught from the knife that sits beside him. His pack sits beside him, his eyes never leave her, even as she expresses soft panic. 

She tries to get up, but her body aches, and he holds out a hand, “Easy. I’m not… I’m not going to hurt you. What’s your name?” he asks softly, waving to her to relax. 

She answers hesitantly, her eyes scanning the boy, “Y/N.” she says eventually, “You?” 

“Leonid.” Aleksander lies, looking between the campfire and her, “Are you hurt anywhere? You took… quite the fall.” 

“Funny.” Y/N says drily, “How long have you been working on that one?”

From the grin that splits his face, he’s clearly secretly pleased with his dad-joke, “Just this morning.” Leonid - Aleksander - turns a bit more serious, “Are you, though? Hurt?” 

She shakes her head, kicking the coat off her and putting it to one side so she can sit up properly, “No, I’m fine.” she mumbles, “Just achy.” 

“Mhm, I suppose that’s to be expected.” he holds the cooked rabbit out to her on a makeshift fork, “Here, eat. You’ll need it.” 

Y/N takes it hesitantly, sniffing it before picking a bit of meat off it with her fingers and eating it, “Thanks… who are you?” 

“Leonid.” He repeats. 

“No, I meant like - where am I? Who are you - like - how did you find me?” 

“Well,” he leans back on his elbows, glances around, “You’re in a field, near Vernost, in Ravka.” he says, “and I am…” his brow furrows softly as he figures out how to phrase this. She’s a Star - would she even understand the difference between Grisha and Otkazats’ya? 

He says it anyway. 

“As I said, my name’s Leonid, I’m…” he’s hesitant - would a star really have prejudices? He hopes not. He takes a foolish chance. “Grisha. You know what that is?” 

She nods, offers him what remains of the Rabbit. He waves it off, indicating that she finishes it. “Why are you helping me?” She asks, tilting her head. 

“My, you’re just full of questions.” he sighs, “I saw you fall. I wasn’t just gonna… leave you.”

“Right.” Y/N’s eyes narrow slightly, “is this your coat? Here you can have it back.” she nudges the coat towards him. 

He gives her an amused look, his eyes moving down, then back up, “I think you’ll need it more than me, zvezda.” he muses, smug almost. 

She glances down at the dress she’s wearing. It’s simple, plain, and he’s right. It’s too thin for the current weather - she’ll be better off as it warms up during the day - but for now, she accepts the coat with a small, amused huff. 

"C'mon, eat that fast," he says, indicating to the rabbit, "We've gotta get going before the sun is too high." He's already tucking away the few things he got out, "I'm gonna walk you to the nearest town, Vernost, leave you somewhere safe, okay?" he glances at her, "Get you some shoes and some more suitable clothes. Until then…”

He reaches into his pack, produces a spare undershirt and hands it to her with an almost apologetic look, "Better than nothing." she nods in thanks.

She takes the shirt with a grateful nod. Once she's finished the rabbit, she stands and hands him the mat, watching as he rolls it up and tucks that away too, and then they're set to travel. She pulls on the undershirt over her dress and while it hangs loosely it provides a bit more comfort, and then she shuffles on his coat. It’s too big for her, completely contrasts her bright eyes and white hair, the sleeves hang loosely and she has to roll them up. 

 He wants to make her as comfortable as possible, and so shows her the map he’s using, highlights the path they’ll be travelling with his finger, showing their way through the woods, worries a bit over her lack of shoes and then they’re walking. 

The path to the town is simple, through the woods, past her crater, and then a little further for about fifteen or twenty minutes. He’s careful to go first, his harsh boots making some attempt at flattening the ground for her barefoot condition. Aleksander considers picking her up - no, too weird for someone he’s just met - and she doesn’t seem to be in any pain. 

They keep walking. The sun rises higher, the morning beginning just as they make their way into Vernost. It’s a small town, but a good town. The hustle and bustle of people, farmers, artisans, builders and blacksmiths is accompanied by the gentle murmur of the small local market, travellers and locals who move between stalls and shops, horses’ hooves on the cobblestone, the crowd parting for an occasional rickety wooden carriage.

He glances over to her. The look of awe on her face is somewhere between sad and endearing. She’s struck completely by this tiny town, the smallest, simplest form of inhabitance, and yet it brings nothing but awe and wonder to her gaze. There’s a sense of yearning in the way her eyes run over everything as they walk, as if she’s desperate to take it all in, to retain it, keep it held to her chest - to make life hers. To have all of it - to know the joys and the sorrows like the back of her hand. Aleksander could practically see the light come to life behind her eyes, as if she’d finally woken up to something wonderful. 

He smiles, somewhere between amusement and appreciation, and places a hand on her shoulder to steer her through the crowds which are slowly getting busier, “Easy tiger.” he says and she laughs sheepishly. 

“It’s just all so…” she doesn’t know how to describe it, the words to explain the way her heart is racing all jam up in her throat. She has a heart. The rushing of blood, just the wind against her skin, it’s all she ever wanted to feel, and now that she can feel it, now she’s no longer confined to the night sky, she’s in complete and utter astonishment, raptured by everything around her. 

“Kinda overwhelming?” He suggests, raising an eyebrow as they walk. He’s keeping an eye out for a Cobbler - or anywhere that sells shoes, really. Again, he casts his eyes down to her bare feet and feels guilt and concern rise in him, that the streets of Vernost, nor the woods are exactly clean, and they must be hurting by now.

But one glance at her face and he can tell she barely feels it. It’s just dirt - it can be washed off. However, it doesn’t ease the guilt. 

-

The first time she ‘shines’, is over a piece of cake. 

They’d been travelling together for a few weeks now. Aleksander was a fool to think he could leave her alone in Vernost, his worries, concerns and guilt over the Star getting the better of him. They stayed for a few days there, giving her a general introduction to the workings of human life in a contained and somewhat non-threatening environment. 

In their few brief days in Vernost she tries a range of food, stews, desserts. He explains money, the current politics of the country over a bowl of stew from the Inn they were staying at, explains the prejudices and segregation of Grisha, the violence. They get her clothing, a shirt, an overvest, trousers and boots, and a small bag to carry her non-existent belongings. She folds her dress into it for the first few days - that silky silver material which catches in the moonlight - and it fits surprisingly well, tucks into the corner of the satchel. He explains to her how to read the map, all the different little symbols. In some ways, she’s like a child. Her lack of general knowledge about the world is understandable, but she catches on fast, much faster than anyone else could’ve. 

Well, they’d been travelling together for a few weeks, developing a relationship that might even be called friendship. Aleksander had to make a few adjustments to the way he travelled - he was still telling Y/N his name was Leonid - occasionally they travelled at night. Honestly, it made more sense, he felt more comfortable in the darkness, and she had more energy. But it also made them bigger targets for suspicion, people travelling at night were often suspected of Grisha related activity… which is exactly what he was doing. She was just along for the ride, and the last thing he wanted was for her to get dragged into his problems and potentially harmed. Conflicting morals, he knows. 

They’d passed through a few villages on their travels, small places which minded their own business and were good for occasional stock ups on food, water, supplies. 

He doesn’t know why he bought the slice of cake. Aleksander had decided it was good for her to develop her own independence, and so she had gone to make her own way around this small town they’d stopped in. Meanwhile, he perused the sparse shops for anything of use. 

The slices of cake were sitting in the shop window, all of them uniform in their cream decoration and the small slices of strawberries which sat inside and on top of the layers of sponge, and all of them placed delicately on little porcelain dishes. He enters the shop without thinking, purchases a slice to take away, lets the person wrap it away in a small tissue and carefully takes it, slipping it into a safe part of his own bag. He’s careful for the rest of the day in the way he moves - making sure not to squash or compromise the baked good. He can’t quite wrap his mind - nor his heart - around why he’s done it. Why did he suddenly feel the urge to buy her a slice of cake of all things. But he’s glad he did. Aleksander hopes she’ll like it. 

He presents it to her over their campfire for the evening. It’s a small thing made of dried grass and twigs or any larger pieces of wood they could find but it provides light and heat and that’s enough. They’re sitting either side of it, across from one another, having just eaten bread and cheese for dinner. Twilight is setting in the sky, and he can see it on her - the way her eyes are slightly brighter, her laugh slightly more mellow as they chat over their food. 

He reaches into his bag by his side, clears his throat and says, “I got you something.”

Y/N’s brow furrows softly, and she tilts her head as he continues, “I just… it’s small, but I thought you might like it.” and he produces a square shaped thing, slanted, and wrapped in tissue, still preserved, offering it to her in the palm of his hand over the campfire. 

She takes it gently, “What is it?” as she delicately peels back the tissue. The cake is… well, cake. The sponge is a soft pale yellow, the cream delicately placed and the strawberries are slightly softer than they should be, but won’t make too much of a difference. She raises it to her nose and hesitantly sniffs it, which gets a chuckle out of him. 

“It’s cake.” he answers, “Go on, try it.” Aleksander encourages her with a wave of his hand. 

She raises her eyebrows and lifts the cake to her mouth, taking a small bite. Her eyes instantly light up, and he laughs at her reaction as she mumbles, “Oh, Saints, this is really good..” Around a  mouthful of cake. 

She eats a bit more, and then holds it out to him, “Want some?” 

And that’s when he sees it. She’s shining. Literally glowing. Radiating light, her very skin and hair giving it off like it’s nothing. His breath hitches as she lights up the field. It’s not particularly bright, but it’s strong and it makes itself known. She’s like a mellow night light, and it only causes his smile to widen, “You’re um…”  he gestures at her - at her glowing. 

Her brow scrunches up - it’s cute - and she laughs sheepishly, “Shining?” 

“Yeah. That.” he grins, leaning back on his palms. 

She huffs, a huff of mock exasperation, “I’m sorry - I can’t… it’s not something I can really control. It just happens, y’know. Like…” She averts her eyes to the flames of the small campfire, “If I’m happy. I shine - it’s what stars do best.” They both laugh a little. 

“Well, it suits you.” Aleksander says gently - his voice much softer than he meant it to be, or than he’s comfortable with. When did he get so… compassionate? He internally grimaces, but for some reason he feels an odd sense of endearment to this girl. 

“Yeah,” She responds with a wry grin, “I should hope so. I am a star, after all.” 

And again, they both laugh. 

-

Aleksander didn’t intend to keep her with him for so long. He didn’t intend to introduce her to his friends - to his connections, to the people across the country who help him with his work. He didn’t intend to get her involved. But they’ve been travelling together for three months and in that time, he’s discovered a wide array of things. 

The first is that she’s good with a sword. Perhaps good is an understatement. She has a natural balance about her, maybe it’s her celestial nature, but watching her with a sword is like watching art. The handle sits in her palm with an easy weight, she swings it with an air of freedom and lax, yet with complete control. The blade is, undoubtedly, hers. 

They had discovered her penchant for swords in a rather unfortunate situation. They had been a touch careless. He was feeling more secure with someone else travelling at his side. And so, had paid less attention to his surroundings. If there was one con of her having her around, it was that she was a touch of a distraction. 

They had passed through a village. They stayed to briefly eat lunch sitting in the town square, and then had gone to pass on just as quick as they came. It shouldn’t have drawn attention. But it did. 

They hadn’t noticed the group of men watching them, looks of disdain on their features as they eyed up the two of them, mumbling to one another. They’d managed to avoid trouble so far, steering clear of Druskelle and negative situations, but on that day, something had given them away as both travellers and Grisha. It was hard to say what - perhaps it was the way they murmured and laughed quietly with one another, maybe the tell-tale way his hands moved. Perhaps he’d been careless and a slip of shadow had been noticed. They couldn’t say for certain. But these men, standing and sneering, they knew.

Either way, Y/N and Aleksander were followed back to where they were camping out by the night. It was just a clearing off the main path they were following, and they had been very comfortably sitting, eating, laughing as they did each and every evening, lit by firelight and accompanied by the low hum of bugs and the weather slowly turning cold. She noticed the figures first.

They seemed to come out of nowhere, far enough away that she could tap his shoulder with a quiet, “Leonid. There’s people.” 

His brow furrowed softly, and he turned over his shoulder in the direction she was looking at. Three men, two shorter, one that was a bit taller and lagged behind - all three variously armed. One man - short, dirty blonde hair and a face marred by smudges of dirt - carried a small dagger. The second, slightly taller with a slightly more muscular frame, had dark hair that was greying at the roots, a knife, and a snarl. The third and final man, the tallest of the lot was passive, but his eyes glinted in the firelight with nothing malevolence, and in his goliath hand was a sword. 

The man with the dark hair speaks first, accented and gruff, his eyes pinned to Aleksander, “Grisha, aren’t you?” he asks the question in a way that betrays he already knows the answer. 

Aleksander doesn’t answer. He’s careful. Delicate. She’s sitting behind him, watching the interaction, hesitant to move. He needs to think this through in a way that puts Y/N out of harm's way. His eyes never leave the men. 

There’s a movement out of the corner of his eye - the second man, wielding his dagger up quickly, his movements fueled by disgust. Aleksander’s quicker, raising his hand with two fingers pointed up, creating a wall of shadow which the dagger clashes against, and in that moment he’s scrambled up to his feet, grabbing Y/N by the arm and pulling her up with him. He runs. 

He’s not used to running. He’s used to fighting. But at the moment he’s responsible for two people’s safety, and so he pushes forward, yelling at her to go. He expected the men to follow. He didn’t expect the largest to go after her, the three men separating into groups of one and two. The two come after him, dagger and knife, and he has little time to worry about Y/N before they’re gaining, 

Aleksander’s efficient, his hands move fast to bring forth his shadows, forming sharp points which pierce the chests of the two men with harsh crunches, their weapons dropping into the grass as their bodies go limp, blood drooling from their mouths as the light leaves their eyes. 

He breathes a sigh of relief, but then he’s alert again at the sound of someone crying out from behind him. His head whips around, and he sees Y/N, and the largest man. He’s backing her up against the tree line, she’s almost frozen in fear when she trips over her own feet and onto her back. Her eyes widen, the man leers over her, sword readied and in a brief moment of fear and desperation she rears her legs and kicks his knees. 

The man grunts, hisses in pain as the sword drops from his hand so he can clutch at where she kicked him. Amateur. And in the next instant she’s lunged across the ground for the sword, where he dropped it, scrambling for it. She’s still on the floor, and she turns onto her back as the man’s attention is brought to her again, large hands reaching to cause her harm. 

The sound of the sword cutting into the man is almost deafening. She does it without thinking, pure survival instinct as she cuts the man's stomach, her hands firm on the handle as blood coats them both, her breathing heavy as she pulls the sword out and the man falls back, dying slowly. 

She’s frozen, and Aleksander’s eyes are almost as wide as hers. He takes a few loose footsteps towards her, a few more which are a bit firmer before he’s by her side, kneeling beside her and cleaning the blood off her cheeks with his sleeve, gently taking the sword from her iron grip and laying it beside her. 

“Are you okay?” He asks quietly, and it feels stupid. She’s covered in blood, shaking, tears in her eyes and the only thing he can think to ask is ‘are you okay’? Saints, he’s an idiot. 

He moves on, still wiping the blood off her as well as he can as she nods her head shakily, “It’s alright. You’re alright.” He says quietly. He remembers the first time he killed someone - the guilt, the fear, the horror at yourself. He frowns softly, as the thin shine of tears comes to her eyes and she looks away. 

Without thinking about it much more, he picks her up, scooping her into his arms, hooking the back of her knees over his arm as she turns and curls into his chest, her crying quiet and barely audible as he carries her back to their camp. 

-

After that, things are different. They’re closer, in a way.

Y/N keeps the sword, keeps it tucked by her side, takes care of the metal and the handle. She’s good with it, he knows for a fact, and he feels more comfortable knowing she has a means of handling herself. The emotional toll of the murder hit her hard. Perhaps, she thinks, she wasn’t meant to feel emotions like this. Her very existence is in conflict. She’s not meant to be able to feel this way, she’s meant to be a star for Saint’s sake! 

But there is something so very human in the guilt she carried in the days after the attack. She was quiet, much quieter than she usually was. At first, she was hesitant to carry the sword. So, instead he carried it for her, catching her eyes flickering towards it occasionally, the way it swung by his hip and the metal caught in the sun. 

One evening as they walked, she offered to take it instead. 

“Do you want me to take that?” she had said, a quiet, unspoken I think I’m okay now. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, “It’s not heavy, I’m okay to carry it for as long as-” 

“No, I’m sure.” She nodded, her look determined and firm, “My safety shouldn’t be your responsibility alone.” She explained, “We should be responsible for one another if we’re going to be travelling together. And I can’t do that if I’m unarmed.” 

He nodded in understanding, and softly unhooked the sword and the holder, and offered the handle to her. She took it, measuring the weight in her palm, before she put the holder on herself and slipped the sword into it. She took a breath. 

He spoke first, “I should tell you something, Y/N. Y’know, if we’re going to be stuck together for a while, I don’t want to keep you in the dark.” he said. 

She didn’t respond, simply nodded and waited for him to say what he had to say. 

“My name isn’t Leonid, I lied. I’ve spent most of my life having to conceal who I am, what I am, and so I hope you can understand and forgive my deception.” He paused, breathing relief into the night air, “My name is Aleksander.” 

“Aleksander?” She echoes, and a small, intimate smile finds her features, “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Aleksander.” She says, in that half-teasing tone he’s become so accustomed with.

He rolls his eyes but can’t fight back the grin, “You’re an ass, do you know that?” 

“Ah, you may have mentioned it once or twice.” She shrugs, unable to wipe off that teasing smile from her features. 

He huffs in mock exasperation before his tone turns softer. He’s found he has a habit of doing that. Something about her makes him better, gentler. He almost feels human around her, “I mean it Y/N,” he says quietly, “I’m sorry I lied to you, especially for so long.” 

“It’s fine,” she says with a small smile, nudging his shoulder, “You’re forgiven, if that eases your conscience.” She’s still slightly teasing, but her tone is mostly compassionate. Endearing, even. 

“Thank you,” he says, grinning as he nudges her back, “Saints, you’re insufferable.” 

She gasps, dramatically feigning offence. For a star, she’s caught onto the culture of sarcasm and drama rather well, and he laughs at her display, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as they walk. It feels right. 

“How are you finding it?” He asks, as they walk, “y’know, being human? Is it weird?” He checks in on her this way every now and then to make sure she’s not overwhelmed. But this is the first time she answers differently. 

“...As a star…” She sighed softly, weighing up her words, “You’re constantly watching. You’re up there, watching all these little people have adventures and lives and romance, and it’s… it’s yearning. You want those things too, y’know? You want to be flesh and bone as well, to feel emotion. To cry, and be happy, and be angry, and to know what love feels like. You want adventure, the big things in life like… meeting someone. Or having a family. Or getting an education. Making a difference.” She laughed softly, “But you also want the little things - like cake, for example. And music, and friendship, and to share meals with people you care about.” 

She glanced at him, and then back to the path, “I’m glad you found me. I don’t think anyone else would’ve done such a good job at making me feel welcome in a world that isn’t strictly mine.” 

Her words were soft, quiet, and sincere. And it made Aleksander’s heart stutter in his chest, but he kept his composure and managed, “I’m glad I found you too.” 

-

Aleksander takes her to a place he calls ‘the sanctuary’. 

He explains it to her on the way there - a building, a place, where Grisha can support, aid and train other Grisha. 

It’s been months since they first met, and by now the warm comfort of the summer is fading, replaced by cold golden sunlight and browned leaves, wetter grounds and harsher gales. And so, he takes her there.

The sanctuary is a medium-sized, pale stone structure, hidden away in the middle of nowhere, concealed by thick woods and trees. It’s squat, but wide, the front of it gives away nothing but a set of rounded wooden doors. He takes her hand - she’s not even sure he realises that he’s done it - and guides her with him to the front. Her sword swings at her side as she follows, standing beside him as he raps his knuckles on the wooden door a few times. 

The door opens a crack, she can’t see who’s on the other side, but Aleksander’s gaze meets theirs and they open it. On the other side is a man, short brown hair and green eyes. He’s rather skinny, but his strength is held in his eyes. He lets Aleksander in without issue, nodding his head softly. Their hands are still linked together and so, she goes to follow. 

But the brown haired man stops her, a hand coming to her chest to halt her, his eyes narrowed and dark, glancing back at Aleksander. He answers, “She’s with me, Andrei.” 

“Grisha?” The man interrogates. 

Aleksander huffs, “No, Andrei. But she’s been helping me for the past five months, let her through.” 

Andrei’s eyes narrow in suspicion, and he glances at Aleksander finally before letting his hand drop and allowing her entrance. She nods her head softly, and follows after Aleksander. Y/N feels him squeeze her hand, a quiet apology. She squeezes back as he guides her deeper into the sanctuary. They pass rooms, beds, people who nod at him as they pass and whose eyebrows furrow when they see her trailing after him, and her stark white hair. 

Inside, the sanctuary was busy. It was filled with the hum of people working, all in various clothing - some injured, some healing, some cooking, some reading, teaching, training - it was almost a wonderful study in the kindness of human nature and community that had her eyes widening. 

“Are you alright, Zvezda?” he asked softly, turning back to her over his shoulder, “Are you overwhelmed? We can…” 

“No, it’s… it’s wonderful.” She said quietly, her wide eyes meeting his, “I mean- it’s astounding. I’m good.” she nodded, indicating for him to keep going, “It’s just… in all our time travelling, I’ve never seen anything like this.” 

He laughed softly, pulling her closer by her hand, “I guess,” he grinned, “I’m proud of this place. I’m glad you can see it like that.” 

They spend at least three weeks at the Sanctuary. 

Aleksander takes his time to introduce Y/N to those around her. He shows her around to all the Healers, the Heartrenders, the Inferni, the Squalors, Tidemakers - technically, he shows her off to everyone. But no one knows, really, who - or what - she is. He doesn’t say. People press and ask and inquire, “Oh, what’s her Grisha order?” “Grisha, are you?” And everytime, one of them answers, “Oh, uh, No.” and refuse to elaborate further. 

It has the entire building utterly perplexed as to who this strange white haired girl is, and why she has the Shadow Summoner wrapped around her little finger. Not that The Star or The Shadow Summoner can see it, no, they’re completely oblivious. They don’t see how they’re quiet giggles, teasing, conversations might be perceived as intimate. Nor how the amount of time they spend together might be seen as suspicious.

But when you’ve spent everyday with a person for just over five months, all day, everyday, it’s very hard to separate yourself from the comfort they bring.

The confession comes late at night. 

Now that they’re in a place like the Sanctuary, they have their own rooms. They’re only small, and they’re a short walk away from one another, and it gives them each a privacy they haven’t experienced for a few months. For the first week - it’s nice. Having their own beds, their own time, being able to spend some of it alone with their thoughts. 

He notices it first. That he’s restless. It’s late at night, most of the building is asleep save for those on night watch, and he can barely close his eyes without feeling disturbed. He feels the need to do something - anything - and so, he gets out of bed, slipping back on his boots at the end of his bed and deciding he’s going to go for a walk. Maybe it’ll help clear his mind. 

Aleksander’s almost embarrassed. He can’t… he can’t stop thinking of her. He’s annoyed at himself for it, for letting him get that close, for letting him be so vulnerable to someone who wasn’t even human, who had a child’s grasp on the world… 

No, that was being unfair. He calms himself as he steps out of his room. He knows he’s just agitated, tired, a little giddy, and he takes a deep breath as he starts off down the corridor, careful not to let his boots thud too heavily. He doesn’t know where he’s going, he decides he’s just going to walk until he comes across something distracting or gets tired. 

His feet take him to her room. 

It’s the same size as his, and from the crack in the door he can tell she’s still awake, can hear a slight shuffling inside, candle light flickering on the floor. He realises now, why he’s there. What he’s come to do. And his heart lurches in his chest, but he understands that it’s now or hold his tongue for another few months and he doesn’t want to do that. 

Aleksander wants her to know about the Y/N shaped cavern she’s carved into his life. He wants her to know about how all those nights spent travelling in fields were not something he was willing to give up so easily - that when spring came he hoped to do it all again. With her. That he thinks of her endlessly. That when he wakes he hopes she’s still sleeping beside him, just a campfire away. And he wants her closer. He wants her. It’s as simple as that, that he wants to see her smile at him, and laugh - he doesn’t care if it’s at him or with him - Saints, he just wants her happy. 

The revelation comes to him, standing so close to her yet so far, on her bedroom doorstep. He takes a breath, steels himself to the sound of her soft humming from the other side of the door, and then raises his fist and knocks three times. 

By the first knock, the humming stops. By the second, she’s walking over to the door, he can hear her footsteps. And by the third, the handle is turning. The door opens and he lowers his hand. She’s standing on the other side. Of course it was her, he knew it was her. It doesn’t stop his heart from thudding against his ribs, nor his breath hitching quietly. 

The light from the candle makes her seem fully celestial, casting a golden hue across her features, and darkening half her face to accentuate them. It bounces off her silver hair, catching in the strands like a contained forest fire. 

“Aleksander?” Y/N greets softly, a small amused smile as she tilts her head in soft confusion, her brow furrowing. 

“Zvezda,” He greets softly, his eyes catching in the candle, so dark you can barely separate the pupil from the iris, “Can’t sleep?”

She shakes her head with a small laugh, beckoning him in with her hand, “Always got more energy during the night,” she sighs, “And it’s taking some getting used to, not sleeping in a field, not waking up…” next to you. 

But she doesn’t need to finish the sentence, he simply hums in agreement and shuts the door behind him, leaning on it, “I know, it’s a big adjustment.” He runs a hand through his long dark hair, “How are you finding the Sanctuary?” 

“It’s nice,” she says softly, briefly fixing her words in a slight hurry, “Sorry, that sounded- it’s lovely. The people are kind, the community is wonderful, food’s much better than bread and cheese and meats,” She grins, “No offence.”

He laughs, his nose wrinkling with the action, “None taken. In fact, I completely agree.” 

She sits on her bed as they talk, tucking her legs underneath her, “Can’t sleep either?” She probes.  

Aleksander shakes his head as well, “No, feeling restless. Same reasons as you.” He admits, feeling a bit more at ease with the slight indication that the comfort they feel around one another may be mutual, “I guess,” he sighs, bracing himself to admit it, “We spent so long together. A week was fine - but it’s weird. I keep on… waking up and expecting to see you.” 

“I know,” she agreed quietly with a small laugh, her head bent down to her hands in her lap, “it’s strange, isn’t it? I feel weird not… walking with you, or doing something, seeing a new town or whatnot. And I have this feeling.” She frowned softly to herself.

He tilts his head, folds his arms, “What feeling, Zvezda?” He asks, his brow furrowing gently. 

“I… I don’t know.” she said, her eyes narrowing as she looked not quite at him - but just over his shoulder - “It’s like… this…tightness.” her hand came to her chest, her nose scrunching softly, “Here. Like… nausea. But not quite - I’m not going to be sick. And I can feel my heart. And it… it feels like wanting. But stronger?” 

His eyes widened a fraction, “And uh, when do you feel it?” 

She tilted her head, her eyes zeroing in on him in confusion and uncertainty, “When…” when I think about you. “Oh.” She said quietly, “Is that what that is?” her hand gently rubbed her chest, clearly where she felt it strongest, a sheepish laugh as she turned her eyes to the candle, anywhere but him, “They don’t describe it like this in the books.” 

He breathed a sigh of relief as he realised that he wouldn’t have to explain to her that what she was feeling was, at least, a crush. If not more. Aleksander laughed softly, “No, no they do not.” 

Y/N laughed too, mildly embarrassed and still somewhat avoiding looking at him, her hands fidgeting, “Look, I’m sorry-” 

“Don’t be.” he cut her off, “Don’t be, please don’t be, you’ve done nothing wrong.” He cleared his throat and took a sharp breath, standing up from leaning on the door, “It’s… it’s  mutual, Y/N.” and he took a hesitant step towards her, “Zvezda.” He said the nickname to get her attention. 

It worked, her head turning slightly, and he continued, “Please don’t ever apologise for having feelings.” He said, his tone so much softer than he was comfortable with, “You’re a human now.” he laughed a little, crouching down in front of her as she sat on the bed, “It’s your job now. To feel. To make the most of life. So,” he said with a playful shrug, “we both have… crushes on one another.” It felt childish to say ‘crushes’ but he couldn’t think of a better word. 

“I mean…” he sighed softly, “That’s kind of… why I came here.” He confessed. 

“Really?” she asked quietly, watching him intently as he spoke. 

“Really.” he echoed, standing up. She patted the bed beside her for him to sit, and he gratefully took it, glad she was taking this all so well and she wasn’t clamming up about their feelings for one another, “Look, Y/N, Zvezda. You’ve changed my life,” he said with a small laugh of disbelief, “I mean… you’re a Star, for Saint’s sake. You are, by nature, brilliant. And you’ve been nothing short of that in the months we’ve been travelling. Even if your humour is appalling.” He softly teased, earning a playful grumble of, “It is not.” from her. 

“It is!” he insisted with a teasing grin, “You laugh at all my bad jokes, dear.” 

“Yeah well,” her initial embarrassment was beginning to fade as they engaged in their usual banter, “I think that says more about you for making the bad jokes.” to which he scoffed, and she dispersed into laughter, the two of them leaning back on the single bed. 

The laughter lasted a moment longer before fading out with a soft, content sigh. He grinned at her from where he was, a hand reaching forward for hers as he softly, half-teasingly, murmured, “You’re doing it again.” 

“Doing what?” “Shining, Zvezda.” 

“What can I say?” she laughed quietly, her head finding his shoulder, “I’m happy.”

A/N: I cannot wait to go to bed. And also to start part two. Goodnight!! <;3

#Last Words of A Shooting Star AU #Stardust AU #the darkling X reader #Shadow And bone X reader #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander x reader #shadow and bone fanfic #general kirigan x reader #kirigan x reader #stardust au #thebigsl33p

[subzerosongie]

LUCIFER SFW HEADCANNONS

Omnisexual and Demiromantic, Lucifer finds beauty in just about everyone. 

Struggles with affection, Lucifer's rank as an Angel wasn't known for being overly affectionate. Lucifer can come across as suffocating and controlling when he shows affection. 

Has deep tissue scars where his angel wings used to be, he did rip them clean off his body.

On the rare occasion he misses his old life but that's a rare feeling, usually when he's heavily intoxicated 

He's aware that he misses the memories and not the Celestial Realm himself

His feelings towards the Celestial Realm are mixed at best and negative at worst. 

He wishes he could goof off like the others, but understands his role

Struggles with emotions, both others and his own. 

Admittedly self indulgent, he makes no effort to hide his fondness for alcohol 

Knows how much he has to drink to get to the level of intoxicated he desires

Insists he's not addicted

Smokes when he's particularly stressed out.

Was a leading example of virtue while in the Celestial realm for most of his time there. 

Had a rebellious teen phase

Thinks about having kids more often than he'd even admit to

The idea of Romantic relationships with him makes him uneasy, he hasn't been in one in ages and the last one didn't end well. 

This is because despite all his good traits as a romantic partner his struggles with affection and general tendencies to be protective, even overprotective at times make him worry about chasing people away

This said, Lucifer loves simple pet names like Darling, My Sweet, Love, Babe/Baby, Honey. He does have a few special ones he's fond of using towards his lover.

Scars litter his body, most are superficial but aside from the wings one, other deep scars are on his chest, lower back, neck, face, arms and legs. 

Finds humans endlessly fascinating 

Fangs adorn his top and bottom jaws where human canines are located. 

Has a beastly demon form, he's rarely had to use it and are a mix of a demon and his symbolic animals of Peacock and Bat. He also hates this form.

Likes the harder musical genres outside cursed records. Metal and Rock are his favourites

Cat person, dogs can be too demanding for his tastes

Likes Salty foods

Winter is favourite season

Heat is actually hard for him to deal with

Devildom's natural climate is perfect for him

He regrets his fall, if he could do it again he'd make sure his brothers got to stay.

Had a decent singing voice, he doesn't sing very often though

Slightly an ambivert, heavily leaning introvert. 

He craves social interaction but it drains him pretty fast

Mammon is as much his favourite brother as Mammon is the bane of his existence 

Easily flustered when it comes to personal matters

One of his few fears are dying and being called back to the Celestial Realm and losing his family

Likes True Crime

Has PTSD the worst of his Brothers

Also has Depression, it presents through anger and bouts of despondency, he rarely cries or expresses his emotions any other way

He doesn't like this, but doesn't know any other way.

However one way to loosen him up to cry is again, make him intoxicated.

Pride, Lust, Wrath, Envy, Greed, Gluttony and Sloth are the sins ranked in order of intensity 

Workaholic

Rarely eats, when he does he eats larger portions to counteract the frequency 

Has a hard time sleeping, usually naps throughout the day or when everyone else is sleeping

Lucifer has fallen asleep at his desk more than once.

Gifted in Mathematics 

Actually doesn't like to use his powers outside of necessity 

Tries to get into or research his brother's hobbies to try and bond with them, with varying rates of success. Works out with Beel, Reads what Satan is reading, lets Asmo paint his nails, etc

More compassionate and caring than his demeanour shows 

Wishes to amend things with Satan but understands that to do that, it is on Satan's terms to do so and not a moment sooner

Lucifer's favourite holiday is Halloween

When not working, he's usually reading or corralling his brothers in someway

Takes comfort in Diavolo

Probably needs glasses 

Unhealthily relies on Coffee

One of the other brothers have to go in and give him food/drink or drag him from his desk from time to time

Bad at charging his phone

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me headcanons #obey me angst #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me nightbringer

[gingerylangylang1979]

Male identity: Carmy and Richie

I’m finding that a certain demographic of fans have a much harder time relating to Carmy but very much relate to Richie. Granted, a lot of this has to do with what fandom platform you observe. I actually kind of hate The Bear subreddit but continue to browse it periodically because it’s super interesting to hear what “the others” are talking about. I rarely engage anymore because it’s mostly nonsense and a totally different vibe than Tumblr. The contingent is definitely very anti-Carmy x Sydney and seems to hate Sydney. I’ve also noticed that while there is a lot of love for Carmy there is even more love for Richie. I’m very intrigued by this perspective. 

This season Richie was definitely a standout. I think Ebon is an amazing actor and am glad he is finally getting nominated for his role. I thought he got robbed with the non-Emmy nominations. But even before S2 I noticed that Richie was the most favored character among the Reddit demo and perhaps a big part of the general audience. That’s fine, people can favor who they like. I know that doesn’t represent everyone but I do think that speaks for what I consider general audience and makes sense considering how society still views manhood despite social progress. This season even a lot of the reviews were kind of meh about Carmy. I get it, I initially was writing him off too, was pissed, and thought he had the worst arc. Then once thoughts settled he went back to being my hero. Deeply flawed, but I just relate to him so much and he’s fascinating to watch. I’m a woman, so maybe that helps my empathy. I also don’t think The Bear would work with Richie as the lead as some have suggested. 

The thing is Carmy is a more difficult character because he has multiple layers of trauma, his work is so specialized and niche, he is a sensitive soul, he’s artistic, and he doesn’t fit the mold of the working class male models he was surrounded by. Your typical man can’t relate to him. And most likely your typical conservative leaning woman can’t either. At the Christmas party he was appalled at how the other guys were talking about Claire. And this is a woman he had a crush on and is present day attracted to. He could have easily been superficial and macho and laughed at the jokes as expected. He didn’t let Richie get away with calling Syd sweetheart. Richie says he’s “woke”. He employs a woman in a leadership role. He’s built different. 

He is struggling in many ways that are hidden and he also lashes out. The hidden ways and the lashing out are interpreted as whiny and annoying by people that can’t relate. He’s been cited as not growing but people can’t acknowledge that his healing won’t be linear. But how can it be when his trauma was collected in overlapping seasons for most of his life? The pain didn’t develop in a linear path. He had a stutter when he was young. There are hints that there is a learning issue of some sort (I’m not going to try and diagnose). He was always the “different” one in the family. The other guys call him “weird”. His father was absent. His mom has mental health issues and is an alcoholic. He witnessed the traumatic incident at Christmas and I’m sure it wasn’t the only such incident. His brother was an addict that pushed him away, then killed himself. He went into a chaotic, highly demanding field that required him to isolate to excel. He is shy and has trouble forming close bonds. He had a mentally abusive boss. He was always super competitive. He comes back to own The Beef and it’s problem after problem. How are people expecting him to be “fun” and have an easy comeback like Richie? 

Richie has issues, too. Stagnant in mid-life, spent years devoted to an addict, failed marriage, feeling disillusioned and displaced, also an absent father. But when we meet Richie he’s not as wounded as Carmy. Carmy is literally sleep cooking, almost starting fires, dissociating, having panic attacks. Richie is sad but it mostly manifests as him being kind of nasty and grumpy. He’s like a sour old man with dated and offensive jokes. His behavior is dismissed because he’s grieving. Which yes, he deserves a pass. But why does he deserve a bigger pass than Carmy who is dealing with so much more or Sydney who seemed to bear the biggest brunt of his outrage and was also struggling? Carmy is literally on the verge of a breakdown and has the weight of trying to keep the staff, the business, and himself afloat. Despite all this Richie gets a lot of indulgences for his bad behavior that Carmy isn’t. 

Richie is easier for a lot of people to digest because he’s funny, he’s the working class representative, he’s tall (yes people have height bias, especially with men). Carmy is viewed as the pompous prodigal son that’s trying to ruin Richie’s delicate ecosystem by gentrifying and kicking out “the working man”. There are people posting in disgust that he dare change The Beef despite it being a hell hole money pit. 

It’s just so interesting that in reality we are dealing with an unprecedented numbers of men who report extreme loneliness, depression, hopelessness. Richie and Carmy both fit that profile. Yet, a man like Richie is broadly understood and accepted and a man like Carmy isn’t. It goes back IMO to the continual coding of masculine/good vs feminine/bad. Richie is the stereotypical red blooded American male. He wants the stripper’s panties. He has a gun. He needs to be alpha. He views anything outside the norm as a threat. He wants to preserve tradition at all costs. Carmy is his foil. Carmy is viewed as feminine. 

I see it even on Tumblr with the persistent identification of Carmy as somehow feminine. Like he can’t be soft and traumatized and just be a man. So what does that say when even people who would probably consider themselves progressive still classify a man in feminine terms if he isn’t a MAN? We accept all types of gender identities but still struggle with a man not fitting the correct paradigm. Society still has issues accepting that men can be vulnerable and struggling without being feminized. People also make assumptions about Carmy’s gender identity and sexuality based on his trauma. Like, of course he has to be XYZ because well, look at him, he’s sad an pathetic. What does that say about men’s sexuality and identity? Are only queer men accepted as sad? Carmy could be a queer character, cool, representation matters. But I just find the semi-automatic equation of queerness with an atypical male to be odd and a bit regressive. 

Edited to add on above: I hope what I’m saying doesn’t get interpreted as dismissing queer people who identify with Carmy. I get it, I support it. What I’m speaking to is the insistence that canon Carmy is queer because of his interests, aesthetic, and mental health as if that is the only identity option. Granted, he could be bi. I also think some people are insistent on this, just as they are on Syd not being into men, as a way to negate the possibility of them being romantic. Again, I’m saying some people. Also, proximity and shared struggle doesn’t equal identity. This makes me think of once when a white gay male bestie claimed we are the same because I’m a black women. I had to kindly correct. We share the same haters, we are both marginalized, but he will never know my experience just like I will never know his. We can bond on the commonalities but we aren’t exactly the same. IMO, it would be a disservice to both of us to claim different.

I’m really rambling, but just thought I would share my thoughts and open a conversation about this. 

#the bear fx #carmy berzatto #richie jerimovich #men in cinema #men in tv #masculinity #male identity

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Heyy, first time asking, and first of all - I love your content!!! I'm in love with your LI characters' interpretations. Could you maybe do M6 with like a thief-for-hire sort of MC? The kind of one that sits around in Rowdy Raven and waits for a job? And is probably very good at invisibility and forget-me spells. Thanks!

The Arcana HCs: M6 with a thief-for-hire MC

~ in the spirit of the Arcana, I'm interpreting this with MC being a hired thief the way Mazelinka is a pirate captain: robbing the rich to feed the poor >:3 this is so much fun, thanks anon! - brainrot ~

Julian

He finds you so relentlessly attractive like this that it makes him short circuit

Getting to sit with you in the corner of the Rowdy Raven while you wait for a job becomes his favorite way to pass the time

He'll just watch you over the rim of his mug, slowly losing his train of thought over the effortlessly intimidating and somehow cavalier attitude you give off

Few things make him want to kiss you more than when you talk shop to him

Just casually mention that you need to repair your grappling hook for an upcoming job and he'll drop whatever he's holding

"You know MC, if you wanted something to practice grappling with, all you had to do was ask."

Of course he understands that what you do is risky and serious business

Will wait up for you at rendezvous points instead of at home so he can check that you're alright right away

Malak is already a practicing guard alert

Because you're the harder of the two to notice, rumors spread that Dr Devorak is your point person. He's ecstatic

Asra

Immediately intrigued, but won't ask too much about it right away except for when you'll be away from the shop

Assigns Faust to watch over you

Casually appears just as a job is about to go very very wrong and maneuvers you both out of it

Immediately confesses to how they knew what was going on and apologizes for invading your privacy

But he's high on the thrill of getting in trouble like this, and it's for a good cause, and there are things he knows about Vesuvia's back alleys from his own questionable childhood ...

They don't want to form an official partnership, per say, but they would love to accompany you on trickier jobs as an ally

Fascinated by the tricks of the trade, if you have gadgets or tools that he doesn't recognize you'll have to put a lock spell on them so he can only fiddle with them in your presence

Faust is the greatest secret weapon you'll ever have

*knocks out a guard with her tail* Oopsie!

Nadia

There are warring opinions within her

One adores you. You're resourceful, you have and follow your own moral compass, and you're exceptionally skilled

The other side is concerned

You're breaking the law. She is an agent of the law. Neither of you should consider yourselves an exception to the law, which is why she prefers struggling for reform instead ...

Oh, but you make breaking it look so good

She operates on a need-to-know basis. If you never confess to her, as the Countess, that you stole, then she is under no obligation to bring you to justice

She does prefer you let her know when you will not be available, and if you will be in any significant danger

Stays up for you or sends Chandra to keep an eye out if it's late or risky

The exception to her "don't tell me" attitude is when she is officially off duty as the Countess, and merely Nadia, and very in love with you and your daring exploits

"Tell me, my love, what naughty little things have you been doing behind my back?"

Muriel

Wasn't really all that impressed until it became clear that you were even better at going unnoticed than he is

Grudgingly curious about how you manage to do that

And also if you would be open to demonstrating for him, not that he's in any need of improvement

Completely on board with your modus operandi. If he had grown up to be a different type of person, he'd be doing it too

As it is, the thought of stealing is still a little uncomfortable for him, so he turns a blind eye to your antics

Though anytime you tell him of a particularly impressive job you'll notice him puffing up with pride just a little bit

Will offer Inanna's services as a lookout and guide wolf. Also as an alert system in case you may be hurt or stuck and need his assistance

Your job has Inanna's full approval. She thinks that what you do is the coolest and lords it over Muriel that she gets to spend time with you at work while he mopes in the woods (her words, not mine)

Portia

If she didn't think you were just like a character out of a novel, she does now

She thinks it's awesome

Pumps you for details on all of your jobs and offers to join you on any that she could be of service for

She did spend quite some time on a pirate ship, after all, and nobody is as well connected as she is

Loves hanging out with you in the Rowdy Raven while you wait for commissions, but not too often because she is an ambassador and that wouldn't be good for her credibility

Speaking of her job ...

Highkey struggles not to ask you to steal other countries' state secrets for her when they're being difficult

Thankfully you haven't been faced with declining that request yet

Begs you to teach her some of your skills. One cloaking spell. Just one. No, she's not going to use it to eavesdrop on visiting dignitaries! Okay fine she would, but so what if she did?

Loves reading unrealistic heist novels to you just to hear you verbally rip them to shreds

Lucio

Saw your thieving skills in action when he was still a ghost/goatman and it was one of his reasons to get on your good side at first, he thought you'd make a great minion

Until it's revealed to both of you that at one point he used to be one of the main people you'd steal from

His visible reaction is an infuriated pout, he doesn't like things being taken from him, and he's still getting used to you being better at some things than he is

This quickly gives way to infatuation. You beat him at something. He thinks that's hot

Will try to bargain you into a thieving partnership

You initially say no, but after it's proven to be an extremely useful skill set on jobs, you agree to taking stealing jobs with him

On the condition that you're in charge

He's delighted by this and it ends up being a great way to further develop his moral compass. It comes more naturally to him to focus on benefiting the greater good than to define the details of his personal ethics

Keeps forgetting that bragging about it is not conducive to getting away with it

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana game #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

[nc-vb]

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐫, 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 & 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧

pairing → yuuta x gn!reader

warnings → no pronouns used (reader has a cock/strap), bottom!yuuta & softdom!reader, anal, overstimulation, dacryphilia, not beta’ed

notes → just a short lil ditty

It’s frustrating. He’s frustrating. The decision he’s made contrary to his expressed personality; it’s his sudden change in demeanour. Or, perhaps it’s a change in heart. But you’ve known him long enough to safely assume enough about him without crossing a line.

Yuuta Okkotsu is kind, unwaveringly so. Every one of his actions are coated in genuine care and devotion to keeping those he loves safe and free from harm— you know this first hand, being one of them.

Perhaps it’s only this frustrating because you find it embarrassing. You’ve yet to do anything like this with him before, yet to touch him with such vehemence, and yet, you can’t help but indulge him. You can’t help but say “yes”, even when your skin burns with that same awkwardness that has you hoping you’ll perform as well as he believes you will. Because right now, he isn’t being kind, not with how overwhelmed he’s made you by such a “simple” request.

Laid bare below you, pale skin flooded with splotches of rouge and rose and knuckles white where they tightly grip the sheets beneath him, Yuuta pants, chest heaving and limbs shuddering. Inches away from where your hand remains still and wrapped around the base of his cock, his hole twitches just as so; with your own length still plunged inside him, you give it little choice otherwise, and watch him flinch against you again.

The words Yuuta attempts to choke out never come, and instead leave his mouth agape when you tilt your hips forward, simultaneously tugging at his length. Trembling fingers rise to reach for you, to stop you? Encourage you? Before they can even touch you, you take his wrists in your spare hand and move to pin them back to the bed— Yuuta gasps when your cock manages to sink a little deeper into him, his own hips wiggling in an attempt to escape your grip.

Bottom lip pinched between your teeth, you frown down at him, eyebrows knitted together. Wordlessly, you pull out halfway, only to begin rolling your hips back and forth. You lean down, your chest pressing firm into his, torso rubbing against the head of Yuuta’s cock where you’d released him in favour of tangling your fingers into his hair. The smallest of whimpers escape him, eyes squeezed shut where he focuses on every sensation you provide. But even still—

“N… no m-more,” he moans, head curling into his shoulder to hide when you refuse to oblige; having given his hair a light tug, Yuuta groans, face twisting in his pleasure.

“No more,” you repeat with a broken chuckle, leaning back. “… pretty sure you’re the only one who keeps asking for this, Yuuta. Over and over and over… Do you know how long it’s been since we had that conversation? How many hours have passed since we got started?”

When you move to pull out again, whether reflexive or instinctive, Yuuta clenches down around you, unwilling to stop despite his begging.

“S-See?” You grunt, your breathing now laboured in your struggle— this was supposed to be for him, to overwhelm and overstimulate him, and yet you’re the one panicking along with him, tightening the muscles in your abdomen with your fingers squeezing just a little harder around each of his; you’re close again, and you don’t want to be. “You don’t really want to stop, do you. I-It’s only hour three, after all.”

Because perhaps even more frustrating is the fact that you’ve begun to enjoy this. Pleasurably torturous for the man beneath you, it’s simply fascinating to you, rather, how many different expressions he’s managed to make while under your thumb, and how many shades of red you’ve seen blot across his fair skin, and how many sounds you’ve torn up and out from his throat, and— and— and obedient in your indulgence of him, you don’t stop; you fall atop him once more, pinning him with your weight and rolling your hips forward again. Yuuta sobs, a grateful noise that betrays his pleas for, at best, a reprieve. It’s soft, barely a squeak. It’s all you need to spurn you on.

“Yuuuuuuta.” You reach between your bodies, eyes trained on his lidded ones, and grapple a warm hand around his leaking cock— hmm, it’s just liquid at this point, you note, and desperately hold back your bubbling amusement. “Yuuta? Do you need a break, Yuuta?”

He struggles, too, to answer, to look back at you, to not try and writhe out of your grip, because as much as he wishes you’d stop, if you actually did, he thinks he might just die.

You don’t let him answer, though.

“It’s only hour three, Yuuta,” you remind him again. A light bursts in the corner of his vision, too white and too blinding for his tired eyes— he squints toward it, and find it coming from your own hand.

“W-What are y-you—“

“It’s too soon to call it quits.” Slowly, it envelops him, and the relief the energy of your reversed curse technique provides him is almost painful. “So? Are you ready for three more?”

© nc-vb 2023 please don’t repost! reblogs & comments are always appreciated.

#okkotsu yuuta #yuuta x reader #okkotsu yuta x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu #jjk smut #yuuta okkotsu smut #yuuta smut #jjk x reader

[luxurybrownbarbie]

how do you learn to like finance?? I’m in the trenches doing my investment banking stint and I can’t believe I dreamed about doing this in college. Does it get better?? When does everything start to suck less? Or is this a sign I’m in the wrong field?

Not to make myself sound like Scrooge’s long lost daughter, but I really like money. I find it legitimately fascinating.

I like numbers, I like not doing the same thing every day, and I like talking to people, so it was either finance or consulting, and the finance salary won out.

(And I know people love the whole, “No amount of money is worth your mental health!” schtick, but for me, having money is like… probably the core pillar of my mental health. I’ve never been a part of the “I took a pay cut and my mental health got better!” ministry. No, this is not healthy, but we move).

That’s just some context for you, before you read the rest of this answer.

Generally, things start sucking less around year three. But that’s also when they reward everyone who managed to survive. 💛

I think you have to break down what you’re really struggling with. If the things you hate are intrinsic to the job, like insanely long hours, terrible work/life balance, or “difficult personalities” (read: assholes), then I would say you’re in the wrong field. Those things never really get better, and you’ll burn yourself out if you keep hoping for it.

But if your issues are that you’re feeling unfulfilled, underutilized, out of sync, doing way too much admin and not enough actual work, or not fully grasping why you’re doing the work you’re doing, then you should look for the opportunity to change what you’re doing before leaving the field entirely.

And remember, no one is expecting you to be there forever. Realistically, they’re hoping to get 2-5 years out of you before you move on. What they want is that when you do leave, you leave with positive connotations and a ton of connections, so they’re able to use that connection to you to eventually make even more money.

You should absolutely be moving around within investment banking to find the area that best fits you, because they really don’t want you to be (overly) miserable. A miserable banker doesn’t make good money. What they want is for you to leave with positive feelings and a ton of connections, so when you move, they’re able to use that connection to make even more money.

You don’t have to stick anything out beyond what you think you’re capable of! It will never be a 9-5, but it will not always suck. And no matter what, you won’t be hurting anyone if you decide to gracefully bow out. But explore your options first! Exiting finance is easy, returning is much harder.

#corporate barbie™ #answered #.

[stilemawillow]

Heat Has Never Felt So Good [Levi | Cadet! Reader]

Silence - heavy, taut with tension like a guitar's string and gelid in the middle of the most scorching summer heat the generations had encountered - such silence was a bringer of dreaded rejection and shameful humility. Struggling to stay erect and stoic subsequently to the inappropriate suggestion you'd voiced a moment prior, you observed the desk before you with excessive fascination in spite of the painful brightness it reflected straight into your eyes. The cool air in the office hindered not the nervous beads of sweat in their journey along your temple and so they travelled, inexorably reminding you of the reason for their unwanted presence.

Your diffident gaze adroitly slid over to the figure sitting behind the desk you'd considered your saving grace mere seconds ago - the man with his slicked-back ebony hair whose natural response to the heat outside was nowhere to be seen. Levi was staring at you, silent and frowning, as his fingers soundlessly held the collar of his button-up shirt. The window behind his back was closed in order to preserve the room's blissful temperature but you could still hear the birds twittering outside, innocent chirps mashing with the anguished groans of cadets in the training field - cadets whose pained calls you were supposed to be apart of. Instead, you'd been summoned to the Lance Corporal's office, admonished for your poor performance following the coming of summer and prompted to offer a suitable explanation.

In truth, everybody's performance had been severely affected by the heat, but your case was exceptional because you were contending for a place on the Special Operation's Squad and such a show of inexplicable weakness was a big chink in the seemingly perfect armour of reliability and potential you'd created for yourself. Levi wouldn't make such a chink part of his squad and, despite having won his sympathies as a person, you had no way of softening the merciless nature of his role as your strict superior. So you'd tried to explain with as much dignity as possible that your disgraceful mistakes were a result of sleep deprivation, which, in turn, was caused by the terrible heat. Since early childhood, you'd shown signs of susceptibility to hot weather but this summer had evidently hit you harder than any other.

Levi had glared in a rather condescending way before questioning if your only problem was truly the lack of proper sleep, to which you'd nodded your head, recklessly adding that he had no way of relating to your experience since the stone walls of his office and personal quarters shared no similarities with the dorms' wooden edifice and its incapability to ward off the summer heat. Then, to his sarcastic question of 'what can be done about that?', you'd flippantly stated that a good sleep in a cold bed such as his would appear to be the perfect remedy - in fact, knowing he seldom slept in his quarters, maybe he could lend you them for the summer weeks to come.

And here lay the moment of truth, tugging at the painful silence and rushing it out of the closed window as you fearfully eyed the ebony-haired superior and his oddly slovenly appearance - his white cravat carelessly draped around his neck, the first three buttons of his shirt undone and its entirety untucked - the uncanny negligence made the orderly man look quite unlike himself. Maybe his attire had wrongly led to you believe his character would also bear a particular change for the better. His ashen hues glared but his furrowed brow briefly twitched as a reluctant sigh slipped past his pouting lips.

"... so be it. If sleeping in my bed will affect your skills positively I'll be escorting you back here after dinner this very evening." The cold voice left no place for objection, filling your whole body with heavenly alleviation and colourful butterflies, flapping their wings in exultation. You saluted, a dopey smile on your lips as your mind attempted to dispel the overwhelming feeling of complete and utter transfixion holding power over it.

"I hope you'll give me some time to collect my belongings beforehand." The tremulous timbre of your voice didn't go unnoticed by your superior, who was obviously set on presenting your wistful self with his point of view. Both, as was to be expected, differed greatly and while yours had been a plan of action borne of embarrassment meant to excuse your imminent appearance in his personal quarters, his had committed to the idea of your residence and taken the liberty of being as efficient and prompt as possible.

"There would be no need, I'll get them." The curt statement made your clenched fist flinch in startlement as the ebony-haired male gazed down at the papers on his desk after giving your wide eyes a good calculating look. "Dismissed. I'm certain the remainder of your training will be flawless, seeing as you've secured your good night's sleep." The latent derision holding hands with his stern command unfailingly managed to chip away at your armour additionally. Your brows furrowed in repressed defiance as the natural compliant response you had to speak struggled to come into being, making the male curiously glance at your hesitant countenance.

"... it will, sir." Shamefully dropping your gaze to the ground at your feet, you turned to the exit and frowned all the way to the training field, unaware of the involuntary sigh Levi's lips had delivered at the fading sound of your footsteps. Slender fingers coming to pinch the bridge of his nose, the Lance Corporal angrily berated his stupidity in a low voice full of disappointment as the image of your childish pout kept surfacing. The next five minutes he spent leaning back against his chair and muttering curses at himself, with the occasional fatigued sigh making an appearance. Once he concluded nothing inappropriate would come of your temporary stay in his quarters he resumed his work, spitefully clicking his tongue twice as often for the rest of the afternoon.

His hand prompted you to walk through the door with a gentle motion that made your lips purse in rigidity so inane it would've drawn laughter from a corpse. You looked at the interior of the superior's room with hardly masked zest, nightwear clenched by your fidgety fingers as Levi closed the door behind himself. A floorboard gave a moaning creak when you made a small step forth, making your brows knit in halting uncertainty as your shoulders tensed, intimidated by the big bed under the window you were to sleep in. It was strange, you could feel the trickling sweat down the back of your neck though you were well aware it wasn't there - a vaporous phantom that made goosebumps complain in their wake down the length of your arms.

"You won't receive an official invitation, (L/N)." The deep voice made your shoulders jump as the stoic male opened the wardrobe in the corner of the relatively empty room and took a simple cotton shirt and pants from its insides. You caught a glimpse of three separate shelves, each of which was stacked with clothes painted in different representatives of the colour spectrum - white, grey and black respectively. A pair of piercing ashen hues bore into your orbs before their owner snorted in mild amusement. "I'm taking a shower. You may use it as an opportunity to change and tuck yourself in since I'm not your mother and I don't plan on babying you."

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry for the inconvenience." You forced out as calmly as was feasible, the tinge of guilt coming out raw and genuine. You heard the short male mutter something under his breath as his cold gaze scrutinized your diffident countenance, but he didn't address you directly and you did your best to not provoke him. The tips of your ears were left to burn in embarrassment when he closed the bathroom door with a small click and you silently marvelled at the plain furnishing of his personal quarters. It was like they belonged to everybody and nobody at the same time - the wooden floor was equipped only with the bare necessities: a bed, a wardrobe, a small chair tucked into the corner with a lit candle sitting on it and a shelf buckling under the weight of the thick books on top.

You glanced at the door of the adjoined bathroom when the shower started running, then your hasty fingers began struggling with your uniform straps. You changed into your nightwear - a comfortable short-sleeved shirt and a plain pair of shorts - and curiously stepped towards the frail bookshelf, ignoring the bed altogether though it was the biggest benefit you could draw from this situation. (E/c) hues fervently flickered from title to title, devouring the letters with utmost vehemence as your fingertips gently glided over the spine of the seemingly oldest book, feeling the dents of each character with longing. Your mind went back to the busy training routine that prevented the indulgence of your favourite hobby and you wondered when the Corporal had found time for these books.

"For once I hoped you wouldn't live up to my expectations." Your hand withdrew from the book like it had stung your fingertips when, in reality, the abrupt sound of the male's voice had been what truly pricked your senses. You swivelled, guiltily clasping your blameful hands behind your back. "I felt you might snoop around." Levi had showered and changed, but even the little droplets of water that dampened the towel draped around his neck couldn't disperse the shame nestled in the centre of your chest. "Go ahead and look, you'll hardly find anything of interest." The dismissive whisk of his hand, paired with the disinterested snort dripping past his lips made your brows furrow in uncertainty. You hadn't exactly gone looking through his underwear but the heat creeping up your neck told you touching the spine of that book had been a crime way worse.

"I'm really sorry, sir." Your muttered apology made his frown deepen as his orbs locked with yours, so acute you felt as if some part of you had gotten cut. The pang in your chest grew in intensity at the sight of his harsh glare but then he blinked, sighed and when his eyelids lifted the anger your naive apology had induced was gone. His grey hues dropped to the floor and you watched a stray water drop hesitantly trace the outline of his strong jaw prior to taking a leap once having reached his chin. He, in turn, watched it hit the wooden floorboard under his bare feet.

"Drop the formalities, (L/N). I feel like a predator when you call me 'sir' in my own bedroom." It wasn't a snarl per se but the self-directed indignation it contained was heard, though unspoken and left unaddressed. Levi left the room before you could respond and you breathed a sigh of relief upon detecting the shuffle of papers coming from his office. Your shoulders relaxed and your guilty stance gave way to a calmer pose but the pang in your chest remained heavy and stubborn.

You sat at the edge of his pristine bed and gave his last command a few minutes of deep thought. Calling him by his first name wasn't something you'd ever considered despite the fact you felt some misplaced affection for him, not only as your mentor but as a member of the opposite sex as well. Now you were going to be sleeping in his bed and having to use his first name because he clearly disapproved of his official title - your adolescent brain was sizzling with bad kinds of thoughts you weren't supposed to have about your superior.

As a result, you laid your head against his cool pillow with a red face and a twitchy conscience. Burning up and wishing you could pinch yourself awake from this surreal experience, you revelled in the pleasant scent enveloping your body. Your mind struggled to let go of the image of Levi's narrow eyes glaring at the floor in an unfathomable manner, so you tried to focus your thoughts on the distracting fragrance oozing from the cool pillowcase you'd subconsciously burrowed your nose into. You were sure you knew what it was but the exact piece of information had slipped past your store of knowledge and was currently dawdling uselessly around in your head. You drifted off to sleep and it came to you just as your brain had decided to pull the plug on your consciousness - lavender. It was lavender.

Your first night in the Corporal's bed didn't quite live up to its inappropriate label. The frowning male spent about five hours doing paperwork only to then doze off in his chair, where the irritating rays of the rising sun found him less than three hours later, frowning even in his sleep. Your eyes fluttered open when you heard him unlatch the window in his office with a creak and your body instinctively flinched in response to the unfamiliar surroundings your pupils observed in the golden sunlight. Then it came back to you in a hasty wave and your tense muscles gradually relaxed, allowing you to sit up and look out the window to your left with the disoriented gaze of a person who'd slept more than well. Yes, as you boasted later to your Corporal, a seven-hour slumber in his bed had been immensely refreshing, to the point you swore you'd show him even better results than you normally did during your training.

The doubt his features had shown in the beginning started to fade - with an inward tinge of pride at that - around the second week of your deal. Your dark circles made way for healthy patches of skin on day five, your tired waddle was gone by the first week and your previous glory came back by the thirteenth day - the tripping down the halls and during laps, the lousy job at cleaning, the slow manner of speech, the shortened attention span during lectures and the visibly worsened state of your reaction time and physical strength in close combat training were no more. The 3DMG exercises were the only presentable part of your resume that didn't suffer any drastic change due to its location under the shade of the trees past the sunlit training fields, but the gradual increase of productivity and stamina you went on to show put them in the same group as your lame mistakes.

Your poor social skills during missions and your inept way of always freezing in place when you thought you were going to deal critical damage to an opponent stayed, but Levi was determined to draw them into a corner and exterminate them - similarly to how a person squished a bug with his foot and looked at the sole of his shoe with abhorrence right after. As your mentor, he had graced the sole of his leather boot with such a look during the budding of springtime after he'd gotten rid of your annoying habit of recklessly storming into battle headfirst, overzealous and a tad bit conceited. Nowadays you occasionally allowed yourself a certain amount of arrogance but it was a controlled exertion of confidence which stopped eliciting anger from your peers, which, in turn, strengthened the trust and reliability you shared with them.

In this case, it took some time but soldiers slowly came to notice the odd change in your skills - something inevitable since they'd watched your abilities deflate until your performance put you in last place amongst every soldier in the building and now they bore witness to grace, strength and agility so unlike your miserable skills up until a week ago it was uncanny. Suspicion rose until it became overwhelmingly obvious, but nobody dared question your bizarre transformation. It contrasted the rest of the soldiers so brightly some superiors approached Levi in order to seek permission to recruit you for their own squads. In all six cases that took place, Humanity's Strongest Soldier would glare, snarl and prohibit it with such vigour it made four out of six Squad Leaders flinch.

"She's contending for a place on my squad," he'd almost growl in that cold voice of his, "so you can recruit her when I say she's unfit to be part of it, which, considering her performance, might not happen at all."

In a world where he hadn't already let you sleep in his bed, you'd probably faint upon hearing how vehemently he defended his position as your mentor and the spot in his squad you might just come to fill by the end of summer. But in this world - this blessed, albeit titan-infested, world - where you slept in his bed and saw him half-naked once every three days you forgot all about flaunting your skills and only focused on the thought of making him proud. Praise didn't matter so long as he kept scrutinizing you with that calculating gaze of his yet never uttered a single reprimand. It didn't matter in moments when he woke you for breakfast and accepted the tea you made for him in the evening with a grateful nod. No compliment in this world would equal the significance of the timid approval in his ashen hues each time you bashfully added his name at the end of a sentence. It wasn't praise you were chasing ever so desperately since your enlistment in the Corps - it was him.

A kind of meticulous routine came into being by the third week you spent in the comfort of the Lance Corporal's cool bed. Whoever woke up first - which mostly happened to be Levi - woke the other when it was time for breakfast. He had his morning shower and you changed into your uniform, then you swapped rooms and whilst he got dressed, you combed your hair and brushed your teeth (with the toothbrush he'd required you bring from your dorm). Each afternoon you showered after training (because he'd have you sleep on the floor if you weren't thoroughly cleaned), had dinner and crept up the staircase to the ebony-haired male's room, supplying every superior you bumped into with the same excuse of being called into the Corporal's office. Sometimes you went out of your way to make tea for him, which was something he was openly appreciative of - especially on nights he had more paperwork than usual.

You also came to establish several unspoken rules during your coexistence: cleanliness was above all for Levi and the moment you disrespected that you'd receive harsher treatment for the remainder of the day - the same, however, went for your personal space. Each rule was learned the hard way - with you running fifty laps for seemingly no reason when you left the bed unmade one morning and Levi coming dangerously close to getting roundhouse kicked into the wall when he walked out of the bathroom a bit earlier. A few others declared that you could get away with leaving the bed unmade if you delivered Levi's finished paperwork to the Commander before waking him up and that, by letting you read his books, Levi could spare himself some of your unprofessional humour the following day.

There were other little things too, but they weren't exactly rules - just periodical occurrences. On nights when the short male left the window open, you'd sneak into his office and drape a thin blanket over him so the cool night wind wouldn't make his muscles cramp. Some nights he spent in bed with you, lying on his back and struggling to keep his eyes closed as you calmed your erratic heartbeat and feigned sleep. Some evenings you indulged in conversing - the topics were both diverse and multitudinous, but the use of his name instead of his title remained constant. Quiet embarrassment painted the tips of your ears and the apples of your cheeks in hot red and you often caught Levi watching you during those moments with a gaze you were yet to decipher. There was something about it, in the candlelight, that made your heart clench - something he pretended not to have noticed himself, because it was too soft to be him, too improper to be allowed and too genuine to be overlooked.

Those few summer weeks, when you weren't busy pretending not to be dying of the heat outside, your thoughts were dedicated to becoming stronger so you could stay at Levi's side and your heart was overcome by an ecstatic feeling akin to that adolescent love you hadn't had the chance to experience prior to this moment. The earnest admiration that had rooted itself into your heart as a child grew a slim stem when you enlisted in the Corps, slowly morphing into the deep attachment of a determined student that would always follow their mentor. There were buds now and, despite having missed the season, they were blooming - how beautiful that feeling of love - inside your chest, blooming and screaming to be let out. You couldn't let them out. That flower - so aromatic, beautiful and pure - would be considered ugly by everybody else, ugly and improper. Maybe even by the very Corporal who'd seeded it.

At night you'd lay in his bed, tangled in the sheets and pressing your twitching face into his pillow. You'd toss and turn, chest constricting painfully at the thought of the frail flower and its untimely existence, and you'd think of your Corporal sleeping in his chair, imminent ache awaiting his muscles as he furrowed his brows at the nightmares and the memories that were by no means any less horrible. You'd think of him and your shut eyes would sometimes sting with unshed tears, then you'd force your thoughts elsewhere but the smell of lavender would keep them in place, desperate and scorching. And somewhere inbetween them, tangled and struck motionless, stood the image of the flower having bloomed in your chest - frail and small. A stalk of lavender.

"You're ogling." Levi's sharp statement made your shoulders jump in fright as you averted your gaze from his bare back with a pout. The earnest - albeit pouty - 'I'm sorry' that slipped past your lips into the still air clearly hindered the process of him getting dressed because the black shirt he'd picked hung from his slender fingers as he turned to look at you, sitting on the bed with one of his books on your lap. "You're not going to deny it?" The question drove your eyes away from his but you kept your face impassive, achieving success through months of trained experience and turmoil. Only the nervous flickering of your orbs betrayed the feeling of embarrassment that had crept into the crevices of your mind. Admittedly, your superior was far from being unattractive, but you wondered if he was aware of it. Even if he wasn't, giving him compliments would be considered inappropriate. Still---

"It's not like you're ugly, sir--- I mean, Levi." Your clumsy correction made his momentary glare fade but the unmistakable sensation of his hues on you remained, austere and anticipant. You glanced up, hastily avoiding the sight of his abdomen and chest to deter the heat from spreading through your body before it reached your face. "Also, I was looking at the marks, nothing else." The brownish bruises adorning his torso, sitting where his uniform straps usually did, gave the impression of something painful - maybe something you wouldn't be able to handle daily. Levi made a few steps forward until he was standing in front of you and you were struggling to sustain eye contact with his cold ashen hues.

"They're just permanent discolouration of the skin. Pity is unneeded." He'd seen it on your face, maybe in the furrow of your brow or the flare of your nostrils or the unintended curl of your fingers, he'd witnessed the sad admiration and he'd called it pity because giving it another name would lead to questions you wouldn't want to answer. You didn't dare dip your head or do as much as nod in understanding, but something had changed in your orbs; something that made Levi snort in mild exasperation. "They don't even hurt." He declared in a cold voice as you blinked, youthful forehead crinkling with doubt and scepticism. "Do you wish to confirm it?"

The fleeting confusion that clouded your uncertain gaze at the inquiry was all Levi needed to see in order to take advantage of the moment and act. His fingers grabbed your hand and lifted it to his chest, quickly coming to sense the alerted tense of your muscles - similar to the involuntary flinch of a person touching something he'd been prohibited from ever coming in contact with. Too shocked to offer resistance, you felt your palm rest over his skin and your mind devoted all coherent thoughts it could produce to the smoothness of it paired with the firmness of the muscle underneath and, of course, panic. Your engines were going into overdrive but once they short-circuited you felt calm enchantment grasp your senses, guiding your fingers up and down the bruises so you could trace their outlines and feel the diminutive dent of his skin.

"How many years did it take for them to form?" Your head tilted to the side as Levi relinquished his grasp on your wrist, letting your fingertips roam with odd composure. You were wholly enthralled by the feeling of it - this closeness - intimate and unplanned. The scent of lavender his body exuded and the lilac colour mingling with the brown - a bruise that would never heal. The male's reaction to your touches was absent on the surface, but your fingertips graced his skin with such light tenderness he found the contact alien. Having been deprived of gentleness his whole adult life, Levi thought the ginger movement of your dainty fingers strange, but not repulsive.

"About three." The low husk of his voice was something neither of you seemed to acknowledge, too hypnotised to process a detail of such subtlety. Gentle grew into compassionate, fear obtained courage - and the wholeness of your palm caressed Levi's chest, up to his collarbone. Your gaze was still hazy when you craned your neck to look at his hues - and when you did they hit you as oddly soft, a muted graphite having lost its conscious glimmer in the dim candlelight. Taken aback by the peculiar change in your superior's eyes, you felt your hand pause in its journey over his pale skin, just having arrived at the crook of his neck in its daring spontaneity.

"Most cadets surely don't live enough to get them." His skin was burning hot under your oversensitive fingers. Hot and damp from the shower he'd taken. Maybe the dampness was what quelled your advance and broke the spell. Or maybe it was the smell of lavender - reassuring and painful - that told you this was too good to have been happening. It might've been the strange grey as well - such an ugly hue, lacking brightness and resolve, lacking gelidity and austerity, lacking everything you'd fallen for. It was the same hue that kept your hand in place only so it could sear it seconds later, so abruptly you felt pain when there was no source.

"Make sure you're part of the minority then." You couldn't stop thinking of how you disliked the unreadable look in his eyes and the one yours were very eager to reciprocate despite not knowing of the exact meaning it bore. For a very small second you could hear him telling you to survive so you could be with him, live and anticipate the moment when he would finally profess his feelings for you, wait and strive for strength and approval until the flower in your chest made its violet blossoms choke you to death - far from the noble demise every soldier looked up to. One moment you heard all that and the next it was nothing - just the muted hue of his orbs and the scorching feeling of his skin. And the words were a rueful phantasm that left your eyes wide and your lips pursed.

"With my performance, I don't think I'll have a problem." Your hand was at once withdrawn, so sharply it made him blink in mild surprise and the relentless glare returned to its rightful place - glimmering with intelligence and something else, something perturbed by the shameful predecessor of its existence. Your Corporal was back and though your mind leapt with jubilation there was a little part of your heart that was a smidge too discontented to witness the detached frown weaving its way back unto his handsome features. He made a step back. Then another one. His ebony locks swayed as he turned his back to the bed and approached the door, latent disgruntlement hidden along the edges of his clenched jaw.

"Just don't get too cocky. You're still a brat." His steps were heavy but his firm voice was a tad bit lighter. His hand settled on the doorknob when he remembered he was still shirtless. Quick to fix that, Levi snorted with condescension before scratching the side of his neck which you immediately recognised as the exact spot your hand had been touching mere moments ago. Your brows furrowed when the door slammed shut after him, leaving you solitary and bewildered - an emotion that had less to do with his out-of-character moment of mellow approachability and more with the perplexing contrast between his words and actions.

For the next two hours neither of you slept and while he sat at his desk - stiff shoulders, furrowed eyebrows and angrily protruded bottom lip - writing and trying his best not to think or make inward inquiries that would be vouchsafed no answer, you lay on the bed - tangled thoughts, clenched heart and sad eyes - with the book in your hands and the question 'why am I sleeping in your bed then?' echoing inside your head. And, much like how your problem was not graced with a solution, his own compulsive list of questions received no satisfactory reply. It didn't make sense - not one fragment of it all - but, as both of you were yet to learn and acknowledge, nothing did when one was under the influence of love.

Some mornings were familiar, natural and lacking in discomfiture. Normally, you woke up, got dressed and went your way, with Levi not sparing you an additional glance, but the longer you stayed, the warmer the candle on top of the chair in the corner felt and the mornings after - all the fresher. In those moments you looked at the sky with new eyes - a bright pair that saw an oddly clear future. Nothing weighted your heart down and your shoulders were never slouched, the flower in your chest was singing. Levi, too, appeared a tad bit softer. He would make a calm entrance with a resting pair of brows and a sharp gaze, and sometimes a cup of steaming coffee would be clutched by his pale fingers.

"You're such a goddamn nuisance." The ebony-haired male had already put on his uniform. You'd slept through his morning shower and the distinct smell of fresh caffeine had made your lids lift some minutes later. He was crouching by the bed and the bored expression sitting on his face failed to convey the exasperation his words had been so desperate to voice. You took the cup from his hand with a grateful smile, a smidge too lopsided to be described as beautiful. With ice rimming his grey hues, the male gave you a warning look and you took a sip from the beverage with a contented sigh.

"Thank you, Levi." You observed the nonchalant pout of his lips when he stood up and turned the other way, just in time to miss the endearing adoration in your orbs as they gazed up at his noble profile. An inaudible sigh escaped your lungs while your superior busied himself with his uniform straps, reminding you of the brownish bruises clinging to his torso under the white shirt he wore. That, in turn, called forth the date you'd seen yesterday in the callendar you had in your room. Autumn was coming, as the first week of September dictated, and with it - the end of your deal with Levi. Your flawless performance no longer required the comfort of his cold bed, which made a prolonged stay in his room pointless and negated the improvement in your relationship. Back to square one, as your peers would say.

"I'm supervising today's training session so we leave in twenty." His imperative voice brought you back to reality, where he was standing by the wardrobe with folded arms and a harsh frown and you were still in bed, enveloped by the enticing smell of coffee and lavender. You sat up with a small snort and nodded your head obediently, warm fingers locked around the cup in their hold. The air of responsibility and promise you wore did nothing to soften your superior's sharp features or melt the pungent shimmer of his hue as he scrutinised the tangled mess your bed hair was.

"Roger that." You saw his eyes narrow in mild suspicion when your gaze averted from the coffee you were holding but there was no spite along the crease between his drawn brows so you concluded you hadn't gotten in trouble with your carefree response; it was so unlike the salute you would always perform at the beginning of your acquaintanceship with the cold ebony-haired male it made your heart clench in bashful shame and guilty delight at the same time. Was this the beginning of an actual friendship or just a strange exception in your superior-subordinate relationship? Such a baffling concept - to befriend the man you felt so much for.

"Get that shitty smile off your face unless you wish to be running laps in the sun." The abrupt appearance of Levi's biting tone brought awareness to your senses, making you realise your facial muscles had adapted themselves to a joyous grin - genuine and peculiar in the eyes of a person who saw no reason whatsoever behind its existence. You let out a weak chuckle and nodded your head once more, to which he clicked his tongue in visible dissatisfaction prior to fleeing the room in order to focus on the little paperwork he hadn't finished the previous night.

You sat on his bed some more, taking small sips from the coffee he'd brought you and struggling to bite back a smile. Two cubes of sugar and no milk - just how you liked it. You never told him that was how you liked it, though. Unable to dismiss the warm voice of the aromatic flower caressing the insides of your ribcage, you didn't think much of the man's earlier vexation and thus missed how its cause wasn't your unjustified happiness but the concerning reaction it evoked in him. Glimmering hues matching your own, Levi stared at the blank sheet of paper he was yet to touch and the only thing he could feel but couldn't comprehend was the worrying beat of his heart. Too young for problematic palpitations and too old for love - that was what Levi thought of himself - but the image of your smile refused to leave him until the very moment you had to leave for your training session.

The same night you were having a hard time falling asleep. Stripes of lightning stained the indigo night sky, creating a contrast that made it seem jet black and eerie. Thunder sounded in the distance, shaking the wet ground and pushing you from one side of the bed to the other with its deafening roar. Big raindrops fell from the endless abyss, splattering closed windows and steady buildings, wetting stone, soil and grass, and singing a chaotic tune that made your body instinctively pull on the thin blankets Levi had supplied you with. Storms had never been your thing but you hardly considered them scary. The weather was clearly undergoing a change for the worse this year, so the conclusion of rain and snow exceeding their expected amount wasn't exactly hard to reach.

You groaned in exasperation when another lightning struck the forest behind the training fields and its echo reached your ears some moments later. You rose from the bed and stared out the window before deciding a glass of water would suffice to distract your fidgety thoughts. You carefully opened the door leading to Levi's office, all the while labouring under the delusion he was sleeping soundly in his chair, too tired to stay awake in spite of the discomfort. Your assumption couldn't have been more wrong. The moment you stepped foot in the office his aquiline gaze found your face and pinned you in place as you closed the door behind yourself, finding it too late to turn back once having been spotted.

"It's late. Why aren't you sleeping?" A cold question and an even more gelid frown to go with it. You shivered, moving to his desk in your nightwear and glancing at the window behind his back before meeting his eyes in the dim candlelight. His ebony locks were slicked back and messy, and his tired expression bore a pair of heavy lids shadowed by intimidating brows. He lacked the energy to scold you for being awake and you knew it. Judging by the unbuttoned shirt hanging from his shoulders and the shocking eyebags clinging to his pallid skin he wasn't in any condition to even think of it as something troublesome. You were well aware he could kick you to the curb no matter how exhausted but that didn't stop you from gaining a diminutive amount of confidence for the time being.

"The rain woke me up and I couldn't fall asleep after that." Your voice sounded small and weak in comparison to the unsynchronised dance of the raindrops against the glass window, but Levi felt no need to command you to speak louder. He liked the timid sound of the tone you used as it was. "Hindering your work process too?" Your curious inquiry led his calculating gaze away from the window in the direction of your drowsy figure as it leaned against the edge of his desk, ponderous and far from graceful in its unsettled condition. You wouldn't consider in a thousand years that Levi would have found you pretty at that moment, with your droopy eyes and dishevelled tresses, and the big shirt slipping off your bare shoulder as your capable hands awkwardly scratched at the back of your head.

"The weather's gone batshit crazy." Was his only retort, drained of both amusement and wit - a noticeable absence which just went to show he was way past the point of joking as well. You nodded your head whilst facing the window and contemplating this year's unpredictable seasonal weather: early bloom of flowers and trees in the spring, blistering summer temperatures and now daily bouts of torrential rain when September's second week hadn't even commenced. Winter would be a dreaded season - ice and blizzards all the way, as far as your imagination went anyway. The white visions of the cold made your brows furrow as you stumbled upon an impending problem of bigger vicissitude that was more deserving of your apprehension.

"Agreed. On the topic, I should probably gather my stuff in the morning." Levi raised a quizzical brow that made your gaze stray back to the window. This was the fourth night you spent in his bed after the coming of rains and lower temperatures. Everybody sensed the weather's scarcely subtle change but you and your mentor were extremely adamant to keep up an oblivious act. At this point, you could take advantage of his reluctance and continue using his bed for the remainder of the year, but that was a line of indecency you weren't willing to cross. "With the autumn rains coming, I think my stay has expired." You explained meekly, dismissing the glare at your temple as a messenger of surprise. Giving simple looks bigger meanings than the ones they possessed was an unhealthy habit you had to rid yourself of.

"Winters are colder here anyways." He responded with an approving hum, making you steal a glimpse of his profile when he turned in his chair to observe the raindrops hitting the window. So immensely handsome, even when overwhelmed by extreme fatigue, as dictated by the curve at the tip of his nose, the outline of his thin lips, the austere beauty of his frown and the sharp edge of his clenched jaw. There was something about the shadow falling over his bloodshot eyes that made their shimmer times brighter and more piercing. It was profusely childish of you to get distracted by such things, but inevitable nonetheless.

"Thank you for humouring me, Levi." Sentences such as “do you want to sleep in my bed then?”, “wood is better at preserving warmth than stone” and “I'd be a fool not to return the favour” lifted their tempting heads at you, expectant gazes awaiting your choice. But you wouldn't make it, mostly because you knew the Corporal would shoot you down, offering immediate refusal in the form of a pointed glare or a stern “no”. So you settled for simply voicing your gratitude, seeing as it was something he would have little reason to glare at you for.

"The least I can do for the newest addition to my squad." Deep voice, cold eyes, nonchalant huff - adjectives you were incapable of matching to their suitable nouns due to the shock that struck your body, abrupt and piercing like a blade. Levi gifted your gaping mouth and uncomprehending hues a brief amused glance. You could swear his lips twitched in restrained mirth - a twitch that would've taken the form of a genuine chuckle had the ebony-haired male been less sombre and strict. "Don't swallow your tongue now. I haven't given the final form to Erwin yet. I was filling it out tonight." It took you some time to negate the bemusement his statement had caused but the result left your body light and your mind full of euphoria.

"So you'll call me 'cadet' from tomorrow onwards?" The crestfallen words were spoken curiously as your chest swelled with gelid pride and warm misplaced disappointment, and you distinctly felt the drop of your stomach when your superior gave a curt nod after a moment of contemplation. "And I go back to addressing you as 'sir'." The flat statement could hardly be labelled a question but its confirmation arrived nevertheless, making a small pang pull at your heart. "That's surprisingly disappointing when I just got used to calling you 'Levi' without flushing in embarrassment." The weirdly unabashed admittance made your Corporal's features contort in mild confusion and you could almost see his lips mouth the word “embarrassment?” as his calculating orbs inspected your countenance for any traces of said emotion. "It's hard to get used to the idea my hero lets me use his first name like I'm not just a child looking at him in the street."

Your bashful explanation - accompanied by a pair of tense shoulders and a nervous flickering gaze - made the male's wan features contort in an abrasive scowl as he turned to face you instead of the window. His lips were pursed so tightly they painted a straight line across the lower half of his visage and his stormy hues shone with additional spite upon locking with yours. Then his voice came out, biting and imperious: "Your hero is too idealised to be worthy of actual worship." The animosity and reproach it held, you realised, were things directed at himself he couldn't help but let slip past the chinks in his own armour. Your tense shoulders slouched as you smiled - more so at this part of him he was unintentionally letting you see than him.

"He's not. He's a flawed middle-aged man with a lot of duties who is often tired. His temper's bad but he's patient when he needs to be. What he lacks he makes up for, with no exceptions. That's what I like about him." Your confession, smooth and steady, lacked the usual shyness with which you often took it upon yourself to talk. The drumming of the rain was a rhythmic background you couldn't rid yourselves of, but neither seemed to mind. All it took was a glance - Levi's silver hues searching for yours in dubious surprise - and your halting resolve to be confident crumbled completely. "I've said too much, I apologise if it made you feel uncomfortable, sir." Downcast gaze, sucked in breath and a lavender stalk tickling the back of your throat. You never saw the man's pallid features adopt a borderline embarrassed expression, nor did you bear witness to the doubtful glances he sent around the room, little messengers to ask all inanimate objects the office contained if he was in his right mind, thinking the things he dared come up with.

"Reverting to that shitty title. Why don't you prove you've learned how to use my fucking name, (L/N)?" He snarled, annoyance slipping through the wall of composure he tried to build. Your shoulders shrunk a size but you didn't distance yourself from him or the desk, you didn't have the heart to do it - not when you felt this warm and this tense, this pleasantly embarrassed. “Keep calling my name,” his enchanting orbs whispered imploringly, and you would try adhering to the command though it was not real. "Mute when speech is required. And red to top it off. Have I embarrassed you?" The redness creeping at the base of your neck and the tips of your ears spread further upwards, tinting the apples of your cheeks crimson and making your pouting lips part in mild defiance.

"A little." The humble admittance made Levi snort as you leaned back against his desk - something he would never allow under normal circumstances - vouchsafing his cold eyes a look of mild suspicion that made his thin eyebrow raise challengingly. Your lips pouted in annoyance, glare almost as half-hearted as his when he reprimanded you during training. "Are you by any chance having fun by doing it?" The flow of your blood circulation was still heavily focused on the sides of your face but that didn't stop you from attempting to intimidate your Corporal, who seemed, besides extremely unimpressed, quite amused by the peculiar show of confidence on your side.

"I don't know. You tell me. Would I let anybody sleep in my bed if I couldn't benefit from it?" There was something - something twinkling - in his orb that drowned out its grey colour and the relatively big size of its pupil. It was something that prevented you from noticing his hue was grey contrary to silver and that his eyes had come to narrow in that way you'd seen some weeks ago during your ogling. It was something pretty - almost mischievous - and it attracted you with its simplistic beauty to the point you couldn't think of anything but the man possessing it. Prosaic as it was, the waxen colour of his complexion was made to look extraordinarily healthy and his tired visage's wan features suddenly seemed handsome and uplifted, the lilac crescents disappeared from their shallow nests and, for a single second, he officially became the one man on this world you had eyes for.

"Despicable," you muttered, overcome by the irrational hypnotising urge to reach out and touch the pale temple at his side with its little throbbing blue vein - a result of all the stress and fatigue. Was that because he'd been filling out forms to finalise your transfer to his squad? Was it because he'd been writing reviews about your performance that justified his choice? Was that terrible expression on his face because of you? Your fingers clutched the edge of the desk until your knuckles turned white - a subconscious reaction the ebony-haired male's observant hues immediately pinpointed. It took him very little to understand a nasty thought had wormed its way into your mind but it would have never occurred to him that it concerned him directly, much less his well-being.

"Make sure you're faultless before judging. The fact I pointed out your ogling only once doesn't mean I didn't notice the rest." Determined to distract you from your worries, Levi opted for the one option he knew would undeniably reap success - embarrassment. His mocking words made crimson blossom over your cheeks and erased the dutiful air of responsibility and morbidity your features often held when not busy portraying another emotion. Levi forced his eyes away from the endearing sight with a scoff, once more telling himself he was too old for this - for you. "Go back to bed now, (L/N). You've entertained me enough for one night." The dismissive whisk of his pale hand prompted your gaze upwards and away from the floor you'd admired ever so fervently a moment ago. Uncertainty gathered in the crease between your brows and your heart clenched as you pushed yourself off his desk, the lavender stalk reaching up to chase the air from your throat and hinder your speech.

"Could I ask you to join me when you finish here?" Insecure and small, close to a bluish colour in the dim lighting and muffled by the loud drumming of the rain, the question hung from the ceiling in the cool air, swaying from side to side in an attempt to attract Levi's attention. The male's lips visibly pursed as he glared at the papers on his desk, eyes not daring to look at you. Mirroring the action, you anticipated his answer with a pleading furrow of your brows, contrary to his displeased one. There was silence - heavy, taut like a guitar's string and burning amidst the first of many gelid nights to come - a silence that was a bringer of feared refusal and shamefully crushed hopes. There would be no miracles this time because your ludicrous inquiry crossed a line neither of you had dared confront prior to this moment.

"No." Strident, succinct and stoic - a proud genuine response that wouldn't push the boundaries of your future active superior-subordinate relationship and thus hinder communication or teamwork. Feelings and intimacy weren't a good mix when you wouldn't be anything more than a mere cadet to him as of the following morning, much less when expressed vocally. And you seemed to be doing that a lot tonight. You fled the office with a despondent nod and not another word, softly closing the door behind yourself. Moping because of a reaction you knew you'd receive was useless, so you ignored the tears gathering in the crevices of your ribcage and lay on the big bed, tucking yourself into the corner by the wall under the window so the rain could block all unwanted notions.

You didn't know how long you lay there, clutching the covers and pressing your knees against the cold stone, but at one point the salty taste of tears you couldn't feel yourself shedding wet your lips and you snorted, engulfed in the dim light of the murky moonbeams and the disappointment clinging to your heavy bones. At the window frame stood the shards of your shattered hope, assembled as to beautifully shine and reflect the glistening raindrops gliding down the glass window. Levi's pillow lay on the opposite side of the bed as you pressed your forehead against the wall, desperate to escape the scent of lavender and the thoughts of its owner it would trigger. Slowly drifting off, you didn't hear the soft click of the door, nor the quiet footsteps coming to a stop at the bedside.

No matter how inconveniently unfortunate your situation, you dreamed of nice things - such as the ones you couldn't have in reality. You dreamed of a training session in the sun, a small word of praise and a tight hug in the shade of a nearby tree, bathing your being in lavender and making your knees give out in alleviation. You pictured a gentle but desperate embrace, and though you knew no words of affection would exit Levi's lips, you heard the echo of his thoughts, telling you he didn't want to let you go. Images of your hands clutching his body for support appeared in your mind, followed by a moment of serene mutual understanding. You both knew this was wrong. But there was no “but” glued to the last word. There was a period instead - a hopeful little end that would allow no further arguments on the topic.

In your dreamland, Levi's fingers were confident as they cupped your face whereas yours were shaking in unbelieving elation on his shoulders. In your dreamland, Levi's hues were silver and glimmering with a burning resolve, a goal in mind. In reality, when the mattress shrunk under his weight you didn't feel the insecure touch of his fingertips caressing your cheek to wipe the tear stains, nor did you connect the smell of lavender coming off his body to anything real. And when he cleared the messy tresses from your face and wrapped his arms around your shivering form you felt the confident embrace of a self-assured man who knew exactly what his feelings for you meant. In your dreams Levi was never insecure, never uncertain, never indecisive - those traits had not once represented him in your eyes. How would you feel knowing they had formed a ball at the back of his throat as he buried his nose in your hair, trying not to choke or recoil in self-contempt because of what he was doing?

That question, much like many others, would be gifted no tangible answer. All you knew, for the time being, was that the malnourished flower in your chest kept singing amidst your misery and would keep blooming until its aromatic petals fell from your lips or its stalk wrapped around your beating heart and crushed it. The next morning you awoke bright and robust, distancing yourself from melancholic notions that would only serve as a distraction. You sat up, noticing the figure sitting at the edge of the bed when it entered your line of sight. The air was heavy with the smell of lavender and fresh coffee, and the sky was an optimistic baby blue. Levi, having sensed your movement, turned to hand you your drink. You took it with a grateful nod and a shy smile, failing to notice the affectionate glimmer in his hues as he watched your visage.

The ebony-haired male didn't speak - not of your recruitment, not of the imminent training you'd face, not of the end of your stay and not of last night's conversation. You sat there, watching the bed hair he never had after sleeping in his chair and the creases over the sheets you'd hardly touched, and your tongue was made of lead but your heart felt light. Your lips pursed as you bit back a smile and sipped your coffee, hiding your conflicted endearment behind the china's thick rim. Levi was, of course, already quite aware of it, but had no intention of shattering your delusions on the topic of his oblivion. So he turned and sat across from you on the bed, drinking the tea he'd gotten for himself from the kitchen and not forgetting to omit the fact he'd slept in for the first time in his adult life. Past the closed window behind your back, the twittering of birds mashed with the faint voices of your comrades having breakfast in the mess hall - faint voices yours was supposed to be a part of.

Skipping breakfast was Levi's last gift to you for the time being - a few peaceful minutes filled with comforting silence and a strange sense of mutual understanding. There were no passionate hugs or declarations of undying love. There was the lingering scent of coffee and black tea, and two pairs of glimmering hues locked on each other as the owners hid their quiet content behind cups' rims and fidgety hands, equally satisfied to have indulged in their selfish urges and unravelled that summer heat had come to reveal itself as the least of their problems. If nothing else, it might've subjected you to a big amount of torture but it also gave you the opportunity to feel closer to Levi and the chance to get to know him before things between you turned professional. Heat had given each of you an opening - you to accept your love and Levi to fall victim to it - so it was a pity neither of you thought of thanking it.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman fanfiction #snk x reader #reader insert #if you didn't know already i love building up the feelings and not exploring them inside the frame of a romantic relationship #so yet another open ending for you #i do be very interested in the emotional dynamics #should've studied behavioural sciences or psychology lol #levi is too soft and too in denial as usual #reader here is just a bit melodramatic #but that's the whole point so my metaphors can be employed lol #hope you enjoy

[bsxcrxts]

headcanon: what is the longest span of time Luke has managed to edge himself, either alone or with a partner?

ooh this is a fascinating question

depends on if we're talking multiple sessions over days, or a singular session I think

in one session, I seriously doubt Luke can last being edged for over twenty minutes

and I think he has to work up to being able to last even that long tbh

if he's with a partner, he's going to start asking you at minute ten to please just let him cum but it's more for show than it is for true desperation

twenty minutes with a partner is about the time he starts truly begging

on his own? I think Luke likes to think that he has a lot of restraint but I doubt he edges himself for longer than ten minutes when he's by himself. It's easier to just let himself get off if he intends to cum

Now if we're talking over multiple sessions where he's denying himself his orgasm....

Bizarrely, I think he's better at that?

If he makes up his mind that he is not allowed to have an orgasm, either of his own volition or because you told him not to, he won't lose control and make himself cum

He's pretty good at edging himself for a few days, maybe even more than a week if he really focuses

That is, if you're not around.

He struggles way more with not being allowed to cum if you're around at all. If he leaves on a mission and you tell him he's not allowed to finish while he's gone, he can and will obey you, because you said no and he has a praise kink a mile wide and wants to hear you tell him how good he was for you when he gets back. Or if the two of you aren't together yet, and he's too shy to make himself cum to the thought of you, or thinks it would be improper for some reason, he won't finish. He'll just edge his cock until his sexual frustration overwhelms him

However, if you're trying to get him to last multiple days without an orgasm while you edge him every so often? Like you're the one there touching his cock or even just watching him jerk himself off?

He can hardly hold back

It's that much harder for him when the object of his affection in right in front of him. The mental restraint he has to practice is so much more intense

Anything you say pushes him closer to cumming. Anything you wear has him riled up. Anything you do is a turn-on and he's trying so hard to be a good boy, but on like, the third day, the moment you touch his cock it's over and he's making a huge mess

#luke 💛 #luke skywalker smut #luke skywalker x reader #becca's bs #does this make sense

[thydungeongal]

I apologize if this is unwanted, but I thought you might find this interesting. I actually really enjoy doing horror one shot games with systems like D&D and Pathfinder specifically because the rules are so intense and not technically built for horror. Specifically, I like the setup of having the players be heavily restricted by the rules that their characters have to follow, while the monsters and scenario are blatantly and intentionally unfair. Not to the absolute extreme, I don't drop the tarrasque on a level 2 group, but monsters will often break rules to act in unpredictable or uncounterable ways, and the environment will be extremely hostile and force them to really struggle. For this Halloween, I had a Pathfinder 2e game where I dropped an overpowered curse and an overpowered disease on the party, designed to set up death spirals as each stage of the curse and disease made saving against the next one harder, and put limitations on how they could be cured to make it even harder. I've tried systems actually built for horror, but there's something about taking a d20 fantasy system and using its rules to break and hinder the characters that I just find so much fun. Only for specifically designated horror games though, I don't do that to players as a general thing. They've generally gone over really well so far, people do seem to enjoy the way it works out.

Absolutely not unwanted, this is fascinating to me! And to be honest, while I don't think D&D is perfectly suited to horror, there are parts of it (lethality, its resource depletion death spiral, mechanics that encourage approaching every encounter as a potentially deadly one, it's somewhat process simulationy approach to mechanics) that I do think can contribute meaningfully to horror! The only part that D&D and other D&D-likes don't do well with regards to horror is that they are often (especially in a post-TSR context) very much about player empowerment, which you've addressed by hiding information and breaking some of the assumptions about what is a "fair" encounter.

In my ideal style of running a D&D-like the idea of encounters having to be fair and tailormade for the group's level would be the first thing I scrap. Instead, if you go to the zombie swamp at level 1, your level 1 characters risk catching zombie disease. So, like, the idea of doing away with some of the assumptions of d20 fantasy systems (like the notion that encounters need to be "fair") and just using the rules to present some real danger is very cool to me.

I would very much like to hear more about this if you have details you'd like to share. :)

#thydungeongal answers

[solar-nightengale]

Hi, I’m new in this tag kinda and new to meta-writing overall, but not only is the August brain rot really strong but one particular part of his entire character has been on my mind for a whole weekend. Please take this as mostly an offering of very spilled thoughts cause I couldn't keep them to myself anymore, LMAO. Particularly the thing that's on my brain is his guilt

I would also like to make note of and thank @ lizardthelizard And her glorious set of tags here for setting off my spiral tonight and also when she first sent them because my goodness this is truly an eye-opener. Thank you, buddy 💖

Gosh though, August’s guilt and self-criticism of himself and his actions is something that really fascinates me personally, and just thinking of it being the cause of what turns him back to wood is both mind-blowing but it just makes so much sense. He may be real because of magic but who’s to say it’s just the magical conditions that are holding him back and not the high as heck expectations that he feels were set for him and he set up for himself.

When it feels like you can't mess up sometimes it can feel like you're stuck in place Or that your screw ups means you can't change, that you're not good, that maybe you don't deserve to be considered good and that your various flaws are all that others would see you FOR!!

Maybe it's different to anxiety but idk it’s what caught my attention about him even more than what his character already offered up in s1!

He was given this like 

Idea that he needs to be "Brave" and "Truthful" and "Selfless" all the time or else he cannot be human 

Does it work like that? no, there's no human on EARTH that's all three of those things all the time, we've all had moments of weakness and gave in 

But what does he know? Most of his life he spent on his own and as a puppet, he was expected to understand the ways of being a human and GOODNESS knows how short a time he was with his dad before he was THRUST into a world and forced once again to stand on his own two feet and expected to just, you know, know how to act once again 

He's followed by expectations that he finds himself struggling to meet because he doesn't know what the limit is or how to meet them, and sometimes if not all of the times the temptations are just better and easier 

And it's expected!!!

He stepped into TLWM as a child with no idea of what he’s getting into with no prior knowledge, no adult, no nothing.

But omg, he drags himself down so much about it because he can’t meet those expectations the way he would want to and because of that because literally who did he have to tell him that it's all okay? That you can make mistakes and move on from them? That you can make up for your mistakes and forgive yourself for them?

Did he have anyone at all? Cause The show sure didn't show him having anyone

We see one woman in Thailand but even after he discovers he's turning into wood she's no longer around, so like she's probably about as fleeting of a relationship as anything else

Imagine going 28 years at first ignoring all your problems and then the horror and thoughts that you’re not good enough catch up to you one morning and the more you see yourself a failure, the more you sink into that spiral the harder it feels to breathe.

#ouat #august booth #august meta #SORRY LIBBY I DIDN'T WANT TO BOTHER YOU WITH A TAG SO IT'S EMPTY LIKE THAT FOR NOW #BUT KNOW I'M SCREAMING MY APPRECIATION AT YOUUUU RN!! <33333 #Anyway terribly sorry for all this guys JBFKTHLRJCTRLK I've fallen deep into this hole #and I don't plan on getting out anytime soon #August is a fascinating character to me #and I'm in a constant state of rotating him in my head always and forever #He's so messy he's so pathetic but he also tries no matter how great or little #He wants to be human but god it's hard to be that when you don't even know what it means to be one #I don't anything like this ever so ahahhaaha I hope this stuff makes sense!! #See you around #Maybe LOL #sol talks

[sophia-sol]

Delicious in Dungeon (Dungeon Meshi), by Ryoko Kui, translated by Taylor Engel

I decided to read Dungeon Meshi because I kept seeing people on tumblr posting about the new anime adaptation, and it looked fun and cute. And although I don't watch much tv, there was an entire manga I could read instead! So I did.

The basic premise: in a world where adventuring parties going on dungeon crawls is a thing that happens, one guy has a dream: to be able to cook and eat all the different kinds of monsters in the dungeon, to be able to find out how they taste!

And because his party needs to be able to head deep into the dungeon to rescue a party member who was left behind, and they don't have the funds or the time to collect supplies, all of a sudden they have REASON to need to eat monsters. They're going to forage and hunt for all their meals as they make their way down.

So using that as the basis, the manga goes on to explore the worldbuilding, the interrelationships of the characters in the party, everyone's backstories and reasons for being there, a developing plot, and of course, the ingredients and nutritional composition and flavour of every meal they eat.

I absolutely adored every bit of this!!! The main characters are all a delight, and it's the kind of story where the author sees and shows you the inherent personness of all characters, including antagonists. And the world created to make sense of the dungeon's existence is fascinating, as are all the ways the ecosystems within the dungeon are expanded upon to make sense of the creatures living within it.

And it's a story that knows what its themes are, too, and is able to tie them all together in extremely satisfying ways in the climax of the narrative!

I had this moment leading up towards the ending where I was like:

[thematic spoilers below the cut]

ohhhh it's about….everyone being part of a balanced ecosystem of life and death where everything sustains everything else! the various human species included! and I was filled through my very soul with this feeling of connectedness myself.

Anyway it was amazing and I had a lot of feels.

And as well as enjoying all of that, I also just really loved our main characters! We start out seeing them all fairly shallowly but over the course of the story as more aspects of them are revealed they're all just…..I love every one of them.

I did struggle with a few aspects of the manga, but none of it significantly affected my ability to enjoy the read:

It kept adding more and more characters, and I got rather lost occasionally trying to keep track of them all. But ultimately it's not vital to remember every tertiary character to get a good read out of this, so it's not as bad as it could be.

In the mid to later parts, it became a lot more plot focused and actiony than I'd really been expecting, in a way that made it harder for me to follow, since fight scenes in sequential art are challenging for me. And occasionally it drew back more than I wanted from its focus on food. But it refocused eventually!

It turned out to be pro monarchy in the end, which isn't my fave, but it's not like a major theme of the manga or anything so I could overlook it.

I kept expecting it to have at least a little bit of textual queerness, and there wasn't any as far as I could see! Even various background relationships or depictions of people's attraction was m/f. But uh. Falin/Marcille, anyone? There are some powerful vibes there. (I'll also accept Laios/Kabru)

In conclusion, I highly recommend it, and if you want to read it, you can read the whole thing online for free in English translation here: https://dungeonmeshi.com/manga/dungeon-meshi-chapter-1/

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #ryoko kui #book thoughts #sophpost

[spockandawe]

I'm going to have full cohesive pitches for these books as individual experiences sometime soon, i swear, but since I 1) just finished rereading thousand autumns (first time where it wasn't a third mtl), 2) am rereading peerless for the first time in years, and 3) am reading sleuth of the ming dynasty for the first time ever, I've been thinking a LOT about meng xi shi as an author and trying to scrape together my thoughts. Because I think she's really stunningly good! She's one of those authors whose skill just SHINES through, even when a translation is weak, and that's always something so fascinating to me.

But at the same time, i have a harder time raving about her books than most of my other faves. Trying to pitch thousand autumns to friends was something I really struggled with! The other two are easier, by nature of their central dynamics, while yan wushi cranks this one up to nightmare difficulty mode. But I think that it also provides an example of what I might be having to recalibrate for.

Like, I'm an easy binch. If Hua Cheng is leaving a necklace for Xie Lian early on, or Luo Binghe is noticing Shen Qingqiu's leaves right at the beginning of their books, I'm hootin and hollerin, I'm drumming my heels on the floor. And Meng Xi Shi is NOT about that instant gratification lifestyle. We're not having dessert before dinner, and there is some INTRICATE plot shit happening in all these books that is not getting muscled aside for indulgent ship time.

I'm absolutely certain it's a conscious choice, and one i respect the hell out of, especially since all of these books have the characters woven in with actual historical figures, which always manages yo take me by surprise. I assume details like keeping a wholeass imperial prince secret until he's five are fictional embellishment, but... nope! Actual history! The SCOPE of these plots and the politics they all muck around with means that there are limits to how much an author could spend time on ship bait without trivializing the central conflict. As much as i enjoyed golden stage, i never cared about the politics. And not caring about the politics in meng xi shi's work would be jettisoning SO much nutritional content.

And, that's not to say that there's NOTHING indulgent for me in the earlier parts! Yan Wushi starts delightedly letting people assume he's plowing Shen Qiao as soon as they start traveling together, Feng Xiao spends the second mystery of Peerless totally disguised as Cui Buqu's wife and fighting with him as "this wife", and Sui Zhou and Tang Fan start straight-up cohabiting POSTHASTE. And then. Meng xi shi makes you wait for it.

This isn't bad! The delayed gratification is very GOOD! The tension is delectable. The feeling of 'oh come on now you're just dragging this out on purpose' is mitigated by having characters drag things out in character. Shen Qiao's sense of responsibility pulls him towards Yan Wushi, and then away from Yan Wushi (and yan wushi is also Helping sfhfgdf). Feng Xiao doesn't move THAT fast, but Cui Buqu will Literally Die before he'll admit he has tender feelings. And Tang Fan is textually scared to lose what he has platonically with Sui Zhou by stepping into unknown territory. I'm still howling OH COME ON, but it transmutes into something directed at the characters, not the author.

And the plots we're making space for like this are hefty bois. All of them have heavy political themes, where in my usual diet, i would reluctantly accept a little politics on the side in my ancient chinese fantasy meal. And each of these books has baited me further into caring about mundane politics 😂 In Thousand Autumns, it's very much a balance between lavishly described fantasy martial arts extravaganza and big politics enhanced by the martial arts extravaganza. Peerless, we're down one martial artist in the lead characters, so there's more non-fighting politics happening (and both characters are secret police commanders), but at least one of my boys floats around playing magic music on his guqin. Fourteenth Year Of Chenghua? Goddamn, I'm reading this thing and I'm in the THROES over ancient chinese imperial office politics, like oh noooo oh my god HOW COULD THEY DEMOTE HIM AT A TIME LIKE THIS, fffff, who can possibly intercede with the emepror now-- And i have NO idea how i reached this point, this is so funny to me.

I do think it says a lot for all three of these that they won me over so hard despite not being as tailored to my personal tastes as something like mxtx! I do love all them to pieces. But it's something like... Digging in at the earlier, slower stages of these books was a hell of a struggle. One that paid off, but i worry about people bouncing off them! Something I've said about thousand autumns (and will say again) is that it's a book that asks for a lot of trust from readers. Some of that is PURELY down to yan wushi, but the structure and pace doesn't make that easy. I do think that the trust is repaid by the end, at least in terms of my reading experience, but it makes me worry! I do want people to read these!

Actually that brings me to the last big strong point I want to mention before i get back to reading: the character writing. Because GODDAMN, the character writing. It both contributes to the slow start in these books, I think, but also MASSIVELY enriches the emotional payout as they progress.

Yan Wushi is one of the funniest, most obnoxious characters of all time! He's also cruel, demanding, and overbearing, and a strong, vivid personality like that takes real time and effort to develop. The beginning of the book looks like it could slip into misery porn + stockholm syndrome healing cock = i guess this is a healthy relationship now. And it doesn't! But it's hard to tell how it WILL go, and that makes it hard to commit to a tome like this. Feng Xiao is comparably obnoxious and hilarious, but Cui Buqu is closed up tight as a clam, and both of them deal in secrets professionally, it is HARD to start accessing any hints of emotional sincerity in either of them. And Tang Fan and Sui Zhou are both junior government officials, early in their careers in a volatile work environment, and they present in a pretty reserved, professional way at first, and the subtler/goofier character notes take time and intimacy to properly manifest. wang zhi on the other hand--

I recommend these books! I really recommend them! I don't want to be underwhelming people with 'oh, you won't like it at first, but JUST YOU WAIT.' Because I did like them at first. They didnt elevete me to the same flailing emotional THROES as some novels, but the quiet rich flavor of the relationships in these are FABULOUS. And the sheer scope of the plots she pulls off, I mean, holy shit. I'm not underwhelmed by these books at all, I'm more likely to get overwhelmed, there's a reason I've been savoring the latest reading experience. I like them a lot! I like meng xi shi as a lot! In the sliver of cnovels that I've sampled, her books are doing some really cool things i haven't seen anyone else pull off, especially with such aplomb. I didn't start out LOOKING for books like that, but I'm still really, really glad i found them, and I do highly recommend them, just in general. I'll figure out how to pitch them individually soon.

*holds probably over 1.5M words of meng xi shi tomes* I Just Think She's Neat

#thousand autumns #peerless #fourteenth year of chenghua #lies it's like the seventh year or something by now #meng xi shi #long post/ #fengcui still in the lead for my all-time favorite cnovel ship though #they're both the worst i love them