#but I'm not going for mastery I just want to make your day a little brighter

[dare-to-dm]

I don't enjoy cooking, but I do love eating home cooked meals and also doing nice things for people. So when I have the energy, I'll make a meal to share with someone as an act of love.

When I did this for my family, it would inevitably result in getting a bunch of unsolicited advice on how I could have done it better. As a result, I don't cook for them anymore.

I cook for my friends and they only say nice nice things. So I want to cook for them more. It's a virtuous cycle.

[drabblesandimagines]

Hi there, I would like to request Cloud, if thats okay. A sparring session that leads into an unexpected kiss?

Just read you are feeling under the weather, hope you feel better soon!

Sweet anon, I'm sorry this took me literally months! Please lemme know what you think x

It’s late as you leave your room at Stargazer Heights, pulling the door closed behind you with a gentle click. The weight of your new sword still feels unnervingly foreign on your back as you head down the stairs carefully, not wanting to disturb any of your neighbours’ sleep with your heavy footfalls.

Just because you couldn’t sleep didn’t mean theirs should suffer in return.

Your beloved, trusty sword, after many years of faithful service in the Watch, had snapped clean in two after a particularly good thwack against a hard-shelled creature whilst on a job in the scrapyard earlier that day. If that wasn’t enough, it just had to happen in front of Cloud Strife, the blonde ex-Soldier who had joined the Avalanche ranks - temporarily, at least – and who you were somewhat hoping to impress with your mastery of the blade as common ground over the past few weeks.

“You’d be good for him, you know?” Tifa had teased over the bar one night, catching you staring a little too long as he sat down the opposite end, nursing a drink. You’d have told her to hush if Barret’s voice wasn’t booming around the establishment, meaning you were lucky to have even heard her comment in the first place.

Instead, you answer flustered. “What? I… He’s your… No!”

“I don’t like him like that, sweetie.” She’d reassured, patting your hand with a smile. “Plus, I’m pretty sure he likes you.”

“Me?” You scoff, shaking your head. “I don’t think he’s aware I exist, not with how Jessie has been all over him.”

“Mm.” Tifa purses her lips in thought before they pulled back into a knowing smile – she’d caught the merc’s gaze flickering in your direction before it settled back on the drink before him. “No, I think Cloud’s warming up to you. Let me see what I can do.”

“Tifa-“

Biggs’ warm hand wrapped around your arm and tugged you up from the bar and away from your protest in an instant. “Come on, you owe me a rematch and I’ve finally convinced Wedge to let us have a round.”

You concede, destroying Biggs at darts once again would be a good distraction from the blonde at the bar. Besides, what could Tifa do anyway?

--

What Tifa could do, apparently, was make it so whenever Cloud took on a job, Biggs or Wedge would insist you tag along to help him navigate the area – sometimes with Tifa, sometimes without – and that’s what had led you to today, stuck deep within the scrapyard with a broken blade.

You’d never been any good with your fists, nor could aim a gun straight – despite tips from Tifa and Biggs over the years – so, reluctantly, you’d been relegated to the back line for the rest of the outing. At the most, you could fling a spell or two from the materia still equipped in the broken hilt when you could.

Unfortunately, it meant you didn’t have anything really to defend yourself with whilst the materia recharged. A nasty hit from a retreating drake had sent you tumbling backwards, head literally over heels. It dived back down at you, realizing you were now easy prey, ready to go for a nasty bite when a certain blonde merc’s sword dug into its side, sending it flying over in Tifa’s direction who finished it off with a perfectly executed roundhouse kick – all before your life could flash before your eyes.

“Are you okay?” Cloud crouches in front of you, his sword already sheathed, and places a hand on your arm as he awaits your answer. His expression, usually stoic and unreadable, is marred by a slight furrow in his brow as he looks you over with concerned Mako-blue eyes.

He must find you at least tolerable, you’d decided, as he didn’t seem to protest as much when you joined them on jobs like this around the slums.

Though maybe not ever again after today’s pathetic display.

“Yeah,” you nod, feeling foolish. “Still in one piece. Thanks for that.”

“Don’t mention it.” He shrugs and gets to his feet, offering you his hand in assistance.

You take it, relishing the feeling as his gloved fingers wrap around your palm. He pulls you up with a little too much gusto – or maybe underestimates his own strength - sending you stumbling forward. You try and catch your balance, only to find your hand placed firmly against his chest, his other hand now on the small of your back in alarm.

“Uh…”

“S-sorry,” you stutter out and retreat back, bowing your head as your face feels horrendously warm. Somewhere behind you, Tifa poorly attempts to hide a giggle.

“It’s fine.” His tone is back to his usual curt manner. “Come on - we should head back.” And without another word, Cloud spins on his heels and storms off ahead.

“Cloud, wait up!” Tifa calls, threading her arm through yours to pull you along with her. “He’ll get there – don’t worry.”

--

You’d taken the blade in to the weapons store below the Watch’s HQ after reporting in, Cloud and Tifa following behind. The proprietor dutifully inspected it for a few moments before deeming it beyond reasonable repair - said he could re-forge it, but it would only last a hit or two before it snapped in two again and he didn’t want the bad advertisement. He’d offered some gil for the scrap metal value and waved to the selection of his ready-made wares. Even with the gil he’d proposed and from your own pocket, the prices made your eyes water.

“Can I pay in instalments?”

He scoffs.

“You know I’m good for it.”

“This ain’t a charity, kid.”

“Here.” Cloud had stepped forward then, placing a pouch of gil on the counter. “That should cover it.”

“What?” Your eyes widened in disbelief. Cloud had been hounding Tifa and Barret for his pay for days and you knew he still hadn’t received all of it yet. “No, I couldn’t – that’s yours.”

“You need a weapon.” He shrugs, Tifa bouncing on her heels behind him at his act of generosity, a told you so smile plastered across her face. “Pay me back in instalments, if you want. I don’t care.”

“Are you sure?”

He nods, crossing his arms. “You’re good with a blade, it would be a waste for you not to have one.”

Your scalp tingles at the compliment.

The blades all felt lighter - maybe you’d grown stronger over time? - though they were thinner in width in comparison to your old blade. You’d performed a cautionary test swing of each towards the back of the shop but they all felt off, unbalanced. Begrudgingly, one felt a little less odd to wield so you’d settled with that, thankful it was a mid-range price of the selection so you hadn’t needed the entirety of Cloud’s gil pouch.

“I’ll pay you back as soon as I can – I promise.”

Cloud shrugs, as usual.

--

You swing at the tower of boxes you’d assembled in the middle of the wasteland, trying to be precise and knock out the one in the middle, but as soon as you release the momentum you nearly lose your balance, missing entirely. If you were in combat, it would’ve been a pathetic sight to behold. Thankfully, you were the only one to wit-

“Hi.”

You jump, spinning on your heels to face the blonde mercenary, holding your blade aloft in a defensive stance to an unimpressed face.

“Cloud! Hi.” Your heart is pounding at his sudden arrival – how could you not have heard him approaching? You lower your blade to rest on the floor. “Sorry, did I wake you when I left?”

“No, I couldn’t sleep so I heard you leave.” He folds his arms, looking a little displeased. “You shouldn’t be out here on your own, you know? It’s not safe.”

“I wanted to get some practice in, that’s all.” You look down at the sword in your hand in demonstration. “There’s been no more wererats here since you cleaned out the nest either, so it’s safe enough.”

“It’s not just fiends I’m talking about.”

That’s true – unfortunately, you weren’t a complete stranger to the troopers that often patrolled the slums. All it took was one to recognize your face and you’d be dragged to Shinra HQ faster than you could blink.

“I really need to get used to the weight, though. Barret wants to strike any day and-“

“Fine. I’ll spar with you.”

You weren’t expecting that. “Really?”

“Why not?” He reaches back for his sword, before swinging it out in front of him playfully. “Unless you’re scared.”

You bite your lip in a smile. “Bring it on, Strife.”

Cloud holds back at first, acting more as a training dummy for you to swing at. He doesn’t even need to deflect any of your blows at the beginning, but as you become familiar with the weight and how the new blade swings, finally he starts to raise his sword in return, the sound of metal clashing echoing through the air before one firm blow sends you toppling back, the Buster Sword now inches above your neck.

“Better.” He pulls back his sword and offers you his hand, which you gratefully accept, bracing yourself for his strength this time to avoid what had happened that afternoon. “Try again.”

You’re not sure how much time passes like that, but steadily your confidence in your weapon grows and it turns into a proper sparring bout, both giving it your absolute all. As your blades clash, crossed in front of each other’s faces, you risk a smile at the blonde merc. Suddenly, Cloud’s forearms lose their tension, meaning you get an upperhand you were not expecting. You swing your sword out to the right and fall forward, Cloud toppling backwards, his sword to his right, and his head smacking into the ground as you fall on top of him.

“Oh… Shiva,” you gasp, heart pounding, your thighs somehow straddling around his. “Are you hurt?”

Cloud doesn’t reply, staring up at you in bemusement as he tries to catch his breath.

“Cloud?” You lean down, planting your hands either side of his head for balance.

He lifts his head, suddenly, and presses a kiss to your lips.

Your arms go limp and you drop into his embrace, his arm wrapping around your waist to hold you close as you return the kiss, lifting a hand to cup his cheek, fingers curling into his blonde hair, blissfully lost in the moment until there is an odd, inhuman sound from behind you.

Cloud sits bolt upright, twisting you as he does so you’re sat in his lap, one arm still wrapped tightly around your waist and, somehow, the Buster Sword back in his other hand as he holds it out in defense.

A cat sits a few meters in front of the two of you, flicking its tail back and forth curiously. You feel his muscles relax beneath your touch at the realization. You get to your feet then, grabbing your blade as you do so and securing it against your back. Though you feel flustered, you can’t turn down the opportunity to offer Cloud an assisting hand this time.

To your delight, he accepts, somehow twisting it as he stands in order to intertwine your fingers within his.

“We… We, er, should get back.” He mumbles.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

He leads you back through the tunnel, silently, fingers still laced, and back towards Stargazer Heights. You climb the stairs together before he brings you to a stop outside your door, hesitating. Your stomach twists – does he regret what happened? Are you just to wake up tomorrow morning and it will feel like nothing but a dream?

A firm squeeze of your hand brings you back to the present, as if he could read your thoughts. “I’ve been thinking about that for a while.” Cloud whispers, cautious of his voice carrying through the neighbours’ door. “It’s… unfortunate that we were interrupted.”

You place a hand on your door handle and smile, coyly. “Would you like to come in?”

Cloud smirks. “Do you have any pets?”

--

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

Comments, follows, likes and reblogs make my day!

[lactoseintolerentswag]

Rise Characterizations Pt. 8!!!!!!!!

This has literally been sitting in my drafts for so long I forgot it existed. Sorry to all the Baron Draxum fans (and Draxum himself, bbgirl deserves better). If you're new to my line of notes here's the beginning where I started with Raph. Alright part 8, Baron Draxum, here we go.

Language Habits:

Speaks in long and drawn out sentences, if you're getting nervous about run-on sentences you're on the right track

Due to this, tends to give speeches or monologues

Dramatizes everything fairly eloquently, look for the most exaggerated form of a word. Classic villain speak: "imbeciles", "brethren", "eliminate"

Puts emphasis on those dramatic adjectives and verbs

Occasionally refers to himself in the third person, not as often as Raph

Tends to yell or raise his voice when frustrated or lost in passion

A common gag is trailing off in a casual tone about the severity of his experiments ie his "if it works right" about the ooze causing pain when mutating that poor fish guy

Personality:

Incredibly intelligent yet impatient. It isn't known to my knowledge who taught Draxum or if he taught himself, but his mastery of alchemy and fighting makes him a truly impressive opponent. However, he's always cutting corners to get to his goal. He wasn't willing to raise through the ranks of The Foot the traditional way, he created an army of mutants rather than seek yokai, and was unwilling to spend further time interpreting the prophecy of doom towards yokai-kind

Flair for the (over)dramatic. Draxum is almost your classic evil villain kind of guy. He'll pull out all musical stops, including flowing hair and clothes. On the other end he'll completely overreact and commit to things of little matter like his position as a lunch lady.

Unyielding in his stubbornness. Draxum is not easily swayed in his belief, and even as hard as Mikey tries he is not rid of his disdain for humans by the end of the series. Guy was also incredibly persistent in his research despite his lab blowing up twice. This also allows him to hold longer grudges, even resorting to childish pettiness if he feels annoyed enough.

Affinity for muscles and power. He was drawn to Lou Jitsu for many reasons, but a main one was definitely his muscles. All his guards are usually incredibly beefy, and he was immediately drawn to Raph as "beautiful" when he's reintroduced to his specimens. As for power, he's drawn to the dark armor and is lost in the ecstasy of being imbued with so much mystic energy.

Self-absorbed and egotistical. Draxum is kind of obsessed with his title and self-proclaimed responsibility for saving yokai-kind. He's not one to easily admit his mistakes and takes great pride in his work.

Willing to toe the line of morality. Huginn and Muninn have blatantly called him their evil boss, but Draxum does see his actions for the good of yokai-kind. I don't think he really cares if he's working with evil organizations (The Foot) or doing evil things if he saves the day.

Team builder. I think it's interesting how Draxum is drawn to building teams. He's drawn to working together, all he wants to do is unite yokai and his mutants into an efficient force. This does not mean he's very successful.

Miscellaneous:

Has minor telekinesis

Was a warrior before he was an alchemist

Does not have a good relationship with the Three Heads (apparent leaders of the Hidden City)

Controls seeds that can a) grow into vines, b) expand into robotic vine gauntlets, c) encase his gauntlets into meatier gauntlets that can shoot out waxy cocoons

Is referred to as a sheep-man from the brothers, but I suppose whatever animal you interpret him as is up to you

Has a great singing voice :) ( which is subjective I suppose)

Alright now that is finally posted just gonna let you know that this Isn't the last of my rise analysis posts!! I'm so sorry for the wait!! I got lost in so many schedule things. I'll try and pump a few more analysis posts out within these next few weeks (excluding June 16-22), but I've also been busy working on miscellaneous wips. Thank you for being so sweet to me on all the other notes posts, you guys are so awesome :)

[babyleostuff]

Hi lovely I was reading your works and it's so good, serious genuinely everything is perfect I'm addicted💗I wanna request only if you have time obviously, a Jeonghan as your boyfriend pretty please💗 Thanks

thank you some much for your request love! hope you enjoy this and have a great day <3

JEONGHAN AS YOUR BOYFRIEND

genre | a lot of fluff

author’s note | if you want me to do this with any other member, let me know <3

𓆩♡𓆪 he is always so so gentle with you 

𓆩♡𓆪 in his eyes, you’re the most precious thing in the world 

𓆩♡𓆪 he loves to baby you and dote on you, because you’re so adorable to him

𓆩♡𓆪 he adores being domestic with you - doing the dishes, the laundry, cleaning your apartment and watching movies/ dramas when eating late dinner after work 

𓆩♡𓆪 it brings him so much peace and inner comfort, especially after a busy day with schedules or when he comes home from tour

𓆩♡𓆪 you’re like his little battery charger, he swears he gaines back his energy when he’s with you 

𓆩♡𓆪 a sucker for holding hands and quiet forms of affection (even if only your pinkies are linked, it’s enough for him)

𓆩♡𓆪 as long as you’re next to him, everything is alright 

𓆩♡𓆪 hugs and cuddling are a big part of your relationship as well

𓆩♡𓆪 after being away from you, he craves your touch and it’s almost as if it has some healing properties 

𓆩♡𓆪 but in reality the hugs and cuddling are so great, because of how much you love each other

𓆩♡𓆪 and it’s your silent way of taking care of each other 

𓆩♡𓆪 he always makes sure you know that you can count on him, no matter how busy he is - you’re his number one priority 

𓆩♡𓆪 when you’re sick or feeling unwell he is always there for you, ready to become a certificated nurse

𓆩♡𓆪 even when you tell him to leave you alone, as not to get him sick as well, he never leaves your side 

𓆩♡𓆪 and if he has to because of work, he always checks up on you, making you promise that you’ll text him if you get worse 

𓆩♡𓆪 he just feels so bummed seeing you feeling bad and it always brings his mood down, so he wants you to get healthy as soon as possible 

𓆩♡𓆪 going on late night walks are your favourite 

𓆩♡𓆪 the town is a lot more quiet than during the day and it brings a sense of comfort to both of you

𓆩♡𓆪 you don’t even need to talk much, you just walk around the neighbourhood holding hands and appreciating each others company 

𓆩♡𓆪 your whole relationship basically feels like a safety blanket, that you can hide under 

𓆩♡𓆪 he makes you feel safe and loved 24/7 

𓆩♡𓆪 if you ever point out a flaw in you or get insecure (which you should not, because you’re BEAUTIFUL) he just goes: “YAH 😒” and kisses you all over your face, telling you how beautiful and amazing you are 

𓆩♡𓆪 he does NOT let you feel bad about yourself, not even once 

𓆩♡𓆪 he teaches you his mastery of cheating, that you can use during game nights with the rest of the boys 

𓆩♡𓆪 you’re the unbeatable couple and even with the rest of the boys knowing that you’re probably cheating, they do nothing to stop you 

𓆩♡𓆪 they know that there is no point in doing so (because you’re going to find  another way to cheat their asses) 

𓆩♡𓆪 loves seeing you in his clothes, it makes him go 🥰 🥰 🥰 

𓆩♡𓆪 especially during autumn and winter, you’re just so cuddly and huggable that he cannot resist you and hugs you at least every 15 minutes

𓆩♡𓆪 which makes you go 🙄, but it’s okay because he’s pretty and you cannot resist him either  

𓆩♡𓆪 he also becomes quite sulky and pouty if you don’t pay enough attention to him

𓆩♡𓆪 like: hello, your boyfriend is in need of some extra attention (and some kisses too)

𓆩♡𓆪 despite his loving and caring nature, he teases you a lot 

𓆩♡𓆪 brings up random embarrassing situations from your past and laughs about it, making you go 😐 

𓆩♡𓆪 but he never crosses the line with the jokes and never makes you feel bad about yourself, it’s all just for fun and games 

𓆩♡𓆪 is committed to being the little spoon in your relationship and is not afraid of admitting it 

𓆩♡𓆪 you’re just so comfy and he feels so safe in your arms 

𓆩♡𓆪 but just one word from you and he becomes the big spoon

𓆩♡𓆪 anything for his baby 

𓆩♡𓆪 even if he’s not the most adventurous person on the planet, you’re never bored with him 

𓆩♡𓆪 every second spent together is precious to you and you cherish it dearly

your messages <3

[morlock-holmes]

Notice in the post below that the only named task that the OP struggled with is homework?

Now, people diagnosed with ADHD or similar disorders often do struggle with tasks that we might actually want to do, but almost always, the diagnosis is linked in everyone's mind to an inability to do homework.

But homework is fucking bullshit.

I really think it's absurd to ignore that fact when talking about how you complete tasks.

"Gosh, my kid seems to have a lot of trouble focusing on dull make-work which I force him to do for two hours every single day, why could this be?"

I spent literally as little time in school as I could and still graduate. As in, by my junior or senior year the principal sat me down and said, "If you skip anymore school we aren't going to be able to graduate you from High School."

And yet... When I bothered to go, I got good grades. I did generally quite well on tests and did eventually graduate. I'm quite proud of that as an act of self-mastery but it does raise the question:

Why was so much energy spent on trying to get me to go to school for all that time when I was demonstrably able to get the benefits with literal years less work than they wanted me to put in?

Why was so much time spent trying to devote those years to schoolwork when it simply wasn't necessary for me to learn?

Homework is a microcosm of that whole question. I always wanted to know,

"So, if I can skip 60% of the homework and still get an "A" on the test, why do you try to force me to do it?"

And to this day I have never gotten a good answer.

So: I saw no value in most of my homework and that hasn't changed to this day.

So, here's a pop quiz for the people wondering why their kids with diagnoses don't do their homework no matter what planning and techniques adults supply them with:

What would your kid have to do to spend less of their valuable time on homework?

"Well, if they just knuckled down and got it done..."

BZZT! WRONG! You get a "D-" on this test and I really hope you apply yourself more to the next one, you have so much potential...

If they "forget about it" then they have to do even less.

Now, of course that means that your kid is in a state of constant stress from avoidance. They are thinking, "Man, I'm going to get in so much trouble for not doing this, but I just can't seem to force myself to do it, and anyway I don't fucking want to."

You think that they'd be better off spending two stressful hours on their homework and then being able to relax the rest of the time. They feel like they'll be happier not doing it at all and feeling a vague undercurrent of stress as they go about their leisure time.

What's the third option if they want to spend less time on homework?

Oh, nothing? Is it nothing whatsoever until they graduate from school?

This is infuriatingly counter-productive. We spend literal years teaching ADHD kids that avoidance and procrastination are the only ways to exert control over their lives in the face of unpleasant situations imposed from outside.

Now, in point of fact this is absolutely not the case for adult life, which offers a plethora of ways to reduce pointless make-work imposed on you by outside authorities and, in any case, rarely bothers to impose two hours per day of unpaid, unrewarding make-work on people anyway.

How much of the difficulty ADHD people have with cleaning the toilet or whatever is because psychologically, they still think of it as homework? Cleaning the toilet is not homework; it rewards you with a clean toilet at the end and it's entirely possible to defer it, or hire someone else to do it, or find shortcuts. But if the major psychological task of your childhood is homework, maybe it might take quite a long time to think that there could even be anything aside from homework?

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Meguru Bachira x reader [ SYNOPSIS ] You're Bachira's good luck charm. idk there's no plot, don't think too hard about it. [ WORD COUNT ] 1.6k [ CONTENT ] Aged up!Bachira, he went pro (ayyyy), knife play, blood play, sadomasochism, praise, marking, scars, y/n is kinda needy (but so is he), vaginal sex, size kink (I believe in big dick Bachira), teasing, nipple play, overstimulation, pet names (baby), creampie.

You hated away games, loathed them. They were an inevitable occurrence, something you should have grown used to over time. But still the night before every flight you spiraled, lamenting that you couldn’t follow Bachira around. It wasn’t because you were insecure or lacked trust; you just hated sleeping alone. There was nothing more disappointing than rolling over in bed at three in the morning, reaching for him, and then remembering, Ah, yeah. He’s in Sapporo. You had always assumed you’d build up a callus, one to protect you from the melancholy known to overwhelm you on those lonely nights.

Unfortunately every away game was a wound reopened.

In six hours Bachira would be flying first class to Fukuoka, sleeping with his face pressed against the window. His team’s manager was less than enthused with this arrangement. He thought it was ridiculous to spend an extra day at home and fly out the day of the game, but denying the left back was easier said than done. Bachira’s beguiling whimsy and immense talent rendered most people under his spell. The world was effectively his for the taking, his manager no different.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you  sighed.

You tried to ignore the looming dread that hung around you, but it was nigh impossible while straddling him. He fluttered his long, dark eyelashes and looked up, leaving you bewitched by his golden gaze. It radiated a fervent adoration no other man was capable of. He was artful in his mastery, his affection unmatched.

“I know,” he said, pinching your cheek.

You batted his hand away. 

“You sure you don’t want to get some rest? I’ll feel moderately guilty if you fuck up tomorrow.”

“Stop,” he whined. “I’ll be fine. It’s a short flight and it’s not like I’m gonna be playing the second I get there.”

He would be fine, he always was. He had his ways; the absurd things he did in the name of good luck never failed him. So you surrendered yourself and bought into his vision like you had many times before. There was nothing to worry about, all you needed to do was trust him.

Still you couldn’t hide your melancholic expression. You’d miss him all the same, win or lose. 

“C’mon. You believe in me, don’t you?” he asked. He gave you a cat-like grin, one that would make you sign your life over to him.

“Yes, yes, yes. I believe you.”

“Then what is it?” he asked, tickling your sides.

You groaned. “I’m—ugh—I told you. I'm going to miss you, alright”

“Aww. I could come inside you if that’ll help,” he teased.

“You were going to do that anyway!”

He playfully stuck out his tongue as he slipped his hands under your shirt. His hands were big and weighty, but his fingers were elegant. His palms rough; his touch tender. He tugged at the hem of the shirt and giggled.

“You thief,” he said, pulling it off of you. “I was looking for this while I was packing.”

“Not my fault it’s the perfect nightgown.”

He tossed it in the general location of his half-packed suitcase.

“At least it’ll smell like me now,” you said coyly.

He sat up and buried his face in your neck, taking in the scent of your skin. He let out a dreamy sigh as he exhaled. It was such a lovely noise, one you wanted to hear again and again. You reached down and stroked his soft cock. You pulled back his foreskin and rubbed your thumb around his sensitive tip. He shivered with delight.

“I need all my stuff to smell like you. Go roll around in my suitcase for a little bit.”

“How about I give you some pairs of dirty underwear to remember me by instead?” you snickered as you squeezed the base of his cock.

He rutted against your fist. “Fine, but they have to be those tiny, cotton ones. They feel the best against my skin.”

“Anything for you.”

He looked so sweet lying beneath you. You braced yourself, placing your hands on his pecs, and felt the rise and fall of his chest. His warm skin was dappled with water, his sinewy body fresh out of the shower. The towel he haphazardly wrapped around his hair had unraveled, each strand exuding the scent of your shampoo. His cheeks were glassy, a sure sign he slathered on your facial serum and night cream. Even his skin smelled like yours. He wriggled under you, trying to guide your attention to his semi-erect cock. You decided you wanted to tease him a bit, make him earn it.

“Don’t you need a good night’s rest so you can win tomorrow?” you asked, dropping your arms to your sides.

He scoffed. “I have my ways,” he said, eyes fixed on the thin scars etched on your upper chest.

You decided to change your tune. Wasting time was criminal.

“Hm. Remind me of what those are. I forgot.”

He grinned and began to dig around the bedside table for his tools. He pulled out a wooden box with a floret of goldenrod painted on the lid. Inside were some single-use scalpels and a modest first aid kit. He pulled you close, hand resting on the small of your back, and licked the cluster of scars. Each one was a thin line about an inch in length and spaced close together like tally marks. They were all perfectly straight, the handiwork of a master. You were proud to bear them.

Bachira held the scalpel between his fingers, his eyes narrowed and focused. You froze like a statue awaiting the chisel of a sculptor. The blade glided across your skin; you barely registered the sensation.

“Deeper,” you urged.

He ran the blade across the slit once more. Blood trickled freely from the wound. He made another cut underneath. It was deeper and hurt more than the first one. He watched as the blood made its way down your breasts and let out a giddy whine as it clung to your nipple. Unable to contain himself he swirled his tongue around it. Your cunt throbbed as he held it in between his teeth. He looked up at you, his eyes wild with adoration. You loved seeing him like this. You felt special, like you were the only person in the world that mattered.

He licked up the trails of blood before rolling his tongue against the cuts. It was like getting stung by bees. You loved finding ecstasy in the ache. You’d forever be in debt to Bachira for aiding you in  your libertine awakening, for leading you hand-in-hand down the proverbial primrose path. He was the first to show how to walk the line between pain and pleasure.

“Wanna fuck you so bad,” he whimpered before sucking on your breast once more.

You lifted his chin and kissed him. You ran your tongue over his lips, the taste of your blood still lingering on them. He eagerly opened his mouth, overtaking yours. His kisses were always sloppy, wet, and needy. His desperate passion knew no bounds and you wouldn't have it any other way. You slowly stroked his cock, his precum sliding in between your fingers.

He panted, “I need it now.”

You kissed his forehead and slid his cock inside your dripping cunt. He tossed his head back and let out a heavenly moan. You bounced up and down, driving his cocktip into your cervix. His girth was a gift from god. You felt so full, almost like you would burst at the seams.

He lapped at the blood trickling from your cuts. You tangled your fingers in his damp hair, letting the strands snake around them. You wanted to become a part of him, for your bodies to meld into one. Both of you were swept up in a euphoric frenzy. As he rutted against you he pinched your swollen clit. He couldn’t help but smile in the face of your desperate yelps.

“Gentle! Gentle!” you said, squirming.

It was too strong a sensation. You were so full as it was; you weren’t sure you could weather another intense sensation. You felt like his cock was buried deep in your stomach.

“Ah,” you winced. “Me—Meguru, it’s too mu—”

He forced you to look at him, his yellow eyes overwhelmed by dark pupils, and sweetly said, “Your body can take it.”

Five words was all it took to bewitch you. He alternated between pinching your clit and massaging it. You felt like you were ascending as your orgasm inched closer.

“You gonna come all over my cock?” he asked.

“Uh-huh,” you whined.

His thrusts were relentless, not a hint of mercy in his touch. It was maddening. You kept babbling his name, begging him for more. Shame was a concept neither of you were familiar with. Neither of you could quiet yourselves. It was a chorus of panting, whimpering, and moaning. As your orgasm crescendoed all you could do was choke out a few expletives and drool.

“That’s it, baby,” Bachira said, jaw clenched and completely charmed by your demeanor.

He held you close and took the lead, driving his cock into your cunt, lips pressed against your still bleeding cuts. You felt like you were operating on a different plane of existence. The only thing that brought you back to reality was the warm feeling of Bachira’s cum filling you up. You collapsed in his arms, and tried to catch your breath.

“Was… that… helpful?” you murmured.

“Oh yeah. I’m gonna bring you home a win,” he purred against your ear.

[studentbyday]

30 days of intentionality

starting this challenge with the goal of taking it one day at a time. i have a hard time doing that these days. i spend more time ruminating on the past or worrying about the future than staying in the present, even if that's when i'm most content. not sure how i'll format my posts and most likely, i'll only do weekly updates bc daily ones are too overwhelming. i'll just go with the flow, trying to trust that everything will end up as it's meant to be and maybe i'll be more productive as focusing primarily on the present moment becomes a habit.

---

1. suo gân (arr. john williams for the ambrosian junior choir): i believe that if everyone lived by the idea of global citizenship and so saw the humanity in every individual from every background, there would be no war. reading the news fills me with fear, sorrow, and anxiety, but i also feel the responsibility to stay informed. did some studying today, more than yesterday, but it was kind of uncomfortable with the state of global politics lurking in the back of my mind. i'm still a little behind on school.

2. souvenir de paganini (chopin): today is not so bad. i'm making progress academically, but i do need to make time for social activities soon or i will get lonely and lose what little motivation i have very quickly.

3. once upon a december (arr. emile pandolfi): sometimes in the face of events and issues much bigger than myself that i have no control over, i feel like my dreams are pointless bc i think there's no way achieving them or trying to achieve them could possibly empower me to make real and important change that can truly benefit many. who knows if the future would even allow me to get that far. there are many things that could change the course of our lives that we don't have control over. but if others in worse situations than me and others much better informed than me can still have hope, then so can i. i didn't do much other than pharmacology and a little bit of philosophy today. i made more progress in pharmacology than expected, but that's only bc i didn't do any psych work. i also earned a few more mastery points on khan academy's integrated math 1 (not a priority, i know, but i wanted an easy win) and started lab tasks. i'm far from done with that, i need to do a little every day... i don't want to let them down! 🥺 (note to self: lying in bed is maybe NOT a good study break activity bc that just makes me not wanna do anything else after that and it's very very very hard to get out of that procrastination rut once i let myself fall into it.) 4. let's stay together (al green): everything should be going well, except i'm easily overwhelmed, and this time, it wasn't in an openly frazzled way, it was in a tired and slightly defeated "what's the point?" way, so i didn't realize it as quickly as i usually do. after some bed rest, cuddles 🧸, listening to steve jobs' commencement speech, and a little yoga, i felt better. "You can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future." was something i didn't know i needed to hear today. i modified my to-do list and found that the list of things i "must do" was nearly as long as the list of things i "want to do" 😅

5. kreutzer sonata, movt. 1 (beethoven): pretty sure i've mentioned some of these songs before but...they really fit the mood! sometimes i feel things so strongly that i develop a tightening in my chest that can only be relieved in a scream... since i can't actually scream and i don't actually really like the physical feeling of it, i scream through exercise and music 😅 beethoven is very nice for when i'm feeling very annoyed or angry, especially if it's an anxious kind of angry or if it's anger at injustice/inequality. i can't find a piano solo version that does the fiery spirit of the violin justice. so in the vague future when i actually play this, either i try (and perhaps fail) to replicate that on the piano, or i find a violinist friend who would want to play with me 😅 right now though, imagining how i would physically create that sound on the piano will have to be enough. the prevailing thought/feeling of the day: sometimes i just really wanna believe in the good in people and believe that i can trust (some of) them. i long for that feeling of safety in a broader irl community that i actually belong in. i'm surprised by how often i long for it. but then my negativity is reinforced by news and people's opinions on it.

6. violin sonata no. 1 in g minor, bwv 1001 (j.s. bach): stuff was done. i felt calm/chill throughout the day, but even tho i feel good whenever that happens, it usually means i don't get an extraordinary amount of things done that day (lol since when do i ever). i'm not sure if it's enough, as there is still lots to do and i'm pretty sure that it's just wishful thinking that i'll achieve all my goals for this week by its end. i need to cut down my goals list to the realistic rather than idealistic version as always (school, lab, and basic self-maintenance tasks) 😅 gaawwwdd i hope i can do this...good night.

7. waltz in a minor, b. 150 (chopin): today and yesterday i have been able to keep my phone time under an hour. the days are blissful (if not at least calmer) and focused. 📚

8. only mine (laufey): cuddles in bed while listening to laufey is so soothing 🧸 takes me back to my childhood listening to lullabies in the dark 🥺 motivation to study is hard to find today. i just want to relax 🥺 i'll just do one tiny thing and see where i wanna go from there...

[striderl]

I have a general art-related question, if that's okay. I admire how _quickly_ you seem to be able to produce art -- whenever someone sends you a character-based ask, you seem to always answer it with a nice little picture (not just a scribble or something) with lineart and often colouring too! Do you have any advice for acquiring art stamina like that? I used to enjoy drawing, but got burnt out on it because every piece felt like so much WORK and it drained the enjoyment for me. I absolutely could not match the output you do!

Thanks for the compliment, lensman! Your drawings are equally cool too! I'm engrossed in the textures especially. And yes, sometimes I’m even amazed by the many asks I’m able to answer in a single week. Usually, I answer them within 3 days, in rare occasions, it may take me 2 weeks or so to answer them.

As for insights, there you go.

#1: Practice is the key. To not get art block, you need to be constantly practicing, like doing scribbles on your sketchbook when you have time. It can be anything, from basic shapes to “whatever you can spy with your little eye”. Also, improve your speed while doing it, and limit your time to finish an acceptable rough draft, so you won’t lose the motivation to finish the entire drawing.

#2: Mastery. READ THE MANUAL AND INSTRUCTION of whatever platform you are using to make art, and master the tools, so you won’t drag on too long on a single project. Personally, I use a mixture of Procreate and ibisPaint X to make art and comics. And the skills don’t come for free, you need to constantly learn new features in order to keep up the pace and limit the time you spend on each project. Honestly, I think I spend more time on Youtube, Pinterest, and Instagram scavenging art tips and resources than doing other things with them. The result is rather rewarding, the knowledge I gained about the color wheel, anatomy, and platform features like multiply and overlay are really helpful.

#3: Reference. I always have available anatomy or art references on my side, usually from Pinterest, so I don’t need to waste time speculating what the result would look like. I also collect references I’m interested in whenever I have time, so I’m well prepared whenever I want to start a new project.

If you want to check it out, this is the cover I made for Foley’s playlist, which I finished within 3 hours.

#4: Motivation. You need to truly enjoy the process of producing art in order to not get an art block. I think I never get a single art block period so far. Why? It’s the only way I get to relieve my anxiety. College can be really harsh sometimes, I have a really small social circle, and on top of that I need to deal with stress which most of my peers don’t even need to worry about, like managing an apartment, doing accounting on my own, taking care of electric bills, and more. What’s worse is that people can be massive suckers sometimes, and I just turned 18 a few months ago. I know I can’t just throw a tantrum or jump off a building whenever I feel stressed, so I just move on and focus my attention on doing better in art. If people want to insult me, I just insult them back with my talent.

Also, I mentioned this in my reblog to your Skibidi Toilet anniversary post. My parents don’t approve of me doing art like this, because it’s “unrealistic” and basically “useless”, I just want some space where I can express my creativity. Ironically, defiance can be a motivation sometimes.

Plus, I just purely enjoy the feeling of sitting in my room, listening to my favorite playlist, and sipping on a cup of hazelnut matcha, while doing art. And I always, ALWAYS appreciate people putting comments in their reblogs, it’s like an accomplishment, and it shows that people really check out my content and READ IT, instead of “wow, cool art”.

If I don't feel like doing art, I'll just go for a 5 miles run instead. Physical health is still important : }

[naffeclipse]

@o-cinnamonstickz I'm so honored to call you my friend. I hope you have a beautiful day filled with good food and get everything you wish for ♥ You are so beautiful and sweet, and you nearly kill me with your humor! I got you a little something-something, and I hope you enjoy!

Happy Birthday, babe! ♥

Sky Suspended

FNAF Silk Aerialist!Sun/Moon x Reader (SFW)

You can also read this fic on AO3!

Word Count: ~6,300 Warnings: Slight suggestive themes.

~

You stand in the entryway to the rather large dance studio, which is just one of several grand and impressive rooms lining the back of Freddy Fazbear’s Dance Theater, and hesitate. You just started your night shift this late evening. The job is fairly recent—you’re just a week in. After a few days of people instructing you on what is expected in your cleaning duties and how to best keep up with your new responsibilities, you’ve been left to your own devices.

That’s not a bad thing. You prefer the quiet and stillness of working alone in an empty building when the outside world is dark. No one is in your way—there’s no bumping into other employees or awkwardly smiling at a stranger while pushing your cleaning cart around. It’s peaceful.

There have been a few moments when you’ve caught glimpses of the dancers—the animatronics. The robots are otherworldly, being fashioned after childish animal designs but elegant in delivering routines that leave your jaw on the floor. You saw a performance months ago as a birthday present to yourself, and the skills and mastery of the animatronics are equal to any man's passion. It sets stars in your eyes, but you shake your head and come back to earth.

The animatronics aren’t very active at night, preferring to stay in their personal green rooms but sometimes, you’ll hear music softly playing in one studio and decide to come back to it later, or catch a conversation down the hall and steer your cleaning cart in the other direction. You’re certain they don’t want a human interrupting their off-hours, as much as you don’t want anyone interrupting your work hours.

However, you stare at the small hiccup in your usual schedule. In the middle of the dance studio, two silk pieces hang from the ceiling. This room you mentally refer to as the rigging studio, because of the exposed ceiling showing off the riggings, seems to be in use. However, there’s no one around. You glance across the room once more, just to confirm that you're alone and that the draped silk isn’t in use, but the bright, white spotlight on the dancing equipment makes you nervous. 

The fabric shines, sleek and beautiful. One piece is a gorgeous gold color, and the other is a smooth scarlet. Together, the two silks remind you of noon on a sunny day.

The last thing you want to do is upset a dancer by touching their things, especially such exquisite silks positioned like someone is practicing a routine, but you do need to sweep and dry dust the floors. It shouldn’t take you too long, however, the fabric is draped on the hardwood. You’re not going to dust around that, risking dirtying it, nor do you want to leave one-stop untouched. That would be sloppy work, and you’re not sloppy.

Chewing on a fingernail, you listen and wait a few moments more. No one comes down the hall. No one is talking about practicing tonight that you can hear. 

Perhaps someone forgot to put away their things. You huff in slight aggravation, but decide that, first, you’ll wash your hands (you will not dirty those beautiful silks) then do what you can to hang the fabric aside so it’s not in your way. You’ll put it back down just as you found it once you’ve finished cleaning.

Simple enough.

You locate the bathroom just down the hall, giving you more time to see if someone will claim the silks, but once you’re finished, you resign yourself to being the utmost careful and cautious. 

You walk back into the studio and tentatively enter the spotlight, an anxious pang hitting your chest. Standing before the hanging fabric, you gently gather a bundle off of the floor. The soft texture feels too pretty to be strong enough to hold a person, much less an animatronic, but when you give a slight, experimental tug, the stretch is minimal and sturdy. 

The animatronics that work these—there were two—could only be described as angels hovering in the air. You don’t know how they defy gravity like that, posed and elegant, effortlessly working cloth and flexing the command they hold over their bodies. It was beautiful. Those dances were your favorite as well.

You lift the silk to your face and study it closer. Maybe you can find its secrets to both beauty and power. The spotlight catches shiny threads, letting them glimmer subtly as if sunshine itself were woven into the aerial equipment.

A smile lifts unwittingly at the corner of your mouth. You slowly rub the smooth silk between the pads of your fingers, musing over how your hands are too clumsy and slow to handle such fine art. Breathing out wistfully, you lift your head, then freeze like a deer caught in headlights.

An animatronic stands at the edges of the spotlight, face tilted as he observes you with a big grin and yellow sun rays circling his face plate. His fingers are steepled in front of him as if he’s been patiently waiting. His pale eyes flash with mirth or something less friendly, you’re not certain. A jolt of anxiety shoots through your stomach.

“Hello, friend!” he beams, but there’s something scraping underneath, not quite pleased, that sets you immediately on edge.

“I was only going to move it,” you burst out, fists clenching the fabric tighter. You know exactly what it looks like—it’s what you were doing, touching something that’s not yours. A small part of you screams to let go of the silks. You don’t move, caught in the paralyzing gaze of the tall and slender animatronic.

He makes a low synthetic note, a hum that you can’t decipher. He steps closer. As he does, the spotlight catches the bedazzled edges of his ruffled red collar, and the wrapped red ribbons around his wrists, tight and left with pieces hanging. He wears loose pants, striped in red and yellow, with a fabric that you’ve seen other dancers wear, glimmering and eye-catching.

“I don’t recall you asking permission to touch what isn’t yours,” he castigates in a pleasant tone, but now, you’re all too aware of how his white optics go over you like you’re an intruder.

“I’m sorry.” The strength to release the fabric finally comes over you, and you step back, staring at him with a touch of red staining your cheeks. “I was trying to clean, but I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched your silks without permission.”

He takes a hold of each silk, the scarlet, and the gold, arms winding around the fabric as he leans forward. You back up but don’t let yourself be pushed back entirely, standing your ground at the edge of the spotlight. It was your mistake, but you’re not going to be berated mercilessly after you apologized.

Surveying you once more, the animatronic’s grin becomes lighter. You breathe out in relief before registering the small act.

“You’re forgiven, sunshine.” He straightens, and holds out the beautiful red silk, letting the end drape off of his arm like a flowing sleeve. Pale teeth flash in the spotlight with an honest levity. “I’m glad you enjoy them. I was about to practice, but I should have been mindful of your work tonight.”

Is he admitting that he might have been in the wrong, too? Your shoulders lower, loosening your defenses, as you say, “I don’t mean to interrupt. You can practice. I’ll come back later.”

A pleased expression fills his optics. His fingers curl slightly around the fabric as he falls forward slightly, using the scarlet and gold fabric to support his weight as he slowly swings terribly close to you. It takes all your courage to not step away as he looms over you.

“I would hate to rush you out after you were admiring my silks. Would you like an up-close viewing?” he asks in a sweet and playful manner. He flips the silks around his arms once, creating a fan-like effect through the air before expertly stopping the motion.

You grow still, eyes widening in genuine surprise. A gentle chuckle leaves the animatronic in a musical burst of static.

“Really?” you ask, then pause, hesitating. “I really should get back to work.”

“It’ll be just a moment,” he reassures. His sun rays tilt and the spotlight turns his smile into something cheeky. You shouldn’t be so excited as you are, but then he flicks the scarlet silk expertly, causing it to spin through the air and drape around your shoulders before he tugs it, and you, toward him. Swept forward, you let out a little gasp before you laugh quietly.

“Do you usually give private shows to the cleaning person?” you ask, testing the waters carefully but with a note of mirth.

“When they’re polite,” he shoots you a look that is both teasing and good-natured. Carefully, he begins wrapping the scarlet fabric around your middle. You lift your arms as you watch his flawless movement, not registering what’s entirely happening as you become aware of the snug closeness of the silk. Then he asks, “Are you afraid of heights?”

You jerk your head up, meeting his exuberant gaze. Your heart picks up its pace.

“No, but I am afraid of falling,” you say, glancing up at the riggings.

“Then there’s nothing to be afraid of with me,” he soothes before taking the end of the silk and saying, “Lift your knee, sunshine.”

You do it automatically, without thought, leaning on the silk wrapped around your waist for support and watching in a sort of trance as he loops a foothold around your ankle. You stare, confused, before he then takes a hold of the golden silk, long, pale yellow digits forming a steady grip before you feel the slightest movement. The rigging moves in the slightest lurch, and the silks are lifted into the air.

You immediately balk, latching tightly to the silk winding around you as you feel it tighten but stay securely tethered to your body. Most of your weight is caught on your leg, and it folds underneath you as the rest of the fabric around your waist keeps you steady and upright. A gentle stop brings you about seven feet into the air. It’s not that dangerous of a height, but you still feel a certain unsettledness at being farther from the ground than you typically are, with only a pretty piece of fabric keeping you from falling.

“That’s wonderful, you’re so balanced,” he says, beaming with approval. “Good. Just hold tight now.”

“How are you—how is it moving?” you gasp, watching the animatronic casually flip the golden silk around one leg, winding his slender metallic limb into a spiral of yellow cloth before gracefully arching it behind his back. It’s almost unfair how easily he does a vertical split in the air, letting the silk trail along the length of his other leg toward the ground as he faces you in an almost contortionist position. He sets the bottom of his face plate into one plan, grinning at your awestruck.

“We’re connected to the riggings. Think of it like bluetooth. Everything about our silks is ours to command,” he explains as his eyes brighten, watching you dangle mere inches from him. “I can take us higher if you’d like.”

“This is high enough, thanks!” you quickly get out. Glancing at the red fabric you cling to tightly, you admire yourself for a moment. It’s almost surreal, being this far from the ground and safe (as much as one can be) only because of silk.

He laughs, not mockingly, just full of heart as he reaches out to take the top of your silk. You make a small noise—somewhere between fright and excitement—as he pulls you closer to him. His other hand trails down your side. You still as he dutifully gauges the silk wrapped around your middle before checking the loop around your leg.

“Can you lift your other knee for me?” he asks gently.

You can, so you do, nodding as you struggle in the slightest to hold the position with the effort tugging at your core. You’re quickly relieved as he takes the last end of the red silk and wraps your legs tighter, above the knees, to give you a sort of swinging seat in the air. You slowly relax, the fabric doing all the work to hold you in place. You merely need to cling to the top of the soft rope and hold yourself steady.

“My, you look pretty as a present,” he gushes, optics brightening, “You just need a bow!”

You look at his sweet smile and burn. The mirror lining one wall is enough to reflect back your bright pink face as you try to find something to say back to that line, because really, how can an animatronic flirt like that ?

“I don’t know your name,” you say instead, still fighting the rising heat flooding your cheeks.

“That’s right! Excuse my enthusiasm.” He retreats enough to effortlessly lift his core and give a slight bow, arms held out to the side while the only thing holding him in place is gold silk tied to his leg. “My name is Sun.”

The introduction is both impressive and nerve-wracking. You almost tell him to hold on, but manage to zip your lips before you tell the aerialist how to behave in the air.

“Sun,” you repeat, smiling. Of course, it is.

“You're not going to make me beg you to tell me yours, are you?” he asks as he reaches up and slowly unwinds the gold fabric from around his leg, before dangling by his hands alone in the air. You can’t imagine the strength it takes to perform such a feat, nor the confidence. You stare for a long moment until he wraps a sort of hammock underneath himself and swings casually, like a child at a playground. There’s an undeniable, carefree air to his demeanor. You want to take a hold of it for yourself and let loose, enjoy the day as if it were the day.

He glances once more at you when he slows down, a cheekiness to his grin. “Oh, so you are?”

“No!” you laugh, pressing your cheek against the red silk, “No, I’ll tell you.”

And you do. 

Sun takes a hold of the top of your silk, this time looming over you as you are entirely caught in his element. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” He tilts his head, sun rays cutting through the air but missing the fabric. You’re willing to bet he knows exactly how to keep his decorated faceplate from catching on the exquisite silks. “It’s wonderful to meet someone who appreciates the finer arts.”

“Thank you,” you give, bashful. “I really admire your skills. You make all of this beautiful.”

You gesture to the top of the riggings and then down to the silk trails hanging in the air, a few feet off of the ground. Doing so tips you backward. You scramble to fix your grip, but it slips off and you fall back, sucking in a sharp breath as air whips past you and the world turns upside down.

Arm wraps around your middle, catching you before the silk can sharply tug on your legs and middle. You gasp before registering your upside-down view, looking into the steady glow of Sun’s optics. His grin doesn’t move, but it’s softer, filled with relief.

“Careful, sunshine,” he chastises. You realize he’s still wrapped up in his silk but somehow, was quick enough to snatch you up in time. Your own arms wrap around his shoulders, clinging to him for dear life. “You’re not ready to do drops in the silks, yet.”

“No, I’m not,” you agree, slightly breathless before you look up, or rather, down, to see the hard floor below.

“It’s alright,” he promises. Slowly, the riggings lower the silks down. “I think you’ve had enough fun for tonight. Wouldn’t you say that was a lovely start to your shift?”

Lovely. Shocking. Unexpected. Amazing. You could say a lot of things about this, about him, but instead, you nod as the ground comes closer. 

Easing himself free of the gold fabric, he instructs you to hold tight to the scarlet silk around your middle. You do so, feeling awkward and out of place while dangling upside down. This is not the graceful vision of what an aerial silk performer looks like, that much you know. Sun steps down lightly, becoming upright before gingerly slipping the silk off of your middle. He supports you in one arm and frees your legs of the red cloth in the other. You try to not let the fluttering in your stomach betray you as his fingertips ghost over your sides and along your thighs. 

In one swoop, before you can truly fall now that you’re free of the silk, he flips you onto your feet. You blink before feeling the world underneath you. Slightly unsteady, Sun holds your shoulders for a long moment until you straighten out.

“Oh,” you breathe, looking up at him. “That was… I don’t have words.”

“The best of compliments,” Sun jests. He casually flicks away the scarlet and gold silks, and they sway slightly as the riggings lift, higher and higher until they’re well out of the way. “There you go, darling. Cleaning should be a breeze for you now!”

“Yes, uh, thank you.” You’re still reeling from the adrenaline of being so high in the air and the smooth sensation of silk and almost falling. Your mind doesn’t quite catch up with Sun lifting your chin up with a long finger.

“Good balance, but we’ll keep working on it,” he tilts his smile, “I’m sure we won’t have another problem with touching things without permission, will we?”

“No problems,” you say, but boldly add, “And we won’t have problems with leaving things in the way of cleaning, will we?”

The mirth fills his optics as he gives a grin and a nod.

“Of course,” he promises, before softly tapping his other fingers against your jawline. “Enjoy the rest of your night, sunshine.”

His touch leaves your face and you stand here, processing the very short but mesmerizing event that just unfolded as Sun sweeps out of the room. He stops once to offer one last wave before disappearing into the hall. 

You glance up to the silks hanging in the rafters. Slowly, you look back to your cleaning cart and with oddly buzzing hands, you take your broom. You can still feel the silk and the metallic touch of Sun lingering over your body as you begin cleaning the hardwood floors. Something inside of you still dangles in the air, caught in elation and fright.

It was beautiful.

~

There’s a part of you that won’t shut up about your first introduction to Sun. You get eager, excited even, to go to work and see if you can catch the animatronic in the riggings dance studio. You don’t see him, but so far, he’s kept his word. The silks are never in your way again. 

Of course, you remind yourself that it’s better this way. You can get your job done and he doesn’t have to have someone touching his silks without permission. It’s how it should be, anyways.

Yet, you’re itching for more air time, for more glee and, well, sunshine from Sun. 

The weeks slip by. You begin wondering if that one moment was a memory you’ll simply have to cherish because it will never happen again. Not that you should be surprised, nor should you feel this bad for missing something like that, but you still think about it, again and again.

You enter the riggings dance studio one night, as you always have, and find silks hanging in the center of the room. A low, blue spotlight shines down on the fabric, but these are not the gold and scarlet that have been rippling in the back of your mind. These are a deep, midnight blue and a shimmering silver. 

Your heartbeat picks up but the very important discussion you had about touching things without permission flares up in the back of your mind. You glance around, wondering if Sun is nearby. The room is empty. You wait a minute, then two, and stare at the silks.

You can’t wait all night. A very dangerous and stray thought jumps into your mind that if you do touch the silks, you’ll summon Sun, but that might not be a cheerful reunion. So, you push your cleaning cart away and start on the rest of your tasks for the night. 

You check back again at about 1 AM. The silks are still dangling majestically, but no one has claimed the fabric nor moved them around the dark room. You leave it be, again. A small part of you is growing annoyed. Surely, Sun didn’t forget, nor would he expect you to not do one of your required jobs just because he didn’t put up his silks. You check back one more time, then a second time.

The final time you enter the room, you’re burning holes into the fabric with your glare. 

This is the last room you need to clean before the sun comes up and you can clock out. It’s expected that you clear out of the building before the staff that works during the day arrives, and now you’re growing anxious and bothered.

You can’t wait any longer.

Once again, you wash your hands before approaching the midnight blue and shimmering silver silks. The darkness of the room remains, save for the lone, blue light up above. Carefully, with the care that you remember Sun touching his equipment with, you gather up the cloth into a bundle and ponder how to drape it out of the way with the riggings still held in place.

A chill rolls down your spine before you register the presence standing behind you.

“Naughty naughty,” comes a low voice, whispery and dark.

You jump, dropping the silks as you whirl around. Eyes darting upwards, your lips part in quiet shock as you find a large, imposing animatronic looming above you. This is not Sun. This animatronic’s faceplate is half dark, with the other curving into a silver crescent, much like the moon. In fact, you remember him from the show you saw a long time ago. He was the other half of the duo that danced in the air.

Where does this one come from? Did he emerge from the shadows like a ghost? Your mind scrambles to find reason but he reaches above you. He snatches the silver silk and draws his dark blue hand down the length, pulling himself even deeper into your personal space. His hands continue working behind you, out of view.

“You shouldn’t touch what isn’t yours,” he chuckles, but the sound is sinister. Ice water runs in your veins as you hold your hands up. Red optics flash in the dark.

“I’m sorry!” you blurt as you back up but find the silver silk being held out at your back by the lunar-themed animatronic, forming a soft bar that prevents your escape. “I should have asked permission!”

He’s dressed similar to Sun, with a red ruffled collar and red ribbons around his wrists, except he’s half silver, half dark blue. His pants, gleaming richly with shimmering threads, are also dark blue, patched with yellow stars. Interestingly, he wears a hat like a nightcap, but how it stays attached in all of his upside-down aerial pursuits is a mystery to you.

The menacing grin tilts. Suddenly, the cloth is touching your lower back, pulling you closer to the dark expression glowering down at you. You try to step away or even duck under the cloth, but one expert flick of the cloth forms a loop that falls over you. In one tight cinch, the silk pins your arms to your side. Your heart starts pounding. 

“An apology doesn’t allow you to escape punishment,” he lowers his tone. “You touched my silks.”

Being polite was enough to win Sun over, but with this one, you’re not certain that will be enough—if your current situation is any indication of that.

“Wait, wait, I’m sorry. I truly am,” you insist, uncertain of where this is going. The slight strain you try on the silk doesn’t get it to budge an inch. You swallow roughly. “Please, I was only trying to clean.”

“How sorry?” he asks. The tilt of his faceplate is dangerously teasing. You grit your teeth.

“Very sorry,” you try to not let your annoyance shine through. You don’t enjoy being pressed into more agonizing apologies.

“Hm, I don’t believe you.” In one smooth motion, the riggings lower, draping more silk down. You glance up but as you do, the animatronic winds more silk around you, much in the same manner as Sun had, except this time, your arms are caught. You start to step away, but the silver fabric catches you and in the slight swing of liftoff, you’re dragged back.

“Wait, what are you doing?” you almost cry out as nimble fingers drag silver cloth over your legs, in much the same fashion as a harness, and secure you with one sharp tug.

“Punishment.” Red eyes flash as hands leave you. You don't like that you can only clench your fists. Suddenly, the riggings move again. A gasp escapes you as you’re lifted into the air, dangling helplessly at an awkward but tight angle as your feet leave the floor.

“Whoa, whoa, hang on,” you start, voice cracking. “Is this necessary?”

You don’t realize that the dark silk is swinging away, out of view of the low blue spotlight. You gasp as it swings beside you, revealing the animatronic as a flash of cool light as he comes to a controlled and simple stop above you. 

“Very necessary,” he grins. You’re not certain that’s a tease of your early insistence of your apology, but you shoot him a sharp look. 

That doesn’t cover up the fear gathering in the pit of your stomach. Slowly, in a spider-like crawl, the animatronic spins until he rests upside down, both of his feet secured in the dark fabric. His spindly neck clicks metallically as his face plate rests right side up, facing you. You get a terribly uncomfortable idea that this is what a fly feels like when caught in a web.

One glance down confirms your worst suspicions. You manage to bite back your yelp of surprise, but you’re no less horrified by the height you’re dangling at. It’s far higher than Sun took you. The hardwood floor has to be more than fifteen feet away. A fall from here would be deadly. 

“Are you going to drop me?” you ask quietly, eyes wide in the blue light.

The resounding and low chuckle that answers does not put your soul at ease.

“Only on purpose.” He reaches out and touches your cheek, pushing your face one way until you're almost looking up directly into the spotlight. Your eyelids flutter close. “You’re the one Sun is so hung up on.”

You can’t decide if that’s a terrible joke, and a ridiculous pun at that, but there’s very little to laugh about right now as the animatronic gives you a slight push, causing you to lazily spin in the air and away from him. You don’t even have a moment to register that Sun talks about you .

You quickly tell him your name. Maybe that will spare you of something less than pleasant. You don’t think animatronics can hurt people, but you’re currently alone with him. He seems to have no qualms about implying that at his whim, you could go splat.

“I know your name.” He watches you as you spin back around. His grin is still darkly stretched, teeth gleaming with amusement.

“May I have your name?” you ask, strained, spinning away again much to your grief. The politeness angle is currently all you have going for you, and you hope against hope that it will eventually work. 

You try to kick out, but it’s not like swimming. The air does not respond to your useless attempts to control your bound position. A hand falls on your ankle and carefully turns you towards him. You have to crank your neck slightly to meet his red gaze.

“Why should I give it to you?” he asks in a rasp.

“Because it would be rude not to,” you give honestly. It takes all the courage you can muster to not look down again.

For a long moment, you stare through the low blue light at his face plate. He gives a spin, one way, then the other. The end of his hat swings through the air. A quiet jingle of a bell echoes.

“Moon,” he says at last.

“Moon, please don’t drop me.” Your stomach clenches underneath the layers of silk holding you in place. The desperate need to simply reach out and hang onto something is growing increasingly frantic. Instead, you bite your tongue and endure.

“No harm will come to you.” His grin, however, is not the reassurance you’re looking for. You furrow your brow before your eyes widen. His hand moves carefully to the top of the silk, and to the end that’s neatly wrapped around your leg.

Your mouth becomes dry. “You didn’t say you wouldn’t drop me—”

A small fall sends your stomach flying into your throat. You yelp as the air whips past and you’re twirled precariously downward, the dance studio blurring between darkness and blue light, before jolting to a sudden stop. A hand presses onto your leg, wrapping around your thigh. You jerk your head up.

“Having fun?” he asks, teeth glinting.

“You son of a—”

His hand lifts from your leg, releasing the end of the silk. You drop again, crying out once as he descends with you, carefully controlling your fall with another hand on top of the silk above you. This drop is shorter. You come to a stop with a slightly less intense jerk.

“Language,” he murmurs. Your head spins from slight vertigo. He taps one finger against your lips and you bare your teeth but think better of biting metal digits. He then grabs you by the waist, his touch slipping in through the silk, and you gasp as you’re brought flush against him. “You were doing so well, too.”

“You’re a menace,” you hiss. You glare up into his glowing optics, but this close, you start to flush, hyper-aware of his palm on the small of your back and the little proximity between your bodies. “If you drop me—”

“I have never dropped anyone that I didn’t want to drop,” he cuts you off, voice growling. “You couldn’t be in safer hands except for Sun’s, but you already know that.”

His smile is lethal. You’re not sure if he’s taking a jab at your time with Sun, or if he’s just reminding you of his other half’s skills. There’s certainly no doubt that Moon is equal in talent and control as Sun is, but unlike Sun, he is far more intimidating. His time in the air is dangerous, as if floating close to a waterfall, knowing at any moment, you will go over and down, down, down.

“Can you let me go now, please?” you get out before your teeth.

His optics flash crimson with amusement.

“If you insist—”

The mistake reaches your brain the moment he speaks and you jerk, managing to kick up your legs enough to straddle Moon around his slender waist before his arm falls from around you. You flip back, but you dangle upside down, still clinging to Moon with the will of your legs alone.

“You have some strength,” he says as if he’s not entirely impressed. 

The blood rushes to your head for one dizzying moment. Before the strain becomes too much on your lower muscles, he folds down, matching your upside-down vision, before flipping you both once more. The fabric unwinds slightly from around your waist as he, again, pulls you against him. This time, however, he wraps a little hammock underneath him with one hand and pulls you onto his lap. You duck your head, thankful that the blue light will do well in hiding your blush.

“What do you want?” you breathe out.

A hand runs up your back, touching silk and the columns of your spine. You pretend you don't shiver. You especially ignore his red optics flashing in delight. Slowly, he loosens the fabric from your sides. Immediately, you rip your arms free. Next, the cloth retightens with a zip of fabric, squeezing your middle securely but without pinning your upper appendages.

“An apology,” he says. Rearing up your head, you pierce him with a scathing look before he presses a finger to your mouth. “A sincere one.”

You stare at him before moving your head away, out from under his silencing digit. Your fingers dig into the rope above your head, not entirely trusting how he holds you or what he’ll do next.

“Okay,” you hiss, then much softer, you breathe, “Okay.”

You weren’t the most honest when you first blurted out your apology, but clearly, he caught onto that. The annoyance from earlier now mingles with fear and a slight exhilaration of surviving several drops. The air up here must be thinner. Avoiding looking down, you close your eyes for a moment to gather your strength.

“I am very sorry I touched your silks without permission.” You open your eyes and hold Moon’s glowing optics with a somberness. “Will you please forgive me?”

He grabs the silk just above where you cling to it tightly with your fists and pulls you closer to him. You can’t escape, you can’t flee, you can only bear his red intensity as he looks down at you, closer than he’s ever been. You brace for another drop.

“Yes.” He then tugs on your silk as well as his. In careful motions, you’re taken off of his lap but slowly swung out, just brimming the edge of the blue spotlight as he swings out too, twining gently around each other in a lazy spin before your shoulder presses against his side, and he wraps an arm around you, keeping you tucked beside him.

“Don’t vomit,” he instructs.

“What?” you ask, bewildered before he swings you in the opposite direction and the spin is rapidly undone. You fly through the air, breathless. The dizzying height and the controlled, swooping speed leave you lighthearted, and yet, you laugh. It escapes you in bubbles. You’re clinging tight to the silk. The world spins in dimness and blue, and then, red optics. You’re caught again, this time, much more securely as Moon pulls you against his chest. Your back is flushed to him. You breathe out.

“Having fun?” he asks, but this time, the soft static of his voice touches your neck. You’re still giggling in the slightest.

“Yes—don’t think I forgot what you did earlier,” you warn.

“Noted,” he chuckles. In a quiet buzz, the riggings begin to lower you both. You cling tightly to Moon’s shoulders. His hands rest tightly on your hips in tight clasps. 

The ground slowly rises up to greet you and as you step away from Moon, he gives the fabric still wrapping you up a controlled flick. You’re spunned, almost in a breathless move of dance, and then freeze. Before you can trip and fall, Moon grabs your hands, pulling them up to hold you steady as your head slowly stops spinning.

“You,” you gasp, “are a menace!”

“I’m an aerialist,” Moon grumbles with humor.

“You didn’t deny it,” you shoot back, before stopping to hold his gaze. His optics have flicked to a softer color, white and blue, in different optics. You’re caught off guard that you stare for a long moment before he tilts his head, looking back with an unreadable expression.

“Don’t touch my silks,” he says, squeezing your palms, “Then I won’t be a menace.”

You slowly nod. The animatronics and their rules are so intriguing, but you’re slowly figuring them out. You wonder if they’re having fun figuring you out, too.

However, you jut out your bottom lip in an angry rebuttal.

“Don’t leave your silks where I clean.”

He stares at you, hands tightening around your knuckles before lowering your hands. You’re not certain that’s an acknowledgment of your request. You shift your stance, now stable and ready to rejoin gravity.

His optics flash red, then dart back to the soft blue and white. “Did you have fun, doll?”

You’re not sure how much of that was supposed to be fun, but he waits for your answer. At least, he seems pacified.

“I could have done less with the dropping,” you say, but offer a tentative smile. “The swinging, though. That was something else.”

“Noted,” he says again and releases your hands. You glance up at the ceiling as the riggings creak in the slightest, and lift the silver and dark blue silks. The fabric swirls slightly in the air, falling against your head before rising away. When you lower your gaze, you start.

You’re alone.

You glance around before fumbling blinding for a light switch. Flicking it on, the blue spotlight remains but the rest of the room is illuminated with pure white. You hope to keep the trembling in your legs at bay as you grab your broom.

Two animatronics and two silk ropes. You didn’t think you would get so close, and yet, here you are.

You sigh as you begin cleaning, your mind still up in the air, dancing with a celestial body.

[empresskadia]

A♤ 8♧ 8♤ A♧ - Final revision. Chasing perfection when I am writing without a destination. It's what I get for starting something without any plans and burning the bridge when I get there.

Part IV (Heartwarming to see Part III be so loved by you all. This might be the worst part I make because I'm taking a risk writing this one from your perspective instead. It also went under several revisions every time I thought I finished it. Also, there's a little hint there in the symbols I used here.)

-

Stars.

As a child, looking up to the night sky away from the expectations of home was the one thing that brought you peace. In that infinite black void, that never-ending sea of ink dotted by light, there was something more. Something more than the path chosen for you. There had to be, right? Space was so incomprehensibly vast, and you were once determined to see it when you were free to spread your wings. 

At home, what was expected of you mattered more than you. Your own dreams, your own desires and goals, whatever they could have been, didn't matter. Everything you did was so you could join the UNSC, whether you wanted to or not. You needed to be perfect so you could go to OCS at Corbulo like your great-grandfather. You needed to be top of your class like your mother. You needed to be a fearless, unflinching leader like your father. You needed to be an officer like your Uncle Forge. You were expected to be so much, but were never expected to just be a kid. 

Like a bird in a cage, you had everything provided to you. You wanted for nothing. But you weren't free. Even surrounded by family, you grew up alone. So, you would sneak out after curfew and look up at the night sky and dream of who you could be. It was looking up into that shapeless ocean where you were determined you would one day seize the reins of your life. For better or for worse, your fate would be your own.

Then Arcadia was attacked, and you were left all alone.

The cage was gone, but so was everything you had ever known. Your parents, your siblings, your home, everything you had ever lived and loved - all gone, violently taken away in a flash of plasma and a burst of blood. They did not grow older. Yet you were still here. With a heart full of vengeance and a hole in the shape of your family in your soul. 

Who decides such things?

From that loss, the stars no longer held that beauty. Invaders had come from the stars, and they had demanded Humanity's extinction, and space was the battlefield. What had once brought you peace had brought war to your doorstep. What had once brought you comfort drove you to enlist. Ironic, you thought, that the fate your parents wanted was the one you would choose when you had nothing.

With enlistment came new responsibilities and the same mastery of your emotions your parents drilled into you. The same expectations that your family forced upon you were expected by the UNSC, and it found you unworthy. So you hid. Locked yourself away, forbid yourself from forming attachments to your troops, or you wouldn't be capable of leading them effectively. You forgot yourself in the service of others, never gave yourself the time of day. In truth, you gave up on who you truly were. 

Which brought you here. Gunnery Sergeant Y/N L/N. Youngest to make the rank, top of your class at Reach Naval Academy, and a lovestruck fool.

It's funny. You never believed you could fall for someone.

Some would say love is a part of being human, and perhaps they were right, but it was only something you had ever observed. Your parents, as flawed as they were, deeply loved each other, and you've kept your fair share of relationships secret during your time in the military. But when it came to you, after so long in the service, romance was just never in your cards.

How could you love someone when war is all you've known for so long? Who would love you? It was easier to say that you never had time for romantic feeling, that you knew nothing of it to begin with, but it was harder to admit that, deep down, you didn't feel yourself worthy of it.

Then Naomi was assigned to your command. The Spartan-II with a golden soul and depth of humanity hidden behind a suit of armor and a childhood of military training.

She had given you the privilege to be her friend, allowed you to see beneath the Mjolnir to the person inside. In turn, she allowed you to let go and not hide behind a mask. Allowed you to be the person you buried behind rank, military protocols, and ODST BDUs. Never have you known someone so reliable, so dependable, on and off the battlefield. She had given you a reason to try and love the stars again. 

You loved her. You were sure of it. If the happiness you felt near her that made your heart feel weightless wasn't love, then what was?

Which was why you were here, in the most secluded part of the ship staring out to the stars. Trying to reclaim what the Covenant took from you. Trying to be human in spite of all you've lost so you could see what you've gained. Through adversity, you would rise to the stars.

"Enjoying the view?"

How Spartan-IIs managed to be so silent with that armor was a mystery. At least, you assumed they were if Naomi-010 was the example to go by. It stopped making you jump after the first month or so.

You grinned, though maybe it was forced. "Trying to. Maybe one day I can appreciate it again."

"I wondered where you were." She said as she stopped next to you, her visor reflecting the starlight outside the viewport. "I didn't see you at the mess hall."

You gave her a small apologetic smile. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I just completely lost track of the time. Anything good in the mess?"

"Nothing to write home about."

"Oh, good. Did I miss anything fun?"

Naomi huffed. "Dunn tried to arm wrestle me again."

"Again? Did you win?"

She hummed, flexing her bicep. "Was it ever a question?"

You chuckled. "A strong woman like you? Not for a second."

You paused, allowing a comfortable silence to fall before you managed the courage to finally say what you had always needed to. 

"Thank you."

The Spartan-II tilted her head. "What for?"

"For being here. For being my friend." Your hand knocked against hers. "For helping me to start believing in myself again."

Her fingers weaved between yours, gently squeezing. How her hand managed to be so warm in yours through the skin of her suit puzzled you. 

"But you did that yourself."

"You gave me the strength to try." You looked at her like she hung the stars in the night sky. "So, thank you, Naomi. For everything."

The Spartan traced soothing circles on the top of your palm with her thumb. "You know, I was thinking about what you said last week. About the dinner." 

"You don't have to if you don't want to."

"No, I want to! I just-" She paused, shifting her feet. "I just don't know how we would do this."

"I don't either." You smiled. "I've never been on a date before."

"Oh." She stiffened, and you could feel it through her hand that she had froze. "So, it's a date now?"

"Only-" You stuttered, coughing to hide it. "Only if you want it to be."

Naomi pulled her hand from yours, and for a moment, you wondered if you crossed the line. Until she used the same hand to turn your head towards her, cupping your cheek. Her thumb gently patted your cheekbone.

"I'd love that, Y/N."

"That's great!" You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, the biggest smile in your life threatening to split your face in two. "I'm going to be honest with you, I have no idea how to cook."

"Oh, I know." She teased. "I've seen you burn your field rations."

"I'll figure something out then and let you know when it's time?"

"Sounds perfect." Her hand withdrew from your face and you missed the warmth immediately. "I'd love to stay, but I've got to run some maintenance on my armor. Going to be a little harder now that I'll be thinking of you."

You blushed at her straightforwardness. "I'll see you around?"

"Always."

Naomi turned to leave, her footsteps audible this time before they paused.

"Oh, and Y/N?"

You turned to her, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

You could tell she winked at you from beneath her helmet. "Don't keep a girl waiting."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

You laughed to yourself as she walked away, leaning your head against the viewport glass as you were left alone with the stars. A soft tap against it brought your mind clarity. "Oh, Y/N." You whispered as your heart raced." You're a damn fool."

Thank you for being patient with me <3

Don't worry about chasing perfection, your readers appreciate your dedication and heart in every part you create with this story, you've got this!!

I've been so excited to read part IV and it took all my willpower to wait till I could type up my comments and thoughts. But here we go~

As a child, looking up to the night sky away from the expectations of home was the one thing that brought you peace. In that infinite black void, that never-ending sea of ink dotted by light, there was something more. Something more than the path chosen for you. There had to be, right? Space was so incomprehensibly vast

Backstory for the reader?? What chosen path? I love the tie in with space right off the bat!!!

At home, what was expected of you mattered more than you. Your own dreams, your own desires and goals, whatever they could have been, didn't matter. Everything you did was so you could join the UNSC, whether you wanted to or not. You needed to be perfect so you could go to OCS at Corbulo like your great-grandfather. You needed to be top of your class like your mother. You needed to be a fearless, unflinching leader like your father.

I’m screaming about this because omg do I relate with Raya being in the same boat as the reader

You were expected to be so much, but were never expected to just be a kid.

insert sad face

Then Arcadia was attacked, and you were left all alone.

D:

The cage was gone, but so was everything you had ever known. Your parents, your siblings, your home, everything you had ever lived and loved - all gone, violently taken away in a flash of plasma and a burst of blood. They did not grow older. Yet you were still here.

I- Excuse?? My heart just broke

you thought, that the fate your parents wanted was the one you would choose when you had nothing.

The irony of this happening though, the parents got their wish at what expense.

So you hid. Locked yourself away, forbid yourself from forming attachments to your troops, or you wouldn't be capable of leading them effectively.

I can only imagine the amount of people the reader saw die and how many troops they lost

Which brought you here. Gunnery Sergeant Y/N L/N. Youngest to make the rank, top of your class at Reach Naval Academy, and a lovestruck fool.

GOOD BE A LOVESTUCK FOOL. We are infact bad bitches.

It's funny. You never believed you could fall for someone.

And it was for the Spartan who deserves all the love <3333

you've kept your fair share of relationships secret during your time in the military.

Oh the drama, but yeah I like this little fact.

But when it came to you, after so long in the service, romance was just never in your cards.

LE GASP THE CARD CONNECTIONS

How could you love someone when war is all you've known for so long? Who would love you?

The person who also doesn’t think they capable of love. Oh, how tragic it is to love a Spartan

Then Naomi was assigned to your command. The Spartan-II with a golden soul and depth of humanity hidden behind a suit of armor and a childhood of military training.

*Screaming*

She had given you a reason to try and love the stars again.

Naomi loves the stars too *sobbing*

You loved her. You were sure of it. If the happiness you felt near her that made your heart feel weightless wasn't love, then what was?

I wish I could express the absolute sounds of excitement I’m making but I’m kicking my feet

How Spartan-IIs managed to be so silent with that armor was a mystery. At least, you assumed they were if Naomi-010 was the example to go by.

Oooo so Naomi is the only Spartan they’ve met

"I wondered where you were." She said as she stopped next to you, her visor reflecting the starlight outside the viewport. "I didn't see you at the mess hall."

Dfvujsvkjhn bbygirl came looking for us!?

She hummed, flexing her bicep. "Was it ever a question?"

She’s funny, I love her. Look at Naomi being kinda human

"But you did that yourself."

I feel like Naomi is your own personal cheerleader

"You gave me the strength to try." You looked at her like she hung the stars in the night sky. "So, thank you, Naomi. For everything."

I hate that this feels like a goodbye and I’m scared.

"Oh." She stiffened, and you could feel it through her hand that she had froze. "So, it's a date now?"

Dude shut up, I’m screaming!! They are dorks in love

Naomi pulled her hand from yours, and for a moment, you wondered if you crossed the line. Until she used the same hand to turn your head towards her, cupping your cheek. Her thumb gently patted your cheekbone.

THE GASP THAT JUST COME OUT, SCREAMING, CRYING, CHOCKING, THROWING UP

"I'd love that, Y/N."

Fcvsjdncebfc. Good. I’m so normal about this

You blushed at her straightforwardness. "I'll see you around?"

"Always."

Bbygirl always has her partner’s back

You could tell she winked at you from beneath her helmet. "Don't keep a girl waiting."

SCREAMING, SHE’S BEING ALITTLE FLIRT

A soft tap against it brought your mind clarity. "Oh, Y/N." You whispered as your heart raced." You're a damn fool."

ME AND YOU BOTH, OMG.

I just want you to know I bite my lip so hard that I split it :)))

I’m loving the direction this is going!! I’m excited to see how their date goes but also see how their relationship develops with the war and everything.

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

prepare (1)

Riven exhaled as she shut the door to Sunward. Wuk Lamat had been set up at the Baldestion Annex. For the forseeable future, there was a great deal of preperations to be made...but first things first.

"What did you all think?" She asked, turning around to face the others.

"Green." Reinhardt, Mathye, and Augustine said in unison, causing Sebastian to blink in surprise.

"She is green." Mathye said. "Fresh out of the training hall and running about in new-made armor green. If it weren't for the fact that she does have skill in combat, I'd doubt she'd even gotten any type of first blood."

"She's got smarts, however." Reinhardt added. "And bold. I imagine she probably was the only contestant who had the idea to approach foreigners and ask them for help. It means she's flexible in her thinking and can adapt quickly to a changing situation."

"But something's wrong somewhere." Augustine mused. When the others looked at him, he gestured.

"Think about it. It's one thing to hire foreign adventurers--mercenaries even. But instead she pings directly onto us--Erenville's stories aside. It's one thing to want our battle skills--but with everything else? We're overkill. And while she's being honest about her reason to win--I can't help but feel there's something more to the story."

"That was my thought as well." Riven admitted. "But Tural may not know about us. And from the little I read, I don't think they had any effects of the Calamity, or the Final Days."

"I would suggest we talk to Alphinaud." Sebastian said. "He can handle the politics of the situation much better than any one of us. In fact, when we make it over there--let's leave anything dealing with governmental affairs to him. As far as everyone's concerned, we're just the hired help to Wuk Lamat." Riven hummed at that, crossing her arms.

"With everything we've been though, it never occurred to me that someone would want to threaten Eorzea's peace from the other side of the world."

"Honestly I don't think anyone has." Augustine replied. "And now that I think about it...we never saw anything with the Empire considering going that far out."

"Nor the Allagans now that I think about it." Sebastian added. Mathye frowned.

"...That...does seem strange. The Garleans made inroads to the farthest reaches of the east, but not the west? It's not like they didn't have the ability to do so."

"Technological constraints?" Reinhardt offered. "Airships only have so much fuel."

"No. I've seen plans that can turn them into nothing but flying ceruluem tanks." Augustine mused. "And it's a known fact that there's plenty of untapped wells in Tural. And an Agrias-class airship can fly though almost anything."

"Might be something worth asking Jullus about." Riven offered. She exhaled. "At least we've got some time to prepare. I've got to get my requests in to the Arcanists' Guild library, and quickly."

"All done with Aloato Island then?" Sebastian asked. Riven offered a weak grin, shrugging.

"Not really, but my rotation turn to go out there won't be for a few weeks. And I'd rather not fight someone for their spot--or have somebody challenge for mine." The Arcanists' Guild had been forced to create a rotation research schedule for their students and members who wanted to study the still-unknown arcane geometry of the Thavnarian island. And in true Limsan fashion, academic combat had been decided as a way for one to possibly advance to a higher spot in the rotation schedules.

"If it's alright, I'm next on the supply delivery list for Garlemald." Reinhardt offered. "I'll poke Jullus's brain, see if he heard or knows something."

"I'll come with you to Limsa." Mathye said to Riven. "I need your Mastery clearance anyway for the medical libraries. I think we'll need updated vaccinations and I'd like to know what diseases we'll need to look out for."

"I'm going to track down Nero." Augustine said. When the group blinked at him, he continued. "I think getting you a backup leg might be a good idea, Mathye. We don't know how long we'll be over there. And we have to discuss ways for your maintenance to be easier on you." His older brother started.

"I--"

"No." Riven interjected. "That's actually a good idea." Mathye flushed, crossing his arms and looking away.

"If it's alright, I'll go speak with Wuk Lamat and do some research in Sharlayan." Sebastian offered. "She might be willing--or let something slip around me." He paused, chuckling.

"This is actually strange, preparing for something that isn't world ending."

"It's a little unnerving." Riven admitted. "But...exciting. And I'm glad we're all doing this together."

[kaunis-sielu]

Omg, I just read all of A Payment in one day and I'm DYING! It was so so good! I accidentally fell into the Steve Rogers (specifically mob boss au) rabbit hole and I hope I never come out XD

I have a minor hc that Steve has a greenhouse where he grows a bunch of his own vegetables and herbs and some fruit. Like, idk why that popped into my head but it did and I'm obsessed

I’m so glad you loved A Payment. I loved writing that one! And as for your little hc… this may have happened…

“You want a what?” You ask and Steve doesn’t even look over at you he’s so deep in his research.

“A greenhouse.”

“You, what do you wanna grow?”

“Plants?”

“Like?”

“I don’t know Baby. Just plants.”

“Weed? I will not have drugs grown in my home Steven.” This seems to get his attention, he looks up at you in confusion.

“What?”

“No drugs.”

“Oh,” he chuckles softly and wraps a hand around your ankle gently pulling you toward him. “I wanna grow flowers, and trees and bushes and make it smell beautiful.” He slowly slides you closer to him, “I want a place where we can be in nature all year round, something with some grass where we can have picnics and where I can love on you in the middle of winter.” Steve says drawing you into his lap, “I want the fuckin tropics in February.” He says kissing you and god it sounds real nice being able to go read a book in the grass in the middle of winter.

“Yea okay.”

“Yea? You’re good with it?”

“Yea, of course. This is our home. If you wanna have a greenhouse you should. Can I make a request though?”

“Hmm?”

“A water feature. They’re so peaceful and beautiful.”

“Whatever you want Baby.” He agrees and you kiss him this time. Your new house is nearly done and you cannot wait to be out of the hotel, despite being in the owner’s suite, you’re ready to be home. Some of the things you wanted done were taking a bit longer than a normal house. Bullet proof windows, a state of the art security system and most importantly a sprinkler system.

You’ll never be victim to fire again.

When you move into the house three weeks later the greenhouse is the only thing that isn’t done. But Steve has been painstakingly working on it. He’s picked out some plants, with the help of a master gardener, and has built a water feature that is some form of mastery that will water the pants or something. He’d lost you in his explanation but he’d been so excited you couldn’t break it to him that you’d been confused. You can’t wait for it to be done, from the drawings he’d done it was going to be stunning.

[crystalflygeo]

Wait a second! I knew I've seen you around! Crys!

Also, holy heck in a handbasket. Why are you also not an EBG participant? I've seen you on a couple blogs, notably, Meirin's and Dresvi's, and I really enjoy your shenanigans.

I like how you take things in unexpected directions. I thought the whole idea of bringing the Adepti in as players in Meirin's blog was such an amazing choice. You have a lot of talent in writing different sorts of characters, and I like it a lot.

I also like how you can find a way into blog arcs. With the way you write, you're flexible enough to push the writers on the other end just enough to get them to open up into the lore they have. I remember you pushing Elzer in Dresvi's blog just enough to drop little tidbits about the general lore and the fire situation that's apparently going on in there.

Also, do not get me started on how entertaining it is to watch you start up shenanigans in Meirin's tea house. It's so much fun to read your shenanigans.

I never know what I'm gonna get when I see you as an asker, and that makes it fun.

Like with Risu, I hope that you do end up being an EBG participant. I'm honestly amazed by how much mastery you have for different character voices. But even if you don't, it's been fun watching you cause a lot of fun shenanigans. I hope you continue to cause all the chaos.

There's only one day left, so I look forward to seeing what other shenanigans you get up to.

✌️

sfcvgsahvcajshcbsakn AYOOOOOOOOOO WHAT I'M HONORED PLS???

ANON WHO ARE YOU LET ME HUG YOU RN THANK YOUUUUU Again I did briefly consider it but I was just coming back from a trip for vacations, starting back work again, had other stuff going on stressing me also I genuinely don't think I have the brainpower to make a plotted EBG lmao

Also I feel like idk for something like this I'd like to establish some more lore about my OC/avatar? hehe. A lot of wonderful friends (most notably @meimeimeirin @floraldresvi @moraxsthrone and @localplaguenurse) have been really inspiring me to write more and kinda... open up more? feel more comfortable with myself in my blog? bc I always had this idea of being kinda "anon" and be a little removed from my own posts and writing, but they've given me courage to be myself and have fun and do what I want and that includes selfshipping which I never really... did much? But it's so much fun! It's so fun to RP, to share silly little headcanons and ideas, to express your love and happiness for characters, and share that supporting others too and making them happy! Anyway wow I got sappy. Point is, I do hope to kind of... introduce myself/my OC and be a little more "me" about my bias if that makes sense? because that is what the ebg is all about (I think?) that funny and weird "hey this person who loves X character is now forced to get out of their comfort zone and simp for Z instead lmao"

pls I had forgotten how much fun RPing could be I feel like I haven't done so in yeeeears and I still think I'm rusty scvgasjbvcjhak but I used to love it and I do love to write

EBG has been so much fun! Even as a spectator, and I sure hope to participate someday but pls literally all of this was so sweet schajbckas I am not worthy of that much praise aaaaaaaaaaa

I AM VERY PROUD AND HAPPY WITH MY SHENANIGANS AT RIN'S TEAHOUSE HAHAHAHAHA and knowing I gave her some good laughs and she has also been enjoying it's all worth it

ty anon this has been an experience, but also to know people see me like this just... pls Imma cry, I'm thankful to be so loved <3

[lunarsilkscreen]

Acting is Experience

Acting isn't just "Faking" on stage. It's becoming. You can emulate all you want on stage; but emulation isn't authentic without experience.

When casting directors are looking for people; they're looking for people who embody the character they're casting for. This means you have to know what it feels like to be *that* character.

Not *only* that character, but a multitude of characters. Every character in a production even. Because if you know how each character feels you can then assist in giving constructive feedback in order to help the entire cast and production create the best product you can.

This means experience in being that *person*. They call what I'm talking about "Method Acting". You aren't acting; because you've lived that life.

For example; if you're going to portray a barista, or a scientist, or a gamer: it's not just "Eureka!" And "Complex Nonsense", or "F* you make the coffee yourself if you're gonna behave like that."

As fun as it is to act over the top like that.

"Gamers" on screen mash their buttons in nonsensical order ALL the time. So this isn't acting. (Though one could argue; it makes the seen more understandable from a certain audience's perspective.)

Scientists on CSI sit two to a single keyboard. And while "Paired Programming" is a thing... A keyboard is I pretty much a single person endeavor.

You can act your heart out, but if you don't know what it feels like, or what it means to be the character you're portraying;

Well, it's appropriation, insulting, and downright: Bad Acting.

The same goes for comedy. It's why older comics, despite making the same jokes as younger counterparts; seem to have more weight to their words. Because they typically have a wider range of experiences.

Not just experience as a Comedian, but experience in living life, or practicing a trade, or having a hobby.

The key example I can give is the show "Forged in Fire". Watch the first season where they end up with the most wannabe blacksmiths in the world.

No offense.

You can tell they're kinda hobbyists with very little experience. Even if you don't know much about blacksmithing. Because they make mistakes like somebody who kinda knows what they're doing, but hasn't invested that "10,000" hour minimum that every body talks about when you need to acquire a skill.

And so one of the responses to FiF by the audience is: "Wow: why they got apprentices and not any real blacksmiths?"

Like if this was Gordon Ramsey's American cut of Top Chef; he'd be screaming in their ear to "apologize to the metal for running it's future".

The same argument is heard all across the internet these days; "Casting directors aren't looking for good actors, they're looking for Beauty".

Tell that to Pete Davidson and Amy Shumer. (No offense to them; it's not like I can say I'm any better looking.)

They're looking for if you know what you're doing; not just as an actor. But in the job your character claims to be doing on screen.

If you're portraying a data-entry person who's done the job for a decade; you should be talking about data-entry like it's second nature. Like it's easy and everybody knows or understands what you mean.

Instead of pretending to be the character; you have to be the character.

And it's this; that I think actors tend to get wrong.

The casting directors are hiring a "programmer" as if they're hiring to fill an *actual* position in programming. A barista, as if it were a minimum wage job that was short staffed, and a knowledgeable barista showed up on their doorstep.

And a scientist; looking for somebody who seems like they've sat through a million pointless lectures and are nearly bored with the subject matter they claim to have mastery over.

[j0400]

Elysia's story; Chapter #1 Brief contact.

POV Elysia Hayashi:

A Nightmare, something that doesn't let me sleep well at night. Some nightmares are caused by fear, stress, or anxiety, in my case the reasons mainly derive from the latter two.

Although these nightmares only occur once every one or two weeks, they are mostly completely forgotten, leaving only residues, in my case I remember practically nothing, just a long night with difficulties sleeping.

Today luckily I didn't have any of them, just a peaceful night of sleep, which makes me want to spend as much time as possible in my bed, although the sounds of people going about their own lives woke me up, and that's probably a good thing because it means it's time to get up, maybe it's already a bit late, and most of my family has already gotten up and is taking care of their lives.

Reluctantly I get up, then I take care of my morning needs and make the necessary preparations, then I dress in casual attire and head to the kitchen for breakfast, on the way I encounter and greet the employees, at the kitchen door a maid is standing, she's probably here in case someone needs something, maybe someone is still having their breakfast?

Elysia: Good morning! I hope everything is alright here.

Maid: Good morning, Miss Elysia. Everything is quiet so far. The breakfast is on the table, in case you're looking for it.

Elysia: Ah, thank you for letting me know. And is anyone else still having breakfast?

Maid: Yes, your older brother, Kirin, is in the dining room.

Elysia: I see... I'll join him then. Thank you for the information.

Maid: Of course, Miss. If you need anything else, I'll be around.

So it's Kirin who's having his breakfast, I head towards the table with a smile of commitment.

Elysia: Good morning, Kirin. I hope you had a good night's sleep.

Kirin looked up for a moment and replied simply, "Good morning, Elysia. Yes, I slept well."

Then he continued eating, he probably has a busy day ahead, he's on a difficult mission and it's been a while since I've seen him, and I probably won't have another chance to talk to him, let's see if I can get something out of him.

Elysia: You know, I've been thinking about your mission lately. It seems like a very complicated mission. How are things going?

Kirin, still focused on his meal, replied with his usual reserve, "Things are progressing. The mission requires concentration and dedication, but I'm handling the difficulties."

Short answers as always, huh?

Elysia: And how are you dealing with the challenges of this mission? I imagine it's a great challenge.

Kirin sighed lightly, seeming reluctant to share the details.

Kirin: I can say that we're facing some complicated situations, but we're working as a team to overcome them. It's hard work, but necessary.

Maybe if I keep pushing a little more...

Kirin: By the way, what's your training today? What do you have to do?

Huh?

It's new for him to show interest in my training.

Maybe he wants to change the subject? It seems like I won't be able to find out more about it for now.

Elysia: Today I have a fighting training session coming up, then there's also a sword training with old Shin.

Elysia: I'm putting a lot of effort into my training. I want to become even more skilled in martial arts. I'm excited about the possibility of improving my swordsmanship.

Kirin nodded.

Kirin: Fencing is a fascinating art. Focusing on the precision of movements and sword mastery requires a lot of dedication. I hope your training sessions are fruitful. However, I also hope you're not neglecting the improvement of your magic abilities. Although you already have great dexterity, you still need to know how to compensate for shortcomings in your abilities and go beyond what you can currently do.

Tsk, Although his words are true, it's not as simple as he makes it sound. My Magic Ability, Infect:

It involves releasing mana that envelops the enemy and reduces their physical abilities. The mana confusion also makes their abilities less effective.

However, there are clear limitations. Even if I focus my ability to the maximum, it doesn't have the power to cause damage or defeat the enemy alone. It all depends on my skills. Additionally, if the enemy possesses significant physical abilities and strength, my ability may not be as effective. Moreover, facing multiple enemies poses a challenge.

In comparison to others' abilities, mine are far behind. No matter how much I strive and study, I can't seem to improve my options.

In combat, magic abilities are essential. For example, Kirin's temperature manipulation ability can cause immense damage. He can defeat enemies without even needing to move, and the number of enemies makes little difference. By using his ability to change the temperature of his body, his physical abilities gradually increase, making an ability like mine seem completely useless.

For these and other reasons, he, even as a novice, already leads groups on missions, and I have no doubt he won't fail. Intelligence, technique, leadership, and decision-making are all his strengths.

However, everyone has their drawbacks, whether in character or intellect. In Kirin's case, he is solitary, having to bear the weight of everything and not being able to trust anyone.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn't realize Kirin finished his food and left. I hurriedly finish mine to start preparing for my training.

[parcequecestnotreprojeeeet]

A little private argument. Based on her saying that she often gets angry and then rants. Your Strawberry

School Uniforms

"It doesn't matter what I say. It's always interpreted against me," he heard her say exasperatedly. He looked up from his book and looked at her questioningly. He assumed she was trying to get his attention with her statement. One look into her eyes confirmed his suspicions and he closed his book.

"What exactly are you talking about?" he asked. "The school uniforms." He decided not to go into it and listen first. "I was just saying that I didn't think it was bad to have worn a uniform in my school days and that it eliminated various problems. I didn't say I was in favour of school uniforms in general and yet I'm being accused of it. Why the fuck is everyone allowed to speak their mind but not me. It really pisses me off." She paused and looked at him piercingly.

He guessed she wouldn't like what he had to say about it, so he kept silent. "Why don't you say something?" her bad temper was now directed at him. "Maybe I don't like arguing with you right now," he interjected. He realised immediately that he shouldn't have said that. It seemed like a fuse and he could see she was about to explode. "What are you trying to say?" she hissed at him. "Are you agreeing with them? Do you agree that I'm not allowed to have an opinion?"

He sensed he wasn't getting out of this act so easily, so he surrendered to his fate. "You know the drill by now. If you speak out, you have to expect them to attack you with it. You are my wife and your utterances will be looked at politically and picked apart." Angrily, she glared at him. "And you think it's okay for it to go that way." He produced a stretched "No."

With narrowed eyes, she looked at him. "You're not okay with what I said either," she groaned almost aghast. "I had imagined a quiet, relaxed evening," he mentioned, but she didn't let up. "Spit out what's bothering you." "I really don't want to argue with you," he tried again, but her look demanded an answer. He sighed inwardly. "Your statement about school uniforms was unfortunate," he tried to put it diplomatically. She gasped for air. "Unfortunate? Oh, you wrapped that up nicely. The Lord has a different opinion and so I'm not allowed to say that it was okay for me to wear a school uniform? You are a hypocrite," she threw at him angrily.

He felt himself losing patience more and more too. "You should think about how you talk to me," came softly from him. She laughed. "Do you feel attacked now?" she asked. "You don't have to blame me if you make a mistake," he threw back at her. "Oh, now we're getting to the heart of the matter. First it was an unfortunate statement, now it's already a mistake." It wasn't just her mastery that had dissipated. "Of course it's a mistake to speak out like that when you don't want to hear criticism. You're stirring up a hornet's nest and wondering why you're being picked apart. I will have no sympathy for that. You don't have to agree with me, but when you speak out on political issues, you must realise what can happen. Either you endure it or don't speak out."

He saw her trembling with anger. "You can kiss my ...," she shouted back at him and turned away. "Wait a minute," she heard him say behind her and felt him grab her arm, preventing her from going any further. She tried to pull her arm from him, but he wouldn't let go, so she turned to him angrily, startled when she saw the look on his face. "You're not running away now," he said with barely suppressed anger. They faced each other like two angry warriors. "I told you twice that I didn't want to fight, but that didn't stop you. What do you expect me to do when you talk to me like that?" came angrily from him. "You stress so often that we always tell each other the truth and now you hold that very thing against me? I'm not your lightning rod."

Shocked, she looked at him and he saw her struggling with herself. The anger had given way to the realisation that he was right. He let go of her arm, which he had been holding all this time. Gently, he let his hand slide to her back and slowly pulled her towards him. When she was standing directly in front of him, he took hold of her neck with his other hand and began to caress her cheek tenderly. "Is it all right now?" he asked gently. She shook her head and he raised an eyebrow questioningly. "I was unfair," she stated softly. "I am sometimes too," he smirked, "and yet you forgive me." "I'm sorry," she said with a small smile. He nodded. "I would rather kiss your lips, as what you meaned for a few minutes," he laughed and kissed her.

Hellooo sweet 🍓! ❤️

Yes, this is exactly how I imagine an argument between them! One not wanting to starting but then both getting carried away by it, giving how truthful and honest they are to each other. Sometimes I think they make up straight away, like here, sometimes I think it take a little longer to “digest”!

Really enjoyed this piece and felt really real! Amazing job 👏🏻

Thank you so much, Strawberry! ❤️❤️❤️