#but it has to be smart simplicity

[felibrary]

╭──╯ DOCTOR'S PRESCRIPTION !

PAIRING: jiaoqiu x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS: how does a healer heal himself when he falls ill? the answer is he doesn't, after all, you're here to take care of him!; alternatively your boyfriend's sick, and despite all his refusals you insist on taking care of him.

WORDCOUNT: 1.2k | CONTENT & WARNINGS: did i play the tb mission yet..no, did i still write this? yes cause i just man idek okay, jiaoqiu might be ooc, banter and bickering and just tooth-rotting fluff (and jiaoqiu rots in bed..literally lol)

TAGS: @azullumi (i hate all of your fans for choosing the blind date one. reject them exes and bring back hanahaki diseases and yearning 🔥🔥)

AUTHORS NOTE: the closed eyes remind me of jouno. jiaoqiu pls dont die. also im trying to be more dialogue-centrish here cause im not familiar with his character yet soooo no metaphors for now

“jiaoqiu, would it kill you to stay in bed for at least once?”

the scent of freshly brewed green tea and aromatic congee slowly fills the air and you lean back against the counter, with your hands on the surface of the kitchen island and a deadpan expression you stare right at your boyfriend who has only woken up now.

an expression that brings no good settles onto jiaoqiu’s face. “do you need help?” jiaoqiu smiles mirthfully and without hearing your answer he swiftly brushes past you. in the blink of an eye, jiaoqiu picks up the kitchen knife lying on the cutting board before expertly chopping the spring onions into thin rings to later sprinkle over the congee.

he cannot be serious right now.

you have to prevent yourself from sighing out loud before grabbing him by the shoulders to make him turn around  “stop being so stubborn and return to bed,” you’re not sure if the reason you’re heating is up due to the congee whose heat is emitting into the air, the close proximity between you and jiaoqiu that makes your heart skip a beat or two, or the fact that jiaoqiu’s sick and is probably spreading his sickness over to you. 

the latter sounds the most reasonable. 

as it seems (and as expected) your demand goes in one (or well two) ears and out of the other one(s). “and since when are you the doctor?” his cheeky tone and the smirk he throws you are both infuriating. “but, i guess i’m lucky to have such a smart and not to mention beautiful partner who cares about my well-being,” he remarks lovingly. 

“you think you can bribe me with sugar-coated words?” as sweet as he might be, you won’t let him off the hook so easily. after all, he also deserves to rest, especially when sick. 

someone who only takes care of others and their well-being but never their own, will meet their demise sooner than those who constantly seek out help, due to never confiding in others when facing hardships.

“i’m simply stating the truth.” he chortles gleefully, tilting his head to the side while doing so.

“what a charmer you are,” you reply dryly before taking a few steps away from him. “anyway, as you’ve already mentioned your oh-so-smart and beautiful partner cares about your well-being, so i ask you to go back to bed, and get your well-deserved rest,” you quickly change the subject.

ironically nothing escapes jiaoqiu’s attentive gaze, so you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d noticed the rosy tint on your ears by now. but even if that were the case he doesn’t seem to pay any mind to it.

“as much as i appreciate your concern, there’s really no need. i’ve experienced much worse and more severe illnesses. a little fever won’t be the death of me.” jiaoqiu shrugs in simplicity, brushing it off as no big deal.

“you’re such a handful to deal with sometimes,” you mumble under your breath before swiftly pressing your hand onto his forehead and withdrawing it as quickly. “jiaoqiu. you’re literally burning up.” 

you don’t wait for him to respond — you won’t give him the time to respond before reaching down and searching for his hand. his lithe fingers find yours and you carefully lace them together before guiding (dragging) him back to the bedroom and forcing him to lie back down as you crouch at his side.

the wet towel that sits all scrunched up in the plastic bowl right next to his bed seems all wrung out already catches your attention and you sigh. “sorry, that i didn’t come earlier to refresh the water,” jiaoqiu’s ears perk up at your apologetic tone and he smiles. “don’t worry about it.”

“stay here, i’ll get you a new one. don’t move while i’m gone okay? just try to relax a bit.” the only thing you receive as a form of acknowledgment is a quiet hum before rushing off to the bathroom to fill the bowl with new cold water.

you return just as quickly as you left and begin to wring the piece of cloth and fold it into a rectangle before placing it onto jiaoqiu’s forehead. “is this okay?” you ask, carefully brushing the strands of hair that stick to the damp towel away. again, a mere hum is the only answer you receive from him.

as you’re reminded of the green tea and congee that are still in the kitchen you jump up. “right i almost forgot the food, i’ll go and get it. wait here for me.” you turn around and before you can even fully leave the room, a whine of your name makes you turn around.

“can you turn the pillow for me? this side is too warm.” your boyfriend starts to complain and you can’t help but stare (in surprise or irritation, you don’t know — maybe both.) you help your boyfriend up and make him lean against the headboard as he continuously holds the wet towel against his forehead. “here,” you present him and he smiles in satisfaction. 

he settles back into bed you assume he has no more requests thus you decide to leave and reside in the kitchen once more. the aroma of spices fills your nose once more and you can’t help but smile as you take the lid of the pot off before using a ladle to scoop the congee into a bowl. 

you reach for a porcelain cup and pour the green tea into it before placing it on a tray with the congee to bring it to jiaoqiu.

as soon as you enter his room, jiaoqiu’s ears perk up. “i’ve missed you,” he expresses wholeheartedly and that makes your heart melt. it’s these moments where you get reminded how lucky to have him. “so now that you’re back can you turn my pillow around again? this side heated up much faster than anticipated.”

okay so maybe you weren’t that grateful to have him.

you sigh and put the tray down on his (unexpectedly but pleasing) tidy desk, normally it would’ve been filled with a bunch of different notes and recipes for both meals and medicines, but it’s exceptionally organized today. 

once again you help your boyfriend once again by flipping his pillow before grabbing the bowl of congee and handing it to him. upon him not accepting, let alone acknowledging the food before him, you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“what? do you want me to feed you next princess?” you scoff and although your remark is sarcastic, jiaoqiu can’t help but smile cheekily. “well if you’re already offeri-” he doesn’t get to finish his sentence before you shove the metal spoon full of congee into his mouth which slightly catches him off guard and makes him open his eyes for a split second.

although you’ve seen his eyes countless times, you can’t help but admire them. his eyes resemble honey, beautiful and golden but also sickeningly sweet and addicting. “you know you’re so much more beautiful when you shut up for once,” you tease.

Jiaoqiu detaches himself from the spoon and scoffs. “should’ve added black pepper instead of white pepper. you know that i favor intense flavors over mild ones.” he complains and you can’t help but crack a smile. ”stop being a picky eater and eat.”

END NOTE: this has been sitting in my drafts since June 21 LMFAO but yeah here it is!! also does this look proofread to yall cause it really isn't its quite literally 3am and school's starting next week. my sleeping schedule's so fucked up I'm crying. but shoutouts to Grammarly for proofreading tho fawk u for saying i need Grammarly pro to see my other 92 mistakes like okay. in this economy??

© VYNICITY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

[bloddysnow]

Summary: You are an emperor, and you have your own harem consisting of four consorts.

Pairings: Sub! Bottom! Zayne/Sylus/Rafayel/Xavier x Dom! Top! Gn! Reader

nsfw minors dni

They have different features and characters, each of which is a unique combination of beauty, strength and charm.

The first consort, Zayne was a skillful healer, known for his wisdom and insight. He was not only handsome, but also smart. His knowledge of herbs and medicines helped to keep you in good health, helping to stay full of strength and energy. He often gave you valuable advice in governing the state. He had a refined taste and exquisite grace. His outfits have always been made with elegance.

The second consort, Rafayel, has a passionate temperament and burning beauty. Something about him always makes him the center of attention in any room. He chooses the most precious fabrics and jewelry to emphasize his beauty. Rafayel spends his days perfecting the art of dance, demonstrating flexibility and ability to control his body. He was not only a talented dancer, but also a skillful musician. In the evenings, he plays the lyre, hoping to attract you with melodic sounds and his angelic voice. His talent was known far beyond the palace.

The third consort, Sylus is famous for his wisdom and deep knowledge of poetry and philosophy. Passion and temptation permeates his every movement and every word. His eyes burn with the fire of thirst, giving mystery. He is also a master of martial arts. His grace and dexterity delighted everyone who saw his training. He often quotes poems and philosophical thoughts, hoping to win your heart through mind and soul.

The fourth consort, Xavier is known for his innocence and sincerity. He wears light and bright outfits that emphasize his young beauty. Its beauty is emphasized by simplicity and naturalness. He likes to walk in the garden and pick flowers. He wants to attract you with his purity and innocence. His room is filled with the scents of fresh flowers and the soft light of candles since he every evening hopes that you’ll want to visit him.

They dress up in frank clothes that barely cover their bodies to better demonstrate the traces of your caresses - dark spots and red marks from love bites that cover their delicate skin with a marble pattern. Every sign you leave is considered a pride, and they do not hide them under their makeup, but show them out.

At public meetings, banquets, parties and most social events, your consorts properly stand right behind your back and will always accompany you. Their presence behind your back symbolized the unity and strength of the imperial family. They’ll hide their faces under face veil, leaving only their eyes open. Since childhood, they have been taught that their bodies belong only to the emperor, and this knowledge is deeply rooted in their minds. Because of this, they cannot get physical pleasure on their own, knowing that their purpose is to serve only you.

As an emperor, you are aware of the importance of fair and respectful treatment of your consorts. And you try to pay equal attention to them all, making sure that each of them feels loved and valuable.

Evenings in the garden with Xavier have become an oasis of calm and happiness for you. The garden has an atmosphere of peace and harmony created by the rustle of foliage, the singing of birds and the quiet murmur of the fountain. Xavier brings the book he chose in advance and sits on the soft grass under the shade of an old oak leaning against it. You settle down next to him, putting your head on his lap. His hands begin to gently stroke your hair. He opens the book and starts reading aloud. His voice, soft and expressive, fills the space around you. Closing your eyes, you enjoy every minute spent with him.

Sylus often asks you to practice with him. One of your rules was the following: if he wins, you will fulfill any of his wishes. He attacks quickly and deftly, trying to find vulnerabilities. You, in turn, fight back, always trying to keep a balance between defense and attack. However, despite his aspiration and skills, he has never managed to defeat you. You are always one step ahead. You know that the real goal of these trainings is not victory, but time spent together. And this ends with Sylus breathing heavily with his hands around your neck, feeling the warmth of your body. Your hands wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. His lips are warm, persistent, conveying all the passion that he may have been holding back for a long time.

Rafayel, dressed in light silk clothes, slowly goes to the center of the hall, illuminated by the soft light of candles. The sounds of darbuka and qanun begin to fill the space. Smooth waves run through his body, starting from his hips and rising up his spine. He skillfully uses his shoulders. His hands gently twist, repeating the curves of the melody, and his fingers touch the invisible strings, adding a touch of magic to the dance. His hips make graceful movements, synchronously swaying in the rhythm of melody. His body is the true perfection of beauty. Each muscle contraction, each movement emphasizes the ideal lines of his figure. The light of candles plays on his skin, creating a game of shadows and emphasizing every muscle. When he looks at you, it seems that time stops. His eyes are full of depth and passion, you can drown in them, forgetting about everything in the world. It's like they bewitched you, and you can't take your eyes off him. They reflect the whole world, full of mysteries and secrets that he is ready to share only with you.

In the majestic imperial palace, immersed in luxury and splendor, your life was surrounded by Zayne's care and attention. Not trusting the servants, Zayne personally followed every aspect of your daily life. It was his personal privilege and duty that he was proud of. Taking care of the emperor gave him some pleasure. He chooses your outfit for the day, also takes care of your hairstyle, skillfully styling your hair and giving it a neat look. He makes sure that consorts didn't bother you and asks you every night if you wanted to visit someone's quarters. Zayne takes care of his emperor with awe and love, trying to protect you from all possible troubles and worries. As a sign of gratitude for his tireless care and devotion, you often took his hands in your own and gratefully kiss them. Zayne was always embarrassed at these moments, looking away.

Their hearts are pounding in anticipation of your next choice, and each of them is eager to be in emperor’s quarters again. When they find themselves in your bed, their moans and screams become loud and passionate, breaking the silence of the night. It's not only an expression of their pleasure, but also a way to show others your closeness to them. They cry, clutching your cock buried deep inside them, and whisper through tears: "I'm y-your favorite, right?" Their voices tremble with emotions, and their hearts beat in the hope of confirming their uniqueness and love.

Their bellies become swollen from the amount of sperm inside their wombs. When you gently press on their stomach, white sperm flows out of their hole, and they whine, asking you not to waste it. Each of them dreams of giving birth to the first heir, who will strengthen his position in the harem and give him power and respect.

Masterlist

[cheolhub]

LOVE SCENE — LEE SEOKMIN ࿐

summary. you’re scared that seokmin might want to go separate ways after graduation, but he proves, in more ways than one, that he wants you. forever.

wc. 2.3k

warnings. college au. nerdy soft dom!seokmin, breeding kink xx, obscene amounts of dirty talk, pinch of angst, literal love making, unprotected sex, marriage kink, HEAVY praise, baby talk, v minimal plot im sorry — MINORS DNI 18+

note. DAMN ok i have a lot to say so i’ll keep it short. ONE this was a request but like i kinda didn’t do anything the request asked for and im so sorry, i hope u can forgive me anon. TWO i literally lost sight of the plot so dont ask me abt any missing details ehehb just enjoy seok being hot <3 THREE happy belated birthday to my minnie <3 FOUR thank u to my luvr @rkiv4d for beta-ing. yas ok enjoy

p.s. reblogs and feedback are extremely appreciated— i also love to hear ur thoughts <3

how seokmin pulled you, the most beautiful girl to ever walk the earth, he has no clue. he’s what people call a ‘nerd’ with his thick-rimmed glasses and his abnormally high IQ and you’re the pretty girl that didn’t understand the simplicity of covalent and ionic bonds who fell head over heels for him. 

you couldn’t help it, he was so smart and so fucking pretty. he was awkward and he giggled when he got nervous and he was so unbelievably goofy that it had you laughing till you cried. nevertheless, he was the most beautiful man ever. 

then you asked him out. he remembers it like it was yesterday. the last day of your chem class– the end of the first semester of your sophomore year– right after your final. you thanked him incessantly, giving him a hug for helping you get a B in the class. you told him you’d rather thank him another way— another way being a date. with you. at your place with a homemade dinner. 

he would’ve been stupid to decline. so he didn’t. and the rest was history. seokmin became your boyfriend, grew more confident in himself, and fell in love with you.

now you’re in your final year, the last few weeks approaching quickly, and you’ve been anxious. anxious about seokmin leaving you, anxious about going separate ways after graduation, anxious that this was all just fun and games till it was time to get serious about life.

seokmin has picked up on your behavioral patterns over the past 2 years. he knows you so well, probably better than anyone else in your life– probably better than he knows himself. 

so when seokmin sees you evading his eyes with his cock stretching you open, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“hey,” he whispers, stilling inside of you. when you don’t turn your head and your eyes are still closed, he calls for you. “baby?”

you feel your heart clench at the pet name. “hmm?” you hum.

“baby, do you not wanna do this anymore?” he questions worriedly, ready to pull away from you. “i can pull out.”

you mumble, “i-i do.” 

he cocks his head even more confused, “talk to me, pretty, what’s going on?”

he pushes into you some more, making you gasp and you can feel his expectant eyes burning holes into your face. you then realize he’s not gonna let this go, but it’s partially your fault for letting your mind wander while he was putting away the dinner you guys ate. you decide to just come out with it.

“‘m just… so scared of graduating…” you whimper between your words, eyes screwing tighter. 

he hums, “look at me, baby.” the demand comes out so soft, yet the sheer dominance of his voice makes you clench around him. you turn your head on the pillow, opening your eyes, and finally looking at him. “why?”

you shudder at the eye contact. he looks so pretty, so concerned over you, yet you’re still tense and oh-so nervous. the topic of post-grad has never come up, and now you’re mid-fuck about to tell him how you want to be with him forever. 

“i-i’m scared that… that you’re gonna go off without me,” you pant, hands wrapping around his biceps and holding him to keep you stable. 

“where am i gonna go, beautiful?” he whispers, bottoming out and fully sheathing himself inside of you. 

you whimper again, his massive cock filling you so well. “s-scared you’re gonna go do big things ‘n leave me…” 

he freezes at that, eyes widening, “leave you?” he asks incredulously as if he couldn’t believe that you’d ask that question. “baby, you think i’d leave you?” 

you nod slowly. “i dunno, ‘s just that i’ve been thinking ‘n you’re so smart– gonna go get a real job that’s across the country or something…” 

he’s honestly bewildered. why would you ever think something like that when he’s tried so hard to show you how much he loves you every single day?

“oh, baby, i would never fucking leave you.” he presses his forehead yours, nose rubbing against yours. “pretty fucking thing, i adore you— love you. more than anything.”

your eyes glisten with tears at the reassurance. you feel yourself relax under him, entirely fluttering at his words. “really?”

“yes, really. how can i prove it to you? want me to put a ring on your finger?” he whispers, breath fanning against your face. 

you gasp, clenching around him again, fingers digging into his muscles. he smiles, chuckling airly at your reaction. 

“my pretty baby wants that? you like that idea?” he asks, his sultry voice filling your ears. “you wanna be my wife?”

you nod your head, eyes fluttering shut as you moan, “yeah, w-wanna be your wife.” 

your response has seokmin reeling. he pulls his hips back and slams back into you making both of you moan again. 

“yeah? bet you want my kids, too.” he states boldly, mind cringing at his words and internally freaking out that you’ll get turned off at them. 

you choke, clamping tightly around his length. “f-fuck.” you cry. “d-don’t say things like that, seok.”

“why? ‘cuz i’m right?” he grunts, thrusts growing faster.

you nod your head and seokmin nearly cries, cock twitching at the idea of pumping you full of cum and getting you pregnant with his kids. you’d be such a great mom and he’d love having a mini-seok running around a nice, big house fit to take a family. 

admittedly, he’s been wanting to talk about his future with you. he’s been fantasizing about it since the first time he said he loved you. fantasizing about you being his wife and living together in a big house and having three kids and living happily ever after as if it were some fairytale. he’s imagined your kids and how they would be a constant reminder of his everlasting love for you. he hopes that they’ll look like both of you– kids with your eyes and his nose. he’d kill for that.

“wanna put a baby in you,” he mumbles, lips ghosting over yours. “swear to god, ‘m gonna give you everything you want– ‘ll get you a ring ‘n a house– everything. just say the word.”

you lift your head to press your lips to his, moaning into his mouth like a mad woman. your stomach drops in anticipation, suddenly craving the feeling of his warm cum filling you to the brim, sure to get you pregnant. your legs wrap around him, heels digging into his back and you can’t resist the cry that he ends up swallowing at the new angle. 

seokmin pulls back, panting, “gonna let me give it to you, baby?” 

“uh-huh!” you nod, eyes screwing shut and jaw going slack as his speed increases. “yes, yes, please give it to me.” your response is wavered as you nearly choke on a sob of pleasure. 

and you know the decision is haste– a baby even though you still have a month left of undergrad seems… absurd to say the very least, but you don’t need to think about anything. you know seokmin. you know he’s the one you want to spend the rest of your life with. he's an amazing boyfriend and person in general. you already know he’d make an even more amazing husband and father. 

who would’ve thought the nerdy man with glasses who was insanely good at chemistry would be the one you ended up with?

he lets out a guttural moan, “such a good girl, always saying please.” he praises, slamming into your sweet spot repeatedly.

and jesus fucking christ, your moans and cries are like music to his fucking ears. 

his head falls into your neck, licking and sucking at your skin. “never gonna leave, i promise. gonna make you mine, gonna take care of you.” he mumbles into the skin as he continues to mark and ravage you. 

the stimulation and his words are sending you into orbit as your stomach churns and tightens at the feeling of his cock rearranging your insides. his strokes are impressive, never missing a beat and unrelentingly hitting the spot that makes you crumble. 

he feels you tighten around him, gummy walls squeezing him in and he curses, “shit, is my pretty girl gonna cum already?” his voice borders on condescending, but it only makes the tightrope in your stomach all the more closer to completely unraveling. 

“y-yeah, so close,” you moan breathily as your pants increase, chest rising and falling rapidly. “so fuckin’ close, min, ‘m gonna cum.”

his lips find your ear and he whispers hotly against the shell, “come on, baby, cum for me so i can fill you up.” he gently tugs at your earlobe with his teeth and you can’t resist, back arching with a shiver running down your spine.

your orgasm brings you immense pleasure, white spots filling your vision as you cum with a loud sob. you feel it in your entire body, from your curled toes to your thrown back head. your eyes roll back, calling out his name and raking your nails down the skin of his arms. 

he coos, holding back a groan at the way you get even tighter as you soak him in arousal. “thaaat’s it, baby, just like that. so, so good for me.” he coaxes you through your euphoric high, fucking you through it as he always does. 

“s-so good,” you slur, parroting his words as your mind numbs a bit. 

he moans, letting the sound of your whimpers and the lewd sounds of your bodies meeting fill the room. he buries his head in your neck again, desperately rutting into you so he can let go, too. your eyes flutter closed again and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer to you. 

your overstimulated pussy pulses around him as you listen and whine along to your lover's muffled moans. you can tell he’s close. so close to giving you the life you’ve imagined for almost 2 years. so close to being yours forever. 

“seok, cum inside me,” you whisper and his hips stutter, yet they keep moving as if they have a mind of their own. he lifts his head and looks at you– his eyes are clouded over and teary, yet they’re filled with all the love in the world.

he looks so beautiful above you. his face is scrunched up in pleasure, brows knitted, eyes droopy, mouth hung open as pretty sounds exit his loose lips.

“i… fucking love you…so much.” he says in between pants, thrusts growing sloppy. the telltale signs of his fast approaching orgasm becoming heavily apparent. “god, so much, baby, love you so much.”

you nod your head, mirroring his pleasured face. “me too, seok, i love you.” your words are a bit scrambled, but seokmin makes sense of them– understands you so well. 

his eyes roll back a bit at your response, brain momentarily malfunctioning, but he comes back seconds later. “gonna take this load like a good girl, right, pretty? gonna get pregnant and let me marry you?” he moans out breathily, cock now twitching uncontrollably. 

“yes, yes, yes, please, wan’ it so bad!” you beg.

it’s all he needs to press his hips to yours, stilling there, and releasing inside of you while he moans out your name so prettily. it’s a newfound feeling for both of you– his cum coating your cunt, filling you up till it’s spilling on his freshly washed sheets. he’s grown accustomed to finishing on your skin or into a condom, but this? this is all very new. this is something he now can’t live without.

you think the same thing when you feel him spraying your walls with his thick ropes of cum. it feels so good– so euphoric– while it’s leaking out of you. you don’t know how you’ve gone your entire adult life without experiencing this at least once.  

“c-came so much, baby…” you whimper, feeling him pull his cock out of you. 

as soon as he sees his release dripping out of you, he groans softly, already feeling hard again, but he decides to ignore it for now, bringing his attention back to you.

“hey… love,” he says softly, noticing the way you perk up a bit from your tired state just at the sound of your name. “you should’ve told me you felt like that… i hate that you thought i’d just leave you ‘cause we won’t be in school anymore.”

you frown, “i’m sorry, i didn’t know how to bring it up without being awkward… it’s the real world and i dunno… things are different.”

he sighs, hands running up and down your naked sides. “i get it, but like i said, i wanna be with you forever.”

you blush, biting your lip to hide the wide grin that ends up on your face despite the fact. “yeah, i remember… was that a proposal by the way?” you ask meekly. 

he squeezes at your waist, “did you want it to be?” he beams.

“i mean, it was a bit untraditional, definitely not how i expected my wedding proposal to be.” 

“what? you mean you didn’t think you’d get proposed to while i had my dick inside you?” he asks with faux incredulity. “i, for one, thought this was the best proposal ever. i even put a lil baby in you.”

you giggle, wrapping your legs around his body again, “you don’t know that, i’m not pregnant… yet.”

his heart swells at the idea and he smiles brightly at your blushy face, “well, maybe another round can change that, hmm?”

you pull him closer to you by the strength of your legs and say, “make me yours then, seokmin.”

© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.

[veronicawildest]

NAKSHATRA SERIES: OBSERVATION FROM DIFFERENT NAKSHATRAS (SEGUNDO)

(Disclaimer: If you get butthurt on my other observation just blocked me and move away from me. This observations is from the celebrity i've observe and my social circle. Just take this like a grain of salt)

PUNARVASU

The trait that I love about Punarvasu is their resourcefulness. It makes sense because of the Vimshottari Nakshatra of Jupiter. They are also very giving.

(Unevolved) Punarvasu are fake. When they're talking to you, they act like a goody two shoes type of boy/girl, but when you're gone, they talk behind your back. They don't like confrontation (very passive). Also holier than thou (This only applies if you're UNEVOLVED, otherwise don't get butthurt).

Punarvasu are also people-pleasers. They want to have a "goody-two-shoes" reputation. (I can't fully describe it, but if you get it, you get it). A primary example that I'm going to give is Elon Musk (Punarvasu rising). The way he acts and presents himself in public. He just wants to be likable, but clearly, the public hates him.

Punarvasu are smart and they will show you that through their actions (I mean actions, for example, problem-solving activities)

PUSHYA:

The casting stereotype of this nakshatra is a hippy vibe. Just like in animated movies, Matilda (from Angry Birds Movie played by Maya Rudolph (Pushya sun)) and Brooke (from Ice Age: Collision Course played by Jessie J (Pushya moon)).

Pushya isn't as auspicious as it is portrayed in the Vedic astrology community. You will go through some hardships and heartbreaks that will make you easily susceptible to mental health issues. (I have this placement so this comes from my experience).

I observed this from other Pushya natives that they're just plain and simple, not glamorous but classy when it comes to their appearance. Just simplicity and vibes and natural.

I've seen on Twitter Vedic discourse about Tikshna Nakshatra getting all the hate, Ashlesha getting all the hate, not Pushya. I have a Pushya placement on my luminary, and I can tell y'all that's not true.

Examples:

Jennifer Lopez (Pushya sun) gets hated for getting all the benefits of being a celebrity when she's just allegedly stealing (I've also read this through Twitter).

Selena Gomez (Pushya sun) is hated for having this victim mentality complex and being "obsessed with Justin and Hailey."

(DISCLAIMER: This isn't my opinion on these certain celebrities, but I've been reading and seeing them on Twitter)

ASHLESHA

Despite being a Mercury-ruled Vimshottari nakshatra, Ashlesha doesn't speak too much.

I've seen Ashlesha males acting like sigma males, but they're funny. This is the nakshatra that embodies the "tropical Leo archetype," the archetype of funny, center of attention, fashionable, and dramatic.

Ashlesha either love all the attention or hate it. Mostly it's a mixture of the two. That's why the center of attention archetype for Tropical Leo.

Claire Nakti just conducted a survey on YouTube, but the leading people on Instagram (having the most followers) have Ashlesha placements. Selena Gomez (Ashlesha Venus and Mercury - still prominent because it conjuncts the Sun, which is her luminary), Kylie Jenner (Ashlesha Sun), and Cristiano Ronaldo (Ashlesha Moon).

MAGHA

If you have Magha in your big three, you're egoistic as fuck (for me egoistic above on other nakshatra). Napoleon has this Nakshatra on his sun. The new TikTok hype about King Baldwin IV (played by Edward Norton, Magha sun).

It's hard to differentiate Ashlesha and Magha because of the Gandanta point (and other Gandanta nakshatras):

- Both private

- Romantic (because other nakshatra of Leo gets all the credit of being romantic, but not Magha; they're romantic too)

- Both GREAT at their stuff/profession/talent

But to tell them apart is Ashlesha says, "I don't give a fuck," and they do give a fuck (because of the Crab cancer symbolism, it really makes sense why they put up a facade because of the shield) when Magha says nothing and literally doesn't give a fuck. They won't entertain. Yes, they're sensitive, but mostly they really don't give a fuck.

I don't get the hype of "Ketu nakshatras are not on social media. They don't usually use social media" on Vedic Twitter. Magha (Ashwini and Mula too) are active; they just don't interact or have private accounts. Ketu is exalted in the sign of Scorpio (investigating, lurking), and y'all think that they don't use social media? Joking, for real.

I still emphasize that Magha nakshatra individuals have sleeping problems. One of the Magha moon actors (in my home country) opens up about having sleep apnea and having a near-death experience. (Also, the beauty queen Magha sun talks about a near-death experience). It's common for them to experience the "Their soul is leaving the body while sleeping" phenomenon and meditation.

The impact of the death of loved ones for Magha is crucial. It's a sign that something significant will be happening or transforming for better or for worse. The best example that I can give is Megan Thee Stallion (her family).

[letsgetrowdy43]

A room of our own—

Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader

Request: Hi! I’m not sure if we can combine the prompts but if so could I please request 🐞with the prompts, “Okay, we need to decide whose bedroom it is that's going to be ours from now on. I feel like I'm back in high school, sneaking from one to the other every second night!" (Roommates to lovers), and hearing them snore a little for the first time, maybe the snoring is small, quiet and you can't help but giggle since it's kind of cute, or maybe it's quite loud and you realize you plan to spend the rest of your life with this. With Jacky, love your writing!!

Warnings/notes: Thank you so much love <3 This is a little suggestive, but sos so sweet so please enjoy!!

End of summer celebration!!

Jack stirred awake, the early morning sunlight filtered through his linen curtains. A yawn erupted from his mouth as he turned on his side to be face to face with his girlfriend, eyes still fighting off sleep as he noticed that she was already awake. His girlfriend lay on her side, propped up on one elbow, watching him with a soft smile as he reached out her hand to fix his messy curls, grinning at his bedhead as he caught her hand and pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of her wrist.

She had grown used to waking up and seeing him first thing in the morning, but today felt a little different— waking up under the same covers as him, limbs tangled with his felt like the start of something more permanent.

“Morning,” she whispered, brushing a few strands of hair away from his forehead. He smiled sleepily, reaching out to pull her closer, his face buried in her neck as he soaked up the intimacy of waking up with her by his side. “Morning,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep as she smiled into the crown of his head.

She hesitated for a moment before speaking, her tone light but with a hint of seriousness as she thought back to the night before—the whispered conversations, the laughter, the warmth of their bodies pressed together under the covers. “Okay,” she began, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back, grinning at the feeling of his gentle grasp on her hips as he pulled her hips to his, “we need to decide whose bedroom it is that’s going to be ours from now on. I feel like I’m back in high school, sneaking from one to the other every second night!”

Jack lifted his head slightly, blinking away the last remnants of sleep as he processed her words. A slow smile spread across his face, and he chuckled softly. “Yeah, it’s about time we figure that out, huh? Feels like we’ve been playing house without actually picking the house.” She giggled, the sound vibrating through him as he held her close. “Exactly! I mean, it’s fun sneaking around, but I think it’s time we make it official. No more sneaking.”

He grinned, his fingers brushing along her side. “Agreed. Let’s pick our spot. Maybe we should just flip a coin.” She laughed, shaking her head at the simplicity of his suggestion. “Or we could, you know, think about it logically? Your room is closer to the bathroom, but mine has better light and decor…”

Jack smirked, leaning in to kiss her lips, a slow, mind-melting kiss that had her brain foggy the second he pulled away to smirk as he continued their conversation “Or we could just alternate, keep things interesting.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “You’re impossible, you know that?” Jack shook his head as he flipped himself on top of her and began pressing kisses to her exposed skin, "I. Am. Not," he said in between the sloppy kisses.

She laughed at his lack of seriousness before her hands cupped his cheeks and pulled his face up to look at her, "if you want to think logistically, my room is cuter and it is the furthest away from Luke," her eyes telling of what she was implying as the kisses stopped and he grinned at her genius. "You're so smart," he kissed her collarbone, "I don't know how I got so lucky," he pressed a second kiss to her sternum as she laughed at his lust-blown pupils.

She laughed, her hands still cradling his face as she looked down at him. “Well, you’re not too bad yourself,” she teased, her tone playful as she ran her fingers through his messy hair. “But seriously, if we’re going to be sharing a room, there’s something else we need to address.”

Jack paused, lifting his head to look at her with a curious expression, a grinning pulling at his lips, expecting a cheeky joke, “Oh? What’s that?” She hesitated for a moment, a mischievous smile playing on her lips as she pressed a gentle kiss to his cheekbone, “You snore. Loudly.”

His eyes widened in mock horror, and he immediately rolled off her, sitting up on the bed, “I do not!” She couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction, sitting up beside him and poking his side as she grinned at his dramatics, “Oh, but you do! It’s like a little rumble, but you know what? It’s actually kind of cute.”

Jack groaned, burying his face in his hands for a moment before peeking at her through his fingers, as she dipped down once again and kissed the scar on his shoulder, “You think my snoring is cute?”

She nodded, her smile softening as she reached out to take his hand, their fingers intertwined as she scooted closer to his side. “Yeah, I do. It’s just… you. And if I’m being honest, I don’t really mind it. It’s part of what makes this whole thing—” she gestured between them, “—feel real. Like we’re really doing this, you know?” Jack’s expression softened, and he squeezed her hand, pulling her even closer until their foreheads touched. “Well, if you can put up with my snoring, then I guess I can handle your room being ‘cuter’ than mine,” he said with a grin.

She laughed, leaning in to press a sloppy, teeth clashing, smile wide kiss to his lips, the playfulness of the moment blending with the deeper emotion they both felt. “Deal,” she whispered against his mouth.

As they lay back down, tangled in each other once more, the thought of Jack’s snoring no longer seemed like an issue. It was just one of the many little things that made their relationship theirs—imperfect, but perfect in its own way.

-

-

-

[xlillyle]

Why in my humble opinion the episode brings the Mersault arc to a satisfying end regarding Fyodor, Dazai, Chuuya and the message it has

So, there's a lot of energy buzzing around in the fandom with the latest episode and I felt like some things have not been pointed out enough, therefore I'm gonna share my thoughts on the parts of Mersault. This is a thread that focuses on the conclusion of the Mersault arc as presented in the most recent episode of the anime in season 5 and I will elaborate on what I think the message of the Mersault arc is, what Fyodor's role in this arc is, I will comment on why I think he was defeated and why it fits the message and I will also go into more detail of how Chuuya and Dazai play into all of this and what I think happened in Mersault.

I'd like to start with these panels from the manga, chapter 77:

Together with this one from chapter 105:

I think these panels convey the core message of the Mersault arc very well and its goal: Everyone is just human, no matter how smart. And humans are capable of amazing things and even moreso if they come together. This is the greatest difference between Fyodor and Dazai who have been countless of times painted and stated as each other's equals - yes, they are intellectually of a level most can only dream of, only rivaled by Ranpo, but unlike Fyodor, Dazai has learnt to trust humans and understands their bonds to each other.

Fyodor doesn't.

It's a message that is heavily implied and then outright stated by Dazai in the last episode:

The reason why Fyodor fails is that he doesn't trust in people and because he doesn't understand humans in that regard - he thinks that he is above this concept, thinks he can manipulate them and that they're just pawns. It's shown in the way he talks about Sigma, it's shown in the fact that he chose to use Chuuya who is Dazai's partner against Dazai to dangle him in front of Dazai and it's shown when he mocks Dazai for not being "able" to use a "gravity manipulator" and drops the famous line of them having a "shallow bond".

Fyodor is arrogant and very confident in his own abilities, including the one to control those around him. That's what makes him slacking though, he can't comprehend that a plan that relies on a bond and trust would be able to deceive and defeat him and the closer he gets to his goal, the less he cares. That's why he allows Dazai this last speech in 109 too, he doesn't think anything can defeat him. Dazai is at his wit's end, Fyodor is the winner. There's no way that Dazai has a backup plan, Fyodor is a genius and he already thought of everything that could possibly be, so there's no way, right?

Mersault always was about showing what humans are capable of and what they can achieve and that trusting in your allies, in your bonds with the people you love, makes you more capable and achieve higher goals. And it's exactly what happened.

Dazai states that he doesn't have control over all things, that he had a lot of uncertain cards. But he trusted in his allies and it pays off. He wins not because he has it all figured out from the start and a backup plan for the backup plan of the backup plan, he did his part of the plan and adjusted to the scene and left the rest in full trust with his allies.

This pilot stabbing Fyodor worked because Dazai trusted in the agency and Ranpo and them taking over control the vampires in time. And the rest of the Mersault story before all this?

That brings me to my next point, actually. We learn in the episode that it was all a SKK scheme:

Now, some people were unsatisfied that a plan that simple couldn't fool Fyodor, but I think that is exactly the point of it. Chuuya is a great actor (in Stormbringer he fools with grief and shock Albatross in thinking he saved the in two halves separated Doc for example) and the simplicity of this plan is what makes it so good against Fyodor - why would he assume that the great Dazai, his intellectual equal, another genius, would go through with such a plan?

And it's even better because it isn't actually Dazai's! Now, I have seen a lot of people talking about this and I admit that I assumed the opposite originally as well, that this was all Dazai's scheme, but thanks to a moot I took a closer look on the storytelling and I realized something:

Dazai describes here the moment he realized that Chuuya is on his side in my opinion. This wasn't a "Dazai orchestrated the whole thing and sent Chuuya a text to haul his ass over to Mersault" because it doesn't fit with the storyline. Especially the speech in chapter 101 stands out here - a lot of people are making jokes about how weird and gay of a plan the speech is, but I actually think, based on the situation and the voice acting from Mamoru Miyano, that this goodbye speech is a genuine one.

The speech in 101 seems very genuine down to the point of his fake goodbye in the end, meanwhile the tone of a similar speech in 109 has completely shifted.

And what happened between 101 and 109? Exactly. The elevator.

So, what I'm thinking is this: Dazai saw that Fyodor had Chuuya under control and he knows his partner, he can't quite believe that Chuuya would get himself captured, it's gotta be a plan, right? Soukoku isn't actually the brains-and-brawn duo even though everyone thinks that, but Dazai knows how capable and smart Chuuya is. He hid Arahabaki from him and figured out Rimbaud after all.

But still, there is this bit of doubt nurtured by fear - he trusts Chuuya, but what if this isn't his Chuuya? So his goodbye speech is both:

An attempt to snap Chuuya out of it, an attempt to communicate with him, the hope that carries him because this is his partner, right? Stupid Chuuya that always fights and always clings to life and knows to appreciate it a lot more than Dazai.

But also a genuine goodbye, just... in case. Because he could never forgive himself if he doesn't say goodbye to Chuuya, JUST IN CASE. He trusts and believes in Chuuya, but he can't not say goodbye to him, just in case that Fyodor really got Chuuya.

And then the elevator scene happens and Dazai realizes: He only has one way of surviving, but he will not drag Sigma into this, not if he can help it. And he made a promise to him, after all. So, Dazai pushes Sigma out, makes sure that Sigma is alive like he promised. Then he keeps falling.

The only one that can save him now is Chuuya and Dazai decides to trust him. If this is his Chuuya, Chuuya will save him. Because that is what they do: Soukoku come to each other's call, they trust each other with their life and in return get that life saved by the other.

And if this isn't his Chuuya? Well, then Dazai died for the sake of the agency and he probably thinks that this is a good way to die, too.

But he doesn't die. He gets saved by Chuuya of course, how could he have ever considered something else? Chuuya came to his help and he has a plan. So, now all Dazai has to do is play along, just like in old times.

I wanna talk about this specific part of 109 too - I saw people arguing that the fact that Chuuya has been acting all the time made the scenes less impactful for the plot or their bond, but I actually would argue the opposite. Like I just laid out, in my opinion he only learnt just before this that Chuuya is on his side. That means, they don't have an actual plan that they discussed before, but they're good, they're Soukoku - we have seen in Dead Apple during the Dragonhead's Conflict and in the Dragon fight 6 years later what they are capable of without much communication.

But this is not only a way to show off their flawless communication and synchronization again, it also shows us something that we always knew but that is now plainly laid out: Dazai trusts Chuuya with his life. He trusts Chuuya to shoot, but not kill him.

Truly, you could say:

"The core characterization of Dazai and Chuuya's partnership is based on pure trust where both of them are capable of leaving each other's life on the other's hand without a second thought or doubt." - from the Dead Apple guide book

Chuuya acting from the very beginning as vampire and Dazai finding out along with a leap of faith and them proving once again the close bond they share is exactly the way this arc was supposed to go and the fact that it was predictable in that sense doesn't make it bad writing. In contrary. Asagiri set up and delivered the message of the arc extremely well, the arc had a clear red string following through all of it.

And this is why, in my opinion, this arc was actually written very well and why Fyodor's defeat is actually a good break for his character arc (because I don't believe he is dead, but this here is already way too long and many others have pointed plenty why he probably isn't dead) and why I really like the message of the Mersault arc.

[yeyinde]

This might sound so cringe and cliche, but I wanna be of help in some way-

how about price faking injuries to see a specific nurse he has a crush on but won’t admit.

Cringe and cliche are quite on brand for me, tbh.

It starts as a concussion, a stiffness in his neck. A pinch in his shoulder. 

Then it changes shape, shifting, evolving, into something more. A tenuous dance held together by silken threads. He tugs on the ends sometimes, just to watch little pieces of you begin to unravel. Raw skin, untouched and new bared to his curious eyes. 

You’ve thrown him off-kilter, left him feeling strange. All asunder. 

He shouldn’t be too surprised by the way you unmoor him so easily. Your eyes swallow the atmosphere around him, eating through gravity. Weightless, he’s left to drift in the aether until you snatch him from the air, leaving him wing-clipped, and kept cupped in the soft swells of your palm. 

It’s greed, he thinks. That awful little thing that makes him keep coming back for more.

The helicopter crash did a number of things on him—mild concussion, a fractured rib, sprained wrist; it seemed to have flipped his insides all askew for a moment when he plunged to the earth before somehow righting themselves when he'd landed—but in retrospect, hindsight, whatever, it could have been a lot worst. 

A fact Gaz seemed to have picked up on quicker than he had when they'd met in the medical bay together, holding their broken bodies with trembling hands. 

(Or maybe threaded together by a statuette of Nefertem laced in the fibres of their hearts.)

"What's this now," Gaz asked when he limped in, knee smarting without the surge of adrenaline keeping him upright. Mirth rolling through his teeth, ge offered Price a fractured grin that very likely might have been a grimace. "Two for two? Might be a sign, cap…"

"A sign for what?"

Gaz shrugged, pressing tender fingers against the gash on his forehead. "Stay the fuck out of helicopters. Take the bloody bus instead."

There's a retort in the back of his throat, but it's swallowed when you walk in, hands gripping a medical bag between blanching knuckles. He's closest to the door, and you turn to him with an air of pensive uncertainty that nudges the spot inside of him that preens under authority. That likes law, order, and the simplicity of life. A natural-born leader. He plays the part, of commander and captain, and dips his head toward Gaz, a silent motion meant to convey him first. 

The always in that is ironclad, he thinks. Brassbound. Even if he was bleeding out on the pavement. His men, his boys, first. 

Except, he catches Gaz doing the same thing toward him. A stalemate, then. 

You're new, he notes; ears still wet, face still green. He braces himself to step in, to lay down the authority you need before you flounder, unsure what to do, but instead of being met with uncertainty, he finds himself breathing in your ire. 

"Well, heroes," you snip, brow pinching together in displeasure. "One of you has to go first, don't you? So while I put my stuff on the table, I expect you to have figured it out amongst yourself, yeah?"

And it's—

It's something. 

A strand of static in the air. Direct current to his heart. It thuds in a strange murmuration, off rhythm, off balance. But it makes sense. You'd thrown him so wildly off kilter. 

He clears his throat of the soot that congeals the back, and nods once. Sharp and jerky. 

"Right, yeah…" 

Price turns to Gaz, brows pinched in the middle. A messy bow. 

It isn't like him to be so askew, but you turned everything upside down before he could familiarise himself with the world in its right state. He's adrift for a moment. Floundering, he notes, tasting something sweet behind his teeth. 

Gaz meets his eyes somewhere in the fog, the furrow in his brow asking the questions he won't voice aloud—you alright, cap?—but he isn't sure what he's meant to say. Everything feels like it was knocked loose inside of him, left to roll off shelves and clatter to the floor. Disorganised chaos. Awash. Lost in tangled webs. He isn't used to this. To feeling so useless, so askew. 

He later finds it just the concussion warping the edges of his mind, turning his thoughts into a slurry. That the mild part was an oversight, one that was immediately corrected by you—firm fingers holding his chin still, nails scratching against his beard as you peered into his eyes with a clinical air of detachment that shouldn't have made his heart beat as loud as it was. 

You smell of summer rain. The musk of water on a hot pavement. He breathes it in until it's clogging the back of his throat, so thick he can almost taste it. So heavy, so heady, his head swims. Ozone. Charred wood. War tucked in a bottle.

The soft fingers against his pulse was a shock, made potent by the little curl of your brow when you counted the beats per minute and found they were much too fast. He isn't embarrassed. Doesn't think he has it in him anymore to feel that way, but there's a sense of frustration in the back of his mind as you move around him, commandeering him with an ease that leaves him feeling a little breathless. 

"You're concussed," you say at last, lips pitching downward as you read his charts, the scrawl left behind by the nurse who'd seen him earlier. The one who promptly sent him to you. "And it isn't mild."

With that, and a list of things he ought to do (non-negotiable), you send him on his way. Gaz, too. Fixed up with gauze and made shiny and new. 

Soap asks why he's so quiet later when they meet for a debriefing later on (one that he knows is definitely on the list of things you told him not to do), and has to stop the rip current from spilling past his lips. 

"He's concussed," Gaz supplied, narrowed eyes clipping the side of his face when it lands; a physical blow. "Doc said he needed rest. But good luck telling him that."

"Don't need rest," he grumbles. There's a blossom of pain in his temple. A little sapling that flourishes under the waning sunlight. "'M fine."

They don't believe him, but the debriefing is too short to push him to lay down, and he spends the next hour pretending he's not seeing shadows in his periphery. That the words on the pages don't bleed together. 

(That the scent of Petrichor doesn't glue to the back of his throat.)

When the hurt in his head dims, he finds his thoughts drifting back to you. Meek and unassuming. A wolf in sheep's clothing. It lingers long after the meeting has ended and he's ushered to the barracks for rest. Home tomorrow, Gaz promises on the tail end of yawn. Gonna sleep for a whole year, I think. 

Aye, gonna head home in the morning, Soap murmurs, but his eyes don't stray from the corner where Ghost leans, chin dipped low to his chest. 

(Price wouldn't put it past him to be asleep already.)

They tell him to get some sleep, dressing the worry in their voice as a friendly admonishment, and he takes it as it is. 

But rest doesn't come. 

He's curious about you. The little hellion that managed to snatch him clean from the air, and cup him in the palm of your too-small hands. 

(He wants to feel it again.)

It begins as idle curiosity.

Price is a large man full of bulk and grit. The snarls in his throat command authority, respect. He isn't used to feeling so wing clipped, sidelined, and he blames that on why he seeks you out. 

A pinch in his shoulder. His chest feels swollen around the broken rib. His knee hurts. There's an ache in his throat. A throb in his kidneys. 

Each time is met with the same stern expression, firm hands. You commandeer him around the room, dragging out the ailments with ease that always seems to leave him off-kilter and breathless. 

He realises what it is the fourth time he comes to your office, exacerbating some mild pain. 

You take up space. All of it. Any crevasse, or corner is immediately filled by you. You have this presence about you that is so at odds with the meek façade you carried on your countenance like an ill-fitting mask when he'd first laid eyes on you. 

You're an enigma, a paradox. A riddle begging to be solved. He wants to take you into his hands and pull you apart until your insides are bared to him, true and real, and known. 

He's met people like you in his lifetime. Leaders in roles that don't fit them. He thinks you belong in worn pages of history, tucked behind a desk as you commandeer the world around you with firm hands and a gnarled smile instead of standing before him, musing softly at whatever ailments he throws your way. 

Despite his plethora of issues, you tackle them all with an air of severity and seriousness that he finds kinship in, touching softly at the twined mass that writhes before him. The cuts in your gaze are made from the same shorn razor as his, and he wants to see what's behind that ill-fitting mask. 

He wants to see you slip. 

But you don't. 

Tongue between teeth, clenched so hard that blood blooms and swells in the tip, you keep everything locked tight to your chest, and usher him out with pantomime remedies to heal his farcical hurts. 

Price isn't sure why he keeps going—curiosity, maybe. An attraction that cracks like lightning striking through his chest. A gale of turbulence that leaves him seaswept and standing on shaking knees. He doesn’t know what to do with the kinetic energy that buzzes in his veins, begging to be free, and so he tests. Pulls and tugs at the seams that keep you spooled tightly together just to see that fissure that once split across your face, leaking fury and fire into the air until it ripped through his nerves, an electrical fire, and set him alight from the inside out. 

(He finds he likes the way it hurts.)

As much as he tugs, he finds he likes it when you pull back. 

"Should be careful," you coo, and the syrupy sweetness of your voice sparks against some dormant part of his mind. "You seem to have a lot of bad luck when it comes to ailments."

He shrugs. "Just unlucky."

"Or you're being cursed." 

"Oh, yeah?" He hums. "Could be." 

You offer a flimsy smile, but it’s enough to soothe the ruffle through his plumage. 

"What's your name?" He asks, fingers plucking at the gossamer that sits between you, unsettled by the quiver in his chest. 

The smile you flash at him is all teeth. "Sekhmet."

Laswell doesn't ask why when he requests your records, but he senses the confusion in her voice when she calls. 

"All of them?" 

He grunts in response. 

"I vetted them personally, John… but," there's a shuffle in the background. Boxes sliding on linoleum. She's overseeing the tearing up of Shepherd's office, and this minute request suddenly turns his stomach sour. "Fine. If that's what you want."

"It's just—"

He isn't quite sure what to say. He was weakened and flummoxed by the world around him. You turned the tipping axis on its head, leaving him feeling asunder. 

"Heard they were quite rough with you," she teases, an olive branch. An excuse. "Bossing around the boss. Is this what it's about?"

He scoffs, then, and only feels an inkling of pain. "No, Laswell. And I wasn't bossed around."

"Manhandled?"

It gives him pause. That feeling from before swells in his chest. Soft hands against his talons, clipping his wings. 

"No," he mutters, but the airiness of his voice gives him away. 

Laswell, in a feat of mercy, just hums. "They're good, John. Good for this team."

Good for you, she doesn't say. John thinks she doesn't have to. He hears it, anyway. 

There are cracks inside of him, ones made from the chipped clay that once concealed an unslaked black hole. 

You fill space, he thinks. 

He isn’t surprised to find you fill the gaps inside of him, too. 

He goes again, but this time it’s real. A bullet grazed his shin, deep enough to warrant stitches, and finds you waiting for him with that clipboard pinched between your hands. 

The look on your face gives him pause. It’s pulled taut, coiled like a defensive viper, but where he expects the same clinical efficiency and detached airs, he instead is met with a palpable sense of uncertainty—too much, he thinks, like the first time you walked into the room, unsure and wobbling on unsteady feet. 

His heart thunders under your prying gaze. “Need some stitches,” he says, if only to fill in the terse silence that settles over the room, hushed and aggrieved. 

“Right,” you echo, eyes dropping to the blood that runs in streaking rivulets down his leg. 

And you say nothing else after, working quietly as you knit skin back together and sponge the drying blood from the wry thatch of curls that blanket his shin. 

Price takes in the paleness of your lip, pinched tight against your clenched teeth. The deep ravine that cuts a line between your brows, heavy with shadows and flooded in some strange amalgamation of anger—potent enough that he can catch the embers in the air on his tongue—and this uncharacteristic sense of disquiet that makes your shoulders tense, your hands slacken. The firm, sure touch is gone—replaced, instead, with clouded unease—and you no longer commandeer him around the room, catch him from the air and manoeuvre him to your fanciful whims. You nudge, now. Soft utterances; requests. 

You don’t move space to fit yourself between the brackets. You linger in the periphery. 

He isn’t accustomed to this, and the hesitancy in your brow needles behind his ribs, pinching and pushing until he’s left feeling that same, strange sense of weightlessness as before. But where you led him around by the tip of his ears, he finds himself unmoored. 

(He likes the loss of control, but only when it’s tethered to your hand.)

His wound is patched up, skin knitted together with silken black lines that cut a neat crisscross through his tumid skin. There is no reason to linger, despite the weight on his tongue urging him to speak. 

But you strike first, catching him at the door. 

"Is there a problem?" You ask, words stripped bare, and masticated between clenched teeth. Reluctance is a heavy weight on your brow when he turns to you, as if you don't want to ask, but are compelled to. Forced to. 

It's the first time he's felt any sense of control around you. He stretches his wings. 

"Problem?" He echoes, and tucks his hands beneath his arms. Steadying his stance. Preparing for the fight. 

You mimic his pose, but grab the knobs of your elbows between tense fingers instead. There's fire in your eyes. The room fills with smoke. 

"You asked for my papers."

The meagre file tucked away in his cabinet spoke of your accomplishments in the same detached, clinical distance as one of the many façades you adopt. It listed your education, your former employment, and your accolades in Times New Roman, all standard affairs. Impressive, of course, but he found it all to be quite lacklustre. 

It didn't mention the firmness of your fingers when you take his pulse or commandeer him to your liking. It said nothing about the paralysing weight in your gaze, vipers tucked in the corners of your eyes when he meets your stolid authority with his own fiery wrath. 

(Or the softness of your cheeks when you try to hide a smile. The admonishing pinches made in jest when he says something that distracts you from your task.)

"I did."

"Okay," you breathe heavily through your nose. "Why?"

"Is there any reason why I shouldn't?" 

"You just—" another breath. He has the peculiar urge to syphon the next directly from your lungs, to taste your air on his tongue. "You come here, week after week, with some—illness, and just—"

"Just what?"

"If you have a problem," you say at length, eyes flashing. "You could have come to me? One on one. I would have—"

"A problem?" He singles the word out, tossing it back at your teeth. “I don’t have a problem.”

You laugh, but it's scathing. "Are you undermining me? Is this—hazing?"

“Hazing? No,” he shakes his head, chasing the tail end of your derision. “Consider this vetting.”

And there it is—that fissure. Heat pops from the lavascape, spilling down the split of your lips. 

“Right.” You snip, shaking your head. “Well, I hope I met your expectations, Price.”

He huffs, then. The noise is a broken facsimile of a laugh forced through crooked teeth. “Of course you do.” The pinch in your brow wobbles. “Wouldn’t be here if you didn’t, love.”

He rents the air with his admission, splits the seams of this tenuous dance you make each week he shows up, speaking of some phantom pain ripped the pages of the textbooks that sit, worn and well-loved, on the shelves behind your desk. 

You say nothing when he leaves. 

(Or when he rests a piece of himself on the doorframe—a glossy feather from his primary remiges just for you.)

He doesn’t go for the next three weeks, but it isn’t cowardice that drags him away from this oddly shaped choreography. He’s caught in a storm halfway across the world with sand in his hair, and the curve of your confusion nudged between the fibrils of his chest. 

In the softness of night, he wonders what you've done with his clipped feather. 

Price meets you at the beginning, but this time, he stands in the medical bay with firm knees, and a clear head. Searching, seeking. 

The thread vibrates, and he finds you with your back to him, doling out gentle, firm, commands to the medical staff congregated around you. Clinging to your breathy orders with the same listless uncertainty that makes his chest swell with the urge to lead whenever it's rested on his shoulders. 

He isn't sure if you can feel the reverberations through the thread, the leftover sutures from when you weaved a needle over the cut on his forearm, and accidentally sewed a piece of yourself into his skin, or if it's just the heavy weight of his gaze burning brands into your back that draws your attention. 

(It certainly garners enough from the staff around you, their flighty eyes flickering from the mountain of a man seething at your back, to you—feigning obliviousness as he strips you bare beneath his glacial gaze, cutting a path to your membrane where he knows he'll find the piece of himself that you snipped off months ago.)

When you finally turn, you give a peculiar look over your shoulder, eyes clouded over, gaze inward. He watches you for a moment, taking in the curve of your cheek, the slope of your nose. Foreign, of course; but familiar under the cloak of darkness and the hail of gunfire. 

The fire still burns in your unreachable depths, but the embers are smouldering. He feels the heat even from this distance, but when you return from whatever thoughts were racing through your head, he finds the look that fixes itself there to be strange. Pensive. 

A quiet contemplation as you take in the length of his shoulders, the width of his chest. 

His heart hammers against the cages of his sore ribs, leaping to the base of his throat where it pulses like a raw wound. 

The whole of his body smarts like a massive contusion—muscles bending at odd angles, bones brittle—but he knows in an instant that he won't mention it to you. He'll tuck the hurt aside. Let it moulder. Let it rot. 

This thing between you—crafted from the design of his heart—has been pulled and pinched, flexed and stretched too taut. It's ready to snap. To break. 

He waits for that moment, bracing himself for the inevitability of the recoil clapping him against the chest, but it doesn't happen. 

You give a small dip of your chin. 

Then, you're gone. 

You've been moulding him between form hands since the beginning, moving him around however you please. 

So, it just feels natural when he follows. 

This time it's his chest. 

You go through the same dance, steps known. Ingrained in muscle memory. Your hands are firm, authoritative as you lead him on this little chase, pushing and pulling, tugging on the threads that keep him sewn up and whole. 

But an incipient path is born. A new routine. The hand on his cheek, as you read his temperature, lingers, thumb brushing over the dividing line that separates skin from wry curls. 

The touch is familiar. You’re no strange to feeling around the phantom aches and pains he presents to you, but this is an electric shock that rattles through his nerves. The trail your thumb leaves behind as it strokes idly at his skin prickles and burns. Goosebumps rise, creating cresting hills and peaks along his topography. You map it all with nimble fingers, firm and sure. 

You take the thermometer out of his mouth after a moment, not even pretending to read the results (thirty-seven degrees, always), and it’s tossed back on the tray quickly before your hand returns to his skin, drawn there by that same innate pull he feels in his iron bones. The warmth of your palm threatens to suffuse his skin, mated together in ferromagnetism. 

His chin rests, plinthed in your palms, and there’s a sudden swell, a rush, that gorges on his heart. The façades fall, clattering to the ground. The broken pieces lay in remains by his feet. 

Price doesn’t spare them a glance. 

Can’t, maybe, because in azimuth he finds that solidary feather he plucked for you resting between your teeth. 

Wonderment. Awe. He feels the surge of something ripping through his body—a paroxysm—but he can’t look away from the shapes of your bare face; the imperfect asymmetry, the wrought iron lines, the convulsing atoms. It’s mesmerising. 

And maybe it’s an electrical phenomenon—no let go—but he doesn’t spare it a single thought, even as the current burrows deeper into his chest, igniting his tissue until red-hot, blistering, charred. Even then, even with the scent of smouldering, necrotising flesh brimming cloyingly into his scenes, the absolute apathy he feels for himself at that moment is a testament to the unshakeable draw, that primal magnetism that glues him to you; met in perfect equilibrium in the middle.

It’s you who moves, who splints the poles until they fall apart when you let your hand drop.

But you’re not finished. The tips of your fingers move, a long peregrination down the twisting, sloping topography of his visage; snaking down his temple, the dip of his nose, the rough bushel of curls, the soft pout of his lips, the ulotrichous hair along his cheek and jaw, the long decline of his check, the ridged of his collarbones, the swell of his chest. It’s there where it lingers, fingers spreading like webs along the birdcage of his thundering heart. 

Price watches you, rapturous and nearly choking himself on the avarice that spills from his heaving lungs. 

You rest the flat of your palm there for a beat; lost in perambulation. Feasting on the thud of his heart. 

He thinks you’ve had your fill. Quenched yourself. 

But when you look up from the slight tremor of your hand, pulsing in time with his hurried beats, the look in your eyes is distinctly unslaked. 

(—and he can’t stop the rumble from spilling out of his chest at the sight.)

Price isn’t sure how long you stay like that. Minutes, seconds, hours. Aeons might have passed since you let your mask slip. Since he plucked at threads keeping it upright. But he shakes back into cognisance when you pull away, cutting through space and time, and filling the gaps once more with the heavy weight of your presence. 

“You’ll be fine,” you say over your shoulder, reaching for your clipboard. “A little rest is all you need, captain.”

There’s an insurmountable number of things he can say, but you press on his throat, and he swallows them down, nodding at your back instead. 

The cloven strands fall around him, broken with distance. There’s an urge in his bones to sew back into his skin, to press them like drying flowers into the folds of his heart where they’ll say, nurtured on his blood and suffused into his being. He rests his laurels on it for a moment, feels the weight of his want, his desire, and compares it to the fraying wisps dragging along the linoleum. 

But he doesn’t reach for them. 

He is wing clipped and flightless. You hold the only feather that gives him lift between the monoliths of your teeth. 

A fine place to keep it, he thinks and turns around, ready to leave on unsteady feet, but—

"Seven," you say, firm and sure. No nonsense. But when he turns, he catches the pallor of your knuckles gripped tight around the clipboard. You hold it to your chest like a shield. The vipers in your eyes quiet their hissing, tongues lashing out to scent the air. "There's this place in Manchester that makes the best Beef Suya."

You're not asking him. 

(But you don't really have to, do you?)

His lips pull up. He catches the drifting threads in his bare palm. "Manchester, mm?"

"I hope you like a little bit of spice."

"I can handle the heat." 

You swallow thickly, and he thinks the action on anyone else might be easily mistaken for nerves, but the livewire that pulls taut between you thrums with a heavy sense of anticipation. 

"I hope so, John," he startles at the mention of his name. It makes your lips curl back, and he shouldn't find it so mesmerising when can't tell if it's a smile or a sneer. "Otherwise I'd be quite disappointed." 

His chin dips to his chest. It renders his voice to little more than smoke and ash, but you shudder from across the room at the growl. 

"Wouldn't want that, now, would we?" 

It isn't breathless when you speak, but he licks his lips and tastes the pulsing excitement that sparks in the air. It curls in his lungs. Saltwater on burning coals. 

"Don't be late." 

It's a promise, he thinks; a warning, too. A threat. "Wouldn't dream of it, love."

He turns away from you, shielding the growing smile from your searching gaze, but your voice stops him short at the door, fingers curled around the frame.

“And Price?”

“Yes, love?” He calls, featherlight in a way he hasn’t felt since he was eighteen and free. Ready to soar, to fly.

"You know," you say, brows knotting together. Despite the severity of your expression, there's a note of playfulness between your teeth. "If you wanted to see me, you could have just asked." 

After dinner, they fucked so nasty that Qadesh could be heard gagging across the aether.

[avatarmerida]

Stay

I can’t focus on other thing rn becuse @turquoisespace35’s mythology AU has taken over my brain so here’s a little drabble I wrote for it based mostly on this and this part 💛💚

———

“I don’t want you to go.”

He said it as firmly as he could. He had practiced it over and over again but still his voice shook. She had been honest with him from day one and there was still so much he hadn’t told her. He knew it might be selfish, might be impossible, might be too much, but he also knew she wouldn’t want him to hold it in. It wasn’t an order or request or even an invitation, it more like like a dream.

Once the moon entered the sky the gates would open and she would be able to leave. No one had ever been able to leave before. How ironic the one person who could was the only one he didn’t want to. He didn’t have a good reason or solid argument. It wasn’t logical or practical but it was true. He just knew that he wanted her to stay with him, everything else was just noise.

“What?” She asked in a tone Hunter couldn’t quite place. Was she shocked? Offended? Scared? Or had she just not heard him?

“I… want you to stay,” he tried rephrasing it. Maybe this was more honest. He didn’t want to be too honest too quickly because he knew what he really wanted was too much. He wanted every minute of every hour to be touched by her presence. He wanted to experience every sunrise and sunset with her. He wanted to cover his dreary island with vibrant flowers for her and sit beneath the apple tree as they exchanged stories. He wanted stories with her, he wanted to make memories they could revisit and share and have more time together than they had apart. He wanted the complicated simplicity she has shown him for the rest of his days. He wanted to ensure she knew nothing but kindness and gratitude for the rest of hers.

But above all he wanted her.

“But Hunter, I have to go back…” she started just as he knew she would.

“I know, I know,” he stammered, looking at the ground. “I know you do. I know you have a life back there. I know you have friends and your fathers and a future but I just… I needed to tell you. I know it’s crazy but I just needed to tell you or I’d regret it but Willow I just… can’t imagine the island without you.”

She smiled. “I have to go back,” she said again, scooting over to sit closer to him, reaching over to bring his face up to see hers. “To tell everyone how wonderful you really are.”

“What?”

“The emperor can’t keep spreading these lies about you,” she said softly, a few of his snakes nuzzling her hand to help express Hunter’s joy. “You’re not a monster and I won’t let him keep sending soldiers here to hurt you. All these statues, I know they were made out of fear. I know you would never try to hurt anyone. I know you’re kind, and sweet, and smart and me going back alive and unharmed will prove that. I need them to know you like I know you.”

I don’t care if they know me, he though. I only care if you do.

“And when I come back, I’ll bring you the sweet bread my dad makes and we can have a proper picnic when we watch the sunset and maybe figure out how-.”

“You’d come back?” He said breathlessly.

“Of course I will,” she said simply, scratching the closest snake to her on the top of its head. Will, she had said. Will, not would. A promise not a possibility. She didn’t even hesitate. “I’d miss you too much. All of you.”

“But why?” It would be easier to stay away, it would be understandable. He didn’t want it to be true so he wasn’t sure why he wanted her to put more thought into it. He just couldn’t understand how she could be so sure of him.

“Because I like you.” Again, she didn’t hesitate. She didn’t flinch. If she needed to lie she could’ve said anything, but Hunter knew she didn’t need or want to lie. She never had before.

“I… I like you too.” He said softly and the snakes hissed at him to speak up! They agreed! Say it again! Say it louder! Say it with confidence! “We uh, all like you.”

Her hand remained on the side of his face, her thumb gently brushing his cheek. She did this often, saying it help her memorize his features. The fact that she found them worth remembering made Hunter’s heart spin. He leaned into the touch and placed his hand over hers, intending to hold it there as long as she would allow. “So it’s settled then.”

He more than just liked her. He liked apples, he liked to read, but she was more than sustainably or a way to pass the time. She was his whole world.

“But what if they don’t let you come back?” He whispered, feeling unshed tears stinging his eyes. They had sent her here to die and when they saw she hadn’t, what would be next? Would she be celebrated? Would they send her to islands with more to fear to test her abilities? Would they deem her sentence unserved and try to kill her again? “W-what if they don’t believe you or what i-if they-.”

“Hey,” she cut him off and pressed her forehead to his. The snakes rested atop her head and by her checks, her calmness contagious. Their silence gave Hunter a moment of peace, a chance to focus on this moment with her. She was not worried. Somehow she was so sure of everything. She was so sure of him. She was so sure of this. “Have I ever lied to you?”

“No.”

“So when I say I’m coming back, I’m coming back,” she said with confidence. “I’m not gonna let the emperor or the rules or anyone stop me. I don’t know how they’ll respond but I have to try. You deserve that. But no matter what, I will be back with you.”

“I just… want to keep you safe.” He admitted, turning his head to the side to kiss her hand before bringing it down to their side. Their fingers danced together until they delicately intertwined as though they could not be kept apart. He knew she could take care of herself. He knew she was strong and tough and smart. But he also knew how cruel the outside world had been to her and he would do anything to ensure she was only treated the way she deserved to be treated for the rest of her days. He looked down at their hands, how they fit together so naturally. They shouldn’t work, but they did.

“You have,” she whispered, resting her nose beside his. He could feel her breath hovering across his lips. There was something else in her voice, as though he had done something else. As though she knew there was more he wanted and she was waiting and wanting to tell him he had that too.

This would not be his last night with her. They would have more long walks talking about nothing and everything. They would have more quiet evenings making up stories and blissful mornings gathering berries and finding reasons to be near each other. But there was something that a night like this inspired. Maybe it was the chatty snakes atop his head who had been constantly pleading with him to do all of this much sooner. But the sunset seemed to linger to offer them the ambience, as though telling the moon it could not come to open the gate until Willow had a farewell worth remembering. Until she knew exactly what she was returning to.

“I just… want to keep you… because…”

He didn’t give her a chance to ask for him to clarify as the small space between them vanished as his mouth covered hers. His other hand rose up to cup her cheek as he dared to repeatedly press his lips to hers. He wanted her to know it was purposeful. He wanted to give her the chance to pull away, but she seemed just as drawn to him as she titled her head to follow him as he moved.

Their lips had touched once before, after he had shown her the spot where the sunset was the brightest on the island. It has been only a moment and he had convinced himself it was accidental, that she had merely been trying to see him better.

But this, oh he knew what this was. He wanted her to know too. It was all the words he couldn’t say, that he didn’t know how to say, that hadn’t been invented yet. The snakes went crazy and hummed and hissed as they tried to process the emotions he felt. But it was too strong and too new and so they trusted him to sort it out for himself, not wanting to spoil anything. It was every time he wanted to be closer to her but walked away, it was a question and explanation all in one, it was natural and unnatural at the same time. His feelings for her were so simple, but that was what made them complicated. This was a goodbye and hello wrapped into one. This beautiful, building contradiction that she returned with vigor, reaching out to place her free hand on his waist to pull him closer.

“Well I guess I don’t have to leave right away,” she said softly as he pulled away for a brief moment to breathe. Her breathing was labored and her face was flushed as she let go of his hand to wrap her arm around her neck to bring him back down to her as she deepened the kiss. Hunter felt as though he was about to burst, feeling her lips form a smile against his. They were so soft and Hunter was so focused on how comfortable and warm he felt that he relaxed and crashed into her, nearly falling off the bench as Willow proceeded to kiss him with power and eagerness. But Hunter managed to steady them, not intending on letting clumsiness end the moment early as his whole world held him tightly.

He moved his arms to the small of her back, holding her just as tightly as he was convinced he was about to float away and only she could keep him bound to the earth. They both knew that her mission would not be simple, would not easy. They didn’t not know how long they would be apart. They didn’t know what trials awaited them. They only knew what they meant to each other, and they believed that this feeling was strong enough to endure anything and everything.

Willow let out a small laugh, and Hunter didn’t think much of it. He loved the sound of her laugh, the more of her that could be in the moment the better. But then her laugh became louder and a Hunter became worried he was doing something wrong. He had never kissed anyone before but he was fairly certain it wasn’t usually a laughing matter. As he slowly pulled away to see the cause, she followed him not wanting to leave the moment. She laughed again.

He looked and saw the source: the snakes were peppering her face with tiny kisses of their own.

“Sorry, hehe, it tickles,” she giggled as the snakes continued, much to his horror (though he could hardly blame them). But he quickly got over it, as the sight of her laughing in the rosy pink light of the setting sun drew him back in as he lunged forward to reunite their lips.

This time he did cause them to fall off the bench and Willow laughed as she was surrounded in affection. She hadn’t even left yet and already she missed him.

As Hunter and Willow continued to prolong their farewell, they didn’t notice the moon enter position. There was no urgency to act when it did, they had a few hours to seize it. But as the door opener slowly, three soldiers cautiously entered the domain. Swords at the ready, hearts determined, Luz, Amity and Gus walked forward to recuse their friend. A year of training had prepared them for anything, they had no idea what the monster was capable of. Luz scanned their surrounding when a familiar laugh made her cast her eyes down to the ground. She drew her sword and called to the others in panic.

“Oh my Titan, the monster is trying to eat Willow’s face!”

[babyastrowitch]

MOON SIGN OBSERVATIONS

give credits!

Aries Moon

are actually super chill people! they're really funny and passionate, can be artsy/interested in painting and drawing. anger problems. their mom was independent and could've been a bit selfish. this moon placement can also indicate selfishness.

Taurus Moon

enjoys simplicity in life (eating, sleeping, etc). can be prone to laziness. mother is a good cook/mother expressed love through meals. mother could've been very affectionate but very stubborn.

Gemini Moon

you see both sides to everything. could be prone to gossiping, "snakey" behaviour. This is simply because they want to be on everyone's good side. communication is so important for this moon sign. they also think humour and wit are very attractive. the mother is expressive and intelligent, but there could've been some unreliability with her. also don't tell a gemini moon your secrets.

Cancer moon

every single cancer moon i know has some sort of strained relationship with their mothers. they had to grow up fast at a young age and learn to mother themselves. they tend to be the og mom friend in the friend group and always looking to help mother people (especially men). can be passive aggressive and moody!

Leo moon

it's giving sharpay vibes. very glam and always looking at their reflection. these people come off as confident but have extreme insecurities with their appearance. their mother had a huge presence in life, a lot of subconscious fear of not living up to their mothers expectations.

Virgo moon

CLEAN YOUR ROOM LMAOOOO you guys are so messy but it's because of the amount of mess inside of your heads. you guys overthink to the maximum it stresses me OUT! you guys love your mothers so much and you would do anything for her, however there is always something that you needed from her that she wasn't able to provide for you.

Libra moon

you guys are the nicest, always trying to bring harmony and balance to everything. mother may not have been very helpful with your emotional needs and you've had to learn to deal with them alone, this could cause depression in a lot of people with this placement.

Scorpio moon

honestly i'm sorry if you have this placement. i know two people very close to me and they both put up such a front with their emotions. they tend to have very tricky lives and rocky relationships with their mothers.

Sagittarius moon

actual cartoon characters. their face changes with every animated expression, and they tend to be friends with a lot of people/very easy to get along with. they're the comedians of the zodiac (if i don't say so myself). values freedom over everything, if their mother provided this then they have a very harmonious relationship.

Capricorn moon

as a sag moon, i have a hard time connecting with your serious demeanour, however you guys make the most interesting people to have conversations with. i love hearing your thought processes. you're very grounded and always seem very put together. you may have a difficult relationship with your mother and she may not have shown her vulnerability to you which makes showing emotion difficult.

Aquarius moon

they are so smart. they remember little facts about everything and love sharing it to people. they have a friendly front that gets them a lot of friends but very rarely allows people to see the "true" them. their mothers were very detached with emotions which made it very difficult for this placement to work through. the mother was very free spirited and may have had emotional outbursts.

Pisces moon

very intuitive and emotional. may be blinded by love in many different circumstances. "rose coloured glasses". very emotional connection with the mother, may have taken on her burdens as your own. may have been a caretaker to her.

[bunnies4steven]

Hellooo can I request a fic?

Steven Grant has a bimbo girlfriend who is so fascinated by Steven and how smart he is and gets happy when she gets something right, like when Steven says “good job” or “my smart girl” or “good girl,” making the reader all smiley and happy, giving Steven an ego boost, and making him all dom towards her. Maybe it's a smut where he overstimulates her?

Steven Grant x AFAB!Bimbo reader

╰┈➤ WARNINGS : NSFW, SMUT, UNPROTECTED SEX, SPANK, P IN V SEX, SMALL ORAL M RECIEVING, FINGERING, OVERSTIMULATION PET NAMES (SWEET GIRL, PRETTY, LOVE, PRETTY GIRL, PRINCESS), PRAISING KINK, ROUGH SEX, BIMBO READER, MDNI.

𓆩⚝𓆪 caution: this fic contains themes of sexual activity. if these things trigger you I advise you to not read this and click off.

If there was one thing that Steven loved about you it was your simplicity. You didn’t have many thoughts running through your head like the average person. The only thing you thought about was fashion, makeup, and your stevie. There were so many perks of having you as a girlfriend. Like, how you always chose to wear the tightest and skimpiest clothes and how adorably naive you were to how other men looked at you. When Steven first met you he tried his hardest to be the respectful man he was but when you weren’t looking he couldn’t help but stare at your plump ass under that mini skirt. Or, his fetish for how you caked yourself with makeup, which always ended up looking flawless, and how he would ruin your makeup. His favorite look on you is the mascara stains on your face as he fucked your pretty throat. He loved how when he fucked you from behind he would pull your hair back and watch your face be coated in mascara stains and your lip stick smudged. But, his favorite thing was how you looked at him. You thought Steven was a genius, and while yes he is a smart man he isn’t no Nikolas Tesla.  Every little thing that Steven did fascinated you. He could just be washing his clothes and you would stare at him in awe with your pretty doe eyes. 

You, his sweet little bimbo, gave Steven a confidence boost no one else has before. So here you were on his lap as you both read an Egyptian mythology book. When you read anything you struggle to sound it out like the class clown who was forced to read in front of the class during popcorn reading. Gosh, you really were stupid. “Aaaanuuuubis i-is t-the gooood of death?” You sounded out, Steven could only just smile and respond to you with “That’s good love. Remember confidence is key. Don’t question yourself when reading.” As you kept reading Steven gently lifted your skirt up. You weren’t wearing any panties, such a naughty little girl for him. You then asked “Stevie, what are you doing?” He then assured you, “Shhh, pretty girl, just go back to reading.” You obediently kept reading and as you read Steven’s fingers found his way to your folds. He felt your dripping wetness and he smirked. Steven gently started rubbing your sensitive bud which made you whimper, “Mmm! Stevie!” Steven then cooed at you “Keep reading for me baby. You're doing such a good job, good girl.” When he praised you your cheeks flushed. You loved when your stevie praised you for being the good girl you were. You then continued reading “A-Anubis is the g-god of death and protector of graaaves. He g-guuiidesss people to the u-underwoooorld.” Steven’s two fingers then entered your pussy which made you squeak. He pumped his fingers inside and out your pussy. His breathing got faster as he felt your tight walls grip on to his fingers which each thrust. Steven praised you, “Such a smart little girl readin’ for me while she is gettin finger fucked, innit?” You nodded and moaned. You stopped reading from how good you were feeling. His fingers curled in your wet pussy as he teased “Well don’t stop now, princess keep reading for me.” You kept reading for him just like the good little girl. You were getting closer to your orgasm. You felt your core getting warmer and your breathing getting faster. You then moaned “I’m c-cumming. Stevie m’ gonna cum!” “Cum for me princess, be a good girl and cum for me.” Steven encouraged. Your legs then trembled and you squealed. — Now here you were bouncing on Steven’s cock as you desperately tried to read the paragraph from the textbook. You have already orgasmed six times tonight. Your makeup was ruined and your mascara was running down your face. Steven hand’s gripped your ass cheeks as he sucked on your nipples as you bounced on his cock. You could barely speak and your moans filled the room. “Keep readin’ for me honey.” Steven cooed. “Mmmph! C-Can’t s’ sooo hard! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You babbled. The feeling of bouncing on his cock and feeling his thick cum and juices inside of her and on his cock made her mind fuzzy. She couldn’t read properly or think properly. “You can do it sweet girl, do it for me, be my smart girl.” Steven encouraged you. There it was his encouragement. You would’ve done anything to make your steven happy.. You then read from the book as best as you could “R-Rahhh mmm! Rah is t-the g-god of- mmph! Rah is the g-goooood of s-suuuun!” You squealed. “Good fuckin’ girl!” Steven growled before he smacked your ass. Steven was coming close to his another orgasm. His breathing got faster and he threw his head back on the couch. He felt his cock twitch as he moaned, “M’ gonna cum again, love. I want you to cum for me again, princess. Rub that little clit for me, honey.” Steven moaned and you then whined “I c-can’t cum anymore s’ too much!” “Do it for me, be my lovely girl, and do it for me.” Steven groaned before his thick cum filled your tummy. Your fingers then found your clit and you rubbed it in circles. You then screamed in pleasure, “M’ cummin!” 

[txttletale]

Because I'm curious now, what are your favorite TTRPGs? One of my personal favorites is the Kids On Bikes system and its variants for their simplicity and ease of access for new players.

so first of all--kids on bikes is very cool. it’s a nice rules-light game with a pick-up-and-play vibe. haven’t ever run it myself but i feel comfortable seconding your recommendation. anyway here’s some of my FAVOURITE TTRPGS.

Blades in the Dark is probably my enduring all-time favourite game. it’s a little flawed in places but its core loop is pure fucking elegance at play. flashbacks (you can spend stress, a metacurrency, to have done something in the past) and resistance (you can also spend stress to evade something bad that happens to you) are two of my favourite mechanics in any TTRPG ever. every player character gets to be a competent badass while also facing real, tangible danger with every moment. not to mention an incredibly well-fleshed out and evocative setting in the gaslamp fantasy nightmare city of doskvol.

Eidolon: Become Your Best Self is a game that dares to ask questions like, ‘what if jojo’s bizarre adventure was good’ and ‘what if persona, also, was good’. characters manifest the power of their souls as weird freaks with incredible powers. the ‘reveal your master plan’ mechanic works much like BiTD flashback mechanic and a smart combat system where enemies get stronger as you fight them really makes this the perfect vehicle for creative character-driven superpower-based combat. if you subscribe to the developers’ patreon you can also get access to the draft of the second edition, which does some really cool fucking things like replacing dice rolls with a tarot draw.

Lancer is the game for people who like grid-based tactical combat. it has incredible tactical depth, well-thought out mechanics that interlace perfectly--and best of all, you get to design and customize your own mech from a truly dizzying array of options to find all sorts of fucking insane synergies between abilities like ‘teleport whenever you attack somebody’ or ‘do more damage the more you overheat’. it also has a very comprehensive suite of GM tools that make it a breeze, and even fun, to create and run a balanced encounter with clearly defined and narrativly interesting goals for both sides. i’m not too into the setting for reasons i’ve talked about elsewhere, but fortunately as long as you can accomodate ‘mech combat’ into your setting, none of the worldbuilding is load-bearing to the game’s core appeal.

Microscope is totally different from a lot of TTRPGs in that it’s noit about playing characters, but about creating a world. it’s a beautiful collaborative storytelling tool with deceptively simple tools that can easily add up into your table creating a world that’s way more intricate and eclectic and fascinating than anything one of you could have come up with on your own. good for creating TTRPG settings but also good just as something to play for its own sake!!

Dream Askew would probably round out my top five, but i’ve just posted about that one here--so instead i’ll give this slot to Nobilis 3e, a game that might not be one of my favourite games to actually play, but is genuinely fascinating to read and sit with, a fucking masterful work of both design and literature, something that so distinctly creates a world and a tone that it’s instantly magnetic. not for everyone, but worth checking out.

[merrivia]

Okay, I have read the Captive Prince trilogy and have so many thoughts...

(And if you like this, I have another essay on Auguste and Laurent here) 

I think the question of why Damen first fell for Jokaste and then Laurent, is so interesting to me. Yes, there’s the blond hair/blue eyes (and the trope of opposites attract + rarity of that colouring), but I think crucially, Damen is smarter than he looks or seems, and I think, desires a partner who can match him. Not in complete equality but in a myriad of ways that achieve a sense of balance...

With Damen’s physique and fighting prowess and his cheerfully open sexual desires (ok fine, horniness), plus his innate, black and white sense of honour and fairness, you can see how people would assume that he is...well, not that bright. He’s so rooted in his physicality himself, so drawn to simplicity too, it can be difficult to see. He’s clearly not stupid, but it is human to categorise, and just like Auguste was probably seen as brawn and Laurent as brains, so Damen probably gets shoved into that first category. But one of the first things we hear about Damen from another person is that he is smart- he has a ‘mouth on him’ as one of the handlers warns. He isn’t brutally cutting and filthy in the way Laurent is; he’s just smarter and quicker than you’d expect. That first line to Laurent- ““I speak your language better than you speak mine, sweetheart.””- amply displays how he is quick; when he ironically calls Laurent’s mood “delightful”, the next day...this is not a clumsy, dumb jock. 

Even the way Damen speaks languages and understands warfare and military strategies, shows his clear intelligence- he isn’t good with the twisty machinations of Vere because it’s completely outside of what he knows. He wasn’t educated that way. Clever Laurent, as a young teenager, wasn’t good at it. No-one, we assume, is born as a ready-made Machiavellian (though arguably, Laurent’s incredibly sharp mind that is good at puzzles etc., makes him innately good at it once he learns). You also have no need for plotting and planning and intrigue, when you get what you want, by virtue of who you are. Not only is Damen the heir, and pretty much the exemplary model of Akielon masculinity, but that gives him this shield of golden self-confidence- he walks into the room, and gains love and respect immediately; failing that, everyone at least has their head on the ground. He has been given such an outpouring of love from everyone around him, he sees the world far more simply because he has never had to see it any other way. As Nikandros says, no-one has ever refused him anything. Why would he recognise the long game of political manipulation- a game to get you what you want, when you can’t have it directly? 

Over the months of Damen’s time with Laurent, he not only starts to pick up far more quickly on Laurent’s impenetrable personality but also gets a much firmer grip on Veretian (read: the Regent’s ) political intrigue- when he does, it’s often describe in terms of a radical shift in mindset, a complete tilting of his worldview. The reason why he didn’t get it before was a lack of experience of a world so cynical and dark; why he does get it after, because he is intelligent enough to start to grasp it. This might be a good time to mention also how Laurent calls Damen arrogant in Prince’s Gambit (“You, with your barbaric attitudes, your brutish, domineering arrogance, are always right”). This is actually, finally, a bit of angry honesty from Laurent. Damen has thought of Laurent as unbearably arrogant from the start of the trilogy; here, it seems, Laurent actually thinks the same thing of him. Yes partly that arrogance could be seen as body language and the way Damen holds himself, the look in his eyes, but also it’s how he speaks. He challenges Laurent with his mind.

And Laurent challenges him back. After all, when does Damen ever feel challenged? What tests the full repertoire of his skills? No-one can beat him in the field; he’s the best and he knows it. Yet, he does derive real pleasure from Laurent’s capabiilities- as a swordsman and his horsemanship. It’s why it was important that Laurent finish the okton first- and how happy that made Damen. The rooftop chase, too- Laurent can keep up, and he’s exhilarated by it. The true challenge though, lies in Laurent’s verbal repartee and his mind. Damen actually does like to use his brain, to engage in witty banter- it’s fun. The rooftop is fun. Laurent and Damen laugh together a number of times, and Damen is having a blast. Laurent is difficult, and to Damen, where everything hitherto has been easily won, this challenge is finally giving his brain and his body what they wanted. There is a whole other post I could make on why Laurent in turn is attracted to Damen, but I’ll just put here that I think, the way he pivots Laurent towards healthy relationship dynamics, where being happy and laughing freely together is how you can be with someone, is part of it.

I think this is also why, tragically, Jokaste, despite her self-sacrifices to save Damen, was never The One for him. As beautiful and cold and clever as she is, there’s nothing mischievous or light-hearted about her- you can’t see her and Damen having a laugh together. He likes how smart she is, and her ruthlessness because that is how she radiates power and that feels like equality to Damen (something he can never get from a romantic partner, as he outranks everyone), but she isn’t fun. Not only that but, ruthless-as-a-result-of-trauma-and-for-survival, is very different from ruthless-because-I-am-purely-ambitious; Laurent as the former, does get to retain a sense of honour and compassion that Jokaste seems to lack. Mostly though, Laurent gets to be Damen’s near-equal; where they don’t quite match, they complement. Where Laurent needs incisive, perceptive honesty, he gets it through Damen’s mind not his muscles. The moment that Laurent actually tips Damen into the first throes of love is when he gets out Volo’s cap- the sheer cleverness of it, makes him feel the “first dizzy edge of a new emotion”. In the end it is a mutual intelligence that binds them together as much as physical desire. 

[warning-heckboop]

Wait since Dev is/is turning into a full fairy does that mean he has/is going to get an anti-fairy? If he does that would actually help the others understand Dev so much more actually. I've seen people do anti-fairy versions of Dev before and a common trait between them is that his anti-fairy presents themselves as caring and nice but is actually mean to reflect how Dev often puts up a mask of uncaring and aggression, especially when he's hurt. Tbh I really love that masking part of Dev's personality and how it's often coupled with him wearing his sunglasses, cuz in the scenes where he's being more open he always either is looking over them or has them off. Anyway just really interested in how you would characterize an anti-fairy Dev if he had one!

Dev definitely has an anti-fairy! In fact, he's had an anti-fairy his whole life, he just hasn't known about it. After all, we've already seen from Peri and Irep that an anti-fairy doesn't develop as part of magical maturity, and instead when one fairy is born, the anti-fairy is born not long after.

One thing to keep in mind, though, is that Dev isn't a typical fairy child. He didn't have parents, but was instead just formed from Fairy Council magic and a trinket from Dale. So unlike Irep, who was born to parents who were able to take care of him, Dev's anti-fairy (let's just call him Ved for simplicity's sake) just kind of. Appeared.

It's likely that Ved (along with any other gifted changeling anti-fairies, as I previously mentioned that the other kids who were imprisoned with Dale may have gotten one too) just showed up to the Anti-Fairy Council one day. Of course the Anti-Fairy Council would be suspicious, because fairies created in this fashion aren't an every day occurrence by any means. It wouldn't be hard for them to figure out that the Fairy Council wants to keep these new children a secret, as changelings are considered taboo, so I imagine they'd want to keep tabs on the children's anti-fairies, just in case they can use them to their advantage against the fairies some day.

I do love the idea of Ved being seemingly a big sweetheart, but in reality is just a massive jerk. While the Anti-Fairy Council probably kept an eye on him and any other similar kids, they most likely didn't actually do much to take care of them, meaning they would have pretty much had to fend for themselves. We saw from Irep that anti-fairy babies can be pretty smart and independent, so I don't think they would be fighting for their lives necessarily, but that doesn't mean life is easy in anyway either. I could see Ved being a sort of leader of this little ragtag group of anti-fairy misfits, who largely paint themselves as pitiful and helpless in order to lure suckers into a false sense of security before robbing them blind.

I'll have to try to draw a concept for Ved at some point! I can't right now, because I'm sitting in my car waiting for a doctor's appointment, lmao, but maybe sometime this week after work, or over the weekend!

[psychelis-new]

pick a pile: "Your soulmate's light and dark"

take a breath and choose the photo/number that calls you the most to read about what may be the "good" and "bad" sides of your soulmate: remember a soulmate can be either romantic or platonic (it's part of our soulmate family). I will let the message open to any type of soulmate also cause not everyone wants a romantic partner now.

As you can see from the pics, the reading is divided in two parts: if you feell called by the light side of one pile and the dark side of another, it's obviously fine. Sometimes lights aspect may mix up with dark ones and vice versa: it's fine. Nobody's here to judge what is really light or dark in everyone's life. Thanks to the 2 Anons who suggested this topic.

don’t take the reading too seriously. only take what resonates with you and leave the rest. if you're not called by any pile, let this reading slid as it may not hold messages for you. if you're called by more than one, there may be messages in each of those piles. remember that is a general reading and some things may not resonate with you. energies can change and readings are based on present ones (as you read); you're always in charge of your life.

(photos found on unsplash)

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

1 2 3 4 top part/colored pics : light sides bottom part/bnw pics : dark sides - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 1

--light--

Someone good with words and communication, very talented in what they do. Someone that may be rich, not just with money but also in experiences. Someone into magic or that has magical abilities (or perceived so). A joyful optimistic, open, ambitious, spiritual, not too corrupted by the harsh world, and healing for you. Your connection may bring healing to both of you. Balanced, may also be doing two jobs. Very giving to those they like/love, the classic "helping hand". May also be an healer as a job (also through communication). They may be healing some dark aspects of them too atm. Physical in their displays of affections (loves hugging).

song: quiver | lonas

--dark--

A "shield hard to break": might not be easy to get closer to them, not much physically but emotionally. May have had not positive past experiences or fear being played with; once they trust you though, nothing can break that trust (unless you do something stupid which ofc would make them show you a different side of them: I think may have problems with anger, at times). Kinda possessive/jealous of their partner and friends/family. Likes to take care of you/them and go beyond in order to do that (meaning they may second guess themselves, at least on occasions). [18+ MESSAGE: may be a dom and like to tie you or ordering you]

song: the boy is mine | brandy and monica

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 2

--light--

I keep hearing "simplicity is the key". Might not appear or stand out physically, but hides loads of amazing and different traits in their character. Sophisticated, empathic, harmonious, likes to be one of the many out in the world, but appreciate everytime someone (and in particular you/their family/friends) remind them of how much important they are. Wise, smart, into books, a philanthropist. Might be donating a lot to charity. The person you'd go to for advices. Has continuosly transformed, grown and adapted through their life. Might be popular, even just in their field or city.

song: the fabulous emancipation of one harley quinn | daniel pemberton

--dark--

Too kind for the world, too sweet, too easily hurt. Too giving. Still needs to work on boundaries and self esteem/worth. Tendencies to people please, feeling neglected and abandoned on occasions. Still needs to work on some of their traumas, despite how much they've already done. Might fear running out of time and gets anxious. Needs someone to ground them and remind them it's fine to not know and to be patient and hopeful. To not be scared. Might have fear of commitment/intimacy, and not realize when it's time to take a step back and see how much they've done. They want to do more constantly. They need to do better. Never satisfied. Always searching for something else, and for someone that needs them/their help. Needs to learn how to take care of/show up for themselves.

song: song of the sea | lisa hannigan

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 3

--light--

This person is light. And love. Bright, optimistic, happy, a warm ray of sunshine. Ofc they have some issues too, but when they're around others, they try to be as positive and encouraging as possible. They want to see people succeed. And applaude them. They are a gift from heaven to everyone they encounter. People may randomly start speaking with them, confessing stuff to them e.g. when on a train or in line at the grocery shop. They make people feel understood and never judged. Very welcoming, accepting and kind energy. Tend to not see immediately when they're being deceived, may be a bit naive.

song: if you love me | brownstone

--dark--

Nobody/not many know this cause they rarely speak about their darkest side, but they've been through hell and back. They've been in the mud, they navigated the darkest waters but still managed to came out so pure and kind as nothing happened. Only at their core they know and remember every little step of those trips (and sometimes they may still feel that deep hurt). They have known hate, judgment, abandonment, neglect... maybe even more. They stayed strong through all that, through all the physical and mental struggles. It doesn't matter if others aren't aware of this trait and tend to judge them easily as a "lucky one". They want to save others from experiencing the same hell, and for this reason they try to be this bright kind person everytime they can. They didn't let pain change them.

song: fade away | lucky daye

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 4

--light--

A little bright pure star. Someone who likes to be at the center of attention, doesn't mind that. Might be popular online/make public speeches. May like to be different or results different in their environment (clothing/style, physical features...). Healing eyes/smile. May help those around them to change perspective, to see how beauty is hidden in the darkest places. May have scars or some other particular feature/medical aspect, and not mind showing them and how well you can live even while being "imperfect". They may nurture everyone's fears, trying to help them balance their mind and emotions also by being an example/guide (for some). Someone everybody can learn a lot from. They "change the game" (and mentality) of people. Strong minded. They use their differences (whatever those are) as a way to stand out from the crowd. Not as something to be afraid but to be proud of. Leader.

song: wanna be on your mind | valerie june

--dark--

Might have slightly manipulative behaviour occasionally, in particular when triggered. May fear not making it, not having done enough, not being able to do enough. Might fear to be forgotten by their dear ones in particular. Despite not regretting being different, secretly wants to be as anyone else especially when triggered (our emotional immaturity comes out when we're triggered). Needs time outs to get away from those moments (especially in nature/meditating). Constantly fighting with their mind and emotions to keep a balance, may experience outburst of anger and powerlessness/unworthiness. Might try to isolate themselves, not to hurt others. A bit of self sabotage and impostor syndrome. Might find their self validation in others.

song: under my skin | claudia kane

[rants-about-opm]

To Knowledge and Wisdom

Saitama is pretty smart in ways that matter. He has a strong moral compass, and doesn't let people easily dissuade him from what he thinks is right.

The problem is that he doesn't seem to fully understand why he thinks the way he does. His beliefs are heavily influenced by shows he watched as a kid and how he interpreted them, in a way that is very reminiscent of Garou's history with a popular hero show of his youth. Their own experiences and what they thought of certain characters shaped the mindset they hold towards "heroes" and "villains", changing what those words mean to either of them.

Simply put, Saitama has a certain base of knowledge, but he is not wise, his view of the events in his life has long been set in stone, and he is unable to examine and determine what his actions say about the person he is and how his mindset can affect others, for better or for worse, and trust me, it could be a lot worse. We are lucky to have a Saitama whose morals generally have a positive effect on others, but the world around him is quickly growing more complicated than "be a good person, don't be a bad person", and the unexamined simplicity of his thought process leaves room for others to do some interpretation of their own.

King sees Saitama as a fundamentally misguided individual whose inability to level with the emotional state of himself and others can only lead astray those who seek power in his footsteps.

Genos worships Saitama as an ultimate specimen, lending purpose to thoughts and ideas that simply were not made to consider him or anyone else.

The power Saitama holds only grows stronger and more dangerous as his prowess is discovered by others, because the image of the world he impresses upon others is the same as the hero shows he used to watch as a child: it lacks meaning and depth in a way that makes it all too easy to misinterpret for one's own self interest.

In this way, we are unlucky, as the consequences of his influence over others continues to build into a monstrous chain of horrible events just waiting to go off.

[centrally-unplanned]

👀 are you interested in fire emblem and would you tell us your opinions of the franchise, I’d be very interested

I do like Fire Emblem! I have played FE6-8, smatterings of 9-10 (never owned them, played with friends), and all the games past Awakening/13. I did also play a bit of FE1, no shade on the limitations of the time of course but it sucks, not worth playing. So I am not a grand FE master but I have a lot of exposure to it.

I admire Fire Emblem for its simplicity of design & stakes - the combat system is "hit enemy, deal damage based on attack power - defense" kind of stuff, how everything works is super clear. All the complexity emerges on top of that. Your army is all individual people, permadeath means you need to pursue strategies with a lot of care such that difficulty doesn't get trivialized even if it is still easy (there is a big gap between "my odds of losing are 5% - exciting, I'm doing well!" and "my odds of losing are 0% - boring, why can't I skip this"). When it is doing its best you have a squad of guys with clear stakes and challenges that are overcome via smart kiting and tanking, it is rarely "did you equip the White Hooded Cat Ears to a unit with the Lapis Pendant to double proc a high initiative archer with Glacial Rain for opening gambit AOE freeze spam to prevent Featherknight Magic Guard from activating?" Which to be clear can also be a ton of fun, each game should just be its own thing - FE is just often best-in-class at its niche.

Fire Emblem also has great aesthetics, it aims for that "classy" style of fantasy typically and everyone authentically buys into all that nobility medieval stuff, which for a video game story can be fun vibes. I love their character designs, normally it is a game series with the right level of fanservice (Camilia -_-), and as someone who enjoys romance sideplots in video games FE typically gives you fun sidequests along those lines that sometimes has gameplay implications to boot - I loved the "eugenics simulator" of FE Awakening, as the fans affectionately called its system of child units inheriting traits from parent units. Tharja you are gonna torture Gaius for eternity via marriage because your faildaughter Noire needs Galeforce, I don't wanna hear any god damn objections okay?

As a series it is far from perfect, as anything running this long must be. The plots are normally "meh", in particular the series just doesn't care about logic that much? People do dumb shit alllll the time; FE7's plot is an absolute mess, Three House's story is hung together by macguffins and asspulls, and so on. It is better when it is simpler - in FE6, our boy Roy has gotta beat a bad guy, he conquering the world with dragons, oh no - great, no notes. More modern games need more involved plots due to market demand, but FE has not yet mastered it imo.

More modern games have also stacked complexity on the combat system - skills that proc, squads that attach to units, most recently "Engage rings" that buff and give spells. These can be good! The thing is the simplicity of say FE6 gets boring over so many hours, what works for a 10 hour game gets stale over 40, you need to grow. Sometimes they do that well - I thought Three Houses generally was smart on this front, the skills are more passive, the squads and gambits were (generally, they fucked up on movement buffs) flexible and didn't break things while giving you toys to play with. But Engage, while a good game, did get too complicated by half with many of its systems, and Awakening literally broke itself with pair-up & stacked skill procs, you can easily trivialize the whole game. And meanwhile to spike difficulty they would give every random enemy fighter different lethal skill procs that you would have to triple check every turn, a problems-beget-problems moment. But! I like that they are experimenting. Would have been real easy to capitalize on the success of Three Houses and just repeat it with Engage, but they didn't.

Also while permadeath is conceptually good, restarting a whole map because of a cheese crit is fucking awful, and I am glad modern games have time reset systems to obviate that. I do not play the older games without an emulator that can save state.

Tier listing the games I have played, lets see:

S Tier: Sacred Stones, Shadows of Valentia

A Tier: Three Houses, Blazing Sword

B Tier: Awakening, Engage, Binding Blade

C Tier: Fates

Edelgard best girl, and I think that covers it!