liberty for wolves.

—𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝘀𝗮𝘃𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱.

[lycaea]

𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞. [ a private, selective writing blog for an original character who has an established canon of my own making. please thoroughly read my card before interacting. ]

this blog and character are forever linked to @frysse ♡

              i. CARRD.              ii. PINTEREST.              iii. SIDEBLOG.

[lycaea]

this is a plotting call! and also doubles as a shipping call. i lost my other post again lol. depending on the verse, levi's an unapologetic murderer and in almost every variation he is very violent and evil, which i state because he's open to a large variety of relationships from antagonistic to friendly. despite him being evil tho he's also a lover, so if ur chara can handle him at his most unhinged that's also a thing that's open

[lycaea]

drop this sunflower🌻 into the inboxes of the blogs that make you happy ! lets spread a little sunshine☀️ (all ur blogs mwah)

im going to kiss you until i go blue in the face ilysm

[lycaea]

levi's presence is heard before it is seen. he steps into mason's residence with a loud bang as the door hits something in its momentum when he swings it open, his face wrinkled into his a very specific scowl that mason has come to know as indication of his most foul mood. levi tries not to bring it home, not when it makes him feel guilty to be so irate when someone so oppositely bright is there to greet him with open arms, but the events of the previous eight hours play through his mind on a perpetually mind-numbing loop that has him grumbling as he aggressively tears off his loafers. ❝ hey, ❞ he blurts out as a greeting, bordering between a snarl and a grunt, entirely weighted while he closes the door behind him. mason's quick to meet him at the entry, likely to investigate the sounds and make sure levi didn't punch another hole in the wall (which he's extremely sorry for, by the way). levi's developed this peculiar, but endearing habit where he'll poke his index finger into the meat of his cheek and stand expectantly until the designated spot on his face has been met with a kiss, and it would be severely comical if it didn't look as though he was two seconds away from tearing someone's arm off. he blames the development of this odd quirk entirely on mason, since before him, the thought alone would make levi want to empty out the contents of his stomach. having an optimist for a partner does strange things to a fatalist.

❝ sorry i'm late. you'd think that hiring a manager would make it easier for me to leave whenever the fuck i want. ❞ he elaborates, because he feels inclined to tell mason everything that goes on with him these days, it seems. mason, graciously taking the opportunity even though levi definitely doesn't deserve it, complies with levi's unspoken demand as he plants his lips to his face. this flattens out the line of his frown a little less; if mason makes any attempt to comment on it, levi will vehemently deny it. ❝ then again, i do work in the service industry and people are ghouls, so i don't even really know what i expected. ❞

@studiodrafts ♡'d.

[lycaea]

no one asked but levi's voice claim is sylus from love and deepspace. but chinese sylus specifically (the actor's name is 徐翔), not the english one.

[lycaea]

he is the caustic cadaver of a wild animal, a netting of glistening gluttony in the shadows of the wastelands. this is what makes him cruel, uncaring in the face of his barbarity as he swings his weapon across the backs of a stranger's calfs; he watches her swiftly fall to the ground with a particular air of disinterest that instantly chills the wind cradling him as his coat swings with the momentum. he holds his sword up to his face, the metal beaming with the gleam of tacky cardinal, and he experimentally takes a lick before grimacing down at the woman he's drawn the blood from as she wails at his feet. she starts to crawl in an attempt to get away from him, an effort he pays no further attention to as he removes a cloth from his pocket to wipe the offending substance off his blade.

his gunmetal gaze observes his companion's expression briefly before returning to the task, precise as he watches his own hand move, his voice ringing through the tense silence like a flock of crows. ❝ don't look at me like that. why are you surprised ? ❞ he scoffs, the sound foreign to his own ears. ❝ you've seen me cut peoples' tongues out for a lot less. ❞ despite his language, he's not defensive; this is merely a statement of fact, because it is true that ásgeirr has seen him do worse for significantly more minor misdeeds. levi makes no effort to conceal his displeasure as the line of his mouth curls into a frown, breaking his stare once fixed onto his sword to reestablish eye contact. ❝ that woman had it coming. she had some fucking nerve walking over here to beg. ❞

@anoffering ♡'d.

[lycaea]

i ammmm changing levi's modern verse to rework his background and current job, because that was all decided on like 2 years ago and i don't like it anymore, nor do i think it fits his character.

new and improved levi modern verse cheat sheet until i get around to fleshing this out a bit better

he lives in spring valley, new york in a house that was left to him by his estranged father

he lives with his little black shiba inu named lova that he loves more than anything, and he pretends she's an emotional support animal so he can con his way into bringing her into businesses

his dad also left behind a black 72 camaro that he's fortunate to have a driveway for

he owns a restaurant in the city (manhattan) and has plans to expand to other cities. he is a professional chef and did go to culinary school

he has a very questionable past involving criminal activity and he doesn't like talking about it. he's never been caught and never served time, but something traumatic happened to him and he keeps to himself

these details are subject to change during plotting but the chef thing is consistent. if he isn't living in ny, he'll just set up shop somewhere else.

[lycaea]

i lost my other starter call (i think i deleted it on accident, it's not showing up in my searches???) so please like this if you want me to write something; length will vary but i'd love to be able to break the ice a bit before i start going into people's dms. :D

[lycaea]

GILL (god i love levi)

[lycaea]

[straddle.] / mason :D

⤷ LUSTFUL ACTION PROMPTS. ♡ for @studiodrafts not accepting. (mason).

mason's so much taller than him, but in this position, wedged between his thighs as mason sits on his lap, the difference doesn't seem to be all that staggering.

levi's cushioned against the headboard thanks to the plethora of pillows mason has on his bed, fluffy and soft in a way that has him basking in comfortability as he sinks further into the luscious featherweight of them. he has gotten to know, fairly quickly, how handsy mason can be when they get down to business; those hands are stripping him of his consciousness as he slips further and further into the descent of his desire, and he reaches up to tug mason down by tangling his fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. his mouth isn't busy enough, and he yearns to occupy it with the greeting of his boyfriend's lips, soft and inviting and tempting by the way they're reserved just for him. mason knows exactly what levi's wanting with how often they get to it, and he gives a cheeky smile as he fails to comply with the unspoken request. levi moves to frown, his face splitting as he groans, and because mason knows him so well he happens to know how to render him boneless, into submission, by cupping levi through his jeans.

❝ wait, let me —- fuck. mason, babe, take — let me take my fucking pants off. ❞ levi pleads, scrambling to get out his thoughts before he loses whatever clarity he'd have left. the hand that levi has curled into mason's hair tugs, the other moving to sink his fingers into the meat of mason's forearm. levi's a passionate lover, and arduous one; sure, he enjoys the engagement of intimacy much like anyone else does, but it always feels so much better when it's with someone you really like — and, well — simply saying he likes mason would make that the understatement of the century. in retrospect, it may be extremely difficult for one to ever imagine how they'd ever come together, given that they're complete opposites of each other. levi is a surly fatalist with a mean mouth to compliment it, and mason's a cheery optimist that's completely flipped levi's entire world on its axis. it's that optimism that makes him want to be a better person, and makes him feel like he should have something to live for. it's that optimism that dulls down his bark, makes him not so surly, because levi can't justify his mean streak towards someone who's never earned it. he's not given room to consider much else, not when he's given so much patience he suddenly doesn't feel comfortable taking for granted.

mason's hand is slow as it continues to move against the fabric, up and down and heady and heavy and levi's request is still not met. the tension snaps him up as he buries his face into the junction between mason's left shoulder and neck, his lips brushing against the skin there. ❝ please. ❞ he begs, a hot puff of air against the flesh. ❝ get them off me. now. ❞

[daylighter]

he suspected this was the norm, though he wondered how it fared for this little place otherwise; a commander that was both petulant & very loud in his disgruntled opinions, determined to upset him by creating more noise than his voice already did with the drag of a chair. if it worked, kenneth’s expression was too blissfully blank to give anything away. he merely looked at levi as if he were waiting for him to work through his unusually teenage emotions. what was clear by kenneth’s expression however, was the simple fact that he struggled to understand why he ought to be overly bothered by the location, his brow raised mildly in unimpressed dismissal; or why it had been so difficult for a commander of levi’s station to achieve. perhaps his own expectations were too high— this wasn’t court jupiter after all.

he considered saying as much before holding his silence instead. levi went on to settle & speak, eyeing the book he held. he spoke eventually after a brief pause, as if there had been a misunderstanding he’d only just caught on to.

         ❛  no, that’s not how this works. you’re going to talk, and i’m going to decide if you sound reliable enough. ❜ there was a piece of paper where he’d jotted down some notable names from his early research; villages he supposed, and some he was certain were creaks, mountaintops, a general outline of a region. catacombs abound, if he were to believe word of mouth, and an unsettling, ash-like resonance to the air near abandoned settlements. he tapped the surface of the paper & stared blankly, but expectantly. ❛  start here, i’ve outlined the map. go on, don’t be so quiet now; we don’t have all day. ❜

[lycaea]

ever the caustic edge, like a serrated knife, he screens with the bluntness of his acedia. levi inhales once, twice, deeply to settle himself before he closes his eyes. ❝ okay. ❞ he says after letting the silence linger uncomfortably between them for a beat longer than he initially anticipated, and once again opens his eyes to reestablish contact. the space he was afforded was taken to blunt down the sharpness of his tongue, willing it into something palpable as it snags against his canines — he's unable to stretch out the means of this little excursion on his own terms, and with that in mind, he doesn't want to rise to useless difficulty. his back straightens up as he leans forward to retrieve a scroll that's been haphazardly tucked into a back pocket, but the magic that binds it has seemingly prevented any folds or other disruptions to the parchment. the ease with which levi unrolls it onto the table is more graceful than even he expected of himself. ❝ rudimentary readings from this scroll detail its last known location as the gate of glasir. i think you've got the general location circled ... here. ❞ he taps along with his reply, planting his index finger down onto the map in a spot that has runes inscribed into it; so ken has, in fact, done his homework.

it's an appropriate name for a juxtaposed hunt, it seems: legends and myths intermingling with nuggets of truth tend to bear the markers that distinguish them as such as it passes from hand to hand. the gate of glasir is a real location though, one levi has known about for a while long before this excursion were to even take place; he just never had any designs to go there before until now.

❝ i can't read all of the runes, ❞ he continues, lifting his finger off the paper and resting his hand on his high as he leans back into his chair. ❝ even with my innate magic, it's in an older dialect that's been lost to me, but further research and witness accounts describe the surrounding land leading into it as more of a grassland that heads into a grotto, or a garden of some kind. ❞ it borders the edge of the ruins of vitabjörn, a once illustrious staple of trade and prosperity aptly named after the clan of the white bear that established it, and it was brought to ruin under endless siege and cruelty; the remnants of the city rest between where they are now, and where levi thinks they're supposed to go. he opens his mouth again, contemplating what he wants to say next, then settles upon: ❝ people are ... under the impression the entrance is guarded by some kind of creature. i'm making an educated guess here based on their descriptions and what i've been able to read, but it sounds like a dragon. ❞

[lycaea]

levi heavily thinks about the ramifications of the request: you gotta stay behind keeps replaying over and over in his head like a sick mantra, a horrible joke that he is struggling to find the punchline for. this is his best friend they're talking about here, alone and scared and levi doesn't know what the hell has happened to her and he's pissed. he's pissed that @picksmusic has the audacity to even ask this of him, as if he would ever comply or as if he would even find it to be a reasonable thing to do. his hands hang at his sides, clenched into fists, and he can feel his nails dig into the skin as his palms get balmy from the anxiety.

❝ so you expect me to just sit around on my ass and do nothing while you 'handle' it ? absolutely not. ❞ his defiance bleeds into his tone as his mouth curves down into a frown, splitting his face in his displeasure. ❝ i don't know what kind of weird complex you have, and i don't really give a shit; you don't tell me what to do. i'm going whether you like it or not, and you don't have to come with me. ❞

[wolfcalls]

in the blood, a rapture.

[lycaea]

levi tries his best to maintain his sense of disinterest, truly — and it would be a most valiant and admirable endeavor if his frown wasn't beginning to split its face so blatantly. his displeasure soon betrays his will, a scoff passing his lips as it puffs out in a cloud of breath. he sets down the tablet and avoids the instinct to cross his arms, crossing his legs instead as he leans back against the rest of the sofa. his gaze then latches onto @iedolon, the sharpness of his bite receding into the glint that coats them.

❝ yeah, okay. i give up. this configuration is obviously not going to work. you have any ideas ? this shit is seriously starting to piss me off. ❞

[smashingorpassing]

some organizations working on the ground in gaza right now

gaza soup kitchen

the sameer project

salam charity

watermelon relief

[nightorne]

      while she bathes under the moon's glow now she still remembers life in the thick of the gloom. she had only begun to live by its light but in that time her healing hands had only grown more potent.   once she had repressed their natural inclination to ease hurt,   to soothe an ailment only selûne herself could purify.   she holds that lambency within her even now,   that eerie yet inviting lunar haze.   thus she can sense the dim within him,   cure-touched there was a festering there just beneath the skin.   all are entitled to their secrets yet he does his well,   the faint gleam of sweat upon a brow and the tense bearing of his jaw.   of which left the white of teeth exposed,   a beast choking back a growl yet shadowheart no longer fears wolves.   she would know the edge of her reflection anywhere.   

       ❛ i know so,   one doesn't spend the majority of their life under the tutelage of a goddess of pain without learning a thing or two about cruelty. ❜ full of breezy composure as she divulges that which should bring about shame.   to be foolish in such a way,   misled like lamb into the mouth of foxes.   yet she has endured the feasting,   diminished the mouth which had sought to swallow her whole.   instead the inkling of a smile is there in the curve of her lips.   ❛ violence?   perhaps but lasting brutality and prolonged torture are an art.   i myself am fond of a casual unkindness,   i actually prefer it.   i will say though,   that being compassionate is easy when you aren't the one suffering.   ❜  it was why the city was filled with thieves and thugs,   many of which were still children who were only seeking survival.   

       ❛ maybe you are an asshole but how much of that is due to the fact that you're in immense pain?  ❜ far past keeping secrets or fancying herself a puzzle to be solved.   pointed in her observation,   the intensity of her evergreen gaze pinning him to the place where he stood.   exacting eyes that could only belong to a student of medicine,   she takes him apart with a surgical precision cataloging the slump of his shoulders and the strain of each breath.   ❛ i don't doubt you're ever pleasant,   no matter the circumstances but the point still stands...   will you let me have a look?   ❜ dropping her scrutiny to his fist,   the manner in which tremors slightly around the hilt of the blade.  

[lycaea]

his flinch is an interruption that startles even himself. he's just a wounded animal in the face of her scrutiny and fights the urge to frown, his jaw snapping shut. she hasn't made any effort to come closer at all, but he reacts as though she has at the mere suggestion of it, his body tensing as his grip tightens around the handle. it is unobservable due to his gloves obscuring them from view, but his knuckles ghost over in white as he exhales to steel himself. ❝ it's —- ❞ he starts, wanting to provide a proper answer and thinking to deter her, thinking to decline. there's no remedy for a man who's cut down so many others with this very sword for reasons completely ignoble — but the pain and slight opaqueness pauses him enough that she must interpret his hesitation for permission if her expression is any indication, and he fails to correct it when he lets go of the handle to inadvertently acquiesce to her request.

concluding that it's too late to back out now, he strips his glove off his hand and lifts it for her to inspect. the pain is chronic even when he's not touching the weapon, but contact with it only intensifies the process by which his soul continues to curdle and wither away; this is how he knows to inflict the most pain upon himself. he can feel it as it slithers through every nerve ending, tainting his hands in darkness starting at the tips of his fingers and clambering up to his wrist like vines. he stares at his fingers, unwilling to meet her gaze, and the finds himself wondering what his hands used to look like before the curse. he doesn't think he'll ever remember.

the pain causing his monstrosity — she understands him so fundamentally well in that assessment, yet as it marinates his tongue, he can't help but feel it's not entirely accurate. the appearance of his hands isn't the only thing levi can't remember; he isn't sure whether or not a lot of his acridity is actually attributed to his pain, or if that's just a baseline to his natural personality. for so long, he's been so cruel and ruthless that he can't recall if these were or were not initially defining characteristics of his cognition. so many things have been lost to him: his innocence, his naivety, and his belief in the bettering of the world. along this vein, he hopes she's not embarrassed; he's surprised she found it within herself to share her story, but perhaps it comes with the territory of traveling companionship. she owns the embracing of the light much like she's come to terms with the dancing of dusk; it takes a special form of resilience to be able to snap back from the elasticity of murkiness, to learn it's not always a true reflection of one's cognizance. levi, with his mired memory, has to hope that she doesn't punish herself like he does over becoming the beast he believes he is. ❝ i don't think there's any way to fix this. ❞ he says after a beat, because the silence under her heavy watch is beginning to stifle him. he should honor her grace with some truth of his own and give her something, anything, after being tight-lipped for so long ... so, he does. ❝ i've learned to live with it. it's not so bad, really; i've experienced worse that hurt a hell of a lot more. ❞

[lycaea]

he's such a grotesque little mangling of monstrous limbs and bloodied canines, isn't he — the wolf of dusk, the deliverer of a consequence worse than death — and he's come to wear the skin of this well, as if it's not a masking at all and at the center of his condition. he's used to living like this, of course: a cautionary tale for the good ones, for the ones that aren't eclipsed by some sort of disastrous lining that'll completely shaft their entire lives' trajectory. he isn't, however, used to ever seeing any kind of causticity ever being exemplified by someone who isn't him, and as he watches the trading of words between @laperlina and some roughened man before him unfold he tries his best to hide his mouth with his hand. it's obvious soon enough though that he's been caught, and he clears his throat when she walks over to him in what he's guessing will be an attempt to tell him to mind his own business.

❝ that was awesome. ❞ levi starts when he knows she's within earshot before she has the chance to even address him properly, and he's completely sincere; very rarely is someone able to amuse him, let alone even capture his attention in the first place. she's so unapologetically herself that he can't help but identify something her, even if it may be evidently misplaced. ❝ seriously. too many people are so fucking shallow, and way too interested in being polite that they can't be honest with themselves. ❞