#but also and more specifically they act as anchors

[ktficworld]

Behind The Red Curtains

Pairing: soft dark! Steve Rogers x actress! reader

Summary: You come to know that your success might not be solely because of your talent.

Warnings: 18+, dub-con, forced relationship, bondage, size kink, degradation + praise kink, choking, oral(f receiving ), unprotected sex( it's fiction, your life's not), dirty talk, explicit language, explicit sexual content.

(Let me know if I forgot something)

Prompt: Oral sex, overstimulation, praise, Mob au, Blackmail + Cum play + “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? I think you even enjoyed it.”

A/N: So, this is my entry for the cum together extravaganza hosted by @labella420 and @stargazingfangirl18

I wanted to write this for a long time after the provocation by @biteofcherry 👀. I hope you all enjoy and this is my first time writing smut so, be gentle.

Divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Main masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

“Johnny Storm was seen with the new sensation in the modelling industry yesterday night. Rumor has it-”

You pressed the switch-off button with more force than needed as the squeaky voice of the anchor finally died down. Throwing the remote across the bed, you groaned in agitation.

You were dating Johnny Storm. Everything was going well, the meeting was story worthy, he was handsome, charming and had some good qualities you were looking for. This was the first relationship you got into since entering the film industry. Because you may be a hopeless romantic, but you were also choosy.

You didn’t know what happened in the process that just torpedoed your budding relationship. One day you were walking out of a cafe hand-in-hand and the next day, he was fucking some modelling sensation. Maybe you got lost in translation.

Or maybe he was just a fucking asshole. No matter what happened it showed you his true colors. That or instead of coming to you to talk out his issues, he went around, fucking and ghosted you.

Oh, but that was not the problem. The real problem was that you were shooting a movie with him. A romantic movie, with sex scenes. And you have no idea how you would be able to show any affection or chemistry on the screen without being awkward as fuck. This would be the best test of your acting skills for sure.

“Why do you look like you regret being born?” your friend and manager, Wanda asked as she entered your room.

You glanced at her and rolled your eyes. She was trying to lighten your melancholic mood but, it was of no use. “You know damn well why.”

She sighed. “I know, but you’re a great actress. You could easily pull off a serial killer then a rom-com is nothing for you. Don’t get worked up about it. Just imagine your celebrity crush instead.”

You laughed at that. You worked with people whom the masses considered celebrity and if you had a crush, you’d simply ask them out. So, you’re stuck in that department.

“I appreciate your support and I’ll get over this. Just give me some time. Is that why you came here?”

Wanda shook her head with a smile. “No, actually the PR guy told me to tell you to go to partage restaurant. Someone wants to meet you.”

You frowned. “You know if I started giving time to ‘someones’ then I won’t even be able to breathe. I need the specifics.”

“He didn’t tell me. Said the person didn’t want to be known till you meet them. But he said you need to go or they’ll be pissed and it could pose a problem to your career.”

Some rich asshole again. You pinched your nose in frustration. People really glamorised a celeb’s life but if they knew that you all have to play rich people’s puppets, they wouldn’t be so enthusiastic about it. 

“Fine, I’ll go. What time and day?”

“8 p.m Sunday.”

“Great. Now get lost, I need my beauty sleep.”

Your heels clicked on the floor as you stepped inside the restaurant to utter silence. 

The usually bustling restaurant was deserted. There was no violin swimming in the air, mingling with the chatter of the expensive people, the polished tables had no spilled drinks and the fine plates had no leftovers. The lobby had no sight of a reception and all the staff had evaporated out of existence. You were half doubting yourself that maybe you arrived at the wrong time or date. Maybe the restaurant was closed.

But all of them vanished when a prim and proper lady approached you. You had never seen her before but you didn’t care to ask if she was new.

“Good evening, ma’am, you may go to the VIP area upstairs. Sir is waiting for you there.” She said in a professional voice.

“Yeah, sure. But can I ask why the restaurant is empty?”

“He booked the entire restaurant.” She said like it was the most normal thing in the world. It was not like this place costed more than the top-paying actors in the Hollywood.

You thanked the woman with a polite smile you went upstairs to get to the VIP section.

The he made you shudder from inside. Another sleazy old man who thought that you would open your legs for him just because he was rich was awaiting you and judging by the stunt he pulled. You’d have to be more tactful.

Reaching the shiny golden doors with a lion emblem, separating the demi-gods from the gods, you knocked on the door of the VIP room.

“Come in.” A thick and deep voice called out, making you frown. How come an old man has such a great voice?

Oh, but how wrong you were. Because, as soon as you opened the door, in front of you, sat a man who was far from aged. He was pure muscles. His rings sparkled in the chandelier lights. Draped in the finest black suit with his blonde hair combed back, sat none other than Steve Rogers, the mafia lord of New York. The one who you have been trying to avoid your entire career. Who posed as a successful businessman but everyone was aware of how he earned his dollars. Just, they were too afraid to acknowledge it.

You couldn’t move an inch, frozen from fear and surprise. You had only met him once, during the premiere of your debut film and people had acted like he wasn’t someone who could wipe them off from the face of the earth without even blinking an eye. That night, his eyes were glued to you like Hades's gaze on Persephone. So intense and consuming that you never wanted to see him again.

And now, here you were.

“Sit down, darling.” He husked out, the sound of alcohol filling his glass reverberating through the walls.

Breaking out of your trance with a gulp. You pulled out the chair and sat down across from him while your heart was in your throat. “Good evening, Mr. Rogers. What brings me the pleasure of your company.’ You managed to get out without your voice cracking.

He smirked and leaned back on his chair. “It’s your beauty, your talent and your creativity that brings you here, sweetheart. I’m a big fan of art and beautiful things, you are both of them.”

“Thank you…” You drawl out, expecting him to continue.

“I liked you the moment I saw you. In your pink dress, you looked so innocent, so shy. Overwhelmed by the media attention. I knew you would do something big so I gave you the freedom to shine and shine you did. However, it looks like your freedom has got to your head.” The last sentence was said with a lower voice and an ominous smile.

Your hands became sweaty as they clamped down on the armrest. “I’m not getting what you are trying to say.” You whispered out. 

His chuckle only made your heartbeat faster as he leaned forward and his gaze bore into your soul. “Let me rephrase, I claimed you the moment I saw you. But I knew you had potential so I let you go but your little dance with Johnny Storm made me realise it was time you became mine.”

“What-what did you do?” You choked out but you weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answer.

You yelped as he yanked your chair closer towards him till your knees were touching. Your chest moved rapidly as he leaned closer, his hands covering yours on the armrest.

“Awww, don’t play stupid, honey. Johnny, he’s a himbo and you are mine,” He said as his left hand moved to caress your cheek as you flinched away from his touch. “So, I pulled some strings, fed some mouths with dollars and your cute little on-set romance came to an end.” Your eyes widened in horror as he was the one that ended your relationship with Johnny. 

He gripped your face in his big hand and turned your head so that his eyes burned through yours. “Trust me, honey, I was generous with him. I could have him disappear and no one would have given a shit.”

“No.” You whispered, wrenching his hands away. You suddenly stood up from your chair, effectively surprising him.

“No?”

“That is not happening. I don’t want to be with you, I’m sorry.”  You stumbled back to the door but before you could touch the doorknob, you were whirled around and pushed against it.

“When did I tell you, you could say no?” Steve growled his hand wrapping around your throat. “If you think you can reject me then you are sorely mistaken, darling. Don’t forget that the production house you work with the most is mine.” 

You gasped. How could it be his? It was of Tony Stark, you scorched the earth and back and found no such connection. 

Steve noticed your reaction and tsked.“You didn’t know? Don’t worry, you are not stupid sweetheart. The public doesn’t know that Stark is nothing but my pawn.” His other hand snaked around to squeeze your ass through your jeans and you screwed your eyes shut as his touch sent tingles through your body and your breaths became shorter.

He tugged you closer to him with your neck, his breath fanning over your skin. “Now, do you still want to be stubborn?”

Now, you were no dumbo. If Steve can jeopardize your relations with his production then he can also ruin your entire career. Mob involvement in the film industry is an unsaid rule. However, you didn’t know their claws were so deep and sharp.

“And what if I leave? Leave this industry?” What could be more precious than your pride?

He gave you a lopsided grin. “Then you’ll just be the wife of Steve Rogers who was an actress. Remember princess, I’ll never leave you alone. If I held onto you for three years what makes you think I’ll not find you and drag you to my hell?” 

Tears threatened your waterline as you murmured. “You are really forcing me?” What a stupid question to be asking a mobster.

He let out a throaty chuckle and moved his hand from your neck to his pant pocket however he was still invading your private space as his lips were inches away from your lips. “I’m giving you options: either come willingly or I’ll force you. Your choice, darling.” 

He fished out a silver card from his pocket, tracing the sharp and cold edges of it on your face, meandering down your neck and stopping only when it reached the valley of your breast. You gasped harshly when he slid the card inside your bra, the chilled hard paper resting against your warm skin.

“My number, call me when you make a decision. You have one week.”  He whispered against your lips before sealing the unspoken vow with a kiss.

With that he slipped away from your body and took his seat again like dark clouds gilding away from the moon before shortly, engulfing it once again. He resumed sipping from his glass like nothing serious happened and said nonchalantly. “You can go now.” 

You ran to your car like you were burned. Which you were, your soul was burning. Burning from the choices you were given. Which was essentially choosing which cage you preferred better, golden or grey.

“Did you like the dinner?” Steve asked in his deep voice as he sat across from you at the dining table.

Blinking your eyes away from the full moon that shone outside the dining room window, you glanced at Steve and nodded. “Yes, I liked it.” 

You did come to him willingly in the end, after all, what choice did you have? The moment you admitted your defeat and called Steve flashed in front of your eyes. His smug and triumphant words ringing in your ears.

“Nice choice, princess.”

“You seem to like the moon a lot,” Steve observed as his piercing gaze never left you, noting your every move and reaction.

You looked down at your hands, clasped in front of you. His presence still sent chills of fear down your spine. His imposing figure and intense gaze made your heart race. Not to mention the way his eyes sparkled with desire and lust whenever they laid upon you.

“Yes, the night is beautiful.” You replied softly.

“Do you want to go upstairs? In the balcony for a better view? I also have a very pretty garden.” Steve offered and you refrained from frowning. 

From the moment you accepted his advances, Steve has been acting like the perfect lover. Sending flowers, expensive gifts, wanting to have nice and deep conversations and supporting you in your work. But still, you couldn’t decipher if he was actually being nice or plain manipulative.

However, you had grown tired, sitting and chatting in the room, the walls suffocating you. “I would like that.”

Steve grinned and stood up from his chair, taking a few long strides he reached you and offered you his hand. “Let’s go.”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, slipping your hand in his, you got up. You sucked a sharp breath when his hand tightened around your smaller one and his eyes grew darker. You ignored the building tension as he led you upstairs, to the balcony.

His mansion was spectacular, painted beige with marble murals. It resembled old French castles with intricate paintings from Greek mythology on walls to railing carved with various plant and flower motifs.

When he said he enjoyed beauty, he wasn’t bluffing.

Stepping on the top floor, there was a lounge area with a fireplace on the right and a couch on the left. In front was the glass door leading to the balcony. Steve opened the door and you had to hold back your gasp as the view was absolutely breathtaking. 

It had the same marble railing as before and also had a sitting space for two people with two chairs and one glass table, perfect for a cosy morning or evening. The balcony ran along the entire top floor, connected with all the rooms.

However, the main highlight was the enormous garden that stood before your eyes. Tall trees were perched vertically of all types, some bearing fruits, some flowers and some none. Speaking of flowers, bright, colourful flowers adorned the garden like jewels. Rose, jasmine, sunflower, etc scattered all over with moonlight pouring on them.

It was straight out of a princess movie and you could spend your entire life wandering inside it, reading books under the tree shade.

“It’s gorgeous.” You whispered to Steve as you stepped forward, leaning on the railing.

“I know, my mother made it. She wanted me to keep the garden big and flourishing. So, I put everything I could to keep it perfect.” Steve revealed and moved behind you, his body pressing against yours.

You were so engrossed in gazing at the garden that you missed his hand coming to cover yours and he laid a soft kiss on your cheek.

“What are you doing?” You questioned as you tried to step away from his grip but he had you trapped.

“Enjoying my view,” He said as he gripped your hips and pressed them against him, his semi-hard cock pressing against your ass. “See what you do to me?”

His lips trailed down, kissing and sucking on your neck. His left hand travelled from your hips to your breast, he squeezed the underside of your tities while grinding his erection against your bottom. Your breathing was getting heavy as he continued to massage your boobs and sucked on your neck, collarbone and shoulder.

You had to refrain from biting your lips. His strong body and demanding moves were making you unwillingly wet. But he forced you into a relationship you didn’t want, you didn’t want this, right?

“I don’t want to do it.” You whispered despite wanting nothing but his hands under your scarlet dress.

“No?” He chuckled. “Let’s check, shall we?” He whispered seductively in your ear.

Your eyes widened as you thrashed in his grip but he stopped all your attempts to deny the truth with a hand around your neck and a squeeze that made you go still. His other hand glided under your dress and found your panties damp.

“Your pussy proved you wrong, princess.” He said with a smug laugh. He sucked at your pulse point as his fingers moved your lace panties aside and caressed your folds. The suddenness made you let out a choked moan as your hold tightened on the railing.

His words embarrassed you but you couldn’t deny that his touch was making your body betray you. He played your body like an instrument.

His fingers ran along your petals, spreading your arousal and brushing your clit, his index finger teasing your entrance when he abruptly stopped.

You blinked, gasping and panting. You were about to glance at him in confusion when he bent you over, your head resting against the marble railing as he went down on his knees, bunching up your dress around your waist. He ripped off your panties, the sound heating your cheeks with humiliation.

“You deserve to be punished.” He said through gritted teeth as he slapped your clit, making you jerk at the delicious sting as he spread your legs wider for him so your pussy was on full display. Wet and ready.

“Spank your ass till it’s burning for going out with that pathetic excuse of a man Johnny or have Bucky watch you as I fuck you senseless. He’s also a fan after all." He spread your labia and sucked on your clit, making you moan out loud as your stomach flipped.

“But I can’t, because this pussy is too tempting of a distraction.” He lamented as his lips went down to your pussy and his tongue teased your cunt with slow yet precise strokes.

Your left hand moved to his hair and tugged on the blonde locks as his administration made your clit pulsate with need. You couldn’t decipher whether you wanted him to stop or continue.

He tutted on you pulling his hair. You whimpered at the loss of his mouth on your pussy when the clicking of his belt echoed in the empty space. He yanked both your hands behind your back and secured them in place with his belt, the grip firm but not harsh. 

“No.Touching.” He growled in your ear as his words were accentuated by a slap on each of your buttcheeks, making you whimper in pain and pleasure as you let your forehead rest against the cool marble and he knelt again.

He took your clit in his mouth again but with more ferocity as your pussy clenched around nothing, “Oh my god, Steve yes!” You mewled.

“Captain or I won’t let you cum.” He commanded as his fingers joined in and drew slow and teasing circles around your cunt.

“Captain, please.” You pleaded as your orgasm started to build up in your stomach.

“Good girl, that’s my good girl.” He finally eased his index finger inside of you, his thick and long finger filling your pussy and you were afraid as to how you were going to take his cock as his finger alone stretched your vagina.

He pumped his finger in and out of you all the while kissing and sucking your clit. When you bucked into his finger he added another one, exploring your velvety walls to find your spot that would make you sing. He curled his fingers when you dripped around his fingers and mouth.

“Mhmm, captain. Feels so good.” You cried out as your climax was approaching you faster, your skin glistening with sweat under the pale moonlight. It was so embarrassing, being this crying and moaning mess he had turned you into. His hands kneading your thighs and ass.

“Are you going to cum, princess?” Steve asked in a husky voice as he kept up his pace, replacing his mouth with his thumb to grow circles around the bundle of nerves,

Your skin was on ablaze, the coil tightening in your belly as you were tethering on the of falling apart. “Yes, Captain. Please let me cum.” You requested, spellbound. He didn’t need to ask you to beg, you were already sliding into your subspace. His finger found your g spot as he twisted his fingers, making you whimper as your breath shuddered.

He snickered, sending vibrations through your body. “I didn’t know you were so obedient, good to know.”His hand came down on your clit and it was the final straw that threw you over the edge. 

You came with a loud moan as the blinding pleasure brought tears to your eyes and you gushed around his lips and fingers, coating his chin. He lapped all your juice, his pace not halting as he drank your nectar greedily.

Your body was quivering from the force of your orgasm, your heart racing as you tried to collect yourself.

Steve got up on his feet and you almost collapsed when he wrapped a sturdy hand around your shaking body, pressing you against his chest. He jutted your chin up and grinned down at you. “Aw, you already look so fucked out darling but it’s just the beginning, we have the whole night.” He smashed his lips with yours, swallowing your tired whimpers and moans.

After devouring your mouth and leaving you breathless. He picked you up and started walking to his left. You were too dizzy to notice your surroundings till you were hitting silk bed sheet and plush mattress. You glanced at Steve through your hazy vision as he stood at the end of the bed.

He smirked down at you. “How about you return the favour, sweetheart? Strip.” He ordered and it was enough to clear your mind of any hangover.

Your hand snaked to your back and you slid down the zipper and pulled off your dress, your breast clad in red lace coming into view as you completely removed the dress and discarded it on the floor.

You then unclasped your bra, trepidation and anticipation mingling together as your boobs spilled out. Now, you were completely naked, your panties already torn and tossed away.

“On your hands and knees.” He commanded as he quickly unbuttoned his shirt, his abs and chest made your mouth water and you wanted to grab and touch him but shook away the thoughts.

You got on your hands and knees, clothes rustling till the bed dipped behind you. Steve ran his hand up your spine, sneaking underneath to grop your breast. You mewled as his thumb tweaked your pebbled nipples, twisting and flickering the buds till you were writhing under him.

His other hand smacked your ass, causing you to whimper. “Spread your legs more, I want to see that pussy.”

You spread your legs some more, displaying your glistening cunt to Steve’s hungry gaze. “You have such a pretty pussy.” He said as he played with you enough that you were whining before he rubbed the tip of his cock over your cunt, spreading your arousal and his pre cum.

You shuddered, you had an inclining that he was big but how much? That you didn’t know since you couldn’t see his dick from your position.

He slapped the head of his cock on your pussy and you visibly shuddered. He did it a few more times before you were dripping for him and was on the verge of sobbing in frustration. 

“Such a shame that it is about to get ruined by my big cock.” He declared and pushed the tip inside you. You moaned as you awaited your eventual mounting.

You clutched the silky sheets as he slowly bottomed out, your walls spasmed as they tried to accommodate his length. You were so full already and he was gracious enough to give you time to adjust. All the while he explored your body, kissing your spine, kneading and spanking your thighs, ass and breasts. His touch was electrifying and in no time, you were whimpering for him to move.

“Ah, someone is getting impatient.” Steve mocked but began moving out of your hot channel. He was slow and deliberate, his girth dragged through your walls and your pussy fluttered.

He hissed. “Don’t do that darling if you want to walk the next day.” He pulled out all the way, only the tip remained inside. Pushing your head further into the pillow as he slammed inside your cunt in one stroke, taking your breath away.

“Look at your pussy, pulling me in and clenching around me,” He grunted as his hold on your hips tightened. He looked where you two were connected and sighed in awe. “I didn’t know you were such a slut, you look so innocent. But look at you now, dripping around a man’s dick you barely know,” He pulled out again and thrusted back in with the same power. The slow yet rough pace he set made you cry out in pleasure as your climax started to stir in your lower belly again. “But I like how cockdrunk you are that you just don’t give a shit anymore.” He groaned and pulled out.

He changed his angle slightly and when he thrusted back again, he hit your g-spot and you screamed, flames of pleasure intensifying. He tugged you by the hair, pressing you against his toned chest. “Tell me that you are my slut.” He growled in my ear.

“I’m your slut, Captain!” you said breathlessly as his deep thrusts made you gasp.

His hand came to your clit and his thumb started drawing circles, making you tremble in his grip. “Yes, you are my slut. My fuck toy, who would let me do whatever I want and whenever I want with her because I own you now. Repeat what I have said.” He thrusted harder and if it wasn't for his strong grip, you would have fallen down. 

“I'm your fuck toy. You can do whatever you want and whenever you want with me because you own me now.” You cried. 

“Such a good obedient girl- Ahh, taking my cock so well. Now, you are going to ask me to make you cum.” He groaned his thumb sped up. Leaning down, he sucked on your pulse point, surely leaving a hickey, marking you as his.

“Please Captain, let me cum! Let me cum around your big cock.” You squealed out. Tilting your face upwards he kissed, hard and rough, you moaned against his lips as you tasted yourself on him.

“Good girl, now cum for me.” He demanded as fingers and thumb pinched your clit, his cock hitting your sweet spot in quick succession.

You shrieked ‘captain’ as you came around his girth, squirting on his dick. “Good, what a good little slut for your captain.” He moaned in satisfaction as he nibbled at your earlobe, fucking you through your release. 

He let go of you when your shaking died down. Your face fell on the pillow as you tried to catch your breath. Your fucked out mind didn’t register that he didn’t come till you were being flipped on your back. Coming face-to-face with his annoyingly handsome face.

“You didn’t think it was over, did you?” He rasped with a smirk as he plunged into your cunt once again, but this time with more fervour.

You instantly mewled but the overstimulation and coming two times had worn you out, you weren’t used to this. You attempted to scoot away from Steve. “I-I can’t, too much.” 

He pulled you back down on his cock, wrapping your legs around his waist. He restrained your hands over his head with one hand, leaving you unable to escape the pleasure he was giving you. “You can and you will. Get used to it, sweetheart. I’m being gentle right now,” He growled as he moved on top of you.

The pace was rough and fast, the bed rattling with each thrust, your boobs jiggled from the speed. He placed his hand on your lower stomach. “Do you feel me here?” He asked, the belly bulge sending shivers down your spine.

“Yes, I do, Captain.” You managed to choke out as he pounded in your pussy mercilessly.

“Then enjoy it, honey. Enjoy, writhing and moaning underneath me. My cock stretching your tight cunt, because that’s where you belong. Taking my cock like a good little fuck doll.” He husked as the force of his thrust increased with each passing second. The pain and pleasure mixing made tears fall from your eyes, the knot tightening yet again.

Steve leaned over you, kissing your tears, trailing down to your neck and then your boobs, groping and licking the plump area before taking your pebbled nipples into his hot mouth.

“Oh my god!” Your back arched, pleasure zapping through your body like thunder as his hot tongue sucked on your nipples and his hand massaged your other breast. All the while his thick cock rammed into you, his pubic areas brushing your clit.

Your hands jolted to touch him but he had your hands pinned above. You shut your eyes and enjoyed the unyielding pleasure he was bestowing upon you as pressure built up for the third time in your stomach. Your moans and his grunts bounced off the wall, so did the clapping sound of skin slapping against the skin.

Suddenly, his grasp loosened before coolness touched your ring finger. You looked up as he slid a beautiful sapphire ring into your finger, sealing your fate with his forever. You managed out a surprised gasp. He brought your hand down and pinned it to your side, giving you a proper view of the ring as it sparkled under the stark glowing moon.

“Imagine me, sweetheart,” Your breath caught in your throat as his speed grew frantic, his cock hitting the deepest part of your cunt as he chased his own release. “Imagine me when you have to romance on screen with some pitiful A-list actor.” He whispered in your ear, intertwining your hands with his as he kissed your lips. It was softer than the previous ones but no less demanding.

“Imagine me when you have to pretend to fuck someone on set. Because I know,” He whispered against your lips before lowering his hand to your clit and he drew fast circles on the bundle of nerves to help you fall apart. 

Steve cursed under his breath and thrusted faster when your walls clenched his dick. “Because I know that I have ruined you for any other man. Ruined this pussy for anyone except me. So, imagine me when you kiss a man and realize that he’ll never make you feel this good.” You nodded along his words as tears streamed down your cheeks, smearing your eyeliner and mascara but he paid no heed to it. Rather, enjoying your fucked out state.

The fullness of his dick inside your pussy and the overwhelming stimulation finally tipped you over the edge as you came the hardest and it hit you like a tsunami.

After some more brutal thrust, he came inside of you with a loud groan. His hot cum spilling inside your abused cunt as it milked him dry. He pumped into you a few more times, giving you every last drop of his seed and staying inside your warm channels till his cock softened.

He put his forehead against yours as he finally pulled out and you almost whined at the loss of dick but restrained yourself as his cum leaked out of your hole.

Only heavy breaths echoed in the spacious room as both of you caught your breath. You were beyond regaining your previous strength as you couldn’t even move a muscle. However, Steve recovered shortly afterwards as he kissed your forehead and whispered smugly. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? I think you even enjoyed it.” 

You didn’t answer because he was right, you enjoyed every bit of it even if you didn’t want to. Before you could drown yourself in self-pity. Steve picked you up and took you to his bathroom to soak you in a nice, warm bath…

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers au #mob steve #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x reader au #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x female reader #mob steve rogers #CT 2024 raffle entry

[turtleblogatlast]

I kinda love how the moment Leo got his dual wield katana back, he adapted so much more naturally to his teleportation abilities.

Not to say he didn’t come around with the odachi, but it was pretty clear that he struggled hard with the mystic properties of it, and I think that it’s partially because while the odachi itself is a portaling tool that seemingly most anyone can use, Leo’s innate mystic abilities call for something to work with him, not for him.

So it makes perfect sense why his katana, made from himself and more in line with how he naturally fights, finally allow him to seamlessly grasp his space warping abilities to the extent he can.

#rottmnt #rottmnt leo #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt headcanons #I would also like to add that at the end of the day both swords are still just tools #and I believe without those tools Leo’s mystic ability can be very very dangerous for him #not only do the swords act as a mental harness of his teleportation and portals #but also and more specifically they act as anchors #teleportation is!!! really scary actually!!! you have to be VERY skilled or be VERY careful to not be trapped in like #solid mass or in the middle of the ocean or even in between realities #might be better for Leo to rely so heavily on his swords in terms of his mystic abilities because if he decided to do as Mikey did #and go without them #uh #probably wouldn’t end well! #can easily imagine a scenario where the boys all like #get mystic sickness #and their abilities go way outta wack #with Leo he’d just be flitting in and out of existence #okay I stop talking now listen I just love Leo and I reallyyyyy adore his mystic abilities they’re so fun esp the teleportation #edit: side note but it’s also notable that in the turtle tot short #Leo even as a tot was wielding the dual katana naturally and without issue #he was always meant to use them so having a heavy odachi instead would of course be a bit of a learning curve for him

[chisatowo]

Also, I think I'm gonna switch Marley from being 14 to being 12, partially because I have too many 14 yr old ocs, and secondly because I just think I've been envisioning them as younger since I started incorporating them into Mocha and Risa's story

#rat rambles #oc posting #they were also a minor antag in the kids side of the melody and ramp story and thats not changing but now they have more of a story #so I have a more specific image of them in my head now #for some background they live in one of the two main worlds in the magic cat story that is mostly made of wild magic #actually this story specifically is kinda unique in the fact that it like solely takes place in the magic world most of them are in both #but yeah this world is very chaotic and often ever shifting which can make it very hard to live in #luckily theres almost always one persob who basically acts as a catalist for stability #they regulate and stablelise the magic in a large area around them and are typically the leader of whatever society is built around them #long ago the location was probably less consistant but at this point its been pretty much in the same area for a couple hundred years #but yeah these guys are usually mostly immortal but every 50 years or so therell be a couple dozen potential heirs born at random #these guys are typically minor magic stabelisers in a much much smaller area but more importantly they can take the role of the primary #anchor by killing the current one #now how the anchors handle this depends on who it is ofc and not every potential heir is gonna go for it but the current guy isnt a fan #he actually is from the other world and by all means shouldnt have been able to take power but blah blah blah ~worldbuilding~ he did #he wanted to just kill them all right away but he didnt rly have any way to enact that effectively so quite a few slid under the radar #marley being one of them #now left on their own who knows what marley would have done abt this but their father very much wanted them to take power #and I wont go into too many specifics since itd require a lotta worldbuilding explenations but woo harsh training and absorbing ppls power #their father kidnapped one of the 14 yr old gang from the other story to help marley get used to killing but marley didnt rly know abt that #until after they decided she was funny and cool as hell and was trying to help her find her wau out #(she being the one I havent designed nor talked abt much yet sorry lol) #marley's dad got mad as hell especially when marley timidly protested at the command to kill her so he kicked them out telling them that he #wouldnt accept a pathetic weakling and that theyd need to prove themself to him to be allowed back home #he also threatened them more by insisting that theyll be nothing without him and yada yada #so yeah marley is having a bad time #luckily mocha would find them while out on an expidition job towards the edges of the stable lands

[tripleyeeet]

EASY DAYS AHEAD

SUMMARY: Astarion's not used to feeling cared for. Luckily though, you're as caring as they come.

PAIRING: Astarion & Gender Neutral Reader

WORD COUNT: 1,925

WARNINGS: Astarion's POV, 18+ sexual content, oral sex (male receiving), body worship if you squint, CONSENT!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, consent is incredibly sexy. That's all I gotta say. Also that I'm pretty sure I was possessed by something because I wrote this in literally an hour and a half???

MASTERLIST

-

Astarion doesn’t deserve the care that goes into loving him. With nothing more to offer than a broken mind wrapped in precious, tainted silk, it’s hard to wrap his head around the tenderness. Specifically the feeling of your skin, trailing patterns down his spine —painting fresh images over the scars that line his back as you praise him for his efforts. 

Your voice sounds wrong in his ears. Every word distorting. All the syllables jumbling up in ways that make him narrow his eyes, staring through the darkness of the tent at nothing in particular. 

“You okay?” you ask, and even now, weeks after your first night spent together, he has to muster up everything he’s got not to break down in front of you. 

“I’m fine, darling.” 

His lips always pull in that liar’s grin, ripping through his face like knives. Slicing the inside of his cheeks each time his fangs bite down on the wet flesh inside. 

He has to force himself to look at you. To stare at the exhausted smile that slowly shifts to a frown, showcasing your insight. How you know he’s lying before he can even elaborate on why he’s fine or how you shouldn’t worry about him —he’s a creature of the night after all. 

Pressing fully against him, he hears you click your tongue and shake your head as if scolding him. “What do you need?” 

Each time you pose that same question he feels like dying. Despite the fact his heart no longer works like yours —despite the act of breathing being nothing more than a habit he’s carried over from his deathbed— there’s a dread that coats his chest. Like oil, thick and slick, it completely drowns his organs. Suffocating his body while his mind and soul fight over what comes next. 

As the internal argument grows, his eyes always dart back and forth. One moment they’re locked onto your face, obsessively viewing each section and the next they’re anywhere but. In the forest, on the battlefield, back home tucked tightly inside the palm of his master’s hand —each night he travels everywhere, lingering in certain places while speeding through others, praying to all the Gods that never listened that he’ll make his way back to you. That just this once, instead of drifting off to sea, they’ll grant him the anchor he so desperately craves. The one that’s tethered to you and the solid ground beneath. 

“You still there, handsome?”

He is —sort of— depending on the moment, but instead of saying that he merely hums. Offering the bare minimum to the only person he’s ever met deserving of more. 

“Tired?”

“Incredibly.” 

You push your chest against his back and grip his shoulder, allowing your fingers to tighten around as you maneuver your lips to his cheek. “You should rest then,” you tell him afterward, but like always the words get pushed together. Morphing into something else entirely, causing him to narrow his eyes. 

“You’re one to talk, aren’t you?” he teases, watching you roll your eyes —feeling your nails tentatively dig into his flesh as a warning. 

“Shush. Don’t make me shove a sleeping potion down your throat.”

In response, he lets out a humorous huff. Then, his hands move to snake around your waist, pulling you on top of him. “Go ahead. I’m sure Gale would thoroughly enjoy such misuse of his wares.”

“My wares,” you correct, pressing an annoyed kiss to his chest, making sure to catch his skin between your teeth in the process as a warning. “I bought them from him fair and square.”  

Immediately, he grabs your chin and raises his brow. “Why the hells would you need a potion of sleep anyway? You already sleep like a corpse.”

You merely look away with a smile. All while rolling your eyes in that way that makes him feel like he’s young again. Freshly born into a world that hadn’t yet chewed and spat him out. One where the veins beneath his skin are full of warm blood, pumping through his system, fuelling the desire he knows he should have now that you’re lying against him, flesh against flesh. Beating heart against— 

Your lips press against his sternum and he swears they’re the most tender things he’s ever felt. Next to the way your fingers always seem to lace in his when you’re sitting by the campfire, they’re softer than any touch he’s ever experienced. Hungry yet restrained for his benefit, knowing it’s hard to feel like this. To experience the kindness of a pair of lips, worshipping a slab of skin so undeserving of such care. 

Each time your mouth makes contact, your eyes are always on him, asking for permission. Begging for consent. He’s never told you this but it’s the most selfless thing he’s ever experienced. Despite it’s obvious subtly, that look you give each time your mouth can’t help itself or your hands grow a bit too greedy, means more to him than life itself. More than power or revenge. More than freedom. Because that look requires worth. Value. An offering of submission he’s long since memorized. 

Each time it’s given to him, he has to compose himself. Otherwise, he might just shatter entirely —fall to the floor in a hundred tiny pieces not even you may be willing to put in the effort to fix.

Swallowing hard, he has to stare intently at your face, taking in the way you look up at him through your lashes. How you arch your brow just slightly upward, asking for forgiveness. Atoning for your sins in the form of restraint until he eventually nods, hearing your voice. 

You always ask out loud to make sure. An act that only further fuels his desire to feel you wrapped around him. To experience the warmth of your flesh tenderly pressing against the iciness of his. 

“Go ahead, darling,” he tells you, and for once, he means it. Truly. 

Instead of pretending like he wants this for the sake of a game, he accepts you in full. Watching you genuinely grin as you lean up to capture his lips, savouring the taste of his approval. Consuming the sound that absentmindedly passes through his lips as your hand lingers down, drifting past his chest and stomach until you’re pulling away to breathe. 

He can feel his mouth swell with need. The rest of his body following suit as you begin to descend, touching and kissing and biting —putting him through every sensation he’s gifted so many others. 

Leaning up to watch you work, he can see the excitement in your face each time he accidentally twitches beneath you. How the edges of your eyes crinkle with anticipation the moment you find yourself tucked between his legs, looming over him with heavy hands and breaths. 

“You’re beautiful,” you tell him then, and for once it means something. 

“You’re beautiful,” he repeats back, and for once it isn’t a lie. In fact, it’s the most honest he’s ever been, and secretly that scares him. So much so that he has to look down to see if you’re still there. 

Hoping that the sudden sincerity in his voice hasn’t scared you away, he can’t help but focus on the curve of your spine. How it starts low; your chest slightly leaning against one of his inner thighs.

Somehow despite the precarious position, you look perfect. Like a piece of art so carefully made, he can’t help but reach down and touch, revelling in the way you shudder beneath him. Sighing at the sudden desperation that erupts when you pull at the fabric against his waist. 

“Greedy, are we?” he jokes. 

Shooting him an embarrassed look, your hands continue to work his underwear down his legs —ignoring the way they catch at his knees and ankles. “I just really want to make you feel good.” 

The way you speak sends him over the precipice of ruin. Even before you discard the cloth and wrap your hand around the head of his cock, he’s already done for. Lost to the feeling of your digits. Fully enraptured by the heat of your breath as you lean forward and take him between your lips, coating him in spit. He has to close his eyes despite wanting nothing more than to look at you. Feeling the way your cheeks hollow out against him, he can already imagine the expressions of your efforts. All the time and care put in as you stroke him gently, maintaining the slowest pace he’s sure he’s ever experienced. 

It drives him mad with need. Bucking upwards each time your tongue drags across the tip, he instantly feels you push back. With a firm hand, you grip his hip and dig the pads into his flesh as yet another warning, telling him to behave. To just sit back and savour the pleasures he’s deserved rather than rushing through. 

He isn’t used to enjoying this. More often than not feeling like nothing more than a body designated for others enjoyment, he isn’t entirely sure how to properly relish your efforts. Or at least, in a way that doesn’t feel forced. Because he could do what you’re supposed to in this situation: touch you, moan for you, utter sweet nothings in your ear to further spur you on. He could do one of them or all of them, perhaps a mixture of two and still, it wouldn’t be enough to fully showcase the weight that fills his chest each time your mouth bobs up and down. How, as you begin to push him further and further into your mouth until he’s grazing the back of your throat, everything you do feels like the greatest gift he’s ever received. How maddening it is to feel loved like this even when he’s at his most unloveable.

Because that’s what you do to him. With the simplest of touches, you make him feel like him again. Like his mind hasn’t been shattered by the repeated slams of a sinner’s hand. As if his skin, etched by the knife of that same bastard, isn’t scarred. That instead it’s merely just skin. A grouping of muscle and tissue wrapping around his bones —a simple casing of flesh meant to be licked and sucked and pumped for all it’s worth until he’s gasping for air and uncontrollably shaking. 

And sometimes he feels like he’s earned it. During the easy days when he’s able to forget about his past and instead focus on the beauty that’s pressed against his leg, continuing to suck the come from his orgasm, it’s as if he’s on top of the world. Standing on a pillar of his past self’s hopes and dreams, he can easily look down at you with pride. Reaching down to touch your temple, he can feel the haze of your affections in full. The tremors of your possessive lips slowly slipping off, granting him a slick-coated smile that makes him almost faint. 

During those days he can smile back and pull you up into his chest, ignoring the ache between his thighs in your absence. Opting to hold you close. 

“Was that okay?” he hears you ask, and despite the question seeming almost juvenile, all he does is kiss your face. Starting at your forehead before moving to your nose and cheeks —eventually ending on your lips, he answers the question the only way he can. By showing you that, thanks to the care you foolishly offer, the days really are getting easier.

-

@poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo @jjfchk @idiotsatan @bluestuesday @bloopthebat @art-by-greenie @heneralmoon @sukunababe @dreamingaboutyousworld @ranfithegood @haniscrying @liadamerondjarin @the-lake-is-calling @marina-and-the-memes @rookieoftheyear @zraloci-cpr @kaetmo @snickerdoodle-daydream @wowowwild @d1anna @raswiet @conniesbbymama @venus-wrts @demonicthorns @kihten @sanscas @spammypasta @leighsartworks216 @rose-gold-blue @p1ssmagg0t @hellish-writes @ghostinvenus @otayz @sexysquatch @sleepyeclair @colorful-anxieties @alina-exe @lillifer @girlwiththepapatattoo @acelin-ginsberg @pinkuranium @catrad0rable @scarletrosesposts @qwnamidala @itsrosebabe @bunnyperi @queenofcarrotflowers-s @tatumadams20 @spkyxszn @chlort @f3v3rs @awkwardwookie @joy-the-reader @warm-milk-with-honey-blog @vertigocrime @iyis @wildpiper @pebblethestone @tillywasneverhere @bex-03 @revemiya @staticspouse @itzagothamcitysiren

(tags continued in comments)

#easy days ahead #astarion x gender neutral reader #astarion x reader #summer writes

[sockeye-station]

Wait is your four the captain? How did that happen?

YES! YES!! I GOT SOMEONE TO ASK ABOUT IT! I WIN!!!!

CLEARS THROAT. OKAY OKAY OKAY IVE HAD THIS ROTATING IN MY HEAD FOR A HOT FUCKN MINUTE AND ILL TRY MY BEST TO EXPLAIN IT IN A WAY THAT MAKES SENSE

OKAY. LETS REWIND ALL THE WAY BACK TO OCTO EXPANSION!!!

so! octo expansion goes all normally, we have our agent 8 fighting through the entire structure to escape, agent 3 gets brainwashed, they have to fight, yadda yadda. you probably know how it goes by now. But here's the thing.

what if i went ahead and changed a tiny thing. just the teensiest detail.

what if instead of spamming splashdowns, tartar decides to use one big fuck off booyah bomb.

"but, didn't booyah bomb come out after octo expansion?"

yes. yes it did. and that's why i chose booyah bomb specifically.

tartar whipped out the idea to use a booyah bomb from some prototypes it found out about after abducting god-knows-who, and used it despite its unstable build. No one, at that moment, knew whatever that was, what it did, how dangerous it was, or anything of the sort. This was some sort of last hurrah, as it knew that this was its last shot at stopping this failure from escaping the facility. And so it exerted Agent 3 into giving it everything he's got. Quite literally, even! It pushed him so hard, he too became unstable while trying to mantain and boost the energy ball.

The Booyah Bomb is thrown with as much power as Tartar could muster out of that creature, pretty much covering most of the arena. Once the ink settles, and Agent 8 gathers his senses, he looks around. Agent 3 is nowhere to be seen.

at no point in canon is sanitized agent 3 properly splatted throughout the fight — you only break their shield, they superjump back to their platform, and you eventually knock them out. you never splat them. so who's to say that, just like agent 8 during the ascent, they don't have a respawn anchor?

That's what I decided to play with here. Agent 3 is splatted with no respawn anchor. Agent 3 is dead.

The rest of octo expansion plays as normal, only that there's no passed out Agent 3 waiting at the helicopter.

Starting from here, Agent 8 becomes affiliated with the NSS through Cuttlefish after breaking the news, feeling like he needs to make it up for the loss they suffered as he feels responsible for it. He grows closer with Agent 4, and eventually they become closer friends, even staying at her place after she invited him once their friendship was more developed. This paragraph is mostly to explain how they know each other and how their friendship started, also explaining why my Agent 8 gives OtH Agent 4's number instead of Cuttlefish.

Okay! Now, back to the point of this ask. I actually had a bit of this typed out in a server I'm in!

[Agent 4] didn't really have a choice when it came to becoming Captain, being the fifth longest-standing member of the NSS after craig, the squisters and agent 3. craig was retiring, the squid sisters were still busy with their inkopolis celebrity scene, and [Agent 3] was dead. so she was the next best option.

she didnt really ask for this in the first place, and yet she accepted out of hopes of being acknowledged. When she was just an agent, the rest of the team didn't keep in touch with her much (except for Agent 8) after the events of OE, and at one point even stopped being called for whenever Callie got the shades on again. Whenever she patrolled, she did it without any previous call, and was rarely acknowledged by the others. She still kept visiting the canyon whenever she could after everyone else had moved on.

even after becoming the "captain", the others didnt usually reach out to her for assistance, and instead tended to act on their own. they never really took her as captain, rarely listening to her. so obviously this whole mess made her feel like absolute dogshit, questioning why she even decided to go through with this.

that title was meant for [Agent 3]. not for her. he was the one that came before her, and was better than her in so many ways. at least that's what the others kept repeating around her.

as much of a punch in the gut being constantly compared to someone else was, she kept pushing to try and make herself known, separate from the other's achievements. which is why she ended up accepting marina's request.

#splatoon #splatoon oc #agent 3 #agent 4 #agent 8 #pearl houzuki #marina ida #craig cuttlefish #callie cuttlefish #marie cuttlefish #Boris — Agent 8 #Rae — Agent 3 #Koko — New Captain #tw death #cw death #ask to tag

[lychgate]

Echo brain comic?? My beloved?

this one's pretty new and id like to in the least get some segments drawn up if i can

i went balls deep in depth about my personal ideas of Echo's structure and how it works, it has much more writing rn then art lemme get some snippets:

tech and echo begin digging around in his wiring as echo's health has lately began to decline rapidly. Blood transfusions are becoming daily, exhaustion occurs much quicker, and newest to the issues are these seemingly random seizures. They've attempted many outside options at remedying the problem but it was becoming urgently clear that the only way to get answers would be to open up his system and understand exactly how his body operates from the inside out. Echo is mostly on edge because he fears finding the answer that is he's just doomed to die soon, and that his body was in no way sustainable outside of that fridge. He fears the idea of dying so much that he has manic considerations of being put back in some sort of stasis chamber. Death, which he never feared prior to the citadel, but now he's come to be you know uhhh quite traumatized from it. But he also hates the idea of that fridge!! caught between two terrible options, wowie here ill add some more breakdown of that in a read more if anyone is interested in paragraphs of bullshit:

as for a brief descriptor on the shit on his head and body, from this paragraph:

Tech: these rivets across your skull are not simple ports one can just plug into. They're a very unique structure, containing an extremely delicate, but long system of thin metallic fibers wiring throughout your brain. These 'rivets' then act as anchors to those metal fibers, which then respond to very specific electric signals that we can access at the nodes on the surface here. If the signals sent are not exact. Well. Echo: yeah I get it I get it.

and some write up on how Tech begins to diagnose the problem:

Eventually Tech will find his way into deeper functions of the brain, finding shortcuts that were already developed by the Techno Union scientists for the sake of their own equipment likely. Categorized sections for monitoring all sorts of chemicals and levels within Echo's body, most of which were left on an automatic function to regulate.

Tech begins to understand that the key issue is that this program, and these automatic functions, were fitted for exactly the stasis chamber Echo had been put in, and if they want to begin fixing Echos phsyical body, he would have to start going in and coding line for line, functions that pertain to the body on a sustainability outside that fridge. Some functions were completely turned off, being that Echo was getting fed certain synthesized chemicals thru the machine, his brain had to be telling itself NOT to produce said things naturally.

But it's all very finicky work that requires continuous maintenance and updates, not much unlike a patch update to any other computer program, except this is Echo's life. It's an impossible amount of code to do in any short time frame, and so Tech will begin splicing lines of code from similar organic droids with systems of similar complexity.

They handle these sessions once per week, giving time for Echo's body to catch up and adjust. At first he begins feeling some nausea, his heart rate starts rising, but he insists something feels good about it and urges Tech to keep going. Echo begins to feel warmth back in his body, his mood increases, after about a month hair begins to grow again, muscle mass fills in what once was skeletal limbs, nail beds regain a lively shine. Besides a few errors in updates like over producing a chemical or small bouts of insomnia, everything seems On Course.

and then:

So now we get into the meat of the drama, which is a lot of Echo mania and identity issues:

By this point Tech has outfitted much easier screw on parts so they can go in and out of this program faster (the set up previously was hours of work) so pulling that up he theorizes that he will have to do more then just reverse programs that the Techno Union set up. Tech now believes he'll have to create NEW systems, as the old program appears to be getting corrupted from all of Tech's editing. The seizures are, at this point to their best guess, coming from this. That parts of his brain are literally crashing, and soon he's going to start having more serious issues like bro is gonna just have a massive stroke at some point. Tech points that out all regular voice and Echo is just 'great im back in the mental swamp' Now that Echo's learned that he has corrupted files eating away at his brain, and that the chance of having a massive stroke is like inevitable, he's back to feeling like anxious shit. It doesn't help that this will take Tech a lot of time to figure out. Truthfully he's putting as much effort as he can into it, but this is when Echo begins to get Really mentally unwell. He's both worrying and also trying NOT to worry out of fear that it's going to complicate the program even more. Echo begins to have identity issues, coming to rely more on the mechanics then the organics that make him. He doesn't feel like a human with robot parts anymore, he feels like a robot with human parts.

and it keeps going like there's parts where echo is begging Tech to up programs on dopamine generation and Tech has to turn him down cause that would just be creating an addiction problem, situations where Echo starts trying to mess with his own brain, situations where he tries to kill Tech, its a lot of rambling but im not a writer, like i can't write for shit and I'd like to try and draw it instead

#my art #tbb #tbb echo

[kibblbread]

More headcanons based on @morverenmaybewrites fic, The Pizza Delivery Girl’s Survival Guide to Gotham City because i’m feral for it

AK!Jason is canonically akin to a stray animal but is entirely capable of, as well as wants to be, domesticated! I don’t think he believes he’s allowed or deserving of a nicer life but it’s simply not true 😭

If anyone were specifically trying to get the goddamn post Arkham Knight/Red Hood to settle down a bit I think it’d be particularly difficult. But not especially so, if you’re naturally warm hearted & honest. You don’t have to necessarily be some sweet lil saint but definitely the type to look out for others & be somewhat admirable, like good morals and whatnot. I think he’d do well with someone confident in themselves, unwavering to an extent, at your core you’re a good person. Being soft spoken and humble doesn’t exclude you from having these traits either. He just needs someone reliable to act as his compass.

Jason needs an anchor more than anything.

A reminder to slow down and take a breather. Since JT has never been able to just exist without having to justify himself or not fight for the right to belong. Being able to have a home, a proper tether to Gotham, is something incredibly precious to him.

The most difficult part of this entire process would be getting into close proximity to Jason on a recurring basis. As Red Hood in the AK series specifically, is pretty cut off from everyone. Partially for the safety of you, a civilian, but also because he’s not trying to get another knife in his back! He’s paranoid, combative, snippy, & a lot of the time, just cold. He means well and wants to do right by Gotham, he just can’t seem to ever get shit to go his way so when you come along with an open hand & swelling heart, he’s overall distrustful and dismissive.

When you do make it past his walls though, it’s not at all easier to care for him lol but he does care for you deeply. In the beginning his new behavior is not at all conscious, he doesn’t realize how much calmer he is around you. He’s not quick to raise his voice, he’ll bite his tongue more often and linger around longer. Jason will naturally be more talkative, keep a close eye on you, and allow you to touch him in a semi intimate manner.

#head empty #headcanon #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jt <3 #arkham knight #red hood #ak!jason #blurb #jason peter todd #jayborb #pizza girl x jason todd #pizzagorl

[sh0tanzz]

shotaro as bf and ideal type pretty please, thankyouuu

SHOTARO AS YOUR BF based on astrology ~

(reminder that this for fun and astrology is something I study for a hobby, these are all inferences based off of observations and not exact fact unless I knew him myself !!)

Sagittarius Sun: In a vid Riize made around the time love119 came out Sohee asked the guys what they'd do if they accidentally liked their crushes posts and Sho said he wouldn't care and would let it be to show that he's interested...and yea that sums him up 😭. He'd be pretty blunt about being interested in you in the beginning..like imo when a sag sun genuinely wants you you'll know and they'll definitely LET you know, he'd ofc be your friend initially but he would most def be flirty (especially with that scorpio mercury sextile his cap venus) and try to have a specific personal rapport with you and inside jokes between you two. Would be a personal mission for him to make you laugh and spend time with you. Once you two are officially together he'd want to have so many fun memories with you. He also may have this want to "wow" you or show you things nobody else has shown you before.. "a taste of what youve been missing" type of guy yk. Similarly to Sohee, it would be like dating your bsf. There's an idea that Sag suns can be flighty but his cap/scorpio placements help anchor him down imo.

Scorpio Moon: Super Observant pt.1. The moon is in fall in scorpio and his moon is opposite to saturn so he might have a hard time expressing his more intense emotions. He might similarly to Eunseok keep things to himself and not really letting you know unless you pry it out of him or if he does attempt to tell you himself he'd be pretty vague to ensure that you don't worry. On the other hand, he's pretty big on things such as loyalty and honesty and that would be a big theme in the relationship. Super protective. He reads into your feelings and is pretty emotionally intuitive so he'd know how you feel without you needing to say much. A downside is he can take things pretty personal and if he feels hurt or betrayed he could be very struck down by it and might even feel like "returning the energy", it would be more passive since libra is in mars but it would be sooo obvious. Also his eye contact goes craaazyy.

Scorpio Mercury: Super Observant pt.2. He is very analytical and pays deep attention to what you say and how you say it, so he sometimes might overthink or worry himself by looking way too deep in between the lines of things you tell him. He has moon conjunct mercury so similar to Anton he can speak deeply from the heart as well as remembers everything in regards to you (downside if you said something that hurt his feelings he'd remember it FOREVERR). He also has venus sextile mercury so he most def has a seductive charm within his words or his flirting can be very upfront or comes naturally to him and since his mercury is in scorpio he'd know exactly what to say from your past reactions. Also he might stalk your insta when initially getting to know you to find out things himself.

Capricorn Venus: LOCKED IN LIKE GLUEEEE. Would prefer to take the lead or be the dominant counterpart. Cares sm about loyalty. Would rather talk through problems and endure throughout a relationship rather than just dropping everything. He loves physical touch and gift giving both ways. A common occurrence in Capricorn venus men is to kinda just constantly provide to keep their partner pleased so he may just randomly give you gifts and not just plain gifts they’d have a specific value to them or acts of service/doing tasks for you in order to keep you happy. Takes the relationship pretty seriously especially since he has a Scorpio moon. Since he has Venus square Mars he lowkey likes having to “endure” and for things not to be super easy? He enjoys a cat and mouse dynamic or for one partner to not give in so easily..kind of as though he kinda has to work for your love and attention or a "hate"/love kind of situation. He might also deal with a lot of "right person, wrong timing" scenarios or have periods where he just can't be 100% there for his partner and the guilt of it probably eats him up inside. Quietly possessive, seems ok and says he’s ok on the surface but inside he’s seething trying to not start tweaking. 😭

Libra Mars: Pretty avoidant when there’s a severe conflict in the relationship. He might wait to actually get to the bottom of the issue and may jump around the topic but when it’s time to finally speak up and out he really does try to speak from his heart from his Scorpio mercury. He just really cares about coming together again and keeping the peace 😭. If there were issues he’d either become distant or passive aggressive. His Mars is sextile Pluto so he can be very intense and even obsessive about things like passion and consistency but due to the fact the aspect isn’t harsh and his mars is in libra his approach isn’t as harsh or threatening. Very quick to become your friend or at least familiar with you when he’s first interested in you because how else will he find out as much as he possibly can.. He might lowkey put his emotions to the side to pay more attention to yours and what you have going on/your happiness and deal with his issues on his own. He also has mars trine uranus so he may have random bursts of being passionate and energetic and then a random switch to being chill and more to himself.

#riize #kpop astrology #riize fluff #riize imagines #riize reactions #riize smut #riize x reader #riize astrology #riize tarot #riize headcanons #riize soft hours #riize soft thoughts #riize hard hours #riize hard thoughts #riizenet #briize #osaki shotaro #riize shotaro #riize shotaro x reader #sungchan #eunseok

[laciere]

Bo Ruberg: We Know The Devil is, as you say, about women who love other women, yet you've written online about being "against representation" in video games. What does that mean and how do you reconcile those approaches? Aevee Bee: That article was a little manifesto. When I say that I'm "against representation," I mean that representation can't just be a list of identity categories. It's not really representation unless you're creating complexity; without complexity, characters feel insincere and incomplete. The dumbed-down version of a queer person, or the queer person that never expresses their sexuality--these characters don't actually require you to empathize with queer people, because these characters have no sexuality. When you erase that, you erase their anchor, their passion, their frustrations, or their flaws even, especially their flaws. You're not doing empathy work if you're not engaging with these things, because these are the stumbling blocks for empathy. Sometimes people are like, "I like gay people who don't act gay." You know? Those are the people you're catering to when you make those sorts of characters. Identity is so important to talk about, yet it can be so limiting. I've been having a lot of discussions with queer activists and queer scholars about this desire to all call ourselves "queer," like we're this amorphous blob. That can actually be incredibly unhelpful because it doesn't acknowledge the very real differences that often exist between queer people. Our experiences are specific to our lives. Focusing only on identity, especially identity without experience, reduces everyone to an abstraction. Ruberg: Given how much you value the specifics of individual queer experience, how would you describe the complexities, as you call them, of your own queer identity? Bee: Being a woman is really important to me. Transness is also really important to me. In terms of sexuality, I tend to talk about how sexuality is practiced and understood rather than talking about specific attractions. What's the point of trying to say, "Oh, I have this very specific sexual identity" when sexuality is really hard to separate from gender identity and expression? Sexuality is more complicated than we often give it credit for. For example, I'm less interested in saying "I identify as bisexual," than I am in thinking about the ways that I love women and the ways that I love men and how those are unfortunately incredibly different because of all these social pressures, my own histories, and my internalized baggage. How do we navigate that together with another person? What does a relationship with someone like me look like? it's one thing to be like, "We have this list of labels," but we have so few models for what those labels are supposed to look like.

"Aevee Bee: On Designing for Queer Players and Remaking Autobiographical Truth", in The Queer Games Avant-Garde: How LGBTQ Game Makers are Reimagining The Medium of Video Games (2020, Duke University Press)

#the queer games avant garde #aevee bee #we know the devil #bo ruberg #reading log #video games #interviews

[llamagirl28]

A song I really think about when playing BOC is "Never Love an Anchor" by the crane wives. It's SUCH a good song, and it applies well when we look at Arthur as a character, specifically how he views and treats Mordred.

At the beginning of the song, the opening lines "On some level, I think I always understood/That these hands of mine were clumsy, not clever" is such an Arthur thing to feel. Also applies to how Arthur handled the Mordred situation- his absence in Mordred's life, his adherence to Merlin's and Lance's stance on Mordred, his own conflicting feelings over his only child and their twisted conception.

He always claims that it was for the best, evident in the chapter 3 pov where we first meet him. Yet, over the course of the first few chapters, he realizes that he harmed more than he helped. He handled it the best he could given the circumstances (well, the best he thought he could) but ultimately, nothing went right. Arthur realizes, at first subconsciously, and then consciously, with full force. His handling of Mordred (or rather, Merlin's handling of Mordred, since iirc Merlin kind of influenced his thoughts about whatever presence he should have in Mordred's life) was clumsy.

The next few lines "And I tried to do the best that I could/ But try as I might, I couldn't bring myself to hold you" also cements this dynamic. Arthur is torn up inside about his avoidance of Mordred. He desperately wants to be a dad, but at the same time, is deeply ashamed of Mordred. Combined with the unacknowledged trauma of his r*pe..yeah, the line hits. He's trying his best, but he's held back by the shame and guilt of that night. It's present whether you have a good relationship or not, but far more evident if you are no contact with him.

Next stanza. "It's a secret I keep tucked inside my chest/ With this heart of mine that's guilty, not remorseful". Secret referring here to him being the father of Mordred, and up until chapter 4, how morgana r*ped him. Pretty easy to see the connection there. Though the line "with this heart of mine..." doesn't quite easily fit, since he is remorseful over abandoning Mordred, though I think it applies more to villainous mordreds/ those who act more like morgana than arthur. In the patreon side story featuring Alina (uhm, spoiler beware) there are a few options that remind Arthur of Morgana- when you smile like her, act sardonic, etc. He makes a point to say "every inch morgana's child" or something like that. He actively connects Mordred more with Morgana than with him in these instances. With these types of Mordred's, the line applies twofold- he is guilty of abandoning them, and remorseful...yet he sees Morgana so incredibly clearly in them, and he is wary. He remembers the prophecy, and, while not entirely sticking by it, still keeps it at the forefront of his thoughts in a way.

"There is love that doesn't have a place to rest/But it would have buried you if it had settled on your shoulders" pretty easy to see the connection. The love Arthur has for Mordred is mixed with wariness, shame, and guilt, and mars whatever caring he has for them. Combined with how he rarely sees Mordred, it's hard for him to express that love, especially if you don't have contact with him. (Can you tell my Mordred's relationship with Arthur yet, lol). It's expressed, instead, to Gawain, up until chapter 3 and, probably if you choose not to communicate w him at all, way past chapter 3. He showers Gawain with love because he can't do the same to Mordred, but if he was able to, he would have done it with Mordred as well. He would've been a great dad, if only Morgana hadn't...yeah.

"On some level, I think I always understood /That a ship could never really love an anchor/So, I did the only thing that I could/And severed the rope to set you sailing from my harbor" is an interesting lyric. There's a surface level meaning, but also a more conflicting one. If we apply it to Arthur it's him saying "hey, i couldn't be anything you needed me to be when you were growing up, and so i had to separate myself from you for both our sakes." It might not have been the right choice, but according to everyone around him, it was necessary, especially when you factor in the prophecy.

But. Ships need anchors, to ground them and keep them stable. Without an anchor, a ship will float adrift at sea, never to come to shore and go home. "A ship could never really love an anchor" seems more like his own guilt clouding his judgement when you have a bad relationship with him. "Of course Mordred could never truly love me. I'm an anchor and they're a ship." But ships need anchors Arthur. Mordred is bullied ruthlessly, Mordred has to deal with so many terrible things. Arthur could have been of use, could have been their anchor during this dark time. But he wasn't, because of past trauma and a prophecy hanging over his head.

A lyric that I heavily associate with a distant Chapter 4 Arthur is "There are times when I still wonder about you/ You are someone I have loved, but never known". Mordred has expressed a desire to keep Arthur out of their life, and Arthur respects that. He lives with his chosen family in Camelot, and does his everyday routines. But Mordred still invades his mind, especially around their birthday. "There are times when I still wonder about you" can basically go for the whole arthur pov in chapter 4, really, when he's thinking about Mordred's birthday. Also all the times early on in the story when he talks about wondering what Mordred was like. I for the life of me cannot remember since I've only done a route where I had a good relationship with Arthur like, once, but a scene like this doesn't really happen in chapter 4 for those playthroughs. No internal angsting over Mordred's b-day and their distance, no snake carving, no sadness over not being in contact with mordred. In the playthroughs where you have contact with him, he loves and knows you. In the playthroughs where u can barely stand him, he loves you, but he doesn't know you. He's never gotten the chance to know your hobbies, or your favorite colors, or whether you like your lessons or not. Mordred is sort of a question mark for him, an enigma between a nightmare and a dream.

"And you'll never see the reasons I had/ For keeping my claws away when they were close enough to hurt you" goes more for pre-chapter 4 Mordred's, though it can work with Mordred's post chapter 4. Mordred doesn't know why Arthur doesn't speak to them, and as a result doesn't know the truth of their conception. They chalk it up to Arthur being a coward (at least in my run), a man so shackled to a sorcerer's prophecy that he can't look at Mordred truly as a child. Arthur is pretty sure Mordred is unaware of how they were truly made (after all, Morgana will never say she was wrong without any incentive) but he did think Mordred knew the prophecy. Now that he knows Mordred had no idea about it, he realizes Mordred has no base at all for why Arthur has no contact with him.

In some of the earlier asks, there were a few au questions. Two of them live in my brain rent free: an ask about what would have happened to Mordred had Morgana died during childbirth, and how would Arthur reach out to Mordred if he could still have children. Both of them indicate that Arthur would have been kind of a trash dad. In the one where Morgana dies, Arthur is forced to kind of take custody of Mordred, though he gives them over to Merlin to be a sorcerers apprentice. He's just as absent as he is early on in the game, only reaching out in later years, and more in an uncle fashion than in a father fashion. In the ask where he's able to have more kids, he seems to be a good dad to them, but in regards to Mordred, he only waits until they're in Camelot to attempt any type of reconciliation with them, and it seems as though he'd rather not have a relationship.

If Arthur was in Mordred's life in the early years, as a teen dad with sexual trauma, he would not have been good. He would have been distant and hesitant, and probably would have given them more daddy issues than they already can have in game. I think it's something mentioned by Acolon- love must be freely given, not forced.

"I am selfish, I am broken, I am cruel/ I am all the things they might have said to you" is peak Arthur Sad Hours. It's also, however, a very apt statement. These are things said to Mordred by well...everybody. They're viewed as a monster, evil through the sole purpose of being born to the wrong woman. The latter line connects what they say about Mordred to Arthur, acknowledging both the blood ties that bond them together, as well as saying that even though everyone thinks he's the hottest thing since sliced bread, he's a person too! He's not some saint whose kind and benevolent to everyone; he makes mistakes, he makes bad choices and can be (unknowingly) cruel to others, and in regards to the prophecy, is selfish under the guise of being selfless. He's not a perfect uwu will never do anything wrong EVER boy...he's just a person.

"Do you ever think of me and my two hands?/And wonder why they never soothed your fevers?/And wonder why they never tied your shoes?/And wonder why they never held you gently?" very easily brings to mind a scene of Arthur watching Kay or Lance play with their kids and wish he could do that with Mordred. Arthur, despite everything, does desperately wish to be a father, but he can't because of a curse and a prophecy, respectively. He can't (pardon my language) bring someone into this world because Morgana got rid of that ability, and he can't reach out to Mordred bc 1)trauma 2)prophecy and 3) he very much conforms to what other people want from him, even if it goes against his own wishes.

"And wonder why they never had the chance to lose you?" drives all of these ideas home. He never had the chance to be a proper father early in Mordred's life, and depending on ur playthrough, still doesn't have that chance. It's inhabited by Accolon (for now) and while he thinks that was the better option, he still yearns for that chance. He never had the chance to bond with them, to watch Mordred take their first steps and lose their baby teeth. He never got to read books to Mordred when they were sleepy, and never got to make absolutely horrid dad jokes while they grown in embarrassment. And he will never get to watch Mordred grow old (at least, in this point in the story). He'll never see them through the awkward stages of puberty, watch them rebel and yell at their parents some emo crap before going off to sulk. If you have a bad relationship with him, you only see him once more before you go to Camelot to join the Round Table, at Gareth's wedding. In the bad relationship route, this line is potent because nothing is fixed; their relationship is stilted. He will never get to see them in the Older Years, while in good relationship playthroughs, he can.

Sooo many of the Crane Wives songs are boc coded, tbh. Tongues and Teeth is THE morgana song, and The Moon Will Sing fit remorseful villain mordred's extremely well! I might do another one of these analysis's some time in the future, cause this was pretty fun. I might be off base on some points, so feel free to tell me if I got anything wrong. Now if you'll excuse me it's currently 4am, so I will be off to get some much needed sleep. Have a good one Llama!

It's a very good and thorough analysis! Thank you for sharing 💕 I'd be delighted to hear more, if and whenever you feel like doing another one.

And now I should go listen to the song itself. I only know a couple Crane Wives songs, which I love - Curses and Tongues and Teeth, and I do agree with the latter being very Morgana coded.

#the bastard of camelot #It's always such a joy to hear people's thoughts on the game #And find it stayed with them and occupies their mind

[57sfinest]

i wanted to look at the symbolism of the ocean in disco elysium because it features so prominently in the setting. insulinde being an isola comprised of islands, martinaise as a port town financially anchored by its ocean trade. the divisions brought by water that we see in the geography: how the canal separates the working district of martinaise from the even poorer, commerce-less village-- how the river esperance separates the worst ghettos of revachol and jamrock from the more rebuilt and financially stable districts-- how, for example, lilienne looks across the bay of revachol to the wealthy district of la delta, a poignant moment of separation between someone desperately poor and the towers of wealth built out of the ruins of revachol. we see water, and often the sea specifically, acting as a divider in various contexts. 

the ocean of time and distance that separates dora and harry, that separates klaasje from oranje:

then, further into the idea of the ocean as representative of time: in various contexts i see the ocean as representing the past. memory residing under the waves, and each of us living above water-- in the present-- but often still helpless to the tides when we’re not careful. to me this is cemented by the implication that the pale is commonly theorized as an *outer ocean* (juxtaposed with harry’s introspective skill, inland empire!!): the pale is the past, and if the pale is seen as an outer ocean, then right there is a tangible connection between the two. memory and the past as an ocean, dangerous if you don’t respect its power, but ultimately navigable. there is frequent reference made to the fact that the bombed ruins of martinaise are sinking or lost into the ocean, lost to the past, now only memory. 

and harry, who is living in the past and being consumed by nostalgia like a rot, drives his car into the ocean. harry’s badge, which is conflated with his identity in the aftermath of his amnesia, was underwater before he pulled it from the car: until he got it, his entire identity was lost with his memory in the past. klaasje’s documents, too, presumed lost to the ocean, a loss of who she was or claimed to be (until you meet the phasmid). lilienne’s husband was lost to the waves, and in the same lines she’ll dismiss your concerns-- he’s in the past now, she’s really not too upset. the cleaning lady, abandoned by the world, who has only her own memories for company in her sea-beaten room. in the context of ruby’s near-suicide in the shack, how inland specifies how the “waves had calmed” as she put the gun away: ruby distancing herself from the past that she thinks is chasing her to form a better plan. the working-class husband, who, had his corpse fallen through the boardwalk into the ocean, would have been lost to the past, living only in the memory of billie and their daughters.

for me, the final dream had some of the heaviest but most subtle inclusions of the ocean symbolism. it’s brought on by looking into the ocean around the seafort and takes place under the ocean somewhere. even before the dream, dora is alluded to in the context of the sea. she moved across the ocean and now, to him, she’s lost under it. she’s trapped in his memory.

where we see things half-submerged or partially oceanic, we see a bridge between the past and the present being represented. something partially lost to the past but still with a foot in the here and now. harry’s half-sunken car, in part a representation of his career: part of his past, yes, but still very much in his present. one of the primary spiritual practices we hear of is the volta do mar: originally a palefarer’s practice to keep them grounded in an onslaught by the past, and its meaning is *return from the sea*. when harry tries to turn back time, he wants to go back to a time when the sun had not yet sunk into the sea-- when the light in his life didn’t reside solely in the past.

also in this context, something that really struck me was how harry will sometimes think of himself in the context of the sea. first is the sea monster thought, brought about by the broken plaza: him as a creature submerged in the past, terrorizing the present. and seafaring brought up to represent a kind of compromise between living in the present and acknowledging the draw of nostalgia. even joyce in her limited knowledge of harry compares him to a “half-submerged ruin”. and when harry is prompted into introspection by the dros predicament, inland empire becomes the *inland sea*.

and i really want to make a final, individual point of this. the whirling-in-rags music is sea power’s song “fire escape in the sea”. there is an explicit reference made to the song by shivers as well, and i think the choice of this song is very intentional. the whirling-in-rags is where harry forgot his whole life, the whole world, and it’s where he wakes up and begins to piece it all back together. the whirling-in-rags is harry’s fire escape in the sea. his bridge between his past and his present, his last-ditch attempt at escape from the tortures of his subconscious. 

(this is by no means exhaustive, there are a lot of other moments where the sea comes in, but i included the moments that spoke to me most. you’re welcome to add your own!)

#disco elysium #disco elysium meta #gen meta #hdb meta #kiwipost #i'm gonna see if i can go on mobile and edit the alt text in #if not i may rb with dialogue descriptions #anyway yeah. maybe this is nothing but it means something to ME. to me. #joyce and lilienne are the two people we see with boats #coincidentally the two who seem to have made peace with the past that led them here to this point in their lives. #also on the significance of it being a dockworkers' union in particular that we deal with. #it doesn't mean nothing. i swear there's something here #i also want to think about what it means for harry to be compared to several types of bird #in a context where the ocean represents the past #he's got the name of a hawk. his heraldic bird could be a cockatoo but also he can be compared to a seagull. #he destroys the stuffed skua. his old partner was jean-heron. #much to consider there. #will need to ruminate on that for a while.

[ddarker-dreams]

Those Who Live by the Sword.

Yan Claude von Riegan x F Reader. Commissioned piece.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships and imbalanced power dynamics. Word count: 3k.

There comes a time in everyone’s life when they must test the boundaries of what they can and cannot get away with. 

This has been your personal creed as of late. Though you now fight under the Leicester Alliance’s banner, the lack of a shared history with your fellow alma mater is tangible. It isn’t intentional on behalf of your comrades-in-arms, not that you can tell, but an inadvertent consequence of joining the ranks when you did. 

The time in between battles and skirmishes stretches on seemingly forever. You adhere to a mundane routine: training, ensuring the integrity of your equipment, and wandering aimlessly like some specter in the night. No one troubles you and you trouble no one. You may share the same ambition, meager war rations, and thin tents that can barely keep the night’s chill at bay, yet your common ground ends there. 

You thought this would be enough. Perhaps it will be, if you keep trying, so that’s what you’ve resolved yourself to do. 

Sparks fly off the whetstone as you manipulate a chipped blade against it. You repeat the motion without reprieve, your muscles crying out their protests and your body heavier than the rock this stone was chiseled from. Raising the sword by the hilt, you inspect the fruits of your labor, then frown. A weapon incapable of striking down the enemy is as useless as it is potentially deadly for the wielder. And so you carry on your thankless task, seeing to the repair once more.

There’s a change in the breeze. A slight course correction that some may chalk up to nature’s design; inconsequential, unworthy of granting a second thought. 

The hairs stand on the back of your neck. Firmly, you anchor yourself to the foreign soil, finding that it swallows your boot’s heels rather than spitting it back out. This wouldn’t be an ideal landscape to fight on. That’s why Claude chose to establish camp with this mire acting as a perimeter, deterring potential ambushes and conflicts without a drop of blood being spilled. It’s also why you ventured off here beneath the moon’s looming presence, not wanting to wake your fellow soldiers who often must go days without rest. If there’s anyone who deserves uninterrupted sleep, it’s them, and you eventually, when your goal has been achieved. 

Unblinkingly, you study the thickets where you sense a presence to be staring back. 

You hold your breath and consider your options. Vantage points, escape paths, where the terrain may prove a boon or a bane— 

“Nothing dampens your senses, hm?” A feminine voice that rings familiar asks. From the verdure emerges a lone figure, whose once sky-colored hair is now a frosty mint. Your posture relaxes. 

“Not if I want to live, no.” 

She advances forward. Her eyes go from you to the whetstone, indiscernible in their intent. 

“While being proactive is admirable, it isn’t a good idea to go off by yourself in hostile territory.” 

Byleth no longer officially holds the title of professor, though she still acts the part. It’s never felt unwelcome, this inclination of hers to guide those under her command, but you’re no longer a child worrying over her next grade. You’re a cog in the machine of war. Those who steer said machine needn’t worry themselves with the specifics, so long as you can keep playing your part. 

Yet for some reason, Byleth has often sought you out when you’re certain there are other, more pressing matters to attend to. 

She jerks her head in the direction of the camp. “Let’s head back.” 

You wipe the sweat accumulating on your brow. 

“I’ll be right behind you. This shouldn’t take much longer.” 

Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t appear convinced. 

“... You’re upset,” she reasons. The two words come out slow, cautious. Not caring for the pitying gaze that’s being directed toward you, you return to your previous task. “I get why. Still, Claude never issues orders without reason, you know that. He sees what we don’t even know to look for.” 

Byleth has undergone a metamorphosis since she first walked the cobblestone avenues of the monastery, distant from everyone and everything. Her perception extends far past the battlefield. In many ways, Claude served as a sharpening stone for her, allowing qualities that had rusted over to shine through. 

“I know.” 

“Do you?” She challenges. Her voice slices clean through the air, though it’s not without tenderness. “Lately, you’ve been looking to prove yourself, right? It isn’t worth overexerting yourself.” 

You gulp down the rest of what’s in your waterskin. “I’m not ‘overexerting myself’, I’m just trying to do my part.” 

You glance down at the offending sword that dragged you into this conversation. The condition has greatly improved since when you started. It’s your hope that the owner will live longer thanks to your handiwork. The thought makes your mouth go dry, as if you hadn’t just been chugging water. 

“Don’t you think it’s strange?” You murmur. In the distance, an owl warbles its song. “We need every fighting body we can get, we’re even outsourcing to mercenaries. What reason does he have for taking me off the battlefield ‘indefinitely’?” 

Byleth places her hand on your shoulder. It weighs on you heavily. “There’s no one who knows how to use what’s at their disposal better than Claude. You’ve placed your trust in him before, don’t take it back now.”

“I’m not,” you respond, a hint too fast, like you were retracting your hand after almost being burnt. “I trust him, really, I do, but— I don’t know. First, it was removing me from the vanguard, then putting me in the safest part of the formation, and now this? I’ve become just another mouth to feed. A burden.” 

Whether you intended to say this much, you don’t know, but it all comes tumbling out regardless. The fatigue, stress, and confusion have been building and building to a boiling point. It was only a matter of time before you’d get scalded. 

Dead silence occupies the air, thick and potent. Neither wind nor animal stirs. You have company, and still, you’ve never felt more alone.  

Eventually, Byleth gives your shoulders a squeeze. You think she intends to reassure you. “There is a reason. It’s an important one, too.” 

“And what would that be?” 

Momentarily, the composed countenance Byleth usually maintains cracks, showing an emotion you can’t quite identify. 

In the blink of an eye, it’s gone. 

“I think we both know that isn’t a question for me.” 

-

As per Byleth’s request, you’ve allowed Claude to be the sole holder of your trust. 

She didn’t need to convince you with lofty words and promises. The respect she’s accumulated from you sufficed. You convinced yourself that even if you felt like a deadweight, so long as the golden banner advanced, you’d swallow down your pride and accept Claude’s decision. 

This personal covenant found itself tested within a few weeks. 

The tides of war are a finicky thing. Momentum can be with your cause, almost to the point you’re convinced some divine power is on your side, then it all comes to a screeching halt. One stalemate and one loss — that will be what a historian one day will write in this bloody chapter of Fódlan’s history. 

The groans of the wounded and silence left in the place of those who perished form a haunting symphony.  

You find yourself in the tent Claude occupies. Understandably, he’s been busy as of late, unable to hold an audience with you. Bypassing common courtesy felt like the only way to get through to him, even if this is a breach of privacy. Any other ruler could have you sentenced for life if you tried pulling this stunt, but sticking to strict tradition has never been Claude’s philosophy. You’re confident the scaffold doesn’t await. 

While awaiting his return, your eyes take to wandering. To the left stands a cot, a bow, and various quivers beside it in case of a surprise attack. In the middle is a crudely outfitted table, a map of Fódlan the centerpiece, scribbled with notes that are updated every time a scout comes back. His personal belongings are few and far between. 

There is a single thing that catches your attention. A leaf that doesn’t match the flora of this area — one species found in Garreg Mach Monastery and nowhere else. You know this item well, for you’re the one who gave it to him, five years prior. On the eve of the White Heron Cup, you’d pressed leaves and gave them to your fellow students, regardless of class affiliation. You wanted to ‘preserve your bonds’, or whatever the naive dream was. 

Considering the current state of the country, it’d seem your wishes fell on deaf ears. 

He kept something silly like this for so long…? 

“Are you here to assassinate me, by any chance?” 

You almost jump out of your skin at the abrupt appearance of Claude. The man you’ve been seeking out all this time certainly knows how to make an entrance. The world itself takes a secondary role when he enters, fading away into an unidentifiable blur. His presence commands attention without him doing anything. There’s this magnetic aura surrounding Claude, a quiet brilliance, dazzling as a crystal. 

“Of course not,” you reply. It’s terribly tempting to fall into a trap of lighthearted banter when he’s around, so you must remain vigilant. “I was only hoping to take a few minutes of your time.” 

He frowns and visibly deflates. “There isn’t any requirement saying you have to speak so formally with me. You didn’t used to.” 

“Wouldn’t you say that times have changed?” 

“Times have changed, yes,” Claude relents. The twinkle in his eye tells you he’s far from finished. “That doesn’t mean you have to. I’ve always appreciated your candid nature, it’s refreshing. Even more so when you enter the convoluted world of politics like I have.” 

“I think breaking into your tent is rather candid.” 

“That it is. So,” he pulls out a rickety chair and sits, his posture open. “Let me guess. You’re here to challenge my order for you to remain off the frontlines?” 

It’s always amazed you how he goes from beating around the bush to addressing a point directly. In every discussion, whether it be subtly or overtly, he finds a way to take the reins. His boldness temporarily takes you aback. You prepared an opening statement that’d help ease into your dissent, but that slips your mind like sand through your fingers. 

“I don’t want to question your judgment. It’s just… I think I’d be better utilized out on the field. I came here to help, to fight.” 

“For me, correct?” 

You pause, gauging if he’s joking or not. It’s difficult to tell. 

“I suppose that’s a way of putting it?” 

Claude leans back in his chair and folds his legs. “You did your fair share of snooping around on me back then and even now. That assassin jibe really was a potential theory of mine at one point. I wasn’t sure what to make of you. Coming from me, that’s quite the compliment.” 

He steeples his fingers. 

“The solution was so simple that I hadn’t considered it. Maybe you weren’t aware of it yourself, maybe you were. You found me intriguing, to the point you’d be willing to leave your country of birth behind. This level of dedication, when we’d hardly exchanged words back in our academy days… let’s just say it endeared you to me.” 

Heat rises to your cheeks. 

“You shouldn’t joke around about stuff like that.” 

“I’m not joking,” he flashes a handsome smile. “Knowing how tenacious you are, I thought it’d be best to give proper context to my decision. I don’t want you in harm’s way. This is what I get for trying to delay this conversation until after the war. A tent is the furthest thing from a romantic backdrop, but… beggars can’t be choosers, hm?” 

Endeared you to me. Don’t want you in harm’s way. Romantic backdrop. 

Your legs almost go out beneath you. “W-Wait, this isn’t— it can’t be— a confession?” 

He puts his hands up as if in surrender. “Ah, you caught me. Is it all starting to make sense now?” 

You scrutinize him without trying to hide it in the least. He might be using the casual language that’s typical of him, but his physiognomy is serious. His lips ease into a closed-mouth smile, his eyes contain a certain gentleness, and the tone of his voice is unlike any you’ve heard him use before. A tempest of thoughts and emotions encircles you. It’s stupefying, this situation you’ve stumbled into, almost dreamlike. While you aren’t certain if you reciprocate in full, his charm is undeniable. 

You’re about to explain as much to him when a realization hits. 

So much emphasis has been put on this revelation that the true reason for your meeting here was almost covered, sitting elsewhere and collecting dust. 

The traps he sets are tempting indeed. 

“So that’s the reason,” you say, almost breathless, “I can’t just sit back and watch everyone else put their lives on the line, knowing I’m not doing the same, because of favoritism.” 

Claude sighs. The oil lamp sitting atop the wooden table flickers, casting shadows over his face. Green eyes take in your discontent through thick eyelashes. The undulating shadows become one with the bags forming beneath his eyes, a testimony to the relentless pursuit of his dream. The sheer exhaustion staring back at you pokes and prods at your heart. You don’t want to add to his stress, you want to help, but this isn’t something you can concede on. 

“It’s only going to get more dangerous as we advance on the capital.” 

“Which is why I—” 

“I won’t allow it, simple as that,” Claude cuts you off. There’s a dangerous edge to his voice he rarely ever uses with others. He wants this conversation over with, that much is evident. “Why do you think I kept that gift from you, hm? It always appealed to me, that optimism of yours, so willing to overlook what everyone else in this land and the ones beyond it fixates on. I’d look at it and remember I wasn’t the only one who aimed for something better.” 

You know the expression that etches itself onto his face. That’s the look of a man willing to do anything, give everything, to obtain what he wants.  

“So. You can huff, glare at me, do anything you please really, but I won’t be changing my mind. Not on this. I’d prefer not to gamble more than I care to lose, for once.” 

It’s as if a spirit possesses you. Your legs stride toward him, magma flowing hot through your veins, searing you from the inside out. He remains unwavering upon your approach, silently testing to see what it is you may do next. You grasp at his collar with hands that are calloused from a lifetime of training. Your height overtakes his while he remains sitting, and yet, you feel he’s the one looking down on you from an unreachable podium. 

“And what about what I want?” 

“You should want to live.” 

“I want to fight.” 

“There are more ways to help than shedding blood.” 

“Are we at a point where that’s true?” 

“We will be,” Claude places the palm of his hand over your clenched fist. “Is it so bad that I want to keep you safe?” 

The expression you regard him with speaks louder than words. 

“Alright, alright, I expected as much. You aren’t one to be convinced by words alone, which is truly a shame, because talking is my whole thing… that leaves taking action then. Are you going to let this play out without raising a fuss, or am I going to have to get creative here?” 

This enigmatic phrasing does not sit well with you. He could already foresee that you weren’t planning on hanging back now that you know the true reason for his command, further narrowing your options of retaliation. It isn’t like he’d be in a position to do anything if you were out on the field, his attention would be forced elsewhere. 

Claude’s serious about this. He’d truly have you twiddling your thumbs and wallowing in idleness while you watch faces leave that you might never see again. 

You try retracting your hand. He doesn’t let you. 

“What exactly does ‘get creative’ mean?” 

“Well, since you asked,” he closes his eyes and hums, as if in deep thought, “Posting guards to keep an eye on you, physically restricting your movements, or even sending you back to the monastery with an escort. There are plenty of options, really.” 

Eyes narrowing, you dare to call his bluff. “You can’t spare the manpower it’d take to escort me back.” 

“Ah, I think you’re mixing the phrases ‘can’t’ and ‘would prefer not to’. Trust me — I’d love to keep you close to keep a better eye on you — but we can’t always get what we want. If I think you’re preparing to pull a stunt that’d put your life in danger, I’ll act accordingly. That’s a promise.” 

It isn’t often you’re faced with such an immovable force. His relaxed posture belies his serious intent, the discordance is further unsettling you. 

Then you’re struck with an epiphany. 

“If you won’t listen to me, you’ll listen to the Professor, right?” If there’s a hint of haughtiness to your tone, no one can blame you. “There’s no way she won’t think you’re overstepping your boundaries by acting like this.” 

Your threat doesn’t phase him in the least. If anything, there’s a hint of amusement on his visage, as if you told him a joke in good fun. He has the decency not to laugh, but from the crinkling of the skin beneath his eyes, he might as well be. 

“You’re more than welcome to try. I should warn you, though…” 

Hues of piercing green bore through you. 

“Half of this was her idea.” 

#claude x reader #claude von reigan x reader #yandere claude x reader #fire emblem x reader #yandere fire emblem x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #commissions #my stuff

[grey-sorcery]

Title: Introduction to Grounding

Suggested Reading

Shadow Work: First Steps Shadow Work Concepts Duality in Witchcraft Basics of Energy Work Spirit Work: First Steps Energetic Senses

*- Closed or semi-closed culture/practice

Introduction

After a working, stressful experience, physically or otherwise, one might feel disconnected, sporadic, powerless, unhinged, bogged down, lofty, etc. After experiences like this it can be difficult to re-engage with yourself, your life, your thoughts, feelings, etc. Grounding is the act of recentering your mind, energy, and body to be better conducive after coming out of these types of experiences. The practice can also be insurmountable in dealing with panic attacks and anxiety. This obviously doesn't apply to everyone. If you chronically suffer from such experiences, I highly advise speaking to a licensed psychiatrist.

What is grounding?

Grounding is bringing your mind, body, and subtle body back into equilibrium. It can be as simple as becoming still and taking a deep breath or as complicated as an entire ritual. I personally recommend that all levels of grounding are used when they are most applicable. While some methods are more effective than others, like warding, it is best to be well rounded. When grounded properly, making complex decisions and plans becomes a lot easier (Mental illness allowing). It also makes spellwork go a lot smoother, because you’ll have carved out enough room to easily maintain headspace. It is important to thoroughly ground after spellwork as well. This will help you break away from the working. 

Physical Grounding

These exercises are the simplest form of grounding and don’t require magic at all. Though, energy work can be incorporated into them to make them more effective. The simplest exercise is deep breathing. A deep lasting breath, inhaled through the nose, that is held for three beats of the heart and then slowly released through the mouth. Sometimes, only a single deep breath is necessary. I have an example of an energetic application of this here.

Stretching is also a great way to ground. Practices like Yoga* are very effective at bringing the body, mind, and subtle body into synchronicity. However, you do not need to practice Yoga* to achieve this. Simply stretching while feeling every muscle, tendon, and bone in your body is sufficient. 

Psychological Grounding

The human psyche is a complex web of emotions, thoughts, and reactions to external stimuli. The stability of this intricate system can be undermined by factors such as trauma, stress, or simply the pace of modern life. As such, the concept of grounding has been explored in various psychological and scientific contexts as a means to foster equilibrium within this system. Grounding refers to the act of reconnecting with the present moment, often by focusing on physical sensations or objective realities. This practice can serve as a pivot point from which an individual can recalibrate their emotional and cognitive state.

One of the approaches to grounding is the practice of realist affirmation. This method involves the conscious acknowledgement of tangible realities. Instead of becoming lost in abstract or potentially distressing thoughts, individuals refocus their cognition on concrete facts. For example, one might affirm the date, their location, or a description of their immediate environment. This technique aids in anchoring the individual's mind in objective reality and can mitigate the risk of spiraling into overwhelming emotional states or negative thought patterns.

Meditation, another renowned method for mental regulation, has been the subject of extensive scientific research. While the term is often laden with various cultural and religious connotations, stripped to its basics, meditation is the act of training one's attention. Methods can vary, but commonly include focusing on the breath or on specific bodily sensations. This fosters an awareness of the present moment, and over time, can increase an individual's overall mindfulness, thereby decreasing the prevalence of negative or intrusive thoughts.

Therapy, especially cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT), has often employed grounding techniques as part of its protocol. CBT operates on the principle that our thoughts, feelings, and behaviors are interconnected. By identifying and challenging negative thought patterns, individuals can regulate their emotions and reactions more effectively. Grounding exercises, within this framework, serve as tools to disrupt and divert from maladaptive cognitive pathways.

A sigil is a symbol imbued with magical intent. In a modern, psychological context, devoid of its magical properties, a psychological sigil can be seen as a symbol or token that serves as a mnemonic or anchor point for a particular mental state or cognitive strategy. For instance, a person might associate a specific shape or symbol with the state of calm and use it as a tactile or visual cue to induce grounding when faced with stress. The Spare Method is a very good example of psychological sigils. This method uses a phrase or intention of personal change and abstracts it through letter grids in order to create a memetic anchor for that concept.

Breathing techniques, rooted in physiology, offer immediate and tangible benefits. The autonomic nervous system, responsible for involuntary bodily functions, is divided into the sympathetic (often associated with the "fight or flight" response) and the parasympathetic (associated with "rest and digest"). By consciously altering breathing patterns, one can engage the parasympathetic system, promoting relaxation and countering the effects of stress. Slow, deep inhalations, followed by prolonged exhalations, have been shown to have a calming effect on the nervous system.

Lastly, the 5 senses exercise is a commonly advocated grounding technique. It involves the sequential acknowledgment of sensory experiences: identifying five things one can see, four one can touch, three one can hear, two one can smell, and one one can taste. This method, rooted in immediate sensory perception, effectively diverts attention from distressing or overwhelming thoughts and anchors the individual firmly in the present.

Spiritual Grounding

Grounding, in a psychological context, pertains to techniques that anchor individuals in the present and deter them from negative cognitive spirals. Spiritual grounding, on the other hand, is oriented towards reconnecting individuals with their inherent spiritual essence or a larger cosmic framework. Rather than just dealing with the immediate sensory realm, it dives into the realms of beliefs, faith, and deeper connections to the universe or divine entities. It facilitates a harmonization of one's spiritual energies with the surrounding environment.

The practice of ancestor work is one method that many cultures and traditions utilize to establish spiritual grounding. This practice involves reaching out to, honoring, and sometimes seeking guidance from one's forebears. Ancestor work acknowledges that an individual's existence is the culmination of countless generations and that wisdom, experience, and energy from these past generations can be accessed and channeled. By connecting with ancestors, either through ritual or meditative techniques, individuals can find guidance, strength, and a deeper sense of belonging in the world.

Prayer, a universal practice found in virtually all spiritual and religious traditions, is another potent tool for spiritual grounding. Though the content and form of prayers can vastly differ, their core essence remains the same: they are channels of communication between the mortal realm and a higher power or consciousness. Prayer is a deliberate act, setting aside a moment from daily life to converse with the divine or the universe, to seek guidance, give thanks, or simply to reflect. This act, by its very nature, pulls individuals out of the mundane and reconnects them with a grander, spiritual realm, thus grounding them in their faith or spiritual path.

Theological offerings and interactions serve as physical representations or acts that demonstrate reverence, gratitude, or supplication to a higher power. These can take the form of food, incense, artifacts, or other symbolic items presented at altars, temples, or other sacred spaces. Such acts are not mere transactions; they symbolize a relationship between the devotee and the divine. By giving offerings, one acknowledges the presence of a higher power in their life, and in return, they may feel a sense of protection, blessing, or simply a deeper connection to their spiritual path. Engaging in these tangible acts can serve to ground an individual in their spiritual beliefs and practices.

Interactions in a theological context might also encompass rituals, ceremonies, or communal gatherings where spiritual teachings are shared and explored. Such interactions, whether they are with spiritual leaders, fellow believers, or the divine itself, serve to solidify and reaffirm an individual's spiritual foundation.

Up Next: Intermediate Grounding

In the next installment of our comprehensive series, we'll delve into Energetic Grounding. Much like its psychological and spiritual counterparts, energetic grounding offers techniques to anchor oneself, but it primarily concerns the non-physical or subtle energy body. 

We'll explore the profound concept of connection and how our subtle body interfaces with the energies of the world around us. This connection acts as a bridge, allowing us to tap into the vast reservoir of cosmic energy and, at the same time, offering a channel for us to root or ground our energies.

The practice of "Rooting the Subtle Body" provides fascinating insights. Rooting is more than just a metaphor; it's an active practice of extending one's energetic tendrils deep into the Earth, much like the roots of a tree, drawing stability, nourishment, and strength. This anchoring not only offers a sense of belonging but also ensures that our energetic system remains balanced and aligned.

Further, the article will delve into the intriguing process of the Subtle Body Expansion into the Physical Body. Our physical form is not isolated from our energy body; rather, they intertwine and influence one another. We'll explore techniques to harmonize and integrate these two aspects of our being, ensuring a symbiotic relationship between the tangible and intangible facets of our existence.

Lastly, we'll touch upon Wellsource Gnosis, or entering into a state of Gnosis on the Wellsource and becoming conscious of its interactions with the subtle and physical bodies. This practice, often overlooked in modern discourse, speaks of a primordial source of energy for the human subtle body. Tapping into the Wellsource can provide not just grounding but also a deep reservoir of insight and understanding.

If you enjoyed this article, check out my masterlist!

Patreon Shoutouts:

Meegs (You're amazing!) Jinsu (TYSM)

I know I had a bit of a lull there when I was sick, but you guys kept supporting me through it. This article is dedicated to Meegs who specifically requested this one!

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This article was reviewed and edited by ChatGTP

#beginner witch #grounding #energy work #self care #self love #anxiety #social anxiety #baby witch

[spilledkaleidoscope]

I am still not normal about the pale emitter amnesia au

everyone’s been talking about it from Harry’s POV but I am fascinated with the effects that would have on Kim, beyond the initial confrontation. I think a big part of his character in canon is how well-defined his sense of self is— it’s where he gets his “cool” from. Sometimes his identity is at odds with the world, and he’s very careful about what parts of himself he shows to others, but at his core Kim is someone who very much Knows who he is…

which is why it’s so fascinating to think about who he becomes when all that knowledge is stripped away in an instant. I think because he doesn’t have anything in his past that he’s actively trying to forget, he would struggle a lot more with the amnesia than Harry does— kind of in an “oh God, I used to be a fully realized person and all of that is just… gone, wtf do I do now” sort of way— and I’m still trying to figure out how the hell he’d recover from something like that.

(this of course does not even address the effects that, in turn, would have on Harry— how unmooring it would be for him to lose the person who has been his anchor, when he himself still knows so little about the world. Thinking about him telling Kim info but it’s all stuff pre-amnesia Kim told him & taking morale damage)

anyways there’s not really a question in here I’m just Having Thoughts & wanted to share

YEYEYE im also rotating the whole thing in my head! It's interesting that you specifically mention the way this may impact Kim's personality - that's actually sth I went into a bit for the (abandoned) swap AU fic I dabbled with a while back. Kim essentially being influenced by 1. Having a constant state of stress at not understanding a lot of what's happening around him (and how he's Supposed to act) and 2. Rebuilding himself on the information he can gather - even though it may be wrong. It resulted in a way more brash, angry Kim who refused to cooperate with most people and operated on the assumption that anyone might be a threat to him.

In this scenario too... I would think that his fear/discomfort around the Pale sits so deep that when he learns what happened to him it would be a lot more disturbing than Harry learning how he got into that situation.

#au where the pale emitter gives kim amnesia #Askbox

[aikoiya]

LoZ: LU - The Lantern of the Lost

I have this idea for an item that's been rolling around in my head for several years.

It's a dark blue/black frame lantern with a peculiar flame inside.

Like this:

The lantern has a tassel attached to the bottom with a silver bell, that when it rings, it draws in Poe Souls so long as they haven't taken on the form of enemy Poes. Those souls then join the flame until it is time for them to be taken to the Bargainer Statues.

The flame itself almost seems to pulse like a heartbeat.

Regardless, its design would have a definitive Sheikah influence. Not technologically, but magically & design wise. Even featuring a very ancient iteration of the Mind's Eye symbol, one with a very destinctly Depths script style design to it.

Something kinda like this:

(Obviously not done. There are definitely some mistakes. Also not sure which looks better.)

This is what I have so far.

Nowhere near done yet. I definitely think the lanter itself is too simple for what I want, but I'm liking the general shape of it at the very least.

Other designs could include Depths-style versions of the Shadow Medallion symbol & such things.

Anyway, when held by someone who hasn't unlocked said the Mind's Eye, it will merely act as an ordinary, if magically-powered lantern with an ordinary flame. Though, it will consume the holder's magic, just not very quickly.

However, it has to be the actual Mind's Eye. Otherwise, the flame won't be the one in the picture above & won't be able to house the Poe Souls. It doesn't work with the Lense of Truth or the Mask of Truth. There's just a different level & even quality of magic that runs through your 3rd eye when you have access to the ability itself that very simply can't be fully replicated artificially. Sure, the Mind's Eye can't literally see through chests the way the Lense of Truth can, but it has a number of other benefits that the Lense doesn't.

Something else is that the light from the lantern can essentially project the power of the Mind's Eye outward, thus allowing those around the holder to also see the spirits. Both living & dead ones. Not to mention passed illusions. You see, someone with the power can see the Poe Souls as people. Much like how the ghosts of Rhoam & the Champions appeared. Though, more wispy & most normal people only have a couple of those little green flames floating around them. It also allows those nearby to hear the Poe Souls speak.

Though the Shadow Soldiers are merely echos of the people they were. The souls of those soldiers have already moved on, but they were able to leave a bit of themselves behind. Their dying wish to protect Hyrule in whatever way they could is what allowed such shadows to manifest. One with the Mind's Eye & those near them while holding the lantern could hear the Shadow Soldiers too, but it'd be little more than whispers of what they'd been thinking & feeling at the time of their death. Their most desperate desire. The one that keeps such echos anchored to the Depths.

Which brings up something. The fact that a lot of the Links seem to have a tendency towards seeing, interacting with, or soothing spirits or ghosts. You think it's something to do with the Spirit of the Hero?

Either way, I'd really like to see a half-Sheikah Link using this lantern. So, maybe this could be a part of the Library of Nayru story.

Either way, I'd want whichever Link ends up with it to also learn the Song of Healing & the Song of the Sun for the sake of soothing the souls of the dead.

Of course, it wouldn't always work immediately. Sometimes, Link would have to help them finish something or talk to them about something. Though, in the case of Poes & Imp Poes having taken on enemy form, it'd require a bit more work. Specifically, "killing" them with either a Light or Twilight-based attack. Either from a spell or a weapon. Doing so will destroy them & leave behind both a Poe Soul & a few Dark Clumps.

Such methods also work on undead enemies, such as Stals, Redeads, & Gibdos, & corrupted enemies such as Wolfos, Bullbos, Vulpos (the Keaton enemies from MC), Iron Knuckles, Furnixes, ect.

In the case of the latter, it purifies them, turning them back to their original forms. And in the cases of the Keatons, Iron Knuckles, & Furnixes, you'll get something out of it. If not rewards, then information or quests at the very least later on.

In fact, I could see purifying a Keaton near the beginning of the game ending up being the linchpin to Link learning the Mind's Eye technique to begin with. Perhaps the Keaton even becomes the companion for this game.

Though, I can also see him getting on a lot of players' nerves, because I tend to portray the Keaton as wise & clever, but very mischievous (occasionally just outright demanding Keatonzushi & Keaton Udon). Having a distinctly Cheshire Cat vibe, though his questions always have answers & it's always something that Link is supposed to be able to figure out on his own. Aside from riddles, I also tend to see the Keaton as being fans of the Socratic Method.

By this I mean, that they ask a lot of questions, fully knowing the answers themselves, but also expects Link to be able to think for himself & thus use said questions as a way to force Link to think critically.

Despite this, they are also not shy in telling Link when he's done a good job & will always repay a favor in kind.

In a way, I suppose that I see this particular Link as the sort who genuinely enjoys things like puzzles, brainteasers, riddles, & the like. Also having that classic Hero curiosity.

LoZ Linked Universe Masterlist

#loz #legend of zelda #tears of the kingdom #totk #linked universe #lu #spirit tracks #st #phantom hourglass #hg #majora's mask #mm

[uselessheretic]

I don't believe the issue people have with the idea of Izzy being Ed's abuser is because fans are unwilling to view Ed as a victim of abuse or Izzy as capable of being an abuser. I feel like it's a more simple answer of "people don't agree with that interpretation because there isn't enough to substantiate it."

With Izzy and Ed, it's important to understand the difference between conflict and abuse. (I'd highly recommend "Conflict is Not Abuse" by Sarah Schulman!) A lot of the time in highly volatile relationships, we're quick to assign abuse to them and to figure out which person is the perpetrator and who's the victim, but often times they're just conflicted. This is why you'll often hear Izzy stans describing their relationship as mutually toxic, not mutually abusive (which isn't real)

The simplest definition is determining whether the relationship is based in Power Struggle or Power Over. Abuse isn't based off of individual actions, but an exertion of power. Both Izzy and Ed commit acts as part of a power struggle towards each other, with Izzy's antagonism of Stede and utilization of the navy, and Ed's manipulation and physical violence of punching, choking, and mutilating. (Yes, physical violence is an expression of power!) There's a back and forth here with both having moments of forcing the other to stay, and neither of them being the picture of a healthy relationship. With them, there's also the added element of Izzy's privilege as a white man versus Ed's position as Izzy's boss which are both significant power imbalances that factor into each other's toxicity.

The important part is that Ed's feeling negatively towards Izzy doesn't equate to being an abuser. Izzy vaguely threatens Ed ("Edward better watch his fucking step") but this is also within a context where Ed just choked him. Izzy had called the navy before, yeah, but that option isn't available for him anymore, and Ed still has an advantage of being the only thing keeping the crew from throwing Izzy overboard with an anchor anklet. Arguably, Ed holds more power over Izzy in this specific instance. Rationally, there isn't an immediate threat here, but Ed still responds as if there is.

Ignoring all that, the main part of this is that Ed's Kraken response is indicative of the other person being an abuser. "If someone reminds Ed of his past abuse that much then it must mean that they're in the wrong!" But that's not how that works. Take this passage from Conflict is Not Abuse as an example:

This is also not how Trauma™️ responses functions. Ed, incontestably I hope, has some form of PTSD/c-PTSD. The very defining aspect of PTSD is that a person experiences a traumatic event that they continue to not recover from impacting their day to day life. Often people going through traumatic events will struggle for a bit before getting better, but not everyone does that. When the symptoms continue or even grow worse, that's when we identify PTSD.

PTSD reactions aren't rational. Especially when it comes to c-PTSD, the ability to gauge and respond to threats is damaged. You become easily triggered by things, often seemingly unrelated to an outsider, that reminds you of those traumatic experiences and throws you into survival mode. People with PTSD and who have suffered from abuse are not able to rely on gut instinct alone. That meter has been damaged where the threat alarm is going off at a hair trigger, leaving the survivor of trauma the options of avoiding those triggers completely (nearly impossible) or learning to suppress that. This can also leave survivors of abuse especially prone to revictimization. When every action someone takes looks like a red flag, you learn to tune out that alarm bell, including the times when it's not an overreaction.

If we assume that Ed reacting with the Kraken is indicative of the other person being an abuser, then that'd mean we'd have to assume that Stede's crew was a threat. Ed killed his dad and Ed killed Lucius, so naturally, Lucius must have been abusing Ed. You can extend it as far as Stede as well, since David Jenkins described Stede's rejection as "deranging" Ed, and Ed while acting as the Kraken is tossing out Stede's shit and marooning his playthings. But we know that Lucius only had the best of intentions for Ed, and we know that the crew is too incompetent to hurt Ed.

So what the fuck is going on with Ed?

Simple answer is that Ed feels threatened. Ed's scared. He doesn't feel safe. When chronically traumatized people feel unsafe, they react in defense, including in ways that are maladaptive to themselves, and harmful to others. One way to conceptualize it is through the Internal Family Systems (I wrote an analysis through this lens once!) Within IFS, you have two basic categories of Protectors and Exiles. Exiles are the part of us who hold the pain and shame of our trauma, usually from childhood. Protectors are the parts of us who develop strategies, usually maladaptive, to protect us from that pain. I'm severely simplifying, but I've found this site to be helpful with breaking down the core concepts.

We can think of the Kraken as taking on the role of a Firefighter. The "break glass in case of emergency" protector who comes out when we're in "danger."

Firefighters will do whatever they need to when it comes to stopping the danger, even pushing us into far more fraught situations. This can include things such as binge drinking, self-harm, serial cheating, and other actions we wouldn't rationally view as safe, but things like drinking can numb the pain, self-harm creates feelings of control, and cheating brings reassurance that you are wanted. They're quick fixes with a disregard for consequences in the moment, but they're actions done to "protect" you from danger.

But like I said, trauma can really skew your sense of danger.

Just because someone triggers your PTSD and brings out your greatest threat response, doesn't mean the threat is validated. In the same way flinching when your partner casually reaches out to touch you doesn't mean they're at risk of beating you.

Ed's response to Izzy could be an overreaction to Izzy's vague verbal threat, or it could be a solution to quelling Ed's fear of abandonment, or something else entirely. It could be reminding Ed of his father, but it doesn't mean that Izzy is an abuser. Especially within a context where we've never seen Izzy pose a physical threat to Ed, where the closest we got is him summoning the navy on his white boyfriend, and ensuring that Ed was not harmed in the interaction. Ed's use of physical violence against Izzy isn't proof of Izzy's abuse, no more than it would be for Ed throwing Lucius overboard.

Something Sarah Schulman goes into detail about with the necessity of drawing a difference between conflict and abuse is misidentification of abuse stemming from supremacy vs from trauma. With supremacy, you can't just trust your gut feelings because that ends up with things like white women having moc murdered. Traumatized responses are ones where past victimization interferes with our ability to differentiate between abuse and conflict. These can often overlap with clear borders, but there are differences, of course.

The reason people don't view this dynamic as abusive isn't from an unwillingness to see Ed as a victim, but from knowing that he has been victimized in the past. The level of trauma he sustained as a child severely fucks with someone's head. Not metaphorically either, it literally causes brain damage and has been linked to an increase in likelihood of developing autoimmune diseases. Like, trauma can be so bad that your body just starts eating itself it's fucking wild the amount of damage it can do to a person.

Recognizing that Ed’s actions can be wrong, but still extending empathy towards his place as a survivor of abuse, is an act of compassion towards him.

#i liked my reply for this so im just gonna put it as a separate post #izzy hands #ofmd meta #edward teach #blackhands