#I've felt exceptionally terrible

[biteofcherry]

Touch The Darkness

dark mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

summary for this chapter: Accompanying Steve to a club goes terribly wrong. However, what follows may shake you even more. Certain self-discoveries are best left ignored and denied, right?

warnings for this chapter: dark!Steve Rogers; forced marriage; violence; being turned on by violence (not against the Reader); hurt her and you die trope; hurt/comfort of sorts; smut; gun kink; oral (m receiving); fingering; anal play; double penetration; dirty talk; praise; D/s undertones;

word count: 6.2k

Author’s Note: We're on the penultimate chapter! It means certain discoveries and revelations about Princess and Steve's dynamic. Personally, I'm happy that I've written it all exactly like I imagined when I created the outline for all ten chapters of this fic 😎 Also, just to calm you all down, the main story will end on chapter 10, but it doesn't mean I won't write some fics and drabbles for Steve and Princess in the future.

Also, in this chapter, there's a tiny blink-and-you'll-miss-it reference to @krirebr's vampire Steve 🤭 No, he doesn't appear. There's just a particular innuendo.

Touch the Darkness Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Chapter 9. Eruption 

~ * ~

A myriad of colorful splashes chased each other along the dark, cathedral ceiling. Following their drugged dance felt both tiring to your eyes and childishly relaxing. 

When Steve informed you of the opening of a new club - one that was officially owned by someone else, but in reality fell under Steve’s command in that twisted dark web of connections you learned intertwines the city and the whole fucking coast up to the Capitol - you snorted at him that you’re not a college girl interested in spending her Friday evening skanky, drunk and groped. 

The last word you should’ve skipped, because of course your husband grinned that lethal way that wordlessly reminded you that you’d most certainly be groped and ruined by him anyway. 

Thankfully, Steve didn’t utter a word about the importance of that club opening to his business, or reputation, or whatever. You didn’t give a damn about any of that. Honestly, you doubted Steve did either. 

It was probably an opportunity for him to remind someone that he was still the biggest predator, or to put deep fear in them. For you, it was a chance to get a migraine. 

However, Steve had one argument - the only one he used - that won you over. 

Pepper was going to be there.

Apparently, her husband loved all kinds of extravagant parties and had a solid chunk of the club’s profits. Considering the interior design of that monstrosity, you suspected Tony also had some influence on that matter. It was gothic meets the 80’s disco, though you couldn’t exactly imagine a gothic staple in the form of a vampire preying through the glittery crowd to sink its fangs into someone’s neck under the disco ball sparkle. 

But Pepper’s company was always welcome. Not only she became a true, honest ally in this murky underworld, she also helped you remember there were pieces of your life worth enjoying, instead of just drowning yourself in bitterness and hate. 

She was exceptionally smart in assessing you, too. She never pointed out money or status as something of value, but rather opportunities to use to help others and small bits of care you refused to see on your own. 

She also had a hilarious evil pixie side and roped you into making sassy, judgmental comments on the people dancing the night away on the dancefloor below. 

You both leaned on the wooden balustrade of the choir balcony of the former church that now served as the VIP lounge, watching and laughing as the colorful crowd swayed on the shiny-tiled dancefloor. Behind you, Steve, Tony and some two other men whose name you chose to ignore, had a business conversation. Bucky and Nat were off to the side; partially on duty and partially off of it, having some almost-silent conversation with Tony’s man, Happy. 

Despite your vehement reluctance at first, you found yourself relaxed and having fun (which you assigned mostly to Pepper’s influence). 

Steve didn’t attempt to show you off in any way; he didn’t suggest you go dancing, nor did he send you away when he started talking business. And when you walked back to the sofa, his body shifted your way without him losing his focus on the conversation. 

His hand landed on your knee, giving it a gentle squeeze, but thankfully not moving upward in a bold, inappropriate way you knew he was capable of. 

Pepper smirked at you when she noticed the gesture, then grinned unrepentantly when you shrugged but made no move to knock off Steve’s hand. In a way, it was comforting to have him acknowledge your presence; even if a part of you was irked at the possessive side of it. 

Not to mention the third, unsophisticated inner goblin, who wanted you to spread your legs a bit and have Steve’s fingers glide up your thigh. 

With a sigh, you relaxed against the soft cushions and let your gaze roam the ceiling for a moment, chasing the spots cascading off of the disco balls and chandeliers. You shifted your attention back to the table when a hostess brought fresh drinks. 

She set the glasses on the table, perfectly balancing the smoked-glass trey on one hand. The hostess behind her held the trey more wobbly, though still gracefully. You suspected she had experience in the job, but not necessarily in serving a group that had to at least be rumored to be criminals. 

You glanced at her face, noting the perfectly maintained calm, polite smile. Not a drop of sweat, nor a tick of nervousness. She actually reminded you of Natasha, once her mask was torn off and her true identity was revealed.

That realization made you pause. 

You weren’t a behavioral psychologist, but that level of composure and control of the smallest muscles in the body rang alarms in your head. Your own body shifted, your back straightened and your muscles tensed. 

You felt a twitch of Steve’s fingers against your knee.

It seemed to be less than a blink of an eye when the hostess tilted the glass trey and a glint of metal was seen before sparks ignited.

At the same moment brutal force knocked you off the sofa and down onto the floor. Heavy, suffocating weight landed on you, crushing you and stealing your breath. 

Though it was possible that the sudden burst of panic locking your lungs in place was responsible for the trouble with breathing. 

You squeezed your eyes tightly as your ears filled with noise that mixed with the still beating music. A crash, yells, another echo of a bang. Two, three heartbeats and the heavy mass was lifted off of your body. It didn’t quite help with your breathing. Quite the contrary, its lack seemed to steal away the sense of warm safety. 

Forcing your eyes open, you dared to look around and up. 

You were curled between the sofa and the knocked over table. It was kicked onto the side, the wide table top forming a wall in front of you. The floor on its other side was now covered in a spill of drinks, shattered glass, and redness that surely didn’t come from any juice. 

The tight spot you were pushed down into provided a semblance of shield. 

As did the looming shadow over you - the tall, broad form of your husband, standing in a way that hid your body from the only open angle through which someone could reach you.

Steve was the one who pushed you down to the floor, you realized. The heaviness that pressed into you was the weight of his body. 

The music was still loud and you couldn’t hear the exact words, but Steve was spitting out commands. His fists were clenched, the muscles in his forearms tense so much that his veins protruded visibly even through the dark swirls of ink on his skin. 

Slowly, you dared to lift your upper body, bracing on your hands to peer over the table. You saw Tony rush Pepper down the stairs, his hand laid protectively on her head. Their security formed a tight cocoon around them. The other two men were nowhere to be seen, probably rushed away into safety by their own guards. 

Natasha and Bucky were gone at the moment, as well, though you suspected it was to deal with the would-be assassin. Through the carved balustrade you saw the sway of bodies still dancing to the music, oblivious to what had just happened on the VIP balcony. Your civilian logic told you all these people should be evacuated, but apparently your mobster husband saw it differently. 

With your heart hammering wildly in your chest, breath still shallow and burning your lungs, you ungracefully scrambled to your feet. You moved closer to Steve, keeping yourself at his back when he remained unmoved. 

You noticed one of his arms tensing and slightly rotating in a micro-move to keep you shielded behind him. You barely stopped your own fingers from clutching onto the fabric of his shirt. 

You didn’t want to lean onto him for support as panic threatened to take over you. 

“No,” you heard Steve’s steely voice as he spoke to one of his high ranking men, “if we sound the alarm and start evacuating people, any accomplices might slip out with the crowd. This way we have more control.”

“Right.” The man (Sam, if you remembered correctly) nodded. “I’ll check the security feeds and see if anyone left in the last fifteen minutes. Nat and Lena will swipe the crowd.” 

When Sam walked away, you finally moved to stand beside Steve. He didn’t even look at you, yet you were sure he was aware of your every little move. His jaw was set in a hard grit. He had to be angry as hell, which was understandable considering he was just shot at. 

You were closer to breaking into heaps of crying and screaming, so you did what usually helped you keep yourself together - you refocused. 

Unfortunately for Steve, he was the only close object your attention could stick to for longer. 

You watched him survey the crowds dancing below then sharply assess the VIP lounge. Not even out of breath, he remained composed, hard as a granite statue. His clothes weren’t even that much rumpled. Though the sleeve of his shirt sported a splash of dark liquid. It wasn’t growing rapidly and the fabric wasn’t torn, so it didn’t appear to be a wound to his shoulder. 

As your gaze traveled up, however, you registered the source of the spill. It made you gasp aloud, a wheezing sound that felt near painful as your chest constricted in rising panic.

Steve’s temple was smeared with blood. Redness matted his dark gold hair around it. A thin trickle of blood dropped down from his earlobe and splashed on the sleeve of his shirt. 

“Jesus fuck, you’re shot!” 

Your palm cradled the side of his face, fingers pressing against the wound. To which Steve reacted with a hiss and childish tilting of his head away from your touch.

“It’s just a scratch.” He grunted, acting like his brain wasn’t just inches from being blown out. 

Steve was more interested in Bucky’s return and a short report on first findings, which you didn’t even listen to, still focused on the bleeding wound. So much, you didn’t even pay attention to your own increasing worry for the man you were supposed to hate. 

“Just a scratch my ass.” You spat in annoyance, frantically looking around for something that could help you form a makeshift dressing. 

Finding nothing of the sort, you reached to the underside of your own dress and, cursing, ripped a piece of the lining. 

Folding it in a big square, you lifted on your tiptoes and pressed it against Steve’s temple. This time you held yourself steady on his arm with one hand, so when he tried to lean away you easily followed the movement. 

“It needs to be checked.” Not caring that Bucky and Steve were in the middle of organizing next moves, you interrupted. “You could have a fractured bone, or internal bleeding. If the pressure on your brain grows, it could lead to-”

“Princess.” Steve growled in a warning tone, gripping your wrist.

“I’m not doing you a trephination at home when your brain matter drowns in your own blood!” You spluttered angrily, hitting at his hand. 

That made Steve pause and look at you. Or maybe it was the pitch in your voice, the quiver of your lips and tears brimming your eyes. He studied you for a longer moment, unbothered by your fingers trying to pry his fingers off your wrist. 

“Fine.” He conceded and turned back to Bucky. “Call Banner. Tell him to be at the clinic in thirty.”

Bucky didn’t comment on the interaction between you two, though if you weren’t so focused on your self-appointed task you might’ve noticed a spark of amusement in his eyes. Still, his face betrayed nothing, as usual. 

“Come on.” Steve’s arm slipped around your waist. “We have to get going if you want the good doctor to tell you the same thing I said, that it’s just a scratch.” 

“You have to put pressure on the wound.” You directed him to hold the improvised wound dressing, but Steve made no move to follow your instruction.

“That’s your job.” He shrugged.

“I can’t exactly walk and keep my hand at your temple at the same time.” Not with the height difference between you two. 

Suddenly, his arm around you slid lower. In a swift move, Steve gripped your ass and hoisted you up. Your legs wrapped around his middle instinctively as he placed both palms under your buttocks. 

“Easier now?” He grinned at you as he started walking toward the hidden exit at the back of the lounge. 

“Have you lost your mind?” You gasped, more shocked than outraged. “You’re wounded, you shouldn’t be straining yourself. It might increase the bleeding.”

“Having you on me is no strain, Princess. Besides… my blood is about to abandon my head for the more exciting ride down south. With the way your warm pussy is right against my dick.” 

You wanted to yell at him to stop diminishing the seriousness of the situation, but you figured it was serious only for you. To think of it, your husband probably had a lot of experience in being shot at. Perhaps, his assessment was more accurate than yours and this was, in fact, a minor scratch.

Still, your worry didn’t decrease. Your fingers were slightly trembling as you held the lining of your dress to his temple. It was soaking up blood, though thankfully not a deadly amount of it. Given that Steve was still able to walk and not get dizzy should be reassuring, as well, yet your brain didn’t accept it and demanded a hospital check-up anyway. 

In the car, Steve kept watching you curiously, as if your behavior was an intriguing novelty to him. 

It was to you, too. 

Was it that fear of falling prey to bloodthirsty rivals of his if Steve died? Just an empathetic reaction because you were a caring person in general? Or were you truly worried for a husband you hated? 

The hate part was crumbling to pieces, it appeared. There wasn’t a single flicker of joy, or malicious satisfaction that he got hurt, that someone might have killed him and released you from the forced marriage. 

Like there was no repulsion whenever Steve put his hands on you; be it when dancing at Tony’s ball, rousing each inch of your body as he fucked you into unconsciousness, or simply passing by you when moving around the house. 

For a few weeks you told yourself it’s simply desensitisation grown out of habit, since you were exposed to that touch constantly. However, there wasn’t only indifference to it. There was a certain, fucked-up warmth. And pleasure. 

It grounded you even at that moment when you pressed to his side at the backseat of the car and Steve smoothed his fingers along your thigh, as if he was the one soothing you in distress. 

Scared of what else you might feel, you abandoned the makeshift dressing when you reached the private clinic ran by doctors Banner and Cho, choosing instead to walk side by side with Steve. The clinic catered to Steve and a plethora of his criminal minions, but was also veiled with pretty bows of free service for the homeless and at-risk citizens. Bruce was already waiting in the hall when you entered, ready to get right into saving mode.

Instead of rushing towards you, like the doctors in the ER might, he scanned Steve’s body head to toe as you approached, then released a single (relieved, or disappointed) “Oh.”

“It’s just a scratch, but my loving wife got really worried.” Steve informed briskly, gently pressing his hand to your lower back. “Check her first.”

“What?” You almost stumbled in your steps. 

You were about to protest that you didn’t need any checking, because you had zero injuries. It would’ve fallen onto deaf ears, because Bruce nodded and guided you forward to a room stocked with top quality equipment. 

“Are you worried your massive body broke my ribs when you laid on top of me?” You snorted at Steve after doctor Banner checked your pupils. 

“Nah,” Steve sat on the gurney opposite of yours, “you have my body on top of yours quite often and sustain no injuries. Can’t be sure about shards of glass, or ricochets, though.”

He said it nonchalantly enough that you suspected he wasn’t really worried, but more likely a little petty. Since you forced him to come here, he would subject you to medical treatment as well. Steve couldn’t be worried about you. Not when he was the one making sure to cover you from any bullets and the table he kicked over to provide a shield knocked all the glass on the other side of it. There was no chance anything hit you.  

“All good.” Bruce announced then swiftly turned around to finally check Steve’s wound. 

With wide eyes, you observed his every movement. How he checked Steve’s vitals and went through the basic neurological examination. Then how he cleaned the wound and dried blood on Steve’s earlobe. 

When he said no stitches were needed, only strips, you felt both a relief and suspicion. You pressed your lips tightly to prevent yourself from questioning Banner’s decision. Or from demanding a CT scan. 

You refused to look at Steve for longer than brief glances on your way back home. And when you were at home, too. Since he and the doctor claimed he was fine, you wouldn’t give a damn anymore. No matter that it still gnawed at you. There was that growing itch to check if the wound wasn’t bleeding, if he didn’t have a headache, if he wasn’t dizzy, if… 

No! Don’t! You inwardly scolded yourself as you rubbed your freshly showered body with a towel. 

In the bedroom, Steve was already in bed. He showered before you, since you decided to distract yourself from thoughts about him by calling Pepper and checking if she’s all right. Leaning against the headboard, he simply read something on his tablet. Probably one of the variety of articles on economy, science, or politics. It still shocked you that someone so primitively brutal was so fucking smart. 

Just check once, the voice in your head goaded as you slid under the covers. One quick check and you can go to sleep. You won’t fall asleep if you don’t check.

Cursing under your breath, you rolled to the side and then sat up. Steve tilted the tablet down as you leaned over him. Without a word of explanation, you scanned his injury. Your fingertips traced gently along his hairline, close to the wounded area but not touching it directly.

Steve’s warm, steady breath tickled your skin. He made no comment as you silently fussed over him. Not even a sassy remark. 

It looked good, the injury. With the strips in place and all blood cleaned off, it really appeared to be just a scratch. Yet the tension in your body rippled with the potency of an eruption. You swallowed hard. 

Steve’s fingers circled your wrists gently. He tugged your hands down. With another nervous gulp, you tilted your head to look him in the eye. For a moment he didn’t say a word, just studied you with a frown. 

When he spoke, it was with words you didn’t expect to hear. Not from him. 

“You’re okay.” It wasn’t the softest shush, but a firm declaration. 

You shook your head, feeling the sting of tears gathering beneath your eyelids. 

“You are.” Steve repeated calmly. His frown deepened when you closed your eyes and shook your head again. 

It was another life-threatening situation you found yourself in since Steve barged into your life. A part of you was shaken to the core by it. But it wasn’t that part that tightened the iron grip around your chest at the moment. 

“I’m okay.” Steve’s assurance opened our eyes. 

You looked at him, teardrops swaying on your lower eyelashes. A heartbeat, a stuttered breath, and then the tears fell freely. 

Strong arms wrapped around you, crushing you down into Steve’s chest. He didn’t coo at you, didn’t whisper any soothing reassurances. He simply held you. 

And it scared you so fucking much how good it felt, even though it shouldn’t provide any form of security when he was the monster who forced you into all of this. 

You fell asleep in the monster’s embrace. Woke up with relief that his warmth was still there. Neither of you made any comment about your breakdown last night. Aside from briefly watching Steve move and dress, you didn’t feel the desperate need to check his wound again. 

It was easier, getting back to the routine of daily life and ignoring the uncomfortable revelations about the messy tangle of emotions you felt. The fact Steve was his usual self, one that felt nothing beside rage for vengeance and desire, helped to pretend that nothing has shifted.

Natasha’s presence also reminded you of why hate and disdain should be your main operative modes with your husband. With occasional need for a good fuck. Nothing more. 

When less than five days after the shooting Steve came to pick you from work himself, you greeted him with a suspicious glare. Then, when you realized he was taking you back to the club, you cursed the fact you were already trapped in the backseat of the car, which meant you had nothing but your own fingernails to attack him with. 

Which also didn’t happen, because you weren’t in the mood to be fucked hard while Bucky sat in the front seat. 

The club was empty and thus eerie. 

The VIP lounge was cleaned so thoroughly nothing suggested it was chaos and mess a few days ago. Even the table Steve kicked over was fully polished, or maybe it was replaced with a new one. 

Steve left you there and walked back downstairs, onto the main floor. Soon after, you heard the door open and the sound of some scuffle. Hesitantly, you walked over to the balustrade and peeked over it. 

Heart lurched to your throat, your fingers tightened on the wooden beam so hard you almost broke your nails. 

In the spotlight on the floor knelt a man - bruised and weak, meaning he already had a meeting with some of Steve’s people. Bucky was a few steps aside, having dragged the man in. Steve was standing right in front of the man. In all that dark, scary glory. 

Back straight, sleeves of his shirt rolled up, a display of tattoos and glinting rings. It reminded you of that first moment you saw him stride into the health center. 

This time, Steve held a gun in his right hand. Fingers firmly wrapped around it, with confidence of a man who used it hundreds of times. Not flamboyant showing off. No tremble of uncertainty or fear. He held it like an extension of himself. Like an experienced surgeon might hold a scalpel. 

In the empty cathedral belly of the club, Steve’s voice carried easily. 

“You know,” Steve started almost conversationally, “I often admire the gumption of some gangs who go for what they want. Sometimes, if I’m really impressed, I even offer them to work for me.”

“I’m not even bothered you went bold with your attempt to kill me. Not the smartest move, but I can see what you hoped to gain. However-”

You didn’t hear the click of the safety being switched off, but you assumed it had to be that moment, because a visible shiver went through the man’s body.

“ -you made a huge mistake-” Steve lifted his hand and aimed the gun at the man.

“ -scaring my wife.” 

The gunshot echoed. 

Steve didn’t toy with the man. Didn’t prolong it like a game, but simply executed the kill order he’d have placed on the man’s head anyway. 

You felt the reverberation of that shot through your bones, yet no nausea followed. No urge to turn away and hide your face in your hands. Your fingers clenched tighter on the banister, but you kept staring ahead. At the spot where blood was pooling around the dead man’s head in a creepy halo. 

Slowly, you moved your gaze from the wide splatter of blood to your husband. The way Steve was standing as confidently and unshaken as before. Your eyes dragged up his form, taking in the gun still in his hand, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. His insanely handsome face and eyes looking up at you. 

He said something to Bucky, but you didn’t listen to the words. You were too focused on watching Steve and the way your body ignited with terrifyingly hot excitement. 

When scenes like that played in your dreams, you could easily blame them on brain chemistry going awry in sleep. Getting wet because your dream subconsciousness liked being made to ride the handle of the knife while blood covered the floor was something you could assign to haze beyond your control, since it happened in sleep.

But now it was happening in reality. 

It wasn’t the killing that pooled warmth low in your core, but the way Steve held that gun, the way he didn’t hesitate. The way he fucking moved toward the stairs and up to the balcony you were on. 

Your walls clenched as Steve stepped into the lounge. Your breath quickened with each powerful stride towards you. 

He still held that gun in his hand and your body nearly toppled with need, remembering how it felt still warm and lethal when he rubbed it against your pussy that one time. 

Though at the moment you didn’t want it inside of you. No, there was a different desire blooming and spreading its demanding branches. 

You wet your lips with your tongue as Steve stopped right in front of you. Icy blue eyes so intense as he studied you. He was the magnificent iceberg in a sea of sunset red ripples and you were the sun warmth about to melt yourself all over his jagged edges.

When Steve touched your cheek with the muzzle of his gun, you didn’t even flinch. You were bravely holding his gaze. He traced a line from your temple, over the roundness of your cheek and down, pressing under your chin.

“Take what you wish, Princess.” His tone was underlaid with hunger that resonated with yours. 

Because, for the very first time, you weren’t playing down the sudden eruption of dark desire you felt for Steve. 

He put his arm down, holding the gun at his side, as you reached for his belt. Steve’s chest seemed to expand when you didn’t hesitate to unbuckle it. Your fingers worked swiftly, any previous tremble gone, as you lowered the zipper. Then you were dragging his jeans down along with your descent to your knees. 

For all the times Steve had his mouth on you, wrecking you completely, it was the first time you were going to fill your mouth with him. You had your hands around his cock many times, but strayed away from tasting him. Especially out on your own volition. 

You didn’t only want to do it now. You needed it. 

Every inch of your body was thrumming with that irresistible craving to worship the scary power that was Steve Rogers. 

A man who fucked up your steady life. A man who showed no remorse. Who was never soft, or empathetic. A man who protected you with his own body. Who held you as you broke down. Who killed someone for scaring you. Who would do many more unholy things. 

You ran your hands up Steve’s thighs then gripped the back of them to steady yourself. Your breath puffed along the hardening length of it as you admired his cock for a moment. You’d never say about any dick that it’s pretty, and you wouldn’t say it about Steve’s either, but there was something about it that was so fucking attractive. 

Maybe it was the man it was attached to. 

With a little hungry growl you opened your mouth wide and swallowed as much of it as you could. You felt too impatient to play with it this time. Though, with the pleasure that zinged down your spine at the velvety heaviness pressing on your tongue, you could see yourself doing it in the future. 

What you couldn’t take in your mouth you wrapped your fingers around. Smearing your own saliva along it, you set a mild rhythm. Suck and stroke. A little twist of your hand as your tongue swirled over the crown. 

The feeling of a gun gliding along your scalp like a caress pinched your nipples and clit into throbbing attention. Your shameless moan vibrated around Steve’s cock, making it swell in your mouth. 

Steve didn’t hide his groans of pleasure, either. They spurred you on even more. 

“Is it the gun, or is it my cock that turns you into a needy, slutty princess?” Steve’s voice was the most shaken you’ve ever heard him to sound. 

A garbled whine was your response as his dirty words added to the mess between your thighs. 

You were wet the moment he walked up the stairs and towards you. Every second of what followed only worsened your state. 

“You can have my gun in your mouth too, if you want.” Steve teased, weaving his free hand into your hair. “But you’d have to let go of my cock. And with your eager sucking I’m not sure you’d like to part with it anytime soon.”

Glaring up at him, you pressed your fingernails into the skin of his thighs. It only made him chuckle. 

When he lightly tapped the gun over one of your cheeks, you jerked forward with a muffled moan, taking more of his cock into your mouth. Too much. It hit the back of your throat and made you gag. Tears sprang to your eyes as your body tensed. Steve’s fingers in your hair tightened. He let out the sexiest moan.

And it was the hottest thing you ever experienced when sucking a man off. 

You didn’t try to repeat that, but it doubled your eagerness and efforts. Your own hips started swaying in desperate need. You were so hot and wet, and aching to have your pussy filled. 

“Princess,” Steve grunted; you felt his muscles tensing. 

“I’m about to come. Do you want me to paint your beautiful face, or do you want to swallow every drop like a good girl?” 

You paused for a second, holding just the tip of his thick cock in your mouth. You considered the options for a moment then, holding Steve’s gaze, you slowly took him deeper. As deep as you could without tipping that gag reflex again. 

“As you wish, Princess.” He huffed, half amusement half all pleasure. 

When you hollowed your cheeks and sucked harder, at the same time moving your spit-slick fingers to cup Steve’s balls, he growled a curse. It stretched into a long moan as his cum filled your mouth. 

Each time you swallowed small gulps of it, your tongue moved under his throbbing cock, drawing out more. 

Your chin and mouth were glistening with saliva and white streaks of cum that dribbled out. Steve’s grip on your hair didn’t ease as he slipped out from between your lips. He held your head in place as he brought his gun and rubbed the muzzle in the shiny mess on your chin. 

Then he was tossing the gun aside and lifting you up onto your feet. Steve’s mouth was devouring yours even before you steadied on your legs. His tongue dipped in, unbothered by the remnants of his own cum. 

You gripped at his shirt, eagerly responding to the dirty kiss and mad passion that erupted. Steve’s chuckle melted against your mouth when you rubbed yourself against him.

“Did sucking my cock make you wet, Princess?” 

All of him made you wet. But you weren’t going to admit that. 

You didn’t have to answer his question, either. Steve found out himself, driving his hand beneath your skirt. His fingers pressed against the soaked fabric of your underwear. Not just a wet patch. A sticky mess. 

“Fuck!” He groaned, his hips bucking against you. 

Suddenly, he was turning you around and pushing you forward. 

He bent you over the wooden balustrade, pulling up your skirt and kicking your legs wider apart. 

Your glazed over gaze landed on the floor below. The dead body was gone. So was Bucky. Only the dark pool of red blood remained, flashing at you with memory of ruthless brutality. Still, your ass rubbed against Steve’s hand eagerly, your desire not the slightest diminished by the memory of horror. 

Steve ripped your soaked underwear. He tossed it over the balcony, making you watch the ruined garment fall down. 

You didn’t have time, nor brain capacity, to see the metaphor of your own innocent life falling down into his evil clutches. 

You moaned, back arching, as Steve’s fingers swept between your swollen, wet folds. 

“I’d give you the gun, but I want your tight pussy all to myself. Not going to share it even with your favorite, lethal toys.”

His fingers were more deadly, you wanted to say. But no words fell out, only a strangled cry, when Steve pushed two of his thick fingers in. Eased them in and out a few times, before suddenly rotating and curling. He pressed against that spot that made you keen and arch onto your tiptoes. 

“That’s it, Princess.” He praised, wrapping his free hand around the front of your neck. “Getting all messy on your husband’s fingers.”

A guttural cry ripped from your lungs when he forced a third finger in. 

It felt almost too much. Almost as stretched and full as when he had his cock buried to the hilt. 

Then it was really too much when one of his fingers, now all slick with your juices, withdrew from your pussy and pressed against your rim. 

“Ohgodohgodohgod-” you babbled, clenching your eyes shut. 

But you didn’t jerk away. Didn’t plead with Steve to stop. Instead, you shuddered and moaned when he slowly, but mercilessly pushed that finger into your ass. 

“So fucking tight, Princess,” Steve panted against your ear. “You’re making me hard all over again.”

He fucked both of your holes, increasing the rhythm until your cries were growing louder. Until you broke like a string stretched too far and your wetness coated his hand up to his wrist. 

You were a boneless mess, held up only by his hand on your throat and the sturdy balustrade. You felt his pulsing cock against your thigh, getting hard again just like he said. Slowly, he withdrew his fingers from your fluttering pussy. Squelching sound of it made you scorch with embarrassment. 

But then there was another pressure. Right next to the finger already knuckle deep in your ass. 

Steve was pushing another finger there. 

“Nghhh!” You whined, tensing against the bigger intrusion. It was somewhat uncomfortable, yet seemed to rouse your spent body anew. 

“You can take it, Princess.” Steve breathed against your neck as he shifted his position behind you. “Today you’re daring. Taking what you want and not shying away from it.”

His second finger sank deeper and the head of his dick nudged at your pussy. Your hips rocked back against him. You weren’t sure you did it consciously. Your mind felt too scrambled at the moment. It was more an instinctive chase after another shattering completion. 

With two fingers in your ass, the fullness of Steve’s cock stretching you felt nearly overwhelming. And so fucking good. 

You bucked against him with a whine when Steve remained still for a longer moment. His fingers around your throat clenched slightly before he finally gave you the friction you wanted, pulling slightly out then slamming back in. 

At first he fucked you only with his cock, holding his fingers in your tight hole. When your cunt spasmed around him, betraying your heightening peak, Steve amped the ruin by thrusting in and out of your ass. 

Your gaze was no longer on the pool of blood. It became foggy, unfocused. Your eyes rolled back, your vision filled with a kaleidoscope of colorful shards. Your hands let go of the wooden banister; one clutching onto Steve’s arm, the other reaching behind you to grip and twist the fabric of his shirt. 

“Going to come for me again?” Steve rasped, scraping his teeth along the skin of your neck. “That’s it. Go on. Come from having all of your holes owned by me.”

“Come from loving it.” 

And you did. 

Your cry echoed under the cathedral ceiling. A spilling of high pitched keening forming a lewd choir as Steve kept fucking you through your orgasm, tipping it into another peak as he followed soon after and his cum filled your clenching cunt. 

His own ragged breath sank into your skin. He eased the hold on your throat and instead wrapped that arm around your chest. After easing ers out of your ass, he wrapped it around you as well. 

Excess of his cum dribbled out of you when his softening cock slipped out. It was forming a glistening white splatter on the floor between your legs.

A contrast to the dark red blood on the other side. 

[cuppajj]

You know, I just really, really want to say this. You are an exceptionally talented artist. I was genuinely surprised when you answered that one ask a while ago, saying you're self-taught. Because I truly, legitimately believed you were an art student or something lol. I'm honestly blown away by the fact that you're self-taught. That you figured all of this out all by yourself. Both your Cookie Run stuff and your original work. You should be proud, because I know it must've taken you a lot of time and hard work to get to where you are today. I both admire you greatly and envy you terribly (the latter stings a little to say, but it's true haha). I wish I could do what you can. You make it all look so easy... I wish I could say I'm your equal, but I'm far from it and I'm not sure how long it'll take for me to get there, or if I'll ever get there at all. But seeing what you're able to accomplish now is really rather inspiring. If you can do it, then maybe I can, too. Someday. Somehow. If only it could be today, though haha

Sorry if I sound weird or mushy, I've actually wanted to say this to you for a while now. I sincerely hope you find pride and joy in your art because you deserve to. Your drawings, your animations, even your writing. You're a jack of all trades haha. You're a very talented, creative, fun and hardworking person. And I wish you all the joy and success in the world, all the time. You've got something really great going here, keep it up for as long as you're able and willing to

Aww Merchant, that’s so sweet of you!!

I don’t often think of how far I’ve come mostly all by myself, let alone the message it can carry.. admittedly one of my biggest artist flaws is acknowledging my accomplishments haha, so this message really means a lot!

If I could give any advice for you:

Believe me when I felt like my art style was stagnating for the longest time, but I’ve come to learn that in just four years I’ve gone from having okay-but-mid art to making some pieces that impress the worst critic in myself!! And really the only thing that changed was my mindset. I stopped wanting to make high quality stuff every time and instead focused on the gradual grind. Commitment is what makes or breaks an artist.

And sadly, art is not easy. You’re going to hate how your art looks. You’re going to be envious of other artists. You’re going to compare yourself. I was like that once, still have those moments today. But the secret to truly feeling like your art is yours is to acknowledge that you’re constantly improving. Don’t call yourself an equal (or a superior or inferior) to anyone, because that implies there’s an established objective tier of artists with you below people you’re inspired by. Every artist has their own flow, their own starting point, their own ways of growing, which makes comparison unfair and more unhealthy than you think!

I’ve seen your redraw of Pepper Jack and Celestial Cheese, and your art has changed a lot within a year for the better. I think that’s a sign! The only difference between you and me is I started before you. But, that’s neither a right or a wrong thing, just a fact that has no effect on you.

I think the only goal an artist should have is learning to appreciate the art they make. I’m still reaching for that myself, and someday you’ll get there if you try! Just be less hard on yourself. Acknowledge where you are and where you were. And most importantly, keep at it! You might be surprised how much can change in another year

[fairuzfan]

i seriously don't even have the words to describe what it's felt like as a native person learning about "holocaust exceptionalism" or whatever for the first time during all of this

the first time i saw a tweet talking about how it wasn't appropriate to compare any other genocide (and specifically this person was talking about the native american genocide(s), along with several others i've seen since & most of the "historians" who go this route, too) to the holocaust because unlike in those cases, where there was a clear logical reason for the wholesale slaughter of millions of people, the holocaust was senseless! it was just killing innocent people for no reason, which is completely different from when they got rid of all those dumb indians standing in the way of Progress & wasting the precious resources the colonizers needed much more... i thought they were just some random dickhead saying intentionally terrible shit online for engagement

but then i just kept seeing people saying similar things, and eventually while reading up on palestinian history, i find out that this has apparently been a zionist (and in many cases non-zionist, which maybe feels even worse) talking point for decades now?

(and increasingly, over the last few weeks, i've seen it shift to this more broad claim that comparing any genocide to any other genocide is harmful, actually... which is such a dumb argument to try to pass off as genuine when, among other things, there's literally an entire field called "genocide studies" that it's honestly almost funny)

i can't think of anything in recent memory that's felt like such a brutal slap in the face as finding out the belief that the systematic murder of my people was a completely logical, understandable course of action--arguably a net positive, even, in the long run--is now and long has been this commonly held. i've felt sick since ever since. how do you say shit like that and not understand that you're implicitly rationalizing and, to some extent, justifying it? how do you not hear yourself?

forgive me, i know it must feel very eye-roll-worthy to have someone come yelling to you right now about how badly their people are treated by zionists, but every time i see someone parroting off an argument along these lines, i swear i can just feel my faith in humanity slip a little more lol

yeah, fuck off with this bullshit for sure

oh don't apologize, i totally understand why you would want to talk about this. thank you for sending this, and I'm so sorry that youre going through this. it really is an inconsiderate talking point at the very least.... i wish the best for you and yours in these times.

[raayllum]

Why is Clauderry together / why is Terry with Claudia?

This is a question I've seen posed more than a few times in the fandom, of people feeling confused with why Claudia is with Terry (despite her dislike of elves) and more so why Terry is with Claudia despite her being a walking collection of red flags. This has, admittedly, always questions I felt the show answered quite well and obviously, but if it's still being probed, then... why not?

Let's talk about it.

Why is Claudia with Terry?

The only prior examples we have with Claudia having any kind of romantic connection is with Callum, which never came to fruition; I've also gone on record saying myself that the show made it clear Callum's feelings for Claudia were a lot stronger than whatever, if any, she held for him. However, in her interactions with Callum even just as a friend, we can see what she appreciates in her free time. For starters, we see that Claudia enjoys being a goofball:

We see that a shared sense of humour is something that Claudia cares about, as one of the only compliments she gives to Callum is "You always make me laugh" and "That was very confident Callum" as he was able to go with the flow while asserting himself.

Words of affirmation is also something she clearly enjoys. Appreciation, acknowledgement, and gratitude are very important to her.

(Side note: This is also part of why she spirals into "I did all THIS FOR YOU" on the beach in a "You owe me your life" kind of way, because she was prepared and sacrificed and saved you, and doesn't that deserve acknowledgement? Doesn't that mean getting what she wants? What she's owed? But I digress.)

We also see early fracturing in Callum not trusting her (1x03, 2x03), a subsequent breakdown in honest communication on both sides, and that Claudia reads Callum as being judgemental of her dark magic use, which is also something that frustrates her about Soren:

(Part of this is because Claudia has gone from seeing dark magic as just an amazing beautiful tool to a terrible but necessary one, so necessary that it overrules any other reservations... because she's attached to seeing herself as a Good Person—"But I'm not evil, it's me"—but again, I digress.)

Conversely, Terry has all of those things in spades. He admires and relies upon her dark magic use, he's someone she can be reciprocally goofy with, he's extremely attentive and loyal (and loyalty/devotion is something that is also extremely important to her), and perhaps most importantly, he's helpful and non-judgemental.

Terry also explains that one of the things Claudia likes about him is his smarts / creative thinking ("Goofy and glorious, just like you" / "You saved the day Ter-Bear") and his thoughtfulness:

Claudia says I think too much about everything, and that makes me weird, and wonderful, so...

This makes sense as Claudia values being prepared in her own day-to-day life curtesy of being a dark mage, and that Soren's tendency to being impatient when they were growing up together (lying about Harrow without consulting her, picking the fight with the dragon, etc) was something that got on her nerves.

As for the Elf 'elephant' in the room... Claudia also doesn't have an issue trusting Aaravos for one simple reason: he's helping her save her dad.

Even while she's warning Soren against trusting or forming friendships with other elves and dragons because they might "take advantage" of him and be fake friends, she can't see that's precisely what Aaravos is doing to her. In a similar vein, Terry also believes in her (as he says directly in 4x09) and is helping her save her father, so why would she have a problem with him even if he's an elf?

That doesn't mean there aren't problems in Claudia's worldview, or that exceptionalizing people is a Good thing to do, particularly to your partner, but it's a clearly defined and realistic cognitive dissonance. Claudia has moved past seeing all elves as Bad™ to "these ones are good" because they're helping her, and not getting in her way, and that's all she really personally cares about.

However, I think most people can understand why Claudia's with Terry, given how sweet and routinely supportive she is. The bigger thornier question then is the opposite. So let's talk about that too.

Why is Terry with Claudia?

One of the most common things people say when it comes to Terry and Claudia is that they wish we could see how they met (and presumably whether that initial attraction was there from the start or how it developed). This usually leans into an underpinning idea (and I could be wrong) that seeing their beginning would help indicate why Terry fell for her (and thereby why he stays). And I would definitely be interested in how they met, and am open to seeing it, whether in a show, graphic novel, or novelization mention.

That said, I think the show has also answered these accordingly. In a lot of ways, there's really only two reasons why Terry is with Claudia as she is in arc 2:

1) He doesn't have an Issue with dark magic.

He admires Claudia's use of it ("And your daughter's amazing, she brought you back from the dead, wow!"), is open and receptive to using it ("Dark magic has a tingly aftertaste, nobody ever tells you that"), and doesn't see anything fundamentally wrong with it ("Should I give up dark magic? Terry, tell me what to do" "Claudia, I can't"). On the one hand, this makes sense; there are spell ingredients of dark magic that aren't that different from hunting and given that Terry grew up near the Drakeriders, I'd find it hard to believe if the Drake riders don't hunt and eat meat, so even if Terry's village didn't, he was at least somewhat close to societies that did.

That doesn't mean he has zero reservations about dark magic ("I've seen you do some awful things, dark magic things" / "Are you mixing the pentapus ink with your own blood?") but that to him, it's not any different from how Claudia thinks about it. She also thinks she's done terrible things in the name of saving her father:

But I'm not evil. It's me. You know me.

I had to do things... [starts crying] I never imagined I would be able to do. (4x01)

This is also how Terry copes with murdering Ibis, citing "I had to, I couldn't let him hurt you," "and he was going to take Claudia's life, I had no choice," and "I'm going to be strong enough to do whatever I need to do and still have feelings." To Terry what matters most is exactly what he says in 4x09: why are you doing these things? Are they actually necessary?

Terry loves Claudia (and Viren by extension) above anything else. Everything he does is for them, good or bad. That devotional loyalty is something that Claudia also lives by, and is arguably her and Terry's biggest shared life value.

Doing terrible things is okay if it's in the name of love, and if it's not, then you shouldn't do them. This is why when he talks about his grief/guilt with Ibis, Terry always scaffolds it alongside the reason why he did it.

This is also why Terry steps in exclusively when what Claudia is doing is unnecessary. She didn't need to trick Rayla in order to get away. She doesn't need to kill the dragon ("It won't follow us anymore, it's trapped") as it's already helpless. They're actions without good reasons, which is also why Terry distrusts Aaravos, because he realizes:

Maybe this story started out as a story of love, but along the way it got twisted. [...] He isn't doing anything for love. He's doing it out of revenge.

So long as Claudia is doing things out of love, Terry will stick by her. And if she stops doing it out of love, then she stops being the Claudia he knows.

Which, I'll also note, is fundamentally different from the Claudia that everyone else knows, because

2) He didn't know Claudia beforehand.

Terry doesn't know Claudia as a semi sheltered girl growing up in the palace who did dark magic solely for fun, nor how most of her close personal relationships (Soren, Callum, Ezran) got destroyed in the span of 3ish weeks. He only knows Claudia who uses dark magic (seemingly) 90% out of complete necessity for flight, safety, and bringing her father back. He seemingly doesn't really know how Soren and Claudia had their falling out, nor does he have any real clue who Callum or Ezran are.

Because Claudia was his only way to know these things rather than knowing multiple people involved, or even living through experiences, Terry would've gotten sparse details or the version that is how Claudia experienced them, and he has no reason to doubt her.

To be clear, I'm not saying that their set up is perfect or that their relationships is perfectly healthy. It's not. Claudia's singular control over how Terry knows the experiences of her life when we as an audience know it's very different is an issue, but is not that dissimilar from when you meet / date new people to begin with (i.e. was their ex really that bad, or were they the problem is sometimes something that can only be known in time). Terry's passivity and mirrored worldview helps enable Claudia's even when she's being destructive to herself and others, and her treating Terry as an exception for his people is also not good in the long run. Clauderry walks this line of being incredibly sweet and uncomfortable, and I think that's one of the things that makes it interesting and with spades of tragedy, particularly going into S7. Terry may not yet have a deep seated issue with dark magic (which enables Claudia but also frees her up to grow on her own terms), but it is the reason they may be torn apart in the future for a time.

I do think they'll find their way back together eventually (even if they'll always be Divorced Eventually in my head). To me, it's clear why they love each other, and while TDP could say that's not enough (and I think that'd be a very interesting valid route to take), I don't think that they will. This scene exists, after all:

[some-pers0n]

hi hey just wanna let u know that i (this anon in particular) would always want to listen to your thoughts about The Thing youre excited about regardless of the reason or my knowledge or the time-space continuum!

YOU! Ohhh anon you poor soul. I'm terribly sorry. I have been holding onto this ask for a while, at least until the next time I felt as Energized about Them again. Shaking. Twitching. I don't quite know how to explain it. I can only take potshots at attempting to rationalize my thoughts behind them. With that said, here's more rambling about Engiemedic, the only thing I seem to care about

I've rambled about Engiemedic a fair amount of times before, either jokingly with goofy remarks about them or writing a giantass fic about them. They scratch a certain part of my brain that is difficult to really describe and pin-down.

Like I've never really "shipped" anybody before them. Did I like ships? Yeah sure of course. I've always liked considering relationships and thinking about how they intersect and are written. It's probably definitely the aroace bit of me talking, but I only really get involved in ships when there's really some substance to them.

It makes Engiemedic this weird fucked up anomaly to me then because what the hell do you mean that this decently popular non-canon pairing that's had all of like 30 seconds of shared screentime and maybe seven panels where they're in the same room at max has become so engrossing and fascinating to me. It's not like the usual ships where this happens to people; the ones with lengthy tragic tales tied to them or spend so much time with one another. It's just two silly guys

It just...perplexes me. It's odd. I can't describe what about it really draws me in, despite the fact I've written so much. I can at least try and figure out what it is though

I think the thing that made me first interested was simply the dynamic and jokes to be made. They are exceptionally silly, wherein I can fully believe them sticking together and doing weird experiments for hours upon hours. It's hard not to imagine them getting excited over whatever project they've been throwing themselves at. It's fun

Because ultimately both Engie and Medic are both unethical murderous science people, Medic obviously while Engie is a tiny bit more subtle. Their dynamic is interesting in that regard 'cause, when paired together, now you've got two weirdo freaky smart people tossing back ideas and before you know it now they're trying to create some sort of nuclear-powered contraption that explodes bones

It calls out to me in a way that other ships don't, especially Heavymedic. No shade to Heavymedic shippers out there, I think it's still a fun ship, but I don't find it as compelling with their dynamic. Heavy is a reasonable and level-headed guy. Yeah he kills people and laughs about their misery and whatever, but he's more stable than most other mercs. If Medic was to say "I want to self-isolate for days on end while I work to create the bubonic plague 2.0" Heavy would have concerns and try to stop him from doing it because What the Hell

Engie, however, would endorse it. I think Engie and Medic are very similar in that regard. They're dedicated to their crafts and understand the nuance and skill that it takes to partake in it. Engie obviously still has qualms and is there in case Medic clearly ain't right, but he's more likely to get caught up in whatever experiment that Medic is trying to do

Which brings me to my next point: the way they influence each other. When together, I think they are at their best and worst (morally at least). It's like that trope with two smart people coming together and being dumbasses, but instead it's with them making weird creations and doing odd experiments that ultimately do not benefit anyone. They simply do it for fun

On a more personal level, I think Medic draws out the parts of Engie where he tries to hide and represses. Headcanons, obviously, but I think Medic taps into Engie's more sinister nature as a maniac with a god complex and a hankering to kill and really draws it out. It's infectious and hard not to try and match his energy. Medic makes Engie want to get more creative with his projects and drives him to be more experimental and, of course, murderous

Likewise and, again, mainly headcanons, I think Engie helps Medic tap into a slightly more "human" side. I think Medic generally struggles with caring about other people, discarding them in favour of working on his own projects and being by himself. Engie is one of the first people he's encountered that not only likes him and enjoys his company, but is just as wacky and weird as he is. Engie is more charismatic and outgoing and, while still not too terribly great with the whole emotions thing, helps Medic out in case he's Not Doing Good

Their personalities intertwine so much they make me ever so slightly ill. They don't seem alike really at first glance. Medic is over the top, eccentric, and generally a giggly mad scientist. Clear to see the archetype he's based on. Yet, when you look past Engie's charming little quips about Texas, he's very much alike Medic. He has a god complex, is highly intelligent, morally bankrupt, etc and etc. He's just as eccentric and wacky as the doc is, but is only slightly better at keeping it under wraps

I just think they're really entertaining when put together honestly. Sure yeah I love me my angsty and fluffy stuff with them, but I think they're simply great when just working on some project and talking to each other. Their personalities bounce off of one another exceptionally well and it's hard for them not to get so caught up in their work that Oh No it's been Four Days and they haven't left the workshop/laboratory

Ultimately, yeah. I think they care about each other a lot that way. Their work is...intimate in a way. They're lab partners. They spend all of this time together, defying God's will with whatever unholy machination they've crafted, they got to have some sort of bond

What makes me happy is that I think a lot of people really like the concept of Engiemedic in any form. Platonic, romantic, whatever. I personally go for QPR stuff (something about their love being undefinable by normal standards blah blah), but I think it's a neat observation that makes me like it more. It's hard to deny that they're really fun together

Speaking of their connections, let's talk about their roles in the actual game. Y'all heard of the Heavymedic duo, with Heavy running around with a Medic pocketing him the entire time, but have you ever considered the Engiemedic duo?? Engie and Medic are the BACKBONES of this game honestly. All it takes is one Engineer or Medic on a team to shift the balance entirely. Everyone wants a good Engie and Medic, but it's a hard role to fill and nobody really wants it. However, they're needed. They're necessary. They're the main support roles of the game than, say, Sniper or Spy ever are. They're the underappreciated, yet incredibly vital parts of the team.

Honestly the Engiemedic duo is far more prevalent and makes far more sense than the Heavymedic duo, because tbh you can say that Medic is closely connected to any class. Soldiermedic duo where Solly just spams rockets and wipes out the entire team. Demomedic duo where Demo just spams pipes and annihilates every building. What makes the Heavymedic duo any special? God I'm sorry for being a little Heavymedic hater, I promise I think the ship is alright, but idk. I like Engiemedic a lot

Anywho, I think Engiemedic is extremely fun to write about as well as just generally experience. There's so much you can apply to them. It's hard to think of anything they can't do, really. They're great with humor, what with shoving them into a room with some cadaver and letting them have at it. They're great with angst because, with headcanons, they can be really heavily fucked up people trying to make things work. They're great with fluff because they're so silly and it's easy to think of them doing cute things with one another. The list goes on!

They're...special to me. They're certainly something. I could go into all sorts of other things too (more esoteric and metaphoric I'm talking), but eh who cares. I don't like delving too much into headcanons and my own weird readings with these more generalized rambles. I just think they're silly :]

[inkedbydave]

Btw I figured out why I've been feeling so shitty lately mentally, well, aside from the fact that a loved one is doing shitty and work is overwhelming. But like, that is the base setting as a neurodivergent person in a dysfunctional family, so I was surprised I was doing exceptionally bad... And suprise: it is because I probably have fucking pneumonia. I got most of the symptoms. Coughing, fever (I've been in and out of it in the past 3 weeks but assumed it's just because of my meds being changed recently, since sudden changes in temperature are often one of the symptoms of the body getting used to it), throat and chest pain (I assumed it was because of my terrible posture), low energy, confusion and changes in mental awarness (that's what I thought another burn out induced depressive episode was)... Yeah. It all checks out.

I haven't been to a doctor though because I am anxious going there alone so I need to know I'll have an emotional support friend available for sure before getting an appointment.

So yeah, if I'm not updating the fic or finishing the artworks I promised... that's why.

Also if you read this far, this is your reminder to never let your physical health deteriorate so much. Don't be like me. Because it is really dangerous. Last night I genuinely felt like I was about to die. I'm sure I was close, too. I had a fever of 104°F (40°C). And Clearly, I am really bad at taking care of myself. So please, when you're body is telling you something listen to it. Don't just assume things, it is better to get it checked out now and realize it was nothing than regret it later.

Anyways, checking out. Thanks for reading and supporting my content.

[twcfaces]

Hey. It’s me. Matt. It’s been… a while. Um. I was going to visit after… but I didn’t because I was scared and I thought you didn’t need me—- shoot, let me start over.

This is Matthew Murdock. We roomed together? From undergrad school? I was the crazy blind guy?

*He takes a deep breath.*

I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t visit. I am such a terrible person. I know I’m all the way in New York, but that’s not an excuse, crap, none of these… I have no excuses.

I’m just sorry that I wasn’t there.

And I can��t fix you. I know that. That’s stupid—- so many people have tried “fixing” you, I don’t think that’s the way to help—-

I just wanted to let you know… that I’m here I guess.

When someone has acid thrown into their face, they tend to remember it, viscerally. Harvey does. He thinks about it every single day. He remembered hanging on by a thread, living one single breath at a time - and maybe, for a fleeting moment, he thought about that blind kid. He couldn't imagine what this kind of pain would be like for someone much younger than he was. Someone who - hadn't done anything.

No, that wasn't right. It wasn't Harvey's fault. He had to stop thinking that way.

Maybe he should have started up his own damn law firm and taken his own damn cases as he pleased. Alas, Mr. Dent had to be District Attorney. He had to be the Prosecutor. He was suited for it in every way, molding his love for Gotham and his resentment into something righteous. Not entirely perfect, but sincere nonetheless.

Bad things happen to good people.

Harvey didn't feel like good people.

Matt was good people.

Harvey knew it when they were younger, too. He'd felt out of place out of state, but he'd gotten along with Matt almost instantly. He felt balanced.

Being away from Dad had helped tremendously, too. Being away from Gotham. When he was younger, maybe he could see himself out there - maybe he and Matt could have carried on as good-natured rivals. He thought about saying as much once - about wanting to see what he'd do.

The same urge had taken ahold of him when they were much younger men as well. He remembered vandalizing one of the statues by the courthouse, knocking Lady Justice's scales loose. If we get caught, I'll say it was the clumsy blind kid - (Who are you calling clumsy!?)

Matt was, actually, exceptionally agile.

If they both hadn't been laughing, he would have apologized. He wishes he'd apologized anyway. Sorry, I think almost getting us killed was a symptom of a condition I've had since I was five where I have to touch fire and sharp edges and I just didn't care like I was supposed to.

Things were left unsaid.

He hadn't expected Matt to visit. More people avoided him after the fact, and he didn't entirely blame them. He wouldn't have blamed Matt for not coming to Gotham. Not ever.

"Don't beat yourself up."

Maybe his voice had changed, or his breath circled differently between his exposed teeth. Maybe Matt could see without seeing, maybe he could tell what was missing. Maybe Two-Face was lying in wait beneath his tongue. Could he hear that, too? Both of them?

"For what it's worth, it's good to know you're not going to start staring." he smiles, and it's in his voice, too.

Behind the smooth glass at Arkham, all he is, is a voice.

"The only question I have is whether the pain you and I have, from the chemicals, the acid --- does that ever go away for good?"

He knows it doesn't. Never entirely. Never forever.

"It doesn't, does it?"

[strxnged]

KAVEH: # following a long day. comfort/platonic; 500w.

your day had been exceptionally terrible, and, showing up at kaveh and alhaitham’s doorstep, you pleaded with kaveh to let you stay the night so that you wouldn’t have to be alone with yourself.

he opened the door wide for you, of course, asking if you wanted anything to drink.

“i’d rather just go to bed if that's alright,” you told him. “i can sleep on the couch.”

“are you sure?”

you told him that you'd sleep on the floor if it meant you wouldn't have to be alone.

he decided that he would sleep on other couch in the sitting room.

he pulled two blankets out for you:

”this one was brought from some merchants in aaru village to port ormos, where i purchased it,” he told you, “and this one i got from a weaver from fontaine. sheepskin. just look at the design!”

you took one. “at least i’ll be sleeping in style.”

the couch was not uncomfortable, and you were not cold, but of course you still could not sleep. events of the day haunted your thoughts as you lay back, only light from the hall lantern and moonlight from the foyer window preventing sheer darkness.

“comfy?”

“i'll be fine.”

“that sounds like a no.”

you managed a chuckle.

“sorry, am i keeping you awake?”

“don't worry about me,” you said, “what about alhaitham? isn't he in bed?”

kaveh scoffed. “at this hour? he's probably still reading. i wouldn't be concerned about keeping him awake, friend. he can complain to me tomorrow.”

“i’d feel bad.”

“no, no. please don't feel bad for inconveniencing alhaitham.”

you felt a bit better. “and you?

“i’d rather you were here and miserable than alone and miserable.”

“well.” you pulled your blanket up to your neck. “i appreciate it, kavs.”

“kavs?”

you smiled to yourself.

he asked you what the nickname meant, but you didn't reply.

“you're a strange one, y/n. you better explain it tomorrow.”

“mhm,” you said. and again, emotion hit you out of nowhere, deafening you to anything he said afterwards. you rubbed your eyes, wishing that you could imagine anything else.

kaveh noticed your silence and asked you what had happened today.

you could not tell him all the details—you could not bear it.

but you told him some.

enough that he understood why you came over.

his voice was soft and careful when you were done.

“i'm sorry,” he said into the darkness, “i’m sorry you had to go through that. i wish i could keep you from ever feeling how you do now. is—is there anything i can do to help?”

“kaveh, you're doing plenty just by having me here.”

“nonsense.”

you didn't respond, your eyes threatening to shut.

“are you sleeping yet?”

you weren’t, yet, but you stayed quiet.

“sleep tight, y/n.”

you heard a bit of a shuffle, but your eyes were shut and so you did not look. you got a feeling, however, that kaveh had repositioned himself on the floor next to the couch you were lying on, ready to comfort you should you need it.

author's note. hello my lovelies. i've got reason to believe that you may have had a bad day recently if you read this far; here's your reminder that kaveh would want to hear you out, and that i do want to hear you out if you need to vent. my inbox is open and you may specify that you don't want your ask answered/answered publicly.

also, as of posting this, i wrote this two weeks ago, but kept it in my drafts until i was sure i wanted to post it. i had an exceptionally long day at work today and it felt right. it was a nice read, too. i love kaveh.

consider reblogging if you enjoyed!

➳ GENSHIN MASTERLIST

[theheirofthesharingan]

Why do you think shisui and itachi stayed exceptionally loyal to konoha even after the mistreatment of the Uchiha clan? Do you think they should’ve rebelled against them and sided with their family?

Initially, both the boys were aiming to find a middle-ground where without any damage — or at least without any extreme damage — they could halt the coup, which would inevitably thwart the possibility of the war as well. That is why Shisui came up with the idea of Kotoamatsukami, the only thing that could work. It wasn't him choosing the village over his clan as much as it was his last effort to unite two powerful monolithic entities that were ideologically on the opposite side of the spectrum. Itachi was in full agreement with all of this.

It wasn't about changing the mind of one person, but the whole village that had been deliberately made to believe the Uchiha clan was responsible for the deaths of their loved ones, and had carried out an attack as powerful as that. If, as one final effort, Shisui could convince the clan with Fugaku's manipulation and arrest/deaths of a handful of the radical Uchiha, the peace attained would come at a much cheaper price.

But we know what happened. His plan with kotoamatsukami most likely would have worked, and Danzo couldn't allow that to happen. Shisui never reached the point in his life where he had to make one concrete decision in an absolute term. Itachi even believed that had Shisui lived to see the day when the massacre happened, he would have sided with the clan instead of the village, and they would have fought as enemies. But that's only Itachi's opinion. Who knows Shisui would have killed all four elders even before they ordered the massacre because of what they put Itachi through.

Itachi's case is different. I've written more about it here. Please go through this. Itachi's isolation from the clan wasn't only on the ideological terms but also their suspicions and their refusal to see the other perspective. Just like Shisui he also wanted to find a solution that would bring the whole conflict to an end with only a slight whimper, instead of what it came to in the end.

He became the biggest deviant in the clan because of him witnessing the war, which essentially turned him into a ninja that began to see the clan as a subset of the village, instead of a separate institution. He might have supported the clan had they come up with something other than coup to solve their problem. The whole idea of the coup was terrible and short-sighted, that even Fugaku, for all his experiences in war, didn't realize would not have worked.

In case Itachi sided with his family. The clan takes over the village, Fugaku becomes the Hokage, then what? The rest of the village that already saw them as a threat would have accepted it that easily? No. If anything, their fears would have come true. What they were told about the Uchiha would have been proven right. The rest of the clans would express their displeasure, followed by a lot of heated arguments, and who would have the time to exercise diplomacy in those moments? Add to that the clans taking sides (and the Uchiha would have been left on their own) would result in the defeat of the Uchiha. Even then, that would already cause tremendous tumult, enough to most likely attract the attention of the enemy nations. The last bit is a strong possibility. With Obito's involvement in the matter it becomes even more obvious, who wanted to destroy both the clan and the village.

Itachi hardly ever had any choice. Many people even bring the examples of the smaller villages being attacked and WW-IV not breaking out, but ignore that Konoha is a humongous village, and any tremor in it would be felt worldwide. Civil war would even be worse.

I come from a country where the rulers in the ancient times fought each other, making it easier for the invaders to attack and rule over us for close to one thousand years. I have no doubt that's what would have happened with the village and Konoha as well. It wasn't an easy choice for Itachi to make, but once he made it, he never backed down.

[ourgreatergood]

⭐star⭐

Thank you so much! <3

So, let me tell you about the evolution of "The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore"

Even though "all too well" is definitely more popular and also close second in my favorite stories, its older sister is still even closer to my heart.

I literally started writing Life and Lies almost ten years ago. I wrote it in German (my first language) and I wrote it in the span of one summer. I wrote it after I experienced terrible heartbreak and (at least emotionally) the whole impact of my dysfunctional family dynamics came crashing down on me and honestly it just felt like my world was collapsing - in short, I was suffering from severe depression and adjustment disorder. And I did what I've done my whole life to survive: I started living in my head even more than usually and I wrote to stay some kind of sane. And what did I write? Which fictional character had to suffer for me? Of course Albus. Always Albus.

You have to imagine at this point in time all the grindeldore information I have is from the HP books and from a couple interviews with the author. No CC in sight, not even dreaming of FB ever happening.

In the beginning it was three parts: Summer of 1899, Ariana incident and the Duel in 1945 and they were actually written in that order. Only much later I put them together and filled the blanks to form one cohesive story.

Now, in the very first version of the summer of 1899 Albus and Gellert kissed exactly once. I was still going by the whole unsure if Gellert returned Albus's feelings kind of vibe - I always believed he did, but at this point I believed he was only going to be aware of it much much later in life. (At this point shout out to some exceptionally inspiring fanfic, a character study of Gellert in Nurmengard. It's German, but if you understand that, give it a read! Nebel über Nurmengard)

I wrote Albus very in love and Gellert being very manipulating.

And there's more: The first version of the 1945 duel? Albus was almost ready to confront Gellert, after years of everyone begging him. Almost. He went to meet him and he still tried to talk Gellert out of his whole war one last time. Gellert, in turn, offered Albus to join him again and when Albus declined, what was the breaking point for Albus to get his courage up to fight? It was Gellert telling him that he had been manipulating him all along - and believe me, he was cruel at that. (Of course it was always up to the reader to decide whether to believe Gellert or not and the story was always going to end with making it clear that at least in later life Gellert realised that he'd loved Albus all along.)

I swear to you I think I have never written anything as painful as those early versions of Life and Lies. I remember very well that I cried writing some of it, but I'd sworn I would stay true to canon (at the time) and just fill in the missing scenes. I think, looking back now, that it was very cathartic for me, that I needed exactly that but, boy, am I glad that I get to write a different story today - canonically!

That story was edited so many times over the years, I can't even count and tbh I would have to edit it again with FB and all, but I won't. That's what it's got its sister for now.

(Honestly, feel free to ask further questions about this. I'm not sure I've still got the early versions, but I remember them so well lol.)

[neverenoughmarauders]

Ch 70: Alice Fawley

Chapter 70 of I solemnly swear is out - and it's our first chapter from Alice's point of view. Our lovely trio are growing up so fast. I cannot believe they are going to be graduating from Hogwarts after this school year (and that I am going to have to break up Alice/Gideon).

Extract:

Alice looked up as she heard footsteps approaching. Gideon emerged between the two bookshelves, and though he had looked a little lost in thought, he smiled brightly as he saw her. It did something to her, seeing Gideon smile like that. Alice was aware she was positively beaming back at him as he took the seat next to her. 

He squeezed her hand quickly: 'I am afraid it's just me today. Fabian's got a headache.'

Alice felt her smile falter.

'No need to look so disappointed.' Gideon's lips twitched ever so slightly, 'I know I am a bit of a letdown in comparison, but you'll have to make do.' 

Alice leaned her head against Gideon's shoulder. Despite the slight blow - she really could need Fabian's help - she was never disappointed to be able to spend time with Gideon. She inhaled deeply, relishing the feeling of his warm lips kissing her gently on her forehead as she looked up at him. It took a lot of willpower to straighten up again - she didn't want to stop feeling Gideon's body against hers, not now, not ever.

'It's the Auror application,' she explained, gesturing towards the piece of parchment.

'Making leaps of progress, I see,' Gideon smiled as he glanced at the blank emptiness that was her attempt at explaining why she was suited for the job - or lack of attempt, so far.

'I feel like I've messed up,' Alice confessed. 

Gideon's smile faltered, as his brown eyes found hers: 'What makes you say that?'

'I have nothing to show for.'

'Only your outstanding O.W.L.s you mean?'

'Yes,' Alice agreed, emphasising the word: 'Only my O.W.L.s. Gid, this is the Auror office. Frank Longbottom was a prefect and Head Boy. Fabian is Quidditch captain and Head Boy. What have I done?'

'You've been busy making the school a better place. You help lots of students with their homework, you are always available should the teachers need an extra hand.'

'That's nothing much to put in an application.'

'You never liked that stuff anyways,' Gideon said, 'Prefect, Head Girl, clubs and sports.'

It was true, but that might in itself be a problem: 'I shy away from leadership,' Alice confessed, 'but that probably makes me a terrible Auror.'

'I don't believe that,' Gideon said, taking her hand again. 'Al, the Auror office needs more people like you too. People who give their everything but without seeking credit. People who pick up the less fun, less glorified aspects of the job.'

Alice wanted to believe him, but she knew he would say anything to make her feel better. 

'What about you?' Alice asked. 'Started applying for jobs yet?'

Gideon gave her hand a final squeeze before letting it go and bent down to pick up his school bag. 

'I'm not applying for anything half as competitive as the Auror office,' said he confidently as he pulled out an exceptionally thick book on the 1612 goblin rebellion. Alice really didn't understand what more there was to learn about these rebellions but it seemed to keep Gideon busy enough. 'I have plenty of time before I need to worry.'

'It might be time to start worrying about what you want to do though,' Alice tried gently.

'Maybe,' Gideon agreed, but his eyes were focused on his school bag as he plucked out a quill and a piece of parchment, and Alice knew it was a lost cause. 

The problem was that Alice suspected she knew exactly what Gideon wanted to do. He had talked to her about it plenty of times before their sixth year. Since then, however, he'd remained silent on the topic. Gideon's interests didn't lie in Britain, and Alice didn't know if she was more worried that he'd settle for something else to be close to her, or that he'd follow his dream, and leave her behind.

[frauleinandry]

just finished the repaint your heart dlc! i still had fun with it, but ultimately i enjoyed it a lot less than the main story. tbh, unless you're a huge - and i mean huge - princekechi and kasumi fan, or are really interested in guernica, i probably wouldn't bother with it. it's pretty short (i completed it in less than 5 hours doing all the content), and it was less enjoyable to play than the main game.

my full analysis is under the cut - note, it contains end-game spoilers!!

if you've read my main story tactica review, you'd know one of the reasons i loved it was because it wasn't just a persona Q game with a genre shift, and avoided all of the plot/story issues associated with that spinoff series. repaint your heart's narrative, on the other hand, has all the tropes that make persona Q bad, without having any of the things that make it good.

i know literally everyone and their mum has complained about this, but i am baffled on why atlas didn't set repaint your heart during the third semester. like... there is literally no point in hiding royal spoilers anymore. the game has been out for four years. the media restrictions have been dropped. literally No One who isn't already a persona 5 fan is going to play tactica, let alone buy its dlc.

setting repaint your heart during the third semester would have worked fine plot-wise too. have it so akechi's investigating guernica's work on a whim, and make it so jerri wants to break maruki's hold on reality and destroy the world because no human should have such power. there. problem solved.

admittedly, kasumi as a character isn't too bad. i obviously would have preferred sumire, who has a criminal lack of screen time where she's actually herself, but at least the dlc's story is personal for her either way because she intimately knows what it's like to lose a sister even when she's actualised.

akechi, on the other hand, suffers from being stuck in his prince mode a lot more, and with the exception of a couple of funny moments where he got dunked on, might as well have just been a piece of cardboard. he has no personal stakes in luca and guernica's story whatsoever. quite frankly, it would have been better if he was replaced by makoto, given her issues with sae (especially during that point in persona 5 canon, when their relationship is at its worst).

what makes akechi's overall non-importance exceptionally annoying is that if the dlc was set during the third semester, he actually would have some parallels with guernica/jerri!! like, he'd totally relate to wanting to ignite the world in fury so it burns itself down to the ground, but he'd also have the wisdom to know that that's a terrible idea. akechi could have been motivated by his desire to prevent guernica from turning into another him, but he wasn't, and that is such a missed opportunity.

the OCs and their storyline are probably the strongest part of repaint your heart's narrative. admittedly, it was nowhere near as impactful as toshiro's plot due to its short length, but luca's second death was pretty emotional, and the final boss fight was satisfying. i do find it funny though that tactica's main story and dlc both feature a cognition of a dead relative who dies in front of someone again in order to make them regain the memories of their original version's death. if i had a nickel, and all that jazz.

while i've mainly been bitching about the dlc's story so far, i've got some gripes with the gameplay too. while i did enjoy the increased difficulty (quite frankly, the main story's hard mode should have been on par with it), the painting mechanic makes the battles feel a lot less well-crafted. like, the main story missions feel like puzzles you need to solve, and just flow, for a lack of a better word. the painting effect though makes elements like positioning a lot less effective, so on the whole i felt like i was just brute forcing my way through the levels instead of taking advantage of my surroundings.

still, for all my complaints, repaint your heart definitely isn't all bad! the art direction is great, and guernica's character design in particular is fantastic. not to mention, there is one thing the dlc does substantially better than the main game...

... namely, the music. i absolutely loved royal's and striker's soundtracks, but in comparison, I found tactica's somewhat... underwhelming? not bad by any means, but there wasn't a single song that stood out. repaint your heart has some absolute bangers though - the night we stood is a fantastically catchy battle theme, and quiet storm is literally one of my favourite songs in the franchise. listening to it after the backstory reveal makes it hit so differently.

anyway, that's all from me - on the whole, i still think tactica's a great but overpriced game, though i really hope atlas learns from all the criticisms of the dlc, and makes akechi and sumire their actual selves next time they're included in a game.

[theonlyadawong]

Idk if you've played it yet but what'd you think of separate ways? 👁️👁️

:D

Short Answer: I really liked it!!!! Seeing Ada's relationships with Luis and Wesker get more fleshed out was great!

Long Answer (and I do mean long) below hehe

Okay so first things first, her outfit is so ridiculous it's not even funny. I know this has been a common critique since we first saw it, but seeing just her ripping and running in those boots really hammered it in. There's no fucking way she went to Spain in those heels. No fucking way. I thought she looked exceptionally stupid in her original 4 outfit, and I feel the same now.

Loved seeing hookshot being used to fight!!! Amazing!!! I loved it! This also made me wonder if Ada's left arm is fucked up from using it so much.

"What terrible actions will be done in its name, and who will pay it's dark cost? Because in this world, someone always pays. Best not to ask who or why. I understood that. Made my piece with it. Until that one night in Raccoon City... changed everything" YEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHA AMAZING! AMAZING! LOVELY! (the "dark cost" line is incredibly goofy but it gets the point across) IMMACULATE LINE!

I really enjoyed how the game made it Very Clear that Ada does not fucking like Wesker. The "nicest" lines she has to him aren't even nice, they're just her trying to appease him so she can get off her fucking back.

That being said, I greatly appreciate how

I really like how they handled her being infected, frankly I was expecting her to go through the same thing Leon did, so this was nice!

Frankly, the scene where Wesker saves Ada is so utterly ridiculous to me. You're telling me that Wesker, a white supremacist who has plans of genocide, risked his life to save a woman of color who he doesn't trust and doesn't fucking like? Not likely.

Also Ada waking up in a bed was Strange. Very Strange. Didn't like it one bit. And even if it wasn't strange... you're telling me wesker cared enough about Ada to take her all the way upstairs to a bed? No... no he would have dropped her on a couch or something. Maybe even the floor! Saving Ada and carrying her to the bed imply Wesker cares for her... which is weird... because the game shows us many times that he doesn't.

It was just very strange and frankly I can't give you a good reason why he needed to be there at all. It feels like they just wanted to make the most out of the Wesker model they no doubt poured an assload of money into.

"Easy with the threats, Wesker" <- literally one of my favorite lines from seperate ways.

I LOVED THE LASER ROOOOOOOOM AAAAAH!!!! I LOVED IT SO MUCH!!!!!

The Ashley scene was unexpected, I thought the shot of her in the trailer was a misdirection, but no she and Ada had like 20 seconds together. This brings me to a question I've had for MONTHS!!! In 4r, Ashley sees Ada clear as day... so when she goes back to the states and gets interrogated... what happens with that? It's not like before when it was only Leon who saw her and he could just erase her from the reports, both he and Ashley are gonna have to admit they did get help... so what do they say? I Would Like To Know.

And finally another terrible part was when the dlc ended with Wesker and I was suddenly hit with the realization that they for sure are gonna remake 5. Which. I always knew would happen but please I can't deal with that (though I do believe 5 is one of the games that actually needs a remake. Because. Um. Well just look at it)

Another thing I appreciated was that they made it abundantly clear that Leon wasn't even close to being her priority. They are quite literally two people going their Seperate Ways (ba-dum tss.) Not only that, but (and this might totally be me) every time Leon was talking to her I just had to roll my eyes, because now I know the full context of what Ada was doing, so everything Leon was saying to her felt like bullshit lmao.

Reading all of this makes it seem like I didn't like it at all lmao, but no, these are just my critiques lol.

OH! ALSO! Not to promote "Ada should have her own game where she's a lead without leon" propaganda... but... well this version of seperate ways made it Very Clear she can do her own thing without that white parasite!!!

Ummmm I think that's everything... if it isn't I can promise you you'll see me talk about it hehehehe

[caffeinated-moogle]

No-ish, and no... ish?

Aeryn is very exceptionally terrible at knowing what it is she wants, let alone expressing it once she figures out whatever it might be. The notion of binding partnerships was another one of those confusing things she both did and didn't comprehend when she awoke on the Source with no memories, so she never really considered it for herself. I also don't think she's the type to confine herself or her myriad thoughts/feelings with labels or titles, and I like to think of Urianger as a bit of a free-spirit in the label department, as well. Aeryn is grateful for the comfortable, reserved affection they come to share, and she doesn't really concern herself with trying to iron out what exactly they are to each other.

That said, I do have a very silly headcanon about archaic elezen courtship rituals involving hair braiding, which I've quietly written into Aeryn's fic. It leads to them forming a quiet sort of bond with each other—though I haven't decided if it's part of her canon... or just fluff fic for me to kick my feet over.

Heaps of rambling about Aeryn's hair lore behind the cut!

(Just gonna drop this here and run away quietly screeching because I feel so extremely awkward talking about these two even though I love them and the silly little ship I built for them so hecking much so aaaahhhhhhh okay have some wolship rambling and hair braiding lore, it's trite, okay bye for days.)

Aeryn instinctively keeps her hands occupied, especially when thinking or discontent. She has a habit in ARR/HW/early StB of regularly unbraiding and rebraiding her pigtails.

Though she's not cognizant of it until much later, she feels her appearance is her only potential link to her lost identity. She endeavors to "look" the same, pigtail braids and all, in hopes that someone from her past might recognize her.

In HW, during the Extended Camping Trip, Aeryn starts braiding Ysayle's hair. (i haven't yet written this, so I haven't ironed out how it starts. Regardless, it becomes part of their nightly routine while journeying.)

After parting with Ysayle, Estinien notes Aeryn's discontent with The Everything. He offers to take Ysayle's place, claiming every warrior has their vices. He jokes that Aeryn's, at least, will help keep his vision clear in battle.

Emmanellain later learns of this and, knowing the old custom, gushes to all the world that the Warrior of Light has been courting the Azure Dragoon. (I just assume it went viral via the Alphinaud > Tataru > Emmanellain > Everyone chain.)

Emmanellain eventually explains to Aeryn that, in more archaic times, braiding each others' hair was an elezen sign of courtship. The more serious a couple's relationship became, the finer and more intricate the braided styles grew. If the couple chose to promise themselves to one another, they symbolized it by twining a special bead or charm into their braids. The more magically inclined forged these of their own aether.

Aeryn is mortified, and even more so after learning Estinien knew of the old custom. (He didn't care, calling it old-fashioned nonsense; he was simply glad to offer some moments of peace to a fellow dragoon and respected friend.)

In StB, Zenos cuts off one of Aeryn's braids in their first battle, triggering her underlying identity crisis; and Tataru gives Aeryn her first haircut to even it out en route to Kugane. Aeryn struggles with the loss, still instinctively reaching to braid hair that is no longer there, haunted by the now-all-too-real possibility that she is never going to be recognized—that she can no longer be "found."

In ShB, Feo Ul regularly plays with Aeryn's hair, twining flowers, ribbons, shells, and other pretty things into it. Since they have a unique insight into things Aeryn often keeps to herself, they know this is special to her. When they prompt her, Aeryn opens up about how it felt to lose her braids.

Aeryn has a little fall in Pla Enni. She and Urianger share a quiet moment while he "heals" her (a ruse he regularly entertains in efforts to ascertain how she's adapting to her light absorption). She's slowly becoming more tactile, and because this is her first time in close proximity to him without his hood, she touches his hair. (It sounds silly, but it's such a pivotal moment of growth for her.)

While the Scions recover back on the Source, Aeryn spends a great deal of time resting with them. She's growing less repressed with her own emotional needs and, seeking comfort, asks if she can braid Urianger's hair.

Urianger is a giant dork, so of course he knows of the old customs—but he assumes Aeryn doesn't. In spite of this, he offers to braid her hair in return. It becomes a very sweet little routine for them. Urianger assumes nothing of it, though it's special to him nonetheless.

Thancred quietly teases Urianger about his "courtship." Urianger maintains it has no deeper meaning, particularly not for Aeryn. Thancred calls him out, though, suggesting that, given the opportunity to make an educated choice, Aeryn might still continue the practice, deeper meaning and all.

Urianger is a Very Awkward Fellow when he finds out Aeryn knew. She doesn't quite manage to express herself clearly, but in her own roundabout way, she explains that changing her hair as it regrew helped her become someone new, and she's grateful that he was part of that change.

After reuniting with Moenbryda's parents, at some point before they find Hydaelyn, Urianger forges a bead of aether and asks to twine it into Aeryn's hair. She is upset she can't do this in return (magic block crisis), but she instead takes the bead from her necklace and twines that into his hair.

Nothing changes, because they don't consider the act truly binding in any way—it's more a quiet expression of love, the idea that no matter where they go, they will always have a part of each other close.

Anyway, that's it. I'm a Ridiculous Sap, and they're possibly married? Ish?

I just love them a lot, okay.

Is your WoL married, or is that something they want in life?

[elyjm1313]

.

I've been having a really terrible mental health week these past like 7-ish days. I'd appreciate any good vibes that can be sent. Or manifestations for me to get at least one thing that I want/need to happen. I've just felt like a scab that's been ripped open and is now raw to the world. It really sucks. I try very hard to bury it under snark and sarcasm, but I'm an exceptionally sensitive person and sometimes the world feels like roadburn.

[king-midas-fortnite]

A Little Princess: Has your muse ever experienced “good karma” — a good deed or kind action, performed with no expectation of reward or repayment, that came back to help them in the end? Tell us about it.

Ha. Well, I certainly remember a good deed that didn't, but I'd rather not prattle on about Dionysus when I'm not being forced.

Unsurprisingly, I find it hard to think of anything I've done in my past purely out of the good will of my heart. At least from the time I have spent in the Zero Point's realities. Maybe there were instances when I was a real king, but most of my specific memories from back then are...hard to access.

Really, the only things that come to mind are the efforts I put into the relationships I did manage to foster while at my worst. I'm not certain what exactly I did to be deemed worthy of their respect, much less their help in returning to the living, but my crew has become my family. Their care for me is something I never expected. Though, even with them, I had initially earned their trust with the goal of building my Device. As capable as I am, running an organization and disguising those plans from the IO was not something I could do alone.

Maybe...maybe a better example would be with Jules' mother. Though I hardly consider what I did to be an exceptionally "good deed", only the absolute bare minimum.

Her and I hadn't been in a serious relationship. Neither of us had greater expectations, just having fun.

I'd met her through work at the IO, so I shouldn't have been surprised when she was skilled enough to find a way to contact me personally. Months later, she let me know she was due soon. She didn't want anything from me, just thought that I should know...

I won't get into the myriad of emotions I felt that lead to my decision to stay away, but I did send her funds. A lot. Frequently. I sent them through different means and names every time, yet she always knew where they came from and always managed to get updates on Jules to me. "She's a girl. She's healthy. Her first word was a swear. She's incredibly smart."

Rarely there would be a picture. I wish I had kept those.

Anyway, I didn't do this because I wanted the updates. I didn't want to be an active participant in either of their lives. I just...I didn't want them to want for anything. I only wished for her and my daughter to have an easy life.

This came back to help me in that Jules found me. She wanted to know me, wanted to help with what I was doing and be part of my life. I'd said no at first because her presence scared me. I was afraid of hurting her. I think I remember saying, "I am too busy to be your babysitter."

She'd persisted, strong willed, and proved herself to be the honest-to-god genius that she is. So, I allowed it. She stayed, and got to know a terribly angry and power-driven father.

I truly don't know what it was that convinced her to give me another chance and to help the crew bring me back. But, I'm thankful. Although I do so fervently wish I had done more for her as a child, given up ambition to be the father I should have been, every moment I spend with her now is a blessing.