#jokes on them - they share similar traumas

[krzaku-art]

Unlovable assholes 🐐🐍

Bonus quartermaster Ezra to the rescue:

[raeofgayshine]

I made a joke about how every wedding should have Butter Barn Hoedown played at, because it’s honestly an iconic song. This led to my friend agreeing and saying they were going to bring it up to a mutual friend (though primarily their friend) for his (gay) wedding.

I made another joke after that if only I was marryable (alas I am aroace and have no desire even for a platonic marriage to be honest unless someone came along I felt comfortable enough for that with), I would play Butter Barn at my wedding.

And see. Here’s the thing I will be thinking about for a long time.

My friend then said, and I have no idea if this was a joke or serious, that I could just come to mutual friends wedding as their platonic date and all three of us could enjoy Butter Barn at a wedding together (And I could go to my first wedding also).

I don’t know if it was a joke. I don’t care either. The fact they would even joke about something like that, that I’m like enough of a friend they would consider that. Fuck dude, what am I supposed to do with that information? That makes me feel things

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hey I liked your writing on reader having to get in between Wolverine and Deadpool all the time 😆 it made me think what it would be like if they were crushing on you and there is a rivalry between them. If you could write what they’d do to win your favor or what shenanigans that would come with it 😂 subtle or not

These two weren’t fond of sharing.

So when the other finds that they have similar feelings towards you, the outcome is never good.

They’re childish in a way where if either Logan or Wade was coincidentally standing too close to you, the other was bound to notice and make a scene out of it, all the while you wished you were anywhere else in that moment.

The pair couldn’t get along even if they bothered to try as sooner or later they’d end up stabbing each other just because the other one was breathing too loudly or just merely existing.

And yet their feelings towards you ends up causing Logan and Wade to butt heads more often, especially if you were constantly teaming up together, with you often being their meditator in all their conflicts.

Wade was more vocal and borderline flirty when it came to interacting with you, he would crack jokes, boop you on the nose or even playfully smack you on the ass just to hear your yelp in surprise and become all flustered.

‘Plush ass you’ve got there, babe! wouldn’t mind laying my head on it sometime and use it as a beautiful fluffy pillow.’ - Wade, skipping away.

Wade could be quite clingy at times so there would be moments where you can barely escape the guy as he hanging on your side like a koala bear.

You: Wade can you let go.

Wade: and let go of my emotional support person? *gasp* Do you want me to die?

You: well considering how fast you regenerate, you technically can’t die-

Wade: do you hate me? Do you think I’m clingy?

You: no- well yes but-

Wade: you hate me!

Wade can be dramatic and the only way to shut him up is to just let him be in close proximity of you and allow him to talk your ear off about how good a dog parents you’d be to Dogpool.

Dogpool is your weakness, you could never say no to Dogpool and Wade knows this like the back of his hand and will use this as leverage over wolverine.

After all It’s not like he has a version of himself that was an actual wolverine or maybe even a honey badger in yellow spandex. So Wade counts this as a win on his end.

Logan on the other hand would be more subtle with his approach, even though to Wade, Logan’s subtly was as an dopey cow standing in a field of grass with how the scruffier man tended to keep by your side protectively; so much so that he might as well start growling at every person who ever laid eyes on you in general.

He’s a guard dog of a man in every sense of the word but how that came to be was from a whole lot of trauma and loosing people he’s ever cared about, so needless to say he won’t act like he’s interested in you at first, his heart had been wounded about as much as his body has and even had the mental scars to prove it.

He’s lived a long life of pain, fighting, suffering and heartache. He’s not going to falter so easily until you did something that made him feel safe enough to fall for you.

Once he has however it was impossible to go about the mission without him always wanting to stand guard by your side when he sees someone he doesn’t fully trust, always using his body as a shield for your own as Logan knew he could handle much more punishment then you could. So he’d rather avoid you being grievously hurt by any means possible.

He’d probably scold you if you ever were hurt as he was afraid that he might loose you, yet his hands were gentle but firm as they worked to patch your wound so it’d heal properly.

Wolverine: you’re an idiot you know.

You: wow I really feel the love over here.

Wolverine: *huffs* you expect me to kiss your ass when what you did was reckless and could’ve killed you? *his hands linger on your own even long after he’s done patching you up as though committing your warmth to memory*

Logan is a secret softy who wouldn’t push you away if you were to ever fall asleep on him, he’d grumble but that’s about it.

He’d even toss you his jacket if you were to ever complain about being too cold or leave it somewhere for you to take yourself, again he’d act like he didn’t want you to but he actually did with how he almost smiled upon seeing you looking comfortable in his jacket.

Logan is evidently more subtle about his crush on you then Wade is, or so he’d likes to think but Wade can messily tell he’s smitten when he sees how Logan’s eyes were quick to follow you in a crowded room with protectiveness and adoration.

Wade: aww has our dear friend taken the stick out of your ass and you fell in love?

Logan: *growls* fuck off Wade.

Wade: *holds his hands to his lips and gasps* oh my gosh! You have! Me too!

Logan: *looks at him* you what?!

Wade: yeah cats out of the bag, I like them too wolvie. you’re not the only one to find them cute, how close minded of you seriously.

They can’t share to save their lives, I’ve mentioned this before but they genuinely can’t even if they tried because one is them was bound to get jealous and try to take you away from the other.

Wade: do you really want to be near me grumpy all the time? Yawn fest much.

You: stop riling him up, you’re making Logan mad. Why are you like this?

Wade: maybe because you deserve to be in the company of someone who isn’t still unhealthily hung up on his previous red headed lover.

Logan: you shut your fucking mouth.

Wade: see! He’s not denying it!

You: I’m going to go now. *leaves*

Logan: you should make full time fuck head your job.

Wade: and you should make full time teenage brooder in a full grown man’s body who still isn’t over his first breakup yours.

The shenanigans that would occur between these two would be headache inducing to say the least.

The constant fights that would break out between them that you’d have to break up.

The bickering over who gets to act like a couple with you on missions. They might even play rock, paper, scissors multiple times behind your back.

Wade probably tried to trip Logan up in front of you once but it backfired when Logan made Wade trip up instead as he puts a hand on your lower back and guided you away from the poor Merc with a mouthful of dirt.

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

Anyway, while people are discoursing about men and not sharing Shubble points, here’s the actual advice I got from watching the stream bc I think that probably needs to be spread more. Shubble elaborates it much better but if you can’t watch it’s better than nothing.

Physical abuse is not just hitting or kicking, anyone causing physical pain intentionally to you without consent is physically abusive, regardless of how that manifests or if it seems silly.

Pressuring someone into using a safeword on something that’s not, like, a mutually agreed thing and is just something one partner wants is controlling and creepy.

Partners who push at the edge of your boundaries and avoid safewords are abusive.

A partner insisting you’re remembering things wrong and making you seem crazy is abusive (specifically, it’s gaslighting)

Grand romantic gestures from the beginning can very easily be a sign of abuse, as abusers use it to endear themselves to their victims.

Controlling behaviour and refusing to break up while also refusing to make changes is possessive and unhealthy at best.

Abusers will manipulate things to make it seem normal to those outside of their victims- by being kind and helpful even as they neglect their victim, by pressuring their victim to treat their abusive behaviour as a joke, ect. It’s often very hard for an outside observer to know if something is abusive, and making assumptions off of what you know in front of closed doors isn’t helpful.

It’s very hard to tell that you’re being abused, and you'll often still retain affection for your abuser for a long time- this is normal, and this isn’t your fault if you wanted to stay friends.

Even if an abuser is struggling with their own problems, taking it out on you is not acceptable. People can be bottling up their emotions and struggle with depression and past trauma and that gives them no excuse to hurt you.

If your partner relies entirely on you to take care of them, and support them financially, that’s financial abuse one way or another.

Abusers tend to hurt more than one person, and their actions escalate without outside influence (be it intervention if possible or something that keeps them away from victims if not.)

Listen to your gut, if you think a relationship is bad. Even if you’ve been through this before, sometimes you can’t realise in it, but you’ll feel it subconciously.

Also, Shubble is being supported by friends who helped her cope and went through different but similar things. She's specifically mentioned right now keeping the stories anonymised, but she might change her mind, if I interpreted the last bit correctly. She's doing alright, she's healing, and it sounds like she's being believed by her friends, at least most of them. I wish nothing but growth and healing for them, and wish them the best moving forward.

[cinnamon-girl-writes]

sleeping headcanons w/ aot men

by @cinnamon-girl-writes!

eren: snores like a mf 😭 and normally, when people snore it's a habit developed later in life from conditions like sleep apnea (or depending on their sleeping position) but NO this boy has been snoring LOUD ASF every single night since he was like 2. which is like.....isn't ur dad a doctor......shouldn't he have noticed and at least mentioned it.......(jk we all know grisha forgot about eren) also he gives me the vibes of like. insists on sleeping naked (under the guise of 'health benefits' but really he just gets hot and is too lazy to remove the blanket or turn off the fan) lowkey has scared

armin: definitley drools in his sleep (it's okay girl me too) and i feel like he also clings onto something while he sleeps, like a blanket (or his s/o) also sleep talks *sometimes* but only when he has a particularly vivid dream

jean: BIG SPOON FS>> but when he's sleeping alone, i feel like he'd sleep on his side. he doesn't really snore or anything but he DEFINITELY moves a lot in his sleep. lowkey you can't even take a nap with him because he WILL kick you (and then apologizes for it in the morning and kisses your battle scars (bruises from his bony ass foot)) also pls someone give him head scratches 🙏🏻

reiner: i feel like he'd be *fairly* normal except occasionally he snores so fucking loud it's like a construction site and you cannot wake him up. anyways the most important thing to now about reindeer is that he WILL crush you/suffocate you in your sleep on accident 😭 like he'd just roll over normally in his sleep and all of a sudden you can't breathe. and also you can't move him so you jsut??? try an wake him up i guess but then you feel bad??

bertholdt: so we know about his weird sleeping positions, but i'm telling you this man sleeps so hard it's literally terrifying when you go to wake him up. like, you're shaking him super hard and saying his name and this man DOES NOT BUDGE 😭 eventually when he does he apologizes for almost giving you a heart attack (also he's fs the best cuddler on this list, just above reiner)

connie: nahhh he definitely does some weird ass shit in his sleep like punching or something 😭 jokes aside i think he'd be a great cuddler and share his sweatshirts. unlike jean who would either deny it or brush it off, if connie hit/kicked you in his sleep he would feel so bad 😭 he would probably cry and beg for your forgiveness

levi: honestly the most normal person on this list when it comes to sleeping habits. if anything i think he'd just toss and turn a lot. unfortunately,, he does get night terrors/nightmares from his trauma so pls give him a hug and make him some tea ☕️

erwin: SNORES so much omg 😭 😭 it's actually insane and it's every night. like every. single. night. similar to levi he probably also gets night terrors so look out for him </3

zeke: sleeps on his back with his arms folded on his chest like one of those pharaoh corpses in the pyramids 😭 😭 and he does NOT cuddle. he *might* indulge in it every once in a while, but not to sleep. it's more of a comfort thing and more for your sake. like eren he also snores (it runs in the family ig) but not nearly as noticeably.

porco: chronic side sleeper (real) doesn't really snore but i can see him sleep talking a lot actually

grisha: (BASEMENT SPOILERS!!!) dreams of how he'll turn all his sons into titans then manipulate them into trusting him 🤍

[nerdallwritey]

Awfully Fond of You

Request: i was wondering if you’d be willing to write a little something for act 1, during the tiefling party for an autistic tav who has a crush on astarion but also has body insecurities + SA trauma, maybe instead of the usual scene that goes down they request to bathe with astarion instead? a tav with poor interoception (sense of awareness with one’s body) who loves to help and touch others but doesn’t quite register others touching them or how they feel about it but still craving intimacy with astarion is something i’m obsessed with (*^^*)*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･* i love your writing style and NEVER request so im super nervous!!  - 🪴 (Link to original request here).

Pairing: Astarion x gn!reader Rating: 18+ - no smut, but mature themes Word Count: 7.7k CW: Very vague alludes to SA trauma, reader is a sweetie pie, Astarion is an idiot as always - No explicit smut this time; this one's mostly fluff! Spoilers: Minor spoilers for Act 1 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.), as well as Astarion's plotline Also posted to: AO3

a/n: Hello folks! I come bearing my very first request fulfillment! As you can tell from the ask, 🪴 anon wanted something very personal and sweet, and I'm incredibly honored that they chose me to see their vision come to life. I did my best to hit every beat they requested, while also staying true to my writing style, which, of course, means there's plenty of banter to be had. Yes, it is a bit similar to An Evening To Ourselves and Perfect Every Time (I swear I was in the middle of writing that one when I received this request), but I'm pleased with how this new remix of Astarion's Act 1 romance scene turned out! And yes, the title IS based on a lyric from everyone's favorite Sesame Street bath time song, "Rubber Duckie." HIT IT, BOYS! (Thank you, as always, to @kermitwazowski for beta reading!) NOTE: This Tav is completely separate from bard!Tav and does not take place in the same universe as Beauty and the Bard. Part 5 of that coming soon! And my request box is open!

Without further ado, 🪴 anon, I hope you like it!

The air in camp was abuzz with laughter and cheer. Booze flowed into goblets and down throats, and smiles graced the faces of nearly every guest currently in attendance of the last minute celebration thrown together by you and your companions.

With the goblins and their leaders defeated in what turned out to be a rather difficult encounter, Halsin and Zevlor had insisted on celebrating with you and your party at your campsite before the tieflings made their way to Baldur’s Gate within the next few days. 

Alfira supplied the evening with a somewhat constant stream of joyful songs, only stopping every so often to enjoy a drink with Lakrissa, while other tieflings danced and mingled with each other, relief and excitement making their shoulders relax as they reached for more goblets of wine. 

You were in the process of making your rounds through the party; you’d shared a drink with Shadowheart, some jokes with Gale and Karlach, a quiet moment with Wyll, and a confusing conversation with Lae’zel about limbs being torn from a neogi? You weren’t entirely sure what those even were, but you had to assume they were a fearsome creature if Lae’zel was bringing it up. 

That only left Astarion.

To be honest, you’d been avoiding him all night. Try as he might to catch your eye whenever you passed by, whether it be with a pointed clearing of his throat or a blatant call of your name, you would zero in on something else, and focus all your attention on that. Even if it meant sitting through an extended conversation with Volo. 

But now, there was nowhere left to go. Unless you opted to avoid him completely. And that would only lead to questions from your companions that you wouldn’t know how to answer.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like him. No. In fact, it was the exact opposite. You liked him a lot. And you weren’t sure what to do about it. 

Astarion was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen and you were… you. You’d been you, your whole life, and knew for a fact that the pair of you were an odd couple. Where he was crass, you were kind. Where he was violent, you opted to talk things through. 

And yet, you couldn’t help but enjoy spending time with him. His bloodlust was fascinating to watch, and you loved sparring both physically and verbally with him. More than once, you’d both saved the other’s ass in a sticky situation during battle. More than once, you’d allowed him to drink from you to ease his sanguine hunger. 

You were pretty sure that at the very least, he considered you a friend, though you weren’t sure he’d ever directly admit that to you. Unlike Gale and Wyll, who often reminded you how much they appreciated your friendship, Astarion was much tougher to read. Yet despite his somewhat malicious name calling and disapproval towards your actions, you couldn’t help but feel that he had a soft spot for you. Even when you were telling him he couldn’t kill a man in cold blood, it seemed like he legitimately enjoyed your company. The thought made you smile softly.

Taking in a deep breath and straightening your posture, you finally willed yourself to approach the vampire.

His eyes lit up in that way they often did when he was preparing to tease you.

“There you are, darling,” he said, dramatically. “I was worried I’d never see you again.”

“Worried I’d leave you, huh?” you teased with a smirk. 

Astarion tsked. “Perish the thought. But I recognize someone avoiding me when I see it.”

“Ah,” you clasped your hands in front of yourself, looking down at the ground, “you noticed that.”

“When I usually have to pry you away from me, yes, I noticed.” He took a swig of the wine he was holding.

You nodded and bobbed back and forth on your toes. “Best for last, I guess?” you shrugged your shoulders and smiled at him, hoping he’d drop the subject.

He hummed lamely. 

“So,” you perked up, “are you enjoying the party? I see you’ve been indulging in the spirits.”

“Watching me, were you?” Astarion smirked and you held up your hands, caught.

“Guilty.”

“You know,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “I never pictured myself as a hero.”

You reached out to squeeze his arm. “Don’t say that.”

His eyes met yours, and he gently pulled his arm out of your grasp. He cleared his throat before continuing.

“Never thought I’d be the one they toast for saving so many lives. And now that I’m here…” He closed his eyes and took another swig of his wine. When he brought the bottle away and opened his eyes, he met you with a scowl. “I hate it. This is awful.”

You laughed. “Really? Saving lives is awful?” 

Astarion rolled his eyes. “We killed some goblins to save some tieflings. The tally of lives didn’t change much.”

“You’re awful,” you shook your head affectionately. 

He looked smug before puffing his chest. “And what do I get for all my hard work?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

“Nothing but a pat on the head, and vinegar for wine.” 

You pursed your lips and reached for the bottle, brushing your fingers against his own. 

“Let me try,” you said, lifting the bottle to your lips and taking a sip. Your tongue was flooded with the bitter taste of fermented grapes and something else you couldn’t place. Your face scrunched at the flavor and Astarion snorted.

“See what I mean? Awful.”

You handed the bottle back to him, smacking your tongue to get rid of the aftertaste. He took the opportunity to continue speaking.

“All I want is a little fun. Is that so much to ask?”

You let out an amused scoff. “Knowing you, it probably is.”

Astarion lifted a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Oh, don’t be so sour. I like a good time as much as anyone.”

“‘Sour,’” you repeated, pointing at his wine bottle. “Good one.”

He smirked. “You know, we could always make our own entertainment, darling.”

“Oh, really?” You lifted an eyebrow. “And what does that entail?”

“We could get a little closer, so to speak.”

You were suddenly very aware of how close you were standing to Astarion. You took a considerable step backwards and crossed your arms. 

“Sorry, I was really close to you just now, wasn’t I?” You rubbed up and down your bicep awkwardly.

Astarion blinked before his face settled into a seductive smirk. He reached his free hand out to rest on your hip. “On the contrary, my dear. I rather like it when you’re close.”

“Oh, good,” you sighed in relief. You brought your hand down to where Astarion’s rested on your hip. “Sometimes I can’t tell.”

He chuckled, squeezing your hip slightly. “So what do you say?”

“To us getting closer? I don’t mind!” To emphasize your point, you took a step forward and rested your other hand on his shoulder.

Astarion furrowed his brow. Then he chuckled again, gently removing both of your hands from his body. “While I appreciate your enthusiasm, let’s wait until things quieten down. Once the others are asleep, we’ll find each other.”

“Okay, now I’m really interested in what kind of entertainment you have planned.” You smirked at him, sensing a shift in his tone, but unsure of what it meant. “Don’t tell me you’re a master of shadow puppets or something.”

He smiled skeptically. “Very funny,” he said slowly. “But I trust you’ll meet me?”

You giggled. “Yes, I’ll see you later, Astarion.” 

“Indeed you will, my love. Indeed you will.” Rather than bid you a proper goodbye, Astarion brought the wine bottle to his lips once more and turned away from you. 

You spun on your heel and made your way back to the party. 

This was fine. Good, even! Spending time one-on-one with Astarion was probably exactly what you needed if you wanted to navigate this silly crush you’d developed. Sure, he’d just called you “my love,” and that was a new one, but it wasn’t that much different from the other pet names he threw at you and your companions. You didn’t need this foolish infatuation distracting you on your journey or, gods forbid, diverting your attention during battle. No, this would be the perfect time to remind yourself and your fluttering heart that Astarion was, first and foremost, your friend, and a person. It didn’t need to be anything more than that. 

Your feet carried you not too far from Astarion’s tent and landed you at Karlach’s tent, the tiefling in question currently lying on her back, looking up at the stars.

“Hey, Hot Stuff,” you said, standing over her. 

“Soldier!” she grinned, her eyes a bit fuzzy from the wine. 

“This seat taken?” You kicked your foot over some dirt to her left. 

“All yours,” she said, sitting up to join you. 

You settled down next to her and watched the party still taking place at the center of camp. It sounded like Gale and Lae’zel were having some sort of heated argument over which main courses were best to prepare for battle, while Halsin awkwardly weaved between them to gather a plate of food for himself.

“Saw you chatting up Fangs just now,” Karlach playfully air-elbowed you, careful not to accidentally touch and scorch you. “Did he have anything good to say?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” you shrugged. “He was an ass to me, I was an ass to him, the usual.”

Karlach nodded. “Sounds about right.”

You both sat in pleasant silence for a moment before you laughed a little. “It’s funny, he actually asked me to spend time with him tonight, after the party.”

Karlach furrowed her brow. “After the party? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” you shook your head, “he said we could ‘make our own entertainment.’” You made air quotes when you repeated his words. “I figure he wants to read together or something. It was just weird how he phrased it.”

She sat up a little straighter, her expression growing more serious. “Hang on, what were his words, exactly?”

You leaned back a little, confused by her sudden interest in your mundane conversation with the vampire. “Um… I don’t know. He said he didn’t like being a hero, I told him not to say that, he said he wanted more than a pat on the head and bad wine, I tried the wine and it was bad, he said he wanted a little fun, ‘is that so much to ask?’ and I said ‘knowing you, it probably is,’ and then he said we could make our own entertainment. Or something like that.”

“Huh.” Karlach thought for a moment. “I think he means to bone you, Soldier.”

You sputtered out a laugh. “What?! No he doesn’t!”

“He sooooo does!” Karlach barked out a laugh. “And good for you! I know I’d ride him to the Feywild and back if I had the chance.”

“He does not,” you said again, trying to convince yourself as much as you were trying to convince Karlach. 

But you faltered. 

“Does he?”

“Soldier,” Karlach lowered her head at you, giving you an incredulous look, “he was absolutely asking you to get nasty with him.” 

“Are you serious?”

“Yes!” she threw her hands up in the air. “We all see the way you look at each other! You practically undress one another with your eyes every time you see each other!”

“No we don’t!” you argued, but shrank back when Karlach raised an eyebrow at you. 

“You do. You know you do.” 

“Am I that obvious?” you asked, lifting your hands to your cheeks as you felt them heating up. 

Karlach started counting on her fingers. “He’s always the first one you check on after a battle, you’re always walking next to him when we’re traveling, AND you let him drink your blood. Weirdly often. Which is gross.”

“I like helping him,” you countered weakly. “And I always check on you guys, too!”

“Of course you do, Soldier, but we can all see how you two treat each other differently.”

You peered over at Astarion’s tent. He lounged comfortably amongst his pillows, a book propped open in his lap and his bottle of wine was not too far off. 

How could he be so casual and relaxed about all of this? The thought of talking to him later tonight made your stomach drop.

“What if I turn him down?” you asked softly, leaning forward to hug your knees.

Karlach’s expression softened. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” She reached out a hand, but retracted it. “If I could, I’d rub your back like my mum used to do when I was a kid.”

You smiled over at her. “Thanks.”

She nodded. “If you don’t want to sleep with the leech, that’s your choice. Don’t let him talk you into it if it’s not what you want.”

“I’m not entirely sure what I want,” you admitted, looking up at the familiar stars above.

Karlach sighed. “Well, you don’t have to decide anything tonight.” She nodded her head towards his tent. “In fact, I could go beat the shit out of him, if you’d like.”

You laughed. “Not necessary. But I appreciate the offer.”

“I’ll do it.”

“I know you will,” you smiled and settled your cheek on top of your knee. “I do really like him,” you confessed.

Karlach thought for a moment. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s the problem?” She cocked her head curiously.

You sighed. “Sex isn’t really something… I have a great relationship with.”

“Ah,” Karlach nodded. “Same,” she joked, flaring her flames a little for good measure.

You snickered quietly. “I won’t get into it, but… yeah. No thanks. For now, at least.”

“Say no more,” she held up her hand and turned to observe Astarion at his tent. “You could always just see what he has to say? Maybe he just wants to show you he’s a master at shadow puppets or something.”

“That’s what I said!” you laughed, and Karlach joined in.

When you’d both settled, she spoke again. “But seriously, Soldier. Astarion may be a freaky vampiric bastard, but I don’t think he’d hurt you.”

“I don’t think he would either.”

“He knows we’d kill him.”

“I’m sure you’d all take turns sending him to the hells.”

“You bet your sweet ass we would,” she brought her fist to her hand as if preparing to punch this hypothetical Astarion. 

After another quiet moment, she spoke again. “You don’t have to go with him tonight. Or, I could come with you, if you want. As backup.”

“Thanks,” you said, “but I think I need to have this conversation with him alone.”

“Of course.”

You looked back over at Astarion’s tent. He was now standing and stretching his arms over his head. When he caught you watching him, he smirked and threw a wink in your direction. You quickly snapped your head forward, back towards the center of the party. Groaning, you brought your hands up to cover your face.

“What am I gonna do?”

~~~~~

Staring into the trees ahead of you, you remained frozen in place. 

The party had died down and dispersed about an hour ago, giving you and your companions plenty of time to perform a quick cleanup and head to bed. And just as Astarion had said, once a peaceful quiet had enveloped the camp, he’d come to your tent and wordlessly motioned for you to follow him. 

Now you were wringing your hands, trying to convince yourself to follow after him into the forest.

Karlach was right: you didn’t have to do anything you didn’t want to do. And Astarion was a reasonable guy. 

To a degree.

Okay, no he wasn’t. 

He was always prepared to kill someone who wronged him in an instant. But surely he’d be reasonable in this department. Your gut told you that that was true. And if it wasn’t, you’d sicc Karlach and the others on him. 

You knew it wouldn’t come to that, though. You felt strongly that he was the type who wouldn’t react rashly to a rejection. 

Before you’d even made up your mind to do so, you found yourself walking into the trees, following the general direction you’d seen Astarion head off towards. The least you could do was hear him out. And who knew, maybe this would be a funny anecdote in your friendship later on down the line. Only time would tell.

It took a few minutes of mindless wandering before you reached a clearing. You kept going, prepared to keep walking until you eventually found Astarion, when you spotted him emerging from behind a tree in your peripheral. 

You screeched to a halt and turned to face him, growing stiff with nerves when you realized he was shirtless. 

“There you are,” he said, his hand lingering on the tree behind him. “I’ve been waiting.” 

He approached you slowly. 

Seductively. 

You stood completely still.

He continued, “Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you.”

You swallowed thickly.

He moved even closer. “Waiting to have you.”

“About that,” you said, struggling to keep your voice steady, “what exactly do you mean?”

Astarion’s sensual expression morphed into one of confusion. Then he laughed a little. “Isn’t it obvious? Tonight is about pleasure.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” you muttered.

While you were pretty sure he heard you, Astarion pressed on anyway. 

“Yours. Mine. Our collective ecstasy.”

“Astarion,” you said quickly, surging forward to grab his hands in yours, “please.”

He looked surprised, but quickly recovered with an alluring smirk. “Please what, darling?”

“We don’t have to.”

Astarion narrowed his eyes skeptically. “Don’t have to what?”

You groaned and leaned your head forward to rest on his bare shoulder. After a second you lifted your face back up to look at him. “We don’t have to sleep together.”

This time, Astarion looked stunned. “Then… what are you doing here?” 

You shrugged. “I thought we could talk.”

Astarion pulled away from you and took a step back. “‘Talk?’ I thought we had an understanding?”

“See, that’s the thing,” you said, “I did not understand.”

“Hmm,” he hummed and tilted his head in disbelief.

“I’m serious,” you said, stepping closer to him again. “I thought you wanted to spend time together.”

“Oh, but I do,” his lips quirked up mischievously. “I mean to spend the entire night with you, my dear.”

“And while that sounds great, I think you and I are having different thoughts about how to spend that time.” You held his gaze, willing him to hear you.

He humphed. “So you don’t want to have sex with me?”

“Not right now, no.”

He sputtered his lips together and threw his arms up. “And what does that mean?”

“It means… It means I don’t want to have sex right now. At all.” You watched his face scrunch in incredulity. “It has nothing to do with you!” you clarified, grabbing one of his hands again. “Believe me, this is all me.”

Astarion looked you up and down, scanning your body language. You still held his hand and leaned into him ever so slightly. 

“What’s this then?” he asked, placing his free hand over the hand holding his.

You pulled away from him completely. “Sorry,” you said, “I end up touching the people I like. I don’t realize I’m doing it.”

He narrowed his eyes, putting the pieces together in his head. 

“You like me.”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t want to sleep with me.”

“Yes.”

“So… what? You want to be friends or something?” He made a sour expression.

You laughed softly. “I’d like to think we’re already friends, actually.”

“And why would you think that?” Astarion asked, but you saw in his eyes that he was teasing.

You smiled lightly. “Maybe because you won’t stop following me around Faerûn?”

“Well, it’s not like I-”

“Or maybe because you’ve had a taste of my blood and now you can’t get enough?”

“Okay, that’s-”

“Or maybe because Karlach said you treat me differently than you treat everyone else.”

“She did not!” Astarion sounded genuinely scandalized and you laughed.

“Face it, pretty boy, you like me, too.”

Astarion groaned and rolled his eyes. “This is not at all going how I planned.”

You pursed your lips and wrapped your arms around yourself again. “Sorry.”

He glanced back at you and saw you staring at the ground. He sighed. 

“No, I’m sorry, darling.”

You met his eyes. He stepped closer and placed his hands on your cheeks. Instinctively, you leaned into his touch. 

“I assumed you wanted the same thing as me, and I was wrong.”

“It’s okay,” you assured. “You couldn’t have known.”

“Still,” he said, his thumb caressing the apple of your cheek, “I misread your touches as advances rather than…” He searched for the proper words. “One of your quirks.”

You exhaled, amused. “You didn’t entirely misread me.”

“Pardon?”

“I do like you. A lot. And if things were different, maybe I would sleep with you, but…”

Astarion pulled away from you and held up a hand. “No explanation needed, darling.” He smirked. “But it's good to know how you feel.”

You felt your cheeks go red. “Yeah,” you said, suddenly shy.

Astarion clicked his tongue. “You’re so adorable when you’re thinking of what to say.”

You shook your head and patted your cheeks. “I have another idea,” you said.

He nodded for you to continue and crossed his arms.

“Um… if it’s alright with you, I…” You paused, not exactly sure how he’d react. 

“What is it, darling?”

“I’d like to… bathe you.”

Astarion uncrossed his arms and looked rather dumbfounded.

“What?”

Your words came out clumsily and a little too fast: “Or not! I don’t know, I just like you so much, and I’d like to be closer to you but I don’t want to have sex with you so I thought maybe we could get closer another way, or maybe-”

“Okay,” Astarion interrupted.

“Huh?”

He moved closer to you and brushed some hair out of your face.

“Okay,” he repeated softly. “Let’s bathe together.”

“Oh,” you said, disbelief painting your features. 

Astarion laughed. “Did you assume I’d say no?”

You shrugged as a smile grew on your face. “I don’t know what I expected,” you reached for his hand, “but I’m really glad you said yes.”

~~~~~

The walk back to camp was pleasantly silent, save for the crickets singing their nightly aria. Astarion kept pace with you, the back of your hands brushing every so often, each time sending a tiny shock wave through your body. 

This was happening. You were going to have a private, intimate moment with Astarion. Even if it hadn’t been what he originally intended, you were happy to think of a compromise that still allowed you to get close to him in a way that you knew the others in camp hadn’t, and probably wouldn’t. It made you feel special.

Happy.

And nervous. 

Nervous as all hells, to be honest. You felt your heart speeding up with every step you took, bringing you closer to camp.

“Something wrong, darling?” Astarion asked, giving you a sideways glance.

You jumped a little when his voice broke the silence. “Huh?”

“Your heart, love. It’s pounding.” He waggled his eyebrows teasingly. “Nervous?”

“Oh, that.” You held a hand to your chest and focused on slowing your breathing. When you turned to look at him, you asked, “Is that weird?”

“Seeing as how this was your suggestion, maybe a little.” He smiled and nudged his shoulder into yours.

You groaned. “If this is too weird, let’s just not.”

Astarion halted and grabbed your wrist to stop you. He spun you to look into his eyes. “Whatever’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, darling, cut it out.”

“Oh, okay great. Done.”

“Really?”

“No, not really!” You narrowed your eyes at him.

He sighed. “Never is that easy, is it?”

It was a rhetorical question, but you shook your head anyway. 

“Well, whatever’s making you nervous, I’ll strive to steer clear of it.”

He looked at you expectantly, as if he wanted some sort of explanation. You avoided his eyes and moved to continue walking towards camp. He followed close behind.

“It’s just that…” you paused, trying to collect your thoughts. “I haven’t been… naked in front of someone. For a while.”

Astarion bit his lip, mirth in his eyes.

“Don’t laugh!” you exclaimed, mortified.

“No, no, darling!” His tone was gleeful. “Apologies. It’s just that that’s what’s making you nervous? I’ll have you know that you’re one of the more beautiful creatures who I’ve attempted to bed. You have nothing to fear. I’ve seen all manner of bodies and I can assure you, yours will be nothing short of exquisite. In fact, your shyness is rather endearing.” He smiled at you, looking like he might still be withholding a laugh.

You flattened your lips into a line. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.” You began walking ahead of him but stopped when you heard him call your name.

“I may be a rake and a thief, but I’m no liar.”

You blinked at him. “Yes you are! You lie all the time!”

“Okay, yes, sure, but I don’t lie about things that matter! Things like this!” He motioned up and down, indicating your body.

Just as he did so, the two of you emerged from the trees and into camp. You held a finger to your lips and indicated for him to be quiet. He nodded and padded after you as you crept quietly towards the shore of the lake that lapped quietly next to your sleeping campsite. You bent to pick up towels, along with the bucket that held soap and other washing supplies that you and your companions shared in an effort to stay clean on the road. You held them up and motioned for Astarion to follow you again, away from where Withers stoically kept watch, and more towards where you’d spoken with Wyll earlier in the evening. When you turned to face Astarion, his eyes were full of questions.

“Are you sure you still want to do this?” you asked.

He perked up and grinned. “My love, there is nothing I’d like more.”

You searched his eyes one more time to make sure he was serious. When you were satisfied with what you saw, you motioned for him to step into the lake. 

“Ladies first,” you teased, looking anywhere but at Astarion.

He, in turn, looked down his nose at you. “I know what this is,” he said, pointing a lazy finger at you.

“What’s what?”

“You’re stalling, darling.”

“I am not!”

Astarion crossed his arms and tilted his head towards you, unimpressed.

Your posture fell into a slouch. “Okay fine, maybe I am stalling.”

“Really?” Astarion said dramatically before dropping his arms to his sides again. He approached you, close enough to where you could feel his cool breath on your face. 

He placed both of his hands on your hips. You looked down to watch as his fingers drummed a calming rhythm into your sides. He whistled quietly, gaining your attention. 

“Let’s start here,” he suggested, now fingering the hem of your shirt. He refused to let you look away. 

You nodded.

“Good,” he purred as you raised your arms and helped him take off your shirt. 

The cool air of the evening immediately sent goosebumps down your arms, and you unconsciously crossed them over your chest for warmth.

Astarion tsked. “Come now,” he protested and placed two gentle hands on your wrists, guiding them to your sides. “Lovely,” he praised once he was able to look at you. 

You made an uncomfortable sound before placing your hands on your waistband. 

“These probably need to come off next, right?”

“Typically that’s how one bathes themself, yes.”

“Right,” you agreed, watching as Astarion mirrored you and reached for his own waistband. You looked down at your legs as you removed your pants, leaving you in only your underwear. 

“Goodness, love,” Astarion said quietly and you looked at him shyly. He himself was now only in his underwear. “You have nothing to be shy about. You’re magnificent.”

“Would you shush and get into the water please?” you half teased, half begged. Anything  to end this weird tension you were feeling. 

“Alright,” he laughed softly before reaching for the waistband of his underwear. He looked at you for approval. When you nodded, he removed them in one fluid motion as if he’d done this a million times. Maybe he had.

Regardless, you couldn’t help but stare at the space between his legs.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Eyes up here.”

“Sorry,” you said, immediately flicking your eyes up to his face. “I didn’t- It’s just-”

Astarion chuckled. “I understand.”

“Thank you,” you said, breathing a sigh of relief. 

“Your turn,” he said, lifting his eyebrows.

You bit your lip and slowly reached for your underwear. When you pulled them off, Astarion watched you without a hint of judgment in his eyes. You ran a hand through your hair and shifted nervously on your feet. 

He held out a hand to you and you stared at it before looking up at his face. He rolled his eyes.

“I’m not going in this frigid water alone, are you mad?”

You laughed and took his hand. He instantly pulled your body to his, holding you so that you were chest to chest. He gave you a seductive smirk before leaning in. You leaned away, avoiding his advances. You shook your head ever so slightly before stepping into the gentle water. Astarion remained standing on the shore before following after you. 

Braving the cold of the water, you sunk down until you were sitting in neck deep water. You let the bucket you’d brought with you float next to you as Astarion crept through the water, clearly freezing. 

“Why did I let you convince me to bathe at night? There’s no sun out to warm this wretched lake.”

You ducked your mouth below the surface to blow some bubbles in his direction. “You should know by now that dunking your whole body helps you warm up faster.”

He gave you a dirty look before slowly sinking down in front of you, yelping and contorting his face the entire time. You couldn’t help but squawk out a laugh. 

When he was fully seated, he pulled you towards him, making you sit in his lap. He gave you a sensual look that had you frowning and pulling back. He raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“When I said I wanted to bathe you, that’s all I meant.”

“Ah.” His tone was confused. Then he shook his head. “Right, sorry. This is - well… you know.” He smiled, looking like he was admitting defeat and that he wasn’t pleased about it. “I have no idea what to do with you.”

You swam behind him, pulling the bucket of soap towards you and laying your hands on both of his shoulders. “You don’t have to do anything.”

He spun to face you. “Nothing?”

You nodded and he huffed out a laugh. “No sex, no fooling around…I’m sorry, darling. It’s just - having to slow down, it’s… I’m just not used to it.” 

“That’s okay,” you rested your hands on his shoulders again. “We’re in no rush.”

He hummed. “Can you… I don’t know. Help? Show me what to do?”

Laughing, you took his hand. “I’ll try.”

You led your weightless bodies into shallower water and had Astarion sit facing away from you, towards the shore. Reaching for the bucket again, you pulled out a bar of soap and a sponge. 

“Relax,” you cooed, seeing how tensely he held his shoulders close to his ears. 

He let loose a breath and you watched as he relaxed his muscles. Your eyes traveled lower, suddenly catching a glimpse of a complicated and gruesome scar on his back. Your eyes widened, taking in how the water and moonlight reflected off of it. Calmly, you dipped the sponge in the water and added soap before gently rubbing his right shoulder. Astarion melted further, allowing his neck to tilt forward, which, in turn, gave you a better view of his scarred flesh.

“Um… Is it okay for me to wash your back?” you hesitated in bringing the sponge across his shoulder and over his back to his other shoulder.

“Why wouldn’t - oh. I suppose you’re talking about the poem.” He barely looked over his shoulder at you.

“I’ve never seen a poem like this,” you said quietly, a hint of anger in your voice.

He chuckled darkly in response. “It’s a gift from my old master, Cazador. He considered himself quite the artist and used his slaves as a canvas. Do you like it, darling?” He shimmied his shoulders, mockingly preening over the evidence of his own torment.

“Not at all,” you said evenly, continuing to wash his shoulders. 

“Ouch, love, you’d hurt his feelings if he heard that.” Not a hint of joy reached his eyes.

“I don’t much care about the feelings of this old master of yours.”

“Oh, be still, my undead heart,” he held a hand to his chest sarcastically. Then he sighed. “You’re allowed to wash it. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” His voice was quiet when he said, “Thank you for asking.”

Wordlessly, you moved the sponge from the back of his neck to his shoulder blades. 

“I’m not going to break,” he laughed softly, “you don’t have to be so gentle.”

You increased the pressure you were applying to his skin before adding more soap to the sponge. “Move up a little,” you instructed, tapping him to move closer to the shore. “Lean forward.”

Now you had a better angle to wash away the grime of the road from his back, and an even better view of the scar. You clicked your tongue and set to work. 

Perhaps uncomfortable by your silence, Astarion began to speak again. “He, Cazador, composed and carved that poem over the course of a night.” There was a venom to his words. Maybe a deep regret, or a weighing sadness. “He made a lot of revisions as he went.”

Your hand paused over a particularly brutal ridge. You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around his torso, resting your cheek against the raised tissue. “You’re brave for enduring that.”

“What are you doing?” Astarion straightened, making you push your cheek further into his skin. 

You pulled back immediately. “Sorry, I wanted to hug you. I should have asked. I just… wanted you to know that I care.”

Astarion looked over his shoulder at you blankly. “You ‘care?’”

You nodded. “Turn back around, let me keep washing you.”

He gave you a slight nod before facing forward again and leaning over. 

After another silent moment of gliding the sponge across his back, you asked, “Any idea what it means? Or is it just some pattern?”

Astarion let out an unamused laugh. “Hells if I know. Not sure how much you know about vampires, darling, but typically, we can’t see our reflections.” He spoke as if talking to a child. 

You splashed his back with a small wave from your hand. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“You’re lashing out at me when I was just asking a question.”

“I-” He paused. Then he fell silent.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped but… I’m not your enemy,” you said gently. “We don’t have to keep talking about this. We don’t have to talk at all.”

Astarion groaned. “Silence is dreadful, darling.”

“Is that why you never stop talking?” you teased, trying to lighten the mood again.

“Good one,” he said flatly, but you could hear the smile in his voice. “I only talk because you lot never have anything interesting to say.”

You scoffed with a smile. “I have plenty of interesting things to say!”

“Oh, really? Like what?”

“Like-” you thought for a moment. “Like the other day! When I was talking with you about your embroidery!” By now you’d moved on to washing over Astarion’s arms. You spun him to face you so you could wash and massage his hands. 

Astarion clicked his tongue. “Unfortunately, darling, that’s not an entirely interesting topic, seeing as how I was in the middle of mending a shirt and you just wanted an excuse to talk to me.”

“I did not!” you denied, massaging between his fingers. Unconsciously, his fingers curled around yours before retracting and flexing. 

“Deny all you want, you still didn’t say anything interesting.”

“Hmm,” you narrowed your eyes at him. “If I’m so uninteresting, why did you want to spend the evening with me of all people?” You were massaging his other hand. 

“You-” He paused again.

“I?”

“You’re… I’m still trying to figure you out.” His voice grew softer when you pulled yourself closer to wash across his chest. You sensed the shift and looked up at his face to make sure he was okay with your actions. When he nodded minutely, you continued. 

“If you’re trying to figure me out… one might say that you’re interested in me.”

He groaned. “Say whatever you want to help you sleep better tonight, darling.”

“Uh huh,” you said pleasantly to yourself, feeling like you’d won. You looked away to add more soap to the sponge and when you looked back, you realized how close you were to his face. His pupils were blown wider than usual and you could see yourself reflected in his eyes against the moonlight. His breath tickled your face. 

He watched you with an intensity that had you hesitating. Why was he so-?

“Look up,” you said, looking up yourself to demonstrate what you wanted. “Please.”

He held your gaze for as long as he could before looking up at the sky. 

You carefully brushed the sponge along his throat, pausing briefly when you got to the twin wounds on his throat from the night he was turned. You circled them gently with the sponge before rinsing the suds with water cupped in your hand. A shiver ran through Astarion’s body.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“Yes,” he said looking back down at you once you’d finished rinsing the suds away. “But I’d very much like to kiss you.”

You blinked a few times before resting your forehead against his. When you pulled back, you asked, “Is it okay for me to wash your hair?”

Astarion looked at you for a moment, his eyes flicking to your lips for a second before meeting your eyes again. “I suppose so,” he said.

“I don’t have to. Your legs are still-”

“I can handle my own lower half, thank you.” He winked at you.

You smiled and handed him the sponge before bringing yourself to rest behind him again. You gathered the bucket that was still floating nearby and submerged it until it was filled about halfway with water.

“You can either dunk yourself, or I can pour this over your head,” you held the bucket for Astarion to see.

“I’m actually quite enjoying you taking care of me, darling. I trust you won’t drown me.”

“A mistake,” you said, pretending to dump the bucket over his head all at once. “Can vampires even drown? It’s not like you need to breathe.”

“I’d rather not find out, if it’s all the same to you,” he smirked. 

Instead of dumping the entire bucket on his head like you threatened, you poured a gentle stream along the back of his skull before moving forward to evenly wet the rest of his hair. 

“Bloody hells, that is cold,” he pushed some flattened curls out of his face.

“For being a fearsome vampire, you sure are a wimp,” you teased. 

“I could rip your throat out.”

“And I might be able to drown you.” You placed firm hands on both his shoulders and pushed gently, as if you wanted to test your theory. 

“Terrifying,” he smirked, running the sponge along his legs underwater.

“You should see what I did to those goblins who were holding Halsin hostage.”

Astarion laughed. “I know, darling, I was there. Who knew you could be so hellbent on vengeance?”

You laughed softly, coating your hands in soap before running them through his curls. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Like?” he prompted.

“Astarion!” you exclaimed sarcastically. “You want to know more about me?”

“Well if I knew you’d make a fuss, I wouldn’t have said anything.” Despite his tone, his eyes were closed in pleasure as you continued to massage his scalp. 

You chuckled quietly, trying to think of something to share with him. 

“I’ve lived in Baldur’s Gate my whole life,” you started.

“A shame we never crossed paths.”

“I’m not entirely sure you’d spare me a passing glance.”

Astarion opened his eyes. “Don’t say that.”

You shrugged. “I read a lot, growing up, and liked being indoors. But I also liked the outdoors. I helped my dad tend our garden, and helped my mom cook dinner–”

“How quaint.”

“We’d visit my aunt in the Upper City every Midwinter, and I wanted to be a teacher when I grew up.” 

“Pity, you have such a promising career as a spa keeper.”

You examined Astarion’s head to make sure you hadn’t missed a spot. When you were pleased with your own work, you continued: “This is the first big adventure I’ve ever been on.”

“First brain worm?” Astarion opened one eye and pointed to his temple.

You laughed and nodded. 

He smiled. “Mine, too.”

You filled the bucket with more water and held a hand over his forehead to keep soapy water from splashing into his eyes when you poured the fresh water over his foamy locks. 

Astarion sighed as the soap began to wash away. You filled the bucket again to repeat the process. 

“Did you ever foresee yourself bathing a beautiful vampire, when you were a child?”

You pursed your lips. “I mean, I had my hopes.” You smiled as he let out a laugh. 

“Tonight definitely didn’t go how I expected,” he admitted.

“You didn’t foresee yourself getting bathed by your incredibly interesting leader?”

He let out an amused breath from his nose. “No I did not.”

You finished rinsing out the last of the soap from his hair, but continued raking your fingers through it. “Are you disappointed?” Your voice was small.

He turned to face you, making your hands disconnect from his curls. “Not at all,” he said, sounding genuine. “Pleasantly surprised, actually.” He thought for a moment. “And cleaner than I’ve been in weeks. Probably.”

You laughed. “Happy to have provided my services.”

He smiled at you, his eyes softer than you’d ever seen them. “This was nice.” He lifted his hand to swipe through his hair. “Let’s hope you didn’t ruin my hair.”

“With soap and water?”

“You might have done it wrong,” he teased.

“How? It’s soap and water!”

“Not so loud,” he chuckled, nodding his head towards camp. You could vaguely hear Gale snoring in the distance. 

“I’m leaving,” you joked, moving to get up, but Astarion grabbed your wrist and pulled you back into the water.

“Am I not to return the favor?”

You looked back at him and half smiled, patting his cheek. “I’m not convinced you’d do a thorough enough job.” With that, you pushed away from him and got up, gathering the bathing materials and walking back to shore where towels awaited. 

Astarion sputtered behind you. “How dare you! I could give you a massage, the likes of which you’ve never experienced before!”

“You know, sometimes, Astarion, people do things for other people, and don’t want anything in return.” You threw the towel over your head to start drying your hair before wrapping it around your body. 

Astarion did the same before bending to pick up your discarded clothes. “I- Well… You-” He sighed heavily. “You’re a tricky one, aren’t you?”

“I’m not trying to be,” you shrugged.

“And yet,” he sidled up next to you, offering you his arm, “you are.” 

You took his arm in one hand and the bucket of washing supplies in the other and followed him as he led you back into camp. You placed the materials back where you found them and brought your newly freed hand up to wrap around Astarion’s arm. You leaned your head onto his shoulder. 

When you arrived at your tent, he handed you your clothes. 

“I suppose this is where we end our evening,” he said quietly so as not to wake the others.

“I suppose so,” you agreed, your eyes shining as you looked at him.

“What?” he asked.

“Thank you for letting me do that,” you said, still holding his arm. “I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.”

“I did,” he said. “Very much, actually.” When he saw the excited look on your face, he amended, “Don’t be weird.”

“I’m not weird,” you said, weirdly.

“Uh huh,” Astarion said, pulling his arm out of your grip, not unkindly.

“We can do it again,” you bobbed on your feet, “if you want.”

“I… could be persuaded,” he nodded.

“Good,” you said. Then you surged forward to kiss his cheek. “Thank you. Goodnight Astarion.” You turned and ducked down into your tent.

“Pleasant dreams, darling,” he said softly. 

You didn’t see how his hand lingered on his cheek where your lips had made contact, didn’t see the small smile that crept onto his face or the mask beginning to slip. 

Instead, you had pleasant dreams filled with laughs and curls and a flash of fangs accompanied by a smile of delight. 

[darylmydix]

THE SCARS WE SHARE | daryl dixon - 002

summary: you were the only good thing daryl had in his life. bonded by similar trauma, you suffered abuse at the hands of your stepmother, just as daryl had suffered from his own father. when you finally decide to escape your abusive home life, you're forced to leave behind your best friend in the process. now with the world in an apocalyptic state, you're left wondering if daryl was even alive.

pairings: daryl dixon x f!reader.

warnings: smut, violence, blood and gore, unrequited love, best friends to lovers, mentions of s/a, mentions of abuse, mention of suicidal thoughts/attempts, mention of drug use, use of deadly weapons, fluff, angst, slow burn, strong language, kidnapping, coercion, seasons 5-11, 18+, minors dni.

word count: 1.5k

author’s note: sorry if your name isn’t in the taglist and you asked to be. it wouldn’t let me tag some of you.

You lift your hand, blocking out the sun’s gleaming rays as you watch Daryl mutilate an opossum, removing the poor creature's insides. “Can’t you cook it or something?” You scrunch your face in pure disgust.

Daryl scoffs, eyeing you. “This ain't a damn five star restaurant, princess.” He says as he pops a piece into his mouth. “Well I am not eating that.” You shake your head. Daryl shrugs, making no complaints. “More for me.”

Eating dead animals was a cakewalk for someone like Daryl. He’s had to learn how to survive during times like this when his father would kick him out. At least he knew how to hunt and track thanks to the old man. The one good thing the bastard has done for his son.

You observe in silence while Daryl pigged out like he was enjoying a fine dine meal, even going as far as licking his fingers. “I don’t understand how you can eat raw animal guts. Aren’t you afraid of rabies?”

“It’s survival,” he states. “The world could go to shit one day where we ain’t got a choice but to eat crap like this. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

The thought of that makes you sick to your stomach. You didn’t even wanna imagine a world where you’d have to tear apart defenseless animals to save yourself from hunger. It just wasn’t in your human nature to hurt anything innocent. “I don’t think I could do that no matter the circumstances.” You admit.

“Then you sure as shit better hope the world don’t ever come to an end. You’d be the first to get taken out.” He jokes, but there’s some seriousness to his words. Compared to Daryl’s hardass exterior, you were as soft as a plush toy.

Two different personalities; but that’s why your friendship seemed to work so well. Daryl needed something delicate in his life to take the brute in him down a peg, and you needed a brute to protect you from what you’re too delicate to protect yourself against.

“Maybe you’re right...” You sigh, fiddling with your fingers, well aware of your fragility.

“Best be lucky ya got me then.” He says, standing up, while wiping his bloody hands on his pants. You look up at him, a smile forming your face. Daryl avoids your gaze, which he often does when he says anything remotely soft or caring to you. It was just the brooding man in him wanting to hide any emotional connection, but you knew he cared about you. And he knew you knew.

“I am lucky I have you.” You say softly. His eyes finally lock with yours for a split second before he simply nods and changes the subject. “C’mon, I’ll walk you home.” He holds out his hand for you to take. You bite the inside of your cheek, rejecting the gesture. “I’m not in a rush to go back there.” You glowered.

“I know, but I ain’t tryin’ to get you into trouble again.” Daryl reminds you of the day that not only did you suffer consequences, but he did as well. Last time you avoided going home, you returned only to find cop cars outside of your house and your stepmother pretending to be oh so worried about you.

“Him!” She shouted, pointing to Daryl. “Arrest that inbred thug! He kidnapped my daughter!”

You tried to plead with the officers, telling them that wasn’t true but given the criminal history of the Dixon family it fell upon deaf ears and you had to sadly watch as your best friend was forced into a squad car. Fortunately he didn’t get into much trouble by the police, and was taken home.

His father was another story though.

You sigh, taking his hand and the brunette lifts you off the ground. “For the record, I’m only going because I don’t wanna get you in trouble again.” You inform him. Daryl scoffs. “Yeah whatever.”

“There it is. The house of horrors.” You mumble, staring ahead at the home that no longer brought you joy. “Need me to stick around a bit? Watch over the house?” Daryl suggests, and you look at him with a raised brow. “You’re gonna stakeout my house? What good would that do?” You ask.

“First prick I see walk up there’ll get his ass kicked, that’s what good it’ll do.” He spat. You could feel the anger radiating off of him; you shake your head. “You and Merle got it bad with assault,” Daryl glares at you in response. “If you just a walk up and kick whatever sick fuck comes to my door to get his jollies off then all my stepmom’ll do is call the police and have you arrested for stalking and battery.”

Daryl made a ‘tsk’ sound. “Pigs would be givin’ me a medal if they knew the fuck was goin’ on in there. What those assholes and that bitch was doin’.” He was passionate about your situation, and you appreciated it because you felt the same when it came to him and his own. “Hell am I supposed to do?”

You put your hand on his shoulder, which makes him tense slightly before he’s calm. “Nothing. Like I said, it’s just our reality. Go home, Daryl. Eat a meal better than opossum. For me, please.” You giggle a bit.

“You sure?” He asks.

“That I want you to eat a meal better than opossum? Pretty sure.”

The brunette scowls at your joke. “No. That you want me to go.”

You knew what he meant, but you often deflected questions like that because in the end what you wanted didn’t really matter. Stay or go, your position was all the same. “Yeah. Go home.” You give his shoulder a gentle squeeze before turning to walk away. “Hey,” Daryl calls out, and you look back at him. “I’ll wait out here for a bit.”

You smile, shaking your head. “You’re a stubborn bastard.”

“Yeah, well it takes one to know one.”

You roll your eyes, turning away once again to walk home. You pull your keys from your sweater pockets as you get to the door, but it was suddenly ripped open with your stepmother standing there eyeing daggers at you. “The hell have you been? I almost had to call the law and report you missing again.”

“I’m an adult now, Sandra...”

“Like I give a damn. Get your dumbass in here.” She pointed inside with her thumb. You sigh, stepping into the house. Your stepmom pokes her head out, noticing Daryl standing there on the sidewalk. “What the hell are you doing by my house, you yokel?” She hissed.

“I was walkin’ her home, somebody’s gotta make sure she’s okay.” Daryl spat back. Your stepmother chuckled. “Well, aren't you quite the gentleman.” She snarked. “Well she’s here now, so why don’t you take your hillbilly ass back to the trailer park where you belong and get the hell away from my property before I call the cops.” She slams the door, getting the last word.

You peer at Daryl through the living room window, mouthing for him to ‘just go’. You could see him struggling within himself with the decision before he heads off. Your stepmother shuts the curtains, glaring at you. “Don’t you ever bring that redneck here again or I’ll make you regret it.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, holding back tears. “What do you have against him? He is the only thing in this world that I have that cares about me.”

She laughed mockingly. “You think he cares about you? You’re not even worth a damn to care about. The only thing you’re good for, honey, is making me money to keep this damn roof over our head. And if that little bastard isn’t helping support that, then he has no business here. Next time I see him I’ll get a restraining order and make sure he’ll never step foot here again, do you understand?”

You don’t respond, tears now falling down your face. She roughly grabs your arm, digging her nails into your skin. You yelp in pain. “Do you understand?!” She repeats. “Yes!” You cry out. She lets go of you, throwing your arm from her grasp. “Now go shower. We’ve got a guest coming later tonight.”

You quickly rush to your bedroom, slamming the room door shut. You pace around your room, wiping tears from your eyes. You were full of different emotions. Anger, sadness, sorrow, hate, agony. You wanted to just give up on this life. You had no willingness to live.

You open your drawer, digging through your clothes until you find the razor you keep in your drawer. You eye the tiny blade, twisting it around in your finger. ‘It could just end here’. You thought.

But then the sudden flash of Daryl came into your mind.

Like it always does.

You threw the razor atop of your dresser, the unwillingness fading away. “Daryl Dixon the things I do for you.” You mutter to yourself.

Taglist:

@daryldixmedown, @supernaturalstilinski, @vampiresluv, @myassisasolarsystem, @mosstheshoeshoethemoss, @scripteria, @moonlightreader649, @creepumiku, @filmsbyblair, @ginger-haired-queen, @darylsdollie

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for discussing my friend's sexuality with a completely different friend group?

my best friend of 10 years (we're both 25) told me several months ago they're gray-ace. i'll be completely honest: i think microlabels are stupid and pointless, since they really only describe personal preferences that have nothing to do with sexuality. i'm not interested in debates or discourse, so save your essays.

being friends with them for a decade, i obviously know them extremely well, and i'm positive that they're not gray-ace, they just have a history of dating ugly, toxic people (one of whom i know for a fact pressured them into sex at least once). i'm pretty confident i'm right, since recently they were telling me about a woman they met at a bar, and how upon seeing her immediately wanted to hook up bc she's so sexy. now, i'm not ace but finding strangers sexy and wanting to have sex with them doesn't strike me as ace behavior. especially considering they were only ever luke-warm about sex and attraction when it came to men, and haven't mentioned feeling the same way since they realized they were a lesbian.

i would never ever tell them what i really think. this is their journey to make, i'll see them on the other side. i'm also not going to share my opinion with any of our mutual friends, bc our friend group doesn't gossip about each other or talk behind others' backs, and i don't want to put anyone in the position of hearing me vent about how i think our friend is using asexuality to avoid processing their trauma.

all that being said, i'm in a discord server with people who share similar views and beliefs (about most things, not just microlabels lol), none of whom are in any way affiliated with my irl friend group. so i vented to them about this situation, they agreed with me, we made some lighthearted jokes about it. like i said, i'm never going to say anything to my friend, but it feels dishonest to smile and nod when they talk about being gray-ace, then later roll my eyes and laugh about it on discord (for what it's worth, they haven't mentioned being gray-ace since they started dating the woman from the bar).

so, AITA for pretending to believe them, then talking about them in an unrelated discord server?

[monster-disaster]

Little brain rot idea I had to share after reading your latest werewolf piece…but what if a werewolf was in love with a human woman BUT she doesn’t like dogs/canines. Not because she has trauma or anything, she just doesn’t like them (she’s a cat person). IMAGINE the absolute devastation werewolf man would be going through!

Let me know what you think. I don’t think I’ve ever read something like this, but I feel like this’d be such a funny read. Even just a drabble.

First Meeting/Date:

Werewolf: “So do you like dogs?…”

Woman: “Ehhh…not really. I tolerate them at best. I love cats much more. What about you?”

Werewolf: *Internal screaming

Oh god, imagine the stress!

I can see it as a speed dating event at a restaurant or a coffee shop. Our sweet werewolf noticed you from the moment you stepped into the building. His eyes followed you the whole time, and he was so impatient he almost jumped out of his chair to get to your table.

He knows he probably looks a bit crazy when he sits down in front of you on the other side of the small table. His eyes are wide, and his hair is a mess from pushing it out of his face every few minutes. His whole body is on edge, with his wolf form vibrating and rumbling under his skin. The young man wants to jump over the table to get you in his arms and run away as far as he can at the same time. His heart beats in his throat. "Hey," you smile at him, letting your eyes wander over his fidgeting body. It looks like he can barely stay on the chair. "Hey." His greeting almost sounds like a whisper in the busy restaurant. Everyone is chatting around you, busy with their date for the next few minutes. Questions and answers pop up from the tables hurriedly. The man has to shake his head to clear his mind and focus on your question. He almost misses it, and when he replies without asking his own question, your smile slowly starts to disappear. Disappointment appears in your eyes, and his posture straightens with panic.

Ask something, you stupid!

"Do you like dogs?" He asks hurriedly. His eyes widen even more when a small grimace contorts your face. "I'm more of a cat person." Your two cats waiting for you to go home is proof enough. "Oh," he breathes out, clearly disappointed with your answer. You can't help but be surprised at his reaction. "Why?" You ask him, trying to lighten the mood. "You live in a dog shelter?" You joke. "More like in a pack," he replies quietly. "Oh!" You gasp, understanding his meaning. "Oh!" "Yeah," he sighs, smoothing his thumb over the wooden surface of the table in small circles. He can barely look into your eyes, afraid of your rejection. Before you can say anything, the similar sound of a bell disturbs the restaurant. Men stand up from the tables nearby, saying goodbye to their date to move to the next one. The werewolf does the same. His movements are slow and dejected. "Wait!" You gasp at the last moment. "I can make an exception!" You are ready to slap yourself at the desperate tone of your voice. "I mean…" But the man doesn't need to hear more. His eyes shine again with excitement as he smiles down at you. "Would you like to go for a coffee after this?" He asks. You can almost imagine a fluffy tail wagging behind him. "How about now?"

Introducing him to your cats will be another challenge, but one step at a time. And our sweet werewolf is ready to become besties with them if it means they don't chase him out of your house.

[sanospet]

✩ CHASE ✩

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 - yandere!𝘚𝘏𝘐𝘎𝘈𝘙𝘈𝘒𝘐 𝘛𝘖𝘔𝘜𝘙𝘈 𝘟 𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘋𝘌𝘙

𝘲𝘶𝘰𝘵𝘦 : his words were sharp, jagged, barbed, piercing into your misshapenly taped together soul, something you’d worked so hard to mend and heal during your time alone, yet it shattered all too easily once more, it’s dust slipping through your fingers.

“i’m the only one you’ve got left,” he prodded, “and you need me.”

warnings and notes!

stalker tomura . literal chasing lol . toxic relationship . quirkless au . usage of pet names (“kid) . reader has relationship trauma . isolated reader . tomura being really mean . dacryphilia is you squint REALLY hard, lol . naïve (kinda) reader . short argument . gender neutral reader . readers pronouns/sex/gender aren’t mentioned . proofread but there still may be some spelling mistakes, enjoy <33

authors note:

is this mayhaps also inspired by “chxse - whatsaheart” … yes, also by “if it ain’t me - whatsaheart” but only slightly, i wanna make a dedicated fic for that song, lol. sorry, his music has got a chokehold on me rn and it inspires so many tomura fics…i have so many concepts in my drafts right now, you have nooo idea, lol. anyway, this is kinda a similar tomura to my “kryptonite” fic, except he’s quirkless here, that’s all, lol. there may be an influx of tomura fics because i am in love with that man beyond belief so ummm…yeah, hope you enjoy the fic though, thanks for reading, and happy prideeeee!!! mwuah <33

a heavy layer of mist hung in place of the clouds, the moonlight failing to pierce through it, wind unwelcoming and cold against your warm skin.

yet a light golden glow of comfort nestled in your chest as the night replayed in your fuzzy mind.

the soft laughter that flowed through the bar you’d spent countless hours at, time gliding by as you met up with some new friends, sharing stories and jokes over drinks. the relentless need to glance over your shoulder dissipating throughout the night, finally allowing yourself to unwind, relax and have fun.

the melody flowing through your headphones kept you in high spirits, a gentle, tired smile stretching across your lips as you walked home.

though, as you continued on, despite your mind pleading for you to stop overthinking, your gut told you otherwise, that strong urge to have a peek behind you as unease settled in, took over, and you did.

neck snapping sharply in the direction, you came to a halt, fingers lowering the volume of your music with a click click click, taking a headphone out just to be sure.

the street was docile, deserted, filled with nothing but the quiet whirring of the tall street lamps lazily illuminating the parked cars and cracked pavement.

a shaky breath slipped past your lips as your eyes finished scanning your surroundings at a rapid pace, lingering just beyond the horizon before finally turning to continue on.

nothing was there, yet the suspicion remained, regardless of how silly your mind made you feel for it.

hands clenched into tight fists, balled at your sides, your heartbeat rose and you couldn’t shake the feeling of a pair of eyes…a sharp, venomous gaze searing through you.

a feeling you knew all too well, you were sure of it.

hot, acidic bile threatened to climb up, core burning as you could almost…hear them.

the footsteps trailing behind you, and your confirmation was in them growing heavier and heavier as they neared.

willing yourself to gain speed, your adrenaline filled body was forced into motion, gazing back for just a moment to reveal a shadowy figure that was hot on your heels, your body moving into a sprint as a result.

the wind almost cut your skin as you ran against it, the sudden gasp you let in setting a fire in your lungs, mind frantically searching for the best solution on how to lose them, going home now out of the question.

your legs gained a mind of their own as they pulled you forward with each lunge they took, earning you enough distance from the person to evade them with your next turn.

it was a tight space, an alleyway sandwiched between two tall buildings,

running down it slightly, soon coming to a stop, wind being knocked out of you at the sight before you, your heart sank to the depths of your stomach as the tall, looming wall came into view.

a deadend.

body tense as the haunting presence made itself known, the harsh footsteps that trailed behind you coming to a stop, boots scraping against the asphalt.

quieting your shaky exhale as much as you could, “what do you want, tomura ?” your voice was as stern as you could currently manage with the raging anxiety that currently encompassed your being, slight trembles pushing through the crevices.

tomura noticed, though he paid it no mind, hands placed lazily in his pockets, demeanour relaxed as he replied, “ahh, and here i thought you’d forgotten about me,” your stomach churned at the sound of his voice, having not heard it in so long, a flurry of horrible memories saturated your mind as he continued, sarcasm laced thickly in the words he spoke, “ignoring my calls and texts like im just some random guy,” scoffing, “im wounded, truly.”

the intense fear you’d been engulfed by began to slowly be poisoned by sheer annoyance at the man’s audacious attitude, shifting on your feet to finally meet his searing crimson gaze.

breath hitching, heart clenching, stomach dropping, that sense of fear threatened to consume you once more, yet you pushed on as best as you could, “we broke up, tomura.”

the statement was bland, harsh, tainted with frustration and it was met with a soft laugh, barely audible, a gentle exhale through his nose.

“you broke up with me,” a slight shake of his head, “i never agreed to it, nor did i accept it,” he corrected taking a few steps closer, you retreated in turn, back soon meeting the wall, him, catching up to you as he continued.

“i gave you time, didn’t i ?” his fluffy white hair had grown much longer since the last time you’d seen him, falling to the side as he tilted his head in question, slight mockery tainting his words, “gave you enough space to figure out your thoughts ?” his hand moved to cup your wine flushed cheek, thumbing gently against it, eyes softening as they stared down into the pretty ones he missed so much, “so let’s go home, yeah ?”

your gaze remained harsh, defensive, “i’m not going anywhere with you, tomura.”

the bite in your words earned the quirk in tomura’s brow, hand dropping down to his side in disgust at your refusal, the warmth the alcohol brought you long gone by now, the unforgiving air nipping at your cheeks.

“yeah ?” he questioned, tone growing slightly hostile, “and what’s here for you, hm ?”

brows furrowing at the question, irritation seeped through your tone as you vented, “i’m building a life h—“

yet his voice cut yours short, “your friends ? your family ? they’re all gone, no ?” rhetorical questions soaked in venom as he spoke, “left you all alone for me to pick up the pieces that is you, to take care of you when you couldn’t do so yourself, right ?” he continued on, warning, “it’ll happen again,_____, you know that. when you’re the problem, they’ll all leave in the end.”

his words were sharp, jagged, barbed, piercing into your misshapenly taped together soul, something you’d worked so hard to mend and heal during your time alone, yet it shattered all too easily once more, it’s dust slipping through your fingers.

“i’m the only one you’ve got left,” he prodded, “and you need me.”

taking in a sharp intake of breath, your heart clenched, eyes stinging, “you’re the problem, tomura…” sighing, “you m-manipulated me, gaslighted me…for years…it’s all on you.” volume growing weaker as you strung the words together, slight cracks slipping through as your eyes welled.

“i see your new friends have taught you some big words, kid, but those are some bold accusations to throw at the person who saved you from yourself,” face scrunched at the comment, octave dropping “you owe me.”

shaking your head at the words, tomura watched as your tense muscles relaxed slightly, the threatening tears in your eyes spilling over with loss, body slumping in defeat and he moved to swipe them away.

“apologise.” he whispered, voice gentle enough to break your will completely, and your body rocked in his grip as you sobbed into his chest, feeling your strength draining, physically and emotionally upon contact, his hand raking through your hair in comfort as the words spilled out.

“i-im sorry,” you stuttered through choked whimpers, it was automatic, a trained part of you jumping out suddenly to satisfy the command.

tomura hummed in response and you continued, “f-for leaving you…for c-calling you such things…” soft pleads slipped past your lips, the part you’d buried so deep within yourself rearing its head again, “p-please, i just…” the fear of angering tomura had you trailing off, but you pushed to continue, “…i don’t want it to be like before,” you spoke in one breath and your heartbeat quickened as tomura pulled away, lifting your chin to meet his gaze.

“it won’t be,” he promised, eyes as gentle as his voice, and though you knew it was a lie, a flowery bouquet of bait that would die out soon, never to be replaced, you accepted them wholeheartedly. your current crave for his touch propelled your ignorance to the lie, your desire for tomura’s approval, for tomura’s praise, for tomura’s satisfaction at the hands of you.

“you’ll be fine, kid.” he continued, eyes shifting to your lips as he neared you, meeting in a harsh kiss full of emotion, muscles relaxing at the contact. his hands found your waist, pulling you in, your own lacing in his lengthy hair as your lips moved, both wishing you could get even closer, give each other more of yourselves.

parting, you remained close as you let out a melody of pants together before he spoke up, “show me to your new place, then, yeah ? we’ll have you moved out by morning.”

[shaunashipman]

what gets me is that date scene was a literally under a minute long which isn’t a whole loft of time exactly of dissect the inner workings of their daddy issues. the minute they had, they used it to its full potential because we had:

- buck and tommy being casually domestic together on their date night in, which while nice, wasn’t like a super fancy thing and shows that this is probably a common occurrence for them. (especially when you see episode 9 and Bobby’s mention of buck going to visit tommy after the shift)

- buck telling tommy about his day, tommy making a joke about the dedicated hospital wing but recognizes that buck is not okay so he ASKS him pointedly how HE is

- buck shares the close relationship he has with bobby and this seems to be the first time they’re delving into that and so of course tommy wants to understand better, hence why he says “your dads alive”, buck replies exactly and tommy gets an understanding buck doesn’t have a great relationship with his father (also I have to add buck sharing how he sees bobby as a father with tommy is a big deal esp considering the buck bobby scene last episode where bobby tells buck tommys good for him soooo)

- tommy then shares his OWN experience after that, bounces off of what buck says to add to the conversation and open up to his boyfriend about his own past so he can get to know him better too. it was a moment where they were both vulnerable (the Gerard mention in particular i 100% believe is to set up an arc with tommy in season 8)

Now at this point there isn’t a whole lot of time left in the scene like maybe 20-25 seconds? they can exactly like I said sit there and examine and analyze their childhoods and their fathers so the tone switches to a more light hearted vibe because it would be weird to end it on a heavy note AND simultaneously it gives us more insight into their relationship

- buck suggestively says the daddy issues line which again, how anyone interpreted that as him wanting to continue a serious discussion is beyond me when again, the scene has hardly any time remaining

- tommy picks up the vibe he’s putting down and tells him he doesn’t have them (he clearly does have daddy issues so again, we know this isn’t about the actual trauma but about sex and what they both like/dislike )

- buck once again responds suggestively with the “you think I do”

- and then tommy with his infamous “God I hope so” - leaving buck giddy and smiling because he got exactly what he wanted

tdlr; We got domestic bucktommy, tommy backstory, both of them being vulnerable with each other, Tommy recognising he was not a good person in the past under Gerard, a set up for a tommy storyline with Gerard in some way for seaosn 8, bucktommy flirting, bucktommy matching each others freak and both very much enjoying it, bucktommy showing they can read each others moods like??? all for his in a scene that was under a minute

that scene was such a masterclass of Show Don't Tell. they had 55 seconds to get across how they're doing and where they are in the relationship and they did it. we can see that they're comfortable with each other; that they're okay with opening up about vulnerable topics but haven't had in-depth conversations on some, like buck and his parents; we can even see some of how they communicate, with tommy relating to buck's admission with similar thoughts of his own father and father-figure (something we've seen tommy do before, and is a lovely subtle showing of his personality); and then we get confirmation that yes, these two have fucked already, and are clearly compatible in that department too.

plus another sprinkle of foreshadowing with gerrard.

in 55 seconds.

that is called economy of time/space/whatever the rule is i can't remember rn. the show doesn't always get it, but when they do it is golden

[cosmereplay]

Kaladin Didn’t Invent Therapy (And Why That’s Actually Great)

“...You need someone to talk to, Noril, when the darkness is strong. Someone to remind you the world hasn’t always been this way; that it won’t always be this way.” “How do you … know this?” Noril asked. “I’ve felt it,” Kaladin said. “Feel it most days.” - Rhythm of War, Ch. 25 Devotary of Mercy

I’m writing as someone with a background in psychotherapy and peer support, and I'm bursting with excitement about one of my favourite topics. You can imagine why I love Kaladin’s arc in Rhythm of War so much! I actually yelled out loud when I read some of these parts the first time.

I’ve seen people online saying and making jokes that Kaladin invents therapy, and while that could eventually be true, what Kaladin actually invented in RoW is mental health peer support. Psychotherapy as most people would understand it simply doesn’t exist yet on Roshar. However, peer support is a legitimate modality for healing on its own merits. Even more importantly for the story, peer support is something Kaladin would personally really benefit from, and it fits his narrative arc way better than therapy would.

1. Therapy as we know it won’t exist for a while yet.

“We need to study their responses, use an empirical approach to treatment instead of just assuming someone who has suffered mental trauma is permanently broken.” - Rhythm of War, Ch. 25 Devotary of Mercy “Someone needs to talk to them, try different treatments, see what they think works. What actually helps.” - Rhythm of War, Ch. 25 Devotary of Mercy

Obviously, Kaladin has not been educated in battle shock or melancholia or any other diagnosis. In Alethkar there's hardly any knowledge to be had on the subject. Even now in real life, research into effective interventions for various diagnoses is still ongoing, over 100 years after modern therapy was founded.

Building an empirical knowledge base* will take time, not to mention the years it will take to train new therapists across Roshar in how to provide interventions specific to various issues. Therapy as we know it today generally includes time in mentorship with another therapist, so in a way, the first therapist isn't a therapist. 😅 In the meantime, there are people who need help today, including Kaladin.

Peer support can fill that gap because its knowledge base is different. Peers bring their expertise, which is their years of trial and error, successes and failures - their lived experience. Peer facilitators need to know the basics of managing a group, and they have to be willing to share their own experiences and learn from the group. Thus, training peer leaders is relatively quick, and incredibly scalable and adaptable across cultures and many issues/diagnoses.

2. Peer Support is a distinct path to recovery that doesn’t require an expert in therapy.

Kaladin located six men in the sanitarium with similar symptoms. He released them and got them working to support each other. He developed a plan, and showed them how to share in ways that would help...Today they sat in seats on the balcony outside his clinic. Warmed by mugs of tea, they talked. About their lives. The people they’d lost. The darkness. - Rhythm of War, Ch. 33 Understanding “While you can’t force it, having someone to talk to usually helps. You should be letting him meet with others who feel like he does.” - Rhythm of War, Ch. 25, Devotary of Mercy

Kaladin is already positioning himself to align with the values of peer support. Some of these values overlap with therapy, such as dignity, respect, inclusion, hope, and trust. What makes peer support different is a particular emphasis on equal relationships, self-determination, and personal growth (Peer Support Canada, 2022).

In peer support, the group facilitator is not considered an authority like a therapist would be. A peer leader may be further on the road to recovery, but they may not be. They are expected to listen and grow just like any other group member.

Because the leader of the group is also a learner, peer support groups tend to be more collaborative and open-ended. Everyone in the group has something they can take out of it and something to give. Everyone in the group is responsible for managing their own self care, and everyone in the group is responsible for the direction of their own growth. This is different from most therapy groups, which often have a specific focus or goal that the therapist is responsible for implementing. And speaking of responsibility...

3. Peer Support Fits Kaladin’s Narrative Arc Better than Therapy

At his father’s recommendation—then insistence—Kaladin took it slowly, confining his initial efforts to men who shared similar symptoms. Battle fatigue, nightmares, persistent melancholy, suicidal tendencies. -Rhythm of War, Ch. 33 Understanding …he’d learned—these last few months—that his battle shock could take many forms. He was getting to where he could confront it. -Rhythm of War, Ch. 39 Invasion

I think everyone can agree that Kaladin needs to participate in therapy just as much as the other battle-shocked men he finds in the Devotary of Mercy.

However, in therapy, the focus is solely on the needs of the clients. A therapist should not be distracted by their own issues (when this happens, it’s called countertransference). Further, therapy is generally framed such that the therapist is the only expert in the room, which means therapists have a higher level of responsibility for how the clients are doing (which varies depending on the issue, the therapy modality, and the circumstances).

In his own recovery, Kaladin is working on trying to take less responsibility for others, so setting him up as a therapeutic authority could be harmful for him. In a position of authority, he might be tempted to replicate the hierarchical structure he was in before (which would impede his own growth), or try to save everyone (which could impede everyone's growth). He simply doesn’t have the mentorship or knowledge base he'd need to work through those issues before leading as an expert.

In contrast, the point of peer support is the mutual sharing of lived experience. The group facilitator is expected to share their own struggles (as a model of recovery), and allow others to support them. In the context of a more balanced power dynamic, Kaladin can give the other group members the space they need to grow, and he can pursue his own recovery without feeling like he’s letting others down. Also, he will be able to leave the group during KOWT without worrying that the group won't be able to run without him. Everyone in the group carries some responsibility for each other, so group members can come and go with less stress than a change in therapist would cause in group therapy.

This is the beauty of peer support. It can happen anywhere people with similar experiences get together. No formal education is required. What is required is a willingness to know yourself as well as you can; to share your experiences; to listen to others tell their stories; to question your own assumptions as you learn how others handle things differently; to look out for each other's safety; to care.

Peer support creates a place of belonging and a community repository of shared wisdom. Kaladin almost had it on Bridge Four, but his position of authority wouldn’t allow him to grow the way he needed. Peer support is what Kaladin needs - he needs a place where he can take off his armour among people who get it because they're struggling with similar issues, and without having a position of responsibility over them. When he (eventually**) attends the groups, they help him grow!

Anyway, that's why Kaladin didn’t invent therapy, and why I think that's great.

For the men chatting together softly, the change was in being shown sunlight again. In being reminded that the darkness did pass. But perhaps most important, the change was in not merely knowing that you weren’t alone—but in feeling it. Realizing that no matter how isolated you thought you were, no matter how often your brain told you terrible things, there were others who understood. - Rhythm of War, Ch. 33 Understanding

---

*Funny enough, empirical research could lead Rosharan researchers right back to peer support. Empirical research on Earth has shown that modern therapy and peer support have similar levels of effectiveness (for example, for depression and PTSD).

**Look who’s resisting attending the groups he founded…KALADIN!! (shakes fist in the general direction of the sky) (This is the most relatable passage for me in this whole book, by the way, helper types unite lmao):

Kaladin looked down at the table. Had it? Had talking to Noril helped? “He’s been avoiding joining in,” Teft said. “I haven’t,” Kaladin snapped. “I’ve been busy.” Teft gave him a flat stare. Storming sergeants. They always heard the things you weren’t saying. - Rhythm of War, Ch. 38 Rhythm of the Terrors

Peer Support Canada. (2022). Peer Support Core Values. Accessed from https://peersupportcanada.ca/ Jun 27, 2022.

[genderkoolaid]

Hi!

I (24 nb) am having a serious issue with girls my age being quite misandric and using radfem rhetoric in their speech.

The issue is I understand their fear and mistrust of men in patriarchy and with many of them having horror stories to share about bad heterosexual relationships. But i am deeply uncomfortable with misandry and i don't know how to effectively point out that no it's not good feminism to hate on men.

Do you have any resources you could recommend me to build a good argument? I want to be prepared for this kind of discussion because it keeps happening more and more frequently.

I know it's not the main topic you cover on your blog but as it is closely related to transandrophobia I was hoping you (or your followers) could still give me some advice.

I wish you a wonderful day

My advice would be to start with talking about the negative impact of misandry on women first (although don't use the word misandry, at least at first). Starting off with "it hurts men" in any regard will likely not go over well, but if you first bring up the issue in relation to a group they already really care about, they'll be more likely to listen. Also, I would reaffirm that having trauma or bad associations with men isn't the problem, they aren't obligated to associate with men in ways that make them uncomfortable or exhausted, and that they have a right to feel their emotions, be angry, be annoyed, etc. Affirm that your concern is with how their actions and attitudes could be causing real harm to others, and that anger being valid does not mean you don't need to take responsibility for how you choose to act.

Some potential talking points:

When women are perceived as manly or masculine, they tend to get viewed with the worst traits of masculinity: butches and trans women are seen as aggressive, violent predators who prey on sweet, feminine straight/cis women. The patriarchy doesn't just hurt women through their femininity, but through their (real or perceived masculinity as well.

Even inside queer spaces, butches are expected to fulfill toxic masculinity: they are expected to be sexually dominant tops, not be emotionally or physically "weak," not do feminine things, etc. Butches can get ridiculed by others, even partners, for not fulfilling these things. Things like balding and small penises, that are traditionally seen as failures of masculinity in the patriarchy, are also made fun of in queer spaces; it seems like queer spaces have issues with how they deal with (real or perceived) masculinity.

When spaces make jokes about hating men, put a lot of emphasis on gatekeeping men, etc., it makes it a lot harder for trans women and nonbinary people assigned male feel safe. Some trans women & genderqueers might not realize their gender because they are kept out of spaces that could've helped them realize because of how queer & feminist spaces act regarding men. Butch trans women and genderqueers often face heightened scrutiny because of their masculinity, from both inside and outside their communities. (Also, send them this article.)

^ As a result of all of that, maybe we need to be more careful with how we think and talk about masculinity. It seems like we are reusing a lot of negative patriarchal stereotypes about men & masculinity in ways which hurt marginalized people the most.

From there, you can bring up marginalized men: you can talk about how trans men, multigender/nonbinary men, men of color, Jewish men, fat men, disabled men, etc. are negatively affected by negative patriarchal stereotypes about men & masculinity- I emphasis that because its how I would go about referring to "misandry" or "antimasculism" without actually using a word. Since misandry (and anything that sounds similar) is such a trigger word for many, its important to set the foundation that there is a big difference between the MRA concept of misandry, and the transunitist concept of misandry. Transunitist misandry focuses on how sexism & genderism* is used to target marginalized groups (specifically trans* people). Transunitist misandry does not say that misogyny doesn't exist, or that men are oppressed in the exact same way women are; its saying that the patriarchy (as a part of kyriarchy) uses gender and sex to harm not just marginalized women, but marginalized men too.

My goal with this would be to introduce and try to convince them of the idea that Misandry Is Harmful Maybe, and then once they realize how its harmful, bring up the idea that this kind of stuff needs to be named. Once they generally agree with these ideas, I think it will be much easier to help them understand why misandry is bad even beyond marginalized men: because the patriarchy relies on harmful ideas and expectations for men, even as (dominant/non-marginalized) men have a different place and more rewards; because liberationist feminism must be concerned with universal liberation, and that means it must be concerned with everyone's wellbeing and liberation; because we cannot disnantle the master's house with the master's tools, and letting any patriarchal thinking in poisons the well of your feminist praxis; because it just makes you a meaner and shittier person. In my experience people who think in the ways you described are resistant (not necessarily for bad reasons) to any kind of criticism towards sexism/genderism towards men, so my tactic would be starting with areas (like women) that they are concerned with not hurting and show how misandry hurts that group. Connecting the harm of this way of thinking to something they care about is going to make them more open to seeing it as an issue in general.

*I use "sexism" to describe the system of oppression based on physical sex, and "genderism" to describe the system of oppression based on gender identity/presentation/roles.

[maochira]

Ways of being a father. (Kengan dads & child!reader)

I wrote this almost a year ago, originally with Blue Lock characters assigned. But I thought a lot about assigning Kengan characters so here we go! The quotes are all translated from Alligatoah's song Nicht adoptiert. Also! The song may originally be about being born into a family and not being adopted, but reader can very much be seen as an adopted child in this if that's what you prefer!

gn!child!reader (reader is implied to be different ages in different parts)

If you're listening to this, you're alive, congratulations / I always knew you'd become more than a broken condom

Let's be honest, you weren't planned. Being a father initially wasn't part of his life plan, but then you happened. But he wouldn't replace you for anything in this world.

-Adam, Raian, Lihito, Kanoh, Ohma

Cause I don't believe in marriage you were born a bastard

-Ohma, Raian, Adam, Hatsumi

Sure, we love you, but there's a reason for that, kid / Nature arranges it like this so we won't kill you

Sometimes being a father can be frustrating and exhausting. But no matter how annoying you might get, his fatherly instinct always wins. In no way would he ever intentionally do harm to you.

-Ohma, Kanoh, Kazuo

It looks like you're family / Looks like it's just us now / We've got to get through it now, blood's thicker than beer / [Sorry, you ain't adopted]

-Adam, Kanoh, Hatsumi

I have no idea how to take care of children / But don't worry, I'll find a tutorial

He went into fatherhood completely without knowing what to expect. It all came a bit out of sudden for him, and he was too anxious to prepare himself properly. But when he held you in his arms for the first time, he knew he'd figure it out just fine.

-Lihito, Inaba

The good thing is, I don't even have to share any knowledge with you / You can just read the wiki entry

-Saw Paing, Lihito, Kanoh

I won't always be there for you, I have to party hard too / Did I say "party"? I mean "work"

Being a father doesn't mean that's the only part of his life now. He'll try to be there for you whenever possible, but there will be moments when he gets lost in other things.

-Saw Paing, Lihito, Sekibayashi

Joking aside, the ego-pig in me is happy that you are coming / Cause then I can play with Lego blocks

A part of him is still a child as well. And hey, being a father means he gets to play with toys again - that's something he can look forward to.

-Cosmo, Saw Paing, Inaba

Cause even though I'm putting effort and thinking about how / I can take the pressure off and still get you into bookstores / Something I do will lead to trauma, c'est la vie / I'll be the star of your psychotherapy, have fun

As careful as he is with you, he knows at some point he'll do something wrong. He's perfectly aware of how he won't always be the perfect father, but he's still trying his best.

-Raian, Kazuo, Wakatsuki, Suekichi

You're programmed for me, I'm programmed for you / Now we're sittin' here, I say now we're sittin' here / Sorry, you ain't adopted

He didn't choose to have you as his child, and you didn't choose him to have as your father. But still, you're perfectly made to be this role for each other.

-all of them.

You may not become president or student representative / Reality will throw your dreams in the chick shredder / I know what I'm talkin' about, life ain't no show

You won't achieve the greatest things in the world, and that's okay. You don't have to do that to make your father proud. He knows exactly what it's like to fail, and that's why he will always encourage you to reach your dreams, no matter how big or small they may be.

-Gaolang, Kazuo, Suekichi, Setsuna

You'll see my burdens, I've given them to you / If you think your genes are bad, they're Papa's genes / But you're my update, you can fix the bugs

You may not be a carbon copy of your father, but the similarities are undeniable - both the good and the bad.

-Ohma, Setsuna, Kanoh, Raian

In the beginning it's ambition like in a chess duel / You will emulate me until you outshine me / The balance of power is on my side - currently / But your chance is good, because Papa's withering parallel like a leaf

Being his child also means being his rival - in a fun way. If there's something to compete in, there will be playful competition. Board games, soccer in the backyard and running random races when you're just walking somewhere together - things like that.

-Raian, Koga, Saw Paing, Lihito

This has to come out now 'cause later I won't be the same / When you're around I'm sure I'll write some corny shit / No more tasteless jokes, no more Hitler comparisons

He was more of an immature person before, but he knows after your birth he has to become more serious as a father - at least that's what society expects from him.

-Lihito, Raian, Naoya

I stand in front of the mirror and see a caricature / But I train every day for my father figure / I practice "La-Le-Lu" on the keyboard / And I subject myself to a motherfucking radio censorship / And I learn all the movie clichés, after birth / You'll get a wristwatch with your name engraved on it

At first, knowing he'll be a father soon felt so unreal to him. But the closer the day gets, the more the realization sets in. But that realization makes him nervous, so he's putting extra effort into learning how to be the best father he can be. And even though he doesn't want to be "like the other dads", he finds himself following every cliché possible.

-Kazuo, Sekibayashi, Adam, Suekichi

Even though being strict clashes with my liberal nature / I'll pretend I'm interested in your Spanish exam

He doesn't care how much of a good or bad student you are, but he knows you'll have to pass school somehow. As much as he doesn't care about your grades, he pretends as if he does to keep you encouraged. But of course you'll get praise for your hard work when you get good grades.

-Ohma, Kazuo, Lihito

I'll be mad at you for every adolescent booze story / But don't be afraid of me just because I fuck your mother

-Raian, Lihito, Adam

I'm just an old cynic who writes frustration poems / But I swear I'll give it all to you till the end of my chapter

He'd do anything and everything for you. He will always make sure you feel safe and loved, no matter what age you're at. Even when you become an adult, he will always be your father and protect you as good as he can.

-all of them.

If you enjoyed this, please remember to reblog with tags! That's the best and easiest way to support me and my writing!

[hiraethwa]

one summer day

04 new dawn. where you learn something surprising about ushijima

<< 03 shining light. | >> 05 saturn i.

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader a/n: i want ushijima to give me his jacket too, CRYING,,, side note i’m going be to busy in feb so updates will be posted every 2 weeks. thanks for reading! - ave word count: 1.3k warnings: mentions of past trauma terms: gap moe -- when someone has a hidden side that contradicts their usual personality/behavior

march, first year

ever since ushijima and tendo joined you and semi at your home back during the first semester, they have remained a constant presence at your study sessions. the four of you have become an inseparable group of friends, even though you stick out like a sore thumb between the tall volleyball players. you were considered tall among your female classmates, but next to the three of them? just a midget.

“i’m an adopted introvert,” you would explain when classmates ask you about how you became close friends with the ushijima wakatoshi and the oddball tendo satori and the pretty setter semi eita. 

the only complaint you have are the sidetracks from the actual point of said sessions, studying. with tendo and semi arguing over literally everything, it is difficult to stay on track. even ushijima adds in a quip to the banters every now and then, his straight-faced delivery of the infrequent lines making them even funnier. 

that is not to say you did not enjoy the privilege of learning about the different sides of the boys compared to how they were on court. no, you fully delighted in finding out random facts about the intimidating players that other people are not privy to. like how they had gotten you a plushie for your birthday, but it seems like they were more attached to it than you, by the way they greet the plushie whenever they are over at your house. 

today, with your parents being home, you all ended up studying in ushijima and tendo’s shared dorm room, all sprawled out in various states around the coffee table that sits in the middle of the simple room. 

“that’s it,” you announce, notebook flopping down on your face as you laid on the floor. “the words are no longer registering in my brain.”

“maybe if you sleep with the book under your pillow tonight, the knowledge will diffuse into your brain by tomorrow for the exam.” semi jokes from across the room in a similar state of dishevel as the four of you try your best to study for the last exam week of the school year on a sunday afternoon turned into night. 

“would that actually work?” 

“what do you think?” 

“maybe if i take a quick nap, then continue studying” you mumble more to yourself as you turn on your stomach, dropping your face on the floor unceremoniously.

“miyamura-san, it’s almost time for curfew, if you don’t go home soon, you will have to spend the night in the dorms.” ushijima kneels before you, picking up the book that you were covering your head with. 

you pick your head up to look at the boy solemnly, lips set in a pout. “so what? i am so fucked for the exam tomorrow, ushijima” you wonder how studying was going for him.

“you will be fine.” he puts a hand on your head in a gesture to comfort you. 

“you don’t know that!”

“in any case, having a good night’s rest is more important than any studying now.”

“you know, he’s technically right, school is just like volleyball, and ushijima-san is an expert at that.” tendo agrees with ushijima.

you sigh. “help me up then,” fingers wiggling in the air as you wait for ushijima to pull you upright.

if you were not in autopilot mode as you picked your things up and stuffed them in your backpack, you would have heard tendo’s teasing “semi, help me up” pointed at ushijima, followed by an instant flat “no” from your best friend. but your brain was turned off for the night as you pull your shoes on to go home.

“see you later,” ushijima throws to the two boys before he clicks the door shut behind him, gesturing to you. “shall we?”

for the most part, you two walk in comfortable silence under the summer moon. that is, until the neighborhood’s stray cat decides to jump out in front of you out of nowhere. you yelp and grab onto ushijima’s sleeve, startled by the sudden movement. 

he chuckles and much to your dismay (and shock), squats down and starts psps-ing at the orange cat. you are not sure how much gap moe he could be than this image in front of you right now. for starters, you are not sure if you are hallucinating from how tired you are, and secondly, if this is real, you need proof that this ever happened. so you sneakily take your phone out before calling his name innocently and snap a photo of him and the cat before he can react. 

“i’m gonna let that slide.” he puts his hand out in front of him in what looked like an attempt to pet the cat. you aren’t faking the shock on your face as the cat sniffs at his fingers before brushing up against his hand, as if saying pet me.

your jaw drops from the sight, “oh yeah? you don’t seem like the type.” you wanted to pet the cat, but this cat has only ever hissed at you in passing, so you are completely in awe and jealous of ushijima at this moment.

“only for you,” he turns to really look at you, a small smile playing on his lips. and then, as if he sensed the yearning in you, he tugs on your wrist lightly. “here, hold your hand out for the cat to sniff you.”

you listen to him warily, slowly inching towards the cat in case it tries to attack you, “like this?”

he hums in agreement, “and then, you wait for him to decide if you can pet him.” 

surely enough, the cat starts sniffing you, tail brushing against ushijima’s knees. you carefully smooth the fur between his ears, feeling awed for the acceptance. though shortly after, he returns to the boy next to you, rubbing its head against his hand. “he likes you more than me”

“i am a cat whisperer,” he nods. 

you laugh at his words. before you realize it, the words start falling from your lips. “my little sister was a cat whisperer too” 

and as if being doused with a bucket of ice water, you snap back into reality, painfully aware of your admission. your heart thunders as memories threaten to overwhelm you. stop. turn. lock. you picture shoving them into a bottomless box, locking it and throwing the key away until the next time they break free. just as you have practiced for the last 8 years. 

“miyamura?” ushijima looks at you expectantly as you snap back into the present. 

“yeah? i am feeling a little tired. let’s go.” you stand up abruptly, hoping that he won’t ask you about what you just said. that you mentioned having a sister to this boy you just became friends with a few months ago. you haven’t said those words out loud in a long time. you don’t even remember when the last time was.

to his credit, he does not ask any prying questions about the sister he has never heard of. the sister he has never seen. 

you don’t even realize that you were shaking, mostly from reliving your memories, but also shivering from the chilly night breeze until he drapes a jacket over your shoulders. 

“let’s get you home” he states, hands shoved into his pant pockets as he strolls ahead. 

leaving you staring at his retreating figure, brain muddled and heart jumbled. you vaguely remember him grabbing his track jacket and carrying it instead of putting it on before you left shiratorizawa. 

“are you coming?” he turns around to look at you. you hurry towards his familiar aura that encompasses your roughness, as he strikes up another conversation about something random. that night you lie in your bed, staring at the ceiling with paint scars from when it used to have glow-in-the-dark stars and planets taped to it; one question keeping you awake despite your exhaustion – what is it about this boy that makes you feel so safe?

reblogs and comments are appreciated!

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[findafight]

Ohhh fic where Steve and Robin and Dustin and Erica all casually make funny little haha jokes with each other about getting tortured/almost caught by the Russians under Starcourt because they all have that shared trauma and had many a long late night calls reassuring each other they're alive and playing dnd together and fulfilling lifetime supply of icecream obligations.

They do this because sure the rest of the party knew there were Russians under Starcourt but everything they went through in that basement was sorta...forgotten in the aftermath of literal flesh monster. And with Hopper dead and the Byers moving, there's so much happening that whatever happened to Steve's face (lost another fight...) and why he and Robin went from mildly antagonistic co-workers to codependent goobers who couldn't go literally a day without seeing the other or what made Dustin always ask if Erica was going to come for party hang outs are all sort of brushed under the rug. Not a big deal, really. Bigger things happening after everything.

And they cope together and scoops troop is a weird little section of the party no one but them really understands. Robin and Steve are attached at the hip and to a lesser extent so are Erica and Dustin (but they'll never admit it), and they all have mini gatherings together.

So, the casual mentioning of starcourt and specifically what went down with the Russians is commonplace for them. (Erica is quick to remind them she saved their asses, and are they so lame they need her help again? but she smiles and Steve and Robin just laugh and give her a big hug.) And somehow, they forget that not everyone really knows what went down before July 4th 1985.

And I want them to do it in front of everyone. I want them to have their stupid "this was so fucked up but we're alive and we got through it so now we have to laugh or we may never stop crying about it" banter at a big "we saved the world again!" Barbecue. I want the rest of the folks there to go silent and them not to notice.

I want someone to mention Steve not getting a black eye this time, congrats! and Robin going "the only reason why I didn't get one last time was because the Russians said-"

And Steve, who is lying with his head in her lap, reaches up to gently cup her cheek and says in a terrible Russian accent "don't worry, we will not ruin your pretty face!" (everyone is quiet around them, they do not notice)

She laughs. "And punched me in the gut a few more times. I peed blood for like, three days."

Steve goes "ewwww" only to be pinched by robin.

"you peed blood too, dingus. You got it worse than me and my pretty face."

He giggles and opens his hand up for a high five "pissing blood buddies, hell yeah!" And shifts in her lap. "But they bruised my pretty face. Rude."

"aww. It's okay, Stevie, your face is still so pretty. Prettiest boy in Hawkins."

"thanks Robin."

"at least Dustin and Erica got us out before they started ripping out fingernails." She shudders.

"or used the bonesaw"

"mmm. Unfortunately not before we got funky truth serum drugs though."

He leans up, looking at the two "y'all couldn't have been a bit faster?" But he's smiling, teasing. A well worn joke.

Dustin and Erica respond simultaneously with "I'm missing bones, Steve, what do you want from me?" And "I was ten and my legs were short as shit. Beggars can't be choosers." Respectively.

It is at this point an Actual Grown Up butts in.

"what. What do you mean ripping out fingernails?"

Robin and Steve look towards Joyce, who asked.

"like. To interrogate us? Because we just kept saying we worked for scoops even with the truth serum."

"because they thought we had to be superspies to get into their creepy lair and not a bunch of kids."

"mmhmm"

Hopper jumps in "wait. You were tortured by them?"

Robin and Steve give him eerily similar looks that express how obvious the answer to that is.

"yeah, duh."

"I don't go looking to get brain damage every year, you know."

Hoppers eye twitches. "Why didn't you say anything?"