#i wanna focus on them in between those events more

[ghost-proofbaby]

It seems that he picks up on her internal battle before it’s even ended. He sees through all that self doubt, and with a heavy sigh, holds out his palms. “Hand them here.” She instinctively recoils, “I am not giving you my weapons.”  “I’d hardly consider those pieces of charcoal your weapons. More like enemies, after the beheading you served to the first one.”  He wants… the charcoal?

summary: aruna begins to doubt just how skilled she truly is with her daggers, and astarion proves himself useful his first night in camp by offering an act of selfless aid. but not before criticizing her map making skills, of course.

wc: 3.3k+

warnings: continued memory loss, use of daggers (but not for violence), astarion gets a little flirty, and more gameplay recounting (specifically one of the first camp scenes you can trigger with astarion)

a/n: take a shot every time i make astarion say "oh, dear" like a little shit in this fic. also, i promise at some point, this fic will stop being such a play by play of the game lol

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

“You’re Astarion?” 

Aruna swears she’s going to be sick as she stares at the elf with wide eyes. It’s all too much – the leftover adrenaline from having a blade held to her throat, those red eyes boring into her soul, the swirling pressure that squeezes down on her lungs tightly as the realization settles deep inside her bones. 

This is Astarion. 

“I- Yes?” he questions, entirely on guard as his eyes narrow. He’s quick to recover, and all his hesitation is masked behind a certain air of confidence she can see right through, “As I was saying, I was in Baldur’s Gate… when those… those awful beasts…” he loses his focus repeatedly before finally huffing out a sigh, “I’m sorry, just- Have we met before?”

She doesn’t even know how to explain herself or her outburst. She hadn’t confided in Gale or Shadowheart regarding her letter, and hadn't mentioned Astarion in the last two days. The entire spectacle looks odd to every single one of them; Shadowheart is watching her far more carefully than normal, Gale’s face is twisted up with all that awful curiosity, and Astarion is just… Well, he’s simply plain confused.

He doesn’t recognize her. 

She woke up without any memories, not even so much as her own name, with him being one of the only clues to her past self, and he doesn’t even know her. 

What sick game is the Universe playing on me?

“Do you two know each other?” Gale asks when Aruna doesn’t answer Astarion, but it only earns him a scoff from the pale one. 

“Thank you, for repeating the obvious question I just asked…” Astarion trails off, eyeing the wizard, waiting for proper introduction. 

It takes him a few moments to recognize that Astarion is waiting to learn his name before he jumps to life, “Oh! My apologies. I’m Gale, and this is Shadowheart. And that is Aruna – although, I do promise you, she’s usually far less mute.” 

He doesn’t fucking know me. I have a letter in my pack right now, heavier than any looted armor, instructing me to save him – and he doesn’t even know me.

“Ah, I see,” Astarion’s voice is surprisingly low, nearly musical in cadence as he hums and turns to look at her properly again. There’s still concern behind his eyes, still searching her for some sort of explanation. “Well, I certainly don’t believe we’ve met before, have we?” 

He’s asking something more than just all that he’s voicing. She can pick up on that much; she just doesn’t know what else he really wants from her. 

She can’t simply casually say, “Oh, I have no idea. I actually have no memory of my life before all of this. But, hey, fret not! I actually have a letter with your name on it – a letter telling me to save you, even. Small world, eh?”

Or maybe she could. Far more odd situations have arisen in the last forty eight hours. 

“I don’t think we have,” she says slowly, being sure to enunciate each word with cautious care. They feel wrong, heavy on her tongue as though she’s telling a dire lie. 

But was she the one lying, or was Astarion? If that letter of hers truly was referring to him, he must know her. 

Is it possible he held his blade to her throat because he knows her?

“Well, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way,” he flashes a charming smile, and she realizes just how disarming he is capable of being. If she weren’t so on guard at the moment, honed in entirely on him for every subtle change, she wouldn’t notice it was an act, “What do you know about these wretched things inside our heads?” 

The rest of the conversation, Aruna only has one goal in mind: Astarion will be joining them in her travels, no matter the cost. She matches his act with one of her own, flourishing with her own set of honeyed words in an effort to garner the barest hint of trust from him. And it proves to not be overly difficult; it’s as though they share the goal as something common between them, because the moment her offer of him joining the small group leaves her mouth, he’s eager to agree. Almost too eager. 

All strange circumstances aside regarding Aruna, it’s still a valid response. They have better chances of survival if they face it in numbers. 

And so Astarion joins them. Brimming with flamboyant movements and an extravagant smile that she notices stays half-closed, he offers to bring up the rear of the group just as Aruna announces the need to go back to camp. 

“Resting again? So soon?” Shadowheart’s face twists as if she doesn’t notice the quickly setting sun, “We haven’t even found a healer yet. Or at least found a lead for one in the area-”

“We can find one tomorrow,” Aruna interrupts, turning to face her small group of rag tags. She can’t stand it – the hope shining in each of their faces, the undeserving faith that lies behind their eyes after just two days. Astarion is the only one resembling something she can stomach, and mostly because he looks entirely bored with the current argument, “I need to update our map and we really should try and put more effort into the camp before we pick up any more…” she trails off, and Astarion finally looks at her, half-smirking as though daring her for an insult. Something fires up inside of her – as though it’s a game, as though they both know she doesn’t mean it when she finishes the thought with a sarcastic quip of, “Strays.”

“Oh, darling,” he puts a hand to his chest, taking a few steps around Shadowheart to be closer to her. When he leans forward, it’s as though he’s sharing a secret with just Aruna, “If you wanted me to purr for you, all you had to do was ask.” 

It’s not a secret, though. Everyone else hears. Gale takes a sharp breath in, and Shadowheart only huffs in disamusement. 

And Aruna has to bite back everything inside of her to not react, to not give him any satisfaction. It’s as though he sees right through her, as if the laugh she had swallowed down had escaped nonetheless, to grace only his ears. 

Neither of their shields are working very well against one another. Their souls already seem to know one another, staring across the vast caverns between them, a whisper of I know you echoing in both sets of ears. 

She doesn’t stand a chance, and she’s hardly known him for a few hours. 

—

Camp is quiet. 

Shadowheart is brooding, Gale is humming to himself as he lays out a rug that no doubt came from his damned bag of holding to claim his corner of the camp, and Astarion has taken to sitting near the fire pit. All lost in their own worlds, all completely silent as Aruna gathers what she needs to complete at least one of the tasks she’d insisted needed to be taken care of. 

The map. She needs to attempt to update it, add to the sad squiggles and lines to indicate that area they explored today. Even if they never return to that beach, she wants to know that it’s there. It exists. 

Charcoal pencils that they had looted from a chest amongst the wreckage days prior are lined up on the stone bench, the surface almost too high for her to comfortably utilize it as a table when she sits on the ground before it. But she’s stubborn, and it’s the best she can do in their current situation, so she makes it perform as a table. 

She’s just started to ponder if she should retrieve one of her daggers to sharpen the sticks of charcoal when Astarion notices. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, sounding more accusatory than curious as she unsheathes a knife, already fisting a pencil. 

“Sharpening my pencils,” she murmurs, mentally pleading with her shaking hands to steady as she brings the edge of the blade a few centimeters from the tip of the art tool, angling it so that she can begin to shave it down to a precise point, “I’m updating the map.”

“You have a map?”

She sighs, finally lowering the dagger and charcoal. Her hands won’t stop shaking, and Astarion really isn’t helping. 

“Yes, we have a map,” she nods to the piece of paper on the stone before her. Astarion wastes no time in getting up from where he had sat on one of the bedrolls rounding a fallen tree log so that he could take a seat on what was meant to serve as her table tonight, not his bench. 

He looks down at her sorry excuse for a drawing of a forest, the center being camp.  

“Oh, dear. Well…” he leans in closer, squinting at a grouping of dots that were meant to symbolize the beach where she had woken up, “You certainly weren’t an artist before all of this, were you?” 

“Excuse me?” 

He glances up at her through his lashes, lifting a brow as if he was pointing out the obvious, “Don’t get me wrong. The idea of a map is an excellent one, I’ll give you that, but this…. This leaves something to be desired.”

She doesn’t know why she’s taking offense. She knows her art skills are shit. She knows the map is pitiful. 

“It’s not complete yet.”

“Clearly.”

“We just needed some way to keep track of our surroundings.”

“I agree.”

“It doesn’t have to look pretty.”

“Oh, but wouldn’t it be so much nicer to look at if it was more attractive?” he tsks at her.

She hates it. She hates that his criticism, his disapproval, gets under her skin so easily. 

She picks her dagger back up and brings it back to that piece of charcoal in her left hand, more determined than before, “If you hate my rendition so much, make one for yourself. I’m sure you could do a far superior job, right?”

Snap. 

Her hands were still shaking when she struck against the soft black chunk in her hands. The angle had been off, the amount of pressure she was applying was too much. She had been distracted by him and now, she was suddenly holding a broken piece of charcoal rather than a nicely sharpened one. 

They both stare down at the mess she’s created across her palms and weapon for a few seconds, deathly silent. She’s trying to not throw an absolute fit, quickly reaching her breaking point; he’s trying to bite down all his laughter, almost feeling sorry for her. 

“Oh, dear.” 

An echo of his earlier words, this time choked up behind his silent amusement. Slightly more exaggerated, far more taunting than they had originally been. 

“Don’t,” she quietly insists, eyes flickering up to already find mischief burning in his, “Don’t you dare. I-”

“You have wielded those daggers before, haven’t you?” 

She opens her mouth, prepared to bite back with an of course I have, when it hits her that she’s actually not entirely sure. 

Have I? 

She had wielded them in the fight against the brains, hadn’t she? And she’d been able to use them quite well, albeit the fight was against a couple of brains on legs, and she had a powerful wizard and strategic cleric on her side. 

It seems that he picks up on her internal battle before it’s even ended. He sees through all that self doubt, and with a heavy sigh, holds out his palms. “Hand them here.”

She instinctively recoils, “I am not giving you my weapons.” 

“I’d hardly consider those pieces of charcoal your weapons. More like enemies, after the beheading you served to the first one.” 

He wants… the charcoal? 

She doesn’t give herself any more time to question it, grabbing for the two remaining pencils and handing them over before she can even guess what his end goal here is. 

That thing inside of her is still whispering, pleading for her to trust him. She doesn’t understand why – she can’t comprehend how he’s the mysterious Astarion she’s meant to save, or how she could possibly know him without him knowing her. None of it makes a lick of sense, and yet, she’s still handing him the charcoal he requests and not even voicing a single concern outloud. 

He unsheathes his own dagger quickly. His hands don’t shake as hers had. The angle of his blade is precise and his stroke is quick as in mere seconds, he’s taken the chunky stick and shaved it down to a point.

He’s sharpening them. For her, presumably. 

“How did you…” she whispers in questioning as he holds out the newly sharpened charcoal, the one he had yet to turn into a point still resting beside his thigh. Curls of ashen black litter the ground around the two of them. 

“Skilled hands, darling,” the nickname strikes embers inside of her, kindling of flames ready to be fanned into a wildfire if he so pleased, “And some of us know how to use our daggers.” 

She plucks it from his fingers, holding it up to examine the delicate point in the dying light of the day. 

Perfect. She wasn’t about to admit it to him, but his handiship was perfect.

“This is the part where any one with common manners might say thank you,” he muses, condescending as ever as he picks up the second stick and begins to twirl it, marking his knuckles in the faintest grey. 

Against her better judgment, her eyes find his as she all but whispers, “Thank you.” 

It’s more sincere than she had meant. And she can’t understand it herself, but it feels like she’s thanking him for far more than just the charcoal. That quiet voice inside of her teems, preening as she continues to look him in his eyes. Those waves of deja vu are beckoning at her shore again, but this time, she’s almost fearful to dip her toes back in. It had hurt badly enough when their tadpoles connected – she doesn’t know what would happen if she succumbed to that feeling of knowing him, recognizing this scene from what feels like another life. 

What had he done for her in past lives that warranted thanking him so sincerely? What whispers of forgotten memories between them warranted the firm instruction of saving him? 

As she pulls herself away from the useless pondering, she takes note of Astarion’s reaction. He very clearly hadn’t expected her to actually thank him. The shock ripples across his features, he leans back as though she might have smacked him with her genuine words. For just a moment, hard garnet softens and she’s once more reminded of friendship. She could be friends with him; she could be friends with all of them, but especially him. 

Just as she’s leaning into the idea, he’s clearly running from it.

“So, we’re resting here for the night?” he asks in faux nonchalance, effectively changing the subject, “Officially turning in?” 

I could be your friend, but only if you let me in, it seems. 

She’s not blind. She knows pressing the topic any further would probably end badly for the two of them. “Yes. And if all goes to plan, this will be our permanent camp. For however long our journey requires, of course.” 

He’s quiet as he focuses his attention back on the charcoal pencil he had been fiddling with, and with quick movements, he takes to whittling it down just as he had the first one. This time, however, he’s slower. As though he’s begging for the action to fill the awkward silence so he won’t have to. 

“Why do you ask?” This, she decides, she can press on. She can push him on this topic, “Never slept in the woods before?” 

She doesn’t know why she expects him to keep up a callous act. Expects to be met with resistance and a snarky attitude. But no such thing is on display as he swipes at the charcoal one final time with his blade before he looks up at her, and he’s still softened. Churning ever so faintly, like the calmest of oceans. She knows there’s dangerous depths beyond, a certain darkness she only sees the shadow of behind the look he gives her, but the surface appears so inviting for the time being. Cool, refreshing, reflecting speckles of moonlight in his eyes. 

“It’s all a little... New to me, I admit,” his voice is something softer than usual. Soft, soft, soft. Why does she recognize that softness inside of him so easily? She picks up the brief shrug of his shoulders before he continues, offering her more than she could have asked for, “The night usually means bustling streets, bursting taverns. Curling up in the dirt and resting is, uh…. A little novel.” 

She’s completely bewitched through the explanation. Drinking in every movement, the way he speaks with his hands, the fluctuations in his tone. He dives back into that usual charming voice when he mentions the taverns – his tone brims with youth as his face softens and he says his final three words. The lift of his brows, the nerves of the small smile he pushes forward; she clings to every bit of it, in a damning effort to piece together who exactly the man in front of her was. 

He’s pretty. If she’s learned nothing else, it’s that he’s pretty. The kind of pretty that would ruin her if she wasn’t more careful. 

The kind of pretty that might have already ruined her, if that mysterious letter was any sort of clue. 

“You should try,” she doesn’t know why she’s whispering, but she is. Mostly everyone has retreated to their own spaces, their own bedrolls. They’re the only two left within the vicinity of the fire dying out in the middle of the camp, “Rest, I mean. We’ll need it for whatever tomorrow may bring.” 

He’s quick to shake his head, holding out that second pencil to her finally. It’s as well carved as the first one, perfect for the purpose she had for them, “Oh, no. I’m in no place to rest yet. Today has been a lot. I need some time to think things through, to process this.”

As she takes the pencil, adding it beside the first on the stone, she knows there's a catch yet to be revealed in his words. “Are you sure? I don’t mind taking the first watch.” 

It had been an unspoken agreement – there would always be someone awake, keeping safe eyes on the camp as others rested. 

“I’m positive. Actually, I insist that you rest. I’ll keep watch instead.” 

She shouldn’t trust him. She shouldn’t so willingly put her faith in some random pale elf to keep her safe in her sleep. 

And yet, she does. 

Her logical thinking and her instinctive reactions don’t align. They never seem to do so thus far in her journey, especially with him. It’s more than just the letter reminding her to save him; there’s a twisting in his gut, a burning in the back of her mind, as if she’s known him far longer than the day has been. As if their time together transgresses far beyond the mere hours they’ve been acquainted. She trusts him ardently – to a dangerous level. She can recognize it, but she can do nothing about it. The feeling surely can’t be mutual. Her gut is surely leading her wrong. 

“Thank you. I’ll sleep better for it.” 

There are those two little words again, slipping off her tongue with an earnesty that rattles them both to their cores. At least this time, she hardly looks him in his eyes as she says it. 

“The pleasure is all mine,” he covers up any shock with theatrics, offering a small bow to her, “Sweet dreams.” 

Her dreams are anything but sweet that night. But they do distract her just enough that she never notices the shadow strangely similar to his stature, sneaking out the edges of camp, slinking off into the woods without a sound.

[umathurwin]

i still keep your number and your necklace

kiara carrera x rafe cameron; nsfw 18+

summary: Rafe pays Kiara a little visit at the surf shop when she's alone. Surely he won't have any ulterior motives, right?

tags, warnings, and more on ao3 !

“what are you doing here?”

no greeting, no niceties, nothing. rafe hadn’t exactly caught her at a great time, given the screen of texts between kie and her boyfriend was just a sea of blue now. even without that, she probably still would’ve had an attitude.

“damn, kid, i can’t come to shop? i can’t be a paying customer?” he mocked, fiddling with the displays and knocking over a pack of neon lures. he ignored the mess.

kiara didn’t give him a response, and he conceded. “fine. just wanted to stop by and say hello, is all.”

“so say it. then leave.”

rafe hissed, like he’d just touched a hot stove. “sweetheart, what’d i do to deserve this treatment?” he asked, pouting at her and walking around the counter.

his cologne reached her first and she had to shut her eyes to keep focus. as he slotted himself behind her, surely towering over her frame, her fingers wrapped around the bone-handled damascus that john b had given her for protection against wacky customers. and what better time than now?

he’s a little too perceptive for her, though. “my god, drop the knife. i’m not here to hurt you.” when the blade clattered to the ground, he smiled. “actually, i’m here for the opposite.”

oh, great. not again.

of course this wasn’t the first time he was paying one of these little sick visits. actually, she’d noticed a bit of a pattern of her dating a new man, and rafe quickly showing up to re-stake his claim on her body.

the first few times, it had been a typical bedroom-window tryst with him climbing into her sheets and folding her legs up to her ears, her biting her fist and trying to remain quiet. later it evolved into him dragging her to the backseat of his car at events and him cracking jokes about how obvious what they were doing was, and how neither of them must care. now, apparently, he’s evolved to showing up at her place of business in broad daylight.

“rafe, you know i can’t—”

“can’t? bullshit. you sure can,” he barked out a laugh before mocking her again. “can’t. that’s funny. what’s stopping you, exactly? and don’t tell me that pissant blonde you’ve been running around with. do you always pick boyfriends whose asses you know i could beat? is there some kind of thrill behind it?”

kiara squeezed her eyes shut, fingertips digging into the pressboard surface of the counter. her body betrayed her, the same way it always did when rafe got his hands on her, and she keeled back into his touch. “rafe… c’mon.”

“what?” he snapped, holding her hips tighter and grinding against her. his cock slotted against her a little too well and she had to bite back a whimper. “you afraid someone’s gonna come lookin’ for us? don’t wanna get caught with your pants down?”

“yes! i mean, no!”

“don’t even know what you want. poor girl,” he tutted. rafe took one hand and drifted it up her side, catching on the bottom hem of her shirt and lifting it a bit before it fell. no chance he didn’t feel the goosebumps on her skin as he trailed up her arm to her shoulder.

there’s a quick moment of relief when she felt him step back and his presence was replaced by a wave of humid air. too bad this was because he’d decided to kneel down, perfectly settling where his face was at eye level with her ass.

she could feel her face burning as he inspected her, gripping the soft flesh and pushing his thumb hard on the denim seam resting above her slit. her legs were starting to buckle and her head fell into her hands ashamedly.

he tugged her shorts down, catching her underwear and pulling those down too. rafe smiled when he was greeted with the familiar sight of her sticky, wet cunt. “goddamn, kie. d’this start the second i walked in here?”

“no!” she whined, but it was less a response to his question and more of a protesting squeal when he buried his face into her pussy. he dragged his tongue along her folds, adding drool to the slick mess.

kiara gasped, and her fingernails caught on the rough surface under her. her back arched and she had to fight not to reach back and grab rafe’s head to guide him.

(not that he needed much guiding, anyways. he’s had his tongue buried in this cunt so many times he’s confident he could make her cum in his sleep.)

as he lapped at her clit, she dropped the hesitant act and grinded back against his face. rafe grabbed the back of her thighs and she could feel him smiling into her pussy. nasty.

his angle could be better. she began to lift her leg to give him more room, but her dignity had her dropping her foot to the ground again.

once again, too perceptive. he grabbed her calf roughly and lifted her entire leg until her knee could rest on the counter’s edge. if she’d been modest before, she couldn’t be anymore with her dripping cunt right on display for him.

no time to feel bad about this, because he dove right back into eating her cunt. one of his fingers trailed near her ass and she let out a weak noise, so he pulled back. he must be playing nice today.

it wasn’t until she was riding out a powerful orgasm on his tongue that she realized how lucky it was their shop had no cameras. it wasn’t the safest set-up, but at least she was in the clear still.

he tugged her back to the ground, making her stand on wobbly legs. as rafe’s cock pressed against her slit, the illumination of her phone screen caught her eye. jj had responded, finally.

oh, right! what she was currently doing was bad. “fuck, please hurry, you have to leave soon—” she mewled. as he pushed inside her, rafe’s thumbs spread her open so he could sheath himself even easier.

“jesus, quit whining, will ya? i just made you cum, now it’s my turn. shut up or i’ll fuck you right on this floor.”

he’d do it, too. he’d bully her to the ground until her palms and knees were slipping on the disgusting surface below them. he’d belittle her for how she was still enjoying the degradation. he might even grab the back of her hair and push her all the way down until her cheek grazes the floor, too. he’d do all this and so much more, so she shut up.

then he was fully nested inside her. like always, the clock slowed and blood rushed in her ears. relaxing enough to let him in was one thing, bracing herself for what came next was another.

“mm, fuck, you feel that? well… you’re pulsing around me, so i guess you do. isn’t that divine? yknow i’d stay in here all day if i could.” rafe withdrew about halfway, then slowly pushed back in to the hilt. “if you’d let me. i know you miss this. feeling so full,” he thrusted a bit, just to fit the last of himself inside her, and she cried out. “feels the same as the last time. which says a lot.” when a slutty moan spilled out of her, he knew he’d won. he pulled out again, but this was the end of his mercy.

the trinkets on the counter were rattling as he fucked her, and he wouldn’t allow her head to fall with a firm grip on her curls.

“how about i make a little deal with you?” he asked, forcing his cock in so far he nudged against her cervix.

kiara cried out and sucked in a gasp. “w-what?”

“if you don’t cum while i finish up here, i’ll never bother you again.”

too much logic, too little brains left in her skull. “you… you’ll wh—?”

“dumb girl,” he muttered and thrusted again. “i know you’re too drunk on my own cock to think, but try to follow along.” rafe slowed to a pace which tortured her, dragging along her walls enough to spark pleasure but not enough to build. “don’t cum, and i’ll leave you alone. got it?”

she nodded desperately, as best she could with him still holding her hair.

around this time, he’d get mouthy. rafe never could keep his thoughts to himself and the problem was tenfold when he was buried inside kiara. if it had come from anyone else’s mouth, his words would be pathetic, begging. but from him? he taunts.

when are you just gonna admit you need this, huh? i come back every time and you’re just as fuckin’ eager. it’s like you know i own you, but you can’t accept it. you know how good you’d look with me again? yknow how well i’d take care of you? be the prettiest fuckin’ girl on figure eight. it’s all yours, but you keep being a brat. good thing i’m always around to keep you in line, huh?

not this time. now, he was dead quiet, and the sick noises coming from where they met spoke for him. forced to accept the loud reality of what they were doing in the very place kiara would have to come back to every day.

without thinking, one of her hands tried to reach down to play with her clit, but he caught her wrist and twisted it around to pin behind her back. she was still stimulated, as every thrust of his cock sent his balls hitting against her clit. “good try,” was all he muttered.

tears welled up in her eyes when she realized she was going to cum anyways. he’d even tried to make it a fair fight by not touching her or saying anything. she was just a doll for him, one that bent over and spread her legs and moaned and begged for more. he didn’t even have to try, and she still tensed up and trembled as a second orgasm washed through her.

her legs nearly gave out entirely as she came, shaking and twitching under her. rafe’s possessive hold on her prevented her from collapsing to the filthy ground, and he smirked. “fuckin’ A. that’s a feeling i’ll never get tired of.”

she would die before ever admitting this, but she felt much of the same.

after he came, rafe lifted kiara so her feet were no longer on the ground, and her torso was entirely on the counter. he was careful in pulling out his cock, making sure none of his seed dripped out of her aching cunt. he quickly pulled her underwear and shorts back up, sealing in the mess they’d just made together.

“guess i’ll see you tonight, huh?”

[bluur00]

𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋 - 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎

hurt/comfort. insecurity. unhealthy diet. mentions of body image. fem!reader. model reader.

When you entered the fashion world as a model you knew you had to keep your body, face, hair, skin at a certain standard. At first it was going well, your everyday diet wasn’t effecting for you to starve.

That was until you started dating the famous baseball player, Kenji Sato. He always pamper you with foods and snacks that he knows you love, he made you forget that you worry about your appearance every single day.

Eventually, the public caught up to your change in appearance, they gave critical comments and comments that had control on what you would have to do to please them.

“why is her body get bigger? her recent magazine cover is trash!”

“what has she been eating to get those kind of pimples?!”

“she honestly let herself go after going viral just for that fashion show.”

and so on.

Everyday, every night, you would get at least thousands more commenting your appearance, which made you decide to start going back to your old diet and start to reject the food Kenji offers. 

You think doing this plan of yours would be easy considering how busy he has been between baseball and ultraman business.

Even though that was your plan, it didn’t get past Kenji, no matter how busy he would be he is still observant for his own girlfriend. He knew how you started to just have granola bars for breakfast, 

“Good morning, baby, I made pancakes for you,” Kenji greeted, you smiled  in acknowledging, “thanks, Kenji but I’m good with some granola bars for now.”

for dinner you would say that you will eat but still just goes to bed before even getting a plate.

“Y/n, you’re not gonna eat?” Kenji asked, noticing how your not getting a plate to eat, but instead your still glued to your phone, scrolling through the comments, “Y/n? Baby?” Kenji called once again, you lifted your head to look at him, “Oh, yeah in a bit, you can finish first it’s okay,” you smiled. He then saw you went upstairs a few minutes after you said you would eat.

He saw how you rejected his snacks, even your favorite ones. They were some that you accepted but he knew you just hid them somewhere he wouldn’t find.

Kenji just got back from an interview and you were waiting for him in the living room, reading magazines that are full of other models. You then heard the front door closed, “Baby, I’m home!” Kenji called out, you immediately closed the magazine and shifted your focus to the television, Kenji then walked in placing a box of cookies from your favorite bakery, “got this for you!” you smelled the cookies, and the temptation to eat it was very high, but instead you smiled and thanked him.

Of course, the next few days Kenji found the same cookies he bought you that night.

He noticed how you measured your weight more often, usually you would only do that when there’s a photoshoot or fashion show event. 

“Y/n, what do you wanna watch?? If you don’t come here I’ll choose the movie for tonight!” Kenji shouted, when he didn’t get a response back he went upstairs and checked the bedroom, there you were standing on a weight measurement. 

One day, Kenji decided to confront you about it. It was dinner time and as usual, you ran away upstairs without eating. Kenji took a plate and filled it with food according to your own portion, before going up to the bedroom to talk to you about what he recently has been noticing.

Kenji knocked and opened the door, you were laying on the bed scrolling through comments of your recent event, Kenji noticed you tear-stained cheeks, he then knew exactly what has been bothering you.

“Hey baby, brought you your dinner since you escaped from the table,” Kenji chuckled, making his way to sit at the edge of the bed beside ur figure. You lifted your head, noticing the food he held and shook your head, “no thanks, not hungry,” before laying down your head again.

“Y/n, I notice you haven’t been eating properly, your barely ate rice these few weeks, I found so many of the snacks I gave you in your drawer, and now I see your crying because of what? Comments?” Kenji ranted, he was clearly frustrated and concerned about your wellbeing, you turned off your phone and faced your body to him.

His eyes were yearning for answers, you then decided you can no longer keep this from him, it’s unfair as being in a relationship to not tell him what you’re going through, you sat up and sighed, “the public hasn’t been happy with how I’ve been looking like, plus companies I’m working with are forcing me to do something and fix the public view or it will not only cost me but somehow them as well,” you paused, you realized tears slowly started to drop one by one.

Kenji placed the plate to the bedside table, and held your hands, rubbing your skin hoping that it could comfort you, “I figured I might as well go back to my old diet and it could somehow fix this,” you finished, at that time your tears kept on falling that you harshly wiped them, avoiding the urge to break down that instant.

“But what about how people will say?” you said, fearing how mean the public can be, Kenji shook his head, “that’s just the haters, have even try to search for good comments and response? I bet they’re plenty,” Kenji suggested, you immediately picked up your phone but Kenji stopped you, “eat first then sleep we can continue this tomorrow,” Kenji urged, scratch that, he demanded.��

You then wrapped your arms around his waist, pulled yourself to him, planting your face on his chest, breaking down at the point. All the thoughts, the worry, the fear, you let out by crying to him. Kenji gave an understanding look, placing his arms around your figure, placing his chin above your head, muttering, “aw, my baby, been so tired, hm? It’s okay, I’m here,” you eventually stopped crying in a few minutes due to his words.

You and Kenji pulled away, as Kenji wiped the tears that were still resting on your cheek, softly smiling as he reached out to take the plate from the bedside table, taking a spoonful, “now eat.”

[oishiyani]

🦐 ; Bigger Hints

warnings ; implied yandere behavior, contains nsfw, stalking, dark explicit content, gore(?) well slightly, NOT proof read (im sorry)😿, fem reader

wc ; 2,241

might make a few more bunch of these with the others in mind 😸!

maybe taking on the offer of the one and only fyodor dostoevsky wasn't such a bad idea at first. taking on the job to be an undercover spy for him, your job was to only spy on the list of people he gave to you. atsushi, dazai, blah blah blah.. a whole bunch of random people you don't even know from before. well not until now that you're already trying to pinpoint their whereabouts.

and in return, you get money. that's right- money.

you liked money, with it's own multiple purposes- to buy new clothes, food, accessories, some new shoes.. oh how it was such a dream for you to achieve those. i mean, the job was to only spy on them, don't act suspicious.. and don't get caught, those were the last thoughts before you accepted the job, signed the contract you were offered from fyodor.

fyodor.. was a strange and quite gave off an unsettling vibe for you. from his outfit dressed oddly to his dark mauve colored eyes gazing at you as you try to drink your tea in peace while you two were in the same room. why'd he have to look at you like that?! it was making the atmosphere quite a bit awkward so you shifted your gaze somewhere else quickly after meeting sight with him.

focus on something else... oh the music! yes, yes, y/n. just listen to the music and enjoy your food, don't look at fyodor for god's sake!

it had been already more than a few times of exchanging stares from each other between you and fyodor, you had to ask yourself why does he have to look at you so often? not like something's wrong with what you're wearing right? or maybe there was something on your face?

you assumed that fyodor has an interest in orchestra music. he would always play them while you two were doing nothing, his eyes closed as he listened to the tune while you sat there or while resting. you weren't allowed to bring your phone in fyodor's base. it was forbidden but you don't dare to ask why.

"soo.. how long have you been listening to orchestra music, fyodor?" you asked in hopes to lessen the unhandy feeling. starting a conversation to expect a reply when he did the opposite. now that made you felt quite embarrassed- or maybe he didn't hear you through the sound of the music running in the background?

great, now you just wanna bury yourself under the dirt.

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

as days passed, fyodor's behavior made quite a curve.. rather than usual.

now, starting a conversation with him was the least likely thing you wanted to take action on. thinking that he was the person who didn't like to be disturbed after the 'awkward' event that happened a few days ago. but now was different.

he was getting quite getting verbal with you, besides the conversation of your report on the strange men you spied- fyodor started making side comments after your reports. it would sometimes be questions of what else did you do besides spying? or what did you eat today? or, did you take a bath?

then to be surprised to feel a vibration from your pocket after finishing your break in fyodor's base. receiving an unknown number through your phone. the message stating 'this is fyodor.'

now that felt the slight goosebumps on your skin. how'd he even get your number? you don't remember giving out your number to anyone these past few weeks.

you shrugged it off, telling your self it was no big deal. being familiar with fyodor didn't set you off, although you still wonder how'd he get your number from the start.

the next day you asked fyodor on how'd he get your number, to be only answered by silence and another music piece of orchestra playing in the background, was he avoiding your question- or did he not hear it again?

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

the next few days again, you receive such special and luxurious gifts outside your doorstep from an unknown sender. they would vary, to sets of bouquets, expensive chocolates, high quality essentials, and branded clothes and bags. and a gigantic fluffy teddy bear.

of course you were really shocked. at first, you thought that the sender might be sending a bunch of these gifts to the wrong person or the wrong address. but unfortunately the gifts didn't give any clue who was sending it, not even a note or an initial somewhere. truthfully you wanted to return it out of guilt, feeling that you don't deserve much of these- still thinking this must be for another person but mistaken you for that person. yet you still kept them, stacking it around the empty spaced corner you had in your dorm.

you're making money out of this job you have, you can get all of those one day if you finally start a career and become successful one day using the saved up cash you get from your job.

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

on the last day of your contract, which stated that you only needed to do this for a month. unexpectingly your relationship between fyodor had become more.. closer?

fyodor started to question more about your personal life, your family, past history, relationships, your friends, experiences that you found funny. he listened while you kept talking. and one time, you swore that you heard him mumble, but you were in the middle of talking as you were pouring the kettle filled with tea onto your empty tea cup.

sitting on the fancy looking sofa, fyodor who's roots are surprisingly removed from his chair he usually sat on- instead, he sat near the single fancy looking chair just beside the long sofa you were sitting on.

"i'd love to hear your voice forever."

"sorry, i didn't hear what you said! what were you saying again?" you spoke as your hurried to place the kettle back to its old position.

to his reply, "oh- nothing, you can continue."

you blinked for a moment, "alright, so-" continuing what you were saying without a single curiosity on what he previously said. you assumed maybe it was just the wind? well that was funny for a wind to sound like fyodor that time. but once again, the poor oblivious y/n was going about to dive in the danger zone.

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

"n-ngh.. ah-" fyodor hissed under his shortened breath, huffing as he watching from the desktop in front of him as his hand was moving up and down furiously around his cock from the displayed footage in his desktop.

a live footage of you, completely naked after your shower. it was such a delightful image to see in his eyes, your body wet, the way the water droplets drooped on your skin, your pair of tits who fyodor was craving to fondle.

god, it was making him so crazy. watching you dress up in a sexy looking dress- it was even the dress fyodor sent you. your bare ass faced in front of the camera made his action fasten- he bit his lips, his hand pumping his throbbing cock till he reached to his climax. making his cum stain on the screen of his desktop.

fyodor gulped the lump on his throat, calming his breathing when you were almost finished with dressing up yourself- you were grabbing a pair of heels then a doorbell suddenly rang on your door. it was 8pm, now who could that be? "coming!" you shouted, grabbing the purse that was on your bed.

fyodor watched you wear those pair of heels in a haste, you tried to run after wearing them- yet still being careful not to trip. he continued to watch you out of curiosity on who was on your doorstep in the middle of the night. unfortunately for him, the creek to your room showed a silhouette of you and another person who was taller than you, had quite a large figure, and was a man, he thought.

the built-in camera inside the teddy bear he sent you recorded the conversation coming through the hallway, both of you and the man's voices echoing loud enough for the camera to reach the volume. to fyodor's reaction, it really was the worse that y/n can imagine.

"are you ready for our date?" the voice of a man spoke

"mhm, didn't expect you to get here at the exact time we talked about!" your voice replied.

something inside fyodor was burning intensely, his heart felt a painful ache he couldn't prevent- his hands balled into a fist while his eyes glared at the screen after hearing what he just heard. a date? with this man he never knew of? how ridiculous.

he thought that you were getting the hints he was giving, although to you- it barely even got into your mind that he was into you by showing the sudden curve of behavior.

he had to make a bigger hint on who you only belong to.

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

the contract ended with fyodor, you were now a cashier for a bakery- still saving up money for the career you want to pursue.

everything was as normal as usual, a day where you work, go home, eat, sleep. then to wake up to your new fiance cooking you a good smelling breakfast in the morning. you met your partner by just stumbling upon him by the street, spilling coffee on you that stained what you were wearing, offered to pay and treat you to a restaurant- he insisted alot so you couldn't help but agree, then that's where all the talking started.

he was a night shift worker who worked as an engineer. while you worked from afternoon to around the evening.

then suddenly, every important people in your life, disappear one by one.

receiving an email of a photo of your fiance caught kissing another woman in a club- heartbroken then went to seek comfort through your friends, but they refused to be in contact with you, you didn't know why!

you were in the lowest point of your life.. you seek your family, calling your mom- hoping that she'd pick up but to misfortune hitting you, you only got a message that says they're not available. for after 30+ calls every hour?!

you don't know what's happening.. you ask yourself what is happening? you were confused, so confused. you lied there on your bed for who knows how many days you were sobbing with red puffy eyes surrounded with tissues all over the place.

curled up into a ball, you were fired from your job for being absent for weeks without any reason. now that just made it worse for you- the feeling of being back to zero, now who were you to turn to now?

'fyodor..' wait, that's right.. fyodor! maybe you could take his job again, in hopes to get progress through life being rough on the road.

you sat up from your bed, feeling a bit of back pain from lying for too long. you stood up and quickly grabbed a jacket and wearing it- there you took the route you were once familiar with. to the way to get to the man fyodor's place.

finally arriving to his place which was located in a forest, you walked up to the door and gathered the courage to knock. just knock y/n.. just like before, like you always did.. fyodor knows you right?

with a silent moment, you knocked 3 times. then a few seconds passed you overthinked that maybe he doesn't live here anymore. or maybe he wasn't hear- or maybe he just didn't want to answer the door-

the sound of the doorknob turned, you were startled but your body felt nervous for seeing a person you haven't seen for a while.

and there you met eyes again with the man, one and only- fyodor. he still looked the same as ever from the last time you saw him, he greeted you with a smile as he looked down at you.

"fyodor! i-"

you were cut off by fyodor's sudden offering of a small box with a ribbon wrapped on it.

"what's this..?" you asked.

"oh, open it so you can find out." fyodor replied.

you took the small box out of the palm of his hands, with one pull of the strand of the ribbon untied it. you opened the lid of the box.

a flash of horror and disgust was on your face, immediately recognizing what was inside.. it was the finger of your fiance.. the finger where he wore the matching rings he gave you when he proposed to you.

"what the fuck!" you dropped the box out of shock, you looked at fyodor with your legs feeling weak as they tremble- your breath started to shake. you felt stunned. paralyzed.

fyodor smiling at you, how did he get that in the first place..? you had so much questions running your mind, they continue and continue.. and continue till your nose was covered with a cloth.

your vision blurred, you felt your consciousness fading. what was happening? were you dying? you finally collapsed, being caught in fyodor's arms as he gazed at you the way he gazed you from the beginning.

fyodor's arms wrapped around your unconscious body, pulling you close to kiss your forehead. a smile of victory.

"you're mine.. all mine my little мышь"

[vikisbay]

✧.┊︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶┊.✧

【JJK】 Rejecting the JJK boys kisses Pt 2

|Gojo, Megumi, Choso, Geto, Yuji, Toge, Yuta,|

Pt 1

A/N —> i"m becoming more and more into a Toge girly ... no regrets★彡

✧.┊︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶┊.✧

【YUJI I.】 high school!Yuji

A fuzzy and warm sensation settled in the pit of your stomach as your pink-haired boyfriend pulled you closer, the soft blankets that were draped over you brought you so, so much comfort. Yuji had made you watch all his favorite movies, and I mean all of them just so he could make jokes from those movies with you. So as a way to make things even you were making him watch all of your favorite movies.

At first he didn't seemed so thrilled, which was understandable. you both had very different taste in movies so you had to basically kidnap this guy. you were on the second movie and he had definitely warmed up to this whole thing, he didn't think the first movie was going to be that good but it was, it really was. the second movie wasn't as good so he'd been non-stop talking through it. what he wanted for dinner, how his classmates are (Megumi and Nobara) and something other topic that you had tuned out so you could focus on the movie.

His rambles continued and even if most of the time you didn't mind and even found it cute you really did just want to watch the movie. “Yuji, please” I turned my attention back to him keeping my voice low and gentle not wanting to make him upset. “this movie isn’t even all that” he giggled, you leaned in closer so he could hear you clearly without raising your voice “yeah, but I wanna watch it baby” before you knew it he had also leaned in making you guys so, so close.

he just hummed out a response before leaning in even closer, his lips were dangerously close to yours making your face turn a dusty light pink. you knew one kiss would lead to you missing the rest of the movie, you knew you'd get addicted to his sweet taste so just before he could let his lips lock with yours you turned your head to watch the movie once again. this action left him to sit there dumbfounded.

his hand slipped over yours tugging you closer “is the movie more interesting then me?” his frown deepened and he looked so cute it made you feel bad for rejecting his kiss. you let out a soft giggle before placing a peck on his cheek “lets finish the movie, alright handsome?” he nodded flustered and you were finally able to finish the movie in a comfortable silence.

【TOGE I.】 high school!Toge

you were sitting in a cafe with your boyfriend Inumaki getting an after school snack and catching him up on all the drama you had heard today, he sat in front of you sipping on a cold coffee and nodding along to every sentence you said and chiming in from time to time with his own opinions.

the sun blared in through the window, it still says high in the sky making everything and everyone hot and somewhat uncomfortable. the cold air from the cafe’s AC made you feel refreshed and so did your iced tea that you had bought. “then she told him to fuck off, and I was so stunned” your voice displayed the shock you felt while seeing the event go down and your hands moved in the air emphasizing the dramatics of the situation. the white-haired boy in front of you took a sip of his drink before taking a deep and totally dramatic sigh.

“she was a total bitch anyway” he said so nonchalantly it made you concerned how much you had made him listen to all your gossiping, a soft giggle left your lips due to his very out of pocket response “I mean your not wrong” he was really just making a statement based off what you had told him before.

you kept talking and you had laughed so much tears brimmed your eyes, he always said such random out of pocket shit that made you lose it. of course everything he said was between the two of you so he definitely spoke a lot of freely than he did with others.

you had now finished your drink and he hadn't, you didn't dislike coffee but you never bought it willingly but one sip of your boyfriends drink wouldn't harm anyone. you looked down at his drink before looking back up at him “can.. I have some?” you smiled at him sweetly trying to convince him as best as possible. he paused before leaning back in his chair “give me a kiss first” he gave you the same sweet smile but it felt almost mocking making you scoff, “no thank you” you crossed over your chest playfully annoyed.

he was shocked, hurt and very, very dramatically betrayed. he moved his hand over his heart hurt my your actions leaving his drink unattended, he said something but you were focused on taking the drink which you did with immense ease. you gulped down his drink before setting it down on the table and when you looked up he was walking out of the cafe

“I’M SORRY ILL BUY YOU ANOTHER ONE!!”

【YUTA O.】 high school!Yuta

the cool breeze brushed past you making you hair fly behind you, you sat on the warm sand with a book in hand. it was a comedy romance book that had you hooked on every word that was on the page while Yuta sat bored next to you.

yes he was bored, but he enjoyed being in your presence being next to you brought him comfort so, he could deal with the boredom while you read. He watched every reaction even if it was a slight one until you slipped the bookmark back into the pages and closed the book slowly “the main love interest is so fine!” you said giddy, the whole chapter you had just read made you so warm inside oh how you wished you were able to live out the events in this amazing book.

your boyfriend laughed slightly, finding it so cute how you could get so sucked into these books “finer than me?” he raised an eyebrow at you, the sun making his skin looking like it was glowing. You nodded your head no “of course not pretty boy” a soft smile graced. the sound of light crashing waves made this whole outing so much more romantic, everything was romantic and just… perfect. he leaned in to kiss you but you moved back right out of his reach “he is a very close second” you laugh knowing that he definitely wouldn't enjoy your statement.

an annoyed scoff left Yuta’s lips “oh really?” his eyebrows raised as he asked his question, you had stopped laughing but you still had a huge smile on your lips before nodding your head muttering a small ‘yeah’.

you let out a squeaky yelp as he picked you up bridal style, he brought you to the edge of the water threatening to drop you in. “he’s still a close second?” he chuckled at your reaction. you nodded your head “No, he's not I swear!” your hands wrapped around his neck urging him not to let go, your apologizes came out in between giggles making Yuta want to drop you even more. in the end he decided to place you on your feet once again…

big mistake

you moved fast pushing the black-haired boy into the cold water, you watch him shiver once the water had reached him making you laugh even more but your victory was short lived once your boyfriend pulled you into the water. you yelped has the water came into contacted with your skin. you both spent the next half an hour splashing the cold refreshing water on each other.

— yours truly, Viki

✧.┊︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶┊.✧

[el-jarado]

"Everything's Changed Since Polites"

In light of the extensive re-litigation of the events of Storm Saga after the Thunder Saga, I find myself thinking about "Keep Your Friends Close" a lot recently, and how I think Odysseus was set up for failure from the get-go, and not because of his crew being bad.

Polites's absence is felt like a knife in Storm Saga but the whole gang is feeling it. When "Luck Runs Out" comes up, this is the first time Eurylochus has seriously questioned Odysseus's plan in the musical; probably the first time he's seriously questioned him in over a decade. And what passes between them is pretty telling to me.

Where is this coming from, my friend? I just don't wanna see another life end You're like the brother I could never do without And suddenly, you doubt that I could figure this out?

From what I've seen, Epic takes the approach that Odysseus, Polites, and Eurylochus have been together since they were children. Polites is Odysseus's best friend, but he was Eurylochus's friend too, and he's the first of all of them to die in battle since Odysseus started leading them. They're both reeling from that loss, but how it comes out is bad for both of them. Eurylochus, as we see, is someone who locks down when he's shaken; focus on immediate safety for his shipmates even if it prevents a better course of action (run when the other cyclopses show up, the food is not worth having to take on another dozen Polyphemus; get the crew the fuck away from the sexy witch before she turns the rest of them into pigs; avert starvation NOW deal with (more) angry gods LATER). He does not want Odysseus to get hurt dealing with something as dangerous as a god, and tries to express that. Odysseus withdraws into himself and lashes out at anything that tries to reach him when he's shaken; he's already lashed out at Athena when she takes him to task while he's still grief-striken over Polites, and here he doesn't hear his brother saying "please don't be reckless, I can't lose you too", he hears "you weren't good enough to bring everyone home, and we don't believe in you anymore." He's cold and dismissive to Eurylochus's doubts to cover for his own hurt, and that just makes those doubts worse.

It's exactly the wrong mindset to approach Aeolus in, and this is the part I've really been turning over in my head. Aeolus's game does sound too easy; all he's gotta do is not open the bag, while sailing on a ship staffed by 43 men he's been leading for ten years, many of whom he's probably known his entire life. The winions add the obvious catch in that they spread a rumor among the crew that the bag is a treasure Odysseus is keeping to himself before Odysseus can explain himself, but I think in many ways Aeolus's whole song is putting a finger on the scales. Aeolus, in presenting it to Odysseus, implies that some of his brothers are enemies and should be treated as such, and the winions, spreaders of mischievous whispers, keep telling him "never really know who you can trust." (And imply he should kill and sacrifice when it's convenient, the act that ultimately destroys all trust in the crew down the road.) And I think that's a malicious twist in the game just as much as "It's treasure~! Buh-bye!" :D

Odysseus went up to the island feeling sore and defensive after his last talk with Eurylochus, and when he's told to keep his friends close and his enemies closer, it's interesting to me that he doesn't think "I don't have any enemies on that ship, those men are my brothers" or even "who can I trust to help me with this?"

He thinks "I need to do this entire thing myself." It could be hubris, a quality Odysseus certainly doesn't lack for, but I think this is the shadow of Polites not being there again. Odysseus had to leave some of his men behind for the first time in ten years, and he thinks he's lost their faith because of it. He's guided to expect a betrayal and feels like he needs to do something amazing all on his own to show Eurylochus and the others he's still got it, Polyphemus was a fluke.

Part of my understanding of human nature has been that people respond to our expectations and treatment of them. I sincerely believe if Odysseus had taken Eurylochus and/or a few of his most trusted men into his confidence for managing the bag, the temptation to open it would have been greatly diminished or negated. Odysseus doesn't treat any of his friends as if they're worthy of his trust, because Aeolus got in his head and he's trying to prove something to himself and to them by doing this singlehandedly. However, people respond to how you treat them, and Odysseus not realizing the crew are just as shaken by Polites's loss as he is and treating them with suspicion makes worry fester into doubt.

Polites's loss is felt keenly again; he's not there to tell Odysseus he can relax, that kindness is brave and he should trust in his friends to support him instead of treating them like potential enemies (Ody remarks on being unopposed as if he was expecting otherwise, which is not the relationship he's had with the crew up to now), and he's not there to reassure Eurylochus and the crew Odysseus must have a good reason for his cagey, secretive behavior and they shouldn't listen to the winions continuing to suggest a little peek to make sure of things wouldn't hurt. (I take the continued presence of the winions in the song to imply they're harassing the crew with rumor the entire time Odysseus is keeping to himself and trying not to sleep.) I don't think Eurylochus would have wanted to look in the bag if he was brought in on protecting it, that's not his relationship with Odysseus, but when they're nearly to Ithaca, Odysseus hasn't said a word to anyone in days, nobody really knows what's going on but there's all these rumors flying and the Captain's acting strange...

It would not surprise me if Epic's interpretation is similar to the Odyssey where they're almost back when the bag opens, in which case it might be even more tragic as an Orpheus & Eurydice twist; I don't think it was a case where the bag would've been opened the moment Ody turned his back, I think he stayed awake for nine days out of wholly unjustified paranoia/trying to make a point he's still got it by doing everything himself, and Eurylochus and the crew celebrated too early when their destination was in sight. They thought they were home, there's no harm in having a look now, right? Wrong; Aeolus (probably deliberately) didn't specify when it would be safe to open the bag, and certainly didn't feel the need to warn Odysseus the magic winds inside would blow them miles away from where they opened it. Like Orpheus makes it out of the underworld and then ruins his hard work because he looks back just before Eurydice has, I suspect the crew was not trying to open the bag during the days Odysseus was depriving himself of sleep to watch it; it's at the seeming end of the journey that "they wanna get the bag open so they can have closure." Like most bad ideas, it is likely Eurylochus did what he did when it didn't seem like there was any obvious harm in it; Odysseus said don't open the bag until we're home, but Ithaca's in sight, what could it hurt to celebrate a little early?

To make a long story short, I think Ody and the boys were hosed with the wind bag trial from the start without Polites around, and it's not just because the crew fell for a rumor introduced to make the game harder and Eurylochus eventually acted on it; it's also because a god Ody just met told him not to trust his friends, and he believed the god he just met instead of them because he's still mourning his best friend and misread his other best friend's concern for his safety as a sign his leadership was faltering. God games are rarely if ever fair; the house always wins, and it's a lesson Ody learns slowly and painfully.

I'm also not gonna do another long post about my point that people, Odysseus included, keep forgetting making it back to Ithaca with Poseidon still royally pissed at them would've been very very bad, but making it back to Ithaca with Poseidon still royally pissed at them would've been very very bad!

[bulkyphrase]

Post-CACW Stony: a fic rec list

I've been on a Captain America: Civil War kick lately, and since I know that Steve-friendly CW Stony fic can be hard to find, I've put together a rec list!

I am thoroughly team cap, but these range from being anti-accords to just not getting into the issue, and all are Steve-friendly as long as you can accept a lot little loving Steve-whump.

Atlas by nanasekei (@elcorhamletlive) (Not Rated, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 11,505 words)

Summary: They don't hear each other.

Eigengrau by vorkosigan (@the-vorkosigan) (Teen And Up Audiences, 16,811 words)

Summary: Tony is captured; he doesn't know by whom, or why. He doesn't know how much time has passed since. What he knows is, he can now hear something in the adjacent cell, and that 'something' sounds a lot like Steve Rogers.

Nights When the Wolves Are Silent, and Only the Moon Howls by Cluegirl, Defiler_Wyrm (@cluegrrl) (Mature, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, 77,612 words)

Note: has a Stucky element too, but the relationship between Steve and Tony is the main focus.

Summary: “Could you drop all that stoic shit and be my freaking-the-hell-out wingman for just like, five seconds here?” Steve wasn’t sure he could think of anything he wanted less to do than to freak out about his wounds just then though, so he reached across his chest and gingerly patted Sam’s clenched knuckles. “It’ll be fine,” he promised, believing it. “Serum’s handled worse.” “You know, I actually believe you,” Sam allowed after a long second of glaring. “Which is deeply alarming, considering how much of your connective tissue I’ve touched in the last 4 hours. Now you wanna tell me what Russoff’s men did to you that made it look like you got mauled by a bear?” Steve flinched, then breathed the memory down to size. “Not a bear,” he murmured. “Wolves.”

More below the cut!

(trust me when i say) i'll get back to you by machi_kun (@machi-kun) (General Audiences, 1,549 words)

Summary: “Me and Rogers are not on speaking terms anymore.”

An Infinite Number Of Monkeys At Typewriters (Or, Steve and Tony Finally Get It Right) by JenTheSweetie (@jenthesweetie) (Mature, 18,864 words)

Summary: Tony blinked up at the face staring down at him. This was impossible. This was definitely 100% not possible, he had not just started giving a good morning handy to - “Steve?” After the events of Civil War, Tony and Steve wake up in bed next to each other in an alternate universe. It goes about as well as you'd expect it to.

And Miles to Go Before I Sleep by Cluegirl (@cluegrrl) (Mature, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 152,765 words)

Summary: They all made mistakes. They all have regrets. They all have nightmares, suspicions, and questions they'd like to ask. And they all left business behind them that was never quite finished. This is the story of how the Avengers ask those questions, get their answers, and come together like fucking adults to make things right again.

Bring Him Home by seventymilestobabylon (@seventymilestobabylon) (Explicit, 13,769 words)

Summary: Tony misses Steve very badly after the Accords. Some days he deals with it better than other days. (a fic featuring the booty call flip phone, minor kidnappings, and time jumps between chapters because the election has been happening and my brain has been too mush to make a proper plot)

Conjugal Visits by xtricks (Explicit, 4,252 words)

Summary: AU: Steve Rogers gets captured fairly soon after Civil War and sent to the Raft. Tony discovers that trying to appease your enemies doesn’t work and ends up a prisoner too.

Down Came the Rain by captainoutoftime (@captain-outoftime) (Explicit, 75,274 words)

Summary: A mission goes badly for Natasha, who is discovered de-aged to three years old. She recognizes no one, but every kid knows Captain America. When Tony grudgingly makes a call, Steve makes good on his promise to answer. Steve has to work together with Tony to take care of a traumatized child and figure out how to turn their itsy bitsy spider back into a Black Widow. Neither of them really want to talk about what happened in Siberia, but living in close quarters, they have to come to some sort of peace - even if it means addressing some feelings they'd rather not admit to having. As they work together to solve the problem of a re-emerging Red Room, Steve uncovers something he never expected to find again: family.

Hating Steve Rogers by nanasekei (@elcorhamletlive) (Not Rated, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 16,243 words)

Summary: The thing about hating Steve Rogers is that it shouldn’t be easy - but it really, really is.

I Have Questions by YourFadedGlory (HisNameWasAce) (@yourfadedglory) (Not Rated, 2,808 words)

Summary: There is only so much that Steve can carry. His legs quiver and his heart aches, he looks skyward, and in a startling moment of clarity he lets the shield go. Gouged and battered, it rings like a bell when it hits the stone floor. He wonders for a split moment if it will weigh on Tony the way it has weighed on him.

The Crying Game by fohatic (@fohatic) (Explicit, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 36,403 words)

Summary: Steve Rogers stared at the dimly glowing digital screen of the little burner phone, rereading the text message as if it might somehow give away something he missed the first dozen times he scrutinized it. His frown only deepened, though, brows drawing together with consternation as the 88 characters only left him with an even more ponderous sense of uncertainty. If you meant what you wrote, I'll be at the Swissotel Sarajevo, 4/18. Presidential Suite. 9pm. Come alone. ...Nearly a year after Steve and Tony's fallout—and only weeks after press rumors that Tony and Pepper's engagement was inexplicably called off—Steve gets a message on the dedicated burner phone. Despite his instinctive reservations, he's compelled to answer the mysterious call. An approximately canon-compliant story.

the hope that kills you by meidui (@meidui) (Mature, 1,227 words)

Summary: Steve used to go on so much about freedom and choice. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. Some of the freedom he loved was big, big enough for him to lay his life down for over and over, and some of the freedom he loved was small, like the wind in his hair when he took his motorcycle out, but now he has to sob and take it when Tony sucks a deep flowering bruise where his prison uniform couldn’t possibly cover and whispers in his ear, “Who’s gonna help you now? Where are you gonna run?”

live for the hope of it all by meidui (@meidui) (Mature, No Archive Warnings Apply, 1,880 words)

Note: This is a sequel to the hope that kills you

Summary: “You can keep me here, can’t you?” Steve asks a little desperately as Tony kneels over him, spreading himself out all the better for Tony to take. He must have really hated his cell on the Raft, Tony thinks before he loses himself in Steve’s body, and for a little while, everything is the same as it has been for the past six months. It’s only after, in the dark and quiet of his own bedroom with Steve sprawled sleepy and heavy across his chest that Tony realises— This is their cell now.

The Phone by AvengersNewB (@avengersnewb) (Mature, 9,039 words)

Summary: Tony hates the flip phone Steve sends him, but he keeps it close at all times, and it never rings until it finally does and the news might help put things into perspective - Captain America : Civil War fix-it. or The phone can't take the place of your smile. [podfic added as chapter 2]

the things we invent when we are scared by nanasekei (@elcorhamletlive) (Not Rated, 18,305 words)

Summary: Steve is trapped in a dream machine, programmed to make him believe he's living his happiest fantasy. Tony goes inside to wake him up, but what he finds is a lot more complicated than he expected.

there's nothing but blue skies by Meatball42 (Mature, Major Character Death, 647 words)

Summary: “This isn’t good,” Steve said grimly.

[chillingwithtavesss]

The Fandom & Unhealthy Shipping

Hello. In light of all the uproar and recent focus on Austin’s relationship. I felt moved to post this. As someone who isn’t exactly a fan of the relationship he has with Kaia Gerber, I feel like this is needed. Us “fake fans” as some may call it are tired of being silenced and bullied.

I will like to start off with that I love Austin. I want, as well as other fans like myself to see him thrive. Not just in his career , but in his love life too. I am in a very serious relationship myself , and see myself spending the rest of my life with the man I am with right now. I want that for Austin , I want him to have the love he deserves, that I am sure he craves. I want to see him happy again. The same way he was when he was with Vanessa Hudgens.

As we all know Austin began dating Kaia December 2021. From jump…I knew something was very odd about them. We all did , including those who call themselves “shippers” now. That itself should tell you something when a fanbase as a whole damn near feel something was off about the relationship. None of us were “jealous”. I have been in a few fan bases in my lifetime. Typically you can tell when there is pure jealousy vs genuinely getting a bad feeling about a person.Normally when people are “jealous”, it’s only a select few. A handful of unhinged weirdos who no one really cares for anyways.I have never seen it where the majority of the fanbase are on the same level. The same thoughts and uneasy feelings.I also wanna add when people are just jealous they never give a detailed, logical answer on why they feel a certain way about their favorite’s partner.It’s always some blind rage and childish reasons to be against a relationship.I don’t get that with the people from this fandom who side eye whatever Austin has with Kaia. We all knew something was just not right with them from the get go. Between Kaia breaking it off with Jacob Elordi a month before she got with Austin, and snatching him up before all his Elvis craze. We knew there some shady shit at play here. Especially since her and Jacob dressed as Elvis and Pricilla the Halloween before they broke up.It’s like she had some creepy Elvis fetish.Also, let’s not get started on how no one really knows the true story on how Kaia and Austin met,which is quite unusual. Almost every Hollywood couple has some story on how they met, even the bs PR relationships do. 2-3 years later and we still don’t know anything. Very peculiar to say the least.

As Austin grew bigger, the relationship progressed more. Kaia’s name was always attached to him some way , some how. There were pap walks, her being with him at events. No matter what Austin did , Kaia’s name was somewhere in the mix. That’s when people started to suspect that the relationship had to be PR. Not saying they definitely are PR BUT the way they moved , there was something just so unnatural about it. People started calling it out and voicing their concerns. However somewhere along the line certain fans began to do a 180, out of no where people started shipping them together and actually liking Kaia. Which was extremely questioning.

If you changed your mind about something/someone okay…that’s one thing. But to change your thinking and then proceed to bully others is a no go. Ever since then multiple people have been ran out the fandom, or bullied into to silence for still upholding the same thoughts on Kaia. Not being a fan of her and this relationship, thinking that Austin can do better. It’s like it suddenly became a golden rule to ship the relationship or get backed into a corner and harassed and have people assume that you’re some jealous bitch.

Lately though, some of us are beginning to speak out and stand on what we think. We are simply sick and tired of not being able to enjoy Austin without other fans making everything about Kaia. Everything he says and does. He smiles…it must be about Kaia. He wears a purple hoodie…must be Kaia’s…he mentions a damn dog….ooop he is really talking about mf Kaia. This man is 10 years older than her, he is his own person. Not everything he does is about his “girlfriend.” He has his own thoughts and feelings. His own personality. His own identity. He is not a puppet Kaia controls that just abides by what she says and has her mannerisms.

Us who do not ship this relationship have a right to do so in peace. We have a right to our opinions and a right to discuss them. We have a right to voice our validated concerns for what we see. It’s not like we are reaching and pulling things out of our asses. After all, the whole fanbase almost as a whole all thought the same thing at first about this relationship. Some of us just kept our opinions the same.We didn’t sit there and change it for the sake of followers and clout…like some. We are actually concerned for Austin’s well being.

With that being said. Stop harassing people and bitching because they do not want to ship this relationship. Stop bugging people when they say that he has good chemistry with someone else other than Kaia. Stop coming into people’s inboxes pretending like you are someone else but really you’re just trying to aggravate people by the questions you ask. People are not dumb , they know they know it be shippers low key on anons. Us here on this side do not come bugging and bitching about your opinions so why do that to us? Why does it matter to you so much that we be on board with what this bs? We are fans of AUSTIN BUTLER..not Kaia.

It shouldn’t matter if we do not support the relationship or not. We are here for his work. Half of y’all do not even care about Austin it seems outside that damn relationship anyway. Which…says a lot. Yet you have the AUDACITY to say we can’t be a real fan just because we don’t care for Kaia Gerber.Just know if you were so confident in Kaia and Austin’s relationship you will not be pressing others about their outlook on it just because it’s opposite of yours. It’s ridiculous you are this uptight like the relationship is yours. You guys are not Kaia Gerber so stop trying to live through her by projecting your raggedy ass delusions on everyone. All you’re doing is creating a divide in the fandom no one wants.

Just stay in your lane and let people who don’t want to make this relationship their entire life stay in their own. While we may disagree with y’all…we let you have your space to discuss your thoughts & feelings on your own platforms , so please do the same for us.

Note: Shipping real life people is weird. It’s fine to think two people are cute together and have good chemistry. It’s okay to do little cute fan edits and such. But when your shipping starts disturbing the peace in a fandom there is an issue. These are real people not a Prince and a Princess in a Disney fairytale. Calm down when people don’t agree with you and let it go!

[galaxywarp]

Um. I hope you don’t mind me asking but, what’s EMDR like? I’ve never tried it, thought about it though, and I didn’t know you’d done it. I’m curious because I wanna know what to expect if I ever go for it

I think there’s several different methods for it and this just happened to be the way I was exposed to it so just keep that in mind.

I had a few different sessions with the counselor. In the first she explained the science behind the therapy and gave me a bunch of information packets and stuff to read.

Then I had homework. I needed to focus in the on the trauma that I was trying to treat. She had me use a couple visualization techniques: I needed a “container” where I was holding the bad memories, to picture in my mind as we worked together. I chose a vault. My mental vault where I put all the stuff I can’t handle.

She wanted me to think of that vault over the course of several days. And when I did, I was to tap my left and right legs alternating, and replace the visualization with something pleasant. I believe I chose memories of the sun rays coming through my window, and filling my body. While I tapped each leg back and forth. Left right. Left right. Left right.

I also had to write a letter where I got really vulnerable and honest about my feelings about this trauma. Writing the letter made me cry. Reading the letter back to her made me cry. It was supposed to. It put me in a highly emotional state.

Then I held two little …… I dunno how to call them. They fit into each palm and they would vibrate back and forth. I sat with my eye closed and just focused on the alternating feeling between my left hand and my right hand. And I was to breathe deep and use my visualization.

Every few minutes she checked my distress level on a scale of 1 to 10. I started at 10. And it took awhile. But it got calmer and calmer as we went on.

Afterwards, it’s…..hard to exactly explain how it helped me. I don’t LINGER on that event like I used to. When I try, my mind just seems to sort of …. Gently redirect me to something else. It’s not denial, and it’s not repression. I know what those feel like. I know them well.

This felt more like ….. peace.

Like a river of my thoughts that just doesn’t flow that way anymore.

[rayinalex]

Y'know how fucked up Team Rainbow is on Arknights's timeline? Like ok, multiverses exist there and currently 6 people from Earth transported there (not gonna include Xiaohei and Dunmeshi collab, just wanna focus on R6), and coincidentally all 8 of them are in some elite multinational counterterrorism team.

Ash basically their leader, aside Six. She's like Amiya version of Rainbow Six (and Six themselves clearly like Kalt'sit). She's the leader of the team while Six lead the organization and connector to the governments. I'm sure Thermite, Mira, or someone else could cover Ash's position but I also can imagine the chaos on the team without Ash there. And then, after Ash and her team disappearance, the other team whose mission to bring them back gone missing, and this time, their main doctor was there.

Doc, of all I know, is main physician of the team. He's certified doctor who sometimes also treat the operators. Yes I'm aware that there's a whole of medic team within Rainbow, but like he's one of core member of Rainbow's medic team. Like Ash, there's someone to cover him, maybe like Lion or Finka, but those two are containment specialist. While they knew diseases, they not there to treat them. Ok maybe Lion and Finka can treat wounds and such but that's it.

Imagine Nighthaven conflict happen between these events. Kali must be try to 'lead' the team and 'taking over Rainbow'. With or without Ash, the team split into two, but this time I believe it's more chaotic than what it shown in the cinematic. Plus, IDK it's the theory were true or not, but Ela being the double agent and now she's disappear too.

While the real Team Rainbow is in shambles, here Ash found her own Rainbow in Terra and recruits any soldiers, merc, and agents that resembles her colleagues on Earth. And Doc? As soon as he got promoted, he ask files about Oripathy and work as medical personnel in Rhodes Island for time being.

[thecoolerliauditore]

There was like, a very brief period where there was a few 'jimmy cheated on scott' fics. I guess I know why now. Personally it makes me uncomfy for two mains reason: 1) Its a wholly made up scenario just to make Jimmy the toxic one. 2) I can really only personally see it as a Scott narrative. You know, That Type of Ex who says 'no' when someone says they want to break up. (And 3) they tend to tag the cheating ship as the ship and personally it's a bit upsetting to be looking up a ship and get a fic where they're cheaters and its all about this other character overcoming them, but that's a personal ick thing and they are using the tagging system correctly technically, its more a problem with there being no way to differentiate those types of ship tags from each other. It's just a bit personally upsetting to see a fic tagged with your ship and also 'happy ending' but the happy ending is them falling apart and unhappy which makes the cheated on party happy with no warning that's what it meant. Rambling, sorry...)

I think if you wanna interpret Jimmy as toxic y'ought to focus on the post-relationship period (honestly I feel this way about fh in general, nothing in their brief time together is nearly as interesting as their time after reacting to their ex to me) cause you could make a case for Jimmy being unnecessarily hostile and not wishing Scott well at all. (This I think works best if the relationship was toxic cause then you have a guy going to the opposite extreme in reply to a bad relationship, but works just as well Jimmy being That Ex that always says their ex was crazy that Scott also play in DL)

Personally I don't think there's a good faith way to dig into the thing Jimmy might have done wrong while ignoring the more obvious things Scott did wrong, but exploration is the point of fanfics and AUs. And I've read fics where people make Scott out to be Jimmy's only supporter in DL while everyone else bullied him and completely rewrote entire scenes to make Scott the hero, so you know, clearly a market for rewriting Scott's character specifically.

But my go to for toxic Jimmy in the context of fh is him being neglectful. Jimmy's always been half-hearted about the dynamic, including reframing it in his e1 pov, I think it isn't much of a stretch to elaborate that into full on getting into a relationship he wasn't enthusiastic about to begin with and the few things he does to contribute being token gestures. Maybe Jimmy tends to think the worst of the things Scott does and assume he's being condescended to (I think this works especially well if you want to make one or both autistic, cause it's very easy to read Scott's tone as such if you aren't on his wave length and Jimmy is very easily offended especially later on). I think maybe some wouldn't like that just because it requires having Jimmy not be enthusiastic about being with Scott, though.

If you interpret Scott as Aro and Jimmy as Ace, also, you can make an argument for them just doing all the wrong things and that building up resentment between them where neither want to do anything the other wants to do and that barrier of miscommunication only growing until it collapses in on them both.

But yeah, I personally have trouble not making both of them toxic if Jimmy is going to be toxic, but again most exploration fics focus in on one thing, so...

^^^for the other anon

I actually don't read much fic but yeah this makes sense to me. FYI i think the "cheating" read comes from people interpreting him and Scott as not fully broken up during the events of post-3L because there's never really a formal "we're not together anymore" announcement. But yeah looking for something for your ship and having it turn out to be a cheating fic is WILD LMAO

I don't vibe with a lot of this because I'm not fun BUT the aro scott/ace jimmy part is awesome I'm glad that seems to be catching on.

[kivaember]

i wanna write a oneshot about the yaoi bench in smtvv so here's a rough teaser for it:

-

While Da’at didn’t have a climate as such, it did have periods of atmospheric unrest, of sorts. With so many powerful demons traversing across the land like ponderous Category 5 hurricanes, it was inevitable that the sheer power they emitted would clash against each like makeshift air currents. Winds would pick up, whipping the fine sand of Da’at into a lethal whirlwind that could leave cuts even on the Nahobino’s armour. When these events happened, Rin would be forced to hurry to the closest leyline and vanish into what he called ‘Demon Haunts’: the few oases within Da’at.

This ‘oasis’ was nothing more than a crevice between two half-collapsed skyscrapers, leaning against each other to create a facsimile of a lean-to, chunks of cracked cement function as makeshift seats… for the few demons Rin had in his employ. For Rin himself, there was an actual bench, sitting innocuously within the shade of the half-collapsed skyscrapers, despite the fact that its presence made no real logical sense.

Rin didn’t think too deeply on it. Da’at was a little weird at times, its layout not a 1:1 match to Tokyo in its prime. Aogami theorised that the nature of Da’at meant that distance shrank or expanded randomly in places because of… uh, netherworld space fuckery, which then fucked up Netherworld Tokyo’s map by adding lots of dead space, or jumbling up two locations into one, resulting in benches being in places they shouldn’t be.

(Well, Aogami hadn’t said those exact words, but that was what Rin had read between the lines of ‘superstring theory’ and ‘Calabi-Yau manifold’.)

That was all Rin needed to know, and he had sat on enough of these benches to rule them out as sneaky Venus Flytrap styled demons waiting to consume him whole (anything is possible in Da’at). So, as his few demons found their own comfy spots within the shelter of the leaning skyscrapers, the gaps between them showing nothing but a howling sea of cutting sand, Rin beelined for the bench.

“Ugh,” Rin groaned as he flopped onto said bench, his body tingling from the lingering aftershock of his separation from Aogami. His nerves always felt prickly for a few seconds, electrified almost, like his entire nervous system had experienced an unpleasant but harmless static shock. “Tired…”

“Because you’ve been pushing yourself,” Aogami murmured. “This is your first rest since we arrived in Da’at today.”

Rin opened his eyes from when he’d instinctively closed them, peering up at Aogami from beneath his eyelashes. His partner was standing in front of him, rather than taking up his usual position behind the bench or sitting beside him, and his expression was set into that of a concerned frown, a faint downturn to his mouth and a furrow in his brow, his golden eyes alight with keen focus as he scrutinised him.

It made him feel… Rin wasn’t sure what he felt, really. He didn’t like people looking at him so intently - his skin usually crawled - but beneath Aogami’s gaze… it was different. He felt his stomach tighten and his pulse jump a bit, but not from anxiety - nerves, maybe? But not in a bad way.

Er, mostly. Rin knew he wasn’t exactly well put together right now. He had sand everywhere, and there were definitely sweat patches on his school jacket (he could feel the shirt stick unpleasantly to his back from sweat), and his hair was probably a complete mess too (windswept, sand). In direct comparison to Aogami who always looked utterly pristine, Rin felt so… grimy. He wasn’t much to look at, and he was paranoid that Aogami would realise that too, staring at him so closely.

“I guess,” he mumbled, finding himself a little tongue-tied. “Um, it’s okay, though. I feel tired but it’s normal tired… I’ll be fine after a few minutes.”

“I’m sure, but… please allow me to assess your vitals, for my own peace of mind,” Aogami said. He held out his hand slightly - unobtrusively, but the silent question was there.

Rin didn’t trust himself to speak, so he nodded instead, raising his left arm. Aogami gently grasped his wrist, and Rin was so viscerally aware of his touch - every millimetre of it, the warmth that hand carried - and swallowed thickly as Aogami gracefully knelt before him, nestled between his spread legs.

It was how demure Aogami looked, despite his size, despite his strength. Rin knew that if he felt like it, Aogami could probably pick him up like a kitten and swing him around as easily as one - yet he was so gentle with him, so- subservient wasn’t the right term, too skeevy, and neither was submissive, but it was - something along those veins. The fact that someone as big and strong as Aogami knelt at his feet and touched him with such gentleness and never once toed a boundary line without express permission, it was-

It ignited something in Rin he had no words for. He set the boundaries, and Aogami obeyed them. He set the pace, and Aogami diligently kept to it. He called the shots, and Aogami deferred to him, always. Despite his strength, despite his size, despite his experience, Aogami conceded everything to him. That understanding, that knowledge that Rin held this… not power, not sway… influence, it made a part of him he never knew existed before purr in satisfaction and want.

It also prompted his hormone-driven mind to conjure up certain thoughts not suitable for polite company.

“Hm…” Aogami’s fingers tenderly brushed against the inside of Rin’s wrist, where his veins were stark against his skin. Rin fought down a shiver, his breath hitching in his throat. “Your pulse is slightly elevated…”

Pure thoughts, Amagami, pure thoughts.

“I’m- it’s- I’m just catching my breath, still,” Rin half-stammered, almost wincing when Aogami glanced up at him with a piercing look. He was pretty certain his face was bright red. “That’s… that’s all.”

“I see…” Aogami said, not believing him in the slightest.

“And it’s hot here! You know, desert. Hot. Sun. Well, no sun here but, an approximate of it. Still hot.” Shut up. Shut up. Stop talking! “So that’s why. Yeah… yeah, that’s all…”

“Rin.” Oh. Oh no. That was unfair. Whenever Aogami said his name like that, it made Rin just putty in his hands (literally).

[dr-spectre]

I’ve been seeing a lot of people in the Splatoon community say that Splatoon 3 ROTM will be the last time we will see the New Squidbeak Splatoon which includes Callie and Marie, but like… no?! Nintendo hasn’t outright said “hey y'all, you like the Squid Sisters and wanna see them continue to grow and develop? TOO BAD BITCH!! THEY AIN'T COMING BACK AFTER THIS GAME HA HA! IT'S JUST OFF THE PEAK AND DEEP PEAK NOW BUDDY! ENJOY!!”

When that person said in the Splatoon 3 direct “witness the finale of the Splatoon Saga” she meant the finale of the trilogy set up from Splatoon 1, the story of the New Squidbeak Splatoon vs the Octarians. The Splatoon games up until this point have always had a consistent throughline of developing the Octarians and giving more insight into the conflict between them and the Inklings. Octo Expansion was about diving deeper into the Octolings, them reaching the surface and living with the Inklings. In Splatoon 3, it seems like the Inklings have accepted the Octolings and are living peacefully alongside them. (Or they are just really dumb and still don't realize that Octolings aren't just Inklings with weird hairstyles.) 

Splatoon 3 ROTM marks the finale of the New Squidbeak Splatoon vs Octarians storyline as DJ Octavio’s entire army literally got turned into mindless furries and he became allies with the New Squidbeak Splatoon at the end of the game. Whether he’ll stay as a good guy remains to be seen but by judging Smollusk’s dialogue in Side Order where he says that Octavio is just flying around in his new machine nowadays, he’s probably gonna stay at the very least neutral to the Squidbeak Splatoon. His mission to save his race is basically over now, Octolings are living on the surface and his army is a bunch of furries. We will most likely never see the Octarians as enemies ever again in the series and the developers will move on to different threats never seen before and start a new storyline, or maybe they’ll focus on the Salmonids for Splatoon 4 but we’ll have to wait and see. 

Now I wanna roll back to the Squid Sisters, listen, aside from the Inklings, Callie and Marie are the most iconic characters in the entire franchise. If you tell a random person “do you know Splatoon?” They are probably gonna think of the Inklings, the unique gameplay and then the Squid Sisters. The only other characters that rivals their popularity are arguably Off the Hook, Deep Cut are still recognizable but they aren’t on the same level of popularity as those two groups in my opinion. 

It would genuinely be a bad financial and story mistake to never ever bring back Callie and Marie for Splatoon 4 and onwards, they are extremely iconic and profitable characters that people LOVE and wanna see more and continue having brand new adventures. Now, do I think they are gonna have the same role as before? No, I think they may take a break or step back from the Squidbeak Splatoon and let Captain 3 take control over Agent 4, Neo Agent 3, etc.

For Splatoon 4, I am guessing they are still gonna perform as the Squid Sisters, but in the main story mode or dlc I'm hoping that the developers take an Octo Expansion/Side Order route with the Squid Sisters where you get to hang out with them and learn more about them. How are they doing currently? What was it like for them at the start of their careers? Some more info about how they were as kids? How do Callie and Marie look back on the events of Splatoon 2? How do they feel about the other Idols and characters? 

There’s still so much left for these girls and just never seeing them again after Splatoon 3 would be a massive mistake and destroy all that interesting potential and lore. 

Also, the way that the Splatoon world works is that it’s an ever evolving world that follows our time, meaning that the characters age and go on new journeys as the years go by in our world. We see updates on past characters and are shown where they are at, the only times when that doesn't happen is when a character is fucking dead (Commander Tartar and the Octoweapons except for Octostomp) or they are in a location that isn’t the focus of what the writers wanna tell (C.Q. Cumber), heck even a character like Iso Padre who was a small side character in Octo Expansion managed to make an appearance in Splatoon 3 and show that he actually made it to the surface! 

Callie and Marie are not going anywhere, you can rest easy. The credits song "Wave Goodbye" is not called that in Japanese, it's called "Star of the Sea Breeze" and we all know that the localization team can make some pretty bad mistakes....

[bless-my-demons]

I just wanted to let you know that I am WAY too hooked on Redamancy that I keep just being like I wanna read angst? Oh, it's time to read Chapters 14 and 15! Like, come on, how can you take these okay characters from a weird ass series and turn it into something like this? I honestly think you are doing better than smeyer did! I also hope that soon things get to chill out, and we can see some half fun times with Jas and Emmet! Stay hydrated and well fed!!!

Omg when I tell you this ask made my heart SOAR😭 I’ve loved this series since I first saw the movies in high school (I just aged myself, RIP), but I always imagined them… different than SMeyer did; I’m re-watching the movies this week and I keep noticing what I would’ve done differently. Also, sparkles? You’ll never catch me mentioning that lmao honestly I just take her baseline for the characters/story and make it make sense in my eyes. And honestly I think it’s just the difference in vibes from 10 years ago to now - what we want in romance, perception of paranormal (not that anything about this is realistic, but making it more believable), and having time to criticize the saga.

Jasper is my Roman Empire, he is such a complex character - they all are! They deserve better storylines and just more overall, I just love writing my thoughts with him. But it’s like a coin, the other side is the wolves - more specifically Paul👀 oh my god I don’t even know where to start with the wolves, there’s so much. And I do have a doc started for Paul for after Jasper (there might not be a true and final ‘after’, but like once I crank out BD part 2) for when I can focus my energy on that instead of trying to split it with Redamancy, it’s full of ideas, things I wished we had gotten - especially with imprint relationships. Ugh and then I have that pre-vampire Jasper WIP that’s unrelated to Redamancy🙈 how the fuck do people organize their thoughts to do multiple series at the same time lol

The last part of your ask I’ve been thinking about since I posted Ch29, do you guys like the in-between? Like, the stuff between the timeline events that’s not in the books/movies? I’m always so worried about those parts, because if improperly done, I’m worried you guys are waiting for me to get to the point-to the shit you know is going to happen. Like the grad party, the newborn army fight, big plot points like that; versus the little injects like spending time with Quil, or Emmett, or reader’s mom, those things? I promise those little things have meaning down the road (some for the plot, some to just add angst/fluff/or to just fix SM’s holes) but I’m curious about your guys’ opinions! I’ve definitely read some fics that have had plot fluff that I’ve skipped because I just wanted the meat and I don’t want to bore you guys with that shit if I’m not writing it correctly enough😅

I also just love asks like this that make me think deeper about the story, because it definitely influences and inspires my writing lol thanks love🫶

[six-paths-of-jeanmarco]

You wanna talk about Reiner, Jean and Marco?

Okay, let's talk about Reiner, Jean and Marco. Buckle up, there's a lot to talk about.

Disclaimer: this is not an anti post to any character or ship, quite the opposite. Read the whole thing before you jump to conclusions, thanks :)

Well, yes and no. First and foremost, the background. Jean and the rest of the cadets, while each had a goal, were training to defend what they thought to be all that was left of the human species. For 100 years, the walls protected them, but they were no longer secure. The military was humanity's last hope of survival. With these unimaginably high stakes always looming over them, the cadets ought to have developed a complex bond that would be very hard to put into words. Let's just say they were something more than just siblings in arms, and you could tell that. Throughout the series, you never get the impression that Jean and the others truly wanted to kill RBA. It also explains why Marco questioned Reiner and Bert about their conversation before he even realized he's made a mistake.

However, we also have to remember this scene. This happened not long after Marco's death. Realistically speaking, I don't see how Jean wouldn't have harboured a healthy amount of hatred in his heart. But it never overcame him because his grief over losing Marco was much stronger than his hatred for those who caused it.

He won't get his answers from Annie, but he could get them from Reiner after they captured him in Shiganshina. He convinced Hange to not execute him due to a mix of the aforementioned bond and his need to understand what truly happened to Marco and what were the shifters' true goals. And of course, because preserving one's life, even an enemy's, is in Jean's nature.

There's so much to unpack here, but first, let's focus on the idea that "the people who killed Marco were the same as Jean himself", which is a false equivalence supported by other false equivalences.

There's RBA's mission to commit straight up genocide against Paradis, and the raid of Liberio or Eren's plan to steal the War Hammer, ensure that the world hates Paradis, and use his friends as his escape route. Sure, the Scouts could have chosen not to aid Eren, let him be captured, lose the Founding Titan, and allow Marley to destroy them once and for all. Not a hard choice at all, right? The only thing that those two events have in common is the fact that the shifters were responsible for almost all of the casualties. In fact, as a commanding officer, Jean did everything in his power to avoid civilian casualties in Liberio. He even failed to kill Falco and Pieck.

Then there's Marco's murder and the clash with the Yeagerists. All I'm going to say about the former at this point is that Reiner had other options to keep Marco from endangering their mission other than killing him. But fundamentally speaking, the two situations share nothing in common. The circumstances that led to them happening, the power dynamics between the parties involved, the stakes, and the context itself makes them practically unrelated. The alliance had to leave the island or the Rumbling would have ended the world. The Yeagerists gave them no choice other than to fight them. Saying that Reiner and Jean are "the same" it's like saying a killer who murdered their victim is just as bad as a survivor who killed their aggressor in self defense. The killer could've chosen not to commit murder, whereas the survivor didn't have a choice. In this case, the world is the victim while the Yeagerists are complicit for interfering with the only people that could stop the Rumbling. Of course, that doesn't mean Jean shouldn't have felt anything after he killed his former comrades, he'd be ooc.

In fact, these aren't just my thoughts. Some of these points are made by Isayama himself:

Notice how Yelena frames the raid as a nation wide attack? Except, that's not what it was at all. The Scouts only attacked the internment zone while Eren and Armin ravaged it and the port of Liberio respectively, two locations in one of the thousands of cities an empire as large as Marley must've had. And they did so to prevent Marley from gaining the means that would've allowed them to destroy Paradis. As for what Reiner and Annie did to the walls and their people, Yelena's accusations are hitting the nail.

These issues are never properly addressed in the following chapters. Instead, they were used to lay the foundations for the "we're the same" fallacious dialogue. Isayama didn't have to throw every single Scout in the same gray soup as the Warriors since they've already proven to be complex characters in the previous arcs. His own writing didn't support it. Imo, that's why he failed in this regard.

The campfire scene is a highlight, that one thing is true. It's extremely important for Jean and Marco's relationship. Marco wasn't just Jean's most significant person throughout the series (aside from his mom), he was also his most significant loss. A wound in his very being.

Not knowing what truly happened to Marco, what were his last moments, was an open wound on its own. When Reiner finally confessed, Jean had the closure he'd thought he'd never get. Now he could start the long process of healing - partially, because such pain never truly goes away. You just learn how to live with it, and Jean already has plenty of experience in that field. I think this is a very powerful message, important too. Grief is not something inherently bad. It's up to you what you do with. You either allow it to consume you, or you hold it tight, you cherish it as a sign that what you had was real, still is real, you let it shape you into a better person, one that understands pain and wishes for no one to have to go through something similar. Jean is the latter, ever the kind-hearted man.

This should have been Jean and Marco's intimate moment, but Reiner intruded on it with his self-pitying babbling. There are lines that mustn't be crossed. That's when Jean snapped and attacked him. He didn't do anything after he learned the truth, just told Reiner to shut up, which he didn't do.

There's a glaring difference between Jean's reaction and what Reiner did after Marco overheard his discussion with Bert, what he did after Marco begged him to talk it over, to talk with him. He executed him like an animal; worse than that, he betrayed him, crushed his soul, denied him any chance of survival, left him behind for the titan to finish the job.

Marco was kind, understanding, supportive, good-natured, bright, forgiving, a true leader worth following. He wanted to serve the king because that's how he thought he could serve his people best (this is clearly inspired by the relationship the people of Japan had with their emperor before he renounced his divine status). Yes, he was also wrong about some things he didn't have the chance to understand as one of the early deaths. But Marco represented something we should all strive to be: a good human being.

On the other hand, Reiner strived to be a hero. Someone who'd wipe out all the devils. Someone driven by selfish ideals that have been shaped by prejudice and hatred. Only a monster would kill someone like Marco. As I said earlier, he had other choices to deal with him. He already broke his legs, so Marco would've been entirely dependent on his help to survive. Reiner could've coerced him to keep quiet or else Bert would kill everyone with his shifter ability, or even force him to aid Annie with gathering intel in the inner walls. Reiner knew Marco wasn't stupid, he would've complied with his demands, if not to save himself, at least to prevent a disaster. And yet, Reiner still chose to murder him, a choice that only a monster could make, a choice that would ruin his mental health, a choice that would turn him into a shell of a man.

If there's one character that is bound to Marco by trauma and guilt, it's Reiner. He was no hero as his story was written with the blood of his many victims. Killing Marco forced Reiner realize he was the monster all along, not the people he was sent to exterminate. Not the people he didn't see as people. His trauma was so egregious because he couldn't face this monster that would murder someone like Marco, - and once he did - because he couldn't stand this monster that was he. Quite ironic to say that Marco symbolizes naivety while the hero that never was was falling apart as the realization of what he did started to kick in. Hard.

Combined with this realization, that choice would make him do the right thing in the end. To me, this was the whole point of Reiner's character arc. To stress the idea that a single choice fueled by hatred has an unmeasurable weight and only leads to unthinkable consequences. It's about doing the right thing after constantly doing the wrong thing. It's about showing that there is no us vs them and that the dehumanization of the Other only leads to mass destruction and self destruction. Change is not impossible as long as you keep moving forward and you give meaning to pain and guilt. Unless you stand for nothing, kill for nothing, and then die for nothing, like Bert did. A literal representation of the quote "Apathy is death". Or end up as self-centered as Annie, to the point where you'll unapologetically say you'd do it all again. Instead of saying you'd try to change your actions. But Reiner did change. He joined forces with Jean and the rest because he was finally able to see them as what they always were: human beings whose lives are just as precious as all the lives in the world. And that his own life might still be worth something. Reiner hurt Jean far too deep to fully reconciliate, but they were no longer divided by hatred.

Take away the impact Marco had on him and you'd do Reiner a great disservice.

Jean could've also chosen to do some things different. He could've returned to the camp and kill Reiner and Annie in their sleep. Cut off their heads and return back to Paradis as a hero, and finally have the quiet life that he wanted, but he didn't. Or he could've stayed in that forest for the rest of his life, to hell with everyone else, but he didn't. It wasn't because Marco's expectations had him on a leash.

Learning the truth about what happened to Marco, learning his final words made him realize that he became a man worth Marco's timely praise. And that man would never let resent, revenge, or retribution turn him into a monster. He is a man that always chooses to do the right thing because he strives against his own demons, and Marco is the person who helps him choose this life.

It's not trauma nor guilt that keeps Jean and Marco connected, it's love, be it platonic or romantic. How can it be anything else? Marco gave him this moment:

And before this, Marco told him he's cut out to be a leader. Marco told him "I'm alive because of you". Marco made him smile for real. Do you know how much of an impact just a few words of encouragement can have on a 15 years old boy with low self esteem and no real purpose in life? He'll never forget them for as long as he lives, especially if they're coming from someone who means a lot to him. How can you take something as meaningful as that and turn it into something ugly? Marco gave him clarity.

Marco's neither a blessing nor a curse. Especially not the latter. This is how Jean remembers him four years after he had found his lifeless corpse:

Of all his fallen comrades, Jean only sees him. This is the face that Jean turns to in his darkest hours. The eyes that look back at Jean are soulful, kind, sincere, comforting. Marco's facial expression is warm and tender. You wouldn't tell this was a 16 years old boy who had died a most gruesome death.

It matters too little they don't have cameras in Paradis, no picture could reproduce Marco's image with as much love as Jean's mind does. And it matters that much when you think about how much symbolism there is in aot. None of this is coincidental at all.

Jean always turns to Marco for hope, for strength, for solace, and to remind himself of his own kindness, that in a world as cruel as that of aot, there's still love and there's still light, if not outside, then within.

Marco's no curse, no blessing, no symbol, he is just a boy whose words and actions had a great impact on those around him, especially on his best friend (and dare I say, soulmate) who misses him dearly. He left his mark on the plot and themes of aot, whether you want to acknowledge that or not.

Edit: Forgot to add this (my drafts are a mess):

I do agree that Jean saving Reiner's life is important. No, they could never go back to being friends. Who'd be friends with their best friend's murderer? I'll say it again, Reiner hurt Jean far too deep for them to ever fully reconciliate. Besides, Jean himself stated that he could never forgive him for what he did. The logic is sadly not logic-ing with this one. But that doesn't mean he cannot see Reiner as a human being. The difference between Reiner and Jean is that Jean always saw everyone as people.

It's important because it shows how far Jean has come. It's important because it shows how much truth was in Marco's words right from the beginning. Jean is humanity's best - not because he is flawless, far from it, but because this flawed man will always find the strenght to do what's right. Because when good men go to war, they don't see sides, not really, they see the horrors of their actions.

In a way, aot is Jean's story. And Reiner's. And Marco's. I still have plenty of criticism for this series, but the web of complex relationships between these three characters is one of the things that Isayama did right.

[itssotragic]

12. “Did something happen to you that I don’t know about?” with maybe Rhea/Damian/Dom 🤔

Rated: T Tags: References to past sexual assault, therapy, nightmares.

Prompt List

Quiet nights at home were few and hard to come by. There was always something that needed to be done—unpacking, packing, getting ready for the next show, traveling, training, press. Rarely did the grind stutter to a stop long enough to be still and breathe. But somehow, they'd managed to find one of those precious nights among the chaos—a respite, a chance to simply be and be together. Damian cooked, they ate, then JD and Finn disappeared into the back bedroom with a few soft murmurs exchanged in the leaving. Both had looked so exhausted that Damian had no reason to doubt they really were turning in early.

And so five became three.

They shifted to the living room, where Dom curled up against Damian's side, head resting in his lap as if he belonged there—which, he mused, maybe he did—and Damian held him close as they put on a movie Rhea had rescued from a discount bin somewhere last week. It didn't take long before Dom was half-hidden behind a blanket, peering over the fringe and clutching onto Damian's hand with every jump and pop of noise. Damian was only half paying attention, idly carding his free hand through Dom's hair, his thoughts and gaze both drifting to where Rhea had plopped down on the floor in front of the sofa, meticulously hammering studs and rivets into a trim expanse of black leather. He had no idea what event it was for—he didn't even know if she knew—but he liked watching her work. Once in a while, her tongue would poke out from between her lips, poised at the corner of her mouth, her brow furrowed in concentration as she lined up sharp bits of metal, measured with her fingertips, counted, then swept the whole mess onto the floor so she could start hammering again. 

It was hard for him to imagine a more perfect night than this—to have not just one person who fit so well into every crevice of his life, but all of them. The warmth of Dom pressed against him, Rhea always lingering just within arm's reach, Finn and JD safely tucked away in the other room. It was a kind of contentment he couldn't even imagine until he'd met them. One by one, they'd slotted into place, and a sense of peace had wrapped around him like a heavy blanket.

He had half a thought lingering somewhere in the corner of his mind—something he'd been about to say, a notion that hadn't quite formed into words yet—but it was lost in the rustle of Rhea suddenly rising to her feet. She cracked her neck and stretched her arms above her head with a soft groan and a little pop of something somewhere at the base of her spine. Dom reached out and batted at her hip, and she stepped out of the way of the television with a laugh, pivoting on her toes, practically dancing between the piles of tools and fabric and supplies. 

"You headed to the kitchen by any chance?" Damian asked, watching as she flicked the hem of her shorts back into place around her thigh.

"I think I need glue," she answered.

"You wanna grab me another drink on your way back?"

"Please," she teased and wiggled her fingers at him as she reached for his empty glass.

He rolled his eyes. "And thank you," he offered, handing it over with a small, fond smirk. Their hands brushed, his touch lingered, thumb grazing over her knuckles before he let go of the glass and let her slip away toward the other side of the space.

Damian's gaze followed her, tracking every movement through the room, lingering just long enough to see her slip around the corner of the island counter. Then he turned back to Dom, fingers sliding into his hair again, scratching gently at his scalp beneath a mop of dark waves. Dom hummed softly, a barely audible noise, tilting his head into Damian's palm and shifting ever closer against his side. His focus slipped, settled, sank—grasping onto nothing in particular, at least not long enough to matter—shifting from Dom to Rhea and back again with ease. Rhea's footsteps pattered softly against the tile, punctuated by the glide of drawers as she rummaged around. But even that faded into the background after a moment or two—a rhythmic pulse like a metronome, a steady beat for him to track her by.

Time slowed to a crawl. The movie played on without him; he didn't care. His eyes slipped closed, lashes heavy, comfort guiding the way towards a drowsy sort of almost-rest. Then Rhea's fingers brushed against his shoulder, cold and damp with condensation off his glass, and he hummed a soft sound of acknowledgment as she passed. He heard her nails scratch softly over Dom's blanket, skipping down his side and hip before he felt the couch cushion shift as she settled down and rest her back against it again. A gentle silence settled over them like a fog, warm and comforting, thick enough to sink into and soft enough to mold around his body.

He drifted, lulled by the feeling of Dom's fingertips brushing slowly up and down the side of his arm, tracing shapes that felt nonsensical at first until one curved and glided just so, and his attention honed back in on his own body. Slowly, the shapes Dom was drawing began to make sense. The swoop and arc of his fingertips traced tangled serpents and caressed the side of Medusa's face, almost—maybe entirely—unconsciously. His gaze was focused on the television, one arm tucked up against his chest, while the other hand simply trailed the lines as if he had them memorized. Damian's fingers stroked down the side of his neck, thumb tracing over his collarbone and shoulder before slipping back into his hair again, and shifted his arm a bit closer, easier to reach.

"Have you seen Adam's show?" Dom murmured, turning just slightly to look over his shoulder at Damian, his big, dark eyes wide and gentle and curious. 

He couldn't help but laugh. Of course, to Dom, it was Adam's show, even though he was only in—what?—three episodes. But he nodded, twisting one long strand of hair around his finger. In his gut, he knew what question was probably coming next, but he still offered a soft smile and said, "Yeah, why?"

Dom shrugged. "Just wondering if that's why you got her—" His fingers swooped across Medusa's face again, then down towards Damian's wrist. "Because of the story, I mean."

It was innocuous enough that Damian probably could have skirted around the subject if he wanted to. But it felt—maybe not pointless, but unnecessary. There were parts of himself he'd always kept hidden away—for good reason—and Dom's innocent question brought one of those shadowy things stumbling out of the dark to sit in the center of his chest. And, somehow, it didn't feel as heavy as it once had. Maybe time did heal all wounds or some trite, cliche shit like that; or maybe the salve they'd been applying to it over the last months—years, in some cases—had finally started to heal something. Either way, it didn't feel as deep as it had three years ago when he'd sat down in a tattoo parlor, across from a woman with the prettiest rose-colored hair he'd ever seen, and spilled the entire story over the course of a six-hour session.

He swallowed around the knot that tried to form in the back of his throat, the phantom tingle of needle pricks flaring up along his arm, and nodded again, his smile soft and genuine even if there was a heaviness still sitting just below the surface. But Dom had already seen the flicker in his expression, the slight deepening of the lines around his eyes, the way his fingertips stuttered then stilled where they rest on the arc of Dom's shoulder.

"I'm not supposed to ask that, am I?" he said—timid, a little hesitant, a trace of worry in his voice that he had upset Damian. 

But he just shook his head and gathered Dom a little closer, watching Rhea out of the corner of his eye as she set her tools down and shifted around to face them both. "No, no, it's alright, hermano. You can ask. It was a really long time ago, and I'm mostly okay now."

"Mostly?" Dom echoed, looking up at him again, searching his face, trying to find an answer in his expression.

There was no reason to try to hide anything—not with them. They didn't need the pretty version of things—the glossed-over, watered-down, sanitized truth. It was messy and ugly and uncomfortable, but they were safe, and that was the only thing that mattered. Still, he felt that hard throb in the center of his chest, the last dying ember of a fear he'd spent years trying to extinguish and couldn't quite snuff out completely. He'd learned to live with it, to maneuver around it, and it remained largely inconspicuous if still softly smoldering somewhere in the distance. But here, now, he felt like he could pick that ember up in his bare hands and not get burned by it. It was as small a spark as it had ever been.

Rhea leaned her elbow against the back of the sofa, resting her chin on her hand, looking at Damian with a softness that made his heart ache, but he couldn't quite bring himself to meet her gaze just yet. Instead, he shifted a little and tugged Dom upright, coaxing him into his lap so Rhea had space to move up onto the couch next to them. He slipped into the space between Damian's thigh and the arm of the sofa, legs draped over and between his, shoulder tucked just under his arm, blanket folded around their limbs. 

He felt Rhea's lips fall against his cheek as she rose and took her place on the other side, her legs tucked beneath her as she reached for him and tangled their fingers together. Part of him was glad it was just the three of them, then. It wasn't that he didn't want Finn and JD to know, just that it seemed easier to deal with when there weren't so many people staring at him. The wound had healed, sure, but it had scarred, and some of those scars were thicker, deeper than others. It was hard to know where to start sometimes. He cleared his throat, blinked a few times, and stared up at the ceiling.

"Truth is," he started, gaze gliding back to the television and the credits rolling there. "I wasn't fully aware of what was happening at the time. There were just a bunch of whispered conversations I don't think I was ever meant to hear, and then, all of a sudden, I was being shipped back to New York. I didn't understand why I had to leave—just that everyone was upset all the time, and all I knew was that I was at the center of it. I thought I was being punished for something, but I didn't know what, and I didn't know how to process everything that was going on either—so I just didn't."

Silence hung heavy for a few seconds, but Damian needed that pause to ground himself—to settle into the warmth that surrounded them, the feeling of Rhea's thumb brushing over his knuckles, and Dom's hand curled softly in the front of his shirt. 

"I didn't start dealing with any of it until a lot later," he continued, still staring at some vague spot in the middle distance. "I had a coach who basically told me to get my shit together, then shoved me in the direction of a therapist. I hated it. I thought it was stupid and pointless—that there was nothing I could benefit from knowing—that it was gonna be a massive waste of time. Then, little by little, it started to help—even if, eventually, it opened up a can of worms I didn't realize was actually full of snakes. Once I started digging, I started to remember, and it hit me like a fucking truck. I had nightmares for weeks. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat, I could barely make it to practice. I was a wreck. And, thankfully, a lot of people gave me a lot of grace while it was happening. They didn't know—no one did—they just knew I was trying to get my head on straight and that, hopefully, I was going to come out the other side of it better."

His throat was dry, and he could feel his voice faltering, but he forced himself to keep going. It was cathartic, in a way, like taking a hot knife to an infected wound and prying it open so the poison could drain out.

"There were things that had grown around that initial memory, though—rooted into it, branched off of it—things that needed to be handled separate from everything else. But by the time I moved to Vegas, I'd gotten a hold of most of that, too. The real bone-deep pain wasn't there anymore. Every once in a while, something still flares up, and I have to sit with it for a bit, but..." he shrugged, "but at least I can sit with it now. I can look at it and acknowledge that it's there, and it hurts, and that's okay. Most of the time, it's just phantom pain, anyway; something that aches because it remembers, not because it's still bleeding."

Rhea's palm slid against his cheek, cupping his jaw as she guided his face towards hers, and he felt the slightest sting in the corners of his eyes. That was residual, too—a reflex left over from all the times he'd secluded himself in some small, dark place, hoping he might feel safe enough to cry through the pain. He blinked it away and leaned into her touch, resting his forehead against hers for a moment. He could feel her eyelashes flutter against his, her fingernails gliding softly through his beard, holding him there as he breathed deep and steadied himself. When he pulled back, he found Dom's dark eyes still watching him, quiet and curious and unassuming—a dozen different questions lingering in his gaze. Damian carded his fingers through his hair, tucking loose strands away from his face, tracing the line of his jaw with his thumb. Dom's lips twitched into a soft smile, and he pressed his cheek into Damian's palm.

"Is that why you've always been so good with me and my bad dreams?" he asked.

He laughed and nodded, his smile finally softening into something more natural. "I'm sure it has something to do with it, yeah. But you're easy to take care of."

His smile faded for a moment as he shifted his hand to curl around Dom's shoulder, holding him snug against his chest. If he'd noticed the flicker of emotion on Damian's face that time, he didn't let on; he just tucked himself in closer, drawing his knees up, and nuzzled into the solid expanse of Damian's chest. Sometimes he wondered how alike the two of them were and how much Dom kept quietly closed off for the sake of everyone else around him—to continue being the bright little ball of sunshine they all knew. But it wasn't the right time to start digging into that. He could only hope that offering this small fragment of himself would be enough that they might also feel safe in unburdening their darkness with him—more than they already had. He pressed a kiss to the top of Dom's head and shifted his gaze back to Rhea, catching the soft, sidelong glance she cast in his direction.

"I'm proud of you," she said, her voice low and warm, gentle as she drew her fingers through his hair and grazed her thumb along his temple. "You know that, right?"

Damian hummed, the sound rumbling in the back of his throat, and nodded, turning his face to press a kiss to the inside of her wrist. "I do," he murmured, reaching for her other hand again. "But it's still nice to hear sometimes."