#me with the notes on that post: i pretend i do not see it

[urfavhecate]

I’ve been waiting for too long | drunk!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: After your breakup with Wanda, Natasha takes care of you… good care…

Warnings: oneshot, drunk Natasha, SMUT, +18, MDNI ! drunk sex, breakup mention, short one, oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), multiple orgasm, kinda overstimulation.

Note: Hey guy, it has been long time since last post. As always… English isn’t my first language sp im sorry for all mistakes. This year I have my finals so it’s hard to find time for hobbies but I hope I’ll find more time to write some stuff. If you have any ideas for next shots or stories m requests are open, or if you want to yapp a little I’m also here. <3

No one is allowed to copy, translate or pubish my work as their own!

The life of an Avengers was never easy. As soon as you started your relationship with Wanda, you felt like you had found everything you needed, almost like you had grabbed God by the legs. However, as it quickly turned out, nothing lasts forever, because a few months later Wanda broke up with you.

It was one of those evenings when the Avengers tower seemed empty. While everyone else was busy with their own things, Natasha was sitting in the living room drinking her beer. When she saw you enter the room, she handed you a bottle so you could rest a bit.

„Have a drink and relax” she simply said. You thanked her and fell down on the couch next to Natasha. She just looked at you, knowing something was wrong. "Rough day?" she asked with a stoic face.

“Wanda broke up with me,” you replied quietly, your voice breaking at the thought of what had happened. “She chose that fucking toaster on legs over me.”

Natasha couldn’t help but giggle softly at the comment. “Vision you mean?”

“i don’t get it… what did i do wrong?”

Natasha’s smirk disappeared from her face. She leaned back on the couch, and she sighed before she could muster up a response. “Maybe you didn’t do anything… Sometimes its about what people want or don’t want”

“But him?! Really?! What did he have what i don’t?” You were irritated just thinking about him. He was a robot, he wasn’t even human.

"Beats me... He can fly and shoot lasers from his head" Natasha laughed again "You know... not everyone has good taste"

You laughed softly as you started to question whether or not he had a metal dick. You started to joke as Natasha smiled knowing that she cheered you up a bit, she didn't like seeing you down. Your relationship had always been weird. It wasn't just friendly flirting, but you never talked about what was between you, pretending that you were just friends and worked together.

“I think we should find you a new hobby because I don’t want to picture his metal dick again” The redhead laughed.

“I have one idea… We could always go to a bar”

It wasn’t long before you ended up at one of the nearby bars, drinking and dancing. A few shots and drinks later, you both were visibly tipsy, the alcohol was taking effect. Natasha’s usual composure loosened as her inhibitions lowered, her gaze more carefree and lighthearted. She leaned back against the barstool, studying you with a lazy smirk on her face.

“What?” you giggled noticing she was staring at you.

“Nothing… You just a lot more fun when youre drunk” she answered letting inner thoughts threaten to spill out.

When you finished on the dance floor, your bodies moved together in perfect harmony, you danced and your bodies rubbed against each other. She let her hand drift to your hip, pulling you even closer to her. Her eyes met yours, dark with mix of intoxication and desire.

“You're beautiful you know that?” you mumbled moving closer to her, your lips were now just inches apart.

“Am I?” she murmured softly, her voice a low seductive purr “Or is that just the alcohol talking”

“you are hot as fuck” Natasha's smirk turned cocky as her eyes burned with desire. She gently pushed you backwards until your back hit the wall, trapping you against it with the weight of her body. Her hand moved from your hip to your chin, tipping your face up to meet her gaze. Natasha chuckled, her body pressing against yours, her hand still holding your chin, her gaze boring into yours. She leaned in, her lips brushing against your earlobe, her voice a heady whisper in your ear.

"You don't know what you're asking for," she muttered huskily, her free hand roaming over the fabric of your clothes. "I can make you feel things you've never felt before." Wanda wasn’t really dominant so this was new and exiting at the same time.

Natasha dragged you into a taxi and you headed back to the tower. Throughout the whole way, you couldn't keep your hands to yourselves, wandering over the other woman's body.

Natasha's patience had reached its limit. The moment the elevator doors closed behind you, she punted. She slammed you against the wall, her body trapping yours, her gaze smoldering with desire.

"I can't wait anymore," she panted, her hands roaming all over your body, touching you with a desperate need. Her lips found your neck, kissing and nipping, leaving a trail of heated affection “I’ve been waiting for too long”

You moaned when her lips touched your neck and your fingers tangled with her hair. Natasha hummed against your neck, the sound a mixture of approval and desire. Your moan sent a jolt of arousal through her body, fueling her need to feel your skin against hers. Her hands roamed freely over your body, slipping under your clothes, seeking more contact, more flesh. Her kisses moved up until her lips found yours, capturing them in a passionate, demanding kiss.

When you got out of the elevator, Natasha immediately pushed you against the wall. Natasha groaned when you wrapped your leg around her waist, the action bringing your bodies even closer together. She ground her hips against you, the movement hard and desperate, her need for you becoming almost primal. She broke the kiss just long enough to let out a ragged exhale, her breath mingling with yours. "I want you. Now."

“Say it again... please….” You moaned. Natasha's hand gripped your hip, her fingers digging into your flesh as she pushed you harder against the wall. She leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear, her voice a low, sinful whisper.

"I want you. I need you. Now." Her hand slid up the length of your thigh, hooking your leg over her hip, the movement more possessive than ever before. "You understand?"

At that moment, you didn't care about the breakup or that anyone could see you two. Natasha's sloppy kisses were driving you crazy, so you dragged her to your room. Natasha pushed you onto the bed, climbing on top of you and pinning your hands above your head.

"Wanda never dominated you huh?" Natasha smiled knowing it was true. "Baby with me you'll feel things you could only dream of with Wanda"

A moment later they ended up naked in your bed. Natasha moved lower kissing your chest, your stomach and finally ending between those legs. She couldn't help herself and ran her tongue through your wet folds. She moaned loudly at the taste of you on her tongue.

"oh god... you taste so good"

Your fingers tangled in her hair holding her where you needed her the most. Her tongue moved faster and faster, and you squirmed beneath her. Natasha grabbed your thighs to keep you in place. She continued to eat your pussy like it was her last meal. She was hungry for your taste. It wasn't long before she added her fingers, pushing two of them roughly into your pussy. You moaned with pleasure, wanting more. You tugged at her hair, holding her between your shaking legs. Her movements were still sloppy from the alcohol. She mumbled something under her breath as she gently sucked on your clit.

"I’m… I’m gonna... cum... Natasha please… can I cum?" you moaned. Your body trembled as you ere closer to the pleasure, as Natasha’s fingers curled inside you, finding that sweet spot.

"Good girl, asking for permission... such a submissive good girl." Natasha mumbled, pushing another finger into your pussy "Cum for me baby"

It wasn't long before you came on Natasha's face. The redhead lapped up your juices, not wanting to waste a single drop. Her face was covered in your orgasm and her eyes still held a hunger. Her pupils were much larger and her irises were a darker shade of green.

“Nat… Natasha… oh god… fuck…!”

“Good girl, scream my name… my good girl” she kept mumbling.

As you came down from your high, you thought Natasha would pull away to kiss you, but she continued eating your pussy. She couldn't hold back, it only took a moment for her to become addicted to your taste. Natara's free hand pressed gently against your lower abdomen.

"Natasha...tooo sensitve..." you tried to pull away but Natasha held you in place.

"Don't you dare move. Just one more"

Natasha continued fucking you not paying attention to the overwhelming pleasure that was spreading throughout your body. Life mattered to your cheeks. Your legs shook as Natasha's fingers moved in and out at a rapid pace. You squirmed, moaning her name like a prayer.

"I can't...I can't…" You kept screaming.

"You can do it baby....You'll feel so good..."

“Tell me when you belong to… Tell me you’re mine…” She softly bit your clit.

“I’m yours… only yours…”

As you came a second time Natasha smiled and kissed your forehead. Her hands moved to your breasts. “I’m not done with you yet”

[23victoria]

7/11

ꨄ༊*·˚ pairings: f1 drivers x fem!reader

₊��°｡⋆ authors note: this was in my drafts but it’s based of the tiktok challenge!! this is format is a bit different lmk if you like it!! i hope you guys enjoy!! also let’s pretend seb and jenson have tiktok and use it….well seb at least jenson def has a secret tiktok

ꨄ༊*·˚ synopsis: doing the 7/11 Beyoncé song challenge on tiktok “in secret” not realizing your man was standing there watching the whole time!

₊✩°｡⋆ wanna be tagged in my works?! CLICK HERE!

ꨄ༊*·˚ F1 MASTERLIST

You’re alone in your room, music blasting, focused on getting every move perfect as you record yourself doing the 7/11 dance challenge. The rhythm flows through you effortlessly, your body moving with precision and confidence. After finishing, you stop the recording, catching your breath as you play the video back. A grin spreads across your face as you watch yourself.

"Oh, I ate that up."

Satisfied, you post it without a second thought.

Then—

"Oh my god!"

You yelp, nearly dropping your phone when you turn and find him standing in the doorway, arms crossed, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

"Did I scare you?" he chuckles.

"What are you doing just standing there?!" you demand, clutching your chest.

"I was coming to ask what you wanted me to cook for you," he says casually, tilting his head. "But I saw you looking at your phone smiling really hard and got curious."

Heat rushes to your face. "Oh... well—nothing. It’s nothing."

He raises a brow. "Mhm. Nothing, huh?"

You swallow nervously. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long," he shrugs, stepping closer. "Just enough to see you smiling at yourself like you just changed the world."

You roll your eyes, trying to brush it off. "Anyway, I want [random food] for dinner."

He grins. "Alright then, let’s go, baby." He takes your hand, leading you to the kitchen.

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* •̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*:･ﾟ✧·̩̩̥͙

Two Hours Later

You’re curled up on the couch with him, eating and watching a movie while your phone charges. Eventually, you reach for it and notice an insane amount of notifications.

"What the hell?" you murmur, unlocking it. Your jaw drops as you see your TikTok video has blown up. Thousands of comments flood in—

"Look at how he’s looking at her." "OMG, he’s so in love with her." "I need a man to look at me like that." "This just made me feel so single." "She’s so hot, he’s lucky."

Your stomach drops as you quickly rewatch the video. That’s when you see it—

Through the mirror’s reflection, he had been standing in the doorway the entire time, completely mesmerized by you.

"Oh my god."

Then, just as your embarrassment peaks, you see his comment:

"Oh, she’s definitely getting it tonight 🤤"

Your phone nearly slips out of your hand.

Lewis

You gasp and slap his arm. “Lewis!”

He lets out a deep chuckle, eyes twinkling with amusement. “What?”

“Did you really have to comment that?!” you exclaim, face burning.

He smirks, leaning closer. “Why? It’s true.”

You shove his face away, groaning. “Oh my god, I’m going to delete it.”

“No, you’re not.” He swiftly takes your phone, holding it above his head while you struggle to grab it.

"Lewis, give it back!"

"Nope," he grins, "you should be thanking me for hyping you up."

You narrow your eyes. "You're insufferable."

He leans in, lips brushing against your ear. "And yet, you love me."

Damn it. He’s right.

Charles

Your face burns as you shove his shoulder. “Charles! Why would you comment that?!”

He bursts into laughter, completely unbothered. “What? It’s the truth, no?”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “The whole world didn’t need to know that!”

He tilts his head, smirking. “You’re acting like they don’t already know how much I love you.”

Your heart skips a beat.

Charles leans in, whispering, “Besides… now they know what to expect tonight.”

You smack his arm again, but he only grins wider, completely enjoying your flustered state.

Max

Your stomach drops. “Max, please tell me you did not just comment that.”

He shrugs, fighting a smirk. “I mean, it’s not a lie.”

You groan, covering your face. “I hate you.”

He chuckles, wrapping an arm around you. “No, you don’t.”

You glare up at him. “What if my parents see that?!”

Max snorts. “Your mom already likes my comment.”

Your eyes widen in horror. He laughs even harder, pulling you closer. “Face it, schat, you’re stuck with me.”

Oscar

You nearly drop your phone, whipping around to face him. “Oscar! Seriously?!”

He bites his lip, barely holding back a laugh. “What?”

You gesture wildly at the screen. “That comment! ‘She’s definitely getting it tonight’—are you insane?!”

He chuckles, playing innocent. “I’m just stating facts.”

You groan, throwing a pillow at him. He catches it with ease, grinning. “Don’t be mad, babe. It’s kinda cute seeing you all flustered.”

You glare. “You are never living this down.”

Oscar smirks. “That’s fine. As long as I get to prove my comment right.”

Your face burns as he winks at you.

Lando

Your jaw drops. “Lando, WHAT THE HELL?!”

He bursts out laughing, falling back on the couch. “Oh my god, your face right now!”

You smack his arm repeatedly. “That was NOT funny!”

He’s wheezing at this point. “Babe, you should see the comments. Everyone’s obsessed with how I look at you.”

You pout. “That’s not the point, Lando.”

He grins, wrapping an arm around you. “Fine, fine. I’ll make it up to you.”

You narrow your eyes. “How?”

He smirks. “Let’s just say… my comment won’t be a lie.”

You groan, pushing his face away while he laughs.

Carlos

You turn to Carlos, horrified. “Carlos! Did you seriously just post that?!”

He smirks, leaning back with a satisfied expression. “Sí. Why?”

You groan. “You’re so embarrassing!”

Carlos shrugs. “It’s true, though.” He leans in, voice dropping to a whisper. “And I don’t lie, cariño.”

Your breath hitches. “I hate you.”

He grins. “No, you don’t. Now, finish eating, so we have energy for later.”

You blush furiously while he chuckles, clearly enjoying your reaction.

Jenson

You clutch your chest. “Jenson, why would you comment that?!”

He smirks, sipping his drink. “Because it’s true, love.”

You glare. “Do you have any shame?”

“None whatsoever.”

You sigh dramatically. “I can’t believe I’m dating you.”

He leans in, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “And yet, you are. Lucky me.”

Damn it. You can’t even stay mad.

Sebastian

Your heart races as you read his comment. “Seb, what is WRONG with you?!”

He grins innocently. “Nothing, why?”

You wave your phone. “‘She’s definitely getting it tonight’—DO YOU HAVE NO FILTER?!”

Seb shrugs. “Should I delete it?”

You nod frantically.

He smirks. “Too late. It’s already viral.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands.

Sebastian chuckles, pulling you into his arms. “Don’t worry, liebling. If anything, now everyone knows just how much I adore you.”

You sigh, defeated. “I hate you.”

He grins. “I love you too.”

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* •̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*:･ﾟ✧·̩̩̥͙

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[calebrity]

june seems too late

caleb (xia yizhou) x female reader (mc)

for your graduation, caleb takes two weeks off to visit. things don’t go like they should.

▻ cw. noncon elements, pseudo-cest, light smut/nsfw, dark themes, caleb is a yandere what’s new, lots of pining and unrequited love, characters are 18+

▻ notes. hey yall so caleb’s mullet is actually killing me in catch-22. anyways heed the warnings & do enjoy 🤍 you can read this on ao3 (username caked) if you prefer that :3 homeboy is actually insane but i love him he’s precious . 10k words slowburn buckle up. im planning to post lotssss of caleb, raf, and sylus stuff so keep an eye peeled!! :P

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 + 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 (๑´ `๑)♡

June comes at a breakneck speed.

Before they step out the door, she’s fussing all over the wrinkle in her robe and worrying that the cap will sit weirdly on her head.

In the car, on the way there, she doesn’t voice any more of her fears lest they intensify, but Caleb spots them all as if they’re written on her face. She fidgets and does not notice the way he looks at her.

Probably for the better, he thinks.

When they part, he gives her a pat on the shoulder (as opposed to rustling her meticulously-styled hair) and tells her not to worry. She’ll do great. This is a big day for her; he pleasantly remembers his own ceremony and urges that hers will be just as smooth.

It seems good enough for her. She’s dragged off by her friend, skipping hand-in-hand, and her nervous giggles ring in his head in a building full of noisy people. It might as well be a little pin dropping in a quiet room.

Sometimes Caleb almost forgets just how much stock that girl- his precious little meimei- puts into him and his words. It stirs something tender in his heart, and then he recalls his true feelings and it twists. Twists like a knife or the bitter truth.

There’s only a couple years between them, and yet during her graduation, Caleb can’t help but feel a sense of pride tug in his chest alongside something deeply bittersweet.

She’ll for sure be spreading her wings now. She’ll for sure be leavin’ him behind.

And he’ll have to say yes to it, that it’s fine with him. Pretend like he doesn’t care. He’s got a natural talent at dissimulating his intriciate, troublesome feelings, but it doesn’t mean he enjoys it. No, sometimes he just wishes she’d… see him. See him for what he truly is and not run in the other direction screaming, who are you and what did you do to my gege?

But that’s selfish, isn’t it? He huffs with a small, wry smile.

While waiting for the event to commence, Gran eagerly watches the stage, and Caleb lowers his head.

She’ll be spreading her wings for real, an inner voice murmurs again, rubbing it in his face. And then she’ll fly away. Never come back to you. Leave our nest to make a new one.

That, oh, that thought— Caleb’s not a generally angry person, but that has choler flaring in his chest... Imagining somebody standing by her side that isn’t him fills him with a darkness he cannot label. But he’s trying to be good, a good older brother. He’s been… trying for so long, and…

Even if he knows deep down that if he doesn’t do something, she’ll fly away—

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Gran says beside him. She tucks her hand in the crook of his strong arm and he returns half the dimpled smile on her face.

Her words cannot be truer. His little sister is breathtaking; it’s the kind of beauty that will bring a man to his knees and plant soft longing in his heart. Evidently, though, it’s not the kind of beauty to bring a dog to heel…: she’s like a bowl of kibble and something rotten in him salivates at the smell of it.

It’s funny, you know, how much of a hypocrite he is. He gives her the saddest puppy eyes to get what he wants but there’s a big mean dog hiding in his heart. Barking and wanting.

Caleb curses himself. On the outside, he hums fondly. “Always. Hm… To be able to say I’m her big brother feels like an accomplishment in itself. I’m real proud’a her.”

Gran’s not looking at him; all eyes in the auditorium, including his, are leveled towards the stage and the spotlight raining over students shuffling in gowns. Caleb is thankful for that. Caleb has had a distinct self awareness since middle school, and he knows better than to let the love in his eyes- the kind that’s not entirely brotherly- reveal itself to any onlookers.

He’s kept on his toes by all the secrets he walks with. He’s kept on his toes by her.

“I can’t believe this day has come,” the elderly woman beside him (not tied to him by any biological means, but he loves her regardless) holds a tissue to her eyes and fights a teary smile. Caleb, utterly entranced by the familiar figure slowly inching closer to the podium and administrator, gives a noncomittal hum to show he’s heard, but his heart is knocking at the sight of his little sister. He can’t stop it. He can’t even slow it.

“Ah, my sweet girl…” (And why her sorrow-tinged, doting words echo some of the ones he keeps to himself, Caleb stopped caring.)

Gran, still not glancing at her adopted boy (albeit, there is close to nothing about Caleb that now resembles a boy), takes his large hand in her wrinkled one. Her free one dabs away an elusive tear.

“It’ll be even harder to see once she moves out and all. I’m sure she’ll want to keep exploring the world. I just… I just hope she visits more than you do, dear,” her voice warbles with sadness, but she’s only teasing him out of love.

A breathy, uneven laugh escapes his pursed lips. Caleb swallows thickly, “Yep. But that’s natural, wantin’ to find new opportunities and such... She’s really coming outta her shell, isn’t she? And… she’d better visit,” he says playfully, “The dinner table would feel awfully quiet without her during the holidays, huh?”

He’s not conscious of half the things he’s saying, operating under autopilot: robotically, he speaks in the voice of a teasing, somewhat protective older brother and nobody bats an eye to it.

On the inside, his feelings experience endless turbulence.

But he’d miss her if she left, that’s for certain. Words could never do him justice. He’s never exactly deserved that, though, has he?

He smiles to himself. Pathetic.

He told a nosey friend, once, that he had lost his marbles long ago. He’d said it with a smile- a genuine one, too- and as if it was no big deal. Because Caleb reconciled with his sin nature long ago.

He’s so proud of his meimei. So caught up by her.

Wants to marry her. Wants to blow all his pilot earnings on a big glittering ring for her precious little finger, wants to make all those childhood games, the ones where he played the dad and she the mom, come to life. Oh, if he’s being perfectly honest, he wants to—

“Caleb, honey, are you coming?”

A papery hand gives his bicep a gentle squeeze beneath his button-up. He’s pulled from his reveries and he blinks, noting the crowd as it begins to thin out and the stage that meimei has stepped off of. “She’ll be waiting for us, I’m sure. And nervous,” she explains with a light laugh, “but I think she’s very excited, too.”

(So excited to start your new life apart from me, huh, sis?)

The lower half of his face reshapes into a small smile as he looks down at Gran and nods with reassurance. He’s so good at providing consolation to others but somehow consistently fails to do so during his lone moments of self-reflection.

“I’d promised her I’d treat her to some ice cream at that new stall that just opened up,” he chuckles, and this time it does harbor some real mirth there, his eyes lighting, “I honestly think she was more excited for a special dessert than her own graduation.”

Gran laughs at that, too.

Then, he’s led away. Led to her and happy as a child.

After the ceremony ends, his very real fears of her suddenly leaving are put to rest for a moment when she leaps into his arms- just as she did when they were younger- and locks him in a hug.

He’ll always be a willing prisoner, in that regard. A slave to her affections and the strange sickness that rears its head in the pit of his stomach even when he tries his best to drown it.

She’s his lifering. The one thing keeping him afloat.

He looks over his shoulder, back at the shore. There’s a striking realization that he’s been dragged so far from it… And then he looks back out to sea.

Sometimes, Caleb thinks he’s closer to the point where the waves converge on the endless horizon than he is to dry land. And that’s fine with him. Because Meimei is holding his hand, doggy-paddling beside him.

He knows he shouldn’t try to drag her under. But sometimes, that’s all he fucking wants. For her to feel this way, too.

What a selfish gege.

✷✷✷

Caleb’s frame is hugged by an intense, golden light. Windchimes tinkle in the breeze and bring a nexus of soothing sounds.

The air is balmy. Unsmistakably summer.

You kick a pebble from your shoe and look over to Caleb with a small smile, his long legs keeping an even pace with you despite your slower one and all the dillydallying. The sun flares off one side of his head and it’s so bright you have to squint.

“It’s nearly time for dinner, you know,” even as he reminds you, he can’t fight off the grin playing at his own lips. It’s not exactly like he wants to truncate this moment with you, but hunger is creeping up on you both just as sundown is, and this brisk walk is urging it out. Your belly has voiced as much. After his laugh had died down, Caleb showed his concern but sighed when you brushed it off.

“It’s fine,” you tell him again. “I’m not fully dependent on snacks, you know,” and a dirty voice in the back of his head, a very dark corner, accuses, then what do you depend on? “We won’t starve if we eat one hour later... I mean, how hungry are you?” You poke.

(A lot. So much, Meimei.)

A casual smile curls his lips. Everything about him is so outwardly relaxed when he’s with you; it’d take some intense scrutiny to pick up on the little tells of restlessness he constantly shoehorns down inside him.

Anything to protect you though, right? Even if that means from himself.

He replies with thought, “Ehh… I guess walking a little farther wouldn’t hurt,” he shrugs with one shoulder, a teasing edge to his voice because those old habits die hard.

“Just don’t tell me to carry you if your feet start to hurt, pipsqueak.”

“Hah. As if! You know, I’ve been training a lot. Those hunter exams might even be harder than the Aviation’s.” Your light banter is rewarded with a small, incredulous laugh and a playful raise of his brow. Right now, he looks so boyish, youth lighting his face even as you pass under the tinsel-like leaves of a shady willow tree. “I’m serious, Caleb! My body’s probably more endurant than yours now.”

A challenge is brewing, and the signs are obvious. The anticipating glint in his eye, the slight posturing in his steps and the downright valorous grin you pin at him— all are suggestive of an upcoming game. He just has to throw his own hat over the wall to officially mark its start.

Of course, he does just that.

“Oh, really now?” He smiles and his eyes crinkle with amusement. He gives his head a tilt. “Are you trying to provoke me, sis? ‘Cause I’ll have you know that these muscles aren’t just for show...”

With a pout, you give his arm, thick and fully exposed under the frayed fabric of his tank, a harmless shove. Caleb’s heart has an anomalistic skip and his bicep tingles. It takes a considerable amount of effort to not snatch your little wrist up and force you to do it again.

“Oh, c’mon, you may be all big and strong now, but all that muscle will just slow you down.” (You’re getting him all sorts of riled up today, aren’t you? It’s good to know you look at him, that you acknowledge the man he’s become.)

“Do you wanna test that theory? We could do a race,” he suggests simply, a fluctuation of excitement in his voice betraying itself. “Because I’m ready to go right now.”

You huff, competitive as ever. “Oh, we’ll see about that!”

You roll your cropped sleeves an inch over your shoulders (as if to replicate his sleeveless tee) and Caleb watches with humor as they unfurl immediately. You dart your head around and land on a streetlamp at the end of the quiet, cobbled path.

”There,” you point, “that light over there will be the finish line. You have to touch it before the other person does or you lose. You’ll be a rotten egg.”

“You’re so childish.”

“You’re racing too, y’know.”

“Alright, alright,” he easily surrenders, lifting his palms up. Truthfully, he has no intentions of backing out now, try as he might to pretend he’s not equally invested in this as you. He sets his feet behind a crack in the paved stone, right beside yours, and nonchalantly prepares himself for liftoff. “But when I win—“

“Your toe’s in front of the line, Gege! Don’t think I didn’t see it!”

“—Don’t go cryin’ to Gran like old times and ignore me for the rest of the day, okay?”

A fleeting pink colors your cheeks, flowering across your face like a bruise at the mention. “Geez,” you deflect bashfully, “You’re so caught up in the past, Caleb.”

The accusation isn’t unwarranted. Your older brother has this strange penchant to keep all your childhood traits like a bag of tokens in his back pocket, forever ready to pull one out on a whim.

His gaze lowers for a moment at your innocuous teasing, and you watch with a mix of confusion and guilt as an offhand sadness weighs in his expression.

You open your mouth, about to find something to remedy the ever so slight shift in the air, but he lifts his head and his eyes are cheerful. Sunny and bottomless.

He looks at you infinitely. It’s as startling as it is endearing.

Your brow relaxes when you give him a once-over and sense no lingering sorrow there, or any evidence that it even appeared to begin with. Maybe it’s just the heat getting to you.

“Well,” he smiles, teasing to a fault. “You ready, or… do you plan on chickenin’ out? I’ll let you if you admit defeat right now. Otherwise, don’t be a sore loser.”

You wave him off and level your eyes forward. “Psssh, sore loser….” Thrill beats in your ears with a rushing current of blood. You plant your hands to the gritty cobblestone and lean forward.

“The moment you agreed,” your little grin sparks back to life, “you lost, Gege.”

Oh, and he is just the rotten egg, isn’t he? The perverted dud and the lying, selfish asshole.

The wormy apple.

✷✷✷

There’s just some things in life you can never quite wipe from your memory.

Here’s one: The first time Caleb was called a sister-fucker.

He remembers that day and how condemning it felt. Like he’d been made the object of some irrevocable curse. It was unwarranted, it was: some stupid playground bullies were mouthing off after he rushed to your rescue for the umpteenth time, and the word flew like a witch would on a broom. Caleb was not prepared for that stab in his little heart.

That was in middle school, and he was angry. Ashamed, too. All sorts of clashing feelings, really. Those little brats said the f-word in front of you, his innocent little meimei, and to make matters worse, Caleb was not sure if the majority of his anger should lie with their accusation or his inability to determine whether it was grounded or not.

He was hardly fourteen, then, and you were twelve. He never laid his hands on you that way. No, never thought about it. He hardly had the capacity to, at that time.

At that time.

But that moment stayed with him,… and that dirty, dirty epithet was one that remained around the block until one day something peaked in him- that shame climbing to its point- and he beat it from their mouths.

It never did end up getting back around to you. For a number of reasons, Caleb is glad for that. Just to name a couple: It saved him from the flaming red ears, and the awkward chat the bird-and-the-bees topic surely would have been.

When it got around to Gran, though…

‘Caleb, dear, is there…’ The elderly woman, for all her experience in fostering children, was not exactly sure how to broach the subject- which was oddly risqué, and downright horrifying it if were to be true- with her young boy.

But she didn’t think it was true: sure, the two were exceptionally close, she trailed him like a lost puppy and he had some underlying impulse to anchor himself beside her at any given time, but they laughed and played and Caleb was always the archetype of a- sometimes cheeky, sometimes clingy- older brother.

Their behavior was considered very normal for their circumstances, she’d thought. They seemed inseparable upon the first meet. With their close bond came the occasional spat and meaningless argument, but that only served as more proof of their strictly sibling dynamic, too.

Gran thought about it for only a moment before finding her peace, and shortly after her words.

‘Why are those boys saying such things? What did you do to make them have it out for you?’ She was gentle but firm with him. Caleb was not afraid of her; just maybe the awful, creeping feeling in his gut that told him he was in the wrong after all.

‘N-Nothin’, Gran… They got upset because I wouldn’t let them pick on Meimei… Don’t worry though, I covered her ears so she wouldn’t hear them.’

But it’s not like he ever imagined actually laying his hands on you— L-Let alone fucking. Even as a boy, he had the sound-enough subconscious to shut away those fleeting, invasive thoughts and put some space between you two when he was feeling… extra confused.

Caleb’s twenty-one now, though. And you’re nineteen and things are different. Those tender, innocent feelings of love from your shared youths- the one-sided romance of your bond- has by now fully realized itself. It’s bled out into ruby-red fingers of desire like watercolor on a page, and they grasp Caleb tight. Refuse to let go. He’s not a boy anymore. And he’s not particularly kind anymore, either. His softness is a luxury that only you’re entitled to but every touch feels like a beatdown because of it.

Yeah he might be overbearing sometimes but you’re just as abrasive. You cut him in ways you could never know.

But Caleb’s not a sister-fucker. He’s not.

And he’s not all the shame associated with that title and the big fat cluster of intricate emotions like guilt, loneliness, and terrible, terrible longing… H-He’s not.

No— He hasn’t even fucked you yet.

✷✷✷

Two weeks. Caleb is allotted two weeks off from his responsibilities at the Aerospace Academy to spend the start of summer with you.

Late June marks your graduation and the beginning of an exciting break the both of you had been planning for months to share. Between a taxing schedule and study papers that pile up if he so much as thinks about holding off on them, Caleb is a bit pressed for free time. He’d been counting down the days until he arrived back in Linkon.

Now that it’s finally here- your mini summer ‘vacation’, as you’d called it- he won’t take any of it for granted.

He’s savored every little moment with you since childhood- no stranger to the sentimental. But as you emerge from your bedroom with a cute bikini with a white frilly skirt that hardly covers your ass, Caleb decides this memory needs to be given a little extra care.

You flutter past him and down the hall, sheepishly nodding for him to follow, and he realizes he’s been staring a little too long without saying anything. He plasters on a nonchalant grin and sticks his hands in the pockets of his swim trousers. “Okay, sis…” He compliments in his tone.

“You, uh… you ready to go now?” He asks, propping himself against the kitchen arch to watch you pour yourself some water. He reminds that there’s juice in the fridge and you quickly forego the tap. He chuckles at that.

You try to hide a shy smile from him, too much energy in your heels to not sway as you move around the kitchen. There’s a small ball of nerves in your belly and you can’t help but feel a bit naked in your two-piece. You bought it because you’d thought it was adorable, but truthfully you feel a bit out of place- under scrutiny, maybe- as you uncap the fruit juice.

“I’m ready,” you announce casually. “But did you see my bathing suit?”

“W-What about it? Yeah, it… looks nice.” He answers a bit breathlessly.

You look over your shoulder before picking up your glass and marching over. His gaze flutters when you do, like he’s bracing himself for something. In stature, he’s nothing like the round-faced kid you grew up with, standing over six feet tall with lean muscle to hug his broad frame, but right now, he looks almost boyish with anticipation.

On the way to him, you stuff down that inexplicable kernel of unease. You pretend your pulse isn’t fastening, too.

A quasi reaction of fight-or-flight stirs in your chest. For the life of you you don’t know why. Maybe you don’t wanna know.

You smile. Gege, solid arms folded over his muscled chest, regards you with a strange look. It disappears under a veneer of brotherly charm— gone like a feverish hot flash of something unreal.

You stop a few inches in front of him. “See?” You chirp, piking your shoulder up for him to observe. “The red polka dots are actually apples. Since you like them so much.”

After a pause- one that seems to stretch infinitely but is actually only brief- you watch Caleb’s cheeks turn to rubies. Heat flares at his ears.

He sets his jaw and lets out a small scoff, eyes flitting everywhere. “W-What are you sayin’, pipsqueak? You got it… just for me?”

“Ugh, no, Caleb!” You giggle with a hint of disbelief. “I just thought it was cute but wanted to show you.”

With an annoyed pout, you spin away from him and head for the island. On top of it, a cooler sits, its lid open. You nurse from your icy drink as you wedge a variety of cold beverages and the sandwiches he made at the bottom.

“Yeah, yeah,” he recollects himself and joins you at the counter, coming to your aid without prompting. “Well, I think it’s cute too. But don’tcha think it’s a little… showy? I’ll be sweating bullets the whole time we’re at the beach.”

You laugh under your breath, only half paying attention. Certainly not to the intense glint in his eye as he watches your profile, anyway. “Why? And you won’t be sweating if we’re in the water.”

“I don’t want any guys gettin’ the wrong idea,” he lilts, but there’s a notable tinge of seriousness there. “Thinkin’ my pipsqueak isn’t off limits.”

A soft pink warms your cheeks this time. “It’s fine, Caleb,” you murmur, dutifully ignoring his gaze- which you are now exceedingly aware of. “Everyone’ll be minding their own business- they’ll hardly be looking at me.”

Wryly, Caleb closes the cooler and raises his brow.

“Doubt it.”

He seems as if he has a lot more to say, but apparently holds off on it.

When you return home, it’s close to five and Gran has finished her errands. She sits in the living room on the lovechair, holding a cushion on her lap as she watches the news.

You hardly have time to greet her on the way down the hall: you bump shoulders and race with Caleb for the bathroom shower. Maybe he’s going a little easy on you (per usual), but you’re too tunneled in on reaching it in time to scold him for it.

“Ladies first!” You say with victory, grinning through the crack in the door as it groans with pressure, halfway open. Caleb crams his elbow in it to show he won’t give up so easily. You’re met with his bunched brow, his sun-dried, messy hair and a grudging smile he can’t quite fight off.

“Be a good gege and wait your turn!” You tell him.

The title weakens him. His hand falters and you manage to shut the door. The lock clicks softly.

“Alright, alright,” his voice sounds muted from the other side. His footsteps, retreating down the hallway after a belated few seconds, emit defeat.

Maybe some frustration, too.

Either that, or his feet have just gotten heavy.

“But if you use up all the hot water,” he warns, “I won’t let you help me with dinner. Just remember that. And let’s be real, I know you’re hungry.”

Well, he has you beat there. Maybe he knows you just as well as you do him.

It’s an endearing thought, actually; as the warm water pours, you slough away the sticky layer of sea salt and the sand glued to it with a smile. Once these two weeks are over, you’ll go right back to your normal life: your brother will return to the clouds and you’ll have to pretend, between a steady stream of pining texts and phonecalls meant to check in on you, that you don’t miss your gege. Even if sometimes, all you want is to leap back into time and hold his hand, cower behind his shoulder to escape the daunting fear of growing up.

You have responsibilities now. Dreams you’re meant to follow. You’ll train to be a hunter and then officially enroll into their program. Caleb will become a bonafide pilot within a couple months, achieving his lifelong dream, and might leave you in his proverbial contrails.

It’ll be just you and Gran, until you pack your boxes for an apartment downtown closer to your future workplace. Family will become a distant memory, a fading speck on the horizon or a phantom pain that tugs at your heart.

But… maybe that’s just what growing up means. Letting go of everything behind you. Caleb would certainly be able to relate with the sentiment that- other than each other and Gran- there was little to hold onto in the first place.

But… You’re not so sure about all of it. Maybe you’ll have to ask your gege for advice around the dinner table. You have no clue what will happen a month or year down the line, and to be perfectly honest that terrifies you, but for now—

You’ll make the most of this break with him and Gran all together.

✷✷✷

Half of it flies by in a blur.

Movie nights with buttery popcorn and long strolls by Bloomshore turn into fuzzy lines as soon as you look back at them. Once-quiet suppers with just you and Gran are revived with the cheerful presence of your brother, and the cabinets are filled with new snacks the two of you buy on impulse to test out.

You chase him around your cozy, childhood home demanding he deletes those awful pics of you- and the woman who took you both in as children calls from the couch for him to stop terrorizing you already.

He always swears it’s in good fun, but submits to your whining. Not without a flick to your forehead, though. It never hurts, but you make sure to stick your tongue in his face.

Evenings are spent on the floor by the coffee table.

Caleb busts out an old, wooden box from the closet and speaks in a wistful tone as you pass nostalgic photos and yellowed notes between each other. You’re about to poke at him for being so sentimental, but you spot a little mist in his eyes, so you refrain.

There’s six days left, tonight.

Neither of you remind the other of this ticking clock of sorts, but sometimes it will get quiet after a bout of laughter and you think you can feel it in the blanketing tension— the wordless countdown to zero.

X amount of days until I leave for Skyhaven. And, X amount of days until Caleb leaves us again.

You can hear it snicking like a stopwatch- and not the one Caleb wears.

A fan on the floor cools the balmy evening, but just a little.

You lie on your belly- utterly stuffed from another delicious meal- on his bed while he assembles a model. It’s some aircraft that you can’t hope to remember the name of, but he’s always gravitated towards that kind of thing, in more ways than one.

You kick your feet and moan with boredom when his eyes take on a very concentrated look and he hunches over the figure in his hands. He pokes his tongue out the corner of his mouth, he’s so engrossed.

Many minutes seem to pass. “Are you almost done, Caleb? We were ‘sposed to watch a movie tonight.”

Without glancing up, he chuckles lightly. “Be patient, pipsqueak. You know, it’ll go faster if you help me out here,” he suggests, nodding towards a few wayward pieces on the edge of the mattress. He scoops them up before they call fall off.

”Or are ya just gonna watch me do all the work?” He looks up to you and smiles. It’s soft. Smitten, almost.

You huff. “Fine. Okay, I’ll help.”

“Knew ya wouldn’t leave me hangin’.”

Seemingly pleased, his purple eyes stare for a moment longer before lowering. They remind you of the nebula sometimes: all bottomless and resplendent, and sometimes they get a little starry if you catch them for too long.

You’ve seen them darken like black holes before, though; some deep chasm taking over whenever his protectiveness flares up or he asks you, with his hand held tightly in yours, who made you cry. Then, he’s a force to be reckoned with, devoid of warmth and sharp-edged.

“Caleb, can I… ask you something?”

Caleb glances up immediately. Noting the sobriety of your expression and the lack of playfulness in your tone, he gives a quick nod. He lowers the half-constructed model- the one his hands absolutely dwarf- as if it’s no longer important.

“Of course,” he says. He gives his head a little reassuring tilt. “If there’s anything you’re curious about, you can tell me.”

You let out a small sigh. “Will you visit again? Visit more, I mean?”

He blinks and appears contemplative for a few seconds. Yet, you get the strange feeling that it’s less him trying to formulate an answer and more like he’s trying to figure out just what prompted your asking in the first place.

“Sure, whenever I get time,” he answers with a simple shrug. “You know I wish I could be here all the time, sis… For you and Gran,” but mostly you, he doesn’t clarify, “but the Academy is no joke. I need to work hard if I want to get in.”

His endless scores of A’s and A-pluses reflect his convictions. It’s really only one subject he can’t find it in him to master: Those damned, annoying mental wellness checks. (He thinks that all those less than reputable scores— they don’t reflect him, they reflect you.)

He smiles. “Then, I’ll be able to really support us.”

“Yeah…” You sigh softly after a beat. “But, like… what if you stop visiting? You’ll find a girlfriend and then never come to see me and Gran again,” you mask your very real concerns with a weak laugh.

Caleb’s brow gives a little twitch.

His expression falls, then, like swirling grey clouds that nudge aside white fluffy ones. Something in your chest seizing, you understand it’s disgust that rewrites his pleasant visage.

You just… don’t know why.

“Why would I get a girlfriend?”

You stare on with confusion. For a moment, you feel stunned because you’ve never seen him make that face before.

It takes an extra second or two to lasso in your rationale and laugh. “Well, you’re like twenty-something now. Isn’t that just what happens? You’ll find a girlfriend and I guess I’ll find a boyfriend. I mean, I bet Gran will be happy too if one of us brings home some babies—“

A derisive scoff cuts you off. “Babies?” He throws back, peering up at you through long lashes. He takes on the perfect Kubrick stare.

The scathing sound of his voice and the shadowy look in his eyes is more than enough to zip your lips. “Don’t you think we’re a little too young for that? Besides, we don’t have to do anything right now… If we want to stay single, that’s perfectly fine.”

A few moments of uninterrupted silence pass and leave you with no choice but to reflect on your actions. You inwardly ask yourself if you did something wrong. It certainly feels that way.

You give your throat an inaudible clear. “I was just teasing, Caleb, geez,” you brush off his intense stare by looking down.

The aircraft model looks big and unbreakable in your grasp, a far cry from how it appears when held in his. You distract yourself from the startled beating of your heart by rotating it in your hand.

“Y-You can dish it out, but you can’t take it?”

You don’t meet his eye when saying that, not when he’s regarding you like you’re little more than prey or tomorrow’s dinner. No, you don’t dare to.

Gege is reliable by nature. But you suppose he can exhibit his fair amount of ‘intimidating’ when need be.

You feel an unseen weight lift off your shoulders (when they became cowed, you don’t know) when Caleb heaves a sigh.

He’s apologetic, “Sorry, sis. You’re right. Talking about it just… freaks me out a little. I mean, I barely have the time to even think about it, let alone prepare.” He pauses for a moment, as if waiting for your input.

When you look back up at him, it’s as if nothing ever happened. As if he never changed.

His eyes beam like indigo gems, sunny and unaffected. He leans forward to pat your head and it takes a strangely high amount of effort to not flinch under the weight of his palm.

If he notices, his mild expression doesn’t betray any signs.

“Why, what’s up?” He quirks a playful brow. “You’re not… Seeing someone, are you?” Caleb questions with a light laugh, hands moving to fold over the plastic plane in his hands, though his gaze remains level on you. Glued there like he physically cannot take it off until you provide him with an answer.

“Did my pipsqueak fall in love with some boy while I was gone?”

A harsh gust of wind escapes you at that. A laugh, you realize, or what’s supposed to be a laugh. You resume inserting pieces into place, adamant on building the miniature aircraft.

Your cheeks feel toasty. He’s managed to make you feel startled, ashamed, and bashful all within the span of a minute or two. It’s as impressive as it is whiplash-inducing.

Your gege is watching you very carefully as you lower your chin and purse your lips. “No…” you say sheepishly. “If I did, I’d be spending the summer with him instead of you,” you tease.

That proclamation rings loud in Caleb’s ears like a gunshot bang.

She’ll spread her wings, and fly away.

He should be joyous that there is still an absence of that ‘special someone’ in your life, that he indeed is the one spending the prelude to summer with you.

But all he feels is a lump of dread forming in his belly.

It fattens and makes it hard to breathe. She’ll spread her wings and fly away. Leave you in her dust and all the memories. All the love.

”Yeah? Well, consider me lucky then.”

Something in his chest plummets. Too rapid to catch it. Too monstrous to hope to.

He lets it sink. Feels himself going with it. It’s getting so hard to hold out, Meimei. But don’t look at him with those eyes of wide startle. It’s still the Caleb you loved from your childhood, your beloved Gege.

Just with a whole lotta love that you couldn’t even begin to fucking fathom.

…Six days. Six days left.

He’s been granted a final, measly six days to change your mind and convince you that he’s still got a place in your life, in your heart. That it’s reserved only for him.

An uncanny smile warps Caleb’s lips.

“I’ll always visit,” he assures. “And don’t worry, sis… Once I get a girlfriend, you’ll definitely be the first one to know, okay?” He chuckles, a pleasant sound.

A pretty smile smooths out the remnant lines of uncertainty in your face. “Okay. And… I can visit you in Skyhaven, too?”

Delirious excitement blips across purple eyes, his grin too bright.

“Sure,” he cheerfully agrees. “Even better.”

✷✷✷

White dots his vision like a light leak seconds before you barge in.

That tight knot, the one that had been wrapping his stomach in threads of want and frustration and need, begins to unfurl at full pelt, and Caleb quivers as it happens.

Those academy girls could never quite compete with his pumping fist or the swirling thoughts in his head he gets himself off to. But he supposes they served their purposes where they could— in those moments of foolish thinking where he thought they could heal him and needed to at least make an attempt. To clear his conscious, if nothing else.

(Spoiler alert, a humored voice in his head says dryly. They didn’t. And of course they didn’t. They were never his precious little Meimei. That’s no one’s fault but his own for believing he could get ‘better.’

No. ‘Better’ is you. It always has been.)

He’s learned from all that, though. Played all those games- and people- ‘til they tuckered him out.

Relief bowls through him. That’s just what he needs, isn’t it? A little help. He’s never considered these short-lived sessions of fucking his fist a way to summon pleasure, no- although that is very much present when he does- but rather as a kind of damage control.

He’s too pent up and needy. He needs to take the edge off, somehow, lest some of that frustration teems over when he’s talking to you and he messes up. Messes up in a way he can’t fix.

After all, he’s entitled to his own self-soothing mechanisms, isn’t he?

Or… what, is he just meant to deny himself of that, too?

Caleb bites down on a deep moan and shakes.

Pleasure courses through his veins and builds to a high peak, certainly not one he can hope to climb down from in the short time it takes you to run down the hall and into his bedroom.

“Caleb, guess what—“

And, you know, it’s already embarrassing as is, being interrupted in a personal moment and caught in such a compromising position, but what makes it worser is when it’s your own little sister who walks in to find you with your cock in your hand.

What makes it… mortifying?

When she hears you saying her name during it.

When she gasps, her eyes losing their initial glitter as they flit down, his cock gives a shameless throb and Caleb can’t decipher if the lurch in his belly is from disgust or newfound arousal.

Either way, he realizes his nakedness and scrambles to fold the sheets over it.

(Bit too late for that though, huh?)

With labored breaths, he makes a sound akin to a whimper, voice thin and pained, and lets his jaw hang dumbly.

You seem to cotton on to reality once more, because you finally take a step back- a shaky, belated one- and begin to retreat into the sunlit hallway.

Evening casts a cherry-orange glow on the white walls that flickers when you backstep into one of the beams filtering from the window. It makes you look fiery and almost hellish. But he’s a sinner. A sinner by nature and so you’re inviting.

(And he came to terms with his sin nature long ago. Sometimes it just feels like he’s waiting on you.)

His love— so deep and fervent, spread in the pit of his being like apple seeds, tearing him apart from the core— brings endless guilt, maybe, but not regret. No, nothing is regrettable about you. And he’s sorry, he’s so fucking sorry, Meimei, that he’s a monstrous liar and he desperately wishes it wasn’t like this, that you could see him separate from a brother, but—

He can’t stop. He can’t stop.

And there’s a certain instant… where he’s had to pause and really look at himself and ask if he truly wants to.

What he feels for you is suffocating. Like an eldritch river beast snatching his ankle and dragging him down hopeless, louring depths. But he pictures your face in perfect peace and wears your locket close to his heart. He loves you endlessly. Would do it all for you.

Just… Maybe pretending he doesn’t feel what he feels for you isn’t apart of that equation.

He senses your departure with a stab of inexplicable panic. “Meimei,” he quickly stammers, reaching out with his free hand.

His other hand, the one with wet, dripping knuckles, sticky with his own seed, darts to hide behind him, placing a proverbial cloth over his sin.

He has half the brain that already wants to mitigate this situation as it plays out in front of him in real-time, and he’s all but praying a ‘clean-up’ of sorts is viable here...

The scale doesn’t quite seem to be tipping in his favor though and honest to God, he’s not surprised. He deserves it if anything, for being such a selfish, awful big brother. Oh, doesn’t he know.

You look horrified, and you are. It feels as if you’ve been splashed with cold water. Your chest warms like a hearth and tightens, but your limbs frost over. Icy-hot shock keeps you moored in the threshold of his bedroom door with wide, fluttering eyes.

“Wait, don’t go, i-it’s not—“

A feeble lie. Wholly unconvincing.

You’re naive to a fault, that’s been true since you were kids, and too kindhearted for your own good, but this is not a matter wherein you can feign ignorance... It’s not one where you’re running into his arms, either.

No, you look… afraid as you back away from him. Like his arms come dead last on the list of places you want to be.

Paired with the mute horror is abashment. A vivid pink glazes your cheekbones and Caleb, guiltily, thinks you look very pretty (albeit, he can’t remember there ever being a time where he didn’t think that).

You recollect just enough of your composure to pick up your jelly legs and maneuver them out.

The door clicks shut and the sound is too soft to warrant the tempest gusting through his chest. His heart thrums at racehorse speeds.

He said your name, Meimei (or more accurately, moaned it), and you heard it. He came, and you saw that, too- fountaining over the backs of his fingers like white water rapids. You… saw it all. Saw him.

A niggling feeling stirs inside him. Filthy and blinding but brief. It passes like a car in the night, there and then gone.

A voice purrs to life in the back of his head, one of greed and frustration. One of miserable longing. He listens to it for a moment, and it brings him catharsis.

The loneliness constantly enveloping him like fog at a mountain’s foot seems to thin out, but just a little... It allows some wiggle room for a warped sense of accomplishment to settle.

Because you saw him.

(And isn’t that all he ever wanted?)

Slowly, Caleb licks his dry lips and hazily notes the twitch of his cock against his wet abdomen. It’s flushed an angry red as it crawls back to life, but Caleb tucks it under the waistband of his boxers and contemplates his next move.

You’ll be in disarray, in shock, in a boiling pot of disgust and the likely, self-sabotaging questions of, is this somehow my fault? Maybe he’ll even capitalize off them— screwed-up, pathetic gege he is.

But you saw him and there’s just no denying it and now there’s no hiding place for him either. Not anymore.

This truth… you can both navigate it together.

There’s a pulsating mix of terror, guilt, and scorching excitement that takes the breath from his lungs as he lies back down. Relief moves in a thin undercurrent in his blood, reassuring him that it’ll be okay. Somehow, it will.

Little devils perch on either of Caleb’s shoulders. He feels a very odd sense of calm wash over him. You saw it. So…

Do you accept it?

He thinks you might just have to. For your gege’s sake, if nothing else. Because Meimei, this has been killing him for far too long.

Relieve him, why don’t you?

✷✷✷

His vacation of sorts is coming to a close.

Caleb blinks, and a few days scurry underfoot like mice— too quick to stop or comprehend. He steps on the tail ends of them, but they escape anyway.

You’ve been avoiding him.

Stowing yourself away in your bedroom and locking the door just in case he tries to come in; you don’t exactly expect him to come barging in like you did, especially not after what you’d seen, but you’d rather be safe than sorry.

You’re not afraid of your gege, you’re not. You never have been. But these past few days have felt nothing short of hellish.

You tell Gran you’re not feeling well when she asks why you’ve been skipping family dinners. She leaves a water bottle by the door with a tiny orange pill on top and believes you.

Sure, you told your tall tale or two growing up, and Caleb always had your back when you needed to cover up a small wrongdoing, but this is… different. To pretend that nothing is happening right now- or that it’s all fine- would be more than just a white lie.

Something is wrong with your Gege. Terribly.

You… don’t know what to do.

You love him. And you hate him, hate him in a way you never could when he used to steal your snacks as a child or conveniently forget to unlock the attic hatch.

These battling feelings only serve to complicate the situation further; your stomach is a war-ground of guilt, sorrow, and a disgust that viciously razes your wellbeing to the dirt.

How could you do this, Caleb? You think to yourself, curled up on your side, nuzzling into a heap of pillows. You’re under the illusion that this was an overnight thing. That he up and decided just a couple days ago to do the unthinkable- the reprehensible- and vocalize your name in the act. You don’t why he did it. What he was thinking. But whatever the reason could be, perhaps you don’t want to know.

Your own Gege….

Anger beats in your chest. Fear, too- making your belly toss with sickness. Now the future is more blurry than ever, and the one person you always leaned on for counsel has all but spat in your face. That’s what it feels like, at least. Like betrayal.

Hours drag by and you fall victim to endless swarms of butterflies, but not the good kind. The anxious kind. They fly in droves and absolutely piece you apart.

Guilt lances at your heart as you curse him in your head, and you hate that despite it all, you still feel the undercurrents of love for him.

For the entirety of your childhood, he was your shield. Your best friend, your protector, and the one person in the whole entire world you could always count on- perhaps more than Gran- to be there for you. Your teasing but well-meaning older brother. Now, you realize just how strong that sentiment is, because it stubbornly remains. Even now as you clench your teeth and hold back tears.

It’s buried under layers of hurt, though. A feeling of betrayal that pierces bone-deep and spreads all over.

He’s sick. Depraved. A voice in a dark cranny of your brain whispers, bitter and scared. But these new, scathing adjectives you assign your gege are just as surprising as they are uncertain, because no matter how many times you mentally call him a sick monster, your heart sings a weak song against it.

No. No, he’s not a monster. He’s your Gege.

Maybe you can fix this, somehow.

Maybe… Maybe it was a misunderstanding after all! Some rotten delusion you experienced fueled by the summer heat and the humid haze of late June. Even if it wasn’t- maybe you’d just be content to pretend it was. You’ll seal your little pinky with his and he’ll make a vow to never bring it up again; you’ll accept a lie, even, if he says it never happened to begin with.

You’ll do it. You’ll pretend. The two of you will go back to normal and he’ll leave for Skyhaven and you’ll eventually send in your final admission to the Hunter’s Association. You’ll be accepted in and you’ll forget him. Forget him until he pays his one or two occasional visits during the holidays. By that time, though, you’ll already have gotten your new place and it’ll serve as an excuse to never have to fucking see him again—

You don’t want to see him again.

A little sob escapes you.

You feel sick to your stomach. Nausea churns in your gut like milkfat in a butterbell. You shut your eyes desperately to bat away a flurry of intrusive, bitter thoughts, but it hardly works.

How could he do this to the both of you—?

Could you confide in Gran about this? If you told her, would she find help for Caleb or spank him like old times-? or would she start looking at you with cold, repulsed eyes as if it was your fault?

Is… Is it your fault?

A sequence of knocks sounds at the door.

For how gentle they are, you really shouldn’t flinch so hard.

Your breath hitches. Your fingers curl around your blankets and tighten.

“Y/n,” the voice on the other side of the door is honeyed and low. You note the sadness in it and immediately wish you didn’t as a throbbing sweeps through your chest. “It’s…. It’s me. It’s Caleb,” he sighs out. “W-Will you… let me in?”

Your response is quick. “No,” you say dully, feigning meanness. “I don’t feel well.”

“What’s hurting?” He seamlessly chirps in a light voice, concerned. You’re just thankful he hasn’t tried for the knob yet, despite knowing you’d locked it anyway. “You still have your meds out here… I guess Gran left them for you, huh? Do you want me to bring them to you—“

“Just- go away, Caleb,” you manage to say his name, but it’s in a gritted, forced breath. Something in your heart does a 180 degree twist as the title leaves your mouth. A salty tear rolls in and wets your tongue.

You take a shaky breath in and try to mask your sorrow. That’s near impossible.

“L-Leave me alone.”

A pause.

For a second, you’re almost dumb enough to believe he’s turned around and left.

A palm, large and worried, presses to your bedroom door. “Are you crying? Meimei- let me in, please,” comes his fretting voice. “I need to see you.”

Meimei. The title, once wrapped with affection and warmth, sends a cold chill down your spine. You ought to open that door just to give him a black eye and a wake-up slap to reality. He needs that— and desperately.

A wave of anger, frothy and hot, rides over that feeling of disgust- but just for a moment.

You sit up in bed and sneer at the locked door, “I need you to leave. Go, Caleb! I don’t wanna see you anymore, don’t you get it?!”

It’s a strange thing, how you’re currently blind to his expression but you can clearly imagine it regardless: anguish bunching his brow as his whole face falls. You’ve seen that face before, and now you’re seeing it in your head. It’s paired with a very real, pained sound he makes.

You hate the guilt that hits you, barreling through you at the sound of his strained voice. Growing up, there was always a reason why he called you a cry baby, why Gran told you to guard your heart. Because it’s fucking weak. Prone to your gege.

He leans his full weight against the door. Fists planted there as he hangs his head.

“Don’t say that!” he forces out. “You don’t mean it. Let me come in. I’ll explain to you what happened— a-anything you wanna know. Just…” He pauses for a moment, exasperated.

“I only have three days left to see you. Don’t leave me like this.”

Three days…

You force your eyelids shut. Your nostrils flare.

“Please,” he says, and drives the final nail in the coffin home. Your, coffin.

You’re about to get up from your bed, plastering on a cool face as you prepare to untwist your limbs from your blankets. You drag one leg up from your sheets before a mental image- one you never want to acknowledge as real- stops you in place.

(Meimei, he moans. Meimei meimei meimei, nmmph—)

You stoop your head and cry harder.

“Dammit, sis,” his voice warbles opposite the door. “Let me in, you’re not okay- don’t cry, don’t cry,” he hushes, but you cut off his tender, admittedly effective tries at consolation with a sharp shout.

“Tell me,” you grit. “Tell me you didn’t mean it! That all of it was just some- some- I don’t know! Just tell me it won’t happen again,” you whimper, “That it never did.”

“Please, Gege.”

His reply comes quick. After a loud, shuddering breath that rattles the last of your wellbeing and oozes confidence.

“No,” he says lowly, assured. “It did. It did happen, sis. It’s been happening. You just… didn’t know.”

Revulsion lands a punch to your gut. Direct and vomit-inducing.

“N-No—“

“I’m sorry,” he interjects sadly. A very deep convinction bleeds into his words a second later, though, strengthening them. “I never meant to hurt you. But I don’t regret the way I feel. I love you, Y/n. I love you more than you could ever know. So… let me in. C’mon- Let your Gege see you just one more time, or will you send me back to Skyhaven without so much as a goodbye?”

Furious, you shout for as loud as your frightened throat will allow.

“NO! Leave, Caleb! I don’t wanna see—“

The door makes a sound. It echoes around the four walls of your cozy bedroom and you watch in mute horror as the knob, with the tiny slat lock and all, begins to turn.

Without using his hands, Caleb pushes the door open with his Evol.

He takes a proper moment before stepping in- almost as if preparing himself- something flashing across his face before withering away. You think it takes some piece of him with it.

But when he does take that first stride in, you get the cold, unshakable feeling that he is no longer your Gege, not anymore.

Some monster in him has been fully realized: it’s sloughed its skin- the sweet, doting face of your older brother- like a snake and embraced its scales. It can only crawl on its belly and it only crawls towards you.

(And now, all there’s left to do is place that apple in your hand—)

“It’s gonna be okay, sis. I’m right here. Gran doesn’t have to know. And if she finds out- it doesn’t matter. I’ll take you someplace else. Fly you far away, if I had to—“

“C-Caleb, stop,” as he nears your bedside, you demand your legs to move but they won’t- anchored in place like bags of sand. Tears path down your cheeks and put a chink in his armor; his brooding face faltering.

You know, just between the two of you, growing up, he was always a bit soft, too.

“It’ll be just the two of us and no one’ll lay a hand on you, I pinky promise. I’ll be a pilot within a month and get you anything you could ever dream of,” his quivering lips curl into a smile- a genuine, manic one- as he takes your smaller hand in his own and kisses the back of it.

You try to tug it away to no avail. You suppose he was right, a handful of days ago, saying his muscles weren’t just for decoration. If he wants to overpower you, he can, and that’s a terrifying thought you don’t want to believe in but it’s looking like you might have to grow out of this blind trust you always held for him. It’s looking like there’s no better time to start that than now.

Your lungs heave, “Caleb, what are you—?”

“Remember, when we were younger? you’d called me selfish once or twice,” he chuckles, a light sound. “And you were right, Meimei. I am selfish. But you should take a page from my book sometime, too. I’ll let you, ya know. Just say the word, and—“

Panic taking control of you, you regain feeling in your bones and launch a foot at him.

It’s seized, instantly. Suspended in midair— floating unnaturally without so much as a touch or grab. He’s holding it up, keeping you pinned beneath him, with his gravity manipulation skill and you realize with another sob that you cannot escape your Gege, not in heart and not in body, not ever.

His eyes trail to yours after a thick moment, indigo irises dancing with darkness, impatience, and the smallest beat of hurt. As if this pains him more than you.

What an asshole. A lying, selfish— manipulative asshole.

The sweet, kindhearted boy Gran raised to be your brother—

“Are you… tryin’ to hit me?” he laughs, lifting a deceptively flippant brow. “Hm, that’s alright. I can tell what you’re thinking, Meimei, that you don’t recognize me at all right now, right..?”

His fingers, long and slim, do close around your floating leg, then. They draw your calf to his face and he peppers a chaste kiss to it. It lingers and makes you feel sick— butterflies erupting in your stomach at the way he looks up at you, lashes framing a reverent look that borders on delusional.

Mortification settles when you realize they’re not just the anxious kind, those butterflies: Your body seems to be just as traitorous as the brunette hunched over you.

“But it’s me, Caleb. Your own gege,” you wonder if it’s a scoff, the little breath he looses, or something else, but he appears almost disappointed with himself for a fraction of a second—

Gone.

“So let me take care of you. If you don’t let me now… you’ll just be delaying the inevitable. Might as well just… rip the bandaid off, right? It’ll be okay, just have a little faith in me. I- I can’t keep pretending anymore. But it doesn’t have to end with you crying,” he reasons with furrowed brows, hands descending to pin yours to the bed and entwine your fingers with his. He hovers over you and nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, sighing with deep content. It’s a mockery of a lovers’ embrace.

But to Caleb, it’s the real thing.

“I want us to be happy. Just let go, Meimei. Let go and let me take care of you. I… always have, haven’t I?” He murmurs, lips planting a kiss- the first of many- to the thumping column of your throat.

(—All there’s left to do is place that apple in your hand, and watch you take the bite.)

[let-me-iiiiiiiin]

I feel like he'd be like "what?? Bingge is looking for me? Bingge is tracking me down?" But his brain cells turn back on and he'd instead think, "oh, it's not bingge obviously— Luo Binghe isn't real. That must mean that airplane is tracking me down? Is he telling me that he can easily doxx me? There are way easier methods to do that than write an entire saga of an arc about my favourite protagonist hunting me down!!"

I don't think he would take action against "airplane" tbh— if he does, proud immortal demon way will be discontinued, and that'd mean no binghe, for the rest of his life. But he can avoid him! (Such as, you know, moving away, getting some internet safety tools, avoiding the routes that are detailed in the chapters...)

Weird thing is, that doesn't stop "airplane". The chapters mention that he's changed locations, but the new location doesn't take much to discover at all, not for bingge. Shen Yuan starts feeling scared at this point, but he tells himself he isn't. Airplane is just some messy, absentminded, just-for-lolz kinda guy who couldn't even write a single decent novel. If he actually appears before him, Shen Yuan wouldn't be scared, he'd simply beat that guy up until he begged for mercy!! So really, do your best, great master airplane! See what you get for all this bullshit, you freak author!!

Until the last chapter, which he reads while on the bus on his way back home. In the chapter, Bingge has finally settled down into his new life and waited long enough to have some history in the world, and now he's making his move. Around this hour (which is exactly now, Shen Yuan notes) he heads to Shen Yuan's apartment, climbing the stairs, picking his lock, and familiarizing himself with the place. Shen Yuan feels goosebumps rise on his skin— the descriptions are exactly right. Everything written there is completely accurate to real life. Which meant that... Airplane must have broken in?

When he's in the building, he hears footsteps from the staircase leading up, and runs to use the elevator to avoid whoever is coming down. He goes up, comes to the door, finds nothing out of place, and suddenly wonders if he's actually wrong, but another look at the chapter on his phone convinces him otherwise. There was really no way this Shen Yuan written by Airplane could be an imagined character at all.

So he goes in, and finds a plate of food on the table, still steaming, and a note beside it. He picks it up and reads.

'Apologies for my intrusion, I had intended to greet you. Next time, I hope Yuan-ge and I can have a talk over dinner. For now, please enjoy this meager offering.'

Shen Yuan debates over eating or not eating it, and finally, tired of all the stress, takes a bite, and suddenly thinks, "you know, maybe Luo Binghe is actually real, because there is no way a normal person could cook this well"

After that point Shen Yuan starts becoming a little delusional (according to himself, and also objectively, a little bit) but slowly as clues add up, he starts to actually believe that Luo binghe is the one communicating with him. At some point he even starts wondering if airplane was actually Luo Binghe all along (ladies and gentlemen he's losing it). Like, yeah, he's right, but tonewise his inner monologues should have a kinda mentally ill vibe you know?? He's so down bad for binghe ough

Bingge communicates through the notes for a while— mostly cause Shen Yuan, even though he starts believing that it's binghe himself, keeps avoiding meeting him face to face for fear that there's still a chance that he could be wrong, and he just wants to pretend that this is all real— but at some point he figures out that Shen Yuan is avoiding him way too well for somebody who isn't informed about his patterns, and figures out what's happening. He gets pidw to stop posting momentarily and while Shen Yuan is going through the motions, bereft of the pidw update, bingge finally catches him 💖💖💖 and Shen Yuan is forced to face the protagonist and his massive obsession

Imagine being Shen Yuan, faithful hate reader of Proud Immortal Demon Way, the 30 million world "hit classic" trashfire, ever imitated, hot blood ed stallion novel.... That finished like a wet fart!!!

After a week reeling, you pick yourself up, get on with your life (reading every PiDW fanfic you can get your grubby hands on, and leaving back handed comments like "this was shitty from start to finish, but still managed to be better than anything airplane ever wrote") until one day, Airplane publishes some extras?

And it's WEIRD AS HELL! Alternate universes?? Bing-ge fighting, what, bingmei??? Who is this weak willed protagonist?!?!?! And what's with bing-ge doing.... THAT, with... With SHEN QINGQIU!!!! He's a hot blooded STRAIGHT lover of women!!! Stop describing Shen Qingqiu's eyes like that bing-ge he's not good for you?

But, it doesn't stop at one extra?? Every day a new chapter comes out, following Luo Binghe as he tries to find that "kind" version of his Shizun... Why is this universe hopping romance thriller so fascinating??? The comments are full of hate, airplane's rep is in the trash, nearly EVERYONE is hate reading now...

Eventually Bing-ge begins the believe that SQQ has been possessed in some way, and comes up with a clever way to discover the true name of that Shen Qingqiu!

Anyway, that's your name, Shen Yuan, right there on the screen??? What the fuck.

What the fuck "great master" airplane!!! Bro!!

It was just some salty comments okay no need to take things so seriously 💀💀💀💀

This weird doxx doesn't seem to go anywhere? So you just keep reading! Okay airplane, point taken, no more nasty comments! Peerless Cucumber will keep things quiet from now on!! Luo Binghe begins a search for "Shen Yuan", finding... Finding his way to the real world, with Xin Mo? Okay...

Every day another chapter comes out, and every day it gets weirder? That's - that's your city?? That Binghe is familiarising himself with? You read about him usurping violent gangs, unrest and danger leaking out into the daylight world, murders and mayhem, and every siren you hear outside seems more and more -

- your parents call? Apparently there is something dangerous happening in your city? Don't be ridiculous...

Every word... Your street... Your apartment block? Binghe! You live on the twelfth floor just take the elevator, not the stairs!!

Maybe you should, um, go out for tea?

Just as the elevator doors are closing, you hear the door to the stair well creaking open, footsteps that are neither slow nor fast, quiet not loud, reaching the landing of your floor... Through the thinnest crack you see...

[tanghuyuj]

ive been in taesan hours for 72 hours straight now LMFAO could i request taesan as a boyfriend? 😽😽🫶

bf taesan hcs ❤︎₊ ⊹

pairing: non-idol or idol!taesan x gn!reader ; genre: lots n lots of fluff ; warnings: none i believe.. ; wc: ~0.4k

maia’s note: ofcc!! ty for the bnd request <3 also sorry requests are taking so long, i’ve been really sick :c hope you enjoy!! likes, reblogs, and feedback is always appreciated! 🧡

☆ oh taesan.. those photos he posted recently is making me go crazy, he’s so boyfriend.

☆ i think his top love languages would be quality time and acts of service

☆ taesan is also very observant and would take note of all the little things about you

☆ you mentioned that you liked a certain necklace last week—so, why is it at your doorstep all of a sudden?

☆ you ran out of your favorite lotion or perfume? come home to find a basket with all your favorite products !! ^^

☆ taesan won’t say his love outright to you often, but instead show you through these small things

☆ another way to know how simply obsessed he is with you is because he’s always asking to hang out or meet up

☆ this guy cannot go a few days without seeing you.

☆ “wanna go out? even if it’s only for a few minutes? i want to see you.”

☆ if you say you’re busy or you can’t, he would pretend to shrug it off. “oh.. that’s alright.”

☆ he can’t help his disappointment though, immediately asking when you’re free next. “when can i see you then?” the next words coming out in a mumble, “i miss you..”

☆ this is probably quite a cliche taesan hc but he would definitely write love songs about you.

☆ “i uhh.. i made this song for you…” he’d say, his cheeks flushed with a hue of pink on them.

☆ at the beginning of your relationship, you weren’t sure how to approach physical touch with taesan, so you slowly started to get touchy with him

☆ taesan found this endearing and quite cute as he noticed your efforts in trying to not make him feel uncomfortable

☆ therefore, he decided to take matters into his own hands and initiate intimacy with you to show that he genuinely loves being close to you.

☆ some things i think taesan would really love is hugging you from the back and (if you’re shorter than him) resting his head on your shoulder or cuddling with him and he’d pull you sooo close to him; he just doesn’t want to let you go !!

☆ “dongmin.. you’re squeezing me so tight,” you’d muffle. “huh? i can’t hear you. what did you say?” he’d tease.

☆ OKAY WAIT on top of that, taesan is only dongmin to those he’s close to yk and i think that by calling him dongmin (especially the first few times you call him it) he’d get so flustered !!

☆ for some reason, his real name sounds so much sweeter when you say it? ><

☆ sigh. taesan is so bf. he’s such a fake emo that would become so so loving around his partner.

please do not copy, repost, or translate.

check out my other works!

[thistlecatfics]

In response to my post about Andromeda and Ted, @teddytonks asked about Andromeda hating Remus, and I do have thoughts!

[for ease, I'm writing this as if they’re all cis and use the same pronouns as they do in canon, but I do love my trans headcanons for this family]

One relevant question: does Andromeda find out Remus tried to leave Tonks? Very reasonable that she would never find out either because Tonks has the sense not to tell her or because Remus’s attempted running away was so short that Tonks herself is able to pretend like it never happened. BUT if she finds out???

Ted Tonks risked his life when he married Andromeda. He risked his life when she got pregnant. He was put in serious, active danger through those things (at least in their minds – I do love the hc that Bellatrix did protect them but I don’t think they would believe that). And he loved her enough that he was willing to risk so much for her! And to be her partner! And to parent Tonks! The courage it took. 

To find out that her child was pregnant and then the father literally ran away because he was scared??? Like truly. The rage. Her daughter deserves so much better. 

I absolutely think that Andromeda retained some of her prejudice from her upbringing – I just think it’s impossible to get rid of all of it. (Things like calling Tonks ‘Nymphadora’ when Tonks clearly has a preference for Tonks indicates a level of not necessarily respecting a child’s autonomy, among other things.) She absolutely would be prejudiced against a werewolf. 

A werewolf who is a decade older than her child? Poor is fine. Ted was poor. But a werewolf?? Not even a human??

I think you can argue that Remus’s self-loathing makes him not quite a reliable narrator about his own experience (he hates himself for being a werewolf and so he reads into everyone’s behavior that they feel the same), but I mostly trust him here:

“You don’t know how most of the Wizarding world sees creatures like me! When they know of my affliction, they can barely talk to me! Don’t you see what I’ve done? Even her own family is disgusted by our marriage, what parents want their only daughter to marry a werewolf?”

The tragedy is that they co-create this reality. 

Andromeda thinks less of him for being a werewolf. Remus thinks less of himself for being a werewolf (to say the least). Because of that, he behaves in ways that are attempts at self-protection (running away, trying to escape the possibility of, essentially at least in his mind, turning a child) BUT end up reaffirming the belief that werewolves aren’t trustworthy. That a werewolf could never be a good partner and good parent – because what if he runs away again? 

(which is one of my favorite interesting and awful things about how humans try to self-protect! In trying to avoid scary feelings, we tend to create more circumstances for those feelings! Eg drinking to avoid feeling shame -> feeling more shame about drinking. Avoiding responding to friends because in your loneliness you feel like they don’t like you -> fewer outreaches from friends, more loneliness etc.) 

(I also am now thinking about the sheer trauma of being turned as a child and how much that's being triggered by the possibility of passing down lycanthropy to a child! but that'll be a separate post of being bitten as a CSA metaphor.)

By contrast, Ted is, I think, much more tolerant of Remus (not having grown up with anti-werewolf prejudice) and also much more trusting of Tonks’s decision making for herself. I don’t think Ted is disgusted by Remus – but I do think Andromeda is. (To be fair to Remus, having someone who looks like Bellatrix as your mother-in-law feels like a particularly terrifying experience. Like even if he weren’t a werewolf, I could imagine feeling the intensity of ‘you’re not good enough for my daughter’ radiating off of her lol.)

Anyway. That’s why I think Andromeda is co-president of the “I hate Remus Lupin” club along with Snape lol.

Side note: If you're looking for some amazing Andromeda & Remus interactions, nothing beats @leftsidedown's The Grace Unasked For (18k, T, canon divergent).

[sirfrogsworth]

i figure you're probably getting a lot of angry and hurtful messages and comments about your empathy for evil people post, so i just wanted to say i really admire your integrity. it's hard to feel that way towards these people, but i think you're right. it doesn't excuse their actions but it does help us understand them, which can help us fight them while also identifying and not giving in to our own evil impulses. i also admire how you've responded to these comments, by treating them with empathy and gentleness too. it's clear you've treated empathy like a discipline, and i truly respect that.

i just wanted to send you some support. you're not alone in this corner, and i think it is important work. not for everyone to deal with directly, but you're good at it, and i'm glad you're challenging others to try

I appreciate that. Thank you. And thank you to all the others who have expressed the same sentiment.

Honestly the reception has been mostly positive. And a lot of great conversations are happening in the notes of that post. And I'm seeing a lot of additions that have helped me clarify and understand what I'm feeling. So overall I'm glad I vented those thoughts out in the middle of the night when I was tired and not concentrating well. Those foggy thoughts turned into something positive.

The negative stuff is always louder. And I wish I had a way to focus on the good in proportion to the bad. But the hurtful things just stick with me a lot more. Personally I deal with it by responding and hoping some of my words are absorbed. It is a technique that has helped me find closure throughout the years. Some prefer to block. Some prefer to ignore. But I need to respond at least once and attempt to find an understanding and rebut the things I disagree with. I have changed a few minds over the years. It doesn't happen often, but it does happen.

And, in this case, we are essentially on the same side. So I don't feel like I'm talking to a wall like with MAGA folks.

One thing I never used to do was tell people they hurt me. I would act like it all bounced off me. But I just don't have the energy or will to pretend anymore. So I now let people know upfront. I say, "This hurt me. Your words caused me harm." And I think with my normal civil responses that I've been doing for years, that little change has helped me process the hurt and move on much faster.

I also recognize how scared people are. And I get the feeling a lot of these folks are much younger than me. And a lot of them are queer. Society made it seem like that was more okay than ever. And a lot of people decided to be themselves very publicly and it seemed safe. It seemed like progress had been made.

And that progress undid itself very quickly.

And now this thing that felt so freeing feels like they unknowingly put a giant fucking target on themselves.

Anger, fear, anxiety... I recognize it in the people giving me a hard time. I disagree with them about empathy and humanization. But I understand how they probably got to that mindset. I have similar thoughts when I am at the height of fear and anger. And that's where my empathy helps temper them.

Their first instinct is always to dig in and double down. I know it takes a lot of willpower to resist that initial instinct. I've had years of practice resisting that. But I know how hard it used to be to admit I was wrong and change my perspective.

But I do hope my words and the words of all of the people contributing amazing thoughts to that post will get through eventually. I ask that people give them a little grace in the hopes that may happen.

[blightbright]

#sorry I just really hate this take #because there’s so much in canon actively disproving it #and it only really exists to take away all of solas’ agency so he can’t be blamed for any of his crimes #which is like. the entire point of his character. he did those crimes. and then pretends he had to when he didn’t #that’s like. his whole thing

(tags from the above post) Again, there are multiple valid interpretations in Veilguard, because they left it vague, and different people find different takes compelling for various reasons and in various moments of time! I'm not gonna respond exactly point by point (although I have considered the questions you're asking!) but I will say that when I tried to kick the tires of the idea of "Solas is still enslaved until Morrigan uses the final fragment of Mythal's power to release him" (please note IMO it required Morrigan fully taking over the entirety of Mythal's remaining power, because most abusers/slavers will never willingly relinquish their control) and tried to ponder if it can hold up or if canon debunks it, I found it actually can hold up, depending on interpretation and how one decides the mechanics of the magic might work. But it's cool if it's not for you.

The main point I will add is when you said this: "Solas is not literally bound to Mythal. If he was, he’d never have been able to rebel against her in the first place..."

If we step outside the context of DA for a minute and think about the struggles of enslaved and/or imprisoned people more broadly, we can see that, in fact, most rebellions against slavery are led by those who are enslaved. People being constrained in some way (even when they are INTENSELY dehumanized, treated as chattel, and restricted in the most microscopic aspects of their life, speech, and movement) always find clever ways to resist. (Even Solas' highly restrictively bound Wisdom friend in DA:I rebelled by crying out for help psychically in the Fade.) That's the story that's most interesting to me right now. That's what feels meaningful to me at this point in my life. I personally see that story all over Solas' story, there are so many aspects of his plot and backstory that align with it, and I like exploring that. I add magic back in and headcanon that there are certain direct orders/magical programming that he can't avoid that linger even after most of Mythal has died, and others that he's able to circumvent. I see a whole lot of ambiguity in terms of what are his own bad choices, what are kinda his choices but corrupted magically/spiritually, and what's straight up stuff that old direct order remnants are forcing. It also raises age-old questions (without objective answers) about if it's even useful to try and untangle those things at all.

I don't think it's particularly fair to say that a take grappling with a canonically-identified slave rebellion leader's slavery rebellion experience is merely to take away his agency. Or (and you didn't use this word, but I will use it!) that it inherently woobifies him or whatever. I think he's an incredibly complicated character who is not a mindless drone. In that context, it became a more interesting story for me personally when I asked, wait hold on, what if Solas has been trying to resist this whole time? What if he really is begging people to stop him, because the slavery-induced magical inclination to "casually reshape reality" to bring Mythal (his canonical slaver at some point, if we consider vallaslin slave markings, as Cole and Solas do) back to her full power is something Solas has been able to sidestep, fuck with, delay, but cannot, by himself, fully avoid?

No, the veil did not need to come down. It never did.

Something that is extremely consistent throughout inquisition is that the tears in the fade are HURTING spirits. Spirit society, like mortal society, has adapted to having the veil present and just like mortal society it is being thrown into chaos by its weakening.

Something that is consistent throughout trespasser and the media between trespasser and veilguard is that taking down the veil would have harmed everyone and destroyed society as we know it, at the very least killing most (if not all) humans, dwarves and qunari (who have no less of a right to exist than the elves).

He says as much in trespasser, and then never denies it when called out. It’s always “do you truly believe that is my plan” and “I had plans to minimise the damage”, never an explicit “no, that would not happen”. He tells the inquisitor that tearing down the veil will destroy the world and then never denies it when asked, he just stops being so open about it. This is a man who uses careful wording so that he can say he rarely lies, what he doesn’t say is deeply significant.

The veil going up initially hurt people, but the world has since adapted and is now in a state where tearing it down would cause more damage for no reason. The veil being put up hurt elven society because they had buildings that relied on both places, but they no longer have that. Nobody is being actively hurt by the veil being up, bringing it down would just destroy everything to get a world that is different but not inherently better.

But Solas regrets putting it up. Solas wishes he didn’t put it up. He wants to take it down, not because it is actively hurting anyone, but because he feels bad about it. It’s something he regrets, something he wishes he hadn’t done, and taking it down will placate his conscience. And all the consequences can be justified under “i feel sad about it but it had to be done” even though it didn’t ever have to be done. This is how he has justified every crime before.

Rook has not doomed the world by keeping the veil up. They have saved this world, instead of dooming it to cling onto scraps of a culture long long dead and placate the conscience of a man who has never been able to handle the concept of “no”.

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

the x files au where everything is exactly the same except mulder takes home the child neanderthal from the jersey devil episode and raises them as his own

[crossbackpoke-check]

the work is certainly not in progress, but it is wednesday !!

[theygender]

Say what you want about the downsides of having a lot of followers on Tumblr but one cool thing about it is that sometimes I can see a lots-of-notes-worthy post with only a few notes on it and just go "is anyone else gonna bring this to the masses" and not wait for an answer

[wereh0gz]

Everyone going crazy over shipping whenever sonic and shadow show up together in literally anything makes me feel insane bc none of their interactions are ever inherently romantic in any way. And hell I'd say they aren't even that friendly towards each other a lot of the time

Like I enjoy the ship too but it's not bc I see any basis for it in canon. Canon actively goes against the ship like what are you ppl seeing that I'm not

[wickershells]

not everyone feigns sincerity

[mcybree]

Random limlife Scott rant, GO!

I got this ask and decided that I’d give it my best shot but got so mad on my skim through some of the moments I remembered that I gave up.

[transsweet]

bugs when you lift up a rock:

[sleepyagent]

I want someone to love me quietly and loudly at the same time because Im an idiot