#this is just what happened between me and my brother-

[lemotmo]

Ryan gave same answer to buddie question he is been giving from the moment bi buck was canon. He didn’t say in same words like Eddie is straight and buck Eddie are brothers but he did say the same in so many words like friendship between straight and queer characters is an important storyline and that’s priority than anything else

I always try to ignore interviews especially Ryan’s answers to buddie questions as what they think is not important and what the show is trying to show is important. But at this point I am not really sure if I should trust the show as Ryan is the one playing Eddie and his answer at this point of time is same and not even vague like let’s see where the script goes or I am ok with what ever the story takes. Just don’t know what to expect at this point

To be clear I am not saying Ryan is homophonic or anything, he seems like a kind person who treats everyone equally and with respect. But with all his answers in interviews, I get a feeling like he is not so much comfortable with playing a gay character (for what ever reason I don’t know and I don’t question or judge people choices as it doesn’t harm any real people).

If Eddie is still straight by 8.14 or 15, I don’t have much hope

Nonny, all do respect, but I have to ask this:

Why did you bring this to my blog? You must have seen my enthusiasm about Ryan's latest interview and how it has only strenghtened my conviction that Buddie is going canon. So why would you post this here when you already know what I'm going to tell you?

I also don't understand your reaction here. I've been in this fandom for years now and I've never been more confident that it's going canon than now. Before season 7 I never even thought Buddie would get a fighting chance.

What did you expect Ryan to say in this interview? 8b hasn't aired yet, so he can't disclose any of the upcoming storylines. He was always going to rehash some of his earlier answers from previous interviews, because what else could he possibly answer?

The inevitable Buddie question came and -once again- he had to find a way to answer it without spoiling anything. What could he possibly have said? He can't just come out and say that Buddie is going canon at this point, because it hasn't happened yet.

So he said the only thing he could say, the message that no matter who you are and who you love in life, it's important to support each other. Which is a beautiful message in itself.

He isn't saying anything else than Oliver did in his pre-biBuck days. It's the same 'trying to talk about it, but not allowed to say anything' kind of thing. 🤷‍♀️

And what about the question where Ryan was asked what advice he would give Eddie? His answer was so telling. It hinted at Eddie not being straight in such a profound way. That was basically the only thing he could say when it comes to Eddie's sexuality storyline.

The man's hands were and are tied. They have been for a long time. And no, he isn't afraid to play a gay man. How do I know this? Because he has actually played a gay man before in another project. He also talked about, on multiple times, the fact that he would be all for Buddie if the story would go there. Those are not the words of a man who doesn't want to play a gay man.

If he really wouldn't want to play a gay man, he would just state it out loud. He would say something like 'Yeah, the Buddie thing is a really fun thing. Oliver and me joke about it, but it isn't going to happen. Eddie is very straight and he will never be interested in Buck like that.' BAM! Just like that he would make it clear to everyone that he isn't willing to play that part and it isn't happening.

Now, if you want an example of an interview by someone who really doesn't want to play a gay character, but had no other choice because it was the only job he could get? Look no further and Google one of Lou Fjr's unhinged interviews where he talks about how he doesn't think it's always appropriate for two characters to make out on screen, but that rule only seems to apply to male/male relationships. He never seemed to have any issues with making out with women on screen before. 🙄

But anyway, let's not get distracted here by talking about that man and let's get back onto the subject of Ryan's interview.

I know that I probably won't be able to change your mind on this Nonny and I'm not even going to attempt it, because in all honesty? I'm tired of all the nay-saying and the inevitable spiral of fear that happens every single time when something happens in this fandom.

I don't know what you want? I've been in so many fandoms, shipping ships that NEVER became canon even though they should have. There was always subtext of course, but that's where it ended. The rest of the story we (the fandom) had to build up from scratch.

For Buddie though--

This isn't just about subtext anymore Nonny. This is fullblown TEXT! It's all there in the show, in the PR, in the interviews, in social media, in Family Fued and Jeopardy! What more could you possibly want?

If you don't believe it by now? There is nothing I can say or do to convince you, so you will just have to wait and see as the episodes air.

Tell you what though--

I predict that we will find out about Eddie's sexuality sometime before or at the very last in episode 8x15. Bold statement, I know. But I feel very confident about this. Oh and Buck? I'm willing to bet that all of his spiraling will finally lead to him realising he is in love with Eddie and this will be shown to us even sooner than Eddie's coming out.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Now excuse me while I go bask in the glory of the impending promise that is Buddie canon. 😏

[artdcnaldson]

OMG let’s keep this ball rolling. regency pats sister learning what an orgasm is… Art lets her sit on his lap while he works in the library and she finds that straddling his thigh feels really good for some reason. all the layers of her skirts and the friction from his slacks. EEEEEEE

-☘️

GODDDD!!!

Of course you couldn't manage this in the day time, so you're hovering around him while he's working on correspondence to... businesses? his family? you don't care enough to ask, you're just hoping he'll turn his attention to you while you're buzzing around him.

It's not until you've nearly knocked over his inkwell for the fourth time that he just pulls you into his lap. "Can you sit still?" He asks, mumbling against your hair.

and you just swallow, nodding, because this is the closest you've ever been to a man who isn't your father or your brothers, and he's warm and smells like smoke and cologne. Your legs are astride his strong, muscular thigh. All of that lawn tennis, you supposed. You liked watching him play, sweating and panting as he rallied back and forth with Patrick.

You swallow hard, because all you're wearing is your little chemise— barely anything fabric, any barrier, at all. Your skirt is hiked up, just around your hips, and your bare cunt rests against the soft fabric of his pants. Just that friction, that warmth, is enough to make heat bloom in the pit of your stomach.

If Art notices you've gone quiet, he says nothing. He leans around you and continues to write to... ah! an... uncle? it's hard to think when he starts bouncing his leg a little.

"mmphf—" you gasp, teeth buried into your bottom lip to muffle the soft noise. That heat in your tummy is impossible to ignore, the tender ache of want between your thighs, though you have no idea what it is you're craving.

"Shhh..." Art murmurs. "If you insist on distracting me, I'll send you back to your room."

So you bite your tongue and just... try to get comfortable, try to ease that ache. You shift, rubbing against his thigh in the process, and muffle a shaky whine behind your fist. It's a throbbing, slick, hungry kind of want. Nothing you've ever felt before, nothing you thought was possible.

The closest, maybe, was when you'd seen Art through the crack of his door changing out of his clothes for bed. Not that you'd been spying! No... the door just... happened to be cracked, and you happened to drop an earring by the jamb.

Art's hand slings around your waist. "Stop squirming," he says softly. "You're making a mess of my trousers, you realize that? Do you even realize what it is you're doing?"

You shake your head, swallowing hard as that heat creeps up your chest and cheeks. It's like you're running a fever. "No," you whisper. "I'm just... I'm—" Another shaky breath escapes you as Art grabs your hips and begins to grind you against his thigh, pressing you down against it so your thighs tremble. "I'm— ah— I'm—"

"You're... what?" He murmurs against your throat. His knee bounces, and his hands grip your hips through the chemise. Back, forth, back, forth. You whimper softly as your head lolls back against his shoulder. "Does it feel good for you?"

You nod, panting as the pressure and tightness in your tummy threatens to spill over. Warm all over, trembling in his hands. "I've got you," he whispers. "I know it feels strange, but just let those feelings take over."

It's hard to surrender— to let those delicious feelings take over all of the restraint that had been embedded into your very being since birth. But the body can only take so much before something gives. You bite into your fist as those feelings take over— light and delicious, coursing through each nerve, washing over you like a wave.

"That's it," Art whispers, kissing the fluttering pulse point of your throat. "You can always feel those feelings around me, but no one else. Promise me."

"I promise," you say back. And you know you'll come back to him again and again if it means you can keep feeling like that.

[msklassickilla]

Prada You Chapter 23

Summary:

In the summer of 1998, sparks fly between Nyeya and Jey.

Nyeya is an 18-year-old around the way girl. Jey is older, paid, and fine. He is also the leader of the infamous Prada Bois alongside his twin brother Jimmy.  The two have chemistry. However, Nyeya has plans outside of her attraction. With a birthday around the corner and dreams of living a good life, Nyeya sets her sights on enjoying the perks of Jey's money and hood celebrity.

But baby girl has no clue what it takes to really be down. Nyeya is about to learn some hard life lessons at the expense of her 'Prada' priced dreams.

Pairing: Jey Uso x Nyeya (Nye) Green (OC)

Author’s Note: This story is happening in an alternative universe. It features the current and original Bloodline members along with other WWE stars. So, the characters are themselves, but some things are switched around for the stories sake. This was originally written with all original characters, but I think it could work better this way. Hope you guys enjoy it and I actually finish it...

Warning: Please be advised that this chapter contains violence, harsh/foul language, age gap relationship.

Disclaimer: This work of art is fictional in nature including the original characters created by me. I do not own any of the existing characters or lyrics from songs referenced in this story (if any). All rights belong to their respective owners with the exception of my original characters. This work is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended to cause harm.

Chapter 23: Hostile

August 22nd 1998 Cont.

The weight of Jey’s words still clung to my skin like a brand, burning into me as I walked away. My hands were shaking, my breaths coming too fast, but I refused to stop. I had to get out of here, away from him, away from all of it.

But Jey wasn’t letting me go that easily.

“Nyeya!” His voice came sharp and raw, cutting through the humid night air. “Man, bring yo’ ass back here! Stop acting stupid!”

The party had spilled outside now, the crowd growing, their whispers crawling up my spine. I didn’t care. Let them watch. Let them see. I wasn’t doing this shit anymore.

Jey’s footsteps closed in behind me, his presence like a shadow I couldn’t shake.

“Nyeya, stop walking away from me!”

I barely had time to react before I felt his arm wrap around my waist, yanking me backward. I let out a sharp gasp, twisting in his hold. “Let me go, Jey!”

“Nah, you ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he growled. “You just mad. Say what you gotta say, but you ain’t leaving me like this.” His hand moved toward my wrist, his thumb grazing the empty space where the bracelet once sat. His grip tightened, his voice dipping lower. “Pick it up. Put it back on.”

I snatched my arm away, looking at the bracelet he had in his open palm. “Fuck that bracelet. And fuck you, too!”

His jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring. “You just gon’ throw this away like that? Throw me away?” His voice was rising now, thick with frustration and disbelief. “What, Melo meant that much to you? You was fuckin’ him or something?!”

The slap came before I even thought about it.

A sharp crack split through the tension, the force of it turning Jey’s head to the side. A stunned silence spread through the crowd, thick and suffocating. His hand flexed at his side, his shoulders rigid. He turned back to me slowly, his tongue swiping over the inside of his cheek.

I saw the moment his anger flared to something uncontrollable. Before he could react, Damian was there, grabbing him by the shoulders. Natasha and Kiyah yanked me back. As Jey struggled against Damian’s hold, his eyes locked onto me with something ugly, dangerous.

“You a real disloyal bitch, huh?” His voice was cold, cutting deep. “All this shit I done for you, and you standing here defending a dead nigga? You really must’ve been fuckin’ him.”

I saw red.

I lunged.

Natasha and Kiyah barely had time to react before I broke free, charging at him. We hit the pavement hard. I clawed at his shirt, his face, his neck. I wanted to hurt him, make him feel what I was feeling. Jey held onto my wrists, taunting me, laughing through gritted teeth.

“That’s all you got, baby?” His voice was low, smug. “You love me too much to really do damage.”

The rage inside me boiled over.

We rolled on the ground, a mess of limbs, pushing, grabbing, fighting. The Prada Bois had to drag us apart.

Sami and Damian were on Jey before he could break loose. My chest heaved as Kiyah wrapped her arms around me, holding me in place. I was shaking, adrenaline still coursing through my veins, my vision blurred by hot, angry tears.

“Nye, stop it—just chill!” Kiyah hissed.

Jey was still fighting against the hands holding him back, his dark eyes locked onto mine, wild and desperate now.

I fought against Kiyah's grip, my chest heaving, tears burning my vision. “I hate you, Jey!” My voice broke. “I fucking hate you!”

Something broke in Jey at my words.

His anger shifted, turning into something raw, something desperate. His face twisted with emotion as he tried to step forward, but Damian and Sami held him back.

“Stop talkin’ like that,” he said, voice rough, pleading. “Baby, please—don’t say shit like that.”

I turned away from him, wiping at my face, the sting of tears making my vision blur. I felt Kiyah rubbing my back, her voice soothing, but I couldn’t focus on anything except the ache that was spreading inside of me. The partygoers were whispering, still watching. Natasha was already pulling at my arm. “Nye, let’s go.”

Jey struggled against the guys holding him back. “Baby, please—”

I didn’t respond, only moved when Kiyah and Natasha tugged me along. We walked toward the cars, away from Jey, away from the chaos, away from everything.

Jey shouted after me, voice full of desperation now. “Nyeya, don’t do this—” He struggled against the hold on him. “Come home with me!”

I squeezed my eyes shut.

I couldn’t.

Not anymore.

Jey tried to push past the hands restraining him, his voice growing more frantic. “Nyeya—baby, stop—”

The sound of him calling for me twisted something inside me, but I kept walking. I heard Kiyah talking, something about Sami or Jacob driving us home, but I wasn’t listening. I didn’t want to be in a Prada Boi’s car. I wanted out.

Kiyah ran back toward the crowd, toward Jacob, urgency in her voice. A moment later, she was back with his car keys in her hand.

“Come on, Nye, I’m driving. You not walking home this late.”

I let them guide me toward the car, my feet unsteady, my hands still trembling. I climbed into the back seat, my body sinking into the suede seats as exhaustion crashed into me.

The voices outside faded as Kiyah started the engine, pulling away from the scene. Natasha and Kiyah were whispering in the front, but their voices were just white noise. All I could hear was him.

---

August 23rd 1998

I woke up late in the morning, my body still heavy with exhaustion. My mind was foggy, stuck somewhere between sleep and the harsh reality of everything that had happened the night before. I stared up at the ceiling, willing myself to get up, but the memories clung to me, dragging me deeper into my thoughts.

The argument. The slap. The fight. The way Jey had called out to me in that broken voice, trying to reel me back in like he always did.

I finally forced myself out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom. The moment I flicked on the light, my reflection stared back at me, and I almost didn’t recognize myself. My eyes were puffy and tired, dark circles etched beneath them. My lips were chapped, and my face looked dull and drained. I looked different—worn down. Older.

In just six days, I would be nineteen. I was supposed to be excited about my birthday, about celebrating another year of life, but instead, I felt empty inside.

I turned away from the mirror and walked over to my dresser, pulling out something I hadn’t touched in months—my journal. The cover was worn from years of use, the pages slightly curled at the edges. It felt foreign in my hands, like a piece of myself I had long abandoned.

Flipping to a blank page, I let the pen move, pouring everything out.

I wrote about Jey. About Melo. About Damian. About the way my life had shifted into something unrecognizable. I wrote about the girl I used to be—the girl who had dreams beyond this neighborhood, who wanted more. Then, I wrote about the girl I was now—trapped in something she didn’t know how to escape.

The ink bled into the pages as I let my emotions spill freely, my hands shaking the longer I wrote. When I had nothing left to give, I closed the book and pressed it against my chest. My lips trembled as I whispered a quiet prayer into the stillness of my room.

"God, if you listening… show me the right way. Please."

---

A nap helped ease the heaviness sitting in my bones, but when I woke up to knocking at the door, my heart still felt heavy. Dragging myself off the couch, I opened the door to find Kiyah, Natasha, and Nataya standing outside, their faces expectant.

"Y’all checking on me?" I asked, my voice still groggy.

"Duh," Kiyah said, already pulling me out the front door. We sat on the steps down in front of the building. The twins followed.

The warm afternoon breeze wrapped around us, but I still felt cold inside. The air was still, almost too quiet. I sat there, staring out at the courtyard, feeling like I was watching life move without me.

"You good?" Natasha asked, breaking the silence.

I took a deep breath. "I’m at peace," I told them. And for a moment, I almost believed it. "I can’t change the past," I continued, my voice flat, "but I can do something about my future. Do something different."

Kiyah studied me for a moment before nodding. "I like that."

Nataya let out a sigh and shifted beside me. "Well… if it makes you feel any better, Jey was acting a damn fool after you left according to them."

My stomach twisted. "What you mean?"

"When we got back to Tonga’s, he was still throwing a tantrum," Kiyah said, rolling her eyes. "Talking about driving to your house, acting like he wasn’t just rolling in the damn street fighting you."

Natasha scoffed. "He kept going until his ass finally passed out. That negro is crazy. Like, has he always been like that?"

I hesitated, staring down at the cracks in the pavement. "I don’t know," I admitted. "And I don’t care. I just want him to leave me alone."

Nataya frowned. "Jey and Jimmy had a rough life growing up. Jey especially. Maybe that’s why he is the way he is. You know, passionate, weird, a bit slow."

Kiyah sucked her teeth. "That ain't no excuse," she shot back. "Especially when he the main one starting shit." She shook her head. "I can only imagine how he treated Tasha weak ass… or any of the other girls he dealt with."

I sat quietly, letting them talk, but my mind drifted elsewhere.

---

Well after the girls left, I thought about Michael, who was spending the weekend with our aunt and cousins, living his life carefree, untouched by the weight of everything I was dealing with.

My mama, who was out on a date with a guy she had been seeing for awhile named Reggie, probably smiling, probably laughing. She probably wouldn’t come home tonight choosing to spend it with him.

And it settled in how alone I felt sitting in the house, trapped with my thoughts and the reality I couldn’t escape.

I needed to air.

By six, I found myself walking across the courtyard, heading to my granny’s apartment. The evening heat still lingered, but a soft breeze moved through the complex, making the walk bearable. When I made it up the steps, I knocked twice, and Bernice answered, giving me a hug that made me smile.

"G, one of the babies here," she said in her usual raspy voice, ushering me inside.

Once inside, I inhaled the familiar scent of fried food and the faint remnants of cigarettes. The apartment wasn’t full of smoke today, but the smell still clung to the walls. In the kitchen, my granny sat at the table, shaking chicken in a brown paper bag. When she looked up, her face brightened. "Well, there go my pretty grandbaby! Come give me some suga."

I walked over and wrapped my arms around her, letting her smother me in kisses the way she always did. Bernice joined us at the table a bit later, joining in on the ongoing conversation.

My granny was wild back in the day, and I loved hearing stories from when she was younger. Time ticked away as granny and Bernice swapped stories, laughing about their wild younger days.

The two women had actually grown up together so them ending up together even if they never admitted that part aloud seemed fated. Bernice made my Granny happy and that was all that mattered.

I wanted love like that. I deserved love like that. Easy and steady.

"Don’t let no man stress you out," Granny warned, flipping the chicken into hot grease. "I done had my share of ‘em. They all got the same script, just different actors."

Bernice cackled. "Gale, you was the stress! You kept them men wrapped around your damn finger even though yo’ ass was crazy."

Granny smirked, shaking her head. "I did what I had to do. I don’t take no shit from nobody."

I laughed, something I hadn’t genuinely done in days. The weight on my chest felt a little lighter.

I loved my Granny’s cooking, so I stayed for dinner, eating with them and another friend of Granny’s who showed up. The food was hot, perfectly seasoned, and filled something in me that I didn’t even realize was empty. By the time I stood to leave, it was already past nine.

I kissed my granny on the cheek and dapped up Bernice, smiling as they promised to be at my party Saturday with the rest of my family.

Walking back across the courtyard, I took a deep breath, letting the night air wash over me. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt like maybe—just maybe—I could find my way back to myself.

---

The walk back home felt lighter than it had in days. The weight on my chest, the suffocating hold of everything that had happened, felt just a little looser. Seeing my Granny and Bernice had done that—reminded me of who I was before all of this. Before Jey. Before the Prada Bois. Before all the shit that went down.

I rounded the corner, my mind still lingering on Granny’s voice, when my steps faltered. My stomach dropped.

Jey.

Sitting on the hood of his car, shirtless, red jeans hanging low, head tilted just enough for the streetlight to cast a glow on his face.

I silently cussed.

His ass was waiting for me.

My first instinct was to turn around, take the back way up to my apartment, pretend like I never saw him. But just as I considered it, his eyes landed on me.

"Nyeya."

The way he said my name wasn’t commanding like usual. It wasn’t full of authority, wasn’t full of that possessive edge. No, this was softer. More like a plea.

I sighed. I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to hear his apologies, his empty promises, the same song and dance he always gave me when he realized he had pushed me too far.

Still, as I got closer, I got a better look at him. His face, his neck, even his chest—scratches. Puffy, red, fresh. My work.

My nails had torn his ass up last night. Good. He deserved it and then some for his bullshit.

Jey smirked, his brown eyes trailing over me as if I was something to devour. His stare lingered on my bare shoulders, my legs. I was still in my romper from earlier, and I knew what he was thinking.

I ignored it.

"What do you want, Jey?" I asked, getting straight to the point.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I just wanna talk, baby. I need to ap-"

I raised my hand, stopping him before he could even finish.

"Apologizing won’t fix shit." My voice was calm, but taut. "You always say sorry, but you don’t mean it. You never mean it. If you did, you wouldn’t keep doing the same shit over and over."

Jey clenched his jaw, shifting against the car. "I do mean it, Nye."

I laughed, shaking my head. "You don’t. And I’m tired, Jey. I’m so damn tired." My voice cracked, but I didn’t let it break. "You don’t love me. You never did. You only love yourself."

The words hit him. I saw it instantly—the way his shoulders tensed, the way his whole body stiffened like I had just knocked the wind out of him. His eyes glistened. Then, before I knew it, the tears started to fall.

Real, silent tears. Jey had never cried like this. Cried sober. He normally cried when he was drunk and emotional.

I swallowed, forcing myself to stand my ground, even as my chest tightened.

"My tears don’t mean nothing to you, huh?" His voice was raw, thick with something I couldn’t place.

"They don’t," I whispered.

He exhaled sharply, looking away for a moment. When he looked back, his face was pained, his voice strained.

"I know I ain’t been the best to you," he admitted, voice barely above a murmur. "I know that."

I stayed quiet, letting him speak.

Jey shook his head, wiping his face roughly. "I ain’t never had nobody teach me how to love right. All I knew was to be tough. Prove myself. Show that I was built for this shit." His voice cracked. "Jimmy? He fit right in. My cousins? They were made for this. But me? I had to fight to show I belonged."

I stared at him, my chest tightening even more.

"I ain’t ever have nobody love me just for me," he continued, voice shaky. "Every woman I been with wanted me ‘cause of my name, who I was, who I was related to. But you?" His eyes locked on mine. "You ain’t care about none of that. You just… wanted me."

I clenched my fists, trying to keep my resolve.

He swallowed hard, his tears still falling freely now. "I ain’t know how to handle that, Nyeya. I ain’t know how to love you right." His breath hitched as he stepped forward, pressing his forehead against my shoulder. "I ain’t know how to keep you without losing my damn mind."

Jey cried against me. I felt his body shake, his arms wrapping around my waist like he was trying to mold himself to me. I should’ve pushed him off. I should’ve backed away, told him to get a hold of himself.

But I didn’t.

I just stood there.

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that this was the real him—the broken boy who never learned how to love properly, the boy who had to fight for everything, even affection. I wanted to believe that if I just held on a little longer, I could fix him.

But I knew better now. Jey wasn’t broken. He was who he was. And he wasn’t going to change. Someone who would continue to bleed on me even though I didn’t cut him.

I gently lifted his chin, making him look at me. His brown eyes were swollen, full of something desperate and pleading.

I wiped his tears away. Then, I kissed him. Not out of love. Not out of forgiveness. But because this was goodbye. When I pulled away, Jey stared at me, searching my face for something—anything—to tell him I wasn’t really leaving. But I was.

I took a step back. "I���m done, Jey."

His whole body went rigid.

I took another step back from his hold. "I ain’t got nothing left to give and nothing left for you to take." My voice was steady. Final. "It’s over."

Jey’s face twisted, his lips parting like he was about to protest. But before he could, I spoke again.

"Let me go get the things you bought for me. I can’t keep them."

Jey flinched at that. And then, before he could stop me, I turned on my heels and walked away.

----

AN: Thank y'all for rocking with me. For showing me love. I appreciate it so much ꨄ

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[little-glitter-kitten]

I Think The Apple's Rotten Right To The Core Pt 4

Prologue: As your brother, Caleb always took great pride in the fact that he was always the first to notice the little things when it came to you. When you were hurt, when you were sick, when you were lying or keeping a secret. What will Caleb do when he notices just how much his precious little adopted sister has grown? Can he fight the filthy, rotten feelings threatening to ruin all he holds dear?

(Caleb x Reader, no use of 'Y/N, AFAB reader, size difference.)

TW: Pseudo-incest, dub-con, somnophilia, semi-public sex, possessive Caleb, Obsessed Caleb, Yandere Caleb.

YOUR POV:

Blearily, you opened your heavy eye lids, the sound of rain smashing against the roof, waking you from your slumber.

"Shhhh..." You could feel Calebs' hot breath in your ear as you stirred. "It's okay, I'm here."

You felt yourself being rocked gently, like a boat on the waves, Calebs' hand on your hip swaying your body to and fro. Relaxing into the motions, you were prepared to drift off to sleep again when you noticed it. That hard appendage rubbing between the lace covered cheeks of your ass.

You gasp, realising what is happening, when a rumble of thunder shakes the windows. Before you could let out the whimper that was about to spill out of your mouth, Calebs hand that hand been under your head shoots out and covers your mouth.

"If your scared, bite my hand, just like you used to do in storms." He whispers before grunting on a particularly rough thrust against your ass. You slowly open your mouth as his thumb makes it way between your lips and teeth. Gently, you bite down and whimper, screwing your eyes shut against the flash of lightning.

"Don't be frightened, it's almost over." He pants in your ear.

You can't tell if he is referring to the storm or him using your body, but either way, you lay there, letting him use you but your mind is racing a thousand miles a minute.

It wasn't like you were inexperienced, you'd had sex before, albeit only with one man but that was neither here nor there when it was your brother currently grinding himself against your ass.

"Fuck!" You heard him mutter, his hand no longer rocking your body against him. "I need more, just a little more."

Slowly, you take your teeth off his thumb and whisper quietly. "Wha..." You gulp. "What do you need?"

"Your thighs." He whispers in your ear. "Help your Gēge this one time and I swear, I'll never ask again."

Your mind was at war, you didn't know how you felt about this. Part of you wanted it to be over, but a sick, small twisted part of you was enjoying knowing you had driven such an fine, upstanding man to such depraved madness. Either way, you didn't want him to leave you alone, especially not with the storm outside.

Deciding if this was what he needed to stay by your side, you parted your legs slightly in silent invitation.

"Thank you Mèimei." He chuckled slightly in your ear. You heard the zip of his jeans and slight rustle of clothing before feeling his now bare cock slot itself between your thighs, rubbing up against the gusset of your panties. "You always take care of me so well."

His hand closed your thighs around his cock as he slowly began thrusting in and out of the soft flesh between your thighs. As the head of his cock rubbed back and forth over your clit, your mouth sought out his thumb again. Your teeth biting gently into his flesh as you swallowed a moan.

You felt sick for enjoying this but why did it have to feel so good?

Caleb obviously felt no remorse about his actions, so why should you?

You whimpered as his tongue traced the shell of your ear and his cock rubbed up against that sensitive bundle of nerves over and over again. Feeling guilty about getting off on having your brothers cock between your legs, you subconsciously tightened your thigh and squirmed away.

"Don't fight it, be a good girl for your Gēge." He panted in your ear, his thrusts beginning to become somewhat erratic, making the bed squeak slightly from his movements. "That's it, take it sweetheart, you can't run from me."

Soon you felt him stiffen and pull his cock from between your legs with a harsh grunt. You could hear the wet sound of his hand working over his cock before a whispered "fuck" filled the air.

Turning your head to look at his form before you, you saw him laying on his back, a pool of cum on his belly glowing in the moonlight. Slowly, he turned his head to look at you.

"I could feel your wetness." He told you eith a small smile. "Let me take care of you."

You know you shouldn't, but the throbbing need between your legs had won out. Rolling over to face him, you went to open your mouth to agree when you were heard the cough from the bedroom down the hall.

Grandma...

Our Grandma...

It was like ice water had been dumped on you. You jumped out of your bed and made your way into the shared bathroom, locking the door behind you as you sat on the ground, panting.

You shook your head. You had been ready to let your brother bring you to orgasm. What was wrong with you.

You wanted to cry but the ache between your legs was too much to ignore.

"Shit, shit, shit." You mutter as you give in and slide your fingers under the waistband of your panties, rubbing your clit in fast little circles. It didn't take much before the muscles in your legs tightened and your head fell back, as you released a silent moan.

Your panties were soaked through with a mix of Calebs pre-cum and your arousal. You had to change them.

Pulling yourself off the bathroom floor, you unlocked the door and went back into your room to find it empty. Sighing you flopped back on the bed and realised, you wouldn't be getting anymore sleep tonight.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Early the next morning, you carefully made your way downstairs, mindful of the other two people sleeping in the house. You began quietly going about making some toast that you desperately needed to sooth your stomach.

You had been up for most of the night, your fingers buried deep inside you as you remembered the feel of Calebs cock between your legs. Shame and guilt swirled in your mind so much that you didn't hear the two sets of footsteps coming down the stairs and making their way into the kitchen.

"Good morning." Your Grandma said, taking you by such surprise that when you spun to face the voice, you knocked off a photograph from its place on the cabinet.

"Sorry." You gasped leaning down to picked up the frame.

"It's okay, dear." Your Grandma said, taking it from your hands to inspect. "It's not broken."

Looking down, you saw a photo of you and Caleb at the park. You sat on his lap on the swingset as he soared the two of you through the sky.

"You always did love the swings." You felt Calebs' breath stir the hair on the top of your head as he leant over you to see the photo.

"I still do." You gave a slight chuckle, trying your best to play it calm.

"You should see it now. They've really done it up." Grandma tells the two of you.

Caleb turns to you and offers a small smile. "Sound like a plan, pipsqueak? We can go to the park, just like old times."

You feel yourself relax and smile back. "Yeah, I'd like that."

[captain-bubble-wrap]

Previous episode: here.

Thanksgiving had come early in the Tocchet household. Your father had extended an open invitation to the whole team. Who would take him up on the offer?

CW: alcohol use.

12 October 2024 | Thanksgiving

Last night had been your second Canucks broadcast, and apparently you had yet to wear your lucky charm that would allow the boys in blue to get a win in regulation. Vancouver had fallen to the visiting Flyers 3-2 in a shoot out, leaving them with a 0-0-2 start to the season. It definitely wasn't the outcome anyone had hoped for, but it was better than having numbers in the loss column. In a couple of days, the team -as well as yourself- would travel to Tampa, to take on the Lightning and hopefully finally net a two-point win.

Today, however, your family was celebrating Thanksgiving ahead of the calendar holiday. Your dad had extended an open invitation to the boys on the team to come over to the house for lunch. Some players had wives and girlfriends to spend the day with while others didn't, and he didn't want anyone to spend the day alone if they had the choice. You, of course, were headed over to your parents regardless, and you were running late.

Traffic had been a mess in the city, plus you had lost track of time putting together your dessert. Today felt like you were stuck chasing your own tail. Between your apartment and their house, your mother had texted you three times, but you opted not to respond to any of them. You'd get there when you got there.

Eventually, you rounded the last turn and there was nothing before you but their driveway. Their cars were parked in the garage -you assumed- but there was a silver Porsche SUV sitting where you were accustomed to parking. Assuming it was one of the boys', you'd pull up alongside it and put yours into park. From the back seat you'd grab the bakery box, and check your outfit in the reflection of your black-tinted windows. It wasn't a formal affair; just a simple lunch around the table with family and the team you reported for. Your over-sized hoodie -stolen from your older brother Trevor no less-, black leggings, slouchy socks, and high-top Vans would be sufficiently acceptable. Well, you hoped anyway.

Since it had decided not to rain today, you took your time getting to the front door, making sure you had a firm grip on the unreplaceable cheesecake that had made you late. You wouldn't bother ringing the doorbell as you knew the knob would be unlocked anyway.

Like a hawk on prey, your mother would be the first to comment on your arrival as she passed by the living room on her way back to the kitchen.

"Well, we wondered if you were going to show up! You know, I texted you like three times! Didn't you get them?"

You weren't even across the threshold of the door when she started her barrage of questioning. Standing there, box in hand, you waited for her to finish before you'd take another step.

"You had me worried, Y|N! It would have been nice if you would have responded!"

On your left, in the living room, your dad sat with his eyebrows raised in comedic surprise. The two of you would make eye contact as your mother rambled on in inaudible sentences from the kitchen.

"Well, she's on one, isn't she?" You said, eyes wide and shocked at what had happened. "A hello would have been nice."

"Hi, honey," he teased, cashing in on the opportune open door you had left for him. "Glad you made it."

In the unexpected barrage of motherly interrogation, you hadn't noticed Quinn sitting opposite your father until you fully entered the house.

"Oh! Hi, Quinn! I wondered who that was parked in my spot," you laughed before heading to the kitchen to take your chances with you mom. Your dad would give him a look to reassure him that you were just kidding with your comment.

Back in the kitchen, your mother was softly singing along to Whitney Houston when you opened the fridge, hoping for a cool place to store the cheesecake. She always had music playing while she cooked, and a lot of fond childhood memories always came flooding back when certain songs triggered them.

She turned around from where she stood in front of the stove, pointing at you with a wooden spoon, "Care to tell me why you ignored my messages?"

"Mom! Christ! I was driving. I was already on my way and I didn't want to fuss with the voice-to-text thing in my car! I'm only twenty minutes late and you're still cooking! It's fine!"

She scowled, "I don't like when you don't respond. It worries me."

"Everything worries you!"

"I'm your mom! Of course!" With a roll of her eyes, she'd get back to her pan while you made room amongst the shelves for the cake box. "What did you bring?"

"I baked a cheesecake. It's the biggest reason why I'm late. It wouldn't set then I needed it chilled enough to get it here."

She poked at you with the faintest hint of humour on her tone, "Maybe you should have gotten up earlier."

"Maybe I should have!" You mocked. "Do you need help with anything?"

Your mother shook her head, her back still to you from across the large room, "No, I've got it under control, but thanks."

You'd quickly exit her workspace and go see what your father and Quinn were discussing. Likely, it was hockey related, and you were intrigued to see if it was something you could jump into as well. Hockey had been your life since you could form a memory. For people who didn't know who you were, it was comical to see their reactions when you'd rattle off some sort of seasonal stat, milestone or player accomplishment that they weren't aware of. The best part was schooling over-confident men who felt women had no place in sports. Your father had raised you to take no shit, despite having a more soft-looking appearance.

"Did she run you out?" Your dad asked, seeing you emerge from the warzone he assumed was the kitchen. Quinn's back was facing you, but he'd turn his head to look at you, as you moved to take a seat next to your dad.

"Not exactly, no, but I didn't want to over stay my welcome."

He chuckled, giving your leg a quick tap, "Wise decision."

"I hope I'm not interrupting the boys club!"

Shaking his head, your dad reassured you everything was fine. "Not at all, just addressing some PK concerns, that have been--"

Abruptly, the sound of your mother's voice interrupted him, "Rick! Come here, would you, please?"

His sigh could be felt by everyone in the room.

"At least she said 'please'," you joked, pulling your legs up under you on the sofa, after removing your shoes. He didn't find it as amusing as you did, but dragged his feet to see what it was that your mother needed his help with. With your dad gone, that now left you alone with Quinn.

He was quiet, but when was he not, aside from on the ice, maybe? The awkwardness was getting heavy, "Thanks again, for that puck, Quinn. I have it in my office now."

It didn't seem like he was expecting to be spoken to until your dad returned. His eyes flicked up to meet yours so it didn't come off like he was ignoring you, "Oh, yeah-- no problem. It was a big day so it just felt like the right thing to do."

His smile tugged at the left corner of his mouth slightly and his eyes didn't linger long -- almost like the other night when the two of you had had your first in-game interview. It surprised you to find a hockey player so quiet and almost bashful. Honestly, you found it refreshing compared to many of the others you had been in contact with in the past. It was still hard to decide if Quinn really cared for conversation of any kind -- aside from hockey strategy, of course.

"How'd you get suckered into Tocchet Family dinner?"

"I, uh--." Quinn looked back at you, then back to his knees. "Coach just said if anyone wanted to come over we were welcome to. I think some of the guys were getting together also, but I had some stuff I wanted to talk to him about."

"Always business, huh?" You replied smiling, hoping he didn't take that the wrong way.

Quinn just shrugged, eyes still unable to remain on your face for long.

Before he could reply -if he was even planning on it- your dad returned from your mother's beckoning. He looked stressed, or at least the same expression he always wore standing behind the bench, which you assumed was stress or frustration. He wasn't a man of many expressions.

"Oh, that didn't take long," you replied, shifting your gaze from Quinn back to him. "Looks like you made it out in one piece."

He laughed softly, "Barely. Did I miss anything?"

- - -

Your mother had called upon you one more time, pulling you away from the mini Canucks team meeting going on in the living room. While you helped her transfer things to more manageable bowls, she decided to break the silence that had fallen over the kitchen, "You know, Quinn's pretty cute, Y|N. Your father really seems to like him. You know, maybe you should get to know him a little more?"

"Good lord, mom!"

She stopped what she was doing to look at you, "Good lord, what? Don't you think he is? I think you two would look pretty cute together."

"You think I'd look cute with anyone!" You replied, rolling your eyes. You couldn't believe you were having this conversation - especially not with said person being just beyond the next wall! "And I don't want to talk about him when he's in the damn house!" You hissed the last part of your sentence, knowing you'd be mortified if Quinn happened to walk in the kitchen for whatever reason during the topic being on him and how attractive you found him.

"Well, I like to think I have good taste, and I think he's cute."

"Who's cute?" Asked your dad as he stood in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. You nearly jumped hearing him interject without warning! Looking over your shoulder at him, you noticed Quinn lingering just behind your dad's six-foot-tall frame. Had he heard what your mother was talking about? For the sake of your nerves, you sincerely hoped not!

"No one's cute!" You blurted out abruptly, your cheeks flushing with hot heat.

"Someone she met at work," you mother interjected as your dad raised his eyebrows in confusion at the back and forth.

His tone was inquisitive, like he wanted to know more but wasn't sure if he wanted to ask, "Really?"

"You know what?" You said as an interruption, "I just remembered I have a bottle of wine in the car! You guys are driving to drink! Excuse me!"

You'd squeeze past your dad and Quinn, and hurry through the house until you were on the other side of the front door. What had just happened? One second you were trying to help your mom, and the next she had set in motion a series of events that had you sweating and your heart racing. Sure, Quinn was cute, but that didn't mean she had to announce it like she was reading from your childhood diary who you had some sort of crush on!

Knowing you couldn't just hide out in the driveway forever, you'd retrieve the bottle and return to the house. You were feeling like an idiot, for the scene you felt you had caused in your dramatic stage-left exit, but she had put the spotlight on you for no reason! Once you got back in the house, you saw Quinn on his phone, sitting in your childhood seat at the dining table, and it made you smile. You'd have to internally yell at yourself to stop it, since he was the reason you had run away in the first place! However, there was some suspicion that he had been told to sit there. Quinn would watch you walk by, his ears eavesdropping the conversation that followed.

"Your face is still red, pumpkin," announced your dad, when you slipped back into the kitchen. His low chuckle netted him quite the side-eye from you in return.

"Ha. Ha."

"So, who's this mystery guy you met," he pushed, as you struggled to remove the cork while being hounded. "I might have to have a talk with him."

"Dad!" You barked, about to completely lose your shit. A nervous laugh would follow your inability to form structured sentences, as you took the bottle, corkscrew, and glass with you to the dining room. You had somehow half-forgotten Quinn was sitting in there and he seemed fully aware of the topic of conversation.

The two of you had a brief second of eye-contact, before he shied away from getting involved.

"They didn't tell you to tease me, too, did they?" You asked him, following the throaty pop from the cork leaving the bottle. The way he looked up at you, made you blush a second time and you couldn't help it. Naturally, this would be the time he'd stay looking at you for more than a second -- and you knew your cheeks were crimson.

"Kinda, yeah," he smiled, looking back at the phone in his lap.

You'd fill the glass up beyond the recommended level; this wine didn't need to "breathe". If sticking a straw down in the bottle was acceptable, you would have done so! From the kitchen, your parents were looking at you, having another moment at your expense. You knew your mother had told your dad it was Quinn they were talking about -if he hadn't figured it out on his own- and you just prayed she hadn't let slip to him what was going on.

"Everyone is this family is a comedian, I swear," you remarked, sitting opposite Quinn. At this point, you didn't care that he was just a couple feet away; all that mattered was getting a buzz as soon as possible.

"Just imagine if Trevor was here," added your dad, hearing your comment.

Sighing, you'd get lost in your glass, "I'd probably be halfway home -or drunk- at this point!"

- - -

The conversations during lunch had gotten completely out of control, and all of them at your expense -- again! Your parents had taken to telling old stories about you, of lining up all of your stuffed animals and interviewing them with a hairbrush as a microphone, plus the one time you had confessed that you were determined to marry Henrik Lunqvist at the age of ten. All of them had made Quinn grin and laugh more than once. As he sat across from you, you couldn't help but notice each time it happened, and each time it did, you'd take another sip of wine. You'd be halfway through the bottle before dessert.

Things were slowing down around you, the room felt fuzzy, and the pain of being teased stopped stinging so much. Not to mention, you'd stare longer at Quinn than sober you would have been caught doing. The way his hair caught the light, the way it moved, was unreal. His sage-green eyes, and thick lashes were so unfair, and the slight scruff and the way he smiled had your heart beating in your ears. He'd catch you looking, as he laughed at your father remarking about something silly you had done at a game, yet you just smiled at him, later snorting out of delayed embarrassment.

"She's always had a thing for hockey players, namely goalies" your mom said, the one bit of conversation you'd clue into through your tipsy state of being.

"Pffft--," you chirped, knowing she had a point. "I know how to pick 'em, let me tell you!"

Your mom said something in reference to you struggling to find someone to put up with you, but you didn't hear that. What you did hear had you wanting to hide beneath the table afterwards.

"You two should go to dinner sometime, Quinn! You check all of her boxes, you know, aside from the goalie thing~"

"Oh, my god-- mom!"

Your dad would chime in, nearly choking on his drink as well, "No, no, absolutely not! There will be no dating any of my players!"

"Dad!" Your fingers pinched the bridge of your nose in disbelief.

Quinn, stuck in the middle along with you, found himself beat red and on the spot. He was struggling to find anything to say. The afternoon was spiraling -- fast!

"Conversation change, now, please!" You begged, desperate to melt through the floor. "Quinn, I'm so-- so sorry."

He looked down as he giggled, his shoulders rising and falling with each rapid laugh.

"You both...are horrible," you said to both of your parents, sitting on opposite sides of you. Your mom was smiling from ear-to-ear, but you weren't finding anything funny about the current situation.

Not only had you been thrown under the bus by your mom, having tried to set you up with Quinn, but had she forgotten you had to work around him? Every time he saw you, he was going to remember you, toasted at half past one on a Saturday, blushing at the mention of his name. Maybe you could drink enough you'd forget he knew anything about it...

- - -

It would be after two when your parents began clearing the table. Quinn and yourself remained where you had been, and you were still feeling the effects of the wine. You were beyond the point of really caring about anything, namely how you were coming off to him, as likely enough had been said about you to humiliate you for a lifetime. His cheeks were still tinged pink the last time you both had caught each other's gaze. Even drunk you couldn't ignore how cute he was.

"Don't you dare...hold...any of this against me, Quinn Hughes! Don't...you dare!" You snorted as you laughed, playfully threatening him knowing he had heaps of ammunition against you to share with anyone within the organization.

"I won't," he softly promised, giving you a smirk from across the table, like he had numerous times in the last hour. His eyes dashed from your face to the table and back; his smile conveying he was thinking more but not saying just what it was. What a great first impression you were making for yourself, outside the workplace... You'd have three days before having to see Quinn again, but even you knew everything was going to still be fresh in his mind. Any chance you may have thought you had with the captain were gone, along with the wine in the bottle in front of you. The one thing you were thankful for most was the fact that your brother wasn't there.

"Are you okay?" He'd ask you, as you covered your face with your hands, elbows on the table to hold yourself up. He couldn't discern if you were crying or laughing, which had prompted his question in the first place.

Shaking your head before you answered, you swallowed hard trying to find your words, "Oh...I'm just...wonderful! I can't wait for this to be brought up for years to come."

Eventually, he'd realize you were indeed laughing which gave him some relief, hoping he hadn't done anything to make you feel worse than you already were. If only he knew that him just being there was the problem.

"I'm sorry," you said, looking at him through your parted fingers. The high of being intoxicated was crashing like waves around you. The self-realization of how much of a fool you were was becoming painfully evident. Quinn, however, just continued to smile at you. It wasn't in a devious way; like he was filing away useful blackmail information, but more like he was genuinely enjoying himself and the fact that he had decided to come over.

"Oh, you're fine," he chuckled. "I'm kind of jealous that you're having all the fun."

"There's a guestroom upstairs you can share with me..."

No sooner had the words left your mouth did your whole body feel like it was consumed with fever. Obviously you weren't sobering up quite enough to keep your mouth shut when it came to your thoughts about Quinn. His reaction to your statement had him looking down again. It almost seemed like he was more embarrassed than you were!

"Oh wow...I just...I just said that -- out loud! I'm sorry!"

Still, he laughed, shaking off your unnecessary apology. "You're okay."

"She in here bothering you?" Your father asked, returning to gather up more plates. You had your forehead on the table by now, your arms covering your head like it was going to shield you from any further conversational blunders. "Try not to think about this the next time she has to interview you before another game."

"Dad! Please don't say that!" Your voice was muffled as you spoke into the table. You couldn't see the smirk nor the wink he had given Quinn, which was probably for the best given how much you were struggling already. If only you could easily get under the table...

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Quinn asked, as your father continued to take things back to the kitchen. He felt guilty -guest or not- just sitting there while everyone worked around him.

Your father would pause in the doorway, his eyes falling on your slumped frame, and he'd laugh looking back at Quinn, like he had picked the perfect time to ask that question. "Just babysit that princess across from you. Make sure she doesn't fall out of her chair to hide under the table."

A dampened huff could slightly be heard from you at his comment. You felt alright; felt in control enough to get up and go hide in your room but for some reason you remained planted in the chair.

"You guys suck," you forced a laugh, making yourself to sit back up after the room spinning began to affect you. "Why is everyone picking on me?"

Looking at Quinn first he seemed like a deer in the headlights. He just blinked at you, mouth slightly open like he wanted to speak but nothing came out. You'd watch him get up from the table and say something quietly to your father while you pouted. You were really regretting bringing that wine.

When Quinn returned to you, he sat down a tall glass of water in front of you and whisked away the near-empty bottle and drained wine glass. You didn't even care that he took it, if only someone had done that after your first glass you likely wouldn't be feeling like such an idiot.

"I'm sorry," you apologized again, catching sight of his face when he came back to the dining room.

Quinn didn't say anything at first, just did his sheepish half-smile, "Do you need anything?"

"A nap."

"Do you want to lay down?"

You nodded, bringing the glass Quinn had brought you to your lips. It was cold from the amount of ice, but it was a lovely pallet cleanser from the bitterness of the wine still lingering on your tongue. Your parents were still busy in the kitchen, clearing off plates and loading the dishwasher. They wouldn't notice Quinn moving back around the table to see if you needed any help getting to your feet. He thought you seemed okay, but he stayed close to you all the same.

The trip up the stairs was more of a challenge. You had a hold of the handrail while Quinn kept a hand gently against the middle of your back, prepared to catch you should you stumble. Though everything was still fuzzy, you zeroed in that he was touching you, and that he was so delicate in doing so. Even as he pulled back the blankets for you, he never rushed you or made you feel shameful for anything. It was like he had all of the time in the world for you.

"Is there anything else I can get for you?" He'd ask, pulling the blanket up to your shoulders as you laid on your side, facing him and the door. His voice was low, like you were already asleep.

"Forget this...ever happened?"

Quinn grinned, "You've not done anything wrong. It's okay to have a little fun."

Pulling the blanket up past your nose, your exposed eyes would remain on him as he looked over you. How could he be standing there like this wasn't the funniest thing he had ever seen? That's when it hit you, that everything he had said had been his truth. He didn't care that you were a little past tipsy; he had been in your position a time or two in his life, surely. You had to realize that he was sincere in what he said, and that it wasn't veiling a hidden agenda. You were so coded to assume all men were the same, given how those in your past had all used the same playbook. Quinn, simply, was different.

"I promise you, I won't say anything to anyone," he added.

You mumbled beneath the blanket, "Promise?"

He nod with one last soft smile. The day was turning into a fever dream. You were drunk by early afternoon, shared a family meal with Quinn like you had brought him over to meet your parents, he had tucked you into bed after helping you upstairs so you didn't fall, now he was making promises to you in the privacy of an upstairs bedroom. None of these things had even crossed your mind in the deepest of daydreams, yet here you were.

"Would you like me to bring you that water?"

"I'm full of enough liquid...thank you."

He chuckled, putting his hands in the pockets of his pants. The way he was standing there, you thought he felt awkward about still being there.

"Be careful going home, Quinn."

"I will. Are you staying here?"

"Mhm," you replied, eyes falling closed against the warmth of the blankets over your body. "I'll see you...Tuesday."

"See you, Tuesday."

You didn't hear him leave. It was possible that you were already asleep before he even left the room.

[the-universal-sun]

little lee waking up from night terrors and ford and fidds comforting him?

Hey guys, sorry it’s been a while, I’ve had my first and therefore worst ever case of writer’s block, but I really wanted to get something out for you guys! I figured making them head canons rather than a cohesive story would help get me past some of the writer’s block. I don’t think this is the best work, but you guys have been waiting long enough! Again, thank you for sticking around with me! Please enjoy reading these head canons as much as I have enjoyed writing them! Please stay safe and warm and healthy!

As always, I am open to helpful comments and critiques on my writing! Sending all my Love!

-_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-

-Stan never likes Ford and F to know he gets nightmares. He's not embarrassed, but the old fashioned sentiments and being manly their father drilled into him are still present. Talking about his emotions makes him feel weird. He'll hide that he had a nightmare if they ask him about it, about what he was mumbling in his sleep for, and avoid them for the rest of the day

-When feeling smaller, it's both the same and different. It really depends on what the nightmare was about. If Lee had a nightmare about a scary movie someone (Ford) let him watch or about some of the specimens around the house that someone (Ford) showed him while little, those are the nightmares he'll wake up crying from, getting up and searching for comfort from his caregivers

-He'll go and stumble into Ford's room, clutching Poindexter in a death grip, his crying waking up Fidds who blearily makes his way out of his room and into Ford's, too. Stan will climb into Ford's bed and shake him until he wakes up, crying and sobbing, babbling about "Scawy Monsters" with 12 eyes.

-It takes Ford a while to wake up and comprehend what's happening, Fidds giving his a small slap upside the head, for "showin' Lee those devil creatures" while he was in his headspace. Ford will jump to action, pulling Stan up in his arms and into his lap, frantically trying to console the loud sobs

-It does not work, Lee will hide his head in Ford's neck and sob and rock, his brother just shushing and petting his hair, rocking with him in efforts to calm him down, but failing in his efforts. Ford's still not quite used to understanding the reasonings behind peoples emotions and action, so he kept trying to explain away what Stan had a nightmare about

-It's not until Fidds brushes Lee's hair back and kisses his forehead, softly murmuring "you must have been pretty scared, huh, Pumpkin Pie. Don't worry, we've got ya', we'll protect ya'." and Stan calms down that Ford realizes oh, he just wanted some comfort

-Once Stan has mostly calmed down, hiccupping and clutching Poindexter and Ford's arms, being gently rocked and soothed by both of them, he'll gently clamber out of Ford's lap and sit in between him and Fidds, sniffling and rubbing the tears away from his eyes

-If Lee wasn't sacred and sad, it would've been the cutest sight either of them have ever seen

-They just there for in silence, Lee hiccupping and sniffling, feeling so embarrassed for crying over a stupid nightmare like a stupid baby. Sometimes, he'll get too into his own head, mean and nasty thoughts getting the best of him. Ford and Fidds are quick to notice, crushing him their arms, whispering sweet words in his ears, telling Lee how sweet he is, and how he's so good and smart.

-It doesn't clear up his thoughts all the way, but it does make Lee feel better, a small smile growing behind the pacifier Fidds slipped in his mouth

-When Lee’s all calmed down, he's exhausted, poor little thing is just tuckered out from all the crying, but he's too antsy to go to sleep again; what if he has another nightmare?

-No need to fear, though, Fidds snagged some books before he left his room to console Little Lee. He presents 3 books: Goodnight Moon, Babe, or Mister Magnolia. Lee, of course, chose Goodnight Moon. It's his favorite bed time book and he needed the comfort after such scary nightmares!

-Lee gets settled in Ford's bed, pulling his twins arm over him, clutching Poindexter, and snuggling into Fidds' side, ready to be read to

-Let's be real, he doesn't make it past the second page, he was already exhausted from his nightmare and the crying, all he needed was the comfort of his Sixer and his Fidds to feel comfortable enough to go to sleep

-If the nightmare while Little is about his Pa' or about his decade of homelessness, those are the kind of nightmares that he wakes up from silently, still crying, but in the way someone who's had to learn to be quiet cries, silent hiccups and heavy breathing.

-He muffles his sobs into Poindexter’s fuzzy stomach, holding his breath as long as he can to get his crying under control

-It’s nightmares like these that leave him his most vulnerable, teetering on the edge of being Big or Little; he’s either almost ripped out of his headspace or plunged right into it, depending on his headspace when he went to bed

-Lee won’t go to Ford or Fidds, too scared and upset to leave his bed, he cries and cries, it’s only if either of them check in him that they see their Little Lee crying himself sick

-If that happens, he’s being immediately scooped up and carried to Ford’s bed (it’s the biggest) to be tucked into to his brother’s side and coddles and cuddled until his Big Tears have settle down some

-Ford and Fidds pet and pat him, talking about their latest project over his head, he doesn’t comprehend what they’re saying, but Lee likes hearing their voices and feeling their chests move under him

-When these nightmares happen, Lee doesn’t need a story to lull him to sleep, he’s already exhausted, the warmth and sound of his caregivers easing him enough to slip off, cuddling his Teddy Bear

[accio-sriracha]

Chasing Stars

A slightly long snippet of an unpublished Jegulus wip.

CW: Very brief mentions of sexual abuse and a singular homophobic slur

Context: Regulus is forced to make dark magic deals on behalf of the Black family. Things get messy as James unknowingly follows him into the dangerous exchange.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"Does your friend here have a name, Black?" Dominic demanded as he moved closer.

He walked in lengthy strides, like a wild animal waiting to pounce.

"James O'Malley." Regulus lied immediately.

"Slytherin?" He asked, looking Potter up and down and making a slow, predatory circle around them.

Regulus swallowed hard, attempting to keep his poise as he responded,

"Yes. Half-blood."

"Ooh, a halfblood." Dominic snickered.

Regulus heard a few of Dominic's followers laugh as well.

"Why don't we hear your friend speak?" Dominic drawled, his voice as daunting as ever.

He took another step forward, coming right into Potter's space,

"You wanna talk for us, O'Malley? Or are you just gonna keep following little Black around like his bitch?"

Regulus glanced back at him, watching the challenge sparking behind Potter's eyes, the slight tip of his chin.

Potter's pride was something Regulus knew would be a wild card.

Please don't fall for it, Potter. He silently begged.

Regulus kept his face even, Potter's eyes met his own again, deep brown crashing into metallic silver.

By some miracle Regulus couldn't thank enough, Potter remained silent.

"Bitch, it is." Dominic taunted, "Got yourself a bodyguard then, Black?"

He leaned in and took Potter's jaw in his hand, tilting his face to look up at him.

Regulus could tell the force of his grip had to be painful, but Potter didn't so much as flinch, meeting his cold stare with an expression that could have been cut from stone.

Dominic laughed, "Yes, he's a keeper. Big and strong but... not too bright, eh?"

He patted Potter's cheek twice and let him go, moving back to stand with the others again.

He heard Potter let out a slow, angry breath when there was a good distance between them.

"I want your end of the deal done by next week, Black. If you don't follow through, you know what's gonna happen to you." Dominic spoke only to Regulus now, ignoring the boy behind him.

Regulus nodded once, "I'm aware. It will be done."

Dominic smiled that horrible, sadistic smile,

"Good. Make sure to tell your brother I said hello. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear from me."

Regulus held back the instinct to flinch at his words. He remembered the look in Sirius' eyes when he came back from his last meeting with Dominic.

That was the first time Regulus had ever seen Sirius cry, even after all the years of abuse they'd suffered, nobody had ever broken Sirius the way Dominic did that night.

"We're no longer speaking." Regulus answered automatically, pretending to be unaffected, "He was disowned from the family over a year ago."

Dominic knew that, Regulus was sure of it. Everyone had heard of Sirius' estrangement to the family. He was only testing Regulus, seeing how far he could push until he broke Regulus too.

It took nearly five years for Sirius to give in to Dominic's pressure.

Regulus had never met anyone as strong as his brother, he doubted he ever would.

Dominic laughed, bringing Regulus' thoughts back to the exchange at hand,

"That's right. Bit of a faggot, wasn't he? Hmm... it's such a shame good blood was waisted on someone so pathetic. I'm telling you, I'm pretty sure he enjoyed having my friends inside him when he was being punished for a late delivery."

Potter reacted then, his wand in his hand before Regulus could manage to stop him.

A spell was shot in their direction the very same moment.

Those were always the rules: if they saw a wand drawn they would curse first and ask questions later.

Regulus immediately shoved Potter to the ground, knowing these guys wouldn't stop at stunning the way Potter would.

Regulus' shoulders heaved, standing protectively in front of Potter with his own wand drawn,

"Fuck, Potter." He hissed under his breath.

He'd never wanted to be at the other end of their torturous spells.

"Potter?" Dominic's eyes went wide, "Have you lied to me about your guest, Black?"

"We aren't looking for any trouble." Regulus replied instead, though he couldn't bring himself to put his wand down, not with their hungry eyes locked onto the boy behind him, itching for a target.

"You say that, and yet here you stand, pointing your wand at your oldest friend."

Dominic pretended to be offended, but Regulus knew he didn't care. There would always be someone to deliver, it didn't matter how much he tortured them, someone would always take their place.

"Dominic, please, just let him go. I will answer for it. He doesn't know anything." Regulus found himself resorting to pleading.

Regulus never begged, not even when he was beat an inch from his life as a child, he was always the type to stand there and take it silently.

But this was Potter.

Regulus was responsible for whatever happened to him now, he couldn't be the reason Potter was hurt, not when he knew he could do something about it.

He wondered when his feelings had changed to this, merely an hour ago he wouldn't have noticed if Potter dropped off the face of the earth aside from the Gryffindor team lacking their quidditch captain.

Regulus couldn't remember exchanging a single word in the past six years they'd passed each other in the halls.

Yet here he was, putting his life on the line for the boy he barely knew.

Because if he did know anything, it was that Potter was far too good to deserve this.

Dominic's voice snapped Regulus' attention back to his face,

"Ahh, but he brought himself into this, didn't he, Black? I feel a man who makes his own choices should face his own consequences."

Before Regulus could react there was a surge of light and a scream from behind him.

Regulus dropped to the ground, hovering over Potter, making sure he was still breathing.

"Enough!" Regulus shouted, his voice sounded desperate to his own ears, "We'll go! I'll have it to you by next week. You have my word."

Regulus would do anything, anything to get Potter away from here.

Potter wasn't going to die today.

Regulus would save him if it was the last thing he ever did.

"Look who's the brave Black brother now." Dominic cooed, reaching out and tilting Regulus' chin up, the same way he'd done with Potter, the same way he'd probably done with Sirius, "That's a curse I made myself. It should end in a few hours. Let this be a reminder to never betray me again."

A blinding flash of pain against his jaw made him fall to the ground, collapsing next to Potter.

It occurred to him a moment later Dominic had actually punched him.

It was rare to see a pureblood wizard strike without a wand.

But Dominic was no ordinary wizard.

"Pitiful. What a waste of good blood." Dominic repeated, motioning for his friends to leave.

Regulus sat up when they were alone again, leaning over Potter,

"Potter, fuck, fuck I'm so sorry. Can you hear me?"

Potter was shaking violently, his eyes glazed over and his lips forming around silent words.

Tears fell from his eyes and sweat matted his hair to his forehead, the sight was one of the scariest things Regulus had ever seen.

"Okay. Come on, I'll get you safe." Regulus managed to get Potter onto his back, carrying him down the worn path to the castle. Potter clung to him the entire way.

Regulus caught the words 'Please' and 'No' a few times in between the heart-wrenching sobs.

He made it to the Gryffindor tower, facing the portrait he knew to be the door to the common room,

"I need to get inside." He told her.

The lady in the portrait yawned and stretched,

"Password?" She asked sleepily.

Regulus groaned, "I don't know the password, he's in trouble, we need to get through. It's an emergency!"

She shrugged, "No password, no entry."

Regulus cursed, setting Potter down on the ground and resting him against the wall.

He knelt down in front of him, pulling their faces close,

"Potter. Potter, look at me." He whispered, "I need the password to the Gryffindor common room."

Potter's eyes were still unfocused, the shaking had gotten worse. The silent words turned to quiet whimpering, he looked so terrified.

"Potter, please, try to focus okay? Try to focus for me. I need the password."

He didn't reply, his head thrashing from side to side as his reactions to whatever he was seeing got more violent.

"Fuck." Regulus pulled out his wand, cursing the world for making him need to use this spell again.

It was a spell he and Sirius had created when they were kids, in case something happened to one of them.

"Sirius." Regulus tried to keep his voice from shaking, his eyes never leaving Potter's, "Sirius, I need you, please."

He heard Remus Lupin's tired voice emitting from his wand and realised they were sleeping together.

He didn't have time to process it, holding Potter to his chest when his tears starting again,

"It's okay, I got you." Regulus murmured against his hair, stroking Potter's back in a way he hoped was soothing.

He wasn't even sure Potter knew where he was.

Lupin mumbled something again, something that ended in him using the word 'Darling'.

"Moons? What is it?" Sirius came through next.

Regulus felt his heart lurch at the sound of his voice. He missed his brother so much it hurt most days.

This was not how he was hoping to reunite with him.

"There's something happening with your wand, love, I don't know."

"What?" Sirius' groggy voice grew irritated, "What about my wand?"

"Sirius, it's me." Regulus spoke again, this time his voice really did shake.

Potter's arms were wrapped around him now, his head buried into his shoulder while he sobbed, shaking harder than ever.

"I- I need help." Regulus sounded like a child again, begging for his big brother to come and rescue him.

"Reggie?" Sirius immediatley sounded awake. There was shuffling, then his voice grew clearer, "Are you- Are you okay? What happened? Where are you?"

Regulus wanted to sigh in relief. He knew Sirius would come if he used the spell, no matter how much time had passed between them.

Regulus didn't have time to explain,

"I need you to open the door to the Gryffindor common room. It's Potter, he's-" He broke off, shaking his head even though he knew they couldn't see him.

"James?"

Regulus heard quick movements, curtains being thrown open.

"Shit, Remus. It's Prongs-"

Regulus didn't have time for them to hash it out over the call,

"Outside the common room. Please just hurry."

Regulus disconnected the link between them as Potter's shaking got worse again. He began to thrash in Regulus' arms,

"Don't leave, Regulus. Please, don't leave me."

Regulus nodded and held him tighter, "I won't Potter, I won't. I'm right here, I promise. I'm not going anywhere."

Something had snapped inside of Regulus, like a wire strung too tight.

And he knew it in that moment, he wouldn't- couldn't- leave him. Not ever.

The portrait swung open suddenly, Sirius rushing out of it with his wand raised, his eyes searching for danger.

He found Regulus holding Potter on the ground beside the door.

Lupin stepped out too, taking in the sight with shock.

"Prongs?" Sirius' voice was a mixture of terror and confusion.

Regulus looked up at them,

"Fuck, Sirius I'm so sorry. I tried to protect him, I-"

His sentence trailed off as Potter's thrashing started again, Regulus tried to hold him steady.

"Regulus!" Potter shouted, "No, please!"

"I got you. I'm here, I'm here." He whispered, trying to keep him from hitting his head on the wall, "It's okay. It's okay. I'm right here."

"What the fuck happened to him?" Sirius asked, watching in horror.

Regulus was crying now too, his voice coming out in a sob as he clutched onto Potter,

"He was hit with something. I- I don't know, some kind of curse. Dominic-"

"Dominic?" Sirius was furious instantly, his eyes never left James, like he was afraid to look directly at Regulus, "What the fuck was James doing near Dominic?"

"I don't know." Regulus repeated, trying to keep his voice low to not startle Potter, who was clinging to him like his world depended on it. Maybe in his eyes it did.

Regulus sniffed, "He followed me out while I was doing a run for father. I didn't know what to do. Dominic showed up before I could convince Potter to leave."

"Regulus-" James' broken sob was muffled into his chest.

Regulus turned his attention back to Potter, the protectivness he felt from the moment Regulus realised he was standing on that trail coursing through him.

Regulus was wrong to think he would never notice Potter's disappearance from the world.

He always noticed Potter. He knew it had been Potter following him on the trail by the sound of his footsteps alone.

He could recognise Potter's laugh out of a hundred others. He could tell exactly what Potter was thinking from just one look at his eyes.

Regulus had always noticed Potter, always gravitating towards him in one way or another.

It had just never meant anything until now.

Now? Now he meant everything.

Regulus held onto him, trying to get the shaking to stop,

"You'll be okay." He whispered.

He didn't know if it was for Potter's benefit or his own.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

( @bradleysass I'm so sorry, I swear the fic has a happy ending)

[b0n3s-is-gay]

Hey it's me again :) I really want headcanons for the greasers making out + Bob Sheldon please 🙏🙏 I know I asked you for headcanons already but I really like you writing so I wanna ask you again :3 Don't rush though! Have a good day xx

Hey Kenzie, I don't write for Bob Sheldon but I will write for the rest of the gang. Once again, I am very sorry (--;

How does the gang make out?

Darrel Shaynne Curtis:

Darry is a slow lover as I said in almost all my Darry relationship posts. He's gentle with his lover and is always attentive.

When Darry makes out with you, it's got to either be at your house or his. He will never and I mean ever make out with you when you're both in public. God forbid the gang or his brothers see you both swapping spit.

When Darry makes out with you, it's either going to be a quick and sloppy make out session followed by much needed release or a soft and sweet moment away from the rest of the gang.

His hands will find purchase on your hips and thighs. They'll trail up your back and rub at your neck while you're lip locked.

Loves it when you kiss his neck or bite his skin, it just feels nice alright? No other reasons of course.

Keith 'Two-Bit' Mathews:

He's eager. Like eager-eager. If he's making out with you, he's either riled up (think post rumble) or really in the mood.

When Two-Bit is kissing you post rumble, he's really going for it. As in you're cleaning him up and suddenly you're back is agains the wall and he's kissing you so much that you can taste the beer on his tongue.

Two-bit doesn't care where you are and what time it is. If you're at the movie, great. Give him some kisses. If you're at the Curtis house hold, awesome. Mickey's on and you're kissing each other.

His hands are not stationary. One moment they'll be on your thighs and the next they're on your arms.

Two bit adores it when you sit on his lap while you're both kissing. He loves the warmth of it all.

Dallas 'Dally' Winston:

Tongue and teeth, he's hungry and craves for you. When you make out, there is no reason at all.

Making out with Dally is nothing short of possessive. Like he doesn't care, any time or any place is fair game should one of the people he's crossed is in the area.

While Dally can be rough and raunchy, he can also be sweet and kind with it. Picture it: you're just waking up, tired and aching from the night before. Dally's got your head on his chest, blearily blinking away the morning fog. When you're both awake and still tired, he'll tilt your chin up and gently kiss you until you're either tired or drunk on the feeling of tongues tangled.

Dallas doesn't have any qualms with where he puts his hands. You could be at the drive in and his hand will be on your chest (with permission) while you're lip locked with him. Another instance of this happening is when you're at a party and he'll have you against a wall while gripping your thigh.

A little thing Dally loves (but won't admit to) is when you're rubbing his chest, whispering praises and 'I love you's to him between kisses.

Sodapop Patrick Curtis:

Sodapop is a passionate man that just makes out with you just because he can. While he can be soft, but he can be like Dallas (in some ways) if stressed enough.

Another shameless one, not quite on the level of the previous two. He's okay with making out in public to mainly stake a claim but he prefers to keep things like this out of the public eye.

Soda is always really gentle when it comes to making out with you. He would never do anything to do hurt you. So no gripping your hair or groping you too hard. He's respectful about it.

His hands will wander though, don't get him wrong. Soda's favorite places to perch his hands are your arms, shoulders, and sides.

A random thing Sodapop loves when you're making out like this is when you're both alone. Think the lights are dimmed, the rest of the gang is out of the house, both of you are on the couch.... And you just start making out, nothing sexual takes place, just an exchange of passion.

Steve Randle:

Steve is soft. Like softer than soft. He's passionate, he can be rough, but Steve loves and when he loves, he loves like a cat. This applies to making out. Like one moment it can be the softest thing ever and the next you're on his lap and his hands are gripping your ass.

He's not shameless. Like, he's okay with putting a hand around your waist or fighting for you in public should a guy hit on you, but he reserves his affection and stuff like that for the bedroom or when you're alone.

As I said, Steve can go both ways when it comes to making out with you. Some days after a really bad fight with his father, he'll come to your house and sit with you while ranting before you both start kissing and such. Other days, Steve is biting and pouring his anger into those kisses.

His hands don't wander that much, they stay either on your sides or thighs. He will only move his hands if he's worked up about something.

A random thing that Steve loves when you run your fingers through his hair while squeezing his shoulder.

Johnny Cade:

This man is shy, you're his first in everything. So when it comes to making out, you're the first one he's ever done this to so he's a bit nervous.

Johhny is not into and will not do anything in public. So that's off the table. When you're kissing and all that stuff, you're going to have to guide him through it.

He's gentle, like butterfly kisses gentle. Nothing too crazy, nothing too painful. Just gentle over all. He's able to inflict pain but he doesn't want to hurt you.

His hands will stay by his side at first. You'll have to move them to where you want them. When Johnny finally gets comfortable with you, his hand is going to be on your cheek and shoulder. He wants to feel your face.

Something that just turns Johnny into a puddle is when you tell him he's pretty and that he's the best man in the world. PRAISE JOHNNY.

Ponyboy Michael Curtis (aged up):

Ponyboy... Ponyboy is a special case. His heart is a bit guarded but he's willing to open it. Death is on his door (GET THE REFRENCE) and he's going to live with you to make up for that.

He's not going to do anything in public or at his home. He'll gladly kiss you and everything at your house, out by the tracks, or some place private. Just nothing where anyone in the gang can see.

He's a gentle kisser. All the Curtis boys are, I don't make the rules. He'll have you on his lap or vice versa and his dopey grin will surface when you both pull apart for a breath.

His hands don't really have a set place. They'll move around. Hands in yours, hips, sides, face, shoulders. They are never stationary unless you make them stay stationary.

If something were to make Ponyboy melt, it'd be knuckle kisses while he catches his breath. It makes him smile, like a genuine smile, when he feels your lips kissing his scarred knuckles. He can't explain it, he really can't.

This was so fun to write! Credits for the dividers goes to @/graphicbloss

[fandom-susceptible]

The Dragon Prince Rewatch Liveblog

Echoes of Thunder

Knowing who Aaravos is makes this intro hit different. How did Ziard discover dark magic again bro? Huh? What exactly caused that to happen? You wanna share that part of the story bro? Or how humans weren't the only ones displaced by the divide of the continent? No, because you're not here to share history, you're here to manipulate people.

Neat - so the first named characters we see in the show aren't the dragaang by a long shot. It goes Sol Regem, Ziard (not that he matters as much later), Aaravos, Avizandum, Aditi, and then Amaya.

Callum being startled by the thunder but instantly going into big brother mode to comfort Ezran when he hears Ezran yelp is such a good moment.

I rewatched the first elf scene recently to analyze Runaan's behavior here and I still love everything about it. Runaan is so fucking massive compared to the other assassins. He had to know she would hesitate. But he had to know if she would hesitate now or when it came to their targets, so he tested her - and she makes the worst mistake she could make as a Moonshadow elf, but unwittingly sets off a plot that will allow her to save even more people.

Wtf do Harrow's guards think about Viren? This dude just bursts into the king's bedroom unannounced apparently regularly enough that he has an ongoing discussion with Harrow about it.

I'm convinced Viren was planning on getting Harrow killed from the beginning. That's why he didn't want to send for Amaya.

Knowing that Runaan is her dad now makes the soft tone of the "Well done, Rayla." And her flustered response hit even harder. He tested her. She lied. He thinks she passed. She knows she's lying to him. She's not just lying to her boss, she's lying to the one person in the world whose opinion matters to her more than anyone else (except perhaps Ethari).

The jelly tart theft scene makes me so happy because it's so clear they've done this before, especially when Barius lets them do it later.

I love how Soren actually does try to make Callum look good in front of Claudia. I love how being a big brother is so firmly part of his personality that he goes into that mode even with Callum even during his "bully" phase.

Harrow tries so hard to make this a happy thing for the boys, and Callum tries just as hard to support that worldview for Ezran, and my heart hurts over it.

"What are they, minstrels or something?" And Rayla says Soren doesn't understand sarcasm. He's SO sarcastic with his dad, I love it.

They build up the Moonshadow elves as being "unstoppable" under the full moon, and work so hard on these magical solutions, but I can't help but notice/remember that Soren did in fact manage to stop them. Like that is in fact a thing that happened. Even sparing barely any time to actually prepare for defending, it wouldn't have mattered that Ezran and Callum left the castle that night, because none of the assassins actually made it past Harrow's room. They only got one target and that's with the Crownguard having virtually no time to brace for the attack. Viren's been undermining the military defenses since the very beginning.

Soren may have been a dick about forcing Callum to stay behind but he was in fact correct to do so, Callum doesn't have the training to be going into all out battle at this point. He's safer staying behind.

The contrast between Callum's "Your Majesty" but also so easily calling Harrow "my father" to Soren, and everyone in the room knowing Runaan is her father but Rayla using his name

This fandom really takes you through a series of opinions about the oath the assassins take, doesn't it? First watch as a kid I was like, yeah, ok, this makes sense to me. Second as a teenager I was like, oooh, very flawed vengeful system, anyone who survived this would need a redemption arc. Now, as an adult, having the full context of a couple graphic novels up to Season 7 . . . yeah, it's a flawed system. But it's a flawed system based on over a thousand years of marginalization. These elves didn't make this call; Zubeia called on them, and what were they going to do, say no? Last time they started a fight with the rest of Xadia they lost miserably. They do not have the numbers to justify arguing with the Queen of Dragons. They're doing the best they can with a culture older than any of them can remember and the information they have about current events. We should criticize their culture, sure, but the individuals are less to blame than we might think at first.

Soren's been leading the Crownguard since he was 16 and you can really tell from how his older subordinates just sigh at his stupid jokes

I forgot about Runaan poisoning his arrows. Dude is thorough. Also, the lore of how arcanum magic works is fascinating; Runaan's said to be one of the best with moon magic, but still uses the moon opal necklace Ethari gave him to cast the spell to hide them.

Also, "I saw the fear in his eyes!" "Of course he was afraid! But you had a job to do!" is such a loaded exchange. Runaan isn't trying to argue with her reasons. He doesn't contradict her. He just says that she should have done it anyway, because now her own people are in danger instead. It's also interesting because she reacts that strongly to fear of death; which makes so much sense with the Moonshadow cultural view of death as being nothing to be afraid of, because it's just the next phase of existence. Of course she thought she could do it; she didn't expect her targets to be afraid, because she doesn't know anyone who would be.

[skyfallscotland]

This was a stellar analysis and if everyone who is NOT Helena could just ignore this reply that would be amazing. (Not really, you don’t have to, but like if you think I’m dumb just whisper it quietly to yourself and if you can’t handle dissection of the text or SOMETIMES dissatisfied opinions, then also turn away this is not for you, I don’t want more anxiety it was just too long for the comment reply box).

I laughed out loud at “modern au” 😭😂 she just wanted to get in on that, she saw us writing relatively happy Xaden and went you know what, that seems like fun

I just think the new “brother” being Bodhi is so trite and heavy handed 😩

I actually just assumed this was a six month period like the last two books so Aaric’s signet could have manifested a month in LMAO damn it. PLUS, before Rebecca said that, it did line up for him having manifested during the battle of Basgiath. His whole speech to Vi about having to choose between Lilith and her seemed a bit too on the nose to me.

If it IS Bodhi for the reasons RY implies and Xaden’s like wow he’s the last person I’d expect…it really isn’t a good look for Xade in my opinion 😭

What is a random vindictive gene if not a birth defect? Though I think maybe it could have been better demonstrated by Violet having had the fever and never recovered herself (a la POTS/CFS) if she wasn’t going to actually do something with it, but then I also think making the illness the result of her being “the bad guy” could also give neggy connotations? Idk it really depends if she plans on expounding on veninism—I know we’ve talked about this before.

But also on this—was Vi just a preemie baby? Was she just small? Because (afaik) a hEDS presentation probably wouldn’t be immediately obvious until she’s four? Five? Which is def old enough to remember going with daddy to a temple if it was a big deal/memorable event. Like how old was she before this was an idea in Asher’s mind? Or are we just assuming it’s to do with her illness and it’s not. It’s never overtly said.

I also think, on the venin, that perhaps in her original idea, they Were supposed to be a very one-dimensional villain, but then we got to writing book two and they made it a five book series and all of a sudden she felt like she had to flesh a lot of things out? And that maybe that is where things became unstuck and not greatly paced in regards to them as a concept?

“She is warmth and light and air and love” CRYING

Also, out of order with my other thoughts but I didn’t really get the ice analogy (when reading it in the book), I’m sorry, I’m dumb but it feels clunky.

SGAEYL IS HIS MOTHER

I don’t know who that person on the isle even was and his real mother should have roasted her for her offences.

Jack kinda implies that it goes initiate then straight to asim, no? Like there’s no in between?

The intentionally misleading writing For Me doesn’t hit. I really feel like she does this continually and I just think it shows poor narrative skill and/or poor choice of POV/tense overall if that’s how you want to do it. At the end of the day, readers aren’t supposed to come away from your book confused. Curious and wondering, yes, but confused, no. I would die if this many people were walking away from my writing going “what the fuck was happening, I almost DNF’d because I didn’t understand a thing” but that’s just me.

I think also, the lack of resolution for anything also ties into this. You have to give your readers some payoff and it can’t just be in the form of fan service. Every book needs to have some subplots that are wrapped up, all good series’ have some subplots wrapped up in each book—you get new questions, sure, but you have some answered too. Onyx Storm just didn’t do that.

Also, I think the Isle of Dunne is a red herring, I think he’s taking the eggs to the irids. They’re the ONLY ones who right now, as far as he knows, conceivably have the power to change the tide of this war, they just refuse to help because they left an irid there once and the dragons perverted her morality? I don’t have a fleshed out theory, but I think they’re the only ones it makes sense for Xaden to try and elicit a deal out of right now and I think he somehow plans on using the cultural exchange student hatchlings to do it 🤪🖤

Question: are the irids technically dragons at all? As we know them?

Were the dragons irids who lost some of their power by drawing from the ground or refusing to worship their gods? Is this devolution at work? I have….questions.

I’m very aware I need to do a re read to clear some things up for myself but I’m just not…wanting to yet ha. It’s also 1am so I’m probably making ZERO sense, I can barely keep my eyes open sorryyyy xx

I’d love to hear your thoughts on the ending!!

I'm soooo sorry nonny. This took 5ever. For some reason, I mentally decided that the completion of this ask would be the end of my Onyx Storm era, and then I didn't want to go near it because I didn't want the book to be done :(. However, I was brave, and I did it. This got insanely obscenely long, so you're getting Xaden's chapter 65 now, and then I'll reblog with Vi's LAST chapter some other time.

Chapter 65: Xaden

Veninism: I think the first thing that comes up in this chapter is the insight into the venin mindset. Xaden's significantly more intense (both than earlier in the book, and in his previous POV chapters). At first, I wasn't a huge fan of the "ice" thing, because I missed the part where he explains it (perks of reading till 5 in the morning) and I thought it was some anachronistic hockey reference. (Fun fact: I wrote this out before Rebecca gave that interview revealing that, yes, it WAS an anachronistic hockey reference. I know that lady WELL.) HOWEVER! The way it's explained here, (essay below the cut)

"Wrath courses like a current under the ice I willingly skate onto, cutting my emotions like the burdens they are so I can be the weapon she needs." (Yarros, 520)

reminds me a lot of a PTSD flashback/trauma event. Not only does this make significantly more sense with the metaphor at hand, but it makes a lot more sense with Rebecca's body of work. I know she's made addiction comparisons, and I can see some lines, but, frankly, I think it's a much more intricate web than a 1-1 metaphor. Especially with the use of the word "triggered" to describe what happens to him when he is "on the ice" as it were, I think (if anything) it's about using an addiction to cope with PTSD-type trauma.

Bond Fuckery: After revealing that Xaden cannot kill the sage himself, he goes on to say,

"I could no more raise a blade to his throat than I could Violet. The bond between Violence and me is the kind of magic that has no explanation." (Yarros, 521)

Which....is weird! Given that we have a precise explanation for said bond in Fourth Wing, maybe something else is going on? #the power of love?? I'm not trying to say they're soul mates in any real tangible way because this is not that kind of story, but I do think it means something. I just don't know what yet.

Further bond fuckery themes are found earlier in the book. There's the entire situation with Andarna leaving, in which Leothan says,

"Bonds are merely magical ties. You are irid. You are magic. Bend it, shape it, break it as you see fit." (Yarros, 443)

I've definitely seem some people floating the idea that perhaps Andarna broke Tairn and Sgaeyl's mating bond, re: Tairn's suspicious period of rest on page 526, (I personally thought he was tired from killing some dragons!) and I definitely think that's a possibility. However, I think it's really interesting that, specifically, Leothan also says bend it and shape it. I know we're supposed to finish the book thinking that Andarna/Leothan severed Violet's bond with Andarna, and then re-forged said bond mid-battle. To me...that doesn't really make sense? There was no real moment where you can say, okay, bond re-forged. It just kind of happens? Which I suppose is also how it happens at threshing, so maybe I'm the problem. Still, I think the idea that perhaps Andarna (or another irid??? given her 1 week of training???) bent or reshaped Tairn and Sgaeyl's mating bond (in order to protect Xaden/Xaden's mission/Violet from the consequences of Xaden's mission) is worth considering.

There's also the entire element of modern AU no magic isles. I know a lot of people thought that entire quest section of the book was filler, but I disagree. I definitely think that insertion was meant to demonstrate that the bonds are not as infallible as we've been led to believe, to show their importance to Xaden and Violet, and to further show just how much Andarna is not like other dragons, and therefore able to do shit with the bond.

Xaden's new brother! Xaden starts off describing the new venin by saying,

"and now that my sage has a new sibling he can use against me...I'm screwed." (Yarros, 521)

Then, he goes on to add:

"...my new brother and the unconscious dragon lying in the valley...how could he do this? Choose this after watching me stumble and fall over the last five months. How could he willingly walk the path I've fought like hell to leave? He's the last person I ever would have expected to turn, and yet here we are." (Yarros, 521)

My money's on Bodhi! There's a lot of "brother" mentions surrounding Bodhi, given the repeated descriptions of how similar he and Xaden look. He's "the closest thing (Xaden) has to a brother since Liam." Garrick even thought Theophanie called Bodhi his brother beforehand! It's Bodhi. Further nuance to Bodhi turning is found, in my opinion, in his frustration with Xaden's over-protection at the end of Onyx Storm. This feeling of impotence combined with something potentially happening to Cuir (re: unconcious dragon lying in the valley/Bodhi puking his guts up wherever that quote is) gives him a reason to turn.

I know @skyfallscotland thinks Xaden's new brother is actually Aaric, which is also super intriguing. Specifically, Amy suggested a scenario where Aaric knows he needs to be venin in order to win the war, and is willing to do whatever it takes to get to the future he sees. I do lean more towards Bodhi than Aaric, if only because of the element of knowing for 5 months (which Aaric does not--even if he finds out about Xaden's veninism from his signet, RY has confirmed Aaric didn't manifest in IF, and therefore it cannot have been five months prior to Battle of Draithus), Xaden really seems to care about this new brother. I know he says he has a "complicated sort of loyalty" to Aaric, but I don't think he and Aaric at the friendship level where Aaric can be used against him in the same way Bodhi can. There's also the whole having to give Vi Tyrrendor ordeal. I know some people think Xaden may have had a change of heart and decided to listen to Bodhi in regards to not forcing him to lead Tyrrendor in his stead, and/or Xaden just felt giving Vi the province directly (what a wedding gift!) was the best possible way to protect her. Who knows, not me. I think of Xaden as someone not particularly inclined to listening to people when he doesn't feel like it, but I also know he'll prioritize Vi regardless, so it could go either way.

Slayer! This is just for the one line mention of Berwyn killing the dragons with the alloy dagger. For one thing, I think this draws parallels between the venin and the dragons (which have been a theme the entire series). For another, I think this is how Xaden, Vi, and co. go about killing the dragons and elders in order to get to the eggs. Seems a lot less messy!

Everything, Everywhere, All At Once: Throughout the text, there's a couple mentions of individuals inability to be everywhere all at once. Theophanie, in chapter 60, for example: (from my Kindle copy, so no page numbers, sorryyyy)

"You're just another lightning wielder, mortally incapable of being everywhere at once."

Or, the slightly different take from Mira in Chapter 23:

"Even if he did, we can't be in two places at once."

I have no idea why this got me so bad, but every time I read it, my spidey-senses tingled. I really feel like it means something. Xaden then wraps things up with saying he IS everywhere at once, on page 522 in regards to the veninism amplifying his shadow powers.

Do I know what this means? No! Of course not! At first, I thought it was a papa sorrengail is venin hint, but I don't actually believe in that. I have been holding out hope that perhaps Vi is somehow venin from Lilith (this is why I think papa sorrengail had her dedicated. it doesn't really make sense to me for Rebecca to write her with a real disability, and then have that real disability be a birth defect when it isn't one in real life. that just seems odd?) and I think this COULD be a hint there. Although, as always, who knows.

What is a soul if not love? Some of you may know, I've been getting a wee bit heated about the implications of the corporeal soul. I get a bit gagged by this because it makes no sense. I ask @maethologies probably once a day, what IS a soul? And to that question, I raise you this: what is a soul if not love?

page 523 has this:

""I love you.' Violet's voice cracks the cold, and a silken thread of warmth wedges itself in the opening before it seals shut, locking it in place. No. Wait. I grab for that thread with desperate hands, clawing to keep her as more of my pieces are blown away, lost to the void. She is warmth and light and air and love."

For starters, I think "she is warmth and light and air and love" is my favorite quote from the entire series. It makes me want to cry!!! There's definitely something to the fact that being venin makes Xaden colder, and Violet only seems to get warmer in this book (her lightning being hot enough to blister, for example). But really, my focus here is that he's so aggressively in love with her. I genuinely do not know how people read this line, or the rest of the novel, and somehow thought Xaden was just going to go join up with the venin. Genuinely! I am REALLY not trying to be mean, it just makes no sense to me.

I'm going to go a bit out of order here to further contextualize, but other Xaden Riorson bangers include:

"What even am I? Hers." (Yarros, 524)

And, far earlier in the text, when Courtlyn asks to whom Xaden swears his fealty:

"Violet. (...) My loyalty is to Violet first above everything, everyone else." (this is a Kindle page number because I don't want to find it in my book, LMAO, but it's 326 in that format!)

Again, he's constantly making it as clear as humanly possible that SHE comes first for him. He is not going to spontaneously gain venin loyalty. Whatever soul-fuckery is going on here, it doesn't make him incapable of love. If anything, the presence of love is what is going to continue to save him. In the chapter 48 epigraph, in which a scenario is described wherein a venin returns to their village, desiccating an entire village except for her husband and two children. Clearly, the theme here is that the feeling of love helps venin gain control of themselves when lost to the thrall of power, if you will.

Frankly, there's a LOT of issues with venin as a concept and how willing the fan base is to accept the characterization of the entire "enemy" as evil, soulless, and incapable of feeling and love. Just on the most basic level, think about the real world implications of that ideology for about ten seconds. If you can't do that, think about it in-universe. The entire point of books one and two were that Navarre's government perpetuated a narrative of dehumanization in regards to the Poromish people so that Navarrians could see them as the enemy. This tactic of dehumanization is then DIRECTLY applied to the venin. The narrative on the surface-level is: These people ARE human, but these other guys are the REAL monsters. Please kill THEM instead. I cannot tell you how many times I've seen people say "Violet's never killed anyone in the series, she only kills venin!" The very fact of saying these people aren't human; therefore they can die...do you see what I see? I know I'm a bit more thematically minded than the average romantasy reader, but it's really VERY in your face here.

The most obvious narrative purpose for Xaden choosing to turn is that it gives Violet and the reader a way to humanize the venin, just like working with the gryphon fliers in part two allowed us all to humanize them. After I finished IF, there was not a doubt in my mind that this was where Rebecca was going.

And she went there...a little bit? She's about halfway there, I'd say. Violet has started to internally reconcile with the fact that Xaden being a venin makes it impossible for her to generalize venin any further, but there's definitely still an undercurrent of "he's not like other venin!!" I think this COULD be a logical progression of the story, and, partially, I think it makes sense for it to take a minute for her thought processes to shift. However, I think it needs to be better layered? And I think that when you have a book like this one with such a low barrier to entry, you need to do a bit more thematic hand-holding if you want people to really get things.

Anyway, this was all to say: Xaden loves her, and so, his soul is fine. HE's fine. He's not evil, he didn't marry her just to leave, he's not "team venin". Etc! I could go on about this further, and I think before book 4 I'll be pushed over the edge and do so. But, for now, I do think the direction Rebecca is pushing for is the "cure" being the power of love et. al.

Mommy Issues: We come back to Sgaeyl! I know some people think Sgaeyl breaks the bond with Xaden as part of his 12 hour plan, and again, I ask: literally how.

Basically, unlike his mother, Sgaeyl isn't leaving Xaden. When he breaks through the pulling from the earth haze, he asks Sgaeyl if she forsakes him, and she says:

"'What is there left of you to forsake?' Sgaeyl lowers her head and steam gusts down the canyon, reminding me of the moment she found me in the forest at threshing. (Yarros, 523)

My direct annotation here is : threshing! Threshing = choice. And I'm right! Threshing does equal choice. She has the option to forsake him, and she doesn't! Case closed. I will say, just as a side note, the idea that she'd leave him for being extra venin is wack as hell when he became extra venin for her. I don't think she was that heated about him being venin in the first place: the focus of her ire at the end of IF was that he "picked" Violet. "You cannot! I chose you!/ But Violet chose me too." She's just a pick me dragon at heart.

Quest Squad (Xaden's Version) I touched on this in response to my other ask about the ending, but now we're gonna go beat by beat.

Xaden starts what I call the quest intro by responding to Sgaeyl's threshing part 2 with:

"'You tell me.' I lower the ice and let her in."

Clearly, this is Xaden showing Sgaeyl whatever plan he's been concocting in his head.

Sgaeyl's response:

"Her next breath is laced with sulfur, and her eyes widen. 'You cannot mean to--'"

Now, this is just needlessly vague to make sure we buy the next book. Like we weren't going to anyway. Thank you for extorting me, Red Tower. However, at the very least, it reveals that his plan is, shall we say, problematic? Controversial? Illegal?

Then, we have (from Xaden)

"'You saw what happened. It is the only way.' She glances over her shoulder. 'And you think she'll help?' 'She loves me.' 'Tairn does not, and you haven't looked in a mirror yet. The red veins branching from your eyes look like her lightning.' 'She'll help.' It comes out with a hell of a lot more certainty than I feel. 'She promised.'"

Line by line time!

"it is the only way" is mad interesting from Xaden "the right way isn't the only way" Riorson. It could just be the influence of being venin on his psyche---everything feels more serious now, and he himself is more intense. But it's such an interesting switch, especially since Violet's assumed his way of thinking from FW.

At first I thought the pronoun fuckery in SHE'll help/SHE loves me was meant to indicate that the she in question was not actually Violet, but I don't think so anymore. I do think it's intentionally misleading! Again, for the money. But, more than that, I think Sgaeyl is glancing over her shoulder AT Violet and Tairn to indicate who they're yapping about.

Now, how will she help? I think this is a separate quandary than the marriage (hence where I broke up the text). Personally, I think this is him saying Vi goes with him to get the eggs/kill the dragons/etc.

The veins branching from his eyes are intriguing. I know he says he's no longer an initiate on this page, but I don't think he's an Asim either? According to Mr. Drake Cordella's venin compendium, Asim's veins distend only when riled, but Sage's veins are perpetually distended. (Iron Flame chapter 47 epigraph). I guess we'll see? I don't know, it would make sense to me if he was a sage, but who knows.

And, finally, what the hell did she promise?

WAY earlier on in the book, Xaden says:

"Swear you'll sound the alarm if I go too far, that you'll keep it safe, even if it's from me." (Yarros, 58)

This is what I think he's referring to! I know @hockeyspiral23 thinks the 'it' in question is actually the sword of Tyrrendor (correct me if I'm wrong!!) and not Tyrrendor itself. I definitely think there's something to that theory.

A few pages later, Xaden says:

"I'll use Tyrrendor to protect you, not you to protect Tyrrendor." (Yarros, 102)

Not to be a broken record, but again: Intentionally! Misleading! Content! I think you're SUPPOSED to interpret the promise as Violet saying she'll protect Tyrrendor from Xaden, and Xaden saying he's "gone too far". But when you actually look at the text, there's no way that's what he's saying. First of all, why would Sgaeyl think THAT plan wouldn't work with Tairn? Tairn does NOT fuck with Xaden right now. And then, why would Xaden Riorson, president and CEO of the Violet Sorrengail fan club, prioritize Tyrrendor over Violet? He cares about Tyrrendor, sure, but in the face of VIOLET? It doesn't compare. It just doesn't! ("I love you more than this city. Do not die defending it.") He's not winning any king of the year awards with those priorities, but that doesn't make it any less true. I basically already have a post ranting about this, (here! If you're curious) so I'm going to cut myself off here. Basically, we have to remember who Xaden actually is when we try to contextualize this vague ass chapter.

And then, wedding bells!

"'Even if she agrees, no one will--'

'Someone owes me a favor.'" (Yarros, 524)

This is the part of the quest that I think is more directly the marriage issue. This has already been covered elsewhere, but the Priestess from Dunne's temple says she owes Xaden a favor earlier on. She goes on to officiate their marriage. I just think the wording makes it clear that this is a multi-step plan. (How can Violet "help" with her own marriage?)

I already quoted the absolute banger "What even am I? Hers." But I'm going to bring it up again! His loyalty, primarily, is to Violet. Whatever quest he's going on, it's FOR HER. He steals the eggs FOR HER. He''s taking them somewhere FOR HER. I don't know how to make that any clearer, but if I keep seeing people misinterpret it, I'll probably try again.

Agency!

The final bit I'm going to pull is Sgaeyl saying:

"And her decision will determine our fate." (Yarros, 524).

I think this just really succinctly makes clear my 573938503 argument above. Violet gets final say on Quest Squad (Xaden's Version) but whatever he does do, he's doing it with Sgaeyl. I know there's some good bits Rebecca's said throughout the tour that support this interpretation, but I don't think I need them quite yet. Maybe next time!

For now, that's all. I'll see y'all back here with Violet's chapter in a bit!

[traumawhomst]

Vampire v Hunter Fledgling let’s goooo

Tw: Reader is fatally wounded and dies but it is not shown graphically.

Honestly it was cute in the beginning, to be singled out by a Hunter, it hadn’t happened in centuries. It was a bit of an ego boost to think his name was still being spread.

The first time he sees them he almost coos, looking at this twee Hunter, all serious in their leathers, a black mask staring at Him across the room. What really piqued his interest was the fact that they never spoke.

Their first fight was more, well, a play fight for him if he was honest. He threw insults and witticisms trying to get a reaction from the Hunter with no luck. No matter how much he mocked and belittled them, they never once spoke back. Or really make noise other than grunts or slight groans due to exertion. It was charming actually, so many Hunters had their little speeches ready, about their tragic life or to mock Him, or worse go on a tirade about ‘good’ and ‘evil’. Those ones never lasted long, too caught up in their egos to focus on the extremely hard task of actually killing a vampire.

If they’re silent well, that means business, a single minded focus that He could respect. So he lets them live after the first fight. A reward for tracking him down when so many had failed in the first place, something to soften the failure of trying to kill him. He figured he’d never see them again, and he was feeling generous.

Oh but you had to keep finding Him didn’t you? Second time you ambushed him he chalked it to dumb luck, and fought you off with him seriously pulling his punches. You were still silent and nothing he seemed to say got you to crack. The third time was just annoying, he was headed to a party hosted by a dear friend, only to find you waiting right outside for him. He didn’t kill you that time, mostly because he didn’t want to be more late because than he already was.

The fourth time you appeared he was completely done with the situation. It has been fun the first few times but it was starting to seem like you needed a harsher lesson. He was going to just break a limb or something, force you to stop for a while.

And then you winged him, the spike firmly lodged in his left arm. That’s when he was done playing. Faster than you could see he moved forward and threw you into the nearest wall.

It was pitiful, even if he didn’t have much pity at the moment, to see you on your side breathing ragged your body too hurt to even curl into yourself. He pulled out the stake complaining about his shirt and the hole left behind as he strolled up to the Hunter who was trying and failing to reach their cross-bow stake launcher, and He stepped on it, breaking it with a satisfying crunch.

The Hunters hand fell and their body stilled as he got closer.

“Honestly, if a vampire beats you three times you should learn your lesson. I was being quite generous with you, but the ‘indomitable human spirit etcetera’,” he said his tone bored, as he prodded at the Hunter’s quivering body. “That would be the shock settling in,” he said blithely, going to stand up before changing his mind. “Actually,” which was the only warning you got when he pulled off the mask and you closed your eyes waiting for the killing blow.

When you looked at Him, abject horror was not what you expected to see on his face. Had you been injured that bad? You don’t think he got your face. The Vampire’s face was glued to yours and for a moment you were unsure if the silence was worse than a quick death.

“You’re eleven!” He balked pulling back for a second. He was of course off by a decade more or less, but the thought was still mildly annoying.

“Who’s letting you do this? Where did you get your equipment? Where in gods name are your parents?”

From your limited prospective he seemed to be having a complete mental breakdown. He kept speaking in some language you didn’t recognize as he looked over your body again and again. Then his eyes seemed to get wider as he remembered that you were in fact dying at the moment. There was no hospital near enough even with his supernatural speed it wouldn’t be enough time, even if someone came at this very moment he didn’t like your odds of survival.

Part of you relaxed when he finally bit down on your wrist, some of it due to his venom, but the other smaller part who was just ready for the pain to end.

You had not expected to come to, still laying on the ground as a seeping cold numbness grew. Your body hurt but not like it had before, somehow this pain was more terrifying. You spoke for the first time, asking in a broken voice what he’d done to you.

He on the other had just seemed relieved to see you awake. “I saved you darling,” he said running a hand over your head. “You don’t have to worry about anything ever again.”

How big of a lie it was.

[crustyfloor]

Luka is very good at keeping himself composed on stage, mostly with the help of maintaining track of his heart rate, but during Mizi's attack in ROMH he seemed to slip up, not only was the red background a tell-tale sign of Mizi's violent intentions but it was a more symbolic way of showing Luka in quite visceral fear. Even if for only a second.

I'm not convinced Luka will be as continuously calculated as he normally comes off, it all seems too fake to me. Because it is. It’s a similar case to Ivan who can't feel, isn't normal, isn't human enough so he makes a persona to blend in. So Luka, whoever he is, makes this version of himself to cope with what he has to live through, pretending like he's on top of it all to survive in this world.

So in round 7, I think something drastic will happen to make him 'snap' in a way.

It's safe to say that we don't know Luka. We don't know who he really is. We don't know his real desires. But we do know one thing--he is scared. he is afraid of the aliens. That's why he appeases them--being their trophy. He's only kept around for his purpose as an entertainer and nothing else and he's very aware of that. He knows very well that a dented trophy will be discarded; with that mindset, he's been able to get so far, and he's scared of losing. That's why he holds any little thing he can get his hands on close. And an important extension of that fear is his fear of losing power.

Till should be the more likely in this position, given he's such a rebel. But isn't that just too predictable? Keep in mind, that Till is a strong person. Even after all he's been through, even after he's been beaten into something more manageable for the aliens--He still hasn't lost his spark. Till is a raging storm. subdued but nonetheless a force to be reckoned with.

Round 6's effect on Till is greatly ambiguous for now but at this point when the time for round 7 comes, Till has been put through so much hell. Whatever Luka does to provoke him probably won't work, he and Luka are equally talented individuals and will make for an intense battle, and at the end of the day, the numbers won't lie. Exactly that is what Luka is ready for but scared of--a worthy opponent for the throne. Someone capable of stripping him of his power. (Is fear what makes Luka so dismissive?)

It would be so aggravating that this 'pest'. who is so indignant, so rebellious (in a way Luka envies.), could so easily destroy everything Luka has worked for, disregard every pain Luka has been through to get to this point, and Till doesn't value this throne as much as Luka does, and Luka doesn't want to feel the pain of death anymore. If his facade is as destructible as I think it is, that will be what ultimately brings out Luka.

This idea may be flawed. Luka is so perfect, too perfect and confident and experienced for something as little as that to break him, just think of all the training Luka went through to get to this point. I'm positive he's very aware of what playing unfairly will lead to. But isn't there always room for a wild card?

Just remember what happened to Hyun-woo.

What happened here isn't fully explained (and probably will be in round 7) but imagine Luka: "Trophy child, goody two shoes" Luka possibly killing another human. Whether by accident or not, what happened?--what and how did Luka feel in the moment for the repercussions of whatever happened to be that bad?

A Luka that is secretly greatly insecure, pliable, and defensive enough that in a spur of emotions, he can’t help but lose his cool in a way he hasn’t in a while because he’s afraid—just to try and prove he is still valuable. That is the type of character I theorize we'll come to see in round 7.

[starsinboots]

@lem0nicle SORRY I LOST YOUR ASK I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED IT TO THE WRONG ACCOUNT LOL ANYWAYS

i have MANY favourite star wars moments BUT my all-time favourite has to be the scene in the Solo movie where Han goes "this is a thermal detonator (makes clicking noise with his mouth) that i JUST ARMED." peak comedy. i quote it all the time. i giggled out loud when i first saw the movie.

also here's your thrawn :-)

[inkshadow]

again, it feels like alex is throwing words at a wall and then having shoved bricks down her throat as as result. mari's lack of faith in herself manifests as doubt in regards to alex's ability to do more than just train, as if putting her heart in multiple places was a bad thing. or, what did she call it? a distraction? either way, if it's not one thing, it's another and alex does not like to be told what to do. by anyone other than her trainer and even then... "wow, that sounds like such a good idea, mari! i wonder why i hadn't thought of stopping before! it's almost like i can't??" in exasperation, alex rolls her eyes deeply, ending up in a stance where she's leaning more on one leg and her arms crossed over her chest. it's all that she can really do for herself right now, given how much energy it takes to will her knees to stop buckling beneath. of course mari doesn't love her back. with how she's behaved over the last few months and how actively she's pushing alex away now, the message is loud and clear. and alex is beginning to see, quickly, that wasting her own breath on a topic mari won't budge on will not move that needle. "love doesn't have to be fleeting. even if it is, that's how you grow. love is why i train so god damn hard every day. love is why i have friends who support me. love is why your brother busts his ass out there every day to make sure that all of you are taken care of." love is why we're here. her lower lip is sucked in, teeth sinking into it a moment in thought when alex finally gives a resolute huff and takes a step back. a step that feels like she's just created a huge rift between them. "you don't wanna be responsible for breaking my heart? then you make sure it doesn't fucking happen."

willfully ignorant, mari chooses to see the version of 'reality' that she can accept and the truths that she is being confronted with now are ones that she had never wanted to face. she wants to turn her cheek, look the other way, and continue to bury her head in the sand. it's safer there, in the dark, but alex isn't letting her, dragging her into the light of day. the fire that alex emanates is scalding, singing a scar on mari's heart. the same heart that belongs to the fiery woman snarly at her now. stunned, all she can do initially is listen, and the words don't make any sense to her. each word hits her harshly, her mouth clamping shut. alex being so vehement about her love for mari is as humbling as awing as it is terrifying. why didn't alex run away from all of this? why is she choosing instead to embrace it, to lean into it? alex's ability to take it all in strides, to not turn away, only cements why it is that mari is so stupidly in love with her. "then maybe you shouldn't do it! achieving your dreams is hard enough," and the last thing that mari can accept is being a burden to yet another person, "and if i only hurt you, then walk away, alex." the words sound foreign even when they come straight from her own mouth. "because you are right. love is hard, and it's fleeting, so why make what we have more difficult?" what she should do is correct alex when she says that mari doesn't love her back. but it isn't worth saying. her love isn't enough. mari's love, mari herself, would never be enough. "because i don't want to be fucking responsible for breaking your heart." a sliver of truth, at least.

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

Still haven't messaged my mom back. And I don't think I'm going to.

[nobodieshero-main]

NOBODY MOVE I'M HAVING POSITIVE THOUGHTS ABOUT MORDRED AND ATLAS.