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#I'm right there with Brennan being
asexxxualauthor · 1 month
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I think the best part of finishing Burrow's End is the moment about six or so hours later, where you're chilling in the shower or in the middle of dinner, and you suddenly realize that the tape—you know, that tape—wasn't all five of the Firsts dog-piling and murdering Dr. Winnebago, but literally just Phoebe. And just that one stoat was enough to cause the carnage the kids found in the store room and turn the doctor into a Meat Dave when she didn't even know how to speak human yet.
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to-be-a-dreamer · 3 months
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Junior Year might actually be the scariest D20 season my fight-or-flight instincts were INSTANTLY activated the second Brennan said the word "MCAT" because that's the name of the actual real-life American medical school admissions exam and hearing that with absolutely no warning did not mix well with my "grew up with parents who view getting into medical school by 22 as the bare minimum of academic achievement" brain
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certifiedwerewolf · 1 month
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Isn't Riz like canonically aro/ace? Why are there so many fic shipping him with Fabian?
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potatoesandsunshine · 8 months
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dan fucks playlist. for my sins
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zincbot · 1 year
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me: i'm gonna put off paying for another month of dropout so i can save up some videos to watch
the new adventuring academy:
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ursie · 5 months
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Brennan’s statement on Palestine :
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[ ID: Statement from Brennan Lee Mulligan, on Instagram. It consists of three black squares with plain white text. The text reads as follows:
"I'm calling on my government officials to immediately demand a ceasefire and de-escalation in Gaza.
I applaud anyone and everyone calling for peace, with the understanding that real peace only exists if it deeply and honestly accounts for and fully ends violence in all its forms. Real peace addresses and corrects wrong-doing in the past and guards against it in the future. It goes hand in hand with justice and requires truth, restoration, reconciliation, reparation.
Peace cannot co-exist with collective punishment, ethnic cleansing and forced displacement. It cannot co-exist with blockades, embargoes, or with 2.2 million people, half of which are children, trapped with no hope of escape or political recourse. it cannot co-exist with murdered journalists, bombed hospitals, or years of protesters being shot and killed at the border. it cannot co-exist with illegal settlements, segregated roads, and the silent, imperial chill that settles over the gaps in the violence - the unspoken geopolitical consensus that a group of people need to unflinchingly accept permanent subjugation and occupation.
My hear breaks for every Israeli person who lost loved ones during the attacks of October 7th. It breaks for every Ukrainian person who has lost their loved ones. It breaks for every Congolese person who has lost their loved ones. I do not speak on behalf of Palestinians now because some lives are worth more than others. I speak on their behalf because I, and all Americans, have a responsibility to pressure our government because we are responsible for this. Some have said that this situation is complicated. The Unites States government clearly disagrees. It has definitively, categorically, militarily chosen a side, and I do not agree with that decision.
In wiring this, I have been wrestling with what I am sure many people like me wrestle with: There is a powerful narrative surrounding violence in the Middle East that asserts and ever-moving goalpost of self-education and study in order to even be qualified to have an opinion. As someone with a love of research, I have at times in my life fallen into the trap that I am not educated enough clever enough, or aware enough to have a worthwhile perspective, and that three more articles and two more lectures and one more book will do the trick. Unfortunately, democracy doesn't work that way - we, the citizens of any democracy, cannot possibly be experts on every aspect of the policies of our governments, and yet if we do not constantly weigh in an make our voices heard, the entire experiment falls apart. Not only do people constantly doubt themselves and the things they can see with their own two eyes, but old shortcuts for political action can fall apart as well: This specific issue exists along a raw, charged and unique faultline in American Politics. Nobody I grew up with has ever challenged me on my support for abortion rights, LGBT rights, Black Lives Matter, anti-capitalism, anti-fascism, none of it. The people in my country who would despise me for those positions are, for all intents and purposes, strangers to me. But there are people who I've broken bread with and shared honest affection with who will see the words I've written here and incorrectly conclude that I do not wish for the security, dignity and happiness of them and their loved ones, and that breaks my fucking heart. Full-throatedly condemning the actions of the Israeli government while battling rampant anti-semitism at home is an urgent moral necessity, and doing so is made unnecessarily challenging for the average person to navigate by the pointed obfuscations of cynical opportunists, bigots, and demagogues on all sides of the political spectrum who see some advantage in sowing that incredibly dangerous confusion.
So, I'm calling my representatives. I'm having hard conversations with friends and family. I'm here, talking to you. I should have done it sooner. If you're Israeli and hurt by this statement, know that I want freedom, dignity, security and peace for you, and that every ounce of my political awareness believes whole-heartedly that the actions of your government are not only destroying innocent lives, but doing so to the detriment of you and your loved ones' safety. If you're American and feel lost and confused - I understand and empathize. This, the whole country, only works when we get involved. I am constantly haunted by the specter that maybe I missed some crucial piece of information on this, or any, important world event. I'll just have to make my peace with that self-doubt and trust my gut by going with Jewish Voice for Peace, Amnesty International, the Geneva Conventions, the United Nations, etc. And if you're Palestinian and reading this: I unreservedly support your right to life, to freedom, to happiness and human flourishing, to full enfranchisement and equal rights, to opportunity, prosperity and abundance, to the restoration of stolen property and land, and to a Free Palestine." End ID ]
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workingwhileidream · 5 months
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Okay Burrow's End had me thinking some thoughts... So here are my favorite Dimension 20 moments that rotate like a rotisserie chicken in my brain (in no particular order other than the order I thought if them).
- Riz goes into the butthole of the Corn Ooze Monster (Fantasy High). The first absolutely insane shenanigans move anyone makes on D20, setting the tone the show will have forever.
- Raphaniel kills Queen Pamelia (Ravening War). I think I saw Brennan's soul leave his body briefly when he got that How Do You Want To Do This from Matt. Time was an absolute flat circle that day.
- Hank convinces Brennan to let him role savvy instead of sneak (Mentopolis). Hank is one of the most famous content creators, having him on the show was phenomenal to begin with. Then right out of the gate, he pulls this move in his first episode. And it just works. Hilarious, instantly iconic.
- Jet Dies (A Crown of Candy). When Lapin dies, it is shocking but I wasn't attached to him as a character. Lapin was a bit antagonistic and his death happens early in the season. On the other hand, Jet is instantly likeable. Emily and Siobhan are amazing as siblings, their performances this campaign are some of my favorites. I have siblings and I am very close to them, so this hit me like a ton of bricks.
- The entire epilogue of Burrow's End. "Are you pitching and Air Bud ending?" is one of the instant hall of fame quotes from this show. I started crying I was laughing so hard.
- Ylfa's bottleneck and the TPK (Neverafter). There are so many close calls for total party kills in Dimension 20 history, but this is where it finally happens and it's only 3 episodes in. I was on edge, expecting another TPK at any turn, for the rest of the campaign.
- 3 nat one initiative rolls for the battle that literally opens the season (A Starstruck Odyssey). The beginning of a new season is always full of excitement. This season was extra special, having everyone back in the dome after the pandemic and the season being based off Brennan's Mom's comics. The zoom energy is still in the air and I still think about this season opener a lot.
- Mother Timothy Goose breaks Snow White's concentration with a cantrip (Neverafter). Only Ally Beardsley could and we all damn well know it. Still didn't stop me from being so far in disbelief that all I could do is laugh.
- Hob's "You will never know another lonely day" speech to Rue (A Court of Fey and Flowers). I will still cry about this if I think about it for too long. Rue and Hob's romance is the heart of this season to me. I won't be over it ever.
- Gertrude convinces Nyruth to give the Questing Queens very powerful boons after the Queens tried to rob them only a few hours earlier (Dungeons and Drag Queens). The fact that this season exists drives a level of serotonin into my brain that is unimaginable. This is the definition of a big swing and when Bob rolls well, Brennan has no other choice than to honor it. This is one of the moments I have made a meme of. I cannot wait for season 2.
- Wuuvy shows up to the duel and she did not come to play (A Court of Fey and Flowers). Aabria has talked about how Wuuvy is one of her favorite NPCs and I feel the same. Wuuvy and Rue's relationship has such a great arc and this moment is so pivotal.
- Fabian's no good very bad day (Fantasy High Sophomore Year). An iconic moment in D20 history that was truly wild to watch live. For everything to go so fantastically bad for Fabian and Lou was unprecedented. There is a reason why people still talk about this moment to this day.
- Amathar survives being pushed off the castle (A Crown of Candy). Brennan tried to kill Lou so many times in this campaign. I really thought Brennan had gotten him with this one, my stomach sunk. But Lou pulls it out and Amathar lives once again.
- Pib plays "Smoke on the Water" (Neverafter). "I stepped out to play 'Smoke on the Water' " is also a hall of fame quote to me. This list could be all Pib moments if I'm being honest, he's my favorite Zac character. And the fact that Zac doesn't roll well makes this moment funnier to me.
- Buddy Bear gets planted with the All Blossom (Dungeons and Drag Queens). Jujubee and Brennan owe me a therapy session for this one. I sobbed. My cat is my baby and I will be ruined the day she leaves me, so I get it. I really do.
- "Eat your dice, Brennan" (Fantasy High Sophomore Year). A great bit made physically possible by Siobhan. I hope Siobhan gives him gummy dice or something like that so that Brennan can continue to eat his dice for Junior Year.
- Orange Top Hat Fairy (Neverafter). It's a horror season and the cast is doing bits about how hot a mini is the entire finale and the Adventuring Party that followed. I felt the stress and off the walls energy through the screen. The Smooth Criminal pin was the first piece of Dimension 20 merch I bought.
- Viola's epic takedown of Phoebe (Burrow's End). Watching Rashawn absolutely crush it her first time in the dome was amazing. I loved Viola from the jump, her arc was so satisfying and fun to watch. Also the idea of a tiny stoat kicking a gun just the right way to get it to fire is hilarious. No notes other than please have Rashawn come back on every season she possibly can.
- Evan Kelmp warns the Rosemont student not to duel him (Misfits and Magic). Brennan's deadpan warning matched with the reactions of the other players and Aabria really make this scene. An underrated Brennan moment for sure.
- Stacey Fakename turns out to be real (Mentopolis). This was such a good reoccurring bit, so to have Stacey be real at the end of the story was too funny. In a season of bits, tropes, and puns - this one has the most payoff to me and is definitely my favorite.
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chungledown-bimothy · 18 days
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bingo really was the next and perfect level of fucking with brennan. if it was just trapp playing him, that's one thing. he can and was starting to be Righteously Angry about it
but then trapp was also a pawn in sam's fucked up little game. so can brennan really be that mad at trapp, because he was also a victim of the same bullshit?
trapp did everything exactly right, as far as he knew. he played brennan like a fiddle but still lost, because that wasn't the actual game.
so brennan lost his game of bingo and, despite being the method by which trapp "should" have won, the episode was still ultimately a complete L for him.
plus borgle.
there's something there about class solidarity, too, but i'm too tired to put words to that
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I'm rewatching old Game Changer episodes and Brennan is angry right from the very start of episode 1
One of the first things he says is "I'm being fucked with. Do you understand? This is an indignity."
The only thing that's been asked of him is his name.
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thecutepoison · 1 month
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This is very speculative, but I'm suspecting Kipperlily is using the Ethereal Plane to spy on the Bad Kids and if I'm right I might have figured how she got found out by the rogue teacher!
First, let me explain my paranoid thoughts about the spying. Since ep 3, we are aware that Kipperlily is hearing their conversations, even if we don't know for sure the extent of it. She, just like Riz, must have a crazy stealth modifier + reliable talent, however I don't think she's relying only on that.
So, there's a scene in ep 4 when the Bad Kids roll for perception to spot Kipperlily. Kristen casts See Invisibility and Fabian rolls a nat 20. Brennan describes, only to Fabian, that although he doesn't see Kipperlily, he feels the "twinge of some kind of sense". Very creepy. That implies that she's there but cannot be seen. She could be invisible, however I don't think that's the case because an invisible person could still be perceived through hearing or touch. Also, Kristen would have been able to see her because of the spell.
With that in mind, the paranoid goblin that lives inside my brain is convinced that she's using the Ethereal Plane to spy on the Bad Kids. The Border Ethereal is perfect for infiltration and spywork, since you pass through physical objects and watch everything in the material plane without ppl there perceiving you. There are a couple of ways to access the Ethereal Plane, with spells or items, but I have no ideia abt the specific method she might be using.
Her being in the ethereal plane explains why Fabian, with his nat 20, didn't notice any physical indicatives of Kipperlily but still felt a presence, like some sixth sense. Now, Adaine did use her Third Eye so she could see into the Ethereal Plane within 60 feet and still saw nothing. But that doesn't mean that Kipperlily isn't there since there's a very easy way to circumvent Adaine: Non detection. This is a third level spell that hides the target from divination magic - for 8 hours they "can’t be targeted by any divination magic or perceived through magical scrying sensors". The Rat Grinders, long time haters of the Bad Kids, are for sure aware that Adaine is a divination wizard, they would be fools to spy on the party without casting Non Detection first. She's the motherfucking elven oracle!
Okay, now about the rogue teacher. In ep 3, Siobhan theorizes the rogue professor is the ghost teacher. I think she's absolutely right! We know most teachers of Aguefort and even if the ghost one was among those we havent seen, the Bad Kids would probably have heard about them if they were teaching something like ranger class. It's plausible that the reason for the party having no ideia who they are and not even passing by them in the halls is that the ghost is the rogue professor. After all, no one knows who the hell they are, it's the whole point of their teaching method. And for a ghost it would be really easy to go undetected since they can travel through the Ethereal Plane, beside the insane stealth.
Indulge my conspiracy theories for a minute. Rogue professor = Ghost Teacher and Kipperlily can wander in the Ethereal Plane, the plane of ghosts. Even with the advantage of being on the same plane as the teacher, it would still be a nightmare to find them since they are a pro rogue. In fact, Kipperlily didn't achive that: the rogue teacher found her.
But how did she manage to have the professor find her? I'm sure it wasn't an accident, she's too calculating for that. So, I started thinking about what would I do in her place and came up with the stupidest ideia. It's utterly ridiculous. But it could totally work and the strategy seems kinda Kipperlily's style.
Remember the Ghost Steak? The one Fig tried to eat when she invaded the teacher's lounge in season one? It's the ghost teacher's lunch, and Brennan reestablished its existence in ep 3 when Adaine used Ethereal Sight, explaining that the school wards are porous enough to allow ethereal travel and other stuff.
So if I was Kipperlily, my dumbass plan would go as follows: invade the teacher's lounge through the ethereal plane and hide inside the fridge. It wouldn't be a problem for me since I'm intangible and can pass through stuff, plus the other professors wouldn't see me even if they opened the fridge. Inside, I wait as long as needed, until the Rogue/Ghost Teacher gets hungry. They finally open the fridge to grab their snack, only to find me looking at them from inside the fridge like a lunatic. Mission complete: got found by the rogue teacher and aced junior year!
It's so mundane and stupid and that makes me more convinced that's exactly what happened. It's too funny to not be true.
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peopleareaproblem · 30 days
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"It's the only name I can say."
So last ep, Kalina dropped this line after saying "Ragh Barkrock" again. She's really trying to get the Bad Kids to deduce who she could be referring to via Ragh. We've found out about the Spy's Tongue Curse since she last dropped Ragh's name, so it's clear that she's implying that she cannot say the names she wants to say and is dropping Ragh's name as a clue. I've been seeing a lot of theories about this line that are convinced it's implying Lydia Barkrock. I disagree: I think she is referring to Arianwen, Jace and Porter. Here's why.
First of all, and most obviously: Kalina says Lydia's full name in Sophomore Year episode 6.
Kalina: But you do have some time to talk it over because I'm gonna head out and kill Lydia Barkrock. So take care.
I don't think Brennan or the D20 Lorekeeper would have missed this. Kalina doesn't have a Spy's Tongue Curse with Lydia.
Secondly, the gang already investigated Lydia and got relevant clues from her, and Brennan did not encourage suspicion towards Lydia in any way. This repeat of the clue really feels like a "you guys didn't get it yet" type thing. Last time they assumed Lydia and that wasn't it. Try again.
Thirdly, Ragh's only real interaction with Kalina is about a single time he saw something he shouldn't have: Jace, Porter and Arianwen talking to someone invisible (Kalina) on Prom Night. I believe that if the Bad Kids just asked Ragh what Kalina could possibly have meant by "Ragh Barkrock" and "It's the only name I can say," he would absolutely bring up this fact. But they haven't!
That's why I am convinced that Arianwen, and to a lesser extent Jace and Porter, are who Kalina was referring to.
Below the cut are some bits of the trancript from Episode 4 of Sophomore Year, where Ragh reveals this to the Bad Kids.
Ragh is describing the aftermath of the fight with Kalvaxus:
Ragh: I ran into the school. And I went and I saw there was this conversation, and I was going, 'cause a lot of the teachers had been trapped in the crystals and had come out again. And I saw Jace, the sorcery teacher-- Adaine: Mm-hmm. Ragh: Talking to this woman that I didn't recognize. She was an elven woman, she was wearing sort of like black, dark robes, it looked like, they were very light. She was blonde, she had glasses. Adaine: She look like this? [points at her face] Ragh: She look like you? Adaine: Mm-hmm. Ragh: I mean, yeah. Yeah, she looked like, yeah, she looked like you. But older. She didn't look like-- Adaine: Right. Ragh: Um, you know, I mean, elves never look that old, but she looked like, you know, not a high schooler. Um. Jace and them were talking, and they were talking to somebody else who I couldn't see. I just assumed somebody was like, invisible. Um. Later, um, Jace and Porter came and talked to me--
Ragh goes on to describe Porter healing him, despite Ragh not feeling "that injured, honestly", and after that he can see Kalina despite not being able to see her moments before:
Ragh: And after that, I was like walking home, and I saw this cat woman, this tabaxi. And she came up, and told me all this stuff about my mom, and she said if I ever talked to anyone about it, she would kill my mom.
This indicates that Porter infected Ragh with the curse, on purpose. Probably to allow Kalina to threaten and manipulate him so he wouldn't tell anyone what he saw. She really doesn't want him telling anyone that he saw Arianwen there.
Ragh: She told me if I ever mentioned to anyone what I had seen about that elven woman-- Adaine: Mm-hmm. Ragh: That she would kill my mom.
They have a short conversation about wether Jace is suspect, but dismiss it. Adaine shows Ragh a photo of her mother and he confirms that it is the woman he saw.
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bluerthanvelvet444 · 26 days
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⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚𝙿𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆
Frat boy Kyle Spencer x fem!reader
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tags: slight angst, fluffy smut!
warnings: swearing, public sex, mentions of Kyle's abuse (poor baby), handjob, p in v.
summary: frat boy kyle being a sweetheart. that's all i have to say.
character count: 11k.
full fic under the cut ↓
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“I'm not going.” You replied, your voice firm and your eyes fixated on the math book that sat on the library's desk, trying to avoid the gaze-that you knew you couldn't resist-of the boy sitting in front of you. You heard him sigh as his doe eyes desperately tried to meet yours.
“But everyone is going…you can't miss it.” Kyle replied with his soft voice.
“I've never gone to any of those parties…why do you want me to go to this one so badly?” You spoke, with a noticeable hint of frustration in your voice.
“Because it's the end of the semester…something to celebrate. Plus, it's gonna be epic.” He said with a toothy smile plastered on his face.
“No, thanks. You know I don't roll with those frat boys.” You rolled your eyes, your words coming out harsh and spiteful.
“I'm a frat boy.” He said, raising an eyebrow, clearly confused by your statement.
“Yea- but you're…different.” You sighed.
It was true. He was indeed different from the frat boys he was friends with. You and Kyle met in Junior year of high school. You were paired up by your physics teacher, who suggested you could tutor Kyle, that at the time had terrible grades. You two clicked instantly, he was fun and outgoing, and you enjoyed spending time with him. Kyle had grown to be incredibly thankful for your help, in fact, he insisted that you were the one who made him passionate about physics, the subject that he used to despise and that now was his main department in college. Although he could seem like the usual asshole frat boy, Kyle was sweet and caring. You knew it, and no one could’ve made you change your mind on that. He was simply a sweetheart.
“Listen, I know my mates may seem rude or not well-behaved…but trust me, as a leader, I established some rules for them. They won’t act crazy, I promise.” His kind voice brought you back from your thoughts. You sighed, thinking about it.
“Brennan’s hosting the party in his summer mansion…it’s next to the beach- it’s so cool, I swear. I-I’ll take you there! I can pick you up and take you home…” He added, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Please?” He said in an adorable voice, his puppy eyes looking hopeful into yours.
You sighed, you didn’t wanna go, but it was utterly impossible to say no to him.
“Fine.”
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You were touching up your makeup. You were ready for the “big night” Kyle was so excited about. You decided to wear something a bit more revealing, a black minidress, because-okay, you didn’t wanna go- but you couldn’t be annoyed and unfashionable all at once.
While taking a final look in the mirror, you heard a knock on your door. You grabbed your bag and opened the door to see Kyle-in his usual frat sweater-smiling at you. He looked at you up and down, scaring you slightly. What if he didn’t like the dress or how it looked on you?
Fortunately, all your concerns faded once you saw his smile widening.
“Woah…you look beautiful. Seriously…you’re stunning.” He said, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you, he wasn’t used to seeing you like this.
You felt your cheeks heat up at the compliments.
“Thank you…” You gave him an awkward smile and bit your lip.
“Shall we get going?” You suggested, to which he nodded. He took your hand and helped you step down the porch. Kyle led you to his car, and opened the door for you with a cute grin.
The ride was calm, you chit-chatted here and there about random stuff, and you swore you saw him staring at your body a few times. After 15 minutes or so, you eventually arrived at the party. Kyle was right, the mansion was beautiful and it faced the sea. You could see lights and music blasting out of the house. He gave you an excited grin and helped you out of the car, walking with you inside the house. It was overflowing with people laughing, playing games and having fun. As much as it seems hard to believe, you didn’t know anyone of those many people. They had familiar faces, sure, but you couldn’t consider them your actual friends. You sighed and nervously looked at Kyle who, on the other side, was flashing smiles to all his fellow frat brothers and friends. You noticed how comfortable he was in his habitat, and how you envied him for that. He introduced you to many people-whom you couldn’t even remember the names of-that obviously didn’t care much about getting to know you, since they even could’ve sworn you did not go to that college. You were invisible even when the attention was on you, and Kyle clearly didn’t catch that. So when he was dragged by his mates to some kind of game, he told you with a chuckle and a rushed tone
“I-I’ll be right back! Chat with the girls, they’re fun!”
Fun. Right. You didn't mean to sound like an antisocial bitch, but they were everything but fun. You saw them from afar just taking pictures of each other-to show on Instagram how much fun they were pretending to have having-or teasing each other about their crushes. You felt bored, so you sat on a chair, sipping a cup of-what you hoped was-punch and waited for Kyle. Time passed, and he didn’t show up, so you got up and started searching for him. It didn’t take you much to find him. Kyle was on the karaoke stage, singing “Rosanna” by Toto.
“Meetcha all the way! Nananaaaaah…” He “singed” while laughing with his mates.
You were conflicted on what to do now. You didn’t want to be a bummer by clinging to him all night, but you were truly bored and felt lonely. So, you did what you believed was best for everyone, you grabbed your stuff and left. The moment you stepped outside, you were met by an unfamiliar feeling of peace, the view surprising you for its beauty and for being so…empty. It was quiet, the only sound that could be heard were the waves splashing against the sand, no people around. You smiled and made your way to the pier nearby. You sat on it and took your shoes off, allowing your feet to sink in the water.
You didn’t know how much time had passed, but you were brought back to reality when you felt Kyle's voice behind you.
“Here you are! I searched for you everywhere!” He was breathing fast, you believed he had been running while seeking for you.
“I thought I left you a message?” You tilted your head.
“Oh… Sorry. I can’t find my phone. Why are you all alone here? The whole fun is inside!” He replied with a giant boyish smile.
“I like it better here. It’s boring inside.” You turned your face to look at the sea again.
“What? How can you call it boring? There are plenty of games! And people inside-” you cut him off before he could finish his sentence.
“Kyle, I hate to break it to you, but I’m not popular like you. The people inside couldn’t care less about me. I feel less lonely here than in that crowded house.”
He looked at you confused.
“Aw, c’mon…don’t be like this. They’re nice people, you just have to make an effort to try to meet them, and I’m sure you’ll have fun.” You didn’t know why those words started a fire in you.
“They’re not my friends, Kyle. I can’t stand those people, I don’t get along with them. And trust me, I’ve tried to be social and friendly, but you may have to consider the idea that not everyone is like you. You’re easygoing and social, you're a freaking frat boy for fuck’s sake. It’s easy for you to say those things.”
He looked at you, mouth agape at your sudden outburst.
“…why didn’t you just tell me?” He looked at you like a sad puppy for bringing you somewhere that made you uncomfortable.
“And be more of a bummer? No, thanks. They already hate me, I don't wanna be a party pooper as well.” You crossed your arms.
He sat next to you on the pier and his fingers gently grazed your jaw to make you look at him.
“You’re not a bummer to me…a-and I’m sorry about that… I shouldn’t have left you alone. Sorry.”
You wanted to be mad at him, truly, but those cute brown eyes melted your heart in every way possible. You bit your lip as you admired him lovingly. He was so caring and sweet, how did you manage to get this lucky?
“I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable, I- that’s the last thing I’d ever want. You know I care about you… I can’t stand you being mad at me. Please, forgive me?”
You felt your heart tighten at those words. You gave him a slight nod as your eyes travelled down his lips. You wanted to kiss him so badly, and he probably caught onto that, since he slowly leaned in to meet your lips in a sweet kiss. He pulled away slightly, mumbling against your lips.
“Was that okay?” You nodded, and he leaned in again, kissing you once more. This time he deepened the kiss, letting his tongue slip in your mouth and softly swirling it around yours. You let out a breath at how right that felt and how sweet he was being. You pulled him slightly closer and moved your hand to rest on his neck and caress the skin of it. After a bit, you moved your lips to peck his jaw a few times before trailing them down on his neck. Your lips worked sweetly on his skin at first, earning a few sighs from him. As the tension grew, you started sucking his neck, leaving red marks. He groaned and grabbed your waist, you subtly moved your hand down to massage the bulge from his pants. He let out a tiny gasp, and you felt him stiffen, not in a good way. You looked up at him with a confused expression.
“I-I’m sorry…please keep going…” He said with a nervous smile.
“What’s wrong? Did you not like that? It’s okay if you don’t want to…” You gave him a comprehensive look.
“No! I like that… I swear. Just…bad memories.”
“Do you wanna talk about it…?”
“No, I just wanna feel good now.”
You nodded and gave him a gentle peck on his lips before gently undoing his zipper. You ran your fingers over the visible shape of his dick through his underwear, earning a groan from him. You looked at him for consent before gently pulling his boxers down. You blushed as you saw him so vulnerable for the first time. Your fingers wrapped around his shaft, stroking him slowly. He let out a breathy moan.
“G-god…don’t stop…”
You smiled and started progressively speeding up. After a few minutes, you heard his moans grow louder, and you felt his strong hand gripping your wrist.
“I…wanna do it. Is that okay?”
You nodded, and he sat up to gently remove your dress and everything underneath. He was stunned by your body, staring at you as if you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He helped you lay down, with a massive gentleness, as if you were capable of breaking if handled too roughly. He hovered on top of you, caressing your face as he lined up your entrance with his dick.
“This okay?” He muttered under his breath, to which you answered with a nod. He gently pushed into you, allowing you to adjust to the new feeling. He groaned when he pushed himself all the way in. He held your hand sweetly.
“Can I start moving?”
“Mhm…”
He slowly started thrusting in you, earning moans from you both. He gripped your hand tighter as he felt how your walls clenched around him. When he felt like you were ready, he started going faster, gripping your hand tightly and kissing you repeatedly through the whole thing. You could've sworn you were seeing stars when he started hitting your G-spot with his tip. Soon enough, your moans got louder and you felt yourself coming on his dick. He tried his best to contain his moans and as soon as you finished he pulled out to come on your tummy. He collapsed onto you, pecking your face repeatedly.
“I love you…” He mumbled.
After some time had passed, he got up and cleaned you with the salty water, giggling like a teen boy receiving his first kiss. When he helped you gain your-and his-decency again, he got up, throwing an arm around you and walking happily towards his car.
‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹
a/n: I love Kyle he's so babygirllll. also look at the cute picture i found on pinterest (the one under the title) that boy looks so much like kyle. got me screaming when I saw it. Anywaysssssss. I might post a part 2 of this with frankenkyle, but I gotta finish Peter fics first (spoiler). Let me know if you like it💕💕
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little-diable · 8 months
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Twin Flame - Dean Winchester (smut)
Inspired by the song "Twin Flame" by Brennan Story. I love love love this fic, and I hope y'all will love it too. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx
Summary: Months ago Dean had broken the reader's heart, a desperate try to protect her. But he no longer manages to stay away, needing to find his way back to her.
Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, slight breeding kink, makeup sex, some heartbreak in the beginning, a very very happy end
Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2.8k words)
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Well this road don't get no shorter, I would've drove the whole thing for you, my tank down to a quarter, and it'll be gone soon
„What is up with you lately, Dean?” Sam’s voice filled Baby, worried eyes watching his brother. No reply left Dean as he kept driving on, caught in his memories like a fly trapped in the web of a spider set to kill. He was stuck, without a way out, and yet, deep down inside he prayed that he’d never be able to leave those memories behind. 
Whenever he got a moment to let his thoughts wander, he had to think of her, the one who still holds his heart in her hands, even after all these months. Being with her had been something he had never experienced before, a new sensation he longed for like a man dying of thirst dreaming of any water he could drink. Loving her had been everything Dean wasn’t, it had been sweet, easy, it had been too good to be true. 
Whenever he was lying awake at night, eyes staring at the dirty ceiling of the motel rooms he and Sam found shelter in, he imagined her laying next to him, head resting on his chest, listening to his calmly beating heart. Dean still felt her weight on him, if he closed his eyes he could feel her right there with him, murmuring sweet nothings into his ear, words that had been etched into his mind. 
“Dean?” Sam tried again, worried eyes flickering back to the dark road ahead, knowing that it would take them at least a couple more hours to make their way to the bunker. “Hey man, c’mon, talk to me, I can tell something is going on.” 
“It’s nothing, Sammy.” His voice told Sam everything he needed to know, exposing the hurt, the sadness flushing through Dean’s system. Dean’s green eyes were hazy, no longer filled with that special glint spurring him on whenever they were on a hunt, it felt as if he was no longer in the car with Sam, just a body without a soul tied to it. 
“Is it about her? Dean, you should just call her, reach out, it’s never too late.” A sharp inhale of cold air was forced into Dean’s lungs, teeth grazing his lower lip to stop his angry words from rolling off his tongue. He couldn’t reach out, couldn’t call the one whose heart he had broken, leaving her behind without looking back once, choosing the life with his brother over her, a hunter just like him and his brother – a woman Dean wanted to protect from being hurt because of him.
The cold words he had spoken to her were still ringing in his ears, how he had pushed her away, nothing but a stupid spiel Dean stuck to, in order to save her from a life filled with uneasy times, with hunts that would leave their marks on her. Dean Winchester would do everything to keep her safe, even if it meant breaking (y/n)’s heart, and his own. 
And my drink been feelin' lighter, 'cause I'm a lover not a fighter, and I seen that you caught fire, when you put me out
“Sammy, wake up, we’re home.” Dean’s rough voice filled the dark night, hand shaking his brother’s shoulder. It took Sam a moment to wake, hands rubbing his tired eyes. Slowly did the younger Winchester brother undo his seatbelt, halting his movements as he noticed that Dean wasn't moving. 
“What’s wrong?” Worry dripped from the tip of Sam’s tongue, watching his brother’s gaze flicker between the steering wheel and the phone Dean kept clinging to. 
“I have something to do, I’ll be gone for a few days.” Silence filled Baby, a silence so loud, Dean started to shuffle around in his seat, waiting for his brother to speak up or to start moving, already annoyed with the time they kept wasting just now. Dean was feeling antsy, nervousness filled his system, a sensation so unfamiliar he couldn’t help but curse it. 
“Dean,” Sam whispered his brother’s name, hand finding his shoulder. “Get her back, stop worrying about dragging her down with you, she’s stronger than the both of us combined, she’ll do just fine being around us.” 
Dean couldn’t reply, throat too tight, mouth too dry to produce any sounds, unsure what to say to the brother of his that looked at him with so much hope swimming in his pupils. Sam didn’t know much about the night where Dean had left her, he didn’t know of the words he had spoken, hurtful words that have left their scars on his and her soul, it’d be a miracle if she’d take Dean back. But he couldn’t breathe without her near, couldn’t live on without her by his side. 
……
“Absolutely not.” (Y/n)’s eyes met Dean’s desperate ones, body turned from him as she tried to close her door, without any luck, wood caught by the boot he had pushed past her entrance. A string of curses left her, jaw ticking in anger as her eyes found their way back to his, reading the pleading swimming in his pupils before she slowly took a step back, inviting him back in. 
Dean followed her through the all too familiar four walls he had once started to call his new home, the house they should grow old in, the house they should raise their children in, nothing but mere dreams that have evaporated into nothing but a hazy dream both could no longer recreate. 
“I always knew you’d step low, but turning up here is ruthless, even for you, Dean Winchester.” (Y/n) had her arms wrapped around herself, eyes not daring to leave his once. Slowly he sank down on her couch, right next to her, not giving (y/n) a chance to move away. Without thinking he reached for her hand, moving faster than she had anticipated, catching her fingers before she could move them away as if he was a flame she burnt herself on. 
“I wasn’t planning on coming here, hell, I wasn’t planning on ever setting my foot back in this house.” His whispers were torn between sounds reminding one of cries for help and a voice so quiet one could have problems understanding what he was saying. An angry huff left (y/n), glassy eyes focusing on the calloused fingertips stroking the back of her hand, pushing an all too familiar sensation through her body. She was trembling, begging for whoever was listening to relieve her from the pain she had never been able to let go of, and yet she had tried to keep on moving, without looking back once. 
“You broke my heart, you left me without an explanation, just your awful words. One day you were here, and the next you were suddenly gone. It took me a while to give my life a new meaning, to adjust to hunting on my own, but I managed just fine for the past months, Dean. Why do you have to return the second I’m finally okay on my own?” Her tears started rolling down her cheeks, dripping from her chin like a once dry waterfall regaining its impressive strength. With his other hand finding her jaw, Dean started drying her tears, heart clenching in his chest as he was once again reminded of the pain he had pushed her through. 
“I know, and I’m so sorry for being so fucking selfish, but I can’t stay away. Every second without you by my side is pure torture, you’re the only thing I can think of, no matter when or where I am. I’m sorry sweetheart, I really am. All I ever wanted to do was keep you safe, after watching you getting hurt because of me, because I couldn’t step back from a hunt we should have called backup for, I knew i had to get away from you. I can’t be the reason you get into any more danger. But as much as I hate myself for saying it, I can’t live without you, not any longer.” A heavy sigh left (y/n) as she looked at Dean, focusing on the pain filling his green pupils, on the lifeless expression tugging on his features. He was no longer the Dean she had once been with, no, he had changed, their breakup had left its marks on him, as much as it had left its marks on her. And yet she still longed for him, after all the sleepless nights she had cursed him for. 
“I need time to think this through, you have hurt me so much, Dean, so much. But I still love you, a lot. You can sleep on the sofa and we can talk in the morning.” Slowly Dean let go of her, pulling his hands away to give (y/n) enough space to rise to her feet. With one last glance thrown his way, she disappeared down the hallway, letting the door to her bedroom fall shut with a soft thud. 
And as Dean sat on the sofa he had once put together with (y/n), he couldn’t help but give into the tears welling up in his eyes. 
And I'd set fire onto, these boots running from the hard truth, that you don't need me the same way I need you
……
Dean woke with a groan leaving him, back aching from the uncomfortable position he had been sleeping in. It took him a few seconds to remember the past hours, how he had turned up at (y/n)’s place, how he had cried into his hands as she had parted from him. His green eyes shot open, finding a pair of all too familiar eyes already staring at him. (Y/n) was sitting on the edge of the sofa, wearing the same shirt she had worn hours ago. Only now did Dean realise that the shirt had once belonged to him, pushing a very welcomed heat through his aching body. 
“I made some coffee.” Her soft voice left his heart skipping beats, needing to cherish these moments should she ask him to leave in the upcoming minutes. Slowly did Dean sit up, stretching his neck and arms before he murmured a “Thank you, sweetheart”, taking the cup of warm coffee (y/n) pushed into his direction. 
“I didn’t catch any sleep, but I got enough time to think.” Dean braced himself for the words she was about to speak, teeth grazing his lower lip. His heart was racing way too fast for the early hour, and yet Dean didn’t manage to calm his system, palms growing sweatier with every second. He struggled to look into the eyes he’d see whenever he closed his at night, desperate to feel her close, pupils that were once so familiar, so loved, pupils that felt like nothing but a fever dream now. “I love you too much to push you away, but it’ll take me some time to trust you again, Dean. You have to accept that we’ll both get hurt on hunts, with or without Sammy. And you’ll accept that I’ll join you on all hunts I want to join, you won’t get a say about my decisions. Are we clear?”
He looked at her for a few more moments before his hand found the back of her neck, pulling (y/n) in for a bruising kiss. With a gasp leaving (y/n) she moved closer, arms finding their way around his neck, allowing Dean to pull her into his lap. The kiss was fuelled by their longing for one another, hearts begging them to never part ways again, unable to endure another wave of heartbreak. 
“I’ll do whatever it takes to get you back, whatever you need. I love you so much, sweetheart, I don’t want to live another day without you by my side.” Dean murmured his words against her lips, pulling her in for another kiss as his hands disappeared underneath the comfortable shirt of his she was wearing. Her breath hitched in her chest as Dean shuffled them around, pressing (y/n) against the sofa with him nestling between her thighs. Moans clawed through the two as Dean began to roll his hips, rubbing his hardening bulge against her damp panties. 
“Been dreaming about you touching me, as much as I hated myself for it, I couldn’t help but miss you, your lips, your fingers.” A soft, throaty laugh rumbled through Dean as he pushed her shirt up to expose her chest to his hungry eyes, lips finding her hardening nipples almost instantly, leaving his marks on every inch of her warm flesh. 
“Fuck, no matter what I tried, my mind always wandered back to you. I imagined the words you’d moan, how you’d wrap your fingers around my cock. Can’t believe I’m getting another chance to love you.” No longer could she reply to his words, (y/n) had almost forgotten the loving words his mouth and mind were able to create in moments like this one, set on making her feel the love his heart pumped through his system. “I need to be inside of you, it’s been too fucking long. Do you have a condom?”
“No, but I’m clean, I didn’t sleep with anybody but you.” She was almost scared to ask Dean if he had touched another woman, struggling to form the question that now rang through her mind, leaving her breathless. Dean pushed another kiss against her lips before he shuffled out of his clothes, exposing his twitching cock to her wandering eyes.
“Good, you’re mine to touch only, forever mine. I didn’t touch anybody else, just the thought of it made me sick, no matter how much alcohol I needed to try and forget about us.” With her hand finding its way back to  his neck, and with her legs slowly wrapping themselves around his hips, (y/n) chased his slightly swollen lips.
The sound of their moans leaving them in unison was drowned by their kiss, Dean moved slow at first, needing to hold back before he’d cum right there and then, no longer used to feeling her tightness wrapped around his cock. Both clung to one another as he fucked her into the sofa, with one hand placed on the arm rest and the other on her waist, leaving marks with his fingertips digging into her skin. (Y/n) arched her front against his, trembling legs not daring to loosen their hold on his waist, wondering if she was only stuck in a dream, or if Dean was truly fucking her, reminding her that she was his.
And no matter how hard I try, I'll never learn to say goodbye, you say it's okay to cry, baby that river done ran dry 
“God, how I missed feeling you, feels so perfect, so fucking perfect.” With his forehead pressed against hers, Dean added more speed to his thrusts, growing rougher as her walls fluttered around him, tensing every now and then. Dean had lost count on the amount of times he had dreamt of feeling her again, of loving her just like he had always promised he would. 
“Same, fuck, don’t ever leave me again, Dean.” (Y/n) choked on his name, hand disappearing between their bodies to circle her sensitive bundle of nerves. Both knew  that they wouldn’t be able to hold back for much longer, it felt as if they hadn’t been able to let go for months, unable to touch themselves without thinking of one another. But both had tried to make themselves cum for weeks on end, unable to do so, since their minds painted pictures too painful, pictures they could now finally leave behind.
“Where do you want me to cum, sweetheart? Fuck, I won’t be able to hold on for much longer.” Another moan left (y/n) as Dean’s lips found her jaw, kissing their way down her neck. It took her a moment to reply, choking on her breaths, unable to think clear with her thoughts growing hazy. 
“Inside of me, please, Dean, fill me up.” She felt his cock twitching inside of her, forcing her to add more pressure on her clit, crying his name as she came. Dean followed her down the edge, eyes rolling back into his head as he came with a “Fuck” leaving him.
Both were heavily breathing, not daring to part with their bodies still joined, just like their jumping hearts. (Y/n) murmured his name as she combed a hand through his hair, eyes finding his, “I love you Dean, no matter what will happen between us, I belong to you, as much as you belong to me.” 
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pardonmysass · 2 months
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I saw a tag on here somewhere that talks about how much they love how Brennan is such a wife guy and I think we need to discontinue the term entirely. No hate or shade to that tagger at all! But I just don't see Brennan as a wife guy. Because up until now, wife guys have been performative. I think about John Mulaney and how much he talked about his wife right up until he left her mid-recovery to have a baby with someone else. I think about Ned Fulmer who constantly talked about his wife and his baby and how much he loves being married and having a family…right up until he cheated on her rather public with an employee.
Wife guys will speak volumes to their love in front of an audience while sneaking around in the shadows and it's both disappointing and exhausting to witness.
I look now at Brennan, who doesn't speak constantly about Izzy, whose public persona is complete without her and vice versa, she shows up complete without him as well. But no one is faster to laugh at Izzy's jokes than Brennan. And no one will push his buttons better than Izzy. When they are in the room together you can see the chemistry and you completely understand how they can love each other so much without it needing to be said every single time either of them are on screen.
Honestly, I feel the same about Emily Axford and Brian Murphy. They don't need to be lovey dovey or constantly talking about each other for you to see how much they love being together and working and playing together.
I think I'm over the wife guy. I've moved on to authentic, beautiful emotion that doesn't need exposition or highlighting.
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kiranerys42 · 8 days
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I'm pretty sure that Principal Aguefort isn't supposed to be taken quite this seriously, but: a principal who believes that schools are nonsense, that authority figures are full of shit, and that not a single thing about a formal education system should be taken seriously... is actually really cool and important to me, personally, as someone who is Good At School (I graduated from college summa cum laude! I have a masters degree!) but also hates the entire system and finds it to be just soul-crushingly awful and possibly so bad it's unfixable.
No clue if this is a "I was homeschooled*" thing or not, it's not like we have a monopoly on disillusionment with the school system, but ever since I found out Brennan was homeschooled I've always wondered how it shapes his view on running a D&D game in a high school setting or just his worldview generally. (Aside from his comment in an adventuring party this season about having to ask around about what junior year was like for people because he didn't go to high school, which is hilarious and relatable, I also have no idea what a normal junior year is like.)
Anyway tl;dr I know Aguefort is largely a comic relief character and is objectively not someone who should be responsible for the well-being of teenagers but also, dude is right about some things.
*obligatory "homeschooled but not fundamentalist Christian and generally had a good experience" caveat, YMMV
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callsign-rogueone · 6 days
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alone with you - l.m.
Liam Mairi x reader part two of Liam and Spark's story. words: 3.0k 🏷: Fourth Wing spoilers (spark knows things that Violet doesn't lmao), sparring and a tiny bit of blood, reader gets injured but not to worry, someone takes care of you. no pronouns used for reader but Liam does call you a girl. Tuile being a bitch (wbk) and perhaps some answers about what happened in spark's first year at basgiath... I'm still not good at writing fight scenes, sorry lol
Another year, another round of challenges. Another opportunity to show the entire quadrant that you’re not here to fuck around, nor to make friends.
You loosen your muscles as Emeterrio discusses the rules of engagement, cracking your neck and stretching out your arms, taking mental inventory of all the weapons on your body -- even though it’s frowned upon to use them in these fights, you keep the array of knives at the ready.
“I see the general’s girl has survived the week,” Tuile muses. “I’m almost impressed.”
You cast a glance across the room, seeing her standing next to the cadet who was in front of her in line for Parapet, the one she’d traded boots with.
“It’s only a matter of time,” you mutter back. 
Even though Xaden had convinced the two dozen of you to leave her alone, it’s likely that somebody else is going to see how fragile she is and walk right up and snap her in two, to thin the herd -- not that she has a real chance of making it to threshing anyway, not without some divine intervention.
But she’s a perfect little Navarrian citizen, so she must pray to their gods every night before bed. Maybe they’ll help her, because you sure as hell won’t; you have a reputation to maintain, and there’s no rational explanation you could give her for why you would want to help her at all, not without jeopardizing the entire revolution -- she might not take after her traitorous older brother, who as far as she and everyone else in this death trap of a college is aware, is dead.
She seems to notice you watching her, locking eyes with you for a split second and quickly averting her gaze. She’s afraid of you and all of your friends, unaware that your respect for Brennan is what’s keeping her alive right now.
Fear is a requirement for survival here. Maybe she’ll make it longer than you’d thought.
It’s not a surprise to you at all that your name is called first, nor that you’re matched with the largest cadet in the class. It became clear to you last year that the professors aren’t making these assignments randomly. It couldn’t be a coincidence that they keep pairing you with the best fighters -- but never with another marked one, even though you’re all at the top of the class.
No, they’re probably entertained by all of this, betting on you like racehorses or wild dogs, placing wagers on who would come out on top. If anyone’s putting money on you, you’ve made them a killing -- you’re undefeated. 
But that would require someone else to bet against you, and while you may not respect all of the professors and leadership, or any of them, really, you don’t think they’re dumb enough to throw their money away like that.
“We meet again,” he says with a sick grin that makes the scar below his eye stretch and contort.
You don’t respond, taking one last survey of the seven blades on your body, but you’re not dumb enough to touch them, lest he see where they are and try to take them himself, like he did earlier this year.
He’d wrapped his fingers around the wooden hilt of the blade that Liam had given you before you left for Basgiath, intent on putting it through your heart, and you’d seen red.
“You should have taken his eye out.”
“I gave him that scar as a warning,” you reply evenly. “It’s up to him if he’s going to heed it or not.”
You’re at it as soon as Emeterrio says go, taking turns lunging at each other and blocking attacks.
You’re evenly matched, despite the size he has on you. He may be stronger, more intimidating, but you’re faster, and you know what you’re doing. You know where to hit and when, your strikes much more precise than his.
Still, Liam’s heart races.
It was one thing watching you mess around with Bodhi in the courtyard, but it’s another thing entirely seeing you fight as if your life depends on it -- and it does. There’s a very real possibility that one of you is going to be spending the evening in the infirmary, or the morgue, after this ends. 
You fight like Xaden, like himself and Bodhi and Imogen and everyone else his brother had a hand in training, but with an edge he’s never seen from you before.
He hesitates to put a name to it, but there’s something in your eyes akin to a wild animal’s as the pair of you stalk circles around each other, planning your next attack.
“It’s not polite to play with your food,” Tuile chides.
Fine. You’ll finish this, if only so she’ll shut up and leave you alone.
The other cadet has the same idea. 
You charge at the same time as he hurls a dagger in your direction, and you hit the ground at the last second to avoid being skewered. You start to press up to your feet, but he stomps a boot into your back, pain ripping down your spine. You swallow a scream, digging your nails into the sticky foam beneath you.
The mental wall separating you from Tuile crumbles, that familiar white-hot anger flowing through you. “Do something.”
You unsheath a dagger, reaching up and swiping it across his calf, and he hisses in pain, releasing you and taking a stumbling step back.
It’s easy enough for you to knock him off balance, landing three consecutive blows to his ribs and a swift kick to his stomach that sends him to the floor.
You’re tired of this already. It’s lost its novelty, and you really need to sit down -- there’s black spots clouding your vision, and the pain in your back has gotten impossibly worse.
“Do I have to kill you in front of the kids, or do you yield?” 
“I yield,” he rasps, still clutching his leg.
You lean down, wiping each side of the blade on his shirt before you sheath it.
“Sloppy, but satisfactory,” Tuile comments — that’s high praise from her. Maybe she’ll give you the evening off from her snide remarks.
You slot yourself between Liam and Bodhi, leaning against the wall as casually as you can; every movement has pain spreading across your lower back and shooting down your spine. 
You try to focus on rebuilding the wall she’d knocked down, brick by brick, taking deep breaths and forcing the anger out of your body.
Liam reaches for you, looking worried.
You speak under your breath, not moving your lips. “Not here. Not in front of everyone.” 
He pulls back without protest, understanding why you don’t want him helping you where the rest of the quadrant can see you, don’t want them to see the look of concern on his face and his hand on your arm and identify him as your weakness.
You may very well be the most hated person in the quadrant, being marked, bonded to one of Navarre’s nastiest dragons, and unafraid to draw blood in challenges. There are several cadets in this room who wouldn’t hesitate to go after Liam if they thought it would hurt you -- and it would. 
You don’t care what they do to you, what pain they inflict or what scars they leave on your body, but if anyone so much as touches Liam, they’ll lose the use of their hands. 
You breathe through the pain and keep your eyes on the fights unfolding in front of you; making note of who favors what side of their body, who gets sloppy after more than a minute, who yields because they don’t have the stomach to take things further.
Most of the cadets think this is the one class you don’t have to study for, but they’d be wrong -- there’s a reason you always come out on top, and this is it.
The class ends without Liam’s name being called, which is a relief, even though you don’t doubt his skill on the mat — it’s off the mat that you’re worried about. 
Almost everyone heads straight to dinner, but Liam hangs back, getting your attention with a barely-there touch to your elbow. You look over at him, and he nods in the other direction, toward the dorms. 
Of course he’s going to insist on checking your injuries himself, as he always did in the years you trained with him and Xaden. He doesn’t seem to think anything has changed between you in the year you’ve been away.
Sooner or later, he’ll realize he’s wrong.
You wait for nearly everyone to be out of the gym before you leave, leading him up to the second floor in silence and unlocking your door with a wave of your hand, gesturing him inside -- thankfully there’s nobody in the hallway to see you.
You haven’t been alone with him in a full year. A year and two weeks, if you want to be precise. The day you’d said goodbye, and nothing else.
You busy yourself with digging through your desk drawer to find the nearly-empty tin of healing balm, handing it to him before you turn away, gritting your teeth as you pull the shirt up over your head. 
If you weren’t pouring every ounce of energy you have left into keeping yourself upright, you might have it in you to be embarrassed about the amount of skin you’re exposing to him, the history of your first year at Basgiath on full display. But it’s Liam. Liam isn’t going to judge you, isn’t going to pry; he’ll just keep giving you that soft, concerned look -- which is somehow almost worse.
There’s a moment of quiet as he takes it in; the dark blue, nearly-black silhouette of Tuile that spans your shoulder blades and continues down your back, disappearing into the layers of thick linen wrapped over your chest, the full extent of your rebellion relic, winding down your arm to your wrist… 
Then he sees it, the nasty bruise starting to form on your back, below the hem of your bindings. The other cadet had hit you square in the spine, a blow that could very well have been paralyzing had it been delivered at a slightly different angle with slightly more force. That’s probably what he’d intended.
Liam isn’t particularly religious -- none of you are, which was a major reason why your parents had wanted to secede from Navarre -- but he still sends up a silent thank you to the powers that be that you’re okay, standing in front of him mostly unharmed.
You grit your teeth, keeping your eyes shut and gripping the shirt tightly as Liam’s hand rubs over your back, working in the healing balm. 
There’s something about the feeling of his skin on yours that is more uncomfortable than the aching bruise or any of the other injuries you’d sustained in that fight. 
You can handle the brush of your hands, a touch through layers of clothing and armor, eye contact and whispered words and smiles — all things that are acceptable behavior between friends — but the tenderness of this whole thing is overwhelming; being alone with Liam in your room, his bookbag on the floor, standing behind you rubbing a hand over your back, the other on your waist to hold you steady because you’re fucking trembling.
Maybe you are a little embarrassed after all.
The skin feels warm and tingly, a sign that whatever healing herbs within the sticky paste are working, soothing the aching muscle. Your entire body feels warm. It’s unbearably hot in this room, but Liam doesn’t seem to mind, still dressed in his flight jacket and full uniform. 
He moves his attention from your back to your side, murmuring a soft apology when you startle at the feeling of his hand smoothing over your ribs.
You take a breath, letting him work more of the balm into the spot where the other cadet’s fist had landed.
He finally pulls back, letting his hand linger on your waist until he’s convinced you won’t fall over. “Anything else hurting?” he asks gently.
“My head,” you admit to the wall. “But that never goes away.”
You pull the shirt back on as quickly as you can, done feeling exposed, and fight to maintain an unaffected expression as you turn back to face him.
He looks at you for a few seconds before it dawns on him -- the persistent headache, the flatness of your skin and your constantly racing heart, the way you’re bracing yourself with a hand on the desk, how tired you look and feel… “Spark, when was the last time you had water? Or anything to drink at all?”
Liam has always been too observant for his own good. 
You take a moment to think about it, another definite indicator that something is wrong. “Yesterday,” you answer quietly. “At dinner.” 
His eyes widen almost imperceptibly. It’s been a full twenty-four hours -- you’re supposed to be at dinner right now. It’s a miracle that you hadn’t passed out on the mat this afternoon.
He doesn’t scold you, doesn’t tell you how bad that is; he just squeezes your hand gently, taking the water bottle out of his bag and uncapping it. He can see you hesitating, knows something is wrong --  it takes a lot to rattle you, but you’re looking at the thing like it’s going to bite you.
“Three sips?” he asks softly.
That seems doable.
You take the bottle from him, holding it for a moment, feeling the weight of the metal and the energy flowing through the water inside it. It’s clean, calm, not murky and angry like the river water that Carr had made you practice with last year, but that doesn’t matter; in your hands, it’s the most dangerous substance on the planet.
And as fate would have it, it’s necessary for your survival.
You’re just grateful Tuile is off doing gods-know-what and not making her usual smug commentary -- she’d left after you’d won that challenge match, but she’ll be back soon enough. 
You raise it to your lips and drink, wanting to get it over with. The water is cool and crisp, breathing life back into your mouth and soothing your throat as you swallow, your body singing in relief as you give it what it’s been deprived of for months now. 
You take a moment to breathe, comforted by the air that continues to flow into your lungs and back out. Liam is standing in front of you. You’re okay. Two more. You can do this.
You bring it back up for another sip. You hadn’t realized how much you needed this, how much better it would make you feel. You take the next one in quick succession — that’s three. You’re done. 
You hate to admit it, but you feel better already.
Liam is still watching you with that soft, worried expression, though it’s less severe now than it had been earlier. You can see the gears turning, knowing he’s wondering why this was such a big deal for you; but there’s no judgment there, just genuine concern for your well-being.
You decide to tell him the truth, or part of it.
“I almost drowned when I channeled for the first time,” you say quietly, gazing back down at the half-empty bottle. “It was fucking terrifying. I couldn’t shower alone for a week. I needed one of the girls to come into the bathroom with me and face the wall, just talking to me the whole time. Then we realized Bo can counter signets. He’s been helping me control it, but…”
So that’s what Xaden had meant when he said that Bodhi was helping you deal with things. He wonders if there’s anything else his brother hadn’t told him, anything you aren’t telling him, but he won’t demand an answer from you -- he knows how difficult it must have been for you to tell him what you did, and he won’t push you further.
He takes the bottle back and caps it, gathering you into his arms silently, the way he’d wanted to back in the gym. He’s careful not to put any pressure on the injury, keeping his hands well above the bruise -- one between your shoulder blades and one on your ribs, on the side that you hadn’t been hit.
You rest your head on his shoulder, speaking in a whisper. “Thank you, Li.”
His lips brush over your hairline, where the ache is the worst. “Of course, sweet girl.”
You don’t want to let go of him yet, but you’ve already been holding each other longer than is appropriate for friends -- and that’s all you are, for the time being. 
He finally pulls away, and you could nearly cry at the loss of contact. 
“I need a minute,” you manage. “You should head down.”
You’re reminded again of why you love him so much as he nods in understanding, shouldering his bag and giving you a soft smile before he heads out your door.
All good things must come to an end. 
“Sweet? He must not know you at all.” 
“He knows me better than you ever will,” you snap back. 
At least she waited for him to leave, for you to be done with the water, or you would have some serious explaining to do.
You build up the wall again before she replies, and though it isn’t strong enough to block her out completely, she doesn’t push against it or knock it down -- she must not feel like getting into a pissing match with you right now. 
Good. You don’t either.
You notice he left the bottle on your desk. You manage another three sips before you finally head down to dinner, where you slide into the open seat beside Liam, silently pushing the empty bottle toward him. 
“I’m proud of you,” he whispers, not wanting to draw any attention from the group around you, who are all immersed in hearty conversation.
You haven’t heard those words from anyone in a long time. They mean more to you than he could ever imagine.
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