#and Keefe... blaming it on himself

[clarissaweasley-10]

Okay, let's face it, there is 0 chance that both Sandor AND Ro are gonna make it. So the question is who will?

[camelspit]

if i could change 1 thing about this book itd be fewer speeches about how keefes more powerful than he realizes and shouldnt blame himself

[nylqnder]

DOROTHEA LUKE HUGHES

pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader

summary: luke's sophomore season is far from what he had imagined. the weight of expectations, buried by the grueling pain of a long season begins to weigh on him. so, when the mid-season break rolls around, instead of going to four nations to watch his brothers, luke heads back to michigan in hopes of finding his love for hockey again.

warnings: vague mentions of anxiety, luke being extremely self critical, poor self-conscience, a bit of swearing, fictionalized events (e.g, how the devils season is going, games that haven't happened yet)

wc: 8.40k

notes: based on ‘dorothea’ by taylor swift. this one will may or may not tug at your heart strings. also quite a bit of this is made up. i know luke isn't having a bad season whatsoever + the devils aren't doing that bad. it's for the sake of the story!

“That’s not fucking good enough Hughes!”

Luke barely registered the assaulting tone of his coach’s voice above his labouring breaths. His chest heaved as he bent at the waist, gloved hands braced on his knees, lungs screaming for oxygen that never seemed to come fast enough. Every inhale burned, every exhale was shaky and ragged. Sweat dripped in a relentless stream down his temples, pooling in the collar of his jersey and turning his pads into a suffocating prison.

Just twenty-six more minutes of hockey, Luke reminded himself. Just twenty-six more minutes until thirteen, blissful hockey-free days.

The Four Nations break, a reprieve that couldn’t come soon enough, felt tantalizingly out of reach. It felt like time had slowed during this game, making it even more painful for Luke.

It wasn’t just his joints that ached or his lungs that burned; it was deeper than that. It was bone-deep. Soul-deep. It was the kind of ache that didn’t go away after a night of icing and a couple of ibuprofen. This was exhaustion — not just of the body, but of the mind.

This wasn’t the way Luke’s sophomore season was supposed to feel.

Luke entered the season with expectations stacked high enough to scrape against the rafters. Media outlets had anointed him the next big thing — another Hughes boy destined for stardom. His debut season had been solid; a Calder finalist-worthy season, in fact. Flashes of brilliance here, mistakes there, but he was still a kid learning the ropes. They’d forgiven him then. But now? Now they wanted dominance. Consistency. Leadership. They wanted him to be everything.

And he was coming up short.

The cold, hard fact of it was written across the scoreboard: 3-1 Canadiens, late in the second. The Devils couldn’t sustain any pressure in the offensive zone, the power play was sluggish, and the defensive breakdowns were enough to make Keefe nearly burst a blood vessel on the bench. Luke knew he wasn’t solely to blame, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was still somehow on him. That he wasn’t doing enough. That maybe he wasn’t enough.

“Get your head out of your ass and look like you’re trying to do something, Luke!” Keefe said from the other end of the bench.

Luke didn’t look up. He couldn’t. He simply absorbed his coach's words, shoulders sagging as he grabbed a towel to wipe his face. The damp fabric felt cool for a fleeting second before the heat radiating off his body rendered it useless.

“Hey, shake it off man,” Nico said from a few people down. The captain leaned forward, hands wrapped tightly around the edge of his stick. “Plenty of time left.”

Luke nodded mutely, not trusting his voice. Plenty of time. Sure. That’s what they always said until the buzzer sounded and it was too late. He stared down at the ice in front of him, tracing invisible patterns with his eyes, trying to block out the noise of the crowd, the critical eyes of the coaching staff boring into him, and the sharp stab of self-doubt that never quite went away.

He felt like he was moving underwater. Every shift was a struggle to keep up, every decision a split-second too late. Passes he’d made effortlessly when he was playing college hockey were suddenly bouncing off the heel of his stick. He hesitated when he should attack. He pinched when he should hold back. And he knew — God, he knew — the more he overthought it, the worse it got.

The crowd erupted as the Canadiens scored again. Luke didn’t need to look up to see the damage. The groan of the goal horn, the flashing red light, and the collective exhale from the bench told him everything he needed to know.

Luke gripped his stick tightly, knuckles white beneath his gloves. Twenty-six more minutes.

Blissful, hockey-free days loomed in the distance like a mirage. But would they really feel that way? Would he be able to shut it all off — the doubt, the pressure, the lingering echoes of every misstep? Would time away help him get his head back on straight, or was this just the start of something darker?

A few weeks ago, Luke had turned down multiple invitations from his teammates for getaways to white sandy beaches and crystal-clear waters. Nico was going to Cancun, Timo was going to the Bahamas. All of them were going on getaways for some much-needed rest and relaxation. But Luke couldn’t. He needed something more than just the sun. He needed a mental reset. A return to something grounding.

When the final buzzer blared, signalling yet another disappointing loss, Luke didn't even glance up at the scoreboard. The sting of defeat was something he’d grown uncomfortably familiar with, but it didn’t hurt any less. As he skated off the ice and into the tunnel, his legs felt like lead, his mind clouded with frustration and exhaustion.

He went through the monotonous routine of a loss; pulling off his sweat-soaked equipment one piece at a time while hearing a berating speech from Keefe outlining every single mistake they made, then spewing the same PR rehearsed answers to the media as he was forced to do availability yet again.

As soon as he was out of the arena, Luke pulled out his phone, scanning his notifications. While Jack took to pestering his brother in person, Quinn had messaged him earlier in the day, asking if he’d changed his mind about coming to watch them at Four Nations. It was the first time Quinn and Jack would be on the same team again since their younger days, and they’d been excited about the chance to represent Team USA together.

Quinn: It’s been a minute since we’ve all been in one place. Would be good to see you.

Luke sighed. A younger version of himself would’ve jumped at the chance to be there. To be around his brothers, the guys who’d been his idols growing up. But now, the thought of sitting in the stands, watching them thrive, only highlighted the weight of his own struggles. They deserved his support, but Luke wasn’t sure he could handle being there, feeling like the odd one out in his own family. The longer Luke thought about what he needed to do and where he needed to go, the clearer it became.

Michigan. That was where he needed to be. Not Cancun. Not the Bahamas. Not at Four Nations, no matter how much he wanted to see Jack and Quinn dominate together. Luke had made his decision. Back home was where he needed to be.

As he settled into his seat on the plane, the distant hum of the plane engines and the chatter of fellow passengers faded into the background. His thoughts settled on Michigan. He didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, but he knew it was there. The pull was inexplicable and undeniable, like gravity tethering him to a place he used to call home.

The wheels touched down with a jolt, and Luke pulled his coat tighter against the January chill as he stepped out of the terminal. The air smelled of snow and wet pavement, a scent so distinctly winter in Michigan that it stirred a pang of nostalgia in his chest.

He drove the winding roads back to his childhood neighborhood, the landscape coated in a blanket of fresh snow that shimmered under the streetlights. When he pulled into the driveway of the Hughes family home, the familiarity hit him like a slap. The dented hockey net at the end of the driveway and the porch light his mom insisted on always staying on, even when no one was home — it was all the same. And yet, it wasn’t.

Inside, the house was silent. Ellen and Jim were already in Montreal for Four Nations, cheering on Jack and Quinn as he’d known they would be. The usual warmth of his mom’s laughter, the clatter of pots in the kitchen, and his dad’s voice offering quiet encouragement were all absent. Instead, Luke was greeted by an almost eerie stillness.

He dropped his bag in the hallway and stood there for a moment, taking it all in. The framed photos lining the walls, the scuffed wooden floors from years of indoor hockey games with his brothers — it was like stepping into a time capsule of a simpler life. A life before contracts and endorsements, before fans and expectations, before the weight of the NHL threatened to crush him.

Luke’s footsteps echoed as he made his way to the den. The fireplace was unlit, the room cold. He collapsed onto the couch, running a hand through his hair and staring at the ceiling. His chest still felt tight from the game, his body aching in a way that told him he wasn’t just physically tired but emotionally spent.

Luke had expected something — comfort, nostalgia, maybe even peace. Instead, he was met with an odd hollowness, a space in his chest that Michigan didn’t instantly fill. Maybe that was the point. He wasn’t the same kid who had once called this place home. Still, despite the emptiness inside him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that his path back to himself began here. He didn’t know when or how he’d feel whole again, but he was certain it wouldn’t happen overnight. It wouldn’t happen in Cancun, the Bahamas, or even on the ice in a Devils uniform. If it could happen anywhere, it would be here — in Michigan.

The next morning, hunger and boredom pushed him out of the house. He didn’t have a plan beyond grabbing coffee and then hitting the grocery store. He drove aimlessly through the familiar streets, his heart pulling in two directions — nostalgia and unease. Every corner, every turn, held memories of the life he’d left behind.

He parked outside a coffee shop he vaguely remembered from his college days. It was a cozy spot nestled between a record store and a florist. The bell above the door chimed softly as he stepped inside, the scent of fresh coffee and pastries wrapping around him like a warm blanket.

Luke stood in line, scanning the menu even though he already knew he’d get a black coffee and maybe a bagel. Habit, plain and simple. Once he ordered, he scanned the room for a table to sit at.

That’s when he saw you. At first, he wasn’t sure. The years had softened and matured parts of you, but there was no mistaking the way your hair fell or the way you were chewing on your lip as you stared at your laptop, the way you always did when you were deep in thought. The sight of you hit him like a puck to the chest — unexpected and jarring.

He hadn’t thought about what he would say if he ever saw you again. and yet, there you were, just a few feet away. For a moment, he considered slipping out unnoticed, but the thought disappeared as quickly as it came. Some invisible force propelled him forward, just like it always had when it came to you.

The two of you had been inseparable growing up. You knew each other better than anyone. Your bond had always been easy, natural. But it had never been simple.

Luke remembered the stolen glances, the way his chest tightened whenever you laughed at one of his dumb jokes, and the electric charge that sparked whenever your hands accidentally brushed. It was a relationship constantly teetering on the edge of friendship and something more — a delicate balance neither of you dared to upset.

He remembered the time when you were both sixteen, sitting on his front porch while the post-game party buzzed inside the house. Luke’s team had won in overtime, securing a state championship and the celebration had carried over to the Hughes’ home. Despite the noise behind him, all he could focus on was the way your cheeks flushed from the cold, the way your breath formed soft clouds in the crisp night air. He had been on the verge of telling you how he felt when the front door burst open and his brothers and their friends came bursting out, effectively breaking the moment.

Following that, Luke shoved his feelings down deep. You stayed close, intimate friends, remaining his one constant. Until you weren’t. He was at the University of Michigan, and you were at Boston University. At first, you two had tried. Long phone calls after late practices. Texts full of inside jokes and encouragement before exams. Plans to visit that always fell through because his schedule was relentless, and yours wasn’t much better.

Eventually, the calls got shorter. Then they stopped altogether. Luke remembered how, one night, he’d stared at his phone with your name highlighted on the screen, his thumb hovering over the call button. Michigan had just lost in the Frozen Four semifinals, and he didn’t want to talk to anyone else except for you. It was always you Luke spoke to after the bad games. But the weight of his exhaustion, the pressure of his family’s expectations, and the overwhelming chaos of his life had pressed down on him until he just put the phone down and rolled over in bed. He never called.

He told himself it was mutual, that life had just gotten in the way. But seeing you now, he wondered if he had been the one who let go first.

Then, as if you felt a pair of eyes on you, you looked up to find the familiar set of green eyes looking back at your own. Your eyes widened in recognition, and for a second, neither of you moved. It was like the air around you both had shifted, growing heavier with the weight of unspoken words and time lost.

“Luke?” you said, your voice a mix of surprise and something softer, something harder to place.

He smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hey. It’s been a while.”

That was an understatement. It had been more than a while. It had been years. Years since late-night study hang-outs turned into whispered confessions, since your laughter echoed in his ears as you teased him about missing his fifth straight penalty shot during pond hockey. Years since he’d kissed you in the downstairs bathroom at Isaac Howards' house during a round of Seven Minutes in Heaven. Years since he left, and the texts and calls dwindled into nothing.

“Yeah, it has,” you said, shifting your coffee cup between your hands. Your voice was tinged with something he couldn’t quite place — bitterness? Sadness? Maybe both.

“Yeah. Too many.” He looked down at the table, suddenly unable to meet your gaze. “I’m sorry about that. I should’ve—”

“Called?” you said, raising an eyebrow.

He winced but nodded. “Yeah. I was an idiot. No excuses. I just… I don’t know. Things got crazy.”

You let out a soft laugh, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah, I noticed. A tiny screen’s the only place I see you know.”

Luke looked up, and the warmth in your smile soothed some of the guilt still gnawing at him.

“I guess I deserve that,” Luke admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He shoved his hands into his pockets, unsure of what to do with himself. “I’ve missed you, though. More than you probably believe.”

The tension lingered for a moment before your expression softened. Something about the way Luke's shoulders slumped, the weight he seemed to carry in his eyes, made you ease up. He wasn’t the confident kid you remembered, always ready with a joke or a smirk. He looked… tired. Like he’d been through the wringer and hadn’t quite come out the other side.

You gestured to the empty seat across from you. “What brings you back to Michigan? Shouldn’t you be playing right now?”

Luke hesitated momentarily but that same pull sent that thought out quickly and Luke sunk down into the chair. “Yeah, I should. But we’ve got a mid-season break and uh… I needed to get away for a bit.”

You nodded knowingly. “Rough season?” you asked, even though you knew all too well how the season was going. Despite the no contact and the years between you, you still found yourself watching his games, keeping an eye on the number forty-three that zipped around the ice.

“You could say that.” His eyes flickered down to his cup, fingers idly picking at the paper sleeve. “Just trying to figure some things out.”

You nodded slowly, studying him. It wasn’t like Luke to open up so easily, but the strain in his voice, the way he seemed smaller somehow, told you he needed this — needed someone to just listen. “How long are you in town for?”

“A week, maybe a little longer. Depends.” he shrugged, attempting a casual tone, but you caught the uncertainty beneath it.

“Well,” you said, your voice lightening, “since you’re here and since it’s been… well, too many years, do you want to grab dinner tonight? Catch up properly?”

His eyes widened slightly like the suggestion had caught him off guard. For a second, he looked like he might say no, but then his lips curved into a small, genuine smile — one that reminded you of the old Luke. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Dinner plans were settled, and a quick double-check that you still had each other's current numbers followed before parting ways temporarily. Luke had a small smile on his face as he walked out of the coffee shop, his coffee forgotten in his hand. You had been the last person he expected to see, but somehow, it felt like exactly what he needed.

The restaurant you’d picked was a cozy spot you’d discovered a little bit ago that had become one of your favourite places to eat out — nothing fancy, just good food and a relaxed atmosphere. When Luke arrived, the nervous energy radiating off him was palpable. It made him seem much more approachable than the polished player you thought he’d become.

“You clean up nice,” you teased as he slid into the booth across from you, his cheeks reddening slightly.

“Thanks,” he said, laughing softly. “You too. Not that you didn’t already look nice earlier.”

“Smooth,” you shot back, raising an eyebrow as you glanced at the menu. “You always this good at compliments?”

“Only with you,” he quipped, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

The banter came easily, flowing like it used to in the days when late-night conversations over pizza were a regular occurrence. You found yourself slipping into old habits — teasing him about his inability to order anything outside of his comfort zone and laughing at his stories about Jack and Quinn.

Luke, for his part, couldn’t stop watching you. It wasn’t just how much you looked the same, though you did in so many ways. It was the way you carried yourself, the way you smiled and laughed like no time had passed at all. And yet, there was something different, too — a confidence that hadn’t been there before, a quiet strength he found himself drawn to even more than he had been back then.

But the laughter and lighthearted conversation couldn’t completely drown out the nagging thoughts in his mind. As you talked, Luke found himself thinking about how much he’d screwed up. He’d let the distance between you two widen, let life pull him in one direction while he let go of the thread that connected you both. He’d told himself it was just how life went — people grew apart. But now, sitting across from you, he couldn’t believe how wrong he’d been.

“You okay?” Your voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present.

Luke blinked, realizing he’d been staring at you a little too long. “Yeah. Sorry. Just… thinking.”

“About?”

He hesitated, the words caught in his throat. How did he even begin to explain? That he regretted letting you slip away, that he’d been an idiot for not fighting harder to keep you in his life?

“Just… how crazy it is to run into you like this,” he said finally, skirting around the truth. “I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to catch up with you.”

You smiled, but there was something wistful in your eyes. “Yeah. Life has a funny way of throwing surprises at you.”

The conversation shifted back to lighter topics after that, but Luke’s mind lingered on his regret. Every laugh, every shared memory, every glance reminded him of what he’d lost — and what he didn’t want to lose again.

As the night wore on and the restaurant emptied out around you, neither of you seemed eager to leave. The conversation deepened, and the teasing gave way to more heartfelt exchanges. You talked about what you’d been up to in the years apart, the struggles and triumphs, the paths you’d taken that had led you back to Michigan.

When the server finally dropped off the check, Luke reached for it before you could. “I got this.”

You frowned. “Hey, it was supposed to be my treat. It was my idea to get dinner anyways.”

“And I’m saying I owe you one,” he countered, his expression soft but firm. “Please. Let me.”

You relented, watching as he handed his card to the server. “Fine. But next time, it’s on me.”

Luke froze for a moment, the words “next time” ringing in his ears. He looked up at you, a small, hopeful smile playing on his lips. “Next time, huh?”

“Yeah,” you said, your tone light but your meaning clear. “Next time. You’re here for a few more days, right?”

Luke couldn’t bite back the smile that tugged on his lips. “Y-yeah. Next time.”

The next few days passed in a blur of shared moments. You carved out time from your busy schedule, meeting Luke for coffee, going on impromptu drives through your old favorite spots, and even hitting the gym together. He insisted he couldn’t slack on his training, and you, eager to spend more time with him, agreed to join.

At the gym, Luke was in his element, focused and disciplined, but there was an ease to his demeanor when you were around. He showed you proper form on certain exercises, his hands brushing yours occasionally as he adjusted your grip or stance. Each time, your heart skipped a beat, though you tried to hide it behind playful jabs about his “personal trainer” persona.

But amidst the laughter and lighthearted moments, you also fell back into the habit of sharing quieter, heavier conversations, confiding in one another once again. One evening, after a long day, the two of you sat on your couch, an old movie playing in the background as you nursed glasses of wine. Luke had been quieter than usual, and you could tell something was weighing on him.

Luke, despite his mood significantly lifted as he spent time around you again, couldn’t shake the weight that followed him from New Jersey. The doubts gnawed at the edges of his thoughts, even in moments of laughter and ease. Being with you was a welcome reprieve, a chance to remember a version of himself that wasn’t defined by statistics or expectations. But deep down, he couldn’t ignore the voice that questioned if he’d ever truly get his groove back — if the player he once was was still in there, waiting to be found, or if he’d lost that spark for good.

“You wanna talk about it?” you asked, breaking Luke from his incessant thoughts.

Even after being apart for a few years, you could still read Luke like a book. He got no better at hiding what was running through his mind as he got older. That, or you got better at reading people as you aged. Though you were always good at it.

“No, no… It’s a lot, don’t worry about it.” Luke answered, focusing back on the movie playing, though he had missed so much of the plot he wasn’t sure what was happening anymore.

“C’mon,” you said, sticking your foot out and nudging his thigh with your toe. “It’s me.”

It was you. You had always kept his secrets, even his deepest darkest ones, like when he confided in you about how he didn’t know if he wanted to pursue hockey, despite it being practically expected of him. You also always knew what to say, giving the best advice, like when you told him he was being irrational because hockey was all he thought of and what he had dreamed of since kindergarten.

He hesitated, his eyes fixed on the deep red liquid in his glass. “It’s just… hard, you know? This season. Everything feels off. I keep messing up, and it’s like no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake it. The comparisons to Jack and Quinn — they’re constant. And the worst part is, I feel like they’re right. Like I’m not good enough to be in the NHL.”

Luke’s voice cracked slightly as he continued, his grip tightening on the glass. “It’s like I’m not even me anymore. I’m just… Jack and Quinn’s younger brother. The one who hasn’t lived up to the hype. The one who’s just an extension of them.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m so tired of it. Of being seen as this kid who only got here because of who he’s related to.”

You placed your glass on the coffee table, shifting to face him fully. “You’re tired of being known for who you know,” you said gently, watching as his eyes flickered toward yours, the weight of your words visibly landing.

Luke nodded slowly, his jaw tightening. “Yeah. Exactly. I just want to be Luke. Not someone’s little brother. Not some placeholder. Just… me.”

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. “Then start there,” you said. “Stop letting other people’s opinions decide how you see yourself. You’re not Jack. You’re not Quinn. You’re Luke — the guy who’s passionate, hardworking, and ridiculously competitive.” A small smile tugged at your lips. “I’ve seen that side of you, even when you were a kid. You always wanted to carve your own path. And you’re doing that now, whether you feel it or not.”

He exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. “It’s hard to believe that sometimes.”

“I get that,” you said, your tone soft but firm. “But Luke, your brothers didn’t get you to the NHL. You got you there. They’re part of your story, yeah, but they’re not the whole story. You’ve earned this. You belong here. And I know it feels like you’ve lost your way, but maybe this slump is just part of figuring out how to be the player you want to be.”

Luke looked at you for a long moment, his green eyes filled with a mixture of doubt and something softer — hope, maybe. “You really think I can turn it around?”

“Luke. You really think your entire NHL career is over after one bad season?” you said, snorting at your own words. Luke couldn’t help but chuckle at his own over-dramatics. “I know you can turn it around… I have no doubt. But you need to start believing it yourself.”

A faint smile replaced his troubled expression, and he set his glass aside, leaning back against the couch. “You always know what to say.”

You grinned, nudging his knee with yours. “That’s because I’ve always believed in you, Luke. Even when you don’t believe in yourself.”

For the first time that evening, Luke let out a quiet laugh, the sound lightening the mood. “Thanks,” he murmured, his voice soft. “For being here. For… everything.”

“Always,” you said, meaning it more than you realized.

The rest of the night passed quietly, the two of you lost in conversation and shared memories. And as Luke left your place that evening, he felt lighter, the weight on his shoulders not entirely gone but more manageable.

The next day, the realization that it was Luke’s last night in Michigan crept into every shared moment. It added a bittersweet edge to the laughter and easy camaraderie that had blossomed between you over the past few days. You both avoided bringing it up during dinner, the unspoken knowledge settling between you like a silent companion.

After the meal, Luke suggested going for a walk. The winter air was crisp, and the stars shone brightly in the clear Michigan sky as you strolled down familiar streets, your breath visible in the cold. You pulled your coat tighter around you, glancing at Luke as he walked beside you, his hands tucked into his pockets.

“Thanks for spending so much time with me this week,” he said after a while, breaking the comfortable silence. “I know you’ve got a lot going on.”

You smiled softly. “I wanted to. Besides, it’s been nice… like old times.”

Luke chuckled, though there was a wistfulness in it. “Yeah, it has. Better, even.”

The two of you fell silent again, the sound of your footsteps crunching on the snow-covered pavement filling the void. You turned onto a quieter street, where the houses were dark, their occupants already tucked away for the night. You glanced at Luke, his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his mood having shifted from a moment ago.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you teased lightly, hoping to coax him out of his silence.

He stopped walking, turning to face you. His expression was serious, his brows knit as though wrestling with something he hadn’t planned to say. “I think I’ve been running from a lot of things,” he began, his voice low and steady, “but especially you.”

The words hung in the air between you, raw and unexpected. Luke took a step closer, his green eyes searching yours. “When we drifted apart, I told myself it was just the way things had to be. That the distance, my career — it was all just part of life. But I see now… I could’ve fought harder. I should’ve fought harder. For us.”

His admission made your chest tighten, a mix of emotions flooding through you. You had spent years wondering if he regretted letting you go, if he missed you as much as you missed him. And now, hearing the regret in his voice, it felt both validating and bittersweet.

“Luke…” You took a breath, steadying yourself. “It hurt, you know? Losing you. But I understood why you made the choices you did. Your career — it’s everything you’ve worked for, and I didn’t want to be the one holding you back.”

“I never thought of it that way,” he interjected quickly, his tone earnest. “You were never holding me back. If anything, you grounded me. You believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself. And I’m sorry. For not saying that. For not fighting harder to keep you in my life.”

You nodded, emotions welling in your chest. “I won’t lie — it was hard. But I’ve always rooted for you, Luke. Even from afar, even quietly. Even if it meant letting you go.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet of the night wrapping around you like a fragile cocoon. Luke’s gaze softened, and he nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t deserve you,” he said softly.

“Enough with what you do and don’t deserve,” you said shaking your hand. “Cause you’re stuck with me anyways.”

The walk back to your car was quieter, but the silence wasn’t heavy. It was filled with a sense of understanding, of unspoken words that no longer needed to be said.

The next morning, as you drove Luke to the airport, the mood was bittersweet. He promised to keep in touch this time, and for once, you believed he might actually follow through. When you hugged him goodbye, he lingered for a moment longer than usual, as if reluctant to let go.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” you said, pulling back to meet his eyes.

“You too,” he replied, his voice softer than usual. “And thank you. For… everything.”

After Luke returned to New Jersey, something shifted within him. The heaviness of expectation and self-doubt hadn’t completely vanished, but your words lingered in his mind like an anthem: You’ve earned this. You belong here.

For the first time in months, he started seeing his struggles not as failures but as opportunities to grow. Instead of obsessing over his brothers’ accomplishments or the weight of media scrutiny, he set smaller, personal goals. Maybe he wouldn’t assist on every goal scored in every game or win the Norris, but he could focus on winning his battles in the corners, improving his breakout passes, and becoming a reliable presence on the ice.

That renewed mindset brought subtle changes to his game. At first, it was just flashes — an extra step to break up a play, a crisp pass that led to a goal. His confidence grew with each small victory, and while the slump didn’t disappear overnight, it didn’t feel insurmountable anymore.

Through it all, you and Luke became each other’s anchors. Despite the distance, your late-night conversations became a constant. You’d talk about everything — your classes, his games, old memories, and future dreams. Sometimes, the chats were lighthearted, filled with laughter as you teased him about his weird superstitions, like tying his left skate before his right. Other times, they were raw and vulnerable, as you vented about the pressures of school and fear of what came beyond graduation.

It wasn’t always easy. There were nights when his games ended late, or you were swamped with assignments, but both of you made the effort. The bond you shared was undeniable, and as the weeks passed, Luke found himself thinking about you more and more. The idea of a life without you felt incomplete — like something vital was missing.

One night, after a grueling loss to the Washington Capitals, Luke couldn’t shake the disappointment. He had played well, but the team had faltered, and the sting of another defeat hung heavy in the air. Sitting in his car outside the arena, he found himself dialing your number.

You answered on the second ring, your voice warm and familiar despite the late hour. “Hey, everything okay?”

Luke hesitated for a moment before sighing. “Not really. I’m getting better at handling the pressure, but…something still feels off.”

“Want to talk about it?” you asked softly.

He leaned back in his seat, staring at the dashboard. “I hate that I’m here and you’re there,” he admitted. His voice was raw, tinged with frustration. “I hate that I keep letting distance get in the way of us. It’s like, no matter how well I play or how much I try to focus on hockey, it doesn’t feel right. Not without you.”

His confession hung in the air, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. You had felt the distance too, in quiet moments when you wished he were there to share a laugh or hold your hand. But hearing him say it made the ache more real.

“I miss you too,” you finally said, your voice quieter now, but steady. “More than I can put into words. But Luke…this, us — it’s worth fighting for. Even if it’s hard sometimes.”

Luke closed his eyes, letting the weight of your words sink in. He’d known it deep down, but hearing you say it gave him a renewed sense of clarity. “I know it is. I just… I don’t want this to feel like something I’m waiting for. I want it to feel like something we’re building.”

“And we are,” you reassured him. “Every late-night call, every text, every moment we make time for each other — it’s not just waiting, Luke. It’s us figuring it out together. And as much as I’d love for things to be easier, maybe this is how we know it’s real. Because even when it’s tough, we still choose each other.”

His chest tightened, not with sadness, but with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. You always had this way of grounding him, of reminding him what mattered most. “How are you so good at this?” he asked with a soft laugh, the edges of his frustration beginning to melt away.

“Good at what?”

“Making me feel like I’m not completely screwing everything up,” he admitted.

“Because you’re not,” you replied firmly. “You’re trying, Luke. That’s more than enough. You’re enough.”

A few weeks later, as the regular season wound down and playoffs loomed, you found yourself on another late-night call with Luke. This time, he seemed lighter, more at ease, even as the intensity of the season ramped up. It was a stark contrast to the stressed, self-critical tone he’d had earlier in the year.

“You ready for the playoffs?” you asked, genuinely curious. The way he’d been playing lately, it seemed like he’d turned a corner, but you couldn’t help wondering how he was handling the weight of it all.

“Yeah,” he said simply, without hesitation.

His answer caught you off guard. “You’re not nervous?”

“Nope.” He chuckled, and you could practically hear the shrug in his voice. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited. But nervous? Not really.”

You smiled to yourself, a wave of pride and relief washing over you. “That’s new.”

“It is, isn’t it?” he admitted. “I don’t know… I think I finally realized that worrying doesn’t help. I’ve spent so much time obsessing over being perfect, over trying to measure up to everyone else, that I forgot to just enjoy playing the game. And honestly, I’m tired of carrying all that pressure around. Hockey’s supposed to be fun.”

Hearing him say it so confidently, so matter-of-factly, made your heart swell. For months, you’d watched him wrestle with self-doubt, pushing himself to the brink in search of validation. Now, he sounded like someone who had finally made peace with himself — or at least started to.

“I’m proud of you, you know,” you said softly. “It’s not easy to let go of that stuff.”

“It’s easier with you,” he replied, his voice tinged with warmth. “You’ve always been in my corner, even when I wasn’t in my own. That means everything.”

The playoffs arrived sooner than Luke anticipated, and with them, a surge of pressure that made it harder to focus on anything outside the rink. But Luke stepped onto the ice for Game 1 with a steadiness that surprised even him. The crowd roared, the energy was electric, and though the stakes were higher than ever, he didn’t let it overwhelm him. Instead, he focused on the little things — staying composed under pressure, trusting his instincts, and playing the way he knew he could. Game by game, he chipped away at his self-doubt, leaning into the mental resilience he’d been building all season.

The Devils clawed their way through the first two rounds, overcoming grueling battles and earning every victory. Luke’s performance was a reflection of his growth. While he wasn’t the flashiest player on the ice, he was reliable, steady, and clutch when it mattered most. He had a knack for breaking up key plays, making smart decisions under pressure, and even contributing a few timely assists and goals that had the crowd on their feet.

Through it all, you were there, albeit through a screen. You found a way to catch every game, even the ones that happened in between your exams, forgoing studying to watch Luke zip around the ice. Your support grounded him, a reminder that no matter how chaotic things got on the ice, he had someone who believed in him unconditionally.

By the time the conference finals arrived, the Devils were a team to be reckoned with. Facing off against the Carolina Hurricanes, the series was a war of attrition — fast-paced, physical, and emotionally draining. Luke felt the pressure mounting, but he refused to let it control him. Instead, he leaned into the same mantra that had carried him through his struggles earlier in the season: You’ve earned this. You belong here.

The series stretched to six games, with each one more intense than the last. Luke played some of his best hockey, blocking shots, setting up plays, and doing whatever it took to keep his team in the fight. But in the end, the Hurricanes proved too strong. In Game 6, with the Devils down by a goal late in the third period, Luke was on the ice for a final push. They came heartbreakingly close, but the buzzer sounded, and just like that, the run was over.

The locker room was heavy with silence afterward, the weight of the loss pressing down on everyone. Luke sat at his stall, still in his gear, staring at the floor. It hurt — of course it did. But this time, the pain wasn’t accompanied by the same crushing self-criticism he’d once felt after losses. Instead, he felt a deep sense of pride. They had made it this far, farther than many had expected, and he knew he’d left it all on the ice.

Later that night, he called you.

“Hey,” he said, his voice surprisingly calm.

“Hey,” you replied, bracing yourself. You’d seen the loss and expected him to be devastated. “How are you holding up?”

He surprised you with a small chuckle. “Honestly? I’m okay. Don’t get me wrong, it sucks, but… I feel like I gave it everything I had. That’s all I can do, right?”

Pride swelled in your chest. This wasn’t the Luke you remembered from a year ago, who would’ve let the loss consume him. “I’m so proud of you,” you said sincerely. “For how you’ve handled all of this. You’ve grown so much, Luke.”

Your words stayed with him long after the call ended, echoing in his mind like a steady drumbeat. You’ve grown so much, Luke.

Your graduation day dawned bright and warm, the campus alive with energy as classmates, friends, and families gathered to celebrate. You felt a swirl of emotions — pride, excitement, and a faint wistfulness. While you were thrilled to be closing this chapter, part of you couldn’t ignore the ache of someone missing. You had tried to manage your expectations, knowing Luke's NHL schedule and how taxing the playoffs had been. But as you slipped on your cap and adjusted your gown, you couldn’t shake the quiet hope that maybe, somehow, he’d be there.

The ceremony itself was a blur of speeches, applause, and cheers. Crossing the stage, you accepted your diploma with a wide smile, the weight of your hard work finally lifted. Afterward, you joined the throng of graduates filtering toward the quad, where your family had promised to wait. Spotting them amidst the crowd, you waved, your heart swelling with love as you saw your mom, dad, and younger brother standing together. But then, your eyes caught on something — or someone — else.

Luke was standing behind them with a bouquet of fresh daisies, baby's breath, and soft pink roses tied with a satin ribbon. His boyish grin was unmistakable, and it softened the moment your eyes met. The disbelief must have been written all over your face because his grin widened as he gave you a small wave.

Your legs carried you forward without hesitation. First, you hugged your parents and brother, exchanging congratulations and laughter, but your gaze kept darting back to Luke. Finally, you stepped toward him, your voice catching as you said, “What…? You’re here?”

He held the bouquet out to you, a little sheepishly. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything,” he said, his voice low and warm. “You’re one of the most important people in my life. I had to be here.”

Your chest tightened with emotion as you accepted the flowers, their sweet fragrance mingling with the warmth of his presence. “Luke, I didn’t think—”

“I know,” he interrupted gently, his eyes steady on yours. “And I’m sorry for making you think I wouldn’t come. But I wanted it to be a surprise. Your mom helped me with it, actually.”

You glanced over at your mother, who wore an undeniably large grin that stretched across her lips, her eyes practically sparkling with the kind of knowing satisfaction only a mother could have. She had always harbored a soft spot for Luke, often claiming he was the one boy you’d never quite forget. She firmly believed, with the quiet certainty that only years of maternal instinct could provide, that no matter how far life took you, he was the one you’d eventually find your way back to in the end.

Luke pulled your eyes back to his as he spoke again. “You’ve been there for me every step of the way, even when I didn’t deserve it. This is your moment, and I wanted to be part of it.”

Tears prickled your eyes, but you blinked them away, laughing softly as you shook your head. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Yeah, I’ve been told,” he teased, his smile making your heart ache in the best way. “But seriously, I’m so proud of you. You did it.”

You didn’t think, you just stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. He pulled you close without hesitation, his embrace grounding you in a way that only he could.

As you pulled back from the hug, you caught your mother’s subtle signal—a raised brow and a little nod toward Luke. She knew, of course. She always knew. With a quick glance at your dad and brother, you gave them a look that clearly said, I need a minute alone with him.

“Why don’t we grab some photos?” your mom suggested, steering your dad and brother toward a picturesque spot by the fountain. You mouthed a quick thank you before turning back to Luke.

“Want to take a walk?” you asked, motioning toward the quiet pathways that wove through the campus.

“Lead the way,” Luke replied, his hands slipping into the pockets of his suit pants.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a while, the hum of distant laughter and celebration filling the air. You made your way toward a shaded grove near the library, a place where you had spent countless hours studying. Today, it felt almost sacred, a fitting backdrop for this moment.

“I’m glad you came,” you said finally, breaking the silence.

“I’m glad I’m here,” Luke replied, his voice earnest. “I’ve been thinking about this day for a while.”

You glanced at him, your heart skipping at the way his jaw tensed like he was working up to something.

“Listen,” he began, stopping in his tracks and turning to face you. His green eyes, usually bright and playful, were serious now, searching yours. “I’ve spent the last year trying to figure out how to say this without screwing it up, but here goes.” He took a breath, his shoulders rising and falling. “You mean the world to me. You always have. And I know I didn’t always handle things right between us — I’ve made mistakes, I’ve let hockey, distance, and my own insecurities get in the way — but you’re the one person I can’t imagine my life without.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he wasn’t done. “I don’t want to keep pretending that what we have is just history or that I’m okay with being just friends. Because I’m not. I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for years, and I don’t want to waste another second not saying it.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and electric. For a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The honesty in his eyes, the way his voice trembled just slightly—it was everything you had once hoped to hear from him and more.

“Luke,” you said softly, taking a step closer. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll give me a chance,” he replied, his voice steady despite the vulnerability etched into his features. “Say you’ll let me show you that I can be the person you deserve. Say you’ll be with me.”

A smile broke across your face, and before you could overthink it, you nodded. “Okay,” you said, your voice catching on the emotion swelling in your chest. “Yes. I’ll be with you.”

Luke’s smile was a mixture of relief and joy, as though he had been holding his breath and could finally exhale. He took a step toward you, his hands reaching out, and for a moment, it felt like everything in the world had paused — just the two of you, finally on the same page.

He gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing your cheek, and you felt the weight of the moment settle between you. Then, his gaze shifted upwards, and he chuckled softly. “Can’t kiss you with this thing on,” he teased softly.

Luke carefully slid the cap off your head, setting it aside on a nearby bench. The small gesture felt oddly intimate, like he was making room for something even more meaningful.

When his hands returned to your face, the warmth between you both felt undeniable. He leaned in, this time without hesitation, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was tender at first, like he was savoring the moment. The way his lips moved against yours was more sure, more confident, and you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, realizing just how much better he was at it now than when he was 16.

When he finally pulled away, you both breathed deeply, as though trying to catch your bearings after such a powerful kiss. A small laugh escaped your lips, and you smirked, your heart racing. “You’ve definitely gotten better at that,” you said, your voice light with amusement.

Luke chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m glad you noticed,” he said, a smug grin tugging at his lips. “But I’m just getting started.”

You walked back toward your family, hand in hand with the boy who had always been a part of you. It was a moment to savor, but also one to look forward to—a future that felt just a little bit clearer, and a little bit brighter, because of him.

[xsleepylilgeekyx]

thinkin bout Keefe holding onto Kelvin so tightly as he applies pressure to the bullet holes that have pursed through his skin. Whispering in his ear how much he loves him and kissing his forehead assuring him everything’s going to be okay as they wait for the ambulances. Hating himself because he swore he wasn’t ever going to let Kelvin get hurt again and here they are, covered in Kelvin’s blood as Keefe cried thinking it was all his fault he didn’t protect him or his siblings.

thinkin bout Pontius being sick to his stomach as he and his brothers walk in with their mom, discovering their fathers body covered in blood, slumped over with his siblings. He thinks about how rude he’s been to his father lately. Yeah, his old man gets on his nerves but that’s his dad.

Gideon is holding back Abraham from looking as Amber drops to her knees in front of Jesse, frantically searching for a pulse. Relieved when she finds one but still the sight is terrible. Abraham clutches his oldest brother tightly and buries his face in his chest.

Amber feels like she could pass out. Seeing Jesse on the ground, not knowing what had happened to get to this point. But the fact that the music was turned up to cover this violent act. And that they had no clue.

BJ holding Judy as she goes in and out of consciousness. She didn’t get hit as bad as Kelvin and Jesse but he can tell she’s in a lot of pain. He replaces her bloody hand with his, holding pressure til the ambulance arrives.

“I’m sorry Ms. Lori.” She slurs out. “It was Corey.”

Lori’s blood curdling scream is something none of them could forget as she looks over the deceased body of her one and only son. Her only family she had. Jana crying over Corey as she remembered the last thing they did was fight and she told him she was done. She blames herself for this happening.

Eli thought he was going to go into cardiac arrest. Screaming “Why God!” In his head as he looks over his children and their old best friend. All he could see in place of their bloodied and hurt bodies was the 4 kids running through the house with laughter every summer.

[genderenvykeefe]

I’ve been thinking a bit about the apparent disconnect between Keefe and Kelvin’s physical relationship and their emotional relationship, and I hesitate to call it a full miscommunication because Keefe did bring attention to it in episode 2 asking Kelvin about kissing in public and potentially getting married (which I think we will at least get a proposal by the end of the season if not a very weird and fun wedding).

However, I do think there are things that both of them probably aren’t saying to each other. I personally think Kelvin’s internalized homophobia is much more about their public relationship than their sexual relationship. In private, he’s extremely affectionate with Keefe and initiates intimacy quite often — Kelvin is a grown man, him nuzzling Keefe’s crotch while they’re cuddling isn’t an accident nor unintentional IMO. I don’t particularly subscribe to the idea that the kind of sex they’re having is any indication of internalized homophobia, nor is penetrative sex some gay goal line anyone has to cross. And I don’t think Kelvin not wanting to be publicly affectionate has anything to do with how affectionate he is in private with Keefe.

I do think there’s something to be said about Keefe and the emphasis on his kink and sexual preferences. We’ve known since season 1 that Keefe’s “satanism” was heavily tied to the BDSM scene. There’s been scenes this season where Keefe has spoken about kinkier things that quite literally got him aroused. Kelvin falls asleep during the hot piss monologue, completely missing the boner that Keefe has. I wonder how much they’ve actually spoken about sexual preferences or kink — my guess is to say not at all. But that conversation is something that needs to be initiated by Keefe. If he wants their sex life to be kinkier, if his sexual needs aren’t being met, that’s something he has to address. Kelvin is the less experienced one in the relationship, he isn’t too familiar with the kink scene or really much sex at all as far as we know.

The question then becomes if this is something Keefe needs in the relationship, why isn’t it being discussed? Why is there literal physical distance between Kelvin asleep on their bed while Keefe gets aroused across the room talking to himself? I think it would be a much more interesting plotline for Keefe to be the one to have some hesitance about sex rather than Kelvin. Keefe is coming into this relationship and into this family with a background he, himself, has said he’s not proud of, he’s mentioned to Kelvin before that he feels like no one wants him there — this has improved over the seasons and I think the rest of the Gemstones are pretty accepting of Keefe and his quirks (the ghost dress up aftermath). But the reality of the situation may not be something Keefe believes himself at moment. It was only last season that Keefe was kicked out of the youth ministry because of parental complaints. He might be unsure and self-conscious about this part of his life and who he is, he might not think this is something that Kelvin would want. And who could blame him when Kelvin has shut down his request for public intimacy, why would Keefe think kink would be any different, especially because kink and satanism seem to be intrinsically linked in Keefe’s mind? There also may be a desire in Keefe to protect Kelvin from current sexual “perversions”.

I personally find Kelvin being puritanical about sex while also wanting to be private about their relationship to be an uninteresting take on a repressed gay character and I don’t think this is the way the show is going and I don’t think that’s how they’ve shown to be Kelvin so far tbh. Just because Kelvin isn’t as sexually experienced as Keefe doesn’t mean he doesn’t have his own kinks or sexual preferences or that he wouldn’t enjoy them given the chance. And I think we’ve seen glimpses of that side of Kelvin already with the kissy monster and some other moments of intimacy between the two of them.

All this to say that I’m interested to see where this plot is going and how the divide between Kelvin and Keefe’s public and private life becomes more prominent and how it will be resolved. I do wonder if and how the writers will actually approach a conversation about kink and their sex life.

[swans-chirping-in-the-distance]

Well it breaks with extreme and continuous guilt or sadness. So Keefe could totally be slowly breaking (he's a very guilty and sad person). Honestly it WOULD make a lot of sense if he broke

Keefes mind isn't gonna break because I have no regard for canon and I'm not gonna let it tell me how to cry

[fintan-pyren]

More about Brant, but do you think Fintan and Brant ever thought of the other like a father/son? And if so, did they ever show it or just repress their feelings?

Yes, in a fucked up way.

Brant certainly had those feelings about Fintan. He was dealing with his ability all by himself, struggling with this huge secret that would cause him to be shunned by others if it was to be revealed. He would've felt scared and alone, and along comes someone who can help him, someone who he can be fully honest with, someone who's like him. That would've caused him to become emotionally reliant on Fintan and begin to view him almost as a father figure of sorts. That dependence would increase once Jolie died and his parents abandoned him, essentially leaving him with Fintan as the sole person he could rely on.

I don't think Fintan had quite the same degree of emotional attachment to Brant, especially at first. We've seen signs of him pushing Brant far too hard, involving him in the rebellion before he was ready, teaching him things far beyond his level without regard for whether he would harm Brant by doing so. I do think he held some degree of affection for him, but it was overshadowed by the strong focus on and dedication to the rebellion he had in earlier books. I think he viewed him first as a tool for the rebellion, with any paternal feelings coming second.

I do think he would've taken advantage of how Brant viewed him to manipulate him and use strategic praise, physical affection, etc. to control him and ensure his loyalty to the Neverseen. A bit similar to how he tries to establish himself as a father figure for Keefe when he's with the Neverseen.

Fintan clearly comes to regret how he treated Brant and harmed him, but I don't think that shift came until after his death. I think for the earlier parts of the series, he had lost track of his original goal (helping pyrokinetics + atoning for the deaths of his friends) and developed tunnel vision, focusing on just overthrowing the Council at any cost. I don't think he truly processed Brant's death when it happened.

I'd place the shift in his mindset at when he realized Marella was a pyrokinetic in Nightfall. I think seeing this young pyrokinetic fighting for her world reminded him of his mission and prompted him to actually realize what he had done to Brant by involving him in the rebellion.

I think in the present, he blames himself for Brant's death and has a lot of regret about it. It's essentially a repeat of the death of the five pyrokinetics, in some ways—he was reckless and pushed them too hard, and killed them as a result, the same as Brant.

Marella is his chance to give at least one pyrokinetic a better life.

[ann-lol]

Incoming long rant about Sophie and Fitz!! Not a hate post for either characters! Pro Sophie and Pro Fitz for life!

I’ve been seeing a lot of discussion lately about how Sophie has shown disapproval or discomfort with the things Fitz has done and/or said to her. And certain people have said that Sophie apparently shouldn’t have ended things with Fitz because he has a temper or because he blamed her for Alden’s mind shattering, or because he really didn’t want sophie to be unmatchable, or because he was jealous that she was taking on a leader’s role- the list goes on. Basically they’re justifying Fitz’s actions towards Sophie and claiming that if THEY were Sophie they wouldn’t have treated him the way she did by keeping her distance from him for days, possibly weeks in Legacy, because she was afraid that he wouldn’t take the news of her being unmatchable well, or her getting with Keefe, a little too soon, after her and Fitz ended things. They claim they wouldn’t be bothered by his temper or his devotion to his reputation.

Now. I am not going to justify everything Sophie did- but we have to remember that WE, as the fandom, are NOT Sophie. We may have our own opinions and feelings on what Fitz did, and we all think differently on it because we’re all different people, as is Sophie. Sophie has her own opinions. Sophie has her own feelings. And most importantly SHE is the one who experienced these things and is actively dealing with them.

Her new developed fear for Fitz’s anger after the events in Exlie when Fitz blamed her for Alden’s mind shattering? It’s valid. Unlike certain parts of the fandom though Sophie doesn’t only just see “anger” when she looks at Fitz. She also sees loyalty, kindness, respect, and devotion to his friends.

Her discomfort with Fitz pushing her to find her biological parents? It’s valid. With that being said her staying away for days/weeks because she was afraid he would not accept it wasn’t right. She didn’t know for sure how he would react to the news (even though her suspicions were right and he didn’t exactly accept it) but to not communicate this with your own boyfriend was not a good decision.

Her confronting Fitz in Stellarlune when she realized he was jealous that she was taking the leading role? It’s valid. At the same time Sophie needs to learn more about teamwork and actually involving others into her plans.

Her getting with Keefe not too soon after breaking up with Fitz, is a bit more controversial. But she finally found comfort in someone who didn’t care that she was unmatchable, who didn’t care that she was taking the leading role. And in the end it’s HER choice. If she had gotten with Keefe BEFORE her and Fitz broke up then okay! She would be in the wrong. But Fitz was the one who initiated the break up and in the end it was mutual! They were no longer a thing

Now this doesn’t invalidate Fitz’s feelings and emotions either.

His anger for his father’s mind shattering is valid. But him directing that anger towards Sophie was wrong because she had absolutely nothing to do with that.

Him being uncomfortable with Sophie being unmatchable is also valid. Not only does he come from a high prestigious family, but even those in non-prestigious families wouldn’t want to be in a bad match. His fear is completely understandable! Him ending things with Sophie because she’s unmatchable wasn’t wrong! He also has as much of a choice as she does, and if he isn’t comfortable being in a relationship that could end up being a bad match, then that’s okay! But him constantly pushing the idea to Sophie that they need to find her biological parents so they could work, even when she had shown discomfort against it, was wrong.

Him feeling jealous that she was taking the leading role is valid. He grew up famous for being the youngest telepath, jealousy is bound to happen. Now he expressed himself in Stellarlune perfectly and showed there and then that he will try not to bothered by this anymore. Proof that he’s willing to change.

His emotions with Sophie kissing Keefe are also valid. He still loves Sophie very much but has already admitted that her being unmatchable still bothers him but he communicated this perfectly as well.

At the end of day, both Sophie and Fitz are their own persons. Their feelings and emotions are valid and we as readers need to remember that. Now that doesn’t mean we become completely and utterly influenced by the narrative alone and not use our own critical thinking and reading comprehension skills or ignore our personal opinions on certain things. Reading is all about thinking and feeling and criticizing when criticism is due, it is part of our human nature and morals. But please please please do not invalidate the characters feelings and their reactions to THEIR experiences because YOU would have done differently. Do not focus on one aspect of what the character did and say that their entire reaction was completely wrong when there is more to consider! Everyone is different and sometimes there isn’t always one right answer.

[multi-fandom-lunatic]

Happy Birthday, Keefe - Angsty Keefitz birthday oneshot

Its my birthday today so obviously i must post an angsty keefitz oneshot. obviously.

contains: major character death, alcohol and drinking depictions, mentions of hospitals. you have been warned.

PS. this is not on ao3, just here on tumblr.

----

It was, as usual, unbearable.

Keefe’s fingers brushed the wall like death; gentle but haunting, nonetheless. Flakes of the paint chipped away like snow and blew into the stale air that reeked of sweat. Many would’ve taken a mere look at the place and called the police, an ambulance, or another million services, but Keefe was in no place to even consider it. This was fine, this was normal. This was his normal.

Pursing his lips, Keefe padded across the bedroom floor like it was a maze, narrowly avoiding stepping on the growing mess that he had sworn to handle. It was a junkyard, if he was being kind; months of unwashed clothes had formed mountains in the corners, and old fast-food packaging was littered all over the hardwood floor. But what Keefe tried—and failed—to ignore the most were the bottles. Keefe saw his favourites on the floor: Chardonnay, Merlot, and a couple cheaper ones as well, but what they all had in common was that they were all empty.

He held his tongue—not that it would have been useful—the whole walk across what couldn’t have been more than eight square meters, but it was jam packed it memories, and most of all, mistakes.

Keefe’s eyes flitted over to the bed. Underneath the yellowing blankets and pile of takeout was Fitz Vacker, and God, he looked… a mess.

Not that Keefe was surprised—in any case, it was his fault for hoping that it would be different. It was today, after all, and even when Fitz was like this, he knew just how important the day was. But just as well, the days blended together when your only priority was to be conscious as little as possible.

Keefe bit his lip, standing like an apparition over Fitz’s body, and for a second, he looked dead. His skin had taken on a ghostly pallor, one that seemed so foreign from the Golden Boy of three years ago, and his face was sullen, sunken. Keefe didn’t know whether to blame himself or the alcohol.

Fitz stirred. Slurring indecipherable sounds and flapping his limbs around like a sloth, he was finally waking up, at the glorious hour of 12:00 PM. Lethargically, he threw his blankets to his feet and sat up, and immediately flopped back onto his back, groaning.

Come on, you can do this, Keefe’s willed. I believe in you.

It was another couple of minutes before Fitz dragged himself onto his feet, stumbling and staggering until he grabbed the ledge of his bedside table. Keefe rushed to stand in front of him, examining the brunette. He was blinking slow, but that was normal when he was in this state, and his eyes had lost the signature Vacker teal, but Keefe would take it. Fitz was alive. That was all that mattered.

By some grace of God, Fitz managed to make it to the kitchen without falling over. With shaking hands, he flung open the doors to the fridge and squinted inside. All that was there was a rotting apple and stale milk. Muttering curses, Fitz slammed it close and reached for the cupboard and pulled out a packet of chips. Keefe was hollow as he watched this.

With whatever little coherency was left in Fitz’s system, he floundered to the living room, brushing aside the empty bottles from his TV stand and kneeling to insert something. Keefe peeked over, watching Fitz intently and discovered it was a CD.

When Fitz accomplished this, he sat back on the sofa with his head on an armrest and his legs dangerously close to kicking glass bottles. Be careful, Keefe thought to himself.

The TV turned on. It was a blurry video, one of two men in their twenties, smiling at the shaky camera. He’d recognise those two men, those smiles anywhere—it was the two of them.

“Your hands are so shaky,” a younger Keefe with a bright smile laughed. “How did you get into surgery?”

“I prefer to focus my steadiness on more important things, like surgery,” Fitz from the video grinned back, setting the camera on a surface. “Annnnnd we’re rolling! What do you have to say, Keefe? How’re you feeling?”

“Like I can finally drink,” Video-Keefe whooped. “I gotta say, twenty-one looks good on me.”

“I for one, completely agree,” Video-Fitz grinned, and the Keefe on the screen took that as an opportunity to pull the Fitz next to him into a kiss. It was short and chaste, but it still delicate, and even now Keefe couldn’t help but smile softly at how Video-Fitz grinned into it.

The video changed. It was the two of them again, and this time it was Keefe holding the camera at Fitz, with the blond grinning from ear to ear and Fitz shivering as he wrapped his jacket around himself.

“T-this is f-fucking freezing,” Video-Fitz chattered. “H-how are you f-fine?”

“It’s the ice blue eyes; I was made for this kind of climate,” Keefe in the video laughed. “Can’t fault teal eyes though, Fitzy, especially when they’re yours.” And the boys in the video kissed again.

It was video after video, memory after memory from the dead and Keefe couldn’t understand the swirling mess of emotions that bloomed in his chest. Everyone was so happy and peaceful and nice. It was just the two of them in the very same apartment they stood in now, younger and carefree with a whole future ahead of them. They’d made plans, shared stories in hopes they could their endings could be intertwined.

“I’m going to marry you one day,” Keefe whispered in the middle of the night, once. It was common knowledge that only at two in the morning that Keefe allowed for such unadulterated sincerity. “In the apartment.”

“Our friends could gather in the living room, completely squished but happy regardless,” Fitz whispered back, pulling their brand-new blanket up to their necks. Then, softer, he said. “I’ll say I love you and it’ll be…”

“Perfect.” Keefe completed when they finished talking, and they spent the night in each other’s arms, convinced it could last forever.

Keefe liked to get lost in these memories often. They were a reminder of a simpler time, where all that they ever needed was love. Everything else took a back seat; if they had love, they could work everything out, right?

“You need to stop drinking!” Keefe yelled on a bad night. He was on one end of the kitchen island, and Fitz on the other, and the two looked—felt—ready to pounce.

“Stop fucking saying that!” Fitz threw his hand back, slurring his words. “Everything is falling apart. I thought I wanted a career in medicine, and now that I know that I don’t, it’s hell.” Fitz’s eyes bulged. “You wouldn’t know a fucking thing, would ya, Keefe? You’ve been happy from the first fucking moment!”

“You know that’s not true,” was all Keefe managed to say. “I’ve—I’m going out for a drive.”

“People don’t get second chances in life, Keefe, you’re lucky enough to not need any,” Fitz screamed as Keefe numbly grabbed his keys. Just as he was shut the door, he heard one final shout. “Fucking asshole.”

In the cruellest twist of fate, Keefe, in all his distraction and anguish that night, managed to ram the car—their car—into a pole. It was ugly scene; not that he ever saw it. He vision was out like a light, and the only noises he heard for those torturous hours were from the police sirens and ambulances. He remembered that feeling, paramedics scrambling to keep him alive in any way they could. They did their jobs noble and scared; hell, they’d even managed to get him to the hospital. But he’d only lasted long enough to hear two excruciating last words, “Where’s—Keefe!” and of course, they had belonged to Fitz.

In any case, they both knew that they would never make it. But there was something so harsh about it ending the way it did—in a cold hospital room with the heart monitor going flat, and the doctor quietly announcing his time of death.

No one who dies so suddenly ever gets to leave the world they come from. He had woken up—in the spiritual sense, at least—right as the doctor announced that the time, 12:01 AM. Floating above the masses, all he could really understand was that he was gone in any way that mattered, and the proof was right there: it was his body and his boyfriend, who was now drunkenly sobbing on the tile.

That was the beginning of the end, on all accounts. Fitz had tried to stay away from drinking, in some last-ditch effort to honour the dead Keefe, but it failed like it had so many times before, and it left Fitz more parts alcohol than himself.

“Why?” the Fitz from the present moment spoke. Keefe blinked away the thoughts that played in the forefront of his mind. “Y-You weren’t supposed to leave. We were sup-supposed to make it together. You were—are—The One.”

Tentatively, Keefe sat down on the sofa. Fitz’s couldn’t see him of course, but he found himself practicing caution regardless.

“I know you’re here. I just know it. And-And I know you think I’m probably fucking insane—hell, I probably am—but I’m not stupid, Keefe, you hear? I—I know I fucked up. If I’d just—God…” Fitz’s voice cracked. If Keefe could cry, that would’ve done it.

Fitz pulled out a bottle from the floor and popped open the cork.

“Happy birthday, Keefe.”

---

HOPE Y'ALL LIKED THAT

@the-soul-detectives

@icantrememberwhoiwaslastdecember

THOUGHT YOU GUYS MIGHT BE INTERESTED

[waining-crescent-moon]

i keep thinking about how when fitz is angry after something bad he tends to blame other people while keefe tends to blame himself

that on top of keefe growing up in an environment where people would yell at him a lot means that if fitz ever gets mad at him he’d probably just stand there and take it because he thinks both whatever happened and fitz yelling is his fault

[welp-back-on-my-bs]

Ikemen prince period hcs

Leon: he absolutely takes care of you. No hesitation. He will ask what you need him to do and even asks some maids and other ladies for help as well. He is at your beck and call. Work can wait because you're suffering when you don't deserve to.

Yeves: so many period snacks. He stress bakes to the max. He'll also make some clothes that would help you feel more comfortable (and let you steal his if you insistttt). Kisses and cuddles are a must.

Licht: not a fraction of an idea of how to handle this. He blames himself until he learns it's natural. So he vows to learn how to care for you during this time. He learns from all his brothers how to do so and from you. Definateky one of the best bois for this once he learns

Jin: he has a good idea on how to care for periods. He makes sure to get what you need and gets what he has heard would help as well. Bejng the ladies man that he is, he has picked up on a lot of tricks to help. 😏

Chelaver: didn't do anything and mainly ignored it before you two became an item. It's probably something he feels a bit useless about because there isn't much he can actually do. When he can, he'll read to you and have your head on his lap to pet.

Clavis: he uses this time to gossip with you and to strategize. He keeps you close, has baths with you, whatever you need while talking. He adores you and has fun teasing you a little, too.

Nokto: I don't think he would know how to care for you, but he is very quick to learn. He figures out what you need and absolutely does it. He hates to see you so low and in pain, so he will do whatever it takes to make it go away, even for a little bit.

Luke: h o n e y. You get honey treats. So much, honey. He also naps with you, keeping you close to himself. He takes really good care of you during this time.

Sarel: sares the period out of your body. He actually does okay with taking care of you. He does better after a while of knowing you and caring for you during this time.

Rio: he knows how to care for you. He gets yeves to make you period snacks. He cuddles you, massages you, and all the kisses in the world are for you. He makes you some tea tk help with the cramping. 20/10 go to him

Gilbert: he has Walter looking into getting rid of periods. You aren't to move when it comes to it. He carries you around and spoils you. He even feeds you.

Silvio: Whatever you need to survive this, you will get it. It's of the highest quality money can buy. He will also cuddle you, rub your stomach, sex, whatever you need of him. He absolutely spoils you with his time and love.

Keef: He probably has some herbal tea that helps with the cramps. Cuddles and kisses galore. And more if you need 😏. He is absolutely skilled in takeing care of this due to his sister(s?)

[goldfishwithablowtorch-deactivat]

I have been observing from afar and even though no one asked me here is my multi-paragraph essay on why Keefe 100% has abs

Okay so one of the main aspects of Keefe's keefiness is that he blames himself for what his friends go through, especially relating to the neverseen because of his mother. He feels like he has to fix it or compensate for it.

In Kotlc Everblaze, we see that when he is talking into the tracker in case the Neverseen is listening, he says he's been practising with the goblin throwing stars and that he won't miss again. This is further evidence of the fact that he feels he has to be better in order to protect his friends, and this was even before we learned that his mother was part of the neverseen.

Therefore, it seems reasonable that he would be training to fight against the Neverseen not just using throwing stars, but also trying to learn how to fight without weapons. By extension of this, he is also probably working out a lot, probably far more than is necessary, so he feels better capable of protecting his friends.

His anger and guilt only intensified after he learns the truth about his parents, and again with every altercation with the neverseen or other enemies, especially after events such as when Sophie and Fitz were attacked in Flashback or when he fought King Dimitar. He needs to be stronger and better to defend his loved ones like he couldn't before.

One of the main arguments of the anti-keefe-has-abs group is that he is a "soft artist boy" and that he uses art as a coping mechanism as opposed to physical activity. This is true, but you have to remember why he does a lot of the drawing in later books. He's trying to trigger memories they can use against the Neverseen.

Keefe is drawing as a coping mechanism, but this is just part of his main coping mechanism of throwing himself into trying do something, anything, to feel useful in the fight against the Neverseen in an effort to make up for all his mother's actions. He tries to trigger memories, tries to run away and "join the enemy", tries to sacrifice himself to save everyone else and tries to keep his mother away from those he cares about whom she would hurt.

He will do anything and everything he can which includes utilising both his mind (through triggering memories) and his body, through training until maybe one day he will be strong and fast enough to actually defeat his mother next time she tries to hurt the people he holds most dear.

Keefe will do anything in his power to make up for his mother's actions, to protect his friends, and to prove to them to himself that he isn't as useless as he has been every other time the neverseen has attacked.

Keefe will become as physically capable as he can until he feels capable enough.

Keefe will do anything, physically or mentally, to prove he's not as useless as he feels.

So in short, Keefe has trauma, so he works out, so he has abs.

If anyone put themselves through reading that, dare you to change my mind.

KEEFE HAS ABS

[winwin17]

Unraveled observations

My comments and opinions

Ch. 28-end

(Spoilers ahead, obviously)

I get that Keefe is hesitant to be buddies with Alvar, and I hate that I kinda know it's gonna happen anyway

The drop bears incident 😂😂 (Idk, Keefe and Alvar struck me as a little gullible in this part, but it's still funny)

Alvar is acting ... so not Alvar. I get that he's had a change of perspective, but it almost seems like he's completely not who he used to be?? Idk, it just feels inconsistent or ... off

Oh wow, Alvar's got his ability back! Kind of a surprise, kind of not. What repercussions are incoming??

Yeah, Keefe has a right to be upset about that.

Wait, I almost can't keep this straight. So Alvar decides what's worth living for is making a life you care about, and he's fine being done with fancy abilities and all that. And yet when Keefe partially heals him, suddenly he cares a whole lot about his ability again. Either he's just really conflicted or something's not right.

Also, what feels mostly wrong is that, amid all of Alvar's conflictedness, there's just ... no thoughts of going back to being a "bad guy"?? How is he suddenly just so super cemented as a Good Guy now?

Alvar does kinda treat Keefe the way he needs to be treated tho, tbh. It's good that he makes him face himself and share his thoughts.

That healing was intense. A little confusing and overwhelming? I want to learn more about how Keefe's new ability works, and what it's for/meant for, because honestly I'm confused right now.

The scene at the cemetery is kinda sweet. 😊 Keefe needs to stop blaming himself tho.

I love the interaction with Eleanor? It's so weird and bizarre, and they're both so confused by each other. I admittedly want more answers tho. (I think if there's any future interactions between humans and elves in the future, maybe Eleanor will be involved.)

I loved the "What *are* you??" 😄😄

Cool, we get to see that part from Stellarlune in Keefe's POV. (Also, I admire the dedication on Shannon's part to apparently go line by line with the Stellarlune account.)

But also! Oh boy, oh no!! Knowing that Alvar was hiding in there the whole time changes the scene *entirely*!

The last chat with Keefe and Alvar was kinda bittersweet. 😐 Kinda made me feel bad for Alvar, having to find his place all over again.

Also, I get that feeling betrayed/rejected by everyone and almost dying can change a person, but the Alvar arc still seems weird. Like, Alvar on the surface may have been a friendly family oriented guy in the early books, but beneath that, he never was just a chill guy. He was always looking for something, working for something, scheming, striving to prove himself, seeking revenge, his family "legacy", etc. But now he really has no driving motivation or life goal? Except surviving and ... pancakes?? Can you really just swap out a life motivation with pancakes?? Idk, Alvar is too chill now.

Also: Sure he's had a change in perspective and almost died and all that, but he has a much more balanced and healthy viewpoint than he's had time to heal from all his trauma and drama. He's kind of a mirror for Keefe, right? How did he just skip ahead to therapist level of balance and insight so fast?

I suspect he might end up back in the Lost Cities though. Probably swoop in to save Keefe and co. or something.

The bonus chapter of the Sokeefe confession really didn't do a lot for me. I didn't think changing the POV made it much different. 🤷🏼‍♀️

[bookwyrminspiration]

ok not to alvar post in your inbox again but liek.

“You want to talk about being left for dead?” Alvar lunged forward, but Sandor and Ro shifted their blades to block him. “ I was left in a pod of orange goo while my brother and sister stood by watching! The same brother who threatened to carve me up with a knife earlier that night! The brother who stopped pressing buttons to try to save me as the pod filled up—did he tell you that? He let the tank fill, waiting for me to drown” (632).

this excerpt makes me want to eat concrete in a good way. we love to talk about fitz stopping pressing buttons, but the way alvar is angry at fitz for stopping isn’t really talked about as much as it could be i think.

i always thought it was so funny because alvar was given the chance to change and come back from what he did throughout flashback. and when his memories came back, he made his choice to turn his back on his family, but he’s mad when said family turns their back on him in return. but i rlly wanted to hear your thoughts on this because you’re one of the most ardent buttonsposters on this site

this is FASCINATING. Okay, so. Looking at Alvar's familial feelings, a lot of his hatred is centered on his parents. He felt drowned in unrealistic expectations he could never live up to as the only Vacker kid, and saw Fitz as a replacement, his parents saying he'd never be good enough. Whether this is true isn't really relevant, as it's how he took it

Fitz ends up in a weird cross section here where he hasn't actually done anything to Alvar but exist. Alvar hates Fitz for replacing him, but it was their parents that chose to have him. Everything Alvar hates about Fitz is a manifestation of his resentment for Alden and Della.

Fitz is the perfect golden boy. A telepath like their father, the youngest to naturally manifest at that. Replaced Alvar in looking for Sophie--actually found her when Alvar passed her by. Fitz enrages Alvar for being everything he thinks their parents wanted that he wasn't

But Fitz doesn't have to be. I think that's key. Fitz could throw it all away, stop being perfect, drown under the pressure like Alvar did, and join him. And I think Alvar wants him to. Then he wouldn't be replaced, and instead Fitz could serve as evidence of how horrible their parents were. If Fitz breaks, too, then the problem wasn't with Alvar

And yet he isn't. FItz is choosing, again and again, his family. His parents. To be on the opposite side. Which means he's now making an active choice to become the replacement he inadvertently always was, proving the problem's with Alvar. Which means Alvar can hate him for being himself now. He's just like them, and he's turning their sister, too. The little sister who was the most likely to get him--so when she doesn't? They're blinded, representing everything wrong with their world. The expectations, the indoctrination of the next generations, everything

Alvar is desperate to be the one hurting. He grew up incredibly privileged and only talks of the burden it was. Keefe said Umber was left for dead and he immediately lashes back with this quote, talking about how he's been hurt just as much if not more because he got gooed. And not only that, his family gooed him.

Which reveals he does value family to an extent. If it's worse to be hurt by your siblings, it's because they matter more. Again, everything Alvar hates is centered on their parents. Fitz and Biana were supposed to choose him, to see his pain and understand him, leave their parents behind. They're siblings, even if they're bratty and naive.

We see that in the repetition of brother before each point; he's highlighting the connection they should've had--and blaming its dissolution on Fitz. A little on Biana, but mostly on Fitz, as Fitz was the replacement and the spark to the fuel of Alvar's suffering. The last straw. He's furious. And frames everything as if its unbelievable.

Which implies, potentially, that he wouldn't do the same. That he wouldn't take a knife to his sister, or watch his brother drown. That for all his talk, he sees them as different from their parents and that they matter, deep down.

I think Alvar is desperate to have his pain acknowledged, to be seen and understood, which is a valid desire. But he has blown it entirely out of proportion in his quest to be seen--and his siblings were his main hope. Who better to understand what being a Vacker kid did to him than the other Vacker kids? But because of that blowing it out of proportion, even though they're all Vacker kids, they can't understand. Because Alvar's reaction is illogical. He's in the wrong, and he refuses to understand or realize that because there's kernels of validity to his feelings.

so he's simultaneously furious at Fitz for replacing him, being everything he wasn't, and not choosing him, and desperate to be seen and acknowledged and understood by him and Biana.

basically Alvar's a clusterfuck of complications of a man

[ahoyimlosingmymind]

Can I get some Fitz hcs (Just like general thoughts you have about him? :))

These are literally all angst. Not an ounce of hurt/comfort

Fitz Vacker has academic anxiety like you've never seen. He may be smart, but a lot of his academic rigor is not there naturally. His good grades don't just fall into his lap like everyone seems to assume. This boy runs on red-eyes and brain fog 90% of the time and is just masterful at faking it till you make it

He actually has a hard time forming real friendships with people because he's used to being used to garner status. He's better socialized around adults because of the isolation and seclusion he felt from the 'celebrity worship' he experienced, or the extreme jealousy issues his peers projected onto him

he has a hard time connecting with the people in his immediate friend group to this day bc his status still hangs over all of their heads. There's always an undercurrent of resentment he can't even blame his friends for having against him

He dreaded the end of the school year award ceremonies because he always came out as top of his class but it was never seen as something he earned. It would get hard to breathe when awards were announced. People whispered. swore the whole thing was rigged.

He was often giving ability presentations to adults to be evaluated and deemed gifted and the stress of being perfect was crippling when he was little.

He always felt like he was living in a glass bubble, looking in on people but unable to really form bonds. Lots of derealization growing up, when there were lots of eyes on him. He got really good at running on autopilot and pretending to be present for people.

his time in the human world was oddly traumatic but he wouldn't tell a soul about it. He was used to feeling like a piece of meat in the lost cities, but in the real world, with his looks- he received a lot of unwanted attention from people and it caused a lot of self-perception issues and shame

he was exposed to more violence than he'll ever admit to in the human world. and he thinks that's part of the reason he has such a high threshold for it compared to other elves.

Fitz looked up to Alvar a lot but knew that his older brother didn't have the same affection for him.

He often felt like the world pitted him and his siblings against each other, and like Biana and Alvar had a closer bond than he did to either of them. Which led him to become really close with his dad, which only made the divide between the kids worse.

His friendship with Keefe was a lot deeper than anyone ever seemed to pick up on. He saw a lot of himself in Keefe but was too ashamed to admit it, for fear of sounding like he was searching for pity.

When he bakes it's usually to keep a panic attack at bay. It used to be a fun hobby that was light-hearted, but now it's the only thing he feels like he has an ounce of control over, and it's just become a coping mechanism.

He has a lot of silent panic attacks. Random bouts of tightness in his chest and shortness of breath that he can usually pass off as sighs

He's really close with Grizel who is often the one who senses these panic attacks because they're often too low-key for someone with normal senses to tell. She'll get him out of rooms, place a hand on his shoulder etc...

it happened a lot during the time Alvar was living on the Everglen property again. He didn't feel safe in his own bedroom half the time, even if Grizel sat at the foot of his bed while he slept.

He literally cannot sleep without Mr. Snuggles.

Bro is an insomniac who will pace around his house for hours at night until his brain physically knocks him out

Fluff Bonus!

Biana and him have grown closer since Alvar's betrayal, and she'll often keep him company while he bakes if she can tell it's getting into 'manic avoidance of dealing with feelings' territory.

She taught him to braid hair when they were little and he does it when he's nervous and needs to do something with his hands.

and if you like lavacake- he does it to Marella's hair all the time mindlessly <3

He collected lots of silly things from the human world and actually really loves human music. He's not supposed to have it though.

[emeraldspiral]

What if they made the Keef duology a trilogy? Following "Return of Keef" we get:

Keef's Revenge!

After making Keef so happy he exploded Zim and Dib thought they'd gotten rid of him for good. He hasn't been seen at skool again, and rumor has it he had a mental breakdown and was sent away for psychiatric treatment.

On what seems to be another normal day at skool, Dib notices that Zim has suddenly gone missing, which is usually a sign that he has some nefarious plan in motion. He begins searching the skool, and ends up discovering a secret passage into the underground classrooms that were said to have been sealed off after the Lice incident. Dib discovers a lair of some kind, but it doesn't resemble anything of Zim's. Then he finds Zim, tied to a chair and gagged. A moment later, the room is filled with a foul-smelling gas that knocks Dib unconscious.

When Dib wakes up, he's sitting beside Zim tied to another chair. A stranger in a mask removes Zim's gag and apologizes to Dib for the gas which knocked him out. Turns out the lair is under one of the bathrooms and periodically the old pipes leak fumes down there whenever somebody flushes a toilet. The stranger reveals himself to be none other than Keef, who's gone full Phantom of the Opera and kidnapped Zim in order to lure Dib down to his "secret clubhouse" knowing he would do anything to rescue his "best friend".

Dib asks why Keef is wearing a mask and he says it's to hide his hideous disfigurement. Dib apologizes, saying he didn't realize what the happy popping juice would do to him and blames it all on Zim. But Keef brushes it off saying the deformity he's hiding under his mask is just a bee sting, totally unrelated. Dib says that's nothing to wear a mask over, but when Keef lifts it both he and Zim are so horrified they beg him to put the mask back on.

Dib and Zim ask what Keef intends to do with them, and Keef reveals that he's going to keep them down there forever. "It'll be like one big never ending slumber party! No teachers, no homework. We can stay up as late as we want and read comics books and play board games and share all of our deepest darkest secrets!" Keef then presents Zim and Dib each with a pair of footie pajamas to change into. They both look for a way to escape while Keef waits for them to change, but he's seemingly sealed them in with no way for them to get out or even call for help from the outside world due to signal blockage. Zim is ready to terminate Keef, but Dib is able to convince him that they need him alive in order to find out how to escape. Zim suggests some bizarre torture to get him to cooperate but Dib convinces him that they should just go along with Keef's demands to get him to comply willingly.

After hours of playing tedious board games, Dib points out that it's getting late and their families are probably wondering where they are, but Keef brushes it off, telling him not to worry. Their parents won't mind. They'll just be happy they're all having such a good time. Zim gets fed up and kicks the game board, demanding to know how to escape the "clubhouse". Keef laughs maniacally and says there is no way in or out. He made sure of it so that no one would be able to disturb them and spoil their fun.

Dib and Zim are both horrified. Dib points out that they're going to starve to death, but Keef says they'll be alright because there's some fungus growing on the walls and rats that they can eat to survive, which according to him are "really not bad at all".

After freaking out for a bit, Zim and Dib trick Keef into playing hide and seek so they can plot an escape while Keef counts to one million. They figure out that if they can set off a spark at just the right time they can ignite the gas released into the lair and cause an explosion which will hopefully blast an opening into the bathroom above them. Zim hopes the resulting cave-in will permanently rid them of Keef as well, but Dib says that despite all he's put them through he's just an innocent child desperate for friendship who really needs some psychological help and he doesn't deserve to be left to rot. Zim takes advantage of the situation by tricking Dib into thinking he has more time to get Keef to safety before they blast into the bathroom, then triggering the explosion earlier than expected, hoping to bury them both. The escape goes about as well as you can imagine when the plan involves blowing up a bunch of sewage pipes.

Zim makes it out first, but hardly has a moment to gloat about defeating the two biggest thorns in his side before Dib crawls out of the sewage and debris to throttle him while Keef climbs out completely unphased.

Keef says it's been real but it's about time he headed home. Dib asks if he's mad about them destroying his clubhouse and Keef says he was actually getting kind of bored of it and doesn't really want to hang out with him and Zim anymore because they're both "kind of annoying". And the stuff that he finds annoying about them aren't even their constant arguing or Dib's infodumping or Zim's narcissism. It's really petty shit like a certain word Dib overuses or that weird noise Zim makes in the back of his throat sometimes.

Keef then falls through some unstable ground back into the clubhouse and Zim and Dib both shrug and head home. The final stinger shows Keef some indeterminate time in the future, still looking like a child but with a full beard, playing Go-Fish with a couple effigies of Zim and Dib which he treats as if they are real and he can hear talking to him. He happily tells them "I love you guys. You're my bestest friends". The End.