bliss lane
@theartofmadeline
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
titsay
Cosmic Funnies
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
almost home
Fai_Ryy
No title available
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
🪼
Cosimo Galluzzi
No title available
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
ellievsbear
macklin celebrini has autism
hello vonnie
todays bird
Mike Driver
No title available
seen from T1
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Ecuador
seen from Türkiye
seen from Germany
seen from Ireland
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from Kazakhstan
seen from Switzerland
seen from Canada
seen from Singapore
seen from Colombia
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@glazedmercury
Whumptober 2025 Masterlist
This was my first year doing Whumptober and I managed to write something for every day! The full collection is available on AO3. If you are looking for a particular fic, they’re listed out below by fandom with content warnings as needed. In total I shared 75,908 words worth of writing across 31 different fics!
Tumblr Sexyman Contest 2026 Final Round
Senshi (Dungeon Meshi)
Ryland Grace (Project Hail Mary)
Mr. Ant Tenna (Deltarune)
Tenna art by @9Aaaalt29 on twt
“And if you’ll give me 40% of the MOST POPULAR VOTE, I’ll give you my SPECIAL REWARD... A year’s supply of NON-GLOOBY SLIME!!! Never or BARELY used!!!” Tenna concluded his speech with a huge smile, jetting his hands up in double peace signs.
The crowd roared in confused enthusiasm as Tenna gave a gracious flurry of low-FPS bows, pausing only for the occasional stink-nose at his audience plants who weren’t throwing enough 3D roses.
Eventually, the room fell silent. It was Senshi’s turn to speak.
He puffed out his chest, took a long, sweeping look over the audience… and shook his head.
“I can see not all of you are eating properly.”
The crowd murmured with embarrassment.
“I don’t know who needs to hear this, but it’s time to take the turkey out of your icebox. I have seen the ingenious technology with which your people store food... and I have also seen the waste which results from such convenience.
“The food you take had a life. Beasts grew fat on the grass of the field, plants grew from the sun’s rays, and mushrooms grew from minerals in the cracks of caves. And yet, it sits in your iceboxes, collecting moisture until it perishes.
“Eat what is given to you. Because its life will make you stronger, too.”
Without another word, Senshi left his podium and stepped away from the stage. The crowd murmured in confusion. “Is he really like that?” somebody said. “I only remember reblogging the photosets of him tripping and showing ass.”
--
Back in the Green Room, Tenna wrung his antennas nervously.
“Y-y-you think they liked me!? They HAD to!! I mean, I don’t know what Asgore was thinking, getting that weird haircut and running that food waste campaign, but… YOU thought I did good, didn’t you, Kris?”
Laios nodded aggressively, a streak of blue face paint peeling from his forehead.
“You did AMAZING, Tenna! By the way, now that we’ve seen all your insider campaign secrets, do you have any more videos of Susie? Especially her tail... If I could get a look at that, I could finally tell if she’s a dinosaur or --”
THWACK. Fake antlers butted Laios’s head.
“LAIOS?? Weren’t we dressed up to help SENSHI???” Marcille hissed, gesturing awkwardly with her hooves.
Suddenly, Tenna turned to the two adventurers.
“Hey, WAIT a second. SOMETHING’s not right here...”
Laios and Marcille held their breath.
“Where the heck are my POINTS!?”
Just then, the door opened. Chilchuck took one step into the room, whistling and holding a large bag.
Everyone turned to him.
Chilchuck paused, took a step backwards, and closed the door.
“CHILCHUCK!!!” yelled Tenna.
“How come Chilchuck got to stay Chilchuck!?” yelled Marcille at the same time.
--
Meanwhile, in outer space somewhere, some guy was making out with a rock.
To: @glazedmercury
CW: self injury (in a ritual context), blood, body horror
@whumpgiftswap
Characters used: Varalda, unnamed friend character, unnamed shopkeep character
i hope you like it!!! i did my best interpretation of the character description, so hopefully it's ok lol 😭 your character seems very cool and she was fun to write btw :)) anyways it's under the cut :D
Seriously great story; I love how Varalda was interpreted and the body horror description is awesome.
July Gift Swap R1
For @tzameti-913
CW: trap, blood, hunted, betrayal, escape
@whumpgiftswap
Whumpee clutches their side, feeling hot blood seep through their shirt. The wound is much deeper than they thought it was. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. In their haste to escape, Whumpee accidentally triggered one of the traps set by Whumper around the cabin; a crossbow hidden in the brush of the forest. The bolt fired, tearing mercilessly through Whumpee’s flesh. They didn’t have time to think. Still don’t. If they dare to stop, Whumper will catch them. So Whumpee keeps running as fast as they can. The movement jostles their body, aggravating the wound further. Whumpee grits their teeth and ignores the pain coursing through their veins, the dark spots clouding their vision. This is their only chance to get away.
It’s hard to tell what direction they’re going in the evening light, which is fading faster by the minute, but Whumpee can’t see the light of the cabin anymore, so they’re counting it as a win. The only thing they can hear is the sound of their own breathing and their footsteps as they travel across the forest floor. It’s a fight for survival, and Whumpee knows they have to sacrifice stealth for speed.
Whumpee squints through the branches blocking their vision, spying light. Terror strikes their heart for a moment. It’s quickly quelled when they get closer, realizing that it’s not the light from the cabin. Whumpee is seeing streetlights. They’ve reached civilization at last. All they have to do is find someone who can help. Fresh blood gushes over Whumpee’s fingers, coating them in thick red liquid and bringing forth a new wave of pain. They stumble forward even faster, spurred on by the sight of buildings.
The street is devoid of people, though cars are parked on the sides of the road. Whumpee slows their pace, peering into the buildings one by one. The lights are on inside, but every door they try is locked. It doesn’t matter how hard Whumpee rattles the handles; no one answers. Their heart speeds up again as panic threatens to overtake their senses. With the sun gone from the sky, the cold of the night is quickly dipping toward the extreme.
Thankfully, the last door they try is unlocked. Whumpee didn’t check the sign before entering and is unexpectedly bombarded by the strong smell of coffee. Soft pop music plays over the speakers. The tables and stools are all empty. Not a person or cup of coffee in sight. Whumpee breathes out a sigh of relief when they notice a barista standing behind the counter. She hasn’t noticed them yet, instead engrossed in her phone, arms crossed over her uniform.
“E-excuse me? Can you h-help me?” Whumpee stutters out, stumbling forward. This brief moment of respite has made them realize how exhausted they feel. Their body betrays them. Their limbs feel like lead as they fall forward, torso hitting the counter. It’s only by instinct that Whumpee braces themselves with their hands at the last second.
The barista, whose name Whumpee can’t quite read on her nametag, finally looks up. Her eyes widen as she takes in Whumpee’s state. Anyone would be startled by a half-dead person in a blood-soaked shirt showing up out of nowhere and shivering out of their bones. She tightens her grip on her phone.
“Please, just call the police,” Whumpee begs between heaving breaths. “There’s a crazy person who’s been hunting me. I barely managed to get away.”
She eyes him up and down. Then her gaze softens. “I’ll call. Why don’t you wait in the back office until they get here?”
“What, don’t want me chasing away any customers?” Whumpee jokes. To their surprise (or maybe not), the barista’s face looks ashen and her face turns stoic. She doesn’t reply as she rounds the counter and helps them to the back.
Whumpee groans as they sit down in the lone chair by the back. They rub their left arm with their free hand, feeling goosebumps rise on their skin. The whole office is a mess, with papers strewn everywhere. There’s a corkboard on the wall that looks very heavily used and is adorned with various papers. Whumpee faces a computer that’s turned on with surveillance footage from four cameras visible. The blood flow from their wound is slowing, though the chair they’re sitting in won’t make it out unscathed.
“Here, take this,” the barista offers, picking up one of the coats from the pile on the shelf in the corner. “One of our new hires left it behind and quit after two days. I doubt he’ll want it back.”
“Thanks,” Whumpee says, accepting it with a smile. They tug it on over one arm after much maneuvering. It hurts too much to try to move their left side, where they were hit by the bolt, so they quickly give up and lay the rest of the coat on top of their torso. It’s soft and warm; something Whumpee hasn’t felt in a while. They hear a sigh and look up. The barista is still standing in the doorway, half-turned toward them. Just watching. Whumpee tilts their head. More spots crowd their vision. “Are…you going to dial 9-1-1?”
“Oh. Yes,” the barista says.
She vanishes from the doorway and shuts the door behind her. There’s a brief moment of silence. Then Whumpee hears the snick of a lock. They shoot out of the chair almost instantly, rushing toward the door. The coat dangles off of their arm, nearly dragging on the ground. They put their hand on the knob and jiggle it. The door doesn’t move. Whumpee tries with one, two hands, covering the knob in their own blood as their fingers slip over and over again. Nothing changes.
“Let me out!” Whumpee pounds on the door. “What are you doing?”
They get no reply.
Whumpee thunks their forehead against the door and slowly slides toward the floor. It seems like all they’re good for lately is bad luck. Wrong place, wrong time, trusting the wrong person; someone really has it out for them.
It feels like an eternity listening to the fan humming in the background and the occasional wistful note from the music playing in the front of the café. Whumpee is so, so tired of running. Just a little break. Maybe if they close their eyes and sleep just for a second…
The lock on the door clicks and Whumpee jolts back, scrambling on their hands and knees. A shadow falls over them. Human. Whumpee looks up only to see a hunting vest, the shine of a familiar knife, and a wide grin. Their heart drops in their chest.
“No, no, no,” Whumpee murmurs without thinking. They continue to back away, running into the chair. It’s sent spinning across the floor behind them. The chair stops with a clatter as it runs into something Whumpee can’t see. They refuse to look away from Whumper (really, they couldn’t if they wanted to).
“Yes, actually,” Whumper replies with a smile. “I’m impressed. You got farther than I thought you would. If it weren’t for that young lady, who knows?”
“Why can’t you let me go?” Whumpee asks, sounding meeker than they hoped. It doesn’t help matters that they’re forced to look up to meet Whumper’s gaze.
Whumper shrugs, casually dragging the tip of the hunting knife across their fingers. “I like the chase. You make it fun.”
“Have your fun with someone else,” Whumpee spits out with vitriol. All they want is to go home, sit in their bed, and watch a movie with their partner. With any luck, this is all a bad dream.
Well, Whumpee knows how their luck is. They shift slightly, wincing as their wound presses into the floor. Whumper’s eyes dart down to Whumpee’s side. Whumpee moves the coat to cover their bloodstained shirt, scooting even further back, until their back presses against the wall.
Whumper steps forward, boots sounding like thunder with every step. They get as close as they can before crouching down. Whumpee can feel Whumper’s breath ghost across their face. Whumper’s grin doesn’t fade as they press the tip of their hunting knife to Whumpee’s Adam’s apple, using the flat side of the blade to force their chin up.
“I doubt there’d be as many who are as fun as you,” Whumper says. They tilt the blade, trailing it across Whumpee’s throat just sharp enough to draw blood. It beads up, lining the edge of the knife and dripping lightly down Whumpee’s throat. They tremble.
Sitting on the grimy floor of a coffee shop with only someone who wants to hurt them as company, pride is all Whumpee has left. If that. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just let me go. I have a family. People are looking for me.”
“You said that before,” Whumpee says. “That doesn’t matter to me. You know I’m not going to let you go; not when we’re just getting started.”
Buddie Prompt #150
Pirate Buddie; either they’re both pirates OR one of them is the son of a lord who gets kidnapped (more swashbuckling please).
Live or Die - Make Your Choice
Relationship: Evan Buckley/Eddie Diaz (Pre-Relationship/Getting Together)
Warnings: Angst/Injuries/NDE
Rating: Explicit just in case for violence and crime (high mature)
Word Count: 4102 words
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84783256
Summary:
"Who I am is unimportant. You have a decision to make and only a limited time to make it, before it's too late for your fellow firefighter."
Buck spares a short glance at Eddie, the sallowness of his skin and shallow raspy breaths belaying what Buck already logically knows - Eddie needs medical attention, and quickly.
"Please, he's got a son," Buck pleads.
"They always do. That has no bearing on the decision that must be made. Only one of you will be making it out of here alive and that decision will be made by you."
Wrong place, wrong time - Buck and Eddie unintentionally fall into a saw trap of life and death. A choice needs to be made and sacrifice is the aim of the game.
This was a part of the Same Prompt Challenge for the 911Writer's Discord. I chose the Ultimate Level and so needed to include the trope and two quotes.
- Forced Proximity Trope
- 'Don’t - Don’t touch it, please it hurts.'
- 'Normal people don’t go around destroying other people.'
I've had some horrendous writer's block recently so this challenge broke through the inertia for me. It's probably a bit choppy but it did the job.
Don't forget to check out the other submissions in the collection.
Tags below the cut as usual - ask for addition or removals
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Albert Han/Ravi Panikkar Additional Tags: POV Ravi Panikkar, AU, superhero au, Minor Injuries, Canon-Typical Violence, Angst, Secret Identity, Secret Identity Fail Summary
Ravi falls from the sky and crashes through not one, not two, not three, but four levels of his apartment building. Dust settles around him, coating the fabric of his suit in a thin layer of grey. He groans. Darkness surrounds him. Only the small sliver of tonight’s crescent moon peers at him through the opening; an unwelcome sight.
Or: Ravi unexpectedly crashes through a familiar roof and learns just how bad he is at keeping secrets.
I NEED Christopher to refer to Buck as his dad in some way at some point. I need someone to ask about his parents and for him to go “I have two dads” or SOMETHING even if Buddie isn’t canon at that point. Even dad-adjacent. I want him calling Maddie his “aunt” or even just Eddie slipping up and referring to Maddie as his aunt in some way and Chris not denying it. CRUMBS PLEASE. Maybe even like Chris being in public with Eddie and Buck and getting separated and he spots Buck and shouts “Dad!” Until Buck runs over. Or imagine Buck is watching him and Chris accidently calls Buck dad while asking for something and they brush it off as just an accident.
Also I love the whole thing where Buck gets referred as “his buck” instead of “his dad” for Chris. But I just need the father son thing put into clear actual words just once yk.
SOMETHING PLEASE I YEARN FOR MORE BUCK AND CHRIS FATHER-SON MOMENTS GRRRRR.
Buddie Prompt #82
After the events of 9x5, Eddie visits the graves of people he’s lost. In a tragic turn, he’s only able to tell the important things in his life to Shannon, Bobby, and Abuela once they’re gone. His journey begins with the past, present, and future, where their ghosts help him on the journey of coming out.
Eddie Diaz 9-1-1 S09E13
Madney Prompt #1
Maddie never got to experience Jee-Yun at the age that Baby Nash is, so she gets as involved as she can now. Meanwhile, she and Chimney independently know that Buck is in love with Eddie, and that Eddie is in love with Buck, and must keep these facts from each other. A lot of fluff and some shenanigans ensue.
Whump Gift Swap
Second round ; Gift for @glazedmercury
TW/CW: Knives, betrayal, blood, tied up, (faux-) comfort, SFW (dubcon) touch, "hostage exhange", slapping, sadistic-intimate Whumper, angry-scared whumpee, recapture, touch starved whumpee, punishments Word count: 2'074
Caretaker pulled on Whumpees hand, trying to remind them to keep walking with them when they got distracted by a beam of light falling throught the leafy ceiling of the handful of trees lining the edge of the park. Always so keen on drinking in all the beauty of the world around them. Every since…What had happened to them… Caretaker swallowed and shoved the thought away. It was too excuruciating to think about now. "Keep up, Whumpee. We can't be late for this meeting."
"Where are we even going, Caretaker? You still haven't told me.", Whumpee retorted warily. "You know I don't like surprises."
"I know, Whumps, I know."
Whumpee wanted to speak up again and remind them that they also didn't like getting called by that stupid nickname. But they remembered just how much Caretaker has done for them these past months, they owed them. And so they shut their mouth again. And in the next moment they were already getting pulled into a sketchy alleyway.
"Okay seriously, what the fuck Caretaker?"
Caretaker opened their mouth, mind racing to find another thing to stall Whumpee with again, as they got inerrupted by a cheery voice.
March Whump Gift Swap Round 2
For: @auroragehenna (using her OC Adam)
CWs: Kidnapping, drugged, rope, healed scars, intimate/creepy whumper, knife whump
@whumpgiftswap
“Adam. Adaaam. Adam.” A voice breaks through the darkness in Adam’s mind, sing-songing his name. He’s been having the most delightful dream. Of course, it’s starting to fade now, thanks to this minor annoyance. “Wake up, Adam.”
The final sentence snaps Adam out of his stupor. His eyes fly open and he shakes himself awake. Immediately, he can tell that something is wrong. Every part of his body feels sluggish. Even his brain isn’t moving as fast as it should be. It’s as though the whole world decided to speed up in the time he was asleep.
Adam doesn’t recognize a single thing in the room he’s in. It looks rather cheery, with sunlight filtering in amongst the clutter. There’s a small bed shoved into the corner, fully made. Next to it is a wooden desk with various novels piled atop it, all with cracked spines and looking very loved. If he had to hazard a guess based on the titles, he’d say they were romance novels. Every space in the room is filled. Even the walls.
Most intriguing of all, aside from the fact that Adam doesn’t fit in this room, is that he is currently tied to a sturdy chair while a young woman brandishes a knife at him.
THE SHANNARA CHRONICLES 1x05 "Reaper"
⚬─────────────────────✧─────────────────────⚬
THE 100 1x10 "I Am Become Death"
"I wasn't sneaking around, I was running from the Grounders." "Stop lying!" "He's not lying... His fingernails were torn off. They tortured him." ... "The Grounders know we're at war. What did you tell them about us?" "Everything."
"Don't tell me you trust him now." "Trust? No. I do believe in second chances though."
⚬─────────────────────✧─────────────────────⚬
For my @whumpgiftswap partner @glazedmercury :)
March Whump Gift Swap Round 1
For: @wollemi-whump
CWs: Military, gun violence, held captive, restraints
@whumpgiftswap
The sergeant didn’t find it all that strange that he’d been sent on a solo area recon mission. He went on them all the time. Preferred being alone to being with a group, actually. There may not be a lot of action, but he didn’t have to pretend that he was like everyone else in his squad. The sergeant was the reckless type. Bad at taking orders, yet still good enough to be an asset. He knew what kind of reputation that earned him among the others. People never came easy to him, and eventually he gave up trying. It wasn’t worth the effort of trying to fit in.
He adjusted his vantage point, surveying the surrounding area. The sergeant was sent to watch for a terrorist group that was said to be gathering in the area. There weren’t any civilians nearby. If things went sideways, he wouldn’t have to worry about collateral damage.
By this point, it had been hours without a single bit of movement. That was perfectly alright. It’d be days before the sergeant felt even a hint of fatigue. Some would say it made him good at his job. Others, inhuman. A freak. He didn’t have a preference either way. The only sign that he’d been working at all was the sweat building up under his uniform and the sand dusting his clothes.
Something caught the sergeant’s vision toward the edge of a group of run-down buildings. It could very easily be an animal making its way through the area, but he was the one to take that chance. The sergeant adjusted his scope and increased the magnification. If anything moved again, he’d be able to see exactly what it was.
This time, when a dark shadow moved across the sandy landscape, he was sure it was a human.
Just as the sergeant rose from his position, intent on getting closer, he heard a rustle close behind him. Too close. He grabbed his gun, turned around, and was met with a thwack to the head. The sergeant grunted, keeping his grip tight and ignoring the pain blossoming in his head. He shook his head briefly. The enemy slipped just out of his line of sight. It was barely a moment, but it was enough time for them to land another blow. The sergeant felt a dull throb echo through his skull as he fell to the ground. His gun skidded away. He tried to force himself to his feet, moving through the growing nausea in his stomach, but it was pointless. The sergeant’s opponent hit him with the butt of their gun, turning his world to black
…
When the sergeant awoke, he was in a dusty room. He wrinkled his nose as he felt the need to itch it. The only light he could see was seeping under the door; barely enough for his eyes to adjust to their surroundings. He jerked at his arms, planning to grope around in the dark, but he found them bound behind his back at his wrists, keeping them crossed behind his back. Zip ties, most likely. Not as easy to get out of as duct tape, especially in the dark. His legs were still free, so that meant his captor, or captors, weren’t all that bright. The sergeant smirked. He shuffled around, using all his energy to bring himself to his feet.
The door opened just as the sergeant found his footing. Light spilled into the dark room. Now, it was clear that he was in a storage closet. Military-grade weapons and supplies were all within his grasp. It was almost like whoever caught the sergeant was begging him to escape.
“Sorry about that,” a deep voice said. Footsteps entered the room. “Well, I’m not all that sorry. We didn’t have another space for you. It’s only temporary. You understand.”
The sergeant gritted his teeth and lifted his head. “Captain.”
“Bingo, kiddo.”
“What the hell are you doing? Let me out of here. Now,” the sergeant ordered. His penchant for disrespect made him unpopular to superiors, but it wasn’t about that right now.
“No can do. See, you have a nasty little habit of sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. I warned you to stay out of my business. You should have listened.” The captain clucked his tongue.
“So, what now? You’re going to kill me? Keep me quiet? I wasn’t fully certain of your betrayal, but I am now,” the sergeant snarled. He tried to move his arms, but it would be too obvious if he attempted to escape now.
“On the contrary, I want you on my team. You’re bad at taking orders, but that’s an easy remedy. No one I have now even comes close to your skills as a sniper. How about it, son? Your only other option is—“
“Death. I know.” The sergeant sighs, looking at the ground. He steels himself and stares at the captain. “It’s almost embarrassing that you think I’d even consider your idiotic request. I’m not a traitor, no matter what you people think of me.”
The captain clenches his jaw. He’s practically trembling with anger. Good, the sergeant thinks. He’s always been good at pissing people off.
“It’s not a request. Hell, it’s barely even a choice. I could do more than just kill you, you know. I’ll get you demoted. Maybe even dishonorably discharged. Your name will be a stain on your family’s name. Are you sure you want that?”
The sergeant grunts. “You’re a bastard, you know that?”
A shot rings in the distance. He tilts his head, listening as more gunfire sounds. The captain spins on his heel, facing away from the sergeant. It’s in that moment that the sergeant makes his move. His hands may be bound, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t a formidable opponent.
He kicks his foot out, sweeping underneath the captain’s forward leg. Caught off guard, the captain falls to the ground with a thud. The sergeant smirks. He can hear the sounds of fighting getting closer. Someone must have realized something was off. Or maybe, just maybe—
“Sergeant!” Someone calls out, running toward the sergeant’s location. He steps backward into the closet, just in case he’s in the line of fire. The person slows down, their shadow approaching the closet. He peers inside, face visibly relaxing, though he keeps his weapon ready. “Sergeant.”
It’s a captain from another squad. He’s much older than the sergeant is, with far more experience. If it weren’t for him putting in a good word, it’s unlikely that the sergeant would have gotten as far as he has in the ranks. They make it a habit of keeping contact when they’re not out on missions, and even have a code meant for check-ins. The sergeant must have been out for hours, long enough for the older captain to realize something was amiss.
“Man, am I glad to see you,” the sergeant says. “I’d greet you, but my hands…”
The older captain smiles. “No worries. I’ve got you. There’s no gear, but we’ll get you out of here.”
He produces a knife and motions for the sergeant to turn around. The sergeant obliges, feeling the blood flow return to his arms as he’s freed. He waits as the captain radios in to confirm where he’s at.
“Plenty of gear in the closet,” he says with a nod. “And my captain—“
“Don’t worry,” the older man reassures him. “We’ve got him.”
“Then let’s get out of here.”
Archive of Our Own
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV) Additional Tags: Medieval AU, Royalty AU, Knight Buck, Prince Eddie Diaz, Secret Relationship, Eddie Diaz Has Bad Parents (9-1-1 TV), Buckley parents Bashing, Implied Sexual Content, Weddings, Mentioned Eddie/Ana, Stabbing, Blood and Injury, Angst, Whump, Ambiguous/Open Ending Summary:
Helena rises from her seat, smoothing out her dress. Candlelight flickers dangerously in her eyes. “I’ve put up with your childishness for far too long. This little affair was something I could ignore, but it appears it is more than I assumed it would be. You think you’re in love.”
Evan Buckley, a knight, and Eddie Diaz, a prince, have been in a secret relationship for months. Queen Helena Diaz finds out and confronts Buck on the eve of Eddie’s wedding to Princess Ana Flores.
the way buck looks at eddie is fucking insane. like, oliver stark, dude, you NAILED IT. it's something like the excitement of seeing something new and wonderful mixed with a fair dose of 'ah, im coming home' and man. it gets me every time
