#anyway everyone take a deep breath and say THE OBJECT IS NOT CHANGED BY INTERPRETATION its not a big deal

[kamil-a]

caveat that this doesnt matter and i cant stop anyone and no one should feel bad etc etc but. maybe id understand if i actually read/played it instead of getting scared and reading the wikipedia summary but. a lot of the ihnmaims / am computer content i see is. perplexing. unfitting? whats going on. far be it from me to not sexualize an evil computer but. i think this might not be one to blorbofy in quite the way ive seen yfeel

[earliebirb]

nosedive

steve/tony, fluff, (newly) established relationship, 3250 words

Tony stares absentmindedly out the airplane window as he puts his phone up to his ear, watching people run back and forth, performing last-minute engine checks. Some of the guys look sweaty and out of breath.

From the comfort of the air-conditioned Stark Industries private jet, he feels a slight twinge of sympathy for the people having to suffer in the humid summer heat.

He loosens his tie and sinks deeply into his seat, closing his eyes with a massive yawn as he listens to the ringing tone. He hadn’t been able to sleep very well throughout his five-day stay in Tokyo, too anxious about the contract to rest properly. 

The ringing tone goes on for a few more seconds before ending with a click, replaced by an achingly familiar voice greeting him in his ear. 

“Hello?” 

Tony’s eyes spring open. Outside, an aircraft marshaller walks by, speaking rapidly into his walkie-talkie.

“I had a blueberry muffin for lunch today. One single blueberry muffin.”

“...What?”

“It didn’t even taste that good. I couldn’t finish it. Too dry.”

“Tony, that’s not good. Is that all you had for lunch? You should really eat—”

“The meeting went well, by the way. Mr. Watanabe finally signed the contract, everything went as planned. My ride to the airport, however…”

“I told you things would go smoothly, you had nothing to worry about. You’re a brilliant negotiator—”

“The traffic? Fuck. I had to keep shifting in my seat to avoid pins and needles.”

“That sounds awful, are your legs okay—”

“Did you know that Tokyo is number nineteen on the list of cities with the worst traffic congestion in the world? I know that, because I looked it up on the way to the airport. But boy, did it feel like it deserved the number one spot. I think I lost feeling in my ass.”

“I did not know that. And, uh, is your ass okay—”

“Thank God for my private jet. These plush seats are the best things I’ve ever spent my money on.”

“That’s objectively not true, and you know it—”

“Then again, I think these seats in particular were Pepper’s choice? We remodeled the airplane’s interior like… two years ago. I couldn’t be bothered to meet with the airplane seat people and I just told her to pick whichever looked best. I had much more important things to tend to, like sewing up the holes in JARVIS’s Christmas stocking.”

“I am concerned about how you sort your list of priorities—”

“Hm, that’s right. I think it was around two, three weeks before Christmas and I didn’t want JARVIS to be upset about the whole stocking thing, you know?”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t have—”

“Also, you’re right, the single blueberry muffin was a bad idea because now my stomach won’t shut up. So I’ve ordered some pasta for my in-flight meal. Robbie’s making it, you’ve met Robbie—”

“I’ve met Robbie, yes, he’s—”

“Larry’s replacement after he resigned. Gotta say, I was sad to see Larry go. Guy worked for me for seven years. But then there was that thing with his grandma, and he had to leave, so… But! Robbie makes a mean carbonara, maybe even better than Larry, don’t tell Larry I said that—”

“I don’t even know Larry like that, how would I—”

“Mr. Stark, we’re ready to go.” The pilot—Paul—emerges from the cockpit, staring at him in anticipation.

Tony nods and makes a few rapid gestures with his free hand that he supposes Paul is only able to interpret perfectly after years and years of working for Tony. The gestures roughly translate to something like “Copy, I hear you, just let me wrap this up and then I’ll let you know when I’m done. Capiche?”

Paul—bless him—just gives him a curt nod and retreats back into the cockpit. 

“Anyway,” Tony takes a deep breath and puffs his cheeks out with the exertion of his exhale, “I called because… I got a feeling, Steve.”

“A… feeling?”

“Just— A gut feeling. A feeling in your gut. Inside of me. Like a hunch?”

“Okay,” Steve says patiently, his voice low and warm, “what are you feeling?”

“I… got a bad feeling. Today. A few hours ago. The feeling came to me when I was sitting in traffic, and I just— I feel like something bad’s gonna happen today, Steve. I can feel it in the air. In my heart. In my gut. In my joints.”

“Your joints? Like… the feeling old people get when it’s about to rain?”

“Okay, maybe not in my joints. Also, are you calling me old, grandpa?”

“I did not, you told me you felt something in your—”

“Anyway, so yeah. Where was I? Oh, right. Feeling. Bad feeling. Like, like, I don’t know, something bad’s gonna happen. Like an accident. Like a plane crash.”

“God, please don’t say that. You’re scaring me, Tony.”

“And I guess, I just called because I… I feel like I need to do this before the plane crashes and I die a violent and fiery death.”

“Nothing bad’s going to happen, Tony—”

“Like, if I didn’t do this today, maybe I’d never get to do it, you know? And, uh, okay, I’ve honestly been ranting to stall for time, but the longer I keep it in the more nauseous I feel, so maybe I’m just gonna do it now so I can die in peace—”

“Do what? And stop saying that—”

“Look, I’m trying to be brave and honest here and— Wait, actually? Maybe I’m being a coward because if the plane actually does go down, I won’t have to face the consequences of my actions, so I guess I’m just going to say fuck it, and say that I love you.”

“The plane is not going to— Wait, what?”

“I, uh. Love you. I’ve known it for a while now. And, uh, I know we’ve only been dating for like, a week, but—” Tony blinks. They’ve only been dating for a week. 

“...Fuck.” Tony can feel his own pulse starting to race. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Tony?”

They’ve only been dating for a week. What is he doing? What the hell is wrong with him? Normal people don’t do this. 

“Fuck. Shit, I mean— Uh, I’m sorry. That was super weird, huh?” Tony laughs nervously. He closes his eyes, gritting his teeth and cursing his stupid brain. Of course it’s weird. He always gets too attached to people way too quickly. No wonder Pepper was his only long term relationship. She was the only person who could put up with him—everyone else just got weirded out. “Uh, see you tomorrow? Or not. Fuck, sorry, I’m just gonna hang up before this gets—”

“Tony, wait.”

“...Yeah?” Tony says, hyper-aware of how breathless he sounds. His heartbeat is ringing in his ears. Everything is going to be fine. Right? Right. The worst thing Steve could do is… break up with him.

Oh, God, that is the worst case scenario. He really should’ve just kept his stupid mouth shut. 

“Tony, are you freaking out? I feel like I can hear you freaking out from all the way over here.”

“No, I’m not, of course I’m not. Who says I’m freaking out? You have no proof. I am calm, I’m calm as a clam, is that the saying? Did I get it right? Or was it happy— Anyway, I am absolutely calm, I’m the calmest I could possibly be. Any calmer and I’d be asleep. I’m—”

“Tony. Breathe.”

Tony forces himself to drag in a slow breath as he grips the arm of his seat with his free hand, focusing on the soothing hum of the airplane’s engine.

“Look, Tony, I—”

“No, listen. I’m sorry I jumped the gun, I hope I haven’t weirded you out or anything. You really, really don’t have to say it back to me. I mean it.”

“Tony—”

“No, in fact— Please don’t say anything. It’s fine. Let’s just pretend this never happened, okay?”

“But—”

“Drop it, Steve. Please?” Tony pleads. Clearly, his brain hadn’t been firing on all cylinders. That is the only reason that could explain his temporary lapse of judgment. “Look, I feel like talking about it more right now is going to send me spiraling into a panic attack.”

“...Okay. Fine.”

“Thank you. Uh, I’ll see you when I get home. If I get home. If the plane doesn’t crash. Haha.”

“Would you please stop saying that? It’s not funny.”

Tony latches onto the change in topic like a lifeline. “It is objectively true, you know. In order for me to be able to see you tomorrow, the plane has to land safely, and unfortunately, some things are just beyond my control. Like, who’s to say the plane won’t explode mid-air and—”

“The plane is going to land safely and you’re going to come back home to me in one piece. This is non-negotiable, Tony. You hear me?” Steve demands, his voice all hard authority and no-nonsense, like there will be Consequences should Tony fail to comply. 

As if he could ensure Tony’s safety with the force of his willpower alone. 

Come back home to me. 

That sounds good. Really good. Tony closes his eyes and pictures Steve’s baby blues in his mind’s eye. Warmth flowers in his chest.

“I hear you.”

“Great.”

“Awesome. I, uh, I gotta go now.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow.”

“See you.”

Tony hangs up and lets Paul know that he is done with his phone call. The jittery feeling left over from his call with Steve refuses to leave him, however, so he pulls up the drawing application on his phone and begins sketching something just to give his brain something else to fixate on.

He tends to lose track of time when he is hyperfocused on a project, so he isn’t exactly surprised that the next time he becomes aware of his surroundings, the plane is already well up in the air, his sketch of what looks like a flying coffee pot is almost finished, and Robbie is placing a plate of spaghetti carbonara on the table in front of him. 

“Spaghetti carbonara. With extra cheese.”

Tony’s mouth waters as he eyes the mountain of grated Pecorino Romano sitting atop the pasta. He sighs dreamily and smiles up at Robbie.

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“Enjoy, Boss.” Robbie grins and slips back into the kitchen.

He only realizes just how truly famished he is after taking his first bite, and proceeds to finish the rest of his meal with gusto. Afterward, he spends the majority of the remaining flight time sleeping, the result of post-carbonara food coma and his sleep-deprivation finally catching up to him. 

It’s well past two in the morning when Tony finally makes it to his floor in the Tower, which is why he is surprised to see Steve sitting on his couch, one of Tony’s fantasy novels open in hand. 

“Steve, what are you doing here?”

Steve’s head snaps up at the sound of his voice. Tony frowns. “Actually, why are you awake at all?” He is usually an early sleeper, unless—

“Nightmare?” Tony gives him a sympathetic smile. It wouldn’t be the first time. In the early days of their friendship, Tony and Steve would sit together in the living room whenever they had trouble sleeping, talking to each other until the sun came up.

Steve shakes his head, closing the book with his eyes still trained on Tony. “No, I was just… waiting for you.” Tony blinks. 

“It’s…” Tony glances at his watch. “Half past two. In the morning.”

“I know, I just…” Steve stands up, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. He ambles over before coming to a stop right in front of Tony. “I wanted to see you.”

Tony stares at him uncomprehendingly. “You’ll see me later anyway.”

“I couldn’t wait any longer. I didn’t want to go to sleep without seeing you first,” Steve says, low and earnest. His gaze wanders around Tony’s face, as if he were cataloguing each and every facial feature and trying to locate any changes he might’ve missed during his absence.

“Oh.”

Steve steps closer, arms snaking around Tony’s waist and pulling him close. His next words are whispered against Tony’s shoulder.

“I knew you’d make it home safely.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“You were wrong.”

“I was… wrong.” Tony swallows. “Uh, turns out the bad feeling completely disappeared after I woke up from my nap on the plane, so I suspect that perhaps the bad feeling I got was due to my severe hunger and sleep deprivation. I mean, I’ve heard about hallucinations caused by hunger or exhaustion, but this was—” 

Steve presses a soft kiss to the column of Tony’s neck, effectively cutting off Tony’s ramblings.

“Tony,” Steve whispers against his skin.

“Yeah?” Tony squeaks.

“Please don’t call me before a flight and say that you think the plane is going to crash, ever again.”

“Right. Noted. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Steve says, pulling away slightly and loosening his hold around Tony.

Tony allows himself to relax, letting out a quiet sigh. This thing with Steve is so new and delicate that every single physical contact still sends his heart fluttering, butterflies going crazy in his stomach.

Which makes, in retrospect, his abrupt love confession—as truthful as it was—that much more insane. God, Stark. Never do that again.

Except, it turns out that Steve only pulled away to slide his hands down the back of Tony’s thighs, wrapping his hands around them, and then lifting him up without warning.

Tony yelps, and in his alarm, promptly locks his ankles around Steve’s waist. When Steve begins moving, Tony quickly wraps his arms around Steve, resting his chin on Steve’s shoulder.

“Uh, Steve?”

“Hm?” Steve says, calm and nonchalant, as he begins walking away from the elevator. 

“Um— Wait— My suitcase—”

“Leave it. It’ll still be there in the morning.”

Tony blinks, staring dumbfoundedly at his lonely suitcase, abandoned by the elevator. It becomes smaller and smaller with every step Steve takes. 

“Where are we going?”

“Your bedroom.”

“Why are you carrying me there?”

“Because I want to.”

“You know it’ll be faster if you just let me walk, right?”

“Maybe. But you won’t be in my arms.”

“Um.”

“Bear with me, will you? I missed you.”

“I, uh, missed you too.”

Steve hums, satisfied. Tony lets himself settle more comfortably in Steve’s arms.

When Steve has successfully carried him to his bedroom, Tony fully expects Steve to deposit him on the bed. 

That is not, in fact, what happens. 

Instead, Steve turns around and begins walking backwards towards the bed before sitting down on it. Tony, still seated on his lap, swallows and pulls back slightly to look at Steve. 

“Look, Steve, as much as I’ve missed you, I’m kind of tired right now. I mean, don’t get me wrong. This whole carrying thing? Great. Very romantic. Ten out of ten. But I’m just not in the mood for sex, you know? Like, I’m not even sure I would be able to get it up if—”

“We’re not going to have sex.”

Tony blinks.

“We’re not?”

“We’re not. I’m just here to tuck you in.”

“Oh.”

Steve reaches up and begins undoing his tie. After setting it aside on the bed, he begins to unbutton Tony’s shirt. He takes his time, one button at a time.

“So…” Steve begins with a deep breath as he unbuttons the final button. “Did you mean, uh, what you said to me? On the phone?”

Tony closes his eyes, feels his own cheeks heating up. “Steve—”

“I’m sorry, Tony, I know you told me to drop it. But— I feel like if you did mean what you said, I owe it to you to… set the records straight.” When Tony opens his eyes again, Steve is looking up at him, blue eyes solemn.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… We have only been together for a week. Well, eight days. In fact, we’ve only been on one date. And it was interrupted. By giant lizards.” Steve chuckles incredulously. 

Tony remembers that day very well. They were in the middle of dessert at Tony’s favorite Italian place when they received the call to assemble—something about giant lizards wreaking havoc in Central Park.

The lizards had green, gunky blood that got into the nooks and crannies of the suit. It had taken forever to clean.

“But Tony…” Steve gathers the material of Tony’s unbuttoned shirt in both of his fists, pulling him closer until their noses are only inches apart.

The second their eyes meet, Steve smiles the sweet, lopsided smile that never fails to make Tony’s stomach flip.

“I need you to know that… I didn’t have to date you to know that I loved you. I figured that a long time ago.”

Tony stills, breath frozen in his lungs.

“I guess, what I’m saying is… I love you too. I’ve loved you for a very long time, Tony. Even way before—” Steve breaks eye contact, looks down as he clears his throat. When he speaks again, his voice is tight. “Way before we got together. I’m talking… years before.”

Tony still finds it hard to breathe. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, the word more breath than sound. He meets Tony’s dazed gaze. “So you don’t have to worry about��� jumping the gun. Not with me. I’m in it for the long haul.”

“...Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Good.” Tony feels a lightness growing inside of him, spreading outwards to his extremities.

“Good.” Steve smiles, warm and impossibly fond.

“...Glad we’re on the same page.” Tony’s gaze drops down to Steve’s lips.

“We are.” Steve inches closer, nose brushing Tony’s. He then tilts his head ever so slightly and takes Tony’s lower lip between his, kissing him so tenderly Tony’s heart feels like it’s about to burst with it.

Steve’s warm hands slide up Tony’s naked back under his open shirt, sending goosebumps breaking across his skin. Tony buries his hands in Steve’s hair and relishes the feeling of the soft strands caught between his fingers. They stay caught up in each other for a few moments, capturing and releasing each other’s lips until the need for breath becomes too unbearable.

They break apart eventually, accompanied by soft chuckles. Steve smiles up at him, lips slick and cherry red, courtesy of Tony. He reaches up to caress Tony’s right eyebrow with the pad of his thumb, fleeting and affectionate.

“Get some rest, okay? You must be really tired. I should probably go to bed, too.”

Tony looks down at his lap, clearing his throat. “Uh, I know that we haven’t done this before, but…”

Steve waits patiently for Tony to gather his thoughts, hands stroking up and down Tony’s sides.

“Do you want to stay with me tonight?” Tony finds the courage to meet Steve’s eyes, holding his breath.

Steve’s blue eyes are gazing at him intently, looking at him like he’s the only person in the world worth his sole, undivided attention.

Tony swallows. “No sex. Just to sleep. If you—”

“Yes.”

“Yeah?”

“I would like that very much.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Good.” Tony feels his own lips slowly curve up into a smile, wide and unbridled. 

“Good.” Steve nods, lips twitching, his eyes never leaving Tony’s. 

Tony grins, feeling near giddy with delight. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

“We are, sweetheart.” Steve looks up at him, blue eyes fond and smile radiant. “We definitely are.”

[lord-of-christmas-lights]

I could post regular Narnia headcanons...

Or I could post the continuation of this post and go into depth about how Eustace and Caspian are affected by deity Narnia. Welcome back to Inhuman Narnia 101 and it turned out just as long as the first one so buckle up.

Check out this post by @dorianviolet for another awesome version of Inhuman AU Caspian

Warnings for slight body horror mentions including blood magic stuff, slight religious themes and theological discussion towards the end.

Before anything: This AU directly contradicts canon a lot. I don't care, that's why it's called an AU. Some of it is deliberate, some of it is accidental. I haven't read the books in a number of years, so this is all based on the movies and general information I've picked up from fanfic and tumblr. Discussion on this post is welcomed, criticism and arguments are not. Thank you.

First off, here is the link to an exploration of Dragoning, the Eustace-centric fic I wrote about this. I refer to it repeatedly in this post so if you want the full thing, there it is.

Second, let's get into this. So in my last post, I talked a lot about Narnia, her general existence in this AU, and her motivations as a character. She wants the people in her world to be a part of her, and no one else. Some of this is a conscious choice, and some of it isn't. Eustace's changes throughout his time in VOTDT are definitely not purposeful. It was his greed that drove him to the treasure, it was his own "curse" in becoming a dragon. That was not Narnia reaching out to him and purposefully trying to mold him to her world. As such, he takes on more of an observing role.

Eustace doesn't ever actually directly address his cousins on the subject of their inhumanity, in this fic or in any other I write. He simply sees it, notes it happening, and moves on. Even in the sections in my fics where the subject of inhumanity in general is brought up between Eustace and one of his cousins, it's always about Caspian, the greater Narnian world, or himself.

"Eustace asks why, and Lucy answers. Narnia changes people, she says. It happens to everyone, but the closer you are to her Heart, the greater it is. I don't know where Dragons are. Perhaps closer than we realized. It's exhilarating, isn't it? Aslan will return us to normal though, at the end of our journey." - AEOD

I don't know why, but I don't like the idea of Eustace trying to directly address the Pevensie brand of inhumanity. That line above takes place after his UnDragoning, after the way he sees things has changed, and I see it as him asking what exactly has changed, you know, why are Dragons different than boys?

That brings me to how Eustace himself changes. Now, if he hadn't gone and turned into a Dragon, I imagine Narnia wouldn't have taken much note of him. He's a random human, stuck-up, not at all in line for ruling her lands, and just kind of exists without much else going on. She still would have affected him a little, as she does to all humans in her world but it would have been almost entirely spiritual with no physical changes. And then we got the greatest fuck around and find out scene ever. He becomes a Dragon.

I love dragons, always have, I have a very deep spiritual connection to these creatures, and as such, I have gone all out on worldbuilding for Narnian Dragons. Again, the quote from AEOD, "...the closer you are to her Heart, the greater it is. I don't know where Dragons are. Perhaps closer than we realized." In the Inhuman AU, Dragons were the first creatures Narnia (the deity) and Aslan made when they created Narnia (the world). They just really liked the dragon shape from other worlds and thought, "Hey wouldn't it be cool if our world was populated by these big fire-breathing lizards?" Now I don't actually remember how often Dragons are mentioned and/or featured in the books so I'm going with my idea that Dragons are a somewhat rare but not extinct species. They have to be created through magical means, often through physical transformation of people or objects, though there are a few known cases of natural-born Narnian Dragons. Eustace's creation was the curse on the treasure, though I don't see his Dragoning as a curse itself. As in, the curse isn't in the being a Dragon, it's in how the Dragon was created. So, Eustace experiences this accidental change into a creature that's closer to Narnia's Heart than pretty much any other being in Narnia. They were her first creations, forged from the fire in the Stars, and they are the closest to her magic. And that gets her attention.

Now, if you went and read AEOD, you'll have noticed that one of Eustace's biggest changes (aside from the obvious physical ones) is his vision. This is just a natural thing for Dragons, they are far more in tune with magic and the earth and everything than everyone else, but Narnia's special interest in him definitely amplifies the hell out of his magic sense.

"The people here say dragons see the oddest of things, and he has to assume it's a hallucination....He refuses to give into its whims, reminds himself it's just his imagination. Until Reepicheep comments on it." - AEOD. Following this quote, Reepicheep mentions to Lucy that her inhumanity is returning faster than Edmund's and Eustace has a total panic attack at the idea that what he's seeing is real. He sees what everyone else does, Lucy's stained fingers and Edmund's ability to manipulate words, but he also notices stuff no one else does like the stars in Edmund's throat and the echoes that follow Lucy's words. This is further cemented after his UnDragoning, where the extra stuff he perceived has vanished. Now the general idea in this AU is that the closer to Narnia's Heart you are, the more you know and perceive. Everyone can see some of the more obvious inhuman aspects of the Pevensies, but there are things that only Dragons, druids, Stars, and some other magic folk really close to Narnia's Heart see. I'm not going to get into an exact chart of what certain characters can and cannot see because that can change over time and such and I'd rather leave it mostly up to personal interpretation on what other characters do and do not perceive about the Pevensies and other such inhuman characters.

(Side note—I had to pause in the writing of this post here to go to my second meeting for an autism assessment and I think if I just showed the doctor my notes app and the inhuman/dark fantasy narnia tag on my blog, I'd get the diagnosis instantly lol) So anyways, Narnia senses Eustace becoming a Dragon and is like "Ooohoo what's this?" and starts sort of digging into him in the same way she does to her Kings and Queens. This triggers his already enhanced perception of Narnia (the world) to get even stronger, and this is when he starts seeing stuff like people's souls, Caspian's second heart (more on that soon), and looking at Lucy/Edmund/Lilliandil becomes almost painful because Narnia's magic is so bright in them. Aslan then UnDragons him, which Narnia really doesn't like btw, and Eustace is back to being a fairly average human.

This is where stuff established in AEOD ends.

Now I have so many ideas and half finished fanfics written out in my notes app about Eustace, UnDragoning, and inhumanity and it would be impossible to cover them all here, so I'm just going to go with the highlights. One of my favorite ones is the idea that after Eustace's UnDragoning, he still feels very connected to being a dragon. He's had this taste of pure inhumanity, and something like that doesn't just leave a person. There's a fic I read once long before I was fully invested in this fandom about Eustace and draconity that I will never stop thinking about and was actually the reason I started considering Eustace and Narnian Dragons in this AU. One of the really important things to note is that once a Dragon is created, they can never be uncreated. They can be UnDragoned, where their physical form is returned to whatever it was before their Dragoning (a rock, a talisman, a faun, etc) but their soul has changed on a fundamental level to that of a Dragon. Now for Eustace in my Inhuman AU, this manifests spiritually as a deep longing to return to being a Dragon. Physically, he experiences fun side effects like increased heat tolerance, nails that grow faster than normal, and because Narnia likes to meddle, a single ridge of scales along his spine. In some versions of my drafts, he stays at the end of VOTDT and experiences a slow Dragoning because Narnia's influence on him is that strong, other versions he stays but never quite returns to the Dragon he was before, and in yet other versions, he returns to England and loses that connection enough that physically, he will never be a Dragon again. As I said, Narnia is fascinated by him, she's never really had a human Dragon before, but he is still just a random guy who happens to be related to the Pevensies and as such, she doesn't invest as much time or magic into his inhumanity.

So that's Eustace. This is already such a long post but I promised to talk about both him and Caspian so here we go.

Now, in my last post I talked a bit about how Narnia (the deity) affects the other humans in Narnia (the world) to an extent, but it's nowhere near the amount she does to her Kings and Queens, and also this diminishes more and more the farther you get from Narnia (the country). Telmar is fairly close to Narnia (the country) but as we see in PC, a lot of Narnia's magic and spirit has been diminished by the time Caspian is born. Up until the awakening of the land during the battle, Caspian is essentially 100% human. However, this changes very quickly.

It's hard to pinpoint the exact moment Caspian becomes a King of Narnia. Is it when he refuses to kill Miraz? Is it when Aslan tells him he's one? Is it during his actual coronation? Yes, yes, and yes. I try not to pin it down to an exact moment. By the end of PC though, he's definitely noticing some changes in himself. I have an unpublished part 2 to an exploration of Inhumanity (my only other actually posted fic on this stuff) that I swear I will clean up and get posted soon that goes into further detail on the changes he's noticing at the end of AEOI. Some of the big ones include a second golden heart, seeing some of the life magic in the world around him, and a golden glow on his palms. He also slowly develops the ability to heal, though it's not always consistent. Magic takes practice, lots and lots of practice. In pt 2, the glow on his palms has gotten so bright and also spread around his head like a halo, and Lucy shows him how to conceal it so he's not impossible to look at, but because of Magic™ there's still a dusting of golden powdery stuff across his skin. His blood turns golden because Ben Barnes + golden blood is such pretty imagery, and like the others, it gets sucked down and absorbed into Narnia's Heart when he bleeds in battle. Also when I say he's got a second heart I mean he's got a second fucking heart. Ribcage shift and all. (His appearance doesn't actually change, it's more like a pocket dimension thing going on inside him, but he sure as hell can feel it happening). Having Narnia as a patron goddess just means you have to put up with a second puberty sometimes lol.

Anyways, there's a line in AEOI that I feel explains this stuff really well. "He cannot truly protect the land without becoming a part of it himself." Narnia changes her Kings and Queens because she wants them to be a part of her. Aslan doesn't really see these changes as necessary (in canon, a world without deity Narnia, they don't happen), and if the storyline we pick is the one that's the constant cycle of humanity and inhumanity, it's sort of a push and pull between them. Aslan wants the Pevensies, and by proxy anyone else who rules Narnia or experiences these changes, to keep their humanity, to stay as they were Created by him. Narnia, however, wants them to be as much a part of her as she is of them. It's very clear in both the books and the movies that Narnia (the world) is where these characters belong. In the end, they all come home to her (yes, Susan too because fuck Mr. Clive Staples Lewis). Caspian being anything less than fully inhuman is something she cannot handle. She is constantly having to recreate the Pevensies, reestablish her hold on them, only to have them return to England and become mostly human again. Caspian cannot be taken away from her, he is in this world by birth and she is going to do everything she can to shape him into the ruler he needs to be.

Once again, I would like to state that Aslan and Narnia are not opposing sides of good and evil. Gods cannot be defined by human standards, and to think either Narnia or Aslan completely in the right or wrong in this AU would be, well, an interesting standpoint, but really not the one I'm going for here. I'm not going to say it's a misinterpretation, I am very open to hearing people's thoughts on this AU, and everyone's going to see things differently. Just, please reread what I've written about them before you start making that argument.

Anyways, that wraps this post up because I have spent the better part of the past 6 hours writing this. I spent way more time on Eustace than I intended but it's just so fascinating to think about inhumanity from his perspective considering he's the only one in canon that actually was (briefly) inhuman. Again, if you got this far, congratulations! If you use any of my ideas mentioned here, please tag me, I am so starved for inhuman Narnia content lol.

[ootori-sibs]

Kyoya's second shot

Episode four: Read all about it!

The newspaper was out first thing in the morning, and Kyoya was reading over it when Tamaki walked into the classroom. He silently glanced over, handing him the newspaper with an expression that expressed nothing but pity. Tamaki frowned as he took the newspaper, eyes widening at the headline. Just as Kyoya expected, Tamaki was deathly silent as his eyes scanned over the article, again and again, until the words lost all meaning. A quick glance around told him that everyone in the classroom had their eyes on the king, waiting for his reaction.

When he realised the words weren't going to change, he looked up at Kyoya, voice dry, "do you believe this..?" He wasn't just asking Kyoya, he was asking himself, but Kyoya would answer for both.

"I'm not sure," he began, doing his best to feign innocence, "her and Haruhi have always been quite close don't you think? Although Renge does seem a little too boycrazy, despite her previous crush on Haruhi…" he was telling the truth, but putting his trust in Renge still left Haruhi with the burden of blame. Tamaki didn't seem to realise that, humming in thought before smiling.

"I trust Haruhi! The newspaper club is always full of lies, you're right." That… was not what Kyoya had said at all, but he supposed it was typical of Tamaki to make his own conclusion that was vastly different from the one Kyoya wanted him to come to. Where was this distrust in the newspaper club when they were trying to expose the club?

When they walked through the corridors, and sat in every class, students wouldn't stop looking at Tamaki, they were gossiping, most believing the newspaper. Even when reaching the club room, the other hosts were nose deep in the article, the twins glanced up when Kyoya and Tamaki entered.

"Boss! You won't believe the nonsense the newspaper club came up with next!" They and Haruhi are reading from the same newspaper, looking extremely annoyed, even Renge is in the room, reading her own copy. Tamaki sighed, approaching the table the twins were sat at, having already read it but wanting to hear the twins perspective. "Just listen to some of the things these people say; 'as she has been known to seduce women beforehand, it isn't too much to assume she would have the manager under her thumb too', like what the fuck??" Hikaru laughs at the stupid lines, Kaoru less so, "but people are believing it…"

Haruhi sighed, "at least it's not as bad as yesterday… they're not attacking me directly." The hosts all looked to her in confusion, this was exactly what Kyoya had meant, she was a commoner, she cared not for image. She seemed confused by their confusion, "I mean, it's just a stupid rumour isn't it? Not like anyone with any sense would believe it." Oh and that got Tamaki hurt, the poor dear looked embarrassed but so very relieved.

"Didn't we threaten them about covering any of us in articles, Kyo-chan?" Honey-senpai spoke up, looking over at him, ah yes, Kyoya remembered that well.

"You threatened them??" Tamaki started, quickly being shushed as Kyoya raised his hand to his face.

"We asked him not to cover Tamaki or the club in general I suppose, the newspaper club hasn't actually broken any sort of agreement. I suppose they simply found a loophole." He shrugged, heading towards his table when Tamaki grabs his arm.

"Then make it part of the agreement." He spoke slowly, clearly, commandingly. Kyoya felt his face heat up as he looked into the burning purple eyes of the king, oh, oh yeah, this was why Kyoya was doing this. He nods quickly, adjusting his suit.

"I-" he coughs, trying to keep his composure, "of course Tamaki, my mistake, I'll get right to it." He hurried out of the club room as fast as he can, trying not to instantly melt.

In the hallway, he leant against the wall, fanning his face and mentally kicking himself for getting so unbelievably flustered, they were going to realise how in love he was! He's so stupid! Why does he get flustered easier when he's unstable?? It's the stupidest thing!! He huffs and slowly calms himself down, it's ok, it's all ok, nothing to worry about. He's just going to talk to Akira, then he's going to return and act like he fixed everything.

He strolls over to the newspaper club room slowly, leisurely, it wasn't like he needed to rush. It was quite a nice day, sunny, clear, he hoped it would be just as nice tomorrow, he and Tamaki would be outside that day, he didn't want it to be bad weather. However the idea of it raining, and possibly of them sharing an umbrella… Kyoya wasn't one for clichés, but that image made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He wondered if Tamaki would think to bring one? Maybe he should bring one and simply lie, saying he forgot. Tamaki was too smart for that, he'd see straight through Kyoya, he always had to be careful how he lied in front of the king.

He reached the door of the newspaper club, knocking politely, he waited for an answer. One of Akira's little friends answered, looking first surprised, then scared to see Kyoya, the poor boy shaking in his boots. "We...we were told we had permission! You can't get mad at us!" Ah, be thought Kyoya was here to carry out the king's orders.

"I'm here to see Komatsuzawa, is he there?" He raises an eyebrow, peering inside the room. He appears for the most part, perfectly civil, and he knows this stupid lackey will let him past without second though, and he's quickly proven as the boy steps aside.

Akira is sitting at his desk, revelling in the boosted sales of his latest newspaper, just staring at his computer with great joy. He glances up when Kyoya walks in, panicking for a moment before bowing his head in respect and sitting up straight. "Ootori! What a surprise! Is there anything you need?" His eyes show fear, Kyoya can almost see the texts he'd sent pass before the man's eyes, no guilt, but fear for consequence.

"Tamaki isn't too pleased about your latest article." Kyoya speaks slowly, but with the tone of business, "the hosts believe you've voided the agreement made last year… I'm not as inclined to agree." He saw Akira breathe a sigh of relief at that last comment, rolling his eyes as he continued. "However," all three boys staring at him look once again nervous, "I've been ordered to make sure you know not to publish another article about Haruhi," he walks over, sitting on the edge of the desk, crossing his legs. "So I'm just going to have to figure out another loophole, any ideas?"

"Uhh… well, he didn't say anything about the other hosts?" Akira offered, clearly very on edge.

"That wouldn't help us at all, your job isn't to hurt the hosts, it's to drive Haruhi away from Tamaki." He sighs, "I suppose we could go after Renge… but that would be unnecessarily cruel…" He frowns, he can't really see any way to reasonably bypass the threat that had been made. Kyoya feels stuck in this method, he can't see any way to continue to use the newspaper to his advantage, Tamaki- damn that beautiful idiot, has backed him into a corner. He groans, getting up off of the desk. "It seems your use to me has expired…"

"What? What does that mean?" Akira seems to be still on edge, but Kyoya's words panic him. Kyoya turns to face him, staring down at the frightened man with cruel eyes.

"God, you're a dick Akira." He had to say it whilst he had this power. "But don't worry, you could still be used," he wanted to make it clear that he did not see the guy was an equal, but an object to be used, "you will remain on the council, but you won't be doing much, try and make yourself useful would you? I won't do all the heavy lifting." He scoffs, heading to the door.

He could almost sense the trio of idiots shaking in their boots behind him, so this was what an Ootori's influence truly meant, it was good, Kyoya felt powerful. He must really be growing into his name. "Oh," he pauses, hand on the door, peering back at Akira, "feel free to take liberties with any loopholes you do find, as long as they don't hurt my cause." With that, he left the room, leaving the newspaper club to interpret his words how they liked.

He felt he'd done well today, it was still only morning too. He headed back to the music room, a little more purpose in his step then before. He was thinking about the authority that his father commanded, the way his brothers could threaten someone's entire livelihood with just a glance… was that the power he was feeling in the newspaper room? Was that how he commanded the council so much better in person? It felt, so very very good. Maybe he'd go mad with power, that sounded like fun- he was going mad anyway, might as well make it worth his time. He sighed, brushing his hair into order with his fingers and adjusting his glasses.

When he returned to the club room, the session had already begun, Kyoya sighed, nodding towards Tamaki silently to communicate that his duty was done. He sat at his table, beginning to work on the finances, there's never anything he really needs to do, but if he has the numbers up on his screen, the hosts don't question him not wanting to talk to the guests. In reality he was just extremely gay and extremely not into talking to people in general, he just didn't enjoy small talk in the slightest.

10:45 - The article came out and a lot of people believed it. Tamaki made me go and threaten Akira again. The newspaper club is practically worthless now, but I will keep them around to threaten the others with. I'm sure he can write a few good exposés.

Kyoya could overhead gossip from here, it wasn't much, but it was all he needed. The guests were asking hosts if they knew if it was real, each and every one of them told the ladies the article was lies and slander. The most interesting thing to Kyoya however, was the fact that Haruhi kept staring into space, clearly in deep thought. She didn't seem upset though, so he wondered what that possibly could be about.

"Whatcha thinkin' about?" Unfortunately he was pulled out of his thoughts by Renge hopping up and sitting on his table, she'd cropped the dress shorter, and he could see a new pair of boots under it, a matching pink colour to her bow. He could appreciate the colour coordination, it brought away from that awful dress too- so that was good. He looked up at her, watching her expression closely.

"The club's budget, clearly." He spoke slowly, dragging out his words, he cared not for the annoyance that was the club manager. She didn't manage shit.

She frowns at him, crossing her arms. "Don't lie to me Kyoya, I have access to the club's statistics, remember? You haven't made a single edit since last night." Oh, she was smarter than she looked, Kyoya sighed, adjusting his glasses. "So what are you thinking about?"

"That newspaper article mostly," he was telling a half truth, wondering if he could make this a beneficial conversation, "any truth to it at all? I know you liked Haruhi."

Renge went slightly pink, Kyoya hadn't been expecting that. "Well, I mean- Haruhi is really cute and nice and sweet and… but she's happy with Tamaki, I'd never pursue a taken person." She pauses, looking slightly sad, before giggling. "I'm sure you know all about that, eh Kyoya?" It was Kyoya's turn to go pink, under his makeup at least. How had Renge seen through him like that?? She was an otaku and an idiot.

"Yes, well," Kyoya adjusted his blazer, refusing to meet Renge's eyes, "it seems the two of us have the same wish, it's a shame we have our morals in order." Regrettably Renge seemed to have the same moral compass as Haruhi, otherwise she would be a wonderful addition to the council. Arai might be a little more useless than previously anticipated.

She chuckles at that, "for once, you're the good guy!" She sighs, patting him on the head condescendingly, "I'm sure it'll be fine, you'll move on pretty fast, don't worry about it." She was so nice, but her words served only to cut Kyoya down, his morals weren't in order, he wasn't a good guy, it wasn't going to be fine… he could never move on.

It really didn't take long for the school to realise that the newspaper was lying, they were all set to believe Tamaki over Akira. Kyoya could understand that, Akira was a piece of shit. But Kyoya himself had spent the rest of the day just sat at his table, just watching the council argue in the group chat, he was slightly concerned at the number of swear words and slurs thrown around in front of poor Chika, but it wasn't like Honey would ever find out. After a while of watching them squabble, he decided to say what was on his mind.

Shadow king: You're fairly useless Arai.

Peasant: what?

Shadow king: Why don't you put yourself to use?

Tomorrow is a Saturday, I will be out for the day with Tamaki, meaning he will be busy.

Why don't you go and spend the day with Haruhi? Come on to her a little.

Then tell us how it goes.

But don't mention Tamaki at all, you don't know, remember?

Peasant: uhhh ok? Ig?

Woman: It sounds like you're finally making progress Ootori, is that a date?

Shadow king: Oh, well it's only a' business trip' for a future club theme… but there will be an attempt to make progress.

Woman: I see, well I wish you luck nonetheless. As someone who has slight experience with attempting to seduce South, I suggest subtly, he wasn't too keen when I came onto him.

Shadow king: Well you're certainly not his type, you're too… mature in nature, and way too feminine.

Child: doesn't he never shut up about that commoner wearing pretty dresses and stuff?

Shadow king: Yes, of course. But compare a nice light airy dress to what Eclair was wearing at the festival- she dresses like a wh*re.

Woman: You are so fucking rude, Ootori.

Shadow king: That may be so, but I'm not incorrect.

Sorcerer: Forgive me Ootori, but I don't think a member of the host club really has any grounds to call someone such things.

Kyoya just leant back at that, he'd gotten over the club being called stuff like that the first year it was founded. It was kind of stale at this point, besides, everyone could see how good of a club it was. Nekozawa respected them, he's just always been one for technicalities. He was sort of watching the last session of the day go down, he'd apparently zoned out completely during the one at lunch, and most of his lessons, he just hoped he'd done the work.

He was tired when he got home, even if he hadn't really done anything. Luckily none of his family were home, so he could relax in whatever room he wanted. He made the decision to sneak into his father's office, looking over the paperwork left there lazily, oh, he was having a business meeting with Mr Souh soon, that could come in handy. Nothing else on the desk interested him much, so he turned to the alcohol in the office, looking at the flask, the decanter, and the various bottles. He looked them over, he already had a flask he'd stolen, so he could just refill it. He pondered for a moment what he should have, deciding on a bit of that expensive looking vodka, he'd never had vodka before. Oh and father had so many bottles of it, surely he wouldn't notice if one went missing, he swiped it, tucking it into his bag before retreating to his room.

He sat on his sofa, drinking from the flask silently, he was definitely planning to go for a new makeup look, but he had no clue where to start. He looked on his phone, going through look after look after look, none of them seemed like anything that Tamaki would enjoy and anything Kyoya could pull off. It was beginning to dawn on him that he didn't know the first thing about makeup, he could only do one face. He was going to need help… and he hated having to ask for help. It made him feel inferior, hopeless, and overall just useless. He took a gulp of that vodka, the alcohol burnt the back of his throat unpleasantly but the slight buzz it gave him was more than worth it, he might be a slight lightweight but he was underage, so it was permissible.

A maid had come to fetch him, and he quickly hid the bottle and the flask under the sofa. She told him his father was expecting him in his office, and he felt a chill down his spine, buzzed or not, he understood that if father was mad at him, that wouldn't be good. So he stood, breathing deeply for a few moments in an attempt to clear his head, then headed to the office.

When he got there he realised both his older brothers were there as well, looking confused and slightly anxious, he gave them a curt nod, smiling softly. Akito frowns, putting a hand on Kyoya's shoulder. "Are you alright? You look flushed." It took Kyoya a moment to process his brother's words, ok, maybe he was a little more than buzzed…

He nodded, smiling up at Akito, "yeah, just… tired." Kyoya wondered if either of his brothers actually believed him, but Akito nodded nonetheless.

Their father stood with his back to them, a small whiskey glass in hand. He sighed and turned, taking his seat. "One of you knows why I've called you here, I'll give you a moment to decide if you're going to admit to it." He went silent, looking at the three boys with patient but clearly annoyed eyes.

The trio glanced at each other, the two older brothers didn't have any clue as to why their father was talking to them at this moment, Kyoya knew, but he was trying to pretend like he didn't have a clue- just looking up at his brothers with blank eyes.

Yoshio sighs, massaging his temples. "Alright boys, let me explain why you're here," he turns with his chair slightly, gesturing to the shelves of alcohol, "notice anything?" He doesn't even give them a chance to respond, putting his hands neatly on the desk and looking at them with a level gaze. "One of the bottles of vodka is missing, which one of you took it?"

The three brothers look at each other, Kyoya was doing his best not to meet their eyes, but it seems that was quite counter productive. "It's very clearly Kyoya, he's literally drunk." Akito spoke bluntly, gesturing to Kyoya who turned and glared at him, how could he tell??

"I am not." He speaks just as blunt as his brother, but in complete indignation, "you're the one that keeps going to parties."

Yoshio sighs, frowning, "Kyoya, you do look a little feverish, is there a reason for this?"

"I have had a very long day," the truth, Kyoya had indeed had a long ass day, "and I would like to go to bed," also the truth, he's absolutely exhausted. For affect he rubs his eyes, blinking lazily at his father. "Besides," he knows his role, and he knows he can still use it to his advantage, "I can't even drink yet Akito, I'm only seventeen…"

There it is, his innocence proven by simply playing into his age. Yoshio sighs, "as long as you make sure everything you have to do for school is finished you can go and take a nap if you want, Kyoya. Thank you." He waved his hand to dismiss his youngest, turning to Akito to berate him for starting on his 'baby brother'.

Kyoya smiled victoriously, heading out of the office and returning to his room. Pulling out his phone to text Fiyumi.

Sweet Bby bro 🥺: Fiyumi can I ask a favour?

Fiyumi: Of course you can! Xxx what do you need? Xx

Sweet Bby bro 🥺: I need mkeup help can you come over tomorrow morning?

Fiyumi: OF COURSE!!! I'd love to help you with your makeup! Xxx what's the special occasion Kyo? Xx

Sweet Bby bro 🥺: Nothing too special Im just having a day out tomrrow and thought I might as well go for a new look but Ive got no idea where to beginn

Fiyumi: 🥺💖! I'll be over first thing tomorrow! Don't worry, I've got you! Xxx

Kyoya sighs, taking another sip from the flask, typing was a lot harder when he was inebriated. Not to mention he knew exactly what Fiyumi had set him as in her contacts and that it just made his texts look even dumber. He layed back on the sofa, did he have anything he actually needed to do tonight..?

[riarushi]

shining | z.cl

❥ summary- when we were younger, we would confess by giving jars of paper stars to the person we loved.   ❥ genre- best friends to lovers, fluff   ❥ word count- 1.4k

a/n: I didn’t do a lot of care taking stuff but I combined it with another idea I’ve had for a while. At first I was expecting this to be about as long as heart warmer but.. I got carried away. ANYWAYS ENJOY OMG ~Ness

➵

This is horrible.

You sniffle, trying to get some air through your stuffed nose. The results are unsatisfying. Turning under the covers, you take in a deep breath from your mouth. Your throat feels dry, and the cool oxygen certainly doesn't help. You groan as your cold fingers slowly pull your blanket over your head. Sleep isn't coming to you, but you squeeze your eyes shut anyway and hope being unconscious will make your symptoms disappear.

As you try to drift off, your ears pick up the sound of the door opening and closing quietly.

"Hey, Y/N."

Footsteps indicate the guest walking closer to your bed. You hear them turn on the light before they pull the duvet off your head.

"Lele... What are you doing here..?" You open your eyes slowly, squinting to let them adjust to the light.

"What do you mean? Is it weird to check up on my sick best friend?" Chenle sets something down on your nightstand.

Too tired to move, you stare at him as he pulls your desk chair beside the bed. He tosses his bag on the floor and sits down, fixing the blanket so he can see your puffy face better.

"You look so tiny under there," he comments, laughing to himself.

You pout. "I told you not to come over! You're gonna get sick too..."

Chenle ruffles your hair, causing you to let out a muffled whine. He pulls out a notebook from his backpack. "You need your notes, don't you? I will sacrifice my health to deliver them safely," he dramatically declares.

"Why didn't you give them to my mom?" you ask, giggling.

"She told me to check on you."

"If she did, you should've said no!"

"I can't, I'll look like a horrible person! Please lemme take care of you for a bit~"

You frown, knowing the boy's puppy eyes are impossible to reject. When you try to grab the notebook from him, Chenle moves it out of your reach. He chuckles as you scramble to sit up on the bed. Placing the notebook on the mattress, he uses his free hands to help place your pillow against the backboard. He also makes sure to fix the clumped blanket at your waist.

"Thank you~" You give the best grin you can and pick up the notes, flipping through the booklet quietly.

The boy waits for you to go through the pages, watching your eyes slowly regain their usual shine. They narrow as you focus on interpreting his messy handwriting. (He tried his best to be neat, but he couldn't keep up with the teacher.) Your little sniffles occasionally break the silence. He smiles, noticing the way your nose scrunches everytime.

"Were there any worksheets...?" Your voice comes out soft, your vision staying glued to the lined papers in your hands.

Chenle nods instinctively, he knows you can't see him but he decides not to verbally respond. Instead, he reaches into his bag, rummaging around for the loose papers near the bottom. Hopefully, they aren't too crinkled.

When he finally finds them, he takes them out of the backpack. Using the bed as a flat surface, he smooths out the few creases that formed from the weight of his textbooks. You glance over at him, noticing his concentrated and calm expression. It's a change from the bright and exciting aura he usually gives off.

"When will you ever be organized?" You sigh, trying to sound annoyed with him. However, the small smile tugging at your lips breaks your little act.

"Do you want mine?" the boy offers, already reaching for his binder.

"No, no, it's fine."

Chenle notes the strong nasal in your voice. He can't help but think about how cute it is, especially as you try to get rid of it. The small noises you make as you exhale after trying to clear your nose up a little more, the way you hold your hand to the bottom of your nose to cover it. Oddly, just seeing you bedridden made him feel relaxed. His silly, energetic best friend is now struggling to keep a conversation with him, and that energy translates into his own calmed state.

"Okay, all done." You shut the notebook and collect the papers scattered over your leg, moving to set them aside on the nightstand. The top corner of the pile gently taps a small glass jar, making a little ring sound.

Picking the container up, you turn it over a few times in your hand. "What is this, Lele?" You watch as the small bits of colour inside roll around in the few empty spaces.

"That?" The boy snaps out of his silent admiration of your existence, his eyes illuminating back to life. His gaze is fixated on the object. "It's a jar of paper stars."

"Oh!! I remember these!" You open the lid, feeling a warm nostalgia rush over you. Taking one out, you roll the pink paper in between your fingers, feeling the five points on the shape. You smile, placing it back in the jar and closing it up. You continue to admire the object in your hand. "It took you ages to get it right."

"You were way too quick when you taught me." Chenle complains, causing you to laugh. "I can't even remember how to make them now."

"Then how did you fill this jar, hm?"

The boy feels his cheeks warm. "It was from when we were kids."

You look up from the gift, surprised. "Really? I don't remember you making this many, though."

He has no idea where to start. "I made it for you, but I never gave it." The way your confusion shows through your gaze urges him to continue. "Do you remember.. when everyone gave people these jars?"

You nod.

"And do you remember why?"

You shake your head.

Chenle takes a deep breath to calm his nerves. There's no way to back out of this.

"People gave jars of stars to the people they liked." He could feel his emotions start to swell up. "I liked you."

"So why are you giving this to me now?" you question softly, completely focused on the boy in front of you.

"Because I still like you."

Chenle can't find the courage to look at you directly. He knows he's risking your perfectly good friendship just to get over feelings he's had for over a decade. It hurt. It hurt to know that you could be out of his life forever in a split second. But the emotions had been consuming him for the past few months.

"Chenle." He feels you place your hand gently over his that were clenched on his lap. "I like you, too."

"You...You do?"

"Mhm." You smile.

He could feel the tension within him dissipate. His happiness makes him smile and tear up. Giggling to himself, he wipes his eyes in an attempt to look content. "I would kiss you, but I don't wanna die," he jokes.

"Aww, I wanna kiss!!" you whine in response, hitting the sides of the bed rhythmically with your fists like a child.

"Eww, we aren't even dating! It's gonna be so awkward!"

"I've been waiting years for a little smooch! Please, Lele~"

He lets out an exaggerated huff before agreeing. Taking his palm, he presses his lips to it. Before you can make a comment, he takes his palm and taps it gently against your forehead.

"There you go, a kiss," he says bluntly, taking his hand back.

"That's it?" you ask.

"I'll give you a proper one when your nose isn't running all the time." He chuckles at his own comment, grabbing a tissue from the box beside the bed and handing it to you. You take it and wipe your nose before placing the kleenex and jar of stars on the nightstand.

"How do I speed up my recovery?" You scoot back under the covers, pulling your pillow under your head.

"I'll ask your mom if there's anything warm for you to consume." Chenle tucks you in. "You want soup?"

You nod.

"I'll be back in a bit, then." He stands up, moving to open the door. Just as he's about to exit, he hears you call his name.

"Lele, thank you for the gift.."

The boy smiles. "No problem. Get better soon, Y/N."

He walks out of your bedroom, leaving you feeling warmer than you did before he arrived.

[diredigression]

hey yo can I get an order of "temperance" with Sole aaaand surprise me with who she's with wink emoji

temperance: communication, healing, moderation;

“I’m here for you. You can talk to me.” possible AUs/settings/ideas: comfort, deep talks, hugging, woundtending  

Finally got this out! Hope it’s worth the wait!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was just a raider den-clearing like any other. Sole needed to get out, clear her head, kill some jackasses, and Hancock was all too happy to oblige. She’d had time to cope with her experience inside the Institute, and this felt like a step back towards normal. She’d picked off a couple sentries from cover, then she’d then charged into the fray swinging as the rest realized they were under attack. Hancock was there at her back, blasting away any that tried to jump her from behind.

They’d missed one, apparently. A little smarter than the others, this one must’ve hung back, avoided the rush, sniped from a distance.

Sole goes down with a bullet to the thigh.

She lurches back to her feet, pain and rage fogging her head. She’s not at her best, but she’ll be damned if she’s gonna let one bullet stop her. She vaguely hears pained roaring and shotgun blasts as she struggles to return to the rhythm of the fight. She swings at the raider in front of her, screaming with the effort, and he crashes to the ground. Her head swings wildly, glaring back and forth, but the only figure she sees is the familiar red shape, oddly out of focus. “Hancock! Any more?”

“All finished.” His voice is hoarse. “Still with me? We're gonna wanna take care of that. C’mere.”

The red shape is now pulling one of her arms around his shoulders with his arm hooked around her middle, hauling her away. She tries to pry him off—”I’m fine, I can walk, let me go—” but is frustrated to find that, actually, neither words nor walking are coming easily now that the adrenaline rush is fading. She resigns herself to his help, and he half drags her towards shelter. All of her attention goes to her feet, on keeping them under her, on not stumbling and pulling that leg again on a broken piece of concrete, and to her hands clinging to the heavy cloth of his coat like a lifeline. After far too long she’s lowered with some difficulty onto something kind of soft, a bedroll, must be the raiders’ sleeping area. She tries to prop herself up against the wall, but she’s not angled right and that damn leg is useless and every stress renews the searing pain. She closes her eyes, forcing herself to relent, sagging into the cushioning, letting awareness recede behind the roaring of her body.

“Sole? Hey, come back to me. You gotta get these pants off so I can get to that wound.”

She manages a slight facial twitch in lieu of a frown. She doesn’t want to deal with the outside. Why can’t it just fix the problem without her?

“I know you like these pants. Don’t make me cut them off ya.”

She groans. Forces her awareness through the surface of the fog, just enough to push her eyes open and verify the situation. Yes, that’s still Hancock, kneeling at her hip with an expression she can’t interpret. Yes, there’s a lot of pain in that leg. Pants probably have to go. She forces her arms up, fumbles with the pants, gets them off with some assistance. With the effort returns a bit of clarity—a shot to the thigh, yeah. Could be bad. Forces herself upwards to examine the wound. It’s hardly the first time you’ve been shot, get with it, you’ve got to take care of yourself. Doesn’t look like the artery’s been hit. Of course, if it had been hit, she probably wouldn’t be conscious by this point anyway.

“Lie down, let me take care of this.” His hands are pushing hers away from the wound. A fragment of consciousness spares a moment to note the grounding, almost hot grip of his fingers.

“Just another shot. Gimme a stim.” She’s still struggling with words, and her attempts to grab in the general direction of supplies probably aren’t helping her case.

“It went through your thigh, you need help. You can barely even lift yourself.”

“S’not bad. Got it myself.”

“Just shut up and let me do it.”

Something in the ghoul’s voice gives her pause. Then another thought hits her. “No joke ‘bout gettin’ my pants off?”

A beat, then a chuckle that doesn’t quite manage to sound casual. “Oh, now you miss my jokes? Didn’t ya threaten my life last time?”

“What’s wrong?”

“…this is gonna burn.” And burn it does as he pours alcohol on the wound. Luckily, the burn at least helps numb it a little to the following stabs of the stimpak. He works with practiced efficiency and she finds herself able to let go a little more easily. Soon enough he’s put away the supplies and sat back. She looks up to find him shrugging out of his coat. He drapes it across her exposed legs.

“What’re you doin’? We gotta get back. Get me clean pants and we’ll go.”

“No, you’re stayin’ right there. You gotta rest.”

“What’s the problem?”

She looks back up at him. The stimpak is doing its job and the pain is fading from her brain, freeing space for consciousness. And, strangely, she finds that as she watches him her rage begins to fade as well, replaced with…concern? Is that it? He sits next to her, knees pulled up to his chest, arms folded around them, staring at the coat across her legs. He looks so slight without it, in just the white shirt and vest. The ghoul is so naturally larger-than-life, she always forgets how small he really is.

“I thought I was gonna lose ya.”

“From one bullet to the leg?”

“Not the leg. When ya left for the Institute.”

She snaps her mouth closed. His dark eyes flick to hers for an instant.

“Look, I…you know me. I been runnin’ from myself my whole life. And I know you done a lot a’ that too. So you and me runnin’ together, it worked out well to start, huh? Get in some trouble, keep each other distracted—”

“Wait, stop, where are you going with this?” Fear has begun to creep into her stomach.

“I know how you are and I’m not gonna stop, I need to say this and you’re gonna sit there and listen, okay? No running away this time.” He turns the full weight of his black eyes on her.

Her stomach backflips and objections die in her throat.

“I know ya haven’t told me everything goin’ on with you and the Institute. That’s alright, I don’t need ta’ know, I want to know but I’m not gonna push. The thing is, when I watched you enter that teleporter, all cold fire and vengeance…” He relents and drops his eyes again. “Of course we were all worried if you’d make it back. If they’d let you go, if you’d end up in the middle of a room full of Coursers, if the teleporter would even work and hadn’t just disintegrated you on the spot. But out of all that, I could only see that look on your face. That look that said if you didn’t find what you were lookin’ for…you’d try to take them down with ya.”

Sole’s eyes begin to burn. She drops them from Hancock’s face to the wall at her other side. No. You don’t owe him a response. You don’t owe him a piece of you.

���I been runnin’ from everything good in my life, but as soon as you vanished, I realized I was terrified that you were gonna run from me. From all of us that care for you. I know the hell that kinda anger can wreak on a person, and I know you been hurtin’ from it. Just…you got a lotta good here. Whether you include me in that or not. Course I hope you do, I mean, throwing in with you has been the best decision I’ve ever made. I’ve got your back and that’s not gonna change. I just don’t want you to make the same mistake I did and run from it all…don’t you leave us behind.”

Avoid. Deflect. Definitely avoid that little lump of warm vulnerability. “You're not going soft on me, are ya, Hancock?” The statement doesn’t come out nearly as clear as she’d like.

His chuckle cracks, betraying him as well. “Hey, everyone's entitled to some softness. For me, it's pretty much everything below the eyebrows.” He clears his throat. “So, yeah. Guess I got a little overprotective, hence the leg. Just needed to get that out.” Turned back towards him, she sees his eyes shifting, looking anywhere but at her, hands fidgeting. He’s about to stand.

Her hand grabs his. For a moment she sees her terror reflected in his scarred face, but then she realizes it’s less terror, more wonder, as he stares first at their hands, then into her eyes. She didn’t plan this. Didn’t intend it. The warmth and strength of his hand is almost overwhelming. She has to say something.

When all else fails, the truth. “I can’t promise I won’t. But if you…feel so strongly…about me…then I’ll try.”

His face softens further, a small smile appearing. “That’s all anyone can ask for.” They sit there, hand in hand, a few breaths longer.

Then Hancock shakes himself and stands. “One clean pair of pants comin’ up. Unless you’re thinkin’ about some sorta no-pants party, in which case—”

“Hancock.”

He winks and flashes her a grin. Perhaps a softer one than usual.

[anaisfinallywrites]

Day 1 - February 8th “Cupid”

"We should probably put them in a room together to sort their shit out," Scott said thoughtfully.

The whole room was so quiet you can hear a pin drop. Scott looked up to see everyone was looking at him.

"I can't believe you're mentioning this now after all this time. They haven't exactly been subtle since from the very start." Lydia looks decidedly unimpressed with Scott's observation.

"We didn't get along from the beginning, okay? There was a lot of bad blood with him and me, him being passive-aggressively helping while I'm stubborn as hell to not listen to his advice. I'm slow on the uptake, not dumb." Scott retorted defensively.

"Isn't that the reason why we're having this very secret meeting that neither the two of them are present for?" Allison spoke up, trying to defuse the tension. "You can try all you want, princess but Derek is an immovable wall when it comes to Stiles." Erica chirped with way more mischief in her eyes than was necessary.

Boyd sighed a long-suffering sigh. "You can't blame the guy, okay? We all know his track record with relationships."

"We know," everybody chimed in perfect unison.

"Um," a hand was raised tentatively from the tallest guy in the room. "Are we seriously trying to act as Cupid for Derek and Stiles?”

All eyes honed in on the golden-haired cherub looking, boy. "Yes, we are." The answer was unanimously bland.

"What are you going to do? Love potion?" Kira asked sceptically.

"Nope," Scott said with a grimace on his face. "Jennifer Blake. He'll just kill us when he gets his head screwed on straight."

Lydia knocked on the table with her knuckles. "We can't be subtle with the two of them. We need a steamroller to make them see it. Any romantic movie ideas?"

The silence was telling.

"Ugh."

↬

"What are you doing here, Braeden?" Derek greeted the woman carrying a duffel bag in front of his door.

"I thought you said I could save money and stay at your loft whenever," she replied with wide innocent eyes.

He sighed deeply and stepped aside to let her in. "I'm not playing whatever game you're playing."

"Good to know that you know there's a problem." She walked in like she owned the place, dropping her duffel bag at the side of the sofa and sat down gently. "Valentine's Day is like two weeks away."

"Will you be my Valentine's?" He asked sarcastically.

"I'm going to ask Laura," she said, entirely too gleeful.

Derek made a disgusted face as he closed the door.

"So, you still haven't resolved your problem," Braeden stated with exasperation.

"Do you remember that time I nearly sucked out his heart because I don't have one? Well, I do. Vividly so," Derek said darkly, still standing at the door.

"He doesn't blame you. You do know that, right?" She looked at him pointedly. His face darkened considerably. "I blame myself even if he doesn't."

"At least you acknowledge there's something between you two. What with your passive-aggressive baking and Peter's grouchy remarks about his idiot of a nephew." Braeden leaned back on the sofa and surveyed her surroundings like she didn't just make the most profound observation about Derek Hale, Grump Extraordinaire.

Well, it wasn't profound observation. Try as hard as he might, Derek can't completely mask his longing stares and outright staring when it comes to one Stiles Stilinski. And everybody knows except the said object of affection, which is ironic considering the boy was supposed to be as sharp as a bloodhound with a scent and he views information and secrets like the only thing that would sustain him.

"Any plans to ask him out?" Braeden riffled through her duffel.

Derek harrumphed as he made his way to the kitchen. Not that he could hide all that much, open floor plan and everything. 

"I'm thinking about something," he admitted hesitantly.

Braeden made a whooping sound right where she sat.

And Derek proceeds to regret every life decision he made so far.

↬

"You're not supposed to mope about my brother at the freaking kitchen he works in," Laura grouched as Stiles beat aggressively at the batter that's probably unusable by now.

"Who says I'm moping about your brother?" Stiles retorted half-heartedly and stopped beating the abused batter.

"Aliens from outer space would have been privy to your most private thoughts about my brother." She didn't look up from balancing the checkbook.

Stiles snorts. "Ugh, how do I get over this stupid crush? It's worse than before compared to Lydia..." he pouted morosely into the batter.

"You two are entirely hopeless when it comes to anything regarding feelings," Laura commented not unkindly.

"You're - How are you and Braeden?" Stiles changed tack mid-sentence.

"We're good. Better than good, even. I, for a fact, know that she's planning a grand gesture in the very distant future. You, on the other hand," she taps her pen on her bottom lip in thought. "Well, you'll grow old and die alone as long as you don't man up and make a move."

"Well, I'm kinda waiting for your thick-headed brother to make a move actually. The ball is in his court this time around, anyway." Stiles muttered unhappily. Laura made an over the top shocking gasping noise. "Why didn't I know about this? How could I not even have heard a peep of this?!"

"We are very private people," he said seriously. And really, he's not even joking.

↬

And so, the mad dash begins. The pack are conceiving plans to help their assumed oblivious friends while Derek and Stiles are respectively trying to work up the courage or work out a plan to... take the next step. So to speak. 

As one would expect, it leads to some... well, disastrous results.

↬

The bakery is in full rush hour at eleven o'clock in the morning, almost lunchtime for everyone but still early enough to buy brunch to curb the hunger. 

Derek is always working at the bakery, and so is Laura. The only person who doesn't help out is Peter, not that he couldn't cook or bake to save his life but more to the fact that no one wants to put up with the constant "chatter" that comes out of his mouth. The rest of the pack, which consists of Scott, Kira, Boyd, Isaac, Erica, Lydia, Danny, Jackson and Stiles, they work part-time or full-time at the bakery. Laura says it's good bonding time, but really, who was she trying to kid?

Lydia and Scott were trying their best to concoct a plan that would put the two (not so) stubborn idiots in a situation to make them talk to each other, whereas Derek has been trying to work up the courage to go up to Stiles and just be... blunt, he's never been anything but passive-aggressively straightforward, anyhow. Stiles, on the other hand, is trying to make himself available time-wise. So far, every single time Lydia and or Scott manages to corner them, aka giving them space or a controlled environment, Derek is very tempted to take the obvious help. But the rest of the pack is observing with shit-eating grins on their face and so he thought better of it. Laura was resolutely staying out of this gay chicken shit, as she so eloquently puts it, but secretly she's having popcorn with Braeden to see what happens next.

So much for a helpful big sister.

Stiles couldn't take it anymore. He sighed long and loud, stared determinedly at Derek's turned back and just strode towards him. 

The pack held their collective gasps as much as they could during the rush hour, simultaneously helping the customers and stealing glances at their quarry.

"Derek," Stiles said his name quietly. He didn't need to say it out loud because of two reasons. One, Derek had always focused on him whenever he's around, be it his heartbeat or his breathing, Derek is attuned to it. (Stiles would say the hyper fixation is super creepy if he wasn't so gone on the grumpy asshole of a wolf.) Two, he knows he's special to Derek. Stiles doesn't know what it is that makes him special yet, but he will soon enough.

Derek didn't turn around to look at him, still busy with packing the baked goods (?) but his body swayed in his direction for a split second with his head tilted. He's listening even if he pretends he doesn't care.

"Uh, so. Valentine's a few days away. Are we making headway or are we still dancing around it like it's a pit of vipers?" Stiles muttered, careful to make his words audible only to the intended recipient. Luck is, however, on his side because the rest of the wolves in the bakery are still newborn bitten wolves, even if it's been a few months since. Lack of desire for training does wonders for Stiles being sneaky.

Derek finally turned around to face him, eyebrows and lips scrunched in a way that Stiles has long since interpreted as the exasperated 'What the hell are you going on about?' look. He couldn't backpedal fast enough to save his tattered dignity. "I mean, okay then. We'll be friends forever then. There's nothing bad about it. Having you as a friend is better than not having you at all, so if we can just forget this ever happened-"

"Stiles." 

"Uh, yeah?" Stiles asked hesitantly.

"Can we meet in the preserve and continue this conversation? There are too many ears here." Derek pointedly did not look at any of the wolves that surround the bakery.

Stiles took a deep breath. "Uh yeah, sure. No problem."

"You better be there instead of letting your brain run wild with an idea that's most likely untrue," Derek pointed his patented glare at Stiles. "I will hunt you down." Stiles shivered at the threat. Nobody should make a threat sound sexy. Like, seriously. On the other hand, he can concede that he does have a tendency to let his insecurities and doubts get the better of him but, have you seen Lydia Martin and Derek Hale? Anybody's self-esteem would plunge down an abyss and Stiles has been here before, once burnt and twice shy and all that shit. Rejection hurts no matter the better outcome that you got out of it. Lydia Martin as the best friend and sister he never had but wished he did is awesome but Derek is different. Derek is so different that he's probably not on the same planet, in Stiles's honest opinion. 

Derek is still looking at him, the glare softened a little, eyebrows raised up saying 'Are we clear?'.

"Crystal." Stiles nodded like his head was a bobblehead. "I will be there and I assure you that you won't need to hunt me down to get to the bottom of this." His voice cracked embarrassingly at the word.

Derek smirked like a cat with cream.

"Shut up, asshole." Stiles gave his own glare as he turned around to make his way out of the bakery. He ignored the questioning looks from the pack.

Stiles hurried home. He has a possible date to get to. Or just plain ole revelation. Derek is taking a break at one in the afternoon. Stiles only has so much time to ponder how this will end because he's about to get his long-awaited resolution. A few months late, but better late than never.

[bluephoenixdruidicprincess]

SPN 14x13, Lebanon (Yes, That One) -- Thoughts (Spoilers)

It's finally here, guys. The big 300. I've now seen 300 episodes of Supernatural. Phew...what a crazy ride its been. But let's dive into this, shall we.

I'm going to be a little different with this one. This is going to follow a little more of a recap structure. It's the big 300, so of course I had to change it up a little. As I recap this episode, I'll be inserting thoughts I have here and there. I will be recapping from memory so things might get a little out of order. It should go without saying but there will be spoilers. And keep in mind, this is just how I feel and how I interpret things. You may have a completely different interpretation and that's perfectly valid. These are just MY thoughts.

We open up with Sam and Dean in the midst of a hunt. A hunter friend of theirs died and Sam and Dean are trying to recover what was stolen from their friend as well as avenge him. They corner the murderer and in a really cringey fight scene, the murderer meets his maker. Typically, SPN fight scenes are, while not fantastically well put together, but at least put our heroes in a competent light. Honestly, I don't think I've seen such stilted choreography since season 13 in the vamp cave. But anyway, the murderer uses dragon's breath (which is essentially a flamethrower) to escape from Brothers Winchester and it sends them flying in different directions but apparently dragon's breath isn't that hot. Just a small little thing, but if you're standing that close to the fire, you should've had some burn marks, I'm just saying, at the very least, soot on your face. But whatever. Dean gets thrown across the room, Sam ends up on the floor with our villain monologuing to him and I'm uncomfortable with just how incompetent Sam appeared to be in this scene. The villain is monologuing and Sam is just sitting there and doing nothing. What happened to Sam's gun? Why didn't Sam sweep the leg or go for a gut punch? So many things he could've done to get the upper hand in the situation especially since the villain only had a sword. While swords can be very deadly, they're also easier to dodge as opposed to bullets or throwing daggers. But Sam just sits there in fear for a good 5 seconds (and 5 seconds is an eternity both on screen and in a fight) and Dean then shoots the guy and talks about the villain monologuing problem. I'm not mad that Dean got the kill or anything. I don't believe in "staning" culture but if you could at least have made Sam appear competent, that would be nice.

But with the murderer dead, Sam and Dean find out he has a lot of magical junk so they decide to take it back to the bunker. In the files, they find a magical pearl which apparently will grant your greatest desire. Obviously, the boys think, "this is great. Our greatest desire is to evict the douche currently residing in our nagen." But before this greatest wish can be made, we have to make a little side trip because one of the teenagers in Lebanon (the town where the bunker exists) stole the impala. Sam's all, "that kid is in danger, we gotta find her, there's dangerous shit in that car" -- and much to my annoyance, Dean is all, "how dare she take Baby, she better not hurt Baby". *Takes a deep breath* This is an aspect of Dean's character I find super irritating. This weird romance he has with the damn car. How he places the car above things that, realistically, are a little more important. Maybe he should be less concerned about Max scratching the car and more concerned about the fact you have a teenage girl you don't know (or barely know at the very most) in a car with deadly objects and deadly weapons. I get it, this is supposed to be a funny quirk of his and at one point it was but now it's been so overdone that it's more irritating than it is endearing. I really hope the show goes into Dean's character development, and approaches the car as a mirror of how Dean feels about his father and his childhood and as he grows to accept his father more, he'll eventually realize that just like he doesn't need his father, he doesn't need the impala. I'm sure I said something absolutely sacrilegious in the fandom but I'm not going to apologize for it. This whole obsession with the impala is immature and creepy and it makes me worry for Dean's mental health.

So they find the girl but not before the girl's actions releases a serial killer clown ghost (because in an episode dealing with past fears and insecurities, of course it's a clown). They kill the ghost but three of the teenagers see and therefore they get the "talk." And these three also appear to be seen as mirrors for Sam, Dean, and Cas. They weren't very subtle about it, let me tell you.

So after leaving the kids to process the information that the sounds you hear in your closet may actually not be in your head, Brothers Winchester arrive back at the bunker and try out this magical pearl. But behold! It would seem evicting au!Michael is not Dean's greatest desire because Father Winchester is yanked from the past (sometime before the pilot) and dropped into their time. And, I'm not going to say this a lot about this episode, but I like the cinematography used here. It was an excellent usage of the color red symbolizing Brothers Winchester's own repression and isolation they experienced from their father as well as John's revenge focused aggression, blindly lashing out at anything that moves even if it's his own children. And the scene was also shot in a very choppy way meant to be seen as a little confusing...also symbolizing the thoughts of confusion the boys harbor towards their father and much like the confusion John no doubt feels with the turn his life has taken.

Everyone eventually realizes what's up and they fill John in on what's been happening for the past 14 years. And it's a very nice, very touching reunion and then Momma Winchester shows up. John and Mary have a wonderful reunion kiss, its so beautiful. I completely understand how Dean got swept into the moment here. Witnessing something he probably only barely remembers from his childhood, thinking he'll never see it again, and there it is. And just like that it takes him back to a time when life was seemingly perfect. When he had hope, when he had dreams. His parents were alive, they loved each other, they loved him, he had an adorable baby brother. It gave him something he never thought he'd have again. And just the kiss in general, you know. Just so reminiscent of past lovers who never thought they would see each other again suddenly seeing each other and everything they used to feel all coming up at once. It was wonderful. Think Celine Dion, Its All Coming Back to Me Now and I think you'll have the tone of this moment nailed down.

But Sam and Dean leave these two to have their moment and Sam tells Dean there's going to be repercussions for this. Time travel is a funky thing. But they decide to have one family dinner and think about the consequences after that. Dean asks Mary for the ingredients to make her Winchester Surprise and John and Sam have a really touching moment. John feels the need to apologize to Sam about everything that happened between them. And Sam tells him it doesn't matter. Their fight happened a long time ago, he's put it in the past and moved on. Sam also tells his father that the biggest regret he has is never having the chance to say good-bye. Their last conversation being an argument and then Sam finding John dead on the hospital floor. This scene got me so choked up like you don't even know. I've been through this. Lost someone while we were on shaky terms, I never got the chance to say good-bye, so many things were left unsaid and I would kill for an opportunity Sam has here where I can finally tell that person it's okay and rectify the bad blood that occurred between us. And Sam acknowledges it as well. This opportunity he has right here and now is all he's ever wanted.

Sam and Dean go off to buy these ingredients but this is when they start noticing the time travel problems. The future is starting to change, but it's more of a ripple effect right now. They haven't changed yet, but time around them has and eventually the ripple is going to smother out and their new future will take hold. Sam calls it a time paradox. And because of the paradox, we're treated to season 4 Zachariah and Castiel. But in regards to Castiel here, it's important to note that he's more pre-season 4. He hasn't delved into hell yet to get Dean out so he doesn't really have any of those rebellious feelings yet. And no, I'm not going to quote THE Destiel line. In all honesty, I've come to hate the line. It's been over-used so much that it's basically lost all meaning to me. Fandom and canon just keep on poking at it, now it's just something I roll my eyes at whenever I hear it. I am sad that we got season 4 Zachariah. When they were saying we were going to get a different Zachariah, I was so hoping for a role reversal kind of situation but apparently the "different Zachariah" is meant to be interpreted as "different from season 13 au!Zachariah" who actually isn't all that different. PR is not show running, people. Take a grain of salt with everything they say. But the Wing Team is on a quest to find out who meddled with time. Even going so far as to threaten to murder a diner full of people. Thankfully, Sam and Dean stop that from commencing but are in a real shock that with this time paradox, it now means Cas is no longer the Cas they all know and love. That if John stays here, they're going to lose their best friend (in Sam's case) and potential lover (in Dean's case). But the scene plays out how you would expect it to. Zach is his usual douchey self and is giving Sam cancer just like he used to (good times, let me tell ya) but Sam remembers he has an angel blade on him and kills Zach. Nowhere near as badass as it was in season 5, but still cathartic. And next we get to see a re-creation of the tomb scene from season 8 with Dean and Cas in a match of fisticuffs. But this Cas has never met Dean so Dean really has no chance of reaching Cas. But Sam in some quick thinking rembers the sigil that will cast angels out and uses it. The boys make a break for the bunker and everyone gets filled in.

Sam and Dean realize that in order for everything to go back they way it was, they have to smash the pearl. Everything will be forgotten but everything will also revert back to the way it once was. Sam wishes there was a way John could remember everything but Dean tells him he prefers that John doesn't. John going back with knowledge of the future could change who they are and Dean doesn't want that change. He wants to be exactly who he is right here and right now which is just so much progress. John tells them to do it because if the timeline changes, Mary's resurrection could never have happened and she'll eventually disappear. Even though he's going back to a time where he will die, trading himself for Mary is more than worth it. He'd rather have Mary exist in the world and himself die as opposed to living the rest of his days without her. And maybe it's because I have so much Kingsom Hearts nonsense floating through my brain, even if he doesn't remember, this will have left a mark on his heart. It'll leave him feeling something even if he doesn't understand why he feels that way. Everyone has the family dinner they always wanted, John also apologizes to Dean for everything, he tells both of his sons just how proud he is of them, he and Mary have another moment and the pearl is broken. Father Winchester disappears and everyone is crying. Our most beloved Cas returns and remarks on why everyone is acting so weird and Dean tells him they have a story to tell him. I kind of wish we got to see them tell Cas but I understand why we don't. Story-Telling 101. Don't repeat information the audience already knows, instead, insinuate the character is being filled in off-screen. John wakes up in his time in the impala and remarks on the good dream he had and drives off to his dark future. And the episode ends.

So what did I think of this episode? Honestly, I'm of two minds on it. Narratively and character-wise, this was a really good episode. But structurally and production-wise, not so much.

It had a really good narrative, the acting was fantastic, but on a cinematic level, My Chuck, was this episode dull to look at. The directing was just extremely stilted, apart from John's entrance, I don't think there was a single scene I thought was visually appealing. The musical score was very bland. It makes me really sad that there was so much hype for this episode but so little effort put into the production of it. Of the milestone episodes, 200 is probably my favorite.

I also say this episode kind of faltered on a structural basis, as well. While I appreciate the use of the Lebanon characters, I feel like they were largely unnecessary for the actual plot. And when they were first pitching this episode to us last year, I was imagining the Lebanon townsfolk being more of a primary aspect of the episode. While I enjoyed the themes and the mirrors with the Lebanon element, I feel like this would've been a better structured episode without them and given the episode more time with the family reunion and the Wing Team.

But I do love the narrative themes in this episode. Choosing between your past family and your future family. Putting your past behind you and acknowledging yourself as an individual. I've seen a few posts lamenting about how they dislike that Dean didn't yell at John or anything along those lines and honestly, I feel like that's the point. Dean has grown past that. He's acknowledged that as part of his past and has moved on from it. We all have trauma we associate with our parents. And while yelling at our parents might make us feel better, will it really heal us? Will it give us what we really need? And that's the whole thing with Dean, isn't it? Want vs Need. Dean's greatest desire was never to face John again and tell him how much he hates him -- no, Dean's greatest desire was to face his father again and not see himself in his father. To realize he's become his own person that isn't his father and that he likes that person and he doesn't want that to change. That's what Dean wanted. That was the self-acceptance Dean needed and I'm really excited to see where this all heads for Dean as a character. Now that he's accepted himself, is he going to allow himself to be happy now?

Essentially, this episode was a beautiful episode about family, about the progression of family, about finding acceptance and forgiveness and being able to put it behind you and look towards the future and I thought that was extremely beautiful and well done. I'd give this episode a B+. Sadly, I do knock it down because of the production value.

[vrepitsorrynotsorry]

Suuuper Late Black Paladin Week Day 2

I’m both lazy and busy, but I’m currently at the dealership getting an oil change and am using the waiting area time to write. Sorry, @blackpaladinweek!

Title: All in Your Head Theme: Divergent Rating: PG Pairing: Intended Gen, but feel free to interpret subtext as you so choose. Warnings/Spoilers: There’s some mild violence. I also intend no offense regarding mental health issues. Spoils through the end of Season 4. A/N: I have found I really enjoy having Lotor annoy Allura and by extension, pretty much everyone else... This one’s a little late because I waited too long to start writing and got sleepy. (Bad me!)

Shiro awoke in his quarters from a strange dream he couldn’t quite remember. It had something to do with space, and oddly, lions. He hadn’t been assigned a mission since their successful return from Kerberos months ago, so he wasn’t sure what had prompted it.

For a few moments his right arm seemed oddly heavy. He must have slept on it funny because the sensation disappeared quickly.

At the back of his mind, there was a nagging feeling that something was off, but he had things to do. It was probably just that strange dream.

The Garrison had promised him further missions in the future, but at the moment he was guest lecturing at the Academy. He enjoyed being close the Keith and able to see him on a daily basis.  Matt’s younger sister was starting at the Academy as well, and she might be too clever for her own good.

Life wasn’t perhaps as exciting as he’d imagined when he started at the Academy, but he’d flown into deep space and brought his crew back safely. His life was comfortable. What more could he want?

He went for a jog around the campus before heading back to his quarters for a quick shower before lunch at the cafeteria. The special was a stew that filled him with nostalgia for his own days as a student.

It was Wednesday, so Keith’s lunch break didn’t line up with his own, and Shiro sat alone at a small table in the corner. He was so engrossed in his meal, he didn’t notice someone had approached his table.

“Shiro?” a woman’s voice asked, and he looked up into an unfamiliar face. The woman had warm, brown skin and very light hair and eyes. It was a combination striking enough that he was sure he would remember if he had met her before. She was dressed in a stylish but professional outfit rather than a uniform, but she didn’t appear to be much older than some of the students.

“Yes. Can I help you?”

“It’s me, Allura.”

Shiro racked his brain for any connection to the name, but nothing sprang to mind. “Have we met before? I’m sorry to say I can’t recall.”

Allura sat down across from him. “Yes, we have met. We’ve worked together for quite some time now.” Shiro started to protest, but she carried on over his objections. “I know that’s hard for you to believe, but it’s true.

“Everything around us right now is an illusion. You’re not on Earth at all.”

Shiro raised an eyebrow. “I’m not?”

“No. You and the other paladins went to investigate an abandoned Galra outpost after Keith and several Blade of Marmora agents didn’t return. It was a trap. It wasn’t abandoned at all! They left behind a telepathic spy who picked everyone off one by one and trapped you in false realities inside your own minds. It didn’t work on me for some reason, and I managed to get the rest of you out of there.

“Matt and Coran found a way to program the training deck on the castle ship to allow a connection to your consciousness so an outsider could penetrate the illusion. I need you to focus, Shiro. I need you to come back to reality.”

They stared at each other in silence for a few moments after she finished speaking. Shiro wasn’t quite sure how to respond. This young lady was either delusional or this was some kind of strange prank. He decided to assume the latter for the moment.

“Has someone put you up to this? I have to tell you, I’m really not finding this amusing.”

She frowned. “This is not a joke, I assure you. I know you must have picked up that something isn’t quite right here. When is the last time anyone here, besides myself, spoke more than a few words to you? Look at the people around us--they’re not even really saying anything to each other and there are a limited number of unique faces because that kind of detail would take too much time for the telepath to arrange.”

It was true that he couldn’t make out any of the conversations at nearby tables, but the acoustics in the dining hall were horrible. Yes, many of the students looked the same, but there were regulations on hairstyles and they were all dressed in uniforms.

“Look,” he explained in a firm but gentle tone, “I’ve only been into deep space once, and that mission went fine. I have no idea who these ‘Galra’ or ‘Blade’ people are. I think perhaps you’re confused. I can bring you to the administration offices-”

She huffed and rolled her eyes, cutting him off with a raised hand. “No, the Kerberos mission did not go ‘fine.’ The telepath picked up on it as a place to diverge the timeline in a realistic way that would eliminate knowledge of what happened after. Please, try to remember! It’s all still there in your mind somewhere.”

She stopped speaking abruptly and cocked her head to the side as though hearing a voice he did not. “No,” she mumbled under her breath, “I don’t think a sudden shock will be helpful. I can reach him if you give me more time. I only need a few more minutes.”

The main doors to the dining hall slid open again and a tall, thin man in an officer’s uniform walked briskly over to them. It was odd that he hadn’t even had to scan the room to find them, he just made a bee line for their table.

“We don’t have the luxury of doing this nicely,” he told Allura as he stood next to her chair. The man was very pale with platinum blond hair. Shiro didn’t recognize him, so he must have been a recent transfer.

“Who let you in?” Allura glowered at the man. “What makes you think you’ll be able to get through to him? You barely know him.”

“Never underestimate the power of shock value,” the man replied, glancing around the room and then heading for the stand where the eating utensils were stocked. He grabbed something Shiro didn’t see and returned to the table.

“Right.” He made eye contact with Shiro. “Hold out your right hand, please.”

Shiro reluctantly slid his hand onto the table, and in the blink of an eye, this new stranger stabbed the back of it. Allura let out a surprised squeak and Shiro himself jumped, but there was no pain.

He looked down at the back of his hand to see that all the tines of the fork the man had used as a weapon were bent away from the back of his completely undamaged hand.

“What just happened?” he murmured. He’d meant it rhetorically.

“Deep down,” the man answered anyway, “you know that your right arm was replaced with a metal one. You know instinctively that a...frak?” He looked at Allura for confirmation of the word.

“Fork,” she corrected him sullenly.

“You know a fork won’t hurt it, and this thing isn’t even real.” The stranger waved the mutilated fork in a little circle and then tossed it over his shoulder. “You’ll notice that nobody in here reacted to a stabbing in their midst, either.”

“You certainly have a flair for the dramatic, don’t you, Lotor?” Allura sniffed in disdain and crossed her arms.

“Look at us again,” Lotor instructed. “And really focus. We both have pointed ears. I’m purple and she’s got little pink marking on her cheeks.”

Instead, Shiro was still staring at the back of his hand. Everything seemed to shimmer for a moment, and then everything came back to him and he was standing in the training deck of the castle ship.

“Is everyone else all right?”

“Well,” Allura began, a little flustered, “we’ve gotten Pidge, Hunk, and Lance out of their illusions. Pidge pratically pulled herself out when she realized how off everything was around her in the fake reality. Hunk was also fairly easy to convince--mostly because the telepath didn’t know how to fake the flavors of food very well, apparently. We sent Hunk in for Lance since they’ve known one another so long. Kolivan was also able to pull his own men back to reality.”

“You haven’t mentioned Keith. Why didn’t you send him in for me?” Shiro asked.

“We thought it would be best in your case to send in someone who clearly didn’t belong in your divergent reality,” Allura told him, refusing to make eye contact. What was she hiding?

“Also,” Lotor added offhandedly, “Keith is still stuck in his illusion and we’ll probably need you to help pull him out.”

Allura socked the Galra prince in the arm. “I was trying to break it to him more gently!”

“Again, we simply don’t have time for that.”

“I’ll do it,” Shiro volunteered. “He’s right. Keith’s been in longer than the rest of us. There’s no time to waste.”

“Just signal if you’d like any assistance,” Lotor offered with a smirk.

“I don’t think I’ll need it, and Keith would probably stab you back, just so you know,” Shiro informed him. Then he walked out of the room so they could set things up to save Keith. He had a job to do.

[reivenesque]

A Family We Chose For Ourselves CH7

Chapter 7: Penetrator Chris (7851 words)

He can’t think straight.

He tries moving but he can’t. Every time he shifts he feels stabs of agony shooting up and down his body. It steals the breath from his lungs and makes him see stars. He opts to not try that again.

Eventually the sweet lull of sleep becomes to enticing. He doesn’t even remember closing his eyes.

Death feels oddly tedious.

‘So, you and Eva, huh?’

To his credit, William’s on the other end of the line calling all the way from fucking England and safely out of Chris’ reach so he couldn’t even feel the full brunt of the glare Chris is shooting at the receiver.

“Don’t be stupid, William.”

‘That serious huh?’

William’s laugh rings out from the other end and Chris really wants to punch him in the face right now.

‘Truthfully I had my doubts. Borkis isn’t really the most reliable source for gossip and I don’t think Erik would even notice, but even he did. I love the guy, but he’s like the most oblivious person in existence.’

“I didn’t think you’d call from ten thousand fucking miles away, using up all your cell credit just to piss me off, man. Bad enough you left me behind to clean up your mess and trying to console the guys who, by the way, have become really fucking weepy since you left,” Chris doesn’t want to sound so bitter, especially since it’s been a while since he and William have actually talked. But in his defence, it was William’s choice to up and leave for fucking England and their stupid scones and their stupid tea.

‘They the only ones who miss me?’ William asks jokingly, at least Chris interprets the comment as supposed to come across jokingly. He doesn’t find it particularly hilarious in any definition, especially since it still hits too close to home; the fact that William left him behind, and why? Because of a girl.

It stung something nasty more than he cared to admit.

“You’re the one who decided to leave,” he says and the silence on the other end means that William understood what he meant by that.

‘I’m sorry.’

Chris hated apologies; he’d been on the receiving end of far too many from his mom and his dad and after a while even the most heartfelt apology tends to come across as disingenuous.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says, and it’s the truth. He couldn’t convince William to stay so there really was nothing left to discuss. And to be frank, he’s just tired.

‘Chris—’

“It’s done, William. No use whining about it any longer. You’re there, I’m here; sharing our feelings or other sappy ass shit like that isn’t going to change anything. Anyway I have a party to get to and I’m sure you have a shit load of your own, so I gotta go.”

‘Chris, man. C’mon—’

“We’ll talk about this again tomorrow if it matters that much to you, but right now I really do have to go.”

He didn’t really have to go. The stupid Kose party wasn’t until like 7 and it was only 4 p.m. and it really wouldn’t take him that long to get ready, he didn’t have William’s stupid hair that needed all that primping. He just wanted to peace out and wallow in his own self-pity in the meantime.

‘Okay then…I—I’ll be back next week for the weekend. We can just hang. Maybe get shitfaced and hook up with some girls.’

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

‘I mean for you.’

“You were just teasing me about Eva and you already want me to cheat on her with someone else?”

The soft hmm coming from the other end indicated that William thought Chris made a good point.

“Maybe I should hook up with Iben and bring this whole thing full circle.”

‘I didn’t mean it like that, Chris.’

He knew William didn’t. He was just in a particularly bitter mood and William was just the easiest target. “I know. Just—we’ll talk tomorrow. See ya’, man.”

William was obviously must more reluctant to end the conversation than Chris was, but he just obliged hesitantly. Chris waited for the soft, ‘Kay, man’ before quickly hanging up.

He didn’t mean to take things out on William the way that he had, but he was pissed. At life, at school, at William for leaving, at Noora for coming back; he wanted to be pissed at Eva for getting her best friend back when his best friend was still gallivanting off in the British Isles, but it wasn’t Eva’s fault and he knew that. If anything, Eva proved to be the only thing in his life right now that actually felt right, if a little confusing.

He wasn’t actually sure where they currently stood. Were they a thing? Were they not? He didn’t want to be the first one to bring up the topic but Eva didn’t seem to be concerned about it in anyway. He could understand her hesitance to rush into things, especially with him after what happened the last time they hooked up. Plus her thing with that asshole Jonas who truthfully didn’t deserve her in the first place. Even taking into account Chris’ own less than stellar history with girls and hook ups and the unfortunate way his and Iben’s relationship ended, he could see that Eva always deserved better than the way that guy treated her. But he was one to talk after what happened with Eva and that girl on the stairwell at the Halloween party. Iben deserved better than that and at the time he was too immature and stupid to see that.

He wanted to think that he and Iben managed to patch things up since then. At least they could be cordial with each other when they happened to occupy the same space. He’d seen the way Eva and Iben managed to mend fences between them after everything that had happened and he thought that at the very least he should apologize to her for what he did. After all, he did truly love her at one point. Looking back on it now, he can’t say for certain whether what he felt for her had actually been love or it had just been pressure disguised as love. The guys were the ones pushing him at her, ‘she’s beautiful’, ‘she gives it good’ and all sorts of shit they let fly trying to get Chris to get with Iben so they could get with her friends. He’d stupidly gone along with it and after a while he did feel like he was starting to fall for her, but then Eva happened in that black ballet dress, crying alone at the party and it unlocked something inside him. Despite what the guys were saying and what everyone had been led to believe, he didn’t initiate the kiss, Eva did. He just went along with it.

He’s kissed many girls in his life—maybe even a boy or two. What could he say; he’s always game to try something new at least once. He’s been kissed by probably an equal amount of people who initiated the kiss first, he’s not stupidly humble, he knows he’s a pretty nice looking guy and a lot of people wanted him. But there was just something about the way Eva was looking at him in the split second before she leaned in close. The way the last tear drop trickled down the side of her cheek that he couldn’t look away from. The way her damp eyes glistened with unshed tears and a need, a want that wasn’t usually directed at him as person, only just him as an object of a person’s lust. Iben had the same look in her eyes when she looked at him, but try as he might he couldn’t look back at her with the same kind of emotion. He did feel bad about that.

But as he was looking at Eva, looking back at him, wanting him, he realized in that moment that he wanted her too.

And then Iben walked in and deep down he felt so ashamed he couldn’t look her in the eye.

His thumb finds the sensitive spot on his right wrist, massaging it absentmindedly; the circular motion, the gentle kneading soothed the perpetual numbness he felt down his right hand but it also relaxed him. He’s pretty sure no one ever noticed him doing it and it was for the best.

Thinking of William used to always be a source of comfort. It used to always make him feel better when nothing else could. He cherished the friendship they had, the friendship they built from nothing but a school yard scrap and a broken wrist and it proved to stand the test of time, which is more that he could say about his own family. William was the only person he had in his life that’s always been there for him, even when his own parents turned their backs, prioritising their jobs and their careers before their only son. But he was used to it. He was never surprised by that fact because he’d known all along that they never really wanted him anyway. They gave him an apartment and a car and paid for the things he needed and he only accepted everything because he had to. He was looking forward to getting his own life and his own place and his own car and leaving everything about them behind and not having to look at everything he had and feel like a charity case. He wanted to leave Oslo. He wanted to leave Norway and move somewhere where no one knew who he was. He wanted to leave with William, but William left first without him and it hurt.

He tries not to think about it, shoving the feelings into the back of his mind where it belonged. It was one of the reasons why he preferred hook ups to relationships; there was no attachment, no obligation. You get in and out without anyone getting their feelings hurt, especially the girl. He kind of feels like the girl in this relationship at this point though. Fucking William.

At this point he realizes that he’s been brooding for the past two hours, not that it wasn’t time well wasted. He always enjoyed spending time over thinking shit and bringing himself down. Nowadays, thinking about William only succeeded in doing that.

He ends up staring at two choices of clothing. His regular Penetrator hoodie; it was reliable, comfortable, a safety net in some ways. It was part of his identity a part of who he was, but maybe somewhere along the way he allowed it to become his whole identity.

Penetrator Chris. Hot Chris. Fuckboy Chris.

Never just Chris.

He didn’t let it get to him just like he never let anything get to him, after all they weren’t wrong. Or rather, somehow he’d actually allowed them to be right. He never let himself get too caught up in labels but that didn’t mean it didn’t sting sometimes.

Meeting Eva that first time in the club, getting dragged to the bathroom with barely an explanation besides the name Vilde that didn’t really meant anything to him, it felt like a turning point somehow even if he didn’t know it at the time. It was a hot girl dragging him into a place in the back with no one around, it wasn’t an uncommon happening and he just went with it. But that ended up being just a big misunderstanding. It was actually pretty hilarious in hindsight, but at the time he didn’t really find any of it amusing—besides meeting his name twin; he thought she was pretty cool.

It occurred to him suddenly when he was looking at her retreating back disappearing up the stairwell.

He’d just been rejected.

It was an unfamiliar almost disconcerting feeling and he had the whole weekend to try and figure out what actually happened and why he got so upset about it. He soon realized that he wasn’t upset about it, not really. It wasn’t something he was really used to; having a girl actually turn her back on him, reject him by way of disinterest. A girl that didn’t really want anything from him. A girl that didn’t want him. It was a conceited way of looking at himself but that was the only way he was used to. He was used to people only wanting something from him: sex, a hook up, a favour, a wingman; shit like that. The only other person who never expected anything from him in return was William.

Eva never asked for anything from him either.

When Monday morning rolled by—a little too quickly for his liking, and he found himself spotting that girl from across the courtyard, he realized that the entire weekend spent being confused about what happened was a weekend wasted. He couldn’t deny that found himself more than a little intrigued, so he greeted her casually, which is more than what he usually does with girls he did end up hooking up with. In the next minute he gets a notification that an Eva started following him on Instagram and the familiar face pops up on his screen when he pulls up the profile picture; it’s quickly followed by a flurry of notifications indicating that the same Eva had liked more than a couple of his pictures. He could barely hold back a smile at that, eliciting an amused query from William when his friend catches up to him on the way to class.

Eva turns out to be quite the puzzle. Her obvious discomfort at being around him at the party is contradiction to her flirty replies to his messages. He isn’t unsurprised when it occurs to him that maybe she really just wanted an invite to the Penetrator party for her and her friends. He’s fine with that. Hey, he might at least score that hook up in the end.

And then the Halloween party happened.

He doesn’t interact with Eva much after he and Iben break up and he’s fine with that. They’re civil to each other at least when their paths cross in the hallways or at random parties, but besides that Chris accepted that nothing was ever going to become of that and that was okay with him. He had other things to focus on anyway what with the upcoming Russ and graduating and wondering what he was going to go after school, whether he wanted to continue living in the apartment and driving the car, failing to stop feeling like he was indebted to his parents somehow for paying for everything he owned.

Getting beat up by the Yakuza guys that night didn’t so much hurt as it did humiliate. The only upside to the whole incident was how it made Chris realize that he wasn’t invincible like he’d lead himself to believe. He’d been in many scrapes in his life and he always ended up coming out on top and that lead him to develop a sort of arrogant self-confidence that didn’t have any place in his life. He realized then that he wasn’t unbeatable; he was just human after all.

But then William comes speeding up in his expensive car, bailing him out like he usually does. Hauling his ass to the hospital all while fussing over Erik and Borkis who at least could get their own legs under them and keep them there, unlike his own legs that felt like jelly attached to the lower half of his body. His head is buzzing and his face feels like someone slapped him with the broad side of an anvil. But William is there keeping him upright, helping him as well as half carrying him towards his car.

Chris can only hope that the blood dripping down his face doesn’t stain William’s fancy upholstery.

He doesn’t really remember much of what happened after that. Not the trip to the hospital or anything that happened after. He just remembers the guys reaching over from the backseat of the car to grasp his shoulder and ask if he’s okay. He wasn’t really. He felt like he was about to upchuck the entire evening worth of food right onto William’s nice carpet but he managed to keep the nausea in check.

The next thing he realizes is being at school the next morning, for reasons beyond even his comprehension. William said that he was the only who insisted on going to school instead of back to his place and Chris can’t help but think that William must have been stupider than him at that moment for actually listening to him. He wishes he were at home in bed.

Eva messages him out of the blue that night and Chris is more than a little touched despite himself. He blames it on the painkillers that were making him a little woozy, but the three simple little words came across as so much more. It wasn’t a question asking how he was. It wasn’t a question asking what happened. It wasn’t even a question, only a simple wish and the insinuation that she was concerned about him.

They text back and forth a couple more times until he accidentally texts back something he was thinking but hadn’t intended on expressing out loud.

I kind of do.

The painkillers were not only killing his pain but also all his inhibitions. He doesn’t regret sending that text though because it isn’t untrue.

Part two of the drama unfolds like an out of body experience when he actually finds himself dialling Eva’s number and he’s more than a little surprised when she actually picks up.

Truthfully, he can barely remember the conversation or what he even said. He can only hope he didn’t come across as loopy as he felt. Then William pops in unannounced nagging him about soup or some shit like that but then he hears Eva’s laughter rings out from the other end and immediately it feels like a weight’s been lifted off his shoulders. The conversation feels a lot lighter after that, he feels much more engaged even though the painkillers were still making his brain feel all fuzzy and Eva sounds like she was enjoying talking with him which immediately improved his mood sevenfold.

Eventually the blanket of exhaustion he could feel creeping up on him becomes too overpowering and he can feel his eyelids become too heavy to keep open but Eva’s still talking on the end of the line and he doesn’t want her to stop. He drifts off into sleep still hearing Eva’s voice in his ear like a soothing lullaby and when he wakes up the next morning the phone is still by his ear and he’s covered by a blanket he didn’t remember pulling over him before he went to sleep.

After that night their relationship somehow becomes slightly less complicated but at the same time even more complicated than it was before. Then William and Noora start dating or whatever it was they were both doing; William insisted that they were together but the eye roll and the glares Noora would shoot his way seemed to indicate otherwise. Whatever it was, Chris was not interested. He loved William and he wanted his friend happy, but the dude had an even more complicated relationship with girls than he had. At least Chris never indicated that he was interested in anything more than a hook up. Girls knew exactly what they were getting into with him—except Iben, that was a special case. Iben was pretty and she was nice and she seemed to genuinely want something more than Chris was able to give her. Maybe it wasn’t that he wasn’t able to, maybe he just didn’t want to.

But Eva on the other hand…

Eva confounded him. She wanted him but she didn’t want him, she wanted to hook up but she wasn’t sure if she wanted anything more and somewhere along the way it was like she’d taken charge of the relationship. She’d seek him out at a party for a hook up; it didn’t matter if he had another girl at his side waiting for a turn. She’d walk up, grab his hand and drag him off to somewhere more private and a little more closed off and he’d just let her. He liked it. There was something about having the woman take charge and set the terms that he found incredibly sexy. Maybe because he’d gotten away most of his life with doing exactly what he wanted, when he wanted and who he wanted without someone there to tell him to take it slow.

Eva never asked him to take it slow. She didn’t ask him to stop hooking up with other girls. She never said don’t do this and don’t go there and there’s been more than a few times where Eva had walked up to him in the middle of kissing someone else and she’d been a little too nonchalant about it; waiting for him to finish before hauling him off with cheeky grim and the tell-tale flushed look of someone who’d had a little too much to drink.

It had turned into something of a routine; making out with Eva in the backroom of a party and parting ways the moment the party ended and rinse and repeating all the same steps every next night.

Truth was, he liked it.

He liked her.

His only problem at this point was that he wasn’t sure if she actually liked him back the same way. She hadn’t indicated actually wanting anything from him beyond their sordid hook ups and their flirty glances when they pass each other on the street. They didn’t message each other often, only to the point facts about what party to meet up at and when, the occasional good morning texts, but nothing like the ones that started their whole unconventional relationship.

He was angry scrolling through pictures of him and William on his phone the other day when Eva rings him out of the blue. It was an unexpected deviation in routine because outside texts and PM’s they hadn’t actually talked on the phone since the night he called Eva while hopped up on drugs.

“Did someone get beat up?” he asks first thing before she could even get in a hello.

‘What?’

“I mean last time we actually talked on the phone was when I got beat up, so I was just wondering what’s the occasion this time?”

Eva seems to hesitate on the other end and Chris feels a little bad. ‘Nothing. Can’t I just call to say hi?’

“Sure…hi.”

The silence resumes and Chris doesn’t know whether to be confused or concerned. There was no real reason to be; they weren’t together, so she couldn’t be calling to break up with him. They weren’t attached to anyone else, so she couldn’t be calling to tell him not to say something to someone.

‘No, that’s not true—actually, there is a reason I’m calling. Actually—uhh, I was just calling—you see, my friends are hosting a Kose party this Friday, at Isak’s place. And I was just—uh, wondering, whether you wanted to come. With me. I know it’s not your scene and you’ve graduated and it’s not your kind of party but I actually would really like it if you went. With me.’

This time the silence is from his end as he scrambles to process what she said and to find the words to reply.

A Kose party? Him? Him and Eva?

He doesn’t think he’s actually ever been to one. Invited. He’s positive he’s crashed more than his fair share back in school, but a Kose party of all things? What do people even do at those things? Mull about and talk about their feelings? Chat? Snuggle in front of the fireplace and share stories about their sad childhood?

His mouth says, “Sure,” before his brain can even come to a logical decision.

But this was Eva and she asked him. She thought about him when she was considering who to go with. She didn’t just wait to stumble across him there, drunk off his ass and her drunk off her ass and drag him off to a dark lit corner of the room. She actually had no obligation to do anything whatsoever, but she called him and invited him and sounded like she was actually nervous that he’d say no, if indicated by her almost relieved sigh when she said, ‘Really? So you’ll come?’

“Yeah, sure. Sounds like fun. Plus you’ll be there. Maybe I’ll get lucky.”

‘You’re an asshole,’ but there’s not bite to her words just like there isn’t any real spice to his. He can almost hear the sound of her smiling through the receiver of the phone and lets out a smile of his own.

“I’m your asshole though, since you invited me.”

‘So…I’ll see you there? Do you know where the apartment is?’

“It’s Noora’s apartment right?”

‘Yeah.’

“Then yeah, I’ve dropped William there a couple of times and gone joyriding in his car. Don’t tell him that though.”

‘Great! I’m—uhh, I’m really happy you’re coming though. I’ll see you there.’

“See you, Eva.”

They both hang up simultaneously and Chris doesn’t think he’s ever felt so warm and squishy on the inside then he did at that moment.

The rest of the week passes by in a blur. He can’t wait for Friday to arrive cause the whole week hadn’t been kind to him in the slightest. He got into a fight with his parents over something or another which already damped his already sour mood. And then William says that he isn’t going to be back until New Year’s, which succeeded into pummelling him deeper into the gravel of bad mood. The only bright spot was looking forward to the weekend and spending time with Eva at the undoubtedly boring ass party. That and the alcohol. He was going to get wasted as fuck and hopefully he and Eva could find some dark closet or a deserted corner or something.

That brings him back to the present moment, still staring stupidly at the choice of outfit he’d laid out in front of him. In the end he settles for a plain white t-shirt and shoves the Penetrator hoodie into the back of his closet again and grabs his favourite cosy black jacket.

Think of Eva, he chants to himself like a mantra to psych himself up.

He opts to walk the fifteen minute or so distance to the apartment instead of taking his car. Driving the car would lead to thoughts of his parents and he didn’t want that. His parents sucked. Driving the car would also lead to thoughts of William and driving him to the airport so that he could jet off to fucking England and leave him behind in the plane rotor dust. William fucking sucked. Everyone sucked and he didn’t need a reminder of that tonight.

Plus some fresh air never hurt anyone.

He wanted that line engraved on his tombstone because as it turned out, some fresh air could hurt. It could hurt like a son of a bitch.

At first Chris isn’t even sure what was happening. He feels a hard shove from behind and has to catch himself before he falls face first into the pavement. The moment he twirled around through he could feel the heat of a fist hitting him square in the face. This time he didn’t have time to catch himself or stop his quick descent. He stumbles a few feet into the dark alley he’d just passed before he finds himself eating pavement. There isn’t time to think or to process what was actually happening before he leaps back to his feet and this time manages to dodge the clenched fist coming his way before it became reacquainted with his already throbbing eye.

It was like watching the scene unfold in front of him in slow motion. Like a really bad black and white movie he’d seen before and hated but was forced to sit through again. The face attached to the fist that keeps coming at him is familiar. Chris remembers seeing the same smirking face looking down on him the last time he had a flurry of fists coming unapologetically at him and without mercy. This time though—this time his brain manages to process what was happening in that moment, his survival instinct kicked in like a lever being pulled and Chris manages to dodge a couple more blows, deflect a few and actually land couple of punches of his own. But there’s not time to feel smug about that. The guys face has lost all traces of the smug smirk and at this point he looks almost maniacal. There’s a glint in his eye that Chris doesn’t like. He’s felt fear before, one such incident involved the very person before him but even then it didn’t cause the churning feeling deep in his gut.

Chris was afraid, and he had a feeling that he wasn’t going to be so lucky this time. That he wasn’t going to get out of this fight in one piece. It was a sobering thought and a sobering feeling that he didn’t get to dwell on for long. He lands a punch on the guy straight in the middle of his face, but it didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest. The next moment though…the next moment feels almost like a dream.

There’s an agonizing, burning feeling that erupts suddenly in the left side of his stomach. His brain had never had to process such an intense feeling of pain that his entire body suddenly feels like it just shut down. It drives the breath from his lungs and he can’t move. He can’t inhale oxygen or unclench his fist. Everything from his stomach down feels numb, like it isn’t even attached to the rest of him and he can barely keep his legs under him.

Then all of a sudden the pain intensifies; like a dam unleashing a river of pain and blood. He’s afraid to look down because he’s sure he’ll see all his organs and his intestines splayed out on the dirty pavement below.

At this point, his legs can’t him upright anymore and he drops heavily onto the ground. His entire existence is pain, so much that when he feels a foot make contact with the side of his chest, rattling his ribcage and throughout his whole body, the pain feels almost like a blessing because it momentarily distracts him from the agony in his side.

He can’t breathe. He can’t get his arms under him to push himself up. He can’t do anything but lay down on his side, grasping desperately to the area of his stomach trying to stop the fluid leaking out of his body.

His immediate instinct is to grab his phone and call William, because William will come and William will do something. William will fix this. He can’t remember what exactly he wanted William to fix but his thumb finds the speed dial button without him even having to look. He can’t remember how to use the phone all of a sudden. Just the simple effort of getting his phone in the general vicinity of his ear feels like he just speed walked a fucking marathon. He’s out of breath, he has no energy, he can barely keep his own eyes open but he hears William’s familiar voice calling his name from the speaker and he opens his mouth to answer but he can’t get his vocal chords to work. He feels his lips move but he’s not sure if he’s actually getting words out. He still hears William voice, the playful tone in his voice when he answer now turned into something closer to confusion and quickly morphing into fear.

He wants to tell William he’s fine. He just needs a little help or for William to come pick him up because he doesn’t think he’ll be able to make the walk home, or wherever it was he was headed to. He can’t remember. He was supposed to go somewhere. Maybe he was supposed to already be somewhere. He forgot.

There’s someone he’s supposed to remember but his brain’s all foggy, and the blaring coming from his phone isn’t helping either.

He doesn’t remember setting his alarm so why is it ringing and why is it so loud? He can’t reach over to switch it off and it’s annoying the hell out of him.

He can’t even lift his arm up to reach over to his side table and knock the clock the fuck off.

His side is wet and there’s liquid dripping down his stomach and through his fingers. He doesn’t remember getting to bed while wet, or did he piss himself in his sleep? That would be embarrassing as hell.

He can barely keep his eyes open and he can feel himself drifting off to sleep. Is it his bed time already? Did he even have a bedtime? Wasn’t he just talking with Eva? But he just called William.

He can’t think straight.

He tries moving but he can’t. Every time he shifts he feels stabs of agony shooting up and down his body. It steals the breath from his lungs and makes him see stars. He opts to not try that again.

Eventually the sweet lull of sleep becomes to enticing. He doesn’t even remember closing his eyes.

Death feels oddly tedious.

There’s not bright light, no virgins, no big gate at the end of a walkway made of clouds. There’s just him and the perpetual chill deep inside his spine.

He can’t remember if he switched off his stove that morning.

He’s so cold but he’s also sweating. He can feel the droplets of sweat trickling down the side of his face. It’s such a bizarre feeling.

He just realized how lonely he really was.

He missed William.

He wonders if Eva already hung up the phone.

His alarm is still blaring.

He doesn’t feel anything and he finds comfort in that.

He wonders if his parents will miss him.

It’s so cold.

He doesn’t remember.

There are warm hands on him; touching him, holding him and suddenly they’re reaching into his abdominal cavity and grasping his organs in a clenched fist.

He recognizes that voice.

Then there’s only darkness.

He can’t breathe. There’s something in his throat and there are still warms hands on him. He tries not to lean into the touch. Moving is agony.

He can hear the sound of sirens in the background and he wonders what happened to which poor son of a bitch and where.

There’s a voice in his periphery and it sounds like Erik and the asshole sounds like he’s crying.

He tries calling out to Erik but he can’t get his voice to work. He can’t make a sound. He can’t breathe but he isn’t suffocating. The agony has dulled down to a pulsing throb but he still can’t muster up the energy to open his eyes to find the source of the noise around him.

There are hands on his hand and he’s laying down on a hard flat surface that doesn’t feel like his bed at all. There’s something in his throat and he can’t make a sound and all of a sudden everything feels too lonely and too scary.

He forces his eyes open and the effort takes too much out of him. He can’t remember what happened, but out of the corner of his eyes he sees a familiar mop of blond hair bent down over him.

The asshole is holding his hand and the whole situation is a little too intimate for his liking. He doesn’t remember what happened.

He blinks once and all of a sudden the familiar face is hovering over him and an unfamiliar one that pops into view. He tries focusing on his friends face but he can’t. There’s a spot of rust in the far corner of the space that looks like a croissant and he can’t focus on anything else. He feels breaths entering his lungs that he doesn’t remember taking. There’s something over his face and his mouth and something in his throat and he can’t speak, he can’t inhale, he can’t move and it’s a terrifying feeling.

But Erik is there and he finds a measure of comfort in his presence and he doesn’t remember anything after that.

The first thing he thinks about is sand cause it feels like he just swallowed a bucket full of the stuff.

His throat feels gravely and dry and he can’t swallow without feeling like the walls of his throat is made of two sandpapers rubbing together.

There’s a familiar voice that he just can’t place and small soft hands latching onto his. The first name that pops into his is Eva, but he knows it’s just wistful thinking on his part.

“Chris?”

But there’s that voice again and it sounds too real to be possible.

“Chris? It’s Eva. I’m here.”

It’s like she could hear his thoughts even when he himself could make neither head nor tails of it himself. But she’s actually there when he manages to force his eyes open. At least it’s a blurry blob that bears an uncanny resemblance to Eva anyway. She’s there right in front of him and he thinks it must be a dream. But why is she there and where exactly is there? He doesn’t know where he is or why Eva is there. He remembers he was supposed to meet her somewhere later. Or yesterday. He doesn’t know when he is or where.

“Wh…ere?” He asks. Or he thinks he asks. Eva says something unintelligible that his brain can’t decipher but he latches onto the word hospital and he can feel the rush of memories washing over him.

The Yakuza guy. The alley. Going to the Kose party. The fight. The pain and agony. Feeling too helpless and weak. Thinking of William. Wishing he was there.

The memories are almost too overwhelming, sending a stab of pain through his side and his chest and he can feel the rush of panic until another voice punches through the veil he was getting suffocated in and all the memories start fading away.

It’s a male voice.

And it’s William.

He knows he must be dreaming now because there was no possible way. William is half a world away. He just…couldn’t…

He peels his eyes open, not expecting to find anything, but instead he finds William’s concerned face looking down at him. There’s a warm feeling that rushes through his entire body when their eyes meet and he can hear the sound of his own heart beating inside his ear. Then William pulls him into an embrace; it’s strong and safe and Chris feels a wave of comfort wash over him and he releases a shuddering breath and closes his eyes, resting his head in the crook of William’s neck.

It was an overwhelming feeling of relief and joy and even the stabs of pain he was feeling in his whole body couldn’t take him out of the moment.

Until it could and Chris releases the grip he had on the back of William’s shirt and lets his hand flop back down onto the mattress. He was utterly spent. Even that small movement and the small amount of effort he put into it was exhausting.

“I’m so sorry, Chris.” William says and it takes Chris a long second to figure out what he’s talking about. “For letting this happen to you. Again. For being the reason this happened. It should have been me. I’m the one they want. I’m the one they always wanted. You always end up taking the beating meant for me. You’re always getting hurt because of me.”

There’s a myriad of thoughts going through Chris brain in that moment. There are so many things he wants to say to William; denial, reassurance, comfort. He’s not sure why William thinks any of this falls on his shoulder, he wasn’t even in the same time zone. But he can’t find his voice. His throat is too dry and he can’t remember how to form words. He looks over to Eva. He doesn’t even know what he’s looking for or what he expects her to do. But then Eva starts chewing William a new one and it’s both startling and hilarious but he can’t laugh because it hurts too much but for the first time it occurs to him that this is real. William is really there and so is Eva and maybe he isn’t as lonely as he thought.

Eventually he feels himself drifting off; he can barely keep his eyes open and it takes very little beckoning from Eva and Chris before he finds himself being consumed by the darkness. But this time he welcomes it with open arms. There no longer was any reason to be afraid. Eva was there and William was there and he knows they were going to make everything okay.

The next few days—he thinks its days anyway; it feels like days—pass by in a haze. Whenever he doesn’t feel so numb that it’s like he can’t even get his brain to work, it feels like his nerve endings were shorting out sending jolts of pain through his entire chest and side. The morphine feels like a blessing, even though it makes him feel all fuzzy and lost and although he can sense William’s despair from all the way across the room, he can’t concentrate enough on staying conscious to comfort him.

But Eva and William’s continued presence, their comforting words give him the strength to manage through the pain and the difficult recovery.

Eventually the doctors deem him fit enough to leave the ICU and the decision couldn’t have come sooner. He would have climbed the walls if he could after being cooped up in the small cubicle, staring at the white walls and the white ceilings and the white floors and the machines that lined the walls and hearing nothing but the sound of sick people and the squeaking of rubber shoes on the linoleum floor. Being physically injured was emotionally taxing on his spirit. Despite William and Eva being there, it didn’t help fully with the feeling of loneliness. The fact that it wasn’t something he was unused to, it didn’t mean that it didn’t feel just as isolating.

Being in a regular room would mean that maybe the others would finally be able to come and visit him; William told him they were there, that they’d been there the whole time and it causes a warm feeling to blossom inside his gut. Supposedly even Eva’s friends had come and Chris found that slightly more unbelievable.

The only downside was that Eva and William had to go out in the meantime and leave him to his own dark thoughts and the group of medical people who had just entered the room.

He tunes everyone out once William is out of sight; only giving obligatory one worded answers when they ask him things like whether he was  in pain or uncomfortable; whether he thought he could get up out of the bed and take a couple of steps. The crippling weakness he feels is sobering and he’s only glad that William isn’t around to see him.

Or Eva.

He still can’t really believe that she’s actually there. He always knew that there was something between him and Eva that was unlike anything he’s ever felt with anyone else before. It was confusing and he didn’t like feeling so confused about his own feelings.

But Eva was there, unflinching and steadfast, even though she had no reason to be. She promised to stay and she had even during the times when he wouldn’t have known if she’d left.

William was his best friend and even though he’d been acting a little dour towards the guy after their phone call the other day, he knows that the feeling was only temporary. It was always temporary. Even when they fought neither of them truly meant the words they’d say, if it ever even got to that point. Mostly they just annoyed each other until someone started shouting, usually profanities and they’d inevitably make up before the day is out.

So having William there, though surprising considering his current living arrangements, wasn’t all that shocking. Chris would have done the exact same thing if it had been William in his place.

But Eva was different. Eva didn’t owe him anything the same way he didn’t owe her anything. They’d settled whatever debt that had accumulated between them through the years and whatever came about from it was built on trust and a level playing field.

He realized that maybe he had been underestimating her all along.

The room he’s transferred to is spacious, with an actual window in the furthest wall opposite the door.

His parents weren’t good for much but at least the insurance they had for him paid to get the best treatment and the best care, and that included the decent enough hospital room.

He isn’t there alone for long; trying to adjust himself on the cool, crisp new mattress trying to break it in and get actually comfortable. It feels like he’s forgotten what being comfortable actually felt like.

There’s are a couple of familiar voices he hears coming down the hall; one he easily identifies as William and the other one—the other one he remembers hearing through a pained haze and a foggy mind and the voice that kept him from sinking all the way into the abyss.

“Bro.”

He hears himself saying when Eva, William and the familiar head of blonde hair pops into view. He was still having a tough time trying to get his voice to work, so he hope that word conveyed how relieved he really was to see his friend. He doesn’t remember much about what happened; William filled him in on the rest, including what Erik had done for him and everything he’d gone through trying to keep him alive and Chris doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to thank Erik for it.

Erik hugs him and he reciprocates as well as he can when he hears those words that make him laugh. “If you ever do that to me again, you’re no longer my bro.”

Laughing is torture and he definitely doesn’t want to try that again.

But seeing them there, William and Eva and Erik, knowing in his heart that the rest of the guys were probably out there in the waiting room, wanting to see him, it fills him with the almost foreign feeling of belonging; that there were people who cared about him just as much as he cared about them. He was looking at three of those people right now. It was a reassuring feeling and for the first time in a long time, Chris feels like maybe he really isn’t alone.

tbc.

Next ▶

[emo-ade]

1-9-17, 11:55 PM

so i’m gonna throw it back to junior year prom because that was a messy time and i feel the diary excerpt is iconic. please do not judge this story bc it is word for word what was written in my diary on this date.

~

5-8-16

I’ve been on an emotional rollercoaster this whole weekend. So much went down. So little of it made sense. I’m just gonna talk about my day yesterday, from start to finish. So. I woke up at like 5:15 AM. Texted Swetha. She’s like yo I went to the hospital last night but I’ll still do your makeup. I’m like aight. I head out around 7:30 to go take the SATs. That was rough. I get done around 12:30 PM. I come home. Grab all my shit. Head to Swetha’s and she does mine and Giada’s makeup. We look gucci. I go to Riley’s. His mom does my hair. It looks hella fucking good. I get changed, we take some quick pics, then we go to Marisa’s. Riley’s saying shit like “my prom date looks amazing” and whatever. We get to pictures. The poses are SO touchy. It’s kinda scary. He keeps making sexual innuendos. God. Riley is so much. Anyways, we decide to take pics at a park nearby, and we had to go into this wooded area. I didn’t want to walk through the dirt and stuff, so Riley quite literally sweeps me off my feet and carries me back to the parking lot. At this point I’m like well shit, I’m fucked. But wait! There’s more! We head to Fujiyama’s for food. Lit. He literally FEEDS me. Tells me I’m slaying for the 100th time. Then I’m like “hey we should pregame,” I have stuff. We get Dutch, mix our drinks, and drink when we get to the parking lot. We go in, j chillin, we get pictures, then head tot he dance floor. Here I’m loose and all, it’s pretty chill. Then, a slow song comes on. Riley asks me to dance, but it’s very awkward. I’m like tipsy, so I get annoyed with him for some unknown reason. He pulls me off the dance floor, we head into the school, and takes me into the custodian closet/storage room. He pulls out some chairs and is like “Adrienne I’m not letting you leave until you tell me what’s wrong.” I’m like “boi I ain’t telling you shit.” So we sit there for a while arguing, and then I’m finally like “okay. I like you again. You’re acting so nice and it’s making me feel shitty and I want to hang out with you more and be more than friends but not a relationship.” He’s like “I like hanging out with you too. But I don’t want a relationship. I’m leaving for college soon, and I don’t want to hurt people when I leave. He told me he knew someone last year who had a thing with a senior and when that boy left she was torn. He told me he didn’t want to do that to me. And then I told him about how I wanted Dax to slow dance with me at Tolo but he didn’t. And that I was sad that Riley didn’t want to dance with me. So he takes out his phone, starts playing “All Star” by Smashmouth, and we slow dance in the closet. Here we are, two dysfunctional and confused teens slow dancing in a storage room. It’s so genuine, so sweet, I don’t even know. We stay there and dance for like 30 minutes straight. As we’re about to leave, he makes sure I’m okay and we walk out. We go back into the dance, and everyone wants to leave. So we head to coat check to grab Riley’s jacket and he holds my shoes for me and we head out. On the way out, the lady at the exit offers us tickets for souvenirs. The tickets say “A Night in the Park.” He’s like “Adrienne, did this feel like a night in the park?” I’m like “no not really.” So everyone leaves to go have fun and Riley and I head to our local riverside park. We get there, and we start walking. He puts his jacket on me and puts his arm around me as we’re walking. We find a bench, then sit down. He puts his left arm around me and right hand on my thigh. So we sit there looking at the sky and the river and enjoying the serenity of it all. We talk. A lot. We talked about how he’s never kissed a girl. I tell him about the guys I’ve kissed and how I’d take them back. How I wish I could take back my first kiss. And how I don’t count them all. And how I wish I’d never kissed anyone because I wanted to kiss someone deserving of it. Riley’s like “that’s not true.” He’s a senior about to go to college and he’s never kissed someone. We just talk. I talk about sex and how I would do it because I’m extremely horny all the time (I didn’t say it like that, but it was implied), but I wanted it to mean something. I told him about Andrew and my father and life. He tells me that he’s gonna have to trade the beautiful weather for rain in Seattle and how he’s gonna miss our town and me. He tells me about Amanda and how dumb she is. He tells me that at least I have a personality and we can have deep conversations. The whole time we’re holding hands, cuddling, I don’t really know. He buries his face into my neck, and we’re just sitting there with him breathing on me. He held me like he’d never let go. I know it’s sappy, but this is my diary so who tf cares. It was such a nice feeling. Honestly, the night was like a movie. I still don’t believe it happened. It’s just wow. Well I had to be home by 12 AM so we left and he took me home. On the ride home. he was telling me about friendship and how yeah, he thinks a lot of girls are pretty but he’s just friends with them. e.g. Marisa, Andrea, Ryan Lysher. I don’t know what he was getting at. You don’t have a night like that and consider us ”just friends.” You don’t treat a girl like that unless you’re in love with her. I sound like a hopeless romantic right now, but from an objective point of view it looks like he likes me. That’s all I’m saying. So I’m just as confused as ever. And I don’t know how to interpret what’s going on. That’s the end of my story. Analysis is still to be determined.