#but more like a whole one shot

[steddieas-shegoes]

For the requests: traumatized steve & eddie going to a wolf sanctuary and eddie watching steve basically live with the wolves in their area. And the one wolf,the one that hated everyone, the one who meaner and didn't get along with anyone to its cruel abusive situation (perhaps it was raised from puppyhood and onwards by people who used it in dogfighting, before it was rescued, that wolf, goes right up to Steve and sits by him. Giving him comfort. When Steve has bad nightmares he goes to that wolf's pen and they sleep cuddled together bc that wolf also has nightmares. (It can also be a wolfdog)

AS ALWAYS YOU COME THROUGH WITH SOMETHING FUN AND CREATIVE AND AS ALWAYS I MAKE IT EMOTIONAL AS SHIT!!! I was feelin' some type of way yesterday and started on this at peak emotional upheaval, which is really something I don't recommend. As many things tend to do, this got away from me and I think I could've still let it keep going, but I had to cut it off. Hope you love it!!! - Mickala ❤️

-----------------------------------------------

It was Robin’s idea.

She knew therapy wasn’t working. She knew firsthand that the nightmares, especially Steve’s, were impossible to handle some nights.

She stayed with him enough after the Russians to know he was averaging four hours of restless sleep on a good night.

And now that he’d seen the horrors of the Upside Down, and Eddie almost dying, and Max almost dying, and the guilt of just existing, they were worse.

Eddie had them, but he was usually able to calm down relatively quickly, usually even fall back into a dreamless sleep after.

His problem was just seeing the bats everywhere, even when he was awake. A large bird would fly by and he was ducking for cover like a bomb would be dropped on him. He’d hear screeching, sometimes even just kids yelling at the park, and he’d have a panic attack.

Drastically different problems, but Robin said this could help with both of them.

So Steve and Eddie stood outside the wolf sanctuary, staring at the front office entrance where they were told to check in.

They glanced at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move.

It’s not that they were scared. They’d been told about the process on the phone in great detail, the sanctuary director answering all of their questions in a friendly tone.

She’d said that the wolf sanctuary had been used as a form of therapy for people for years now, though many psychiatrists didn’t consider it an appropriate treatment.

Considering Steve and Eddie had been seeing a professional psychiatrist for months now with no progress and serious weight loss and migraines from their prescriptions, they were willing to give this a fair shot.

But their fear that it wouldn’t work kept circling through their minds.

If this didn’t work, they weren’t sure what else they could possibly try.

That was terrifying.

They were supposed to stay for a month, with the option of extending the stay if they felt they needed it.

It was expensive.

But this was on the US government, and Eddie was always quick to spend their money for his benefit.

Steve was just along for the ride.

They walked in together, both nervously looking around at the chairs and desks, bookshelves, pictures of wolves and mountains on the walls, and one small, gray-haired woman at the front desk.

“Oh, aren’t you two precious! Which one’s Steve and which one’s Eddie?”

“I’m Steve,” Eddie smirked as he held out his hand.

Steve smacked his arm.

“He’s Eddie, and he’s probably gonna be this way the whole time. Sorry in advance,” Steve told the woman.

“This is wonderful! You’ll be fun to have around. I’m Fran, I run the front office. I spoke to you the other day on the phone a bit about the check in. Are you boys ready?”

They both nodded.

She clapped her hands together in excitement.

Steve could tell Eddie loved her. She was full of theatrics like he was, every word punctuated by an exaggerated movement.

“First, the boring part. We did some of the first part over the phone, but these packets need to be filled out completely and given back to me. You can have a seat anywhere to do those. When that’s done, I’ll show you where to bring your bags so you can unpack and get comfortable. We can do a tour before dinner.”

She placed the packets on the desk in front of her, then took two pens out of a mug and placed them down too.

“If you have any questions, let me know. You two are just the cutest!”

She walked through a small doorway a few feet behind her desk and they grabbed the packets to start filling them out.

The first page was basic personal information, which had been filled out already. The second page was emergency contact information and how they were referred. But the third page is where it got difficult.

It has questions like “What is your worst memory?” and “Who is the person you would most expect to protect you in a life or death situation? Why?”

And while Eddie and Steve could probably answer those easily from terrible experiences, there was a lot they weren’t allowed to say.

So they just stuck with the official government stories for any and all Upside Down related parts, which was most of them.

Fran bustled back in, two steaming mugs in her hands. She set them on her desk carefully and then walked over to where Eddie was sitting.

“How’s it going?”

“Good. Almost done,” he smiled up at her.

“And you, dear?” She asked Steve.

“Good. I’m sorry I write kind of slow.”

Steve’s face was red, like he was embarrassed. Eddie watched as he focused on the paper in front of him, his hand moving slowly across the paper.

Steve’s concussions had a lot of lasting effects; migraines and one ear that was barely working, the occasional speech delay, and an inconvenient struggle with writing, especially if it was answering questions about himself like this.

Eddie distracted Fran as he wrote his last answer, talking to her about her favorite part of the sanctuary and how long she’s been working here.

He handed the packet to her when he was done, glancing over at Steve to see he was just starting on the last page.

“Hey, Fran, would it be okay if you helped me get our bags from the car while Steve finishes up?”

Steve sent him a grateful smile as he continued answering the questions on the paper.

As he walked with Fran to the car, she touched his arm.

“He’s got a lot going on, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah. He’s been dealing with this a lot longer than I have,” Eddie smiled sadly at her, touching her hand to accept the comfort she was giving and give some in return. “I hope this works for both of us, but I’d be happy as long as it works for him.”

“You care a lot about him.”

It wasn’t a question, and her tone wasn’t judging, but Eddie could just tell. He should panic, he should tell her it wasn’t like that. And it wasn’t for Steve.

But he’d been hiding it for so long, and somehow successfully, he couldn’t lie to her.

“I love him. He doesn’t know how much. I did this for him, mostly. I mean I want it to help me too, but I know he wouldn’t have tried this if I didn’t come and he,” Eddie sighed. “He needs this. He can’t keep going like he has been.”

Fran pulled him into a hug and he did all he could not to start crying.

“He’s lucky to have you on his side no matter what, darling. And I’d bet anything he thinks the same of you,” she said softly.

“I don’t think it’s quite the same. He loves me like a friend, but he’s not…not like me.”

Gay. He wasn’t gay. Or even a little into men. Eddie was sure of that.

Fran pulled away and just smiled at him.

“Okay, then. Let’s get these bags inside.”

They managed to bring everything in in one trip, and by the time they made it back inside, Steve was done with his packet.

“Alright!” Fran clapped her hands together in excitement. “To your room!”

Eddie’s eyes widened.

“Room? Like, just one?”

“Yep! The other room we have for long-term residents is already taken for the next few weeks. Will that be okay?”

She was smiling innocently at Eddie, who knew she knew why he was suddenly panicking.

“That’s fine. We end up sharing a room all the time, right, Eds?” Steve asked as he grabbed his own bags from the floor.

“Uh. Yep. Totally fine.”

“Great!”

She led them out the back of the front office, down the sidewalk that led to a row of small buildings.

“This first building is storage. The next one is the short-term stays, usually people who donate frequently to keep us running, staying for a night or two to see where their money goes. This next building is for long-term stays. That’s you two. It’s split into a duplex, so you’ll have basically a studio apartment in there. Kitchen, bathroom, living area with a sectioned off area as the bedroom. You each will have a key, but keep in mind that the director also has a key for emergencies. The janitorial staff only goes if requested, so let me know if you feel it needs a sprucing up or you need new sheets or anything. Fridge is stocked and gets restocked every two weeks.” She paused as they made it to the steps to the building. “Oh! We don’t technically have a curfew for the guests. You’re adults and we trust you on your journey here. But we do ask that you try to be back no later than 11, as we often shut off many of the trail lights by midnight to ensure the animals have the closest replica of the wild as possible.”

Steve and Eddie nodded, eyes wide at all the information being thrown at them so quickly.

“Your room has a phone of course. You’re free to use as often as you’d like. Pressing 1 gets you in touch with the front office, 2 is for security, 3 is for the director’s office. I recommend calling the front office unless it’s an emergency so we can get in touch with the right people for you. After your tour, you’ll have free reign over the entire sanctuary except for anywhere marked employees and volunteers only. That’s for your safety, of course. We encourage you to be a part of some of the educational tours and seminars that we offer to the general public as well as enjoy time on your own with the wolves. Volunteers are here every day from 9 to 5, and the employees who help care for the wolves stay until 11. We have security here 24/7, but the director usually has a couple people on staff remain after regular hours in case of an animal emergency.”

This felt a little overwhelming, but he could already tell Steve was more relaxed here than he’d been anywhere else since he met him.

“I work when they need me, but my home number is by the phone in there for you just in case you need a chat. I retired a couple years ago so I spend a lot of my time at home with my dog. You’re never a bother, okay?”

They both nodded.

She hugged them both, handed them their keys, and started to walk away.

“Your tour will be in about an hour. James is running it today. You’ll love him!”

She was gone before they could even respond, so they looked back to each other and shrugged before heading inside.

The main door was unlocked, but the door inside marked with a “2” was locked. Steve unlocked it and pushed the door open.

The apartment was nice, but small, smaller than either of them had expected.

“Guess we’ll be getting pretty close for the next month, huh?” Steve joked.

Eddie’s heart was in his throat.

He could see the “bedroom” from where he stood. It was one queen sized bed. One.

“Um. Yep. Guess so. I can take the couch,” Eddie rushed out.

Steve clearly hadn’t seen the sleeping arrangement yet or he would have probably offered. He’s a self-sacrificing idiot, so Eddie had to rush to offer before he could.

“What? Why?”

Eddie gestured towards the bed.

“There’s plenty of room for both of us, dude. A month on the couch isn’t exactly gonna help with the nightmares.”

“It looks pretty cozy.”

Steve just stared at him, brows raised like Eddie was an idiot.

He was an idiot, but he didn’t need Steve thinking it.

“Eddie. Seriously. We can share a bed.”

Steve wouldn’t let him win, it’s just not who Steve was.

“Okay, okay! Let’s just unpack so we can go see some wolves or whatever.”

They unpacked in silence, Steve taking the spot closest to the door without Eddie having a choice.

Self-sacrificing idiot.

—--------------

James knocked on their door at exactly 4:00, like he’d been standing there waiting for the clock to change over from 3:59.

“Hello! I’m James. You’re Steve and Eddie?”

They all shook hands and James started explaining things quickly.

James was only a bit older than them, wearing a volunteer shirt that had seen better days, and had the energy of Dustin.

“So! I’m gonna show you the lay of the land, you can ask me questions, I can try to answer them, and then I can drop you off back here so you can eat. The first night can be a bit of an adjustment, so feel free to give me a call if you have trouble. My number is under Fran’s,” James spoke rapid-fire, but not so fast they couldn’t keep up. They were used to that, anyway.

“So to start, everything you guys really need is along this main trail.” He pointed the way they came earlier and then the other direction. “That way leads to our nutrition area for the wolves, which you are welcome to visit anytime during the day to help or feed some of the rehabilitated wolves in the building nextdoor which is the hospital. The hospital is only open to the guests staying here and employees from 12-5, just because much of the mornings are spent performing surgeries or checkups. You’re encouraged to spend time with any of the wolves there in recovery as it helps their spirits much like a person. But if you take the left at the fork in this trail, you’ll be led to other trails. The first one is the wolf enclosures, which I’m taking you to now.” He kept walking as he spoke, moving his hands constantly, big smile keeping Eddie and Steve enthralled.

“We have one specifically for the ones we’ve rescued who are still healing from injuries, and that one is off limits to everyone between dusk and dawn. Many of these wolves are relearning how to be wild and part of that is using the night to hunt. Being in their cage during those times could be dangerous. They wouldn’t necessarily eat you,” he paused to laugh. “But they may take a bite. Now! The second enclosure is where we keep Herald. You can laugh at his name.” Eddie let out a small laugh.

“Herald had a rough upbringing. He was rescued about six months ago from a traveling circus that had abused him for at least a few years. We think he’s about 5 years old, but can’t be 100% certain. He’s hesitant around all people, even the director. He can be very unpredictable, so only the director, vet, and head nutritionist are allowed in there. You’re welcome to visit from the outside anytime you’d like though! He’s shy, but it can’t hurt having people talk to him.”

James was walking pretty quickly, and if Steve wasn’t so in shape, he’d be struggling. He looked over at Eddie. Eddie was struggling a little, but didn’t want to stop or slow down.

“And the last enclosure is for the rest of the wolves. These are ones that may be reintroduced to the wild soon or who may have been rescued without injuries, but just aren’t ready to go yet. This enclosure has a few areas for public access. The first being the feeding area, the second being the petting area. The petting area is only able to be accessed when employees or volunteers are present. The third area is only for guests staying long term such as yourselves.”

James walked them through a gate off to the side of the enclosure.

“This area is my favorite in the whole sanctuary. It’s their den area. It’s not recommended to come alone, and you should always go to the petting area to meet them first, but this area is nice for anyone who wants to feel like a part of the pack.”

“We can go in there?”

“Again, it’s definitely recommended to meet the wolves in the petting area first, maybe feed them a few times to show them you’re a friend, but yes.”

“Huh.”

Eddie watched Steve’s reaction.

This was much more involved than they expected to be.

“So that’s the enclosures! The next part of this trail leads to a walking and biking trail that is a great way to see some nature without having to leave the area. It’s snake season, though, so make sure you know your snake safety beforehand and bring the provided whistle with you in case of an emergency. Volunteers and employees are always within hearing distance during normal hours and can usually respond within 3-4 minutes.”

“Could we go back to Herald?”

Eddie’s head snapped to Steve, who was looking at James with a kind smile.

“Oh. Well, sure. The only other thing I needed to show you was the trail leading to the lake, but we can go back after.”

So James backtracked, Steve and Eddie close on his heels.

They got to the enclosure with Herald, but didn’t see him.

“He likes to hide. Especially if it isn’t close to meal time, he doesn’t usually come close to the fence. His den is hidden away.”

Steve kept walking up to the fence as James spoke, Eddie watching and trying to figure out what was going on.

“Herald? You there?” Steve called gently into the fence. Wolves had excellent hearing, and he’d probably already heard them approach. “You can come say hi if you want to.”

Eddie stood next to Steve, looking out at the area in the enclosure. There was a good mix of forest and empty area, with plenty of things that were probably used as toys scattered around. He watched for any sign of movement, listened for any trotting over.

Nothing.

Steve looked incredibly disappointed, but James walked closer and gave them both a smile.

“Like I said, Herald isn’t very social and it’s nothing personal. He doesn’t even seem to like the director and all the wolves love her.”

But Eddie knew Steve. He knew that he wasn’t gonna let that shit go.

“Alright! Shall we head to the trail by the lake?”

Eddie watched as Steve sighed, but nodded.

—--------------

Steve cooked them dinner that evening, said it helped him relax and that he would feel more at home if he got into a routine.

Eddie wouldn’t complain; He loved Steve’s cooking.

He made a basic spaghetti dish, even toasted some bread and sprinkled some garlic powder on it to make garlic bread.

They sat at the small table by the front door and ate in silence.

“It’s really quiet here.”

Eddie looked up to see Steve staring down at his plate, biting his lip nervously.

“It’s kind of nice though. Peaceful.”

“Yeah.”

Eddie knew what he was worried about.

He was worried the silence would make him have more nightmares instead of less, that he’d be left with nothing to help him if this failed.

“Hey,” Eddie reached over and patted Steve’s hand that rested on the table. “I’m here, alright? You won’t be alone.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, only slightly relaxing back into his seat.

—--------------

The next day was relaxed.

They walked along the main trail after breakfast, happy to see Fran again and meet some new people.

They stopped at Herald’s enclosure, but still didn’t see or hear him.

Steve was disappointed, but it was hidden away when they were able to feed and pet some of the other wolves before lunch.

The wolves were all beautiful, clearly well taken care of, and even the ones still in recovery were cleaned, well-fed, and cared for by the team.

Eddie quickly had a favorite: Mabel. She was an “old woman” as the employee at the feeding area said. She was 12 years old, had been brought in from the side of the road after being hit. She had had a broken leg and many broken ribs, along with cuts that needed stitches. Not the worst they’d seen, but due to her being nearly 11 at the time, they didn’t expect her to pull through. She did though, and had quickly become known as the leader of the group. All the wolves respected her, it was clear even to Eddie and Steve. She was the first to the feeding area, the first to the petting area, and would often stand guard over the others as they went into the shared spaces.

She was light brown with gray speckled throughout, her scars visible, but mostly covered with hair.

Steve loved Mabel, too, but he still had his heart set on Herald.

Eddie wasn’t stupid. He knew why Steve was so fixated on him.

Someone who was abused and hidden away and expected to perform every day for crowds of people? Yeah, Steve and Herald had quite a bit in common.

He just didn’t want him to get his hopes up for nothing.

After lunch, they decided to walk over to the nutrition center, maybe learn something new.

It was educational, and fun, and Eddie said multiple times how much he wished actual school had been like this.

The nutritionists let them help set up all the wolves’ dinners, showing them portion sizes for each of the wolves, telling them what the wolves’ favorites were. How they celebrated birthdays for them.

It was fun. Steve even cracked some smiles throughout.

—--------------

That night was rough.

Steve had fallen asleep quickly, much to Eddie’s delight, but it didn’t last long.

Eddie was woken up not long after he fell asleep by whimpering. He glanced at the alarm clock by the bed. 10:38. Barely an hour.

He knew from experience that waking Steve up would just make things worse for him, so he gently set his hand on Steve’s side, the best support he could give right now.

It physically pained Eddie to watch Steve’s face tighten in fear and sadness, whatever his nightmare was this time painting a horrifying picture he couldn’t escape.

Steve had mentioned once that his worst nightmares weren’t even about reliving anything that happened. They weren’t anyone dying, though he had those too. They weren’t even him dying.

They were everyone turning on him, finally seeing he wasn’t worth their time or effort, leaving him alone in that big empty house just like his parents did. He said the worst part was when Robin and Eddie left in the nightmare. When they looked at him with disgust and said he wasn’t good enough for the kids, and he damn sure wasn’t good enough for them.

No matter how many times they told him that would never be true, he still had them.

Ten minutes went by, agonizingly slowly, tears falling down Steve’s face. Eddie was whispering words of comfort, hoping that somehow Steve could hear him, but knowing he probably couldn’t.

But finally, Steve’s eyes opened, the whimpering stopped, and he was no longer hearing and seeing what hurt him the most.

He sat up and wiped his eyes, but the tears kept coming and his breathing was still labored.

Eddie sat up with him, hand on his arm, thumb rubbing back and forth to keep him present.

“I think I need to walk it off,” Steve said, voice wet with tears still to come.

“Okay. Do you want me to come with you?”

Steve shook his head.

“No, go back to sleep. I’ll only be out for a few minutes.”

And as much as Eddie knew that was a lie, and knew he should probably go with Steve, he had to trust him.

He’d be safe. He had to be.

—--------------

Steve walked aimlessly up and down the main trail for 10 minutes, trying to breathe in the fresh air, focus on his surroundings.

It wasn’t working as well as he’d hoped, but it was better than staying in bed and letting Eddie see him like this.

Eddie was too kind, always. He was bright, like the sun and the stars and the moon on a clear night. He was everything. And if Steve let himself be too vulnerable, too much, Eddie would take that light.

He lost track of where he was going, his breaths coming in sharper pants now as he let more tears fall.

A noise made him freeze.

Leaves rustling.

He looked up to see Herald’s enclosure in front of him. And…

Herald.

Herald was huge, much bigger than any of the other wolves they’d seen so far. He was beautiful. Scars along his legs showing that he had been abused awfully before coming here, but the rest of him glowed with health. He was standing about eight feet from the fence, trying to hide some of his body still behind the bushes along the forest line.

Steve slowly made his way to the fence, his hands up to show he wasn’t going to cause any harm.

Herald didn’t come closer, but he didn’t back or run away either.

Steve counted that as a win.

He instantly slumped to the ground at the fence, his hands and head resting against the chain links like they were the only thing keeping him upright. Maybe they were.

Steve closed his eyes.

He was so focused on staying calm, he couldn’t hear Herald approach. But he suddenly felt a cold, wet nose against his head.

He didn’t panic, he didn’t want to scare Herald, but he realized suddenly that his fingers were very much easily accessed by sharp teeth.

He let Herald sniff him, then slowly looked up.

Herald was tilting his head at him, almost as if he was asking if he was okay.

That made Steve sob.

Herald jumped slightly, but then moved so he was completely against the fence, laying down so his warm body could be against Steve’s.

Steve slowly let his hands fall, reaching through the fence slowly to let them rest in Herald’s fur.

He felt the wolf sigh, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, I get it. Sometimes it’s nice to have someone care, huh? You’re so soft,” Steve whispered, knowing Herald was still not completely relaxed around him.

“You tired?”

Steve felt a little silly for asking a wolf a question, but he felt even sillier when he realized Herald had just moved his head up and down. It was probably a coincidence, but the timing was crazy.

“Me too. We should get some sleep.”

Herald huffed and rolled his head back against the fence.

“Want me to stay?”

Herald huffed again.

“Okay.”

So Steve stayed.

He sat down on the ground, back against the fence, and listened to the crickets and the steady breaths of Herald.

He was woken up by Eddie shaking him and a growl coming from behind him.

“Steve! Jesus, I thought you’d got lost or died or something.”

“How long have I been out here?”

“It’s nearly two in the morning!”

Herald was growling behind him, protectively pacing behind Steve like he would find a way to get through the fence if Eddie tried to hurt him.

“Hey, Herald, it’s okay. This is Eddie. He’s here with me. He’s my friend,” Steve said calmly, holding his hand through the fence so Herald could sniff him and see he was okay.

“Steve! Get your hand out of there. He isn’t friendly, remember?”

“Oh, please. He just slept by me for hours and let me hold his fur like he was a stuffed animal. He’s plenty friendly.”

Eddie just stared, jaw slack, as he realized Steve was right.

Herald was licking Steve’s hand, leaving his scent on him like he was trying to provide as much protection as possible.

“You made friends with the only wolf here who hates people. Unbelievable.”

“Hey, be nice. He just needs some love is all.”

Eddie nodded. Yeah, him and another person with a name that started with S and rhymed with sleeve.

Eddie’s heart had been racing for the last 15 minutes since he woke up and realized Steve wasn’t in bed next to him or anywhere in the apartment.

He finally took a deep breath, balling his shaking hands into fists and stuffing them into the pocket of his hoodie.

“We should head back inside, Stevie.”

Steve seemed to notice Eddie wasn’t doing so great.

“I’m alright, Eds. Hey, look at me.” Eddie looked at Steve’s face, the way he seemed more relaxed than when he first left after his nightmare. “I’m okay. I must have fallen asleep.”

Eddie took a deep breath, resting his head against Steve’s shoulder as he let it out.

“I thought you were gone.”

“Nah, you can’t get rid of me now.”

“No?”

“Nope. Herald and I are just good friends, but you’re still-” Steve cut himself off, but Eddie wasn’t going to let that pass.

“What?”

“Nothing. Not important.”

“Yeah it is. Tell me.”

Steve seemed nervous, and Herald must have sensed it because he let out a low growl.

“It’s just that you mean a lot to me. Kind of everything, actually.”

Eddie couldn’t breathe.

What did that even mean?

Steve’s hand was suddenly in his hair, playing with the ends the way Eddie did when he was nervous.

“You’re just. I mean, how could you not mean the world to me? You dropped everything to come here with me because you knew I wouldn’t do it alone, Eds. You bring me candy at work even though I literally have access to all the candy I want at the counter. You let me find reasons not to watch the scary movies on movie nights when Dustin picks because you know I can’t handle them. You swim in the pool with me alone so no one knows how much I still hate it. I…you’re just…”

Eddie didn’t let him stutter any more, knowing what he was saying without actually saying it.

He knew what Steve was afraid of, and he wasn’t going to let him be scared anymore.

“Steve. I love you. That’s why I do all that. I love you. I’m in love with you. You deserve more than what I can give, but I can keep giving you all of the love I have, and hopefully that will be enough.”

Steve’s lips were on his before he finished speaking, teeth clacking together at the force of it.

Herald huffed, but they didn’t stop. Eddie didn’t know how he was supposed to now that he had Steve’s lips on his.

He never wanted them gone.

His hands reached up to Steve’s neck, cradling his jaw between them as if he was holding something precious. He was.

“I love you so much,” Steve said against his lips, melting against Eddie.

“I love you, Stevie,” Eddie said back. He planted another soft kiss to his lips before resting their foreheads together. “Let’s go back to bed, okay? We can come see Herald after breakfast.”

Steve nodded and turned to Herald.

“I’ll be back. Don’t hide from me, okay?”

He reached in to give Herald’s head a scratch, and Eddie shook his head in disbelief.

It took less than 48 hours for Steve to have the one wolf in this sanctuary who didn’t like people completely wrapped around his finger.

But Eddie could relate.

Steve’s charm was damn near impossible to resist and now he didn’t have to try.

[copia]

endless ghifs 18/? ⛧ source — "the ancient serpent deceiver..."

[emdotcom]

Yeah, so while I was on my "I'm going to read into Vanny/Vanessa as much as possible" journey, I noticed an odd quirk in her animations in how she moves. At first, I thought it reminded me of a ballerina, 'cause she's kinda tip-toeing, & she has this way of keeping her head & chest in one place as she moves, but I looked again & realized --

That's not ballet! She's doing a tight-rope act. Like, look at this one:

This is like standing up on the wooden boards before you do the actual tight-rope walking, & the ring leader is hyping you up as you do some fun movement for the crowds. &, then, these:

These are all instances where she walks with one foot directly in front of the other. In that third, she's doing the "woaaah" wiggly-ass balance movements & everything, as if she's swaying up at the top of the tent, even though she's down on solid ground.

Idk, I feel like the way her feet are placed isn't accurate (pretty sure they should be pointed left & right, not both forwards...) doesn't make this 100% correct, but I like it. It also connects back with her first SB teaser, wherein she's up in the rafters.

[ghostieboii]

Hello weird al tumblr I hope my screenshots of george newman uhf please you /silly

[runninguplenorahills]

Actually the moment Gaten Matarazzo confirmed that Mike is in love with Will

I will never get over this lmaoo

[trekkerac]

htinkign about.... the better world dimension from journal 3.... i hope it gets revisited somehow because there's no fucking way it's all fine and dandy over there.

[ph7soy]

mega angsty grahamscott college AU fic❗❗

College was supposed to be a fresh start for Warren. A chance to rebrand his geeky high school self. Hell, maybe he’d even have a shot at being cool this time around. But of course nothing ever goes his way, because he’s Warren fucking Graham.

~ wc: 71k-ish ~ status: ongoing (chapter 11/?) ~ tags: enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, hurt/comfort, fluff/angst, coming-of-age

helloooooo to all five grahamscott shippers out there!! my super supportive gf (who is also my only beta reader) suggested that i promote my fic on tumblr so here i am;;

enjoy the vandalized driver’s licenses i made for warren & nathan + a lil what’s in my bag college student edition for these two dorks (clearly not hard to guess which belongs to who lol)

[eurodyne-d]

SIBLING SHENANIGANS. ♡

[wildsaltair]

BONUS

[hayaku14]

gymnast kaito x sharpshooter shinichi meet-cute in the olympics au

[dykedvonte]

Mini rant below and in the tags, the only time I’ll talk about this and my personal take on it.

The way people talk about hypothetical male Anya on Twitter and the idea of how Mouthwashing would play out if the genders were swapped makes me remember how people still don’t take sexual assault and rape with male victims with the same gravity, especially when the perpetrator is female.

[storge]

Story of Kunning Palace (2023)

[loversofthegrave]

teenage sammy grappling with his intolerable attachment to his big brother one shot<3

1998, South Carolina

Summer hits full on like a hammer, shrivelling the last spring grass into whiskers of pale straw. John has them situated this time in South Carolina in the middle of a buttfuck nowhere trailer park. Sam huffs out a whoosh wafting a strand of his shaggy, greasy hair and scuffs his knock-off beat up converse into the dry dirt, the path leading up into their new home for the next week or two.

John recites his customary speech, Dean nods, ‘Yes sir’ as Dean always does. He’s John more often than dad these days. John gave Sam a name when he was born then left, like a background actor in a movie, cut from the film roll. The rumble of the impala and he’s gone.

Spider plants hang from pots on the wide trailer porch. Chipped ceramic ornaments of butterflies and lizards were placed outside. Inside, the shabby floral wallpaper and checkered armchair. The tattered cotton curtains blowing gently, and the cross hung on the wall, wonky. It was like a polaroid from the 70s, all orange hues and clashing patterns.

“What a dump,” he said gritting his teeth.

“It’s not so bad,” Dean shrugs “Kinda cozy,”

Dean’s eyes like hawks observing their new home, finding quick exits, salting the windows and doors. Safety first, look out for Sammy, like the good toy solider that he is.

Sam knows Dean can’t help it, the urgency, the attentiveness, to keep safe, guard his little brother. Sam would be lying if he said he wouldn’t want it any other way, he hopes it’s a two-way street.

Truth is, being in each other's pocket is all they’ve ever known. Dean is Sam’s brother as much as he is his only friend, his father, his mother, all rolled into one. Dean's hands being a caress and a fumbling worry of a mother’s. Dean who changed Sam’s diapers, who soothed teething pains with nimble fingers, tender rocking's and forgiving scoldings. It was all him, not a woman with satin blonde hair and porcelain skin nor the man with the grief-stricken furrowed brows and whiskey sighs. No, it was the kid with the goofy grin and the shoulders weighed down heavy with more liability than a kid should ever know, now turned leather jackets and calloused hands, felon fingers, summers caress dotted upon the bridge of a nose. Summer has always been extra generous to him, he thought, kind of face that weighs heavy on a teenage boys heart.

Looking at Dean is like hallucinating like looking through the lenses of kaleidoscope, soft orange and pink hues from the sun dipping into the horizon of the late summer dusk framing his head like an angel but an angel in the flames. An angel that could be Gabriel but an angel that could be Lucifer too, like he would readily delve into the deep, dark hell as he would fly up to the lofty, illuminated places. And Dean would for Sam.

Dean was Sam’s first everything, and it’s no surprise Sam would want that forevermore.

Sam can’t help it, this craving, it’s insatiable, like an itch irritating him under new stretched teenage skin. If he itches and itches, scratches with blunt anxious bitten nails until he draws blood. But the blood he revels in, the curving, cutting and slaughtering himself to fit into the groove of Dean’s heart, he would do anything, and he knows Dean would do the same but not in the ways Sam yearns for. Sam knows, he knows it’s twisted, he knew as soon as he was enrolled in school and how not everyone else feels that way about brothers. But he doesn’t care, not when Dean is the only grace he was given in his world of destruction and ruin, his pure drop in an ocean of chaos. Damn it if the lord doesn’t forgive him, heaven and hell are just words to a hopeless boy like Sam. When his brother looks at him, he decides to wage holy war.

But Dean doesn’t know, not really, he knows Sam loves him but no more, no less, too frightful Sam would scare him fiercely, that he would leave Sam here, loose his grace, and what is Sam without his grace? Just an empty vessel, an angel damned from heaven, forever. Think he’s sick, corrupt, disgusting. Only Sam can be the one to know this about himself, swallow the key if he must. He tries his best to shelter away these parts from Dean, distancing ever so slightly, it just makes the craving worst, he thinks, withdrawal.

So, he lives with Dean, in his shadow. Watches him, envies him, wants to be him, wants to be with him, under him. Watches him waltzing around the kitchen with sultry hips after this week's easy fuck. Probably some white trash bimbo Sam thinks harshly, doesn’t know what it truly means to have him, a boy, a man, like Dean. He goes for anything with legs and a mouth in a 1-mile radius, puts it out to anything, anyone but Sam.

“You stink Dean,” Sam mumbles under his breath

“That’s the smell of champions Sammy” Dean grins, easy and careless, throwing a wink over his shoulder. Sam shoots daggers into his back.

This is their dance, Dad goes on a hunt for a couple of weeks, Dean and Sam are holed up in a shack and they pretend that this is their normal, habit, but it’s not, they we’re and forever born in motion. Dean enrols Sam into the local (another) high school, Dean gets a short-term job working with his hands to hold them over until Dad gets back, this time at the garage. They make small talk with strangers when necessarily and act according to their roles, relocates the suspicious eyes on Sam’s stitched up hand me down t-shirts and Deans violet blooming bruises from training and hunts, keeps social services off their back. But they fit in OK around this truckers town so Sam holds it rigid, this vexation, lewdness, this jealousy brimming. Puberty is fucked, Sam likes to blame it on that.

~

It’s Friday, the shutters of the trailer are open and wide. Sam’s in makeshift shorts that were once jeans that he cut at the knees one town ago. The radio is static, and The Mama’s & The Papa’s is being carried through the thick-cut air, ‘you've got everything I need, and nobody can please like you, you baby and who believes that my wildest dreams and my craziest schemes will come true?’

Sam’s growth spurt mixed with food stamp fed spindly legs are propped up on the coffee table barefoot, toes wiggling, as he shovels spoonfuls of store brand cornflake knock offs in his mouth. Dean comes in wafting of oil and summer sweat after being outside tinkering with the ford pick-up truck Dad sorted out with a local hunter before he briskly left. He slaps the bottom of Sam’s foot with his greasy rag. Sam grunts.

"Up and at 'em or you're gonna be late" Dean lectures, parenting.

Sam rucks on an old 1975 Black Sabbath tour shirt that used to be Dean's that used to be Dads, now faded grey and bobbling. Pokes his feet into socks with his right toe sticking out of the hole, laces up his shoes and climbs into the passenger seat of the pick-up. Dean drops Sam off at the Pine Springs High and told him he'd pick him up, told him to ‘give ‘em hell’.

Pine Springs High was full of scraggy kids, Beavis and Butt-head boys, girls busty and leggy. Sam befriends one friend, a skinny freckled boy with thick rimmed glasses. His name is Davey. They were sat next to each other in science, dissecting a frog. Sam figures cutting open this frog is harder than the ghouls they slaughter. What did this frog ever do to anyone? Davey was informing Sam on the anatomy, pointed out the chambers of the heart, the ventricle. He seemed interested in trying to impress Sam with how smart he was. "You know a lot," stated Sam.

He smiled. He was a boy who wanted to be seen. Sam suspects with certainty he’s not in these careless halls of teenagers reeking of hormones and wariness of social status.

High school is not as gentle with kids like Sam and Davey. But Sam can tackle it, give as good as he gets. That’s what he’s been trained to do, what their dad trained him to do, those sparring sessions with Dean every other day doesn’t go to waste, as much as Sam likes to grumble and whine. The decomposition ghost of a girl in a tatty white dress with fine needlepoint lace trimmings from the 1820’s has more oomph in her thump than any of these teenagers.

Even in a Gas-mart town like this one full of greasy kids with dirty fingernails Sam still is stared at by clusters of kids. Maybe it’s the adequate collection of bruising on his body from said sparring and Victorian decomposition, or maybe it’s the fact he’s an outsider (he’s always the outsider) but Sam doesn’t mind. Cleanliness and godliness are deceptive, he’d rather wear his wounds, his ugliness. No fooling, he was torn and stitched.

~

Dean picks Sam up, sees the mop of brown hair and downcast face amongst the sea of chattering high-spirited kids. It reminds Dean of when he encouraged him to go to a classmate's birthday party in kindergarten, timid little Sammy protested but Dean encouraged his little brother to go, nervy on all he was missing out growing up. When Dean went to pick him up at McDonald's he spotted him, dejected, eyes glazed over. Other children around him screaming and sliding into pits filled with coloured balls. It splintered Dean to his core.

When Sam is in arm reach Dean tousles Sam's hair, and he gets a whack of the hand and a gruff in response.

“How’d it go Sammy?” Dean asks, hefting himself up into the driver's seat.

“Fine.” Sam replies, quick, sharp. “And it’s Sam,” he stresses.

Dean doesn’t know what it is these days but there’s a slight ache, a gnawing. Sam used to look at Dean like he hung the stars just for him. That Dean was God’s own reflection but now there’s a distance, an interspace and he doesn’t quite know what to do with it. At first, he thought maybe it’s teenage hormones or pheromones or whatever the fuck, but Dean never remembers being that sulky as a teenager. Maybe he never got the chance. When he tries to touch Sam, he flinches, scurries away like he just spooked a rodent. Used to revel in it, they practically grew up in each other's arms. Was still sharing a bed in the motels until two years ago.

Dean would never admit it out loud to him, but he misses Sam. Misses that constant comfort of touch and affection.

They stop off at a local diner on their way back to the trailer park, Sam questions if they have enough money for the month to eat out, Dean tells him not to worry. All wooden panels, red and white checkered table clothes, a sign that reads, ‘lumber jack pancake special for $5.95!’ Dean eyes it up, breakfast at dinnertime, their lives never have rhythm or reason anyways. They slide into a booth of worn leather, Sam on one side, Dean on the other.

Sam orders a panini with ham and cheese and fries, Dean the lumber jack pancakes. When they arrive by a shy petite waitress with inky dark eyes and blushing blotted cheeks, Dean swipes a fry off Sam’s plate just to receive another swat. Any touch is better than no touch, bad attention better than none.

Sam doesn’t miss the way the waitresses' eyes linger on Dean’s profile. If he shoots a frosty glare her way Dean doesn’t have to know.

~

The sun with no forgiveness, a parched sky, the hillsides with purple wilting drifts of milkweed, dotting the cracks of the gas-station and garage. It was Saturday, Sam was at the garage while Dean worked. Tucked in a corner sheltered from the suns ruthless beat with his library copy of Catcher In The Rye he couldn’t return when John dragged them out of the motel inn at dawn a town back. Sam said he felt guilty, Dean told him to stop being such a law-abiding citizen.

He gazed at Dean, could smell his sweat, sharp and strong, a man, Sam’s brain applied helpfully. He was wearing overalls, wiping workman sweat from his forehead. Sam wanted to lick him, taste the salt and summer kissed skin. He knows he’s disgusting. At this rate Sam thinks he should stab his eyes out, so he can’t look. Burn his skin off, so he can’t touch.

~

The next Sunday, Sam sleeps in late. He finds Dean slouched on the floral couch, stretched out like a housecat watching TV. It’s always a rarity to see him in a relaxed stance, undisturbed, a recess to the constant chaos of their lives. It settles something steady and peaceful within Sam with just a hint of sadness. He mumbles a drowsy good morning and trudges to the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

He pisses in the toilet, sluggish, holds himself up steady with a hand against the tiles. The splash of his piss hitting the water too loud in the quiet murmur of their trailer.

Washing his hands, he moseys around in the medicine cabinet above the sink. Inside, aimless trinkets left behind by previous owners. Tweezers with a single gemstone on them, antibiotic ointment, outdated eyedrops.

Sam finds a small capsule behind an empty bottle of aspirin. He reaches for it, revealing a lipstick, the cheap kind you pick-up at Walmart for $5.

He holds it in his hand, stares. Turns it in his palm, opens the lid with a subtle click and rotates the base.

The lipstick itself is a cherry red, obscene kind of red. The type he sees on hookers lingering around the corners at motels when he slips out at dusk to buy Dr Peppers from the vending machine with the quarters Dean made him pocket.

The garish fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, whirring like insects as he watches them showcasing their chests and unveiled legs. They always look cold, Sam thinks.

Sam looks up and scans his face in the mirror, holds the lipstick close to his nose, sniffs it. It smells like wax and chemicals, half suspected it to smell like strawberries and an angel's kiss or something, screws his nose up.

Without much reflection he smears the cherry red lipstick onto his lips, it's messy and askew not as neat as he sees on the girls in Dean's skin mags. He sets down the lipstick onto the sink and looks at himself, really looks.

The glaring red on such a boyish face like Sam's feels lewd and indecent. He feels slightly silly, embarrassed, his cheeks stain a weak scarlet. He wonders what others would think of him like this, Dean, his dad.

God, dad would probably be appalled, call him a sissy, punish him by making him do triple the training. Make him run for miles under the blazing sun.

But Dean, what would Dean think of his little brother like this? If Sam just waltzed right out of the bathroom now and stood dead in the line of Dean's vision. Would he stammer? Get all flustered and struck-dumb? Would he look at Sam and think of him as those girls he promenades to the impala, the motel room when he thinks Sam's asleep and not hanging onto every grunt and sigh coming from Dean's throat. Stores them in the hollow of his heart, imprinted on it just as sacred as the Holy Bible is to a priest.

Would he want to tenderly caress the shape of his mouth, smear the lipstick, make Sam looked wrecked? He inspects the long plains of his body, like scorched landscape, bronzed from June’s boldness.

Sam’s been trying to get used to it, his recasting body. Finally losing his baby fat, almost catching up to Dean in height much to Dean’s dismay. Just he doesn’t carry the newly stretched limbs well, feels like a puppet and someone else is yanking the strings. He hasn’t thought about it much, how others perceive him, how Dean perceives him.

Sure, Sam’s had his first kiss and fumbled under a girl's shirt in Indiana last year, let him touch her boobs. She wore lots of eyeliner, wore black bulky boots and liked Alice In Chains. Sam creamed his pants as soon as he got a soft plump handful, she didn’t seem to mind so he tried not to feel too embarrassed. He couldn’t wait to tell Dean (lied to a reasonable measure) for him to be proud of him. Dean let Sam have his first beer after he told him, “Since you’re a man now,” Dean announced, “Don’t tell Dad,” He winked. Sam never tells John their secrets.

But other than that, he’s a bit clueless, still bashful when girls look his way. Isn’t fabricated like Dean, heavied bottom lip into effortless grin that make’s girls drop and fractures their porcelain hearts, little unconsciously brutal but never intentional to be so. Sam would let Dean smash him into smithereens, shards of broken ceramic all over the tiles, if he’d wanted.

He thinks about the woman who supposedly left the lipstick here, he decides it’s an older woman, barefoot in a simple dress in the tail end of summer, her feet and the palms of her hands showed pale pink against her sunburnt skin, looked ornamental. He decided she had many lovers, wore it for them, wonders if Dean would be one. Wonders what she would think finding out a gawky teenage boy was trying on her bygone lipstick.

Wonders what it would be like to wear this for Dean, his lover.

Dean compulsive, gluttonous with the want of Sam, gushing his hands over the sides of his body, the pull of his rutting teenage hips. The neediness he sometimes gets in that platonic brotherly way bordering on hysteria whenever Sam’s hurt. All his senses submerged entirely by Dean Dean Dean, his touch, his smell, his hot breath.

Sam shoves a frantic hand down his pyjama pants and briefs, wrenches his dick with crazed tugs. Comes that exact same time there’s rough banging on the door, Dean shouting, “Come on Sam, you’ve been in there forever!” rattling the door with his presence.

Sam leaps, grimacing at the mess he made in his pants, swiping a towel and cleaning himself up in rapid motions. Rubs off the lipstick with the back of his hand, scouring his mouth.

“You jerking off in their little brother?” Dean calls out, muffled slightly through the thick wood of the bathroom door, amusement laced in his tone.

When Sam is sure he’s cleansed himself of any misdemeanours and removed all crucial evidence he swings the door open and shoulders past Dean muttering, “No Dean, I wasn’t jerking off.” How much of that Dean believes is out of his control. He pockets the lipstick.

[rolandkaros]

forever hilarious to me that tennis is promoted as this prestigious highbrow big-brain sport when most tennis fans these days are like. yeah this is my favorite player. yeah i don't know why they're like that. yes they are stupid. no i will not choose somebody else.

[ruvviks]

Following the chilling conclusion of All That's Left's first season, Mac and Layla and their friends find themselves scattered across a divided Los Angeles a year after their successful return to town. Matrix Corp has taken control— "With humanity's best interest in mind"— but with our protagonists' knowledge of Opportunity's destruction and Houston's unexpected fall, they know better than to trust the corporation and its near military-sized security force. Closed district gates separate them from one another and a new threat lurks just outside the city's walls— but resistance is on the rise, and it is only a matter of time before truth comes out. [SEASON ONE HERE]

taglist (opt in/out)

@shellibisshe, @florbelles, @ncytiri, @roseeway, @stars-of-the-heart;

@lestatlioncunt, @katsigian, @radioactiveshitstorm, @estevnys, @adelaidedrubman;

@celticwoman, @rindemption, @carlosoliveiraa, @noirapocalypto, @dickytwister;

@killerspinal, @euryalex, @ri-a-rose, @velocitic, @thedeadthree;

@kanos, @swordcoasts, @ordinarymaine, @claudiawolf, @strafethesesinners

[unordinary-diary]

Blyke and John: Parallel Characters

I’ve written multiple entries about this,

[x] [x] [x]

But I’m back to make a comprehensive analysis about the glaring similarities between these two. I’ll try not to repeat myself here.

‼️SPOILER WARNING for the whole series‼️ but this mostly focuses on the story before John’s suspension.

Firstly, this scene:

ch. 121

This conversation takes place near the beginning of the Joker arc. It’s after John targets Zeke, after he targets Juni, and the day before he goes after Seraphina’s kidnappers. The timing is important.

“If someone hit your best friend, would you let it slide?”

That question is supposed to remind us what John does to people who hurt Seraphina: hunting them down and sending them to the hospital. Blyke shooting a destructive beam really close to John was an example of a trait they share: they both blow up violently when people mistreat their friends.

John’s downward spiral carries strong themes of hypocrisy. He’s angry at the world, he’s angry at himself, and as a coping mechanism, he chooses to believe that everyone else is as bad as he is. That means that most of the traits he hates others for are the same things he hates about himself. In this scene, Blyke is unintentionally calling out this hypocrisy: “What I did is no different from what you do”.

But Blyke’s just trying to connect with John here, he has no idea what John’s been doing. And John, of course, doesn’t give a shit about what Blyke has to say. This line was here for the audience to notice.

They’re both so similar, but their similarity immediately causes tension between them because, well, John was on the wrong end of Blyke’s protectiveness.

I really love the way this was written— there are so many flashbacks to this scene, but they remember it differently. John remembers the part that hurt him— he’d describe it as “the time that jackass shot a beam at me”. Blyke remembers the part that hurt him, or rather, hurt Remi: “the time that jackass hit Remi for no reason”.

Blyke and John are both hotheaded characters with strong ideals. They’re similar enough that Seraphina points it out:

(ch. 80)

As Blyke grows as a character, he becomes more like John: sticking up for low tiers and speaking out against the injustice in the world. But while Blyke is doing that more, John is going in the opposite direction, until they are fully opposed to each other.

Speaking of Blyke’s character arc, it took me a few rereads to actually understand what part of him changed. His kindness, selflessness, bravery— all of those things were there from the start. Blyke’s character arc was about becoming more aware of his surroundings, and how his carelessness can harm others. Blyke was never malicious, but after X-Rei and integrating more with the school, he becomes aware of people suffering around him and how he unintentionally contributes to it. He becomes less reckless, privy to the flaws in the system he grew up not questioning, and uses his power more responsibly. He even comes up with a more controlled way to wield his ability. The part of Blyke that changes is his maturity.

Part of John’s character arc is also about being careful. It’s not as close of a parallel as other things are, but one of the things that John works on during his redemption arc is holding back. Both of them learn self-control throughout the series, and for John, that means acting early before his emotions spiral out of hand.

Adding onto my first point about the two of them wanting to protect their friends— the fact that they can’t do that makes them both angry and desperate. For most of the story, the “block” that prevents John from protecting Seraphina is in his head. It’s his own trauma that holds him back. The block that prevents Blyke from protecting his friends is, guess what? Also John’s trauma! Parallels abound.

Another thing I noticed in Episode 80 is this:

Notice that when Seraphina says “I’d take that over strength any day,” John is looking at the camera. He’s avoiding Sera’s gaze. Seraphina is saying she prefers honesty over strength. John is very strong, and very dishonest, but Seraphina thinks the opposite because John is so dishonest. John appears to be reflecting on this disconnect.

In relation to this analysis, Seraphina is actually pointing out a major difference between Blyke and John. Beyond that, she’s praising Blyke’s traits, (less strong but very open) above John’s traits, (strong as fuck but a liar with his pants on fire). Furthermore, John really cares what Seraphina thinks of him. Knowing that she would think less of him is the main reason why he spent so much time and effort preventing her from catching his lies.

This leads into my main point here: Blyke is the “goody-two-shoes” version of John. Or, more accurately, the person that John wants to be. Blyke has a clean track record and doesn’t really get into trouble. He is respected and left alone by the school without being hated and feared, he de-escalates conflicts without taking things too far, he doesn’t lose control, he’s someone Seraphina thinks highly of, hell, even his grades are better! Blyke represents everything that John wants to be, and the person that he could have been if he’d gone down a different path.

But, crucially, John is also what Blyke wants to be. Well, not wholly, but his ability? His strength? It’s one of the things John hates about himself, but Blyke wants that strength so desperately that he risks his life for it over and over again.

They’re both desperate to be like each other, even when they hate each other the most. Neither of them have any idea how alike they already are.

I don’t know what Season 3 holds in store for us, but I do hope that John realizes that Blyke embodies who he wants to be, because mutual jealousy would be a very interesting dynamic to explore in my opinion. I also hope that it ends up being something they can bond over, by helping each other accomplish their personal goals. (Blyke being another helper in John’s character arc, and John helping Blyke train.)

A side note: John beat up Blyke four separate times. That’s more than any other character, which is interesting because John’s main rival is supposed to be Arlo. For reference, John has beaten Arlo twice, three times if you count the time when Seraphina intervened, and he only beat him unconscious once. But John beat Blyke to the point of passing out all four times, the worst of which being a shot clean through his chest. (shoulder? Unclear. S1 finale).

It’s odd, isn’t it? Out of everyone, Blyke is the one who John physically hurt the most. John’s only grudge against him is an old memory from episode 33, of an event that didn’t actually harm him. John’s grudge against Arlo is much more serious and again— that’s his main rival. So why is it that he’s so much more violent towards Blyke?

The problem here is that I’ve been thinking about these fights as “John picking on Blyke”. And that’s… kind of true? But while Blyke didn’t start any of these fights, they were all consensual in a way. He didn’t seek to fight John, nor was he ever happy about fighting John, but he was always a willing participant.

(138, 153, 206, & 211)

In three out of these four fights, John didn’t even expect to be fighting Blyke going into it. This is significant because while Arlo is John’s main rival, John absolutely fills that role for Blyke. Blyke’s own agency is what leads to most of these events. The reason, narratively speaking, why they fight so much is not for John’s character, but for Blyke.

For John, his reason for fighting Blyke so much is not narrative but moreso symbolic. John is angry at everyone and everything, but ultimately the person he hates the most is himself. It’s only fitting that the character most like him would bear the brunt of his wrath.

As John is having his positive character arc (suspension and post-suspension), he is becoming more like Blyke, and the two of them reach a point where they’re even more similar than they were at the start of the series.

In the Rowden amusement park, John does start to realize how similar they are:

(249)

Additionally, I want to draw your attention to the parallels between this scene:

Blyke and John’s argument in chapter 249

(which the image limit won’t let me add, scroll until you see red hair.)

And this scene:

Argument in ch. 121 (it’s at the beginning)

Two sides of the same coin.

Furthermore, in the S2 finale, Blyke is shown being taken to Keon. There is an implication that by Season 3, Blyke and John will share Keon-related trauma as well. Despite my pessimistic predictions, I do hope that this is a similarity that can bring them together rather than tear them apart.