#like i had definitely watched the episode once before but somehow i had fully forgotten about it

[bloodydeanwinchester]

guys im about to start watching 12x23 please wish me luck

[theminecraftbee]

Yeah, I knew it was unlikely for anyone to partner with a spirit from the start like Grian does, in fact my first idea for this was "episode where xB gets possessed by the spirit of Hiding or something and plot twist the episode doesn't end with him defeated, the monster is invisible by definition and after its conflict is done it can't be caught, plot twist xB stays like that for the rest of the season peacefully somehow, I guess that could mean somehow being a full magical girl who's just undetectable instead of having a transformation sequence, this could also power up his ability so Scar eventually forgets he even has that guy to look out for..." and then I couldn't think of any situation where a character whose whole plot point is staying hidden would do anything to cause the heroes to notice it enough for an episode to happen anyway, and then I imagined that first burst of all of them escaping, off to do various chaotic things, and then the one that's based on some concept that's naturally peaceful and quiet all along just calmly floats along until it finds someone who's used to being quiet and would be happy to be rid of what little attention he does get, so I thought it would be funny if the two just met and instantly agreed fully or however partnership works, like before the monster attacks have happened enough that xB even knows about them, you know?

That plus the "mysterious helper who may or may not know all the secrets but either way ends up not being a threat" trope and the "unremarkable background character with an inexplicably dedicated fandom" trope, it would work just as well to have him start appearing at any time but it feels funnier/more fulfilling to be able to look at this imaginary anime and have at least one frame of every single episode where he's visible!

oh hmmm that's actually a fun one. and to be fair, i think xb would be... rather happy to slip into the background, honestly. sure, this is all... a lot more than he'd prefer to deal with. but watching scar's crew deal with it has given him SOME idea of how to handle the fact he still has a spirit around, and being able to be invisible sometimes... it's useful. it's useful!

i think maybe he shows up in the background of some support group episodes afterwards and if you aren't paying attention it's hard to realize what's happening.

however i'm honestly still not sure how early in the plot we can have a spirit partnership here? i think maybe. xb is an early possession victim (maybe one of the first ones blackbird interferes with?) but the spirit escapes. xb sort of just slips away without letting anyone help him quietly because he manages to get unpossessed but he just KNOWS people are gonna be weird about the fact the spirit escaped. plus, he has unlocked a little more of his magical potential now. he can just... make himself disappear. he doesn't know why. it's not a partnership, so much as a potential he already had that, like a few other members of the plot (bdubs being out big example), due to a combination "wishing star getting closer" and "spirit possession", he can do even more.

and it's... nice. sometimes it isn't nice - he basically can't go out to eat unless he's with someone else, the waitstaff will forget he's there, and actually for anything he needs to be remembered for it's kind of a pain, but in a lot of life he just... slides in the background now. and if he really, really wants to be noticed he can mostly turn it off? but eh, he's an introvert anyway, as long as his small circle of friends still talks to him, he's fine. keralis and hypno and beef haven't forgotten he exists yet.

(hypno nearly forgets once. it makes xb's hair stand on end. he puts more effort into his side of the friendship with him for months afterwards. hypno's bemused. "you never texted back so quick before. what's gotten into you - monsters making you remember your mortality?" and it's... easier than the actual answer to go with that. hypno says xb should go to the support group again. xb doesn't say: they won't remember i'm there too if i don't make an effort to talk the whole time.)

its later in the plot, after... i had a timeline somewhere, but i think at LEAST after bdubs joins the squad and DEFINITELY after the "the magical girl crew fights the military" incident. it's then that the spirit of hiding reappears, and, drawn once again to xb's magic, despite the fact he's arguably more resistant to possession now, turns up where xb is.

and like... look. xb really, really doesn't want to get possessed again. because as nice as fading into the background is, he just... he doesn't want...

and they find themselves at an impasse.

xb gets this guy, is the thing. compared to other spirits, this guy doesn't do that much. it just... makes it easy to forget itself. to forget other people. and there's a horror in that, too, but there's also... xb can relate. before all of this started, he would have thought he'd be content to be entirely forgotten as well. it's just, the brief moment when someone he was close to had no recognition in his eyes -

"hey," xb says to the spirit that does not want to leave but that he doesn't want to let possess him. "hey. change of plans. how about we make a deal? i think there's something we can both offer to each other."

two days later, he slips into keralis's door and, once he finds the man, quietly sobs. he never says why. afterwards, he goes back to almost-normal. almost. if you aren't one of his friends, at least. his friends are... concerned. he's up to something.

xb assures them: he won't interfere that much. not his style. also, if he WERE to get noticed, he's pretty sure he might get dissected or something? so. much better to just... adjust from the background when he can.

he's sure it'll turn out fine.

[hiscyarika]

The Kings Who Are Gone

Word Count: 2.1k

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Reader

Summary: Reader visits the ruins of Sunspear after Dorne is conquered. Based on the song “Jenny of Oldstones” from Game of Thrones.

Warning(s): Heavy Angst, Hopelessness, Death

A/N: So this idea hit me at like one this morning and now it’s almost six. I can see the sun coming up but it’s worth it because I haven't been able to get my brain to write anything for at least two weeks, probably closer to three. Hopefully this is a worthwhile read while you guys wait for Landslide. There are a few different versions of this song. I listened to the score version and the episode version (Podrick singing it in 8x02) while I wrote. I definitely recommend the score version to play while you read, but I’d also listen to Pod singing it just so you have the lyrics. They’re pretty important to the plot.

Masterlist

Tag Lists

Gif by @bestintheparsec​ 

The sun has gone from Sunspear.

The crystal blue waters of the Summer Sea have turned black. Raging waves crash against the shore. There’s a violent wind whipping through the air, no longer the gentle, salty breeze that you had once known. Dark, ominous clouds swirl above you, split only by the lightning that threatens to tear apart the very sky. Thunder follows soon after, a deep cacophony that forms a wrathful symphony with the ocean.

The stories will tell of a light that was destroyed with Dorne, but you haven’t seen the sun since the day he died.

A shiver runs up your spine as your bare feet hit the cobblestone of the walkway up to the palace. What once stood as your home, full of love and warmth, now lies in ruins–devoid of all life. The only warmth you feel is from the tears that fall silently from your eyes, a stark contrast to the cold rain against your skin.

As you step inside, a deep ache swells within your chest. It’s an agony that has refused to leave you since the moment you watched the Mountain slaughter the man you loved. Though you suppose, in some sick, twisted way, you’re grateful for this anguish that has taken up permanent residence in your soul. It reminds you that he was real, that he lived a life just as vibrant as the sun and loved you with the same heated passion. And now, in the wake of his death, it serves as the only indication that you still live, that you still have the capacity to feel something.

You roam the halls with no particular destination, taking in the destruction that has befallen your home. Columns have been knocked down, allowing the rain to reach inside where the roof has caved in. Bodies of both Dornishmen and enemies alike lie on the floor, the stone painted red with blood. And banners, which once flew proudly with the sigil of House Martell, have been ripped apart and burned, the only relic that remains of a fallen bloodline.

You bring your hand to your mouth to stifle a sob. You’d never been given a chance to further the Martell line. After your marriage, he’d often told you about his wish to have a son. He assured you that he loved his daughters, and that they would be loved no less than any child you might bear, but you understood the significance of having a legitimate heir just as well as he did. You’d wanted so badly to give him a son, but he’d been taken from you before the gods could bless you with a child.

You continue on, finding yourself standing on a balcony overlooking the Water Gardens. The lush greenery has withered and died, losing all of its vibrant color. Your fingers wrap tightly around the railing, so tightly that your knuckles turn white. You close your eyes as memories of afternoon walks come flooding back to you: your arm linked with his as you moved amongst the fountains and the tall flowering plants. The sounds of children’s laughter floating in the background as you listened to his rich baritone, words of passion and poetry seeping from his lips like the sweetest honey.

You collapse to your knees as your desiderium reaches its peak. An ardent longing for that which you’ve lost. Your form shakes with violent sobs that tear from your very soul. As the storm continues to rage, you wish that it would split the palace in two, swallowing you into an abyss you could never escape. At least then you would be free of such profound torment.

But something breaks you from your cathartic release. A soft call so foreign to the tempest. A gentle whisper of your name carried in the screaming wind.

You pull yourself to your feet, turning back to the desecrated halls. Your heart beats wildly in your chest as you search the darkness for whoever had dared to disturb you. And in the shadows you find your answer, the dark silhouette of a man looming in the doorway like some omen of death.

“Who are you? Why have you come here?,” you call to him, somehow finding a tone firm and strong enough to carry over the storm. It occurs to you that he could very well pose a threat, but somehow you find peace in knowing that your life will end here if that is what he’s come to ensure.

He gives no answer and instead steps forward, though not close enough for you to truly see him. Lightning cracks across the sky, illuminating the room for just a fraction of a second. A sharp gasp escapes your lips as you catch a glimpse of him in the momentary light.

“Oberyn?,” you call, tears forming in your eyes again as he comes closer. He steps out of the shadows, revealing himself fully to you. Your hand comes up to cover your mouth again and you shake your head in disbelief.

“Come to me, my love,” he beckons, opening his arms. The sound of his voice nearly has you falling to your knees once more.

You step tentatively towards him, reaching out hesitantly to touch him. Once you’re close enough, he takes your hand in both of his, pressing his warm, soft lips to your knuckles.

You collapse into his embrace, your fists locking around the fabric of the golden robe he wears. His arms wrap around you, securing you to his chest. And you bury your face in his shoulder, crying with the same force of the storm.

But you don’t allow yourself to remain hidden from him for long. You lift your head after a few moments, cradling his face in your hands. Your thumbs rub gently over the stubble there, and through the blur of your tears you try to commit every detail of him to memory. His soft, dark eyes. The curve of his nose. The dimple in his right cheek. The bow of his lips. Everything you thought that you would never see again.

You take in a sharp breath, still trying to make sense of it all in your head. He’s gone. You watched him die. It was a sight that you’ll never forget, one that still haunts you every time you close your eyes to sleep. “Either I am dreaming or I am dead. No matter which, I wish to never wake again,” you murmur.

“I have missed you, my love,” Oberyn replies softly. He leans down closer to you, pressing his forehead lightly to yours. You inhale deeply, breathing in his scent and letting it fill you with a sense of peace that you have not felt since the last time you held him this close.

He inches closer, his lips finally capturing yours in a deep, passionate kiss. The salt of your longing tears mixes with saccharine berry wine, the taste of him that had become such a distant memory, you had almost forgotten. His kiss brings back the warmth that you have lived so long without, and by the beating of your heart and the renewed vitality of your soul, you know that you are alive. You can feel the sun again.

Though you wish to never part from him again, Oberyn pulls away after a few long moments, gazing softly down into your eyes again. He brushes a few damp strands of hair from your face, then presses a softer kiss to your forehead. “What magic has brought you back to me?,” you ask him, but his brows furrow and he shakes his head.

“Shhh, little dove. You mustn’t worry about such things. Just allow me to keep you this close for as long as I am able,” he asks of you. Fear strikes your heart at his words, quick and sharp and painful.

“Please don’t leave me again, Oberyn. I couldn’t bear it. Living without you has been a fate worse than death,” you tell him, your words rushed and panicked. Your hands fall to his chest as you plead with him.

He shifts, moving to cup your cheek and wipe away a stray tear with the pad of his thumb. “I will not leave you any sooner than I must, but the time will come eventually, my love,” he laments.

You release a shaking sigh, pressing yourself impossibly closer to him. You rest your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes for just a few moments. Oberyn slowly wraps an arm around your waist, his other hand coming to cradle the back of your head. He begins to sway then, a soothing, rhythmic movement, and leans down to let his temple rest against the crown of your head.

As you stand there with Oberyn, dancing with the thunder and waves as your only music, you find your sorrows melting away until they feel like nothing but a distant memory. You can breathe easier. There’s no deep ache settled in your chest. You feel whole and alive in the arms of your prince, and you try your hardest not to dwell on how long this feeling will last. All you know is that if you could, you would never leave this place. You would stay here with Oberyn forever even if it meant your death.

“I love you, Oberyn,” you whisper, unable to keep the words to yourself after so many years. You wrap your arms tightly around him then. Somehow, you know that your time is running out. It’s slipping away from you like sand in an hourglass. But this one cannot be turned on its head to start over.

Oberyn lifts his head, and you do the same, meeting his soft gaze once more. “As I love you. Always,” he tells you.

Something in the wind changes. It’s tangible, and Oberyn looks up, studying the air around the two of you. Your heart begins to pound in your chest as you realize what it means. “Stay with me, Oberyn,” you beg, your voice quivering in panic.

“I cannot, my love. I’m so sorry,” he says, hanging his head in defeat.

“Then take me with you!,” you cry, though you know what that would mean for you.

He shakes his head, looking back up at you with a hardened expression. “I will not take you before it is your time,” he states firmly, “You have a life to live, little dove.”

“There is no life left for me, Oberyn. You’re gone. Dorne is in ruins. Our people are dead. What life do I have to live in this place?,” you plead with him. Your words are punctuated by a sharp gasp, and tears stain your cheeks once more.

He slowly begins to release you, and despite your efforts to hold onto him, he removes himself from your grasp. “I’m sorry, my love,” he murmurs, a deep sadness in his eyes as he takes your hand, pressing a final kiss to the underside of your wrist.

“Oberyn, please,” you beg, but you can feel the warmth of his lips leaving you. You close your eyes for just a moment, and when you open them again, you’re forced to watch as he fades from your sight. You step forward, trying to hold onto him, but your hands never find purchase. Like a mirage in the heat of the desert, everything your survival depends on disappears like it was never there in the first place.

Just like that, your sun is gone again.

You crumble to the floor, sobs wracking your body. You don’t try to silence them. You cry. You scream. You curse the gods for taunting you this way. To see your love again, only to have him taken from you once more is the worst torment you’ve ever had to endure, even worse than his death at the hands of the Lannisters. You imagine that this is what hell is like, and you wonder if maybe that’s where you’ve ended up.

You lie there on the floor, too weak to force yourself to move. There’s nothing in the world worth the effort. Instead, you watch as the storm continues to rage, tearing at the weakened structure of the palace. You close your eyes as the roof above you begins to give away, making peace with the fact that you will never leave these ruins. You hope that this will bring you home to Oberyn.

And soon enough, those ruins become your tomb.

-

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[dukeofonions]

I already sent this ask to youtuberswithalex, but I wanted to see if you had something to say too. Also it just feels like you’d get it. It’s an onion. A painfully big, smelly one.

Seriously, I’m starting to wonder how much of the series is even truly planned out. Thomas says that it’s all-so-carefully meticulously planned throughout season 3, but he just keeps putting off solving the biggest non-surface-level issues and adding more drama each episode. Plot thread on top of plot thread keeps getting thrown onto the mix, and it doesn’t seem like there’ll be any time to properly resolve them all in only one season. It’s almost as if each new one is meant to distract you from the unresolved ones.

And then it comes out that the writers are literally getting huge plot threads and the story written for them by fans rich enough to have the Patreon?! Even though they said it wouldn’t happen that way?!

I just... don’t know how much I can trust them with their story anymore. I want the characters to have fully resolved, satisfying, complete arcs and become a better family, but all I’m seeing is more examples of Thomas and the team creating more drama and brushing unresolved issues under the rug.

Heck, does anyone remember that there seemed to be a plot thread building up where Logan and Roman seemed jealous of Patton in the earlier episodes? Where did that go? It’s like it was just forgotten about once more causes for drama were thrown on top of it.

And are we ever gonna know why Virgil was also mad at Patton during the first Asides episode? Or was it just another pointless piling of drama, and they’re hoping that some fan theory will write the story for them so they can brush it under the rug and move on with the Janus plot?

And what happened to Virgil becoming, honestly, kind of a bully to Roman after his acceptance vids? He was never confronted about his moments of unnecessary cruelty. But suddenly in FWSA none of it ever happened? Did... did Thomas even understand that the way Virgil was treating Roman, with the uncalled-for mocking and attacks in moments of vulnerability, was wrong? Or did he think Virgil was just being a cool emo character? Roman seemed to react with discomfort... but it seems like the team decided to pretend that it was somehow fixed offscreen for FWSA. Like they expect another fan theory to explain the drop in tension between the two. Which is just... lazy.

I just don’t know if I trust them with their story anymore... I want to believe it’ll be okay, because I love the characters, but I’m starting to feel like I need to look to some random Patreon fans to wrap up the story properly.

Alright lets peel this onion open... 

I agree about questioning how much planning they’ve actually done for the series. With every live stream, I attended I always hear about how so many things were just added in at the last second. I’ve also heard that they know where they want the series to go, and while I do believe this it feels like they’re not entirely sure how to get to those points and that’s why everything is so confusing. Not only that but Asides has shown up and completely thrown a wrench into things because now they’re taking priority over the main series. Why do we have to have these Asides before the season finale? They said they had a plan but now they’re throwing in all these extra unnecessary plots when the main issues presented in season two haven’t been resolved yet. Slow down and pace yourselves people! 

As for the writer’s room I’m still iffy about that. I’m in the tier that gets you the writing room and from what I’ve seen so far it really doesn’t seem like a good idea because yes, they are taking ideas for the episodes from the fans. Yet there’s no guarantee that anyone will be properly credited for the ideas they contributed. And of course they’re being paid to help write their scripts but I’m not gonna go into that right now. 

I’m really worried about the characters too. I’m afraid Roman’s arc is just going to revolve around everyone else instead of just dealing with him personally. (I swear if Remus suddenly gets accepted I’m gonna scream) already Janus’ development is being rushed through and I’m worried the pay off just won’t be satisfying. Even Virgil revealing himself as a “dark side” just seems empty when you think about it and I’m starting to wonder why it needed to be a thing in the first place. Thomas is warming up to Janus pretty fast and even Remus isn’t as big of an issue, so why is Virgil suddenly admitting to be something that was actually pretty obvious be so shocking to Thomas? Like, there aren’t actually any dark sides! Roman made the name up! I’m gonna move on before I go into a rant but yeah the current character development is very wonky. 

I don’t remember any plot thread of Logan and Roman being jealous of Patton. Probably because I wasn’t really invested in the earlier episodes but I think they weren’t being jealous as much as they were just dismissing Patton as the “goofy dad character” and had to learn that it wasn’t the case (as we see in Growing Up) I don’t think it was really them being jealous but hey I haven’t watched season one in awhile so what do I know?

As for Virgil being angry at Patton in Asides, I assume it’s just carried over from the whole “Virgil doesn’t like being babied by Patton” plot but that entire plotline is kind of a mess and Virgil is just coming across as unnecessarily mean to Patton but I’m going to get into that in a future post. 

Yes I am waiting desperately for the series to finally call out Virgil’s behavior because literally he’s been insufferable lately. I wouldn’t have a problem with this if the series did literally anything to show him in a negative light but he is always having excuses made for him and he is never blamed for anything. And again this just brings up more issues with Asides because in FWSA it’s like they all just forgot the events of POF happened? Roman is suddenly chill with Thomas and I guess Virgil isn’t ashamed of his “dark past” anymore. I honestly don’t know if Thomas (real Thomas) recognizes Virgil’s behavior as bad seeing as Virgil is beloved by all. But I seriously hope he does and is planning to finally have Virgil be put in check later because my gosh I am sick of seeing this character act like a piece of shit and having it justified because “well he’s a good guy now” or “but we have to be nice or else he could do something worse to us” yeah definitely no red flags there.

I understand all of your concerns, but really all we can do is wait and see. Honestly, I don’t know how much influence the patreon writers (that sounds so weird) will actually have on the main story. All we can do is wait and see. 

[teenwolffanclub-me]

Season 1, Episode 9: Wolf’s Bane

Hey there beautiful reader! If you’re new here, this is a series I’m writing where each chapter is an episode from the first season of Teen Wolf. If you’ve been here before, hey! I missed you! Previous and future chapters are linked at the end of each part if you want to catch up.

Pairing: Stiles x Psychic! Reader (eventually)

Notes: This ended up being way longer than I anticipated, but I lost all self control while writing. Someone please stop me before this turns into an entire full length novel about Teen Wolf...

P.S. Derek is resurrected just long enough to be helpful, Y/N gets a lesson in seeing the future, and we finally identify the alpha (which is, of course, groundbreaking information for us all)

                                                      ————————

My fingers tightened around the strap of my bag as I walked through the doors of the high school. My stomach was in knots. It had been for days, actually. It’d gotten all twisted up last Friday, after I drove Allison and Jackson home, somehow managing to only get worse with each passing day.

To say that I was dreading today would be the worlds most massive understatement.

I wasn’t looking forward to seeing anyone. Not Allison, because the guilt I felt every time I looked at her was starting to eat me alive. Not Lydia or Jackson, because they’re both way too self-absorbed to be around when you’re feeling down. And I absolutely, definitely, one hundred percent would not be talking to Scott or Stiles.

As if on cue, my eyes landed on Scott’s dejected frame as I neared my locker. He was leaning against it, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His eyes rose from the tiled floor to meet mine, and I stopped.

Nope.

I turned on my heel and speed walked the other way. I would gladly carry my things around all day over talking to him right now. He called my name, but I continued as if I hadn’t heard him. Within seconds, he was at my side. 

I let out a frustrated huff. I thought I could outrun him longer than that.

“Hey! You can’t just ignore me for an entire weekend.” He hissed the words out in a rush, as if he had any right to be angry with me.

He’d been ridiculously persistent about apologizing. I’d gotten so many texts and calls from him that I had to eventually just turn my phone off. When I did that, he showed up at my house. I was pretty sure he stayed out there for a couple hours on Saturday, but I locked myself in my room upstairs, so I wasn’t positive.

My jaw clenched as I forced my gaze to stay on the hall in front of me. He kept up with my quick pace easily, unrelenting. I felt his eyes boring into the side of my head, urging me to respond.

I had so much to say, but no idea how to get the words out. I was still furious with him. He’d ruined whatever I had with Stiles in the most spectacularly dickish way and, to top it off, nearly killed me. Like, how the fuck do you even begin talking about that?

“Will you at least tell me if you’re okay? Y/N!” At the harsh snap of my name, I spun around to face him with a glare.

He staggered back a step, an arm raising defensively, and stared at me with wide eyes.

“You want me to talk to you? Then tell me what the hell is going on.” My voice was hard with days-long built up anger.

“What do you mean?” He just blinked, trying to look innocent, and I scoffed.

“You’ve been keeping things from me.” I crossed my arms and raised my eyebrows expectantly.

It was absurdly obvious at this point. He and Stiles both knew way more about well, everything, than I did. The alpha. The full moon. Jackson. I could just feel it. I was being kept out of the loop, despite them constantly roping me into their supernatural problems.

They either needed to start giving me all the information, or just leave me out of it entirely.

He looked like he was about to argue, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he thought better of it with a heavy sigh. He glanced away briefly to scan the bustling hallway before finding my eyes again. “To protect you.”

A rush of air left my lungs in a harsh scoff. Was he actually serious right now?

“I don’t need protection.” I snapped, appalled that he would even try that excuse. I didn’t need him deciding what was best for me, or what information was safe to tell me. “I need to know what’s happening!”

“I can’t...” His voice broke regretfully, his eyes rounding with sadness. There was an internal conflict raging behind them, but the wrong side was winning.

My heart tugged painfully as I blinked back a few frustrated tears. I didn’t let myself get emotional over the weekend. I don’t know why, I just couldn’t. There was still too much to process. It was like I was being forced to complete a puzzle for my life with only a third of the pieces available.

Ultimately, it felt like he didn’t trust me. After everything I’d helped him and Stiles with, I deserved to be an equal partner. Not someone they call when no one else can help because they don’t know he’s a werewolf. Not someone they keep at arms length.

“Then maybe we can’t be friends.” My voice was barely above a whisper as I choked the words out.

I didn’t want to believe that it’d already come to that. He and Stiles were the first people in all the places I’ve lived that never judged me. Our friendship had been surprisingly organic, despite the way it started. I’d never felt like an outsider.

Well, until they started keeping secrets from me.

I stuck around just long enough to catch the crestfallen look on his face before I turned and walked away.

I tugged a hand through my hair and tried to collect myself as I neared my first period class. The break from my problems was short lived, since I share it with him, Stiles, and Allison. My eyes immediately found Stiles as soon as I walked through the classroom door. He was leaning back in his seat, balancing a pencil between his two pointer fingers.

His eyes slowly rose to meet mine and he perked up with a jolt, the pencil clattering to the floor. I looked away, already feeling my resolve crumble at the sight of his big, honey eyes. I slid into my desk which was, unfortunately, right behind him.

I bent down to place my bag onto the tiles beside my feet, taking my time rummaging through its contents to find my English folder. When I eventually sat upright, I reeled back at the sight of Stiles turned around to face me.

One of his plaid covered arms was slung across the back of his chair, his fingers tapping anxiously on the corner of my desk. He looked at me with rounded, hopeful eyes. I swallowed as my heart skipped a beat at the sight. I needed to hold it together. I was mad at him.

“Can we talk?” He murmured timidly as his eyes swept over my face.

I’d gotten a handful of messages from him over the weekend, too, but he’d given me more room to breathe than Scott. Before I could even fully process his question, a harsh voice drew my attention away from him. 

“Y/N, what the hell?” Allison plopped into her seat beside me, her eyes narrowed in annoyance. “You didn’t answer me all weekend. How are you doing?”

Shit. I’d honestly forgotten about the few texts she’d sent after I turned my phone off. A moment later, Scott walked into the room, eyes firmly planted on the floor. I sunk down into my chair, feeling like the walls were closing in around me. I couldn’t face them all at once right now.

Allison threw a hand up in exasperation and I chewed on my bottom lip anxiously. I had to say something.

“I’m...fine.” Yeah, that didn’t sound remotely close to believable, even to my own ears.

I was fine, though. Mostly. The pain in my leg had dissipated enough that some Advil in the morning made it bearable throughout the day. Emotionally, though? I hadn’t even began working through everything. Scott slowly sat at his desk right in front of Allison, shoulders slumped.

“Are you sure? You literally flew like twenty feet in the air.” Her eyes were wide with concern as she watched me closely. Man, I really am the worst friend in the world for ignoring her. If something like that happened to her, I’d be worried sick.

I saw Scott stiffen from the corner of my eye. 

“Whoa, wait a minute. Back up. What are we talking about here?” Stiles’ eyes twitched before jumping back and forth between us.

I let my gaze flicker back to him, surprised. He didn’t know? I glanced at Scott, chest tightening at his guilt ridden expression. Well, I guess there’s my answer.

“Sorry.” Allison mouthed the word silently with a grimace before turning toward the front of the room.

“Hey. Yeah. Stiles talking. What the hell?” I rested my elbows on my desk and rubbed at my temples, letting my eyes fall closed.

It was way too early for all of this. It wasn’t my job to tell him that his best friend almost killed me. We weren’t even on speaking terms right now. Plus, I couldn’t say anything in front of Allison anyway. I was stuck, and I could feel his eyes watching me closely.

“Alright everyone, let’s get started.” Our teacher walked into the room and threw his stuff onto his desk loudly.

I peaked up through my arms, watching as Stiles’ eyes narrowed and lingered on mine for a long moment. He pursed his lips and hesitated before finally turning his back to me. I let out a relieved breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

This was going to be such a long day.

                                                         ————————

I walked into the cafeteria, feeling emotionally exhausted. I’d spent the first half of the day avoiding anyone who tried talking to me. After class this morning, I was even more aware of the fact that I didn't have the mental capacity to deal with my problems right now. 

My eyes instantly landed on Scott and Stiles, who were sitting by themselves. I let my gaze wander over the room until I found Allison and Lydia. They were sitting clear on the opposite end, which was a little overkill, if you ask me.

It was weird to see our friend group so separated, but Allison and Scott were still barely speaking, and Jackson was M.I.A because he decided to break up with Lydia via text this morning. 

While I wasn't the least bit surprised, and honestly glad to be rid of him, she was still devastated. I headed in their direction, not looking forward to repairing another broken heart, when I heard something that made me stop. 

“Scott. Can you hear me? You can, can’t you?” It was Jackson, standing in a corner by the vending machines. 

My brows furrowed as I followed his intense gaze to where Scott and Stiles sat. Scott was whispering something frantically, looking panicked. 

“Are you trying to pretend not to hear me?” Jackson sounded way too smug for his own good, which honestly wasn’t unusual. 

Scott snapped at Stiles across the room, who just threw his hands up with a shrug.

“So what else can you do? Huh? Can you see better? Are you stronger? More powerful? I knew there was no way you suddenly got that good at lacrosse. Which means you’re actually a cheater, aren't you? I mean, can you even play lacrosse?”

I watched as Scott’s jaw clenched angrily, my heart dropping into my stomach at his words. His fingers tightened around the water bottle he was holding, his entire arm trembling with barely contained rage. 

“I bet my new co-captain is going to score a bunch of shots tonight. Aren’t you? And while you’re pretending you’re not a lying cheat, I’m gonna ruin your life if you don't give me what I want. You know what I’m going to start with? Her.”

My eyes flickered toward Allison, who was laughing at something Lydia said, blissfully unaware of what was happening. “I’m going to destroy any chance you have left with her. And when I’m done with that, I’m going to get her alone, and get my hands all over that tight little body...”

Oh, my God. Okay. I did not need to hear anymore of that. I started walking toward Scott and Stiles briskly, my heart racing. 

Jackson knows. How the hell does he know? Why didn't they tell me he knows?

A few seconds later, I stumbled to a halt in front of their table. Stiles looked up at me with wide eyes, lips parting mid-chew. I ignored him, putting a hand on the table and leaning down so there were only a few inches between Scott and I. 

“Did you tell Jackson?” I hissed quietly, sounding way more freaked out than I meant to. 

He sat there for a few moments, his jaw tensing repeatedly as he tried to tune him out. His eyes flickered up to mine, intense anger swirling inside them. “No. How do you even—it doesn’t matter. That’s the least of my worries right now.”

“That’s the least of your worries?” My voice rose with surprise. Just how much had they been keeping from me?

He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh. I turned my head and saw that Jackson had disappeared. 

“So...are you talking to me again?” His tone had lost some of it’s edge, but I could tell he was still fuming internally. 

I stood up straight and squared my shoulders. I’d nearly forgotten that I was supposed to be ignoring them. “No. I just...” 

“If you were...would you help me with something?” He looked hopeful, and I took a moment to consider it. 

“No.” Stiles interjected before I had a chance to respond. He glared at Scott before his hard eyes moved to me. “No. You’re not getting involved.” 

My mouth dropped open in surprise. Who the hell did he think he was? He had no right to tell me what to do. In fact, his dismissal only made me want to do it more.

“I’ll help.” I narrowed my eyes at Stiles angrily before moving my attention to Scott. “If you tell me everything that’s going on.”

He pursed his lips, looking thoughtful. A jolt of hope rose through my chest. 

“No way. Not gonna happen.” Stiles scoffed, his tray clattering against the table as he slammed his water bottle down onto it. 

My eyes jerked back to him, my jaw clenching. “Stilinski, I swear to—”

“Y/N.” Scott interrupted, his voice soft. “He’s actually right. It’s better this way.”

I stood there for a moment, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. I couldn't believe they were being so stubborn about this. It seemed like things had shifted so suddenly. One day, I was helping them with everything and the next, I’m being left out entirely. 

“Fine. I’ll find out myself.” I huffed and turned on my heel, stalking away from them and right through the doors. 

I didn't stop until I stomped my way out into the parking lot. I was beyond over their secrets and lies. I wanted answers, and I knew where to get them. I wasn’t exactly jumping at the chance to do what I was about to do, but this person said they’d help me once before. 

I just hoped the offer was still good. 

                                                             ———————

I looked up at the house and let out a long sigh, shaking my arms at my sides to get rid of some of the nerves vibrating through me. I can do this. 

It’s not scary. It’s not scary. It’s not—

I nearly jumped out of my skin as something rustled in a nearby tree, but felt my shoulders sag with relief as a squirrel ran across the ground in front of me. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to gather enough courage to get closer. 

I forced myself up the rickety porch steps, one foot in front of the other. My hand came up and lightly rapped on the front door. The second my knuckles connected with the chipped wood, it swung open with a loud squeal. 

I peaked my head inside, squinting through the darkness that blanketed the entrance despite it being the middle of the day. “Derek?”

It didn’t look like he was here. It didn't look like anything living had been here for awhile, actually. Almost every surface in the house was covered by a thin layer of dust, broken furniture cluttering the space. I took a tentative step inside, my heartbeat rising as I glanced around. Truthfully, I was still terrified of the guy, but he’d saved me from Scott a few days ago. I knew he couldn't be all bad. 

The floorboards creaked at the top of the stairs, and my head whipped in that direction. My eyes scanned the area as best they could through the dark, but didn’t find anything. I tried to steady my breathing as I continued forward. Another sound made me whirl around, but once again, I was alone. Okay. Maybe this was a bad idea. I should just leave. 

I turned toward the door, and immediately let out a startled scream at the sight of a tall figure standing right in front of me. 

“Y/N.” Derek greeted, his voice entirely too level. 

I put a hand on my chest and tried to catch my breath. “Goddamn. Do you always have to do that?”

His eyes wandered over my face skeptically, his lips pressed into a firm line. I took a small step back, my shoulders tensing. Even if I knew he wasn’t completely evil, he was still scary as shit. 

“What exactly are you doing here?” 

“You’ve been helping Scott, right?” I wheezed out, deciding to get right to business. He just stared at me blankly, so I continued. “Well he hasn't really been honest with me lately, and I want answers.”

His thick brows pulled together as he took a slow step toward me. “And you thought I would give them to you?” 

I scrambled back again, watching him closely. I wasn't even sure if he was trying to be intimidating. His whole aura was just...a lot. It was the leather jacket he always wore, and the scowl that seemed permanently etched into his face. Not to mention the fact that he somehow always found a way to emerge from the shadows. 

“I...I don't know.” I stammered, losing the small bit of confidence I had. 

“I would say, if Scott doesn't want you involved, it’s probably for a good reason.” His hazel eyes stayed locked onto mine. They were almost impossible to read. 

It was obvious he wasn't going to tell me anything. I couldn’t even pretend to be surprised. I knew it was a long shot. I figured, though, that while I was here I should bring up something else that’d been nagging at me...

“A few weeks ago, you said you could help me learn control.” I rushed the words out, my skin prickling with anxiety.

He studied me for a moment, his eyes narrowing slowly. “So?”

“So...” I drawled, squaring my shoulders in an effort to look confident. “Help me.”

                                                          ———————

“Y/N, just concentrate.” 

I blew out a frustrated huff and let my eyes pop open. 

“What do you think I’ve been doing for the last hour?” I snapped, sagging back into the dilapidated couch we sat on. 

Derek had been trying to help me “vision”, as he called it, for what felt like an eternity. I wasn’t getting anywhere despite his advice. He apparently knew a lot about almost every supernatural creature there was. Not that I fell into that category. I was more like...supernatural adjacent. 

He’d made sure I knew that I was still human, but I was already well aware. There’s no super strength or heightened reflexes going on here. Just bad dreams and occasional sleepwalking. 

“You need to find something that helps you get control. We call it an anchor.” He insisted from beside me, resting his elbows on his knees and gesturing with his hands. 

“An anchor.” I said slowly, trying the word out for myself.

He nodded and rose to his feet suddenly. “It can be a feeling, a memory, an object...even a person. It’s just something that helps you concentrate and focus your power.”

I watched as he walked across the room and crouched down a few feet away. He inspected the floor for a few moments before picking something up and striding back to where I sat. He held his hand out, palm facing the ceiling, and my face scrunched in confusion. 

“Why are you giving me a rock?” My gaze flickered back up to his face and he rolled his eyes impatiently. It was the first actual emotion—other than anger—I’d ever seen him express.

“It’s just a physical object to help you. Try to think about something that makes you feel a strong emotion.” I studied the small stone skeptically, but eventually took it from him.

I rolled it around in my palm, trying to wrack my brain for anything that could cause a reaction. I went over the past few weeks, letting my eyes fall closed. 

I thought about mom, and how she’d packed up her entire life several times just so I could have a chance at a normal life. I thought about how quickly Allison and I had become friends, and how horrible it was that I was still keeping everything from her. I thought about Lydia, and wondered if she would ever stop pretending to be a moron. And Jackson, well, I was pretty sure there were no redeeming qualities beneath his superficial exterior. 

Then, my mind wandered to Scott. Ever since that first night I moved into the house next to his, he’d been a constant in my life. For better or worse. I’d helped him through so many ridiculous situations. Digging up Derek’s sister, avoiding death at the hands of Allison’s family, and running from the alpha to name a few. He’d been there for me countless times, too. 

And lastly...there was Stiles. My heart twisted painfully at the thought of him, my face falling into a grimace. 

“There.” Derek spoke up suddenly, making me jump. My eyes fluttered open to look at him in question. “Whatever you just did was working.”

My skin exploded with heat as embarrassment rushed through me, even though he had no idea what I’d been thinking about. Great. My anchor is a spastic teenage boy who spends most of his time lying to me. 

“Try again.” Derek insisted and sat back down on the other end of the couch. I let out a long sigh. 

Here goes nothing.

My eyes slipped closed and I let my mind wander back to Stiles. I replayed our most significant moments together. Like all the times he protected me at the school that night we were trapped, and the way he’d kissed me out of relief when I didn't get eaten alive. Then there were the two times we’d shared a bed. Those were the only nights I’d managed to escape my vivid, and sometimes terrifying dreams since moving here. 

I thought back to last week and felt my lips pull into a frown. All my recent memories of him had been tarnished by the secrets he was keeping. 

My fingers clenched around the rock. It suddenly felt like my senses were dulling. My brows furrowed as I started to drift off. It didn’t feel like I was falling asleep, just that I wasn’t fully conscious in the present. My mind was going somewhere else. 

My skin slowly went numb. My ears rang as the sound of Derek’s shuffling beside me drifted into nothingness. The ground shifted beneath me and my eyes jerked open.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat as shock surged through me. I was standing in the middle of a field. It was dark, the only illumination coming from the massive overhead spotlights. My head whipped from side to side as I tried to figure out exactly where I was.

It was...the lacrosse field? At school? I took a few tentative steps forward, arms wrapping around myself as the frigid air bit into my skin. 

What the hell was this? I was just in Derek’s house a second ago. Was I hallucinating or something?

I let out a shuddering breath, a cloud of condensed air fanning my face. Just then, a bloodcurdling scream sounded from behind me. I spun on my heel painfully fast, but immediately stiffened at the sight on the other end of the field.

There was someone crumpled on the turf, covered in blood. I moved forward slowly, feeling a strong urge to see who it was. The only thing I could hear was the hammering of my own heart in my ears. There wasn’t a single other soul around, adding to the eerie emptiness.

It felt like it took days to reach the body. When I got close enough to see their face, though, I broke out into a sprint.

It was Lydia.

She was wearing what looked like a formal dress, blood splattered across her torso. I fell onto my knees beside her, hands shaking as they gripped her shoulders. I turned her onto her back and brushed big clumps of strawberry blonde hair away from her face.

I couldn’t tell if she was breathing. My eyes flickered down to her side and I reeled back at the sight of deep bite marks just above her hip. With a grimace, I bent over her body and placed my ear against her chest to try and hear a heartbeat.

Oh, God. Please have a heartbeat.

I froze at the sound of rustling from the tree line nearby. My gaze slowly lifted, landing on two glowing red eyes in the shadows.

Only this time, they were attached to a man.

With a harsh gasp, my eyes popped open. I sputtered out a few coughs and felt a steadying hand at my back, pulling me up into a sitting position. My eyes moved around frantically as I tried to get my bearings.

My shoulders sagged as I realized I was back in Derek’s house. Had I even left? What the hell was that? When did I lay down?

He leaned close, his eyes searching mine. “What did you see?”

I blinked, trying to process what the hell just happened. I’d never experienced anything like that in my life. It felt so real. 

“Lydia.” I gasped, my chest heaving with labored breaths.

I put a hand over my heart, trying to steady it. My head jerked from side to side as I took in the dusty floors and broken walls around me. I wasn’t fully convinced that I was actually here. 

“Okay, good.” Derek nodded encouragingly, and my eyes snapped back to his. “What was she doing?”

My mouth opened and closed a few times as I tried to gather my thoughts. I finally got my breathing under control, but my heart was still clattering in my chest painfully. It felt like I’d just been in a dream, but it wasn't like any dream I’d ever had before. My stomach twisted painfully. I knew exactly what it was, but that meant...

“Y/N.” He urged, eyes still studying my every move. 

“I—” I swallowed, trying to collect myself. “I think she was dead.”

                                                          ———————

This plan was beyond stupid. 

I was sitting in the passenger seat of Derek’s car, which was parked in front of the long term care section of the hospital. Since he’d helped me earlier, I agreed to do him a favor. Apparently that meant I’d be talking to his comatose uncle’s nurse. 

He told me that Stiles had traced the weird text Allison got that night we were stuck in the school, and it came from a computer here while logged into Ms. McCall’s account. The fact that I knew nothing about any of this made me ten times angrier with him. 

“And what is Scott doing again?” I sighed, unbuckling my seatbelt. 

“Stealing Allison’s necklace.” Derek deadpanned, as if it should’ve been obvious. 

“Right. Of course, because it has a symbol on it that your sister left as a clue for you...”

I glanced over at him and he nodded slowly, face as stoic as ever. I swear this guy has never smiled a day in his life. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

I popped the car door open and stepped outside, letting my eyes slowly scan the building. I swallowed nervously and stole one last glance at Derek over my shoulder. His eyebrows rose expectantly and I forced myself to turn back around.

I had a bad feeling deep in my gut, but tried to ignore it as I hesitantly stepped toward the door. I wrapped my fingers around the handle and let out a long breath. This was fine. Just because I was doing a favor for a slightly terrifying werewolf, didn’t mean I was going to get hurt.

I pulled the door open and took a few tentative steps inside. When I noticed a moment later that the place was completely deserted, I froze. There wasn’t a single other person around, nothing but eerie silence filling the space. It was late, yeah, but there should be someone here. 

“Uh...hello?” I called, hoping the nurses were just on break nearby or something.

When I got no response, I continued forward slowly. I scanned the area quickly, trying to find any signs of life. The unusual stillness made the hairs on my arms stand up straight with apprehension. I peered through the glass above the welcome desk to my left, trying to find anything useful.

Well, as long as no one is around...

I jogged around the desk and jiggled the mouse beside the computer. The screen hummed to life and I glanced up quickly to make sure I was still alone, before clicking through the open tabs until I found the patient database.

I hastily typed Peter Hale—the name of Derek’s uncle—and quickly scanned his file. I found his room number easily and shut the computer down before going on my way.

As soon as I turned the corner, though, I ran smack into a hard chest. I let out a surprised yelp and stumbled over my own feet, the other person rearing back with a dramatic flail of their arms.

“Jesus! What are you doing here?” Stiles practically yelled, his voice a mixture of anger and shock as he looked at me with wide eyes.

Well, damn. I wasn’t expecting that. 

“What are you doing here?” I leaned toward him and hissed, my voice a harsh whisper despite us being the only people around. “You’re supposed to be starting tonight.”

His eyes lit up with surprise and I felt a blush creep up my neck. I’d heard from Lydia that he’d been promoted to first line on the lacrosse team. It wasn’t like I was keeping tabs on him or anything, but he’d been hoping for this all year, so I was confused to see him here instead. The game should be starting any minute.

“I’m just...checking something out.” He stuttered, one of his hands coming up to scratch at the back of his head.

I rolled my eyes and turned on my heel, ready to walk away from him. He just couldn’t stop lying to me. It didn’t matter anyway. I had a mission to accomplish and I shouldn’t be wasting time by talking to him.

I only made it a few steps before a gentle hand gripped my elbow.

“Hey,” He called softly, and I hesitated a moment before turning to face him. “Scott told me what happened. Are you okay?”

I let my eyes trail over him slowly. He still wore the white undershirt and blue plaid button-up he’d had on at school, but had added his black jacket on top. The same one he’d let me borrow a few times before. He was studying me with his big, caramel eyes.

He looked and sounded like the same Stiles, but something felt different between us. After the events of the last few days, it was like there was a roadblock whenever we tried talking. We were more distant than we’d ever been, and it didn’t sit right in my chest.

I opened my mouth to respond, but paused when my phone started ringing loudly in my back pocket. I tugged my arm out of his hold and quickly pulled it out of my back pocket, scoffing when I saw Derek’s name on the screen.

“What?” I sighed, hoping he didn’t need me to do anything else. I wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible.

“Did you find her?” He rushed the words out quickly, sounding anxious.

My eyes flickered to Stiles, who was watching me closely, his brows pinched in confusion. I just walked around him and started toward Peter’s room. I heard his quick footsteps as he trailed after me, but tried my best to ignore him.

“No one is here.” I finally made it to his room and stopped in the doorway. It was empty, too.

“What?” Derek barked, voice rising.

“What do you mean, what? His nurse isn’t here, and he’s gone too. Are you sure this—”

“Y/N, you have to get out of there. Right now. It’s him. He’s the alpha! Get out!”

I staggered back a step at his frantic yelling and let my arm fall down to my side, ending the call. My heart lurched in my chest as I heard shuffling from around the corner.

“Was that Derek?” Stiles snapped anxiously behind me. “Did he just say—”

“Well, hello there.” My head jerked to the side at the sudden voice, my eyes widening as they landed on a man who was leaning against the wall a few feet away.

He was partially cloaked in darkness, but I could make out that he was tall and had shaggy brown hair. His lips twitched up into a slow smirk and I noticed that half of his face was covered in nasty looking scars. I could only assume that it was Peter.

Stiles suddenly gripped my hand and tugged me down the hall with him as he started running away. We only made it a few steps before a nurse appeared out of nowhere, stepping into our path. We stumbled back, nearly crashing right into her.

“What are you doing here? Visiting hours are over.” She practically snarled with a sinister smile.

“You...” Stiles pointed at her with a shaky hand, looking between her and Peter frantically. “And him...you’re the one...oh my—and he’s the...oh my God, we’re gonna die.”

Just then, Derek stepped around the corner and smashed his elbow into the nurse’s face. I staggered back with a gasp, not expecting the violent move. She crumpled to the floor in a heap, passed out cold. I just stared at her body with wide eyes.

“Oh, that’s not nice...” My head whipped around as Peter drawled lazily. “That’s my nurse.”

“She’s a psychotic bitch helping you kill people.” Derek took a threatening step forward, his face a hardened mask of anger. “Get out of the way.”

He hadn’t even so much as glanced at us as he muttered the words, but it was obvious who he was talking to. Stiles wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me against his chest before sliding us to the floor. I pressed my back into the wall, my body trembling with fear.

“You think I killed Laura on purpose? One of my own family?” Peter strode toward Derek quickly, hands clenching into fists at his sides.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Stiles murmured, causing my eyes to snap up toward him. He had one arm wrapped around me, the other propped up against the wall caging me in safely. His eyes flickered over me quickly as if surveying for signs of damage. 

Derek suddenly growled loudly, and I peered around Stiles’ shoulder just in time to see his eyes flashing bright blue as he snarled, his canines extending. He jumped up, using a wall as leverage, and pounced on Peter. He easily shook him off, spinning around to slam his back into the wall next to where we were still crouched.

A chunk of the molding snapped off, dust and drywall sprinkling down onto us. Stiles and I instantly scrambled away as fast as possible. He grabbed my hand tightly, our fingers weaving together as he hauled me to my feet. We nearly trampled over the nurse’s body, but stumbled back just in time to step around her.

Peter leaned down and gripped Derek by the throat before pulling him up off the tiled floor. He strode forward, pulling Derek along with him as he made his way down the hall toward us. Stiles and I stumbled backward with each quick step he took. 

My heart was pounding in my throat as I tried to get control over my breathing. Derek’s hands came up to claw at Peter’s arm as his legs kicked wildly, looking for any leverage to escape.  

“My mind, my personality, were literally burned out of me. I was acting on pure instinct.” He suddenly released his hand and Derek slammed to the floor with a pained groan. 

“You want forgiveness?” Derek roared, jumping to his feet and landing a hard punch to Peter’s jaw. 

He easily deflected his next attempt and headbutted Derek harshly. He stumbled back a few steps, and Peter used this to his advantage as he kicked him harshly in the chest. “I want understanding.”

Derek flew several feet in the air before crashing to the floor and sliding all the way down the hall until he lay crumpled at our feet. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and spit out a mouthful of blood. I suddenly realized we were back in the main waiting area, and pulled Stiles by his hand that was still entwined with mine. We kneeled down behind the desk as the two werewolves continued fighting in front of us.

“Do you have any idea what it was like for me during those years? Slowly healing, cell by cell, even more slowly coming back to consciousness.” Peter wandered his way forward slowly, menacingly. “Yes, becoming an alpha, taking that from Laura pushed me over a plateau in the healing process. I can’t help that.”

Derek rose to his feet and swung his arms wildly. It was obvious that Peter’s words had struck a cord in him. He easily blocked each punch before gripping Derek’s wrist tightly and effortlessly snapping the bone. He let out a pained roar and I flinched as the sound echoed through the room. 

“I tried to tell you what was happening. I tried to warn you.” Peter released Derek’s arm before fisting the sides of his leather jacket and throwing him over the desk. 

He smashed through the glass barrier, pointed shards raining down on us as he landed harshly on the floor beside our crouched position. Stiles spazzed out next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders frantically and tucking my head into his chest before leaning his body over mine. My chest swelled at the protective gesture. 

Heavy silence blanketed the room for a long moment. I let out a shaky breath, trying to stay as still as possible. Stiles shifted over me and I peeked around him to see what was going on. Derek started crawling away from us slowly, looking seriously injured.

“We have to do something.” I gasped, heart racing painfully in my chest. 

Stiles looked down at me with wide eyes, like I’d lost my mind. “Yeah. We’re getting the hell out of here.”

Before I could protest, he pulled me to my feet. Neither werewolf even spared us a glance as we bolted out the front doors. I didn’t want to leave Derek in there. It didn’t feel right. I wasn’t sure what I could do to help, but there had to be something. 

Stiles dragged me all the way to his Jeep and wrenched the passenger door open. I just stood there, frozen. 

“Y/N. Get in!” He yelled, his eyes wide with urgency. 

“He’s gonna die in there.” My voice quivered as I looked back toward the hospital.

Stiles tilted his head up to the sky in exasperation before looking at me with narrowed eyes. “He’ll be fine. He’s surprisingly hard to kill.”

He jerked his arm forward, gesturing for me to get in, and I chewed on my bottom lip nervously. I knew there was nothing I could do, but I wanted so badly to help. I stole one last glance at the building and let out a heavy sigh, sliding into the car begrudgingly. Stiles slammed the door closed behind me and ran around the hood before jumping into the driver’s seat. 

A moment later, he sped out of the parking lot. We didn’t say a single word the entire ride home. 

We’d been sitting here, in front of my house, for the last several minutes. Thick tension crackled in the air between us, but we were both too stubborn to be the first one to break. I sat there for a few more seconds, indecision clawing at my insides. I wasn't exactly jumping to talk to him, but part of me didn't want to leave him, either. 

Something about his presence was calming. Even as we sat here in tense silence, I knew it was better than being alone. But we couldn’t stay like this all night. With a dejected sigh, I reached for my seatbelt, but paused when he spoke up unexpectedly.

“You know, I’ve been trying my best to keep you out of this stuff.” His words were sharp as his fingers tightened around the steering wheel until his knuckles went white.

I turned toward him slowly, relaxing back into my seat. “I never asked you to do that.”

“Do you know how many times I’ve almost died in the last couple months?” His jaw clenched as his eyes swept in my direction. Their normal amber color had darkened as several intense emotions swirled inside them. Frustration, anger, worry. “Everyone who’s involved with the supernatural keeps almost dying. We aren’t going to stay this lucky.”

“Then let’s not rely on luck anymore. We can learn to take care of ourselves.” I insisted, leaning toward him slightly. 

I was tired of taking a backseat in all of this. Today, for the first time, I felt like I was truly a part of the team. Even though I had to go through Derek to get here, it was so much better than being kept in the dark. 

“I’m too busy worrying about you to take care of anything else.” His voice was barely above a whisper as his eyes flickered around my face before looking away.

I just stared at him in confusion. “Why would you worry about me?” 

Out of all the people in his life, I should be at the bottom of the list. Hell, I shouldn't even be on the list. 

“You’re joking, right? You keep showing up in places you shouldn’t be. You’re constantly almost getting hurt. You sleepwalk into the woods half the time and—and I’m terrified that one of these days I’m gonna be too late to help.” 

He rushed the words out, his eyes wide and intense. He was giving me this look, like I was the most important person in the world. My heart tugged uncomfortably in my chest and I swallowed. 

“I haven't even done that in—” My words caught in my throat at the way his head tilted incredulously and I sighed. “You don’t always have to be there, Stiles. You don’t always have to look after everyone else.” 

His eyes twitched and his lips rolled into a thin line. “You’re not gonna stay out of this, are you?”

I shook my head slowly. “I know I can help somehow. I can feel it. And if I know that, and don’t...then I don’t think I can call myself one of the good guys.”

Silence fell over the car again, but this time it wasn't awkward or tense. I studied the way the streetlights illuminated his freckled face. Shadows created hard lines around his jaw that contrasted the soft gaze of his eyes as they bored into mine. My stomach fluttered with a foreign emotion and I chewed on my bottom lip as I fidgeted in my seat, suddenly feeling nervous. Something had shifted in the air between us, but I couldn’t quite place it.

“Is it obvious yet how much I like you?” His gaze flickered down to my mouth quickly and my breath hitched at his words. 

“Painfully.” I felt myself leaning closer to him without actually meaning to. Yes, I was still mad at him, but right now that didn’t seem to matter so much. 

He met me halfway, our lips molding together instantly. My eyes slipped shut as one of his hands came up to gently tuck a few strands of hair behind my ear. His slender fingers wrapped around the side of my neck as his head tilted, his lips slanting over mine. My mouth parted against his and our tongues explored each other almost urgently. 

This wasn’t anything like the kisses we’d shared before. It was intense, and rushed, like we couldn’t close the distance between us fast enough. I could practically taste everything he felt for me, all the things he wanted to say but didn’t know how. Without breaking away, I blindly undid my seatbelt and fisted the sides of his jacket to pull him against me. 

One of his arms slid around my waist and my hands flattened against his chest before gliding up to rest on the sides of his head. His buzzed hair poked at my skin as he tugged me forward. I fumbled across the gearshift until I landed in his lap, my knees resting on either side of his hips. 

He hummed against my lips in satisfaction as his fingers tangled themselves in the hair at the back of my head. His other hand pressed me impossibly closer, and I arched up into him. He pulled away unexpectedly, and I felt my eyes flutter open to look at him in question. 

“Can—can I...?” He murmured breathlessly, his gaze flickering between my neck and eyes. I nodded a little too eagerly, but couldn’t find it within myself to feel embarrassed. 

He tilted his head down cautiously and I let out a shuddering sigh as his warm breath fanned my skin. My head fell back, a quiet whimper leaving me as he began peppering delicate kisses down my throat. 

A sudden, low whistle had my eyes popping open again. 

Stiles didn't seem to notice—or maybe he just didn't care—as his lips maintained their slow pace against me. I squinted into the darkness, my gaze almost immediately landing on Scott as he practically hung out of his bedroom window with a teasing grin. 

I pushed against Stiles’ chest with a breathy laugh. He groaned lowly in protest, but didn't put up a fight as he sagged back in his seat. His big eyes shined up at me with confusion and I jerked my head toward the houses. He looked over and scoffed in annoyance as he realized we had an audience, before his head slowly lulled back in my direction. 

“Goodnight, Stiles.” I couldn't control the smile tugging at my lips as I cupped his freckled cheeks and placed a gentle kiss just beside his mouth. 

I popped the door open and jumped down, straightening out my shirt with my palms. Stiles shut the door after me and leaned an elbow out the window before letting his chin rest on his forearm. He just stared at me with a small smile on his face, his eyes shining under the streetlights. My heart fluttered at his awe-struck expression and I forced myself to turn around. 

If I didn’t go now, I might never be able to walk away from him. 

“Night, Scott!” I called up to his room as I unlocked my front door. 

His muffled reply came just before I let the door close behind me. I sagged against it, a big grin slowly taking over my face. Being with Stiles had given me a chance to forget about all the crazy shit that happened today, if only for a few minutes.

I knew our problems were really just beginning. Yeah, we identified Peter as the alpha, but something told me being exposed wouldn’t faze him. He was clearly a deranged psychopath that wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted. And what he wanted was a pack. I felt like we had a chance to fight back, though. Despite the challenges that were undoubtedly ahead, I was more confident than ever before. 

It finally felt like I had all the puzzle pieces. 

Episode 8                       Episode 10

[caye-otome-translations]

100 Days Princess Event - Royal Prince Stage Episode 03 (Translated)

Quick Links:

Events Page

Prologue

Previous: Episode 02

Next: Premier End

Louis Howard’s Route

Giles Christophe’s Route

Notes:

I have posted the screenshots of Episode 02! Go check them out!

Giles’ story from this event has been fully translated, so I’ll be posting his next once I’m done with Byron’s. I have the screenshots of Louis’ story but not the translations, so he will be the last one to be translated.

This will most likely be my last post until June 10— that’s when my finals end. I’ll be posting very regularly, close to daily, after June 10.

Byron Wagner’s Route Episode 03 Part 01/05

Byron: “What is it...?”

I presented a chic dark blue vial in front of Byron-san.

Byron: “Is that perfume?”

MC: “Yes. It's from the commercial you shot the other day.”

MC: “It seems that they are distributing it to the people who come to the new perfume presentation that Byron-san will be attending next time.”

MC: “The company sent it to the office as a thank you in advance for your appearance.”

Byron: “...I see.”

(Actually, I should have given it to Byron-san when he came to the office earlier...)

(But I just wanted an excuse for us to meet alone.)

MC: “If you would like, please, have it.”

Byron: “No…”

Byron-san shook his head slightly.

Byron: “It doesn't make sense for me to have the perfume.”

MC: “What do you mean...?”

Byron: “Isn’t it supposed to be a ‘scent that attracts the man you love’?”

Byron: “You should have it.”

(I mean... It is a perfume for women to attract men, but I wonder if I should really accept his words.)

MC: “...Then, I’ll keep it. Thank you.”

Byron: “You’re welcome. But…”

Byron: “I want you to wear this perfume only in front of me.” *Top Left Picture*

MC: “...”

As Byron-san gently smiled, my heart began beating fast in my chest.

(I wish I could really attract Byron-san with this perfume…)

As I thought that, Byron-san picked up the perfume bottle.

MC: “Byron-san…?”

Byron: “Sorry, may I put it on you?” *Top Right Picture*

He opened the lid of the bottle and the calm sweet scent tickled my nose.

Byron: “MC, hands.”

MC: “...Please.”

As I extended my right hand out to him, Byron-san sprinkled the perfume on my wrists.

A soft and elegant fragrance surrounded me.

(It’s a very nice scent…)

Byron: “...I understand what they mean now.”

Byron Wagner’s Route Episode 03 Part 02/05

Byron: “...I understand what they mean now.”

MC: “...?”

When I tilted my head to Byron-san’s mumble, my hand was gently lifted.

Byron: “It’s definitely an attractive scent.”

Byron: “But I feel more attracted to you than the perfume’s scent.” *1st Middle Left Picture*

MC: “...”

He kissed the inside of my wrist and my body got hot all at once.

MC: “Byron-san…do you like this scent?”

Byron: “Yes.”

(If that’s what Byron-san says…)

MC: “In that case, I will always wear it when we see each other.”

As I said that, Byron-san suddenly smiled.

Byron: “Then I’ll have to be careful.”

MC: “Huh…?”

Byron: “I don’t want to let myself lose control and cause us a scandal.” *1st Middle Right Picture*

Byron-san hugged my waist, smiling with mischief in his eyes.

MC: “...”

When I placed my hands on his chest to steady myself and raised my head, our eyes met.

Byron: “...MC.”

(Ah…)

As I closed my eyes with sweet premonition, I heard a knock.

(...Someone is here.)

Byron: “...We will continue this next time.”

MC: “Y-yes.”

Right when he released my body, a member of the staff for the program entered the dressing room.

Crew Member: “Excuse me, is it okay for you to come on set now?”

Byron: “Yes, I’ll head there right away.”

(I’ll go back to the office so I do not disturb him anymore.)

MC: “Byron-san, I'm going back to the office. Please do your best today.”

Byron: “Yes. You too.”

-

MC left the dressing room.

When Byron looked at the table, he noticed that she left her cell phone behind.

Byron: “Is this…”

*princess check*

Byron Wagner’s Episode 03 Part 03/05

MC left the dressing room.

When Byron looked at the table, he noticed that she left her cell phone behind.

Byron: “Is this…MC’s?”

***

—...That night.

(Where did I put my phone?)

My shoulders slumped over when I discovered that my cell phone had somehow disappeared, and I walked home without it...

Byron: “—MC.”

MC: “Huh?”

Byron-san was waiting in front of my house.

(Why is he here…?)

Byron: “I’m sorry for being unable to come to you sooner.”

MC: “That’s fine, but…what happened?”

Byron: “I had come here so I could give this back to you.” *2nd Middle Left Picture*

When Byron-san pulled out my phone from his pocket, my breath stopped.

MC: “You have it…!”

MC: “I was so afraid that I had lost it.”

MC: “Thank you for giving it back to me.”

Byron: “You’re welcome.”

(I must have forgotten it back in the dressing room, and Byron-san found it so he came to return it.)

(It’s kind of him to come all this way to give it to me...)

When I took my cell phone, something cold touched my cheek.

MC: “Huh… it’s raining?”

Byron: “That’s right, I heard it was supposed to rain tonight.” *2nd Middle Right Picture*

(Right now, the sky is still clear and it’s only drizzling…)

But I saw thick clouds approaching from the distance, and I knew it was only time before it started to pour.

MC: “Byron-san, you didn’t come here with a car, right?”

Byron: “Yes. My house isn’t far away, though.”

(Although he lives close by, he shouldn’t have to go back like this.)

MC: “Ah… if you don’t mind, how about you come inside for a bit?”

Byron Wagner’s Route Episode 03 Part 04/05

MC: “Ah… if you don’t mind, how about you come inside for a bit?”

Byron: “Is that okay with you?”

MC: “Of course. I will give you my umbrella.” *3rd Middle Left Picture*

MC: “Please go inside before the rain gets heavy.”

Byron: “Sorry for the trouble.”

I started walking toward my house with Byron-san.

At that moment, I thought I heard a mechanical noise from a distance.

(...Huh? Just now…)

Byron-san tilted his head at me when I stopped walking and looked back.

Byron: “What’s wrong?”

MC: “It’s nothing…”

(Was it just my imagination...?)

I squinted my eyes, but I couldn't see anything there.

***

—...Next afternoon.

MC: “Excuse me.”

When I headed to the conference room after being called down by the president,

Byron-san was also there.

MC: “Huh, Byron-san was called down, too?”

Byron: “Yes, it appears we were both wanted.”

MC: “Both wanted…?”

President: “MC-kun, look at this.” (TN: Young women are sometimes called “-kun” by their superiors in a business setting, even though it’s usually used for males.)

I took the weekly magazine offered by the president and looked down on the cover.

I followed the characters with my eyes, my eyes widening.

MC: “...! Th-this…”

(A report about Byron-san’s passionate lover…!?)

Looking at the cover, there was a clear photo of me and Byron-san entering my house.

(This photo was from yesterday, right?)

(The sound I had heard back then must have been the sound of a camera...)

Reporters had recently been spying on Byron-san to get a scoop on him.

(I had even been aware of that…)

(I messed up by inviting him over…)

President: “I called you guys down here to confirm the truth.”

Byron: “Are you asking if MC and I…are in love?” *3rd Middle Right Picture*

Byron Wagner Episode 03 Part 05/05

Byron: “Are you asking if MC and I…are in love?”

President: “That’s correct.”

Byron-san raised his head as if he hadn’t done anything wrong.

Byron: “We are not in love.” *Bottom Left Picture*

Byron: “Yesterday I just visited her house to return something MC had forgotten.”

President: “Is that all?”

He directed his quiet gaze at me, trying to see if there was any truth to what Byron-san had claimed.

(It wasn’t a total lie.)

MC: “Yes, I lost my phone yesterday...”

MC: “Byron-san brought it to me in person because we couldn't get in touch otherwise.”

President: “Then that means this report is a false alarm?”

As the two of us remained firm in our claims, the president exhaled as if he were relieved.

President: “Still, no matter what the circumstances were, this report has caused us a lot of trouble.”

President: “It's not only weekly magazines, morning news shows are also talking about the report.”

(...I was so busy this morning that I didn't have time to watch any TV, but I know he must be right.)

Byron: “It’s because of my careless behavior. I’ll take responsibility.”

MC: “...No, Byron-san did nothing wrong. I am the one who should be held accountable...”

President: “Who is and isn’t responsible doesn’t matter now. Is there any plan at all to manage the situation?”

(Manage the situation… If that’s all...)

MC: “Ah, we can do something at the upcoming new perfume presentation.”

MC: “How about denying the claims officially to the press?”

President: “You’re right. That will be a good time to do it.”

Byron: “Yes. I'm sure they will be asking questions about this as soon as they see me.”

MC: “Yes. The photos taken by the weekly magazine don’t mean we are in love...”

MC: “If we deny it publicly, the rumors will go away.”

President: “Okay, I ask you to settle this at that time.”

Byron: “Alright.”

That was all the president had left to say, and he walked out of the conference room like nothing happened.

Now alone with Byron-san, silence fell.

(I should apologize to Byron-san about the scandal I caused us...)

MC: “Oh, Byron-san…”

As soon as I spoke, Byron-san hugged me... *Bottom Right Picture*

*princess check*

[the-lightning-strikes-again]

Hey Lightning, I was wondering if I could get your thoughts on something. One take that seems to keep returning every once in a while is the "Allura fell for Lotor only after he revealed his Altean heritage," but I know u and others have disproven this many times, which does reassure me. While I love Allura, I definitely think one of her weaknesses was her devotion to Altea and singing Alfor's praises, which sometimes became too much. At the same time, it bothers me when I see some ppl (1/?)

Continuing anon message: “ say that she thought Alteans were superior to all other races, and that when the colony plot twist happened, she became repulsed by Lotor's Galra side, which is why she rejected him. For them, that's why she forced violent memories onto an uncorrupted Zarkon, but somehow "saw the good/redeemed" Honerva, the Altean. I can kind of understand where they're coming from, but for me, it just didn't make sense that Allura suddenly had a change of heart considering for most of s8, she was angry and dead set on going after Honerva. Even with that, I think to a lot of her fans, s8 made Allura so ooc that she became unrecognizable, which hurt to watch. I guess for me it's hard seeing antis and people who don't like her claim that that's just how she is and has always been. Haha sorry for rambling, but I'd love to hear your thoughts on this, since your arguments ease my mind on a lot of things when it comes to Allura :)”

Hi, anon. Wow, thanks for your extended note! I don’t know anywhere in canon that Allura champions Alteans as a superior race. The definition of racial supremacy is a belief that inherent genetic differences between races determine cultural or individual achievement, with social/governmental policies championing intolerance of other races. To get Allura to fit into such a label:

1.      A viewer has to ignore or undermine all the evidence available about who the main-universe Alteans really were before main-universe Zarkon’s massacre of them.

2.      A viewer has to ignore or undermine how Allura actually responds to a variety of different races in the show, including her own.  

So let’s start with issue one. To support an “Allura was a racial supremacist” opinion, a lot of antis (and even non-militant, average viewers) are favorable to the opinion that Alteans as a group, including Alfor, were actually evil and violent colonizer elitists before Galrans killed them off. In other words, they question Altean victimhood, and this allows the militant antis to poison and undermine scenes of a woman mourning her home and her beloved family. And it just gets to be a really unsettling conversation, to listen to someone actually try to justify genocide. They’ll also have suspicions that all of our foundational backstory in the s3 finale was just “cleansed” propaganda from Coran. So if antis can undermine Allura’s entire race and family as corrupt, then they can intentionally undermine any of her canonical statements about or efforts toward peace. Which is hilarious, because this racist tactic applied to Allura is actually what a lot of antis accuse Allura of doing with Lotor.

For the record, I don’t think the show production team actually intended the subliminal messaging/cognitive dissonance that I’m about to discuss. The people who designed and developed this show are fans of robot kitties and aren’t PhDs in social issues. But I think there is a very serious issue about the portrayal of genocide victims that feeds into some very real problems in our world, especially regarding the concept of racial supremacy and conspiracy theories about genocide victims.

VLD tried to play with both genocide politics for edge™ points while ALSO playing with shatterglass theory (shatterglass meaning an AU where the heroes are villains and villains are heroes). Combining these two concepts into the same universe creates some incredibly disturbing subliminal messaging about Alteans that very closely mimics ongoing neo-Nazi propaganda against Jews. Nazis and other anti-Semitists justify their hatred of Jews by equating them as terrible villains out for world domination via some underhanded shadow control of the mass populace. It’s an incredibly malicious form of propaganda, because it works so terribly well. And what do you know, VLD plays right into this kind of propaganda. In the season 3 episode, Hole in the Sky, we’re faced with team Voltron confronting an Altean Empire that was actually evil and out for multiverse domination. And oh by the way, they’re using malicious shadow tech to control a mass populace.

It’s like someone on the production team read the Protocols of the Elders of Zion and then just copied/pasted that incredibly damaging and widely accepted conspiracy theory right onto Alteans for s3 funsies because edge content.

This is incredibly punishing, for the narrative to wave the carrot stick in front of genocide survivors that maybe some others survived—and then to suggest that Alteans were the evil ones all along. A shatterglass twist worked very well in Captain Marvel (2019) for a lot of reasons, for example, but it just doesn’t work well in the VLD universe given that the show explicitly portrays the genocide victims as evil and validates this concept. And this episode unfortunately feeds ongoing cognitive dissonance in antis that if AU Alteans could be so evil…how certain are you that they aren’t in the main universe too? On the reverse side, the main-universe goes out of its way to portray that not all Galrans are evil, and even that Galrans were the primary resistance (BOM). But in this singular episode, we see a united Altean empire. And the only Altean who moves to stand against it once the shine wears off…is Allura. There is no AU Altean actually shown in the Guns of Gamara. So Allura stands alone as an Altean against her own people.

For this reason, this episode doesn’t function very well as a shatterglass AU either, because the moral “flip” isn’t a mirror balance to main universe. The Alteans of the AU world appear as fully united in their evil plans. And then, no doubt, anti-alluras point out other quirky things about main-universe Alteans throughout the show—the violent language-learning system that scares Pidge, and the ancient Altean terraforming technology that Haggar activates, and the fact that Oriande is a hidden place that keeps out the less magical with a violent guardian. These details, when removed from main-universe world building, create a cognitive dissonance about whether main-universe Allura and Alteans were actually genuine in how they depicted respectful “peace and diplomacy.” So anti alluras who believe Allura was a racial supremacist really rely on this s3 episode and these details to uphold their conspiracy theory.

So let’s focus on Allura in this episode, because it says a lot about who she ultimately is as a person, and people have forgotten how she actually responded in this episode. Allura is unquestionably hopeful at the thought that her and Coran might not be the last Alteans alive. Pretty understandable. If I were the last human, I’d be darn excited to find out there’s more of me left, lol. So her experience as a genocide victim initially blinds her to the evilness of these Alteans. You can even see the ache on her face, of how badly she wants to believe their narrative of peace.

So Allura is initially star-struck that she and Coran are not the last Alteans, yes, and that somehow they’ve achieved a “peace.” She is also not afraid to admit that they would be valuable allies in the war:

And she’s not wrong there, considering that they have what appears to be extensive military resources and a robot force of their own. But she makes a critical mistake in assuming that “these are my people” means that they share main-universe cultural sentiments. The instant Allura hears Slav (so not someone of her own race) call these Alteans out as actually evil colonizers turning people into slaves, she begins to question the narrative she’s received.

In this instance, she actually affords the Alteans the same courtesy she afforded Lotor—the opportunity to deny the accusations.

But in the AU Altean’s case, they try to turn blame back on other parties. Allura listens to Keith when he grows increasingly fearful of what the Alteans might do to the others, and she tries to plead for actual peace:

And actually, this is a pretty interesting moment for Allura. She tries to salvage an alliance…until she realizes that their differences are irreconcilable, and that their definition of peace is inherently different from her own. This probably sets the stage for why Allura was so triggered by Lotor talking about peace while also killing people—because she’s seen people misappropriate that term before. And also probably informs why she trusts the information of both Keith and Krolia (both of whom have Galran blood, btw).

Ultimately, Allura turns against her own people. Violently:

When they get angry about her wanting actual peace, Allura draws a weapon against them and rejects them from her people. This mimics how she spends several seasons fighting an Altean Haggar/Honerva for her crimes, and how she turns against Lotor too.

So case in point here, Allura loves her people, obviously—but she also is holding them to moral standards regarding their behavior, which is something that a genuine racist doesn’t do. As a matter of fact, Lotor is the only person of Altean blood that Allura genuinely bonds with ever again in the series. She’s distant with Romelle, she’s distant with the s8 Alteans… In s8, Allura even says this about Luca, which refers back to her own mistakes she made with initially being star-struck by the s3 AU Alteans who came in “peace”:

Allura herself had been manipulated in s3, wanting so desperately to not be the last Altean alive that it initially blinded her to how Commander Hira was manipulating her. The plight of the s8 Alteans who are deceived by Honerva is inherently frustrating to her, because she can see herself in them.

Absolutely none of this correlates with Allura seeing or perpetuating Alteans as a superior race. At every turn, her own people continue to disappoint her, and she increasingly and progressively separates herself from them in hopelessness, because they’re so brainwashed that they can’t see they’re just cannon fodder for someone else’s military agendas. Not exactly a ringing endorsement for a superior race, lol.

So let’s think about anti accusations here. Allura is a racial supremacist…but she’s arguing against her people who believe unquestionably in Honerva, another full Altean like herself? Nothing about that accusation makes sense with her actions.

The fact is, consistently from season 3 and onward, Allura is faced with her own people morally disappointing her.

The good news for the s8 Alteans like Tavo is that Allura is able to remove the dark entity Honerva is using to control him. Which allows other Alteans to “wake up” from being manipulated and try to make amends.

Regardless, Allura makes a very clear line that simply being Altean doesn’t make someone “right.” She sees herself fully at odds with her own people who are drawn in by Honerva’s lies. And she experienced well back in s2 (revealing Haggar as Honerva) and s3 (evil AU Alteans) that any given race, including her own, can house people who do bad things.

The fact is, she’s consistently and willingly drawn weapons against even her own people when they didn’t meet her moral expectations. So her response to Lotor isn’t particularly out of line there. She’s repulsed by a moral flaw.

And actually, Lotor himself wouldn’t have known this, but he very oddly echoed the AU Alteans by getting angry that Allura was angry over the means through which he was trying to get peace:

So Lotor actually reverts to the same logic of the AU Alteans—peace at any cost, just look at the results—

And keep in mind that the AU Alteans also manipulated Allura’s excitement about them, to get her to make the transreality comet usable so they could go into other realities. So Allura has felt betrayed and used before, by her own people.

So when she says this:

Yes, it’s a reference back to how Zarkon manipulated his friends in order to get access to the quintessence field, at the explicit cost of potentially killing his own people. But it’s not without understanding that yes, Alteans can be just as manipulative and betraying as Zarkon. Because she’s experienced it, again and again.  

As a matter of fact, six out of the eight seasons of Voltron: Legendary Defender feature villainous Alteans/Alteans on the wrong side of the war, and we continuously see Allura punished again and again for wishing that Alteans still lived.

No wonder she wanted to die.

This is something that I find uncomfortable about the narrative of the show. Previous iterations of Voltron did in fact have a “blood on everyone’s hands” perspective, such as within the ages 16+ Dynamic Comics. However, Arusians/Alteans in those old Voltron narratives were not victims of genocide. VLD turns Alteans into victims of the worst racial crime possible and then also consistently portrays them as inherently antagonistic to genuine peace efforts in some way, instead of focusing on the evil of the oppressors.

And this is such a double whammy for Lotor’s characters as well, given that he was abused by his parents and threatened with slavery via his Galran culture, and that he was half-Altean too trying to connect to his lost culture.

As a matter of fact, the larger show’s narrative interest in “victims as antagonists” makes it such that when we see victims try to enact actual justice, it feels almost jarring. Let’s look at that s8 Zarkon moment you brought up as an example, where Allura destroys his innocent perspective by showing him his evil deeds.

The s8 Zarkon is a weird topic because 1) This Zarkon actually doesn’t exist outside of Honerva’s mind, so how he has any kind of actual free-will is beyond me, unless someone wants to argue that Honerva actually cursed his true soul just as she cursed the other paladins. It’s hilarious too, because Honerva-mind-Zarkon also calls Honerva a psychopath, so I guess now Honerva is psychoanalyzing herself using her dead husband as the vehicle, while also discreetly helping the paladins to stop herself—

ANYWAY, using this Zarkon as a “proof” of Allura’s “racism” is also cherry picking in the weirdest of ways. Is she angry about his horrific and incalculable crimes, including even how he betrayed the OG paladins and ruined his own planet? Absolutely. Does she want him to be aware of his crimes instead of having to pretend like nothing’s wrong? Yes.

But notice here, this Zarkon actually shows remorse. He is actually crying over those memories and recognizing that he had done something wrong. And Allura can work with that. In fact, out of everyone standing around and doing nothing, it’s Allura who gives him a second chance and offers an alliance with Zarkon in order to stop a crazy Altean: 

Keep in mind too, Honerva didn’t have memory loss at the end of s8. She knew exactly what she’d done and had given up and had to actually be convinced to do anything halfway constructive. That’s a very different circumstance than mind-Zarkon had, who jumped at the chance to do something to fix what all had happened, and gets even morally righteous about it, calling his own wife a psychopath, lol.

So generally, antis who believe Allura was a racial supremacist haven’t watched the show holistically. We see her hold the same standards to her own people as she expects out of others. This show would look incredibly different if Allura were a true racial supremacist.

Ah, you ask. Okay, so we’ve refuted the big pieces of “evidence” used to incriminate Allura. But what about all of those weird details about ancient Altean history? The violent language-learning program that scared Pidge? The violent terraforming tech that almost kills Voltron? The concept that Alfor tried to play “police” over the Galra and actually blew up their planet? The Alteans’ ongoing discussions of “peace and diplomacy” and spreading it throughout the universe while they happen to sit on a massive load of ancient power?

The s3 finale and other facts throughout the series very heavily smash the claim that our canon, in-universe Alteans were evil colonizers like the AU Alteans. The biggest piece of evidence to the contrary is that the Altea we know was one (1) planet. You counted right. One planet. Not an empire, but a singular planet. The s3 finale corroborates this, showing Altea as being largely isolationist from a military perspective while Daibazaal and Nalquod warred "for generations," right in front of their salad.

So some viewers would have you believe that Alteans were these big bad, intergalactic police state colonizers. But for all of its great power and knowledge, the singular planet of Altea didn't even canonically interfere in the wars of its own galaxy for actual millennia? And looking at the screenshots upon the stabilization of the alliance, Alfor is revealed to not have had experience with a neighboring culture. His face while exploring Gyrgan’s homeworld is an indication that it’s all rather new for him too. So again, we have evidence showing that Alteans were not colonizing or even functioning as a police state.

Note here that in the s3 flashbacks, the show confirms that it actually wasn’t just Alfor who suggested an alliance. All five leaders had common interests in protecting their galaxy from even worse threats, so all five came together at the same time. This is actually the first piece of evidence we have of Altea entering into some kind of intergalactic military agreement to stave off said worse threats.

And all of this is on top of a history where in s6, the Galran Archivist confirms that the Galran Empire had existed before Zarkon for 3,000 years, with times of “expansion.” It’s very easy to see that Blaytz’s people were actively fighting off Galran occupation of their homeworld within this past.

And that’s actually what I think makes Alfor and the OG paladins some pretty interesting characters. Here, we had colonizing Galran empire setting down its sword and accepting the value and space of its neighbors. Here, we had master alchemist Alfor giving up military power within their group by acknowledging Zarkon as the superior strategist. Here, we had Blaytz who had previously been battling Galran occupation…fully accepting the Galra?   

So the OG Paladin backstory represents a pretty incredible alliance that removed a lot of intergalactic toxicity and helped heal broken bonds. But it required all five leaders to agree to that. Alfor did not throw his weight or power around within this. There were several checks and balances here.

But this backstory also helps to explain some of the quirky details about Alteans. Their planet existed within an active war zone, and it’s very likely that they’d had to fight off Galran occupation just as Blaytz’s people did. So the violent robot trainers and fear-based language learning systems start to make sense. Alteans weren’t just simpering people playing harps all day and eating grapes. They were actively prepared to defend their planet and their culture.

So when Allura says in season 1 that Alteans were “spreading diplomacy” across the universe, the only pieces of evidence we have of that is the OG paladins themselves, in which Alfor was a big part in creating that alliance—and then possibly the Alteans with the Balmerans, given their deep collective rituals with that planet while the Galra literally just came in and ripped the planet nearly to death. Allura tries to mimic what it means to accept and interact with a culture without changing it well in season 1, when she stumbles through trying to respect Arusian culture and its demands on its people. Also, there is a big fact that antis like to overlook:

The fact is, despite the untold numbers of civilizations we interact with across 76 episodes, no outside race remembers Alteans as evil colonizers. If they were really so big and bad, we would have heard it, like, “Man, yeah the Galrans are bad. Just as bad as those Alteans, back in the day.” Or something. But nope, nothing.

So I heavily question the history of Altea as an ancient colonizing race. If they were, then Altea wouldn't have just been a single planet with limited resources to fight wars in even its own galaxy. All of this supports the idea of Altean children being raised to fight--because they were preparing to defend themselves when/if diplomacy fails.... But the fact that the Balmerans see Alteans fondly and that literally every other race we run into is explicitly suspicious of Galrans and not at all of Alteans says something.

I think the only piece of evidence there might be for a genuinely colonizing ancient Altea is the use of terraforming technology, as mentioned in s4. Haggar discovers it and activates it to try and kill Voltron--and she nearly succeeds, because said tech destroys the entire crust of the planet to reform it. But you have to step back for a second and wonder--if ancient Alteans were so powerful, why was Alfor struggling so hard to even hold his own planet together in the midst of all these other cultures warring and larger threats? If they had this technology--and they did know about it because Allura recognized it right away as ancient technology--why the heck wouldn't they use it? Or were they using it, and it was to reform uninhabited planets to help sustain displaced peoples? Why is it, if Alteans were so terribly bad, we have no record across ANY of the many alien races being cautious of them? Even Galran Lieutenant Lahn snapped at Allura only because he was jealous of the general security she had back on, you guessed it, explicitly Altea. There's a lot of potential explanations for a positive use of terraforming technology, and the evidence against colonization and Altea committing omnicide against other races is incredibly more aligned with the other details in the canon.

And even Alfor’s creation of Voltron and the blowing up of Daibazaal—that’s something that antis like to position as evidence of his police-state ways to underhandedly control other cultures.

So let’s tackle those too while we’re at it.

Honestly, I know people like to hate on Alfor, and I do think his character picks up some misogynism just from the writers....But I don't think he was as much of a controller as people think he was. He was already in an alliance with four other leaders to try and stop bad things from happening in their galaxy. That meant they were expending incredible amounts of time and resources to accomplish that end—resources that were not renewable and may have been straining various planets. We know that he started building Voltron with Zarkon and everyone else's blessing because he called them "clean ships," but it's only after the rift creatures attack that suddenly Alfor's perception of Voltron moves from "clean energy" to "omg we need a more powerful weapon against this unknown enemy.”

So these are his intentions BEFORE he discovers rift creatures are a threat to the universe. While Zarkon states that these new ships are to be endlessly powerful for the Galra Empire, Alfor shames him by offering what his desire is for them:

  After the rift creatures nearly destroy Daibazaal, intentions change.

So here, we see the game change in a BIG way. Voltron is not just about offering a more renewable way of sustaining peace-keeping efforts. Alfor is now adjusting and finishing these ships with the explicit knowledge that if they are not powerful enough, then Daibazaal and the Galran people will die. Alfor’s got a LOT of pressure on him now to deliver a mighty and powerful weapon to stop this new threat. So even his creation of Voltron as a superweapon involved using it to protect people from imminent death—not to police them.

And about Alfor blowing up Daibazaal—once again, it’s Alfor trying to clean up Honerva and Zarkon’s mess. Honerva had convinced Zarkon that the rift needed to be wider, and so Zarkon deceived the paladins into widening it.

So keep in mind here, at this point in time—the rift was destabilizing and eating an entire planet. The entire universe was now at stake. Alfor had to choose between a bad fix and an even worse option of allowing everyone to die, but he very clearly evacuated people before destroying Daibazaal, as part of his promise to keep Galrans safe. So that no one would have to die.

And as a matter of fact—about that terraforming technology. How sure are you that Alfor didn’t intend to use it to build Galrans a new home? It’s entirely within the realm of acceptable conjecture that he allowed for the existence of that technology because it could restore what had been lost.

And here’s where the story gets really screwy and feeds into some anti hate. Because when Zarkon wakes up as a zombie, he desires more quintessence as zombies do.

So he’s pissed that Alfor just cut off his gateway, and he manipulates his people:

And it’s here where we get the idea that Alfor was an evil controller. The idea came from Zarkon, who—we can look around pretty easily and see that he was not a man of honor, ultimately. Even if you chose to not believe the s3 finale flashbacks as being objective, there’s something wrong with Zarkon. (It’s clear that the show thought using Coran was a smart way to shell off massive amounts of info, because clearly if this were truly in Coran’s perspective, we would NOT have had intimate looks into Zarkon and Honerva’s bedroom as Zarkon is tending to her, like omg.) Numerous sources, histories, and cultures outside of Coran confirm that Zarkon hit a point of no return on the evil scale, and that he projected his own blame for Daibazaal’s destabilization onto Alfor in order to raise up his new regime in the name of Quintessence™.

So at the end of the day, even Alfor was a victim. But yet somehow, various antis choose to believe Zarkon’s victim-punishing narrative because said antis can’t or else refuse to connect one scene to another since it undermines their justifications for why they can hate on Allura. And that’s not so much an issue with the story itself as it is just poor critical analysis or malicious weaponization of content against other fans.

Now, at this point, we’ve talked about Allura and we’ve talked about Altean history. I have numerous other posts about Allura’s interactions with other races and Galrans and overcoming trauma to give the entire universe a second chance. So if there is anything in this show that suggests Alteans were in any way a superior race, then it’s probably within the show’s own worldbuilding. The show contradicts its own definitions of what quintessence even is by suggesting Alteans have “bluer/purer quintessence” in order to justify why Lotor would even be trying to sacrifice them for anything. The show-championed concept that Alteans have a bluer, purer life force above all other people, and that only Altean energy could interface with the fabric of space-time. Now, this is a problem in the later seasons’ world building itself. And you know who wrote that in? The production team. So once again, we do have racial issues in this show, in ways that shows like Star Wars desperately try avoid by showing racial diversity in who has Midi-chlorians.

That said, I’m not a perfectly woke storyteller either. I think every story and show is going to have something problematic™, but with VLD it’s very clear that its disrespectful handling of genocide politics and shatterglass conspiracy theories, on top of its weird master race angle created the perfect storm. These mishandled and quirky details have created a cognitive dissonance with the provided narrative, resulting in some people in the anti fandoms to champion what aligns very closely to actual neo-Nazi propaganda against Jews, who according to them are not victims but instead the true perpetrators of all bad things. For the sake of the antis, I’m pretty sure they’re not intentionally looking at VLD this way and are probably just looking for any easily graspable reason to hate on Allura for interfering with their ship or something.

But this kind of subliminal propaganda that undermines victims, and the effect it has had on fandom morality politics, is deeply concerning to me. I really wish that we’d had an opportunity to respectfully and critically discuss this with the production team of the show, because a Y7-FV show about “strength in unity” should NOT result in us needing to have a conversation about people walking away with neo-Nazi-ish propaganda sentiments against genocide survivors. Like. Clearly, VLD is fictional, but it’s feeding into a real-life beast that it does NOT need to feed. And it’s keeping alive ongoing conspiracy narratives against some of our most vulnerable populations on the planet.

So, we need better stories. We need a production team that, if they’re going to get paid to do something involving portrayals of genocide and politics, that they need to do their research on those topics. Nobody is going to be perfect with a creation, but VLD validated some very damaging things—and it ALL is something that could have been fixable. I think it would have been incredibly validating to hear the production talk about and accept that these were issues that cropped up unintentionally, and to hear them confirm that these issues are not the sorts of things that VLD was supposed to champion.

The greatest tragedy of all of this is the potential that this show had to really champion some great and validating messages, and the potential that we as a fandom had to come together and do something that fandom was meant to do—which was celebrate the things we love. Because that’s why we’re all here. That’s why this crazy tumblr of mine even exists. It was supposed to celebrate things.

For that reason, I’m going to end this here. I’ve written several responses now as to my thoughts on the inappropriate narrative lens of the show, its contradictory and damaging worldbuilding about the purest race, and how it champions demonizing or punishing genocide survivors again and again. Within all of that, I’ve talked at length about Allura’s character and behavior over 8 seasons and how she built even empathetic connections with militant Galrans like Commander Lahn. In fact even her own homesickness is how she emotionally connects with Lahn, because she understands that desire to call something one’s own. To have a home. A family.

I now really would like to get back to writing stories that I find meaningful to me using these characters and these worlds—and trying to find the hope in all of this darkness, haha. And maybe with any luck, I can hope to do VLD some justice, knowing that I am still on a learning journey as well.

But I appreciate your note, and I hope this very extensive response helps to settle your questions and concerns once and for all regarding VLD Allura. If you should have any remaining questions, please feel free to reach out via a private message to discuss. Thank you!

[oradevilredeemed]

Gossip Girl Rewatch

I decided to rewatch GG for the first time in 8(?) years. I haven’t touched the show since it ended and it’s interesting the views that have and haven’t changed. For my own amusement, the big things I liked/hated I will discuss as well as any other significant changes.

Chuck and Blair

You know what, yeah they were toxic but honestly I still ship them as much as I did before. Not only that but from season 1 to 4 we saw how they could be good and right for each other but also how they could be so wrong and destructive. From the end of season 2 we knew clearly they loved each other in an all consuming way but they were both broken and Chuck so much more so (honestly talk about the worst family and childhood ever) that they didn’t know how to handle or put limits on that amount of love. By having both let go at the end of season 4 we had season 5 to see Chuck become a man worthy of love through his relationships to others (Monkey is cute as) and through therapy which I wish we had seen and heard more of - he never went to Blair with a hidden agenda to bring her into his orbit for romance, he only did that once when Dan set it up because it was clear that in that moment Blair’s happiness included Chuck and then the next episode to try and understand what had changed and then because her own mother asked him. During that season we even got the clear juxtaposition of his former self by having Bart there to see just how much better he was at handling emotions and life changes.

While Blair got to explore the other types of love to determine which she wanted for herself in season 5, as Blair said herself it was her season to “run away and try to kill” that intense love that had her losing her way. She had always had a fairytale in mind and she got it and it nearly destroyed her and everything that made Blair herself. She then got her simple love, that was easy and she was content but ultimately that wasn’t for Blair who has always been passionate about something. The difference was this time she wanted the passionate but knew who she was as a sole person, she finally saw herself and had validation from the one person more influential then Chuck - her mother. In season 6 I appreciated the second time around how they had this understanding and communication over them wanting to set up a future for themselves separate from their relationship before fully committing and building their lives together. This help Blair complete her powerful women arc and also helped end Chuck’s history of unhealthiness in dealing with business and Blair - he kept her separate until he needed to scheme and them scheming together, using powers for good was never framed as a bad thing but as part of there skill as a lower couple. I also loved how naturally they both could fit in and help the other achieve what they wanted in a true partnership, demonstrating the way they knew each other, could bring out the best in each other and work as a team. Funnily enough watching it again I have a new head canon of Chuck and Blair in the 5 year time jump and beyond with them actually having one of the most settled and “normal” relationships and lives because they got their not boring out during the show and the circumstances of their wedding - normal would probably be a relief lol.

Season 5

I didn’t actually watch a lot of season 5 when it aired because I couldn’t but I read reviews and such and I hated majority of what I read. But forcing myself to watch it I...still hated it. Louis stayed way to long and Blair was just a bad character. I appreciated her friendship with Dan, but the relationship just wasn’t one I could get onboard with; something always felt off. I also loved Chuck working on himself, his friendship with Dan, and Monkey was pointless but cute so I enjoyed that and Chuck just really given things and his happiness up for Blair’s until it became obvious that Blair’s happiness lead back to him. I liked seeing the darker side of Serena but wish she had joined forces with Nate and Chuck more. The 100th episode was not “a love letter” and I stick by that. I used to hate but now love that Bart came back and was everything Chuck had imagined him to be. The first half of season 5 tonally felt like a completely different show so even though I didn’t like the Dair relationship it was easier and more enjoyable to watch than Louis.

Dan and Blair

I used to hate everything about them together, but now I enjoy their friendship and wish they had kept that between them. I didn’t like how Blair went back to judging his status in season 6. That brings me to the one thing I really dislike and that is how they ended. It was obviously done to cause some drama in season 6 but I feel there could have been a great moment of conversation between the two where they talked out her choosing Chuck and they could have maintained a friendship. Romantically I didn’t buy it, to me I found it one sided or just off somehow but I understand why others could ship them but it’s not for me and I was happy for it to be a relationship that led them (more so Blair) to an understanding of what they want. For Blair it was that while she could have safe and easy love and be content she would rather the passionate love that could bring her to the happiest she has ever been. For Dan I would say he wanted that role of ultimate insider.

Dan and Serena

I always liked season one and to a lesser extent season 2 versions of them. But afterwards initially no, I hated that they ended the show together and thought both (Serena) could do better. However, rewatching knowing what I know now (Dan is GG) is slightly different. I still love season 1 and to a lesser extent season 2 them but I found myself actually rooting for season 6 them, I felt the shock again when it was revealed that Dan had set things up but I also understood him a lot more that the feelings were genuine. I also could see why Serena could be so forgiving especially after her GG stint in season 5. The one thing I still disagree with though is the line that Dan being GG was him writing a love letter to them all, just no girl. I will say though that may head canon for them is that in between that 5 year time jump their relationship was still a little back and forth and not as settled as Chuck and Blair which I use Lily’s line of “I never thought we would get here” as my proof.

Bart’s Return

Oh I did not like that when it aired. I found it so soapy but on rewatch yes it was soapy but I also loved to see not only that Bart was exactly as Chuck imagined (and that we had actually seen - remember he was the one who swayed Chuck as the end of season one) but we also saw how Chuck was different to him and how he had grown. Chuck was fairly open about his feelings to Bart, even initially instigating a hug until it was clear that Bart and his feelings equal weakness self was there. In season 6 I found the decision to take down Bart extreme and a soapy device but they had set Bart up as this ultimate powerful bad guy that would have destroyed everyone’s lives so the only way for it to end was by him dying again.

Vanessa

I hated her on the first watch but on the second one I didn’t but I also can almost pin point the second that they had no clue what to do with her. On rewatch I actually liked her character but also feel like she was treated badly by other characters and ultimately the writers. I wish we had gotten a small glimpse of what she was up to after the time jump (she was the only character we didn’t see then) but I will stick with my initial thought that her season 3 faux dreadlock look was not it.

Rufus and Lily

On initial viewing I was really disappointed that they didn’t end up together and that she ended up with William but on rewatch. I think it made an odd amount of sense. Lily and Rufus had a lot of love but ultimately were different in fundamental ways that just couldn’t transpire to long term happiness. William blackmailing his way into her life was (funny I laughed when Ivy was going off) not great but out of everything in Lily’s life that was the least of issues. I do still love the call back to the end of season 1 though by having Lisa Loeb end up with Rufus.

Blair and Serena

Not much changed with my opinions but I will say I could see the systematic way they slowly broke Blair and Serena’s bond in season 5. Every time they called each other their best friend it started to feel insincere to the point where Blair even dating Dan a guy Serena had been and was so clearly I n love with didn’t even feel like something she should consider as wrong because that was something a best friend did. I don’t know if I feel they built them up enough after the events of season 5 but I also believe they wanted there friendship instead of being “stuck with each other” as Blair so elegant put in the season 6 premiere.

I’m sure there are a lot of other thoughts I have forgotten and some I have communicated terribly but ultimately I was surprised to find myself actually enjoying the rewatch. Watching in binge form was definitely an appeal but it also gave me some understanding and enjoyment to storylines I had previously disliked.

[samwpmarleau]

inside the pocket of your ripped jeans

2,500 words of me throwing hands with TVD’s post-S5 depiction of Caroline and Tyler’s relationship.

Inspired by this fic by @cbsnforeverandalways, this post by @zalrb, and @fredsythe’s salt.

It hits her at the oddest times. She could understand the faint sense of loss if it only happened on their anniversary, or when the moon is full. Stefan understands when she’s a little mopey on those days; after all, he has days like that of his own.

It’s when it happens on days that don’t have any significance that gets her the most, though; those, she can’t tell Stefan. Because he’d look at her all half-judgy, half-sympathetic, which makes her feel the entirety of the hundred-and-fifty-year age gulf between them. Not that she wants to examine it even to herself, granted.

It would be one thing if she knew when the missing him would strike her, but it comes on without warning.

She and Tyler will be talking, as acquaintances or friends are wont to do, and there’ll be a moment. This spark of magnetism between them that used to always be there (when it was allowed to be there). And she knows he feels it, too, because she can see it in his face, and that makes it worse, because that means it’s not a figment of her imagination. She tells herself it’s just them reconnecting, because they were friends long before they were lovers, but she knows it’s a lie.

Other times, she’ll flip through a photo album and smile rather smugly at her favorite photo of her and Stefan because they are just perfect together — but then she’ll see a picture of him and Elena and the dark beast of doubt and envy will pool in her stomach, and then she’ll see a picture of her and Tyler, and now guilt and wistfulness join the party. Because how can she be jealous of the way Stefan and Elena look together, the way they just fit, when she looks at her and Tyler and they just fit, too?

Still other times, she’ll be toying with her daylight ring and will flash back to the day her father had tortured her, when Tyler and her mom had come to her rescue and he’d slipped the ring back onto her finger. He’d practically been down on one knee then. She remembers reliving that moment later, once the pain of that day had passed, only in a much more scenic locale where Tyler would present her with a ring ring, not just the lapis lazuli. When he proposes, she’d thought then, not if — even back then, when their relationship was barely in its infancy, it had felt...permanent.

Caroline still doesn’t have a ring ring, but she has a wonderful boyfriend and a wonderful life that’s not with Tyler and that’s that.

She’s fine.

Really.

* * *

She dreams of him, sometimes.

She’ll fall asleep to a vision of dark eyes, and she thinks that they’re Stefan’s, which is acceptable. But when she falls truly asleep, it is not Stefan that she sees. She sees Tyler, smiling at her the way he never quite does anymore, a smile absent of betrayal and hurt, like she’s the sun his world revolves around. Even before they’d gotten together, when they were still just friends figuring out their supernatural identities, that smile had set her heart fluttering. She’d passed it off at the time as the usual jitters of being a new vampire.

She dreams of all the times he’d swept her off her feet, or pressed her up against the wall, or stared at her in that intense way he did right before he kissed her breathless. She dreams of falling into bed with him (or onto the couch, or on a desk, or…), every nerve alive, every inch of skin alight. Sex had never been just about passion for them (though there certainly was plenty of that), it was their way of connecting when words weren’t quite enough.

She dreams of them arguing, which they did often. But it’s not a bad dream — she’d liked that she could speak her mind with him, that they could call each other out on their bullshit and that he didn’t treat her like she couldn’t defend herself. She’d liked that instead of letting issues fester or keep secrets, they hashed things out and got to the bottom of them. She’d liked that no matter the problem, he never made her feel bad about herself.

When she wakes, there is always a moment where she fully expects to see Tyler lying beside her. Perhaps she’d kiss his chest, his neck, his jaw, his lips until he stirred awake. But it’s Stefan lying there, not Tyler, because of course it is, and for that brief moment there is an overwhelming sense of disappointment.

* * *

It’s trivia night, when their entire group is supposed to hang out together, but Elena, Matt, Jeremy, and Damon had all bailed, so it’s just Caroline, Tyler, Stefan, and Bonnie, with Bonnie and Stefan currently tied for the lead. Bonnie swears she hasn’t used her powers to get ahead. Caroline’s not entirely sure about that: she still bitterly recalls the incident in fourth grade when Bonnie swore she didn’t move the Ouija board pointer and then the next year revealed that in fact she had. She’s peeved about Stefan, too, because she doesn’t think it’s exactly fair when he has so many more years’ worth of trivia knowledge. Bonnie ends up winning the battle for first place, and thus becomes the mediator for Caroline and Tyler’s battle for third.

“We should probably just give Caroline the crown right now,” she snorts as she reads the card. “ ‘In The Real Housewives of Orange County, which housewife departed the show between seasons two and three?’ ”

With hardly a minute’s hesitation — and just a split-second before Caroline recalls the name — Tyler answers, “Jo De La Rosa.”

Bonnie and Stefan stare at him, dumbfounded. “Uh...correct,” Bonnie says. “How do you know the answer to that?”

“Just from around,” Tyler says with a wince. “It’s not like I watch that reality TV trash or anything.”

Caroline, huffy at having lost, objects, “No, I have it on good authority that you enjoy this ‘reality TV trash,’ Tyler Lockwood. You watched every episode with me.”

“Yeah, because at the end of each season you gave me a bl — ” He abruptly cuts himself off, glancing at Stefan. “—ueberry muffin.”

Caroline desperately hopes her blush isn’t visible. It was blowjobs she gave him in exchange for watching the show with her, not muffins. In fact, Tyler’s allergic to blueberries, and by the dubious expressions on both Bonnie and Stefan’s faces, it’s clear they know of that particular allergy and further don’t believe a word of Tyler’s fumbled explanation.

“Well,” Bonnie announces, “that’s my cue to leave.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Stefan offers.

Caroline waits until the door closes behind them, then remarks, “That was awkward.”

“It’s not like they don’t know we were together,” Tyler says, helping clean up the game. “What, does Stefan think all we did was make out or something?”

“No, but still.”

Tyler looks a bit perturbed at that, though doesn’t reply. She used to be able to read him like a book, but now she can’t decipher at all what he wants. What, is she supposed to talk about their sex life in front of their friends? In front of Stefan? That sounds like something pre-werewolf Tyler would do, not the selfless, sensitive Tyler she dated for over a year.

She doesn’t want them to part on bad terms, though, so she goes to give him a hug goodbye. She intends for it to be brief, but when they embrace, she finds herself unable to break it. As a hybrid, his vampire half cooled his body temperature to more or less that of any other vampire; she’d almost forgotten how warm werewolves get, and it sends a shiver down her spine. More than that, she’d almost forgotten (or perhaps willed herself to forget) just how good it felt to be close to him. He’s shorter than Stefan, but she kind of likes that her head rests next to his instead of against his chest, his pulse a temptation. His arms are tight around her, his hands low on her waist, and it feels…right.

She pulls away because that most definitely isn’t right, not anymore, but she makes the mistake of looking up at him. It would be dangerously easy to kiss him right now, if she wanted. And the way his eyes are dilated and his lips slightly parted, somehow she knows he would kiss her back. She blinks a few times to try to clear out the lustful fog, ashamed of the fact that despite the acrimonious way they ended, despite the fact that she’s now dating Stefan, she wants to kiss him.

She steps back more fully and says, “Well, drive safe.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

She watches him leave, and feels an odd sense of emptiness. Worse still, the sound of the door shutting triggers that deep-set déjà vu that she’d endured for so long; a closing door, after all, always followed a goodbye. A goodbye and not knowing how long it would be until she would see him again, or even if she would see him again. That’s not the case now, he’s not leaving for good, but it still makes her chest constrict.

A few minutes later, the door reopens, and her heart, not her head, leaps. Perhaps he’d forgotten something, or perhaps he’d returned for something else entirely that they would both surely regret. But that guilty, hopeful sensation falters when she sees that it’s Stefan who enters, evidently done fending off Bonnie’s gloating.

“Are you all right?” Stefan asks with a frown.

Caroline fixes her expression, waving him off. “You know me, I just don’t like losing.”

It’s an accurate enough statement, so Stefan accepts it. He helps her collect their empty beer bottles and puts the popcorn bowl in the kitchen. It was an aberration, she tells herself. It’s natural to still feel an attachment to your ex for a while, right? It means absolutely nothing.

She just wishes it felt like nothing.

* * *

Matt doesn’t have to repeat himself when he calls to tell her Tyler’s dead by Damon’s hand. She can hear just fine, thanks very much, and the information registers. It’s not the first time they’ve lost a friend and probably won’t be the last, and Tyler and Damon had always hated each other anyway, so really it was just a matter of time. She hadn’t even talked to Tyler in months.

“After everything we went through, I guess I just always assumed that he would be there,” she tells Stefan. It’s truer than she can express; even when he was gone, he was constant. He was white noise, always there even when he wasn’t, even if other things drew more attention.

She’s not sure whether Stefan simply doesn’t hear her or ignores her, for he switches focus from Tyler to Damon. She ends up comforting him when it was her ex-boyfriend who was murdered, and she wonders if that’s normal.

The first funeral is interrupted and so later they have an informal gathering at the empty carnival grounds. Everyone says nice things, but it doesn’t quell the pain.

“I loved him,” she says. God, she loved him. But Stefan’s here and she doesn’t want anyone to read anything into it, so to be safe, she qualifies, “You know, we all did.”

Talk then switches once more to Damon. Someone makes a casual remark about how Tyler’s not even the first Lockwood Damon has personally killed. They talk about how to save Damon, how they can bring Damon back from the brink, how lost Damon must feel, as though something like this is remotely out of character for him, and Caroline excuses herself to go throw up in the bushes.

She doesn’t get any time to herself afterwards; Stefan convinces them all to enjoy the carnival’s offerings, and then there’s the chaos with the twins, chaos in general, and life moves on because it has to. She figures she’s buried all of it — we hadn’t talked in months — until one day she’s doing some spring cleaning and empties out her jewelry box, systematically untangling necklace chains and setting aside rings to be polished. From the pile, she slowly pulls out an old charm bracelet, the silver now tarnished but its origin unmistakeable.

She runs her fingers over the charms — a paw print, a football helmet, a heart, a cheerleader, her initials. They were broken up at the time, Klaus’s sirebond in the way, but it was her eighteenth birthday so he’d gifted her the bracelet anyway. She stares at it, and stares, and stares, and the grief slams into her all at once. She clenches the bracelet in her fist, cries until she can’t breathe and then cries some more.

He’s dead. He’s dead.

Klaus had been mistaken when he said Tyler was her first love. It was Matt who fit that bill. Matt was the sweet, innocent love of youth, where everything seems both too much and not enough.

But Tyler…

We’re immortal, he’d said. He was wrong about that. She stayed immortal but he didn’t.

We will find a way, he’d said. He was wrong about that, too. They never found a way.

What if we don’t? she’d said. She was the one who was right. She, the eternal optimist, had become the pessimist, and she was right.

It would be silly, wouldn’t it, to still call him the love of her life? She’d thought he was at the time, because obviously. She was in love and their relationship at that point was a patchwork of goodbyes, sex, and yearning, filled to the brim with thoughts of, If we can only get past this hurdle, we’ll be home free, so of course she’d thought it would last. People always think love will last, don’t they, in the moment?

But here by herself in this great big house, she can admit the truth. What she has with Stefan isn’t just different, as for so long she’d assured herself. She’s content and comfortable with him, but it’s…less. She doesn’t feel complete when he’s near nor empty when he’s gone. The noise and worries of the world don’t fade when she’s in his arms. She doesn’t feel alive.

Because the truth — the truth she will admit now with the silver bracelet in her hand and her chest overflowing with sorrow — is that she gave away her heart a long time ago, her whole heart, and she never got it back.

And it doesn’t even matter because Tyler’s fucking dead, and she’s going to live forever. There will be no closure to be had, no apologies, no amends, no nothing.

I’m not moving on from anything, he’d said. I love you.

She polishes the bracelet until it’s gleaming, fastens it around her wrist, and thinks, I never really moved on either.

[shadedrose01]

hi! can u pls do number 14 (in the angst section thing) on ur latest prompt post? maybe hurt/comfort or just whump if possible? thank u :D

If The World Was Ending (You'd Come Over, Right?)

A/N: you ask for whump and hurt/comfort, I give you whump and hurt/comfort hehe. Thanks for the prompt, anon, I hope you enjoy it!! :D ❤💖

Read it on ao3 here!

Based off of the prompt:

14. "Just get home as soon as possible, okay?!?"

~~

"Hey Pete." A sigh, low, quiet, sad. "I know I'm the- the last person you probably want to hear from right now and definitely the last one you want to talk to, but..." A pause, some shuffling in the background. "We're all worried about you, Peter. You left, and didn't tell anyone where you were going and-" Another sigh, similar to the first. "Just- call someone, please? It doesnt-" quiet, more subdued, "Doesn't have to be me, just- call Tony, or May, or somebody, let them know you're okay. That's all I ask." Another pause, longer and quieter than before, full of tension, empty words, broken promises. A puff of breath. "Come home as soon as possible, okay? I-... I love you."

A beep signaling the end of the message echoes in the larger, almost empty room, and Peter throws his arm over to press the end button before the robot lady can ask if he wants to listen to it again, or delete it, or whatever. He rubs away the stray, angry tears from his eyes, feeling his stomach clench with the swirl of intense emotions, feeling as it shrivels from the heat of his frustration, rocks from the waves of his sorrow, and bitterness and- and- god he doesnt even know.

Hes just... tired. Bone aching, soul crushingly tired. With everything. With his work load at school growing and growing everyday, spiraling out of his control. With Tony yelling at him in the lab, because he always messes something up. With Harley, who finds something to argue with him about every single day, the screaming matches getting louder and louder every night. With May, moving on with Happy and forgetting about him more and more, time and time again. With his friends, who always seem to be hanging out, but never with him, never inviting him anywhere anymore. With Spider-Man, and the way people seem to keep dying on his patrols, on his watch, because god, he cant even do that right. The one thing he thought he could do with his eyes closed, and he keeps fucking that up too.

And now, now he did the worst thing possible. Worse than fighting every night with someone he thought was the love of his life. Worse than getting scolded at his dream job everyday, by his mentor and father figure. Worse than being forgotten by the only mother he really remembers, by his friends that he grew up with.

He ran away. He broke down, freaked out, and ran. Stuffed as much clothes as he could find into a suitcase, called the first hotel away from the city he could think of, booked a suite for the night and took off without telling a soul. Not his boyfriend, not his mentor, not his aunt, not his friends. Nobody. Because he just couldnt take it anymore. He couldn't handle the constant fighting, the barrage of stress and anxiety a mountain high that he knew he couldn't climb, the loneliness, bitter and cold and empty that surrounded him, suffocated him even as he laid beside a warm body every night, and talked with people everyday. The piercing, heartwrenching thought that everyone he loved was going to leave, to break up with him, to get tired of him, to forget him, and he was going to be all alone.

So, instead of facing it and communicating about his fears like a normal, mature adult, he ran. Like a fucking coward. And, instead of relaxing him and giving him a chance to get away like he thought it would, it just made everything so much worse.

Now, he was stressing out even more, thinking about all the classwork he was missing, all the assignments piling up. Thinking about Tony, waiting for him to show up, trying not to panic when he doesn't, probably checking the monitor on his watch and his suit activity, to see where he had went. Thinking about his aunt, waiting for him to come bake with her like he had promised, and worrying when he doesnt show, because he always shows. Thinking about... Harley. Harley, coming home after a long day of schooling. Harley, noticing that Peter wasnt home, like he usually was. Harley, noticing that most of Peter's clothes were gone, his side of the room left in chaos. Harley, probably thinking the absolute worst.

Peter remembers the calls. The way his phone vibrating again and again as Harley called him over and over, leaving voicemails, telling him he was worried, telling him to call him back, that they could work it out, whatever it was, voice frantic, and then Tony, joining the mix an half an hour or so later, probably when Harley had fully begun to panic. But then, the silence. After about an hour of constant ringing (and Peter trying his hardest to ignore it), the calls suddenly stopped. Harley called one last time, ten minutes later, leaving one last voicemail, but after that... nothing. Pure, unfiltered, crushing silence.

After Peter had gotten to his hotel and broken down once more in the tiny, too clean room, he had listened to that voicemail on repeat, just to drown out his screaming thoughts that plagued his mind, just to listen to the ending again and again and again.

"I...I love you."

When was the last time they had said that to each other? Through text, maybe a few days or weeks ago, but in person? Peter couldn't remember. A while. Too long.

His escape was turning into a nightmare the longer he sat in this room, getting smaller and smaller, almost suffocating as the minutes turned to hours, as the day turned to night, and he couldn't take it anymore, he had to get out of here. Had to do something, go for a walk, clear his head, something, anything.

He basically jumps out of the hard, creaky bed, grabbing the card key had haphazardly thrown onto a table when he first walked in, and exiting the room, the building as soon as he physically could. He takes in a long, deep breath, feels the mid October air chill his lungs, giving a nice tingling sensation before he exhales, already feeling his muscles beginning to relax, his heart beginning to slow.

He looks left and right, before beginning his trek, feet crunching against frost with each step against the frozen concrete, the wind whistling against his red tipped ears, quiet, a whisper, definitely not enough to drown out his racing mind, his screaming thoughts, his growing anxiety creeping and wrapping around his neck like a noose, pulling tighter and tighter the more he thinks, the more he steps, the more he moves and breathes and functions. He takes another deep breath, trying to ward off another attack, another episode, but it doesnt work, the feeling getting worse and worse.

He feels a tingle at the back of his neck, sharp and harsh, but ignores it in favor of his breathing, trying to keep his lungs working as they should, trying to get oxygen to his overworking brain, to his stampedeing heart.

Rookie mistake.

He feels a prick on the side of his neck, and his instincts kick in before he does, his body flinching violently and whipping around, throwing a punch that sends the perpetrator flying back, hitting multiple bystanders before landing on his ass. Peter would've found it funny if there wasnt three others, surrounding him on all sides, grabbing at his arms, legs, torso, anywhere they could reach. And if he wasnt feeling so damn dizzy all of a sudden, the world spinning off its axis, vision doubling. He tries to fight back, tries to struggling, but his limbs feel like lead, his head feels fuzzy, and darkness envelops his vision before he can even blink.

--

Conciousness hits him like a ton of bricks, jerking him awake. As soon as his eyes are open, he's alert, on edge, wary, glancing around the unfamiliar room and trying to pinpoint where he is. It's a dark room, the walls, floor and ceiling all seemingly made of concrete, the only light shining through a sliver of a window near the roof on one of the walls. He must be underground, then, in what looks like some sort of basement, the room too small, and too familiar to be a warehouse or a base for an evil team somewhere. He notices a new more details, like a frayed rope on the ground, a table with some tools on it, and a few darker stains on the ground that Peter tries his best not to think too much about, and comes to some conclusions.

It's a one man job, definitely, not a group of people, and definitely not some well known group like Hydra. 'But there was more of them', he remembers, fuzzily, three men who had grabbed him once the sedative was given. What part do they have to play? Aside from that mystery, he also knows that they've done this before (from the stains that looks conspicuously like blood), and, the most terrifying fact of them all, that they know he's Spider-Man, the strong metallic cuffs that have to be vibranium holding him back, even as he tries with all his might to break through. He doesnt know how they found out, he's kept his identity pretty lock and key, but apparently they know somehow. So that's great, just perfect.

He doesn't know what he's going to do. His first thought is that he'll wait for Harley in his Iron Lad suit, or for the Avengers, or both to come save him, get him out of this mess, but then he remembers they can't. They don't know where he is, he never told them, so they wouldn't know where to look, where to start. They wouldn't even know he was kidnapped, much less know how to save him.

He feels his heart start to race, his chest start to squeeze, this throat start to close, before he forces himself to take a long, deep breath, shutting his eyes and calming himself down. Having a panic attack wont solve anything. He's alone in this, he needs to think clearly.

Okay, where to start, where to start? He needs an escape plan. He opens his eyes, and glances to the slim window, leaning forward and looking closer, seeing faint bars blocking the outside. Okay, so that's a no go for an exit, but what about the door? He looks to the old wooden door, the brown turning gray in its age, with a metal handle and a simple key lock. He could probably pick the lock, or break down the door if he couldnt. Good, now, he just needs to figure out how to get out of these cuffs-

Way too soon for Peter's liking, a loud click echoes in the room, and the door creaks open, a shorter, bigger man walks in, dressed head to toe in black and wearing a white anonymous looking mask. Cause that's not cliche at all. He feels a spike of anxiety either way, and swallows, wishing he had his mask on so he could hide a bit of the fear he knows he's expressing on his face (Harley always said he wore his heart on his sleeve, said it was one of the things he loves about him. Used to love about him anyways.)

"Good evening, Mr. Parker." The man says, voice low and rumbly, sounding pretty much exactly as Peter expected him to sound, surprisingly enough. Stereotypical villain smokes-three-packs-a-day kinda voice.

It's the greeting that causes Peter to snicker, grinning. "Ooo, so formal! You're like a James Bond kinda villain, I dig it! Yo, how do you like your drinks, shaken or-"

He's in the middle of doing his godawful impression when the man shoots forward and punches him across the face, and ow that hurt waaaay more than a punch should. He feels the burns of cuts on his face, the tingling of liquid running down his cheek, sees the brass knuckles reflect off of the sunlight through the window, and thinks 'huh, that makes sense.'

"Shut it, Spidey." He sneers, and Peter winces, his face scrunching up instinctually before he forces it to go blank. Sure, he knew that the man knew he was Spider-Man, but actually hearing him say it, hearing him confirm it sends a chill down his spine, cooling him from the inside out. He must've seen the flinch on Peter's face, because the man continues menacingly, starting a slow walk around Peter's chair. "Yeah, I know who you really are, Peter Parker. I've been watching you for a while now. Know about your wall climbing, your webs..." The man yanks at his handcuffs, making Peter's body crash back against the chair. Peter struggles to keep his face neutral as pain seares up his back, his neck, the back of his head. "Your super strength." He breathes into Peter's ear, before letting go, Peter slumping back against the cool metal, trying to look smaller than he really is. "I know it all, Mr. Parker."

Peter glares at him when he comes back into view, hoping his eyes dont give away his true emotions, dont give away how scared he really is. "That's really creepy, dude. Don't you know anything about personal space?" He gets another punch to the face for that, his teeth throbbing as a warm, metallic taste fills his mouth. He spits out the blood, the bright red a stark contrasting against the older stains on the concrete, and mutters "guess not" under his breath.

"Personal space." The man grumbles, before laughing bitterly, no taste of humor in the tone. "As if you know anything about that."

Peter's face scrunches up, and he tilts his head, feeling bitterness rise up this throat. "Sorry, I'm not following, how do I not know about that? I'm not the kidnapping people after stalking them. I dont even know who you are, dude." He braces for another hit, but it doesnt come, the man just chuckling harshly again.

"Oh no, you wouldn't." The man leans forward, mask almost pressing against Peter's face, and theres a line about 'again, personal space, man' on the tip of his tongue, but the words die and his head drops straight to hell as soon as the man finishes his sentence. "But your boyfriend would."

Harley... Harley's involved in this? How? Why? What did he do? His shock, his fear must show on his face because theres a hint of mirth, of amusement in the man's voice as he speaks. "Oh, the great and mighty Iron Lad, the hier to Iron Man, the savior of us all." His tone is bitter, mocking now, and Peter feels cold, colder than he's ever felt, icy cold horror freezing his heart, his lungs. "That's what everyone said. That's what everyone thought. That's what I thought." The man snorts, short and careless, bitter. "And then he killed my family."

"He would never." Peter spits out venomously before he can even think, his heart racing, aching. He wouldn't. Even if they were on bad terms, even if they were on a break, or whatever he could call what they were going through, he knew for a fact Harley would never hurt someone intentionally, especially not someone innocent.

"Oh, but he did." The man leans back, basically growling now, voice strained, crazy, beginning to pace back and forth. "He did, he killed her, he killed them, all of them. Crashed into our building, our house, our home, and he killed them all."

Peter just stares wordlessly, eyes wide, wracking his brain, trying to think of a time Harley crashed into a building. It was during a fight most likely, but Peter always remembers him in the air, on the ground, never getting hit, never-

Suddenly, a memory floods over him, and he swallows roughly, chest squeezing. "August 1st, 2024." He murmurs solemnly, quietly, and the man's head suddenly stops, head jerking to face Peter.

"You know." He wasnt a question, so Peter doesnt treat it as one, lost in the memory of Harley sobbing loudly against his shoulder, wailing that he had the window, that the wall had collapsed, that there was a woman, and a kid, and that he couldn't save them. It was the first time Harley had ever lost anyone, the first time Harley had watched someone die. It was one of the roughest nights they ever had.

"He tried to save them." He whispers instead, his heart aching at the reminder, at Harley's description ringing through his head. Of how he lifted the rubble off of the bodies. Of how he checked the mother first, finding no pulse. Of how the kid, the son, was still alive, but his legs, his body had been crushed. Of how Harley had tried to help, tried to save him. Of how the boy had coughed up blood, had wheezed, had looked Harley in the eye, his own full of fear and agony. Of how he had taken his last breath in Harley's arms, broken and beaten and bruised. It had taken Harley months, years to get over it, and he still couldnt look at the date without rushing to the bathroom to vomit. Peter shakes his head, shaking away the thoughts. "He tried. There wasn't anything he could do."

"He killed them." The man snarls, apparently not in the mood to listen to Peter's truth. "He murdered them, with his own two hands and-" he pauses, straightens, his voice going soft, quiet, eerily calm and collected when he says "And now, he's going to get what he deserves."

Peter can almost hear the maniacal grin on his face as he grabs Peter's chin and tilts it up, until Peter's eyes connect to the eye holes of the white, porcelain mask, covered only by a thin black mesh. "Because now, I'm gonna take away the thing he loves."

It's barely a whisper, what he says, but with his enhanced hearing, Peter hears it crystal clear, and he freezes, paralyzes, terrified. He yanks at the handcuffs again, and again, the cuffs getting tighter and tighter, cutting into him as he does, but not breaking, not freeing him, barely even moving-

The man walks over to the table, and grabs something Peter hadnt even seen earlier, his phone, and turns it on. "What's your password?"

It would be such an innocent question, if they werent in this situation. Someone someone, a friend usually, would ask carelessly, casually, something like "what's the wifi password?". Peter just narrows his eyes, and keeps his lips shut.

The man doesn't like that very much, as there's suddenly a very real pistol pointed at his forehead, coming out of seemingly nowhere, 'he hadnt even seen the gun, where the-' "Tell me, now."

He sounds serious, grave. Peter swallows a whimper threatening to escape, and gives it to him, making sure to keep his tone level, confident, firm, like he knows he'll be fine, like he knows hes going to get out of this, even though he feels the exact opposite. But he can't, won't let this man find that out, so he tries his best to act brave. To act like Spider-Man, even if he feels like cowardly Peter Parker. Man, he wishes he had his mask.

The man puts the code in, humming to himself as if this is normal, a regular routine act, before a loud ringing echoes in the room, and Peter's stomach drops. Of course he's going to call Harley. Of course he's going to make sure Harley knows what's happening to Peter.

Of course he's going to make Harley listen while he dies. Why wouldn't he? He wants revenge, revenge for something Harley didnt even do, and this how he's gonna get it.

Peter looks to the sky, swallowing roughly and blinking the tears out of his eyes, he's gotta be strong, gotta seem unaffected, gotta have hope. But that hope, that little light in his chest is dwindling more and more as the seconds pass, as the phone rings again and again, as horrible scenario after horrible scenario runs through his head, until-

"Hello?? Pete, are you there??" Peter cant help the silent sob that shutters his body, some of the tears in his eyes spilling down his cheeks as Harley's, his boyfriend, the love of his life, the one he thought he was going to get to marry one day's voice rings out in the cold, cold room, sounding almost breathless with relief and hope that it crushes Peter's already shattered heart even more. Theres so many things he wants to say,  so many words he wishes he could take back, so many he wishes he could say again and again, over and over until it was engraved into Harley's head, never moving, never wavering.

But before he can speak, the man speaks up for him, voice filled with a mock amusement. "Hmm, not quite. Mr. Parker's a little-" he chuckles, dark and ominous. "Tied up at the moment."

There's a pause, long and dwindling, full of palpable fear that causes a few more tears to slip from Peter's eyes, knowing, knowing how terrified Harley is, and when he speaks back up, voice low, shaky, angry, Peter knows he's right. "What have you done to him?"

"Oh, nothing." The man singsongs, grabbing underneath Peter's chin and forcing his head upwards, before brushing away his tears with a thumb. With anybody else, itd be a soothing gesture, an act of delicacy, of love, but all Peter can feel is disgust, bile rising in his throat, and he jerks his head of his his grip, glaring heatedly. The man drops his hand, and his body posture stiffens. "At least, not yet." He mutters harshly.

Another pause, and some shuffling, before Harley's voice cuts back in, sounding stronger this time, calmer, but it's an act, Peter can tell, Peter can always tell- "What do you want?"

"You can't give me what I want!" The man yells, suddenly slamming his fist into the table, Peter flinching from the loud bang that results from it. "I had everything I ever wanted, and you took it away from me! You took everything away from me!"

A puff of breath comes through the speaker, trembling. "I dont know what you're talking about-"

"You dont?" The man interrupts, breathing hard, harshly, before laughing manically as Peter starts to tug at the cuffs again, glancing around the room and trying, trying to think of a way out, of an escape route, of something, anything- "You don't remember? The night you killed my wife and son? Crushed them under the rubble of your mistakes?"

Harley makes a heartbroken, aching, painful noise, the sound reverberating as Peter shouts at the man, spits, "He didn't mean to! It was an accident!-"

The man whirls around and smacks Peter with his gun, hard, making his vision tunnel, the room spinning, his head suddenly pounding where it was only a light throb before. He grimaces, closes his eyes, grits his teeth with a wince, feels the hair on the side of his head grow wet and sticky with blood as he tries to settle this dizziness that's overwhelming him. "Shut up!!" The man roars, causing Peter to flinch again because its so loud, it's too much- "He killed my family! And now," Another laugh, the barrel of the gun now pressing against Peter's forehead, the cool of the metal seeping into his skin. Peter opens his eyes to stare at it, wide eyed and unfocused. "Now, he's going to listen as I take his."

Peter struggles even more, even though his limbs now feel like concrete, as the gun clicks, the safety coming off, the bullet lining up with the barrel, ready to shoot, ready to kill him-

"Wait!" Harley cries, his calm exterior deteriorating, leaving his true emotions on full show, the panic, the distress. "Please, your wife and son wouldn't want this-"

"You dont know that! You dont know anything!" The gun presses further into his forehead, finger laying on the trigger and suddenly, Peter is calm.

It's a strange, out of body calmness that washes over him like a wave, gentle, soothing. He stares up at the anonymous like mask, at the man wearing all black, and the faint sight of deranged eyes he can see through the black mesh of the eye holes, at the reflective gray of the pistol, and he feels calm. He's going to die, staring at this mask, this person, knowing that the love of his life, his soulmate is listening, and all he feels is an eerie calm, everything slowing down to a stop. He gives a faint smile, barely a twitch of his lips, before saying, loud enough so the phone can pick it up, "I love you."

He closes his eyes, and waits for the inevitable. He doesn't hear hear the sob like scream that Harley let's out, calling his name. He doesn't hear the door burst open, and three bodies rushing into the room. He doesnt hear the repulors and guns going off, killing the man almost instantly. He doesnt hear anything but his heart beat, pulsating in his ears, and a loud constant ringing, until the gun shifts against his head, until hands grab at his shoulders and shake him violently, until he opens his eyes and sees Harley's face two inches away from his, blue, ocean eyes wide with terror, mouth moving frantically, the one curl of hair always in front of his face flowing as his body jerks with his movements.

Then, suddenly, everything rushes back. The tsunami of emotions, of fear, of grief, of pain and hurt and 'god I'm so sorry' floods back over him. Sounds, Harley blabbering "Come on, Pete, answer me, please," in his ear, while others (he cant even tell who they are, can't even-) talking beside them, over the dead body of his captor, 'they got him, he's dead, I'm not dead, he's dead-'. His vision, blurry with tears he didnt even know he was shedding, spinning with the concussion he knows he has, going back and forth as Harley's actions get more frantic, more worried, his voice getting higher the longer Peter doesn't answer.

"Peter, baby, please say something, please be okay, please be-" Peter just leans forward and presses his lips to Harleys sloppily, almost missing from the dizziness still plaguing his mind, his thoughts, successfully shutting him up. Harley makes a strangled sound, before kissing back passionately, hands on either side of his face, salty tears pooling out of his eyes and into their mouths.

They pull away after a few moments, only for Harley to pull Peter to his chest, breathing out, chanting, "Oh thank God, thank you, thank you-" and Peter presses his face into his neck, feeling himself start to shake, to tremble as he slowly falls apart, wrapping his arms around his back and grasping onto the metal of his suit tightly, sobbing loudly. "I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"Shhhhh," Harley soothes shakily, rubbing a strong hand up and down his back. "It's okay, you're okay. Everything's okay."

Peter pushes through anyways, needing to say this, needing to- "I-I didnt- didnt mean to run away, I-I just- I need-needed to get away, and-"

"I know," Harley murmurs, cutting him off gently, "I know, baby, I know, it's okay." He sighs quietly, sounding sullen, guilty. "I'm sorry too. But it's okay. We're okay."

Peter nods shakily, hoping, believing him, squeezing his eyes shut and shuttering, curling more into Harley's chest. "I love you." He whimpers, "I love you, I love you so much."

"I love you too." Harley whispers back, pressing a light kiss to Peter's cheeks, carefully missing the bruises and cuts, pulling the trembling boy even closer. "So so much. Forever and always."

"Forever and always." Peter echoes, sniffling.

Things aren't perfect, Peter knows. He knows that they still have a long, long talk about everything that's happened, and that things arent going to click into place immediately. They may not for a while, but as long as they're here, safe, warm, alive and loved... Peter knows that they'll figure it out, together.

[aceofstars16]

A New Start

So...I actually wrote again??? And I tried writing a Tangled fic for the first time??? I’m not sure if I really got the characterization right, and I don’t know if this could even fit into canon or not anymore because I haven’t watched the newest episode yet...but I had this idea not long after seeing Rapunzel’s Return and I really wanted to give it a go so...here it is?

Summary: The King and Queen’s memories aren’t coming back, so Rapunzel turns to Varian for help. 

AO3

Fic under the cut because it’s a little long:

Trees, rocks, a river. The landscape blurred by as the carriage rumbled along, bouncing Varian with each rock and ditch it encountered, but he barely noticed. Casting a glance at the materials he had brought, the events of yesterday played through his head.

He had been sitting outside, trying to work in the fresh air to give himself a new perspective. Though he may also have been avoiding his old lab, partly because of the mess but mainly because of the memories that he would rather not dwell on. It had been a fairly normal day, all things considering. Then Rapunzel had shown up, asking for his help. Apparently, the King and Queen’s memories weren’t coming back and no one knew why. So, Rapunzel had come to him. Him. Varian, the kid who only a few weeks prior, had been one of Corona’s enemies – disliked and distrusted. Not that he could blame them.

So, of course he had to help and he wanted to help, but he couldn’t ignore the worry that had been growing ever since Rapunzel had come to him. And it only grew stronger as his destination neared - the winter retreat. The King and Queen had been moved there after the whole Saporia fiasco to keep them safe until their memories were restored. Which Varian was supposed to fix…somehow, despite not knowing anything about magic. In fact, he was pretty sure he knew less about it than a lot of other people. It was more…confusing than alchemy, and that was saying something seeing as alchemy didn’t always make sense or react in the way he expected. Especially Quirinian, which he hadn’t gotten right before. But now it was his only hope. If he could figure out how to reverse engineer it that is. Well, really, reverse what it was supposed to be. After all, blowing things up wasn’t exactly going to help anyone right now. As if it ever really helped anyone in any circumstance.

Shaking his head, Varian tried to push the thought away, and the guilt along with it. Dwelling on it wouldn’t help anyone, and if he was honest things had actually been good, all things considering. He was making a few new friends, and Corona didn’t seem to hate him anymore - at least not from what he had seen. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was a fragile peace, that he would mess up and they would turn on him again.

A quiet chittering sounded, effectively pulling Varian out of his thoughts. He quickly looked around, only to see a familiar head poking out from under the seat.

“Ruddiger!” Scooping up his pet, Varian frowned at him. “You were supposed to stay home!”

Ruddiger squirmed out of his grip and chirped again as he climbed onto Varian’s shoulders.

A small smile grew on his face, and Varian sighed. “Yeah…okay…I guess I could use the company.”

The familiarity of the fur on his neck was a comfort. Ruddiger was his most loyal friend. Despite everything – including turning him into a huge monster to distract everyone from kidnapping the queen - the raccoon had always stuck by his side. Even in prison he had been there, though he had always hidden whenever Andrew was around. ‘Should’ve paid attention to that sooner’, Varian thought as he absently scratched Ruddiger’s chin.

“You think we can figure this out?”

A purr like sound was the only answer he got, but it brought another smile to his face. “Yeah, I know…we’ll try our best, right?” Now to hope that his best wouldn’t blow up in his face like last time…He quickly shook his head. No, it would be different this time, no one would end up stuck in amber - he would make sure of it.

-----------

Bang!

“…ow…”

Groaning, Varian slowly righted himself and pulled off his goggles, blinking away the light from the explosion before glaring at the formula that had just blow up in his face. Again.

It seemed like no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t figure out how to get the Quirinium to work. No matter what he did, it just blew up, as if there was no way to actually get it to erase memories. And if he couldn’t get it to do that, then there would be no way to reverse the effect and help the King and Queen.

Knock, knock, knock.

A quiet tapping sounded at the door and Varian barely held back a groan. “Come in.”

One of the guards poked his head into the room. “Just, making sure you’re…okay…”

Rubbing a hand over a sore spot on his head, Varian sighed. “Ah, yeah, I’m fine just…slow progress.” He gestured to the makeshift lab and the smoking liquid.

“Oh.”

Just that one reaction made the weight in his chest grow. He had to get this together, he had to succeed. After all, he was the reason the King and Queen had forgotten everything in the first place. “I’ll get it soon, I’m sure of it.”

“O-okay, yeah…uh…well…” The guard gave an awkward thumbs up and ducked out of the room.

“Great,” he muttered to himself. Ever since he had arrived out here, Varian had felt like a villain again, though he supposed he deserved that much. After all, these people hadn’t really seen much of his attempts to be a better person, to help out and try to make up for all of his mistakes. But there was one way to show them that he had changed, or that he was trying to.

Taking a steadying breath, Varian looked at the steaming beaker, narrowed his eyes, and stood up. With a quick swipe, he cleaned off his goggles before placing them back over his eyes.

“Time for batch number 12.”

---------

“WHAT AM I DOING WRONG?!?”

Slamming his hand against the wall, Varian winced at the pain that raced down his arm. Everything hurt. His arms, his legs, his chest, even his brain. He had tried everything he could think of to fix the formula, but nothing was working.

Chattering sounded from the floor and a second later little feet were pawing at his pants. With a sigh, Varian leaned against the wall, before sliding down to the floor. A second later, Ruddiger had crawled into his lap and Varian absently petted him as he stared at the opposite wall.

“Why can’t I get this?”

Ruddiger tilted his head and pawed at Varian’s shirt before curling up into a ball, his tail wrapping around Varian’s hand as he did so.

“This is my chance to really make it up to the King and Queen, to actually do something…and I just can’t!” Resting his head against the wall, Varian tried to fight away the tears that were slowly growing in his eyes, but he wasn’t very successful.

“Varian?”

Quickly wiping at his eyes, Varian turned his head towards the door and saw Rapunzel standing in the entrance. Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he tried to keep his voice from cracking as he spoke. “Rapunzel? What are you-? I mean uh, I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Well, the Captain thought having me here might help spark my parent’s memories, so I came for a few days while Eugene keeps an eye on Corona.” She seemed a little absent as she spoke, as if she wasn’t fully focused on what she was saying. And as she explained the situation, she slowly made her way into the room before sitting down on the floor next to him. She was silent and Varian cast a quick glance at her, only to see that she was looking around at the room - his broken flasks, the explosion marks on the wall, and all the other signs of his failure. His gaze fell as it all hit him again, he couldn’t bear to look at her anymore, not when he had failed her.

“How many times has it blown up?” Rapunzel scratched Ruddiger’s chin, and Varian knew she was looking at him, but he didn’t look up.

“Thirty-four…though, not all of them blew up.” He gestured to the table, which had holes in it from when the solution had burned through the table.

“Oh…”

Varian was dimly aware of her readjusting herself so she was sitting closer to him, resting her back against the wall. He could practically feel the disappointment radiating off of her, which only expanded the guilt in his chest.

“I’m sorry…” he croaked out, hugging his legs to his chest as he tried to quell tears once again. “You trusted me and I…I failed…I-” His voice cracked and he quickly shut his mouth again, but not before a quiet sob escaped.

“Varian…” A hand rested on his shoulder. “I…it’s not your fault. No one knows what to do, and you’ve tried your best.” She pulled him into a quiet side hug. “And for that I’m grateful, and I still trust you.”

Sorrow and guilt pressed down on him, but a spark of relief grew in his chest at her words. “Y-you do?” It seemed too good to be true, he definitely didn’t deserve it, but when he looked up at her, she smiled and nodded.

“Of course.”

A small smile played on his mouth, but then he saw the table and all of his failed formulas and it fell again. “I still wish I could’ve helped more.”

“You’ve helped plenty, I’m grateful for all you have done, and I’m sure my parents are too. Maybe I’m just remembering the cure wrong, after all it was Cass who-” Rapunzel’s voice broke and she looked away for a moment.

Just hearing the name of his old friend sent a wave of sadness through Varian. He didn’t know everything that had happened, but he knew Cass hadn’t come back and that in some way, she had betrayed Rapunzel. Just like he had.

For a moment, they just sat there, but slowly the sorrow eased and Varian started processing Rapunzel’s words. “Wait…cure?”

Rapunzel blinked a few times, as if clearing away her own thoughts, and nodded. “Yeah, it’s what got me to remember when Cass…when I forgot, but for some reason-”

“I hadn’t even-!” Varian jumped to his feet, his mind starting to whirl as formulas and equations started coming to mind. “Do you have the ingredients?”

“Yeah, but, why?”

“I think I’ve been going about this all wrong! I’ve been focusing on Quirinian, when I should’ve been starting at the other end, with the antidote. If I can modify it…”

Rapunzel straightened up, barely suppressed hope blooming on her face. “Do you think you can get it to work?”

Varian glanced at the table before looking back at Rapunzel and shrugging, a small smile growing on his face. “Only one way to find out.”

----------

Varian hardly dared to breathe as the servant handed the King and Queen the tea. Tea that had his latest formula in it. And one that had been tested to make sure there would be no ill effects. But no one knew if it would actually bring memories back or not, and there was only one way to find out.

A hand gripped his and he squeezed back just as hard. Rapunzel stood next to him, waiting to see if their collaboration had worked. Although Varian had done most of the work, she had helped get the ingredients and had kept him company in the lab. So, it had been a two-person project, or a group effort if they included Ruddiger.

“Huh, a strange tasting tea, is this new?” The king asked, frowning at the cup before taking another sip.

“Uh, well…”

The clattering of porcelain on the floor interrupted Varian’s response.

“What…where…?” The King looked around, blinking in confusion for a few moments. Then he spotted Rapunzel. “Rapunzel, sweetheart, what’s going on? Why aren’t we at the castle?”

Rapunzel’s hand slid out of Varian’s grip and she took a step forward. “Dad…you, you remember?”

“Remember what? I don’t remember traveling h-oof” His words were cut off as Rapunzel rammed into him, hugging him tight.

“You remember!”

Happiness grew in Varian’s chest as he watched, the interaction reminding him of when he had hugged his dad again for the first time in a year. A smile grew on his face, and all of the stress of earlier seemed to melt away. “It worked…”

Rapunzel hugged her mom just as tight as he dad, and Varian was content just to listen as questions were asked, and hesitant answers were given.

“-but then Varian-”

“Varian?” The King interrupted Rapunzel and for the first time, he seemed to register that Varian was even there. And when he spotted him, his gaze turned cold.

Fear gripped Varian’s heart and he took a step back, the joy of a few minutes ago had vanished into thin air. “Your Majesty, I-I can explain, I-”

“You will do no such thing! How dare you even look at my family after what you did!”

Each word was like a hammer to his heart, pushing him further and further down. He winced at the sharpness and anger in the King’s voice, and out of instinct, he took a few more steps back. Not that he could really run – guards were everywhere, but he no longer felt safe. And in reality, he really wasn’t. The King didn’t know all that had happened, and even if he did…he might not be as forgiving as Rapunzel…and really, who could blame him…

“Dad, wait!”

“No, he-”

“I know what he did!” Rapunzel stepped forward, putting herself in front of her father, and in doing so shielding Varian from the wrath of the King. “But he’s changed. He helped me save Corona, and he helped you get your memory back.”

The King frowned at Rapunzel, then looked at Varian, his gaze turning to steal one again. “But he-”

“Fred.” The Queen rested a hand on his shoulder, and he looked at her. “Let’s hear him out.” She looked at Varian, but instead of anger, there was sympathy. After all he had done to her, she didn’t seem mad at him. How…?

With a frown, the king looked at Rapunzel, and then at Varian. “Alright, let’s hear it.”

----------

Letting out a breath, Varian sat down on the steps of the building, letting his shoulders droop. “Glad that’s over with,” he muttered to himself.

Telling the King his story, and what he had and hadn’t done had been…hard to say the least. But after a lot of discussion and support from Rapunzel, he had been granted a pardon, though Varian was pretty sure the King still hadn’t really forgiven him. Not in the same way Rapunzel had at least. Though the Queen had been quite supportive, which he was surprised but grateful for.

A door opened from somewhere above him and he looked up to see Rapunzel walking out. When she spotted him, she smiled and he returned the gesture as she sat down.

“Sorry about my dad, he can be…”

“Stubborn?” A small laugh escaped his mouth. “Join the club. Though…I don’t blame your dad. I did…mess up. A lot.”

Rapunzel sighed. “Haven’t we all?” She rested a hand on his shoulder. “But don’t worry, he just needs time. I mean, Eugene was an infamous thief and now him and my dad actually get along, for the most part at least. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

‘I promise.’ Varian remembered when that phrase had hurt him, and it still brought up old memories, but in the end, she had kept her promise. And she hadn’t given up on him. She had given him a second chance, and he wasn’t going to let that go to waste. “Thanks, Rapunzel.”

“Thank you. Without you, my parents still wouldn’t remember who I am.”

“Anytime.”

They exchanged a smile and then watched at the sun slowly set over the mountains. So, maybe things weren’t perfect, but then again, things never really had been perfect before. But at least now he had a second chance, and a friend who believed in him - even when he didn’t believe in himself. And that wasn’t a bad place to be. In fact, it was a pretty good way to start a new and better chapter of his life.

[odanurr87]

Flash Review: Witch’s Love

Hyun Woo as Ma Sung-Tae, and Yoon So-Hee as Kang Cho-Hong.

Release Date: July 25 - August 30, 2018

Episodes: 12

Available on: Viki

Summary: Kang Cho-Hong is a young witch living with her grandmas, running a restaurant by day and performing magic rituals by night, who soon finds herself losing her powers. Ma Sung-Tae is a wealthy businessman trying to solve a traumatic puzzle from his childhood who buys the building where the trio of witches live and operate, effectively becoming their landlord overnight. Initially keen on getting rid of this rude individual who intruded on their lives, the witches soon change their tune when they learn he might be the key to restoring Cho-Hong’s powers. But there is more to Sung-Tae’s story than meets the eye...

WARNING! I’m gonna spoil the living shit out of this show. Proceed at your own risk.

What works:

Yoon So-Hee as Kang Cho-Hong. She was really the only reason I decided to watch this kdrama in the first place as I really liked her in One More Time and felt she had the acting chops for another main role. I feel she was the standout here again, delivering the more interesting performance, or at the very least trying to show more emotional range than her co-stars. She was feisty, happy, confused, sad, angry, in love, pretty much what you’d expect from a woman who finds herself falling in love for a guy who starts off (and some would argue largely remains) as a jerk. You can’t help but fall in love with her, what’s kinda the point and the reason why I watched all 12 episodes of this show.

The concept... kinda. I’ll admit the idea of witches living in 21st century Korea as restaurant owners intrigued me, and the thought of seeing a reenactment of a mortal falling for Bewitched’s Samantha had its charm, although the show never makes the most of this premise. The grandmas that care for Cho-Hong can be pretty funny when they choose to be and their meddling works more often than not, certainly when they’re trying to play cupid, but it is less welcome when you realize they have prevented Cho-Hong from having any real, meaningful, lasting relationship with anyone throughout her entire life and remain intent on doing so. Why? Because one of them got burnt for it, though not literally like Joan of Arc. Incidentally, I feel the show never fully embraced the idea of making the grannies appear to be serial murderers hiding their business behind a restaurant facade, though admittedly that would have perhaps required a radical transformation of the character of Sung-Tae to make it work. It’s a shame because that one scene where they’re shown “getting rid of the body” was hilarious.

What doesn’t work:

The male leads. I’m sorry but they really don’t. On the one hand we have Hwang Jae-Wook (played by Lee Hong-Bin), a webtoon artist and apparently Cho-Hong’s childhood friend. I say “apparently” because as far as I could tell she doesn’t remember him. He’s the kind friend (and should’ve remained so) who, naturally, is nursing a crush for Cho-Hong that she clearly doesn’t reciprocate, what is all the better given they have zero chemistry, but the show still tries to showcase him as a potential love interest. Then we have Sung-Tae, a character who didn’t have a bad start but soon showed himself to be a jerk (it fluctuates throughout the series) and rather too possessive for my tastes. He’s also fairly consistent in his stiff and one-note performance, only loosening up when allowed to act cute with Cho-Hong a couple of times. Was the script to blame, the direction, or maybe he just wasn’t into it? He has some good scenes, but I feel like they were few and far between, and usually more of a credit to So-Hee’s character. I was left with the sensation that, if there was any more chemistry between Cho-Hong and Sung-Tae than between Cho-Hong and Jae-Wook, it was probably because the former had more screen time than the latter and that can’t be good. For all I know, the male actors are good actors, as this is the first time I’ve seen them, but they just don’t make it work here.

Missing plot threads. This is probably the only show I’ve watched in recent memory that completely forgets about a plot thread and character. Early on we’re introduced to Sung-Tae’s friend, an actress who’s struggling in her career and may have romantic feelings for the male lead. The show was definitely setting them up as a media couple, and also incidentally ensured she cross path with Cho-Hong. In a later episode, there is a scene where Cho-Hong sees a magazine featuring Sung-Tae that was clearly devised for her to find out about this fake relationship, become jealous, demand explanations, that sort of thing. It’s possible this actress friend would’ve become the love interest for the second male lead, but she just disappears. Why this much build up for a character who just vanishes? If I were to give the writers the benefit of the doubt and assume they didn’t just forget about her, then I can only surmise this show was supposed to (or hoped to) have more than 12 episodes, but when that wasn’t the case the writers started making some deep cuts. Another possibly missing plot thread is related to the purpose of the CCTV camera installed in Sung-Tae’s bedroom... and promptly forgotten. It is never used meaningfully in the show when there is at least one event for which it seems tailored-fit.

The inconsistent de-powering rule. At the start of the show, Cho-Hong has her heart broken by her then boyfriend cheating on her. It was a good riddance, since the guy was only after her because he thought she had money, but this betrayal leaves her depressed and saddened, causing her to lose her witch powers. Thus, the show has established that the source of a witch’s powers is apparently tied to her emotional state, and experiencing a shock of this magnitude will result in a witch losing her powers, leading to her losing her youth, beauty, and mind, living a tragic, homeless life in the streets. Not particularly keen on this future, Cho-Hong takes it into her hands to consult a recluse witch who practices black magic for a solution. The witch hands her an “artifact” and tells her she needs to use it to find her fated man, saying she need only “capture his heart” in order to avoid her fate. In order words, if she finds her “one true love,” she will be able to reverse the loss, what seems to be consistent with the earlier rule of a witch’s power being tied to her emotional state. Fast forward a fair bit. Cho-Hong having regained her powers, her grandmas now decide to wipe Sung-Tae’s memories. I’ll explain the why later. Cho-Hong is dead set against this, as she loves him, but the grandmas carry out the procedure anyway, leaving a broken and despondent Cho-Hong in the process. How is it then that Cho-Hong doesn’t lose her powers? We established that the source of a witch’s powers is tied to her emotional state, and Cho-Hong gave the impression of being even more distraught by this act than by his former boyfriend’s cheating, so how come there are no consequences this time around? Did the writers miss this? As if the show hadn’t forgotten enough things, it is stated at one point that one of the grandmas had once lost her powers in a similar situation but managed to avoid her tragic fate. Um, hello, mind sharing how you did that so you can save your adopted granddaughter? Nope, it never occurs to her to share this crucial information, pushing Cho-Hong to continue to seek the dark witch’s counsel, something both grandmas clearly disapprove. Sigh.

The confusing “fated man” plot and the dark witch’s agenda. I’ve never been more confused by a villain’s agenda in a kdrama before, for twice in this show the villain actually helps the protagonists. Surely this must be part of some dastardly plot of hers, right? Sure. Probably. Maybe. I guess? The show is as confused as I am. Apparently, the dark witch wants to ruin Cho-Hong because of some beef she had with her mother or something. I suppose she could’ve just let her meet her fate but she wants to harvest her magical power first (the show is never clear on how this is done). Going by facts alone, we know that: 1) the dark witch helped seal Sung-Tae’s death when he was young, but she didn’t stop it so he’s bound to die sooner or later; 2) she gave an artifact to Cho-Hong so she could find her “one true love” and regain her powers, both of which she did; 3) the dark witch appears confused, saying the man Cho-Hong is in love with is not her fated man; 4) the dark witch is convinced Cho-Hong will come to her to prevent the death of her loved one (what she does), something she intends to capitalize on, probably by harvesting her magical power. If the dark witch had somehow foreseen this situation 25 years ago, deciding to help save Sung-Tae then in order to use him to get Cho-Hong’s power later, that would make more sense. However, the dark witch didn’t know Cho-Hong existed at the time, and, for all we know, Cho-Hong was never supposed to fall for Sung-Tae. Was she supposed to fall for Jae-Wook instead? The show certainly does its best to muddle the issue but, if so, there are no traces left in the plot as to how the dark witch was going to use Jae-Wook to harvest Cho-Hong’s power, as the former certainly isn’t dying. And why would the dark witch be concerned about Cho-Hong falling in love with someone else so long as she gets her powers back? It’s not like she’s supposed to be looking out for her, right? In fact, Cho-Hong falling in love with Sung-Tae is surprisingly convenient for the dark witch’s “agenda.” Nothing about this plot makes sense.

A witch’s fate and the harvesting of magic. Talk about things that don’t make sense. The dark witch has apparently been harvesting witches’ magic for a while, yet the fact no one seems to be aware of it until the end, when one of the grandmas and Cho-Hong had been to her shop multiple times previously, strikes me as oddly convenient. Cho-Hong actually says at one point in the show, “I can’t believe no one ever thought of doing this” before proceeding to smash the flasks containing the harvested magical power, almost as if the writers were letting us know the plot had got the better of them. Even the dark witch appears confused, as if thinking, “This is not what’s supposed to happen.” And what happens when the flasks are destroyed? Well, all those homeless witches we had seen previously suddenly regain their powers and minds (but not their youth and good looks) in perhaps the most laughably bad scene in the show. What irks me is that this came entirely out of the left field, there was absolutely no setup whatsoever that there was a relationship between these women and the dark witch’s flasks. It just happened. Would it have killed the writers to show us some witch, or a police officer, or a journalist, investigating this sudden increase in homeless people and slowly tie it back to the dark witch to find their life promptly terminated at worst, or their memories erased at best? In fact, you could’ve made that person one of the secondary leads (the second male lead probably, given his interest in witches) so that the main leads are invested in finding out what happened to him/her. I guess not.

OTP: With Sung-Tae acting like a jerk most of the time, very rarely showing any vulnerability or tenderness around Cho-Hong, it was quite difficult to find any chemistry between the main leads. I suppose this gets a little better when they start dating, but barely, and it’s ironic that some of the better scenes between the two occur when they are pretending their relationship never took place. It’s really a shame they didn’t drop the hardass Sung-Tae act sooner and gave some time to exploring what their relationship would look like once Sung-Tae learned Cho-Hong’s a witch (it was a poor decision to take away his memories after the revelation). Imagine seeing Cho-Hong using her powers to help out her boyfriend in some capacity, like Do Bong-Soon in Strong Woman Do Bong-Soon, or abusing her powers in a fit of jealousy upon learning of his (fake) relationship with his actress friend. Sigh, so many untapped comedic possibilities.

One of the few cute scenes in the show. Easier to find water in Arrakis. You’re welcome.

Verdict: There is very little that works for me in this kdrama, but I suppose one could argue there is something at least. Where other, better, shows like Goblin and Hotel del Luna fully capitalize on the mythology they set up, Witch’s Love never fully exploits the fact that there are witches living among humans in 21st century Korea, opting to tell a smaller story centered around a family of three witches, what could’ve worked if the execution of the plot hadn’t been so haphazard and the male leads had delivered more interesting performances. Ultimately, that’s what this show amounts to: a source of untapped potential and missed opportunities wrapped up in uneven storytelling. However, a second season would not be outside the realm of possibility, were the show to embrace its similarities with Bewitched and explore what Cho-Hong and Sung-Tae’s relationship now looks like. Doubt that will ever happen though.

Rewatch meter: Low to Medium

PS: Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention the show suffers from audio issues in some episodes, as the characters’ words are sometimes drown by the music or the volume is simply lowered to oblivion. Shrugs.

[emo-rejects-archive]

For Black Widow: Natasha becomes a slob and loves it!

(Thanks for the ask. Don’t be afraid to send in another.)

Who knew retirement could be this good?

After the years world ending events involved another Kree-Skull war that randomly decided that Earth would be its battleground, the Avengers, and society as a whole, decided that it was time for a change. Sure, Earths mightiest heros had once again emerged victorious, but they also came to realize something. A lot of them were getting a little too old to be doing this superhero crap. Sure, most of them were in their thirties, early forties at most, but that was still kinda old to be jumping off of buildings with reckless abandon.

Captain America, Captain Marvel, Iron Man, Black Panther... All of them relinquished there titles as Avengers, stepping down so that the next generation could take up the mantel. Some chose to live out the rest of their days in comfort, while others took up to helping their communities in small ways that didn’t directly involve fighting crime.

And then there was Natasha Romanova, also known as Black Widow.

Nat had spent her life being groomed to be the super spy she was, so to retire so suddenly was a definitely a hard adjustment to make. She spent the first month of retirement wandering around aimlessly. Sure, she did a few press interviews here and there, and she went out to lunch with a some old comradesa couple times, but aside from that, she didn’t really know what to do with herself.

Then one day, while she was out with her comrades, she took notice of how they were talking about a bunch of new and popular television shows. And that was when it hit her... She had been so focused on running around the world, fighting bad guys, and just generally being Black Widow, that she had actually missed out on a lot of film in the past couple of years. So, as soon she returned to her apartment in Upper Manhattan later that afternoon, she got a subscription to a streaming service, changed into some casual clothes, turned on the T.V, crashed on the couch, and started binge watching.

Nat quickly grew engrossed, on the edge of her seat with every passing episode. However, she became so engrossed with the show that she didn’t notice how quickly the time was passing. When she finally checked her phone, she realized that she had to whip up something for dinner. And then she realized that she had gotten so caught up with her binge watching that she had forgotten to go to the grocery store. Natasha cringed as she thought about what she was about to do. She was going to have order takeout from somewhere.

For the most part, Natasha had barely ever touched a piece of fast food in her life, always preferring to stick to her strick diet. But at this particular moment, she didn’t have much of a choice. She would have to walk a good ways if she wanted to get to a grocery store, and that would take away time from her binge watching. So in the end, she decided to call in a pizza from some place in Midtown. The pizza came quicker than she had I initially expected. After a few short minutes of waiting, she heard a knock on the door, and when she opened, a box of pizza was waiting on the floor for her. She assumed that the delivery person didn’t feel the need to hand it to her directly since she had payed online. She brought the pizza back to her couch, and resumed her show.

What Nat didn’t fully comprehend was that her eyes were so focused to the screen that she was subconsciously shoveling slice after slice into her mouth, blissfully ignoring the growing tightness in her stomach as it bloated up with cheese and grease. She didn’t notice that she had downed the entire pizza until she tried reaching for another slice, only to find her hands grabbing at nothing. Later that night, once she had finished the shows first season, she passed out into a food coma, clutching her swollen gut in her hands.

The next day, rather than start her day with her regular workout routine, she began with the second season of her show. When it came time for her to get breakfast, she once again ordered takeout, this time from a nearby fast food joint that just so happened to serve breakfast, because she ONCE AGAIN didn’t want to go get her groceries since it would interrupt her show.

These behaviors quickly became the new routine for Natasha, a seemingly endless cycle of lazing around, watching T.V, and ordering cheap takeout food. It wasn’t like she had to worry about money anyway, since she had received a huge check from the American government for her service in the Avengers, so she was set for life.

A few weeks later, she was looking at herself in the mirror, and she noticed something. Reaching the tips of her fingers down to her stomach, she felt it up, taking not of how the rock hard abs she had always possessed were no longer, rather they had been replaced by a subtle layer of fat. Nat felt her finger slightly sink into the softness, grimacing and puckering her plump lips. Had she really gained weight? ‘Oh well,’ she thought to herself. ‘It’s nothing I can’t lose. I should get back to my shows anyway!’

A whole year passed, and not once in those three-hundred-and-sixty-five days did she ever workout. She was way too addicted to binge watching whole seasons of T.V to even think about so much as doing a push-up.

“BWOOOOORRP! Ugh, damn... That was a really good season! Now what should I watch next...,” Natasha muttered to herself before fishing in between her fleshy and sweaty cleavage for her TV remote.

Yep, she had gotten fat alright. Sitting there on her couch all day, watching whatever was on T.V, stuffing her seemingly bottomless gut with multiple pizzas and other greasy food. It was honestly hard to believe she had ever been Black Widow.

And how could she have been, not with that pale, double rolled blob of blubber that spread itself out across her lap and reached as far as her bloated kneecaps! Not with those flabby thighs and an ass so wide and chunky that they had somehow torn every pair of sweatpants she had ever owned, forcing her to waddle about her apartment in her undersized underwear on the rare occasion she actually got up off of the couch. Not with boobs bigger than watermelons and floppier than pancakes, each tit too big to even be contained by any bra. Not with those plump cheeks and that pulpy double chin that attached to her head and neck. Hell, the only recognizable part of her was her iconic short crimson red locks, and even those had been drenched in grease from her refusing to shower for months on end.

Natasha began to surf her streaming surface, searching for something new to binge or something she liked enough to rewatch. She grunted piggishly as she felt a low ominous gurgle in the pits of her bowels, letting out a sputtering burst of warm gas from her rear and into her couch. Nats eyes fluttered, her doughy cheeks blushing and her plump lips curling into a smile as she took in the raunch stench of her own brew. If she had to be honest, she had actually come to enjoy her newfound obesity! She found it super liberating to be able to laze about, eat whatever she wanted to, and burp and fart freely with no repercussions! No one had invited her out in months, and she was totally fine with that! The world had forgotten about Black Widow, and she had forgotten about the world.

Hell, she thought that she heard the world almost ending again outside her living room window last week, but did she care? Nope. Not one bit. How could she when she had shows to binge, and pizzas to eat?

[guylty]

How quickly time flies. If Besotted hadn’t reminded me in the comments, I would’ve completely forgotten that I had a last episode of The Impressionists to catch up with. Forgetting the Re-Watch is symptomatic. I may have enjoyed the show, and the wide smiles that Armitage was allowed to brighten the screen with were certainly welcome, but somehow this mini-series was never – and never will be – my favourite of Richard’s works.

It’s not *all* because of the wig and look of Claude Monet. *That* is easily balanced out by the wide smiles! My lukewarm feelings about this mini-series has more to do with my general lack of enthusiasm for impressionism. I fully appreciate the importance of this arts movement for the development of painting and art in general, and I understand the impressionists’ value. In many case I actually do find their paintings particularly evocative, beautiful and touching. I guess, my problem with them is that they have become too popular – which usually makes me turn away from something. That’s unfair – but unfortunately true. But I totally concede that – particularly Monet’s – Impressionist paintings are incredibly beautiful.

Quick Summary

We pick up again in episode 3 of TI with the group celebrating Edouard Manet’s formal recognition as an artist after he has been awarded the Légion d’Honneur. However, Manet is suffering from syphilis and his health deteriorates. He dies in 1883. Monet, OTOH, is living with Alice Hochedé after his wife’s death. The two of them become a couple, marry and eventually settle in Giverny. Monet develops his serial painting technique, always following the changing light.

A large part of this episode is taken up with the life and travails of Paul Cézanne who is seen as a revolutionary new painter by the impressionists. Despite an affluent background, he lives in poverty with his working class wife and illegitimate son. First shunned by the art world, Cézanne’s genius is eventually recognised and he joins the Impressionists as the most celebrated painters in the world. They overcame all the obstacles and changed painting – and art – forever. So much for the summary of episode 3.  

Beards and Hair

I was quite amused in this episode about the changing hairstyles of Claude Monet. Starting out with short hair and a pipe, the next scene in a café he had long hair again. Continuity was a bit lax there, I thought 😂. But at least we could see that RA really knew how to smoke. Yep, as an ex-smoker (almost 6 months to the day) I notice such things. – Eventually the episode settled into short hair for Claude. And I couldn’t help but feel reminded of my personal hero Leon Trotzky…

Tenuous. I know. But fun. Right down to the left eyebrow.

However, let’s stay quickly with the look – ok, I am a not a fan of facial shrubbery at all, and particularly not these kind of standalone shrubs on upper lip and chin. If there has to be facial hair, give me a full blown meadow that covers all (beard) or stay with the manicured lawn aka stubble. Looking at the overgrown goatee on Richard’s chin, however, I am wondering whether it is actually his own. Not only because he has always been so proud of his fast growth and thus the conclusion lies near. No, but also because of the tell-tale triangle underneath his lower lip. Mr Armitage has, indeed, a rather pretty beard-growth pattern (see evidence on right).

Elder statesman or ill-fitting wig?

I was quite taken with the elder statesman look he was given in the latter part of the episode, once Monet had settled down with Alice and concentrated on creating Giverny as his inspirational garden. (I don’t really think that Richard has an old man’s face, yet, though, so I finally was reconciled with Julian Glover playing Monet senior in the framework plot.) In fact, I found myself fascinated by the grey temples and the short hair, and I kept screen-shooting.

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I also enjoyed that his eye crinkles came into play…

Things I Loved

As always, Richard – even considerably younger and less experienced than today – was a pleasure to watch. I loved the scenes where he glowed with enthusiasm, happiness and lust for life, smiling widely with glowing teeth. But I especially liked the scenes where you could hear him laugh. It really doesn’t happen very often at all that you can hear Richard Armitage laugh in one of his roles. He is the go-to man for scowling (Guy of Gisborne, John Thornton), growling (Francis Dolarhyde, Thorin Oakenshield) and frowning (John Porter, Daniel Miller). And yet his laugh is an absolute joy. In German we call his kind of laugh “gurgling” – but that doesn’t quite hit it in English. What I like about it is not what it looks like (although I believe that *every* laugh looks beautiful), but what it sounds like. Reminder:

That’s what he laughed like in his younger years. (I think his laugh now has become slightly deeper, more baritone, whereas it sounded more tenor way back in the early 2000s.) And it is infectious. Bookmark and keep near for any rainy day. It definitely works.

Ok, moving on. The old fogey in me also quite enjoyed the mature-lovestory-section of this episode. We were discussing it somewhere in the comments, I believe, and the series didn’t really get into it, but there are suspicions that Monet and Alice Hoschedé started their relationship even before she split with her husband and moved in with the Monets. Her youngest child may even have been by Monet. In that sense, it was lovely that the series spent a little time with Monet’s and Alice’s relationship. I wasn’t quite convinced by Richard’s choice to play Monet as out of breath as if he had just raced a marathon when he catches Alice in the garden and proposes. But this completely balanced everything out:

Why yes, Mr Thornton, I am coming home with you.

Not to mention this:

Gorgeous crinkles, like arrows pointing at happy eyes.

Ok, bonus for the romantics among you:

Yeah, man, this was such a clean show, it almost seemed as if it was made for school TV. You know what I mean? Your history/art/literature teacher wheeling in the big TV and the VCR, and then you’d sit through an hour of veritable and highly educational but mindnumbingly clean-and-boring docudrama? Well, to be suitable for teenagers, no tit may be shown, no mention of sex may be made and no tongue may be used. 😂

And Where It Went Wrong For Me

And maybe that is what ultimately irked me about this show, or what prevented me from saying ” I love Love LOVE The Impressionists!!” It’s not that I need sex in every TV show to keep me engaged. And I am a big fan of contextualising history and presenting it in a way that the viewers can relate to. In that sense it was great that this mini-series made an attempt at showing the personal sacrifices all those pioneering painters had to make in order to succeed with their art. From losing Bazille in the war, via Manet’s syphilis, Degas’ eye illness and declining fortunes, to the overwhelming poverty of Monet and Cézanne, TÍ  is not simply a list of artistic milestones in the painters’ lives, but a look at how they progress as painters as well as men. And herein may also be the problem for me – I never fully committed to the show, and maybe so because of the lack of women in the narrative. Don’t get me wrong – of course I “saw” Camille and Alice, and Mme Manet, Mme Cézanne and various models. But that’s exactly it, “various models”. Sure, you don’t have to explain to me that the 19th century was still a time dominated by men. But that doesn’t mean that in their private lives, men were uninfluenced (and untouched) by women. Or that women artists did not exist or not contribute to the development of art. Berthe Morisot and Eva Gonzalez were part of the impressionist set – they don’t even turn up in passing in this series. The wives and women remain in their traditional role as nurturer, house-keeper and mothers.

Women. Reduced to nurturers and parasol-bearers?

(Left-field thought: Maybe it is also because this show was made in 2006 that women aren’t represented more prominently?) And all that may also be due to the limited amount of time available (3 hours) for a group of painters. In fairness, it would’ve been impossible to depict the lives and times of the impressionists in detail, and hence also a number of *male* protagonists of the movement (Pissarro? Gauguin? Sisley? Matisse?) had to be left out in order to contain the show. However, for me the whole show remained somewhat one-dimensional.

The Disclaimer

For fans of Richard Armitage, however, TI is definitely a worth-while show to watch. The smiles, the laugh, and the mannerisms that are just delightful to recognise. From Richard’s insistent innovative use of his teeth, to delicate hand movements and holding his head at *that* characteristic angle, there are certain “trademarks” in his acting repertoire that superfans such as us have no trouble identifying.

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And Richard convincingly acts emotions and draws the audience into the emotional world of the sensitive artist.

Lastly I want to commend the mini series for producing beautiful images. I loved the wide shots especially because they illustrated so clearly what the impressionists were after.

These shots play with the impressionists’ emphasis of depicting the *moment*, pinpointing the changeability of art, and the transience of life. The impressionists’ penchant for working plein air is ideally illustrated here. And the series is obviously also conscious of depicting movement rather than static subjects, and the different qualities of light – during the day, the seasons, inside and outside, in rain, sun or locomotive steam – as these are impressionist characteristics that are often also attributed to film (and photography). In that sense the series puts the theory into practice.

Last note: Just as I was watching episode 3 of TI, the news came through that a Monet painting has set a new record price for works by the artist. From the “haystack” series of paintings, the picture was sold for $110m in New York. An indication of how *right* the impressionists were.

I finish with a quote by Berthe Morisot, of all people.

It is important to express oneself… provided the feelings are real and are taken from your own experience.

The impressionist painters did that beautifully, and showed us that it can be done and *should* be done. No one better to portray “real” feelings than Richard. And I am always happy to see how he expresses them.

    Re-Watching The Impressionists [part 3] – Finale How quickly time flies. If Besotted hadn't reminded me in the comments, I would've completely forgotten that I had a last episode of 

[banshee-cheekbones]

standrew + sasha sloan - runaway (angsty af) ┰ω┰

hello friend, this is so delayed and I am so sorry!

anyways, four months to the day after I posted my last fic, I’m back, with a metric ton of angst and unresolved romantic tension! set in the days leading up to Steven’s move to New York! 

~4k, on ao3 here. the song that inspired this can be found here.

run away, runaway.

The Uber that picks Steven up at six o’clock in the morning smells like fresh leather and pine air freshener, like it rolled off the lot of a dealership only a few minutes ago. The inside is completely lacking in personality and customization. There are no trinkets on the dashboard, nothing dangling from the rear view mirror, nothing but NPR piping from the speakers.

Frankly, it’s almost strangely appropriate - a brand new car come to ferry him away to a brand new life.

The driver briefly greets him before pulling away from the curb and lapsing into silence, and Steven doesn’t try to pursue a conversation. For starters, it’s too early, and he’s too damn tired; he’d gotten maybe an hour of solid, decent sleep last night, even though he turned in around midnight. Most of his time in bed had been spent tossing and turning on his narrow couch, trying to find a spot that would send him off to sleep despite the racing of his mind and the way it had been desperately replaying every minute of the night’s events.

As the driver turns onto another street, one of a handful that will eventually lead to the interstate and then LAX and then New York City, the night starts unfurling again in the confines of his mind. He doesn���t bother trying to shove the recollection away, doesn’t try to distract himself with staring out the window at the passing scenery; it’s probably better that he get the replay over with now, so that he can get some sleep on the airplane and try to prepare himself for the hectic days and weeks to come.

So he closes his eyes, leans his head back against the firm leather of the seat, and lets last night (and the events that led up to it) wash over him in a wave composed of nothing less than pure and utter regret.

—

It’s Adam’s idea to have a farewell dinner.

He brings it up at lunchtime, a week before Steven’s official last day in the LA office, while they’re sitting at one of the picnic tables outside, sheltered from the sun by a massive umbrella and gorging themselves on food truck tacos. He says it so seriously that, for a moment, Steven can’t help but wonder if Adam has somehow misunderstood, that he’s gotten the impression that this is a permanent goodbye.

“You know I’ll be back here like, once a month, right?” he asks, wiping guacamole away from the corner of his mouth. “Probably more than that, actually.”

“I know,” Adam answers with a slight shrug of his shoulders and a fraction of a smile. “But still.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Andrew chimes in from Steven’s side. Despite the fact that each side of the table could easily fit three people (or four if they squeezed together), Andrew is pressed against his side, elbow to elbow and thigh to thigh, like they’re filming an episode of Worth It, warming Steven even more thoroughly than the sun. “Who knows when we’ll be able to hang out again? We’ll probably be too busy working on the show whenever you come back.”

“I’ll make time,” Steven replies, feeling a frown tugging at his mouth. The three of them had discussed the logistics of his move, how it would affect the show, in fair detail when he’d initially told them about it, but he can’t help but feel that he’s missing something here, that he’s maybe overestimated how well they took the news. However, going down that path seems like it could be a tangent that could drag them all down in the dumps, so instead, he plasters a smile onto his face and leans across the table to steal a piece of chicken that has fallen out of Adam’s taco. “But sure, we can do dinner. Where do you want to go?”

“You should pick,” Adam says, carefully pulling his taco back so that it’s out of Steven’s reach. “You pick, and we can make the rest of the arrangements.”

Even though it’s really not that big of a decision (especially when compared to the decision that precipitated it, the decision to move across the country on what is really a hunch and a feeling), it distracts Steven’s mind for the rest of the day. Every time he opens a tab on his laptop, intent on researching something or checking his email, he somehow finds himself looking up restaurants both new and old, places they’ve visited over the course of Worth It and places he’s had on his must try list for months. No matter how hard he tries to concentrate, it keeps happening, over and over again, and finally, when five o’clock comes around, he throws in the towel and dedicates himself fully to the task.

After half an hour purely devoted to research, he makes a decision.

He’s just grabbed his phone to text Adam and Andrew when the latter comes up the stairs from the lobby, burying a yawn into the crook of his elbow. His shirt is dotted with dark stains and dustings of flour, and his hair is a strange mixture of flattened and spiky. Per the usual, Steven’s heart skips a beat at the sight of him and, also per the usual, he forces himself to ignore that particular skip so that he can speak without fumbling every word from his mouth.

“Think Adam would be down with Le Petit Paris for dinner?”

“For next week?” A small smile forms on Andrew’s mouth as he drops down into his seat at the desk beside Steven’s. “Yeah, definitely. Good pick.”

It’s such a casual phrase, really means nothing in the grand scheme of things (frankly, Steven is pretty sure that he could pick most any restaurant in the city, and Andrew would think it was a good pick), but warmth still flickers in his cheeks and chest all the same.

“Thanks,” he replies, busying himself with packing up his laptop so that he doesn’t have to focus on trying to pull his gaze away from Andrew’s smiling face. “See you tomorrow?”

“Bright and early. Night, Steven.”

There’s always been something different about the way Andrew says his name, something that makes it so much more than an absent minded way to end a sentence. It’s almost feels considerate, somehow, coming from Andrew’s mouth, and Steven has to swallow heavily before he answers.

“Yeah. Night, Andrew.”

&.

The week seems to pass in the blink of an eye.

Every available moment is filled with something to do. When he isn’t at work, he’s at home, figuring out which of his possessions should go into storage for the time being and boxing up the rest, or he’s out with his friends or people from the office, soaking up every last bit of California sun, because he doesn’t know when he’ll be returning for more.

By the time Thursday morning comes around, his apartment looks like he’s just moved in. The only article of furniture still in one piece is the couch, which he’s been sleeping on for a few days. He spends the first half of the day keeping track of everything as movers load the carefully packed cardboard boxes and furniture into a truck, ready to take it across the country. When they drive away, his apartment is so empty that every sound he makes, every footstep and hum, echoes back at him.

Even though there’s probably some more cleaning he could do, the echoing starts to get at him, and he heads into work shortly after lunch, aiming to have a productive afternoon, to wrap up some stuff that will be easier to handle in person than from a few thousand miles away.

Instead, he spends the afternoon saying goodbye to what feels like seemingly everyone in the LA office. He picks up stakes a few times, moves to a different part of the compound so he can maybe have a better chance of focusing, but each time is to no avail. Someone, whether it be Jen or Kelsey or Garrett or Alix, always finds him.

At four thirty, he gives up. He isn’t going to get anything done, not now, and besides, their dinner reservations are in an hour; even if he didmanage to buckle down and focus, he’d get torn away again just as he was starting to hit a groove. So instead, he heads back upstairs to his desk to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything, to make sure he hasn’t left behind a mess for whoever will be taking his place.

He hasn’t. It could use a quick wipe down, but other than that, he’s already managed to remove all traces from it. The little trinkets that have accumulated on it over the years are gone, removed one at a time over the past few weeks. The drawer underneath it is empty of any personal effects; there are a few pens and other supplies rolling around, but he decides to leave them there as a kind of housewarming gift for his replacement.

Compared to Andrew’s desk on his left, with its box full of plushies and the photographs carefully peeking out of books, it looks downright sterile. At the sight of it, Steven’s chest grows momentarily tight, and he forces himself to tear his eyes away.

He’s not going to let this be a problem. He’s spent years carefully keeping his emotions at bay, keeping his feelings for Andrew tucked away the best he can. On the few occasions that they’ve escaped, he’s always been able to come up with a reasonable excuse, always been able to explain them away as a bit for an episode or the result of one glass of wine too many.

As much as it aches to swallow them down now, he’ll be damned if he’s going to let them slip out on today of all days.

Leaving his desk behind, he heads across the compound until he reaches the studio where Eating Your Feed is filming. He can hear laughter leaking out through the door, and part of him wants to slip inside, wants to watch his friends having fun, wants to watch Andrew having fun. Part of him wants to simply memorize the smile that’s no doubt gracing Andrew’s face, wants to keep it close to his chest so that he’ll have it on the long nights between now and the next time he comes into town.

But, as nice of a memento that would be, it would also hurt, having that smile living in his mind but not being able to access the real thing, and while Steven may be many things, he’s not that much of a masochist.

So instead, he leans back against the wall opposite the studio and distracts himself with his phone while he waits for filming to finish up. Thankfully, he only has to wait about twenty minutes before the door opens, and Niki and Rie come out. He says yet another round of goodbyes to them, and they’re just heading down the corridor when Adam, Annie and Andrew come out as well.

“Ready for dinner?” Adam asks.

“Whenever you are. Do you guys wanna change first?” Adam and Annie shake their heads, but Andrew nods emphatically.

“Yeah, please. That room is way too hot.”

“That room is the perfect temperature,” Annie responds, deadpan. “You just sweat more than any human being should.”

Andrew shrugs. “You’re not wrong. Meet you guys out in the parking lot.”

Adam is the only one of them who drove in today (Steven sold his car last week, and Andrew’s is in the shop), so they wait by his car, leaning against the hood and talking about how the shoot had gone. The evening looks like it’s going to be a beautiful one; the sun has begun to slip towards the horizon, still providing illumination but with less of the heavy heat that’s been sitting low over the city for the last few weeks, and there’s not a cloud in the sky, no sign of any rain that might put a wash on the evening.

Really, he couldn’t have asked for a better last night.

But that’s before Andrew comes out of the building.

At the sight of him, the words Steven was planning on saying to Adam and Annie die in his throat. Andrew’s plain white t-shirt is gone, replaced with a black button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing the cords of his forearms and the watch strapped around his wrist. It looks like he ran water through his hair as well; it’s slicked over to one side, flyaways tamped down for the time being, although Steven wouldn’t be surprised if they reappeared soon.

Simply put, even though there’s nothing particularly new or unique about the outfit, nothing out of the ordinary, Andrew looks amazing, and Steven suddenly feels like this is a horrible idea. He feels like he should come up with an excuse, any excuse, to get out of dinner, because this is going to be painful. This is going to hurt more than he’s prepared to deal with.

But it’s too late to back out. Andrew has already reached the car, and Adam has dug his keys from the depths of his pocket. If Steven were to flee now, he’d be hurting his friends, and he wants that like he wants a hole in the head.

So, with his heart heavy in his chest, he slides into the back beside Andrew, tries not to catch the scent of Andrew’s cologne (and fails), and attempts to portion off the part of his brain that has a thing for Andrew, that has had a thing for him pretty well from the first day they met.

&.

Remarkably, he manages to keep himself under control for almost the entirety of dinner.

They keep the conversation light, turned away from the real reason they’re there. They talk about work and movies and the amazing food in front of them, about Andrew’s new cat and Adam and Annie’s new apartment, but they do not talk about the move.

Nor do they talk about the fact that there’s something between Andrew and Steven, something hovering between them like an unseen fifth person, something that has Steven’s nerves pulled taut.

The tables at the restaurant are not unreasonably small, but somehow, Steven finds himself repeatedly brushing against Andrew. When they move to grab a piece of cutlery or their respective glasses of wine, their arms touch, and it feels like fire singing Steven’s skin. Even when they’re eating, Andrew’s knee keeps bumping against Steven’s.

But even more so than that, Steven can feel Andrew staring at him, almost from the very moment they sit down. Andrew’s gaze has always heavy, borderline overbearing, but Steven thought that he’d become accustomed to it, that he’d become adept at shaking the weight of it off like it was no more than a feather.

Apparently not.

It has to be obvious to Adam and Annie, but neither of them say a word or draw any attention to it. What they do do, however, is conveniently excuse themselves to the washroom once they’re finished up with their meals, leaving Steven with no way out and nothing to focus on.

Nothing but Andrew.

He knows that something is going to happen; it has to. Something has to happen, something has to pop the tension that’s coiling tight around his chest like a predatory snake, threatening to take every inch of breath he has. If something doesn’t happen, he’ll suffocate.

“I can’t believe it’s tomorrow,” Andrew says quietly. His knee is pressed against Steven’s again. Steven is looking at Andrew’s scraped clean plate, but in his peripheral vision, he can see Andrew tilting his head to look at him. He can feel Andrew’s gaze on him. “I thought…” Andrew pauses for a moment, and his fingers momentarily twitch on the clean white linen of the tablecloth. “I don’t know. I thought we were gonna have more time, you know?”

“Andrew…” Steven doesn’t intend on letting the word leave his mouth, but it exits all the same, hangs heavily in the air between them, as visible as a gaudy ornament on a Christmas tree. Now that it’s out in the open, he can feel himself tiptoeing towards the road he promised himself he wouldn’t go down, for both of their sakes.

But then again, would it really be so bad? Would it really be so bad if, underneath the warm-toned lighting of the restaurant, surrounded by the peaceful murmur of other patrons and faint string music, he simply confessed everything? If he finally told Andrew everything that’s been filling his mind, to some degree or another, for the past few years?

He could finally say I love you. I’ve loved you for so long. He could finally say, I think we could make a life together, or you make me feel safe, or you make me want to stay.

Or maybe he could simply look up from the table, catch Andrew’s unwavering eye, and finally kiss him, the way he’s dreamed about for literal years.

Would that be so bad?

The answer, of course, is yes.

Even though the words ache to spill from his lips, even though he is fairly certain that his feelings would be reciprocated, throwing all of that on Andrew now, the night before he leaves, feels like a special kind of disrespect. It feels completely and utterly selfish.

It feels cruel.

If there’s one thing Andrew doesn’t deserve, it’s cruelty.

“Yes?” Andrew says. His fingers have moved to Steven’s side of the table, and they’re curled into the thick fabric of the tablecloth. There’s a hopeful note in his voice, something that almost makes Steven reconsider, makes him say screw it and lean in anyways.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he mutters, “Never mind. I forget what I was going to say.” He flicks his eyes away from Andrew’s fingers and back to his own plate, where he spears a noodle and shoves it into his mouth.

Even though the sauce is exploding with flavor, decadent and creamy, he can barely taste it over the sour taste flooding through his mouth.

Adam and Annie return moments later, and after settling their bills, they step back out into the night. The evening has grown cool, and there’s a stiff breeze that makes a chill run down Steven’s spine, breaking through the uncomfortable warmth that’s been stifling him ever since his aborted confession.

“Want a lift home?” Adam asks once they’re outside. “Or to the airport tomorrow? I can come pick you up.”

Adam’s companionship would probably beat the hell out of an Uber driver, but Steven’s decision to shake his head is twofold: he doesn’t want to drag Adam out of bed that early, and he knows that if Adam comes, so will Andrew, and Steven isn’t sure he could deal with going through yet another goodbye.

If he has to do that, he thinks his willpower might finally snap.

“I’ll be fine,” he answers. “But I’ll let you all know when I land tomorrow, alright?”

“You better,” Annie responds, pulling him into a quick hug. Adam follows up, grabs him tight and thumps him on the back hard enough to make Steven cough with surprise. After he steps away, he glances over at Andrew.

“What about you, Drew? Want a lift home?”

“That’d be great, actually. Be there in a second.” While Adam and Annie drift over towards the car, Andrew comes to stand in front of Steven. There’s no escaping his eyes now, nowhere Steven can look that won’t make it painfully obvious that he’s avoiding eye contact. Steeling himself with a deep breath, he glances from Adam and Annie to Andrew.

The breath does almost nothing to prepare himself for the depth of emotion written in Andrew’s eyes, on his face. It’s not quite sadness; if anything, it might be closer to regret, tinged with a bit of weariness.

Steven is willing to bet that he’s probably wearing a similar expression.

Without warning, Andrew pulls him into a tight hug, and Steven’s walls temporarily fall down. He fully melts against Andrew, wraps his arms around his neck and hauls him in close, until he can feel Andrew’s broad chest expanding against his own. This close, he can smell Andrew’s cologne, along with a hint of wine from dinner, and he knows that smell is going to transfer onto his own clothes, that it might very well be the first thing he smells when he wakes up in the morning.

“You can always talk to me, you know,” Andrew murmurs. The words brush warmly against the side of Steven’s neck. “Doesn’t matter what time it is. I’ll always answer, Steven.”

“I know.” The words have to traverse a lump in Steven’s throat in order to leave his mouth. “I’ll reach out if I need anything. I promise.”

“Good.”

They stay like that for a few more moments, fully wrapped around each other, Steven’s mind empty of any thought that doesn’t directly relate to how wonderful Andrew feels pressed up against him. Eventually, Andrew’s grip slackens, and Steven loosens his own arms in anticipation of stepping away.

Andrew steps back first, and as he moves away, he turns his head and brushes his lips against Steven’s temple.

It’s too gentle to be much of a kiss, but gentle or not, Steven feels it as viscerally as a punch to the jaw, and it’s all he can do to keep himself from reeling backwards, from simply dropping to the ground.

“Have a safe flight,” Andrew says, cheeks faintly tinged pink. “I’ll see you soon?”

Steven can’t speak. All he can do is nod, so overwhelmed with the urge to lurch forward and kiss Andrew that it physically hurts to restrain himself. With a slight smile, Andrew turns and walks over to Adam’s car.

It’s only after he clambers inside that Steven starts breathing again. As soon as he takes in a deep breath, warmth starts pricking at the corners of his eyes, and he refocuses all his energy on keeping that warmth from spilling over.

He’s successful up until the moment he gets through his front door.

From that point on, there’s no stopping it.

+++

He can’t see the terminals yet, but LAX is still looming before him, present in the freeway signs overhead and the sight of planes taking off, disappearing into the sky.

He glances down at where his phone is resting in his lap. It’s still too early for Andrew to be up, but Steven can’t help but play with the idea of texting him, of saying something.

But what would he say? Everything that he wants to say is too long to be distilled down to a single text message, or even a string of them. He supposes that he could just say that he’s sorry, but that isn’t nearly enough. It’s not good enough. Not good enough for Andrew, who deserves nothing less than the entire world and all the joy in it.

Maybe one day, he’ll tell Andrew. Maybe one day, the spires of New York will no longer feel like home, and he’ll come back for good to the smog and sun of LA. Maybe he’ll come back, ready to spill everything, ready and willing to tell Andrew absolutely everything.

But maybe, by that point, Andrew won’t want to hear those words. Maybe he’ll have found someone else. Maybe he’ll have simply moved on, the distance between them, despite Steven’s occasional jaunts home, having killed off whatever exists between them. Maybe the distance will have killed or, at the very least, quieted everything that Steven is feeling right now.

With one last glance at the screen, Steven pockets his phone and sighs.

As painful as the thought may be, for the sake of both his own happiness and Andrew’s, he really, truly hopes that that ends up being the case.

[luciferismyhomeboy]

You Stole My Heart - Part 2

Author’s Note: Formatting is awful because this was done on my phone...sorry! This time Lucifer only shut himself in his room for a few days before re-emerging. By this point, Dean, Sam, and Cas were home from their hunt and the four of you were in the kitchen, enjoying some nachos that you had made and some booze. The archangel walked into the room and the merriment stopped.

Dean and Sam still weren’t fond of Lucifer and Castiel always seemed torn. Lucifer just stood there, glowering at everyone before turning towards the cabinet where the cereal was kept.

“Don’t let me interrupt.” He muttered, grabbing a bowl from the cabinet.

“Nonsense.” You said immediately, full of liquid courage from the whiskey you had been drinking. “Come sit down and have some fun.”

Lucifer turned and looked at you. You patted the chair next to you and smiled. His gaze slide from your welcoming face to the stony faces of the brothers.

“No.” He said, turning back to the bowl he was about to fill.

“Well at least have some nachos.” You pressed. “It must have been at least a month since you had hot food. Y’know, since you can’t work a microwave.”

He sneered at you, but just then his stomach rumbled so loudly you could hear it across the room.

“They’re gooooood.” You sang, holding the platter out to him.

He seemed to be waging an internal war with himself and his pride lost. He scowled and grabbed a few chips off the platter and put them on a plate.

“Just to shut you up.” He muttered. He took the plate of nachos and his bowl of cereal, and stalked out of the room.

A few hours later, he was back. Sam had gone off to bed, Dean was snoring at the table, and Cas was off doing whatever it was that angels did. You were at the sink doing up the few dishes from the night when you heard him walk into the room.

“Hey,” You said, not bothering to turn around and look at him. “Did you come back for some more nachos?”

There was silence and you turned around, thinking you had maybe somehow been mistaken about who was standing there. But you hadn’t and Lucifer was there in the doorway.

“I’ve never had hot food before.” He stated simply.

You felt a pang of pity for him and you grabbed a small plate of nachos out of the oven.

“I saved these for you. I had to fend Dean off, but that wasn’t too difficult. I had a feeling you’d be back.”

Lucifer’s eyes rested on the plate and he stepped forward gratefully to grab it, but you pulled it back. He scowled at you.

“I’m going to teach you how to use the microwave.” You said as explanation. He rolled his eyes and put his hands on his hips, but it didn’t deter you.

You turned and opened the machine, placing the small plate inside. “Nothing metal, nothing plastic. The numbers over here correspond to how many minutes you want to heat something up for. Like for these, you’ll probably want to do two minutes to get the cheese to be all gooey and delicious again.”

You hit the button for two minutes and turned to face him.

“Not too hard, right?”

He shrugged noncommittally.

“Well, at least now you can heat food up.” You said. “And my good deed for the day is done.”

You finished up the last dish while the microwave was going and you were done by the time it beeped. You pulled the nachos out and handed them to the archangel.

“Careful, they’re hot.” You said. Lucifer took the plate gingerly.

“Alright, well, I’m off to bed.” You stated. “Have a good night.”

“But, I’m being social.” Lucifer said with shock in his voice.

It was your turn to be shocked. “At three in the morning?”

He scowled at you. “Never mind then.”

You were so tired. So tired. “If you want to eat your nachos in my room while I get ready for bed, that’s fine. But I’m exhausted and that’s about all the social I can handle right now.”

Lucifer mulled it over for a second and then nodded. He followed after you as you strode down the hallway and into the corner room that you called your own. You turned on Netflix quickly and put on some of The Office while Lucifer sat on your bed and began eating his nachos. You grabbed some shorts and a tank top and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

After changing and going through the rest of your night time routine, you walked out to see Lucifer completely engrossed in the show. The plate of nachos was empty and sitting on the nightstand.

Guess he likes to watch tv too. You thought to yourself.

“Alright, I’m done. Time to go.” You announced.

Lucifer looked up at you in surprise, like he had forgotten you were here. “But I want to find out what happens.” He protested, gesturing towards the television.

You rolled your eyes, but were too tired to argue. “Fine. But you have to move to the chair because I’m going to sleep.”

He moved from the end of your bed to the cozy armchair in the corner without looking away from the screen. You slid under your covers and glared at the archangel.

“After this episode is over, you leave. Got it?” You asked, grumpy.

“Yeah, yeah.” Lucifer responded absently.

You clenched your jaw in irritation, but rolled over and went to sleep.

*

Lucifer had been gone as promised the next morning, but when you checked your Netflix account you could see that he had stayed in your room until he had finished the first season and was halfway through the second. It made you chuckle.

Your good mood ended once you checked your phone. “Y/N – need help. Plz hurry.”

“Shit.” You muttered. The text was from your ex, the only one who knew that you were a Hunter. He lived a normal life though and in the end, that was what had caused the split. He wanted you to settle down and get a normal 9-5. Not in this life time, buddy.

“What kind of trouble?” Dean asked gruffly. He knew all about Eddie.

You were packed and ready to leave ten minutes later. Dean intercepted you on the way to the garage where you kept your car.

“Where are you going?”

“Eddie’s in trouble. I have to go help him.”

“I don’t know.” You showed him the text and he looked troubled. “That could mean anything.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You know he wouldn’t contact me unless it was supernatural. I have to go.”

“Go where?” A voice asked from behind you. You turned to see Lucifer standing there, hands in pockets.

“I have to go help a friend for a little while.” You answered.

“Well, you shouldn’t go alone.” Dean said. “Maybe we should all go.”

You turned back to him. “No, I don’t even know what it is yet. Eddie doesn’t need all of us to be running into something with guns blazing. If I need help I’ll let you know.”

“Well, take Cas with you at least.”

“Dean, no, it’s fine. I really have to get going.”

“I’ll go.” Lucifer cut in.

You turned to look at him in astonishment and saw that he meant it. You turned back to look at Dean questioningly.

“No.” The elder Winchester growled. “Out of the question.”

“Why?” You asked. “He’s no use sulking around here. Might as well bring him with and see if he can help at all.”

The muscle in Dean’s jaw twitched. “I don’t like this.”

You patted him gently on the cheek. “You don’t have to, loverboy.”

You looked back over your shoulder. “Let’s go, Lucifer.”

“Bye, loverboy.” Lucifer said to Dean with a smirk and a little wave as he followed you to your car.

You gassed up the car outside of town and texted Eddie back that you would be there the next day. Then you and Lucifer set off.

“So what’s the deal?” You asked the archangel as you merged onto the highway. He gave you a questioning look. “Well, you haven’t been out of your room longer than 3 hours. Why did you come with me? We have to share a room, you know that right? Nowhere to hide when you go all pouty.”

He stared at you for a moment before facing the road. “I was bored.”

“Ah.” You said. “Well that makes sense. I do have a few rules though, since you’ll be on the Hunt with me. Rule Number 1: You have to do what I say.”

His head snapped around and he looked at you incredulously. You scowled at him.

“Lucifer, I mean it. I don’t care who or what you are, if you’re going to be Hunting with me, you have to do what I tell you.”

“Do Dean and Sam do what you tell them?” He asked hotly.

“Dean and Sam are experienced Hunters,” You shot back. “They can make their own decisions. You are an archangel who is used to relying on his powers to get him through fights. And you don’t have those powers anymore. Essentially you’re a human, and you’re a human who has never been a Hunt before. So you do what I say. Got it?”

Lucifer’s jaw worked furiously for a moment. No doubt if the two of you had been back in the bunker he would have stomped off to his room, but he was stuck in this car with you for the next day and a half. For some reason, that gave you immense satisfaction.

“I mean it.” You said firmly. “I don’t mean to put you down, but it is what it is. If you don’t want to agree to my rules, then that’s fine. I’ll pull off at the next rest area and Dean can come pick you up. But I need to know that you’ll listen to me. I need to be fully comfortable going into a Hunt.”

“Fine,” Lucifer muttered.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. “Great. Thanks. Rule 2: I take the lead in questioning people and everything else. That’s about it…I think.”

Lucifer nodded his agreement and the two of you rode in silence for a bit. The archangel seemed to be pouting a bit and you couldn’t blame him. He hated humans and he had just agreed to do whatever one said.

“Hey, thank you by the way.” You said, nudging his arm with your elbow.

He looked at you in surprise. “For what?”

“Well, it’s a long drive and I have no idea what I’m walking into. It’s…nice to have someone come along. I definitely thought I would be doing this alone. So thank you for volunteering.”

He looked uncomfortable. “How come you didn’t just have Dean or Sam come along then?”

You sighed. “Dean and Eddie don’t really get along. In fact, the last time Dean saw him, he punched him in the face. And Sam hated Eddie too. So it’s best just to go alone, especially if Eddie really needs help.”

He grinned a bit. “Dean hit him? Why?”

“He kept trying to get me to leave Hunting behind, even after I told him no multiple times. Dean didn’t really like that, so they ended up having some words. That conversation ended in a fist fight.”

“So like, is Eddie your brother or something?”

You shook your head, chuckling. “No, Eddie is an old boyfriend.”

The surprise on Lucifer’s face was plain as day. “A boyfriend?”

“Yeah. It didn’t end well.”

“Well, after Dean punched him in the face, I suppose it wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, well that’s not where it ended. It ended when I punched him in the face for cheating on me while I was on a Hunt.”

Lucifer looked even more surprised now. “You punched him? YOU did?”

You laughed loudly at how incredulous he was. “Yeah, I did. I was so mad at him. I knocked him out too, right in front of the other girl. Then I took my stuff and left. That’s the last I’d heard from him since this morning.”

“Can’t say I blame him. You did punch him after all.”

You shot Lucifer a look. “He’s the one who cheated. He deserved it.”

“Yeah well, just remind me never to cheat on you.”

“Considering the fact that we’ll never date because I’m a human and you hate humans, I’d have to say you’re probably safe.”

He gave you a strange look that you could see from the corner of your eye. After a moment, he said, “Yeah, you’re right.”

He went back to looking out the window and you flipped on the radio.