#she's an outside perspective on everything that's going on

[xinganhao]

a peek into the process that was making catch you when i can.

(1) vernon x rockstar!reader was largely unnamed for the most part. i only figured that it at least deserves a title when i revamped the series masterlist, but the answer was pretty instant.

i start (and end) the story with vernon and reader saying a variation of 'catch you when i can', which is established in part one as "something exchanged as often as 'i love you'." i feel like it captures the struggles of a long-distance relationship very well. it's also a shameless reference to the iconic leonardo di caprio and tom hanks film lol:

(2) this wasn't supposed to be a series, honestly. part two was my attempt to cope with svt's new york shows, and i was convinced that i would end it with the cliffhanger of rockstar!reader accidentally posting vernon on her main instagram. but the verse just wouldn't let me go— hence, the full-blown smau.

(3) the 'vernhow' style headcanons for part three are probably my favorite style of headcanons not only for this series, but also my entire blog. getting to play around with it was so fun. buried in it is the crux of what would eventually be the ending: "Everybody now knows that you, Chwe Hansol, have a girlfriend. Someone you want so bad that you'll go back on all the things you believe."

(4) when i first referenced john mayer's Edge of Desire in part three, i wasn't quite thinking of his 2010 hollywood bowl performance just yet.

i revisited it when i was facing intense writer's block for the final chapter and everything flowed easily after that. part five is best read with that version of the song playing (linked as suggested listening lol) because i wrote nearly the entire thing while looping the track.

↳ this part in the song reminded me of how part four's headcanons were entirely about vernon's definition of 'fight', and how— despite his willingness to keep going with the relationship— it's ultimately a two-way street. it doesn't matter how much one tries. if, at the end of the day, the two of you aren't in it together? then the relationship will end. plain, simple, harsh.

↳ in the first part, the headcanons touch on vernon not being a big believer in "long-distance relationships or relationships in general," which all completely change after he starts dating reader. the real clincher, though, is how vernon spends much of part five being a 'terrible' ex: unable to go without contact, still supportive as ever. as the song goes: he's scared you'll forget about him.

(5) part five intentionally uses the first nine or so panels from an outsider's perspective. i wanted to really drive home the struggle of their public relationship and how it might have taken its toll/strain on the couple. it's what eventually inspired the brief headcanons, ala-he said, she said.

(6) i almost made vernon specifically reference romcoms with airport reunions in the finale, but i didn't want to isolate readers who might have not seen said films lol. the movies that would have been referenced were love actually (2003) and serendipity (2001).

(7) my top three panels in no particular order are—

was obsessed with a panicked vernon going "my gorgeous princess wife babygirl" + very characteristic of him to suddenly swoon when one of his favorite bands is brought up + something about vernon wanting a do-over on his 'hard launch' is just. #real.

(8) Black Eye is first mentioned in a part two headcanon where reader performs it in a speakeasy in front of vernon. it's posed as the moment that vernon realized he might he in love.

this makes it all the more cruel how reader unwittingly jokes that Black Eye is a breakup song in part five. i chose to conclude the series on the track's anniversary for no other reason than me needing a specific deadline to wrap stuff up lol.

(8.1) i think i do recall having some of Black Eye bleed into the work, which might be evident in the following lyrics & consequent story parallels:

running 'round the whole city looking for someone -> ties in to part two, where the headcanons are based on how vernon and reader feel about new york city i can't stand the quiet/is anyone out there? is anyone out there? -> best encapsulated in how vernon continues to contact reader post-break up (also parallels mayer's 'i'm scared you'll forget about me') i'm on my worst behavior, don't stop me now -> in part four, vernon gets into a physical altercation with the press in defense of reader and he's adamant that he did the right thing i'm okay, i'll just let it burn around me -> best captures vernon in part five + another parallel to mayer, where a part in the song goes 'i'm just about to set fire to everything i see'

(9) ending this with what i anticipate to be part of the faqs, post-main story: why did vernon and reader break up just to get back together again?

the long answer: because people are messy. because we think we know best— for ourselves, for others— and so we act on those impulses in the name of self-preservation, or care, or whatever noble thing you want to call it. people are complex and complicated, and with that comes regret, romance, and everything in between.

"they should have just worked it out!" they did try. it's human nature to feel slighted when things don't work out in your favor. there's only so much tenacity that a person can have before they're cursing the universe for the cards they're dealt, so can vernon/reader really be blamed for fraying?

"the breakup was unnecessary!" i could argue that it isn't. say some bs about it being very necessary, in fact, for character development, plot progression (lol), 'not realizing what you have until it's gone'. the works. but admittedly? i agree.

we— vernon and reader included— make questionable choices. whether or not we double down, move on, or circle back is an entirely different story in itself. vernon and reader found their way back; not all of us are as lucky. but some of us can be, some of us have been, and that was enough for me to trust that the story would sail.

the knowledge that, at the end of the day, the love that 'wins' is the one that makes the work worth it.

the short answer: i just really wanted them to have a happy ending. god knows they deserve it.

thank you for reading and enjoying this little story! it was mine once, but it's all yours now. ❥

catch you when i can (vernon x reader)

⤿ a five-part series charting vernon's relationship with you, an international rockstar.

𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 —

✮ part one, the one with the origin story. ✮ part two, the one where vernon tours in your city. ✮ part three, the one where you go public. ✮ part four, the one about fighting. ✮ part five, the one where a choice has to be made.

ⓘ international rockstar!f!reader, long distance relationship, established relationship, use of pet names. fluff, angst. cussing.

annotations for the main verse.

𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐒 —

there's nothing here yet! :)

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —

with love, kae ✎ i adore this verse so, so much that asks (i.e. drabbles, headcanons, smaus) for it will be perpetually open, regardless of whether or not my main requests are open. as always, this wouldn't have come to light without the anon who asked for it in the first place! i'm eternally indebted.

thank you for reading catch you when i can. <3

› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao

[whoops-all-jennas]

Past Lives pt.3

Wednesday x witch!reader

"I've got this strangest feeling."

"This isn't our first time around."

Summary: Wednesday drags you into the woods during the harvest festival.

a/n: I'm starting to get tired of writing in 3rd person so I'm going to be experimenting with perspectives this part. If I enjoy it I might go back and change the previous two parts to first person.

"Are you sure you can trust that normie?"

Enid and I are watching as Tyler is arguing with his father. Y/n left after the appearance of Tyler.

A part of me wished she stayed, she doesn't pretend to get along with me.

"I trust I can handle myself."

The festival illuminates the dark night, the lights of the attractions drawing shadows of the people walking by. The colors stabbing needles in my eyes.

I usually enjoy that sensation.

"Well, good luck and safe travels." Enid reaches out for an embrace. I take a step back, evading her touch.

"Still not a hugger, got it." Enid lowers her arms before heading towards the attractions.

I notice Weems from afar, watching my every move. I am going to need a way to distract her.

After a moment of exploring I find an attraction where you throw darts at balloons attached to a wall, the prize lacks colors. Not that I want the prize anyways I just need it to be believable.

I throw the first couple darts, balloons popping in quick succession. Xavier approaches, resting his elbows on the counter.

"Jeez, if you get any better at this you'll be taking home a whole pack." He says while I throw another dart, followed by the pop of another balloon.

I am unsure of how to feel about Xavier so far. All I know outside of me accidentally rescuing him years ago is that he's friends with Y/n.

"Panda's don't travel in packs, they prefer solitude."

I say, the sound of a balloon popping announcing the period.

"Alright, subtle hint taken." His eyes fall off me and to the board.

I look at him for a moment. "You should know I'm waiting for someone." I say, not realizing the possible implication of the statement.

"Oh yeah? Who's the lucky guy? or girl." He has a hint of hope on his face, but not for himself.

"What does it matter to you?" I say while Tyler approaches from behind, the hope on his face replaced with annoyance.

"Didn't mean to interrupt."

"You're not." Xavier walks between Tyler and I, the energy radiating off him.

With him and y/n being friends and having similar reactions to Tyler, it makes me wonder if he's done something to them.

I look to Tyler for a moment, possibilities forming in my head. It doesn't matter, I'm just using him anyways.

"This is gonna be trickier than I thought." Tyler's voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

"Dad hit me with a curfew. We need to go if I'm gonna make it back in time."

"I've got some dead weight I need to lose first." I look over Tyler's shoulder to Weems who is eating a burger.

"Meet me behind the parking lot when the fireworks start." I say, Tyler nodding before walking off.

The man running the attraction approaches with the panda stuffed animal. "You see that sad, lonely woman over there?" I take out twenty dollars, holding it between my index and middle fingers.

"She needs this pathetic validation more than I do. Would you mind distracting her?"

The man brings the stuffed animal to Weems, when she looks away from me I sneak off towards the parking lot.

-

I'm hanging out with Enid when Tyler and Wednesday pass by.

"So she's actually leaving?" I say with disappointment in my voice. I'm gonna miss her existing with me in the dorm room.

"I mean, that's what the plan is." Enid takes a sip from a drink she got while eyeing me suspiciously.

"Why?" Enid's eyes glisten, wanting to know everything about everyone.

I shrug my shoulders. "I don't know."

"You sure you don't know?" Enid wiggles her eyebrows at you.

I raise an eyebrow at her accusation. "What does that even mean?"

"I just think you might, y'know, like like her. No one misses a new roommate after one day." Enid says, fidgeting with the straw of her drink.

I felt a wave a heat rush over my face. "No! what are you talking about."

"OMG you so totally do!" If being a werewolf came with a tail, Enid's tail would be wagging so fast she would be flying.

"No! I just think." I pause for a second, flustered by the accusations.

I haven't thought about it yet, do I like her? I mean she is pretty, but I don't know her.

"Just think what?"

"I don't know, she's just pretty that's all!"

Enid's face beams. "Ah! that's so cute!"

Enid was gonna continue speaking until you both get distracted by Wednesday and Tyler running past.

"Wednesday?" I say, looking back to Enid who is gesturing me to go.

I started to run after her, hearing Enid shout from behind. "Go get her girl!" She might as well have painted my face red.

I finally catch up. "Wednesday!" This causing her to turn to me, bumping into Rowan as she enters another vision.

Tyler and I are quick to grab her as she falls. "What just happened?!" Tyler asks before she comes back to reality.

Wednesday stands readjusting her balance, staring at Rowan.

"Wednesday we need to go." Tyler says urgently. Wednesday's eye contact shift to me before she starts chasing after Rowan, grabbing me by the wrist.

"What's happening Wednesday?" I say, trying to keep up with Wednesday's speed as she drags me.

"Rowan come back!" Wednesday let's go of my wrist after my feet catch up.

After a few seconds of running, Wednesday turns to look at me.

"Do you have your wand?"

"Yeah I always do."

Air quickly fills and leaves my chest, your legs start burning at the sudden activity.

Soon we both catch up to Rowan in the woods. You're eyes take a minute to adjust to the sudden darkness of the forest.

Rowan brings his inhaler to his face, taking a deep breath in.

"Rowan, wait!" Wednesday's steps lessen as we get closer

Rowan groans, annoyed. "What do you want? Why are you following me."

I look at Wednesday, wanting to know what's happening. I know she had a vision, but what did she see?

"I don't have time to explain, but you're in danger." Wednesday responds with a serious tone. This is the first time I've heard her this serious, she usually has a sarcastic tone to her voice.

Rowan chuckles for a moment. "I think you've got it backwards." Rowan looks between us deciding what to do.

I start to reach for my wand, his eyes following my hand.

Rowan reaches a hand towards me. I start flying through the air, it feels like an invisible hand is twisting my body controlling how I'm landing.

"Y/n!" Wednesday shouts before I hit my head on landing. My hair fading to white as I lose consciousness.

-

I wake up in the nurses office, quickly sitting up and instantly regretting it. My snow white hair in my face while the world spins around me.

The office is filled with daylight, what time is it?

I realize my hair is white before moving it out of my face.

"Shit." I mutter to myself, looking around to see if anyone's around before trying to stand to find the bathroom.

When I stand, I almost fall as I stabilize my feet. I see my wand on the night stand.

I grab my wand, gripping it tightly as to not drop it.

As I approach the bathroom, I stumble onto the wall before practically falling through the doorway of the bathroom.

I met my own gaze in the reflection of the mirror, my hair white and messy.

I rest one hand on the sink, putting all my weight on it, as I bring my wand to the top of my head.

y/h/c starts to fade back into your hair, starting from the roots to tip.

Now that looks more like me, well besides how out of it I look.

I go to leave the bathroom, falling to the ground past the doorway.

"Y/n!" There are quick steps as the nurse approaches me trying to stand.

"What are you doing out of bed?" She grabs my arm before guiding me back to the bed.

"Wait here a moment, I'll bring your medicine." The nurse walks to a closet as I stay sitting up.

My head was throbbing, the world spinning around me.

She leaves the closet after a moment with a small bottle that is rapidly bubbling, some sort of steam coming out of the bottle.

"Drink every last drop and you should be able to attend some of your classes today." Our nurse was the only other witch in the school, most magic parents aren't too keen on sending their child to a town that burnt witches in the past.

I start to drink the potion, the liquid bubbling down my throat almost causing me to gag.

"It doesn't taste too good." I say after I finish drinking the potion. The nurse grabbing the bottle from my hand

"Well it's not grape-flavored, I'll tell you that." The nurse gives me a smile before going to return the bottle.

The world soon stabilizes around me, my head no longer throbbing.

I stand, finding it ten times easier.

"Fascinating isn't it?" I hear the nurse from the other room. "I've always loved healing magic."

I look towards her. "I would say it's just like magic, but it literally is."

The nurse smiles at me. "If you're feeling better you may head to class."

-

I walk into my carnivorous plants class, everyone already in seats as class was already going on.

"Ah Y/n! glad to see you're okay." Ms. Thornhill interrupts herself to bring her attention to you. "Go ahead and take any seat like usual."

I was going to find my original seat next to Xavier until I see Wednesday sitting alone.

I take a moment to decide before taking the seat next to her, meeting Xavier's eyes as he gives me a knowing glance causing me to roll my eyes.

My glance moves to Wednesday as I find her looking at me, more specifically my hair.

"Hey Wednesday." Wednesday's gaze moves from my hair to my eyes.

Her look has concern in it, as if she's asking 'Are you okay,' through her eyes. Too scared of the intimacy of actually asking.

Ms. Thornhill was helping a student independently giving us a moment to talk.

"Why did your hair turn white last night, after you lost consciousness."

I look at Wednesday, thinking about what I should share.

"That white is my natural hair color, I was just raised to hide it so I guess I still do it out of habit."

Wednesday stares off to the side for a moment.

"What does it mean?"

After a moment of silence I decide to tell her, I open my mouth to explain until I'm interrupted by Ms. Thornhill addressing the class.

"Wednesday." Both of our heads perk up.

"We are thrilled to have join us on our journey into the world of carnivorous plants." Thornhill walks in front of her desk, next to a plant in a glass case.

"Now, who can tell us the name of this beauty?"

Thornhill addresses the flower in the case with her hand. Bianca is the first to raise her hand.

I'm also not the biggest fan of Bianca, she supposedly used her Siren Song on my friend Xavier to manipulate him.

I don't really know too many details about it, but I know she hurt my friend and that's enough for me.

"Dendrophylax lindenii." Wednesday answers without raising her hand, trying to get ahead of Bianca.

Bianca slowly lowers her hand, with a little bit of attitude.

"Otherwise known as the Ghost Orchid."

"First discovered on the Isle of Wight in 1854."

Thornhill looks surprised at Wednesday's knowledge. "Very good, Wednesday!"

Thornhill turns her gaze to Bianca. "You may have competition for first chair, Bianca."

I find myself smirking at the annoyance building up on Bianca's face. Shifting my weight onto my elbows on the table to get a better view.

"Wednesday, perhaps you can identify the Ghost Orchid's greatest qualities."

Bianca shifts her expression from annoyance to confidence. Moving her gaze to Wednesday with the same confidence.

"Resilience and adaptability." Wednesday remains unmoved, her posture as perfect as ever.

"It's able to thrive in even the most hostile environments."

"But it's mere presence can change the ecosystem, causing the established plants to reject it." Bianca butts in, trying to one up Wednesday.

"Usually because the native species is allowed to thrive unchecked. Nothing a weedwacker couldn't fix."

"You can most certainly try."

I can feel the tension between the two, meeting Xavier's eyes for a moment.

"Are we still talking about flowers?" Xavier adds, causing the class to release a light laugh. Alleviating a bit of the tension.

"Thank you ladies, for those, illuminating insights." Ms. Thornhill brings the attention back to her.

"Clearly the plants aren't the only carnivores in class today."

I look between Wednesday and Bianca, sensing the rivalry building between the two.

-

You're with Enid helping with the boat for the Poe Cup. It's a beautiful fall day, the air slightly chilly, the leaves in the trees different shades of red, yellow, and orange.

Wednesday starts approaching from the school, heading to your teams boat. Specifically to Enid.

"I have to get back to the woods, but Weems has been watching me like a vulture circling a carcass."

"And you want me to cover so you can go back to the crime scene that didn't happen?" Enid asks teasingly.

"Crime scene?" You break your focus from painting the boat. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh you don't know? Wednesday has been saying how Rowan was killed by a monster while he now walks around the school. Y'know, very much alive."

Wednesday scowls Enid with her eyes.

"What if she is telling the truth?" Something glistens in Wednesday's eyes when she looks at you.

"We go to a school with vampires and werewolves, but this isn't possible? Plus, I don't think Wednesday is the type of person to lie for attention."

Enid shrugs while she continues painting. "Why don't you ask Y/n to be the distraction?"

Wednesday looks back to Enid. "That's because she will be coming with me to investigate."

I turn my head to Wednesday with a slightly confused expression. Am I? I wasn't aware of this.

Wednesday sees my confusion, I can see her asking through her eyes. I take a deep breath.

I can't say no to her.

Enid looks back to Wednesday, taking her eyes off the boat. "Okay then, why don't you ask Thing? Oh wait you can't because he's mad at you."

"Why's he mad? he's the one who screwed up."

Enid goes back to focusing on painting while shrugging. "All I know is that we spent an hour giving each other manis, and he really opened up. He feels he doesn't respect you as a person."

"Technically he's only a hand."

"Wednesday, he's your family! And he would do anything for you. Go apologize and I'll reconsider helping you."

Wednesday looks around for a moment before meeting your eyes, gazing into them for a moment before she walks away.

Part 4.

Past Lives Masterlist

a/n: happy holidays :))

[titi-1188]

Always in your corner

“You know that Chan would truly always be in your corner and you hope he knows you’ll always be in his. Neither of you asked to be born to parents who had no care in the world but at least the two of you had each other.”

—

WARNINGS: Parents who don’t care(?)

PAIRING: Older Brother Chan x Younger Sibling Reader

WORD COUNT: 2.1K+

EXTRA INFO: Angst(?)/comfort, Christmas, Cringy Frozen reference, Life Advice from Older Brother, ‘Baby��� used as a term on endearment in a ‘omg you’re literally a baby’ way. SAFE FOR WORK ONLY!!!

A/N: Happy Christmas to those who celebrate and in general Happy Holidays to all!! As always, sorry for any mistakes, my english writing skills are NOT the best, I try to look over it and make sure everything makes sense to an outsider perspective of someone who ISN’T in my head but yk how it can be🩷 hehe i hope u like it!!! (can u tell what kind of issues I may have…)

Every Christmas since Chan started college whenever he’d come back, you’d be there, ready to greet him with a hug and some sort of small ‘welcome home’ gift. Christmas was probably the only time in the year year you got to see each other with how busy you both were; you being in high school and Chan attending college, working his ass off to get his degree. You and your brother couldn’t even see each other during the summer holidays-your parents sent you off on exchanges to other countries, so far, you’ve been to Spain, France and Italy (twice), and your other breaks from school just never lined up. Safe to say Christmas was like a blessing. An opportunity for two siblings to reunite.

So, this year when Chan got out of your dad’s car after a very awkward three hour long ride from the airport and walked into the house and wasn’t met with you he was surprised, disappointed even.

“Where is she?”, he asked as your mother came out of the living room. She rolled her eyes as if the mere question was a bother and replied simply

“Probably moping around in her bedroom again”. Chan frowned. You? Moping around? That didn’t sound like you. “What do you mean?”, he questioned.

“Your sister is just going through an emotional phase—but honestly she needs to get over it, at her age she should be able to just get up and move through it.”, your father spoke up and Chan watched in mild disgust as your mother nodded along.

Your parents made it abundantly clear before that they never wanted kids and yet somehow ended up with the two of you because of societal pressure but at least years ago they would at least pretend to be concerned parents. Now that Chan was a young adult and moved out and you were a teenager they probably didn’t see the need to.

“I’m going to go up then”, he announces. Your parents shrug, mumbling a quick ‘do whatever’ before retreating back into the living room.

Meanwhile, Chan hauled his suitcase and bag up the stairs, dropped them off into his room (that definitely needs to be dusted down) and went to your room at the end of the hall, on the right. He smiled seeing the pink, bedazzled wooden sign on the door to your room with your name on it—he remembers watching you make it all those years ago and likes to see you haven’t taken it down yet.

In Chan’s head, you’re not just a regular set of siblings, although he only is almost seven years older than you, he always felt an almost paternal instinct with you.

He had a huge part in raising you and as much as he hates to admit it for purposes of being too sappy and cringe—he hates that you are growing up so quick. He sometimes wishes you were a kid again and often finds himself reminiscing all the tea-parties he was forced to attend, all the times he’s sat over you helping you with simple maths sums while he had an essay to do, all the extravagant games you two used to make up as something to do while your parents were working.

God he misses it. And he would pay so much money to get to relive it, because even without the regular caring parents who are involved in their child's life-watching you grow up all over again would be worth so much more.

Chan snaps out of his thoughts and regains his composure before knocking on the door gently.

“Y/N, it’s me—can I come in?”. He’s about to open the door and enter when it opens in his face, and there you are, wearing a comfy set of clothes.

Chan takes your appearance in and notices immediately that you look…not like you. The light that normally shines in your eyes is dimmed, there are bags under your eyes and your normally well kept hair is disheveled.

“Y/N…”, he starts but you cut him off with a hug.

“Channie”, you murmur in a soft voice. “I’m sorry I wasn’t ready this year.”

Oh the way you sound so defeated breaks his heart. “Y/N baby—it’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

“I swear I knew when dad was picking you up and I had everything planned and stuff and then I got distracted and everything I planned just went out the window-”

“Y/N. It’s fine.”, Chan reassured, pulling back from the hug but keeping a firm hold on your shoulders. “Let’s talk?”

You nod at him and let him into your room, closing the door behind him. He flops down onto your bed and pats the spot beside him. “Come on over”.

You don’t hesitate and take your spot next to your brother. Words can’t describe how grateful you are that you’re not the only child in this fucked up family and that Chan is here. Every christmas is a blessing in your eyes because he’s here, a family member who cares.

His arm wraps around your shoulder and he pulls you in closer to him, pushing your head down to rest on his chest. “There, just like when you were a baby”.

“You mean a kid?”

“Fine, just like when you were a kid”, he states again, although in his head you will always be a ‘baby’.

“Oh please, when I was a kid you were just a teenager”, you scoff but don’t make the effort to move.

“Yeah but you still clung to me like a koala, so my point still stands.”

“Okay fine..”

“You’re still clingy”, he teases, when you don’t give your usual sarcastic response he clears his throat and starts speaking in a softer, more serious tone. “Mom said you’re ’moping around’..wanna tell me about that?”

“Things have just been…utter shit”, you respond simply.

“Utter shit?”, he questions, prompting you to further explain as he starts to run his fingers through your, messy, hair.

“I just…I feel like I’m stuck in time. Everyone else around me is moving on and I’m stuck in this spot. All my friends are starting to go to all sorts of house parties and get drunk off their heads, in school they keep shoving down future career paths down our throats and in general there’s just more and more work to be done ever single day...even mom and dad are talking about having me move out soon since technically it’s legal for me to move out after I turn sixteen—but I’m just, I don’t want to do any of that. I want to just be a kid for a little longer. In my head I’m still like eleven or like twelve—I’m not ready for all of this, I don’t want to be ready for all of this!”, you start rambling, your words flowing out quickly, as if you’ve been waiting to say all of this to someone.

“I see”, Chan responds. “I think…and hear me out, I think you’re just craving a normal childhood-one where you weren’t basically left to fend for yourself.”

You nod and he feels it’s safe to continue.

“You don’t want to grow up because you already feel like you have been at a higher maturity level since you were learning your ABC’s..”.

“How do you know exactly how to put this into simple words?”

“Because I know exactly how you feel. You know, I suppose when you were born I not only had to fend for myself, but also for you—and I do not hold it against you Y/N, you are the best thing that could’ve happened to me. I think if I was an only child in this family I would’ve gone insane.” You both giggle at his words but you both know he’s right. You know especially now in his absence that living in this house by yourself is not a nurturing and caring environment.

Chan continues speaking, “So you could say that from a young age I was acting like I was in my 30’s, taking care of myself, you, teaching you life lessons while learning them myself..and when it came to actually being a grown up..I didn’t want to do it because I felt like I already have been doing it. I wanted to just be able to I don’t know…play around with fucking legos or just go to the beach and build as many sandcastles as I desire, I wanted to reverse time and somehow get our parents to care for us and give the both of us the childhood we deserve. I still want that. I still wish that there was a switch I could flip and suddenly they’ll be asking more than the ‘required’ mundane questions…but…”, he trails off with a sigh.

“…That can’t happen”, you say. “Mhm, it can’t. So, trust me when I say that I understand how you feel.”

“How did you get over it?”, you ask.

“Well..it does turn out that adult life is a bit more complicated so I had to figure that out..but to heal my inner child..I did exactly what I wanted to, I realised that because I was an adult, no one could actually stop me from building sandcastles at the beach, or spending my first entire real pay check on all the lego sets I wanted and building them all”.

“Did it help?”

“Honestly, yeah. I gave myself what our parents couldn’t..or well wouldn’t and I felt much better about myself.” He pokes your arm, laughing a bit “Just don’t spend your first entire pay check on lego. I’ll teach you how to be smarter with money.”

“I feel bad you have to teach me these things.”

“Don’t. I want to.”, Chan replies. “The only reason I didn’t completely cut contact with mom and dad after I moved out was so I could see you like this, so I could continue to parent you because..you have so much potential Y/N..and our parents don’t provide you with an environment to encourage that kind of growth, they just want you to grow up and move out so they can be at peace, but I want you to thrive. I want you to be prepared and ready for whatever life throws at you. I want to encourage you in everything. I just want to help you. Make sure you have it better than anyone else..”. Chan’s words make you feel a pang in your chest, you close your eyes and slow your breathing, feeling his heartbeat as his fingers comb through your hair.

“Obviously, since you seem to be so nervous, I’ll tune my coaching down to a slower place, we can take this one small step at a time”.

“Thank you Channie. Really.”, you reply. “Mom and dad are no help at all…like no help. They just want me out of here.”

“I know…but it’s okay, you’ll figure yourself out, you’ll figure out what you want to do with your life, in your own time and I’ll be here in your corner supporting you every step of the way and teaching you things and well…everything I already said”, Chan reassures, patting your arm.

“Now…what if…we go and build a snowman or something?”, he suggests.

“A snowman?”, you laugh and sit up, meeting his eyes.

“What? It’ll be fun! I promise!”, Chan exclaims, “Come on don’t be a loser! Just come build a snowman with me!!”

“What you need me to sing it for you??”, he clears his throat. “Do you want to build a snowman? Come on let’s go and play-“

It’s only when you start laughing he does too. God when Frozen came out you both went through a terrible phase where you were obsessed with the movie..and when the second one came out god it all came back again.

“Okay Anna—let’s go build a snowman”.

That’s how your day ends. The two of you building multiple snowmen in the green in your estate (while your parents sat inside, oblivious to what their kids are doing). And honestly, you wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

You know that Chan would truly always be in your corner and you hope he knows you’ll always be in his. Neither of you asked to be born to parents who had no care in the world but at least the two of you had each other.

a/n: hope you liked this! i had to rush the ending a bit because I wanted it to be done by at least Christmas day so apologies!!!

p.s: if you have any reqs, feel free to ask!! just keep it sfw!!!

[aparticularbandit]

and like.

the pov characters grows throughout the trilogy, too.

oaei is primarily kyoko with short bursts of mikan (and three cameos).

oafc is primarily ryoko with kyoko as secondary and short bursts of nagito (and two cameos).

oalh is primarily kyoko with chisa and hajime as secondary and short bursts of junko (and currently no cameos planned).

...which i guess means that technically oalh has fewer povs than the other two but that the characters with povs have bigger chunks in their headspace.

that's not what i initially meant, but uh. i honestly expected there were more povs in oalh. XD

[unproduciblesmackdown]

also it's something (better) like, the exercise of deliberately [art imitates life imitates art] holding up Billions to My IRL Things Perspective and going like whaaat would i want for winston. first answer is you want any character to not have been within the scope of the show in the first place, and to exit it since they are. and you kind of get that in the accidental reward in banishing winston, since like in the end it's just that the show doesn't care about him existing at that point But like it's winston sitting there quietly as everyone leaves & turns out the lights & Then he can leave too; others have peaced out & nobody remembers he exists so Now he can go off & do whatever.

but like in true form i think they definitely accidentally baked in another divine reward for winston in that, like, the way he's kept around as fodder for these fun little [pov: enjoy abusing this guy] asides with him, where it Just So Happens that he's autistic as something they're unaware of but is completely relevant to the expectation we understand him to be inferior(tm), it Just So Happens that he's also ""bad"" at not ""causing"" abuse to be turned on him. he's ""bad"" at staying in line. like well yes Yes that's what i want for him. just like In Real Life it's like yeah Ideally i'd want people to be able to extricate themselves from where they're trapped in power structures & i'd want them to have the perspective about it of understanding they're not Inferior / i.e. they are as much a person as anyone else and they're not corrupting everything good / i.e. it wasn't them Bringing It Upon Themselves and it's not them being Destructive by toppling a jenga tower of a hierarchy that happened to be pressing down on them. and winston is the kind of [the ruinerrrrrr] who is Turned On exactly because he keeps acting like someone who's on the verge of breaking out of the [being in line] someone demands of him as autist, employee, whatever other supposed manifestations of [inferior]

like in the 5 second stretches in which winston's allowed to speak before retaliation, it's because he's like "matter of factly" delivering whatever Information that's useful for another plotline. then he Brings It Upon Himself by making people aware that he's Also existing in his own right as a person rather than what they think serves their own deal / what they want from him at all times, perhaps by expressing his personality (didn't appeal to them! so it was Wrong) or not b/c of anything in particular said or done at present, just b/c people have a constant / accumulating contempt for him so their being in the same room as him & able to see & hear him is already dangerous. the [we're just seeing Any Abusive Dynamic in action] continuing apace.

and it's like, well, right there. he's written as acting like someone who doesn't blame himself for how he's treated, which billions frames as being Rude & Mean, and so too does everyone's abusers lmfao like and that these are his moments that are written to be Bringing It Upon Himself. and it's like hell yeah he doesn't blame himself. hell yeah that his self-esteem can manifest as anger at all. hell yeah that he keeps expressing himself with personality & confidence & doesn't even disguise his having been hurt, & it's this [his ass is Not grey rocking] that billions frames as both him "causing" his abuse & making that abuse "successful" lol, wrow just like real life!! and when like speaking of real life yeah it's not "bad" that people Do engage in strategies to mitigate & survive, including things like blaming themselves or being too "boring" to be anything but a non dialogued background character b/c that's all that goes unpunished, it's bad b/c it's done to them at all, not [ohh they're doing it to themselvesss] and like i'm asking myself like Ideally. what do i want Ideally. and i'd want winston to know that it's being Done To Him & i'd want him to find as much room for his personhood & autonomy as possible. and that's basically how he's written anyways, and billions hates that like You See this is why he deserves it this is why he's doing it to himself. and i'm like my god if that's not Inspiration for like "so what if people don't find you Personally Likable" and not preemptively holding back all personality or anything that'd draw attention as if you exist as a person in your own right & not something that only either gets in the way of or serves their wants of a Real person (someone with more power) like hell yeah you have him out here doing it =']

another fun addendum is like, billions isn't getting into it much b/c it doesn't seem to care much about "what if some people were peers & seem to have a genuine, recipcrocal relationship?" but that it just so happened to be like "oh tuk as the next closest loser who deserves it might be nice to winston" while it's framing winston as the "worse" Loser as being....unconditionally supportive of tuk. while the one downside of billions Also giving bentuk as much as it is is that it also inevitably has that shadow of "but ben is Superior to tuk" and like that it's correct that everyone encourages tuk to Stop Bringing It Upon Himself and start being less of a loser; it's wrong for winston to be like hey let's go have a foursome. like yeah probably don't make a list of the women you work with you'd be dtf but it's not like i'm convinced "ah billions and it's strong anti misogyny stance like" roflmao and billions is Not reflecting on "the downsides of unconditional support?" there when winston was beaten up for criticising taylor earlier like we WILL take his ideas while looting his [beaten unconscious] body there but he WAS wrong to express them as though he's BETTER than taylor!!! mafee's beautiful show of loyalty in kicking his ass even when he might agree with the argument and then benefit when it's adopted by taylor anyways! so it's as usual actually purely based on hierarchy & who gets to be in charge of people. it's correct for ben to be in charge of tuk, unless he has to step aside for that bizarre dead-end subplot about how it's tuk's fault if he's treated badly, b/c it's really his own Failure to have Confidence to know he has good ideas [raising our voice to deliver this message over the sound of breaking desks and chairs and computer monitors over winston because he had the confidence to act like he deserved to talk to someone and because he knows his ideas efforts & results are good & valuable around there] like. and isn't it sooo fucked up to talk about who you're dtf in the episode that has it be neutral if your boss is dtf & lets you know but is nice about it (and you're already Correctly tending to their ego, which you're responsible for!) like hey no possible problem! it's not even so much of a problem for a boss man to have the sex they're entitled to & be rude about their leveraging their power in that acquisition that it Stays a problem into the next season. ew, winston is Known (Inferred) Dtf??? we'll use it to exploit His vulnerability, exacerbate it, & punish him further for good measure in another episode that just revels in abuse & violation with a sexual aspect once again, but like, hey tuk don't do that, winston's such a Bad Influence for being like, shrug, kneejerk intervening with the Good Friendship where the One In Charge leaps in & Tells tuk the Correct thing to do. obviously there's also the tragedy that billions will Never let winston push back against Real Winners like rian or taylor in A Way That Matters (actually gets in their way at all) lol like. one thing that would have really been fun, winston should've literal kneejerk started physically fighting wags in either pertinent scene in 7x03 for real 110%. i wouldn't be like Gasp Violence Is Never The Answer if he just hit someone to hit them b/c fuck you. or broke anything on his way out etc etc. billions would Never let him. which is the other side of the same coin of [why he should get to]

tl;dr how great that winston's being "out of line" means he's basically always noticeably flouting & rebelling against the [He Deserves Abuse] agenda lol. that IS what i want. his being "beyond hope" like ohhh he's sooo stupid he doesn't realize how much he has the bad tastes & wrong interests & annoying personality He Will Always Be This Way like hell yeah!!! billions like oh no winston's personhood will never stay tamped down & locked away such that some godawful person tolerates keeping him in their inventory :( ohhh the ABA will never work :( that's right!!!!!!!!!! although they're not sad about it because it's about relishing the promise there will always be True Inferiors you can enjoy abusing with your righteous power over, but like well you wrote him escaping anyways even while dragging other "better" characters into standing around to serve axe's need for more than 1.8 employees and [crickets, reverberating cough, sneaker scuff] like. another ""wrong"" thing for winston to do, another thing for him to not "deserve," which is itself godawful actually lol like lord what it "rewards" its Good, Deserving characters with, no thanks. meanwhile winston's punishment is that he's autistic and """bad""" at being abused like lmfao good for him, fantastic for him, just what i want

[cursedthing]

.havign lots of thoughts about how npcs are portrayed learning about the nature of their universe in works

[fazcinatingblog]

More like IF I come back amirite, also stop making me feel guilty, also learn to spell (paralegal? Parallel? ...never mind doesn't parramatta), also like it's my fault she hires 53 accountants that can only do accounting and 1 admin person to send out the tax returns and invoices and

[daydreamerdrew]

Iron Man (1968) #57

[shitpostingsapphic]

Why I don't feel disappointed by Vi's arc, but you might

I usually have pretty strong and polarizing opinions when it comes to my takes on Arcane, but this is one where I wanna open up the discussion a bit more and invite people to my perspective, and it's fine if you don't see it this way.

I think there are two primary reasons why people feel disappointed by the arc of s2 Vi. The first, being that Vi had stronger voiced concerns about the state of Zaun in the first season. The second, being that she spent the whole show wanting to be with her sister and she didn't end up getting that.

Why I actually feel fulfilled in Vi's arc has to do with these two points, and I invite you to sit with what I have to say next.

Both of these parts of Vi have to do with her fatal flaw: her neglect of self.

We know two things based on what the creators have said about the show: the theme of Arcane is the cycle of violence, and the entire show was written together, instead of season 2 being written after season 1 production. From this, I can then ask: what do the creators want to tell their audience about this message, knowing they wrote it all out together, knowing the events of season 2 were very purposeful, using Vi as a conduit for that message?

If violence is a cycle, can one person defy it? No, of course not. At the start of Vi's arc, she wants to be a person that breaks it, though. She wants to change things in Zaun, wants a better life for her sister. As season 1 continues on, she wants to pick up where she left off with Powder without truly processing the gravity of the years between them. She thinks she can hold the world on her shoulders and fix any problem that comes her way. She thinks she can use her fists to make progress, thinks she can physically reach out and create change, but it only contributes to the cycle. And that's not because she's morally in the wrong when she does so, but she doesn't grasp yet that her fists can't fix everything. Vander tries to tell her as such in act 1, and it's a lesson that goes beyond just the literal application.

Vi's tendency to try and fix everything around her leads to her neglect of self. Inevitably, when you try to change things you have no control over, it leaves wounds. It leaves a person feeling like something is deeply wrong with them. And we watch Vi go down this spiral. I actually find myself really brokenhearted watching Vi in the first 2 acts, because I think she represents a lot of us: we see pain and devastation around us, but we don't know what the right thing to do is. We try different tactics and try to fix things and are left wondering why things feel worse than how they started.

I think that's something a lot of viewers could benefit to reflect on: I think in watching a show with strong political messaging, we yearn for a message that tells us the answers to these big problems. Truthfully, most of us don't have a fucking clue what we're doing. We want change but don't know how to see it through. That includes the writers. This isn't a show about the solution to political strife. It's about the cycle of violence. It's about not knowing how to change something that's been continuous throughout history in some form.

If we put ourselves in Vi's shoes, it would eventually take a toll on us to try and change something that isn't within our ability to change. Vi can't fix the problems in Zaun. Vi can't change the way time and distance and pain has warped her sister into someone else. In season 2 act 1, she's still trying to take responsibility for things that are outside of her control. She blames herself for the way Jinx has changed and has to tell herself that the only way to fix it is to end the cycle with her own fists. She teams up with Caitlyn because she's convinced herself it's the only way she can help. She sees how violence has devastated not only Zaun but innocents in Piltover as well, and she feels responsible for it.

BUT SHE IS NOT AT FAULT. And she cannot fix it any more than she could have created it.

Perhaps people may feel Vi's arc is lacking because they wanted to see more of her involvement in the revolution of Zaun. They wanted to see her be able to change the situation with her sister and for them to live happily together. But because of the circumstances surrounding both, for Vi to do so, she would inevitably lean into her fatal flaw. She cannot do either of those things without neglecting herself. That's not who she is.

The whole point of a character arc is for someone to be a changed person from beginning to end. If Vi starts out as someone passionate about enacting change to the point of self-destruction, what would a resolution for a character like that look like?

Vi needs to choose herself. Vi needs to release herself of the responsibility of changing the world. She can't do it. There are ways to contribute to positive change that don't involve putting the world on your shoulders, and Vi has yet to put herself first in any situation. Vi choosing love is how she does it.

Amanda Overton, one of the main writers that contributed to Vi's character and the Caitlyn and Vi dynamic and relationship, said about Vi: "If she has no one left to protect, she would fall in love". If Vi finally lets go of this crutch of hers to protect, to fight, to take responsibility for things that aren't her burden to bear, she would fall in love. She would finally be able to choose something for herself.

This is why I find her arc fulfilling. I feel like it's not an arc we really see a lot. It's not every day we have a character that starts out like the classic anime slash marvel protagonist, and instead of being the person that saves the world, they accept they're not a superhero and it's okay to choose love and personal happiness.

If it applies, and you're reading this, I want you to ask yourself: are you perhaps disappointed with her arc because you expected her to be the superhero? And would you be okay with accepting that she isn't and doesn't need to be? That it would be better for her to choose herself?

[rebelliousstories]

Different Time

Relationship: Remy LeBeau/Gambit x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Mentions of Blood and Violence, Strong Language, Happy Endings

Word Count: 2,358

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Summary: Being dragged into the Void by your good buddy Wade was not how you imagined to be spending your days after your lover had died.

A single card was fixed between her fingers as she walked behind the other two people on their journey. There was silence all around the trio as they walked through the field. She did not pay attention to what was being said, nor did she care very much. If it was of any importance to her, they would let her know.

Before she knew what was going on, a dog was running straight for them. But the man with long, flowing locks that was running behind made her finger tingle with energy. After Deadpool and the Wolverine ahead of her did not move to attack the man, she let that energy fizzle out. Not that it would have done much damage anyways. It was getting harder and harder to remember what it was like. And yet, she could see it so clearly in her mind; the first time he had shown her what he could do.

“So what can you do exactly? You just throw cards at people?”

“Nah, cher,” his hands came up to hold a card between his fingers, “is much more den dat. I charge da playin’ cards wit energy. And den dey go boom.” His chuckle followed shortly afterwards.

“Is that so huh?” She chuckled as well. But the man just smiled, and wrapped his arms around her anyways.

“See is like dis, cher. Watch and learn.”

With his arms around her, he held an ace of hearts. Flicking it in the air caused a pink glow to encompass it. She giggled as he swiped the card from the sky, and touched it to her skin. The resulting kinetic energy made her entire body jolt, but the man kept her grounded as it flowed through each and every muscle.

“Feel dat, cher?” His breath fanned across her cheek as she rested against his chest. Once she had recovered, she held her hand and felt the card laid in her palm. Flipping it over through her fingers, she managed to produce a glow and a light crackling energy field around the object.

“Atta girl, cher.” A kiss was laid upon her cheek, and she felt the day old scruff rub against the crook of her neck.

“You comin’, bub?” A gruff voice pulled her out of her thoughts. Snapping into reality, the three men in front of her were looking like they were off to go somewhere.

“Apologies,” came her reply.

“Did we just miss some exposition about you? I feel like we just missed a vital flashback into your tragic backstory. Besides, I would like to find out what you do exactly. We’ve never gotten a clear answer. You just sort of do everything, like Taylor Swift.” Wade was having none of her dismissal.

“What are you talking about?” She was utterly confused, but Logan waved the red menace of off.

“Don’t pay him any mind. Come on, let’s go.” They all made the trek out to the dense corn that housed an old Honda Odyssey, which made the merc in red pitch a hissy fit.

“Get in the fucking car.” Logan snapped at Wade, utterly feed up with his antics. Before being prompted, she threw open the side door and climbed n the back. She watched as Deadpool tried to run off with the sweet little pup that had found them, but Wolverine put a very fast stop to that. Defeated, Wade climbed in the passenger seat, while Logan went in the driver’s, and they were off.

Somewhere along the way, she must have dozed off. That was the only explanation for the memory she was experiencing right now. Except, she was not exactly experiencing it as t had happened. No, she was watching it from an outsider’s perspective.

The first thing she saw, was a dingy old motel room floor. And the next, was laughing. Looking up, she saw them. It was her, and her beau play fighting on the bed of the motel room.

“Now, you know bettah den to play dirty, cher. Ain’t no coyon, ya know?” Her lover had trapped her arms to her body, and was smiling as big as ever. Plush lips stretched across his face. Hazel eyes twinkled brightly.

“Didn’t hear you complaining about me playing dirty last night,” she teased. Turning in his arms, she looked up at her lover with nothing but adoration.

“Well, Gambit seems to remember you not complainin’ neither.” His lips came down onto hers.

Watching from her spot near the dresser, the future her could still feel the wonderful pressure of their kiss. Tracing her fingers over her own, melancholy filled her heart. He looked so alive in this moment. A moment that she cherished with her whole being.

“Ahh!”

Something far less pleasant awoke her this time from her thoughts. One of Wade’s knives had lodged itself in her shin. Blood steadily poured itself from the wound. And the world fell still for a moment. Raising her eyes, she felt herself shaking in anger and pain as Deadpool met her gaze.

“Oh no. Oh, I am so sorry.” He wheezed. But it was too late.

Her other leg raised and kicked him hard in the head. While he was disoriented, her mind contorted the blade that was in his hands; even the hand that was holding the knife began to bend and break. Holding her knee, she made herself fall through the car and onto the ground below.

“Where’d she go? Magic woman.” She heard Deadpool exclaim loudly. It was followed by a growl and a squeak. And the car started to rock with the force that they were going at each other.

Rolling to her right, she got out from underneath the vehicle before someone sent a blade through to her again. Releasing her leg, she crawled on her belly over to a tree that was still facing the car. Her forearms were covered in dirt and leaves now, as were the entire lower half of her body. While keeping an eye on the Odyssey, she worked to remove her boots and rolled up the pants from her injured leg. She could see the wound eventually and worked to clear her mind.

Regenerating always took a lot from her. It took a lot physically and mentally from her, but she could get it done. Groans slipped from her lips as she could feel her skin, muscles, and even veins being to stitch themselves together. A scar was all that was left in the place of the stab wound. The woman rested against the large piece of wood behind her and watched through blackening vision as both men were thrown through the car, and jumped back in with fervor.

That was the image that she passed out to. That was the last thing in the real world that she saw. She was not sure how much time had passed between her passing out, and when she woke up. But she immediately recognized that she was not where she was before. There were stone walls all around her, and she was lying down on a bed. Before sitting up, she looked and could see Logan with a bottle of liquor to her right.

Voices were muffled all around her. She could not pin point a specific one, but something felt off. Like someone or something was there, and how that was supposed to make her feel, she did not know. Groaning, she sat up and caught the attention of everyone else that was talking. One person much more than anyone else. A familiar drawl called out her name, and her body filled with dread. Footsteps came closer, and the muffs came off from her ear.

“Cher, that you?” Her heart sped up and it felt like it was beating out of her chest. A hand came to her shoulder, but she was not having whatever weird illusion this was. Grabbing whoever’s wrist this was, she used her body weight and center of gravity to pivot the person onto their back on the floor beside the bed she was on.

Staring down, her heart stopped. This was her beau. Remy was staring up at her with wide eyes. Letting out a shaking breath, her hands let go of the man as if he had burned her and stood upon shaking legs. The man on the ground was not doing much better than her. He stood just as quickly, and looked at the woman just the same.

“Oh, thank you Lord. It is you.” He whispered, taking a step closer. But her hand shot up to stop him from getting closer.

“Don’t. Who the hell are you? And what are you doing with that suit on?” She demanded, and watched the confusion sink in.

“Cher, it’s me. It’s your Gambit. I’m jus’ wonderin’ how in da hell you here now.” Remy breathed.

“Oh my god!” Everyone’s attention was brought to Deadpool who was wide eyed in his mask. “This is your tragic backstory. You and him…”

“I need some air.” She turned on her heels, and phased through her wall till she was outside in the forest. Outside, she tried to draw in a deep breath, but found her body starting to seize. Everything got too much. Shaky limbs and sweaty palms found themselves crashing onto the forest floor. She tried to breathe in again but only managed half a breath. Her heart was beating out of her chest. The world began to spin.

“Ay, ay, you alright, cher. Come ‘ere. Let’s settle on down now, ya.” Thick arms encompassed her. They grounded her back to reality. As Remy kept whispering soothing words, she felt her world come back into focus. Her heart slowed down and was now moving at a steady rhythm. She was following Remy’s lead on her breaths; in through the nose for four, hold for four, out for four. Her arms and legs were soothing themselves out and she was able to wipe off her palms onto the legs of her suit.

“Dat’s a good girl, now. Ain’t no reason to be like dat. Just a little frightenin’ is all. Didn’ mean to.” He was apologizing for scaring her? After she had thrown him to the ground and walked out on everyone? Those arms felt so familiar and comforting; she did not want to move rom them. But she had to face this man. She had to know. Turning, her eyes finally came up close and personal with the man that had introduced himself as Gambit, Remy LeBeau.

“You good now, cher? Feelin’ a little bettah?” Even after all of this, he was still so caring.

“Yeah. How are you alive?” She whispered, tracing her eyes over every inch of his face like this was the last time she was going to see it. Because it just might.

“I been wonderin’ da same thing. Don’t know how long I been in dis here Void, but you was gone long before I got here.” One of his hands came up and pet her head so very softly.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?” Her attempt at a joke made the Cajun chuckle as well. Sure, both of their laughs were tinged with sadness, but they were laughing together again.

“Well, I uh-” he stammered, trying to find the right words, “was out playin’ cards. Got a feelin’ dat somethin’ was wrong. Went back to the apartment we was stayin’ in. And you… you were gone when I got there. Tracked down who had killed ya, and it turned out to be my ol’ thievin’ ring. Didn’ like da fact dat we was ‘bout to get outta da game apparently. Da hardest thing Remy ever done was buryin’ you. Easiest was killin’ da sons o’ bitches dat took you from me.”

Silence enveloped them as the weight of his words sunk in.

“Something very similar happened in my timeline.” She replied, watching as he seemed to going through the same emotions she was.

“We were on our way back from a mission for Xavier. You and I were with Jean, Scott, and Storm. God, she was making so many jokes about how she was the fifth wheel on that mission and we were making it worse for her. Anyways, we got ambushed by the Brotherhood. We were actually taking out a good chunk of them, but Sabertooth got the drop on you. You bled out in my arms on the way back to the mansion. You had me promise not to do anything rash in the aftermath, but it was difficult.”

Tears welled in both of their eyes. Both of them mourning a love and life lost in tragic fashion. Remy pulled her in close, and she breathed in deeply. That familiar leather and musk scent blended with the fresh air outside. She just wanted that scent bottled up and kept with her at all times.

“So it seems to ol’ Gambit dat we both lost our other half. Maybe you was supposed to be the one that completed my deck, cher.” Her head raised and her eyebrow as she turned to look at the man in confusion.

“You’ve got an incomplete deck,” came her question. She began feeling around for a pocket in her jacket that was directly over her heart.

“Jus’ missin’ one card. Whatchu lookin’ for?” He questioned, letting her move around freely.

“Get your deck out,” his eyebrows raised. “Your card deck, Gambit. Humor me.”

“Whatevea you say, cher.”

The duo shifted until their respective items were grabbed. Remy produced a deck of cards and quickly rearranged them to be in card order. Her card was in between her first two fingers. As Gambit sifted through his deck, he stopped right where a card was missing. And as she revealed what was in her hands, the two suddenly looked at each other with love and tears. Her ace of hearts was missing from his deck, but he had finally found it again. It was a different time, different place, even a different person, but it was the same love that spanned the multiverse.

[punkshort]

i know who you are | 7. the week

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Joel is on a mission to win you back. You struggle with your feelings and visit an old friend for some perspective.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, pining, sad!Joel, amnesia, slow burn, physical violence, wounds/blood/injuries/gore, vague reference to suicide (Joel remembering his incident after Sarah), alcohol consumption, non-descriptive smutty memory, mentions of murder (adults and children), mentions of pregnancy (not reader)

WC: 7.7K

A/N: I took some liberties with the background of the Fireflies, it's not exactly canon.

Series Masterlist

Somewhere in Northern California

It took two days.

Two full days of freezing temperatures and frigid wind as he traversed up and down mountains, through snow covered forests with little to no shelter, but he finally made it. Right before nightfall, he approached the edge of the town you grew up in. The town your parents still lived in ten years ago. The town that holds a history of you and everything you hold dear.

It was too dark and he was too tired to enter the town and go any further, but fortune smiled upon him for the first time since he left Jackson when he spotted a dilapidated woodshed tucked into the forest. It was small, no bigger than a bedroom, but it would do. It would be the first time in two days he would get to sleep with a roof over his head, and he desperately needed it.

He grossly overestimated his ability to survive out in the wild. He did it before, of course, but life in Jackson made him soft. Made him complacent. Made him weak.

Time took its toll on his body. His age was an offensive reminder every time his knees creaked or his back twinged. He wasn't as fast as he used to be, nor as strong. But he was determined and stubborn, two things that would never change.

With hands trembling from the cold, he jabbed his knife into the lock and broke it with ease, a small triumph in an otherwise unforgiving journey. The shed was mostly empty, save for a pile of wood and an axe. Plenty of room for both him and the horse.

After he scattered some oats on the floor, he grabbed his rifle and marched back out into the snowy tundra to do a perimeter check, knowing he would fall asleep the moment he allowed himself to slow down. By the time he deemed the area safe, he retreated back into the woodshed and lit a fire in the tiny furnace to warm up a bit.

Once he got feeling back in his fingers, he cracked open some stew and ate it cold straight from the can, too impatient to warm it up and too eager to get some rest. The wind howled outside, practically screaming at him with every gust: How could you say that to me?

The horse nickered softly, her head lowered, one back leg cocked as she began to doze off. He laid on the wooden floor, partially resting inside his sleeping bag, ready to strike if there was an intruder. The back of his wrist laid against his forehead while he stared blankly at the ceiling, wondering for the umpteenth time if what he was doing was even going to work. If he would even be capable of finding your house in this town, let alone finding any pictures still in good enough condition to bring back to you.

But it was all he had.

You had mentioned to him when he was sick, after you saw the photo of Sarah, how you wished you had pictures of your family. You looked so somber and distant and he was once again reminded that even though you lost them ten years ago, in your mind you only lost them months ago.

He couldn't imagine losing Sarah twice. Waking up one day, thinking she was alive and healthy and late for school just to be told she was killed mercilessly ten years prior and died in his arms. You were so much stronger than him. You always were. You were told your whole world changed, your family gone, and then tossed into a house with him, pressured by everyone every damn day to regain your memories and become a completely different person when he knew deep down if the same had happened to him, his answer would lie at the end of a barrel. But unlike before, he might not flinch.

You really fucking hurt me, Joel.

He rubbed his face aggressively, the pain and anguish in your voice haunting him. This trip left him with too much time to get lost in his thoughts, too much time to wallow in his grief and replay every single painful memory from the past several days.

Sighing, he dropped his hands to his chest and tried to think about something else. Letting his eyes drift shut, he let his mind wander back to before. Before your accident, before he fucked everything up, back to a time when you were happy and stupidly in love.

"What's cookin', good lookin'?" he heard your voice behind him.

He grinned as he stirred a pot of sauce on the stove while you wrapped your arms around his midsection, burying your face against his back.

"My accent rubbin' off on you now?"

You giggled and let go, walking over to grab the bottle of whiskey and pouring you each a glass.

"Maybe."

You handed him his glass and clinked them together before taking a sip.

"How was patrol?" he asked, turning his attention back to the pasta.

"Boring," you replied, hopping up onto the counter next to him, swinging your legs back and forth. "Jesse has a lot of work to do. He's not seasoned enough to be out there without one of us."

He nodded thoughtfully and lifted the spoon up to your lips to taste the sauce. "Needs lemon," you said, licking your upper lip while he snatched a lemon from a basket in the corner of the kitchen and sliced it in half.

"Yeah, I know, but he's got potential. Just gotta get him to focus a bit more. Gotta be more aware of his surroundings."

You hummed and rubbed the back of your neck with a wince.

"You hurtin'?" he asked, but you shook your head immediately.

"Just tired."

"You sure?" he said while he strained the pasta. "I can rub your neck later."

"Oh, well in that case, yes. I'm absolutely aching over here," you said with a smile.

"Don't tempt me, baby," he told you, setting down the pot before wedging himself between your knees, his hands rubbing over your thighs. "Might not stop at your neck."

"Is that right?" you teased, pulling your lower lip between your teeth playfully.

"Mhmm. First it's your neck, then shoulders," he said, pressing a gentle kiss against your lips, "then your back," he dragged his hands up your back and pressed you forward, nearly pulling you off the counter.

"Then what?" you asked breathlessly, arms loosely draping around the back of his neck.

"Before y'know it, you'll be pullin' at my belt, tellin' me you got an ache someplace else 'n you need me to stuff you full of my cock." His hands dragged up and down your back, his mouth nipping gently at your throat as you tipped your head back with a gasp.

"You know me so well," you murmured, a lazy smirk spreading across your face when you felt the urgency behind his touch.

"Yeah I do, baby," his words getting lost against your skin, "know you like the back of my hand. Know what makes you tick. What makes you feel good. Know what makes you scream my fuckin' name." His lips slotted over yours urgently, the pasta cold and long forgotten as you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him close.

"Take me to bed, Joel," you begged after you pulled your head away, breaking the kiss and then quickly latching onto his neck. "Need you. I want - shit!" you cursed when one of you accidentally pushed a plate off the counter and it smashed into pieces against the floor.

"Leave it, don't care," he said, picking you up and pulling your attention off the shards of ceramic littering the floor. "I'll clean it up later."

His eyes popped open, the echo of your giggle from that night bouncing around his skull. It was almost laughable now, thinking he felt lonely before compared to how he felt in the middle of fucking nowhere with only a sleeping horse to keep him company.

He wasn't stupid. He knew he would need to do more than bring home some pictures to convince you to forgive him. But it was a start, and maybe, just maybe with time, you would come to understand what you meant to him.

And if he was really lucky, he might end up meaning something to you, too.

It was stupid and it didn't mean anything.

That's what you kept telling yourself ever since Joel left and you found yourself curling up in his bed at night instead of yours.

His bed was more comfortable. His room didn't store the bad memories of your fight. It was simply easier to sleep there.

It certainly didn't have anything to do with the way the sheets still smelled like him. Like the soap you both used combined with the outdoors and a hint of his sweat. And on the third night when you picked out a flannel of his from the closet and wrapped it around yourself, it was only because it was a particularly frigid night.

You didn't miss him.

Well, you missed having another person in the house, sure. But you didn't miss him on some deeper level. Maria and Ellie were wrong. They had no idea what they were talking about. They had no idea what was going through your head, what you were feeling, what you were struggling with.

There was no possible way you could have feelings for Joel. Not after everything he did and said. Not after the lies and the cheating and the deception.

But then why, when you were struggling to fall asleep at night, did your mind always wander back to the way he looked at you in the meadow, or the way his arms felt wrapped around you on the back of the horse, or the way he made you laugh when you played Monopoly?

And why did it feel like a part of you left with him that night?

"Pathetic," you muttered to yourself, pulling the sheets tighter and rolling over onto your side, his soft, worn flannel like butter against your bare skin. You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing the memories from your mind and instead, replaying what he told you about the hospital.

He almost killed you. He was seconds away from putting a bullet in your head and only after presumably begging for your life did he let you go, and then he had the nerve to keep that information from you not only once, but fucking twice.

He was protecting Ellie.

But he still shouldn't have lied.

With a groan, you rolled onto your back and stared up at the ceiling, sleep so far out of reach you didn't even feel like trying anymore. Then a thought occurred to you:

You weren't the only one he let live. There were two other people in Jackson who were there, who were shown mercy and didn't appear to hold any resentment towards him for it. In fact, they seemed rather happy with the second chance they were given.

You hadn't seen Ben or Lisa in a long time. The opportunity never presented itself for you to seek any perspective from them about that day.

Perhaps it was time to change that.

It took him a few hours to scope out the town and venture out of the woods, but by late morning he was heading down what looked to be one of the main thoroughfares in town, eyes squinting against the blowing snow as he tried to pinpoint the location of town hall.

All he remembered was your street name but he had absolutely no idea how to find it, so his plan was to break into the town hall and find a map. From there, he prayed Ellie's drawing was truly accurate enough to narrow down your parents' house.

He was freezing. His face was numb and his back was fucking killing him from riding so much, but he was so close. If he was lucky, he could find your house, get what he needed and head out all before nightfall. Maybe he could even spend another night in the woodshed. It wasn't so bad. At least he was warm.

As he continued to steer his horse down another road, he couldn't help but think Tommy was right about the storm. It was providing him some cover, just in case there were survivors around that wouldn't take kindly to his intrusion. He just hoped it would blow through in a day so his ride back would be clear.

After another thirty minutes of wind whipping at his face, the cold penetrating his coat and several layers underneath, he finally saw it. It was a smaller building than he imaged it to be, but the sign was clear. Hoping that the town size was as small as the town hall, he steered his mare down the drive and through the parking lot, making sure to take in his surroundings, confirming he was truly alone before he slid down from the saddle and trudged through the snow to the front doors.

He wiped away the snow from the window, peering inside before heading to another one and doing the same. It appeared to be empty so he tried the door, unsurprisingly finding it locked. He pulled out his knife and worked on the lock, his fingers stiff and his ears so cold he could barely feel them anymore. Finally, he broke the lock but when he shoved the door, there was something blocking him on the other side.

"Shit," he muttered, glancing around, kicking and dusting snow off the surrounding area, looking for a brick or a rock. Giving up, he grabbed his rifle from the saddle and angrily made his way to the nearest window, smashing the butt of his gun against the glass repeatedly until it shattered. He gasped for air, not realizing how much energy he was exerting before he continued, knocking out as much of the glass as he could.

Sticking his head inside, he looked around. The place seemed empty. It was quiet, covered in dust and debris. Untouched dust was good. It meant nobody had been there in a while. Human or otherwise.

He crawled through the window, taking great care to not catch on any jagged edges. He held his breath, ears straining for any noise that might give someone away, but all he heard was the howling wind outside. This is your fault. Still, he kept his guard up. He walked room to room, finding his way to the lobby and searching the front desk for a map.

"You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me," he grumbled as he opened and shut each drawer in the desk, only pausing to snatch up an old protein bar and shoving it in his pocket.

With a sigh, he looked around the room. There were a couple benches, chairs that were moved and tipped over, papers scattered about but his eyes were drawn to the portraits on the wall. There were a few paintings of men he would never recognize, unknown sheriffs and mayors, and some framed pictures of the staff, but the one that really drew his attention was the large map on the wall next to the front doors.

It was a road map of the town. Simple, but it was all he needed. He rounded the desk and shined his flashlight over the map, studying it, searching for where he was before looking for your street.

"Grant Street."

"Grant?" he repeated, his fingers lightly skirting up and down your bare back.

"Mhmm," you confirmed, eyes closed, a small, satisfied smile tugging at your lips as you buried your face into his neck.

"That's funny," he said, his hand wandering past your waist and over your ass.

"Why's that?"

"Grant's my Mama's maiden name."

Your eyes opened and locked onto his. "Maybe it's fate, then."

Maybe it was.

Grant was only four blocks north. It didn't look like a very long road, either.

He could do this.

He was so close.

Lisa answered the door with the same look of surprise as before, although this time she was clutching needles and yarn in her left hand while the fire quietly crackled behind her.

"Hey," you said, arms wrapped around yourself as the snow storm continued to swirl behind you. "Can I come in?"

"Oh! Of course!" Lisa said, stepping back, "how rude of me. Can I get you something warm to drink?" She closed the door behind you and took a step towards the kitchen. "I just boiled some water for tea, it's still hot."

"Tea sounds lovely, thank you," you said as you hung up your coat and scarf, trying your best not to make a mess of melted snow all over her floor.

She told you to make yourself comfortable while she prepared your tea, so you wandered into her tiny living room, the space seeming a little larger now without your two imposing men.

"Where's Ben?"

"Working," she said, setting down a teacup and saucer next to hers. "I put a little sugar in it."

"Oh, thank you, that's perfect. I like it sweet," you replied, sitting down on the same couch as before and bringing the cup to your lips.

"I know, I remember," she said, and when she sat down and fixed her billowy top, you noticed for the first time the small bump protruding low on her hips.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and she followed your gaze.

"Oh, yes," her tone soft, "I'm due this spring."

"Wow. Congratulations, Lisa. That's wonderful, I had no idea. I thought I would have seen you from time to time at the infirmary," you explained, setting down your tea.

"Nick agrees to see me after hours, sometimes he makes house calls," she said, picking up her needles again.

You titled your head to the side. "Why do you want to be seen after hours?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line, eyes fixed on the yellow blanket she was making. "I still find it difficult sometimes to face some of the others in town, I suppose. I know I shouldn't but the guilt sticks with me."

"Guilt?"

Her eyes flicked up to yours and she shifted her weight. "I know Ben mentioned the Fireflies to you." She held out her wrist, showing you the small moth-like symbol tattooed there. "I'm not sure how much you know or remember-"

"Actually, that's why I'm here," you said, taking a deep breath. "Joel told me everything. About the Fireflies. About the hospital."

Her eyes widened, the needles abandoned in her lap.

"Oh."

"Yeah," you said, chewing on your lip and glancing at the fire. "He told me what he did there. Told me he spared us, let us go."

"Yes, he did," she agreed softly.

"Can you tell me more about that day?" you asked, dragging your eyes back to meet hers. "I'm having trouble understanding how I could have known this before and still managed to fall in love with him."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

You laughed dryly and shrugged. "I mean he almost killed us. He killed countless innocent people, friends of ours I'm assuming, and I'm expected to believe I just looked past it? We just looked past it?" You motioned between the two of you. "He's a murderer, Lisa. He-"

"We're murderers," she corrected, and you fell silent. "We killed innocent people. We helped lead a revolution that resulted in hundreds of deaths, and where did that get us? Nowhere! People weren't any better off. In fact, they were worse. Friends and family killed, caught in the crossfire, tangled up in this idea of freedom and safety and giving their lives to an empty cause."

You swallowed as you watched Lisa's face, her eyes fiery and her tone hardened, transforming into a different version of herself before your very eyes.

"What Joel did..." she trailed off as she thought back to that day. "We did bad things. So did he, but he single handedly cut the Fireflies off at the legs. He stopped the insanity, stopped the war, stopped the ridiculous experiments and half baked ideas to save the world, regardless of the lives lost along the way. You don't remember, I understand, but allow me to explain."

"Please," you begged softly, "please tell me everything."

She rested a palm against her swelling stomach and leaned back. "We realized we made a mistake pretty early on," she began, "but we didn't have anywhere else to go. We had been living in the wild for so long. We were tired and hungry and weak and we fell for it. Fell for the sales pitch when they found us. We were told we wouldn't have to fight, but they didn't tell us what they expected us to do."

"W-what did we do?" you stammered, sitting on the edge of your seat.

"We killed people. Innocent people, point blank. FEDRA soldiers. Civilians who ratted out our location for extra food for their family. Children-" her voice wobbled a bit as she looked down at her stomach. "Children who were experimented on, vaccine prototypes tested on, who became horribly disfigured a-and screaming in pain, begging to be put out of their misery-"

"Okay," you said, cutting her off and taking a deep breath, unable to hear much more. It was becoming clear why Joel kept this from you, and although you had a right to know, you were beginning to understand his motivation. He was trying to protect you.

"Anyway," Lisa continued, flicking a tear from her cheek, "we planned on getting out. We couldn't do it anymore. Then, Joel showed up."

You held your breath, waiting for her to continue.

"We were doing perimeter checks. Loosening a spot in the gate so we could sneak out later that night. Then we heard the gunshots. And at first, we thought some infected got in. It was the perfect distraction, so we grabbed our gear and made a run for it."

She paused to take a sip from her tea, her eyes looking miles away.

"We almost made it. We were in the parking garage loading up a vehicle when he snuck up behind us. Told us to lay face down on the ground with our hands behind our heads. We never saw him and it wasn't until later we found out he was all alone. The whole time we were convinced it had to have been a group of men. It seemed impossible for one man to do what he did, but somehow..."

She trailed off again and cleared her throat.

"He gave us a second chance when we didn't deserve it," she said solemnly. "You and Ben dealt with the weight of what we did far better than me. I still struggle with the guilt, I can't..." she looked up at you, "I hope you never remember."

A chill went down your spine and you nodded.

"Try not to hold it against him," she said, offering you a small smile. "We've all done terrible things. It's not all black and white."

It ain't black and white.

"Yeah, okay," you replied quietly, standing up from the couch, your mind reeling. "Thanks," you added, motioning to the tea before she walked you to the door, "and congratulations again."

"Thank you," she said, rubbing her belly, her green eyes sparkling. "I'm glad you stopped by. The truth is sometimes ugly, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve to understand the whole picture." You nodded and bent over to shove on your boots. "Joel's not a bad man. I'm sure he was just trying to protect you by leaving some things out about our past. He would have told you eventually."

When the whole goddamn world ends and all you got left is one or two people you care 'bout, you'll do whatever you gotta do to protect 'em.

"Yeah, I'm starting to realize that now," you said, shrugging on your coat with a wry smile.

The whole way home, you practically kicked yourself for not visiting Lisa sooner. Maybe it would have made a difference, maybe not. But it finally felt like a missing puzzle piece was back in place and you could begin to make sense of your confusing feelings for Joel.

Ellie was incredibly talented.

He needed to make sure to remind her of that when he got home because even through the blowing snow, in near whiteout conditions, he was still able to figure out which house was yours because Ellie's drawing was so detailed, so accurate that it almost felt like he had been there before.

He was eager and impatient. He just wanted to get inside and get what he needed and leave, but before he did, he peered inside the windows and did a walk around the whole house three times, just in case. It was a small brick ranch and if the snow wasn't so thick, he would be able to see the black shutters framing the front windows, just like in the drawing.

He shouldered open the side garage door first, a pile of fluffy snow spilling over the hard concrete as he stumbled in and shimmied open the roll top door so he could bring his mare inside.

He pat her between the eyes, murmuring his thanks for being so damn tough and sprinkled some more oats on the ground before slipping inside the house.

The door from the attached garage led right into a kitchen, which, by the looks of it, was rifled through on more than one occasion. No doubt some survivors had come through over the years and turned the place upside down for anything useful, but that didn't matter to him. What he needed wouldn't be stolen.

Glancing at the fridge, he paused when he saw some photos stuck to the door. He leaned his rifle against the wall and shook his head, curls flinging melted snow over the dusty floor, then bent over to examine the pictures. Most of them didn't have you and he began to worry he was in the wrong house after all, but then he saw it: at the very top was a picture of four people, all wearing summer clothes and Mickey Mouse ears with the Cinderella castle in the background. A middle aged man and woman bookended a young man, lean but muscular with his arm draped around your shoulders.

You were younger, maybe still in high school, and your hair was longer and lighter, but he would recognize that smile anywhere.

He carefully plucked the photo from the fridge and brought it closer, his eyes raking over every detail of the picture, from the brightness in your eyes to the cotton candy pink sky behind you.

You looked so happy.

Nothing like the way you looked when he last saw you: broken and bruised. Ruined and dejected. Because of him.

You spared my life just to break my heart.

He blinked and pocketed the photo before turning around. The living room was in worse condition. It appeared someone must have stayed there at one point because the couches were shifted around, an armchair wedged in front of the door, cushions flung around haphazardly.

He had to move furniture out of the way, dig around a bit through broken bookshelves, but he managed to finally unearth an old photo album. Resting on one of the couch cushions with a huff, he took a few moments to flip through it, smiling now and then when he saw an especially cute picture of you. The wind outside was howling so loudly, the old house creaking with every gust that he couldn't hear when footsteps slowly crept up behind him and knocked him unconscious with the butt of his own rifle.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

He knew better. He should have scoped out the inside of the house before getting distracted. But he was too excited and too eager to get what he came for that he forgot his own rules. And he took for granted the snowstorm would hide his tracks.

Now he was hunched over on the living room floor, leaning against the wall with his wrists tied behind his back while five raiders went through his things.

"Hey man, don't you like peaches?"

"Fuck yeah I do, give it here."

Joel groaned, the back of his head throbbing, thick, sticky blood slowly trickling down the back of his neck.

"He's waking up."

"Hey, princess, how's the head?" one said with a sinister laugh. Joel ignored him.

"You got some nice shit. Wanna tell us where your camp is?"

Joel opened his eyes and glared at the man in front of him, wearing a leather jacket and leather gloves and a black bandana pulling his dark, wiry hair off his scarred face.

"Fuck you."

The punch came fast and hard across his jaw, making him see stars for a moment. The other men chuckled and got back to dividing up his things.

"You wanna try that again?" the first man asked, crouching down in front of him. Joel tugged on the rope holding his wrists together. The knot was tight but it wasn't foolproof. He just needed a little time to loosen it up.

"Don't got a camp."

"Bullshit," the man barked, spitting against the wall next to Joel's head. "Ain't nobody out here with this kinda gear and a goddamn horse roughing it all alone. Now, just tell us the city and we'll take it from there. We'll even let you live."

He heard one of the other men scoff but the rest remained quiet, and if Joel wasn't already convinced they were planning to kill him either way, he definitely was now.

"Boise."

"Boise?" he repeated, and Joel nodded, twisting his hands behind his back, feeling the coarse rope burn against his skin. The man in the leather jacket sighed and hung his head before landing another blow, this time across the mouth. Joel's lower lip got snagged on his teeth and tore. Blood trickled down his chin as he angrily whipped his head back towards the raider.

"I told you what you wanted!"

"You fed me a bunch of bullshit is what you did," he said, kicking Joel in the ribs. He gasped for air, doubled over against the wall, coughing and spraying blood across the faded floral wallpaper. He wondered if your parents did the wallpaper themselves, if your mom picked it out, or did the house already come like that?

Joel tugged harder on the rope, feeling it start to give. He needed to stay focused. He needed to make every move count if he wanted to get out of this alive.

The raider pulled a revolver from the back of his pants - Joel's revolver - and flipped it over in his hands. Back and forth, back and forth. Then he leaned forward and pressed the barrel against Joel's forehead.

"I'll give you one more chance, asshole," he said, his dark eyes boring into Joel's, "tell us where your camp is or else I shoot you in the fucking head."

"What the hell was he doing here anyway?"

"Shut up, Mike," the guy in the leather growled, eyes still trained on Joel.

"No, but seriously. There's nothing in this house worth taking. We've been through this neighborhood months ago."

The raider's eyes flickered around the room and Joel tugged harder on his restraints when he looked away. Then the man spotted the photo album lying face down on the ground.

"What's this?" he asked, lowering the gun and picking up the album. He began to flip through it and Joel felt the rope finally give. The raider let out a low whistle and slid a photo out to look at it closer. "Don't tell me you came out in the middle of a storm just to find something to jack off to," he teased, holding up a photo of you in a yellow bikini by a pool. He flipped the picture back around and grinned. When he went to stuff it in his pocket, his attention momentarily diverted, Joel took his opportunity to strike.

In the blink of an eye, he snatched the revolver from the raider's fingers and shot him in the temple, his body immediately falling limply to the side. Wet, sticky blood sprayed all over Joel's hand but he just tightened his grip on the gun, taking aim and bringing down another one of the men while they were still too stunned to move.

"Fuck!" one of the remaining three men screamed as they scrambled for cover. Joel ducked behind the couch and held his breath, straining to hear the scuffling of their boots, trying to pinpoint where they were in the small room. When he heard one of them accidentally knock against the kitchen table, the wooden legs scraping against the linoleum, he straightened up and took aim, taking out another man with a bullet right between the eyes, but unfortunately one of the last two men got a shot in as well.

The bullet grazed against his left bicep. Joel hissed and ducked back behind the couch. He would deal with it later.

"Come on, man, we can work something out," one of the men called out after a minute. "Let's just go our separate ways. Act like this never-"

Joel jumped up and shot the man in the cheek, the bullet traveling through his mouth and out the back of his head, leaving brain matter that looked like globs of gelatin dripping down the kitchen cupboards after he fell lifelessly to the ground.

Joel stepped towards the kitchen, now only one on one. He got cocky. He was feeling too confident with how quickly he took out the group. He didn't even see it coming when the knife lodged into his side, just above his hip. Without thinking, he yanked the knife out, twisted around and jammed it into the final raider's throat, watching as he fell to the floor, choking on his own blood, and didn't look away until he stopped twitching.

Adrenaline still coursed through his veins and he used it to his advantage, his left hand pressing weakly against his wound, the wound in his arm preventing it from being very effective while he searched the dead bodies of the men for anything useful. He had brought some first aid with him when he left Jackson but he was too far from home, he would need antibiotics, at least, if he was going to make it back.

Of course, he came up empty, so he snatched his first aid kit from the table and stumbled down the little hallway, searching for a bathroom. He knew it was a lost cause, the raiders already admitted to clearing the place out months ago, but he had to try.

He flung open the medicine cabinet with a grunt, the pain beginning to set in now. Pressing his bloody fingers against the stab wound as hard as he could, he rummaged around the cabinet, leaving paths of red everywhere his fingers touched, then tried the drawers under the sink.

Nothing.

"Fuck," he muttered, collapsing onto the cool tile floor as he began to sort through his first aid kit. There were no towels left but he was sitting on an old bathmat. He groaned in pain when he lifted his hips to pull the bathmat out, shook out the dust and dirt, then pressed it against his side, bringing his knee up to hold it in place.

With trembling fingers, he threaded a needle. He wiped the blood from his hands on his shirt, but they were stained red. Ripping open his jacket and flannel, he lifted the two other layers he had on underneath and lowered his leg to get a look at the wound.

It was deep and he was losing a lot of blood, but he was fairly certain the knife wasn't long enough to knick any organs. His stomach wasn't swelling, that was a good sign.

He only had a small bottle of antiseptic, so he used most of it to clean the wound and then the needle, saving a little bit to use on his arm later.

He took several quick breaths in, hyping himself up, then paused when he first shoved the needle through his skin. Tears sprung up, blurring his vision, but he blinked them away.

Focus. Focus. Focus.

In and out, in and out, he slowly stitched himself up. The angle was awkward and the stitches were ugly, but it got the job done: the bleeding stopped. His heart was hammering in his chest, sweat poured from the sides of his head, mixing with all the blood drying on his face and beard. He slumped to the ground with a pained groan, lying flat on the floor in a pool of his own blood, staring up at the ceiling. He just needed a moment to rest, a moment to catch his breath and then he would go.

Would he ever see you again? Would you ever even know why he came out there? Would you always wonder what happened to him? You told him you cared about him, but was that even true anymore? After what he did?

"C'mon, baby, gimme a sign," he whispered to himself, "gimme a sign that I still got a chance in hell 'cause if I don't, I'm not sure I got the strength to make it home." Tears welled up in his eyes again and this time he let them fall. He sniffled and waited. For what, he wasn't sure. Divine intervention? Genius to strike? A brilliant idea to form? But all he heard was the blowing wind outside.

The tile felt so cool against his burning hot skin. A small voice in the back of his head told him the longer he stayed there the weaker he would become, but he was just so tired. He rolled his head to the side, his eyes about to slide shut when he saw it: a dusty, opaque orange bottle rolled all the way against the wall underneath the sink.

Blinking a few times, he wondered if he was imagining it.

He wasn't.

Stretching his arm out, he slowly reached underneath the vanity and pulled out the half empty bottle. Holding it above his face, he squinted at the letters on the faded sticker.

Penicillin. Use as directed by your dentist.

His breath caught in his throat when he read your name on the label.

He finally got his sign.

"What happens when we die?"

"What?"

You rolled over onto your side to face him, wrapping your arm around his waist. He looked so peaceful, lying in bed like that. His eyes closed, face relaxed. You repeated your question.

"Don't know," he said, cracking open one eye to look at you. "Haven't died yet."

You giggled and he smiled, pulling you closer. He smelled so good. Like the rain and sex and smoke from the fire.

"I mean... do you think there's a heaven?"

He hummed and kissed the top of your head, his fingers lightly trailing up and down your bare arm.

"Yeah, I do."

You swallowed nervously and drew invisible circles into his skin, making him shiver.

"Do you think..." you trailed off and he froze, picking up on your tone.

"What, darlin'?"

"Do you think we'll make it? To heaven, I mean?"

His eyebrows pinched together. "Why wouldn't we?"

"You know why," you replied softly, "we've done bad things, Joel."

"Yeah, but we ain't bad people," he reminded you, then rolled over, pushing you onto your back so his arms caged you in. One knee slotted between yours and you spread your legs, hooking your ankles around the backs of his thighs.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," he said, dipping his chin down and pressing his lips firmly against yours. You sighed, your shoulders finally relaxing. "Besides, this is heaven right here," he murmured against your mouth, feeling you smile.

"Ain't nothin' better than this."

You awoke with a gasp, your heart fluttering wildly in your chest. That was the first time you had a dream about Joel, and something about it made you uneasy.

You had slept in his bed the entire week, wrapped in his clothes, and today was the day you had expected him to come home. Shrugging off the dream to no more than your subconscious fixated on his return, you forced yourself to get out of bed, fixing the sheets so it wouldn't look like you had been sleeping there and then headed to your room to change and freshen up.

The past couple days you had secretly hoped he would come back sooner but you refused to let it show. If Ellie or Dina or Maria asked you about it, you played it cool, or at least you thought you did. But every night you stayed up as late as you could, curled up on the couch all alone, waiting. Every time someone walked by, your body stiffened and your pulse raced, expecting to hear his heavy footsteps walking up the porch, but they never came.

But today was the day. The seventh day. His note said a week, and you knew if Joel was alive, he would stick to his word.

His absence afforded you a lot of time to think. Time you didn't realize you desperately needed, and now that you were able to process everything clearly without his overwhelming presence muddying the waters, you felt confident you knew what you wanted now.

All day at work, you were distracted. Nick had to call your name repeatedly to get your attention on more than one occasion, and by the fifth time you felt guilty. He didn't say anything, though. He understood. By then, most of the town knew Joel had left. Word spread like wildfire, especially once the storm passed through. It didn't take a genius to figure out how difficult it would be to survive all alone in those conditions.

Then the rumors started.

You tried to ignore them, but it was hard. When people began drinking and getting loud in the dining hall, it was impossible not to hear.

When you heard a man claim he saw Joel's horse frozen in a river during patrol, you stopped going to the dining hall to eat.

It was dark, it was just a deer, Tommy had told you later after he went out to the river to check, but it still shook you up.

When the sun set on Jackson on the seventh day and Joel still hadn't returned, the fear began to take hold. Your stomach churned, making it impossible to eat the following morning. You had hardly slept, the bags under your eyes dark and heavy. Nick begged you to take the day off but you insisted you needed to stay busy, although it didn't help much. On your lunch break you tried to casually walk by the main gate, the one near the stables, hoping to catch a glimpse of him returning, but you had no such luck.

So you went back to work. You kept your hands busy, tried to keep your mind occupied, but it was impossible.

I'll spend the rest of my life makin' it up to you.

You couldn't get those words out of your head. The guilt was weighing you down as you grew worried that was going to be one of the last things he ever said to you.

"Went on a date the other night."

"With who?"

"Cindy, from the kitchen."

Ricky laughed heartily and Andrew smacked his shoulder with the back of his hand.

"Shut up, man. We're on watch, we can't be giving ourselves away."

"It's the middle of the goddamn night and we haven't seen any infected in weeks. It's too cold for them, they're all frozen somewhere waiting to thaw in the spring," Ricky said, shouldering his rifle.

"Yeah, but still. You never know. There's more than just infected out there."

Ricky chuckled and shook his head. "Tommy telling you ghost stories again?"

"Raiders ain't ghost stories, asshole," Andrew shot back.

"And raiders never make it this far up the mountains, asshole," Ricky replied, mocking Andrew's tone.

Andrew grumbled under his breath and strolled away from the tower, towards the gate, his eyes scanning the treeline. He couldn't see a damn thing. It was pitch black and deathly quiet.

He turned on his heel and began the slow walk back towards the tower where he could see Ricky unwrapping a granola bar and pulling a paperback book from his back pocket.

Just as he was about to chastise him for letting his guard down, he heard twigs snapping in the woods. He whipped around, bringing his rifle up so he could get a better look with his scope.

"What the hell was that?" Ricky's whisper materialized in his ear.

"Dunno. Something's out there."

Ricky lifted his own rifle and scanned the trees as well, both of them holding their breath, waiting for another noise.

"Maybe-"

Then they heard more twigs snapping and pine trees raking against fabric. Louder this time.

"Fuck," Ricky muttered nervously, his palms growing sweaty inside his gloves.

"There," Andrew said lowly, and Ricky followed his aim. Something was approaching in the dark. Something big.

"I got it."

"No, just wait a second," Andrew said, squinting through the scope. Then his jaw went slack when he realized what it was.

"It's a horse."

"What?"

"It's a fucking horse, bro," Andrew repeated, his voice rising a little.

When it finally emerged from the forest, they saw the rider slumped over, covered in snow, their face buried in the horse's mane.

"Holy shit," Andrew said, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and racing towards the ladder. "Radio Tommy!"

"W-what do I say?" Ricky stammered, fumbling with the radio dial.

"Tell him it's Joel!"

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[sixofsol]

the crows as tarot cards in the major arcana

FINALLY DONE with the first part of this project… the plan is to maybe make a whole deck with different characters from different fandoms, we’ll see !! here’s my long explanation on why i choose what cards!

for all the crows i choose cards from the major arcana, which as the name suggests, often represent major events in life. most of the inspirations come from the rider-waite deck, however i’ve also taken inspo from other decks ! also pay attention to the directions the characters are facing - left usually represents the past, right the future, and facing front means the present

0 - the fool - jesper

the major arcana is sometimes described as the fool’s journey, we see this with the fool being card 0, instead of card 1. the fool goes through every challenge the major arcana has for him, and grows in the meantime. the fool represents innocence, freedom, adventure, travel, carlessness and the start of a journey. for jesper this feels very fitting especially looking through a pre canon lens, i sort of imagined this being his journey to ketterdam. the flowers on his coat are inspired by the rider-waite deck, where the fool holds a white rose, which symbolize youth and innocence.for all the crows i choose cards from the major arcana, which as the name suggests, often represent major events in life. most of the inspirations come from the rider-waite deck, however i’ve also taken inspo from other decks !

9 - the hermit - wylan

the hermit symbolizes soul searching and solitude. much like the fool for jesper, this feels like a pre canon card for wylan. the hermit can mean withdrawing inwards to recover and heal after a hard time. solitude in search for enlightenment. the lantern is also taken from the rider-waite deck, and to me the star in the lantern, much like the actual star card, represents healing.

11 - justice - inej

the justice card means… justice. consequences, truth and honesty are also words associated with the card. i tried many different ways of making the sword and scales interact, and thought this was a nice way. this to me is post canon inej, sankta of the seas out hunting slavers inej ! her yielding the sword with both hands also to me means that she holds justice in her hands, and she will bring it.

12 - the hanged man - matthias

before anyone gets mad at me… hear me out ! the hanged man represents being in a situation which you are not happy with, and that you want to change. you have the ability to change it as well, if you can dare to let go of the old situation, and see things with new eyes. this to me captures matthias arc very neatly, as much of his development is learning to see the world from a different perspective.

13 - death - nina

apart from death itself, the death card represents more rebirth, endings and beginnings, and letting go. traumatic transformations, which i think also captures nina’s whole arc. she is constantly being reborn, the world around her constantly changing. both pre and post parem, and i wanted the lines around the heart, black and red, represent different parts of her powers. as well as the icy fjerdan terrain behind her, being the first of the many sudden transformations she went through.

18 - the moon - kaz

the moon card generally means “everything is not as it seems”. it’s a card of deception and illusion, both to the outside world, but also when it comes to burying things within ourselves. the moon is closely tied to water, which matched the vibe i wanted to go for. fun fact, in numerology in tarot you count the numbers combined, so 1+8 for 18, meaning both wylan and kaz’ cards are number 9, which is why i wanted similar vibes for them

[halemerry]

So there's a lot to unpack here but I want to start by talking about the ending and specifically about the Metatron and the calculating moves made at the end of episode 6.

Every single piece of what happened there was a manipulation technique being employed against Aziraphale to an almost brilliant degree and I'm honestly a little obsessed with what this says about the Metatron in particular.

Let's go in order.

First of all. We see him order coffee. In a human body. Something sweet and sugary. He talks to Nina and asks her about her shop name. Does anyone ever ask for death? And when she tells him no they don't his response is to say "so predictable". Our introduction to him here even when everything about him reads like a sweet old man is presented to show us someone who reads the world in terms of being predictable to him.

He then shows up in the middle of Aziraphale's existence being threatened. He immediately cuts down the threat's authority (using outdated language like Az himself would favor) and reemphasizes his own connection to Heaven. When Michael doesn't recognize him and he puts her down and then directly engages Crowley. Crowley who, to Aziraphale, has for centuries at a minimum been someone he thinks is smarter, better, more Good than these other archangels. The Metatron validates these beliefs. Crowley is more Heavenly than these archangels who couldn't even recognize the voice of God when he was standing right in front of them.

The Metatron draws attention to the fact he's in a human body. The kind of body Aziraphale has been in and loved for nearly 6000 years. He then banishes the archangels, implying their morality is in a gray space, and validates Muriel someone we have seen Aziraphale react positively to and someone outside the current power structure. Look at me, he's saying. I see and validate the little guy.

He then tries to talk to Aziraphale. Aziraphale says "I've made my position quite clear." And then the Metatron offers Aziraphale the coffee. This bartering chip, consuming sustenance, is a thing that Aziraphale and Crowley have used as their connective tissue for centuries. It's an olive branch for them. It's giving Aziraphale bodily pleasure and the Metatron implies that he himself has partaken also - a thing we know that Aziraphale has struggled historically with moralizing. He is seen by the closest thing he has left to his parent and he is having old fears validated as safe and old habits being played upon to make him feel secure

He then REMOVES Aziraphale from his home turf. Not only does he remove Crowley from the equation but he takes Aziraphale from the place that has stood as a place of sanctuary throughout the entirety of the season. The shop is Safe and Aziraphale is leaving it and he is leaving the one person who might be able to smell the bullshit coming from the Metatron. The music notably turns absolutely dire here.

The next time we see them the Metatron tells Aziraphale that he doesn't need to answer instantly. He can take his time, if he likes. All the time he needs. And then tells him to go tell Crowley. Once again bringing Crowley in as a valid part of this while manufacturing a scenario where he can't possibly be.

Az ends up in a place where he's overwhelmed and confused and he wants so badly to believe what he's being told. It's an appealing thing from his perspective! He feels off kilter like he's made a mistake in judging the Metatron. He can't even fully articulate what happened to Crowley at first and he's had absolutely no real time to actually think it through. He's running on sheer reactive energy.

The Metatron starts their conversation by asking Aziraphale's opinion. Who should rule Heaven? This is once again playing into making Az feel validated and like he's a part of this decision making process. The Metatron corrects him, complimenting Aziraphale and making him feel capable and in control. He reassures Aziraphale's bafflement. And draws attention to some traits that, while true of Aziraphale around Crowley, are not his defining traits in the eyes of Heaven. You don't just tell people what they want to hear I find particularly notable in this regard given Aziraphale spent most of his time on earth actively lying to Heaven and doing just that. But it fits into the narrative Aziraphale has built around himself, especially post Apocalypse. The Metatron then says I need you (a phrase Az will use much more painfully here in a minute).

And even after all this Aziraphale says no. He says flat out he doesn't want to go back to Heaven. He says this!!! And then the Metatron sweetens the pot. He swaps tactics. Not once has this come up until Aziraphale pushes back against the idea. If the Metatron could've gotten him without using it I have no doubt he wouldn't have bothered with it. Come to Heaven and we can save Crowley. Aziraphale loves Crowley. Aziraphale thinks Crowley is better than any of the angels he's interacted with. Crowley is Good and Nice and Kind and always saving him and now he's being presented with a way to return that. He can Forgive Crowley - a thing Crowley has always presented to Aziraphale as something he struggles with. All of these things Aziraphale has watched Crowley react to in a way that belittles himself or distances them from one another. Of course he wouldn't consider that maybe what he was actually saying is "I'm unforgivable and I don't want that forgiveness."

The Metatron offers Aziraphale a Dream Offer for the pre Armageddon Aziraphale. You can keep your Crowley. You can heal him like you have always thought he deserved. You can have power and control the people who for your whole existence has beaten you down. It can go back to how it was but BETTER.

When Aziraphale leaves he still hasn't answered. He goes and has the conversation they have. It's intense and emotional and the Metatron comes in after the Moment all casual and asks how it goes, knowing fully well the shitstorm he had just set up to get created. And then he turns around and says "always did want to go his own way" which is not only true of Crowley but framed as a bad thing despite the fact that he has just spent twenty minutes or so telling Aziraphale that he's done his own thing and that is Good. He is playing both sides of this perspective as it suits him. And then he cuts down Crowley asking questions, pressuring Aziraphale to avoid doing the same. He then proceeds to ask Aziraphale not if he's made up his mind but if he's ready to get started. He is one by one closing off exit routes to this thing as Aziraphale starts to look more and more panicked and indecisive. He makes sure the bookshop is in good hands and asks Aziraphale if there's anything he needs to take with him. Letting Aziraphale have the illusion of choice while cutting down "I don't want to" as an option altogether.

And Az, as soon as the Metatron is out of shot, tries to express this. And then he falls back right on old coping methods. The Metatron pats him on the head. Reassures that he's the right one for this. That he is Good. That his particular skillset is needed here.

It is a masterstroke of manipulation. A very dark twist on what we see Crowley do time and time again with Aziraphale throughout the millennia. Familiar in a way that makes Aziraphale feel safe. Except this time this is being used to put him back in line. It's brilliant and painful and it fucking hurt and I need a season 3 to see the Metatron get what's coming to him stat.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

fr incredibly epic subversion move in creep 2 is denying the audience the "understanding" that our perspective is that of Neutral Objective Arbiter. we aren't shown arguments of the protagonist's unfiltered, private thoughts & feelings through visuals or dialogue for us as obstensibly our way to believe she's vulnerable: she is, we understand she understands this, and then we aren't privy to any more "proof" of this by observing whatever attacks or simply emotional duress. we can assess and judge and guess about this person, but the movie doesn't let us believe we're Not, and that instead we're simply "understanding" the conveyed factual information. the killer man uses performance as a way to generate vulnerability, the protagonist young nonwhite woman uses performance to strategically interrupt such efforts from malicious to exploitative to violently so men on like any given tuesday, and the killer man's approach to performance is not truly equipped to react to her adaptation and flexibility; his loss of control turns vulnerability back around on him, whereupon he stumbles and flounders and is knocked off course, while existing in continuous vulnerability even when succeeding at her efforts is, again, any tuesday for the protagonist. putting him in a position of having something to prove just by expressing skepticism abt his threat of eventually killing her. when he tries to leverage Gender to discomfit her by saying she (or, they both) should undress, only to be the one clearly discomfited when instead she simply does so with her nudity a matter of fact (and not really shown, b/c the killer guy's camera pov doesn't just provide some full body shot, he's directing it down, around, at her set, unbothered expression, Showing his own vulnerability in the situation now, unable to deal with her body outside his effort to make its very existence a power play. but isn't being a woman sexual, which is to say, inherently available for consumption by men???). when we get the killer guy's pov as he is looking for the protagonist around the house, increasingly turning it into a threatening sort of hide and seek (kind of creeping around, creepily, even) and we wait for his, and our, expected vision of her being Afraid and Menaced and possibly Attacked, only for her to jumpscare him, and us, knock him on his ass and laugh at him. the killer's like melancholic musings as established in the first film being a situation in which the protagonist plays into the gender of "women provide comfort, emotional support, intimacy!" to extend the relative vulnerability of that and prolong the delay of any violence, how far-fetched....while this narrative of her navigating & kind of heist breaking out of this danger doesn't ask her to like "overcome" or "transcend" that vulnerability like oh hooray she's now Strong enough to win, Too Strong to be thusly vulnerable ever again; nor ever puts forth that she can, or should, ever just turn the situation around completely to win. jumpscaring the guy? still happening in the context of her performing as, at most, "playing along." he's trying to get the advantage over her, she's trying to more so establish / prolong a dynamic of closer to equals to protect herself and interrupt this: despite her inability to take control of the situation / name the game in any lasting way: killer guy is still driven by ego. in the end it's that ego that makes him vulnerable enough for her to again surprise him and us with the final physical fight maneuver to get away, in that last minute and culmination able to drop any performing as her survival strategy, but still able to take advantage of his own performance as means of control and driven by ego

this also compared to horror genre ostensible commentary by way of "subversion" that's just still also misogyny: just Showing women's pain? what else is new. we're asked to recognize it not by understanding it's there as a matter of fact, but by observing and assessing some unfiltered display of it. or the classic of "but if we put a man through the same violence or pain. makes you think huh." or ohh we posited this disabled person as a scary threat but now they're dead b/c they weren't the real threat, makes you think huh? or the classic of "but if we keep the disability as threatening & scary but we also kind of ask the audience to Pity it. makes you think huh." like no, the power dynamic of [the audience (with a clear assumed perspective) is neutral! they must be able to assess and judge The Other onscreen] is there. pity requiring the power difference to Deign to extend it. "well disability is scary but some things are scarier" wow. indulging in [women experiencing violence / harm] as privy observers b/c it doesn't exist if you're not looking right at it, judging it as legitimate for yourself rather than via having to accept the character understands it as legitimate for themself, whether their most unfiltered (in an expectedly externalized way) pain or even simply what was done to them was shown directly to you or not. that women trying to insulate/extricate themselves from harm must also "look" unusually elevated & intense & extreme to be "real," it can't be so matter of fact and even potentially made invisible as for us to be Surprised by the efforts of the protagonist here, and have to wonder what she'll do next, and not be convinced she'll make it out of this forever through taking control and transcending her vulnerability

point is like yeah any character but also any person Making billions should've watched creep 2. the power dynamics not only re: successful Gender relevance in the text but also in the genre of horror, of film itself. the potential violence of looking? that's made constantly relevant. the audience does not get to understand itself as impartial judge. the protagonist doesn't have to earn anything from our assessment: this is a strategic heist, not, again, some kind of commentary on [gender/ed violence, huh?] that presents a Narrative Arc of a woman's who "overcomes" this by becoming "better" (stronger, braver, smarter, etc....). again, with the premise of an egotistical murder man who uses performance and wants to himself be assessed for his own power trip and amusement, the protagonist already prepared to perform in response to such efforts has a survival skill that completely eclipses the ability of murder man, who can only be on the offensive, while not being a mere [just being on the offensive in turn] response which would only become a Power Levels competition. it's not about "winning" at someone else's game that shouldn't exist, it's just about getting through it until there's the opportunity to get away.

and, again, like that we and the protagonist doesn't Need to know if he really means to kill her for real. uneven power and misogyny and the threat of a man and what room there is for her to act in ways that throw off, interrupt, divert, but don't make overt that she's deliberately doing so or threaten in turn? we can understand that this woman is already at all prepared to navigate that; the killer man is not (who, in a true "that is a choice" element of the first movie which is more [whatever] and not required viewing for the vastly superior sequel imo, has implicitly killed mostly to all men before (Choicedly b/c there is given this angle of like, "performing" any affection towards these men. that and the "uh oh! he's Weird!" angle carrying so much more weight like, zzz to the first one. "uh oh! he's a man immediately trying to fuck with this woman!" in the second being much more actually interesting, as well as the performance of / desire/expectation for affection, intimacy from a woman amidst this context of violence like yeah and that's cishet ideals for you!)

anyways yeah lot of media analysis, the pov & not like "negotiating" with the audience to interact w/the understood theme of gendered power dynamics, the audience not getting to think it is granted an objective omniscience, the [this is An Other Person] turned on the protagonist made Relevant, our lack of complete access to her is Relevant, we do not get to expect we are entitled to that full access or forget that we're observing as An Other Person ourselves to instead believe we're a removed, impartial judge who has to be presented with and convinced of every element out here. much more to say but this is like effort #5 & we can't be here all day, gotta throw down a draft at some point, and can't readily rediscover some short essay about it from closer to its actual release. well, it pwns. like i was saying the handling of gender / power going on in there is >>>>>>>> like god knows horror material generally including that which tries to be About it too, but also really just anything in any genre. billions should've watched creep 2 & been different now. imagining s5 where after axe gets peak horribly possessive towards wendy, being outwardly petty towards her over her also shit & boring & Superior artist bf, stalking her about it, sabotaging the relationship about it, secretly taking the portrait of her that he resented her having before....and then we get the repulsive "romantic" scene about wendy going "aw gosh :) you only want me to be [single] so You get access to me!! :))" like and then axe doesn't show up on the helicopter in the end while wendy's like haha i knew :) b/c she rendezvoused with him and killed him. society if only. superhell for real

[chaptersleftunwritten]

Darkest Desire

Based off of this nonnie request! It’s a bit scarier than intended and I do apologise for that teehee. There’s also no smut…

Blurb: With a group of friends you visit the local Halloween Scare walk, an event that is hosted annually out in the creepy plaines of Hawkins and whilst it’s masks on for the locals, it’s very much masks off for the scare actors…

Pairing: Scare Actor!Eddie x Reader

Warnings: 18+, the holiday of Halloween is mentioned, talk of blood/gore, faux blades/knives, cursing, reader is referred to as girl, use of pet names, degrading, praising, stalking (cat&mouse), sly/cocky and slightly mean!Eddie. Characters are all 20+

-

divider by @reveriesources

Crunchy dry blood orange leaves litter the earth and frost tainted wind nips at your nose and cheeks. The squeals of excited children racing by your costume clad frame fills your ears with immense joy and you giggle airily as they launch themselves into one another. Racing toward the brightly lit luminescent funfair games in hopes of winning a stuffed animal or a goldfish in a bag.

Their parents lug behind them, their attire consisting of some makeshift costume they had thrown together at the last minute in hopes of pleasing their tiny humans and earning themselves a quiet car ride without any tantrums or fuss.

Your group, on the other hand, weren’t here for the childish and conning games. You were all here for the Scare Walk.

You hadn’t agreed on a coherent group costume so it was a pick and mix of totally different genres and ideas and from an outside perspective it was abundantly clear that there was no communication on the matter whatsoever.

Steve was dressed as the main character from Nightmare On Elm Street, Freddy Kruger. Nancy clearly had helped with the makeup aspect of the costume assemble but everything else screamed Harrington. He cropped the stripped knitted jumper to better suit his athletic frame and his hair was still very much classic Steve.

Robin had taken a whole new approach, dressing up as the colourful Rubik’s Cube puzzle toy. Deriving inspiration from the colourful squares she wore a long black jumpsuit covered in humongous reflective and vibrant square sequins. She more resembled a neon glitter ball, but you gave her the benefit of the doubt.

Nancy’s body was hugged by a khaki green boiler suit that had the long legs cut off and on her back she wore a black backpack with some DIY altercations made to it. She has begged Mike to help her create her costume, and that’s how she ended up dressed as a Ghostbuster, putting a strong feminine spin on the male dominated film. You hadn’t expected anything less from Nance, she was always looking for ways to empower women and her costume made you smile. Proud.

Jonathan had chosen a much whackier costume to better fit with his personality. The pungent smell of weed radiating from his body only complimented the fluorescent green costume he was wearing and the radioactive orange bandana blindfolded over his eyes. He had opted for the beloved character from the children’s series Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’, Michelangelo. Which shouldn’t have surprised you— but it did.

And finally, you had chosen something distinctively different from your friends. You had made the bold choice to go as a flapper girl from the 1920’s, inspired by Fitzgeralds novel The Great Gatsby. It was a bold move because you paired the costume with kitten heels and although they were small you knew by the end of the night your feet would be crying out for rest. It is a Scare Walk after all. Your body was adorned by glitter and lace and the fringe of your dress tickled at the exposed skin of your legs.

It was a bit chilly tonight, but you were having too much of a ball to really hone in and pay attention to the sharp gusts of wind. Steve and Robin were arguing over whose costume was more original and whilst Robin’s was, Steve always somehow managed to argue himself into being ‘right’.

“Talk to me when you have hand sewn a bazillion sequins onto something and not just took a pair of shears to a ratty old sweater.” Robin remarks with a smirk, crossing her arms over her chest and marching ahead of Steve.

“Hey! I’ll have you know that it was surprisingly difficult to cut this thing into a straight line— and it isn’t ratty or old, I literally bought it like two days ago.” Steve fires back with a squinted gaze as he follows closely behind Robin’s reflective beacon of light that seems to lead us through the dimness. Nancy grumbles inwardly to herself.

“Can you two stop bickering like babies? We’re here to have fun! So let’s go and do that!” She hooks her arm with yours, charging forward, “I heard that some people from campus are working here this year. I don’t know what they’re doing but isn’t that exciting? We might bump into them!” You admired how Nancy could make a good situation out of everything, however you didn’t quite share her enthusiasm for meeting people you already knew. Nancy was all about making and strengthening connections whereas you wanted to just have fun— judgement free.

And now that you knew that your peers were watching your every move you couldn’t help but feel your confidence shrink slightly and your words clam up. Dying in your throat before they could ever be heard aloud.

-

The walk started off relatively slow and rather boring. You kept mistaking your dress tickling your calf’s as insects running up the skin of your legs and Robin would giggle at the way your head was constantly shooting downward.

“You seem awfully jittery— is someone scared already?” She taunts, wiggling her eyebrows at you and grinning widely as she did.

You scoff in response, “Please. I’m nearly dozing off back here.”

An eerie dark silence falls over the group and the golden haze from the spooky funfair starts to fade into the background behind you as you venture further and deeper into the doom and gloom of night fall.

The smell of sweet popcorn no longer lingers in the hairs of your nostrils and a sinister chill runs down the back of your spine; like fingers tickling your bare skin.

“Are we sure we are sticking to the trail? It’s getting pretty dark out here— OH MY FUCKING GOD!!” Two little girls dressed in bloody dresses and horrifying makeup charge toward you from a nearby hidden brush. Their eyes glow a disturbing shade of white and they hold faux knives that still look devilishly real. You stumble backwards, nearly collapsing from shock however before you could fall to the ground you feel a hard body hit your back which makes you scream out in terror.

The figure laughs at you, jeering and sharp as you whip around to meet him and your hand is quick to find your chest. Your fingers claw at the fabric of your dress and you fist the fabric with a shaky grip. You’re panting, struggling for breath and the skull painted face looms over you for a moment too long; cocking his head to the side as he examines your costume.

That’s when you realise something. Something that you immediately recognised as a dark secret. A dark desire that should be kept hidden.

As his onyx orbs gleam and glare down at you, you feel a wave of heat feather your cold skin. Your core pulses between your thighs and your mouth hangs open in dreadful clarity; you were fucking turned on by this.

His chiselled face is painted to resemble a bare skull. White with inky dark circles that deepen his eye sockets and his cheekbones are defined with thick blended shadowy lines. His lips are painted black to match his contours and he has hand drawn on a stretched toothy smile and an empty nose cavity.

He doesn’t speak a single word.

He just stares at you. Almost as if he is furious with you.

And before long he drags himself away from you, like the simple task is deemed painful and impossible for him.

His torso is dressed in a fitted white button down shirt which is rolled up to his elbows and it exposes his tattooed forearms. On his legs he wears a simple but professional pair of black trousers paired with black suspenders that sling over his shoulders. On his feet he has combat boots supporting his ankles and some sort of padded device strapped around the joint of his knees.

You gawk at him as he skates across the concrete on his knees at an alarmingly fast rate toward another group of poor people; leaving sparks of light in his dust as they squirm and scream. Some of them even go as far to sprint off into the darkness away from him; which leaves the masked man cackling darkly and running after them.

“Holy shit! I had no idea he would be working here this year!” Steve slaps the palm of his hand onto your shoulder as he chuckles heavily and you pull away from him confused and slightly annoyed.

“Who is ‘he’ and how do you know him?” Steve’s laughter dies out slowly and his hands come to rest on his hips. A stance that he did often. The rest of the gang come to join you with curious expressions on their faces.

“Seriously? You don’t recognise him?” There’s a pause as you shake your head ‘no’ and Steve rolls his amber eyes dramatically, “That’s Eddie Munson, dipshit. He’s always smoking weed out in the courtyard on campus? Playing with the fire from the benson burner during chemistry— is this ringing any bells?” You shrug, crossing your arms defensively over your chest.

Is Eddie Munson someone you should know about?

“He has long, curly hair— not better than mine but hey, it’s definitely up there.” Steve’s hand smooths over his slicked back hair that is thick with gel and you laugh, now being able to form an image of Eddie in your mind.

“Ohh, the metal head? He sometimes walks around with his guitar slung over his back?” You reply as you begin to walk off after realising that you have all come to a stand still— and partially because you want to see Eddie again.

“Yeah! He is wicked with a guitar! I’ve seen him play.” Robin chirps from your left and Nancy hums on your right.

“He is pretty good.” Jonathan speaks through a mouthful of candy and you try to disguise your disgust as you unfortunately get a glimpse of the food on his tongue.

“Right…” is all you quietly reply as your eyes scan the bluish darkness. You can hear an owl hooting off in the distance and if it weren’t for the jump scares waiting for you, you would find this promenade quite peaceful.

Crickets whisper conversations from the tall blades of grass and you can see lanterns dotted up ahead of you. They cast ghoulish shadows all around the dirt path and your head twitches from side to side— trying to catch any of the silhouettes moving.

But they don’t.

You have strayed further ahead of the group, their voices hitting your ears in the form of muffled sounds but you don’t bother to wait on them. They are too busy laughing and booing at some of the scare actors whereas your heart is still palpitating at a ridiculous rate from the last scare.

Some of the actors were so gruesomely scary that you felt transported into your favourite slasher films whereas the others were just looming and ominous— more human. Humans are the scariest creatures after all. You fear your own kind in opposition to the unknown.

That’s why when the familiar skull skates over to you on his knees, you freeze this time. No fight or flight; just freeze. Your mouth gaping wide as his nose nearly brushes yours.

“Eddie.” His name is a breathless squeeze from your lungs as it leaves your mouth. You have to say his name aloud in order to ground your thundering heart. Were you excited or frightened? Maybe it was a mixture of both.

Whatever it was, the man stood in front of you wasn’t best pleased. His eyes narrow into irritated slits and his fingers toy with a piece of your hair— twirling it before yanking on it playfully.

Steve, Nancy, Robin and Jonathan all sprint past you in urgency. They screaming until their throats run raw as a deranged man with a faux chainsaw chases after them. Hot on their heels.

You and Eddie go unnoticed by them… and now…

Now you feel afraid.

“Y’know you aren’t supposed to address the actors personally, right?” He sneers through a tight jaw.

“He speaks.” You quip back sassily and Eddie huffs a distorted laugh.

“I’ve seen you around campus— even prettier up close. It’s a shame your attitude ruins that.” He circles you like a shark in water and you follow him. Twirling around makes you dizzy but Eddie’s chuckle makes your dizzier.

“Like a little lost lamb.” He coos, “Where are your cronies? Seems they’ve ditched.” His glove clad knuckle grazes your cheek and you flinch away from his soft touch. Taking a few steps back you widen the close distance between the two of you.

This causes Eddie to grin hugely; showing all of his teeth as he did.

“What? Don’t tell me you’re scared now?” He prowls toward you however you are quick to match every one of his steps. He takes a stride forward? You take a step back.

“You could run away if you wanted… but that’ll only entice me more. Didn’t they tell you? I love the chase.” His voice is a low animalistic growl and you couldn’t understand if this was Eddie or his character talking to you. Was this all an act or was he genuinely this menacing?

“I thought you actors weren’t supposed to get this close to the public…” You hunch your shoulders upward toward your ears as you cower away from his stalky frame and he stares through you; the gears in his head turning.

You shift on the balls of your feet uncomfortably and your skin blazes beneath his intense gaze.

“You’re blushing.” He says matter of factly and suddenly you feel the need to straighten your posture and try to get as far from him as possible.

“I am not.” The lie is pathetic as it meets the frosted air and Eddie smiles eerily.

“It’s the makeup, isn’t it? You like the makeup.” His head strains back on his neck as he lets out a loud laugh, “Fuck— that’s pathetic. You must be into some really weird shit.”

“I- that’s absurd!! I have no idea what you’re talking about!” You squeal and slink your arms around your torso. Partially because you were cold but also to be protective and assertive of yourself, “You don’t even know me—“ Eddie interjects, his finger tapping impatiently against his painted lips.

“Shhhh.” You feel the soft grain of his leather gloves as they tickle your skin and Eddie’s hands fully embrace your bare shoulders, “It’s okay— I like your costume too, I suppose.” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, “I mean, it’s a bit outdated and boring but hey, you look good.” He flashes you a teasing wink that is nearly enough to make your lungs implode with lack of oxygen.

“Goodbye, Munson.” You swivel on your kitten heels and briskly find the frozen dirt path again. Your head involuntarily looks over your shoulder, trying to catch sight of Eddie one last time as you leave him behind but to your total disadvantage the metal head was no longer standing where you had left him.

He too, had taken off.

And unbeknownst to you, you had just pressed play on one of Eddie Munson’s all time favourite games; Cat and mouse.

-

It was getting later and later with every passing second and you couldn’t find your friends anywhere. You had last seen them run off whilst laughing and screaming in total horror but you hadn’t seen them since.

Had they actually ditched you and went home?

Once the thought infiltrated your psyche you contemplated on cutting the scare walk short and heading back to the funfair to search for them. However, going back meant that you had to go alone and there was something devilish about that.

To your left, through a thick canvas of sweetgum trees you can hear the owl again. Hooting softly— a sound that should calm your nerves but instead it tugs on them viciously. It’s more like an emergency siren warning you. A sign for you to run and to never look back.

A man made whistle slices through the chirping of the birds and it cuts at your skin like the edge of a blade. You look left and right, frantically dancing in circles as you try to determine where it’s coming from; but you are met with nothingness.

“Eddie, if that’s you then cut it out! This isn’t funny!” Your fingernails pinch at your skin as you begin to walk panicked in the opposite direction. Never paying attention to what’s in front of you, your gaze always trailing off to the side and behind you.

That’s when you see him— the skull peering at you from a dark line of trees in the distance. Your feet come to a staggering stop as you eye him. Was your mind playing tricks on you? Was Eddie really staring back at you or were you deluding yourself?

You swallow thickly, your mouth dry as you watch him emerge from the greenery. Before your brain can compute what your body is doing you are running; charging into the fullness of the forest.

Tree branches whip and rip at your skin, causing it to redden and sting. You wince but you continue soldiering on, your shoulders barge through sticks and nettles and thorns.

Your mind had convinced you that this was real. That you were being chased by a psycho.

“Hey— hey, stop!! It’s okay! Wait—“ Eddie is close behind you, crunching twigs beneath his boots but you are quicker than he is; more frightened and resilient to get as far from him as possible. For your own safety.

“Sweetheart! Stop!” You can hear him getting frustrated as he trudges through the cluttered landscape but you can see lights shining in front of you, just up ahead, and it causes you to force your legs to quicken. Desperate to reach there.

But just before you explode onto the funfair grounds your legs give way beneath you and you crash to the ground. The palms of your hands scrape against the jagged forest floor and your dress rips against a spiked log. You thought this shit only happened in the movies— but tonight you were proven wrong.

You look behind you and your eyes well up with tears of both pure adrenaline and fear at Eddie propelling himself toward you.

You bring up your hands around your head to protect yourself as you shrink back onto the floor, over the fact that your hair is full of pine needles and your knees are scraped and bleeding.

Eddie crouches by your side, a deep frown on his face and worry in his eyes.

“Hey, sweet girl, you’re okay…” Eddie bites off his leather gloves and throws them to the soft earth. He is gentle to pry your cold hands away from your muddied face and he hisses quietly at the temperature of your skin compared to his. He examines the palms of your hands tenderly, “Ouch… this must hurt. What were you thinking?”

Your foolishness almost causes Eddie to laugh, but after witnessing the genuine anxiety plaguing your features he decides not to.

“It was too real.” You blubber, letting out a dampened sob and Eddie’s heart pangs with guilt and sorrow, “I couldn’t find anyone and… and I saw you and I just couldn’t think of anything else…”

“I’m sorry, love. C’mere, let me help you up.” Eddie is crouched down, his knees bent as he braces himself in front of your shaking frame. He outstretches his hands toward you and you take them hesitantly.

Thanks to Eddie’s strength he pulls your weak body up to meet his with ease and he hold you against his chest. Breathing softly as he tries to calm your laboured and nervous breaths.

“I really am sorry… it’s just me, ‘Kay? I’m not gonna hurt you. I promise.” He peppers comforting pecks into your hair and your nails claw at the back of his shirt, “It must’ve been pretty scary; being out there all alone with me.”

You nod, your mind finally calming at the sound of his lulling and gentle voice.

“I do like the makeup.” Your confession is meek and muffled against his chest, “I think there must be something wrong with me.” You laugh, managing to pull away his chest and look at him much more confidently now.

“Not at all,” Eddie grins, “I think it’s quite the opposite, actually. Very normal— it might even be considered vanilla to some people out there.” Although you have removed yourself from the skull painted man’s chest, the closeness between the both of you remains the same.

The truth was; Eddie had always admired you. Your intelligence and your cunning. You were beautiful, which was the cherry on top of your infectiously bright personality. He had noticed you at the beginning of the academic year and he was too chicken to talk to you. You both were connected through Steve but Steve never really paid attention to Eddie’s longing and begging looks toward you.

But Steve didn’t have to say anything. Not anymore. Because you could see it for yourself. You could see beneath the intricate paint on his face that Eddie felt something for you. You weren’t sure what it was; lust, a crush or plain friendship but you could see it. Feel it.

“You must think I’m a total freak.”

“You have no idea who you’re talking to, sweetheart. I am the biggest freak to have ever lived.” Eddie lets out a giddy chuckle and his hands continue to rest lightly around your body. You welcome his lingering touch and his nearness. It felt familiar. Nice.

“We both look like weirdos standing out here in the dark.” Your eyes scan around the auburn horizon of tall trees and a soft smile rests on your smudged lipstick covered lips, “People are going to think we’ve been up to no good.”

Eddie smiles, his hand coming to stroke your cheek gently and tuck some of your rouge hair behind your ear, “With how windswept your hair is, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

You both stand there, the air is clouded with electrifying tension and you can’t think of anything else other than how badly you want him to kiss you.

“I wanna take you out… on a date.” His hands cup your face, “When I’m not this caricature. I’ll just be me and you will be you. You won’t have to run from me…” His cold nose brushes the tip of yours, “I won’t have to chase you.” You can smell mint and nicotine on his breath and you have never been more intoxicated by anything in your entire life.

“What’d ya say, sweet girl? Let me take you somewhere nice so I can kiss you properly at the end of the night?” There is a slight desperation to his voice and you bite your lip to suppress a wide smile.

“I’d like you to chase me, Eddie. Chase me with daisies and a boombox and your guitar. You won’t have to run after me for long…” You are dangerously close to him now, your breath quickening as you press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. It takes every ounce of self control not to eat his entire mouth with yours, “Take me anywhere. As long as it’s with you.”

“I will.” He promises.

“And kiss me at the end of the night?” You are desperate yourself now, your eyes sparkling with moonlight as you look up into his shadowy hues.

“I will.” He strokes your hair so delicately; like you are the most precious thing he has ever handled, “I promise.”

-

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[asidian]

One thing I haven't seen talked about is Crystal's character arc, and specifically the way the timing of it interacts with Charles' arc. They stumble over each other in the worst possible way en route to their respective character growth, and from a narrative perspective, it's absolutely genius.

I'm going to preface all this by saying: none of this is a criticism of Crystal. Part of what makes her such a dynamic, refreshing character is that you don't get to see women in fiction written the way she's been written. You don't get to see women with her flaws that aren't throw-away mean girls or villains. You especially don't get to see women with her traits who learn and grow and become better people. So yeah, I'm going to talk about Crystal's character flaws. No, this isn't Crystal hate. We love our girl in this house. Okay? Okay. Let's start.

Crystal's character arc, at its heart, is all about her learning to be a better person because she has good influences that love and support her for the first time.

When the show starts, Crystal is not a nice person. She's abrasive in a way that's specifically designed to push people away. She's used to getting her own way, and it shows. She's used to having no meaningful connections with anyone, and it shows. She's breathtakingly selfish, in the very literal sense of the definition. She is focused on her self. Her problems are front and center to her; everything is about what she needs, and what she wants, and how she's struggling.

Jenny calls her out very early on. In episode one, Crystal is complaining about the boys, and Jenny, for all her cynicism, strikes right at the heart of the problem. She tells Crystal, "Everybody is always thinking about themselves, all the time." People only care about their own problems. And she says, correctly, that that's what Crystal is doing, too.

This moment is a revelation for Crystal. For the first time, she considers what her behavior looks like from another person's perspective. As she says, she gets mad at herself over it, and that awareness allows her to do something selfless for the first time in the series. She takes a step back and insists that instead of focusing on her problems, they go to help a little girl. It's a big moment for her.

But importantly, she's not done growing as a character here. She's only just getting started.

On my first watch through, I didn't realize how often, over the next few episodes, Crystal redirects things to her problems during conversation, but it's quite a lot. She's still focused on herself – selfish, in that most literal definition of the word. The issues most important to her are her issues. She's starting to learn to think about other people, but she's not there yet. The process is still underway.

Which brings us to Charles.

Charles' arc is a different sort of self-reflection. He's terrified that he's a bad person the way his father was and the way the boys that killed him were.

During the course of the show, he gets systematically stripped of his confidence and made to feel helpless, and just like Crystal needs outside influences to help her reach a more stable place, Charles does, too. He desperately needs reassurance that he isn't everything he's afraid he is.

But my goodness, the timing in their arcs is such a trainwreck when you put them together, and it is brilliant.

Let's start with the Devlin House.

Crystal has some amazing character growth here. She displays genuine concern about Charles, makes an attempt at comforting him, and learns to work with Edwin even though she still doesn't particularly like him at this point.

Charles, meanwhile, is beginning to fall apart. He's just had the worst night of his afterlife. He's been viscerally reminded of how helpless he is. He couldn't stop the Devlins from being killed over and over, just like he couldn't stop his own father's abuse. He messed up his attempted rescue so badly that he was completely out of commission until the case was finished. He managed to help not one single thing. He made no impact at all. He couldn't help those girls any more than he was able to help himself, while he was still alive.

So they get back to the butcher shop, and what do we see? Monty immediately coopts Edwin. Niko doesn't know what's happened because she wasn't there and Charles has been all fake smiles with her. And Crystal goes off with Niko, leaving Charles to flounder on his own in the wake of everything. She's still learning how to support other people. She isn't there yet, and it's extremely on display in this moment.

Then we get the lighthouse episode, and they both get put through the wringer here. Crystal gets her hopes and expectations jerked around by the Night Nurse in the very worst way, and Charles gets hit with a whole pile full of trauma. All that helplessness wells to the forefront again. Combined with being forced to relive some of his worst memories and the desperation to keep Edwin safe from hell, Charles lets himself act on his anger for once.

And what does he get in the aftermath? Horror.

Everyone who cares about him is horrified by what he's done. Edwin goes so far as to call it extreme. They don't know the half of it, of course; they haven't seen what the Night Nurse just put him through. But in this moment Charles is at his absolute lowest, and all he sees is confirmation that he's exactly as terrible as he thinks he is.

That's why Charles shrugs off Edwin's attempt at comfort, here. When he needed to be able to do something to protect Edwin and also himself – when he needed to believe that he could be better than what his father always was – all he sees is the confirmation from the people he cares about most that when push came to shove, he really is a bad guy.

Then comes the aftermath. And this moment is such a brilliant, awful clash of both of their character arcs. It is so delightfully messy.

Because Charles starts to open up to Crystal here. He starts to lay himself bare, the way he ends up doing with Edwin in episode 5. He's on the verge of admitting something that he's been worried about for literal decades. He tells her, "I've been angry for such a long time."

And what does Crystal do? She's still in the midst of her own character growth. She's still struggling to support other people. She's still learning how to. In a lot of ways, though she's made progress already, she's still that selfish girl that Jenny called out in the very first episode.

And she shows it here it with the absolute worst possible timing. No sooner has Charles started to talk about what's bothering him than she cuts in with her own problems. She's tired of riddles and spirits and demons and not knowing who she is. And the look on Charles' face. The moment when he visibly sets aside his own problems, because Crystal doesn't need any more disasters on her plate? It's heartbreaking. You can actually track the subtle change in his expression there. The actor does a phenomenal job.

And then comes the kiss. And what spurs it? Crystal saying she needs something real.

This moment isn't about light-hearted attraction, the way the earlier flirting is. It's Charles setting aside what he needs – comfort and reassurance and a moment to talk through the things that have been tearing him apart – to give her what she says she wants. He can't even feel it. And Crystal isn't far enough along in her character growth here to realize how selfish she's being. Like Jenny said way back in episode one, she's only thinking about herself.

And then comes the absolute unmitigated disaster of episode 5.

Straight out the gate, Charles leans in for a kiss. From his perspective, they have something together; there's affection there. Charles "I think I'd miss kissing" Rowland, who has been starved for meaningful physical contact for thirty years, is not in a hurry to give this up.

But Crystal is fresh out of a nightmare where she conflates Charles with her abusive ex. She withdraws; she calls what they had a distraction. She cuts it off almost as soon as it's started, so focused on her own worries here that she misses how damn fake Charles' smile is, to cover up that he's coming to pieces.

To be clear, she's absolutely not in the wrong here. It is 1000% her prerogative not to jump into a relationship again while she's still struggling to work through what happened with David. But the arc of her narrative is still early enough that she does it all without so much as the awareness that her focus on her own issues has hurt Charles terribly.

And then the episode really kicks off, and both of them are in shambles in very different ways.

Crystal is projecting her issues with David onto Charles. She has a lot of history, and David seems as though he's exactly the right sort of toxic to leave lasting a lasting impact. But Charles hasn't done anything to deserve her assumptions, and he takes the brunt of her temper here and throughout the episode.

Charles is desperately projecting onto the dead jocks. He very badly wants them to be good guys, because he sees himself in them and he needs himself to be a good guy. He snipes back at Crystal for the very first time in this episode, and he does it in the worst way possible, accidentally prodding her where it will do the most damage.

They're both hurting. They both say some truly painful things to one another.

She does not need to hear that she has unsorted hangups about David still plaguing her while she's unable to move past them. He desperately does not need anyone to tell him that he has rage issues while he's still struggling to think of himself as a decent person.

They apologize, in the end. They start to move past it.

But it's telling that Charles doesn't try to open up to Crystal again. He goes to Edwin instead, even though Edwin is the one who called his actions regarding the Night Nurse extreme. He gets the reassurance he needs so badly; he gets the connection he was looking for with Crystal from Edwin, instead. (I have a lot of thoughts on why Charles initially tries to open up to Crystal so quickly, but it is very much an aside, and this is already extremely long, so it will have to wait for another write-up.)

But the important thing here is, Edwin is the one to offer Charles what he needs to overcome the self-doubt eating him alive. Edwin provides the physical affection Charles was seeking in the form of that long-overdue hug. Edwin is the one who's able to reaffirm for him that he's not just a good guy, he's the best person Edwin knows.

And for all intents and purposes, Charles' major character arc ends here.

Charles has a few last little moments to go on the path to rebuilding his own self-image, after this, but for the most part his concerns have been resolved. He saves Crystal in episode 6 and Edwin in episode 7, proving to himself that he's able to make a difference in the face of overwhelming odds. He's not helpless, no matter what the Night Nurse told him; he can be a force for good in the world. By the end of the series, his crisis of self-doubt seems to have been largely overcome.

But it's the conversation with Edwin at the end of episode 5 that really allows him to work through his most pressing issues. Edwin is there to help support him when he stumbles. Edwin provides him the comfort he was looking for while Crystal was too worried about her own problems to notice how badly he needed the help.

Crystal, meanwhile, still has a ways to go after episode 5. The last three episodes are where she does her most important character growth.

In episode 6, she learns some hard lessons about keeping secrets and letting people help and appreciate you even when you can't offer them anything in return. And Charles, importantly, is there for her every step of the way. He consistently offers her physical and emotional support. He models for her, in a very real way, what it looks like to have someone prop you up when you need the help.

And in turn, Crystal steps in to save the boys. She's the big damn hero at the end of this episode.

The breakthrough continues into episode 7. She's so intent on helping to get Edwin out of hell that she literally goes to face her own demons, not for herself for once – not for her own purposes or needs or wants – but because she wants to help someone else.

And episode 8, at long last, brings her to the culmination of her character arc.

Crystal is at her absolute lowest here. Her family, the people who were supposed to love her unconditionally, didn't even realize she was gone. Her precious memories, that she's spent the entire series trying to regain, have showed her that she's not the person she hoped she would be. She's overwhelmed enough that she means to flee, to cut herself off from her new friends entirely.

Then the boys get kidnapped. And just like that, she makes up her mind.

For the first time since the start of the series, she sets aside her most important issues in order to let what other people need take precedence. She disregards all of her own personal concerns and focuses instead on others. She's finally stepped out of those selfish impulses that Jenny calls her out on, all the way back in the first episode. She's finally learned how to support other people when they need it.

Crystal has finally figured out how to be there for others, despite having troubles of her own.

It's a lovely arc, and it's beautifully done.

Charles' is just as touching.

And god damn, but it was a brilliant narrative choice to have their character arcs line up in exactly the wrong way.