he isn't even in this one but whatever



Lost Time


There was nothing to his name. Not a house, not a car- not even a penny, but that was natural for him since he was technically dead and has been for decades. Whatever material ‘wealth’ that had been entitled to his surname had disappeared long ago. The second he had awoken from being shot he had gone off to find the leader’s daughter so he could keep his promise. For the next sixteen years he stayed by her side, keeping to the shadows and hidden from the human eye. When it was time for the girl to turn eighteen he had been sad, but he was a bit relieved as well. At that time he thought that he could finally pass on and maybe even join the leader that had looked after him like an adopted son. 

That didn’t happen though. What did happen was nothing. His soul didn’t pass on, and he was left completely clueless as to why. He had felt emotions before, of course he had, but the amount of confusion and eventual rage overwhelmed him. Aurelio had been lost yet again. Now he could be rightfully labeled as a lost and wandering soul. He had no ambitions, nothing to have him care for anything on this Earth, but he was still bound to it. It exhausted him more than anything really. Every few nights he would hop from house to house, staying invisible while the occupants were inside to avoid frightening them. It was only when the house was empty did he let himself appear. There were times where he would tinker with a few things, but he always made sure to put it back in the exact same position as he had found it. 

This was the.. How many had it been? He had lost count of what number of place this was. He had seen the occupant a few times and kept invisible like usual. When the other left he had come out from hiding to idly walk around and kill time. Eventually he found himself by a table. With a soft sigh he looked at the surface for a moment before he took a seat. He was tired. So very tired of being held in this realm. Aurelio leaned down to place the side of his head against the table as he lazily traced imaginary patterns on the surface. 

The thing is, last season I would look at Stiles and I didn’t even have to convince myself. I mean, at first it was hard, but eventually I just knew it was true. I looked at him and I said to myself, “You are Malia’s. She’s the one that you’ve attached yourself to.” 

This season, he just… he doesn’t seem like hers anymore. Maybe it’s because of the fics I’ve been writing, or reading, or the fact that the Stydia-positive interviews are swaying me. But Stiles just doesn’t feel like Malia’s Stiles anymore. I don’t look at him and think “You aren’t Lydia’s” because it doesn’t feel like that. It did for a bit, but not anymore. 

And the hope that this is making me feel is absolutely refreshing