#and despite getting away from his family it's still so ingrained in him and he still continues his work as an assassin

[too-many-rooks]

42 Reverdy Road, The Rider Household.

Can be found on the gallery under '42 Reverdy Road' ID: rebecca707

Some things about the house that occurred to me whilst building this, under a read more to restrain my ramblings.

General background first;

This is the end of a row of pretty classic English Victorian terrace houses, these are the sort of buildings I've lived in most of my adult life in the UK, and if you ever take the Thameslink south of the river in London you'll see tons of houses like this; especially with the modern extension with skylights and large sliding doors on the back.

They film Alex's neighbourhood in Bermondsey, which is not quite as affluent an area as Chelsea, (because, honestly, would be wild if Alex actually lived in Chelsea) but is still definitely quite wealthy, houses like this one in this neighbourhood would sell for upwards of a £1M in the current market.

Onto design choices for the build;

The downstairs is fairly open plan, and In the show we see several scenes that more or less show the whole thing, so I tried to replicate it as accurately as I could. In the lounge, it looks like there's a desk in the back corner, and since we see Ian has an office, and Alex has a desk in his room, I thought maybe this was for Jack to study, so in the build I added some case files for her to be reading. Also, I added bikes for Ian and Alex and put them under the stairs.

I found the upstairs really tricky - we only see Alex's room, and a brief look at the hallway outside his room, which seemed to lead to more rooms, and the stairs. This made me think he was at the back of the house, as most terraces taper at the back for access to the garden. Also, the window seems to line up with a window we see on the upstairs floor in an exterior shot of the kitchen. I feel especially proud of Alex's room - I think it gets the vibe of slightly messy but active high achiever - there's a certificate by his front door in Hebrew (presumably a Krav Maga thing), so I added lots of rosettes and medals and certificates. He's also got a row of hooks above his bed with like a snorkel, and climbing rope, so I used some of the snowboarding stuff to replicate that, and gave him a desk full of hobby items for boy scout spy crafting.

Jack's room was total conjecture, and also a bit of a challenge, since I don't feel I have a sense for her aesthetic taste in furniture, I tried to think what her room would be like considering she's lived there for presumably most of her early twenties, but this also being not her house/not her family/not permanent. I definitely think it would be nice, and comfortable, and personalised to a certain extent. So I gave her some kinda Ikea-ish furniture, and decorated it with small, movable clutter, and posters, pictures, and tapestries, tapped and blue tacked to the wall rather than nailed in.

Ian's bit was also a challenge, despite being the other room upstairs that we see. His office is categorically in the wrong place, the entry door should be on a different wall. Conceivably, it should be where I put Ian's en-suite, and there's a little corridor leading there, but I couldn't make that work without squishing everything together too much. So I put it in the modern bit, thinking that Ian might have built in some extra protection when doing the extension to add more security to what might be like the 'spy hub' in the house. We also see that there's another door inside Ian's study - for the level of privacy that room would need, it only really made sense to me for that door to lead to his bedroom, which also shows how he never really gets away from his work, when he sleeps right next to his study. So I gave him this kind of self-contained suite of rooms, which makes him somewhat shut off and isolated from the others. Considering how immediately Jack complies with a request for a moment of privacy when Ian is in his office, I imagine there's some pretty deeply ingrained house rules about disturbing Ian's office for 'confidential banking reasons', which makes him harder to access when he's in his bedroom. Also, Jack and Alex share a bathroom, but Ian has an en-suite. His bedroom is nice but bland, with a few souvenirs of his travels and a rack of monochrome clothing for his grey casual wear, and his bathroom is modern and dark, with some medical supplies by the sink for patching himself up after a mission.

The garden, on reflection, is a bit chaotic - I think it should actually be larger, and have a little shed. But what we see of it in Season 3 is different to season 1, it's smaller, more enclosed, and has some pretty high walls all around. I wasn't sure which way to go so left it fairly blank, with space for the wheelie bins round the side, a little patio, some grass, a drying line, and a football. The chaotic bit comes from the bbq I gave them in the corner which, looking at the photos, my Rider Sims must have managed to set on fire and burn immediately. Oh and also to make Ian Alex's uncle in CAS I had to make a John to be Ian's brother and Alex's father, so I Immediately killed him and put his headstone in a corner of the garden, so they can all be haunted by John's ghost. Neato!

#alex rider #wow the powers of hyperfixation. If only I could use this level of concentration dedication and focus for good #Alas it can only be used for dumb shit #sims 4

[sinofwriting]

Frederick Vesti + "You're so warm" or kissing tears from the other’s face, please. Thank you!

Title: Cold and Sick Words: 315 Prompt: “You're so warm.” w/ Frederik Vesti

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A huff leaves as she stares at the empty side of the bed beside her. Nose scrunching up as she yawns and she quickly has to grab a tissue before sneezing.

“Ugh.” She flops back against her and Fred’s pillows. She hated being sick and she didn’t know what this was but she couldn’t seem to get warm. She was under the top sheet, the duvet, and a fuzzy blanket and still shivers wracked her body.

It made her regret sending herself to the guest bedroom, wanting Fred to at least have the comfort of their bed despite his protests of not sharing a bed. She was actually surprised she hadn’t woken up once and found him asleep next to her.

Tossing the tissue into the garbage bag next to the bed, she clears her throat. Happy that it’s no longer sore. Though that didn’t mean she’d stop her having a teaspoon of honey after every time she took medicine. It had been ingrained into her as a child and even now living away from her family, she still did it.

“You feeling better?” She smiles at her boyfriend. “No more sore throat.” He smiles at her and the nicer sound of her voice. “Very good.” Moving closer to her, he sets a bottle of juice she likes on the nightstand, along with her favorite sweet and a new thing of lip balm, the latter the only thing he had been supposed to purchase when he went out quickly.

“Fred,” she starts but he shakes his head. “No, you won’t let us share a bed, at least let me do this.” She sighs, but nods and he can’t help but cup her face and kiss her forehead.

“Oh.” She murmurs, resting more into his hands. “You’re so warm.” “You’re still cold?” She hums, eyes fluttering shut as the heat of his hands warms her face.

@elliegrey2803 @skepvids @bibliosaurous @benstormy @boiohboii @iloveyou3000morgan @topguncultleader @copper-boom @lpab @peachiicherries @gemofthenight

#frederik vesti x reader #frederik vesti imagine #f2 imagine #f2 x reader #formula 2 x reader #formula 2 imagine

[dreamingsnowflake2013]

The team of My Beautiful Man has done it again and delivered another sublime season of Hira and Kiyo’s love story. It all comes down to the fact that even after 3 years Hira is still Hira and Kiyoi is still Kiyoi and the show, despite its short running time, is wonderful at showing that personalities are deeply ingrained and not something that changes overnight or over a course of a few months. They have both made baby steps over the years at overcoming their shortcomings, Kiyoi has become more daring, trying hard to curb his own shyness and the resulting arrogant and cold behaviour, while Hira has dared to come out of his shell a little bit more, even his stammer has reduced, proving that they are indeed good for each other despite their flaws and insecurities. However, Hira’s tendency of self-loathing and inferiority complex is something he’s had for 20+ years and is an inherent part of him, it’s not something that would just miraculously disappear with the power of love. And My Beautiful Man portrays this painstakingly slow process and journey to change in a very realistic and authentic way. 

The beautiful thing is that Kiyoi doesn't even want Hira to change, he loves him the way he is which is really what the first episode was all about, that he sees past Hira’s awkwardness and sees how gorgeous Hira truly is, appreciates him and adores everything about him. 

He just wants to be loved by him, only by him, he is fine being worshipped by everyone else, and even though that worship had been what made him attracted to Hira, for a long time now, he has wanted to be Hira’s equal, giving Hira the time and space to slowly gain the confidence while he was trying to make himself more emotionally available and became softer so Hira would feel more comfortable with him. He’s been hoping for it with every fibre of his being for years and witnessing all his hopes dashed literally shatters him.

The confrontation scene in episode three is really a direct parallel to the emotional argument in season 1, two scenes which set up the climax of each season. All those little disappointments Kiyoi has been bottling up over time come to a breaking point.

It hurts even more because he's had expectations, the hope when Hira mentions he hated calling him ‘his friend’ lits up his whole face, expecting to finally get to hear from Hira what he's always desired and craved for so long, a love confession where he would admit them being lovers, equals, only to be disappointed and feeling gut-wrenching pain as the result. 

He swallows it at first despite the excruciating pain, like he must have done many times before, but Hira denying him to be part of his life, cutting him away from his parents, who Hira obviously loves in his own weird way judging from his story about the shrimp croquettes, which Kiyoi knows, it truly breaks him his heart, revealing that HE DOESN’T WANT TO MERELY BE HIRA’S LOVER, HE WANTS TO BE HIS FAMILY; something enduring and lasting, something eternal, wishing to gain what he had lost as a child and was robbed of when his mother found a new family and neglected him. 

He wants to by tied to Hira for life because whether you like ir not, family ties are unbreakable connections. He’s being seeking it for most of his life but Hira’s words make him realise Hira has been denying him that very thing and there is a part of Hira’s life he can’t be a part of; he feels sheer horror and heartache when he finds him he is still on the pedestal, stuck on the very same place where Hira had placed him 5 years ago and which he hates so much. Not a lover, not a spouse, not family member, only an untouchable rock, but rocks don’t have a heart to break nor do they weep like a willow when it’s shattering. 

And yet despite his words, in a beautifully symbolic gesture, Hira tries to touch his star and tries to wipe away his tears only for him to push him away now.

Finally, the director of My Beautiful Man is truly awesome at portraying all these emotionally-charged scenes and making them 100% authentic, it’s unreal how raw, intense and realistic everything feels, almost like a documentary where the audience is allowed a voyeuristic peek at a couple’s most intimate moments. 

There is no distracting music to destroy the moment, which is where most of Thai BL dramas usually fail and ruin the scene, here, the director lets the script and the actors do the talking and the result is simply beautiful.

#my beautiful man #utsukushii kare #yagi yusei #hagiwara riku #jdrama

[butchjess]

Well. hrm. the way they all connect to each other. like it’s all starting to look like a circle of some sort. jess as rory’s mirror/reflection/narrative foil but also jess as he pertains to luke and jess as he pertains to lorelai. luke breaking the church bells luke who says he was troubled but they gave him a chance and just bc a kid has issues doesnt mean they don’t deserve that. luke who is a figure placed against the rest of the town, just in the sense that he is not like them, he does not hold their values, he doesn’t even sound like them. which is of course a result of scott patterson’s new york accent, but adds to this theme anyway. and they use jess to build this picture, because they walk the same and talk the same and they’re stubborn—independent to a near self-endangering degree—and emotionally repressed in the same way and luke himself admits that he spent more time working at his dad’s shop than he did at school, which jess also does. but jess and luke are also. very very different when you get past these similar values that are maybe ingrained into them through different circumstances and same genetic makeup. and in their differences you get a lot of jess and lorelai’s similarities. when it comes to their family dynamics and how it’s affected them in particular. it’s made them independent yes, but it’s also made them hypervigilant, almost paranoid in the way they are allergic to accepting help and especially accepting help from the people who hurt them. jess only goes to his mother’s wedding because luke asks him to, lorelai only asks her parents for money because rory needs it for school. and they, and this is where they differ from luke, don’t know how to trust people and so they don’t know how to talk to people. where luke’s particular brand of emotional constipation comes from a general cluelessness as to how to do it—which is why the tapes helped him so much—lorelai and jess’ come from emotional responses to the situations they grew up in. while it was different—lorelai growing up rich, jess growing up poor—the effect it had on them still resulted in something similar. lorelai with her overbearing manipulative mother and (emotionally) absent father, and jess with his neglecting manipulative mother and (in all senses of the word) absent father. the ways that, despite their effort to distance themselves, they still end up with similar mannerisms to the parent they have the most conflict with (lorelai and her controlling nature + that scene where they have the same nighttime routine, jess and his love for books + tendency to run away). and of course, their romanticism. their big confessions and period drama-esque speeches and, yeah, i do think in a way jess was asking rory to marry him in 4x21. come with me. let’s get married. luke and rory both being the most important people in their lives. literati+javajunkie where they are all melding into each other, and luke is rory and lorelai is jess but on the surface level dynamic luke is jess and lorelai is rory and they are all each other. on accident. by sheer nature of making jess as a character for the sole purpose of interfering with luke and lorelai’s relationship (which means he is important narratively to them both) and by making him rory’s love interest/foil (because ASP casted him before she even had the idea for the character) you have now made an accidental blending of them all together. he is like a skeleton key of a character. Okay. okay.

#clocking in for my shift at the pattern recognition factory #literati #javajunkie #gilmore girls #i was also going to talk about how rory is ALSO a skeleton key of a character similar to how jess is because. #well all the lines about how she is ‘just like her mother’ wrt stubbornness and defiancy and iron will. but it was already. very long. so. #i’ll save it for another post. #and in that post i’ll probably talk about rory and jess and their dads and luke also. bc that is also missing from this post. #sorry they are so mucu. #so much. #literatijavajunkie is the sun that this show revolves around. #also ties into how jess literally is the only side character that is also a Main Character. in this show. #like compared to rorys other boyfriends where their only importance is to rorys character. jess is like. essential to the narrative. #which is why he’s the one that almost got a spin-off show. he has the functions of a main character the exact same way rory does. #which is why the show would have been about him and HIS dad. literally a direct mirror to the concept of a show about a daughter and a mom. #whatever this is all going to be. in another post. #there are more screenshots to be gathered anyway. #ggwatch #gg meta

[crystaljade22]

Forgotten Batsibling Pt2!!

Y/N: Your name

H/N: Hero Name

F/C: Favorite color

TW. Sad stuff, guilt, self-blame.

It’s been a month since Y/N died. After the flames were doused, the fire department and the police scoured the building looking for the body of the fallen hero. The only thing they found of the lost hero was the mask. There was no body left to be found, no remains, no ashes. The warehouse fire consumed all of them. The mask stays inside of the case which once held their suit, now empty. A memoir to the house without you, empty.

Bruce has tried his best to be strong, to be the hero that Gotham needs. But he can’t help but spend hours looking at the mask with regret and guilt. Regret for letting you go in to save Jason, and guilt for not realizing that the savior needed to be saved. Guilt for letting another child die. 

Damian has refused to even enter the Batcave. All he sees is a constant reminder of the sibling he once had, the person who would go to the moon and back for all of them, now gone. He swears he can still hear your voice calling his name from downstairs, and he can’t help the tears that spring to his eyes when he thinks about you. 

Your room hasn’t been touched since their death, the door shut and locked up. No one has ever been able to look at the room, their guilt or sadness overpowering their will to do so. 

Dick constantly wishes for just one more patrol with you, to hear your voice one more time. He regrets every moment he tried to get away from you, or left you behind. He glances behind him, hoping that you’ll be right there, just like you usually would despite his attempts to shake you off. 

Tim has noticed now when his coffee runs out and tastes different than usual. Whenever he’s on a mission, he notices that his success percentage is lower than normal. There is no one there to jump in when a step goes in the bin. No one waiting to check on him after a mission. He’s finally noticed and acknowledged the fact that you’re gone. And he’s shut down any emotions that come with it. He is probably the only one in the family who could open your bedroom door, but he can’t bring himself to do it because he feels he isn’t worthy to do so. 

Now Jason on the other hand, can’t pull himself out of his work. He feels he can’t take off the mask because if he does, he’s afraid he’ll crumble and fall apart. He keeps telling himself to stay strong, and to stay Red Hood because right now, the people of Gotham don’t need Jason, they need you. They need H/N. As soon as Jason takes off the mask when he gets to one of his safe houses, he instantly breaks down. All he can see is the moment he knocked you down, and caused your demise. The last thing he saw of you was you holding the beam up for him to escape. He swears he can feel you watching over him, even though he caused your death. All he can think is that he’s the reason you're dead. He killed you, the only person who ever seemed to care, even when he had tried to hurt you. 

You didn’t get the proper funeral that everyone felt you deserved. The people of Gotham mourned for days, the Commissioner and the Mayor themselves speaking at your funeral. Funny enough, even the Joker took the day off despite the clear opportunity he had to go and create utter chaos. There was no body to bury. The city lowered an empty casket into the ground, and then erected a statue of you over it. A memory forever ingrained into the people of Gotham’s minds of the hero who once lived to save the city. 

Of course, Bruce had to figure out how to tell the press that Y/N Wayne was gone, without revealing the fact that you were H/N. They managed to make up a story of you falling seriously ill, and succumbing to it. They played it off to the media as having a private funeral and having the body buried in their graveyard. Y/N was buried beside what was Jason’s grave, an F/C flower sprouting from the dirt over the empty casket. The gray headstone reading:

“Here lies Y/N. A sibling, friend, and a loving person. May their memory live on. 20XX-20XX”

Now, for the super short scenario.

Damian stood at the grave, looking down at the gray stone. Tears stung his eyes, rolling down his face, but he didn’t care. The rain hid them anyway. He stood soaked and cold, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t feel it anyway. The cold rain continued to pelt his body, leaving him soaked to the bone. His eyes fall to the F/C flower, its petals still bright. All he could think about was the fact that there was nobody under his feet. All that was there was an empty box covered in a layer of soaked dirt. He couldn’t help the sob that escaped his throat at the thought of never seeing you again. The last he saw of you was you running into the building to save Jason, a brave face filled with worry plastered onto your face. He couldn’t help but blame Jason slightly, but he knew that you went in fully knowing the risks of what you were doing. As he stared at the grave, he couldn’t help but feel like someone was watching him. Something was telling him, he needed to go back to Robin. The people needed Robin. He wiped his eyes, standing up straighter before turning and heading back for the manor, determined to prevent another family member from dying. Little did he know, after he had left the grave, a figure stood over the grave, reading the stone. Their shoulders rose and fell with a laugh before the figure disappeared into the rain. All that remained was a crumpled F/C flower, the petals littering the ground.

#batfamily x batsis #batfam x batsis #batfamily #dcu #angst #no fluff #sorry for being depressing #tim drake #damian wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #Joker is kinda nice #bruce wayne

[zozo-01]

"it started off so innocent. (she had a vibe and a wolf started digging it.)"

Hi folks! This right here is part two to @dominimoonbeam lovely request for Darlin' piercing David! The lovely @pinksparkl had brought up Gabe's potential reaction to David getting a piercing I had to write it!! So here is Gabe being frustrated and meddlesome in his own fatherly way towards the two stubborn of asses in the pack!!!

Thank you to @thatlesbeanjew and @colloquialcolival for giving me idea of Gabe making pupusas for David to further the Hispanic David Headcanon!!!

CW: No Angel or Sam AU, This is still happening in the College AU, Underage Drinking, (author forgot the legal age in the states is 21), Gabe just wants to make sure David and Darlin' are happy, Mentions of Marriage, The smut will come soon I promise, Once again despite the title of the song Darlin' is GN, I just really like the song way too much

click here for the ao3 link!!!

It was a rough day for David, and despite the fact that he didn’t tell him, Gabriel could tell the fatigue on his son’s face before he left the house. So as a way to cheer him up and make sure his child is taking care of himself, he decided to make his favourite dish tonight. Maybe he can take a couple pupusas with him to class so he has something to eat in between meetings.

Gabriel watched the pot of boiling water, making sure the pork didn't burn while he kneaded the dough. Food had and will always be how Gabe shows love to those around him, something that was ingrained into his blood by his mother. In his childhood, he watched his mom cook big batches of food for their family and neighbours. Big celebrations filled with people and meals were a highlight from his childhood, and despite being far away from his home land now, he intends to bring David that same joy.

Once the water evaporated, he added the pork, onions and green peppers to a food processor, turning it into a paste for the pupusas. Through the noise, he could still hear the door open and close. Assuming it was David, he listened to the young man flop onto the couch. Gabe turned back to see David, with his shoes off thankfully, peacefully dozing off. Good, he should sleep after a stressful day. 

A while goes by, and Gabe spends it by continuing to fill the dough with the pork paste, when he felt a head rest on his shoulder. Without looking down, he chuckled. “Feeling hungry David?” The young wolf groaned, still half asleep but clearly woken up by the amazing smell. Placing the first batch of pupusas onto the comal, he turned to David. “Give me another 10 minutes, ok son?” David grumbled and sat at the dining room table, head in arms as he tried to fall back asleep.

Gabe found David’s behaviour a little off. Sure, his son was exhausted, but even at this state, David would make an effort to speak. As a father, he told his son that he has to express what he’s feeling, for his and others sake. As an Alpha, he always emphasized that a leader must communicate to his followers, lest they lose respect for him.

(Not that he listens to either piece of advice. David is still the closed off boy from his youth, scared to express his feelings for a certain white wolf lest he makes a fool of himself. And despite his best attempts, David still relied on his father when it came to pack business, not comfortable enough in his role as Beta to voice his concerns. He only wishes he’ll be alive to see his son blossom into the man he knows David can be. Or at least be Darlin’s father-in-law.)

A quick sniff of the air had Gabe recoil. There was a sharp, alcoholic smell in the air, and it was coming from David. So either he got a cut that needed to be cleaned. Or his son decided to do a little bit of day drinking. Judging by his tired voice and vampire-like aversion to light, he’ll bet on the latter. Not that he was mad at him for it.

Walking over to David, Gabe put the plate of pupusas and a cup of water on the table. “Here you go, kid,” he said while ruffling his hair. “Eat up and you’ll feel a whole better.” He walked back to the kitchen to clean up the dirty dishes. He eyed his son, thinking about what, or who, could convince hiss on 

David whined, moving his head in what looked like a nod. With what little strength he had left in his arms, he picked up the pupusa in his hand. But before he could open his mouth and take a bite, he grumbled and put it down. Turning his head to Gabe and squinting his eyes at the light, David slurred out, “Sorry Dad, can’t eat right now.”

Now David was not like other boys his age. He preferred to study over going out to parties and he took his duties as Beta so seriously that you would have thought his life depended on it. The fact that he came home even the slightest bit inebriated was already enough cause for suspicion. But the one thing he had in common with most boys, especially shifter boys, was their appetite. David could and will eat everything in sight, even more so when stressed. It was the reason Gabe made pupusas in the first place for him. 

The fact that David wasn’t eating, especially his favourite meal, meant that something was very, very wrong.

Through the bond as Alpha and Beta, or through their bond as father and son, David waved his hand casually, a way to  quell the worry building up in his father. “Don’t worry, dad. Darlin’ gave me some soup to drink.” With that, David got up with immense effort, and stumbled on to his room.

Gabe knew of Darlin’s habit of… making impulsive decisions that landed them in interesting situations. He still remembers that one time he had to grab them from Vancouver because they wanted ‘Tims.’ He also knows that they wouldn’t drag the pack into a situation that they deemed dangerous, opting to deal with it on their own. He hopes that one day, they’ll break that habit and rely on the pack.

He has enough trust in them to not make David do anything stupid. In fact, he’s thankful that they bring David out of his comfort bubble. With them, he feels comfortable enough to make the stupid decisions that he’ll cherish when he’s older. That being said, it didn’t hurt to shoot them a call to see what was going on. (He’s a little salty that the pupusas are going to go cold.)

Picking up his phone from the counter, he dialed Darlin’s number. After a couple of rings, the wolf in question picks up the phone.

“Hey, fluffball.”

“Whatever happened, I didn’t do shit.”

He chuckled, not surprised by the wolf’s suspicion. “Of course. You do know that I’ll take your side no matter what, right?” He shook his head at the silence, disappointed in Darlin’s continued belief that he has no faith in them. But this is for a different time. “Reason I called you was because David came home drunk. And he said that you told him that he couldn’t eat…”

He could feel Darlin’s apprehension across the line with the way their breath hitched and quickened. They were already expecting another lecture. “I’m not mad, fluffball. I just need to know why my son didn’t eat any of my pupusas.”

Darlin’s breath calmed down, but the nerves were still present in their voice, “Uhh… well… I may have given David a… piercing?” They laughed nervously, not knowing what Gabe’s reaction might be.

Luckily for them, and obviously for him, Gabe didn’t mind that his son got a piercing. For starters, it was his body, and David could do whatever he wanted with his body. He was his own person and Gabe has enough faith in him to make the right decisions. (Even if some of those decisions tend to be clouded by love and lust.) He was more shocked that Darlin’ was able to convince him to get a piercing of any kind. As a business major, David always made sure his appearance remained corporate friendly, and piercings are anything but that. 

A loud laugh erupted from Gabe, his mind concocting all the scenarios that would have let his son make that decision. “I got two questions for you, kid. What kind of piercing did you give him and how on earth did you manage that?”

“I gave him a tongue piercing- but I promise that I was super safe! Ain’t no way it’ll get infected unless he does something stupid.” Gabe didn’t have any worries about the process being safe and sanitized. “As for why… um… that might be a story for later.”

“Like on your wedding day?”

He found great amusement in seeing Darlin’ stutter out a response, trying to find a way to dismiss and deny that thought. It was hard to fluster them, their resolve was strong as iron, but bringing up David never failed to break them a little. Around the rest of the pack, they were reserved, reluctant to integrate themselves. With David, Darlin’ could be the carefree kid that Gabe had heard plenty of stories about. 

Now if only both of them can get their asses out of their heads and confess before he gets any grey hairs would be greatly beneficial.

“Relax, I’m only teasing,” he reassured, “But seriously. You need to tell him how you feel. For both of your sakes.” As adorable as it was watching David and Darlin’ pine for each other from a distance, he knew that it was causing them both unnecessary heartache. “The only way to resolve this, relationship or not, is by talking about your feelings. I promise it’ll leave both of you better off.”

“Yeah, I get that… But what if?”

Gabe didn’t need rocket science to know that their mind was being dragged off to a hundred different hypotheticals, combing through each scenario to figure out where everything would go wrong. He doesn’t blame them, he’s well aware of Darlin’s rough homelife to understand why they’re so cautious, even if he doesn’t know the specifics.

He just wishes that for once, they give the same level of consideration to the positives that they do to the negatives.

“I know it’s easier said than done, but just think about it. Okay kid?”

They sighed on the other end, and he deluded himself into thinking it isn’t a dismissive sigh. “I’ll try.”

He thanked Darlin’ and said his farewells, making sure to remind them to come to the next pack meeting. He could hear their eyes roll from across the line, but is thankful that they’ll abide in his request. Gabe noted that their confirmation of their appearance at the meeting was said in a more confident tone than their agreement to talk to David.

Putting the phone down, he rubbed his hand over his stubble. Dealing with emotionally reserved people was always a challenge, for one wrong step could lead to eternal broken trust. But Gabe knew in his heart that if David and Darlin’ would just sit down and talk, it would lead them both down a path of lifetime joy.

He just hopes he’s alive for the day that happens.

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted fanfic #redacted gabe #redacted david #redacted darlin #we were robbed of gabe making fun of david for his crush on angel #but i can use him to make fun of david and darlin teehee #zo writes tingz #this is zo speaking

[shybunnie20]

These are some thoughts I had about Eddie and Dustin’s friendship while listening to Black Sabbath’s Die Young. Plus a little video edit

Warning: Recounts of Eddie’s death, swearing

Perched atop the roof of the Munson trailer, Dustin bangs his head along to “Master of Puppets,” perfectly in sync with the whining amp beside him. It’s ingrained, thanks to Eddie, who introduced him to a different world of music. Eddie entrusted the younger boy with his cherished tapes, and Dustin wore them out, eager to report back with what songs he took a liking to.

Eddie’s bedroom was a sanctuary of sound where he assumed the role of mentor, guiding Dustin through the labyrinth of famous riffs and lyrics. Eddie was a purist, a devotee of the raw power of metal. He kept Dustin well-versed in the history of it and made sure that he understood that mainstream bands like AC/DC, Mötley Crüe, and KISS—while undeniably popular—fail to embody the true spirit of heavy music.

Eddie took it upon himself to school Dustin in the art of headbanging, imparting the proper technique. He demonstrated how to get the most movement out of their curly hair without completely fucking up their necks. Even so, pulling a muscle is a right of passage.

Dustin has never been one to shy away from being himself, and in Eddie, he found an older reflection. Eddie faces plenty of adversity being misunderstood, poor, and a failed graduate twice over. Despite that, he remains true to himself. In Dustin's eyes, he's the most badass motherfucker because he has heart.

Eddie sought out Dustin in the lunchroom, recognizing his younger self in him. He embraced Dustin wholeheartedly before they even learned each other’s names. Eddie shattered the assumption that high school has to be bleak for outcasts.

All of those moments have led to this. Eddie, whose light had shone blindingly, has been torn from the sky and lies on the cold ground. Gasping for breath with blood-stained lips, he insists that Dustin can become the man he can no longer be. 

Eddie gradually dims while wrapped in his friend’s embrace. With his dying breaths, Eddie pleads for Dustin to promise that he’ll lead their friends. With the agony of mortality closing in on Eddie, Dustin affirms his commitment to finding the strength to go on.

It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but Eddie needs Dustin to know that he believes in him. Dungeons and Dragons isn’t merely a pastime—it’s their haven. Hellfire Club is a family bound not by blood, but they’re family all the same.

Dustin nods, his cheeks wet as the tears roll from them. He isn’t sure that he can keep his word, not when Eddie is sputtering his parting ones. Amidst the thundering pulse in his ears and the sky, Dustin takes on the burden of etching every tremor of Eddie’s final utterances to memory. Each fleeting second slips away as the grains of sand cascade within the crystal confines of time. 

Eddie is more than someone Dustin shares memories with, and the moment Eddie’s heart stills, he has become one himself. Eddie is now a memory devoid of breath and a heartbeat, a distant echo of what once was. Yet, Dustin will remain steadfast in his resolve to resuscitate the essence of who Eddie was.

While he never got the chance to showcase his talent for more than a few drunks at The Hideout, Eddie did get to play for Dustin. He got to headline the most metal concert in the history of the world with his best friend.

Eddie the Freak, Eddie the Banished, Eddie the Remembered.

★My Masterlist

#eddie munson now at peace #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie the freak munson #eddie the banished #eddie stranger things #dustin henderson #hellfire club #st4 #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson st4 #eddie munson fandom #eddie munson fanart #eddie munson edit #eddie munson hurt/no comfort #stranger things 5 #stranger things season 5

[thenotsoholyspirit]

Holding (Pt 4/5)

Matt Murdock x reader (angst)

(Here for part 1, 2 , 3)

AU: Hey, I know it's been a while since I've posted on this series but writers block has been a real deal for me these past days. Although, I still have a lot of ideas and a whole other series to end so stay tuned 💙 (and yes that includes the Foggy fic :3)

Summary: A conversation in the roof may offer a change in the situation. After all, sometimes all you need is faith.

I've never been quite the best catholic. 

From making a fuss in my baptism, to refuse ever to marry, I was quite the shame in a family of faithful believers. 

“Sometimes you have to believe without seeing” 

I always hated that idea, blind faith. And yet in spite of everything I still accompanied my mother every Sunday to our city's chapel. Soon after I moved out, that routine was still ingrained in me, and despite not having a logical answer to it, I kept going to mass. 

That’s how I met him. The one that would soon become both my salvation and my perdition. The one I was risking it all for in spite of everything. 

“He can’t be that far, please he can’t be that far

As the day progresses, I feel a sense of desperation crawl on me, noticing how the streets get busier and I haven't yet found any clue to His whereabouts.

Not a sight of him close to his old apartment or even old hangout spots.

He had indeed erased every trace he could have left

As I feel the day progress, I sigh. Maybe these extreme circumstances also required extreme decisions. I decide to head down to the Presidential Hotel.

————-——

When I arrive, I immediately notice the multitude of police cars and security guards surrounding the building. It couldn’t be more obvious that someone important was brought to this place

Sneaking up, I try to see if there’s any entry, but it’s obviously closed up to the public.

“Well I may need to broaden my definition of entry then”

As my attention catches  some fire escape stairs attached to a building not far behind, I can’t help but let out a small grin. After spending so much time with him, knowing Matt’s way of thinking had become almost a second nature.

It was probably too early, as I will surely need to wait for him hidden on some rooftop, but to simply think about the vertigo was enough to make my stomach turn.

“C'mon (y/n) remember just have faith.”

I start then to awkwardly climb up the ladder making sure not to startle the whole neighbourhood.

For a moment, I feel comfortable, pacing my steps and taking deep breaths, until I hear the crackling sound of a metal piece falling from the wall.

I gulp

“For God sake I'm a vet not a gymnast”

Yet the top doesn’t seem too far now and the idea of returning was worse. I decide to keep climbing.

Suddenly, I lose my equilibrium, feeling the void as I fall from my back until I feel the grip of a hand on my arm, saving me from a surely fatal fall.

“(Y/n) ?”

I look up, noticing a man dressed completely in black with only a beanie covering his face, and some cords attached to his wrists. He seems genuinely surprised to find me here. 

“Matt”

“I…” I’m short of words as he pulls me into the safety of the rooftop. I fall down the floor deeply breathing, “How did you know I was here”

“Well.. He tries to give me a small smile ,  “You were lucky I could basically hear your heartbeat explode streets away” 

“.. I must sound like a cacophony in your ears… but I’m sure there are also thousands of New-Yorkers being deeply worried at this very moment”

“ I guess.. I just became good picking up yours in particular”

I cannot help but to slightly blush as he tells me this. There is a tense silence now between us, too many things that should be said or should’ve.

“Don’t go” 

My tone is grave, letting him know I know his reasons for coming down here.  He slightly clenches his teeth, as I feel an anger I haven’t seen yet in him.

Something had happened.

Something felt broken

“I need to do it (y/n)” 

His tone was direct. Cold. He turns his back from me towards the Hotel. I imagine him trying to analyze the best way to get in, reading into each heartbeat , each voice, each movement…. But I wasn’t going to give up that easily.

“You aren't saving anyone by doing this..please..” 

Matt immediately snaps, turning again towards me. I was still on the floor and the bare light coming from the light poles made him appear even more intimidating.

“You don’t understand”…

“True… it’s true I don’t, I’m not you… “, I sigh, accepting it, “I’ll never fully understand this vigilante double life you live.. but I do see the man behind it”

I now stand up, letting us face to face as I continue to talk.

“I and see him and care enough about him that I’m not letting him commit a mistake he’ll forever regret” 

I see Matt keep his facade, but I notice the way his hands now slightly tremble holding his billy club. When he talks again, his voice is weaker.

“He has hurt so many people… and I’'m not meant to simply go and enjoy this life after all that has happened”, He takes his beanie off as I now see  his eyes “After hurting so many others... me.”´

I shake my head. I couldn’t lie, or deny the hurt of past decisions, but it didn't mean I could simply let him go.

“I'm not denying that it’s not easy but.. I’m here tonight for a reason… “ 

I look up to him, hoping he could sense the sincerity of my words

“I can’t let you do this.. this city needs its hero.. and well.. I do still need you”

I let these last words settle as I’m now a bit shy. I see Matt is about to reply, when we’re suddenly interrupted by some police sirens demanding civilians to clear up the space. His face drops.

“He can't be here already….”

I’m now a bit confused.

“Who ?”

Matt sighs, he seems tired but tries to explain to me the best he can. 

“I’m not the only one in this city holding a grudge against Fisk..” Matt leans again his attention towards the building “ There is a dangerous man looking for him” 

I notice the way his body tenses up, the same way it has always done when he senses a danger nearby. His grip becomes stronger, his face almost scarily stern, yet the voice he uses to catch my attention seems softer than usual.

“That night I.. I was sure I had lost you forever.. and who could blame you..” He gives me a sad smile, trying his best to hold his emotions. “I had to live with the fact that I had hurt you.. forced you to pull away from me..this loneliness.. it was my crux to bear”

I shake my head at his words, trying to be as direct as I could knowing time was running out.

“Matthew… I love you.. I still do..” I slowly approach him , caressing his cheek with my hand as I clean away some tears  “I just need to be sure you do as well” 

Almost as a reflex, I go grab his arm, feeling my own insecurities resurface as the fear of being abandoned twists my heart. He seems to pick up on this as he pulls me closer. I can feel the breeze on his words.

“ I swear.. “ Me murmurs against my ear, his voice now taking a more protective tone “That I’ll never let go of you again… “

I’m now the one letting my own tears stream down my face 

“You promise ?” 

My voice was so small, barely a whisper , as I use the tone I knew only Matt could ever hear

“I won’t stop even if you never forgive me”

I can’t retain myself any longer.

I dive in, pulling him into the deepest of kisses as I feel my whole body give in. The desire that has already been pleading for him could not no longer keep on waiting. 

Matt seems slightly surprised at the beginning, almost nervous at my reaction, but once he notices my unwillingness to let him go, he puts his hands around my waist our foreheads now touching. I need to hang on to him. 

“I’ve missed it so much” , he murmurs for just a moment, forgetting the world around us. I give him a little smile, slightly curious at his choice of words as he continues, “ I mean the feeling of you… your heartbeat, your smell…you've always been my safest place…I thought I’d never get to sense you from so close again” 

As I’m about to respond, the noise of police sirens shakes us up as we hear  the sound of gunshots down the building. Of course, Matt has more insight as he clenches his teeth and steps back.

“Go,” I look at him with a knowing look “I know you have a job to do”

I come a bit closer for a moment.

“Just promise me you will come back home tonight” 

I keep holding his hand for a second, sensing his flow of thoughts coming against him. He mutters again. 

“All this anger..”

“I know.. but you don't have to be alone anymore Matt” I take deep breaths as I try to send him some peace too, “I’ll be here”

He walks to the edge of the ceiling, pulling his mask back on. I give him a last reassuring look.

“I’ll leave the living room window open.. in case you come in late” , my tone is slightly hesitant “Of course if you want to come by I-“

I notice the corners of his lips curl into a little smirk.

“I will… and don’t worry”, he slightly tosses his head as he smiles, letting me admire his toned collar bone for even just a second., … “I promise I won’t take too long sweetheart” 

Before I can even protest his cocky words, he jumps off the next building, leaving me alone again, but now completely blushing. I may have also missed that pet name and his way of flirting.   

Some things really don't change after all.

#daredevil x reader #matt murdock x reader #marvel x reader #daredevil x reader angst #matt murdock x reader angst

[chenziee]

Your love, endless like the sky above

First of my three pieces for the @opblondebombshells zine!! It turned out absolutely gorgeous and is available for download for free as of today, so check it out! ✨

[ Read on AO3 | Ko-FI | Commissions ]

—————

As he rummaged through the kitchen cabinets with purpose, Sanji felt a wry smile pulling on his lips. He had never thought he would stand in this kitchen ever again. How many years had it been since he last touched this stove? Thirteen, fourteen years?

It was honestly a marvel this stove even was still here.

They had all this money, all this knowledge, and they couldn’t be bothered to get better and newer kitchen equipment. 

Cosette and her team made such elaborate meals for their royal family every day with tools that were probably older than the head chef herself and they still got treated this way. It made Sanji want to kick their sorry asses to hell and back and there again.

Kingdom of Science my ass, he thought, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

“Sanji-sama, please! Let us cook for you, royalty shouldn’t have to—with this rusty, old equipment no less—”

“Nope,” Sanji said, raising one hand to silence the panicking cook. “Thanks for the concern but I’m a first-rate chef, not a prince.”

“But—”

“By the way, is the pantry still in the back?” Sanji asked, cutting the protests off before they could really start.

“Yes, sir.” The cook visibly deflated as he answered and Sanji huffed.

He supposed it was too much to ask for them to drop the formalities entirely. Shaking his head, Sanji thanked the man before making his way to the pantry—a route he could still walk blind, even after all these years. He could almost feel young Sanji’s heart racing in excitement from being allowed to walk in and grab ingredients for the first time.

Still innocent, still not realizing he was about to get himself—and the head chef—punished.

Royalty must not cook! 

The angry words echoed in his mind despite no one speaking them, forever ingrained deep within him. He never understood the words, never even thought to adhere to them despite the inevitable backlash. Despite the hate and disgust and pain.

Even at six years old, he refused to give this up. And now, at twenty-one… there was no point living if he couldn’t step foot into a kitchen again.

Why was he thinking about this anyway?

Shaking his head, Sanji chased his fath—Vinsmoke Judge’s words away. Instead, he focused his gaze on what was in the pantry, his eyes scanning the contents. He hummed appreciatively at the quality of the food stored inside—even if the kitchenware and appliances were utter shit, at least no expenses were spared on the ingredients.

Not that Sanji would have any trouble working with shit-quality food, but it certainly made his life easier. 

Grabbing two bananas, several eggs, some flour and sugar, and a few select spices, Sanji left the pantry again, closing the door behind him with his foot. He almost expected the old head chef to start freaking out, fretting over Sanji balancing too many things at once.

And honestly, he was right. When he was a kid, he’d barely had any idea what he was doing, always overestimating how much he would be able to carry without dropping anything or hurting himself. A smile on his lips, Sanji wished the old man could see him now, handling everything with ease. The last time they saw each other, it came with a complementary trip to the infirmary to get a bad cut treated.

He left everything on the kitchen counter to head for the fridge, mumbling to himself as he listed off the ingredients he still needed. It’d been so long since he made this combination of foods: grilled fish with some fresh bread, scrambled eggs, and banana flambé for dessert. All her favorite foods. 

He would have wanted to add a small scoop of vanilla ice cream as well but since that would melt, he decided against it. Maybe he should make some mini apple tarts too while he was at it?

Oh, should he make some fried rice? He didn’t see any mice around but he was sure there were some hungry critters scurrying about. Even though he wasn’t there to make food for them anymore…

“Man, what am I thinking,” Sanji muttered to himself, sighing deeply. There was no way the mice he had befriended all those years ago would still be alive after all these years. Mice simply did not live that long.

But…

Well, what was the harm in cooking a little more than needed?

—————

A bouquet of flowers in one hand, a picnic basket in the other, Sanji made his way towards the far corner of the Germa main ship. It was quiet, hidden from view by trees and bushes—trees that had become much larger, bushes that had been left to grow, unkempt in the years of his absence.

Seeing the state of the garden, Sanji half expected to find his destination completely taken over by vegetation but instead, he was surprised to find the gravestone perfectly clean, only with a tiny, impromptu bundle of flowers in front of it, one made up of the wild plants growing in this small, hidden garden-turned-park.

Probably Reiju, Sanji thought to himself, a small smile tugging on his lips.

“Hi, mom,” he said quietly as he carefully placed his own bouquet next to Reiju’s. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come see you sooner.”

He took a deep breath, willing his voice to stay steady. How pathetic; a grown ass man, getting all choked up at being by the grave of someone who had died over fourteen years ago…

“Zoro would have a fucking field day seeing me like this…” he muttered to himself, rubbing at his eyes. He hated how he suddenly missed the insufferable nicknames and annoying demands for booze.

He would take a fight with the Marimo over one second on Germa’s soil any day. Those were actually fun, if infuriating sometimes.

“You know, mom… I think you’d love the pirate crew I’m a part of. Luffy is so goddamn selfish and can inhale a month’s worth of meat before you can blink but he's always so happy with anything I make. It's fun cooking for him. Zoro is an ass and we fight constantly but he can tell the difference between good and shitty rice and as opposed to Torao, he doesn't throw a fit when I experiment with his rice balls. Nami-san never got to teach me how to make her special tangerine sauce… I could figure it out myself but I’d rather die than intrude like that…

“Usopp likes fish just the way you did and honestly it threw me off at first. Chopper. You'd love Chopper so much. He's like a stuffed animal who feeds on chocolate. We'd all be long dead without him.

"I like making Robin-chan's coffee and sandwiches when she's studying in the evening. She's the smartest person I've ever known; she could destroy Vinsmoke Judge in a second. Except she's not a piece of shit like him.

"Then there's Franky… if I wasn't there to feed him something decent, he would probably just eat junk food. And Brook, my god Brook. Mom, his table manners. His fucking table manners. It doesn't matter how many times I kick his boney ass, he still gets curry everywhere.

"And Jinbe—"

Sanji stopped suddenly, cutting his monologue short. Jinbe was their crewmate but…

"I guess I won't learn anything about him now, will I? I'm stuck here. With these shitty cuffs on my hands…"

He gulped heavily, clenching his shaky fists. He really was a fly caught in a spiderweb, wasn't he? Complete with his movements restricted, death lingering just at the edge of his vision, helpless.

Helpless, powerless… hopeless.

"Shit…” Sanji took a deep breath, closing his eyes momentarily before he dared speak quietly again. “Mom, I don't know what to do…"

But were there really any options left for him? The path was set the moment his wanted poster changed from Dead or Alive to Only Alive. There was no other way forward; no Baratie, no Merry, and no Sunny. No All Blue. 

There was nothing but Germa 66, the family he had long since stopped considering a family, and Pudding-chan.

"At least with Pudding-chan, I'll be able to keep cooking. There would be no point living anymore if I couldn't… I want to keep cooking for my crew but Pudding-chan doesn't deserve me making that her problem.”

Sanji paused then, almost as if waiting for his mom to reply. But he knew that was impossible, knew no one would answer. He wasn’t sure he even wanted anyone to answer. Not when he was being so… so lame.

But in the face of his mother’s grave, the grave of the one person he could let himself be vulnerable with when he was a child… it was impossible to keep the facade up. He was tired. Tired of pretending, tired of staying strong, tired of saying he was ‘fine’.

And yet…

“But I’m fine, mom, don’t worry. I didn’t actually explain, did I? Pudding-chan is the girl I’m going to marry. She’s the Emperor Big Mom’s daughter but she’s very cute and very sweet. I might introduce her to you one day…” Or maybe he wouldn’t. He wasn’t so sure he’d even want his real family here—never mind a girl he met once, no matter how nice she was. He supposed time would tell.

As he tried to reach for his cigarettes, Sanji was suddenly reminded of the picnic basket in his hand. He blinked a few times, his gaze dropping to stare blankly at the small woven carrier, wondering how the hell he had managed to forget the most important thing, and he chuckled awkwardly.

“Ah, I hate talking about myself. But—” he paused, fumbling with the basket to pull out the items inside. “I brought you something. You know, I… After I ran away from here, I became a cook. A real, first-rate chef thanks to the shitty old man. My dad—you know, my actual dad—taught me everything I know so my cooking is actually real damn good. So…”

Sanji set the basket carefully on the ground, placing a small black, lacquered box in front of the grave before slowly opening it to reveal the carefully arranged contents of the lunch box—scrambled eggs, grilled fish, bread, and banana flambé.

“Do you remember? I made this for you once. Messed up real bad too. Then I dropped it and it got soaked in the rain, turning it completely inedible,” Sanji said with a genuine laugh. “I still remember Epony’s face when she tasted it.” He was sure he would never forget the face that twisted with disgust and pain from the awful, downright horrible, amount and mix of spices.

Shaking his head, he continued, “I know what I’m doing now though, so I added some bread and vegetables to make it actually feel like a meal,” Sanji pointed out, gesturing to the freshly baked bread that was hopefully still warm, as well as the carrots, radishes, and cucumbers cut and carefully styled into flowers. “Also here—” he added, turning back to the picnic basket to pull out the wine glass and a bottle of the best damn red wine he could find in Yonji’s shittily supplied wine cellar, pouring a perfectly measured glass for her with practiced ease.

A soft smile was still playing on his lips when he spoke his next words. “I know last time I did a terrible job but I—thank you for saying it was delicious back then.”

—————

Reiju wasn't sure how long she was standing behind one of the trees in the overgrown garden that had turned into a park around their mother's grave, waiting for Sanji. She wasn't sure… but she didn't really care. It had been thirteen years since she had helped Sanji escape from this place, thirteen years of Sanji living his own life like he was meant to. She was sure he had a lot to tell their mom, a lot to share about the East Blue, about Straw Hat, and about his friends.

For a while, Reiju wondered whether she should tell him they had come for him… but with Sanji's kindness, he would end up blaming himself for putting them in danger. And Sanji didn't deserve that; not when he was already being put through this foolish marriage plan of their father's.

And so, Reiju didn’t say anything; didn’t say anything when they met, didn’t say anything on their walk here, and she wouldn’t say anything later either.

For now… she would simply let him talk to mom as much as he wanted to and she would be there for him as long as she could throughout this whole mess, looking for a chance to let him escape again, just like she did years ago. After all, the cuffs on his wrist weren’t going to explode and on the off chance that Straw Hat would make it all the way to the very heart of Totto Land, there wouldn’t be any reason for him to stay—as long as Reiju could make sure the hostages in the East Blue were kept safe and as long as Sanji’s kindness didn’t keep him chained to Germa and this family.

Reiju waited for Sanji for a long time, left only with her thoughts and the faint sounds of their soldiers training. There really was nowhere to escape the military aspect in this kingdom, was there?

Shaking her head to make herself focus, Reiju quickly put her usual smile on her lips—the one that showed nothing of her real thoughts, one practiced to perfection over the long years of living with her father and brothers—before she turned to face Sanji once more as he approached her.

“Told her everything you wanted to?” Reiju asked, not commenting on the vulnerable expression on her brother’s face.

“Yeah,” Sanji replied quietly. 

His eyes dropped downwards then and briefly, Reiju wondered whether he was hiding from her. But then he reached inside the picnic basket, pulling out a second, smaller lunch box and handed it to her wordlessly.

Reiju blinked. Her gaze fell to the box she was holding, then turned back to Sanji, who only gestured with his chin, prompting her to open it.

With a huff, Reiju carefully lifted the lid, peeking inside curiously… and soon, the corners of her mouth twitched upwards, her smile widening into a rare genuine, happy one. “Apple tarts?” she asked as if she couldn’t see them. “I can’t believe you remembered I like apples.”

“A good chef takes note and remembers their customers’ favorites,” Sanji noted with a shrug as if it were obvious.

And maybe it was, if this were any other family. But with the Vismokes… Reiju was used to no one besides Cosette even remembering she was deathly allergic to peanuts. After all, as long as it didn’t affect her battle performance, what did it matter?

“Thank you,”  Reiju whispered.

“Yeah.” Sanji nodded, then paused, seemingly mulling over his words—or maybe looking for them. “Thank you, too.”

Reiju didn’t reply. She simply picked up one of the little tarts in her lunch box, taking a bite.

She had never tasted an apple so sweet.

#one piece #sanji #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sora #reiju #vinsmoke reiju #fluff #hurt/comfort #family #zines #zine stuff #katie pretends to fic #blonds zine #idk what to say here i'm so tired ararf

[aplaceinthedark]

chapter eleven: JUST wouldn't STAY DOWN

Summary: Down in the Shenandoah Valley, there lay a court consisting of the Grim, the Drowned, the Witch and the Watcher.

CW: supernatural themes, mentions of vehicular accident, mentions of motorcycle accident, religious sacrifice, ptsd, large canines, bodily injury, body horror, graphic violence, religious trauma, blood, witchcraft

Every chapter will have a different cw section. This is Bad Omens rpf, so obviously I don't know all the little nuances of the members or their family members.

A/N: Some things are color-coded. If any of you are colorblind lemme know. 

I tried to relax the best way I knew how: playing with the cats. When that didn't work, I tried staying still on my bed, but the scent of Nick was still ingrained in my sheets.

“Lyds, why am I so useless?” I asked, less to the calico and more to myself.

My only response was the sound of cat paws hitting the wooden floor. Great, even they were abandoning me. I sat up, watching Lydia move towards the dresser that was still pulled away from the wall. The lock box still discarded near it—

But not empty.

I scooted off the bed and picked it up. In his haste to take out whatever had been it, Noah didn't scoop out some papers that had stuck to the bottom.

It looked like notes, like mine, but attached to it was a page from a book, or maybe a handbook:

"Beyond the conceptual or abstract, it is an existence born of darkness and light, manifesting in every corner of our world. This Divine Power cannot be wielded or controlled by humankind, but merely channeled through distinct means. The greatest way to channel Divine Power is to become a Vessel for the Truth.

To become a proper Vessel, one must be completely open to receive the Truth. To be open, one must be empty: all unnecessary thoughts and emotions must be cast aside in a process called Hollowing. Hollowing occurs at the end of one's journey to seek Truth.

Once the Hollowing is complete and one has become an Empty Vessel the Truth may then fill that void using the Ritual of Cleromancy. Those filled with the Truth are fully enlightened, a receptacle of knowledge and Divine Power. Imbuement is the greatest privilege for those who seek the Truth, as all who journey strive to reach this peak."

And then on the paper, written in a small, clipped handwriting:

"RITUAL OF CLEROMANCY = STAB SOMEONE IN THE GUT"

God, even back then Noah was a blunt bastard.

I shook the lockbox, thinking something else might've gotten stuck, and I was rewarded with something metallic and small dropping out of the box. It bounced, and Jerry scrambled to chase it, batting at it with his paws. I quickly retrieved it before he would try and chew on it.

It was a small ear spacer, almost the size of a stud. It had to be Nick's, from when he started to stretch his lobes.

That's when I heard noises from the other side of the house “Taylor?” I heard Folio call.

“Coming!” I scrambled up and out of my room. I ran to my living room where—

"What the fuckin' hell?” I shouted.

Folio’s hands and mouth were coated in blood, but Noah was almost drenched head to toe in it. He had shed his shirt and jacket, and this close I could make out the pattern of symbols tattooed from his collarbones to his hips. And despite his human appearance, the branch-like antlers were present.

“Like what you see?" Noah asked after popping his jaw, a sound like several twigs snapping accompanying the motion.

I was too grossed out to be angry at his comment. “What the fuck did you guys do to him?”

“Interrogated,” Folio said, grinning. God, his fangs were dripping blood still.

"When you said bloody, I didn't think this much—“

“There's a lot of blood in a human body,” Noah said, wiping his bloody mouth with the back of his hand, which didn't do much since that was covered in blood as well.

I swallowed. Surprisingly I didn't feel like throwing up. “Did you at least get something out of the guy?”

“Well, we definitely got his intes—“

Noah smacked Folio upside the head, earning a small growl. “No location, but Jolly's working on that. But we got the reason behind all this.”

“Between all the screaming," Folio added.

“They’re going to try and resurrect the old Watcher, so they can go back to the old ways. And since it’s not one of the Days of Power, they’re using a practitioner for the Ritual,” Noah said. “They were going to use Granny, but they took Nick when he showed up unexpectedly.”

My vision started spinning. The Ritual. “Cleromancy,” I muttered.

“How did you—“

“You left some stuff behind,” I said. My legs felt too heavy to move, so I couldn’t get the handbook page. “We have to find him. I can’t…”

I couldn’t lose Nick. Not after I’ve lost so much already.

“Is there a way we could speed up the locating process? Jolly only has maybe eight hours, and has fifty miles to cover,” Folio said.

“If you know another way, I’m all ears dude.”

My eyes fell on my coffee table while they conversed. Amongst the papers we had abandoned last night, the little red string stood out like a fresh wound.

"What if we get separated?"

"This helps with that as well. Unless you'd rather I hold your hand the entire way?"

I don’t know why I threaded the string through the ear spacer, nor why I tied the string around my wrist. I wasn’t a practitioner, nor a witch. Was it a good luck charm? A pathetic excuse to connect to Nick? It wasn’t even that great of a job, since I did it one-handed.

Except I felt a spark of… something.

It started as a warmth in my chest and head, where my near-healed head wound was. It moved to my hand, where the metal spacer heated up and felt like it would sear my skin. I hissed in surprise and pain, pulling the spacer away, but there was no mark on my skin.

“The fuck are you doing over there?”

I turned around at Noah’s voice. He looked annoyed but curious at what I was doing. When I turned though, the metal cooled down. I turned back, and the metal heated up again.

“I think I just unintentionally casted a location spell.”

“So when did you learn how to practice?” Noah asked.

“I didn't. It just… I don't know,” I said, sighing.

This trek through the woods was a lot faster, even though I kept tripping and falling, due to not having Nick keeping me upright. At one point Noah suggested Folio carry me on his back, even going so far as to call it a “furry piggyback ride” after we refused the first time. Needless to say, we refused again.

I couldn't feel angry at him. Just… pity, I guess. “You got serious anger issues then. Probably should see a therapist about that,” I stated.

Unfortunately, Folio ran on ahead to scout the area in front of us, with Noah acting as the middle man if we had to change directions because of the terrain. Which left me with the man who just this morning had me pinned to the wall by my neck.

“So how long?” I asked. Noah made an inquisitive grunting noise. “How long did you have feelings for him?”

Noah was silent for a while, almost making me think he wasn't going to dignify me with a response, until he finally spoke, “Not too long before shit went down, actually. We… bonded a little after we watched Folio get killed.”

“Bonded? Is that a euphemism for–”

“No, get your mind out of the gutter,” Noah snapped. “We kissed once, okay? After i lost my mom, I stayed over a lot. Nick wasn't into it, and I respected that. We stayed friends, and I got a girlfriend soon after.”

“Elin?”

“God, don't fucking remind me. That bitch deserved her fate,” Noah growled. The thought of what that fate probably was had me pushing through another several moments of tense silence.

“You didn't get over him, did you?” I asked quietly.

“I did, in fact. When I was in service to the original Watcher as the Towering Man,” Noah said with a bitter laugh. “Being over six feet tall was a curse in school, and the Watcher just loved to rub my face in it.

“I would wait for Nick to realize that I wasn't dead; that I was right outside in the woods behind his house. Nick used to search the woods after the search parties gave up, turns out. I thought he had just given up. So I left, and didn't see him until the next Summer Solstice.

“I guess seeing him with you… brought back old wounds. And I acted on them.”

Noah was about to respond when he suddenly crouched down, pushing me down with him. “You see that fire?” He hissed.

We crept up on the scene before us. It was… horrifying. That was the only way I could describe it, but even then, it felt inadequate. It looked exactly how I’d imagine a cult would look like: dark clearing, candles, an altar.

I could only count ten members. They all wore black cloaks, and black masks that mimicked a deer’s skull and antlers. They all stood in pairs, except one who stood before a tall effigy made of thick branches, twigs, vines and leaves. And tied that effigy, in some kind of terrifying mockery of the crucifixion, was Nick.

I had to clamp my hand over my mouth to middle the sound of my choked sob. From this distance, I couldn’t see if he was alive or not; just that he was covered in blood.

“What do we do now?” I asked.

“Wait for Jolly to lure them to the river. He's not far,” Noah said.

My stomach churned when I looked back at Nick. A part of me wanted to rush the cultists and get him down, but I knew with my disabled hip I wouldn't be able to take on ten people who may or may not have something to stab me with. At least one person had to if they were going to try to sacrifice Nick.

Just then, one of the cultists brought out a small drum, starting to tap out a rhythm that was simple but loud. I could compare it to what my heartbeat felt like.

The one that was closest to Nick, who stood out amongst the others because their mask’s antlers were blood-red instead of black like the others, held up a hand. “We will now drink from the Cup of Fate,” the leader called out.

“Come on, Jolly. Any second now,” Noah hissed from behind me.

“Our words uttered into the formless void.”

“Our words uttered…” the cultists parroted back.

“Reverberate through the space between space, between space.”

The rhythmic beating of the drum and the smell of smoke was almost hypnotizing. More so than the one time I heard Jolly’s guitar playing…

“We are heard by THAT WHICH WATCHES OVER US, so it may lift one heavy, eager eye in our direction.”

“You don’t think they have the drum to dispel Jolly’s song, do you?” I whispered to Noah.

“We are heard by those who shall always be nameless—“

“Fuckin’… shit!” Noah cursed.

“—whose incorporeal arms reach for us—“

“Alright, Folio, get in there.”

“—uniting us in unbodied observance, until we are heard no—“

The chant was cut off by the sound of a long howl. The drum stopped, and when the howl faded, I could hear the sound of a guitar and a clear voice singing:

“If God came down from His kingdom; He came down from His home, and we asked Him if He would take us back, He would surely tell us no.”

Noah had warned me of Jolly's songs, which was why I brought some small ear plugs that blocked out certain frequencies. It just so happened to block out any siren-esque frequencies as well.

What they didn't block out was the absolute chaos that came next.

They didn't block out the sounds of creaking wood and snapping branches behind me as Noah shifted into his other form. They didn't block out the sounds of Folio’s paws thundering through the forest, nor his snarls. They didn’t block out the screams as some people were ripped apart by Folio’s jaws. I had to block it all out myself.

I looked up as Noah’s deformed shadow fell over me. He looked down at me through a deer’s skull, which from this angle, I could see was melded to his face. His large, glowing white eyes pierced the darkness.

GET TO NICK.

I didn't need to be told twice.

As Noah loped towards the remaining cultists, I bolted towards Nick as fast as I was able to. I almost slammed face-first into the effigy when I skidded to a stop, but I caught myself by digging my fingers into the cracks between the sticks. The carnage behind me was still unfolding, even as I heard Noah unleash an unearthly shriek. Using a small pocket knife to cut Nick’s legs free, I soon had to climb the effigy to free his wrists.

That's when I heard a small noise come from him. I pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat and his chest rise and fall. I almost collapsed in relief. “Nick? Nick, hold on. We're gonna get you out of here,” I sputtered, moving my hand to cup the side of his face. His eyes fluttered open at the touch. They looked drained of color in the dim light.

“Hey, you’re gonna be alright, okay? I’m gonna get you out of here,” I repeated, trying to keep him conscious. “I'm gonna cut this one rope, and I'll try to catch you, but we might take a fall–"

I had cut through the rope, finally freeing him, and Nick started to slide down. I managed to catch him, but I couldn't compensate for the near-dead weight in time. As my footing slipped, I tried to catch us by grabbing onto the effigy. The wood tore my hands up. I hissed in pain, but held on for dear life; more for his and less for mine.

My feet touched the ground, followed by Nick's. Luckily he was only half a foot taller than me, because otherwise this would've gotten awkward as I wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

I searched wildly for Noah. Thankfully, he was easy to spot. I got him!! I screamed out into the ether in his direction.

GO! RUN!

Just then, a dark force barreled into me, launching me and tearing Nick from my arms. As I landed on my bad hip, a visceral scream of pain tore up my throat. In my dazed state, I barely saw the same force kick me with what seemed to be supernatural strength, as I heard bones crack as I flew several feet away and landed on my back.

“You who are empty, I shall guide your step. Lo, though you envy, envy not. Lo, though you covet, covet not.”

Despite the agonizing pain in my side, I managed to turn myself over onto my stomach. Vision spinning, I was able to find Nick, who had managed to push himself up onto his elbows. I started to pull myself toward him.

“You who are empty, I shall see through your eyes. Lo, though you toil, toil only for me. Lo, though you suffer, suffer only for me.”

A strong hand grabbed the back of my skull, tearing some of my hair out from its bun and my scalp. The pain was dulled, thanks to the adrenaline. The voice that hissed in my ear was the same voice as the leader.

“You who are empty, I shall be with you and within you. You who are empty, you shall want no longer.”

He suddenly let me go, a wave of dizziness and fog overcoming me as I collapsed back to the ground, face smashing into the hard ground. I groaned into the pavement as the adrenaline faded, and my entire left side felt like it had been scorched. I couldn’t feel my legs.

I sucked in a deep breath, though it hurt my chest to do so, and shifted my head to where my cheek was pressed against the hot asphalt. Someone’s headlights illuminated the entire crash scene, but my eyes immediately fell upon a masculine body that was several feet away, blue-gray eyes fixed on me. Eyes that pleaded for me.

I forced my body to move, even if it was just my arms. I clawed at the blacktop, my weak strength barely getting me off the street, and I barely felt the twinge as my fingernails split and broke.

YOU CAN'T SAVE HIM.

Yes, yes I could. If my stupid body would just cooperate–

YOU ARE WEAK.

Why wasn't I moving?

YOU ARE EMPTY.

No. Not this again.

My brother was dying. Again.

And I was being forced to watch. Again.

Fuck, everything hurt.

Everything was hazy as well, like the whole day was spent underwater. Nicholas tried to think of the last thing he remembered clearly. Having sex with Taylor? That was practically so ingrained into his brain, he’d never forget about that in a million years. Noah being angry and yelling at him about Taylor having sex with Taylor? Yeah, that was pretty much ingrained into him as well. Driving to his grandmother's house, going through the front door, and then… That's where his memories took a nosedive.

He practically existed in a halfway state, up until now. Small flashes of consciousness here and there was all he had. He had tried to reach out to the Woods to try and gain some energy back, but he couldn’t, so whoever had him must've drugged him or bound his inner power. He felt like a battery whose insides were slowly leaking.

Except he could sense a little spark he couldn't quite reach.

It was like it only existed in the corner of Nicholas’ vision; whenever he would look directly at it, it would disappear. When he looked away, it would appear again. It felt familiar, the little golden light, like it was a friend—

Oh, that's what it was. The fact that they were still holding onto it was surprising to him. Maybe they did share the same feelings after all.

He had coaxed the little spark closer and closer, weaving his practice into suggestions that would lead them to him, until he could almost touch it. Except when was right in front of him, he couldn't. Why couldn't he take it? It was his, after all.

“--? Nick, hold on.”

With the sound of a familiar voice, Nicholas roused to a state of semi-consciousness, but that meant the spark vanished, leaving him in the dark once again. Except now he could feel. And everything hurt.

He felt his body let out a small noise of pain. “Hey, you're gonna be alright.” A warm hand touched his face, and he was so shocked at the feeling of something not painful that his eyes slowly opened. His vision took awhile to clear up while a slightly feminine voice kept speaking. Large brown eyes swam into view. Noah?

No, Taylor. “I'm gonna cut this one rope, and I'll try to catch you, but we might take a fall–”

He couldn't hear the rest because he was too focused on the feeling of gravity pulling him down. It quickly stopped, but not before someone let out a noise of pain. He then felt his feet touch solid ground, and Taylor took all of his weight onto themselves.

Except then he was flying again - no, falling. Everything hurt more when Nicholas felt his body connect with a hard surface, almost knocking him out again, but that darkness went away when an ear piercing shriek roused him more to consciousness.

Taylor. Taylor was hurt.

Nicholas pushed himself up and looked through the curtain of his tangled and bloody hair. He managed to see Taylor, saw their eyes connect with his, until a shadow descended over them. All he saw of their attacker was blood-red antlers, and his heart dropped.

He screamed in pain and terror and anger as he launched to his feet. He managed to land a swing despite being drunk on pain and blood loss. The figure, this new leader of the cult, stumbled backwards, and then a long, branch-like arm snagged him and threw him further away.

Nicholas fell to his knees next to Taylor. “Tay?” he shouted, rolling them over. “Taylor!” Their brown eyes were wide, unseeing, but he could feel their pulse beating frantically under his fingers. They would jerk and moan occasionally, like they were experiencing a nightmare. They were under some malediction.

“Maledictions are just what we call dark practice,” Granny had told Nicholas several years ago, when he was just starting to learn the practice. “These are mostly spells that are used to hurt people, like a curse or what ordinary people might call a hex.”

Nicholas looked up at the sound of a roar that used to haunt his nightmares.

Despite facing two paranormal entities, the cult leader was somehow still standing. It was almost like watching the fight between Noah and the Black Stag all those years ago. But that meant there was only one way to defeat the Stag, if he really was possessing the cult leader. Just like last time.

And to save Taylor from the Hollowing, he’d have to kill the Vessel the only way he could.

“That sounds intense,” Nicholas had replied that night with Granny. “Have you ever done a dark spell like this?”

“No,” Granny had replied, “they can steal something from the practitioner. You might not even feel it, but the malediction can take something from you. The darker the malediction, the bigger the sacrifice.”

Using what little of his inner power he had left, Nicholas scooped a handful of dirt and rubbed it between his palms. “Come denizens of the dark earth, banish the evil and let it be no more,” he muttered into his hands. He then ran and jumped onto the Vessel’s back, earning a surprised, unearthly shriek. He wrapped his hands around the man’s throat, digging his now-black fingers into the soft flesh.

YOU CANNOT KILL US.

“No, but we can stop you. And we’ll keep stopping you from coming back, again and again, until you finally give up,” Nicholas hissed into the Vessel’s ear.

WE WILL NEVER GIVE UP, FOR WE ARE THE VERY BEST AT WAITING.

“Then you can wait in Hell, motherfucker.”

Nicholas squeezed his fingers tighter around the Vessel's throat, speaking the spell he had learned those several years ago, despite being warned of the consequences. “May the righteous triumph over he who walks the untrue path. With this sacrifice, I bind your suffering. May you eternally wither.”

And under Nicholas’ fingers, the cult leader began to rot away, until nothing was left except the wet slap of skin and bone hitting the ground.

Nicholas looked up at Noah, who was shifting into his humanoid form. He could hear Folio limping towards them, and could hear Jolly’s song fading, meaning that they were all okay. All his family was safe.

He turned to look at Taylor, who was stirring to life. Nicholas let go of the cloak, breathing out a sigh of relief as the last scraps of his essence slipped away.

And everything went black.

Tysm for reading! Next chapter coming soon!

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens rpf #bad omens au #noah sebastian fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #jolly karlsson fanfiction #nick folio fanfiction #horror au #paranormal au #tag: non binary character #fic: lost in the labyrinth #series: lost in the labyrinth #cw: supernatural themes #cw: vehicular accident #cw: motorcycle accident #cw: religious sacrifice #cw: ptsd #cw: wolves #cw: bodily injury #cw: body horror #cw: graphic violence #cw: religious trauma #cw: blood #cw: witchcraft

[nexstage]

Something that got me curious about the whole deal Zuko and Iroh have with the concept of destiny is how ingrained in their minds it is concerning stuff that they believe must be theirs at any cost or it is theirs from the start because they feel it or say so despite the evidence against such sentiment or how questionable it is. And that got me wondering: what if it was a family thing? And well, I rewatched a fragment of The Avatar and the Firelord episode because I wanted to know if this destiny stuff had started during the several years before Sozin and Roku met each other again. Guess what? It did happen during that time or that is what Sozin’s dialogue implied: “I've been thinking hard about the state of the world lately.” Lately as in the several years before Roku’s return? Or lately as in the time it took Roku to ask Ta Min to marry him until the talk they had during the wedding party? Anyway, Sozin had been thinking and that’s where “destiny” comes into play: “Right from the start, I was destined to be Fire Lord. And although we didn't always know it, you were destined to be the Avatar. It's an amazing stroke of fate we know each other so well, isn't it?”

With that mentality, Sozin believed it was also destiny to expand the Fire Nation, to “share their prosperity with the world” and that both best friends had this great future handed to them until Roku refused to be part on his delusions of power.

Other thing that is interesting is that even when Sozin had been thinking lately about such destiny, maybe there was an external influence that pushed him toward it, like his father’s teachings or words, or the greatness of former Fire Lords and what they had accomplished to make him believe world domination was his “destiny call” to make history.

Still, this context is super intriguing because it puts more weight into this mindset that we’ve seen on Zuko and Iroh. It’s not just reaching the top and make your mark on the world, it’s also like a family tradition. Though, while it was both of them for Iroh, for Zuko, destiny was tied to his self-worth too. Beyond the typical entitlement of a prince, there was also this high value his father had put on concepts like power, strength, dominance that were deeply connected to being a ruler, to be on the throne, and concerning the throne, that was also on a high pedestal. Heck, Ozai even created a new throne by naming himself the Phoenix King because he believed that was his destiny. So, when Zuko was stripped from his title and banished, his destiny AKA the throne, was taken away from him. No destiny means you were worthless or you screwed up so big you didn’t deserve to be close to what you have been told should be yours as long as you showed your power.

The same happens with the concept of honor, Zuko thought he was trying to restore it but in the end chasing Aang was just to please Ozai and get his love and approval. Honor and destiny are tied to his self-worth and this imaginary path he had paved in his head: getting his honor back means he finally did something right and he’s not a failure anymore, fulfilling his destiny means he has reached his true potential and is not a worthless excuse of a prince but someone worthy of the throne that is the embodiment of that potential.

The problem is that this attachment is not only unhealthy but also dangerous. Nor the show or the comics push Zuko to understand and come terms to with the fact that the throne is his not because of destiny but because of how the family inheritance structure works: if you are the firstborn, you will rule, if you aren’t, you won’t. And in very rare ocasions, if there were in ancient times, if the firstborn died on birth or childhood, another baby would have to take their place. Oh, but let’s not forget that he wasn’t even on the list, it was Lu Ten until he died on the Siege of Ba Sing Se and then Ozai schemed against Iroh and killed his own father to steal Iroh’s birthright, so Zuko’s case can be categorized as a special one of brother’s treachery and power usurpation.

Besides, by putting so much focus on destiny as this grand treasure that “he oh-so-rightfully deserves” it takes away the real struggles he had to endure to make sure the country is ruled appropriately. Sure, he was shown determined to restore the world with Aang after the war as a Fire Lord, but the comics have made him regressed a lot on character development making him incredibly entitled, abrasive, harsh, making poor decisions in politics, and arrogant by talking about how the throne is his and that’s law, blah, blah, blah. Though, to be a bit positive about how the comics portrayed Zuko, I have to say that they make him look like an ATLA version of Democles.

Have you ever heard of Sword of Democles story? He and the king, Dyonisius, swapped places and Democles starts enjoying the luxury and glamour of a king’s life, thinking that royalty is only that. He couldn’t have been more wrong because above the throne was a sword hanging by a single hair of a horse’s tail to depict the crude reality of being a king: facing multiple enemies and dangers that could eliminate him to take his throne.

Did Zuko have a sword hanging over his throne by a single hair? Technically, no. And symbolically, the comics made sure he was untouchable or that he got out of any trouble without confronting him with hard questions and realities in regards of always thinking the throne is his destiny instead of a duty based on loyalty to his people or how warped his sense of worth is by tying it to power. And honestly, with all the backlash I’ve read toward the comics, I doubt Zuko will be faced with such challenges.

#zuko critical #atla meta #the avatar and the firelord #atla comics critical #destiny this destiny that when will it be the time to address that this destiny is a warped sense of worth #heck even Eda from The Owl House knows destiny and chosen one stuff are cheap ways to feel special #Oh I forgot to mention Azula “divine right to rule” piece of dialogue #well I think she was talking with some spiritual knowledge she might have learned on the FN library

[themetalvirus]

Hypothetically speaking (since with how deeply he's ingrained the whole "my dad can do no wrong" mentality, him leaving it is going to be damn near impossible), what would a redeemed Egghog Sonic look like? How drastically would his behavior and identity change, given he'd basically have to start from scratch with how viciously Eggman stunted him emotionally and mentally?

oh man oh man oh man when i first got this question it sparked so much inspiration i had to go downstairs and pace around for an hour

i usually am not a fan of AUs branching off of other AUs but... this was almost a thing! when i first started thinking about egghogs, i wasn't sure whether sonic would be doomed from the start or if he could somehow be strongarmed into changing. some of this comes from that era of the story where i was still figuring out how it would end... i just think it's interesting thinking about him being "redeemed". because he wouldn't start fighting for the side of good, he'd spend the rest of his life just trying to make sense of what happened to him.

one of the endings i came up with initially was him coming out of his triple-hyper form exhausted and injured. the intensity of his transformation collapsed eggman's lair around him. his brothers hustle over to help him and patch him up (despite him just trying to overwrite the universe). despite everything he's still family and they love him dearly. amy tries to walk over and help, but sonic growls at her animalistically, pupils pinning and ears flat on his head. it is a very clear nonverbal Don't Fucking Touch Me.

but she's the one with the first aid kit. so she has to kind of toss it over to the boys, and sonic seems incredibly apprehensive about accepting any help from amy, direct or indirect. he's wary of the supplies, but in his condition, he has no choice but to let his brothers patch him up with the enemy's gauze. they end up hauling him over to tails' place, and he is NOT happy about it. he says to amy directly that as soon as he gets the chance he is going to find her and kill her. shadow is like ok edgelord lets get you to the cot

i don't think sonic would start from scratch. he can't. he's been affected too deeply by his experiences. the process of him even accepting that eggman hurt him takes an agonizingly long time, and it's made worse by amy overstepping and trying to play therapist. she tells him over and over, your dad hurt you, you are traumatized, you've been abused, and he isn't in a place to hear that. it feels like accusations. it feels like she's telling him that he's wrong, his whole self, it's all wrong. it makes his anger flare up violently.

he thinks that he must have done something to deserve what eggman did, and even then, he can't accept that what eggman did was hurting him at all, let alone intended to hurt.

the bitterness of seeing his brothers thriving and happy without him feels even worse now that he's with them, experiencing what's been making them so happy. but he comes around, he starts participating in silly games and movie night and starts to sit down at dinner instead of hiding away to eat, and it's all to spend time with his bros.

they have to reintroduce him to other people slowly, like letting two cats sniff each other through a door and share meals on different sides of a grate. eating adjacent to amy or tails or knuckles or the chaotix, sitting safely between silver and shadow. playing split screen mario kart and letting tails watch. training together like old times, except they have to take turns with other members of the resistance. it breaks down sonic's tough shell little by little.

once sonic starts being (very cautiously) neutral instead of actively hostile, people start feeling more comfortable doing nice things for him. sending him memes, getting him surprise clown-related trinkets they know he'd love, maybe even getting him some new funky clothes because they thought of him. he doesn't know how to feel about this, doesn't know how to accept gestures like this, but shadow and silver have been through the same learning curve and help him through it. the strange feeling of belonging starts to grow stronger.

he starts to get more comfortable. he wasn't getting new hurts, but something was still making him ache.

i don't know what would do this, what would finally crack through that thick wall of self-protection and brainwashing, but there's a very sudden and abrupt realization that eggman hurt him. eggman was making him hurt. the thought of him made him upset. i imagine he would just cry. he would feel the weakest he's ever felt in his whole life, the most broken, the most small. maybe it's finally experiencing safety that makes him realize just how unsafe he was.

i truly don't think he'd be all gung-ho about being good. he'd just... i don't know. waste away in his room and feel Bad for a bunch of years. self-isolate to hell and back to avoid pain and thus cause his extroverted heart even more pain. then, i dunno, he'd run around and try to keep himself entertained, meet new people. but he wouldn't work to fix his mistakes like shadow and silver would; i don't think he'd ever take full responsibility for his actions. but he'd avoid being a fucked up little evil guy as to not hurt more people. and he would try his best not to think about his little "evil phase", put it out of mind. he's sonic. he suppresses, and he keeps barreling forward.

i think the best anyone could hope for is him just running around and seeing the world and going to carnivals and jumping out of planes and eating a bunch of food. not doing good, not saving people. just thrill seeking and self fulfillment without the violence or industrial expansion. he'd never fully emotionally mature, but he'd at least be happy and mostly harmless.

too bad that's not how he actually turns out.

#exoticbutterstxt #the egghogs #discussion of #abuse #cuz this is egghogs u know its about to get fucked up and sad baybee #(sorry)

[gloomforrestrunes]

man I could write a whole essay about how runes reminds me of the saying "blood is thicker than water" because at first you hear that and think this is about blood relations and how that's the most important, however in reality the "water" in the saying is the water of the womb, meaning family bonds. the full saying is "The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb" meaning that chosen bonds are more significant then birth ones. the whole journey of the misconception is really what reminds me of runes. how the characters think to put so much power on who is related to who, and what that relation can give to you. the characters in runes who have bled with each other cried with each other will always be more important then you biologically gave birth to you. because those who you've bled with are really who birthed you not just your body.

YES YESSS YOU GET IT YOU UNDERSTAND ME

such a big thing in runes is how important those chosen bonds are, especially when relations that are inherently tied to you at birth are abusive and cruel. the concept that blood relation is more important than chosen bonds is a belief so ingrained in light realm society specifically. the ancestors just cannot stand the fact that laxo is worth a million times more to kane than the generations that came before him and the royal bloodline he's supposed to continue. which makes it extremely hard for him to willingly reach out and pick the roses, because what if they're right? what if the thorns do prick him, and he was foolish all along for listening to his heart rather than the all-powerful voice of the gods?

in the other cast's cases, while blood relation may not be as important as it is to kane's arc there's still an element of the character's being able to choose their own bonds and be independent being looked down upon

kenta isn't supposed to know anything other than her training, anything other than the war ahead of her, and how dare she think about her days away from the dark realm wistfully and with yearning

maya's conflict is largely internal but i think this still applies. she doesn't trust herself to forge new bonds due to things that happened in her past. she sees herself as inherently unlovable and irredeemable and forces herself to choose isolation, no matter how miserable it makes her and how much she desperately yearns connection

and of course there's laxo. how can he expect to act normally with someone else when all he's known for so long is nex? he's so used to being in such a hostile environment that anything other than that is scarier. it hurts, but its predictable. its routine. how can he trust himself to choose anything different? how can he trust anyone else to not be the same as nex?

and yet... despite everything, they all find each other. in one way or another, they find each other and laugh and cry and love so fully and so completely. of course it isnt easy, they're all complicated people with flaws and issues that cannot go unresolved. but that hope is there, and they can see it in every smile, longing glance, shoulder touch, and stargaze. and the most important part is that, ultimately, they allowed themselves to choose.

#feeling sentimental on the runes blog this morning fellas (almost 1 am) #ask #analysis #kane aera #kenta paxon #maya silvia #laxo paxon #sopjies

[laceratedlamiaceae]

Vulnerability in OFMD

I've been thinking a lot about vulnerability in Our Flag Means Death. The TL;DR is "choosing to be vulnerable is good, usually," which isn't really groundbreaking but the way it's done is interesting. I'm intentionally going to conflate physical and emotional vulnerability, because I think the show does it too. A lot of this has been said before, but I wanted to put it all in one place. Looooong post below:

Stede was taught from a young age that vulnerability was bad, by his bullies and his father, so he learned not to show it. As an adult, his tentative attempts to express himself are shut down (see all the flashbacks in episode four), and when Mary tries reaching out to him ("I know you're unhappy; I'm unhappy too"), he's had the fear of vulnerability so ingrained in him that he can't allow himself to be honest with her.

In the first three episodes, he's frequently made vulnerable (getting captured, running into Izzy, getting stabbed by the Spanish), but it's always forced upon him, not something he chooses. He meets Ed at his most vulnerable, having been stabbed and nearly hanged, and Ed saves him--I wouldn't be surprised if that was one of the first times someone saw him vulnerable and didn't use it to hurt him.

Despite that, he still can't be vulnerable with Ed (or anyone else). He tries, briefly, in episode four (when Ed asks him if he ever feels like he's treading water), but then Ed interrupts him and he gives up. Most obviously, he spends hours with a sword literally inside of him pretending that he's fine. In the end, he doesn't tell Ed how he feels about leaving his family, or that he doesn't (entirely) want to run away together. I imagine a big part of his arc in season two is going to be overcoming that.

Ed hasn't been vulnerable in a long time; he craves it, but can't have it because everyone sees him as Blackbeard (except Izzy, who hates vulnerability). We don't see much of what his life is like before he meets Stede, but he complains to Izzy that he doesn't have to risk his life in raids anymore; I think that speaks to a desire for vulnerability, in some way.

When he meets Stede, he finally has someone he can be vulnerable with. From the very beginning, Ed puts himself out there--he tells Stede all about his boredom and frustration pretty much as soon as they meet. I won't list it all out here, but he literally lets Stede stab him; it's hard to get more vulnerable than that, and he does later in that episode when he tells Stede about killing his father.

In episode ten, after having a taste of what vulnerability can get him and then losing it, he tries desperately to get it back and he does that by dialing the vulnerability up to eleven. It kind of works, even if the crew is visibly uncomfortable at first, until Izzy shows him the downside of vulnerability: it makes it easy for people to hurt you. I was pretty confused by his total 180 at first, but it makes a lot of sense when you consider that he's probably never been hit where it hurts like that, at least not for a long time, and he has no idea how to handle it.

Izzy can't handle vulnerability at all. Like Stede, he never chooses to be vulnerable and every time he is put in a vulnerable position he reacts with fear, either freezing (Stede holding him at knifepoint, Lucius asking if he's ever been sketched) or fawning (Ed choking him and making him eat his own toe, the crew nearly throwing him overboard). When Ed tries to be vulnerable with him (and Ed is the only person who ever does), he shuts it down; he brushes off Ed's boredom in episode four and he rails against everything Ed's doing in episode ten. His aversion to vulnerability constantly makes him miserable but he's too afraid/un-self-aware to do anything about it. (just like me!)

If he's getting a "redemption arc" (imo he isn't bad enough for that term to apply, but that's the one people are using), I think it has to start with him confronting that fear. If he doesn't, I think he could be a good foil for Stede, illustrating what happens when you don't allow yourself to be vulnerable. As tragic as it would be, I think Izzy refusing to open up to vulnerability even when he's given the opportunity and ultimately dying/ending up sad and alone because of it would be a really poignant way to end his story, albeit kind of a downer and very cliché.

Lucius is the most willing to be vulnerable, and the most able to pull it off; Jim tries to kill him and they kiss him an episode later, and he literally tells Ed "You can stab me in the face now" and it works out for him. He serves as a model of the show's idea of what vulnerability should look like.

It's more interesting to look at the time Lucius isn't vulnerable: episode five, when Izzy is trying to blackmail him. Izzy saw he was vulnerable and wanted to take advantage of that, and he didn't let that happen. I think the point of that was to show that vulnerability isn't universally good; some people (Izzy) will use it to hurt you.

Overall, every time a character chooses to be vulnerable with another, their relationship improves. The obvious exception to that is Ed in episode ten, and I think the point of that is to hammer home that vulnerability doesn't always work; it isn't a coincidence that Izzy is involved both times this idea is brought up. Being forced into vulnerability is always portrayed as negative, which seems obvious but is worth noting. (as a sidenote, this is why I can't get into fics where Izzy is dragged kicking and screaming into being part of the crew; if he doesn't choose it himself it just feels wrong).

There's a lot more I could say about this--I didn't even touch on Jim and Oluwande, and I might in a later post--but this is already over 1,000 words and I think I have enough here to back up the idea that vulnerability is a big theme of the show. Specifically, the show is (in part) about how important it is to be vulnerable, which I think is a big part of the reason it's resonated with me and so many other people.

#our flag means death #ofmd #stede bonnet #edward teach #izzy hands #lucius spriggs #ofmd meta #long post

[gmanwhore]

Dark Chocolate headcanons:

Both live in Pietro's old house as it is the safest location for both of them and can be locked down if needed

They met each other towards the end of their respective intelligence gathering and book writing, and began living together shortly afterwards

Pseudonymous is still in touch with Cass, Yo-Yogi, and Clay, and while he isn't as active he is still a prominent member of the Terces society.

Lemony is of course still part of V.F.D. and as such he is often out doing tasks to help them. If one is safe enough or he needs backup he will bring Pseudonymous

Both are very physically and verbally affectionate, though Lemony is far more active in this respect. Pseudonymous usually just reciprocated.

They leave coded messages for each other so they stay sharp with the different coding techniques they need to use. Lemony taught Pseudonymous a few of the V.F.D. codes, but Pseudonymous still favours substitution ciphers and riddles.

They keep all of their research in a room full of filing cabinets (the most obvious ones are decoys, filled with false or unrelated files). The room is the most secure one in the house, with locks of all kinds and a special coded filing system only the two of them know.

Pseudonymous sometimes has spells where he just can't eat many foods other then cheese and chocolate which befuddles Lemony. During these they eat mostly fondue which satisfies both of them.

Lemony and Lorraine are wary of each other. It's less that Lemony doesn't like rabbits (he really stays away from most animals) but Lorraine is very agressive and it scares him. He's more or less fine with Pseudonymous' cat though

Despite Pseudonymous' best efforts he is unable to stop his friends/singular family member from finding and coming to their house. Lemony is very awkward around them. He's polite but their presence throws him off as he doesn't know them very well and it makes his ingrained trust issues so much worse

Pseudonymous is actually fairly good at typewriter matinence and repair, which is good since they both type a lot. He is just a little clumsy with putting the ink in and usually gets it all over his fingers

Lemony is subjected to a lot of magic tricks. He is even asked to be the assistant in some. He of course obliges, cheering Pseudonymous on he whole time

Speaking of that he is just praises Pseudonymous a lot. He puts this man on a pedestal and that makes Pseudonymous feel really good and Lemony does feel happy he can just love someone without worrying about what may happen to them

There are pictures of Beatrice around the house. Lemony can't help it. Pseudonymous doesn't mind, he has his own needs so he doesn't begrudge Lemony his.

Pseudonymous has him own room where he can be alone since Lemony can get a little clingy and my man needs his personal space. It is also where Lorraine's cage is.

#lemony snicket #pseudonymous bosch #pseudonymous x lemony #they are gay your honour

[fiveapocalypse]

Dolls are for girls.

Five discovers a revelation.

Since he was young, he had been told that dolls were for girls.

His nanny had said so when she bought him toy trucks and he asked why he couldn’t get the pretty barbie doll that Allison had.

His sister had vehemently refused to let him play with her dolls because she didn’t think he should, because he had his own toys, and Barbies were for girls like her.

Even his father had a hand in it, shoving his closets with the male academy uniform, ignoring or ostracizing any attempt at individuality that wasn’t his picture perfect team of superheroes.

For as long as he can remember, Five has been surrounded by rules. Rules that were arbitrary, rules that he never agreed with, that he was adamant on breaking just to show his siblings that there was light at the end of that dark tunnel they were all walking in.

But for as many rules as he broke, and for as many times that he was locked in closets, drugged so he couldn’t use his powers, as punishment for those breakings, Five could never find himself able to break the one rule that had ingrained itself into his mind.

Dolls are for girls.

He couldn’t understand why toys had a gender to play with. There was no logical concept behind why girls couldn’t love cars or why boys couldn’t enjoy easy bake ovens. Despite this, Five had adhered to the rules set out before him. He had never asked Allison to play with her dollhouse, he had never begged his mother to teach him how to cook, to make an apron for him so he could stand beside her, had never snuck into Allison’s room and stole her makeup.

He had done none of those things, for years—he had done none of those things.

And then he found himself stuck in the future.

The rules kept changing from there.

There was nothing in the apocalypse that defined him. He had no idea who he was, who he wasn’t. All he knew was that he needed to survive, and that to survive—having useless thoughts about dolls and trucks and make up would need to go. Five tried to push the ideas aside, to focus on his task of getting home, surviving long enough to even get home.

Then he met Delores.

From his family, Five knew the typical nuclear dynamic. The man of the house was, of course, the man. The woman of the house—well, there wasn’t a woman of the house, it was just the wife, the home cook, the stay at home mother. Five went out to work every day, to find food, clothes, and any surviving humans. Delores stayed behind like the wife she was supposed to be, welcoming him home, scolding him for being gone so long, keeping him warm as the days progressed, as the winters grew longer, colder, more suffocating.

The dynamic stayed as such even as he grew older, as he learned to navigate the broken world he had stuck himself in, and then—like a miracle, an Angel came and took his hand to lead him away to greener pastures, to a brighter day ahead.

Except she wasn’t an Angel.

Just a devil with a disguised smile.

But Five had no choice, no options. He was desperate, he was tired. Home was all he could think of as he raised his gun. Family was the only vocabulary word on the tip of his tongue as he finished mission after mission, as the time slowly came forth. He was Faust, making a deal with the devil, but instead of selling his soul forever, Five escapes the crafted hell, built to look like the gates of heaven, and lands before the people he’s been searching for all these years. They are different. More complex. Less predictable. Five supposed he had become that way too—jaded and bitter and still searching for something he’s not quite sure what.

He had reached his family. He had stopped the apocalypse. What more was there to find? Was there another reason the world ended? Could the commission be in this new timeline that he reaped through the seams off, attaching him and his family into it? Five had no clue, no answers, and so—he sought to find them, covering his hands in chalk, writing and rewriting every single possible solution to exist. Something was missing from his life. Something was making him feel empty and void and nothing like himself but Five had no idea what it was, or if he wasn’t suffering some time related illness, if he hadn’t just finally gone senile.

The equations on the green walls offer him no comfort. They give no answers. No matter how many times Five rewrites them. How many times he checks and double checks and triple checks. Everything remains the same. Nothing causes another apocalypse. The timeline is fixed.

Until Five swears he sees a variable he hadn’t accounted for.

And everything begins to slot into place.

—

“So…what you’re saying is….”

“What I’m saying is that while we have stopped the apocalypse, it isn’t over for good. Viktor can still become the bomb, one of you could become the bomb. The timeline itself could be changing minute details without us even knowing before erasing us out of existence because we don’t belong.”

Five cannot grasp what is so difficult to piece together. Their family is hectic, completely abnormal, there is no rest with them, there is no peace. His brother looks down at the coffee table, where documents are spread all over. Luther has his brows pinched. “But Five…” He gives him a glance, concerned puppy expression all over his face. “You were the one who said this timeline was safe. Do—do we have to move again? After everything else? Nothing looks out of the ordinary.” Frowning, Luther glances down at the papers.

He’s had enough.

They hadn’t listened to him the first time. The second time. And then, when the third time happened—he was willing to die until everyone wanted to live and god, fuck, Five does not want to do this. He does not want to jump through time and space and rip seams through the fabric of the universe. He doesn’t want to keep calculating. To cover his hands and walls and bed in chalk and the dust it carried. By god, he wants to close his eyes, take a rest, but the variable weighs in his head, and Luther doesn’t believe him, has never believed him. He’s always wanted to stay far away from apocalyptic business.

Five is stupid to have brought this to him.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Never mind,” he grounds out, teeth grinding against each other, eyes narrowed to near snake-slits to appear less exhausted and wrung out but powerful and intimidating. “I was a fool to think your pea-sized brain could even comprehend what’s at stake here.”

Five doesn’t wait for Luther to speak, doesn’t wait for him to even open his mouth. Instead, he pulls at the fabric of time and space with his fingers and rips a seam through the tightly sewn threads of the universe.

—

One of his more tolerable siblings was a famous actress who had lost custody of her daughter and had almost made a deal with the devil, just like him.

Five still presents his findings to her, because she’s always been one to step up and advocate—be a voice for the voiceless. She had powers for that, after all. “Because monkey brain somehow lost all of his brain cells, if he even had some to begin with, I’m going to say this very carefully and you are going to listen, agree with me, and help find a way to eliminate the possibilities I’ve presented before you. Understand?” Before him, his sister drinks a thermos of coffee and Five tries his best not to ask her where she got her pretty sapphire stone earrings that go well with her light blue blouse.

He has more important business to think about.

“Luther told me you think another apocalypse is coming.”

Allison sips her coffee, brow raised, eyes jumping from document. “Frankly, I think you’ve got some hyperfixation on it. We stopped it, Five. Viktor is managing his powers. No one will become the bomb, the commission won’t even come near us.” Sighing, she sets her thermos down.

He doesn’t give her the chance to continue speaking.

Five supposed he had always been a bit of an asshole with that.

“No, I think you’re just lazy. You’ve gotten incompetent. Just because this timeline looks safe doesn’t mean it is.”

His eyes keep looking towards her earrings. Pretty sapphire stone. They go down to her neck. No Adam’s apple. He involuntarily gulps.

Allison doesn’t have wide-set shoulders.

Her eyelashes are long, curly.

“Five—”

“No, you listen to me. I am talking!” He doesn’t know why he’s shouting. Or why he’s gotten so close, why he’s scowling down at her frowning face. How dare she look at him like that—like something is wrong.

(She shouldn’t have an idea of what is wrong, of why he wants to cut open his throat and physically remove his Adam’s apple himself. Why is it even there?)

Allison’s mouth is closed, her eyes are wide.

He withers at the stare, and grabs her coffee with a sudden urge to run, run, run.

“I’m getting a drink.”

Five gathers the documents, shoulders hunched up to his ears as he looks for a good bottle of alcohol to mix with the rest of the expresso he’d stolen.

—-

When he tries his next sibling, things don’t go much better.

Living in a nice, clean apartment, with his sweet, slightly annoying but very smart girlfriend, Diego Hargreeves is having the time of his life.

Which is promptly ruined by his baby brother slash oldest brother storming inside and dumping a whole bunch of documents on his coffee table. Five sees Diego look towards Patch, the woman he had seen die in his own timeline with a scowl.

Patch shrugs, drinking from a mug of coffee. Or maybe that was tea.

“He was going to come in sooner or later.”

Five feels something crawling up his spine and growing on his skin. A sharp pain strikes through his stomach, twisting his intestines until he has to push on it with his hand, biting his lip hard enough to bleed when his throat nearly closes up. At an instant, Patch and Diego are walking over but Five swats them away, bonelessly slumping on an armchair. He hunches over, eyes screwed shut. His stomach continues to ride a rollercoaster of pain for a few minutes.

His brother reads the documents.

And promptly has to get stopped from shaking him like a rag doll.

“The fuck do you mean there’s another apocalypse coming?! Are you keeping shit from us again, Five? I thought we’ve been over this, Jesus fuck!”

His knife stabs into the coffee table, Patch yells at him, Five feels his stomach subside long enough for him to sneer at his melodramatic brother. “Use your brain, you discount Batman.” He can’t believe he’s doing this. “While I’m surprised you managed to even get that far into the documents, perhaps you missed the part where it says that this is a theory based on hypothetical evidence that could potentially be true.”

If it was even possible, Diego gets even more angry.

Way more angry.

Five sinks into the armchair when his brother towers over him, looking all the more intimidating with knives strapped all over his stupid black harness. “A theory?” He hissed, gripping one of his knives. The teleporter scoffs.

“Yes, idiot. A theory, one that could happen if you aren’t careful—”

“Get out.”

Five’s voice stops, his brows furrowing. “What?” He tilts his head, rising up from the chair. “The hell are you—”

“I said get out, Five!”

Ripping through the threads of space time, Five lands only inches away from Diego’s knife into his shoulder. “I didn’t take you to like using humans as your pin cushions.” He sneers, but all Diego does is yank the knife from the polyester with a growl.

“I’m not doing it, Five.”

“You’re being drama—”

“No, you’re being dramatic. This isn’t even something you’ve confirmed, it’s a dogshit theory from a senile old man that thinks the world will end one way or another and I am sick and tired of you barging into my life, with my responsibilities, and whisk me away on your version of a magical save the world adventure. Go find another sibling to harass.”

Five opens his mouth, but the glare Diego gives him, and the frown Patch has, is enough to make him close it, twisting his face until he can give his brother a proper sneer.

“Fuck you, Diego.”

“Get out, Five.”

His brother only sighs. It makes Five bristle as he storms to the table, and grabs all of his papers. Swinging the door open, he takes one last irritated glance towards the couple.

“I hope you two like burning in hell.”

The door slams shut, and Five is left to wonder, as he storms down the sidewalk, why there was something that Diego said that made his heart ache.

—

Popcorn pops in the popcorn machine every two seconds. Every two seconds, the person operating the machine jumps and takes a step back, until their back is against the wall, and Five is left wondering why Klaus even makes popcorn if he can’t stand the sound of the kernels popping. Five can’t stand it either, of course, but he’s a lot more trained to push down his instincts than his recovering addict brother who is putting spray cheese in his mouth.

Peering at the documents he scattered across the kitchen counter, Five rubs his temples. He hoped Klaus would listen. If not, then he’d have to go to Viktor and Five didn’t want to make his brother any more nervous than he already is.

Unfortunately, judging by how Klaus is looking at the papers, he either won’t listen at all or he has no clue what’s going on. Five didn’t know which was which, especially since Klaus could seem overly intelligent out of the blue.

“Luther told me,” he chirps, making Five groan. “And Allison begged me to tell you that there’s no more apocalypse, you can stop worrying now.”

“Tell Allison to fuck off.”

“She’d known you’d say that and told me to tell you, in response to that, that if you continue pestering us, she’ll rumor you to stop herself.”

Five blinks, processing the words. His head tilted backwards and he breathed in deeply.

Of course Allison said that.

Of course Luther didn’t want to help.

Of course Diego threw a knife at him.

Of course Klaus was being a stupid messenger.

They were his siblings for god’s sake. Why did he think he could get through to them? To finally ask for their help? The last time he did that, the apocalypse still happened. Why hasn’t he learned his lesson? Done things alone from now on?

“Fuck you, too Klaus.”

Four gasps, hand on his chest. Five doesn’t care that he’s offended, angrily gathering up the papers. “You’re all a bunch of idiotic tumbleweeds.” Pausing, he taps his chin. “Actually, a tumbleweed is probably smarter than you lot.” With a folder under his arm, he gives Klaus one last sneer before ripping the fabric of reality and the threads of time, disappearing with a small pop.

—

The mug in front of him says ‘Greatest asshole of all time’ and it’s probably supposed to be endearing but Five doesn’t exactly care, taking cautious sips of the coffee inside. It isn’t bad. It isn’t good. It isn’t horrible, so that’s okay. Next to him, the folder of documents sits innocently and he brings his knees to his chest as a vacuum passes underneath, cleaning the rug.

It moves around the house for a while, Five’s eyes glued to it. What a strange thing technology was. Creating a self automated vacuum that was treated more like a pet than a machine. Were people that lazy? “So.” The couch moves as another weight settles upon it. “Can you tell me why you think another apocalypse is coming?”

Five cannot trust Viktor not to tell Allison about his communication with him. His brother was always a worrywart. Even more so when it had to do with his siblings. This was no different. Next to him, Viktor sits with his shoulders and his hands smoothing his pants over and over. He keeps glancing at the folder by Five. Frowning and looking around. It’s exactly why Five didn’t even want to come near the violinist’s apartment. Well, his new apartment that is. One that had an actual studio for teaching kids violin. Viktor loves the space it provides.

Twisting to face his brother, Five sets the mug down. He wiggles his toes in his gray socks. The academy uniform fits him like a glove. But somehow, it feels weird and too tight and too present but Five doesn’t want to go shopping. Everything about that idea makes his skin crawl and his stomach twist unpleasantly. “It’s just…” Viktor had been his closest brother, his confidant, one of his best friends.

Five sighs, bonelessly slumping.

“I don’t think another apocalypse is coming.”

He swings his legs lightly, hitting the coffee table.

“But there must be some reason why I feel this way. There has to be something that I have to do, or prevent, or whatever.”

Viktor frowns, hesitantly breaching the waters. A hand is comfortingly placed on Five’s knee. “What…way are you talking about exactly?” A frown covers Five’s face and he slumps further, hands pressed up against his eyes.

“This way, Viktor. Like something is missing, like I’m missing. It feels like I’m not real, that I shouldn’t be here, it feels wrong to walk around and to talk to people and to hear people talk to me. It feels wrong to wear my clothes and look at my bedroom.”

His hands dig into his hair, and his head slumps forward, elbows pressing into his knees. Five hates the way his stomach unpleasantly sucks in on itself. “Something is fucking wrong and I have no idea what it is.” And frankly, it’s starting to scare him. He always has a solution to every problem, to every anxiety tucked into his mind, but he had nothing for this. Nothing except the idea that perhaps he missed something in his calculations, and an apocalyptic scenario was ninety five percent certain to happen.

Viktor looks contemplative, brows furrowed. His hand taps against his knee, and Five wonders he gives him such a lopsided smile.

“I think,” he starts off slowly, as the vacuum runs by the two of them again. “I know exactly what’s wrong.”

—

When he was young, he had been told that dolls were for girls.

His nanny had said so, when he asked for a Barbie doll like Allison’s.

His sister had snidely replied with it, when he had asked to play with hers.

Even his father had contributed, wanting nothing to break his perfect team of superheroes.

Staring back at him from the mirror is someone Five doesn’t think he recognizes.

But he isn’t so sure he should call the person a he either.

The mirror person has long hair the color of oak brown trees. Freckles that are tiny and multiply across their cheeks. Knee high socks cover their legs, with black mary janes that have a bow on the strap. Across their knees, a plaid red and gray skirt swishes, not too short but also not too small. When Five tilts his head, the mirror person does too. When Five steps back, and squints, the person copies—completely identical.

When Five comes forward, hands against the glass, nose pressed up, he sees big green eyes that blink in sync with his own.

“Oh.”

Underneath the sleeve of the blouse that the mirror person wears, Five can see the tattoo of an umbrella’s handle peeking out.

“Oh.”

From the mirror, the person smiles, and says their name is Maeve.

“I like that,” the thirteen year old whispers, blinking when their eyes burn. Wiping at their face, they sniff—and curse themselves for not stopping the sudden downpour of hiccups.

Brows pinching together, a deep breath is taken, and a hand pushes against the glass, mary janes clicking together.

“But I think…”

Turning, they nearly trip when trying to do a spin.

“I wanna be called Quinn instead.”

#the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #five hargreeves centric #transgender number five #allison hargreeves #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #klaus hargreeves