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letarasstuff · 3 years

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"I don't wanna leave you, Daddy"

(A/N): This was requested by an Anon and it's based on this concept. I hope you are ready for the feels.

Summary: Hotch's daughter is an introvert. A quiet one. But why does she go even quieter after her mother's death?

Warnings: So much hurt. Angst. Fluff. It's bitter sweet.

Wordcount: 2.3k

✨Masterlist✨ _____________________________

(Y/N) never really was an outgoing person. Even since she was able to walk and talk, she still clung to her parents. She refused to play on the playground when other children were there. Socializing was just not her thing. Her parents were sure that she would never be the person to stand up and perform on stage spontaneously. And it is ok.

This doesn’t really change when Jack comes around. Sure, as he grows older and more capable of things (Y/N) plays with him. But it really seems like he is the only one around her age she is not afraid to befriend.

Aaron and Haley reassure themselves that their daughter will find friends in elementary school. After all this is an institution where many children go to and there also are adults trained for helping them coming along. She definitely will find at least one other kid to hang out with regularly and learn how to be a proper child. Because as of right now (Y/N) is more like a little adult, taking responsibilities, like watching over her little brother, she doesn’t need to do voluntarily. Maybe she will be more messy, rebellious, anything but a perfect child.

But this doesn’t exactly happen. (Y/N)’s teachers are really happy with her. Every parent-teacher conference is about how well and polite she is, always behaving good and following the rules. Sadly, they don’t have any good news regarding her social life. It’s not that she doesn’t get along with her classmates, it’s just that she isn’t able to strike up a conversation or is very good at keeping one long enough that a kid is interested in her.

Knowing that (Y/N) is mostly quiet in her school days, Aaron makes it a habit to bring her more often to the office. She surprisingly warms quickly up to his team and whenever she is around them the girl is an unstoppable tornado running loose around the bullpen.

This is kind of how she grows up until the age of middle school. (Y/N) learns some social skills and makes a few friends over the last few years. Unfortunately these friendships are not as deep as the parents wish, still it’s better than nothing.

Things get difficult when Aaron and Haley start to separate. It never is easy when parents fall out of love and it is not only difficult for Jack to see his father not as often as he used to, considering he still is a toddler needing both parents. Especially (Y/N), who is more of a daddy’s girl than a mommy’s girl, suffers from the situation at home.

Of course it’s hard on her to not see her father for a week or two at a time, but ever since her parents are going on parted ways she sees him at most one weekend every three weeks. This also changes her social life dramastically.

“(Y/N), don’t you wanna do something with your friends? You can invite them over for the weekend”, Haley suggests after watching her daughter not going out with somebody outside of school for several days. For the past two weeks the ten year old just comes home, does her homework and puts her nose in one of the books her Uncle Spencer recommended.

The girl only looks up at her mother to shake her head. “Why not, Sweetie? I haven’t seen William and John in so long. Are you still friends with them?” (Y/N) nods again. “So what is it? Are you guys fighting?” Haley sits down next to her on her bed.

“No, they just-just don’t know about this. I don’t want to tell them. And I want to stay home. It’s ok how it is right now”, she admits. Her mother’s heart breaks at that statement.

In this moment she realizes that anything a parent does has immediate consequences for the children. “I’m sorry, Sweetie. I didn’t know this is so hard for you. Maybe you can talk to them over the next few days about it, I think it’ll help you. Do you want to watch a film with me for now? Jack has a sleepover at a friend’s. We can do a girl’s night. We hadn’t had one in a long time.”

(Y/N)’s eyes light up at that. “With all the candy in the world?” Haley smiles at the newfound excitement. “Of course. Anything you want.”

From only seeing Aaron every now and then it suddenly turns to not knowing when she will see him next. After George Foyet ambushes him and makes his family into the next target, (Y/N), her brother and her mother have to go into witness protection.

The goodbye at the hospital is painful and filled with tears. “But Dad, I don’t want to leave you. I’ll miss you too much. I don’t like not seeing you. And what about you? You will be more lonely and-and I can’t leave you”, she confesses, sobbing into him.

Hotch has to hold his own tears back. He doesn’t want to come over as stoic, but as the strong father figure he always tries to be. “Honey, I know I’ll miss you so much. You have to be strong for your mother. This will not be easy and I know it. I promise to do my best to get all of you back as soon as possible, ok? Please be good for your mother and behave. We all need to work together for you to get back fast and safely.”

(Y/N) continues to cry into his hospital gown. Aaron can’t help it and dissolves in tears himself while trying to calm her down. “Shh, Honey. Everything will be fine. I’m so so sorry for all this. I never wanted something like this to happen. Shh, we will see each other real soon. The team and I will do our best. Just please, don’t cry. Please, it all will be better. I can’t let you go without seeing your beautiful laugh for one last time.”

“I don’t wanna leave you, Daddy. I-I wanna stay with you and Uncle Dave and Auntie JJ and Uncle Spencer and Uncle Der and Auntie Penny and Auntie Em. I’m scared you won’t be fine when we come back.”

It’s needless to say that nobody cracked even a smile that day.

Going into witness protection made Haley worry about Jack especially. He is just four years old and she isn’t sure how much he understands about what’s going on. Surprisingly the boy gets accustomed to the situation pretty fast. Of course he misses his father and his people from school, but he is also quick to meet new ones in the town they moved to.

(Y/N) has bigger problems. New school. New kids. New everything.

“Maybe you can see it as a fresh start. Here is nobody you know. You can be whoever you want to be. I can take you shopping and you can try out a new style”, her mother tries to make the situation sound advantageous to her. But the girl dryly answers: “When somebody doesn’t like me how I am now, how will they like an act?”

Sam Kassmeyer regularly reports back to Aaron about his family’s well being. “Jack is thriving. His teachers describe him as a bundle of joy. (Y/N) slowly gets acclimated to the change. Haley told me she started making friends with a girl in their neighborhood. I already ran a background check and the family is clean.”

Hotch lets out a sigh of relief. He turns towards the image on Penelope’s monitor. “Happy fifth birthday, Buddy.”

A few weeks after that it seems like the events overturn each other.

Foyet coming back. Kassmeyer getting tortured. Foyet finding Haley and the children. Them coming back to their house. The call. Working the case with Jack. The gunshot. The fighting noises. Hotch opening the box and hugging both of his children, relieved to see them alive.

The following weeks are difficult for the now smaller family. They mostly consist of watching videos of happy memories and talking about their feelings. Although it’s more like Jack talking about his feelings, (Y/N) went mostly silent ever since their mother’s death. This worries her father more than anything.

Two months have gone by. “Hey Honey, I’m going into the office today. Do you wanna come with me, stay at home or go to school? Anything is fine by me”, he asks her softly, kneeling beside her chair at the table. The girl is munching on her cereal halfheartedly.

“Can I come to the office?” (Y/N) asks in a hoarse voice. It’s actually the first time in four days that Aaron hears her voice. A small smile forms on his face. “Of course, that’s nice. Aunt Penny is asking me after her favorite Hotchner for days on end now. And Uncle Spencer got a stack of books he has for you to read.”

His daughter nods and quickly gets ready. They are soon on their way to Quantico after dropping Jack off at daycare. “How are your classmates? Do you like the new school?” They decided to send (Y/N) to a different school. She couldn’t bear the thought of only being the girl whose Mom died because of a serial killer.

“It’s fine. There are a few girls who are really nice. I think we can be friends. Mo-” She suddenly cuts herself off. Aaron glances over at her. “Continue, Sweetheart. Just tell me what’s on your mind”, he tries to encourage her.

The girl hesitates before following her father’s advice. “Mom would have liked them,” she mumbles. It’s quiet for a few seconds. Hotch is looking for a suitable answer. After all it’s the first time she talked about her mother since her death. “I’m sure of it, Honey. Maybe you can invite them over and I can get to know them. Think about it, no pressure of course.” (Y/N) nods to indicate that she heard him.

Not long later they enter the bullpen. “There she is! My little Hotchner! How you doing, Baby?” Derek asks her and envelopes her into a hug. But she only shrugs her shoulders. This goes on for the rest of the day. Whenever anyone talks to her, the only answer is given by her body language.

Hotch watches helplessly Spencer trying to engage in a conversation with her. His arms and hands are waving around. (Y/N) though just looks at him without being really there mentally. It seems like she is lost in her own thoughts, like it happened so often over the last few months.

“Have you tried talking to her about it?” Dave asks, sitting down on the chair opposite of him. Aaron looks at him funny. “Of course. But (Y/N) is just not ready to talk about Haley and everybody grieves differently. I can’t force her to speak, Dave.”

The older agent leans back in his seat. “I don’t think she needs to talk about her. This probably is too soon. She needs to talk about you. The changes.” After a short pause, in which the other one still doesn’t get the point, Rossi continues. “That little girl just lost her mother. She is scared to lose her father, the one with the high risk job. I think that is enough to talk about.”

This occupies the agent for the remainder of the day. Aaron was so invested in fulfilling both parent roles, that he forgot that he is just a father. The man his children go to when they have a nightmare. The one, who is more lenient than their mother. He can’t be both ones. He can’t be two people in one.

A kid trusts a mother and a father usually. And he can’t be mother and father at once. Hotch has to accept the fact. The fact that (Y/N) and Jack are going to grow up without a mother. But luckily not without mother figures.

Later that day, after tucking Jack in, Aaron knocks on his daughter’s door. A small “Come in!” echoes back to him. He enters her room and spots (Y/N) already in her bed reading a book Spencer gave her today.

“Hey, do you have time before it’s lights out?” He asks, still wanting to give her the upper hand on this. The girl nods and scoots over for her father to take a place. He lays next to her, pulling his daughter into a hug.

“I know I can’t promise it. Coming back to you every time. You know it as much as I do. But I promise you to try anything and everything in the books. You guys keep me going.” Tears roll over both of their faces.

“I-I just”, (Y/N) moves her head onto his chest to sob into it, “Just don’t wanna lose you, too. I-I don’t think I-I can’t be the girl, who doesn’t have a mother AND a father. C-can you stop that from happening?” Hotch has to wipe his eyes before answering.

“I-I try to keep that from happening, Honey. I promise.”

This is how they fall asleep, squished in a twin bed close to each other. In the morning they both are overheated and got a visitor during the night. Jack wakes them up, asking why they had a sleepover without him.

This morning is the first time Aaron sees (Y/N) smiles since day zero.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x child!reader #aaron hotch x daughter!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x child!reader #aaron hotchner x daughter!reader #x daughter!reader #x child!reader

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cartasmojadas · 3 years

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Dirk John HS Au part...4?

Dirk walks through the computer lab and towards the study table at the back of the quiet library. While it’s quiet most mornings, today it’s more so as most students are busy flooding the halls with oversized stuffed animals, balloons, and flowers.

Despite it being Valentine’s Day, Dirk is relieved to see that John hasn’t broken their routine of meeting in the library before class. He half expected John to be doe-eyed and cornered somewhere by some eager classmates as had been the case every Valentine’s Day since their early childhood. But there he is sitting across from Jane who looks up at Dirk with a gradual smile that makes him look around in case he’s being set up for a prank.

“You’re not wearing your glasses today?” Dirk slips into the chair next to John and takes out his workbook.

John blinks a few times, reminded of the reason he doesn’t usually wear contacts. They are dang uncomfortable but he knows that not wearing his glasses changes something about his demeanor— enough that Dirk’s gaze lingers on him for a little longer. It always causes hot waves of expectation to roll over John’s body.

He’s aiming for that feeling today.

“He got all dressed up,” Jane grins.

“I did not,” John narrows his eyes at Jane but adjusts his shirt nonetheless. She playfully sticks her tongue out at her little brother but he doesn’t miss the way her eyes dart between Dirk and John. He’s never been one to hide secrets from his sister but with everything so undefined between him and Dirk, he didn’t want to share anything that might make her meddle any more than his other friends already did…

John wouldn’t say he’s much of a planner but in this case— when it comes to Dirk— he wants to get things right.

He swallows hard and turns to look at Dirk. Unlike John who has to put in the work, Dirk looks effortlessly put together. He doesn’t doubt that there are probably a few people planning on confessing to him today. Dirk has always been pretty popular but now that he has brought himself back from the deep-end with praises for getting on the InventTeam, classmates see cold prince Dirk as attainable and within their romantic reach.

The thought burns like a mild acid in the pit of John’s stomach for the briefest of moments.

Jane adjusts her own glasses and leans forward. “Anyway, did either of you make up your mind about the dance tonight?”

Dirk fidgets with one of the studs on his ear lobe and shrugs. John feels warmth creep up his cheeks as he remembers the night he pierced Dirk’s ears.

“I think Kanaya and Rose are going. And since Dave is going to that teacher conference with Vantas I think I’m just going to hang out at home until Roxy drives down from campus.”

Jane sighs, “That sounds so boring. Are you sure you don’t want to go? You can be my date,” she teases. “Or you could take John? John, you’re going, right? For student leadership stuff?”

John steals a glance at Dirk who seems to suddenly find the problems in his textbook a lot more interesting than their conversation.

“Yeah, but I’m just doing set up. I don’t plan on staying and watching some guy shove his tongue down your throat.”

Jane yelps in offense and glares back at Dirk who has let out a quiet chuckle without looking up from his book.

“You’re both so crude!” She hisses, “As if you two haven’t been all up in each other’s business!”

Dirk flinches and his face turns bright red— enough to hide his freckles. He can’t help look at John from behind his shades and finds some comfort to see his face equally red. But unlike Dirk’s own internal meltdown at the realization that Jane is aware that they have started to teeter on the line that could be best described as doomed-friends-with-benefits; John’s jaw is clenched as if he is about to tear into an argument with his sister in the middle of the library.

“Oh come on, you were not being subtle,” Jane rolls her eyes.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be, Janey?” John’s voice is tense.

She gets up and waves him off, “Be nice to me, Johnny, You’re bound to need me to cover for you one of these days.”

Jane doesn’t wait for a response before picking up her bag and heading for the exit.

“Sorry,” John whispers, sheepish, in the way that Dirk finds endearing.

Dirk pinches the bridge of his nose, lifting his shades up just slightly. “It’s cool. You probably don’t want Jane to get the wrong idea, though. I’ll talk to her later and explain—”

John’s eye twitches and Dirk feels the anxiety in the pit of his stomach surge forward. As much as Dirk has tried not to read into the fact that he’s been making out with John on the regular, he can’t help the disappointed rejection that wells up whenever he sees John react to the possible implications.

“Fuck,” John groans.

Dirk tries to swallow and finds that his throat is suddenly painfully narrow.

“As I said, I’ll talk to her.”

John huffs and places a hand on Dirk’s shoulder sending a reactionary shiver down Dirk’s spine.

“Explain what, dumbass?” John blinks hard a couple of times.

“That you’re not gay that we’re just— hey, are you okay, man?”

John’s right eye stings. He tries to blink his contact back into place but his mind is simultaneously trying to sort out Dirk’s comment.

“I need a mirror.”

Dirk straightens up as misguided relief clicks. His mind doesn’t wander away from the fact that John hasn’t moved his hand away and is actually gripping him a little tighter in a way that is reminiscent of something John does when their make-out gets a little heated. Like he’s trying to make sure Dirk stays in place and won’t run away.

He hands John the old compact he stole from Roxy.

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

“Why don’t you just wear your glasses?”

John looks at Dirk with one eye, “Because you like it when I wear contacts.”

The words (as often is the case for John when it comes to Dirk) simply roll out of his mouth of their own accord.

“Uh,” Dirk drawls. “No? I mean, what does that matter? When has wearing contacts gone well for you?”

John’s shoulders slump, foolishness, and embarrassment finally overcoming his earlier determination. He can’t bring himself to tell Dirk that he wanted to look good because it is Valentine’s day, and even though they don’t have any plans and aren’t actually dating, John wanted to do something to mark the occasion even if it was just getting Dirk to do that little thing where he stares at John for a little too long and licks his lips.

“Well, too freakin’ bad because I didn’t bring my spare glasses.” He is more annoyed at himself than anyone else.

Dirk doesn’t hold back a rare wide, closed-mouth smile. It makes him look more open like he used to be when they were younger and his life hadn’t gone bat-shit overnight.

John curses his predicament as he can only properly take in the sight through one eye.

He blinks hard and shakes his head until he finally feels his contact pop back into place. John makes a celebratory sound and gesture that pulls laughter out of Dirk.

Surprised, Dirk tries to hide his laughter behind his fist turning away with his shoulders shaking slightly.

Whatever embarrassment John was feeling before dissipates and is once more replaced by a small but hot flicker of determination. His goal suddenly clear before him.

He reaches over and pulls Dirk’s hand away from his face.

Dirk is startled only for a moment until he sees John’s bright blue eyes staring back at him along with his classically goofy grin.

The conflict between hope and regret stirs in Dirk’s chest as it always does whenever John looks at him like he can actually see Dirk. A tension of hot and cold stretches across his skin; the same tension he’s felt since they were kids and Dirk had already decided-- made peace with the fact that he’d never be anything more than John’s best friend.

Dirk hones in on the regret, reminding himself again, that to give in to the hope and delusion can only lead to a bad path. One where rejection is all-consuming and will inevitably taint their friendship all over again.

John, on the other hand, oblivious to Dirk’s struggle, leans in closer. His eyes are half-closed and he is still clutching onto Dirk’s hand as he lets their lips hover over each other.

Dirk doesn’t move. He stays still feeling the warmth of John’s breath as it hits his face.

He clutches onto his regret wrapped in fear and finds that he is actually holding onto delusion wrapped in anticipation.

He doesn’t pull away when John finally closes the small space between them and connects their lips.

John squeezes Dirk’s hand and holds it close to his chest. He keeps it there when he pulls back, making this kiss shared in the corner of the school library the most chaste of any of the kisses he’s shared with Dirk.

“Well, you’re definitely getting a lot more confident,” is the first thing to come out of Dirk’s mouth.

John’s face burns. He drops Dirk’s hand and covers his mouth and lets the mortification consume him. He almost expects regret to follow but when he looks up at Dirk who is looking away and rubbing the back of his flushed neck, John can’t find it. The only thing he feels is the now-familiar butterflies in his stomach that come to life whenever he’s with Dirk.

The first bell, reminding the student body to head to class, rings. Dirk clears his throat and starts to pack up his books, whatever homework he was trying to work on continues unfinished.

“You probably shouldn’t do that,” he doesn’t look at John while he speaks. “If someone sees they might get the wrong idea about you,” Dirk does his best to hide the bitterness in his voice.

John freezes.

“Wait, are you worried that people might think I’m gay?” John can’t help the gurgled laugh that escapes. Now that John thinks about it, this is the second time Dirk has brought the concern up in the past twenty minutes and if he really stops to consider it, Dirk has made similar comments in the past.

“Dude, at this point, I gotta admit that I’m a little gay, right? I don’t think it’s very hetero of me to make out with a guy on a regular basis.”

Dirk’s head twists to look at John with enough ferocity that his shades half fall off his face.

“Happy Valentine’s day, Dirk. I’m—I’m kinda gay.”

The admission comes out softer than intended. It is a surprise to both of them. For John it’s the ease with which the words manifest, and for Dirk, it’s hearing John come out as if he had never given him any indication (despite all of the kissing).

They stare at each other— John fidgets with his hands and Dirk is stiff as a board— until the librarian runs through yelling at them about being late.

“Set up for the dance ends pretty early right?” Dirk asks once they are standing outside of the library. The halls are full of shades of red. Hearts are plastered on nearly every available space that the already crowded walls of the school have to offer.

John bites down on his bottom lip and nods.

“Okay, Do you want to come over and watch a movie? Roxy won’t be back until late.”

John has to clamp down on his lip to keep from grinning. He manages an emphatic nod.

Dirk clears his throat. “Sweet. I’ll see you later then.”

#DirkJohn #my fic #Homestuck AU #John just casually comes out #which is kind of my favorite kind of coming out story #also i didn't write it because it requires some more plot that i'll include in the actual fic but my plan is for them to show up at home #and roxy is already there #and then nothing really happens other than Roxy takes the gang to go adopt a cat while Dave is gone #this is probably full of typos lmao #i'm on a zoom call

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lady-celeste25 · 4 years

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Playing Piano~ John Egbert x reader

I remember the first day I had ever met him. I was sitting in the third booth away from the door at my favorite coffee shop. A school project was due the next day and I had all the supplies to start it, but I was too distracted by the brand new book I had just bought from the shop down the street. He first strutted over to me with the confidence of a hot-shot twelve-year-old who’s the absolute class clown, and started gushing about how much he loved the book I was reading, getting almost all the details about it completely wrong. I couldn’t help but smile. He just walked straight up to me. Without even knowing who I am! Without me even knowing who he was! It was kind of sweet, at least in my eyes. He offered me a hand to shake so he could introduce himself better than sauntering up to me and shocked me with a stupid joy buzzer. A loud laugh escaped me. Man, you should’ve seen his smile!

I invited him to sit down and we chatted over cups of hot chocolate, one thing led to another and I got his Chumhandle. Well, and his name, which is something way more important. John Egbert, prankster extraordinaire. Come to find out his friend, Dave (who was sitting at a different table with a menu up to his face, trying to hide himself but still watch the conversation), had told him to go over there and talk to me cause John had thought I was cute. After only 2 weeks of talking over Pesterchum, I decided to ask him out on a date. He had to call me over the phone to say yes because his hands were shaking too much to message back... We had it at his apartment. It was big and everything was perfectly in place and the walls were covered in framed movie posters. But the one thing that stood out the most was the grand piano sprawled out in the middle of the room.

After a dinner of chicken tenders that he obviously got from the frozen section of Walmart (but was honestly one of the best meals I had ever had), we ended up on the couch, watching Wild Wild West. It was so, so bad that I had no other choice but to think it’s good. We spent that night laughing and making bad jokes. When the movie had ended, I was about to leave, but the piano had caught my eye again. I asked if he played and he nodded enthusiastically, taking my hand and setting me down on the leathery piano bench. He sat right next to me, his leg brushing against mine. His fingers hovered over the keys before he hammered out the best melody I had ever heard. I sat there with wide-open eyes and a gaping mouth. We spent the next hour sitting together and playing music on his piano.

He walked me to the door and before he left, I can remember quite well what he had said.

“I could start teaching you how to play,” he rocked back and forth on his heels. “You know… maybe on our second date?”

A smile cracked onto my face, “I would love to, John. I can’t wait.” Before he shut the door, he stuck his head out with his bucked tooth smile and said, “Hey, Y/N? You know… It’s common knowledge that you should never say this too early in a relationship but… I think I love you?? Sorry if that sounds stupid! I’ll see you around!”

And I was left staring at his closed apartment door, blushing like crazy and realizing that I may be in love as well. As long as that doesn’t sound too stupid.

Through the next few months, we spent almost every single day together. On small dates at the mall, at record shops, book shops, and especially at his piano. After only a few weeks, I knew how to play the piano pretty well. He taught me at first by setting his hand on top of mine and gliding it around the piano, helping me find correct keys. The first song he taught me was his own song that he wrote. He called it the Showtime Refrain. To this day, it’s by far my favorite thing to play with him. Mostly because it’s his own. Sometimes we would play for hours at a time, sometimes we would sit down for a song and move on with our lives. But every time we were together our favorite thing to do was play the piano.

One day, while we were playing, his fingers fumbled messily on the piano. John started stretching out his fingers and rubbing them with the palm of his hands roughly. He grimaced in pain and stood up quickly.

“John, what’s wrong?” I asked, standing up along with him.

“Jeez, this is weird!” He shook his hands around more with a nervous giggle. “I can’t really feel my fingers. Like… they’re not even there. Same with my toes.”

“What?” I asked. “John, let me see your hands.” He gave me them and I held his hands lightly, pushing on his fingers. “Can you feel this John?”

His voice was starting to shake a bit, “no… I really couldn’t.” His eyes were shiny with tears on the way. I held his hands that day, as tightly as I could, while he attempted to wrap his hands around them. He was so scared, you could see it gleaming in his eyes, right under his glasses.

This kept on happening, to the point where we ended up sitting in the doctor’s office with him. He was so uncomfortable, it was obvious. I didn’t quite like the doctor’s office either but I would do anything for the derpy boy. They took X-rays and made him do a few different things to check if he had nerve damage. We waited there for hours to see what could be wrong with him. And of course, the doctor’s only brought bad news. John had a case of Peripheral Neuropathy. It’s where you have nerve damage and though treatment can help, it may or may not actually go away. It’s very common but it was still almost impossible for him to play piano anymore.

That day, I could tell something in him was lost. From then on, no matter what, he was touching his hands. Sometimes they were in complete and utter pain. I’ve seen him in that pain, he says it doesn’t bother him any but I can tell it does. He was put on so many different medications that his whole sink and medicine cabinet were stacked with little orange bottles filled with different kinds of medications. He hated taking them every day so I decided the best way to remind him was to send him a quick text to remind him to take them. He was sad, I could tell. It was even worse whenever he would try to play the piano. Every once in a while, we would sit at the piano again.

He would whisper, “Y/N, I can’t do this anymore. I’ll never get a chance to again.”

And I would always respond, “John, of course you can play again. One day we’ll be able to play together again.” Somedays he would try to press down on the piano keys. Sometimes he would be able to fleet out a small melody and other times it was useless. I’ve even seen him only stare down at the piano keys and tears would well up in his eyes.

But now, in the present away from all that, no one had seen John in about a week. Every day I texted him, trying to check on him but never heard a word back. I messaged Dave, Rose, Jade, Karkat, anyone I could get in contact with to ask if they had heard from John at all. I went to the Book shop where he worked to get through the major expenses of college but the workers said that they hadn’t seen him. I couldn’t stand to not see him for days on end. I missed him terribly and I wanted to know what was wrong. So, I decided to take my chance to go check up on him. I felt that he needed someone right now. From how many times I had visited his apartment, I know the way like the back of my hand. True, I may be going a little over the speed limit but I needed to see him now! I even, while pulling into the parking lot, almost ran into the teen that lives next to him. I gave him an apologetic wave by and pulled into a parking spot.

Taking the stairs three at a time, I run to his red door. Normally, if it was a day where John was happy, he would practically fly down the steps on our way to wherever we were going. Now, the room behind the door was silent, only soft piano music was sounding from the cracks. Quickly I knock and desperately try to peek through the eye hole. The door opens a bit, the chain still attached to keep people from coming in. From the small bit, I could see he was an absolute mess. His glasses were foggy and his eyes looked dead. He squinted a little but then widened his eyes, quickly slamming the door again. This worried me immensely and I was about to knock again but he opened the door fully before I could. John’s appearance was worse than I ever could’ve imagined. His hair was tangled and all out of place, a small, black stubble found itself on his chin, and he had stains on his shirt.

“Y/N?” He asks in a hoarse, breaking voice. “What are… what are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?!” I ask him. “JOHN! We have all been so worried about you! Where have you been?”

“I’m sorry?” John tilts his head. “I just had stuff come up.”

“What?” You cross your arms and lean in the doorway. “Like hiding away in your apartment? Why? Are you scared of something?”

“No…”

“Is there something wrong?”

“Yes.”

“Then please, tell me what it is! I want to help you, John.”

“Just come in, I’ve missed you and I wanna talk to you about some things.”

I gave him my signature suspicious look but walked I walked in anyway. It was even worse when I walked in. It was hard to keep from gagging. His apartment was trashed. So much garbage, it smelled like BO, and the TV was blaring. This was extremely shocking to me. It was almost scary. Normally, John kept his apartment extremely clean and free of Junk food. The table by the foot of the couch had a bunch of chips bags and even a half-eaten cake on the table. I cringed back, John hates cake! By the piano, a speaker was playing the soft piano music I had heard from outside. I looked at the TV to see was… was he playing Resident Evil? He hates games with blood!

John floats over to the couch and grabs the controller off of the table, his fingers trying to steady on the triggers, “so? What do you want to know?” His eyes were fixated on the TV, not on me at all. He didn’t even have the same tone of voice right now. It’s normally excited and happy. Now, it just sounds sad.

“John,” I started, “no one has seen you in weeks. You didn’t text, call, or say anything back to anyone reaching out. I was so worried! I missed you! And, like-” I stop when I notice something, he’s not even paying attention. His eyes are staring down at his fumbling fingers, his face screwed up in anger. “Hey, are you listening?” He didn’t answer. “John?” No answer as he kept on fumbling.

I was about to ask why he doesn’t wanna talk back when I look at the TV screen. He was still on the first few steps of the game. Wait… everything’s pieced together right in front of me. The piano music that he set up right next to the actual piano, him trying to place this video game, the complete and udder break down… the cake… His hands… red and it sounded like his bones were breaking with every move. Like he hadn’t put down the controller all week. I walk around the couch and sit down gently beside him, staring at him as he got more and more frustrated. His glassy eyes started to well up with tears as he lightly tapped the buttons, it seems that he wanted to mash them in. Slowly, I reach out to grab the controller from his hands, but he ends up just dropping it to the ground.

He turned to me, his lip quivering a bit, “Y/N… I am… so sorry.”

“Oh… John…” I held my arms out for him and he crashes into them. Slowly, he started to sob, as we hug there. It was about 6 minutes before he calmed down from the crying and reduced to merely sniffling. He still hugs me and makes me no plan of moving. “...Wanna talk about it?” A felt a nod against my chest.

“Well… uh…” He took a deep, solid breath. “I guess something just snapped. On Friday of last week… I… I sat down and tried my hardest to play the piano. And-and then… I just couldn’t do it, Y/N. You’ve said so many times that I can do this and I’ll be able to play again but I can’t!” His voice starts rising and he looks up at me. Through the foggy glasses, his eyes were no longer dull, they were filled with complete despair. Which was why worse when they were dull because it broke my heart. “I loved playing the piano. I played it with my dad, with my friends, with you… Piano is so important to me! It brought so many people together when I played it but now… I just can’t!

“After that, I tried to do anything that used my fingers. I thought that maybe if I try something else, I’ll be able to teach myself to use them again! Magic will flow through them and they’ll work again! It went from trying to use chopsticks to typing anything on the computer, to playing these stupid, stupid video games. I’m sorry that I made you guys worry… I didn’t mean to! I just needed some time alone.”

I look down into his gleaming eyes, still filled with tears, I smiled the biggest smile I could muster I could muster, “cake? Really, John?” He looks shocked that I said that, some of the stray tears fall down his cheeks before the smallest smile found its way onto his face and he can’t stop small giggles to fall out of his mouth. “What did you think of it?”

“It was god awful…” John’s voice now contained a bit more of his old tone. Happy and derpy.

“Did you really betray your own rules and eat the Batterwitch’s cooking?” I tease, lightly taking my hand through his greasy hair.

“No, never!” He turned his body to make sure that I could see his face clearly. “Even though I broke down a bit doesn’t mean I would ever eat that shit.” We sit there for a few extra minutes, slowly letting him calm down even further until he closed his eyes and smiled his same old, derpy smile. A bigger smile places itself on my face.

“John?” I say and he looks up to see what was up. “I have a bit of an idea. Something that may make you feel a bit better.

“Oh?” He puckered his lips up as he makes smooches into the air. “And what’s that?”

I laugh a bit, leaning down and kissing his forehead, “no, Egderp. Come on, let’s get off the couch.” John groans as I lift him up and drag him over to the piano, sitting us both down on the bench. There was a coat of dust on the cover of the keys. I lift it up and show off the pristine keys.

“(Y/NNNNN)…” He whines. “This is stupid. I don’t wanna sit here. Can’t we just go out or something?” I grabbed the speaker and turned it off, ending the fluttering piano music. We wouldn’t need it.”

“Well,” I start, “one, you’re not going out looking like you do right now. Two, I said I have an idea! So, we’re going to stay right here!” He stares down of the piano like it’s the devil’s instrument.

“What’s your plan?” John said, hesitation clear in his voice.

“Give me your hand,” I hold out my own hand in front of him.

“Y/N if you wanted to hold my hand, you could’ve just asked-”

“Just give it to me already nerd.”

He laid his hand in the palm of mine and I switched it around so that his palm was on top of the back of my hand. Slowly, I place our hands on the piano and played a quick scale. John’s eyes widened in surprise as we, together played out a quick rendition of Hot Crossed Buns only using one hand. I was guiding his hand along the piano as he had done for our first few lessons together.

“I know how much you want to play piano again…” I sigh. “And I know how much it means to you. So… I was wondering… if you would like to play together. Just like this. Just like… you first taught me how.” His eyes lit up with happiness as he saw his fingers once again glide across the piano. “ Sometimes it’s hard to ask for help… I should know, how do you think I failed AP Biology?” We both chuckled. “But sometimes… it’s necessary. So, I want to help you get your fingers back.”

John lifted his hand off mine, took my face into it, and planted a kiss right on my lips. It was sweet, he was always a sweet kisser. It was nice to be like this again, even if the newfound stumble was tickling my face. When we broke he smiled widely. “Thank you, I think I would like your help with this.”

Happy 4/13 everyone! I hope you have an amazing day! I may have to write more Homestuck fanfics, this was fun!

#homestuck john #john egbert #John egbert x reader #xreader #homestuck #homestuck x reader #fanfiction #homestuck fanfic #homestuck fanfiction #4/13 #happy 4/13 #angst #tw mental breakdown #tw disease

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rocknrollerskates · 3 years

Text

==> In which you (try to) come out to your sister

You haven’t noticed, but Jane’s been giving you the eye all night. Unlike you, she’s pretty perceptive, especially when it comes to you. She’s noticed you acting off, but like you still, she’s unlikely to bring it up first. Growing up together gives you pretty similar behaviors, so you sit lost in thought while she talks about what she’s been up to in the last month over the sweet tunes she’s playing on her bass.

You wanted to tell her about what you’ve been up to. You wanted to tell her about Juno, and the roundabout trip you went on, and how smitten you are with him. You planned to, had it all set up in your mind that you were going to lay it all out tonight, but.

After your fight with dad you’re not so sure now. I mean, you thought she’d be cool. Jane’s always cool, and she loves you, she’d never think less of you for anything! Least of all for kissing a dude.

But your dad loves you too, and he only caught you laying with one, yet he blew up hard over it.

Not that you’d expect otherwise, you know how he is.

You tap your leg rapidly.

Maybe you thought it’d be different? No, no, you knew all along you had to keep it a secret from him. Maybe you thought you could do that. You got this far, after all. You got this far without ever considering....but Dave- no, you got this far without considering, you know, batting for the other team. But here you are, suited up in jersey, or whatever. You’re batting, three strikes and you’re out. You’re already down one, you only have two other family members to let find out.

You don’t want Jane to blow up at you like that too. And what about Jade? What would she think? She grew up with grandpa, who knows what he taught her. And how would you handle that? You feel sick to your stomach thinking about it.

“John, you’re going to chew your fingers to the nub.”

You look up at your sister, now noticing the nail between your teeth. You laugh nervously, moving your hands under your lap so you can’t do that anymore.

She shoots you a pitiful smile and captchalogues her bass, moving to sit next to you on the sofa.

“Alright. Out with it.”

Her arm goes around your shoulder, pulling you close. You’re far taller now, but the gesture still reminds you of when she still lived at home, younger.

“What’s on your mind, chicken little? There’s something happening up there, I can practically see the smoke coming out your ears.”

You snicker. And then you’re quiet for a little.

“I had a fight with dad yesterday.”

Her lips tighten, and you look away. She squeezes you in a side hug.

“That doesn’t sound too new. You two get along worse than a rottweiler and a rattlesnake.”

You scratch your neck.

“Yeah, I guess. It’s been better since you left, really. I don’t mean anything by that! I just-it’s quieted down I guess.”

“You mean you’re not getting into trouble?”

“Or he doesn’t know about as much of it.”

She rolls her eyes at you.

“Alright, so what makes this one so special?”

You’re quiet for another long moment.

“Jane, have you thought about... Like have you ever- uh. You know, um.”

She gives you your time, thank fucking christ.

“I invited one of my buddies over. His name’s Juno. I’ve known him since...mmn, June? Whenever fathers day was. A couple months. He’s the guy I went to Disney with, and then uh. Kept staying with for around a month. Without coming to work. Or telling dad.”

You rub your face with your hand, eyes starting to feel sore.

“So, I came back to work this week, dad’s not super happy about me dropping work like that but whatevs, you know. I stay home a few extra days, show him I’m not gonna’ bolt, everything’ll be fine. Except. Juno. And I. We.”

How the fuck do you breech this subject! How are you supposed to bring this up! Jane’s your big sister, if she’s not there for you what the fuck are you going to do? You’d rather keep your big mouth shut than ruin what’s good. What you can count on. Jane’s literally the coolest person you know, you couldn’t deal with that.

“We took a nap on the couch after work, and dad found us in the morning and blew up.”

She tucks her head on top of yours, holding you close like you’re three feet smaller than you are. Small enough to hold, and protect, and take care of.

“Is that all?” Like she knows that it’s not, like she knows you have more to say.

You shake your head.

“He’s my boy friend. That’s what we were fighting about.”

She pats your back. “Oh, Johnny...”

And so you stay like that for a few minutes, while you wait for her to do something that doesn’t come.

“What are you going to do?”

And that surprises you.

“Uh, do?”

She pulls back, just enough to look at you. “Yeah, do you need a place to stay, you big baby? I’ve only got the one bed, but the couch is a pull out.”

You frown. “No, I still live at home.”

“For how long?”

“What do you mean?”

She gives you a patronizing look and pats your cheek.

“John, why do you think I moved out?”

“Because you’re cool like that and needed your own creative space.”

She snickers at you. What the fuck! Bitch! “You could say that.”

She flattens her skirt, now scooting away to get a look at you.

“Okay. Do you remember in my senior year when Roxy and little Rosie came down with their mom for those travel pictures, and at the beach you hung off of Rose’s arm like you were trying to be the eyecandy for Ms. English’s blog, and me and Roxy....?”

You blink. “You and Roxy...?”

She puts her face in her hands and laughs, loud cackles at your inability to connect the dots.

“John, you are the densest piece of work I have ever had to drag through the mud that is a conversation with you.”

You scowl at her. When she finally makes it to a point that she can hold a straight face without snickering, she puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Do you think I’m straight, John?”

You nod. Yeah, of course?

She ducks her head, shaking it and her shoulders in a repressed laugh.

“No.”

And your world EXPLODES.

#action post #homophobia m #in which jane is a lesbian #and john is an idiot #ooc #gendered slur /

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tessatechaitea · 4 years

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Cerebus #8 (1979)

This cover doesn't help me remember what this issue is about.

Having only ever read the first half of Cerebus via the collected stories in the Cerebus phonebooks, this is the first time I'm seeing most of the early covers of Cerebus. I probably started reading the monthly issues during "Flight" but had purchased the "Melmoth" back issues. So I'll be getting a lot of new material in the covers and the Aardvark Comments section all the way up through "Jaka's Story." In Note from the Publisher, Deni explains that Cerebus is currently selling 4,000 copies a month. That's four thousand dollars a month! Of course, Dave probably has to sell at half the cover price, so maybe that's more like two thousand. And then there's the expense of paying for your own printing and shipping. I have no idea what that might cost but let's pretend it's another thousand dollars. That leaves Dave and Deni with one thousand dollars per month before taxes and art equipment! And I know I'm being way too optimistic so let's say it's more like $750. In Canadian dollars! That's probably about five hundred American dollars! But then again, this was 1979 dollars and cars were about six thousand dollars back then. You could buy a house for twenty grand. So by Issue #8, Dave was either really starting to make a lot of money or heading toward financial ruin. I'm not sure why I even began this paragraph when I have no idea what I'm talking about. Although, four thousand copies of an independent comic book by the eighth issue? That's good fucking marketing. No wonder Dave Sim became the God of Self-Publishing. In his Swords of Cerebus essay, Dave Sim continues to explain how he was growing as a writer and artist. It's the kind of thing a fan of Sim's work enjoys reading but not the kind of thing that I can make entertaining in a brief synopsis. So fuck off to the next paragraph already. We're done here. At the end of the last issue, Cerebus escaped his battle with a gigantic Black Sun spider god. But he did not escape as unscathed as I maybe led everybody to believe. He was actually bitten and poisoned by the thing and now he's wandering the desert (unless it's the tundra (which is probably a definitive desert but what am I? A reader of The Farmer's Almanac?!), hallucinating and probably dying. Some Conniptin soldiers find Cerebus and take them back to their Commander's quarters. The Commander isn't the main leader of the army; the main leader is some cocaine snorting prince who thinks he's a god. He wants Cerebus made into a bath robe which would mean Cerebus would get the last laugh. Because remember how badly Cerebus' fur smells when it gets wet? Ha ha! That joke was so funny Dave used it five or six times in the Bran Mak Mufin issue. The Captain and the Commander make plans to oust the young Lord and take over the army themselves. But they need Cerebus by morning for their plan and Cerebus isn't healthy enough. So they take him to the army's doctor for a few Star Trek jokes that seem cheesy and overly done (but maybe not so much in 1979? Or is that the whole point of the running joke here? Because it's a tired format that Sim subverts at the end?) but which ends with a pretty fantastic punchline.

To really appreciate this joke, I think you have to remember what the world was like in 1979. If you weren't born or cognizant of the world at that time, I can't explain it to you. It's like trying to explain Ringo's obsession with the hole in his pocket to somebody who has never seen The Yellow Submarine and who also doesn't know who The Beatles are and has also never heard music or seen animation. Yeah, the 70s were that fucking cool.

The Captain and the Commander take Cerebus out later and point him in the direction of a campfire. They tell them the men around the fire drugged him and they should pay. Feverish and sick, Cerebus runs up to the small camp and begins slaughtering the four men around it. He hallucinates that three of them are Elrod and one of them is Sophia. So what the reader learns this issue is that Cerebus is ready to kill all of the other characters of his comic book at a moment's notice. How The Roach and Weisshaupt and Elrod and Rick and Astoria and Cirin last as long as they do is a miracle. Or it's just part of the contrived story. I guess if it were real, it would seem like a miracle. But since this is all written by Dave Sim, it's just the way it was meant to be. I'm not sure what their eventual plan is for Cerebus as this just seemed to be a test. I guess he's their Manchurian Candidate? The four mercenaries Cerebus killed were Hsifan. The Commander and Captain are Conniptin. I have no idea what these things mean. I think Hsifans make really good ninja assassins though so killing four of them is pretty damned impressive.

Like I said. Killing twenty-five Hsifans is pretty damned impressive.

This story highlights one of Cerebus' bigger life problems: he's constantly being pulled into other people's stories. If he's not trying to steal some treasure to get more gold crowns so he can drink more ale, he's slaughtering other mercenaries to get more gold to drink more ale. And when he's not doing either of those things, it's usually because he's gotten caught up in somebody else's story. I suppose that's what you need to expect when you're some kind of prophetic Messiah. Your story has already been told and you're just time's puppet. But — and I think this is the most important part — something about being an aardvark allows Cerebus to tell destiny and fate to fuck off. So quite often, Cerebus just walks away from the story he got sucked in without a care to its resolution. It has something to do with aardvarks being soulless and less with aardvarks being hermaphrodites. Because I think maybe that's just Cerebus. The Commander and Captain want to make Cerebus their new leader because they can't stand the selfish, greedy fops who rule. The Conniptin motto is "Might makes right! Fight, fight, fight!" Which you really can't argue with unless you're a talented fighter. So Cerebus is offered the job which he can refuse if he doesn't mind having his guts spilled on the floor.

Seems like Cerebus' future is pretty cut and dry. If you forget that he's an aardvark.

Cerebus decides he'd rather escape than be a puppet of the Commander. But after knocking out the guard and trudging some way across the snow, he thinks twice. He decides having a warm place to sleep and free food are a better deal than running for his life from vengeful Conniptins. He also likes the idea of leading an army. If you're not into Cerebus as a mercenary captain, don't worry. It won't last more than one issue!

Damn, I'd forgotten about this line. It used to be one of my favorites to quote whenever being offered some payment or reward of some kind. "What's better than X? Mayhap two Xes!"

Fred Hembeck writes in to Aardvark Comment this month as well as, if not as famous as, David R. Wooten. Pretty sure I've seen David's name in quite a few letters pages of DC comics. The Singles Page is a strip by John Barclay called "Small Potatoes!" It's twelve panels of a couple of guys singing "Dude Looks Like a Lady" on, I guess, a street corner. They sing, over and over again, "DooDuckGlackaLayda!" It's social commentary of some sort. I think. Maybe he's just making fun of the repetitive nature of the song, or any song you're forced to hear out in public by buskers and bucket drummers. Who can tell?! Humor was different in 1988 (the Singles Page is only from the Bi-Weekly! That's why the date is different from the comic). Cerebus #8 Rating: A. There's something happening here. What it is ain't a standard comic book. But it's not what a lot of people thought of as an underground comic book. For one, not once has Cerebus walked around with an erect penis. What was this nonsense not being published by DC or Marvel but also not being weird animal porn that is also personal confessional?! I wish I hadn't been so ashamed of purchasing adult material that my mom might raise an eyebrow at but then say nothing at all. One time she cleaned my bathroom where I had a playboy under the sink. Instead of saying anything, she just straightened it up and left it. I couldn't look at her for weeks. Although I was pretty relieved because at least a week before that, I had about twenty Playboys in there! I can't remember why I moved them but at least she didn't know the extent of my wanking! She probably thought, "Oh how cute. One magazine! And the centerfold is an African-American lady. My boy ain't no jerk off racist!" instead of thinking, "How many fucking porn mags does he need? Does he do anything but jerk off? Oh God! I'm not touching anything of his ever again! Plus isn't this copy of Penthouse the one with an underage Traci Lords?! I wonder how much that will be worth in thirty years?" Of course she thought that last thought not realizing that thirty years later, it would be considered child porn. No, I don't own it anymore, you pervs. I threw out all of those porn mags when I went to college because I didn't know where to hide them! Also I was underage when looking at the Traci Lords' Penthouse so it wasn't weird. She was older than me in those pictures!

#Dave Sim #Cerebus

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riverboundao3ff · 4 years

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Riverbound, Chapter 1

Your name is MSPA READER, and you are currently vibing outside of the known multiverse.

Well, you don’t really use that name anymore, on account of it not actually being a name. Names sound something like Emily, or Muhammad, or Patrick, or Shamita, or a million other put-together syllables and sounds.

Names are something personal. A title is anything but.

You do have a new title, though, one you like much better.

The Guardian.

Because that’s what you became when you yoinked the timeline away from the control of Ultimate Dirk and that Director lady, whoever she was. You looked Canon-With-A-Capital-C in its ugly face, spit on it, and then bent over to wipe your ass with the fabric of reality itself. Out of desperation, love, and most importantly sheer spite, you took it upon yourself to defy fate so that there is at least one timeline where everybody gets to live happy lives. This was victory at its finest. This is what it felt like to finally get everything you wanted. Your friends? Safe. Multiverse? Secure. Hotel? Trivago.

In the vast and rich history of pro-gamer moves, you believe you might have made the most powerful move of all.

After using the Green Sun- no, sorry, the Green Sun to make your own timeline, you did what any other person would do and took a big fuckin’ snooze, curling up around your universe like a mama cat protecting her kittens. You earned it.

And, if you were being completely honest with yourself, that’s how you would have spent the rest of time.

It’s not like you didn’t want to live. No, living was good. It’s just… you were so damn tired. You’re tired of always running from place to place, person to person, era to era. You’re tired of being injured, scared, and alone no matter how many friends you made. All the gods of the Furthest Rings know you’d gone through more in like a year than most people go through during their entire lives. Couldn’t a bitch just enjoy eternity in the void?

Apparently not.

The dreams began innocently enough. Playing video games with Dave, John, and Karkat. Exploring Jade’s island with Jake and Bec. Baking with Jane. Kanaya teaching you and Sollux how to sew. FLARP-ing with Vriska.

Laying side-by-side with Roxy as you two watched the sun rise. Role-playing with Nepeta. Movie night with Eridan. Getting high off your ass with Gamzee and scaring the shit out of some teal visiting their kismesis a few hives away. Discussing politics with Feferi.

Escaping that hellhouse the Soleil twins called their home. Watching those eerie lights in the corpsefield beside Fozzer. You and Remele beating a purpleblood to death.

You barely realize how nightmares had invaded your mind until you woke up with Karako’s yowls of terror in your ears. You didn’t have ears anymore, though, or a physical form, so it just sounded like your favorite clown son was screaming all around you in the abyss.

Okay. This was fine. This was fine, you kept telling yourself. After everything that’s happened to you, you were bound to develop PTSD at some point. That was completely natural.

Except this wasn’t just PTSD. This was something else entirely, because even when you were awake you saw the faces of your oldest friends burning in your mind’s eye. Something churned in your gut, ancient and primal. It was a feeling you knew well, and was usually accompanied by you launching yourself into whatever stupid shit you found next. The longer you tried to ignore it, the stronger it became, until you were permanently wrapped up around yourself like the most pathetic ball of Guardian that had to have ever existed.

You knew long before you actually put words to what was going on.

Of course. Of course it wasn’t over, because why would you ever get to have anything for yourself? Why would you ever get to just rest? For the first time in… who even knows how long, you sob hysterically into the sleeves of your hoodie.

A galaxy twinkles in the outer shell of your universe, lighting up the zig-zag sign on your chest. Mallek’s lazy smile fills your thoughts. If at all possible, everything hurts even more, until you can’t even cry to let out the pain.

Did he miss you? Did all of them miss you?

Oh, God, Daraya. You promised her you’d take her to Earth sometime, and then you just totally fucking vanished from the face of Alternia. What a fucking dick move. Granted, you hadn’t meant to do it, but still!

Your traitor-asshole brain reminds you of the fact that all of them are dead now. As in, Tyzias tried to lead a rebellion against the Alternian Empire, and then they all got killed. Your traitor-asshole brain also notes that it’s all your fault for encouraging those kinds of ideas.

Way to go, you absolute tool.

Except… they don’t have to be gone. You are the Guardian of your universe, and you make the rules. It feels so wrong to even think about it, but… yeah. You’re basically a god now. You can do what you want and nobody has the power to stop you.

Which brings about a whole new plethora of fuckery. If you were to go back, if you were to rewrite history… are you any better than Ultimate Dirk? Granted, you’d do it out of love, not because you’re a power-hungry bastard, but still. Shenanigans of this level are not to be taken lightly, even by sad Guardians with absolutely nothing better to do.

You sleep on it, which of course results in you waking up bawling like a baby as you remember the best roleplay sesh of your life, which was when Wanshi proudly gave your Soldier Purrbeasts OC her full name: Twinklemoon. You had a Soldier Purrbeasts OC named Twinklemoon. That’s why you were crying.

That’s it. You couldn’t stand it anymore.

You need advice, and you know exactly where to get it.

You find her on the 8rigantine, furiously scribbling something down on a chart with a bunch of little figurines in the middle of it. You know better than to just haul your little friendslut ass up there while Vriska Serket is in the zone, so instead you knock on the hull and call up to her.

“Hello! Lady Spinneret, an old friend is in dire need of some advice!”

It takes about two seconds for a familiar spiky head to poke over the side of the deck. Vriska’s one dark eye lights up upon meeting your gaze, followed by a toothy grin that’s both menacing and completely genuine. She reaches back to grab something behind her. A rope ladder drops down and nearly nails you in the noggin, just like it did whenever you dropped by to FLARP with her.

“What the hell, bitch! I missed you!” she yells. Despite everything, you can’t help but smile. Vriska’s wild personality and no-bullshit attitude was just what you needed.

You’re very proud of yourself when you scale the ladder with ease and scramble up onto the deck without getting too much out of breath. With the amount of insane shit you’ve gotten yourself into during your travels, getting into shape came pretty easily. You’ve been told by several reliable sources that your legs are to die for.

“The 8-ball foretold your arrival. I brought snacks.” Vriska points to a bag next to her chart, not looking up from where she was drawing an impressively detailed kraken-looking thing. “Eat something before you start gabbing.”

That was sound logic, so you drag the back closer to you and start rooting around for something good. You find a bag of stinkroot chips, open that bad boy up, and start munching. Damn, did it feel good to eat something, and to also have a corporeal body to eat things with.

As you gather your thoughts, the hairs on the back of your neck prickle with the sensation of somebody’s eyes on you. You instantly look up to see Vriska staring at you. Her expression is blank, but her good eye held all the energy of a thunderstorm.

You swallow your chips. “What is it?”

“You look… different,” she says, setting down her pencil. “It’s like I can really see you now.”

“Huh?”

Vriska huffs, but she still doesn’t take her eye off you. “Before, you kinda looked like… I dunno, like somebody cut out a whole in reality and shoved the silhouette of a person inside? Like, I know what you looked like, but I couldn’t tell you the color of your hair, or what facial structure you have, or, like… dude, you have freckles.”

“I have freckles?” You reach up and touch your cheekbone, feeling the soft skin. Oh, hey, there’s some acne. Dammit. “Are they cute?”

“Sure? I think freckles are more of a human thing, so you’d have to ask John or Jade or whatever. Also you’re blonde, like Rose,” she tells you, thoughtfully scratching at her chin. “You’re still short as fuck, though. I could probably punt you off the poop deck.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Congrats on not looking like a hole in reality.”

You finish off your chips and flop back to stare at the night sky. With all the time you’ve spent on Alternia, you can now name a lot of the constellations. Right now, the Empress’s Trident poked up at a forty-five degree angle behind the pink moon. “I think I know how we can overthrow the Alternian Empire.”

Vriska’s pencil falls out of her hand.

You continue. “Have you read any records on a rebellion that occurred about… like, fifteen sweeps ago? I don’t know the exact date.”

Vriska’s mouth opens and closes a couple of times, and then she nods. “I sure fuckin’ did. Sollux did some of his mumbo-jumbo and got me some documents. He called it an early wriggling day present, but I know he wants to help my little… agenda. How do you even know…?”

“Because I helped encourage the right people to do it. I was there, Vriska. Those kids were my friends, and now they’re dead.”

She’s silent for a moment. “The leader was a teal named Tyzias.”

Your eyes are hot with tears. “I knew her. We met because she tripped on the sidewalk while carrying a shitload of her homework, and I helped her pick it all up when it went everywhere. She had a matesprit named-”

“Stelsa,” Vriska mutters. “Holy shit. She worked closely with some jades who lead their little army. They caused a hell of a lot of damage to the Empire before it all went down, I’ll give them that.”

Neither of you speak for a long moment, which you appreciate as you try and hold your messy self together. The longer you think about your old friends and all the good times you had with them, the more you’re certain about what you want to do.

They deserve to be here.

Your blood pressure spikes just thinking about it.

It’s Vriska who puts your thoughts into words. “You want to go back and help them win the rebellion.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s fucking crazy.”

“Yeah.”

She scooches over to you so she can stare down into your soul. “If we combine our resources and collaborate back and forth between the past and the future, we can make it so less people die. We could even take out that pathetic bitch of an Heiress they had back in the day. With your powers…”

“It’s possible I could compact time itself to create a world where we… where we can make things right. We could even help Feferi…”

You can’t bring yourself to say it in case you jinxed something, but by the look on Vriska’s face, she knows what you mean.

“It could work,” she breathes.

Slowly, you sit back up. Your heart was pounding so hard you felt it in your skull. “How do you think the others would feel about it?”

“Oh, they’d shit themselves,” Vriska snorts. “A full-scale rebellion across time and space?”

“True.”

“But it could work!” she repeats, staring into empty space.

“And they’d have a huge advantage they never had before. Me,” you say, talking to yourself more than to Vriska. You’d created this universe with your own power. It was time to protect it. “Vriska, I need to go before I chicken out. Tell the others what’s happening and that I’m sorry if this all goes to shit.”

“Wait!”

You look back at her as she grabs your arm, claws digging into the fabric of your hoodie. “I… you need supplies. No frickin’ way you’re going anywhere without at least a hydration flask.”

You know what she’s trying to say, and your chest fills up with all the warmth of a bonfire. God, you love this absolute bitch of a kid.

Vriska drags you to your feet, and then you’re both sprinting for her hive.

Amazingly, you don’t die trying to keep up with the cerulean as you charge up the stairs to her respiteblock together. You’re still out of breath by the time you reach the top, though, but Vriska’s already grabbing a backpack and tossing shit into it.

“Get me that jacket off the door,” she orders as she tosses in what looks like a small medical kit. You obey and throw her the jacket, the black leather one with the bright red hood.

She then waves you over, and you slip around her desk to see what’s up. In her hands is a black sheath, with a matching handle sticking out at the top.

Vriska pulls the sheath off to reveal the blade: a brilliant silver-blue metal that nearly glowed in the darkness. It’s incredibly beautiful and very scary to look at.

“I’ve had this thing forever, so I’m giving it to you, okay? Don’t fucking lose it. Press that little gray button at the top of the handle to heat up the blade. Good for starting fires and cauterizing wounds.” She shoves the jacket into the backpack and hands you the dagger.

“Vriska, I don’t know what to say,” you begin, but she smacks you.

“Shut up and strap it to your belt. You better come back soon. I want a detailed report on everything. Single-spaced,” she snaps.

You grin. “Yes, ma’am. I should be back, in like, ten nights. Maybe eleven.”

“Ten,” Vriska growls. “I’m coming for your ass otherwise.”

“Noted. Tell everybody I said hi.”

“Obviously.”

You reach into that little part of yourself, which in turn reaches back out into that chaotic river that is the flow of time. You throw the anchor down and wade upstream. It’s a little rougher than usual, but you won’t let that stop you. There was no turning back now.

Time travel is always like trying to hit a moving target, but you have great aim, and when you find what you’re looking for you feel your face split into another huge smile. There’s nothing different about this part of the river than any other, but you know. When it comes to the people you care about, you always know.

Everything feels more real to you than it has in years. Two moons shine even brighter in the sky, the chilly air stinging your face, and you’re no troll but it still feels like you’re going home.

You open your eyes.

“Ten nights,” you say to Vriska, and you let yourself fall through the current.