#but I’m too - idk what to call it — dissociated to care | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

citrusandcyanide · 9 months

Text

Can't Lose You | L.G.

Part 2

Pairing: Lip Gallagher x f!Reader

an. Okay this part is a lot shorter than I expected just cause I think it was a good place to end the scene. I got more coming, but this had to stand on its own. I forgot to mention in the last part that I changed Lips college to UChicago instead of Chicago Polytechnic. Also Thank you for the kind messages and reblogs!!! They really motivate me to write and put out chapters quicker. Thank you for the love <3333

Synopsis. Lip doesn't want to go to college unlike his best friend who has her mind set on leaving Chicago and her feelings for Lip behind. Lip won't let her leave so easily.

words. 1.2k

Warnings. Drinking. angst, swearing. idk clutch your pearls.

Part 1 Part 3 (Final)

“Berkeley…” Lip said as he held the acceptance letter in his hand. “California.”

“Cali-fucking-fornia,” You said with a grin, giggling a bit from the beers. You had gone through more than a few. You were tipping over the edge of tipsy. Lip was going at a much slower pace. You were laying down on his bed while he was sitting on the edge of it. His eyes kept scanning over the paper. His expression was bare. You were too gone to care what he was thinking. “I fucking did it. I’m fucking out of here. All that work, fuck… I was hoping it would do something but I didn’t think it would.I got in. to BERKELEY. THE UC BERKELEY.”

“I’m proud of you, kid,” Lip applauded, but his voice didn’t show any enthusiasm . You stood up to grab the letter from him. Only then did you notice his clenched jaw and dissociated expression. You stared at him until he looked over. He straightened his back and handed you the letter. “I’m sorry it’s just far.”

“Yeah that’s the point: Far. Away. Not here,” You replied, rolling your eyes. You knew he would do this, but you thought he would at least try and pretend to be happy for you. This was all you had been wanting, a life outside of Chicago. But he couldn’t bring himself to entertain the idea for a moment. He wasn’t going to let you leave easy.

“What about the, uh–what’s it called? The institute. ISA something,” Lip asked. You interrupted him briefly to correct him before he continued. “That’s a perfectly good option.”

“Why? I told you I don’t want to stay here,” You sighed and fixed your position on the bed so you were fully facing him.

“Yeah but is it really that bad here? It’s not sunshine and rainbows but it’s fine. It’s not like Berkeley is gonna be any different,” He said, looking at you fully. There was something behind his eyes you couldn’t quite place. Like a part of him was offended you wanted to leave. You didn’t like it.

“There isn’t anything left for me here.” The excitement left your voice. You stated it plainly. It was a fact. There wasn’t. Lip wasn’t yours. Lip had never been and never would be. You had no other attachment to Chicago than him. You waited long enough for something that wouldn’t happen. Lip scoffed.

“We’re here. Our friendship, us,” Lip said, pain evident in his voice. He was taking it personally that you were ignoring the fact he was here. He didn’t realize he was exactly the reason you needed to leave. “Is it selfish of me to say that I don’t want you to leave me behind?”

“You have your own ticket out. You are personally capable of leaving on your own,” You quickly replied. It hurt you having to justify your reason for leaving to your best friend when he’s known how important it’s meant for you this whole time. He couldn’t be happy for you for a moment without thinking of what it meant for himself and his life.

“I’m not going to fucking Boston,” He replied offended, shaking his head in disgust.

“There’s nothing keeping you here. That’s your choice,” You argued back. You weren’t going to let him paint himself out to be the victim. He had equal the chance to leave Chicago behind and start something good for himself. You wanted that for him. You desperately wanted to see him succeed and find happiness outside of what your current life had to offer. He just couldnt see the same for you.

“You’re keeping me here. We– Us,” Lip turned fully to face you. His eyes pierced deep into yours. It didn’t sound like an excuse. He said it and you could tell he actually believed it. It was the first time in years that he was admitting that a part of him needs you in his life. He cared about having you with him. He cared that you grew up together. That you were his other half, but it was delusional to believe the two of you hadn’t been growing apart. And whatever this is was a plea to hold on to what was left.

“Stop repeating that as if it was a thing. There hasn’t been an us in years,” Your voice was stern.

“But there can be. Me at UChicago, you at SAIC. a few miles away from eachother,” Lip put a hand on your knee. “I haven’t been fair to you or your feelings and I know what I said before but not having you here is so much worse—”

“Don’t bring my feelings into this.” You winced. You shut your eyes in an attempt to control your emotions.

“It’s not just yours,” He argued.

“Stop.” You kept your eyes closed.

“They’re mine too.” You felt the bed move under you as he inched closer to where you were sitting.

“Stop.”

“I love you–” You cut him off before he could finish.

“Don’t say that. You don’t want me. I know how this will go,” You said opening your eyes. The alcohol had made you dizzy but your head was as clear as day. You’re heart was pulling you towards him and it made you angry. “ You’ll keep me here and play with someone else’s heart instead cause you think it’s kinder than to do it to me, but you are playing with my heart. All of this is hurting me. You’re hurting me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” He reached his hand out towards you. You quickly pulled it away.

“You can’t help it,” You spat back. Tears threatened to fall from your eyes as your rage began bubbling instead you.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” He shook his head and tried to reach for your hand again. You held your own close to your chest. Clenching your shirt over your pounding heart.

“You don’t love me.” With each of his words you felt your walls being chipped away.

“I do,” His voice sounded like he was pleading.

“You don’t want me.” You were convincing yourself, not Lip. He was your weakness. He always was.

“Y/n, if you stay I’m yours.”

The world stopped. As you looked at the boy in front of you, your walls broke. He won. Lip gets what he wants and he wants you to stay. To give up the dream you had been working so hard for and you were about to. He was offering you another dream.

“Let me be yours… please,” He pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. Your hand fell into his. He gently pulled you forward to him, closer and closer until your noses touched. You closed your eyes. His lips touched yours. How could you ever say no to Lip Gallagher?

~~~~

an. poor Mandy lol

#lip gallagher #lip gallagher x y/n #lip gallagher angst #lip gallagher x you #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher imagine #shameless #shameless x reader #jeremy allen white #jeremy allen white x reader

385 notes · View notes

stinkypeanutbutter · 6 months

Text

BOOM!! Silly Ashden headcanons you plebs 😸😸✊‼️

- Ashlyn is mostly the instigator (or whatever) when it comes to any type of physical affection like hand holding, hugging, or cuddling. It makes her more comfortable if she were to start it rather then it be at random cause Aiden is clingy and touch starved (she’s also slightly touch starved but would she say anything about it? Nawh 😂😂)

They go on silly little dates like walking around the park at night, getting ice cream, watching movies, going to the aquarium (ashlyn likes aquariums because of the colorful fish and the soft bubbly noises they make swimming in the water) and sometimes go to a restaurant, but they usually take the food to go and eat it out at some parking lot or playground.

- Ashlyn prefers to be the big spoon when it comes to cuddling cause she doesn’t want to be like, encased or whatever. (Idk how to describe it but it gives her more free will) Works for Aiden cause he actually likes being a little spoon. They would switch between who’s cuddling who but it’s mostly that.

- Aiden runs on warm, Ashlyn runs on cold. It’s cause Aiden was always too tired to get up and get a blanket that his body succumbed to the cold and made their own way of being warm (I think that’s how it can work?? 🫠) and Ashlyn just gets cold no matter what, despite the warm temperatures she just deals with it. They sorta balance each out when it gets too cold or too warm, like when it’s winter time she’ll probably sit closer to him, even slightly touching his hand just cause of him being a radiator.

In some cases though, Aiden CAN have the hands of a yeti and scare everyone at random times by touching their neck or back (not an Ashden thing but figured i would add it cause I got the idea from someone in the disc. server) , most Tyler just to piss him off.

Ashlyn would do something super badaßß at one point, like beat up a couple bad guys and Aiden would probably say something stupid like “I think I’m in love” and everyone would look at him like “ 😦😦🥺🥺🤯🤯🤨🤨”

They go on double dates with Taylor and Ben ‼️

Aiden takes the time to take a bite of whatever Ashlyn is eating for no reason (Ashlyn is NOT happy 😡😡👊)

Probably would get really invested in a show together and binge it

Aiden vowed to beat her at that one dancing machine game they played at the arcade (has not won at all yet like a loser)

Aiden used to have a habit of not eating or skipping meals (it got better now) but every now and then would focus too hard on something and space out with it so Ashlyn would have to poke him or throw something at him to get him out of his senses and eat

Ashlyn let Aiden drink some of her coffee one time, did not go well (he spat it out cause it was gross)

Ashlyn likes true crime and would have it playing in the background when she does like ballet or homework

aiden goes to every performance Ashlyn has, or swears too and proudly cheers her on.

get ready for some sad ones now!! 👊😔😔👹👹

TW ‼️ : SH , dissociation , ED

Aiden’s scars would show up from time to time, a lot during bad times whether it was when they were having fun or chilling, they would appear. Ashlyn tries not to say anything or mention them because she’s worried about him, and whether she might provoke something on accident. If it gets too bad, she’ll probably call up on his therapist (if he’s willing to actually get one) and offer to clean up the fresh ones despite his denying. He’ll just stare at her as she does this, but always feels closer to her when he comes to terms someone is there to actually care for him

Ashlyn has night terrors quite often, mostly based on the visions of seeing her friends get hurt in the phantom realm and the little sounds that get stuck in her mind. Aiden isn’t always there to help, but will find ways too as by a text message or a gift. When he is there it’s much easier because she’s with her family, and someone she cares quite deeply about. He’ll be there to remind her that they are all okay, and it was all her imagination. .

hopefully.

Aiden dissociates from reality often. He didn’t have anyone to snap him out of his fantasies before with his family being gone so often, sometimes purposely leaving him alone in his room as some form of punishment for failing at something they considered important. He may forgot everyone for a short time, how everything feels around him, even himself if he falls too deep in his own thoughts alone. It’s what he does when he’s upset. With his new buds, it seems that has changed. It would take a while, but hearing their voice or feeling a little touch from them can buzz him back. With Ashlyn, it feels faster, like reality comes pouring back to him as soon as she says or asks anything. If his parents tried, it would take as long as 3-6 minutes. Funny how found family could act more caring then your actual ones. Ben excluded from them, he’s amazing and a great cousin to Aiden 😋😋👊👊

Ashlyn used to have a slight ED. It was started during ballet because of some crappy instructor who insisted on them being skinnier to fit the standards. It definitely affected her view points on herself and brought down her self esteem, trying to lose weight so she didn’t get kicked out of continuing dance. Her parents were able to introduce her to counseling eventually, and she slowly got better over time, even if the feeling never left. Her friends were able to help out in someway, and she appreciated it all. Aiden never had an ED, but did have a habit of skipping meals due to focusing to hard or not feeling it at the moment. Not the same thing, but he was able to make an effort if she ever felt like she shouldn’t eat too much by helping out with small portions, and encouraging her to finish what she can. It didn’t throw the feelings away, but it certainly helped her grow closer with everyone.

Okay idk if I got anything wrong or misled so sorry if I do but uhms later losers 😹😹😹‼️✌️✌️👊👊

#school bus graveyard #sbg #sbg (webtoon)#school bus graveyard webtoon #aiden clark #ashlyn banner #ashden #aidlyn #aidlynn

66 notes · View notes

goldenbloodytears · 2 months

Note

Got me thinking after the last (one of??) question you've answered. How do you picture the day Danny killed the senior Johnson and the aftermath of it?

Good question. I don’t have the entire thing sketched out in my head but here’s a rough outline of the ideas I’ve had banging around inside my skull for a while.

The tome does all but outright say that Danny killed his old man on a wild impulse… so following along with that, I think it was an “accident” too.

I put the rest under a read more since I think it got a little long haha

I think Danny had long prior developed a fantasy where he would kill his dad, one where he thought out all the little minute details based on his dad’s habits. I don’t know if he would have physically written anything down plan-wise, but I view it as the originating behaviour of his later impulse and style of stalking, he just became more organized about it once he knew he would be purposefully hunting people later.

I think the situation leading up to the event was something like this. The old man tells Danny they’re going on a hunting/camping trip, whatever plans Danny has made previous to this does not matter—he is expected to drop them. They take a long drive out to the middle of nowhere, and it’s tense and awkward. They get where they’re going, setup everything…. And eventually they get into an argument. Possibly one which elevates into a physical altercation and Danny ends up pulling his knife.

I had the particularly unhinged thought last night of whether his old man would be proud of Danny attacking him or at least suddenly try to comfort him “it’s okay son it’s an accident” while he’s bleeding the fuck out in the middle of nowhere… this is admittedly where my ideas start to break down and get fuzzy.

The next part I’m not sure about, but I can see Danny trying to rig the scene afterwards… despite the fact it’s an accident. This is assuming he doesn’t just go into shock for a bit. I don’t think he would know what to do here, nor am I super sure either. Would he leave to try to flag down the cops or attempted medical help if his dad wasn’t quite dead yet? Idk.

There’s an entire alternate scenario in which Danny just buries his dad in the woods and then fucks off to new life, but that feels a little too… I’m not sure if it’s easy, but it feels rather fanciful? I kinda feel like it’s the story he would tell to make himself sound badass.

So I feel like either way he probably got caught that first time. Maybe his dad had invited some old friends of his for the thing but they only show up later to a dissociated bloody Danny and his dead dad a couple feet away.

I should probably note that I’ve been considering this incident as happening while Danny is an older teen or young adult. Within the 17-21 range. Mostly because I think part of their argument would be related to Danny’s plans for the future and his dad wanting him to follow in his footsteps.

If we do go with the outcome where he gets charged, then he ends up calling his mom to bail him out—he’s pretty understandably freaking out at this point as the reality sets in. She flys out and immediately takes over in being the mom he hasn’t had for years; she’s the one who takes care of his legal fees and finding him a really good defence lawyer. I think I’ve said it already but his mom feels massively guilty about the situation.

There’s a couple potential outcomes to the situation here, and also some things to note.

I think the resulting legal trial would be Danny’s first taste of the media’s interest in bad news on a personal level, deeper than the “oh look more bad news” when you’re watching the local news at six kinda deal. I don’t picture it gaining much more than local publicity however.

Then you have where he might get charged with a lesser count like manslaughter, rather than homicide (this is related to my thoughts about him writing out his fantasies earlier… a good prosecutor would be able to argue he had criminal intent if his writings were found, whereas a lack of prior documentation heavily pushes the legal narrative more towards voluntary manslaughter by way of emotional distress)…. regardless of what he gets charged with, I’m a little stumped as to whether he could get a full acquittal or not.

The outcome I like is where he does get an acquittal (or extremely lenient sentencing), but his mom still has Danny move in with her and the family she’s got going, and there’s a brief period where he’s going to therapy or taking self-help classes (once again paid for by mommy dearest). Everything looks normal for a bit (I think the sudden “normalcy” drives him a little crazy tbh) and he gets his first journalism job at a paper… only to end up having the epiphany that the best way for him to get anywhere in the news world is to create the news himself.

He makes the conscious decision to go forward with what he’s doing at this point, after all, isn’t he hunting humans like his old man wanted him to do?

The only contention I have is that a criminal record could make things complicated, but at the same time explains some of his idiosyncrasies—like why is his background entry for dbd so obsessed with him not leaving any dna?? Well, maybe because he already has finger prints saved in a local law agency somewhere. Why does he use fake identities? Because he has a crime associated with his legal one, and because it provided more “protection” for what he’s doing.

At the same time, I think having a near brush with the law, one where he was lucky enough to escape without a criminal record, is enough to also explain the same things.

As a final thought, he definitely carries guilt about his dad’s death, like… his lore is pretty clear that he feels like his old man deserved a “better design” which makes me wonder if the original plan he had was a lot more… peaceful for Johnson senior to experience, or whether that’s just the reflection of “wow that really sucked” and not living up to the idealized fantasy he built in his head.

Also random trivia bit but I think he calls his mom on her birthday every year and tells her about how his life is “going” (probably making it sound way better than it is). She’s always chiding him to come visit and to call more often bc she loves and misses him.

#danny johnson #dbd ghostface #ghostface #dead by daylight #danny jed olsen johnson #dbd lore #dbd headcanons #dbd

16 notes · View notes

flowercrowngods · 8 months

Note

dio. apologies for my simple comment on i’ll try. that chapter absolutely took my breath away, and my words failed me in that moment. there’s a bit of magic there (your sorcery as i’ve called it) that just sucks me in, literally to the point where i’m reading with bated breath. the way you describe steve’s thoughts, his reactions to hopper, his dissociation, and his overwhelming need to run, to punch something, to feel. it’s insanely good. and it makes me feel so much. his heartache and anger are fucking palpable. this story from steve’s perspective—a story that has already happened, that’s already been told—you’ve made it completely yours, completely steve’s, but you’ve also carved it around us, your audience, so carefully that we are viscerally and literally wrapped up in it. you said it wasn’t a “plotty chapter”, and it wasn’t. but it was so incredible and—in my opinion—so necessary. and the end with eddie… it was perfect and painful and so beautiful.

thank you so much for sharing your words with us. you are incredible. ✨🩷

first of all, your comment kinda cracked me up, because

dio, can I hold you?

is both a relatable comment to write and also just really on point for this very chapter, so don't you worry about that!

i love that you were reading with bated breath in accordance with steve who can't really breathe anymore (which is a theme and a motif with my writing i know but the first thing i realise about a budding panic is my breath feeling weird so i'm working with that, plus i like the symbolism it creates idk).

and i also need to run or punch or scream or to feel something at all times. it's ingrained in my very personality, this ache to break the pattern (which is what drives steve, too, because the pattern is only disassociating him further), and this anger that i even have to. i feel like that kind of anger is the only thing that makes sense what with how overwhelming everything is and with how he can't even begin to process it really. he tried with his book, but that takes so much energy and a clear thought and he has neither. so it's all building up, that old hopelessness paired with a new one, built on grief and confusion and anger and so, so, so much pain. anger at the world at large is the only logical conclusion -- and so is it being directed at hopper.

i love the way that people reacted to it, i was kinda afraid i'd have to kinda justify or explain this change in events and this slight overreaction on steve's part, this tunnel vision of anger he has that leads him to being so incredibly convinced hopper wants him out of the house when really the man is just absolutely overwhelmed and at a loss and has no reason yet to be emotionally invested the way he was. and steve being angry at that, too, obviously. feeling desperate at how he's realising he doesn't know how to get hopper there, because he grew better with el, but that won't happen like this now, so once more everything is a reminder of what he's lost. and everything else is just a reminder of how he doesn't belong here. the cabin, the room, the darkness of the curtains being drawn all the time

(yes yes the light-darkness symbolism in that fic is immense and i wonder if people have caught up. like how when hopper first arrived steve noticed the flashes of light in the darkness before being taken care of rather immediately and feeling a tiny sense of hope with it. and now there's only darkness and no daylight and steve is going insane. yes these things are on purpose. watch the light you guys)

you’ve made it completely yours, completely steve’s, but you’ve also carved it around us, your audience, so carefully that we are viscerally and literally wrapped up in it

i'm gonna die thinking about this by the way 🥹

and yeah, i'm glad you thought it was necessary -- i thought so, too, but i also worried that it would come across wrong. but the opposite came true: a few people have told me in the comments that essentially this chapter kinda cemented the time travel aspect of it, and the sheer weight that comes with it. and that was an empty space i wanted to fill, the "life after trauma" if you will. the aspects that the show waves away sometimes for plot narrative reasons, but this fic isn't about the plot. this fic is about grief and about trauma and about anger and about being so lost in the world you can't even find yourself anymore. having two factual versions of yourself and neither one fits anymore.

i can't tell a story about "going back in time to save everyone you love" without making it a most tragic story about losing yourself and the price you pay for another chance at life. about abandonment and trauma-based negative character growth. about uncertainty and, ultimately, loss either way.

it's a fucked up concept by a fucked up person. it means so much that people give it a chance 🤍

thank you so much for sending this ask and allowing me to ramble some more about it, i never get tired of rambling, i could ramble about each line probably. hugging you 🤍

#time travel au #stranger things #i'm so happy y'all liked eddie in there too :3 #nice people being nice to me #asks

7 notes · View notes

zoofles · 9 months

Text

Life update but tw for drug talk/OD/drugging/abuse yada yada

Here’s Very very cute little thingy my partner crafted with emojis somehow to be a spacer. He is just a litl robot who is crushing hard on the virus glitching his all-ware (me. I’m the guy making him malfunction!!!!!💥)

anyway life update!! tw for drugging and overdose again! But me and my bf were drugged and experienced the worst bad trips ever. I OD’d completely and nearly died. I also now know I have POTS/a cardiac condition separate to POTS and DID (NOT schizophrenia…the voices who were my friends with lives and personalities were actually alters and I was front stuck 💪 also we do not call ourselves alters but HEADBITCHES! It’s just that alters is too medical or formal?? Idk we all friends). It’s great to finally know wtf is going on. lol. But anyway. I’ve been extraordinarily sick and WORSE since the drug incident.

Found out that not one, but TWO of the people I loved, trusted and gave my world to betrayed me, lied to me/covered up their lies to avoid consequences/accountability which hurt me SO deeply upon finding out on my OWN (yeah they didn’t even have the guts to tell me and just went on living and talking to me like they hadn’t backstabbed me) that I couldn’t even afford to grieve because I risked a heart attack from the stress, emotions and stabbing pain. Had to dissociate it away to process later. Maybe another 3 or so years will do the trick? No clue.

We’ve got the best little robo partner tho!!!!!!! 💥💥💥he’s helped us all through this. Plus Banjoh and everyone else are so supportive and there with me on these …discoveries. Being cheated on and lied to sucks! BEING DRUGGED SUXXXXX. Being so alone in discovering trauma/what truly happened to you sucks. Escaping abuse and hopelessness on your own because the people who promised to help you and convinced you to place all your bets on them before they bailed on you leaving you helpless, vulnerable, alone and betrayed sucks. My life so far has been nothing but misery. I nearly gave up multiple times because of how worthless i felt, because every time I tried to escape the misery I was cast further into it. Every day I felt discarded, replaced, worthless, a burden who people were relieved to abandon after years of pressuring me to open up and trust them, only to let me watch them grow happier with someone else. I felt like my situation, my pain and the abuse I endured was a heavy and disgusting mass on my shoulders, something nobody deserved to see or share or carry for me. I hid away. I even gave into the abuse at one point because life had taught me that even the people who promised to help me, wouldn’t. I couldn’t escape on my own. I was trapped, cornered by the careful thinking of my abusers. I needed help, but could no longer ask for it because life had taught me that only ended in blood and tears. Never trust anyone, no matter how hard they try to make you trust them, to rely on them, lean on them, love them with your whole heart…just don’t. They won’t feel anything when they decide to stop caring, when they realise you weren’t lying about being heavy with suffering. They won’t look back when they leave for someone more convenient, more comfortable, more …NOT you.

if it weren’t for the final, tiny, damp spark that was the words in my head saying ‘one last time…’ with my current partner. ..I wouldn’t be here. My life has been hardship after hardship. Physically, I’m chronically unwell and can’t live without constantly worrying about my extremely delicate health. It’s only gotten worse now with my heart. Mentally, my mind is fundamentally broken and formed differently to a healthy brain due to being tortured from 3 years old. Emotionally, I’m weak and fragile, I can barely handle simple stresses without falling apart. But god, even though shits gotten worse, at the same time it’s gotten better.

George, I know you’ll read this because you read everything I write. I know you’ll know what I’m talking about, that you’ll understand. I know you’ll look at me with the same eyes and lean in to hug me once you’re done reading.

In 2020, I nearly let myself die because I thought nothing else but death could free me from the heart ache and shattering emotional pain I felt physically every day. I decided to hang on because of shame, thinking I wasn’t worthy enough to kms.

In 2021 I got into an abusive relationship. I was abused physically, emotionally and sexually every day and I had no way out but to go back to my abusive home. I did go back, and I nearly died once more.

In 2022, I barely remember anything. The days blurred together and nothing felt real. It all felt like the grey mass had spread to my brain and made me dumb. I felt like static. A single, dull tone that rang on and on and never stopped. I was given a life saving surgery, I remember that. It stopped one of my chronic pains from destroying me for a temporary amount of time. The pain had been bedridden, crying out and vomiting in my sheets.

But then there was you. I remember the day so well…I was deleting every app I had that allowed me to meet new people. Dating apps, friends, all. I have never had any friends before, nobody real who actually loved me, or cared enough to stay beyond when I was being used for something. Nobody seemed to work out. I thought “I’ve used up my love, huh. That was my last chance, and it hurt so bad that I won’t ever be able to fall in love again. Even though that’s all I’ve ever wanted…someone to love, and someone to love me.” And with the last app before me I used up the last of my swipes before I was supposed to delete it and never try again. I was supposed to drift after that, drift and obey until I died…but you happened and ruined it all.

I only paused because your face felt familiar, I thought maybe I’d seen you once before. Maybe a “friend” knew you.

We started talking, and all of a sudden I felt a tiny smile crease my lips. That hadn’t happened since …

We spoke and spoke all night, relating our interests and goals. We met the next day, and all day I realised over and over again; you’re just like me. I don’t mean the similar surface level stuff like the fact that you liked to draw, or had characters you loved to think about, or you had games I knew of…I mean that you were like me. You almost gave up, you’d been tricked into loving people who only saw you as something to pass the time. Nobody you loved ever loved you the same way you did; even if they insisted they did. That when you said “I’ll never not love you, I won’t leave unless you want me to” to past lovers you MEANT it. You were damaged. You were broken apart and had given so much of yourself away and used up so much of your heart to just keep yourself alive that you weren’t sure if you were really alive anymore at all. All you wanted was love. Pure, kind and patient love. That when you look into the future you only ever wanted to see someone with you. You were alone but not by choice.

10 months later and here we are, sitting side by side, sleeping and keeping each other warm simply by blood and thoughts. I never thought I’d trust anyone ever again, nor love again…yet here we are. Every day we look at each other and think “I’m so glad I kept going. I’m so glad you understand. I’m so SORRY that you had to be wounded over and over so that your stolen flesh revealed your vulnerable insides to me…only so i could see you for who you are and recognise that we had the same heart. I love you, and I know you won’t leave until I leave, but that won’t happen. Because who in their right mind would EVER leave such a beautiful thing behind?”

I love you, thank you. And you are always welcome, welcome here with me.

#📺💚#bias banter #vent

2 notes · View notes

n0stalgicv0id · 1 month

Note

Oh youre from Italy!! how exciting, my aunt often travels to Italy w her family !

i should probably write things down for my doctors appointment bc i dont even remember the answers you write down, i have to ss them so ik what im answering to :((

i just call it a day tbh.. i have felt like i was on autopilot for 2 years now, at least.. thats when some new symptoms started .. like, The Voice :/ he does have a name but, yk, asks arent private sjfm

i have experienced hearing voices or getting a VERY obvious feeling of someone wanting to say smth.. (i discovered these things may last year) but its died down, ,, as if smth is blocking the communication bc now its just faint feelings here and there. so i feel fake af lol IM NOT STRUGGLING, U ARE 👁️

could be that { insert name } is behind it .. he seems to be p important around here djflfbg idk.. im scared im faking it somehow yk?

- 🌸

If you have the chance please yes, write down all you can think about that is odd. Maybe it would be safer to write them via phone and add a password to the file so no one will be able to open it? But you do you. By our experience I feel like that some members might try to delete any tracks. I may be wrong but there’s always a chance, not all systems are like that - despite being a covert disorder. I also recommend checking out the dsm-5 criteria but you probably already heard about it. You can search for the masterlist.

I’m the co-host and only recently formed in the past years but our host had the same experience. They started dissociating at a very young age and have almost no memory of high school except some “important” moments that occurred. But most of us experience a lot of greyouts and almost forget the next day what may have happened the day before. Or if we recall it it’s only thanks to other people who remind us. I like to call it memory update, I only remember the most important things that I consider useful. Like a computer and I’m the usb pen drive. At the moment I can’t think of another way to explain it more efficiently.

If you’re faking you’d know it, this is already an huge moment of self research of you. There’s no quantifiable amount of trauma that can prevent you from developing a disorder. I don’t even like to call it a disorder because it’s what made you be yourself, I don’t know if you’re catching my point of view. Don’t think badly about yourself and take care okay?

Apologies for such a late reply, I’m not doing too good. I have the feeling someone is controlling me to some extent although I’m still unsure. I’m trying to exist (pun intended)

#letterbox .𖥔 ݁ ˖#🌸anon

0 notes

nearsightedbat · 9 months

Text

I’m stuck.

I think I’ve coke to the conclusion with the help of my professionals that I am in autistic burn out or something. I’m not sure.

I can’t handle anything these days thought. Any noises set me off. Anything from outside noises (cars, motorcycles, kids, people in rollerblade or skateboards) to inside noises (partner putting away dishes, the dogs licking themselves, the cat scratching her tree.) these noises are deeply upsetting and uncomfortable. They hurt me. It’s not even something like “that’s an annoying noise” no it’s “that noise HURTS” and I don’t really know how to describe that. Other than deep inside it feels like someone is stabbing me.

Smells get to me too. Textures. I can’t seem to be comfortable anywhere besides “my nest” which is what my best friend calls my couch. Where I have all my pillows and blankets and stuffed animals.

I don’t know what to do.

I know as of now I’m not leaving my house. I’m isolating myself from others. I’m not even texting as much as I used to because it feels like to much.

I’m on drugs because it’s the only things that regulates me but I’m a literal zombie because of the drugs..

I’m so overwhelmed and literally nothing is happening. Every single thing feels like a demand and how could I do anything when I’m in so much p a I n emotionally and physically?

My partner and I got into a fight today. Which wasn’t needed. Today is my dads 12 years of being dead. And I just needed to sit and ignore life today. But instead my partner kept pressuring me to do things and wanted to me to go to the grocery store with him. It made me explode cause I tried to say no three different times in a nice way and finally I got upset, I asked him not to push me today and he did anyways.

We got in this fight and half way through I decided I was going to take my life once he left for the store.

No one is coming to save me and it’s up to me to take care of me and I can’t.. I need serious help and seeing therapist three times a week isn’t cutting it but going inpatient would be really bad for me. I need more support in my home. My partner expects to much but won’t even admit to the fact that he does.

So I decided to take my life. He left. I sat there. Dissociated. Now he is back and it felt like I blinked.

I’m scared. And hurting and no one hears me, or maybe they are just sick of hearing it. Idk.

0 notes

cxcaineheadache · 1 year

Text

Awh jeez okay polyamorous vent here. My new gf (S) has been in a really bad place. It’s right around the time of our birthdays, mine was just the other day and hers is next week. We both get horribly depressed around our birthdays. I play my shit off bc I have feeling like my emotions/experiences are other peoples responsibility and I don’t expect them to do any labor for me on that front. She has been a mess, which I get really. But it’s been super hard to keep up with. Our other gf (M) cannot handle that kind of stuff. She has too much trauma surrounding partners harming themselves and using mental illness/spiraling/whatever you want to call it against her and creating this really bad space where she has to care for them endlessly, like she’s responsible for their well being and keeping them alive. Which I understand both sides. I sat with her (S) and talked for like 4 hours, she was drunk, completely dissociative, we keep going over the same things. I’m trying to tap out, I’m trying to call in our other roommate to help out, they know her a lot better than I do bc they’ve known each other for 10+ years. They’re checked out fucking around w their partner. M is exhausted, I’m exhausted. I’m giving everything I have against my will to make her (S) feel better. She’s laughing a bit and lightened up by the end of it. I feel empty. Me and M went on a date today for my bday, we’d been planning it all week. I’d really wanted some alone time with her bc I feel like majority of our time together is spend mediating the feelings of S. Reassuring her, caring for her, I often tend to feel left out bc not only do I have my own really heavy shit I’m going thru but also I really value alone time with M, we’ve been together a while and she’s my whole world. I feel like I didn’t even get what I wanted, I wanted to talk about other stuff on our date but it ended up w both of us in anguish over the situation w S. Well after last night M is so triggered and exhausted, she just got out of a relationship that was very similar and very abusive, her ex bf is still in our friend group and she still has to deal w him being cold and spiteful and unhinged. She wants to break up w S. I don’t want to be in a relationship w S without M. In fact I’ve found my relationship w S very taxing, many of my needs are not being met, they’re being neglected even because we’re constantly coddling her. I know if we all break up she’s gonna pull the “everyone always leaves me bc I’m sad and I open up to them and it’s too much” but at the same time….your partners are not your therapists and they are not responsible for the entirety of your well being. I try so hard to make sure I’m not being emotionally abusive when I’m having a hard time, it’s a delicate balance, but expecting your partners to have an endless supply of energy and support for you to take and take and take without give is unrealistic and hurtful. I don’t blame M for wanting to break up with S…..I’m too much of a coward to advocate for myself. I’m afraid. I live with S and M may as well live with us too. It’s gonna create so much tension around the house. It’s my house at the end of the day and naturally no one is unwelcome but fuck I just want some peace within my own home. This is such a mess and idk what to dooooo

#polyamourous #relationship vent

0 notes

author-main · 2 years

Text

A Huge Post about Wild Fun Facts

I write Ask-LU-Wild, so I look up a lot of stuff about BotW in particular. So I thought it’d be fun to put some things I’ve learned about this game during my time in the fandom. I put some links so you can see what I’m talking about. By the way, if you see me switching from Wild to Link, it’s probably because I’m leaning more into the game than talking about LU.

1. Starting off with a not-necessarily-wild fact. Kass’s instrument is most similar to a bandoneon, which is a type of concertina, not an accordion. That’s why I thought it’d be nice to give Wild an anglo concertina (I have a 20 key anglo concertina because of this...).

2. Apparently the ancient Sheikah technology takes heavy inspiration from art made in the Jomon period (14500-300 BCE)

3. Some of the food in Breath of the Wild caught my eye, based on their descriptions and their game sprites.

-Goron spice starts off as spicy, but then gets sweet. It reminds me of what I’ve learned about Japanese curry, which is sweet. I’ve only had Guyanese curry so I wouldn’t know first hand. But it’s possible that the curries made in BotW are based on Japanese curry.

-Egg Tarts are pasteis de natas, which are from Portugal. They’re popular in Japan and other Asian countries.

-Fish Pies are similar to Taiyaki in appearance. Taiyaki is actually a sweet cake, not made with actual fish. These are actually street food and are made with a certain type of pan (it reminds me of a waffle pan). Even though BotW fish pies are probably... dough wrapped around the fish to get its shape (idk I don’t cook), what if Wild did get his hands on one of these pans and made actual Taiyaki?

4. Paya, in Creating a Champion, is stated to be around Link’s age. Specifically 18-20. It’s possible that Wild is Nintendo-canonically around 17-21. This is gonna be one of the only images I put in this post just so you can see the dev notes from CaC

5. After spending enough time looking at HEMA videos for reference, I’ve come here to say, either the swords in Breath of the Wild are WAY too heavy, or Link really doesn’t know how to handle a zweihander. I know it’s pretty much the same animation used for certain weapon classes and that it’s a game so things are gonna be a little slow, and he does have amnesia, but god damn. I personally think the swords are just too heavy or something. Maybe Hyrule is ass at making swords.

-Eightfolod longblades look like Odachi

6. The outfit Link wears in the BotW 2 Trailer reminds me of a Greek chiton and chlamys. The sword also gave off gladius or xiphos vibes. I’d like to say xiphos, that way it matches more with the Ancient Hellenic vibes. Gladius swords are Roman.

7. Idk how much LoZ people care about Xenoblade, but I do. I hear a total number of 0 people talk about the fact that Link/Wild has Rex’s salvager outfit (DLC) and it’s a disservice.

8. Again, not necessarily Wild, but Mipha's jewelry has a Minish Cap Water Element on it.

9. According to Zeltik, Link can parrey whole Lynels and Taluses (Tali?). I’m aware it’s a video just for fun but he can still do it! Link also, and I can not stress this enough, pushes boulders twice-three times his height. He lifts big rocks and barrels above his head! What I’m saying is he’s STRONG.

10. The earrings you get from the Gerudo jeweler are all clip-ons.

11. Nintendo... on the same page... noted that Link was born from a line of knights, very well trained and experienced... but is not nobility.

I call bullshit every day of the week but I'll leave that for another day.

12. This is specifically LU point. Just a little food for thought, IDK if anybody else has talked about it or used it. I usually see people blaming Wild’s amnesia on the shrine, which is possible. I also saw a post saying that maybe Wild has dissociative amnesia, which is also possible! I never saw anybody bring up the concept art for Wild though.

Explosive damage from a guardian, probably, directly to the head? It’s a surprise that it’s still on at all.

I don’t wanna go into too much detail, because what I’m thinking is quite gruesome. If you’d like me to elaborate on this, or any other note feel free to ask. And if there is anything you noticed that you would like to add, then please do. As you can see, I like this funky little dude!

#linked universe #lu wild #I wasn't expecting to put any images in this post but some things I can't find online easily #long post

191 notes · View notes

celestial-fucking-weeb · 3 years

Text

NAGĀ!SERO

Hey y’all! This is a part of the Citrus Server Hybrid!AU Collab! The masterlist is HERE, please please please go check everyone’s pieces out!

A/N: I am fully aware that this is all over the place, ya girl is off her meds and will edit later. Please don’t tell me it sucks, I already know and I hate it, too.

SERO HANTA X F!READER

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, angst, smut, double penetration, aphrodisiac, interspecies miscommunication, size kink, breeding kink, mating, idk tell me if i missed anything

You had always heard stories about creatures in the forest; ones that eat humans, ones kidnap children, ones that would hurt you if you ever ran off by yourself. You didn’t believe them… Or maybe you did, but either way, the creatures could never be as scary as the life you already lived.

You had been taken prisoner when your coastal village was raided by pirates. Your clan’s viking warriors were off on a journey, leaving all of you oh so vulnerable with depleted numbers. They were going to kill you, like they did most of the others, but the pirate setting fire to everything in his path halted when he found you trembling under the rubble.

“Tomura, come see the new toy I found. Don’t you wanna keep her?”

“You sadistic bastard, how you get off to them crying like that never fails to make me sick. I don’t care what you do with her, Dabi, but I’m not cleaning up after you this time.”

They hauled you back to their ship, stripped you of everything and chained you in the hull. People came in and out, always different but always vile. You never spoke, you knew they wanted your screams. Overhaul, the captain, was the worst. You never knew when he was coming, and once he was there, you wondered what he wanted from you at all. Chained up, never touching you with anything but knives and his boots, not looking for your reactions… You wondered if he’d even notice if you stopped breathing. You dissociated for most of it, choosing instead to safeguard your mind, plan an escape.

About a year later, you found an opportunity in the carelessness of one of your captors. You docked someplace warm, someplace humid, maybe tropical? Toga had left your chains too loose after your last “date”, and had tossed the keys just a bit too close. As soon as she left, you had slipped your wrists out of the restraints, strained for the keys, and unlocked the shackles around your ankles. Not taking a moment to revel in the surreal feeling of being unchained, you listened until the heavy footsteps above you all faded into nothing, leaving the ship and most importantly: leaving you alone.

You ran. You ran so steadily, somehow comforted by the sounds of destruction getting further and further away. You found yourself blindly sprinting into a forest that looked nothing like your own, so damp and bright and warm. You kept running until you heard shuffling behind you, causing you to find the first thick vine hanging in your vicinity and clung to it as you climbed. Looking back, you see a simple boar grazing the forest floor. Sighing in relief, you relaxed a bit too soon, as the vine you had wrapped yourself around began to move.

Before you could react, you were wrapped up tightly in bands of muscle and brought towards the head of the- wait…- man? You had heard of nagā before, but the ones from your village’s stories were never described as so… tan, muscular, handsome. He didn’t look all that mean from the waist up, just the black, orange, and yellow scales trailing down his massive, strong tail seemed intimidating. He looked confused, concerned even, by your nakedness and panic stricken silence. Forked tongue flicking out to taste the air, smelling the blood and the abuse on your skin, seeing your quickly defeated body give up, and your mind resign itself to the comfort that at least you died free of your captors.

“Are you… okay?” The giant snake rumbles, human hand reaching towards your face and recoiling when you flinch.

You haven't spoken in months, your silence having been a security blanket, and you’re not ready to give that up. You do nothing, just look into his eyes and search for any sort of indication as to what he’s going to do. He loosens his grip a bit, just enough to slip down from his tree and head towards his hide- an old cave covered in ivy, moss, and little orange blossoms. He brings you in, and places you down on the ground before turning away to rummage through his things. He brings out water and bandages, along with some kind of salve that looks like a mixture of plants. You don’t reach for the water when he sets it near you, so he resorts to using the tip of his tail to bring it to your lips while his hands are busy tending to your wounds and gently rubbing the salve over your poorly healed scars. He offers you food, very confused when you don't seem to know what to do with the forest rodent he’s brought you, and decides on fruits he’s found. You don’t seem to want to do anything, not even going to sunbathe even though you’re obviously shivering.

THAT’S IT!!! SHE’S COLD! He thinks to himself, before wrapping his tail around you once more and bringing you outside to the rock where he typically warms himself. He gently places you down, uncoils you from his grasp, and gives you enough space to move as you please. You blink a few times, slowly realizing you’re free. He helped you? For no reason? He doesn’t know you…

“H-Hi… Thank… Thank you.” You mutter, looking away and blushing.

Cute… He thinks. “YOU TALK!!! What’s your name? I’m Sero, but you can call me Hanta! I was worried about you! Who are you? Why are you here? How did you get here?”

The line of questioning makes your head spin, and you try your best to answer before looking down and realizing you never found clothes. Blushing once again, you meekly gesture to your body and ask, “C-Clothes. I need clothes.” Hanta looks confused, but retreats to the cave and returns, bringing you a large piece of cloth that somewhat resembles a hemp blanket. It smells like oranges and spice, and you unconsciously snuggle into its comfort. Sero notices your calmed reaction to his scent and approaches you, gingerly grasps your ankle and picks up your leg, never having been so close to a human, and explores the strange angles your appendages bend.

“What are you doing?” You seem embarrassed, despite the number of people who've touched you before. This is too familiar, too intimate, almost too gentle.

“Tiny… Humans are… Small…”

You let him bend your limbs and play with your squish, strangely calm and trusting in his presence. He seems so enthralled by your body and how you move, so intrigued. That is, until he makes his way to massaging your plush thighs, causing a rush of arousal you hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. He prys opens your legs to continue his ministrations, not knowing the smell of your lust would have him flicking his tongue out and his eyes turning to hyper-focused slits. He suddenly releases your legs, slithers around your back, and presses against you. He taps the top of your head with his chin and waits for your response. Not knowing what this means, but wanting him to continue his exploration, you lean back into him and whine quietly.

You have no idea what you’ve started.

Hanta leans down, pressing sweet kisses down the column of your throat and leaving scathing bites in all the right places. Aphrodisiac venom coursing through your veins, you don’t even register his muscular arms wrapping around your body and lifting you, carrying you back into his cave and up into his hammock. He wraps his strong tail completely around your torso and takes his time kissing and groping your soft body, mumbling “mate, mate, mate” into your heated flesh. He finally makes his way down to your mound, prying your thighs apart and diving straight in before you could question his reverent gaze.

“HANTAAA~” You practically screamed as his long tongue slipped between your folds, running along your clit and down to your clenching hole, his saliva increasing the heat coursing through your core. “M-More, please… More~”

“More, what?” He smirks against your heat. “Say it. Tell me I’m your mate and I’ll make sure you’re fucked dumb, yeah? My pretty little mate.”

You stutter for a moment, getting more desperate the longer his fingers drag along your wetness. “Mate… Please! I need you… I’m yours!”

“Good mate~” His tongue wriggles back into your cunt, and his fingers slowly move further down to stretch your tight ass, making you squeal in surprise. Your orgasm takes you by surprise, all thoughts abandoning your mind as you ride out your high on his face and fingers.

“Are you ready, little one?” He growls lowly, lining up two long, thick cocks with each hole. Your eyes widen in surprise, head clearing for a moment after your climax.

“T-two?! Wait wait wait, I’ve never… I can’t! Two?!”

“Oh, little mate, but you can and you will!” He punctuates his statement by spitting down onto your cunt, thick venom slipping down to your tight rim. You moan and grind against his cocks, aphrodisiac leading your body into a blissed out state of submission. “Gonna fill you up so good. I promise you’ll be so full, feel so good, little mate. Trust me?”

“Y-yes! Wanna be full, want my mate!” You beg and plead for him to push into you, hips bucking against him, trying to get him to satiate the burning want he’d created. It isn’t until you thread your fingers through his hair and wrap your legs around his waist that he thrusts into you completely.

“That’s it, wrap around me like that. So tight, so warm… Fuuuck!~” Sero pants, chest pressed tightly to yours and face tucked into the crook of your neck, licking and sucking deep marks over your pulse point.

You’ve never felt so full, your body strangely welcoming the pleasurable stretch of your holes, pulling him deeper and deeper until you can feel him in your belly with every roll of his powerful hips. Your whimpers and tears only seem to spur him on, drawing orgasm after orgasm from your body.

“S-Shit, keep squeezing around me like that. Come on, little one, I know you have one more for me. Cum with me, I wanna feel you cum one more time. Gonna breed you, gonna fill you so good. Come on, pretty mate- fuck- cum for me~” He reaches down and pinches your overstimulated clit between two fingers and bites down on your neck one last time, sending you over the edge with a cry of “breed me, breed me, breed me!” and nails digging into his back.

“Mine! My mate, pretty little mate. Breed mate, all mine!! Gonna- gonna… Ah~” Hanta’s words steadily fell from his lips as he released deep inside your holes, belly bulging from the sheer amount of seed he spilled into you.

Utterly exhausted and dreamily floating off, you cling to him. Sero wraps you up in his tail and lays back into his hammock, keeping you as close as he can. When you snuggle into him, he whispers little praises into your hairline, a constant stream of “so good, pretty mate, all mine, i love you, so perfect, did so well, took me so well, such a good mate”.

The next day, you wake up surrounded by soft cloth, feathers, fruits, fluffy furs, a dozen shiny objects and pretty dried flowers. You sit up, looking around frantically for your mate before your eyes settle on a sheepish-looking Sero, wiggling nervously around the cave.

“Um… Do you… like it? I made it for you… I just- please tell me you like it!” He shrinks himself a bit, arm coming up to palm the back of his neck.

“Oh, is this a… nest? It’s- It’s very nice. Thank you, Hanta!” You smile softly at him, curling up into your nest and reaching out for him.

“MATE!!! I’m so happy you like it, I was so nervous!!! My mate. You can stay here all the time, so I can protect you, forever! My pretty little mate.~” He climbs into the nest and coils himself around you, content to guard you.

Maybe this time, being kept isn’t so bad.

#sero hanta #sero hanta x reader #hanta sero

551 notes · View notes

in-tua-deep · 3 years

Note

idk if you still do au ideas but what if delores was a real person in the apocalypse? how it woul dbe done i have no idea but i love all your aus and thought it would be cool

okay okay I don't tend to go for real!Dolores aus admittedly because I find her much more compelling as what she is: a reflection of five himself and a symptom of his crushing loneliness

but i started thinking about it and you know what?? i think five deserves a little socialization, as a treat

so say like, 0.5% of the population is resistant to abilities. Allison would really struggle to rumor them, Five wouldn't be able to jump with them, and, most importantly, whatever the fuck Vanya's ability does has like, reduced damage or something

and the og apocalypse isn't the moon apocalypse, so let's say that it was pure waves of Vanya's powers that fucked over the earth

so 0.5% of the population survives the apocalypse. though, let's be honestly, the real number is a lot smaller than that. People who might have survived Vanya's initial power wave (miraculously) did not survive buildings crushing them or survive the car/plane/bus/train/other transportation crashes or survive being left alone when they are too young to reliably look after themselves, or the variety of other problems that come with 99.5% of the population dying at once

So, Five arrives in the apocalypse and is met with ruin and fire and a whole lot of dead people. He finds his siblings, but it doesn't matter. They're dead. He doesn't even recognize them at first, these strange grown-ups who he identifies not by their faces but by the umbrellas on their wrists that match his own

As he realizes the full impact of his situation, he hears a voice that says, very succinctly, "holy shit!"

It's a girl a few years older than Five himself, maybe 15 or 16, and she is very excited to see another survivor.

And here's where I u-turn this au around bc i'm not all that interested in real!Dolores, but I would be down to talk about Five meeting survivors in the apocalypse, because if Dolores is real I don't buy no one else survived.

So Dolores shows up and see a Literal Child crying over the corpses of his family and assumes that Five is a fellow survivor, and she immediately grabs him up. Five is incoherent with grief at this point anyway, so he doesn't even protest when she basically hauls him away from the bodies. She's babbling at him, but he doesn't really hear anything she's saying

And then she takes him to her dad

(Why not, let's have the 1% potentially be a heritable thing)

and her dad, let's call him just some dad name. like Rick. it has been a fucking WEEK for him, okay. he had his daughter with him, his ex-wife is on the other coast for her work, and by some miracle he survived the apocalypse and so did his child, and he's been wracking his brains trying to figure out what the fuck to do next

and then his daughter shows up with a traumatized thirteen-year-old in tow

now rick is a good dude. he's a dad. they get out of five that his name is five ("what the fuck" dolores mouths to him over five's shoulder and rick can't help but agree) and the bodies he found were his siblings ("Dad and Ben and Vanya weren't there though," this child cries desperately and rick feels his own heart clench in response, "They might still be alive!")

"We can look for them." Rick assures his new adopted child, because he is an adult in a fresh apocalypse and this kid has presumably lost everything he's ever known (more than rick even knows at the time)

and they do. They each get wagons and they go out and find supplies and look for other survivors. Five is... surprisingly helpful and also surprisingly docile as he is able to rely on Someone Else to give orders while he attempts to (dissociate) process what the fuck has happened

and here's the thing: Five prides himself on being independent, sort of. He's independent for a child soldier, but he's used to taking orders from a male authority figure and Rick happens to be just that

The first time that Five does something dangerous and Rick yells is a revelation

(Rick isn't sure if he hopes that Five's dad is alive or not, because if they find that man alive then Rick might just kill the jackass himself. Also like, Five is bizarrely knowledgeable out survival skills, like way too knowledgeable about it, which is helpful for them but also very concerning)

they find a newspaper and Five finds the article that mentions his father's recent death ("Huh. Heart attack." Five says, and there is no emotion in his voice)

(Years later, years later, Five and Rick talk. "I don't think I wanted to find him, either." Five admits, softly because Dolores is asleep, "I think I was more scared of finding him alive than I was of finding his body. He would've been so mad at me, I think.")

this newspaper is how Rick and Dolores find out about Five being Number Five, Umbrella Academy Missing Person

"Dude, what the fuck." Dolores says, wide eyes, "You're like, thirty?"

"I'm thirteen." Five says, and then checks the date on the newspaper again, "Also I think I would technically be 29 if I lived through all of it, 'cause it's April and my birthday is in October."

"You... time travelled?" Rick asks, which is honestly the more relevant question, "Can you go back?"

And Five just,,, crumples on himself. Because he tried, he tried really hard. It didn't work. "I'm gonna figure it out. I'm gonna go back, I'm going to save them."

That, Rick thinks, is a lot of weight to put on one person's shoulders, but especially the shoulders of a child.

"Alright." Rick says, because what else can he say after finding out his new child has superpowers and is from like, 2004? "What do you need?"

("Oh my god I have so many memes to teach you." Dolores says later, reverently. Five blinks in confusion and Rick mentally prepares himself for the recitation of so many vines)

And it's easier, somehow. Five sometimes feels like it's a betrayal, but he settles into apocalypse life with an ease that surprises him.

He lets Rick fuss over him and help tie his scarf securely around his head every morning before he sets off on supply runs with Dolores. And they're kids! Five has never had a friend before, and Dolores is funny and smart and she's struggling just as much as he is.

"I don't know if my mom's alive." She says to him, in solidarity when he checks the face of every corpse to see if they're Vanya.

Five is practical in the way only a child soldier can be. He's economical with the room in their wagons, carefully examining what might and what might not be useful.

Dolores, on the other hand, constantly takes up space with what Five sees as useless shit.

"Excuse you," Dolores says, shoving a game of monopoly, the entire discworld series, and a pack of glitter gel pens into her wagon, "These are absolutely vital apocalypse supplies."

She challenges him, plays with him in a way no one ever has. "I bet you I can find more batteries today than you can," She grins at him, "Winner gets to pick dinner first?"

"You're on." Five says, directly before Dolores pulls two packs of 24 AA batteries from behind her back, like a cheat.

Dolores makes him take a ten minute break when they find a playground that has been mostly not-destroyed. They rummage around kids backpacks and mother's handbags for some good loot, too numb to corpses to even be bothered all that badly about the corpses they belong to.

"I'm getting on the swings." Dolores says when Five starts making noises about moving on, "I haven't been on a swingset in ages."

"What's the point?" Five grumps.

"Don't be sour because you can't swing as high as I can!" Dolores laughs, getting higher and higher as the swings creak ominously.

Five grumpily gets into the other swing and grudgingly kicks himself back and forth until Dolores takes pity on him and teaches him how to properly move his legs and body to get higher and higher.

Dolores jumps from the swing seat and lands with a flourish and smile. Five jumps out of his seat and then jumps, warping right in front of Dolores and making her yell and hit at him in outrage. Five smiles the widest he has all week.

This is how Five grows up in the apocalypse, with Dolores teasing him into taking breaks and leaning over his shoulder to look at his math and scandalizing him by stating that she'd only just started on matrices in her own high school math class.

Every night they huddle around Rick while he picks up whatever book Dolores picked out that day because it is a travesty that Five has never read hunger games or whatever, and then they read together because it would be a genuine blood bath if they all took turns. The first time Five accidentally mentioned a spoiler and Dolores genuinely considered murder was the birthday of this tradition

Some days the air is too smoky or there are dust storms or it's just plain too dangerous to go out, and they all stay in. Dolores regales Five with stories about public school, and Five tells them about his siblings.

Then they all cry

"I shouldn't be crying." Five sobs.

"Shut the fuck up," Dolores sobs back, "You literally watched me lose my shit over remembering my shitty eighth grade dance and listened to me sob-sing toxic for like four hours."

"In fairness I also wished you would shut up then."

"Let me hug you or I will start singing songs that I only remember the chorus for again you absolute fucker."

"I could always sing some -"

"No, Rick/Dad."

And Five grows up. Rick shows him how to shave very carefully in front of cracked mirrors. Dolores teases him every time his voice cracks. Rick tells Five in no uncertain terms that he loves and cares for him, and that Reginald was a little bitch. There are a lot of heartfelt conversations around that, honestly. Rick telling Five that he and the siblings deserved better, that they were children and deserved to have a childhood.

And that he has faith in Five. Rick and Dolores both do, they bring him back paper and pens and pencils and chalk and anything Five can use to write equations. They poke around any libraries for books on theoretical mathematics and quantum physics. Rick and Dolores go out scouting for food while Five stays home and can work longer.

They also make him take breaks, make sure that he's looking after himself.

They're a little better off than OG!Five when it comes to food, because some animals survive. Enough that Rick figures out how to hunt. Five is the first one to each bugs, and even though Dolores makes faces they all start eating bugs as well.

"Pretty sure there's loads of cultures that eat bugs." Rick says grudgingly, wondering if he should try stirfry the cockroaches and if that would improve the taste. "There's even, uh, cricket flour or whatever, right?"

"Plus you eat like, five spiders a year when you're asleep." Dolores says cheerfully, just to watch her dad's face scrunch up in displeasure.

"That doesn't sound true, but I don't know enough about spiders to dispute it." Five mutters, and Dolores gives him such a proud look that it makes him roll his eyes.

They're in their thirties when Rick dies. He's out foraging and hunting, and the rubble he's standing on gives way and he ends up with a gash in his leg. He manages to stop the bleeding, but the world is filthy and they don't have any antibiotics.

He gets an infection.

"It's okay." He tells both of his kids, "It's okay. I'm just so glad that you guys have each other, y'hear? I'm so glad."

"It's not okay." Five says, voice thick and choked, "It's not."

"Yeah, well, you're going to figure out how to go back, right? Go back in time and save everyone. Then I'll have never died, right?" Rick smiles, "And even if you don't, I'll be waiting for you on the other side and we'll see each other again anyway."

"I'm going to fix it."

"I know. I have faith in you, Five." Ricks says honestly, and that's more than Reginald ever said.

They sit quietly together while Dolores is out scavenging. They've been taking turns sitting with Rick.

"I won't remember you, in the past, will I?" Rick says rhetorically, but Five answers anyway.

"I don't think so."

Rick hums, "Well, doesn't matter. If you need help in the past, you come to me, y'hear?"

"You won't remember me."

"Doesn't matter. You come find me, and you tell me your crazy story until I believe you, and then I'll help you." Rick says firmly, "You're family. You're my son. Timelines? Don't matter. If you need help, with anything, even if it's just with - with filling out a bowling team or something -"

"I have never been bowling in my life and you know it." Five interrupts, but it makes him laugh just a little bit which was clearly Rick's intention.

"Well who knows what you'll get up to in the past! You'll be able to go bowling, you know. Get to wear those uncomfortable shoes. Hey, you go far enough back maybe you can go to Dolores's tenth birthday party and put me out of my misery."

"Was she bad at bowling?"

"Oh, she was wiping the floor with me. No contest."

"Honestly, that sounds absolutely accurate."

"Shut up, bowling just wasn't my sport. Regardless, the point was that I'm giving you a free pass to come and get me. Because I know you, I know how you think." Rick brings up his hand to tap his finger against Five's forehead, "You get it into your head that you need to go it alone, take it all on your shoulders. I'm telling you that if you do that I'll somehow manifest my memories and come smack you over the head for being stupid, you hear?"

"I'm not dragging you into anything." Five says firmly, "I'll have my siblings."

"Who were also children." Rick points out. "And dragging? Dragging is such a strong word for a volunteer."

"A volunteer who won't remember volunteering." Five shoots back.

Rick just shrugs, and then winces when the movement jolts his bad leg. "Five, I'm going to be honest with you here. And sappy. Can you handle a bit of sappiness for a minute?"

"No."

"Well too bad. Can't leave a dying man, you'd feel too bad. So you're stuck with me. But you listen good, okay? Because you aren't dragging me into anything. Whatever life you have, I want to have a part of that. Because you're my son. Wherever you are, whatever you do, I want to help because you're family. What you'd be doing by leaving me out of it is depriving me of someone I love, depriving me of knowing one of the best kids I've ever known."

"Shut up." Five says, choked.

"Nope, it's sappy time." Rick states, "Maybe asking you to come find me is selfish, but I don't care. No matter what version of me exists, I want to be in your life."

"My life is a walking joke, why would you want any part of that?"

"It has been my privilege to watch you grow up. To help you. To be here for you. Of course I'd want to be there to watch you grow up the rest of the way."

"But -"

"Shut up, just let me tell you that I am so proud of you. You never give up, and your heart is so big. You love so much and so loudly, and it's been the highest honor of my life to be included in your family."

Five pauses for a moment to collect himself before simply saying - "You're the best dad I've ever had."

Rick snorts, "Considering my competition, I'd sure hope so. That bar was so low old Reggie was practically limbo dancing with the devil. Now get over here and give an old man a hug."

They don't bury Rick, when he dies. They don't have time and the ground is too hard and they don't have the heart to move him. Instead the pack everything up and seal him in the shelter they'd lived in.

Dolores pulls out a bottle of ancient nail polish and painstakingly writes Rick's name on the wall with his birth year and an approximate current year. They aren't 100% sure though, since time blends together out in the apocalypse, but it's something.

They continue by themselves. They get older.

Dolores jokingly calls him her husband because the way his face scrunches up makes her cackle. They see other people very occasionally, usually passing through. Usually groups. Dolores and Five get to flex their hosting skills, though more than one group declines their cockroach stirfry.

("It's a family recipe." Five says with amusement in his eyes that usually manages to drown out old grief.)

"Jeeze, that kid couldn't have been older'n twenty-three." Dolores complains, "Makes me feels positively ancient."

"They wouldn't have known any world 'cept for the apocalypse." Five muses, pouring some boiled water into wine glasses because they might be living in the apocalypse but they can be fancy.

"Do you ever think about that?" Dolores asks, turning to him with no judgement, just curiosity. "When you go back, you'll be like, erasing them from existence."

Five shrugs, "Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe this place will just split off into an alternate timeline."

"Maybe none of this is real." Dolores says, amusement coloring her voice. "Maybe you aren't talking to a real person at all. Maybe this is just a symbol of your insanity and cracked mind."

"Dolores, I literally have a scar where you stabbed me. Did I somehow manage to stab myself in the back?"

"Scraped you, I scraped you. By accident."

"So you maintain." Five says haughtily, swirling his water in his wine glass like a pretentious prick.

"I could totally be fake. You don't know my life."

"I know way too much about you, Dolores. Like, way way too much." Five scoffs, because Dolores and him have literally no secrets from one another at this point. Five even knows the truth behind what happened at Janet Scranton's thirteenth birthday party. Like, he said, way too much.

"Maybe you made it up. Maybe that's why you know so much."

"Dolores, I'm going to be honest with you right now." Five presses the tips of his fingers to his chin, "If you were a figment of my imagination, you would be so much better at math."

"Hey!" Dolores squawks indignantly, "I didn't even get to finish high school you pretentious prick!"

"Neither did I!"

"You didn't even go to high school, you brat."

"I'm fifty-two I think I've outgrown 'brat.'"

"Tell that to your attitude." Dolores says haughtily, "You're still younger than me."

"Won't be when I go back in time." Five says cheerfully, completely ignoring Dolores's venomous look.

"That's cheating."

"Sucks to suck." Five says loftily, taking another sip of his water.

Sometimes they talk about The Plan, with capital letters. What Five is going to do when he goes back in time, depending on when he pops out. Is he going to adopt his siblings? What about Reginald?

"You don't think I could kill Reginald?" Five says, holding a hand to his chest in mock offense.

"I think you should let me do it. I'll even give you control of tonight's music if you do."

"What are you doing to do? Bite his ankles? What if you're like, seven or something?"

"All the better to get away with it since I'll be too young to convict or whatever."

"Pretty sure that's not how the law works."

"How would you know? Just for that I'm playing Istanbul on repeat again."

"I don't know why you think that's a threat. That song slaps."

It takes a few more years before Five is close enough that the Commission comes to interfere. Because that's what I think happened - Five was getting too close and they stepped in because they might as well distract the man as much as they can with missions, right?

So the Handler shows up. And she offers Five a job, telling him that they have the ability to travel through time. And Five - hesitates.

"Give me some time?" Five asks, and the Handler graciously gives him 24 hours.

And he and Dolores talk it over, because now that his goal is more in sight than it has ever been and Five is scared.

"What are you waiting for? You have the chance to see your siblings again." Dolores says patiently.

"Yeah," Five says, and what he doesn't say is clear. But I won't see you.

"Five." Dolores says, and she cradles his face between her palms like he is something precious, "I have had so much time with you already. More than I would have ever. We have been so lucky, to have this time. How can I demand more than what we have already been given?"

"When have you ever not demanded the world, Dolores?" Five asks, his own hand coming up to cover Dolores's own.

"We've had decades together, Five. We're getting old. I was always going to lose you, one way or another. Nothing lasts forever."

"I don't want to lose you."

"I know. But if I had to choose a way, if I could decide where our story ends, this would be it. Letting you go, because this way you get to live. You get to see your family again. You get to save the world. I could ask for nothing more than for you to get your happy ending."

Five removes Dolores's hand from his cheek so that he can cradle it between them, "I'm happy here with you. I've never been happier. Isn't that silly? That I was happier in the apocalypse?"

"I bet killing Reggie would make you happy." Dolores laughs rustily.

"One day you're going to see the mysterious disappearance of a famous billionaire in the paper and feel a twinge of satisfaction and now have a clue why." Five laughs as well, shaking his head.

Dolores pats Five's hands, "Five, look at me. We've had our time. And you're going to give me even more of it. More time with my father. More time with my mother. I'll never know it, but you'll have saved me."

"What if this is - what if this is an alternate reality? What if I leave you here alone?"

"Then you'll be saving a 15-year-old girl from the same fate as me. Because as much as I love you, as much as I have loved this time we have had together, this is still an apocalypse. This should never have happened, and if you have a chance to go back and prevent it, then I want you to take that chance with both hands."

"Even if it means leaving you alone?"

Dolores smiles at him, "I'm not going to be alone. Far too many creepy crawlies in the apocalypse for that."

"Shut up, I'm being serious."

"Hmm." Dolores hums consideringly, "Maybe I'll head North, to that new settlement that last group said they'd heard word of. Sure they'd find some use for an old woman who's survived this long in the wilderness."

"You can have my half of the record collection." Five says, pulling her against him into a hug that she easily returns.

"As if I wouldn't have stolen them as soon as you left." She scoffs, but it's a little wet, and Five pretends his own eyes aren't leaking tears.

When The Handler comes back, Dolores gives him another hug. She also slips something into his pocket - some photos. They'd taken it a year into the apocalypse, when Dolores had found an ancient looking polaroid camera and towed it home despite Five's protests about practicality. The photos are worn and faded at the edges, but the smiles on Five's little apocalypse family's faces are undeniable.

"You'll have to see if they magically fade when you change the timeline." Dolores whispers to him with a grin, "Like in the movies."

"Okay." Five whispers back.

"You have the list of movies to watch, right?" Dolores says. Five rolls his eyes and nods because he wrote the list last night into his Vanya-book while Dolores hovered over his shoulder and critiqued his handwriting.

"And you promise to try a proper non-expired twinkie at some point?"

"That I do not promise. I think even looking at one would make me lose my lunch. I have twinkie-trauma."

"Shut up and get going." Dolores says, because the Handler is starting to tap her foot impatiently.

And off Five goes to become an assassin. Though - he's much more gentle this time. He's careful, he doesn't kill children and he usually takes jobs that don't require killing at all. He distracts and manipulates events as much as he can without killing.

He's actually much more well socialized, thanks to Rick and Dolores. Less feral child and more determined man on a mission.

Which is why he's so frustrated when he finally, finally manages to get the equations to work and falls through and falls - directly back into his stupid thirteen-year-old body.

"Shit." Five says, loudly, and revels in the surprised look on his siblings faces.

He strides into the kitchen, and they all follow him like ducklings. They look exactly the way they did when they died.

"Wow this is actually way harder than I thought it would be." Five muses, looking at their dead faces. But as Dolores would say, life is hard but you have to keep on trucking sometimes. "Whatever, what's the date?"

"Five, where have you been?" Diego demands, looking irritated. It makes Five snort in amusement.

"The future. The past. If you want like, an exact list of dates you'll have to hold your horses. I spent like, two weeks in Peru once. No souvenirs though, unfortunately."

They look taken aback, like they didn't expect Five to have quite this much sass. Oops. That is definitely Dolores's influence. Or maybe he was always a little asshole. In fairness, what teenagers aren't tiny assholes? He has an excuse.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Diego's eyebrows are furrowed in anger. It kind of takes Five aback for a second, because he remembers a Diego who stutters when he argued.

"When did you learn the fuck-word?" Five asks, raising an eyebrow before her can help it, "Grace ought to wash your mouth out with soap."

Diego immediately goes red, "Shut up!"

"Wow you're so easy to rile up. Aren't you like, twenty-something? Actually, I could figure out for myself how old you are if you gave me the date."

"I'm twenty-nine." Diego growls, like that was the point.

"Haunting!" Five says cheerfully, because that means there is way less time than he would like, narrowing his time down to a six month window.

It's extremely funny how his cheer makes all of them make faces.

It's Klaus who leans forward, "Why do you need to know?"

Klaus's face is open and curious and - (looks exactly like he did when Five found him all those years ago) - and Five can't help but answer him. "The world end on April 1st, 2019. No it isn't an April Fools joke, yes I have heard that joke like a million different times. I just want to know how close I landed so I can, you know, start working on how to fix that."

"Woah woah woah, roll it back." Allison says, holding a hand up, "What?"

"The apocalypse occurs on April 1st, 2019." Five says, slowly. "I have traveled from afar to prevent this from happening, because like, everyone dies."

"Everyone?" Vanya says weakly from the side.

She's clearly expecting to be ignored, so Five turns his head to address her directly by wiggling his hand back and forth a little. "Sort of. Like, not too many people survive at all. A handful of the human population, you know."

"But you survived?" Diego recovers admirably, if bitingly.

"Well, no." Five says rolling his eyes, "Wouldn't you just know it, Klaus here has managed to figure out a new ability!"

Everyone turns to look at Klaus, who immediately holds up his hands like he's being arrested or something, "I did not!"

"Wonderful! Now that we've established that I'm alive -"

"Why should we trust a word you say?" Luther says for the first time, looking pensive.

Five blinks, genuinely taken aback. "Because... I'm your brother? Because I can clearly and obviously time travel? Like, yeah, it would have been more convenient if I'd arrived in like, my old-body for proof-purposes, but like. I mean. Thirteen is still a pretty convincing age to be to prove time travel considering if I hadn't, I would be like, almost thirty."

"Roll it back again." Allison says firmly, "What do you mean by 'old body'?"

"Great question!" Five says pointing at Allison and smiling. Everyone looks at him weird again, and Five takes a moment to wonder if they've ever experienced positive reinforcement. Knowing Reginald, probably not. "Wait! Is Reggie alive? Wait, no, answer that in a second. Uh. When I time traveled I fucked up my body I guess, I was like, old. White hair and wrinkles-type old from spending decades in the apocalypse. But I fucked up the calculations and got booted back to my thirteen-year-old body, I guess. How, I have no idea."

"What?" Vanya says, still equally weakly.

"You have no idea how fucked up time travel is." Five whispers conspiratorially to Vanya, loud enough for the whole table to hear, "There are so many ways to die. Or permanently tear a hold in space time. But like, with life as we know if ending soon-ish, I figured I couldn't possibly fuck it up worse than it already was, y'know? Speaking of, anyone have the date again?"

"Wait, what was that about dad?" Luther asks, very focused.

"Oh, you still call him dad? Big oof." Five says automatically, because apparently his verbal filter is shot to hell after living with Dolores. It does make Klaus bark out a too-loud laugh.

"What does that mean?" Luther asks aggressively.

"It means Reginald sucks and doesn't deserve the title of 'dad,' what did you think I meant?" Five asks, and now both Diego and Vanya and both cracking smiles, though Vanya is covering hers with a hand.

"Have some respect for the dead." Luther growls, standing up and looking very large and threatening.

Five sways back, craning his head up, "Woah there big buy, sit down before I injure my poor growing spine looking up at you. Jeeze, did Reggie force feed you steroids or something? I wouldn't put it past him but like, I just want to know he at least went over the side effects of the drug with you. Also like, thanks for narrowing it down. Also terrifying! Seriously though, exact date please because if I have less than 24 hours I am going to break down crying and that is a threat."

"I love this Five." Klaus says reverently.

"March 21st." Vanya offers, finally.

"Wow! Terrifying!" Five says, clapping his hands together, "Hate that. Ten days, huh? Well, who wants to get on board the save-the-world express?"

Klaus immediately flings his hand in the air, Five points at his brother appreciatively. "Yes, excellent! I'll take the volunteer in the lovely skirt as my first team member. Any other volunteers?"

"Danke!" Klaus simpers, grinning widely like this is the vest entertainment he's had in weeks.

"I'm not just going to stand here and listen to you badmouth dad and boss us around." Luther slams his hands on the table.

"Well not with that attitude." Five snarks.

Diego raises his hand, "I would like to join team fuck dad as well."

"We can certainly debate team names later." Five says, nodding wisely as Luther gives some sort of scandalized gasp.

"Honestly, I just want to see where this is going." Klaus confesses.

Five shrugs, because he doesn't really care about the reason. "Don't you want to prove me wrong them? Prove what a well-adjusted young man Reginald Hargreeves raised?"

"Shut up." Luther grinds out, looking a moment away from throwing a punch.

"If this is all true, I have to get home." Allison cuts in, looking concerned, "I have - I have a daughter."

"I mean, if you want to give Claire a world to live in then I'd stick around, but that's just me." Five shrugs.

"You know her name?" Allison asks, obviously taken aback.

Five is almost offended, "Uh, yeah. I have her photo as well. Y'all get on like, a bizarre number of gossip magazine covers did you know that?"

Allison manages to outdo herself in terms of being taken aback once more.

There's a beat of silence, and then Five turns, "Vanya? You in?"

"Me?" Vanya blinks, looking shocked. "What can I do?"

"Yeah, what can she do?" Diego asks, crossing his arms and suddenly looking grumpy.

It baffles Five, who scrunches his nose, "Uh, like, a lot? I assume? I mean. I'm going to be honest here, just looking at y'all right now is a lot. In more ways than one! Hashtag trauma and all that, but like, name a single one of you that wouldn't be the most obvious person in the room as soon as you walked into it. Except Vanya, who somehow manages to look like a well adjusted adult, by some miracle."

"Did you just verbally say the word hashtag?" Allison asks, looking so deeply confused.

"More concerned about the trauma he tacked onto there, but y'know, to each their own." Klaus immediately cuts in.

"You think I'm well-adjusted?" Vanya asks, looking oddly touched.

"I would like to direct your attention to Diego's leather pants-scowl combo and Luther's general aura of daddy-issues." Five says pointedly, "I can practically smell the tragic comic book backstory in this room. If I'd jumped back a decade earlier this would have been Batman's wet dream of orphan selection."

"Alright! Game plan!" Five says, waving Diego's knife in his hand.

Diego's hands immediately go to his weird harness looking thing, "Hey!"

"Give me just one moment to get the tracker out." Five rolls his eyes, "Then I'll give it back, I promise. Also if someone could ask Grace for like, some antibiotics that would be good."

"What?" Allison asks, directly before Five stabs himself and there is suddenly panic at the table.

"Relax!" Five says, allowing Diego to remove the knife from his hands. He doesn't need it anyway and his hand immediately drops down to root in the wound.

"Five what the fuck!" Diego yells, but Five just pulls up bloody fingers and waves the tracker into Diego's stupefied face.

"What the fuck is that, Five?" Allison demands, looking very shaken.

"I literally just said it was a tracker." Five points out, "Now, I think our first team activity should be voting on whether we destroy it or take it out to bumfuck nowhere and ditch it to confuse the Commission."

"What the fuck is the Commission?" Diego barks.

"Man. Maybe I should just hit up Rick." Five muses, "This is going to take so much explaining."

"Who is Rick."

"So much explaining."

#survivors au #well adjusted five au #five actually has some social skills!#and an idea of what an actual parent looks like as well #klaus absolutely adores this version of five #who quotes vines and uses gen z slang with the best of them #five has been reliably informed that public education is worse than the apocalypse #but he's also pretty sure working with his family is worse as well #five: i have so much trauma lol #klaus: oh big same #vanya: mood #five is somehow the most well adjusted hargreeves #and the most responsible #he doesn't legally exist and he doesn't pay taxes but somehow he has his shit together #five showing up at rick's house: you don't know me but i know you in the future #rick: what the fuck #five: don't make me bring up bethany midler from highschool because you gave me so many embarrassing stories to convince yourself with #rick: okay okay i believe you and you are???#five: your son from the future lol what's up dad want to help save the world #five arriving back at the manor like: WHAT'S UP LOSERS RICK IS NOW YOUR DAD TOO BC GOD KNOWS Y'ALL NEED AN ACTUAL FATHER FIGURE #klaus calls rick a dilf and five kidney punches him hard enough that klaus can't even properly introduce himself #it's better for everyone that way #delores: 15 and ready to fuck someone up #delores: i'm not staying with this weirdo (diego) while you go off with my dad #five threateningly: don't make me bring up what really happened to dad's good suit in 2012 #delores: i will stay right here #rick: wait WHAT happened to my good suit #five: unimportant don't you want to save the world #long post #far tua long

179 notes · View notes

sayosdreams · 3 years

Note

Oh oh oh maybe “You don’t know me” “I want to” for Nessian? Either like acomaf/acowar or modern or some other AU or something idk it’s just cute

Strange, Beautiful Unknown

Word Count: 2472

ACOTAR Masterlist

__________

TW: death, depressive thoughts, body dissociation, misogyny, implied adultery

__________

A/N: Thank you so much for beta reading & for all your help @thewayshedreamed !! I really appreciate it. Thanks for the title, too! Shoutout to @bookstantrash for helping me with the editing process as well.

Lastly, thank you so much for this ask @littleloric ! It’s set around ACOWAR. I’m not sure if it’s cute, exactly, but I was inspired. I hope you enjoy this fic <3

Nesta stood alone.

Her white nightdress billowed out behind her as the wind drifted in. The balcony doors were open, and she stood in the doorway, shrouded in darkness.

Once, she would have savored it all. She wouldn’t have expressed any of it aloud, of course, but she would have breathed in the night air and let herself escape into the glass doors and the balcony that reminded her of the one her father had promised he would build for her in their old mansion once she turned twelve. She would have watched the lights from the city and the lights from the stars and felt a little light within her wish to answer their call, to become one with the sky and the air and the earth. She would have felt so free, in the darkness, unseen; free of all expectations and rules and consequences.

Before, she would have contemplated how she looked in white. Did it contrast her skin nicely, giving her a golden glow, or did it wash her out? What color would complement it, then? After all, her wedding dress — and more importantly, her bridal lingerie — would be white. But it didn’t matter now. There would be no wedding, no marriage.

Should she be happy? Surely, she should. She wouldn’t have to worry about looking beautiful for anyone else. And any marriage she would have had would have been one of convenience. Even if her husband hadn’t been as awful as Tomas, her life would have been shackled to a stranger; one who could control what she wore and where she went and what she did. She couldn’t have been herself anymore; she would have become an object for him to own, to give him children, to look pretty on his arm.

Yes, Nesta should have been glad she had escaped all of that. Marriage was a prison and weddings were just a sham — an illusion of being bound together and of sharing your heart when really you barely knew your spouse, and anyway, your husband would surely break at least a few of his vows. Most women knew it to be inevitable; the words were just words. In sickness or in health? Yes, the wife would dote on her husband no matter what, whether he lost his leg or his hand or his mind. But a sick woman was no wife; in fact, merely taking too long to produce a son could be cause enough to be cast out. Too much sadness, too much exhaustion, too many thoughts expressed aloud would remove the ring from your finger — at best, you moved home to be the talk of the town; at worst, you’d burn (or the nut house, who would say which was worse). Yes, Nesta should have been happy, she was happy that marriage was no longer in her future. Of course she was.

Except, inside her lived a young girl. One who had believed that she would find the love of her life and chose to be wed because her lover couldn’t imagine living without her, and Nesta couldn’t either. Their wedding day would be the happiest day of her life, because it was the day they would make vows that they would live by every day, promising to love each other for eternity — supporting, encouraging, caring for one another. And her lingerie — her husband would find her beautiful no matter what, but in her lingerie, she’d look like a goddess that he wanted to worship. As they explored each other’s bodies, she’d feel divine — filled with that magical, mythical, magnificent Love. It was stupid; naive; and yet this foolish hope had lived within her for so long Nesta had almost forgotten about it.

Now, marriage was off the table, and Nesta couldn’t even be happy about it. No, she had to watch the little girl within her lose her dream, her foolish hope that she should have squashed years ago but hadn’t — couldn’t. Well, it was gone now.

There was no grand love story to be had, no proposal on the beach, no silky wedding dress.

It was just the way life went. Well, not life, because she had died — died in that Cauldron.

She’d been torn apart, every fiber of her being split and disintegrated in the endless depths of those cursed waters. It had hurt — more than anything else, ever. More than her grandmother’s firm hand, more than the soldiers that had dragged her out of bed, more than Tomas who had torn her dress and so much more. The pain had been immeasurable, her worst memories swirling with the best ones, her body in shambles as the pieces of her churned, everything turning dark — not even red, though it was impossible that she hadn’t bled, because she was nothing.

In the Cauldron’s eternal depths, in the endlessness of it all, of the omnipotent waters, she was nothing. She was the water, but she was also drowning; she was only a speck, no, not even that. Practically invisible, could barely ripple the water, was so tiny and powerless and insignificant. She had died so, unnoticed, and that should have been the end — the end of her pain, of her drowning, of her life. Only, it wasn’t. No, the Cauldron had decided to punish her once more by spitting her out, remade. She was no longer her; a new body, a new life, a stranger in and of herself.

As she stood there, on the balcony, she couldn’t appreciate the view as she once would have because how could she love the strange, beautiful unknown — the one she had always longed for, as she rushed to the port to greet her father returning from a trip and as she escaped into worlds tucked in the pages of a novel. How could she love it when she was unknown, too?

Who was this fae that stared back in the mirror, her limbs too long, her ears too pointed, everything so sharp and keen and different? She did not know. So as she breathed in the crisp air, her body was part of it all — part of this unknown, new landscape. Wondrous, perhaps, but foreign. Something to be examined with curious hands, but not a familiar shell to retreat into. Never a comforting anchor to keep her adrift as her world flipped upside down.

She no longer had the features passed down by her father and mother, her grandfather and grandmother, her great-grandfather and great-grandmother. She wasn’t shackled by their expectations, their dreams for her, the rules and norms about how she should behave that they’d tried to instill in her. Yet, they were all gone, and now the last vestiges of them had disappeared — as though they’d never existed at all. As if they, too, were so miniscule and insignificant; they were akin to characters in stories, living only in her mind.

In the darkness, she couldn’t see her body. She could appreciate that, at least — the cover of darkness. In the dark, she could be someone else — to be herself. She could pretend, she could believe that she lived in her body, that she was the human woman she’d been, that she was the naive little girl that should have died — that refused to die. She could see the world — this new world — as she would have viewed it; she could appreciate it, love it, cherish it. Marvel at its splendor, this world of boundless possibility, of endless mysteries, of a million hidden gems waiting to be discovered.

A beacon of hope, of dreams, brimming with raison d’être.

Nesta could gaze upon it, in awe, renewed from any emptiness that could threaten to consume her.

The wind promised of sweet tomorrows, of beautiful unknowns, of a kind of love that Nesta had — that all humans had, really — where you were in love with the world, with life. Even as the injustices and the expectations and the emptiness grew crushing, there was always a sunset, an autumnal leaf, a stream of sunlight that made you pause and take a deep breath, absorbing the moment within yourself so you could preserve it forever. When the pain inside grew too great and there was no way to scream, nowhere to run to, nothing to destroy, so you clutched your pillow to your mouth and screamed silently, gripping the material too hard — and if you couldn’t even do that, you tore everything to shreds in your brain — and then you were blank, empty, done; that’s when those memories — those flowers pressed between the pages of your favorite book in your mind — filled you up again, so you could keep going, keep living.

Life was short, life would end, so you had to love life while you could, even when you hated it.

The wind brought Nesta a taste of humanity, or perhaps, it merely freed that piece of herself. Where had she lost it? Had it been left behind in the Cauldron, or had it fallen to the floor when Elain, too, had died?

Or perhaps it had been when her sister, Feyre, had condemned herself to pain once more, returning to her Tomas, and Nesta had felt too raw, too human — though she was not human — as she watched her sister’s eyes take on the same look as when she’d killed an animal for the first time to feed them all.

The wind flowed so freely, carrying air from everywhere and anywhere; it traversed place and time, ripping the earth and the seas. It was the same air Nesta had breathed as she’d held a baby for the first time — Feyre, so tiny and yet so strangely strong and joyous — and the same air Nesta had breathed when she’d danced — danced til her feet ached and her back hurt and she was filled with such a delightful peace that she wanted more, she wanted forever, she wanted always.

The wind that had carried the seeds of the dandelions Elain had made all three of them blow on, insisting that the wishes would come true; the wind that caressed their bare skin with a promise of days to come as they stood on the port by the open sea, awaiting their father’s ship; the wind that accentuated their outfits as they prepared for the ball, making their ribbons fly behind them, spreading the sweet scent of their excited perfume, billowing their dresses as though they were royals in dresses with a train.

It did so now, once more, her dress flying behind her, though it was but a white nightgown. It caressed her cheeks — those were not her cheeks, but in the dark they could be, they would be, yes, they were her cheeks. In the balcony she stood, like a queen watching over her country, or like a princess locked in a tower wondering at the unknown beyond, or like an exiled girl who gazed upon a world she would never see again but had never really been a part of. She stood there with all the lights and the winds and the dark, alone. Until she wasn’t alone.

“What are you doing?”

It was his voice. She didn’t answer. She knew that he knew that she’d heard him. She wasn’t startled, though she should have been. She shouldn’t have known he was approaching but she did, now, in this new body, and, to be uncomfortably honest, she had been hyper aware of his presence even before, even when she’d been her.

What was she doing?

She had no idea. What was she doing here, in this world? Here, in this city? Here, on this balcony? She had no answers, and in the darkness, she could choose to have no questions, either.

“What are you thinking about?” He took a deep breath of the night air. The wind and the darkness whooshed through his lungs. “I bet there’s a million thoughts running through your head right now. Do you want to share any of them?”

How could he read her so well, far better than anyone else ever had, even though they had only met recently? He should have been an unknown, just like the rest of them — just like the rest of the world — and he was, but it also felt like she’d known him all her life and had been saving a spot for him within her; the unknown between them was something else, like the whispers of a promise, though what exactly that promise would be would remain to be seen.

“You don’t know me,” she said finally, to the air, to the lights, to Cassian.

How could he know her when she didn’t even know herself?

“I want to,” he answered after a soft silence. His voice was low, steady, a touch of rough huskiness coating the edges.

She wanted to, too. She wanted to know herself — who was this fae female? Who was Nesta; this Nesta who was an amalgamation of a million memories and versions of herself — a woman, a human, a naive girl, and beyond: a princess, a merchant, a dancer, an explorer, a sister, a daughter, a reader, a lover, a tiny speck, a ball of light, a dead body, a gust of wind, everything and nothing and something, all at once.

She wanted to know.

She wanted him to know, too. And she wanted to know him, too.

She wanted to breath in the dark air with him and know the thoughts that swirled in his mind; all the pieces of himself that were spread by the four winds, that the earth and the skies and the seas took from him and gave to him; all the thoughts and emotions and parts of him that couldn’t possibly exist together yet were intertwined within him in a way that made no sense yet made perfect sense.

She wanted to know the bits of him that were unknown even to him; she wanted to explore his memories and his body and his heart, she wanted to look at the lights with him and within him. She wanted to breathe the winds and savor the darkness and stand on the balcony with him.

Nesta reached a hand out behind her, where she knew he stood. Her fingers trailed down his arm, tracing his skin — which sent tingling sparks through her — before slipping her hand into his. His fingers curled around hers, understanding her silent reply — understanding so much of her unknown, of her vastness, of her.

Their fingers, hands, hopes intertwined on the balcony, where they faced that shroud of darkness together.

__________

Permanent taglist: (bolded tags don’t work)

@maastrash // @cass-nes // @notmewrongbitch // @verypaleninja // @courtofjurdan // @claralady // @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter // @stardelia // @laylaameer01 // @thewayshedreamed // @thatsowlmazing // @vasudharaghavan // @jungtaekwoonie-is-life // @rowaelinismyotp // @bakingandbooks3 // @grandma-noob-lord // @awesomelena555 // @starksravings // @bookstantrash // @ireallyshouldsleeprn // @illyrianshadowhunter // @swankii-art-teacher // @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks // @whoreforgwynriel // @moodymelanist // @letstakethedawn // @nestaspegasus // @superspiritfestival // @perseusannabeth // @my-fan-side // @that-golden-lyre // @emily-gsh // @champanheandluxxury // @simpingfornestaarcheron // @duskandstarlight // @ladynestaarcheron // @sv0430 // @confusedfandomslut // @friendswithkevin // @dontgetsalmonella //@inkedstarlight // @arinbelle

Nessian taglist:

@makainight // @nahthanks // @cupcakey00 // @nessiantrashh // @audreycressworth

(Please let me know if you want to be added / removed from my taglist! I recently did a taglist cleanup so I may have accidentally removed your name — lmk if there’s any issues!)

#Nesta archeron #nessian #nesta x cassian fic #tw: body disassociation #tw: depression #sayosdreams writing #sayosdreams fics

67 notes · View notes

thedreadvampy · 3 years

Text

talking to my mum last night and getting fucked up about the degree of trauma my grandparents' generation faced and how. unwilling and ill-equipped the care system is for the obvious fact that there's a huge incidence of PTSD and complex lifelong mental health issues in those generations

grannie was 17 when she became a nurse and she was working immediately in London at the height of the Blitz. her first day she saw blown apart children and had to comfort their parents. she was almost hit by a rocket cycling home.

grandpa spent the whole war in labour camps before being trapped behind the Iron Curtain in the ruins of Dresden, almost dead from starvation from the camp, for another 3 years before making it back to Blackpool to find out his parents had died in his absence.

granny got radiation sickness at 13 from being put under an X-ray with no protection and forgotten about for hours; she lost all her hair and developed chronic pain and health problems. after years of severe physical, emotional and sexual abuse from her family and the men around her, she got engaged to an American pilot who was shot down and killed in the last month of the war. her former boyfriend came back a dissociative shell of his pre-war self and she ended up trying to raise three small children on her own, with her family at the other end of the country and her husband often having violent flashbacks and outbursts of rage. she was suicidal and had violent psychotic breaks and got institutionalised and medicated on and off her entire adult life.

like. it isn't just the war. people born in the early-mid 20th century, especially women, have been subject to so much sexual trauma, domestic and social violence, bigotry, and grief on grief on grief.

with my granny, it's entirely understandable that she was 'mad'. when I knew her, she was on heavy daily dosage of lithium - she stopped because it was destroying her gut after 30 years and she became violently aggressive, vindictive, scared, psychotic, paranoid, frequently delusional and extremely abusive. She was terrified of doctors because of her repeated experiences with medical abuse, she was furious with everyone around her, she coldly hated her husband and seemed actively happy when he died, and the thing is all of that makes perfect sense because she was profoundly and repeatedly traumatised for at least the first 50-60 years of her life.

but the thing that worries and answers me is that the elder care system and the mental health system are completely unwilling to engage with the fact that many many many old people have severe pre-existing mental health conditions. after all, how many of us have PTSD or psychotic episodes or bipolar or BPD or special care needs related to autism or OCD or ADHD or whatever? those don't just Cease To Exist after a certain age. and our parents and our grandparents grew up in times with much less support for mental health and much less awareness of trauma. granny's early traumas were familial but she was institutionalised repeatedly and treated appallingly throughout her life and that's in itself traumatic.

when granny was 82 and she stopped taking her lithium, she was frail, ill and a danger to herself and others.

they put her on a dementia ward when she was sectioned because she was Old, and Old Mad People Are Demented. but she didn't have dementia! she had chronic PTSD and paranoid delusions but she knew who, where and when she was and she was perfectly sharp, she just wasn't coping. when we went to visit her she'd say furiously 'they think I'm like the other people in here but I'm not, I'm not losing my marbles, I've always been this way'

none of us got any support looking after her while she was in hospital or after she left the inpatient ward - nobody checked in on grandpa while she was in hospital or on weekend release, and after she was released Dad looked after her single-handed while trying to deal with his dad's death. (she may have murdered grandpa while on weekend release, or he may have died of heart failure - either way when she went off the rails after 20 years stable, he gave up on life and I me and my sibling (for the record we were 10 when she left hospital) listening to her trying to continue unpicking her past trauma was I think the most therapy she got after she left.

she couldn't go into a regular elder care home because she was too unstable, she needed specialist mental health care and she sometimes needed to be constrained for her own safety and that of other people. residential mental health care facilities weren't equipped to deal with her needs as a woman in her 80s. she couldn't go into dementia care, which is about the only residential care available for old people with serious mental health needs, because she didn't have dementia and it would have been utterly inappropriate and harmful for her and the other residents. she lived to 93 and for the last 11 years of her life it was up to Dad and us to look after her in her home because there was simply nowhere else for her to go.

and what really fucks me up is that she wasn't past help. a lot of people thought she was but when she left hospital she was trying really hard to continue therapy on her own without a therapist, she drew and wrote about her life and memories and she used to sit opposite me and open up in a way I now utterly recognise as trauma therapy, she would try to find ways to talk about what had hurt her and state into the middle distance for tens of minutes trying to get it together enough to continue. she wanted to do the work. but the only people there for her were her son who was shellshocked from losing his dad and traumatised from effectively losing his mum again and who was spending all his energy just trying to get through work and home and get her physical needs met, and a couple of preteen children who had the will but not the capacity to help. we were barely holding ourselves together (mum drove granny places but mostly her capacity was being spent being about the only support Dad or us could get) and we just couldn't meet the work of a trained therapist. and eventually she gave up on getting better and got angrier and more bitter and more abusive to everyone. but she wanted to feel better. she wanted to deal with her shit. but there was no support.

and there must be thousands of people like her. older people with lifelong trauma and mental health issues who are too mentally ill for elder support and too old for mental health support. and the MH system doesn't think they're worth the resource cost because after all they're old, they'll die soon. but where are they meant to go? and how much harm does unsupported home care do to the person in need of care and to the people carrying for them? it just multiplies trauma down the generations. you can't just expect mental illness to only affect the young when the old have been just as traumatised and you can't treat them as separate issues when old people need carers who are qualified to deal with both their age and their mental health issues.

like yes many people develop late life mental health issues like Alzheimers and dementia, just as many people become disabled for the first time by age. but a lot of people are disabled or mentally ill for decades before they reach anything approaching elderly, and those things don't suddenly go away and don't have the same support needs as late-life issues.

idk. I'm very angry. if there was recognition of the need to support older people with lifelong trauma then my grandpa wouldn't have died hopeless and unsupported, my granny might have got her life back and got some healing after 80 years of living in fear, my dad wouldn't have had his own mental breakdown and slide into paranoia and conspiracy theory, and me and my siblings wouldn't have lost our whole adolescence trying to shore up two badly neglected adults' catastrophic mental health while under constant fire.

literally a ten minute weekly phone call with grandpa while granny was in hospital and weekly follow-up talk therapy for her after she was discharged could have made so much difference but nobody fucking cared. because she was Old. she was in the hospital because she was a danger to the people around her and they discharged her for the weekend as a trial run and her husband died suddenly while she was in the house and she seemed totally unbothered and they still. let her out for good two weeks later with no followup care or therapeutic follow-up and no support or advice for Dad on looking after her. they started talk therapy in hospital and then dropped her abruptly and left her raw and cracked open without any way to put herself back together. and she isn't unique it's just. Careless. and so destructive.

42 notes · View notes