#thank you for taking the time to empathize with me holy shit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

frecklystars · 5 months

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Hi frecklydork!! I just wanted to let you know I was thinking about you- I just got out of a convo w/ a therapist where I realized I was in a really bad relationship and she mentioned I was displaying PTSD like symptoms. I just wanted you to know that theres someone out there who's super super super DUPER proud of you and all the work you've put into managing your PTSD- Feeling constant overwhelming anxiety helped me understand a little of what you must be going through, I can't imagine how stressful your day to day life is and I'm feeling overwhelmed rn! I hope you can take some comfort in this

Goodnight! Or Good day, or good morning whenever you get this!

Hi sweetheart. I'm so sorry to hear that you have gone through a relationship so devastating that it left this much of an impact on you. My heart goes out to you, it's not fun, to say the least, it is a really horrible time and it's especially difficult (in my opinion) when it's repetitive actions from someone you trusted... it's like an extra layer of betrayal on top of everything else. I'm so sorry. I know how badly that hurts.

My response is kind of long so I'm gonna put it under a readmore for ya:

I am so touched that you thought of me, and even more touched that you took the time out of your day to tell me that you thought of me. I hope you don't mind it took me a few days to finally crack open my inbox. I reread this a few times because it really warmed my heart. Thank you for being proud of me. I'm so proud of you, too. I'm so happy you've (I'm assuming, hoping, praying) gotten out of the relationship, or in the very least I'm reassured that you've realized how unhealthy the relationship was for you and you can take the steps to overcome and heal from it now. It's SO HARD getting out of relationships, but nobody else can do it for you, it's always you who has to take those steps, and I'm so proud of you for pushing yourself to take those steps!!!! I know it isn't easy!!!!! I think one of the loneliest feelings in the world is knowing that you're in an unhealthy friendship/relationship with someone and you can literally feel this person draining your energy and making you feel hopeless and worthless and numb. I have never felt more empty than when I was trapped in an emotionally abusive relationship/friendship. It's awful. Getting out of that kind of situation is so difficult, so I am so damn proud of you for recognizing that you deserve better!!! Because you do!!! You deserve the whole world and I'm sorry somebody didn't give you the respect you deserved. It's not your fault. Nothing you went through is your fault at all, and I'll say that as many times as you want to hear it.

I completely hear you on the stress side of things -- thank you for empathizing with me. My God, isn't it the fucking worst? The constant stress?? I PROMISE YOU IT GETS BETTER, I PROMISE I PROMISE I PROMISE!!!!!!!!!! I am finally at a point where my anxiety is not killing me 24/7. It took a hot fuckin minute to get here, but I am at a point now where my anxiety will only eat at me for a chunk of my day instead of my whole day. Getting into the Barbie movie literally saved my life. But, like... it's literally a stress disorder, an anxiety disorder. That feeling of it literally EATING at you every single second that you're awake, and even giving you nightmares when you're asleep -- jesus!!! it's so much!!! it's!!! A LOT and it's intense and it's like you never get any peace. BUT I PROMISE IT GETS BETTER!!!!! 😭😭💙💙💙 IT GETS BETTER ANON I SWEAR TO YOU. I AM HOLDING YOUR HAND THROUGH THIS WHOLE THING!!!!!

One day you will wake up and the person who traumatized you, the events that traumatized you, will NOT be the very first thing popping into your head. One day you'll be able to sit down and eat a sandwich and think to yourself "oh I just went 20 whole seconds without thinking about it". One day you'll be tying your shoe and thinking "oh I think i just went five whole minutes without thinking about it!" slowly, gradually, you will have healed so much, you will look back and think "oh. I'm... so much better than I was."

I actually had this revelation a few weeks ago, I sat down making comics, and then I thought to myself... "...oh... I don't think I thought about my abuser... at all... when a trigger was right in front of my face... for a solid two minutes." I saw a gifset where Margot Robbie was wearing an article of clothing that normally triggers me into a panic attack, but I just kept looking at Margot and thinking "hehehe that's my Barbie!!! <3" and then i realized the trigger was right in front of my face but I was so focused on being gay asf I didn't even realize the trigger was there. And then when I noticed it, my body was like "oh. time to panic" but I managed to push away those feelings and say "nope. nope. that's Barbie. and Barbie is safe. and everything is ok!!!" And two minutes of handling a certain trigger may not seem like a long time, at first... but when you're constantly overwhelmed every single second of every single day... two minutes looks like a blessing. and one day you won't even have to count the minutes anymore. you'll just exist and the misery will only be momentary.

But aside from triggers, now, just in general, I am at a point where I can go hours without remembering my abuser or the events that gave me literally DOZENS of triggers in the first place. Flashbacks are rare, when they used to be constant. I'm not as jittery as I used to be, I'm not as... uh, feeling like I'm going out of my mind, I don't know how else to phrase it, but the anxiety that ptsd gives you literally makes you feel like you're losing your sense of self, and I promise you that feeling goes away with time. I promise you it gets better. I didn't have a support system during my time of need, so my healing process is taking much longer than it would have, so I am hopeful that your healing process is actually going much speedier than mine, even if our circumstances may not be exactly the same ofc but just hearing that you have a therapist helping you out with this is absolutely wonderful. Therapy is so important, paired with self care.

I'm so proud of you anon. I'm so sorry you're going through this and ahhh sorry I'm scatterbrained, it's been a long day and my brain cells are on fire, but!!! I AM SO PROUD OF YOU and I LOVE YOU and IT'S GONNA BE OKAY!!!! IT'S GONNA GET BETTER!!!!!! That feeling of constant anxiety 24/7 is an absolute bitch, but it gets better!!! It gets better!!!! I'll say it a million times, it gets better!!!! And I'm here for you the whole way okay? Please feel free to message me anytime. Ilusm I'm sending you so many hugs and I will be keeping you in my thoughts. 💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

#thank you for taking the time to empathize with me holy shit #i feel like a lot of ppl dont rly. understand ptsd. unless if they have it. which is normal ofc #or just trauma in general. which is fine! u cant fully understand smth til u go thru it #so when you mentioned the CONSTANT anxiety i was just nodding my head while reading #24/7 your brain is making you remember things you wish you could forget and it aint fun #tips: journal your thoughts everyday to reduce nightmares #bc it helps your brain process things while its awake #so it wont process AS much when youre asleep. that way you get BETTER sleep #more tips: sleeping is so good for u. drinking water is so good for ur Scared Brain #EXERCISING!!!! going for walks in the sunlight helps you with vitamin D + tiring u out faster #so u can sleep easier. bc again. oh my god the sleep is so important.#and sleep is the thing i struggle with the most i only get 3 or 4 hours every night #being social helps so much. im going out with friends at LEAST once a week #and scheduling hangouts with online friends once a week as well. or voice calling #i know it hurts so fucking bad right now but i promise it gets better #i am holding your hand the entire time ok you're not alone. im here for you.#anonymous #asks #ptsd #keepsake

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niphredil-14 · 3 months

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Hi. If you’re still taking requests, please could you do a one shot about how Reader would react if they found out the Turtle bf was their favourite celebrity?

(V-Tuber, singer, voice actor, ect)

Please and thank you

If you don’t want to or don’t have time, that’s ok. I know how busy life can get

this was a lot harder to write than I originally had expected, so I just did Donnie, hope that's ok.

V-TUBER DONNIE X GN! READER

Most of the time they were with their boyfriend, they spent doing parallel play of some sort. There was a comfort and a serenity in knowing that they could be so close to someone without needing to give or receive constant, active attention. To be able to just sit with their knees touching, or back-to-back (or shell) and be able to do their own thing made them feel more connected than if they were actively interacting. It was a sweet, simple sense of domesticity that they both thoroughly enjoyed. With both of the being such busy, productive people, it was nice to be able to get stuff done while still spending time with each other. It was peaceful, with some quiet music in the background, accompanied by Shelldon's terrible (fantastic) dancing, it was nice. But the serene quiet would not last much longer. With an obnoxious beep, Donnie's headphones had warned him that they were about to die.

"Shit." He sighed.

"Hmm?" They questioned. He popped his headphones off and plugged them into the charger nearby.

"Headphones died, and I still need to edit another three videos." He groaned, his head falling melodramatically back against the back of the couch.

"Can't you edit them without headphones?" They asked. He turned his head, which was still resting on the couch behind him, to look at them, his drawn-on eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"You sure you wouldn't mind?" He asked. He often got a bad rep, of being uncaring because of his struggle to empathize with others, but it wasn't as black and white as some would think.

"Yeah, it's fine. Do whatever works for you, Don." They reassured him with a soft smile. He gave a small smile back, and turned back to his laptop, after telling the, to let him know if they changed their mind. And for the rest of the editing process for that video, nothing really changed. They had the slightest suspicion that the voice was a bit too familiar, in an eerie way, but they just couldn't place it, and knowing how much Don hated to be interrupted when he was on a roll, they refrained from asking, at least until they heard a particular phrase, said in their lover's voice.

"Greetings, Internet! 'Tis I, BootyyyShaker9000! Welcome to my channel!" Rang out from the computer.

"Holy shit!" They exclaimed. Donnie turned to look in their direction, only to find them staring at him with starstruck eyes. "You edit BootyyyShaker9000's videos?" They asked.

"I- what?" Donnie asked in response.

"I mean, he's a V-Tuber, so I knew someone must have been editing the videos, but you?? That's so cool!" They would likely have continued their ramble had Don not cut them off.

"Wait, wait, wait." Don said. "You know BootyyyShaker9000?" He asked.

"Know him??" They gasped, almost indignantly. "He's my favorite youtuber! I watch all of his videos as soon as they come out!" They said. "You know how Thursdays at 4pm are always blocked off on my calendar? It's because that's when he uploads!" Donnie took a moment to just digest what they had confessed to him. They must not have realized that he was BootyyyShaker9000. A smile graced his features as a plan hatched in his mind.

"Dearest. Slow down." He spoke, and they did. Falling silent, awaiting what he was going to say. He just looked at them fondly for a moment before continuing. "Would you like to watch me edit the video? It's a fairly boring process, but if you're such a big fan, you're more than welcome to." They gasped, and tossed their own laptop to the side.

"Absolutely!!" They exclaimed, and scooted closer to him, until it was unclear where he ended and they began, their sides pressed so close they were practically melded together. However when they looked at his screen, and found him in the video, where the avatar would normally have been, it clicked.

"Holy Shit! You're BootyyyShaker9000???"

#tmnt #rottmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt x reader #rottmnt x reader #tmnt donatello #rottmnt donatello #tmnt donnie #rottmnt donnie #tmnt donatello x reader #rottmnt donatello x reader #tmnt donnie x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader

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worldwidewebzy · 3 months

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REGRETEVATOR HEADCANONS BOOOOO SCARY

Pest LOVES taxidermy, especially rouge taxidermy. Its a special interest of theirs and they've even tried some of it themselves. He's pretty good at it!!

Poob also likes taxidermy!! Though the specific process you have to do makes poob very squeamish and sick and icky,, (that being said poob IS NOT a uwu soft enby bean, they could kick ur ass lmao)

Poobians as a whole, are the embodiments of joy, happiness, and FUN!!!!!! They thrive off envoirments with high morale and general good vibes. Their population dwindles when said elements are scarce. If a poobian's mental health is hurt in anyway, that poobian's mental health will directly correspond to their physical health, causing the poobian to fall ill.

If a poobian falls to much into their pit of despair, they can "metamorphize" into a party pooper. Party poopers are the antithesis to poobians, thriving off of despair, sadness, and turmoil. Party poopers aren't inherently evil, but their nihilistic and melancholic nature can cause party pooper communities to be.. Not the healthiest space for anybody to be in.

Party poopers can remorph themselves into a poobian, but that requires extensive mental health intervention for that to happen. Depending on how much despair is in a party pooper, recovery can take as long as years.

To avoid this, poobians are a very social species. Full of many support systems ready to help any poobian! Though unfortunately, toxic positivity has been prevalent in some poobian societies. And there's a silent, but all to painful ableism riddled in poobian society as a whole.

Every poobian smells like their favorite food!

Pest has an EXTREMELY hard time empathizing, thanks to her undiagnosed aspd, npd, and autism. They also have an hard time realizing the concept of consequence and law. (this is pretty much canon expect for the autism part iirc but yeagh)

Gnarpy has IBS. Xe seem like a IBS girlie (gender neutral) to me do yuo understand

Poob HATES gender reveal parties with a passion.

mannequin mark and wallter... Do you hear me..

Gregoriah basks in light like a lizard

OK split pilby YURI SWAGGERR!!!

HOLY SHIT you guys have no idea how cornily, unconditionally, atrociously lovesick pilby is for split and i mean it

This dude's catapiller antennae form into hearts just thinking about split, absolutely cartoonishly in love with her.

They like having silly picnics where they eat apples and bananas (pilby looooves apples) go bird watching and just have a gay ol' time...

When they were first starting to know eachother pilby wrote """"anonymous""""" love letters to split, the letters in question were painfully obviously writen by them and it made split laugh and giggle. She didnt tell pilby that she knew they wrote those letters until after pilby confessed their love to them. That made pilby all bright red it was adorable

The confession in question was pilby performing a musical number about all the stored feelings they've been hiding for split all told through song and... It didn't go how pilby wanted to and kind of failed, but split still was genuinely blown away by it. She cheered pilby up when they commented how "bad" it was and kissed them on the forehead....... <33

Infected has a friend thats minecraft youtuber and yes they have a dubstep channel intro for it yknow the ones..

Gnarpy's form is a facade, like how invader zim has a human disguise. It acts like a shield, keeping gnarpy's (surprisingly frail) true form safe in a non gnarpian envoirment. It's designed to be conventionally "cute" to ward off suspicion, and increase trustworthyness.

Gnarpian govermentals are planning on making upgraded versions of these facades. Making them more unassuming. They're even planning "human" looking facades. It's fucking scary

mannequin mark and wallter make lampert together like constructed a child. Building blueprints AAAAAA!!!!!!!!!! hashtag yaoi swagger

MICHE IS A DRAG QUEEN HE IS A DRAG QUEEN

Miche is also swagapino and black as a people SWAG

Also miche isn't actually a cat he's very much like... Hes cat adjacent but his fangs are like the whiskers if a cat fish LIKE

The elevator has existed for as long as existence itself. Nobody runs it as the elevator itself is technically an living organism

Bive exists in quantum super position. She simultaneously exists in both FNARB, and the funny maze, it's only until a player enters either floor is where she stop existing in this superposition. Kinda like Schrödinger's cat. Schrödinger's conspiracy theorist

Bive is built like she was designed by dr suess

Unlike a red teddy, reddy is very much full of love :)

#Webzy ramblez #Regretevator #IM NOT TAGGING THE CHAARSTCERS 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭#// ableism mention #Long post #Headcanon

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mossible · 1 year

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MOSSIBLE YOUR INSANE I LOVE YOU BUT YOU ARE INSANE!!!!!!!

That. Was so far the angriest I've ever seen these old men in any of the fics I've read featuring them.

The way the entire conversation/argument with pearl and marina started extremely one sided from marinas pov, because Octavio has heard this moral dillema about the octarians' authority over their lives multiple times before, he's become bored and numb of it.

Completely unfazed. He completely believes he understands this problem the most.

But only when Craig arrives did the conversation became so much more angry and petty and relentless. Because they lived through what caused this entire argument, the great turf war.

THEIR DIALOG AND JABS AT ONE ANOTHER WERE SO PERSONAL AND REAL IT HURTS.

You describing it as "an old language the audience don't understand" Is EXACTLY what it is.

God I hate it when old people have history /j

WHY ARE THEY LIKE THAT?

Just. The way this entire conversation escalated was . Just. UGH PERFECTION I LOVE THAT ANGST.

I'm so glad that this entire chapter was conversation heavy. It was so especially well written and captivated me the entire time. I couldn't imagine how long the brainstorming sessions for this chapter were!!! You chose all the right words and the characterization for pearl, marina, callie, all of the characters, agent 8!!!!- were so, so, good.

You knocked it out of the park, man!!!!!!

Holy shit!!!!

I find it suitable that callie was the one to let Octavio out.

She is objectively the most genuinely good person in the room. She is also the only one who truly sympathizes with Octavio, without any conditions or ill intent. Being the only one who actually lived along side octarians for a while. To fight for them the most.

She's also the only one in a while to befriend Octavio. And understand him.

Which is why she without falter let him go so willingly, cause she completely trusts despite everything, he loves and prioritizes his people above all else and what the best for them.

Speaking of empathizing with Octavio, I was so happy seeing someone point out the fact that Octavio took it upon himself to take care of and keep hundreds of thousands of people alive, UNDERGROUND. FOR DECADES.

DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW BIG OF A RESPONSIBILITY THAT IS?

He had to clean up the mess left behind after the great turf war, and then get ready to take control of how little him and his people have.

I'm honestly surprised Octavio hasn't snapped completely under all this pressure. Hardy old man. Fighting for his life every waking hour.

People so often throw away that aspect of him! How much he cares for his people, despite how much trouble that gives him! And this chapter did a really good job at presenting that part of him in his dialog!

I might be rambling a lot, but this chapter is just- so goddamn impressive!!! Oh my god mossible!!!

Keep up the good work!!!! Me and my sister are cheering you on!!!!

P. S... Hint for next chapter? Once again any form of hint will be fine

i am well aware that i am insane dont worry <3 the inner machinations of my mind are an enigma that nobody understands (ok nobody but like my gf and my longtime besties but still. twisted freacking cycle path over here)

thank you so much for the ask again omg!! along with putting this. long ass response under a readmore, i'll also requote everything i address here bc there is a Lot. if i don't address anything, assume that me not commenting either means that you nailed it right on the head, or that i would be spoiling y'all if i did say anything ;)

…because Octavio has heard this moral dillema about the octarians' authority over their lives multiple times before, he's become bored and numb of it. [ ] Completely unfazed. He completely believes he understands this problem the most.

this certainly will neither be the first nor last time i do this, but i am always tapping the silly little tag on ao3 that says 'unreliable narrator.' esp when it comes to how octavio acts in regards to things that he may seem familiar with to the reader! this man has been alive for over 130 (slutty, slutty) years, and has governed his people for only a little less than that. things that very obviously pose problems and challenges for those under his rule may often go entirely overlooked, both from his own prideful nature, as well as simply from an unwillingness to change his formula that has already worked for a century now. after all, if these so-called 'flaws' had been in his system since the beginning, why did nothing as detrimental as the inkantation happen BEFORE now? huh? what does marina know that octavio doesn't? (a lot. she knows a lot, for the record.)

again!!! tysm for your kind words omg!! i'm glad i was able to get my points across soundly and that the change in structure paid off. was very very worried about that for a while before i ended up biting the bullet and just final-checking and posting it without more agony LOL

would it surprise you if i admitted that… not very much brainstorming was needed? i mean, obviously yes i brainstormed for this chapter a ton! but, i wasn't exactly in very much need of thinking of new ideas when it came to writing everyone interacting. when stuff like that (as in dialogue and interactions and the like,) comes into play, i often find myself getting carried away with both writing it and simply stringing the cohesion of the scene along, without even really realizing it ?? tbf, i'm one of those people who thinks at like a mile a minute, so by the time my body catches up to my brain to express what thoughts i have going on, i usually miss a few crucial words or phrases in my hurry to share said thought as quickly as possible. when i write without a concrete deadline, like i am now with cracked snowglobes, i'm able to elaborate WAYYY more on my process and be much more thorough with it all. …at the cost of chapters topping 10k words on occasion. another thing i will say about the brainstorming bit, less about the process and more about my inspiration for chapter 4, is that uh. ok the origin of it is kinda funny so, dissonant melody, right? i'd assume most people reading this ask answering questions about my cuttletavio fic of all things have probably read it? (if not, go give it a read here and follow the author here!) i adore dissonant melody! it's genuinely what got me back into brainrotting over these two little old awful men and inspired me to write this fic! hell, i've even referenced some bits from it here and there in cracked snowglobes and. sort of followed a lot of what it established! but. i always felt that marina had a lot more she could have dug into when it came to her seeing octavio again. we know that she worked very closely under him while back in the domes, to the point of "earning multiple commendations," assumedly from the man himself! however, i absolutely do not blame DM's author for not digging more into their dynamic, as it was intended to be an octavio and cap'n origins comic, rather than a solely octavio-centric origins comic. that, and around 2018 when the comic was first posted online, the fandom had… a bit of an issue when it came to incorrect details about the nature of octarian society running rampant in our collective knowledge. (a whole lot of us were under the impression that all of the octarians were mind controlled, and that marina had a much less… positive, we'll say, opinion of her former ruler.) so, what better opportunity to write what i'd like to see of that reaction than in my fic? it sure helps what development octavio's gonna have to go through before some of the stuff i have planned can come to fruition, after all ;)

I find it suitable that callie was the one to let Octavio out. [ ] She is objectively the most genuinely good person in the room. She is also the only one who truly sympathizes with Octavio, without any conditions or ill intent. Being the only one who actually lived along side octarians for a while. To fight for them the most. [ ] She's also the only one in a while to befriend Octavio. And understand him. [ ] Which is why she without falter let him go so willingly, cause she completely trusts despite everything, he loves and prioritizes his people above all else and what the best for them.

i won't pick apart this bit too much, because most of it is absolutely spot on! but i will point out a couple things, just to give you some food for thought. while, yes, callie did spend a lot of time with the octarians, by no means does she have as much experience with the conditions of the domes as marina and eight, who were both born and lived most of their lives there. think back to when octavio brought up who was currently in control of the domes in his absence; the council. while callie was present long enough to empathize with the people she met while on tour, by no means could she have fully undertaken the magnitude of troubles that they faced down there, let alone understood octavio's own defiance when it came to all of marina's gripes with how he governed the place. similarly, think back to when freeing octavio even got brought up in the first place! who was the first person to openly admit that she was on the side of letting him out? who was the first one to state her hesitation? callie and octavio are friends, the latter said so himself in his internal dialogue, but they do still have some core differences that put them at odds with one another. as much as callie may trust him, she struggles to fully commit to her stance until she receives support from marie. she's on octavio's side, but only under certain conditions. at least, that's the case for now. who knows what could happen the next time they meet!

ok ive written you like 1k words alone just for these responses, so i'll end this here. but ! thank you again for the ask, and for your next chapter hint; you're going to be seeing some familiar AND new faces next chapter! which ones? i'll leave that up to your imagination :)

#cracked snowglobes

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faroreswinds · 2 years

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Hey, anons, sorry. I’m not always on and I was asleep so had no idea I had gotten so many. ^^;

There are also a few asks in here as well that are not anons. I answered them here to hide spoilers.

Arval dialogue mentions from the moment of birth he has a function he had to serve. It seems he’s basically more AI than human, which is why he laments turning on the only thing that had ever made him feel true emotion in Shez to fulfill his duty to the psychopaths.

That’s what it is shaping up to be, yeah. Arval seems to be kinda like a base for his real self to awaken from. Arval = likes Shez, not!Arval = a horrible Slither man.

That Dimidue support.

*immigrant song screeches in the distance*

I KNOW RIGHT??!

Wait wait wait wait. No unification has 3(4) ways of bitter(sweet) endings, while unification had 4(3) (bitter)sweet endings. They fucking played us, this was a way to accept that unifying is the answer! Holy crap, I hope (god that game tainted that word) Korea review bombs this POS!

I know, it’s preeeeetty lame, although it seems like AG is the most non-lame of the bunch.

Still, I am so sick of “UNIFICATION IS BEST” nonsense. For real.

Play fucking Live A Live remake in July 22nd. Odio is a better space & time god over Worst Mom & Whipped mole weapon over any day. And you'll understand why he became a villain, while still defying him on the best ending. Holy shit this is gonna be a long month of discourse.

Ok. I’ll check it out then. You have me curious.

But yes. This is going to be a painful month.

I can see where they’re going with Arval now that I’ve seen dialogue that makes it more clear they were born and came to exist solely to fulfill their mission, but doing so never made Arval happy. Arval seems to be as close as we can get to an Agarthan who realized what’s wrong with the group, since he had to empathize and attach to a Non-Agarthan in Shez.

Yup, and I’m mostly ok with this development.

I would prefer if they were just straight evil and manipulative from the get go just because I think that would be fun, but this is fine too.

Dimitri and Claude now have enemies to lovers arc.

Maybe. Depends on what AG has to offer us.

Claude’s really not being a bro to anyone here, honestly.

the dimitri/claude convo????

Oh no what happens in the Dimitri and claude convo? :(

Oh no what’s wrong with the Dimitri and Claude conversation in SB/GW 😩?

What do dimitri and claude talk about?

Any more information on that Claude and Dimitri conversation?

I got like five different anons asking the same thing. But I posted it here so you may check it out if you like....

See that Dimitri/Yuri support really gets into why the whole "Dimitri's such a status quo guy" dumb take annoys me so bad, especially the ones that popped up after Dimitri admitted in the Three Hopes demo he wants to focus on stability over reforms. Because he's right! You can introduce all the societal reforms in the world into your community but if that community doesn't already have a stable foundation to build off of, NONE of those reforms will work as they're supposed to, if they even last!

He’s 100% right and I’m tired of pretending he’s not. His support with Yuri is really good, and just shows he wants the people to be a part of politics, not just the best and brightest.

Trying to introduce reforms without something to back it up is not the way to go. Shit takes time. People are stubborn. And most people will care about their stomach more than if they should be friends with their neighbors or who is ruling next.

Fix the basic things, then move to the more complex ones.

Is there any news on who Shez's adopted mom was? Thanks for all your hard work looking through the datamine

NP! And no, not yet. Sorry, anon.

My two favorites of 3H are Sothis and Claude and I always wish they had more. Well be careful what you wish for right because more just means hardcore OOCness and taking everyone you loved about them and spitting on it. Claude while I don't like it I understand he apparently really needs Byleth to grow which is kind of interesting but what is the deal with Sothis now what changed with her?

Sothis is interesting, because she seems to have awoken with more memories than before. Like, she had more time to cook or something. She’s more fearsome, but I’m not sure if I want to totally write her off just yet. That said, I’m not entirely impressed either.

She just seems angry. Which is fair. Her vessel is almost killed and she wakes up to save them, only to see something nasty (a Slither) and learning that her children are dead and shit. She’s big angy.

It’s an interesting direction. It could be done well... maybe.

Seems as a Nabatean fan I got scraps. I expected nothing and I'm still disappointed lol. A dumb question but, I know sothis and byleth kinda lose their shit at shez/arval. Is sothis's relationship to arval ever explained? Did arval have a part in her murder or the red canyon? Is that why she pushing byleth to kill arval? Or is it just never brought up again? Is byleth hair color change just a random event or is it spurred on? Sorry for this word barf.

Nah, don’t worry anon. It does seem like we will get some Nabatean stuff ie Seteth and Flayn with paralogues and stuff, but that’s probably AG only.

We still don’t know much about Arval/Sothis, other than Arval is not a god, and that he was there to fight Seiros. But she does recognize that Shez is some Slither descendant or something, and wants them gone (understandable)

Byleth’s hair is brought on by Sothis’ sudden awakening. Sothis suddenly awakens to protect Byleth and takes over their body instantly. Thus, color change.

Rhea blushing sprite is noticeably redder around her eyes than her other portraits, and AG cinematic is much redder in the same area.

Interesting. Wonder why?

The mind control is great for one reason: It forced Thales to confront the fact he was really high off his own farts and couldn’t see despite in 3 Houses all her blatant threats and undermining that Edelgard was NOT under his control. It’s funny seeing that now he has to use something to put her under control and by doing so proved he really was being an arrogant idiot.

I guess, but it still sucks. It robs Edelgard of agency, for one thing. Making her actions not her own undermines her character and those around her.

Two, why tf didn’t the Slithers just USE it before?! What dumbasses!

That’s how much of a threat Sothis considers Arval and how Byleth seeks to go BOAR in their own way. They’re the same after all!

Lol, I guess so!

Do you mind if I ask where you're getting all the text? I can't find it and would like to skim through it myself

I do mind! >:(

JK, anon, lol, here are the links.

>datamine https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1m4xHogOjhfdRYywACT-ZHuexdiskAkPSE45soei5zeQ/edit#gid=146160821 --- >FMV, Music and Texture Dump https://mega.nz/folder/rmw3GRQR#yBKMCzPCEIwPWasrRfuPMQ >Text Dump https://mega.nz/file/vU5ESBwC#u5zwtxjC8ktoJOH-2q4wDJkexsBgplHtHr_g_4_wA5w

Ah I get the misunderstanding. Claude helps instigate Sreng to raid the Kingdom. Doing so causes Gautier to sacrifice himself defending the border

NOT DADDY GAUTIER!!!!

Come on Claude. >:( Ass.

Do you know whether Claude seems vaguely sane in AG? Like does he still invade the kingdom? The Claude and Dimitri fighting back to back scene from the trailer has to be in this game somewhere right? Sorry if you’ve answered/posted about this somewhere already

From what I can tell, he seems to be working with Dimitri a bit. But if he instigated the rain in Sreng on AG, oof, that’s not a good look either. I hope that’s a GW thing or something.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Mila’s sweet dragon ass, Edelgard may sound mature and rational in the tone of her voice, but I think this just hammers home that she has the maturity of a 5-year-old.

She’s obviously mocking Rhea but like... That’s really not a good look.

Edelgard literally believes that Foldan hasn’t been at peace for years. This isn’t even remotely true but you know, CHURCH EVIL or something I guess.

Someone got an early copy and the assassination of sothis’ character OOF, she’s downright villainous and basically took over byleth’s body https://twitter.com/chocobobutt/status/1539431608977170433?s=21&t=piy3Vjh0wIE3OA42OBIMdQ

@2goldensnitches

To be fair, Sothis just woke up and her new body was about to be killed by an ancient enemy.

But yeah, Sothis is kinda being a bit bitchy here. I miss old Sothis. :(

is it sylvain who says "Neither one will hold up for long, but if I had to choose, I guess the first option would be better for the Kingdom as a whole."? it doesn't sound like dimitri to say "we need to bolster our military", even though it makes sense for them to do so to withstand invasions and stuff

@garlandgerard

I’m honestly not sure. Maybe? I’ve been having a hard time figuring out who says what at times. But I think I agree with you. Dimitri saying “bolster the military” doesn’t really sound like him.

#Three hopes #anon asks #asks

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hopeymchope · 2 years

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(Same anon who sent an ask about Hiyoko) I wanted to clarify that I don't hate Mahiru despite my criticism of her BTW! I think her crime is a lot less than Hiyoko's crime and if I still empathize with Hiyoko even with how she treated Mikan, I definitely still empathize with Mahiru! Just wanted to clarify that because I realized after I sent the ask I might have made it seem like I hate Mahiru or something... I definitely think she's enabling Hiyoko's bad behavior, but that's not all there is to Mahiru, either. She has a lot of positive qualities and I do still love her and her character! I'm just also upset at how much she enables Hiyoko and doesn't defend Mikan. And honestly, out of the three, Mikan is definitely my favorite so I might have some bias. I try not to excuse what Mikan did in chapter 3, while still extending empathy towards her grievances that are built from her past trauma during the trial. If that makes sense? But I do love Mikan (she's my second favorite SDR2 character) so that bias might be in play, again. But even with my grievances, I definitely don't hate Mahiru! I may hate Hiyoko. Just a bit, even if I do also love her. Just wanted to clarify!

(Get Ready for NINE TOTAL Hiyoko Saionji/Mikan Tsumiki-centric asks in this post. Yup, it's time for some catch-up.)

I'm not sure which of the previous asks you've sent, OP, but I'm guessing maybe this one? At any rate, I understand your frustration.

Since Mahiru doesn't actually last long in the canonical story of DR2, my personal headcanon is that she felt a need to get to know the other girls before she felt comfortable stepping in. Of course, we don't see her doing anything to stop Hiyoko's shit-talking in the Twilight Syndrome scenes, which does hurt that argument. But maybe she'd tried and it hadn't worked that far, or maybe she was just distracted by other concerns at that moment; you can try to work around it.

It's just... it's hard for me to NOT to imagine she'd eventually want to step in and lecture Hiyoko or at least comfort Tsumiki ala that one doujin I previously referenced. That's just the kind of person she is, right? She's the Mom Friend, and she's always down to give someone a talking-to. .... But I realize that I'm probably applying a very Western view towards intervening in these kind of situations.

Tsumiki is a favorite of mine from DR2 as well, but then again, so is Koizumi. I'm not sure exactly where I'd rank everyone, honestly...

It’s more understandable with ants, because a lot of people (even adults) are like that with bugs. But with the crabs?! I was like “Holy shit, future serial killer right here.” I figured she’d eventually be one of the culprits, lol.

Yeah; you probably saw me rewriting some of the deaths in DR2 the other day, wherein I gave the Ibuki death to Hiyoko. It's just feels much more logical to make it an act of vengeance, doesn't it? It's not about Hiyoko seeing the wrong thing at the wrong moment; it's about the fact that she's been treating Tsumiki with vicious cruelty for literal years (now that Mikan remembers everything thanks to the 'Despair Disease'). It's more satisfying both dramatically and for her character to take it that way, I think. Having her just be in the wrong place at the wrong time feels limp by comparison.

Well first off, we're going to need Hiyoko to actually express remorse, lol. She doesn't even seem that grateful when Mikan saves her life at the end of DR3!

But I like the idea of Mikan not being very quick to forgive. And yet... I also don't think it's really true to her character. Realistically, Mikan's going to feel super-shocked as well as super-grateful for the apology, and then promptly accept it/forgive her. And Saionji, who most likely struggled greatly to even mumble a half-hearted apology, is going to feel like she's getting off scot-free.

On a personal level, that's not what I want. But I think it's probably the truest course of action for who they are. :-/

I have a hard time imagining her as some kind of Remnant of Despair ringleader largely because, based on the final episode of DR3, her talent is evidently one of the most useless in any intense situation. Besides, I don't think someone like Nekomaru is going to be able to take orders from her without screaming back, y'know? So I don't know that I see that. ..... But maybe, in her big-'n-tall body, she could simply shout down any objectives with much more projected authority... ?

Even though having another blonde girl be the mastermind would feel kind of repetitive, I think there'd be something weirdly satisfying about the idea of Hiyoko being behind DR2, just because it'd be like "This is the most obviously nasty person here, so you probably never suspected her for that very reason - it's just too simple, so you wouldn't expect it. But we expected you to not expect it, so we did it." Speaking for myself, I sure never saw her as a possibility largely for that reason - she's already a giant asshole. lol.

Very much agreed with that last bit, and I feel the same about people who identify with Hiyoko. If you identify with that? Dear god, I hope it's because of something you grew out of from your deeply embarrassing distant past. Otherwise, sort your fucking life out.

Nothing to add to this. Just 100% agreed.

Such nationalism is, sadly, pretty common all over the world. You see a ton of misplaced patriotism and hardcore dedication to only one's home culture in the United States, obviously, and we're hardly unique in that! So I'm sure Japan is home to plenty of the same stuff.

Although I don't remember her specifically disrespecting other cultures so much as just demanding that people give her things/adhere to things that are strictly Japanese (most often in an old-fashioned sense).

I understand why people would be angry at the Actual Murderer, sure. But it's not like that's who she is when she's not a Remnant of Despair, y'know? We just weren't given an explanation of why she was like that or what she was thinking until MUCH later in the story, which I'm sure contributed to people being angry at Mikan at the time. And sure - at that time, I was pretty irritated over what she did to Ibuki. But I was still aware of the fact that we were going to have to get more context on it later... because all those vague hints to "the person I love" seemed like the kind of thing that would definitely lead to an eventual payoff, either in the main story or another mode.

And as for what she did to Hiyoko... well.

#anti-hiyoko saionji #mikan tsumiki #asks #anon #danganronpa

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rinnelovebot · 3 years

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Gosh if it hasn't been done already,, rinne and rei relationship hc, please? Welcome!!!

A/N: WOOOOO FELLOW RINNE AND REI PRODUCERS MAKE SOME NOISE THANK YOU FOR THIS ANON

*ೃ༄ Rei Sakuma and Rinne Amagi relationship hc’s

Believe me, you will absolutely always know how loved you are. Between his over-the-top dramatic monologues about the color of your eyes and the way you laugh, plus his need for physical affection, there is never a dull moment, and never a second that you won’t feel like the luckiest person in the entire world.

Rei is actually quite clingy, I would imagine. He likes to follow wherever you go whilst holding onto your hand, or having his arm wrapped around your shoulder as you two walk. Taking walks with Rei are among the most comfortable things in the world!

The dates you both can go on are limited to the indoors, and he knows how potentially annoying that could be, for the both of you. So, because he’s just so amazing, he’ll occasionally take you somewhere outside, bringing a parasol and sunglasses along with him. He might look funny to everyone around you, but it makes you happy, and he would give absolutely anything and everything to see that.

Temple kisses are most definitely his forte. It’s his absolute favorite way to show affection to his lover! He’ll pull you into him, placing a hand on the back of your head before pulling you in to kiss your temple tenderly as a goodbye, lingering for a few moments before heading off to a rehearsal or wherever he may need to go in the moment.

Another way he likes to physically show his love is by hugging you from behind as a greeting, or when you least expect it. He’ll teasingly scold you, saying how vulnerable you looked, how it could’ve been some random man who had just tried to come up and hug you, and how unbelievably lucky you were that it was just Rei, your beloved boyfriend~.

He tries his best to stay awake for some time during the morning hours before falling asleep until sundown. Rei knows his sleep schedule is very difficult to work with, so compromising with you is the best course of action. But you know, joining him for a nap couldn’t hurt every now and then.

Rei strikes me as a very gentle and tender lover, always being soft with you (though teasingly), and making sure you’re always comfortable and happy. As we know, he’s a massive empath, so seeing you, the love of his life, happy, makes him happy as well.

He is incredibly romantic. Presenting you with a single rose randomly, kissing your hand as he leads you, and promising himself to you constantly are all things that are very common in your relationship. What a guy.

Though he always has your back, and you know he does, do try to help him out every once in awhile. He is always taking care of and guiding you, so every once in awhile, he would greatly appreciate if you told him that everything was right with the world, and held his face in your hands. He’s a big softy with you already, but this would make him absolutely melt. Plus, it’s a rare and cute sight to witness the almighty Rei Sakuma’s face when he’s caught off-guard. <3

Holy shit is he annoying. Sometimes he’s more like a doting and nosey big brother than your boyfriend, to be perfectly honest. Annoying you energizes him. But don’t worry, he would never go too far. He does love you, after all. He would never want you to be actually upset with him. And if you ever were, he would apologize with a million rounds of cheek kisses.

He reeeeeeally loves when you wear his clothes, especially in front of others! It reminds him that you love him, and that you’re comfortable enough to wear items of his clothing in public! And it’s just absolutely adorable to see you walking around in a shirt that clearly is too long for you.

Half of your relationship with the man is Rinne dragging you to join him in his shenanigans, pouting if you say you don’t want to come with him. Having you by his side gives him a constant flow of confidence and added strength (not that he needed any)! Though he does sometimes get you both into trouble, he always knows how to get you out of it, too.

When he isn’t dragging you outside to just about every single activity in the world, he is super lazy. That meaning, some days he just wants to lay on the couch and watch TV. He won’t stop whining until you join him, and prepare to not get up from that couch until at least midnight. And by that time, your red-haired boyfriend most likely passed out for the night, and you might just be lucky enough to wriggle out of his grip to use the restroom.

Rinne loves bragging about you to Crazy:B, saying that his lover is a perfect little angel whom the world could never even hope to deserve! He is a bit dramatic when it comes to you being a conversation topic, but it all the more shows just how much he loves you! He’s your biggest fan out of anyone, and he is not afraid to show it to the world in the slightest.

On top of that, Kohaku, Niki, and HiMERU are constantly telling you both to get a room. Rinne is massively big on PDA, kissing and cuddling you at every chance he gets. Rinne will aww at his unit members and declare that they’re just jealous of the incredibly strong bond you have with each other!

He loves holding objects out of your grip, even if you’re around the same height as him. He gets a kick out of seeing you struggle to reach for said object, probably groaning something like: “Knock it off, Rinne!” Or “Stop! You’re so annoying, urgh!” You just look so cute, he can’t help it! Eventually though, he’ll make you a deal. If you want the object in his hand back, you have to give him a kiss!

When it’s just you and him, he gets much softer and calm. He’ll splay himself across your body, nuzzling his head in your chest and taking slow, deep breaths. Especially when he’s tired, he can be the biggest baby ever. He’ll mumble something about how much he loves you, and how lucky he is to have you. It’s adorable, but if you ever brought it up to him when he’s fully conscious and around other people, his face may just begin to match his hair!

Hiiro thinks you’re amazing! He’s always talking about how he gets another big sibling once you and Rinne get married, and how excited he’ll be if he ever gets a niece or nephew! Even if that did happen, it wouldn’t be for awhile, you both would always remind him. Though, Rinne has always had the thought of proposing to you in the back of his mind! <3

#ensemble stars #ensemble stars x reader #enstars #enstars x reader #rei sakuma #rei sakuma x reader #sakuma rei #undead #rinne amagi #amagi rinne #crazy:b #rinne amagi x reader

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junebuggeryy · 2 years

Note

ask game: 9, 15, 23 and 24? (GOD your art is cool. I'm always blown away by it ^^ )

THANK Y OU i am handing you a bottle of my tears (affectionate)

9. Any new art mediums youve tried (or overall styles if you havent tried new mediums)

oh uhhhhhhhhhhhh h hhh hhhhh;hhhhhhhhhhhh i sculpt sometimes

mostly tiny things. a while ago i went mad with power trying to create a subatomic scalemate. i dont really post about it much because i prefer to keep it a low stress activity for when im not feeling the drawing juices? also i super dont know how to take good photos but it is, like, an area of constant backscenes experimentation

in terms of style, i feel like definitely have zoned in on some "retro" aesthetics this year? mostly the funkiest parts of mid-century-mod, and some 90s radical cheese

15. any upcoming planned drawings

oh god perpetually

mostly its tryling to emulate other art styles through OCs? i want to do a pulpy horror novel cover based around lorna. i want to make a hanna barbera xeno. i want to do an archie comic cover about a stupid love triangle between stupid idiots that keep being stupid. roxanne exists. when its not me trying to emulate an art style, its "i want to introduce this OC concept" and "i havent done [insert OC]'s design justice, time to redraw"

also comics. holy shit comics.

ive got dialog thats been circling me on loop for weeks on end. theres scenes that have me in a vice grip. i have a? a script? thats been slowly building??? i dont really believe in the power of new years resolutions but if im manifesting girbossing empathing anything, its that more comics make it up here

23. Favorite pose you've drawn

i dont. know how to draw a skeleton over this

24. what do you like most about your art style

neons go brrr

ok fine ill elaborate. i think ive got a good sense of shape language and color, and have managed to put together some character designs that manage to be pretty versatile yet distinct?

but also, yes, neons go brrr. i have long enjoyed art that is, what some might call, Bad and Wrong. i think digital art gives me a lot of freedom to be Bad and Wrong in the color department, because- like little timmy on the playground with a laser pointer- the more able i am to wield the forces of light and directly beam eye searing colors directly into peoples eyeballs, the more my acidic soul is satisfied* *to the degree that i also understand people may have medical need to not engage with flashing lights and harsh eyestrain

i could probably talk more about violent and alienating art? i think it ties back into my appreciation of surreal gore and the grotesque, the need to make something that... almost hurts to look at. despite my roots in gore and body horror, my current art style has definitely slid over into something pretty cute and cartooney? which isnt really a bad thing! but it is something i think about sometimes

#[bugg chitters]#that last one got away from me and ive reread it like thrice to see if it makes sense but #idk if it does so im juste gonna press post

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myrmidryad · 3 years

Text

20 Questions - Writer’s Edition

Tagged by @lambourngb thank you! 💗

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

81 total, mostly Les Mis and RNM.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

1,557,760 holy shit I’ve written over a million words 😵

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

On AO3, not counting the universes I’ve written fusions with, there are seven: Les Mis, Roswell New Mexico, Merlin, MCU, Young Avengers, X-Men, and Vikings.

On ff.net, nine more: Teen Titans, Xiaolin Showdown, Transformers, Naruto, Narnia, Hellboy, Artemis Fowl, Lord of the Flies, and Skins.

Some fics are on both, but when I moved to AO3 I mostly left the ones I didn’t think were good enough to expose to a new audience. And gone from the internet forever (probably) is the Maximum Ride fanfic I wrote and posted to a forum back in the day. RIP that fic.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

from one side to the other (Les Mis, exr soulmate oneshot)

sentimental you and faithful me (Les Mis, exr bodyswap oneshot)

Just Another Guy With A Bow (Avengers, Clint/Coulson, Clint origin fic)

potentially lovely, perpetually human (Les Mis, exr empath!Enjolras)

This brave new world’s not like yesterday (Les Mis, exr the bowling alley fic)

5. What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

If there’s a rocket, tie me to it is one of the first Les Mis fics I wrote, and it’s uhhhh very canon in that everyone dies. In my head it was kind of a partner fic to <a pattern in the system> A Bullet In The Gun, which was also a dystopia fic, but that one had a happy ending, and I wanted to go again and have the canon ending for Les Amis. And I think that might have been the last unhappy ending I ever wrote? I like happier endings way better!

6. What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Basically all of them have happy endings, especially the long ones that actually have plots! But I’m going to pick Finding You, because I skidded canon to the left to force events into happiness before tragedy could ever strike, and spun that out into a nice long roadtrip with lots of happiness and love and friendship, ending on a great big optimistic note that everyone’s future would be just as happy and unstruck by tragedy. I reread chunks of this fic all the time for the good vibes.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you've written?

I’ve written a bunch of fusions, but I think the only one that actually counts as a crossover is Fighting the Hurricane, which is a Les Mis/Pacific Rim fic. I’m not sure if my Les Mis/Oglaf fic is a crossover or a fusion, but it’s definitely the craziest one I’ve written just because Oglaf itself is so off the wall - Sharpshooter.

8. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I looooooove writing smut, of all kinds. I’ve written a lot of bdsm smut in particular for Les Mis, and weirdly almost none for RNM, idk what that’s about.

9. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I usually do these days, though on multi-chap fics if I’m posting a chapter a day or similarly quickly, I’ll wait and reply only the last chapter. I didn’t used to reply to comments at all unless they were particularly stand-out or asked a question, which was following the example of other writers, more than anything else. I also had the notion that people do sometimes use the number of comments on a fic as a metric to judge whether to give it a go or not, and replies massively skew that count.

I reply now, or try to. Um, confused widgeon, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry I haven’t replied to your comments from July 2020 yet. They were too nice and I got overwhelmed. One day I’ll get to them!

10. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Lol yes, I was weirdly pleased and immediately deleted it.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I know.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I’ve had a couple of people ask about it before, but idk if it went anywhere.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I co-wrote very bad Transformers fic with my best friend in secondary school and we had a great time. Shout out @scythling! Since then though, no. I’m too precious over creative control, I think, and I quite like writing in a vacuum.

14. What's your all time favourite ship to write for?

Of all time is tricky. Enjolras/Grantaire will have to take the trophy though, I think. They’re iconic!

15. What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I have a bunch I’ve abandoned and accepted that I’ve abandoned, too many to list, so I’m not counting those because I know I’m never finishing them. Of the ones that are still in my WIP folders...there are also too many to list, but only a handful I’d be sad about never coming back to. I think the main one is probably Underground Dreaming, which would be very difficult to finish for multiple reasons, the main one being that I always envisioned it as open-ended. But I am sad that I stalled out on posting more than a few fics in that series. Too much research can kill the muse!

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and spooky atmospheres. Love me a spooky atmosphere.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I use ‘grinned’ way too much. Dialogue tags in general, but ‘grinned’ in particular. And I’ve developed a real problem with length, where I’ve become almost incapable of writing short fic. Which isn’t necessarily bad, exactly - length is needed for some of the stories I want to tell, but being concise isn’t something that comes naturally to me anymore.

18. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Language barriers are one of my favourite things to write, actually, but because I’m very much not fluent in anything but English, I shy away from putting in actual words from other languages. I’d much rather have a whole exchange or speech in another language actually written all in English, with the difference indicated either by outright saying the character/s are speaking in another language or by altering the grammar and sentence structure.

19. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Either Teen Titans or Xiaolin Showdown.

20. What's your favourite fic you've written?

Shadow Work is something I’m going to be proud of till I die, probably.

I think a lot of people have already been tagged so uhhhhhh if you haven’t done it already or want to @beautifulcheat @sugarfey @im-the-punk-who @gritkitty @maeglinthebold @daughterofelros @dotsayers

#fic meme #my fic

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corpsentry · 3 years

Text

ao3 mirror

fandom: age of calamity, botw rating: g starring: prince sidon and mipha note: spoilers for both games

"You know, Daruk’s my idol,” Yunobo says. He pumps his fists in the air like a kid at a fun fair in line for the big pirate ship ride. “They say he was the coolest Goron there ever was. Plus he had a beard. I think beards are awesome.”

“Great,” Sidon says. He stops peeling the mandarin in his hands for long enough to look up blankly at him. "Mipha was my sister."

the age of calamity, side b.

The thing about time travel is, even if someone stands in front of you and tells you point-blank that there’s a way to bring your dead sister back to life, you’re probably not going to believe them.

“I don’t believe you,” says Sidon.

“Okay,” Teba says patiently, fluffing his feathers with an absent glide of his wing. “Try harder.”

Sidon stares at him. He tries harder, though he’s not sure what that entails and so doesn’t end up really doing anything. “I don’t get you.”

“Which part don’t you get?”

“I get to see Mipha again?”

Teba’s eyebrow twitches. “Let me put this as simply as I can, Prince,” he says, a little too loudly. The soldier stationed at the bottom of the staircase turns to look at them. “We’re going to go back to the point a hundred years ago at which the four champions were killed in their divine beasts. We’re going to save them. We’re going to make sure they defeat Ganon before he can send Hyrule into ruin. And then we’re going to leave.”

By now, they’ve caught everyone’s attention. It’s been a long time since a hundred years ago, but here in Zora’s Domain it still feels like the events of last Tuesday, to be recounted over salt tea and fish skewers, to be mourned over an empty coffin. Everyone’s staring at the big white bird with the angry eyebrows, a little curious, a little apprehensive. For what he’s worth, Teba is indifferent. This much will not faze him.

Sidon twiddles his thumbs behind his back, where Teba cannot see them and the guards at the bottom of the staircase can point and laugh all they want. To be honest, he heard nothing. His heart stopped when he heard ‘killed in their divine beasts’, at which point a watery monster punched its way into his skull and crushed his brain. The monster is nothing concrete, nothing crystal-clear, just what little Link has told him, bits and pieces of a history he was prevented from taking part in. It’s been several months since the kid dragged his beaten-up body halfway across Hyrule and kicked Ganon’s ass, though they’re still feeling the after-effects of that particular calamity today. Mipha’s statue still looms over their heads, a reminder of what it means to die alone and far away from home.

“So,” Sidon starts, hearing his voice echoing in his ears like metal slicing through air. “What you’re saying is, I get to see Mipha again.”

Teba looks like he wants to grab one of the guards’ spears and stab Sidon in the face, but for what he’s worth, he reigns it in. “Yes.”

“Okay.” He grins. “I’m in.”

He tried to fight a lynel when he was fifteen. The domain had been overrun with monsters who had arrived for the pre-party to Ganon’s return, including an outstanding number of wizzrobes, several moblins, and a tall, intimidating figure which spat electricity from its pink-tongued mouth and whose name he couldn’t recall. While his father, the king, and his sister, the princess, breezed through the area like a lightning strike, reclaiming keeps and stabbing moblins with silver teeth so their generals could forge a path ahead, Sidon reveled in the wonder of being left unsupervised at four a.m. in the morning. And then heard the familiar, haunting roar of a lynel. And then decided to go and say hi.

It was a mistake, of course. The lynel was so tall he couldn’t make out the gear on its back. Its face was all squished up, like a birthday cake that had been stepped on, and its horns were too big for its thick, blocky nose. This was funny for all of five seconds. Then the lynel extracted a bow from that unknowable space behind it and aimed the sharp end of an arrow at his face, and it became a problem.

“H-h-h-hi,” said Sidon, holding up his Kid Spear, which was strictly for Kid Use Only, and had the offensive capabilities of a stick.

“RHOOARHGHHGHH,” said the lynel.

He jabbed the Kid Spear at the lynel’s leg. The lynel spat at him, though probably unintentionally, as it seemed preoccupied with the arrow it was trying to send into his face. It was stuck. The big scary lynel’s bow was stuck.

Emboldened by the stupid scary lynel’s broken bow, Sidon decided to try again. “Please go away, Mr. Lynel,” he said in his best and most charming Kid Prince voice, twirling his Kid Spear like a sweet jellyfish skewer.

“RHOAHOARHAGHOGHHHH,” said the lynel, who sounded significantly angrier than before.

“I understand,” Sidon said politely, and then closed his eyes and sent a prayer to the goddess Hylia (the way he had been taught to since he was old enough to speak, the way every child in Hyrule knew that there was a place for them to go to after they left this world behind). He braced for impact, which he hoped would be of the violent sort, earth-shattering and brisk enough to break his bones and leave nothing breathing in its wake. He was fifteen, not five. This was Ganon’s era. Every living creature in Hyrule knew this, the way their ancestors woke up and knew which direction the sun would rise from. Not if, but when. When the Calamity strikes. When your people die. When the knight emerges from the woods with the sacred sword in his hand, and saves you all.

But none came. When he opened his eyes, and he did so reluctantly, adrenalin coursing through his veins like thunder, the world was pitch black. In place of the cool blue moon was his sister, her ceremonial gear glittering darkly, the Lightscale Trident glowing like a star in her right hand.

“Holy shit,” whispered Sidon the kid. Mipha stabbed the lynel in the face.

She hugged him when it was all over and they had put the moblins and the wizzrobes and the electric moblin (so that’s what it was! Terrifying) back to sleep. Their father was upset, but he was frequently upset at Sidon and so it didn’t bother him as much as it could have. Sidon was not Mipha. It was all right if he got things wrong, as long as his sister never did. Coincidentally, the Hylian princess had been in the area at the time of the attack, accompanied by a knight with blue eyes and a Sheikah warrior who looked like she would throw a knife at a fish for sport. It was a good thing Mipha had been at home, and not visiting one of the other tribes or hunting for crabs near Lurelin. It was a good thing she had intervened when she had, lest the pre-party become the real thing.

“Thank you,” said the Hylian princess, trying her best to smooth her brow and failing. She looked anxious, though she had only come to pass on her father’s word, though the word that she had brought was victory.

Mipha smiled at her with a face full of sun. “It is my pleasure.”

He wishes the egg could talk. If the egg could talk then Teba would have less reason to talk, and if Teba talked less then Sidon would have less of a raging headache, which which would make him less of an asshole, which would make their discussions go much more smoothly than the janky, sputtering mess they’ve been all week.

“As I was saying,” says Teba, continuing whatever train of thought he picked up on their way up to Goron City and then dumped unceremoniously by the side of the road. As he does this, Death Mountain spits a chunk of lava out of its steaming gaping top, which lands a few inches shy of his breastplate. He hops backwards without missing a beat and begins fanning himself with one wing.

Riju stops fiddling with the diamond circlet in her hands for long enough to give him a look of inquiry. “As you were saying?”

“I can’t wait to see Daruk.” Yunobo scratches his arm. It makes a sound like two large boulders grinding together. Riju drops the circlet.

“You’re only going to see him for a short while,” Teba comments over the sound of the egg blowing its top at Riju and Sidon plugging his ears with his fingers. “No point getting all worked up about it.”

“You’re just as worked up yourself,” Riju counters. Patricia barks. Teba flinches.

This is true. There are two things Teba won’t shut up about. In ascending order of importance, they are 1) when they should depart for the alternate timeline in which they will prevent their respective ancestors from getting their spirits trapped in giant mechanical monsters for a hundred years, and 2) how incredible Revali is. Because Revali was the most powerful Rito warrior that ever walked the land (or flew over it, or blasted bomb arrows at it, whatever). Revali singlehandedly invented an entire style of aerial combat which involves launching yourself into the air with an updraft that defies the laws of the universe and then setting your surroundings on fire. Revali killed god.

Teba looks like he wants to go back to his wife and kid in Rito village. Good for him. Not all of them have bodies to put in coffins. “I just want to meet him once,” he says quietly.

Yunobo laughs, and it sounds like two extra large boulders grinding together. “Me too, brother.” He picks up the diamond circlet from the floor and puts it on his head like some kind of weird hat. “I’m going to tell Daruk how great he is. And then I’m going to go home.”

One time when they were much, much younger, before he woke up one morning and Mipha was three times his height, one of the guards brought back some durians. The durians were misshapen and spiky and smelled intimidating, though Sidon wouldn’t go as far as to say that the smell was unpleasant. The guard had obtained them from a merchant in the Faron region. He hadn’t meant to purchase them, but they were the last of her stock and she said she could only head home once she had sold everything. He empathized her.

At first they tried to open the durians with their hands, but this only produced several pricked fingers and left ominous and eerily substantial bloodstains everywhere, so someone brought out a spear, almost drove it through the table, and someone else brought out a carving knife. Halfway through the spectacle of watching one of the guards, who was thirty-seven and enjoyed collecting glowing stones as a hobby, attempt to de-spike an entire durian, the crowd parted abrutpyl.

“What are you all doing?” Mipha put her hand absently on Sidon’s head. He had been watching the ongoing debacle out of some kind of morbid curiosity, standing on tip-toes so he could peek over the top of the table, though now he had apparently been relegated to armrest.

“Trying to open this durian, your highness.”

Mipha laughed. His sister’s laugh was a delicate, heartrending affair, like trying to pull weeds from the bottom of a lake without breaking them at the stem. The weather at home was always more or less divine, but whenever Mipha laughed, Sidon swore it blasted a hole right through the clouds. If there were no clouds, then the hole appeared in the fabric of the sky instead. Mipha, at her brightest, was a walking catastrophe of sun.

Still chuckling a little, like she’d been made privy to a secret that none of them knew about, Mipha stepped up to the cutting board. “You have to do it like this,” she said cheerfully, digging her fingers into a seam in the durian’s shell like she’d been dealing with danger all her life.

Cue gasping. Cue the horrors of childbirth.

The durian was sweet. It was also a little goopy, but Sidon was no stranger to things which stuck to your fingers and refused to let go (he was one of those objects when it came to his sister, who he could rarely be found more than an arm’s length away from on any given day), so he felt for the little spiky fruit, and decided that he would make an effort to bring some back home when he went traveling himself in the future. While he examined the inside of the durian’s shell, which had been hollowed of fruit and had the texture of rough sandpaper, the guards crowded around Mipha and demanded that she share her secret to not getting stabbed to death by the fierce and terrifying durian. But either she didn’t know how to explain it to them, or they weren’t very good at listening, because she remained the only one capable of cracking open a durian with her bare hands for many, many years, up until she died while fighting a watery manifestation of Ganon inside the divine beast she had been told by the king of Hyrule to pilot to victory’s end. Then it was someone else’s turn to take over.

Painkillers for fish are a tricky affair. To begin with, charmingly little research has been conducted into the biology of the fish-person because the Zoras simply aren’t interested in how their bodies work, and while others have offered to do so in their place, among them several enthusiastic Sheikah researchers and one Hylian with a thing for huge glowing orbs, his people have never cared enough to give their consent. It’s a unique kind of apathy, one which stems from a place of privilege, or denial. They are, as a general statement of fact, very good at both.

“This will help.” Yunobo hands him a rock roast. Where did Yunobo get a rock roast from? Sidon frowns. They’re in the middle of the desert.

“Thanks,” Sidon says. Smiles. Kind of, like, holds the roast up to his mouth and gives it a sniff. It doesn’t smell half as good as durian. He puts it down.

It takes him several days to make sense of the convoluted sequence of events that Teba presented to him that day on the front door of the world he had rebuilt from scratch, surrounded by mystique and glamor and promising, in a breath of cold air, to bring his dead sister back to life. This makes it sound like he’s finished making sense of it all and will thus never be confused ever again, but if he’s to be entirely honest, he still doesn’t get it. He wants to. He’s scared to. He won’t look Teba in the eye.

“We should get going soon, don’t you think?” says Riju, who is twelve and somehow more put-together than all four of them combined. She pulls another book from the shelf and leaves it on the pile on the desk.

Yunobo shrugs loudly. “Doesn’t make a difference when we leave, does it? We could leave for Hyrule in twenty years, and we’d still end up at the same place.”

“But I want to save them,” Riju says earnestly. The pile behind her has been growing all afternoon, and will soon overtake her in height if she is not stopped. Mission preparation looks like archaeological excavation when you’re traveling backwards in time, and not forwards to some yet unknown destination. Ancient Sheikah records. Research journals. The writings of people who were obsessed with the events of a hundred years ago despite having no personal investment to speak of, and whose words carry with them a hint of reverence, even as they choreograph the funeral song of the old king. This is all that’s left of those ruins, aside from Link, who they’ve all quietly decided to keep uninformed of the current proceedings. Hyrule itself has been kept in the dark. No need for them to know about the maybes and the what-ifs and the could-have-beens. No need for more people to go crazy.

Sidon shuts the book in his hands with a thud. “But why?”

Riju’s eyes go wide. Drama queen. “Why what?”

Sidon opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again. There’s a heat rash on the back of his neck which he can’t quite reach on his own. The elders had warned him about the desert, but the charm he received from Link has proven to be effective in all areas except for maintaining good skincare. He blinks dumbly at Riju, who has begun to flicker like the glassy surface of a pond. His eyes hurt.

“I mean, why do you.” His eyes hurt. His throat hurts. There’s something large and horrible stuck in his chest, and he can’t get it out. “Why do you want to save them?” There’s a durian in his rib cage. It must have lodged itself there when Teba glared at him like he was an idiot as he came face to face with the cruel reality of the universe, and it dawned on him like a dead body falling out of the sky that he would get to see Mipha one last time, and then he would have to come back. To a Hyrule without her. To the stupid stuck-up world that had to try again and again and again, coughing up blood and dragging itself through the dirt on bruised knees, before it could defeat the monster. “It’s not like they’ll come back to life,” he says, each word a silver knife in his mouth. “They’ll stay dead here. They’re already dead.”

Silence.

Riju has let everything go, including the diamond circlet, the topaz earrings, and three volumes sheathed in gold. Yunobo’s mouth is open so wide, you could stick your head inside and take a look around if you leaned in close enough. For the first time since he met him, Teba is at a loss for words. His chest rises and falls erratically, his hand on the bookshelf quivering, his eyebrows doing a little dance on his forehead. He’s sweating. Of course he is. They’re in the desert.

Riju, Hylia bless her soul, is the first to speak.

“It’s the spirit of things,” she says softly. She looks sadder than any twelve-year-old should ever have to look. But then and again, Sidon was barely old enough to hold a spear with both hands when his sister died and everything went to shit. Then and again, everything goes away eventually.

Sidon stares at her helplessly for a moment, gulping the humid air of the library like a fish out of water, then gives up and walks out of the room. He spends the rest of the afternoon blowing bubbles in the pool beside Kara Kara Bazaar while the other three continue their work, and then buys a durian from one of the vendors and hacks it open with his spear. You can’t crack open a durian with your bare hands, unless you’re Mipha, in which case you can do anything. It’s a good thing, then, that she’s gone.

When they were children and they got into trouble, his father would always scold Mipha far more harshly than Sidon. Mipha was the older sibling, after all. She should know better. This dynamic remained firmly established between them even as Mipha grew into her role as princess, future ruler, and eventually, champion. Of course, the reprimandings grew less stern, but Sidon had a penchant for winding up in places he wasn’t supposed to be in and Mipha had a penchant for being with him whenever this happened. He secretly resolved to pay her back when he got older and was finally able to stand up to his father, and therefore explain that most of the things they got into trouble for were his idea. He would be the one to weep at his father’s feet while his sister looked on with a horrified expression, and in that moment she would understand how much he loved her.

Then she died. You can’t tell the story of Mipha without this part. Mipha was a humble, kind girl, and then she died. Mipha could crack open a durian with her bare hands, and then she died. Mipha was the pride of their people, and then she died, and she died, and she died.

You can’t change the past with the wave of a hand. You’re not a bird. You’re not a fortune-teller. You’re a fish-person with an empty coffin for a sister, and in a few weeks’ time, you’re going to save her specter.

“...What if I brought her back with me?”

“Huh?”

“Hahajustkidding. No way I’d do that. Not a chance.”

“Um. Do you need painkillers?”

“Thanks, but they don’t work on me. I’m over a hundred years old, you see. Us Zoras, we’re different.”

The day before departure. They’re back at Zora’s domain. It’s raining. Teba is running through a checklist of items to bring with them which is so long, he has to hold it above his head to prevent it from touching the floor. Riju is feeding Patricia mandarin peels.

“You know, Sidon.”

Sidon looks up from his mandarin. “Mm?”

Yunobo grins at him. “Daruk’s my idol,” he says proudly. He pumps his fists in the air like a kid at a fun fair in line for the big pirate ship ride. “They say he was the coolest Goron there ever was. Plus he had a beard. I think beards are awesome.”

“Great,” says Sidon, as enthusiastically as he can, because he genuinely wants to be happy for Yunobo who is finally going to meet his idol and has clearly dreamed about this moment for some time. He wants to be happy for all of them. He fucking wants to. This is a rescue mission, not the imprisonment Princess Zelda walked into in Hyrule castle, not the hundred-year nap Link took on the Great Plateau. This is a happy ending, even if it’s not theirs.

Daruk the idol. Urbosa the warrior. Revali the bird. Sidon pictures them in his head, the way Link described them to him once, his voice carrying across the water like beams of light.

“Mipha was—”

He stops peeling the mandarin in his hands, his nails still embedded in the soft skin of it, the white-tinged flesh peeking out like a wound. Outside, the rain keeps falling. A river of tears from the sky.

Yunobo tilts his head to the side. “Mipha was?”

Mipha was the pride of their people. Mipha was the first person he wanted to live forever. Mipha was the only one he knew who could crack open a durian with her bare hands, like she was peeling open the heart of a monster, only to reveal that it had been something soft and scared all along. Mipha was a flesh-and-blood person. Mipha was the light of their world. Mipha is an empty coffin with a name inscribed on the lid, a house with the lights off, a memory drenched in ocean.

Yunobo prods his shoulder, though he barely feels a thing. “Mipha was?” he repeats kindly, herding him along to the end of the line, to the boat at the edge of the water.

Sidon puts the mandarin away. He stares long and hard at Yunobo, and hopes that his eyes will convey the wound his body no longer knows how to carry.

“Mipha was my sister.”

Let’s say you’ve been entrusted with the future of your kingdom. There’s a bad guy coming, and everyone’s scared to death, so you learn how to pilot this big robotic elephant which shoots turrets of water like a machine gun, and you get really good at it, and when the bad guy arrives on your new friend’s birthday suddenly you can’t do it anymore. You’re trapped inside the giant elephant. You’re bleeding out all over the floor. Your chest hurts like something awful, and your vision is beginning to blur. Sensing your despair, the monster closes in on you, wielding that big blue trident like fury. It holds the sky up over your head, and as it does so you close your eyes. You send a prayer to the goddess Hylia (the way you have been taught to since you were old enough to hold your little brother in your arms, the way every child in Hyrule knows that there is a place for them to go to after they leave this world behind). You brace for impact, which you hope will be the gentle sort, a slap to the wrist that’s conclusive enough to break your bones and leave nothing breathing in its wake. You’re twenty, not five. This is the end of all things as you know it. Every living creature in Hyrule knows this, the way their ancestors woke up one day and knew that this world would come to ruin. Not if, but when. When the Calamity strikes. When everyone you’ve ever loved dies. When you walk into the mouth of the elephant, and the elephant changes its mind, and decides to keep you in its belly forever.

None arrives. You open your eyes slowly, hesitantly, fear a living memory in your bones, but you are not faced with the stinging end of a trident. In its place is a boy almost three times your height, his eyes glittering darkly, the spear in his right hand shining like a star.

He is not your brother. But, Hylia bless you all, he is.

So what can you say, when the evil has been defeated and you are standing on the balcony of the castle, smiling up at him through tears while this big overgrown baby stares at you like you’re the answer to the universe, except:

We’ll definitely meet again, won’t we?

He flinches, but you don’t ask, and he doesn’t say why. He pulls you into an earth-shattering, bone-crushing hug. It’s a beautiful day to be alive, the sun shining like sin, Hyrule’s beaten but stubbornly breathing carcass laughing up at you from the fields below. He takes your hands in his. He’s shivering. He’s shaking from head to toe.

Of course, he says in the kindest, saddest voice you’ve ever heard, though he has only come to pass on someone else’s words, though the word he has brought is salvation. From now on, I’ll always be by your side.

: : : : :

You smile at him with a face full of stars.

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i-ntrmission · 3 years

Text

Nine (Van McCann)

Just a silly little fic where Van is sporadic regular at a coffee shop.

Part 1 (4.3k)

They say bad things happen in threes.

Your phone hadn’t charged overnight, leaving you with 15% battery.

A car ran through a puddle during your walk to work, soaking your legs.

An elderly man held the door of the coffee shop open for you, gesturing with a newspaper for you to go ahead, and a smile that you couldn’t help but reciprocate, until a busy mum storms out from the shop knocking into you and spilling fresh coffee down your jacket.

“Tough morning, eh?” Your co-worker, and resident barista genius, Toby comments with a chuckle while you stomped around the counter. Having seen what just happened, and taking in your soaked tights.

Julia, resident window art and slogan genius, glancing around from the till with a sympathetic pout while you roll your eyes at Toby, pushing on the staff door.

“Oh, leave off Tobes - leave her be. That was tragic, babe. Spare tights in my bag, help yourself.” She says before turning back to the line of customers.

“Cheers, Julia.” You sigh in relief while heading into the back, Toby’s dry chuckles and singsong of ‘Happy Friday!’ following you.

Once you have on dry tights, cleaned what you can from your jacket (thankfully it was leather), and hunted down a spare charger for your phone, you grab your apron and head back out.

By some grace of god, you had a later shift for today, meaning you missed the usual breakfast run full of impatient office employees, half asleep students, pass remarkable construction workers - thankful, with the way your morning had went you wouldn’t have been fit for dealing with that kind of stress this morning. Now in the clear for the easy hours before lunch.

“There she is,” Toby, a lazy grin when you re-emerge, Julia leaning on the counter beside him sipping from a mug, basking in the post breakfast rush comedown. “Here ya go, looks like you need it.” He slides a takeaway cup over to you, and you all too eagerly take a sip. Caffeine can nearly always fix anything, especially a bad morning.

Cinnamon caramel macchiato, a hum of appreciation and a drawn out ‘thank you.” He only chuckles out a ‘no bother’, picking up his tea. You had always found it ironic that someone who despised the taste and smell of coffee worked in a coffee shop, and on top of that made really fucking good coffee.

“So what’s happened you? Apparent from the coffee incident obvs, looked like you wanted to throttle all us when you came in,” Julia asks, brown eyes glancing over you as she takes another sip from her mug.

“Nah, she just always looks like that,” Toby says, a teasing grin. You just roll your eyes, it was true that your resting bitch face was Medusa level.

A sigh, taking another mouthful of your coffee and picking up a basin to start clearing the tables with while you shrug and launch into the story of your morning.

“Happens in threes, doesn’t it.” Julia comments when you catch them up.

"Well, that's my three strikes done for the day, thank fuck,” you shrug. She frowns at that.

"Touch wood."

"What?"

"You jinxed it saying that, need to touch wood for good luck!" Appalled that you never heard of the superstition at question.

Rolling your eyes, a huff as you walk away to start cleaning up. “Think I’ll be alright, Jules.” You weren’t superstitious. “Want some salt instead? Throw it over your shoulder!” Toby chuckles.

Julia only elbows him in the side, telling you both to piss off, mumbling something about having to spill salt first before you could do that.

But, maybe there was some truth in her superstitions because no less than ten minutes later, a cup slipped through your fingers smashing on the floor. Cursing yourself and then glancing meekly in her direction, she watched with a raised brow.

“Reckon it’s too late to touch wood?”

After the cup, you break a plate.

After the plate, you stand back to let a toddler and mum pass by you to get to the bathrooms, standing back with a smile - until you knock over a stand of artisan coffee bags.

“Another three down,” Julia mutters with a smirk while stacking clean cups.

“Sure you don’t want that salt?” Toby quips while walking by you as you sweep up spilt coffee beans. You give him the finger behind the dustpan you held, he reaches up as if to scratch at his beard - sliding his middle finger along his cheek, right back at you.

Your bad luck continues. During the lunch rush you manage to burn a granddad’s toasted sandwich, shortchange a regular who worked in the bookies across the street, and upend a student’s iced latte over your top.

You’re hopelessly scrubbing at the stain on your top when Julia walks into the back, grabbing her pack of fags.

“Jesus,” she mumbles, a dumbfounded look at how much you had managed to fuck up today. Completely out of character for you, a perfectionist by nature. “Did ya break a mirror or sommat lately?”

You only sigh and shake your head, “Any significance in the number 9?”

She thinks for a second, then smiles as she pulls a lighter from her jacket pocket. “9 is supposed to be good luck, actually. New beginnings,” she tilts her head, looking at you, “maybe buy a scratch card, or come to the pub quiz tonight!”

You laugh but before you can reply your manager walks in, a empathic glint in her eye. Everyone who worked here adored Carly, the ultimate mother figure. A caring but also a take no shit kind of person.

Your name - as she walks in, “what’s going on, pet? You’re a one man wrecking machine today!”

She tells you to take an early lunch, go home and get changed, clear your head and the come back. You sigh in relief of not having to wear a soggy blouse for the rest of the day. Half way home when you realize you’ve left your phone charging under the counter.

Finding Julia’s cat, Kurt, sitting on the steps to your and Julia’s shared basement flat. He purrs, pushing his head into your hand when you reach down to pick him up. You spend the next half hour sprawled on your bed with Kurt, eating rice crackers and watching “Best of Dean Winchester” complications on YouTube. Self care.

An hour later, when you walk back into the cafè Julia does a double take, stretching her arms wide and tilting her head in a ‘what the fuck!’ manner.

“Yeah? What’s up?” You ask, walking around the counter to pick back up your apron.

“Where’s your phone?! I’ve been texting you! Guess who’s bloody back?” A rush, and she’s all but bouncing on the spot, eyes gleaming with excitement.

You reach under the counter to pick up your phone, holding it up to her. It was still turned off but charged now. Telling her you forgot about it before you left. Not really bothered about her sudden elation, probably just one of her newest little crushes that changed every month. You entertain her, nonetheless.

“Who? Your man from the butchers?” Asking, while tying your apron, she shakes her head, eyes alight.

“Hm, weird uni Tolstoy wannabe?” You guess again, she shakes her head, then adds that he’s not weird just a bit eccentric and there’s nothing wrong with that. You still think the fact that he’s read War and Peace four times, and brags about, is a red flag.

You’re about to suggest the blonde and blue haired girl from the library when she cuts you off. “Anyway it’s nowt to do with me, cmon you know who it is!”

You only stare at her, blinking and out of guesses. She sighs your name is exasperation.

“Christ, you’re hopeless today. It’s only Van fuckin’ McCann, isn’t it!”

Your eyes widen, heart kicking around your ribs and blood pounds a bit harder at mention of his name. A reaction that surprises you.

“Fuck off!” It comes out as an alarmed whisper.

Van McCann had been coming to the coffee shop for three years now. Often showing up for a few days at a time and then seemingly disappearing off the face of the earth.

He had an obsession with the loyalty cards you dished out with the paper cups, nine stamps got a free drink. He never filled one.

He first showed up three summers ago, middle of a heatwave. He was wearing all black, ripped jeans, and a holy jumper. The holes and rips didn’t seem to be a fashion statement, more like he had just worn the clothes to death. He was pale, too pale. Shoulder length hair that definitely hadn’t seen a shower in a couple days, bags under his eyes. Towing along a smaller guy with long hair and a bandana. They looked out of place. A cloud of cigarette smoke lingering around them, underlying weed.

You and Julia had exchanged a glance. “Homeless? Junkies?” She mouthed at you, after they had sat down with their teas and cinnamon buns you had freshly made that morning. You had rolled your eyes, told her to stop being a judgmental prick.

He came back the next morning, on his own. Same jeans but a black T-shirt, and fluffy hair. You had been cleaning tables, observing while Toby served him. He wanted another cinnamon bun, Toby told him he was out of luck, you hadn’t made them that morning. Glancing over his shoulder with interest when Toby had pointed you out as the resident baker.

The third morning he was back again, a Glasvegas T-shirt. Julia told him you loved that band while he was waiting on his coffee. You were putting out fresh cherry and chocolate scones, when he caught your eye.

“Ey, they’re class aren’t they? What’s ya favourite song?”

You always struggled to hold his gaze when he looked at you, that didn’t change with time. Insanely blue eyes framed with lashes that were wasted on him. You shrugged, “probably Lots Sometimes.” And he had broke out into a wide grin, giving you the first glimpse of his slightly crooked bunny teeth.

You had given him the first of many loyalty cards that day, seeing as he had come in for three mornings straight, he pocketed it with a little huff of laughter, novelty.

He didn’t come back for months after that.

You and Julia spent the next few days speculating who he was and where he had gone, passing slow shifts. Toby rolled his eyes at the theories, saying that he most likely found the new Starbucks across town. Julia sighed in disappointment while muttering something about how conglomerate multi nationals were the root of all evil.

However, he turned up again a month or two later. A busy morning, frantic. You hadn’t even had a chance to look up at the next person in line when you heard his voice, “well ‘ello again, Glasvegas.”

And that’s how it went on, the cycle of Van appearing for a little bit then vanishing for longer. Each time he easily became the best part of the long days - banter, shameless flirting, footie talk with Toby, taste testing any and everything you had baked as a trial run, swapping stories, endless loyalty cards.

He always had a strange little smile when you added an fresh coffee cup stamp to the grid, something the general customer didn’t really care about and it was often a surprise when they filled the card up.

He never gave a heads up when he would be leaving again, he simply just disappeared. And you tried to pretend it wasn’t weird that you got a plummeting feeling in your stomach when it came to the day he didn’t show up. Blue eyes, freckles, a contagious laugh. It was all lingering stares, fingers brushing longer than necessary, throwaway salacious comments.

“C’mon babe, you know he’ll be back, quit sulking,” Julia would playfully elbow you when the day came, and you shook your head with snort, “Shut up, M’not sulking.”

You eventually found out he was in a band, and sometime last year he had asked you if you wanted to come to one of his gigs. Well, he had asked the three of you - but Julia was going on holidays that weekend, Toby had a wedding, and when his eyes met yours you had instinctively crafted a lie about going to visit your sister in London. Something Julia gave you shit for for weeks afterward. You didn’t have a sister, and you hated London.

A few weeks after that incident - by then Van was long gone, Julia stormed into the café with an NME magazine in hand, slamming down on the counter, Van’s face filled the cover.

“Fucking hell!” You and Toby had exhaled in near unison.

“So turns out he’s actually proper famous then, eh?” Julia laughed.

“Am I the bad boy of rock, then? Oh mate..” Toby read from the cover, laughing. “And you turned down the chance to be his bands groupie!” He joked, turning to you.

“Here, I thought he wanted us to go watch his shite Arctic Monkeys rip off band play sweaty Whelans okay?!” You defended.

“Do you think we can start a wall of famous regulars now?” Julia changed the subject, taking a fresh scone you were laying out, flicking to the pages of his interview.

“Yeah, Rock’s bad boy Van McCann and Barry from Eastenders. What a lineup...” Toby snorted, going back to stacking coffee beans.

“I mean, Van kind of looks like Hugh Grant... If you squint.” You shrugged.

You and Julia went home and watched countless Catfish and the Bottlemen interviews and live sets, you liked seeing how Van never changed. No matter who he was talking to. Treating everyone like they were an old friend, not someone he had just met 5 minutes ago.

The band seemed to really take off that year, he came back less and less. But he was still the same old Van when he did, success didn’t change him. Then their second album dropped a year ago, and you hadn’t seen him since. You were happy for him, it was obvious that he was living his dream. Eventually, you stopped thinking about him all that much, life moved on.

Now you were looking at a smug Julia, instinctively glancing around the shop while she laughs and tells you he’s long gone.

“Came in literally 5 minutes after you went out, this day is honestly like some weird fever dream.” She tells you, while Toby comes out from the back.

“And she told him you didn’t work here anymore, should have seen the poor lad’s face!” Toby chuckles.

The two of them look at at each other with a groan when you ask why he’d be upset about you not being here anymore.

“I swear to god, if I have to watch the eye fucking over coffee cups for the next few days...” she sighs, an eye roll. “He’s made it obvious he’s fancied you since the first day he walked in, yeah? Give him a chance!”

“Fucking hell, that’s pure bollocks,” exasperated. Met with a disbelieving look, which only brings you further into defensive mode. “Look, you even gave him my number on one of the stupid loyalty cards last time, never even heard from him. Obviously isn’t interested one bit.”

Julia had asked you if she could write your number on his loyalty card last spring. You had only half said yes, half said no. Noncommittal, all she needed to run with it. She handed it back to him without saying anything, only a smug smirk. You pretended you hadn’t sprung for your phone at every notification for the next two weeks in hope of hearing from him, you never did.

Julia - another eye roll, hands in the air, “Dunno, maybe he just lost the card! You just need to stop writing people off before you get to proper know them!”

The rest of the day dragged, but no more bad luck. As if the universe realigned around Van, which probably wasn’t too far from the truth.

By closing time, it’s just you and Toby left to do the clean up and lockup. It’s nearly 9 when you hear him drawl your name, walking into the kitchen and leaning against the doorway.

“Hey, Kiddo...”

“Toby, my love, what have I told you about patronizing me before you ask me for a favour?” Humming while you put cling filmed dough into the fridge for the pecan pie you were planning on making tomorrow morning.

He laughs and walks in, leaning against the counter. “Alright, sorry - princess.”

Shutting the fridge as you turn to face him with an eye roll, wordlessly telling him to go on. He launches into the how he kind of maybe forgot that his anniversary with his fiancée is tomorrow, their usual Italian restaurant they go to every year is fully booked but he knows the chef. Who, as of this morning, promised to do a private dinner for them, if he meets him at half nine and buys him a couple of drinks.

You listen while you clean off the counter tops, shaking your head with a laugh. “Dunno, mate. What’s in it for me? I mean apart from the joy of mopping floors and taking out the bins?”

Playful - a long sigh. “Isn’t the selfless act of helping out a friend in need reward enough?”

“Yeah, but we’d have to be friends first for that wouldn’t we?” You tilt your head.

“God, you’re such a little bitch sometimes, y’know that?” He chuckles, you shrug. “Right, how about I take the bins out and mop the floors all of next week, and I’ll treat ya to a Sunday roast down the pub after we finish Sunday, deal?”

He holds out his hand, eyes narrowing. Pretending to mull it over for a few seconds, you wouldn’t have made a fuss about him asking you to finish up tonight anyway, but he was always too easy to wind up. Eventually you sigh out a “suppose so” and take his hand.

Pulling you into a hug, dragging out a noise that resembles, ‘legend’ while kissing your head.

Once he’s gone, along with the rubbish, locking you in and halfway pulling the shutter down outside, you put on a Richard Ashcroft album and start on the floor.

Crazy world - you’re half singing along to the chorus, and finishing the floor, when you hear a faint noise behind the music. Insistent tapping. Confusion clouding - knowing you were here alone, glancing behind you, your grip tightening on the mop. And you almost jump out of your skin, a shadow in the entrance to the shop.

It’s Van.

He had clearly ducked under the shutter, now outside the door silhouetted by buzz of streetlamps, tapping on the glass. He laughs at your startled expression, holding up his hands and mouthing ‘sorry, sorry!”

Heart - thumping even harder now, lightheaded. Grabbing your keys to unlock the door, and when you’re face to face with him your mouth goes dry.

“Thought you’d gone and left on us, Glasvegas,”

Gaze flickering over you, a smile tugging on his lips. You can tell he’s been drinking, the all too familiar scent of hours spent in the pub lingers, mixed with fresh cigarettes, shrunken pupils and glassy eyes. A wave of trepidation prickles along your arms, drunk men made you nervous.

But - it’s Van, all messy hair, drunk eyes, and a lazy tired kind of grin. Relaxed and happy.

“Nope, still here like always,” releasing a breath you didn’t realise that you had been holding. Focusing on his necklace, sliver glinting under opened shirt buttons. “Heard Julia was messin’ with you earlier, eh?”

“Too good at fuckin’ with us that one,” he laughs, licking his lips. “Had me dead convinced you’d gone.”

Creased blue shirt - sleeves rolled up, the colour only makes his eyes look even more blue, and even more pretty. Finding yourself being increasingly self conscious despite his equally disheveled appearance. Knowing that your foundation was separating, concealer caking, mascara flaking and lipstick long gone. Coffee stains and flour marking your clothes.

“Did you want to come in for a sec?” You manage to ask.

“Can I? Won’t get ya in trouble or anything? Cause yous are closed.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes while beckoning him in. “C’mon, didn’t have you down as someone who follows the rules, McCann. Careful though, floor is still wet.”

“Oh, no, you’re dead right ‘bout that, love. Just I had you down as someone who always follows the rules.” Winking at you as he walks in, commenting how different the place feels at night.

“Anyways,” he turns back to you with a hum of your name, “Sorry that I scared you, don’t want ya to think I’m being weird coming here this late or anything, I was on me way home see, passing by and I found these on the ground outside..”

He holds up a hand, key chain around his finger and a Harley Davidson key ring you immediately recognize as Toby’s.

You cut him off, telling him they’re Toby’s, that he must have dropped them after locking you in earlier, and that he’s a fucking idiot. An entertained smile curving his lips at your mini rant.

“Sorry, been a long day.”

“Yeah, Julia mentioned you’d been having bad luck or sommat, tell me about it?” A hopeful glint in his eye, and you wondered if he had ever been denied anything in his life.

Ending up making him coffee and giving him leftover banana bread while you ran him through the dramatics of your day. He, like Julia, was shocked that you had never heard of the touch wood superstition.

“Sounds like you’ve been through it, love... then I show up and make it worse, eh?” Finishing his cake and his eyes find yours again.

“Yeah, something like that,” a teasing sort of lithe, the more you talked to him the more at ease you felt around him. It’s familiar.

“Alright, alright! See how it is!” His voice raising to a squeak, you laughed.

You wouldn’t let him pay for the coffee and banana bread, saying it was on the house for saving the shop from being robbed. He only shrugs and leans against the counter beside you. “Just means I’m gonna have to buy you one back, doesn’t it.”

“Thanks for the gesture, but I do get free coffee working here, y’know,” you tell him, already hearing Julia’s words about writing people off, but he was only being nice, wasn’t he?

“Fairs, I’ll buy ya one from a different place then, good to try out the competition innit?” Arms crossing while he looks at you, and you shake your head. Your cheeks aching from the permanent smile you had since he walked in, and you knew you’d cringe about that later tonight when you replayed the scene over in your head in bed.

“Only competition round here is Starbucks, and I don’t think Julia would let you step foot in here again if you buy anything from there.”

He laughs at that, telling you he was more thinking of crappy petrol station coffee. Something you scrunch your nose in disgust at, asking him if that’s all your worth to him. Drawing another laugh.

“C’mere I’d rather take you out for a pint, but m’sparing myself from the inevitable rejection and heartbreak,” he laughs, shaking his head. Your teeth sink into your lip, picking at loose skin on your thumb nail, practically hearing Julia screaming at you in your head.

“How long are you back for?” Finding yourself asking, though you never had before. Not something you ever talked about, questioned. He gives you a look, a smirk.

“Never talk about that do we, love?” He echoes your thoughts while digging in his pocket, ridiculously tight skinny jeans, until his pulls out the green little loyalty card. 8 empty stamp grids, his first one filled by Julia today. “But I’m gonna fill one of these eventually! Toby’s bet me a fiver that I won’t until I’m 30.”

You’re half tempted to ask him why he never called, or texted, or did anything with your number on the last card. Instead your mouth curls around telling him that you’d best lock up and get home. You’re knackered. He asks how you’re getting home, telling him you’re walking, that you only live 15 minutes away while he glances outside. Orange glow of streetlamps. It’s nearing 10, autumn weather starting to creep in.

“It’s dark out.” He states the obvious.

“And?”

“Love, I ain’t letting you walk home in the dark alone! Let me walk ya,” Exclaiming, typical Van fashion. Shaking your head, knowing his intentions were good but you were stubborn.

“Who are you, me dad? I’m more than capable of getting myself home, Van.” Teasing but firm, arching a brow at him. He tells you he’ll get you an Uber then, you repeat that it’s only 15 minutes home, that you’re walking. He only stares at you for a second or two, and you can’t hold it. Thankful that he’s obviously drunk and tired, because he gives in.

“Then at least text me when ya get home, yeah?” Curling his fingers for you to give him your phone, something you’re tempted to deny. But finding it endearing that he cares so much. Handing your phone over. He messes up his number twice.

Unexpectedly, he pulls you in for a hug before he leaves. All warm skin, and you realise you wish you could stay here talking shite with him for longer. All night even.

You watch him walk over to the door. “Right, night.. you’ll be here in the morning, yeah?” He glances back.

“Bright and early.” You confirm.

“Any cinnamon buns going?”

“Maybe, if you get in early enough.”

He laughs. “Right, night then. See ya tomorrow, Glasvegas. Text me, don’t forget!” He calls while he walks out and you grab your stuff to follow him out once you set the alarm.

Watching - he pretends to walk down stairs on the other side of the window before ducking under the shutter.

Leaving you to shake your head with an amused laugh. What a fucking day.

#oh hey sometimes i write vanfics when i need to get out of my head #idk prob will add another few parts to this at some pointtt #vanfic #catb fanfic #Van McCann fanfic

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isnt-it-loverly · 4 years

Text

little birdie (4)// five hargreeves

Warnings: blood

Summary: When Five lands in the Sparrow Academy, he must convince one of them to help him reset the timeline.

Word count: 1800

Author note: sorry if this is bad, ive been in a rut as of late. Once again thank you so much for all the love and support. I hope you enjoy :)

part one, part two, part three part five

You knocked softly on the door of apartment 217. An elderly lady opened the door with a bright smile on her face.

“Hello, my little birdie! It's been so long!” She said while pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. The wool of her sweater scratched against your skin, and the smell of freshly baked cookies and wild flowers filled your nose. She pulled away and placed her gaze on Five.

“Oh, you’ve brought a friend!” She added gleefully.

“Yes, Granny, this is um… Aidan! We met at the karate class my father has me in,” You explained. You hated lying to such a sweet old lady, but you knew the truth would be too much for her to understand. Plus you really didn’t have the time to explain everything.

You turned back to Five and have a shrug of your shoulders. He was right, he didn’t need a normal name. Five was just too fitting. She moved closer to him and grabbed his cheek, making him very uncomfortable.

“You’re father is just terrible for making you kids do that! Look how roughed up the pair of you are, come inside and we’ll get you cleaned up” She said solemnly.

Five walked beside you and grabbed your arm firmly. Pulling you to the side he whispered a quick “what the hell” in your ear.

“She thinks she’s my grandma,” you replied bluntly, “just go along with it.”

Five sighed in exasperation, this was not helping him find his siblings. He followed you into the apartment begrudgingly, trusting that you were not just yanking his chain. The old woman excused herself and said she would bake a fresh batch of cookies. After she left you grabbed his sleeve and whispered, “follow me.”

You lead him into a side bedroom. It was small and quaint, very homey compared to the academy.

“Remember when I said that I’ve lived a million lives? Gertrude was one of my first, I got stuck in her mind for weeks, and I learned a lot about her. Her husband died right before I got trapped in her noggin, so I switched some memories then added some new ones. I’ve been visiting ever since,” You explained.

“Do your siblings know?” He asked, worry dripping in his tone.

“Not to my knowledge, I don’t think they’d appreciate me having a life outside the academy,” you answered with a shrug.

Five was utterly perplexed by you. You were an enigma, so eager to trust others, so kind, and selfless. How did you end up so different from the others? He watched as you opened a drawer of the cedar chest that was in front of the bed.

“Sometimes, I like to take things from the people I’ve been. Just as little reminders. I think I have some clothes in here that might fit you,” you said with extreme focus. You pulled out a tee-shirt and jeans, something Five was not accustomed to. He turned his nose slightly.

“I’d rather choke on my own tongue than wear that,” He groaned.

You shook your head in annoyance, pulling out a set of clean clothes for yourself as well. You enjoyed civilian wear, it made you feel normal and secure- something your academy uniform could never.

“Just put on the damn clothes before I make you short stack,” you snapped back. Your eyes glowed s brighter blue for a moment and Five now knew he didn’t have a choice in the matter.

“At least turn your back,” he grumbled in response.

You gave him a small laugh and did as you were told. You crawled to the other side of the bed and slipped on your new clothes as well. After a few minutes, Five gave you the clear.

“Wow, unknit that eyebrow and wipe that frown off your face, and you look almost normal,” You said with a smile.

It was true, he looked like a regular ole teenager. Something you know that he has never been. You give him a look over before your eyes stop at his forearm. An umbrella tattoo, of course, he would have one.

Five noticed you staring, he followed your gaze to his arm. He lifted it so you could see it better, and an ever-present scowl on his face.

“Do you have one?” He asked.

You nodded solemnly and pushed up your sleeve. You placed your arm against his, the bird and the umbrella practically touching. You wondered why your Father loathed them so much and then it was quiet for a moment.

“The houses of Capulet and Montague,” you spoke up in a mocking tone.

“I didn’t ask you to betray your entire family,” He said. His voice was deep and rough, a sense of anger could be detected.

“No, but you really twisted my arm showing me the whole apocalypse thing. I’m an empath idiot, your feelings became mine,” You were quick to snap back.

Five liked that about you. You were nice and helpful, but you also knew when to stand your ground. He could compare you to a coin, two different sides yet well balanced. A perfect equilibrium.

“I’ve helped you,” you murmured, “now I think you owe me.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, curious and intrigued at what you were going to say.

“I’ve only done this once and it didn’t end well. I need you to keep me grounded, do whatever it takes to get me back. My father believes that I can project my consciousness onto someone without looking into their eyes, so I’m going to try to do that to your sister, Allison,” you explained.

“You said it didn’t end well? What happened?” Five asked, very concerned.

“It takes a lot out of me, I couldn’t get into anyone’s mind and it almost killed me,” You confessed.

“I’m sorry, did you say killed?” He responded wide-eyed. It warmed your heart that he was at least concerned about you.

“Look, do you wanna find your family or not? Unless you have a better plan?” You asked with a slight raise of your voice.

Five shook his head, knowing that this was the best plan You sat on the plush bed, curling your fingers around the soft comforter. You took a shaky breath and closed your eyes tightly. Running the fabric between your fingers you counted every stitch. You pictured his sister’s face in your mind, paying extra intention to her eyes. Five watched intently as you did, he was worried about you- you were an important asset and a powerful ally. It would be a shame if you died. Your eyes opened abruptly and to Five’s amazement and horror there was just white and a soft blue emanating from them.

When you opened your eyes again to find yourself sitting at a kitchen table. Looking up you see Allison sitting across from you, intently reading the newspaper. If she was there, then who were you? Looking down and the palms of your hands the words ‘hello’ and ‘good-bye’ were splayed across them.

“Well shit, I’m the pretty one,” You mumbled to yourself. Although you were very glad and very surprised that you had managed to pull this off, you would have to thank your father for the extra training the past few months.

“What are you on about now, Klaus?” Allison said utterly unamused.

“Actually it’s number five. Not your Five, the other five. Sparrow Five. Ya know what I’m rambling, I’m (Y/n),” You spit out quickly. Holy shit this man’s brain was fried. Everything was happening at a million miles an hour, you couldn’t keep up.

You watched as her expression changed, she stood up abruptly in the same fighting stance Five had used earlier. Her eyes watched you like a hawk and if looks could kill you’d be dead.

“Your family killed my brother, now I swear if you harm one hair on Klaus’ stupid head. I’ll end you,” She spat venom dripping in her words.

“He’s not dead! Five is very much alive, and we’re looking for you guys. So all we need is an address and we will be on our way,” You replied with a smile.

“Yeah right, why would I trust you?” She questioned.

“Look, Five is hurt really badly. This astral possession thing is gonna knock me on my ass, I won’t be able to protect him from my siblings. If you don’t help us, well, we’re both already dead,” You said in a somber tone.

You could tell that the gears we’re winding in her head. You felt a pain in your head that radiates in your chest, you coughed slightly and blood appeared on your hands. Shit its starting, you couldn’t stay much longer. You felt blood begin to slowly drip from your nose. Double shit with a cherry on top.

“What are you doing to him?” She yelled.

“Allison,” you choked, “he needs you.”

“Fine, just stop whatever you are doing to him!” She yelled in fear of her brother, Moments later she revealed the address, perfect that’s all you needed. Now you could get back and share your triumph.

You closed your eyes tightly and the world began to spin. Round and round, faster and faster. Until finally, you felt your legs give out but you didn’t hit the floor. You opened your eyes slowly to find yourself in Five’s arms. He was looking down at you, fear present in those emerald eyes. He let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank God, you started pouring out blood like a fountain. I thought you were dead,” He scolded. He sounded like an old man when he spoke, it was almost endearing.

You touched your nose and wiped away some of the fresh blood, staring at it intently. You felt so weak, that was too much and you vowed never to do that again. The cost was far too high. You sat up and you felt Five’s hand on your back- ready to steady you if you need it. You had really scared him, he didn’t know why. He had just met you, so why did the thought of losing you hurt so badly.

“I did it,” You mumbled hoarsely.

“Did what?” Five whispered in a soft voice. The tone was foreign even to him, but right now he felt like you needed a friend and not a sarcastic asshole.

“I found them, I found your family. They aren’t far from here,” You breathed out.

Five hugged you tightly and gave you a sincere thank you. You hugged back gently, you couldn’t remember the last time someone hugged you. It was a feeling you could get used to, warm, secure, and safe. You also couldn’t remember the last time you felt any of those things. Perhaps these umbrellas weren’t so bad after all.

“Come on,” You said breaking away, “let’s get some of those cookies, hit the road, and get you back to the right timeline.”

Taglist: alexander-hamilhoe

#number five #five x reader #five hargreeves #number five x reader #five hargreeves x reader #number five x you #five x y/n #five #Umbrella Academy #The Umbrella Academy #tua #aidan gallagher

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bellatrixxue · 3 years

Text

Xue’s Supernatural Dare: Wendigo (S1 EP2)

Hello, everyone? How did everyone feel about the finale? Yes? Yes? Oh. Oh. Oh my. Oh, dear.

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell that half-assed homophobic chicken-shit fuckbucket’s not gonna stop me, since I strapped myself onto this roller coaster already and I promised I’m not getting out until the ride’s over, so here we go, wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Also, those who are in this roller coaster with me, ready? Tag list is: @fangirlxwritesx67 @amazingiam00 @kalliravenne @indecisive20something @2musiclover2 @impossibletosleepthrough @there-must-be-a-lock @wingedcatninja @arvit

Oh my gods this recap is so cheesy I actually can make a fondue out of it. 2000s, everybody!

A WHOLE MINUTE AND A HALF FOR THAT FONDUE

FUCKJUMPSCARETITLEFUCKYOU

So we’re starting the episode with the murder scene first, eh? Is that gonna be a trend?

Oh come on, Chads, you’re out in nature and you’re playing video games? Absorb the nature...before it absorbs you!

Waitwait. Holy shit is that...is that Cory Monteith? Oh, bless his soul...

If the wendigo eats his dick as he’s peeing I’m immediately giving Jensen Ackles $100. For no real reason, I just feel like giving him money for already carrying the show on his back.

I can’t tell if it did or not, so I’m not paying yet.

Aw, Sammy...

"I should have told you the truth.” *Vine voice* BUT YOU DIDN’T

FUCKYOUINTHEASSHOhnightmare. Nightmare. So did he visit her at her grave or not? I need answers.

A week? Goddamn. Poor thing. That man-eating tree’s fucking good at his job, man.

“There’s nothing there, it’s just...woods,” Sam, I don’t know if Jess’s death hit you hard or if you got into law school by eating some ancient dick and/or pussy instead of earning that high score fair and square, but the woods “in the middle of nowhere” (your words) are known to be one of the top places full of weird-ass creatures. Even kindergartners know that.

Ehehehehehehehehe he’s so smol next to his lil bro my lil shit

At least you’re coming up with decent covers this time. No Agent Mulder and Scully ruining things for you this time around.

“Bull” oop-

Oh Dean’s a smoooooooooth operator. Good going, buddy.

AND HE GOT A COPY OF THAT DOCUMENT TEAM DEAN TEAM DEAN

Oh that death really got to Sam. I hope he doesn’t turn out to be a trigger-happy psycho. Or eat the man-eating tree and become one himself.

Oh, Haley’s a cutie! Which one’s her brother? Cory? Discount Enrique Iglesias?

Do you have a card for EVERY profession, Dean? And how do I get them too?

That is a very pretty car. I bet they wasted half the budget on that thing.

Okay, sonny boy, little bro, Broseidon, calm down.

Ah, fuck, Haley and Broseidon is gonna go into the woods, that’s more heads to worry about.

How the fuck does Sam find information this fast? I’m impressed, I take five hours to get to one article for my research paper. Or maybe I’m just lazy. So he really earned his law school interview without having to eat dick and pussy, huh.

Every 23 years? What is this, Pennywise? Are we going to see the wendigo do his best Tim Curry do his best scary clown impression? Honk honk?

“Whatever that thing is, it can move.” And the sun rises on the East, Sammy. Why are you so smart and dumb at the same time? Is this his character trait? It might grow on me.

Ahhh, so Sam’s go-to move at interrogation is doing puppy dog eyes and sympathize with the person. He’d make a good lawyer, shame that man-eating tree.

Go Grandpa Exposition, go!

Go Grandpa Exposition, go, give us information and none at all!

OH GEEZ THAT SCAR. PENNYWISE WENDIGO IS VICIOUS.

Skinwalker, Back Dog...Ooh, those all sound cool! I hope we get to see them soon!

‘Corporeal’ doesn’t sound like a real word, but then again, English doesn’t sound like a real language. Sorry. Moving on.

Sam’s gonna eat the wendigo with that attitude, Jesus Christ.

AND HIS BROTHER, AT THIS RATE. If the real villain turns out to be inside Sam all along I’m gonna flip. Is that why women keep dying and burning on ceilings where he sleeps? Is he secretly Lucifer’s spawn or something?

“Oh sweetheart I don’t wear shorts”. They queer-coded him from the start and they tried to make you believe he was straight for fifteen seasons straight? And some people bought that?

Oh, crap, another crappy death treatment for Cory before he got into Glee...No, I wasn’t into Glee, I just watched a few episodes and I might hate Rachel Berry...And Lea Michele...ahem...

Dean is totally flirting with Roy shut upppppppp

OOP AND THERE ROY GOES OH THE SEXUAL TENSION IS HIGH IN THESE WOODS TODAY

“It’s probably the most honest I’ve been with a woman. Ever.” See. Bi. Bi bi bi.

So...why the coordinates, Daddy Negan? Is this a portal to Hell? A place where man-eating trees grow?

*carefully places death flag on Roy*

Ooooh the campsite is very...haunted house-y. You know what I’m saying?

That’s not Discount Enrique Iglesias, but Pennywise wendigo, yes? Those things can mimic human voices, right?

*Google searches*...There are so many versions of this tale I can’t even confirm or deny it. Dammit.

Maybe Pennywise wendigo just wants some snacks and a nice phone and GPS? Maybe he misses his family in uh, Canada or something?

Daddy Negan’s journal is a e s t h e t i q u e .

I’m so sorry, but the way Sammy smirks as he speaks with those dark, dark voids for eyes? My boy’s a demon. He’s a demon, I’m telling you.

At least Haley has some sense to her. *puts another death flag on Roy*

*PUTS YET ANOTHER DEATH FLAG ON ROY*

True, that. What the heck is Daddy Negan up to with all of this?

“Saving people, hunting things, the family business!” Okay, the way Dean said it gave me chills.

I can actually empathize with Sam here...As whiny and bitchy as he is, he has his reasons to be this way. I guess if I were in his shoes, I’d be less of a Dean and more of a Sam, too. We deal with our losses quite similarly.

Ah, the brotherly bonding moments like these little talks make the show worth it. It’s so heartwarming.

Pennywise wendigo! I didn’t miss you, why’re you here to burst my happy bubble?

I’m starting to see a slight parallel between Haley and Broseidon and Dean and Sammy. Hmm.

Nice meeting you, Roy. Zoop you go.

Haley and Broseidon are taking this rather well, I’m glad they do.

Okay, actual exposition time, thank you.

Whoa, Broseidon speaks! Donner Party! Please don’t remind me of that! Those poor people!

Hibernation and food storage. Delightful, just delightful.

TORCHING? *CALLS RAMMSTEIN*

Somehow, not being able to see the wendigo is scarier to me than what I will probably see itself. Limited budget horror can actually work well.

Oh, dear, Roy literally did a death drop. Badum tissssssssss.

FUCK IT TOOK DEAN THE ONLY CHARACTER I CARE ABOUImean I love you too, Sam! Come on, let’s find him before it’s too late!

A trail of M&Ms! Yes, Broseidon! And Hansel and Gretel refercalled it. Sammy, you and I share the same wavelength?

SHITSHITTHEYTRIPPEDANDFELLINTHEFUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

Thank the gods the Pennywise wendigo kept them right there. Chances.

DISCOUNT ENRIQUE IGLESIAS IS STILL ALIVE GEEZ BUT ALSO PHEW

Ah, Dean Winchester, I love you so much that I can’t even begin to describe it.

Also how convenient that the flare guns are there. Deus ex machina!

Haley would bode well as a hunter, look at her courage, her will. There are more hunters around than Daddy Negan and the brothers, right?

Yeah, seeing the actual wendigo makes me less scared of it now. It’s unnerving, but still.

TEAM DEAN YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAW

Graphics are...alright, but it’s the thought that counts!

Running with the grizzly bear story. Smart Broseidon. Ben. Sorry, you deserve to be called by your real name. I think with practice they could become good hunters, along with their Discount Enrique Iglesias brother! Is there a fanfiction for that? Can I write it now?

...

I AM WILLING TO DIE TO PROTECT DEAN WINCHESTER I

Haley’s a lesbian, that’s why she kissed him on the cheek only. Headcanoned. Also I have a crush on her, she’s really pretty? Like? Heart eyes???

Ah, the siblings parallels again. Let’s hope neither of the two brothers end up in the bed like that.

“Man, I hate camping.” Really. Really really. Really.

“I’m driving”

...

SAM WINCHESTER I’M SORRY I EVER SPOKE ILL OF YOU I WILL PROTECT YOU WITH MY LIFE TOO I PROMISE YOU I WILL

It’s just a sassy bisexual brother and his little snide bisexual brother on the road to kill evil creatures and find their father and I love this show? Help? Help???

I really, really see the charm of Supernatural now! I’m fully invested in both brothers and their story, and I’m cheering them both on! Let’s get Daddy Negan back and get rid of that man-eating tree once and for all!

Six stars out of five!

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

This dare is introducing me to a whole new world, and I really, really am glad I took that jump a few days ago, man!

Thank you everyone for reading my ramblings, and I’ll see you in the day after with the next review! Thank you for sticking with me! Buh-bye!

- Xue

#xue's supernatural dare #spn #supernatural #dean winchester #jensen ackles #sam winchester #jared paladecki #text #i had a really bad day today with my constant pain and aching from the chemo #but this really brought genuine smiles to my face!#what a good show #what a wonderful show #how the FUCK did they fuck it up later #well #i guess i'll find out when i get there lmao

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honeypiehotchner · 4 years

Text

Where do broken hearts go? -- Bucky Barnes x Reader one shot

But Kay. Don’t you have an essay due Wednesday that you haven’t started? Shhh. Enjoy this Bucky Barnes angst to fluff one shot. Based purely on this picture. You’re welcome.

Summary: You and Bucky used to date, but once the honeymoon phase died down, things took a turn for the worse. Now, months later, your roommate finally manages to get you out to a bar. Only for you to run into some dumbass wearing a tiara.

“This is exactly what you need, Y/N,” your best friend, Jada, tugs on your arm. She’s been trying to get you out of bed for the past hour and she has had no luck whatsoever.

“What I need is to finish this show.” You twist your arm out of her grip, shoveling another fistful of popcorn into your mouth. You’re finally at the good part in this episode, and you’ll be damned if you let Jada ruin it for you.

“Okay, I can’t watch you like this.” Jada grabs the remote and turns the TV off, which is then followed by loud protesting from you.

“What the fuck! I was watching that!”

“You can finish it later,” Jada mutters, tossing the remote to the side. “Listen, it’s been months. Literal months. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to get back out there.”

“Make it later,” you reply curtly. “Hand me the remote.”

“No.”

“Jada, I can’t. You know I can’t.”

“Every time you say you can’t, I just hear excuses,” your best friend raises an eyebrow at you. “I’m not asking you to go out and fall in love again. I’m just asking you, as your best friend and roommate of five years, to please come get drinks with me. I miss going out to the bars and pretending to be waiting for a date. And getting sympathy drinks when our nonexistent dates don’t show. Come on, please?”

You chew on your lower lip. You have to admit, you do miss doing that. It’s been longer than months since you and Jada have enacted that master plan. It was a normal thing before you had a boyfriend and after the two of you broke up, you haven’t been back to a bar to even try.

“Fine,” you mumble. “But only because you know I can’t turn down pity drinks.”

“Yes! Thank you! Okay, you have to wear this new outfit I got you--”

“Were you planning this?”

“...no.”

“Whatever,” you smile, missing this rush of adrenaline. “Let’s do this before I change my mind.”

+++

The bar is crowded. But what bar isn’t?

You can’t help but get the sense, though, that this is more crowded than the usual Saturday night. Or maybe it really has been a long time since you were out of the apartment.

When you and your boyfriend -- none other than Bucky Barnes, the famous Winter Soldier and best friend to Steve Rogers a.k.a. Captain America, both heartthrobs to the universe -- broke things off a few months ago, your desire to go anywhere that wasn’t work-related had left your body. And since work for you consists of sitting on the couch with your laptop, that meant your desire to leave the apartment was nowhere to be seen.

The only times -- and they were few and far between -- that Jada would manage to get you out would be for food. Groceries or dinner, but that was it. No bars. No “having fun” as Jada would put it, even though you have plenty of fun. Netflix is fun. Comedy specials are fun.

As you and Jada score the last two stools at the bar, you send her a wary glance. You definitely didn’t miss this atmosphere.

It was one thing to play the game to your advantage, but when you haven’t played in so long, it’s terrifying. You’re out of practice entirely.

And the crowd certainly isn’t helping. You don’t remember it ever being this packed. How is this not a violation of the fire code or something?

“Relax,” Jada yells over the commotion. “You look like you’re going to hurl.”

“I might,” you joke, but you’re not going to. You know when you’re about to throw up, and that’s not the feeling you have right now.

When you and Bucky ended, it wasn’t because he cheated. And it wasn’t because you cheated, either. Everything was smooth sailing. It was all so...easy with Bucky. Which doesn’t make sense, you know, because Bucky is a literal block of ice sometimes. Even more so than Steve at times.

But Bucky was tender with you. You had wormed your way right into his heart not knowing he was doing the exact same to you. It was effortless. No pushing, no pulling. Just smooth. Exactly how love should be.

Then, the honeymoon phase ended.

Bucky started going on missions again. You started spending more time back at the apartment because of this -- which Jada was at least thankful for; she missed having you around. But with you and Bucky separated, it meant you weren’t talking as much.

Granted, he wasn’t available during missions. And you understood that. You also understood that when he came back, he needed his space. No offense to you, and it has nothing to do with you -- or anyone else for that matter. He just needs space. That’s just Bucky.

But he took your willingness to give him space as something else entirely.

You didn’t break up because you cheated. The accusation itself was thrown around more than once.

He accused you of it on nights when all you had been doing was watching some shitty Netflix drama on the couch with Jada. And on nights when you had been working nonstop.

After the second time, you told him that if he didn’t trust you at all, then maybe it meant things weren’t working anymore.

Bucky realized his mistake. You saw it in his eyes when he realized it. But you were too fed up with his games to even bother forgiving him then.

You slammed the door on your way out. And sent every call of his to voicemail. When you were worried you might have to block him, he stopped calling.

The two of you haven’t spoken since.

Have you thought about him? Every second of every day.

“Don’t hate me for telling you this,” Jada leans over so she isn’t yelling as much. “But I think I might’ve just seen Tony Stark.”

Your eyes go wide. “What?”

Jada discretely nods over to where the crowd has been all night. “But it could just be someone who looks like him. A creepy cosplayer. You never know.”

“It better be.” You don’t know that you can handle seeing Bucky. Not when you haven’t spoken since the breakup.

The bartender brings you a refill with a sad smile. Sympathy drink number one.

Some idle chatter flows between you, Jada, and the random guy sitting beside your best friend. He’s the classic just-got-his-heart-broken kind of guy, so you can empathize with that. He’s cute, too, and you silently cheer when he rests his hand on your roommate’s arm.

Jada’s eyes catch on something over your shoulder and you freeze, staring at her. “What?”

“Cutie staring at you.”

“Huh?”

“A cutie. Is staring. At you.”

You chuckle, deciding to play your cards. You look over your shoulder with a smile. What you don’t expect is for your gaze to fall right to Bucky Barnes.

“Fuck,” you hiss, turning back around.

Jada gives you a strange look. “What now?”

“That’s Bucky.”

Jada looks again, disbelieving. “No, that’s-- holy shit, he cut his hair.”

Yeah, he cut his hair. It looks fucking good on him, too, the shorter length. You kept trying to get him to entertain the idea of cutting it when you were together, but he wouldn’t budge. You didn’t totally mind because you did like his long hair. But the pictures you saw of him from the ‘40s? No wonder all the girls swooned over him. You fell in love with his long hair, but one look at him from the ‘40s had you falling all over again.

Just like right now. You can feel it. You know he’s still looking at you. And damnit, you want to look, too. But it’s a bad idea.

Apparently, the idea isn’t bad enough to stop you. Because you look again.

You snicker quietly to yourself as you take him in. His hair is shorter, yes, but he’s got a tiara sitting on the top of his head. The sight of that alone has you grinning. What dumbass bet did he lose?

You get a little too carried away with making eyes at Bucky across the room because then you’re spotted by none other than Tony Stark, and all hell breaks loose.

“Y/N!” You’d hear Tony’s voice from a mile away if he tried hard enough. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Hi Tony,” you reply, watching as the poor guy next to you is promptly shoved off the stool by a somewhat tipsy Tony Stark. “How much have you had?”

“Not nearly enough to be okay with seeing you and Barnes have eye sex.”

“Tony!” You smack his arm. “Knock it off. I was just laughing at the crown on princess’s head.”

Tony grins wide. “There’s that fire. We’ve missed you.”

“Sure,” you shake your head, sipping your drink. Next to you, Jada is giving you a look of sheer disbelief. “Tony you’re scaring my best friend.”

“Best friend!” Tony exclaims, looking over at her. “Both of you, come join our party! More the merrier!”

“You’re drunk off your ass.”

“Not yet,” Tony winks. “Come on, Barnes wants to see you anyway.”

“No,” you stay put. “I don’t want to.”

“Oh, give it up,” Tony yells. “He’s been moping around my goddamn tower for months, please go have sex with him or something to make it stop--”

You don’t have time for another protest before Bucky comes up next to you, pushing Tony away. Bucky Barnes. Taking every chance he can get to save the day.

Your ex slides easily into the stool. You look to your right for help from Jada only to find she’s fully facing and flirting with the guy beside her. You’re stuck.

Bucky waves down the bartender and asks for two beers.

“You’re gonna drink two? Seriously?” It’s a weak jab, but you don’t know what else to do. You’ve had speeches made up in your head for months, what you’d say when you saw him again, but they were all in scenarios where you weren’t in a loud ass bar.

“Actually,” Bucky takes both bottles in his hand, sliding one toward you. “I got one of them for you.”

If it wasn’t your favorite kind, you would’ve poured it on his stupid tiara. “Thanks.”

“Come on,” Bucky nods, standing from the stool.

“What?”

“Let’s get away from the bar,” he says. “Too many people.”

“Fine,” you huff, ignoring his hand that is stretched out to help you down. You try to walk with more than an inch between you two, but it’s so crowded that when Bucky grabs lightly onto your arm, you let him.

Suddenly, the crowd opens up, and you realize it’s because Tony Stark -- of course -- has rented and blocked off one section of the place, forcing everyone else to crowd around the bar.

You ignore the weird glances coming from the other Avengers that haven’t seen your face in months. One, in particular, is Steve.

Bucky finds an open booth and slides in, waiting for you to do the same. You do, but you keep your distance. He accepts defeat, leaning onto his arms on the table, beer bottle in one hand.

“Nice tiara,” you comment, not looking at him. “It suits you.”

“Thanks,” he chuckles, shaking his head until the plastic crown falls into his hands. He sets it down on the table, running his fingers through his hair, messing it up. You want to fix it so badly, but you leave it alone. “How’ve you been?”

“Good.” A lie. “How’ve you been?”

“Awful.”

You turn your head to look at him, not expecting that answer. “Okay…”

“Y/N, I’m…” Bucky pauses, grabbing a fistful of his hair and letting go. “I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Can’t argue with you there,” you mutter, picking at the label on the side of the bottle. “What made you come to this revelation?”

Bucky’s lips stretch into a smile. “I miss that.”

“What?”

“Your wit,” he replies. “Your ability to call me on my bullshit.”

“I shouldn’t have to be there to call out your bullshit.”

He frowns. “I know.”

“What are you doing?” You blurt. “Whatever you’re trying to do.”

“I’m trying to say I’m sorry.”

“Then just say it,” you almost laugh. He’s being ridiculous. “Stop trying to-- To drag me back in. Just say you’re sorry so I can go.”

“I don’t want you to go, that’s the thing,” Bucky pleads. “I’m sorry, doll, I’ve been so stupid. I am stupid and I don’t blame you one bit if you get up and leave right now, but I’m asking you to please, don’t go.”

“Why?” You murmur, surprised he can even hear you.

“Because I’m miserable without you. And every day I think of how I would change things if I could--”

“You can’t.”

“But I want to try. If you’ll let me.”

You stare hard at the bottle in your hands. If you had even an ounce of Bucky’s strength, the glass would be a shattered mess all over the table.

“Please, baby,” Bucky scoots closer, knowing he’s testing his luck. But what else does he have left to do? “Let me love you right this time.”

Slowly, because you can’t believe he’s telling you all that you ever wanted to hear, you look up at him, tears in your eyes. One slides down your cheek and he wipes it away, hand cradling your jaw.

You shake your head. “I can’t do this again, Buck.”

He frowns deeply, his hand slipping away. His eyes lower themselves to his lap, accepting his defeat once more.

“So you better not break my fucking heart this time.”

His gaze snaps to meet yours, thinking he’s imagined those words, but you’re smiling. Smiling, even though you’re also glaring. But he sees the hurt behind your eyes.

“I won’t,” he swears to you, hand returning to caress your cheek. “And if I do, you can kill me.”

“I might,” you giggle, scooting an inch closer.

“Good,” he says seriously. “Because I’d deserve it.”

He leans down as you tilt your head forward, pressing your lips against his in an aching kiss, one you’ve both been longing to share for far too long.

Bucky scoots closer, body right next to yours, metal arm fitting around your waist perfectly, right where it should be, right where you’ve been missing it.

You grab the tiara off the table and put it back in the top of his hair, smoothing down the strands. He gives you a strange look.

“What? It suits you.”

He laughs, pulling you into him. “Okay, doll.”

“Hey Buck?”

“Yes?”

“I still love you.”

His forehead rests against yours as he sighs in relief. “Oh, thank God. I love you, too, doll. Always.”

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lovelucybradford · 3 years

Text

I Pretend You’re Mine (4)

A/N: Hi all! I know it’s been a while. Unfortunately adulting sucks and I was so caught up in my work situations that I had no more left to give. Thankfully, the writer’s block has gone away (for now). I planned to have this up on Valentine’s Day, butttt *writer’s block*. So, to make up for it, I’m (hopefully) giving you two chapters this weekend. Chapter five is a continuation of four; it was just so long that I decided to split it into two parts. Hope you enjoy, and thanks for all the love!

Masterlist

Tags: @empath-bunny

@ityagirljay

@wolfarrowepz

@supernatural-crazed-girl

Chapter Four: Drag Me Headfirst, Fearless

As soon as the plane landed on the tarmac in sunny Florida, the reality of Rosalie’s upcoming situation had hit her like a freight train. She’d been a nervous wreck since. Rosalie jiggled her leg so much on the Uber ride to the port of call that Stiles, the human form of the Energizer bunny, had placed a hand on her knee and urged her to stop. At that point, Rose figured she’d better cool it before she completely lost her resolve and ‘jumped ship’, so to speak.

So, Rosalie began listing things that she could count on in an attempt to center herself. It was something that the woman had been taught and perfected over many years of intense therapy sessions. She rattled off the list in her mind as she concentrated on the quickly passing palm trees on the side of the highway.

Things That Rosalie Could Count on For the Trip from Hell:

One: Knowing Rosalie’s stepmother Evelyn, who made her career out of creating high-class soirees such as this, everything would be meticulously planned out, down to the minute. If it were up to her, she’d even plan the times that they could use the toilet.

Two: Rosalie would most likely be the talk of the event, until the gossip hounds found something, or someone, juicier to bite into. The last time that she had seen the relatives, all twenty of them (minus her Uncle Joe and Aunt Natalie, who wanted nothing to do with her father), was three days before Drew and Rose had their untimely breakup. Drew, who was more family to them than Rosalie ever was.

Luckily, if she had to go through hell, at least…

Three: Rosalie’s support system would be with her 100%. She had Lydia to give reassuring hand squeezes and the family subtle insults. Her brother Levi who, as much of a jackass that he could be, would defend his sister’s honor to the (metaphorical) death. Stiles and Rose would lounge around the open bar and mock her Uncle Tom as he attempted to ‘dance’, or Aunt Sarah who would undoubtedly flirt with Derek.

Derek… Rose’s confidante, her best friend, her anchor, who hadn’t spoken a word since they stepped foot on the extravagant vessel.

Rosalie could chalk it up to being so breath taken from the scenery that Derek had nothing to say. Even Stiles had repeatedly commented “Holy shit this is so bougie” ten times in the last five minutes. (Not that she couldn’t agree. Her father Jason was the poster child for ‘go big or go home’) To be fair, it was beautiful. The atrium was adorned floor to ceiling in shades of gold, a large diamond chandelier smack in between two beautiful staircases.

Staircases that gave Rosalie an eerie sense of déjà vu. Only because she had seen something bearing a high resemblance to them in a movie featuring her fictional doppelgänger, a fellow redhead who shared Rose’s name.

Part of her wondered if this was her father’s idea of a sick joke. Rosalie had always said that Drew and her were ‘Jack and Rose’. Turns out Drew was more of a Cal Hockley than a Jack Dawson. As for Rosalie, she was still Rose, forever searching in that freezing sea for her Jack. She should have known that she and Drew were doomed to sink beneath the waves.

Sink beneath the waves… Rosalie’s heart began to pound faster as she grabbed ahold of Lydia’s wrist, relying on her cousin to guide her through the maze of humans and staircases to the staterooms.

Derek and Stiles walked ahead of the two, the former’s back stiff with tension.

Was he predicting, too, that this plan of theirs would go down like the Titanic?

Or was he dreading playing Rosalie’s lover in front of a ship full of pompous asses and the occasional normal person?

Derek normally exuded confidence, from the strong set of his jaw to the way that he entered a room. At that moment, he looked more like a frightened schoolboy than a man with enough swagger for their whole friend group.

His blatant anxiety just heightened Rosalie’s. Before she could really process it, Lydia was pulling her arm away and gently shaking Rose’s shoulder.

“Rose? Rosalie!”

Rosalie shook her head, clearing her thoughts and focusing on the hazel of Lydia’s eyes. “Hmm? Sorry.”

Lydia let out a puff of air, blowing upwards the tendrils of hair that weren’t securely fastened in her high ponytail. “We’re here. Go settle in and we’ll meet you in a bit.”

Lydia then shoved Rosalie towards Derek, who caught her with a hand on her elbow. He took the key card from Rose’s sweaty palm and slid it into the slot on the handle, opening the door to a stateroom with a balcony overlooking the crystal sea. The stateroom… with one bed.

Rosalie tried not to hyperventilate thinking that Derek and she had to share that.

“You can take the bed,” Derek commented as soon as he too laid eyes on it.

Rose ignored him, deciding to handle that situation later, flopping full-bodied onto the plush mattress. The white comforter smelled like a swift ocean breeze, and she couldn’t help but press her nose further into it.

“What is it with you and smelling things today?” Derek chuckled.

Rosalie threw a nearby pillow at him, her face still buried in the bed. “Shut up, asshole.”

The bed shifted to the right of where she lied, the fabric dipping a foot away. That made her feel better. At least if they had to share it like when they were kids, there would be enough space between the two of them so that things wouldn’t happen. Which Rosalie would make sure of. Well, sober her would make sure of it. Drunk her could not be trusted.

“I didn’t hear a word you said, but I assume it was something along the lines of ‘you’re an asshole.”

Rose rolled onto her side. “Close, but no dice…” She lost the train of thought as her eyes caught on a glittering cardstock pamphlet lying between the two of them.

Martin Family Reunion 2019

Day 1: Thursday, June 13th

5:00 pm- Disembark from Cape Canaveral

7:00 pm- Welcome Cocktails in the Stardust Lounge, Deck 6

All must attend.

Proper Cocktail Attire required for entry.

Rosalie groaned so loudly that a masculine laugh resounded from the other side of the wall.

“What?” Derek responded to his friend’s displeasure. Without a word, the woman passed him the pamphlet, watching out of the corner of her eye as his beautiful olive eyes took in the itinerary. His face contorted into a sour expression, and he put down the paper at once.

With a pat to Rose’s thigh, Derek got up from the bed and grabbed his wallet and the aviator sunglasses that were resting on the vanity table. Her eyes followed his form, waiting for some kind of explanation as to where in the hell he thought he was going.

“You and Lydia have fun getting ready. Stiles and I are going down to that bar we saw in the atrium.”

Rosalie gaped, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “Wh—what? What about—”

“Would you chill? I’ll be back before seven. I need a drink before I see The Stepford Family.”

Rosalie snorted rather unattractively at Derek’s choice nickname for her father and his new family. Evelyn and her daughters certainly were like characters dragged out of The Stepford Wives film.

Derek was about to leave the room, when he paused, two fingertips grazing the golden door handle. He turned his body slightly to face Rose, a mischievous look in his eyes.

“It’s all-inclusive, right? Everything we buy with the key card goes on his tab?”

She assumed that by ‘his’, Derek meant her father, Jason.

“Yup,” Rosalie replied, popping the ‘p’.

“In that case, I’ll make sure to get the most expensive liquor that they have,” Derek smiled deviously, lazily waving the golden keycard.

She was momentarily distracted by his pretty face, and the familiar but unwanted fluttering in her stomach. By the time Rosalie snapped out of her thirstiness, he was gone.

__________________

Rosalie stumbled in her Louboutin’s for the sixth time, looking quite like the person who’d had three shots of Whiskey that was bottled before she was born.

Derek, the one who actually had, so smoothly wrapped his arm around Rose’s waist for support. The heat of his palm warmed her skin, even through the mint green cocktail dress she was wearing, but it was the last thing on her mind.

With every step that they took towards the wooden double doors at the entrance of the Stardust Lounge, the more Rose’s stomach churned, and her vision blurred. Eventually, her heart pounding through her ribcage was the only sound that Rosalie could hear.

Rosalie stopped abruptly, frantically searching for a bathroom, for a garbage can, for a balcony that she could jump off of.

Derek continued walking but was pulled back by the hand that was grasping Rose’s still figure.

“I can’t do this. Oh god, I can’t do this. I think I’m going to throw up,” she breathed shallowly, the urge to vomit slowly creeping up her throat. Rose hastily removed Derek’s grip from her waist, struggling to find her balance, and teetered towards the opposite wall. Before she could go very far, Derek’s rough hand was in hers, squeezing it in a likely attempt to bring Rosalie back to center.

“What?” She heard Lydia begin, but Derek had silenced Lydia instantly with a rushed command of “Go, stall for us. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

“Hold your breath, Rosie!” Stiles called as Derek led a dazed Rosalie to a cream-tiled room.

Stiles’ advice brought Rose back to the time, years ago, when Lydia had told her that she’d kissed Stiles mid panic attack after his dad was shot pursuing a perp.

“When I kissed you, you held your breath,” Lydia had said to Stiles.

Rosalie had thought it romantic at the time. So romantic. But she prayed that Derek didn’t try that trick on her. Rose couldn’t handle it, not when…

Derek grabbed hold of either side of Rosalie’s face with both hands, forcing her to look at him.

“Rose. Rosie! Look at me. Breathe,”

His face so close to hers just made her breathing speed up, not slow like he intended.

“Fuck Rosalie,” Derek voiced, sounding almost as breathless as his best friend.

He nodded once, then took a deep breath through his nose and out through his mouth, his eyes never leaving Rosalie’s tear-stained face. “Breathe with me, babe. In, out.”

She tried to follow his lead, but only to appease him. Rosalie couldn’t stand that desperate look in his eyes, the frantic shifting of his gaze, or the tense set of his jaw. The thought of him being in pain like that, even emotional pain,it physically hurt her.

“Good. Good, Rosie. Keep going.”

She took a few more breaths through her nose, the world-ending feeling lessening with each exhale.

“You good?” Derek questioned, his thumb rubbing lightly up and down the woman’s cheek.

Rosalie nodded softly, still not having the breath to voice any thoughts.

She leaned back on the countertop, feeling the coolness of the tile and the mirror behind her. Rose hadn’t noticed before, but they were hiding from the family in a large single bathroom. Rosalie laughed to herself. It wasn’t the first time that she’d had a mental breakdown next to a toilet. And it probably wouldn’t be the last.

“Thanks,” Rose commented hoarsely, not daring to look at Derek in fear of what he might think of her. Weak was the only word that came to mind. “Sorry for freaking out. Never thought you’d have to console someone in a bathroom, did you?”

Derek snorted, and Rose’s heart dropped a bit at the sound, thinking that he was mocking her. “Actually, you’re not the first crying woman that I’ve held in a cramped bathroom.”

She raised one brow at him, a wordless cue to elaborate.

“I may or may not have had a girlfriend with a pregnancy scare back in college.”

“Of course, you did,” Rosalie said before she could really think about it, heart once more dipping in her chest. What was she thinking, pretending to be engaged to someone like Derek Hale?

Derek Hale, who could have any woman he wanted. Who would think that he would settle for someone as quiet and average as Rosalie?

“Hey.” Derek stepped in front of her, further away than he was minutes ago, but not by much. “Never apologize for being human, for having feelings and fears. Especially not to me.”

All Rosalie could manage was a small smile, to which he reciprocated with one of his own.

“You’re still the strongest woman I know. Stronger than Cora, stronger than mom—”

“I don’t know about that,” she replied playfully.

Derek rolled his eyes and continued on with his motivational speech, every word loosening the tense muscles in her shoulders. “Yes, even my mom. But don’t tell her I said that. Hey, if you’re worried about your family, then fuck them. They should be thankful that you’re even here after all the shit they threw at you.”

Rosalie nodded, fingers playing absently with the sapphire ring on her left hand—thinking about the last time she had worn a diamond on the same finger. And the man that put it there. Who took it so easily and put it on someone else. Not just someone else: Ashleigh.

“No, I can see it in your face. You’re worried about seeing Drew again, aren’t you?”

Damn him for being so perceptive, and for knowing her so well. Rosalie went to deny it but found that she couldn’t lie to him.

“You know what, we’ll walk in there, I’ll see him, and you know what I’ll say?”

He was smiling again, grinning ear to ear like he thought he was hilarious. It was so rare to see him like that that she humored him just to keep that smile on his face.

“And what will you say, may I ask?”

“’Me thinks thou art a general offence and every man should beat thee.’”

Rosalie couldn’t help herself as her head swung back in a fit of giggles. “Oh my God, Derek Hale. You are such a dork.”

“Ah,” he countered, holding up a finger, “You can’t say that. Not when you totally got my joke.”

Rosalie beamed up at him. “Ok, fine. We’re both dorks. Happy, Derek the Bard?”

“Yes, princess. I’m enthused. You ready to go?” Derek gestured with a thumb towards the door. The door that lead to the hallway. The hallway to the Starboard Lounge, where all of Rosalie’s family would stare at her like she was some rare creature on the auction block.

“No,” Rose said weakly.

Derek rolled his eyes again, a look that Rose was more familiar with than the Cheshire Cat grin that previously lit up his face. “Yes, you are.”

Rosalie stared at herself in the large, lighted mirror, checking over her face and hair for damages. Trust Rose’s family to point out a single flaw in her appearance. She looked mostly put together, save for the tiny specks of black mascara under her eyes and the slightly faded red lipstick. Rose grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser on the wall, wetting it and dabbing under her eyes until all of the mascara smears disappeared.

Satisfied, Rosalie tossed the towel in the garbage bin and grabbed her clutch. “Do I look okay?”

Derek’s eyes swept her form, taking in everything from the pale white of Rosalie’s untanned legs to the lace of her dress, to the retro curls in her hair. She suddenly felt self-conscious, even more so when Derek stayed silent.

Rose nudged him with her elbow, hoping he would say something, anything, and end this deafening silence. His eyes flicked back towards Rosalie. “You look beautiful.”

She opened her mouth to protest, to tell him that she knew he was just saying that because he’s her best friend and he has to.

“I mean it, Rosalie,” Derek added firmly.

“What about me? Do I look good enough to fit in with high-society?” Derek asked, hand sweeping down his body.

Rosalie took it as an unashamed excuse to study him. The unbuttoned suit jacket that he wore hugged his biceps so nicely that it was hard to not stare at them for too long. The white shirt under it was buttoned, except for the two closest to the top that were left open to show a peek of dark chest hair.

In short, he looked like a snack, and damn was Rosalie hungry. Not that she could tell him that, of course. So, she just repeated what he already knew. “Of course. You know you’re hot.”

Derek’s eyes widened, his ears turning slightly pink. “You think I’m hot?”

“You think you’re hot.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Um, yes you do. You get that look on your face when you’re flirting with girls like ‘I’m sexy and I know it.’”

“God, that was one time Rosalie! It guess I will never live it down.”

Rosalie snickered at the memory. “No, you won’t. Now be a good pretend fiancé and help me walk.”

“Why the hell are you wearing those stilettos if you can’t even walk in them?”

“Lydia made me.”

Derek said nothing, knowing that there was no arguing with Lydia Martin. He offered his friend his arm, ever the gentleman. In turn, she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow, trying not to get too distracted by the muscle under it.

#derek hale fic #derek hale x oc #derek hale fluff #derek hale #tyler hoechlin #teen wolf

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