#ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ʟɪsᴛᴇɴ : ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs (ᴠᴀɴʏᴀ)
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@ostraczd | from here
TRUTH BE TOLD, he was even closer to going back out to get the puppy. it had looked so sad in the window... and he needed some company around the apartment when vanya was out during the day. " it was a little pitbull. i honestly might go back and get it. " their father hadn't approved of the idea of pets, but considering they... y'know, weren't around him anymore, they could do as they damn well pleased.
" fuck it. i'm going back to get it. you wanna come with? " he's already grabbing his coat.
#ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ʟɪsᴛᴇɴ : ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs (ᴠᴀɴʏᴀ)#ᴡᴇ'ʀᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛ ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ ɪɴ ɪᴛ : ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅ#𝟻 𝟼 𝟽 : ᴠᴇʀsᴇ#ostraczd#i made it the verse where five doesnt time travel hope u dont mind hgfdngnfdg
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I'm worried about you.
“ you don’t need to be. “ he frowns. “ i’m fine, vanya. really. the world’s ending in a few days and you’re worried about me? “
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@traumaetic | sc
" what are you doing in here by yourself? " his voice cuts through the silence hanging over the house as he enters the living room, seeing vanya sprawled out on the couch. " seems kinda lonely. "
#ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ʟɪsᴛᴇɴ : ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs (ᴠᴀɴʏᴀ)#traumaetic#five totally not trying to find an excuse to hang out with his favorite sister: hey what r u doing hanging out by urself lmao loser
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"You could have been killed!"
“ yeah, well, so could you. those fuckers would have killed you without a second thought. so, so easily, vanya. at least i had a fighting chance. “ blood is soaking his shirt and he’s got one hand planted firmly on the table next to him as he sways a little, but his voice is firm and his gaze is sharp and intense.
“ i wasn’t going to let you die, alright? none of you are going to die because of hazel and cha-cha, even if i have to kill them myself. “
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“Look at me, okay? Everything is fine, just breathe, in and out. In and out.”
number five's breaths are long and ragged and uneven, his gaze distant as he stares at some spot past vanya's head.
in.
out.
in.
and out.
one hand clumsily reaches forward to grip vanya's sleeve. his voice is hoarse and he hardly seems to register what he's doing as he breathes out -- words whispered in the very same breath. " this is real. "
his grip on vanya's sleeve tightens and he curls closer. " this is real. " he's not there anymore. he escaped. he's home. the apocalypse flashes behind his eyes and his breath catches again.
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i’m not going anywhere without you.
“ you don’t really have a choice right now, vanya. those shitheads are coming after me, not you. just go, i’ll take care of it. “
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“no. you can’t go, it’s too dangerous.” from vanya
“ everything we do is dangerous, vanya. i’ll be fine. “ he tightens his grip on the knife in his hand to hide how his hands are shaking. he didn’t want vanya to be anywhere around for this, but… “ if i can kill seven men by myself, i think i can kill three. just go, i’ll be quick. fuck, you can even wait, if you want. “
#apocalypseacademia#ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀᴇᴅ : ᴀsᴋs#ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ʟɪsᴛᴇɴ : ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs (ᴠᴀɴʏᴀ)#idk why my first thought was Murder but it was so thats what u get
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💔
45. my muse commits murder to save yours.
there's the tell-tale 'woosh' of five's powers, the scent of ozone lingering in the air as he appears on the man's back. his eyes are filled with cold fury, and there's a quick, clean snap. the man crumples to the ground.
five blinks off of the man's collapsing body, the neck twisted at a terrible angle.
" nobody touches my sister like that. " he snaps, kicking the corpse for good measure.
#deadlywithabow#ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀᴇᴅ : ᴀsᴋs#ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ʟɪsᴛᴇɴ : ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs (ᴠᴀɴʏᴀ)#if anyone wants this tagged due to the implications pls lmk
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“I don’t think I can get up.”
“ just stay here, i’m going to go find a first aid kit. “ five’s hand hovers over vanya’s shoulder as if he were going to pat it reassuringly, but he pulls back at the last minute and teleports away, the scent of ozone lingering.
a few minutes later, he half-blinks half-runs back down the stairs, teleporting to vanya’s side. “ okay, let me see it. “
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“How did you even do this?”
“ tried to blink with a fucking gunshot wound, that’s how. “ he winces, blood still soaking his shirt. with each pulse of his heart, more blood runs from the wound. his head is pounding from the blink and he can still smell ozone.
“ just… need to get the bullet out. “ he mutters as he peels his shirt back a bit more.
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“It’s just a panic attack, I’m fine, I’m used to it just- give me a moment.”
" i'm not just going to sit here while you have a panic attack, jesus, vanya. " he snaps at her, but it's softer than usual, and his tiny hands hover over hers. he quirks an eyebrow, asking if he can touch her without actually asking.
" breathe with me. in for four seconds. hold for four seconds. then out for four seconds. "
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you’ll always be my family. nothing will change that.
five doesn't do well with genuine affection and care, it seems, because his shoulders tense and he has no idea how to respond. " ... same goes for you. " it comes out more monotone than he meant for it to be. whoops.
#deadlywithabow#ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀᴇᴅ : ᴀsᴋs#ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ʟɪsᴛᴇɴ : ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs (ᴠᴀɴʏᴀ)#emotions?? he doesnt do those sorry
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“don’t close your eyes, please don’t close your eyes!”
he grins at vanya, knowing he must look terrifying with the blood staining his teeth. “ i’ll be – i’ll be okay. “ the words come out hoarse, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. “ just – just get mom. “ he breathes the words out, leaning his head back with a groan of pain. “ fuck. “
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tag drop.
#ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ᴛɪᴍᴇ : ᴏᴏᴄ#ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ɪ'ᴍ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜ. ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪ'ᴍ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜ : sᴇʟғ#ᴡᴇ'ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴋɪᴅs ᴀɴʏᴍᴏʀᴇ : ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs (ʟᴜᴛʜᴇʀ)#ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ ᴍᴇ : ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs (ᴅɪᴇɢᴏ)#ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴋɪᴅ : ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs (ᴀʟʟɪsᴏɴ)#ɪ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ɪ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴜᴛ ᴏɴ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴘʀᴏғᴇssɪᴏɴᴀʟ : ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs (ᴋʟᴀᴜs)#ɪ'ᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴏᴜʀ ғʀɪᴄᴋɪɴ' ʜᴏʀsᴇᴍᴇɴ! : ᴍᴜsɪɴɢs#ᴡᴀs ɪᴛ ʙᴀᴅ? : ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs (ʙᴇɴ)#ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ʟɪsᴛᴇɴ : ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs (ᴠᴀɴʏᴀ)#{ old bastard. } sir reginald#ᴡᴇ'ʀᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛ ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ ɪɴ ɪᴛ : ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅ
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TAG DROP: interactions
#ɪ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ɪ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴜᴛ ᴏɴ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴘʀᴏғᴇssɪᴏɴᴀʟ : ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs (ᴋʟᴀᴜs)#ᴡᴀs ɪᴛ ʙᴀᴅ? : ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs (ʙᴇɴ)#ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ʟɪsᴛᴇɴ : ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs (ᴠᴀɴʏᴀ)#ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ ᴍᴇ : ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs (ᴅɪᴇɢᴏ)#ᴡᴇ'ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴋɪᴅs ᴀɴʏᴍᴏʀᴇ : ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs (ʟᴜᴛʜᴇʀ)#ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴋɪᴅ : ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs (ᴀʟʟɪsᴏɴ)#ᴍᴏᴍ : ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs (ɢʀᴀᴄᴇ)#sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ'ᴠᴇ ʟɪsᴛᴇɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏʟᴅ ᴍᴀɴ : ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs (ʜᴀʀɢʀᴇᴇᴠᴇs)#ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ���ʏ sɪsᴛᴇʀ? ᴀɴᴅ ɪғ ɴᴏᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴍᴀʀɢᴀʀɪᴛᴀ? : ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs (ʜᴀᴢᴇʟ)#ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ғᴏʀ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ : ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs (ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴀɴᴅʟᴇʀ)
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