#Adult Number Five

[ariaachillesaphrodisia]

Did Somebody Say Just Eat?

Character: Five Hargreeves

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Rating: Mature

Content Warnings: Food Issues, Food Trauma, Past Trauma, PTSD, Eating Disorder, Starvation, Eating Urine/Excrement, Discussion of Murder, Discussion of Corpses, Rotting Food, Bugs and Insects, Discussion of Death, and Loss of Loved Ones

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His breathing is unsteady. Heartbeat racing to match. His mouth is so dry that he doesn’t have any saliva to wash down the already-rising bile. He tries to hide his rage, but the shaking of his hands and burning anger within his eyes betray him. He curses his body for this. Curses himself for this. He asks himself how he got here. How he let himself get here.

But he knows exactly how he got here.

Given the nature of his job and of the place he worked, one would likely have assumed that Five’s life was filled with chaos and uncertainty. This would not be an unreasonable assumption by any means; however, it would be an incorrect one, nevertheless. Partly incorrect, at least. When Five had started at The Commission, things had indeed been rather hectic. He did not know where anything was; where the various departments were located; or how The Commission functioned. In truth, he did not know anything about this new place he found himself in and employed at. But the man had always been a quick study (after all, it was not as though Reginald would have accepted anything less) and so within a month of working there, he had already become one of the most effective “employees” at The Commission.

It perhaps should have been alarming to Five how quickly he mastered the “skills of the trade”. Things such as how to track someone, or how to kill someone and utilize his powers to do it. How to manipulate a target, or how to terrify them. Which weapons were best to use in which circumstances, depending on if you were hoping to end it quickly and without drawing attention to yourself, or whether the goal was to draw out the target’s suffering.

Death wasn’t something that was unknown to Five before his time at The Commission. Death was something he knew very well thanks to the apocalypse, but his relationship with it had begun before even that. During his time as part of the Umbrella Academy, there have been instances where missions would go south, or where the team would require some “extra force” AKA Ben’s powers. But those instances were the exception and not the norm. This was the rule set in place by Reginald, who surely understood that people were more likely to support a group of Batman-esque teenage vigilantes who occasionally had to get their hands dirty than a group of murderous teenage vigilantes whose missions always ended with some sort of bloodshed and death toll. So, Reginald’s general rule had been “no killing unless it was absolutely necessary… or would be accepted by the news outlets and the general public”.

Therefore, it was The Commission where Five was actually able to take full advantage not only of the lethal training that he and his siblings had received but also of the many ways his powers could be useful for his new line of work. And yes, sometimes Five did wonder whether he should be more concerned about the fact that he took to killing like a duck to water, but like he did with many things in his life, Five chose to archive this as something he would process at a later time. When things were less… well… something.

The important thing was that since Five did take to killing and to his new job terrifyingly well, it meant that he was very quickly able to adjust to his new life. He settled into his new routine and got used to the ins and outs of The Commission. His days were pretty much the same repetition of only a handful of activities: drink coffee; eat; do his job; drink coffee; read the case briefs for the new cases; drink coffee;  complete his new “orders”; file reports; drink coffee; practice using his powers to try and get home; sleep (or try to); repeat. And while this might have caused some people to grow restless or agitated, or while some might hate the repetition and the seemingly endless nature of such a life, Five found it oddly comforting. It gave him a sense of control over things, and this was not at all unwelcomed for reasons that Five would (just like with his fast adjustment to becoming a professional assassin), certainly visit at a later date.

Yes, this sense of control was something that Five valued quite highly, and so too did he value and admire anything which added to it. And fittingly so, conversely did he dislike that which deviated from it. that which was outside of his predictable and malleable world. That which was out of his control… or worst of all… that which exerted control over him. Yes, he disliked the former very much, and frankly, he despised the latter.

Thus the reason (well, one of the many reasons, actually) The Handler was the bane of Five’s existence.

There were some days when Five thought he might actually hate The Handler more than he hated the apocalypse itself. At least with the apocalypse, you knew where you stood: either you were alive, or you weren’t. At least with the apocalypse, you didn’t have to deal with it veiling its dangers underneath smiles, false promises, and threats laced with sugar-sweet tones. At least the apocalypse didn’t drop in on you sporadically and expect you to drop everything you are doing and humor it with whatever new plan it had concocted for no other reason than being bored and getting a kick out of the torment of others. The apocalypse hit you suddenly and ended it all there and then, and if you did survive, then you had to deal with the end of the world. And that sucked. Five knew this all too well, but at least you go used to the dangers you were facing. With The Handler though, there was no such certainty. The only thing predictable about the dangers surrounding her was that they were most certainly there, that they were unpredictable in the way she would carry them out, and that she took unspeakable delight in the dread and terror she instilled in others.  

Five wasn’t quite sure what exactly it had been that had sparked the power struggle between himself and The Handler. When she’d first approached him, he sensed none of that, although admittedly, his mind had been elsewhere, focused on assessing the new arrival’s threat level and then later, considering her offer. And for the first little while during his time at The Commission, this had remained the same. He had either not sensed it, or, he supposed, he’d been trying to learn the ropes. But after that point, when he began to get the hang of things… then it had begun. Had it been because she had felt threatened by him? Because he was excelling at his job? Had she feared that he would take her position? Was that it? Or perhaps it had been that she had simply enjoyed holding power over the new recruit, and then, when he was starting to learn to walk on his own two feet, she’d decided to take a new approach to holding her power over him – through subtle threats, isolation, and emotional manipulation. Either, Five thought, was possible. It was also possible that this was just something she did with everyone. That she just got a rise out of doing little things to show other people who was in charge. Perhaps it was simply a part of her nature even – she fancied herself a scorpion, and everyone else a frog.

Whatever the reason was, and whenever specifically it had begun, the thing which mattered was that the power struggle existed, and it caused Five an endless amount of grief. At best, The Handler was a nuisance, and at worst, an enemy. And there was no telling which it would be on any given day. whether he’d be subjected to simply some passive-aggressive comments regarding his work, or whether she would decide to do something to really cross a line. He did his best to prepare for either but there was only so much he could do. As much as he despised her, at the end of the day, she was one of the higher-ups. And he… he was just another cog in the machine. He had to do as she said, lest he be branded as a traitor to The Commission and either be executed or suffer a fate worse than death – and when it came to traitors against The Commission, it was normally the latter. And if he was dead, then who would be there to save his family?

So, as much as Five dreaded any sort of interaction with The Handler, he forced himself through it. Forced himself to play along so that one day, he might be able to go back and stop the apocalypse from ever happening. That is what he told himself every time and though it never really made things easier, it was at least a nice thought, so he kept up this habit.

It was what he’d told himself today too, when The Handler had approached him with her latest “offer”.

The day had started off so well. He had completed a number of jobs, had filed all his paperwork, and had made it to 10 minutes to lunch without any sign of The Handler. This was a new record, he believed. He had chalked it up to her being off base – likely hunting down new recruits or something – and was prepared to steal away to his usual lunch spot (an abandoned corner of one of the less frequently used rooms) when he heard a familiar clacking of heels on the file floor. He let out a groan when the footsteps stopped outside the tiny space he called an office, and the imposing outline of The Handler filled the glass of the door.

“Knock knock,” she practically sang, and Five fought the urge to gag. Without even waiting for his response, The Handler flung the door open. She was dressed in a 50’s style teal dress and donned red heels that Five could not imagine were any sort of comfortable when one was on their feet as much as a job – even a management one – at The Commission required them to be. Her hair was poofy and curled, and resting atop it was an extravagantly large hat which matched in color to her dress. Five always did wonder how it was she got away with her wardrobe, considering how blatantly it went against company policy, but he supposed the other higher-ups likely thought it was not worth the effort to attempt to force her to adhere to the dress code. Personally, Five thought it set a bad example, and an even worse precedent.

“Ah, Handler, pleasure to see you,” he greeted, his voice laced with obvious sarcasm, “what can I do for you?”

“Well, a little birdie told me that you were just flying through your cases today. Said you nearly finished your entire to-do list before mid-day! Impressive as always, Five!” she grinned, and Five faked a smile, mentally promising to find out who this “little birdie” was and avoid them as much as possible.

“Yes, it’s been a considerably productive day today,” responded Five.

“And I would like it to stay that way, so if you could just exit right back the way you came from, that’d be great. Oh, and don’t forget the door,” he wanted to add but didn’t.

“That’s what we like to see here!” exclaimed The Handler with a clap of her hands. “Anywho, I was just about to have lunch when that tidbit of information crossed my way, and I thought to myself ‘Look at him – working hard, putting in the hours and the effort. Going above and beyond. A real go-getter, that one!’ and then I had a grand idea, if I do say so myself. See, I know you normally like to take your lunch breaks on your own. Well, spend all your time on your own, really. Regular old Batman over here with your Mr. Dark, Brooding, ‘I don’t need anyone’ thing you have going there,” she teased. Five couldn’t help but grimace at this. Batman?! Him?! If anyone in his family was Batman, he thought, it’d be Diego. Diego is always… was… always…

“…sometimes we all do, but I just thought that, after all the consistent hard work you’ve been doing, and the determination, well, I thought that it was hardly right to let that all go unrecognized!” she said, and Five blinked a few times. He had missed part of what she had said, and supposed he must have tuned her out for a moment. Not that he was too bothered by this. If Five had had his way, he’d tune her out every single time she spoke to him. “So, I arranged a special little lunch for you!” she told him, and then came the bit he knew was going to follow, yet hoped it wouldn’t all the same, “well, us, technically, but don’t get it mixed up, Five! This is really all for you! I’m just sitting in for company! Little wine and dine between colleagues!

“No! Absolutely not! In no way. If I need something to kill my appetite, then sure, I’d agree to have you watch me like a hawk as I eat, but I’m not really feeling it today. So, thanks, but hard pass,” a less calculated or a more emotionally driven person might have cried out. But Five was nothing if not calculated and composed, and so instead he gave the biggest fake smile he could muster.

“Sounds great. I’ll just go grab my lunch and…” he began, but she swiftly cut him off.

“No, no, no! You don’t have to bring anything but yourself! I’ve got the rest covered, so all you need to do is follow me,” she informed him, though despite the airiness of her voice, he already knew it was a command, not an invitation.

The Handler left the room without another word, only pausing until she heard Five’s footsteps following after her, then continuing on. It occurred to Five while they walked that he had no idea where their little “celebratory” lunch was being held. He also did not know what was being served. He hoped it was something simple like sandwiches or pizza. Something he could quickly scoff down, chase with a coffee or something stronger, and then excuse himself back to work. He voiced his aloud to The Handler – the question as to the lunch, not his exit strategy – and she merely turned her head to face back at him – down at him – and smiled.

“All in good time, Five. All in good time,” was all the response he got before she began humming away to herself.

It was only when they turned the final corner before their destination that Five realized their lunch spot was The Handler’s very own office. He was thankful that his training with The Commission, along with at The Umbrella Academy, had taught him how to mask his feelings, because he was sure his disgust otherwise would have been very evident. However, a chuckle from The Handler indicated that he still hadn’t quite mastered the art of fooling her. She opened the door and stepped to the side, holding it for him.

“Make yourself at home,” she invited, and Five was reminded of that childhood story about the spider inviting the fly into his parlor. And like the doomed fly in that tale… Five found himself walking right in, aware of the danger facing him, yet entering that damned place all the same.

The Handler’s office was an expectedly grand place. There was a huge gold and burgundy desk and chairs which matched perfectly. The walls were a shade of red that reminded Five of blood. There were pillars of silver and fold that sparkled when the light from the oval window on the far side of the room struck them. The room, like its owner, stood out in stark contrast to the bland grey of the rest of The Commission.

“It is quite an office, isn’t it?” The Handler whispered into Five’s ear, and despite himself, he shuddered. She stepped back, and though her expression was one of nothing other than pride for her workspace, he could feel the smirk boring into him. “It has served me well for a long time. Lots of great memories in this room,” she continued on, “but, management is moving me to a new office space soon. Something about turning this into another storage room or something. Politics, you know? Anyhow, they promised me the other office will be even better, and I’m holding them to it,” she said with a wink, and he was certain that she would. Was certain that she wouldn’t hesitate to resort to some of the same tactics he used while interrogating Commission marks in order to get that office.

“Fascinating,” murmured Five, and if The Handler realized the sarcasm lacing his voice, she gave no indication. He watched as she took a seat behind the lavish desk, and when she motioned for him to take a seat across from her, he did so.

An awkward silence filled the room then, and Five shifted impatiently in his seat. He’d been hoping the food would already be in the room so that they could just get it over with quick as possible, but either the food was late, or The Handler had purposely ordered for it to come after they’d arrived at the office. Judging by the look of satisfaction on her face, Five suspected it was the latter. The silence filling the room was making Five more and more restless – and frankly quite frustrated – and he was very sure she was finding that absolutely delightful. This silence, he knew, was a crafted and calculated one. Five wasn’t one for small talk, and this was a fact that was well-known throughout The Commission. But something else that was equally well known was The Handler’s great adoration for the sound of her own voice. She’d fill a room with it whenever she got the chance, directing as many eyes toward herself as possible in the process. The exception to this, of course, was when she had some scheme in mind which required silence.

Normally she did it when she wanted to see if anyone in the room dared speak with her present before being addressed to do so. She’d stand or sit in a room for the better part of an hour sometimes, just to see if anyone broke this unspoken rule. She wouldn’t do anything, per se, if they did, but that look she’d give… well… that did the trick all on its own. She didn’t do it to test obedience or loyalty, Five knew. No… the only reasons she did it was to show everyone the power she demanded just with her presence alone and to revel in their fear. And though the tactic she was using now was slightly different, Five suspected its intentions were very much the same.

“So, busy week so far?” Five questioned loudly, his voice a harsh sound in comparison to the rested silence. For a moment, which lasted no more than half a second, Five saw a look of surprise cross The Handler’s face. It looked to Five how a child’s face might look when their favorite toy had failed to function as it should. As though this look had vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared, Five delighted in that glorious half-second.

“Oh Five! You know The Commission. When isn’t it a busy week?” she laughed, the mask now perfectly back on. “But that’s what keeps it exciting, isn’t it?” she added, and just as Five was about to speak, the doors of the office were flung open.

If Five had had any remaining hopes that this meal would go by quickly, or that he would be lucky enough to have the lunch be just a sandwich or some other type of finger food, those hopes were crushed upon viewing the sight which greeted him when those magnificent doors opened.

There were four individuals wheeling in carts filled with fancy serving containers. Thankfully for Five, each cart only held what looked to be four dishes on the toy lawyer of the cart, with the second being empty save for the final cart. On this one, the second lawyer contained a vast assortment of drinks: juices, smoothies, lemonade, and other extremely sweet drinks. Five noticed after a quick inspection that both coffee and any sort of alcoholic beverages were suspiciously absent from this bevy of beverages.

The figures who had delivered these carts did not look familiar to Five. He thought that they must be Commission personnel – after all, they didn’t usually allow people from within the normal timeline to just wander about the building – yet they did not don the usual Commission outfits. They were all dressed in the same deep purple suits, with hats of a matching color that reminded Five of something you’d see in an old ice cream parlor. Their movements were… too in-sync, Five thought. Too robotic. Their eyes were empty and hollow. Were they under some sort of mind control? Or hypnosis perhaps?

“I wasn’t aware The Commission had its own catering company,” Five spoke, hoping to glean some information about the situation. The Handler grinned.

“Oh, they certainly do,” she said, and Five raised an eyebrow at this.

“But they aren’t it?” he questioned, and she nodded.

“Sharp as ever, Five. No, these darling folks here are not from The Commission’s usual catering group. They are some not-so-clever people who had been traitors to The Commission. They were given to me so that I could… decide on a fitting punishment. And after a long time of working with each individual, I decided to keep them around for a bit. Have them help out a bit with some odd things here and there… at least until I feel they’ve paid off their debts to The Commission. Then, well, I can terminate their contracts,” she explained, and Five blinked a few times. She was just… keeping them around as her errand people or toys, ready to dispose of them the minute they either cease to be useful, or she finds another pet project that she wished to devote her attention to.

He thought back to the looks and movements of the figures and suddenly understood the vacant expressions and robotic movements. It wasn’t mind control, hypnosis, or any other mental persuasion. It wasn’t “magic” or powers.

It was hopelessness. 

It was a look he was familiar with. The look that his targets sometimes gave right before he… finished a job. Five was the kind of man who took pride in a job well done, and in accomplishing his goals. The sort of man who didn’t give 50% or 75%, but 200% when it came to the things he did. And he was, he knew, good at his job. But when that job was over… and the rush of it gone too… he saw that look when he closed his eyes, and it stuck with him. There was no hope in that look that he might let them live. No pleading for mercy. Not even the last little blip of desperation for a miracle. It was just complete and utter despair. And even after he’d walked away from a job… that look wasn’t something he could just walk away from. Yet…

Yet he knew just from the proudness in her voice and that Cheshire cat grin she’d given him that she felt none of that. She’d see that downhearted look on their faces… and he knew she’d feel nothing but pride at how effectively she’d broken them.

The loud echoing of shutting doors snapped Five back to the present moment. He turned and noticed that all of the figures had left the room. Not only this, but all of the carts that they had wheeled in had been pushed to the left of the desk he and The Handler were sitting at. He hadn’t noticed them moving the carts so close, nor had he noticed them all moving to leave – it only being brought to his attention when the doors had shut. He gritted his teeth, cursing The Handler in his mind. He was more vigilant than this. he knew he was. Any other time it would have been second nature for him to notice such things but her… her trouble presence and existence (not to mention the disturbing information he had just learned about her… latest project) was throwing him off his guard, and he hated her for it.

“Well, feel free to dig in! I’m not sure about you, but I am absolutely famished!” The Handler exclaimed, yet despite this statement, she made no effort to remove any of the lids from the serving dishes. Already knowing where this game would lead, and not wanting to spend any more time humoring her than was necessary, Five reached for the dish closest to him and pulled off the lid. Upon seeing what was inside, Five froze.

Tuna Salad.

Five’s stomach immediately flipped when he saw the dish, and when the smell of the fish hit his nostrils, he had to fight back the urge to vomit. He tried to hide this from his face and swiftly moved to open the next dish…

Spam and potato soup.

He placed the lid of this one down, the same horrid feelings washing over him. He moved on to the next dish.

A stew with baked beans and corned beef.

The lid went back on, and off came the lid of the next dish…

Vegetable soup with corn, green beans, carrots, and tomato broth.

On and on the cycle went, with Five ripping off a lid, seeing the dish, feeling as though he was about to pass out or be violently sick or kill someone, putting the lid on the ground, and moving to the next dish. By the time he’d moved onto the third cart, he felt as though he wanted to throw the tray lids as hard as he could right at The Handler’s face.

Because this… what lay in front of him on those carts… it was Hell. It was torture. It was a special kind of cruelty that only she was capable of…

Sixteen dishes.

Sixteen different dishes.

Some breakfast. Some lunch. Some dinner, and a few dessert ones. All with one thing in common…

Each and every dish in front of him contained some ingredient he had eaten while trapped in the apocalypse…

Canned items such as tuna, spam, potatoes, baked beans, corned beef, tomato broth, an assortment of canned vegetables, etc.

But that wasn’t the worst part of it… no… no, the worst part was…

That every single dish contained something which, during Five’s time in the apocalypse, had made Five greatly ill.

Five remember each incident as though it happened yesterday… or, as the feeling of nausea grew within him, as though it were happening now.

At the start of the apocalypse, the incidents happened out of naivety. He had thought that surely if something was in a can, it must still be good. After all, it had only been a few months since he had run out of the packaged goods that he had managed to find – well, those that weren’t destroyed or damaged, and those that hadn’t had any clear signs of rot or mold – and so surely the canned items he was stumbling across here and there should still be good. And most were, in his defense… but not all. Canned fish had been the first which Five had learned the hard way did not survive well in high temperatures or regular exposure to sunlight and the elements. No matter what the expiry date was.

Canned meats had lasted him a little while longer, but not much. He had tried to gather and consume as much of the canned fish and meats he’d come across, mixing them with the canned vegetables as much as he could. At the early part of his first year, this only resulted in him feeling ill or nauseous, with some instances of him actually vomiting a little bit. However, by the end of his first year in the apocalypse, any canned seafood or meats were deemed practically inedible… after much trial and much, much, much more error. Still, he found himself collecting any undamaged canned fish or meat items… just in case there came a time when he was desperate enough to need to eat them.

Five stock-piled the canned goods which he would come across in the wreckage of houses or buildings, and occasionally he hit the jackpot by coming across a grocery store or bunker that had a bountiful supply of canned goods. He brought as many as he could carry with him, and if he was somewhere that had a decent supply, he’d eat his fill there so there was less to carry. However, as the years went on, it became rare to find canned goods. Five tried to ration his supplies, only eating a little each day. This lack of nutrients along with the heat he often trekked in made him feel weak and light-headed, but it was that or starve to death, and so Five pushed through the pain.

In regular situations, low-acid canned foods have a shelf life of two to five years. Some have a shelf life of two to three years after the expiry date, and others can last a bit longer. Which meant that, in a normal situation, the canned goods that Five had saved up should have lasted him two years on the lower end, and five years on the higher. But those guidelines were for normal circumstances… and the apocalypse was the furthest thing Five could think of from normal.

Firstly, there was the issue of damage. Any damaged canned, even if they were just a little dented, were immediately riskier because they were more likely to be impacted by the elements and the heat. Not to mention bacteria that got in through small holes or cracks. In pre-apocalypse days, if you grabbed a dented or damaged can, you could just put it back on the shelf and grab a new, undamaged one. But when your food supply was rapidly dwindling, that wasn’t an option – you had to grab whatever you had access to, no matter how risky that food was to eat. And because of… well, the end of the world, most of the canned Five came across were damaged, meaning that most of the time, especially during his fourth and fifth year in the apocalypse, the food was very risky. He tried to only eat from the undamaged ones, telling himself that he was only taking the damaged ones in case of emergency. In hindsight, it would likely have been smarter for Five to have eaten from the damaged ones first, so that any bacteria in there didn’t proceed to grow and he could limit the amount he ingested… but after the first few times that Five had become so ill that he had thrown up everything in his stomach… he didn’t exactly love the idea of re-living that unless he absolutely had to.

The second issue was that the longer the items sat in the heat, the higher the likelihood that they would make Five sick. And… again, because of the apocalypse, most items were left to the mercy of the sun. Five found very few bunkers that were intact enough to provide shade for the food, and any grocery stores he stumbled upon were so destroyed there was nothing at all to protect the canned goods. Sometimes, when he popped open a can, he could already smell the rot or mold. A lot of times he would open a can to see green or white spots on it, and as time went on, this became a more and more common occurrence. During the early days, Five would have discarded these items immediately, but by his second and third year… he hardly had the resources to afford to do that. So, he would eat around those parts, leaving the molding bits for whatever crawling creatures would follow him.

Then… by year four… he began eating these parts too.

Rots and mold became regular parts of Five’s diet because it became increasingly rare not only to find canned items, but to find anything that wasn’t decaying. Five was honestly surprised that it had taken up to that point, having suspected at the start that this would happen within the first year. But any gratefulness of how long things had managed to last was quickly diminished by the reality of his situation. What began as a slow, constant hunger due to only eating a little bit every day became an unbearable, devasting sinking feeling that nagged at him as he would go several days in a row without eating. Years four and five were when Five began to realize that he likely wasn’t going to be able to find more canned items – at least not on a regular basis. It felt like a miracle any time he saw the shimmer of a tin can, and by years seven to ten, Five honestly did not care about the state of the food within it, just grateful that it was something to eat.

Illness became a routine part of Five’s life. He would eat something, whether it was a little bit of food from a can he had managed to find or one of the ones he had been saving, either of which would be covered in fuzzy white mold that tickled his tongue when he ate it. He swore he could feel things squirming around when he ate it too, though whether this was actually happening or whether it was a trick of his mind he did not know. After eating it, he would try to keep the food down as long as he could, only to vomit the majority of it up later on. He raided pharmacies when he could find them, looking for anti-nausea pills or anything else which would help him keep the substance down so his body could at least retain some nutrients, but pharmacies were even rarer than grocery stores, and most people who had built bunkers had stored food, not medical supplies. This made matters even worse when Five caught an infection because this meant that keeping food down was even more difficult. During these times, Five took to hibernating. He wouldn’t eat for nearly a week, drinking what little liquids he had. He pushed food from his mind during these bouts, knowing that an empty stomach didn’t help matter but feeling too tired and weak to deal with the vomiting he knew would come if he ate the spoiled foods he had gathered. He’d build himself a little shelter and stay there until he felt better, or until he decided that he wasn’t going to feel better unless he managed to find either more food or medication. Then he’d push forward, stomach complaining all the way through.

Somewhere along the line (time stopped mattering as much to Five after the tenth year), Five had pretty much all but given up on finding anything that resembled food. He’d take it where he would find it, but he stopped looking for it. Before when he walked, he would be doing it in search of new stores or bunkers that had managed to survive the end of the world. He’d allowed himself a glimmer of hope that as he went into new territory, he’d be able to find things that had survived. But that was before he’d left the major cities… and after that… well, there really was nothing out there. Farmlands didn’t have much in the way of food. Most animal corpses were non-existent, and the few that were there were reduced to skeletons. Five figured that they must have decayed pretty quickly after the initial event. He wondered at times if he should have headed straight for the farmlands and country areas, eating the corpses first before going for the canned goods. He had seen quite a few corpses along his travels, and while the states of them were questionable, they weren’t much more questionable than the canned goods. Still… what was done was done, and there was no point dwelling on what could have been.

Now when Five walked… it was only because he could think of nothing else to do. He was thankful when he did manage to find something that he could consume, but the gnawing hunger was just something he’d gotten so used to at this point. His diet now consisted of pretty much only the occasional scraps he had left in his cans (though Five wondered how much of what he ate he was hallucinating, and how much was real), as well as the occasional cockroach. When he returned to the cityscapes, he began finding more and more roaches, and these became his primary food source. They made him sick as they squirmed in his mouth, wriggling about on his tongue. He felt their little legs as they kicked around the sides of his mouth, and because he hated how they burst when he bit into them, he often swallowed them whole, leaving them to struggle about as they passed through his throat. He tried not to think about what it was those roaches had been feasting upon, especially those that were plumper and juicier. Still… they were preferable to the maggots that he had occasionally eaten. The ones he sometimes found within the canned goods… yellowish or silver things which crunched when he would bite them… and which he swore he could still feel wriggling about his stomach after he had finished eating.

He wished the maggots and roaches had been the worst things he had been subjected to eating. Someday he even wishes it had been something such as corpses. But no… no, because when Five reached areas where the roaches had become scarce or undiscoverable… Five did something he never thought he would have to do in his life… he sustained himself on his own urine and excrement.

He had a pot. He had found it during the early days and used to use it to make soups or stews when he still had the resources to do so. At times he used it to cook the roaches when he wasn’t so starved that he would just eat them raw. But during those dark times… he would use it to make meals out of his own waste. Often his meals consisted of the few roaches he could find mixed with his excrement and urine. He told himself at first that he was heating it so that he could try and make it any sort of less likely to make him ill… but he soon abandoned his line. He was doing it, in reality, to try and trick himself into thinking it was anything other than what it really was.

Five had tried to eat his own vomit. He was sick enough that he thought that it was a waste not to try it. When he knew he was going to be sick, he would bring out the pot and vomit into it, cooking it later when he had the resources to make a fire. He would add water to it from whatever water source was closest (something he did with all his “meals” when he had water nearby that was drinkable), and he tried to eat it. He quickly learned that he could not sustain himself on this. Acids, he would learn later. That was what did it. The high acid content would cause his mouth to decay, the teeth slowly eroding and the gums becoming so diseased that he was sure his teeth would drop out one by one… or that he would look to find those horrible writhing maggots worming their way between his teeth. So… whatever he vomited was lost, he reasoned. And with this in mind… he began forcing the sick back down his throat whenever he felt it coming up.

When the vegetation began to grow back, he started eating this and slowly, bit by bit, he began to regain some of his strength. The more vegetation there was, the more bugs there were, and he moved steadily from his lowest dietary point to one that consisted of bugs and plants. He never thought that he would cherish a diet of beetles, roaches, and crickets, but after surviving off his own waste for so long, he was just grateful to eat something that hadn’t come from inside himself.

But even as he pushed forward… even as he began to return to a steadier diet, and later, even something that resembled a healthy one… even as the meat returned to his bones, the strength to his muscles, life to his body… he’d find himself having nightmares of the dark days. He never quite got the scent of the “meals” he had to eat out of his mind. The image of those concoctions in that pot… and taste of it… it had never left. Every time he put food into his mouth after that… for just a second… he swore that that was what he tasted. No matter what it was… no matter how flavoury or distinct the taste of the meal was… he still tasted for just a second the flavor of his urine and excrement.

Five’s body was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. His lips were quivering and his vision blurring, and despite himself, he wanted so badly to cry. He could feel himself swaying back and forth. He could feel a stabbing pain in his mouth as his teeth cut into his tongue. Could taste the metallic tang of his own blood. But despite all this, he felt miles away from his own body. Felt miles away from the room he was standing in. Miles away from everything. He just stared at the trays of food in front of him, unable to move. Unable to think. Unable to stop himself from shaking. Unable to do anything.

“Oh dear!” broke The Handler’s voice through the stillness. Five made no effort to turn to face her – he couldn’t even if he had wanted to. “You know what? I just remembered I have a pressing engagement today! I really am sorry, Five, but unfortunately, I am going to have to cut out little lunch short. And we didn’t even get to eat!” she continued on. He heard her stand up and then a few seconds later, felt it as she placed a hand on his shoulder. Still, he made no effort to move. “But don’t let my leaving early ruin your lunch, alright? Feel free to stay here and eat, or you can take some of it to go. Whatever strikes your fancy,” she purred into his ear. She then patted his head like he was a puppy and walked off. “Bon appetite~” she called before shutting the door and leaving Five alone in the office, surrounded by the antagonizing food trays.

The realization struck Five as he watched her leave that this had been her plan all along. She’d never intended to make him eat the food. He thought that was her plan… was dreading that that was her plan… but this was almost worse… because it showed that she knew the depth of the impact the food’s simple existence had on Five… and knew the power she held over him with that and that alone. She didn’t need to force him to eat it. Just by having it there… just by having him see it… she not only told him that she’d been keeping a very close, personal eye on him throughout his entire time in the apocalypse but also cemented quite clearly who was in charge in this situation.

The second Five heard the door shut, his legs gave way and he crashed to the floor. He hugged his knees close to himself and began rocking forwards and backward uncontrollably. He shut his eyes, trying to block out the smells and images of the food in the office, but then the images of those dark days in the apocalypse… the images he had tried for so, so long to block from his mind… they came back to him as they so often did during his sleeping hours, and his eyes flew open. He stared at the carpet instead. He could hear his own breathing, but like before, it sounded so far away. He felt so far away from himself. He tried to will himself back into control over his body, but it was no use. He tried to force himself to be rid of those pesky memories that were pushing their way back into his mind, but it was no use. The smell of the food in the room was so pungent and overwhelming that it was inescapable. Five abandoned the notion of trying to force the horrid memories away and instead tried to focus on thinking of something else. Something pleasant. Something that could take away the horrible things.

He tried to think of The Umbrella Academy… but then thought that there really weren’t many memories of that place that he could think fondly of.

He tried to think of his family… but then saw their mangled corpses and felt unspeakable grief consume him.

Then it came to him…

Dolores.

Dolores was someone who had good memories associated with her. Not only that, but she understood. She’d been there during those dark days, and she understood. How many times he had spoken with her about those times? How many times had he confided in her about them? Even during those times… she’d been his rock. She’d gotten him through it. When he screamed that he couldn’t do it anymore, she’d sat him down and told him he was strong enough to do it. That he not only had to do it to survive, but that he could do it.

“You have survived so much, Five. Been so strong in the face of things that others would have immediately caved at. You know you can pull through this. I know you can pull through this. We just have to be strong, as we’ve been throughout all this time,” she would tell him. Five could almost hear her voice now, speaking to him in the present. “You just have to be strong and fight through this. It is going to be alright. We just have to fight through for tomorrow. Just keep thinking about tomorrow, and we will get through this.”

“I can’t stop thinking about it. It won’t… it doesn’t go away…” he whispered.

“You are strong, Five. You can survive those memories. You’ve gotten through so much. Beaten the odds more times than you can count. Survived so much more than anyone could have expected one man to survive. You can get through this too,” she replied, and this time, when Five shut his eyes, he could see only her. She was sitting across from him on the other side of the room, donning the camo shirt and lace undershirt that she’d been wearing when he last saw her. A smile appeared on Five’s face, and he felt a tear slide down his cheek.

“You always know just what to say,” he told her, and he heard her chuckle.

“Well, I’ve known you for a very long time, so that does help,” she responded, and this time it was Five’s turn to chuckle.

“Just as spirited as always, Dolores,” he teased, and she rolled her eyes.

“Could you really see us being partners for so long if I couldn’t at least match you in wit and spirit?” she retorted, and he gave a shrug of agreeance. Then there was silence between them as neither was sure what to say or do. Finally, Five spoke.

“It won’t go away,” he repeated, and she gave him a sympathetic expression.

“I know. But you have to believe me when I tell you that you are strong, Five. I know it is hard. Especially in moments like this. I know it can feel like there is no coming out of this. Like you are right back in those dark days, and you can’t escape them. Like you are drowning in tar and no matter how hard you fight to get out, it only seems to drag you further down. But you are a fighter, Five. You always have been. You fought to make a name for yourself during your time with The Umbrella Academy. You fought against the expectations of your father and of the world. And when things went… well, really south, you fought your way through the apocalypse. You survived the end of the world, Five. Then, when you got a ticket out of there, you fought your way to the top of your new workplace. Despite starting out with no clue how things worked there, you fought to show them that you weren’t someone who just rolled over or played nice. No, you were a force to be reckoned with, and you fought like mad to show them that. And even though that… that witch tries to break you down, you fight against her. She takes shots at you, and she hits hard, but you stand your ground. You get through it. And you can get through this too. I know you can, Five. Because I know you. I do. Perhaps even better than you know yourself,” she softly spoke.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves there,” he replied, but there was a thankful smile on his face, and he knew Dolores would understand his unspoken gratitude.

“The point is… you will get through this. We will get through this. We’ve gotten through so much, Five. Faced bigger threats than her, and we won. Just like we will win here. As long as we are together, we can get through anything. It’s like we’ve always said. Together…” she began.

“Forever,” he finished like clockwork, and a few more tears fell. Tears of relief and hope and appreciation and emotions Five could not even begin to put a name to. The panic and horror that had been surging within him had begun to fade at her words. No… not only that. Her presence alone. She was just like that though, he knew. She needn’t say anything, and already he would feel as though things might just look up. All she had to do was look at him with that beautiful expression that he adored, and all which plagued his heart and mind would begin to dissipate. She really did always know what to say. What to do. How to make him feel as though it might be alright. He took a few deep breaths and then smiled over at her.

“I… you are right. We can get through this. I… I think we will be ok,” he told her in a hushed voice, and she nodded in agreement. “Together… yes… we can get through this together. Just like all those times in the apocalypse. You and me against the world. Together forever,” he rambled, “we can do it, can’t we? As long as we stick together, we can get through anything. I know we can, as long as we have each other,” he reiterated, and he saw her smile grow at this. She said nothing, and he knew it was because she knew she needn’t say anything more than what she’d already said. She was there for him, and he knew she knew he needed nothing more than that.

His heart rate was much lower now. The shaking of his hands had nearly stopped. He felt himself returning to himself. He focused on keeping his breathing slow and steady, and bit by bit, he regained control of his body. Was back in that moment. The tears had stopped flowing, but he knew that even if they hadn’t… it was ok. He could let them fall if it was with her because she would understand. Because she knew him. Because she wanted to know him.

It would be ok. She’d be his rock, and he’d be hers. They’d help each other through it as they had helped each other through so many other things. He didn’t have to do it alone. He’d thought… he’d thought he’d have to do it alone. But now she was here, and he had someone he could confide in. Someone he could turn to. It would be alright. Even in the darkness… when he had times when he struggled to find his way back to the light… she would be his guide, and she’d helped him find the way. She’d help him find his inner strength until the times when he saw it again, and it would be ok. As long as they had each other… they would find a way to be ok.

It would be ok.

“Dolores… thank you. For… everything. I’m so happy that you are here…” he had started to say, moving towards her so that he could hold her and she him. But then his hand bumped into something hard and relatively sharp, and he jumped. As he did so, his eyes flew open…

He had been huddled by The Handler’s desk, the corner of which was what his hand had made contact with. He saw the food trays and the carts. Saw the extravagant décor. And…

Saw that he was alone.

Dolores wasn’t there. She’d never been there. He’d had to leave her behind when he joined The Commission, he remembered now. She was gone…

She was gone and he was alone…

The reality of this hit Five like a freight truck and he sunk back down. He wasn’t shaking. He wasn’t trembling. He wasn’t rocking or swaying like before. He just sat there as loneliness filled him and as he felt the hope which had previously built within him being torn out of him. He caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of one of the tray lids that he had flung to the floor and could have let out a sad laugh if he had had the strength to.

That look… the same one he had seen on those figures who had delivered those damned carts and trays… the same one he had seen on the faces of those whose lives he had ended… it was now reflected back at him.

He wasn’t scared.

He wasn’t angry.

He wasn’t upset.

What he was…

Was completely, utterly, and entirely in all-consuming despair.

He was lost…

He was empty…

He was tired…

He was hopeless…

He was alone…

And it would not be ok.

[clownwritesfanfic]

So Come One, Come All - Five Hargreeves X GN! Reader

Summary: After you find out that your husband of 40 years cheated on you with his own brother’s wife, you give up on figuring out how to fix the apocalypse and run off. That’s when you’re lead to a suspicious deli full of the exact face you never wanted to see again.

Word count: 1647

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Warnings: Cheating, Heartbreak, Happy Ending, rushed writing, not beta read we die like men

Disclaimer: Five is canonically in the body of an 18 year old in this season. Not to mention he aged like 7 more years with Lila. Also, obvious Season 4 spoilers. This season was awful and Five was done so dirty and he’s still ooc in this fic (or at least a version of him is)

———————————————————————

You had no idea how long you had been walking for. All you knew was that you were tired.

Tired of everything. Of the constant apocalypses, the fighting, the stress, …the lying, the heartache. Everything.

You had to get away from that place. You couldn’t stand to be around anyone from that family anymore. Around…him.

You and Five have been married for forty years. You both met in the first apocalypse as teens. You weren’t special like him or his siblings but you were both grateful to have someone else around.

You slowly fell in love over the years as you grew older together. You had a makeshift marriage with a ring Five had made for you out of random bits of metal he had found.

You had both been recruited into the Commission together and quickly became the most badass couple in the entire organization. You were always put on missions together for your efficiency and speed.

You had followed Five back in time to see his family, consequently getting stuck in your younger body as well. You followed him everywhere. You would’ve given your life for him.

So, how could he do this to you?

Forty years, thrown away all because he supposedly got stuck for seven fucking years in a stupid timeline traveling subway station with another woman.

You wanted to kill him. He knew that you didn’t like how comfortable Lila was with him since the beginning and he had assured you he wasn’t interested in her at all and that you were all he wanted. What a load of bullshit that was.

You had left after their explanation. You saw the way he looked at her. The exact same way he used to look at you. For him at had been years since he last saw you. For you, it had only been a few hours since he last looked at you like you were the world.

You had slipped off the wedding ring and threw it at his face before leaving. You could hear him trying to get you to stay and try to follow you but he was stopped by Diego.

You were so lost in thought before you found yourself in front of the entrance to a subway station. This must be the one they were talking about. You looked behind you, making sure no one had followed you but also as a way to look back on this life.

If they were telling the truth about the timelines…then you weren’t going to be coming back to this one. Maybe there is a timeline where you’re happy. One where you and Five don’t meet. Or maybe one where none of this happens. Where you’re both a normal married couple.

You took a deep breath as you gazed down the steps. Once you took your first step down, you knew there was no going back.

As you descended the steps, the eerie silence unnerved you. You could hear only your footsteps on the ground and the squeaking of the turnstile as you pushed through it.

You were startled by the sound of the speakers playing some sort of announcement. It was impossible to understand considering it was all backwards.

Soon, the subway entered the station and came to a halt. The doors opened and you stood still, you were still a little creeped out. Five always made you feel more comfortable in situations like this…but he wasn’t here anymore.

You swallowed your unease and entered the subway car. You slowly took a seat and looked around before the doors closed and the subway started moving. You looked out the window as flashes of colour went by.

You were there for a couple minutes before you stopped. The doors opened but you didn’t get up. You weren’t sure if you wanted to get off yet. You wanted to be sure you were as far from the timeline you were just in as possible.

You felt something pull inside of you though. Something wanted you to get off and explore. So you did.

You let yourself be guided by this feeling deep inside. It was like your heart was pulling you somewhere.

It isn’t long until you end up in front of a building of some kind. Could you even call it that? You never left the station and it’s the only other place in here. Is it more of a building in a building? You didn’t want to think about it too much.

The words “Max’s Delicatessen” were shining brightly in your face. You were a little amused. Maybe you were hungry and it was actually your stomach bringing you here rather than your heart.

You sighed and decided to check it out.

But when you entered, you were horrified at what you saw.

The entire deli was full of copies of your (now ex) husband. This was the last thing you wanted to see and you internally cursed at your conscious for bringing you here.

You could feel your heartbeat pick up and your breathing become heavy as tears pricked at your eyes.

Finally, one of the Five’s had looked up and noticed you stuck in place at the door.

“Darling!” He shot up out of his seat, audibly hitting his knee on the table but he didn’t flinch.

Suddenly, every single Five in the place had his eyes on you, each with various emotions displayed on their face.

The Five that spotted you quickly made his way over to you. He lifted his shaking hands and held them over your cheeks, too scared to make contact in case you fade away.

You could see the disbelief and love in his eyes. This snapped you out of your confusion and slapped his hands away from you and backed yourself up into the door.

The Five in front of you looked confused and hurt before sighing and lowering his hands.

“Sorry…I forgot that you’re not the same one.” He apologized.

“What the FUCK is going on?” You exclaimed as you looked around to be met with all the Five’s still staring at you. “How did you get here? Why are there multiples of you? Why can’t you just leave me alone!”

“Woah, woah, slow down. Breathe. You’re okay. Everything’s fine.” The Five in front of you tried to calm you down. “You took the subway right? This is a different timeline. We’re all the same person from different timelines. Usually the only new people that enter here are a version of me…or…us I guess. You’re the only…well…you, that has shown up here.” He explained.

“What?” You looked at him like he was crazy.

“They should sit down.” Another Five had said.

“Come on, hun. Come sit down and we can talk.” He had reached out towards you, careful not to touch you while he guided you towards the opposite end of the booth he was previously at.

You sat down, still in shock. It felt weird being surrounded by so many Five’s. Especially when you were trying to get away from him.

“I guess I’ll start.” Five had sat down across from you and sighed.

“In my timeline, you and I had been together for years. We met at the Commission. At first we hated each other but we were always put on missions together. Over time…I had fallen for you, and luckily for me, you reciprocated those feelings. We were together romantically for years. We were on our last mission before our contract with the Commission ended. We were planning on getting married after and retiring somewhere nice. But…it went wrong…and I lost you. You died in my arms.” He looked off to the side and tried to play off wiping away his tears.

“I haven’t seen you in years. You’re just as beautiful as the day I lost you.” He reached a hand across the table and gently placed it on yours.

You teared up as you saw the pure love in his eyes. Your Five used to look at you like that and it still hurt knowing he no longer felt that way.

“If you’re here…then something must’ve happened to the Five in your timeline.” He rubbed his thumb on the back of your hand.

You stilled and took your hand back, making the Five in front of you frown.

You hugged your torso for comfort and curled in on yourself slightly as you looked down at the table.

“We were married for forty years…but he got stuck in the subway with Lila and…I guess forty years didn’t mean anything because in seven years he threw it all away for…her.” You hiccuped as you tried to hold back your tears.

There were multiple grumbles and scoffs around the deli.

The Five across from you reached across the table and held your shoulder gaining your attention.

“Everyone here had a version of you in their timeline. We all lost you in one way or another. I think I speak for all of us when I say…having you here is the best thing to happen to us, and he’s a complete idiot for throwing you away like that.” He smiled as he lightly caressed your cheek.

You smiled slightly at his words.

“Aww there’s that beautiful smile.” Five said as he lightly pinched your cheek.

You giggled and batted his hand away and wiped your tears away.

A sandwich and drink was placed in front of you and you looked up to another Five holding a now empty tray.

“Your favourite, just the way you like it.” He said as he gently grabbed your hand and placed a kiss on the back of it with a wink.

You blushed at the action and thanked him.

Even though you got on that train in order to get away from him…you don’t think you’ll be getting back on any time soon.

[laurrelise]

was watching spongebob like the very mature grown woman adult i am and this line sounded familiar

[necrotic-nephilim]

@sasheneskywalker i love when you enable me to ramble about things because oh my god do i have thoughts.

so recently, i made a post discussing the phenomena of DC x DP and DC x MLB crossovers and why they exist and part of that post was discussing how largely speaking, at least half, if not more of the Batfamily fandom doesn't read the comics. if they interact with canon DC material, it's adaptations that are their own sequestered universes and oftentimes not remotely comic accurate or seeking to be. the most obvious example is the Young Justice cartoon. i'm adding a cut to this post because it just got so long i'm so sorry.

a lot of times, when people are discussing the "why" of this oversaturation of fanon-only fandom, they blame Wayne Family Adventures. and i think, to a point, i agree WFA is responsible for a boom in this fandom. but as someone who's been in the fandom long before we had WFA, to me it's the other way around. WFA was DC's way of meeting the demand for this easy-to-get-into, easy-to-consume content about the Batfamily that predicates itself on the comics just enough to be vaguely the same characters, but has a more sitcom, slice-of-life sort of vibe so DC could profit off of this section of the fanbase that otherwise wasn't consuming its primary material. and well, it's definitely worked. not only that, but i have a weird theory that the decline in the MCU also led to the rise in the Batfamily fandom. when you consider the fan content that made the MCU popular within fandom, it's that 2012 "they all live in Avengers Tower and Thor is eating poptarts and Clint is in the vents and there are movie nights every Friday" sort of vibe. those were the fics that were a hallmark of the fandom. and as the MCU has strayed from well... quality content in general, but specifically well-thought-out crossover content where characters can have their own arcs but also exist in a wider story where they clearly care about each other, that fandom was sort of homeless. so where do you go, if you like a superhero found family where you can have villains for angst but also stick them all in one big family-like home for silly crack and have a plethora of options for gay ships? well. you go to the Batfamily. if you write a crack/fluff Batfamily genfic with silly vibes and low stakes instead of say, a fic about a very specific comic issue even if it's a popular comic, you're *going* to get more traction for the former. because the fanbase largely just isn't reading the comics.

and i feel... complicated about this. because on one hand, Don't Like Don't Read has been a tenet of my fandom experience. i'm very pro-fandom and that includes fandom content i don't like. and to an extent, i do think this sort of should apply to Batfamily fanon. i enjoy having my moments with other comic purists, giggling over exceptionally painful OOC headcanons or even facepalming in pain over some content but it is on me to not interact with that content. you don't make fandom a better place by being hostile to fans who engage with canon in ways you don't approve of. and frankly? we as comic readers are not going to get non-comic fans to read the comics by being asshats to them. no one is going to want to pick up any comic if we get a superiority complex about it. and also, i feel like we're all lying to ourselves a little bit insisting comics are so, so easy to get into. they're not. we can just all agree, they're really not. i've been single-handedly helping my sister get into comics, specifically Wonder Woman and no matter how simple i make it, i watch her get frustrated trying to understand what pre-Crisis and post-Crisis and New-52 and Flashpoint and all these things mean and what a retcon vs a reboot is and what a Crisis Event is and what the hell Diana's current backstory even *is*. sure, you can give someone a beginner list of comics to start with and slowly dip their toes in the water but sooner or later, *something* is going to confuse them. comics as a medium straight up aren't going to be everyone's cup of tea. and if someone *just* wants to read silly fluffy fanfiction about the Batfamily, i can't entirely begrudge them for not wanting to take the hours and hours out of their day to understand this medium. it's not an accessible medium to get into. "read this and this, but this run is out of print and this run wasn't collected in trades at all but also make sure you read that event in order and this is a good comic but the backstory in it is retconned and you *have* to read this it's so important but it's also really bad because the author kind of sucks" sounds. ridiculous for someone who like. just wants to read some stuff about Nightwing. sometimes, we all make reading comics sort of sound like a chore, not a hobby.

so my point is, i do extend some grace to Batfamily fanon for existing. i think my biggest gripe is, as i said in my other post, misuse of tags (if you're not creating content about comics, maybe you don't need the comics fandom tag on Ao3, just the all media types umbrella tag) and my far bigger gripe: when panels are taken out of context to support fanon only headcanons. if i could impart *anything* onto the Batfamily fandom as a comic fan it'd be this: if you haven't *read* the comic, don't spread the panel. if you don't even know what comic it's *from*, don't spread the panel. it's fine to use comic panels to discuss your headcanons, but so often i see someone spreading a comic panel from a comic they haven't read, and when asked where it's from, they can't source it. a silly example that comes to mind is a post going around, taking a panel where Dick, in his internal monologue goes "here comes the sun. do do do do." and the post is claiming it's from him getting buried alive. when that panel comes from Nightwing (1996) #140, and he gets buried alive in Nightwing (1996) #127, two completely different moments frankensteined together. if you're going to not read the comics, that's completely fine, but unless you're sure of the source and the context, panels shouldn't be spread around. i'm sick of this specifically happening to Red Robin (2009), with ppl claiming Tim has totally killed people because he blew up some of Ra's' bases, when those panels within context, make it clear he gave everyone time to escape. and in a later arc in that very comic, Tim grapples with the idea of murdering Captain Boomerang, and *specifically chooses not to*, because he doesn't agree with murder, even against the person who has hurt him the most. if you'd like to write fanfiction where Tim is pro-murder and has done some sketch things, i'm totally on board and would probably like to read it. but there's no need to pretend it's canon from a few panels you saw out of context.

beyond that, i think it's not *entirely* correct to say that fanon is harmless. whenever i see very WFA-positive posts, they often default to the argument that WFA is fun and silly, and comic fans are killjoys for not liking it. which. i think is complicated because the issue is, WFA and fanon don't exist in a vacuum. if you like WFA power to you, i don't think it's the worst thing ever, but i do think it's degrading to these characters because honestly? they feel incompetent in the webtoon. it's one thing if WFA was solely a slice-of-life sort of deal, just having silly episodes where Bruce is taking on a PTA mom or they're all fighting for the last cookie. but when WFA attempts to take on more serious plots with these characters, it *fundamentally* falls flat in understanding them. i get it, Bruce comforting Jason having a panic attack because a noise reminded him of the crowbar felt cute in a microcosm, but i'm so serious when i say that storyline destroyed how like. half of this fandom understands Jason Todd's relationship to his trauma. it doesn't understand how he reacts when he's triggered, what coping mechanisms he seeks out, and how he would handle Bruce comforting him. even if i can believe for a brief moment Jason *would* be triggered by something like that, him running and trying to hide and then getting a hug from Bruce to make it okay is just. painful. WFA needs everything to be wrapped up in a nice, neat little bow. so even when it starts to tackle interesting concepts, it makes them fall flat with its need to be soft, low stakes, hurt/comfort. there was a two-parter episode that dealt with the complicated mutual hatred/jealousy between Tim and Damian that *almost* really interested me because for once, it felt like the webtoon wanted to explore canon messy dynamics. but of course, it had to be fixed with one conversation and a hug. you don't mend the *years* of issues these characters have like that. WFA isn't in character because these characters are hyperbole cartoonified versions of themselves to fit within the medium and be a cute happy family.

because that right there, is the crux of it. the Batfamily fanon seeks to simplify the Batfamily and force them into a nuclear family. there are so many fantastic posts on here discussing how the nuclear family-ification of the Batfam is eroding decades worth of complex histories so i won't go too far into that. but what i will say is that there's this need, in the Batfamily fandom, for the Batfamily to exist as a unit. they are a *family*. (honestly i think calling it the Batfamily is a misnomer and has been for years but we're in too deep now.) they exist to each other first, and any teams or friends they have come secondary to this family unit. you can *specifically* see this demonstrated in what headcanons are becoming popular these days. i have an entire lengthy meta in my drafts about how i *loathe* the "the Batfamily meets the Justice League" genre of fanfic because it makes no *sense*. in order to have this genre of fic exist, you must operate under the assumption that no one in the League, or adjacent to the League, knows the Batfamily exists and are thus utterly shocked to discover Batman has kids. and to make *that* work, you have to strip *every single Batfamily member* of such important dynamics and friendships so you can lock them all in Gotham for their whole lives. Dick can't have the Titans, Tim can't have Young Justice, Duke & Cass can't have the Outsiders, Jason can't have the Outlaws, Damian can't have the Supersons, Babs can't have the Birds of Prey, and so on. because if they had these relationships, they would be known to the League. the Batfamily fandom doesn't care about this, it's just "silly fanfiction", it's not trying to be serious. but how can you say you like Dick Grayson as a character if you don't understand the Titans *are* his family? at some points of his life, moreso than the Batfamily even is. it is constantly repeated to us in most comics with Dick how much the Titans mean to him. he *needs* them to be who he is. the same extends to every other Batfamily member, most of which have been full League members at this point. but in fanon, that doesn't matter. the Batfamily are a sequestered unit first, and all of those side relationships are secondary and easy to toss away, if it makes your fanfic work better.

and because they have to be a unit first, you have these forced relationships that dump years of actual canon material for the sake of making them get along. the Batfamily fandom has its favorites and well. it's no secret it's usually the boys. Jason and Tim by *far* stand out as fandom faves so, their dynamic is a heavily explored one. it does matter that in canon they don't tend to get along and especially don't see each other as family. what matters is that you can push dynamics onto them. and so fanon gets all twisted up about which Robin Tim actually idolized as a kid (Dick) and what member of the Batfamily is pro-murder but still an older sibling figure to him and looks out for him (Helena, or if you want the dynamic of once tried to harm Tim but they've reconciled, Jean-Paul) in favor of who's the most popular. Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian are always going to be the standouts for popularity, but it's specifically Jason and Tim who are getting fanonized the most. and that's because really, we don't have much canon content of Tim that *isn't* the comics. for Dick you've got Young Justice (tv), for Damian you've got the DCAMU, for Jason you've sort of got the Under The Red Hood movie, but Tim sort of lingers in this limbo. (yes, he's in Young Justce (tv) and Titans (live action) but in neither is he the main character nor given much depth) so, he gets a *lot* projected onto him and has become fanonized. and even with Jason's animated movies, you don't see him interact with Tim, so people build it from the ground up how they want to see it, disregarding of canon comics. i think it's what makes him so popular in the first place- he's malleable into whatever you want or need him to be.

and of course, the fanon ignores other characters in the Batfamily it doesn't know about. i feel like you could create a tier list of Batfamily characters by their popularity, going from the fandom main characters: Tim, Jason, Bruce, Alfred, Dick, Damian. to the underrated: Steph, Duke, Babs, Cass. to the forgotten about unless they're convenient for a story: Kate, the Foxes, Helena Wayne, Carrie, Selina, Harper Row, Maps, Minhkhoa Khan. to the absolutely unknown: Helena Bertinelli, Jean-Paul Valley, Onyx Adams, the Clovers, Julia Pennyworth. it's not lost on me that the ignored characters tend to be women and people of color. which is both a canon and fanon problem, DC will continue adding interesting characters to the Batfamily, play with them for a few years, then drop them to default to the "Batboys" again. and it's a vicious cycle of the fandom only caring about the "Batboys", and thus people entering the fandom via fanon osmosis won't have content about the other characters, therefore, they won't be interested in those characters enough to create it, and it's just this ouroboros consuming itself, no matter how much canon content we have of these other characters. and it's ridiculous just how large the Batfamily is becoming because of this, which is why i'm a pre-Flashpoint fan, because then the Batfamily was contained enough to actually feel like a family with every character having nuances relationships with each other, but i digress because those thoughts could be their own post.

and the thing about fanon is it doesn't exist in a vacuum. DC has started turning the comics to accommodate for what fans are asking for, because fans will beg and beg for content they're not going to consume. Tim Drake: Robin had Tim as a coffee drinker because that's the fanon accepted headcanon. and the resolution of the recent Gotham War arc was for Bruce to buy this new manor for everyone to move in and call him. nevermind that most of these characters have their own homes and have zero reason to be moving in with Bruce. Tim had his marina in Tim Drake: Robin, Dick has Bludhaven, Cass and Steph have their little side of town in Batgirls (2022), and so on. these characters are being forced together as a unit, as one big happy family living together, to appease what non-comic fans want and it's damaging comic relationships. Robin: Knight Terrors saw Jason and Tim team up and working together, which i've seen varying opinions on but i personally despised. their interactions made zero sense for any of their canon history, but it appeases them being this close sibling relationship that fanon acts like they are. also the fears they faced in their respective knight terrors didn't make sense for either character and *only* worked as a moment of bringing them together so they could reassure each other and have this weird dreamscape bonding moment. the canon is bending itself to the will of fanon rather than building on the pre-existing complex relationships. Tim barely even gets along with his most important team in Dark Crisis: Young Justice because it seems the only important relationships the Batfamily can have is with each other. and when we do see them outside of the Batfamily, it only seems to be to relive the glory days like with World's Finest: Teen Titans, instead of developing them as they currently exist. this isn't recent in the comics, it feels like you can trace it back to the New-52, but it does feel a *lot* worse over the recent years. WFA is fine when it exists in its own bubble, but the simple truth is, DC content never exists on its own. the adaptations will reflect back onto the comics. (the damage the Young Justice cartoon has done to some characters should honestly be studied) and so it does frustrate me a bit when fanon-only or adaptation-only fans act like we're being nothing but killjoys for being frustrated with this. since they don't read the comics, they don't see how the comics are suffering as a result of this.

people argue about what's out of character for the comics they don't even read. i'm sorry, but "bad dad Bruce" is consistently canon. that man is just kind of shitty. when you take someone who has the drive he has, who has this need for the Mission first, who needs a teenager in spandex next to him to keep him off the ledge, that guy is sort of going to be a shitty father figure. he just is. not on purpose or with malice, but when you compare him to any other dad in a big DC family, he sure takes the cake. it's why characters like Oliver Queen tend to *really* fucking hate Bruce for how he treats his kids. Bruce loves fiercely, but he doesn't do well with putting that love first. and his love is a controlling one, he is very particular about controlling how others in the Batfamily are "allowed" to operate. it's what drives the wedge between him and Dick, it's why Steph is never a true daughter to him. (besides the reason of her needing to be a love interest to Tim first, anyway-) i've never understood the massive outcry of people reacting to Bruce kinda being shitty in comics they're not reading. there are some moments that get ridiculously OOC with how cartoonishly evil he is (the whole Gotham War arc and that... complicated mess with Jason) but largely if you want sitcom loving nuclear father Bruce, you have to accept that is a fanon thing, not a canon one. the Batfamily being a nuclear family in *general* is fanon. most of the "Batkids" don't actually see Bruce in a particularly fatherly light and begging for moments where he calls them his kids or they call him dad outside of incredibly specific circumstances is just OOC.

it's getting harder and harder to exist peacefully in this fandom it feels like, if you don't comply to the standard fanon has set. i'm happy people are having fun with their blorbos, even if in ways i dislike, but that "harmless fandom fun" does ripple it's way back to canon, eventually. so i end up pretty tangled with my feelings because are fans at fault for DC making these poor decisions? probably not, but it certainly feels like an unfortunate cause-and-effect situation whether at the end of the day, nobody is happy. and of course, i know some fanon-only fans are striving to be more canon accurate and care about canon dynamics more than others, but for them it's always going to be an uphill battle with the above-mentioned out-of-context panels thrown around and ever-pervasive fanon overtaking anything that's truly seeking to be canon compliant. so really, it sometimes feels like we're all losing.

[badkitty3000]

While I realize this is in reference to a 5 year old child, it’s 100% Five Hargreeves. He tries so hard to make an intricately carved masterpiece, with carefully drawn out plans and blueprints, but it’s actually a lot harder than he thought and he keeps getting more and more mad until he just snaps, punches the pumpkin with his fist, tells it to “Go fuck yourself” and stomps off in a rage. His pumpkin still gets displayed in a row with the rest of his siblings’ and they can’t stop laughing at it every time they see it

[le-panda-chocovore]

Alright we gave a lot of shit to Luther for his "DAd sEnD mE ON thE MOON" whiny discourse but I think we don't talk enough of Five's "You think I had it easy ? I was ALONE for 45 YEARS!!" whenever someone talk about how awful growing up with Reginald was. Like. Dude, okay you're a grown ass man in the body of a 12yo boy and you're mad about it, that's fair. But it's not your siblings fault, so stop yelling at them because all of you had it rough. Besides, you CHOOSE to not listen to your fucking dad while they were FORCED to obey him.

[littleaxoltotlisabouttokill]

Is anyone gonna talk about the fact Aidan was 19 when they filmed...and Ritu was 34

barf....

[akkivee]

ALL THE ADULTS IN ICHIROS LIFE ARE A BUNCH OF BUM FCKS THERE I SAID IT I NEED EACH AND EVERY SINGLE ADULT TO GET AWAY FROM HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMM

[chron0ph0bia]

no because tell me why when I was 13 i read about my favourite character who didn't trust authority figures innately like the other kids,

tell me why I read about him being bullied by the whole cast and the authors and be prayed upon by even more adults, the reason he didn't implicitly trust authority in the first place. tell me why I read about him being put in a fucking straight jacket and just left there in solitary confinement, played straight by the whole cast and authors. Tell me why I had to read about him truly get put through the worst shit the writers could think of, in a mean way! an uncharitable one. Tell me why I read about him trying to commit suicide and the book pointed at it being like look at that guy! he's so pathetic! Tell me why I saw him get disfigured as a punishment and called ugly fat and spit on by the whole cast and book. Tell me why the "different people" get sent to fucking refugee camps in Alaska and its played straight. Tell me why the only child who exhibited critical thinking about his surroundings got thrown to the dirt again and again and again, for the audience to laugh at him.

[daughterofhecata]

Something something "the first million words are practice"? (Though I'm pretty sure I've reached *that* milestone years ago considering the amount of notebooks I filled as a kid/teen.)

[cockadoodlebumtits]

THE FAMOUS FIVE: SMUGGLER'S GOLD - THE MUSICAL (1997)

[irregularbillcipher]

love when you meet with a doctor and she’s an hour late to the virtual appointment and you tell her you really need this paperwork filled at asap and during the appointment she’s apologetic and understanding and very forceful about the fact that you need expedited care and that it’s ridiculous that you’ve been expected to wait so long so you get hopeful that things will finally get done and then she doesn’t send out the paperwork and fucks off to go on vacation and nobody on her staff can find it or even knows if she actually filled it out and they tell you she’s coming back the day that paperwork is due

[dorkydiaz]

we should not be revering the children that have taken up the mantle of the protest. we should admit the wrongdoing and give unmitigated support. we should be joining them. protecting them.

[sharkneto]

any thoughts on how SM!5 and JT!5 would react to each other or do we just gotta let em sniff each other under the door

I've talked about all three Fives meeting before HERE, but just SM!5 and Number meeting... I do think that has different vibes without Canon!Five there. They are so close to being the same person. The only thing that separates them is an email; that fateful drunk email to Sarah that launched Number on a completely different trajectory from SM5.

I think no matter what point they meet after their divergence from one another, they don't get along. They're too similar, their divergence point so small, they bring out each other's worst insecurities. We'll put their meeting after the events of HIT, where Number has all the answers to time travel. This is already an infuriating point for SM5, because why the fuck did that version of him get all the answers handed to him and not him? It's a defensive wall he can throw up, that at least he's figuring it out for himself and that does make him better than Number.

Number puts so much pressure on SM5, shines too harsh of a light on all the ways his life hasn't really gone right, it makes him insanely defensive. Sure, Number has... everything, but is he a spy? Does he get to live in his own house in Scotland with his dog? Is he seeing the world on important missions with an unofficial archenemy? No, he's dumb and sits in an office/in class doing that thing neither of them are supposed to be doing and time traveling.

From Number's side, it puts a really stark light on how big of an impact Rob and Sarah had on his life. Without them, he would be a drunk who never sees or talks to his siblings and live way far away doing weird missions as a spy (...which, actually, is Very Cool but he will never ever let SM5 know that). Number is still winning as Most Functional Five, but he doesn't have the same ammo he had over canon!Five and SM5 can get into his head and make him overthink how much of his success he can attribute to himself. At least he has time travel to hold over SM5 but SM5 keeps throwing that in his face, too, for the same reason.

I don't think it's as explosive as canon!Five and Number's meeting, but I do think it's more vicious. Rob would have his work cut out keeping the peace between them because they're both more socially functional than canon!Five and they're so close to the same person that they know exactly what weak points to hit. And, again, I can't emphasize enough that all of this aggression towards one another stems from insecurity and trying to reassure themselves that they're doing life better and are better than the other one. Protecting their egos and the life choices they made to get to where they are. It's all a defense mechanism.

SM5 has a harder time convincing himself that he is better than Number (because Number does have friends and family and a PhD, which are all things he wants but couldn't figure out how to get himself) which makes him meaner, which makes Number meaner in response, which makes SM5 meaner, which makes...

Letting them sniff under the door first may be a good idea.

[em-dashes]

there’s a lot that’s currently bothering me about aphelion now that i’m back to working on it, and so far the only change i’ve implemented is aging up cay and bee, and somehow that feels like a step in the right direction

[hawkeyefrommash]

oh just realized i might get to sleep in my old bedroom at camp again :((((