#i wish i had more time to write an actual post

[heirofdivas]

Wanna be yours

pairing: azriel x reader

summary: When you falls alseep on his shoulder, Azriel does not know what to do, and everyone are being so damn loud

word count: 2.2K

warnings: this is pure fluff and azzie being utterly smitten and fussing shadows

a/n: hiii! this is the first fanfic i've written for acotar, i've fallen down the rabbit hole lately and made this blog. and i just had this idea and had to write it, thought i might as well post it. hopefully someone will enjoy it<3

Azriel thought he had learned how to master his cool mask. Beyond everything he had experienced as The Night Court’s spymaster, nothing had tested him more than his family – a bunch of busybodies who drove him insane most of the time. He had played the role of chaperone between Cassian and Nesta, had been the one to drag Cassian’s ass out of The Summer Court when he wrecked that building and, for the third year in a row now, he had to re-decorate after Cassian and Feyre decorated the living room drunk.

Actually, the more Azriel thought about it, Cassian was usually the one who tested his control and threatened to ruin his cool composure. 

And yet, despite years of practice, he forgot how to breathe when your head fell onto his shoulder. He had to force himself to remain nonchalant as your luscious scent overtook his senses. The river house was still loud and full of life, and the rowdy Winter Solstice party had not yet reached its peak. It was long past midnight and his family showed no signs of slowing down. The faelights above cast a golden light over their drunk faces as Mor continued to pour wine into all their glasses, declaring, “No one is allowed to go to bed until dawn!” 

Which was why, an hour ago, Azriel had found himself slipping away to the couch in the corner of the room. Varian had joined him shortly after, the two of them chatting quietly while watching everyone else continue their quest to get as drunk as possible. Azriel didn’t know if it had been wishful thinking, or just pure naivety, that had made him believe Winter Solstice would be calmer after Nyx was born, but he had been wrong. After Feyre and Rhys had put him to bed earlier -- Rhys had been the one to pull out the fancy bottles. 

While it warmed him to know that nothing had really changed, that his family was still the same after everything they had been through, Azriel was also the same; he still preferred to wake up the next day and remember what had happened the night before. 

Although, he doubted he would ever be able to forget anything that involved you. You had joined him and Varian in the corner a while ago, stumbling and falling next to him on the couch in a drunken mess. His shadows danced around you as you giggled to yourself, and Azriel thought that the sound of your laughter was the best Solstice gift he had ever received. 

The knitted gloves you had made and given to him earlier were a close second. 

“So your hands won’t get so dry from the cold,” you had told him shyly, your cheeks flushed, and his heart had nearly burst out of his chest. Two days prior you had spotted him coating his hands in a thick layer of the salve Madja made for him, his scarred skin tended to get tight and uncomfortable, and even worse so when the temperatures dropped and the air became crisp and dry. 

He most likely would not get the chance to wear them very often, the soft silky yarn was not made to withstand any fighting or training, and he could not bear the thought of ever losing or ruining them.

But it had still not stopped him from blushing as he opened the gift -- Cauldron, he blushed just thinking about them. The image of you rushing home and knitting him a pair of gloves after he told you how dry his hands became during winter... yeah, Azriel would never forget anything when it came to you.   

And when you sat so close, your body pressing tightly up against his, warm and inviting, there was just no way to overlook the emotions that sparked in his chest. Your words were slurred as you talked about an elderly female you had met at the market earlier that day.

Though, it did not matter that the story you were drunkenly telling him was so ridiculously incoherent, your soft voice still enthralled him. Because if you wanted to talk to him, well, he would listen to whatever you had to say. Always. 

But when your voice had faltered and your head fell to his shoulder, Azriel did not know what to do.

Varian was quick to join the others again when he noticed you leaning on him, leaving him alone with you in the corner. Despite Cassian’s and Rhys’s loud voices booming through the room, arguing about something that had happened during the snowball fight that morning, you had fallen asleep right there on his shoulder. Your lips set in a small pout and your dark lashes resting delicately against your cheeks. 

Azriel could not move, could still not breathe, in fear of waking you. A single shadow brushed against your cheek, soothing and gentle, and you let out a content sigh. It took everything not to wrap his arms and wings around you and winnow away; the urge to tuck you in under a heap of blankets and hold your body close overwhelmed him. 

And you were not even doing anything more than leaning on his shoulder. But it was all it took for Azriel to lose his cool completely. 

‘So beautiful’ his shadows whispered around him. It had been a year since you had first walked into the training ring, into his life, and the shadows had not stopped whispering about your beauty since. 

As you had introduced yourself as the new healer, employed specifically to help Madja with the Valkyries and their injuries from training, Azriel had struggled to restrain the shadows. He had never felt them be so curious before, swirling eagerly around him before darting off toward you. He had managed to call them back just before they reached you, but they had still caught your attention, and when he tried to apologize -- you had ignored him. 

Instead, you had focused on the fresh wound on his chest and scolded him for not having it looked at. He had been too stunned to say or do anything else. 

But the shadows had not lied; you were the most beautiful female he had ever seen. Your hair flowed around you in effortless waves, eyes shining with compassion, and you had not looked at him in fear or reluctance like most did. No, you had reprimanded him and forced him to sit down while you tended to his wound. 

You had owned his heart from that very first day, even if he had not told you that yet. 

“Feyre, look!” Cassian’s voice made him snap back into reality. “There’s your new painting!” Azriel glanced up only to discover that his family had turned their attention to the corner, looking at him and you with knowing smirks.

“Ohh yeah, I can see it,” Nesta mused and bit the inside of her cheek to stop the grin on her face from growing. “'The love-sick Spymaster and his dreamy Angel.'” 

Feyre could not stop her giggles even as she tried to end his suffering, “C’mon guys, don’t tease him. I think it’s sweet. They are taking things slow and at their own pace, leave them alone.” 

Azriel's face grew hotter, and yet, he remained as still as possible, afraid that any sudden movement would make you stir and wake up.

Though, he would have to agree; you were an angel. The kindest, most loving, and charmingly stubborn angel to exist in the world. In any world.  

“Sweet?” Amren rolled her eyes. “You need to grow a pair and tell her already, boy. We are all sick of watching you two dance around the fact that both of you want to devour each other whole. It’s nauseating.” 

Cassian let a loud howl thunder through the room but quickly smacked a hand over his mouth to stifle it as Azriel sent a icy glare in his direction. 

“Shut up,” he hissed, trying to keep his voice low. He let his gaze fall to you again, hoping the annoying chatter had not disturbed you. “You are going to wake her.” 

“I think you just proved our point, Azzie,” Cassian sniggered and shared a mischievous look with Rhysand, no doubt contriving more ways to get under his skin.

And the only response Azriel could think of was, “Shut up.” 

Thankfully, they seemed to take some pity on him as they returned to whatever conversation had kept them busy earlier.

Or perhaps, they noticed how his shadows had moved across the room, swirling along the walls in annoyance, ready to strike at any moment if anyone disturbed you. Azriel released a heavy sigh of exasperation, reminding himself that they were just a bunch of idiots and that he loved them dearly. 

“You know, your voice is far more comfortable to listen to than theirs,” you murmured suddenly, your voice full of sleep and still slightly slurred. Azriel couldn’t stop the shiver running down his spine, his shadows quickly drew themselves back and danced across your smooth skin, checking to see if you had been bothered or needed any assistance.

When he looked down your eyes were still closed, but a playful smile flickered across your face. 

Azriel’s mouth ran dry, “I’m sorry-- I tried to tell them.” 

“I know,” you told him and opened one eye to peek up at him, clearly amused. “I heard you.” You made no attempt to move away from him, and, for that reason, he did not attempt to move either. When you closed your eyes again he could’ve sworn you pressed yourself into his side a little bit closer and, Gods, had it always been so difficult to breathe? Azriel wasn’t sure anyone's presence had ever made him feel so utterly captivated. 

And, he just really, really, fucking adored you. 

Before he could think of a proper reply though, you spoke again, “We should do this more often. You make a good pillow.” 

When your lips twitched into a small smirk, Azriel knew you could hear how fast and hard his heart was beating, and his ears burned from his own awkwardness. So all he said was, “I think it’s time to get you to a real bed.” He shifted his body to get up, lifting his arm to wrap around you. “C’mon, I’ve got you,” he kept his voice low; only for you to hear. Your slender hand stopped him, pressing into his thigh dangerously high, forcing him to remain on the couch. 

“Noo,” you pouted. “Please don’t make me move yet... can’t we stay here like this for a couple more minutes?” It did not help his poor racing heart slow down. “...Or maybe even an hour?” 

And how could he deny you that when you looked at him with those beautiful eyes? How could he ever deny you anything? 

“Fine... here,” he mumbled and reached for an actual pillow, placing it in his lap. “At least lay down so you won’t strain your neck.” 

The smile that broke out over your face; it needed to be Feyre’s new painting. Perhaps he would have to let her into his head, let his High Lady see your joyful eyes and glowing face, to make sure your smile could be captured forever for everyone to see. 

As you settled down, your head now resting in his lap, Azriel could not help himself. He let his hand fall to your head, threading his fingers through your soft hair. His shadows settled on his shoulders, peering down at you as well, and he could not focus on anything else. The world could be on fire and he would not have been able to tear his eyes away from you. 

“Azzie, stop looking like that.” 

You glanced up at him again, brows knitted together in a small frown, and Azriel couldn’t stop himself from laughing, “Stop looking like what?” 

There was a moment of silence, the hollering of his family a distant background noise, as your eyes met his. The sparkle in his chest became more intense, impossible to control, and even as you tried to look annoyed with him, the smile twitching at the corner of your mouth gave you away. 

Eventually you huffed and curled into him a little more, “... you’re lucky you're so beautiful.” 

And as you pulled his hand away from your hair and laced your smaller fingers through his, Azriel knew there was no turning back -- knew that there was no one else. 

He raised your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it before whispering, “You are beautiful.” 

Azriel thought he had learned how to master his cool mask, but when a golden thread weaved itself between his soul and yours, Azriel realized he was more than willing to let his mask slip for you.

ps, english is not my native language, so if there was any spelling or grammar issues; sorry! Thank you for reading <3

[revasserium]

roronoa zoro; 21,051 words (not including epilogue), fluff and angst, ENEMIES!!! to lovers, the slowest of slow burns, canon-normal violence, on-page description of injury, excessive use of flashbacks, some banter, healing from trauma, baroque works!reader to strawhat!reader, no "y/n", emotionally constipated!zoro, hurt and comfort, angst with a happy ending; (epilogue tags will be posted separately)

summary: in which neither you nor zoro are the children you remember each other to be.

a/n: IT'S FINALLY HERE!!! i honestly cannot believe i actually finished writing this lmfao. but anyway, this post will act as a table of contents/masterlist of sorts, and i will update links to the separate chapters as they go up. chapters will be posted every few days (but they are all done! except for the epilogue LOL). i've tagged everyone who has req-ed to be tagged in this series so far on this prologue post, but if you wish to be tagged for the upcoming chapters and you're not already on this fics specific taglist, please comment below to be added! and without further ado -- here we go!

TABLE OF CONTENTS ━

prologue: someone, somewhere

chapter one: a shadow of the past

chapter two: tell no tales

chapter three: sleep of the living, dreams of the dead

chapter four: another life

chapter five: true love's kiss

epilogue: la petite mort (nsfw)

prologue: someone, somewhere

He remembers you most as a child, in halcyon images and gold-limned flashes of his own childhood memories, the edges blurring watercolor soft, but the center (always you) carved in knife-sharp relief.

You were one of the few children that lived in Shimotsuki Village who hadn’t come from the doujou — one of the few children he knew that (at least to the best of his knowledge) had a thing called family. A mother to braid your hair, a father to chase the darkness away, a warm bed and a kitchen that always smelled of freshly made rice. And perhaps it was jealousy, or some other more complicated emotion that had been then too big to name with one single word, but he’d never gone out of his way to befriend you like the other kids from the doujou did — fascinated as they were by your soft hands and round cheeks and the bright, glittering array of homemade sweets you’d bring with you once every couple of weeks.

He’d learn later on that it was because Shimotsuki-sensei had saved your father’s life at some point in time; the story now lost to the annals of legend and withering memory, but back then, he’d only assumed it was the natural way of things. Of waking up for kata practice and then settling in for lunch, and then maybe, if it was to be a good day, you, with your basket of sweets and your blue-bell laughter.

And perhaps this is why, years later, when he meets you again in a dark, nameless village tavern, he doesn’t recognize you — not at first. Because you’d looked so different. Gone was the roundness in your cheeks, or the natural star-bright light in your eyes. Gone, too, were the bright braids that your hair had always been set in — he remembers so clearly, watching the other boys from the doujou jab their fingers into the rings of your pinned up braids, pulling down just to hear you squeak. He hadn’t said anything then, stupidly thinking him above it all, watching as you tried to jerk away, but laughing when the boys finally relented with half-hearted apologies.

You always threatened to take their sweets away; you never did, in the end.

But there, then, in that tiny tavern, you’d been thin, your hair dark as an oil spill, loose and inky as it cascades over your shoulders, your eyes lightless as the windows to an abandoned house — the hollowness made all the more visceral by the light he knew once inhabited them. The way loneliness is always more potent when coming back to it, the second time around.

He wanders up to the bar, slates you a glance before rapping his knuckles on the worn wood to catch the bartender’s attention.

“I’ll have beer and a refill of whatever the lady’s having.”

You shift slightly, shoulders hunching towards your ears.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” you say, shifting to shield your face from his gaze.

Zoro cocks his head, tossing a few Berry towards the bartender as they set down a stein of beer and a champagne flute to replace the one in front of you.

“Can’t a guy buy a girl a drink?” Zoro asks, rolling his shoulders as he reaches out for his beer. You eye him warily.

“Not for a guy that’s been tracking me for three weeks straight.”

Zoro hums, thumb poised on the hilt of his swords.

“We just happened to be going in the same direction.”

You reach out to run a forefinger along the rim of the thin champagne flute before swirling it once by the base. You watch the bubbles fizzle before leaning in to take a dainty sip.

“And they say chivalry is dead…” you murmur, almost too softly for him to hear. Zoro scoffs, allowing himself a twinge of a smirk before his mouth falls flat.

“You let me track you for three whole weeks.”

There’s no question in his words, only a harsh, accusatory certainty.

You lick your lips, leaning back in your stool, tugging your glass of champagne with you.

“Maybe I wanted the company.”

“Or maybe… you wanted me to follow you here.”

Every muscle in his body is tense, drawn taut as a tightrope, coiled tight as a spring.

You sigh, twisting a single lock of your hair around a finger, examining the ends as if looking for split hairs.

Then, quick as a flash, you’re at each other’s throats — him with a sword poised at your jugular, you with a knife pressed against his stomach.

“One move —” you warn, digging the knife slightly further into his skin. Distinctly, Zoro feels the pressure slice through his thick linen shirt, the cool kiss of the blade against his abdomen. And he’s killed enough by now to know that you’ve picked a major artery — one that would hurt, and take minutes for him bleed out. Just long enough for him to suffer, but not enough to get help.

The edge of his mouth ticks upward — not bad.

It’s then, in the infinitesimal flicker of your eyes meeting his, that he realizes who you are.

He nearly topples back, jerking away slightly with the revelation. Your eyes go wide, jolted by his sudden movement. But he’s quick enough to evade the sharp jab of your knife and a second later, you’re on either ends of the tavern, drawn blades and bared teeth.

“Y-you!” the word rips from Zoro like an unripe scab, thick and hard and still bloody underneath.

You lick your lips, eyes narrowing to slits beneath your long, lanky hair.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The hell you don’t.”

“Oi! No fighting in the bar!” the barkeep’s voice is gruff and loud, and for a second, Zoro wonders if you’ll listen. The next, the sharp clang of metal on metal stuns him backwards a few steps as you wrest your knives from between two of his katanas, snarling.

“If you’re so much of a gentleman — let’s take this outside.”

“Ladies first,” Zoro spits out as he whips both swords through the air before sheathing them. He makes a show of holding the tavern door for you as you stalk out in front of him, your hackles raised, your knives jutting out from your belt like so many pairs of sharpened claws.

“What do you want?” you ask, as soon as you’re both out of the bar and standing in the moonlit street outside, the wharf to your left, the strip of small, rundown taverns to your right.

The air twangs with the metallic smell of fish and the thick, oppressive sweetness of rotting wood.

“An explanation,” Zoro says, crossing his arms and planting his feet.

“I don’t owe you anything.”

Zoro nods, “Sure. But that doesn’t mean I don’t wanna know.”

You lick your lips, glaring at him for a second longer before turning and marching down the rickety boardwalk. A moment later, Zoro levels himself with you as you round a corner onto a small stretch of beach, pillowed against a backdrop of sharp, unrelenting rocks, the tips bleached white by the round, silver moon.

“There was a beach just like this,” you say, stepping onto the tide-soaked sand, leaning down to pick up a fragment of a broken seashell, washed ashore by an errant wave.

It takes Zoro a second to realize you’re talking about Shimotsuki village, and the tiny little beach on the other side of the dense, cedar wood.

“Yeah. A bunch of us used to play there — see who can throw rocks out the furthest.”

“You were always the best at that,” you say, your voice softer than he’d heard all night.

“Yeah, well…” Zoro shrugs, leaning down to pick up a piece of rock, weighing it in his palm a few times before whipping his arm back to snap it into the gentle, shushing waves. You both watch as the rock skids out over the water before plunking into the sea, “Guess I’ve always been kind of a show-off.”

The sound of your laughter sends summertime sparklers racing up his spine.

The quiet pools between you like spilt blood, rank and dripping.

“So. You go by Ms. Double Nines now, I heard,” Zoro says, in a flagging attempt to be casual as he turns to glance at you, both his hands resting on the hilt of his swords.

You stand next to him, your eyes focused on a point far out on the horizon, still as statue.

“What’s it to you?”

Zoro sighs, looking down. In the pale, cool moonlight, his earrings glint like baring teeth.

“What happened?”

You suck in a breath.

"Life happened,” you say, turning back towards him with a steely glint in your eyes. Zoro stiffens, his grip tightening on his swords as he sizes you up. He does the mental calculations — you’re just far enough for him to defend against an attack, but close enough where if things were to go south entirely, he’d have a hard time getting back to safety.

You grin, seemingly noticing his rough internal calculations.

“Do yourself a favor, Roronoa — and don’t ask questions you don’t wanna know the answers to,” you say, flicking out one of your blades and tossing it up into the air, only to catch it around your finger, swinging it round and round, the sharp edge of the blade nicking the air just shy of your cheekbone.

“Who said I didn’t want to know?” Zoro presses, bracing himself for a fight.

You chuckle, the sound harsh and mirthless.

“If you’d wanted to fight me properly, you wouldn’t have waited till I got you onto this stretch of deserted beach.”

“Maybe I just wanted a quiet place to kill you.”

“Or maybe…” your voice is so low Zoro almost doesn’t catch the stomach-wrenching longing in your words, “I just wanted a quiet place to die.”

The sharp shink of blades being drawn is heart-rendingly familiar, but the bone-rattling clash of metal on metal still shakes him to the roots of his teeth. Zoro grunts as he parries a blow from either side, before crossing his swords to catch your assault down the center.

You’re fast, he’ll give you that, your body smaller and quicker. You slip through the shadows with the comfort of a person who knows nothing but and he can’t help wondering at the life you’ve led that had pushed you to this point.

To having a mark on your back, a bounty on your head.

You’re a good fighter — this much, he acknowledges. But good isn’t usually good enough to best him. This much, he also knows. Yet somehow, you’re keeping up, somehow, you’re pushing him back, forcing him to retreat one step and then another. It’s not until you duck beneath one of his pin-wheeling blades and force yourself into a knife’s-breath of his space that he realizes — it isn’t that you’re good, it’s that you’re reckless.

Reckless with your own body in a way that makes him stumble back at the realization. Reckless, in the way you charge forward and thrust your body into spaces where he’d easily be able to slip a blade between your ribs — and later, when he’s wiping his swords clean of your oxidizing blood, he’d wonder why he didn’t.

Still, there’s something terrifying in the way you barely flinch when he knicks your arm, drawing a dark line of blood through your clothes, or how you jerk yourself forward when the tip of his sword catches your stomach, almost as if daring him to impale you in one fell swoop.

“You — you used to be… someone else,” he says, panting as he steadies himself against a sharp jut of moonlit rocks. Behind you, the ocean churns, dark and foaming as it throws itself onto the jagged reefs.

You lick your lips, wiping a smear of blood from your cheek. Your chest heaves with the exertion, but there’s a pale, flickering ache behind your eyes that sets Zoro’s whole body on edge.

He shivers as you grin, savage and unrecognizable as the tiny girl with mochi-round cheeks who had once upon a time offered him sweets in a hand-woven basket.

“Yeah? Well — so did you.”

TAGLIST: @brairslair @msheds0519 @yunabelless @lynndt-chocolate @lostonthrillerbark @stunies @tsumu-senpai @phroggii @ssailormoonnn @breathinginyoursmoke @guridoodles @kyllium @naomihatake @itoshiexx @mythicallystupid @mars-mizuko @astroniii @crispynutella @enhastolemyheart @fanficwriter101 @jamesbparker @dira333 @weirdowithaphone @ink-perfect

[kaleldobrev]

Vampergeist (5) — The 15 Year Problem Series

Pairing: MOC!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Feat. Character(s): Reader & Dean Winchester

Series Summary: Needing help on a poltergeist case, you ask fellow hunter Sam Winchester for help. Despite having a broken arm, Sam agrees to help you. But, just as he’s about to head out and meet you, Dean tells him that he’ll take his place and help instead.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Cursing (6x), Age Gap (15 years), Sexual tension & Vulnerable Reader

Authors Note: Only 2 more parts after this one gang! I hope y'all have been having a great time with this series so far! | It's one of my favorite universes to write for | A prequel series to the Old Man Universe (OMU) on how Dean and reader met | Takes place a few days after Dean is cured from being a demon in 2016 (please read this post for reasonings why it’s 2016, not 2014) | As always, thoughts are in italics and the "POV's" switch between Dean & Reader | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

⋆ The 15 Year Problem Masterlist ⋆

⬸ Go Back & Read Chapter 4

“Okay, I think I know what we’re dealing with,” Dean said, looking up from one of the case files the coroner had given you less then half an hour ago. He kept a strong grip on the files, his tone and facial expressions serious.

You gave him a slightly questionable look as you sipped your beer and squinted your eyes slightly. Before you had called Sam, you had done some digging and you were sure that it was a poltergeist case, as all signs of one were there at all of the crime scenes. The only couple of things you hadn’t quite nailed yet were who the poltergeist was, and why it seemed to be only targeting medical students. “Yeah, it’s a polter—”

“A Vampergeist,” Dean said at the exact same moment as you, essentially cutting you off.

Your mouth was half open, trying to process what he just said. After the case was over, you made a mental note to ask Sam if his brother said things like this often. You folded your hands, eyeing Dean, trying to keep a straight face. “What in the living fuck is a Vampergeist?”

“It’s a poltergeist that sucks the blood of its victims like a vampire,” Dean explained, his tone with slight humor in it. “Vampergeist,” he repeated, moving his hands in a gesture as if he was somehow imitating Vanna White. The smile on his face was a rather goofy one — similar to that of a toddler who told his mother a new word he had just discovered. But you couldn’t help but smile looking at him. With the short amount of time you’ve been with Dean, he had made you smile more than anyone had in such a long time.

“Vampergeist is definitely a new one,” you said, playing along with his new word. A word that you didn’t want to admit to him that you were actually pretty fond of. “Unfortunately, Vampergeists exist just as much as Bigfoot and Nessie do,” you teased.

“Vampergeists don’t exist,” he mumbled to himself, using a slightly mocking tone. You smirked, giving a quiet chuckle to yourself at his imitation of you.

Dean rubbed his eyes, feeling the eye strain starting to hit him from looking at the case files and the laptop. At this point, neither one of you had a clue who the poltergeist could be, and why it seemed to be specifically targeting medical students of all people. In his long hunting career, and in your numerous poltergeist cases you’ve worked, neither of you had ever seen or heard of one that drained the blood of its victims before; especially one that didn’t even leave marks for entry.

He looked at you, and you were biting your bottom lip; something that you tended to do, he noticed, whenever you were thinking or concentrating hard on something. He wished he was the one biting it. Fuck, I need to get laid, he thought.

You must of felt his stare, as all of a sudden you looked up from the case file and smiled at him. The way you smiled killed him. "Did you find anything?" You asked, placing the case file on the table.

"No," he answered automatically, rubbing his face again. "But what I can tell you is that I have a fuck ton of eye strain. Which means, it's time to take a break," he said, patting the table and getting up.

You weren't against a break, as the more breaks you took, the longer it took to work the case. And the longer it took to work the case, meant the longer amount of time you got to spend with Dean.

As he got up from the table, he went to his side of the bed and plopped onto it, grabbing the remote from the side table and turning on the television. "Watching tv isn't going to help your eye strain you know," you commented. "Might make it worse."

Dean scoffed. "Everything can be solved by watching some TV," he said. "Now come." He patted your side of the bed, and started flipping through the channels trying to find something the two of you could watch together.

As you lied down on the bed next to Dean, your heart started to pound quickly. You were inches away from him, and all you wanted to do was reach out and touch him. You wanted to grab his hand and hold it in yours, rest your head on his shoulder. But the more you thought about all the things you had wanted to do with him, the sadder you got. You were never going to be able to rest your head on his shoulder, or feel his lips on yours. There was no way he would ever look at you in a romantic way.

There was absolutely nothing to watch, which slightly surprised him, because even in shitty motels, there was at least one thing to watch. But the more he channel surfed, the deeper he sighed. “There’s nothing on, not even Scooby-Doo,” he said.

“Is Scooby-Doo your favorite?” You asked, looking at him, and he nodded in response.

“Yeah. Like I said before. Scooby-Doo was one of those things that was always on no matter where me, my dad and Sammy were. It was also one of the few things that I watched where I knew the bad guy was going to lose,” he explained. “Like —”

“Horror movies,” you added. “That’s why I like horror movies so much. You know the bad guy is always going to lose,” you explained. Of course you fucking like horror movies, he thought. Was there something the two of you didn’t have in common?

“Yeah, exactly,” he agreed. “That’s what I tell Sammy all the time. He says our life is pretty much a horror movie, that’s why he doesn’t like them but, at least I know in movies the bad guy loses. In our world well…”

“It’s not a guarantee,” you said, finishing his sentence for him yet again, your tone sounding almost slightly saddened. “Speaking of which,” you began, as you sat on the edge of the bed, “we need to find out who this poltergeist is before anymore students end up dead,” you said, as you walked back over to the table.

“Yahtzee!” Dean randomly called out, throwing his hands up in the air before spinning his laptop to face you. “Read the title of this article I finally found,” he said, with the biggest, impressed smile on his lips.

“David Falko’s medical instruments donated to medical museum at The University of Tulsa,” you read aloud. “What about it?” You asked.

“Keep reading, and look at the date on the bottom of the article,” Dean pointed out.

“July first, twenty-sixteen,” you said.

“And when was the first murder?” Dean asked.

“July third, twenty-sixteen,” both you and Dean at the same time.

“Son of a Bitch,” you mumbled.

“But wait, there’s more,” Dean began, holding up his pointer finger before turning his laptop back to him. “I did a little bit more digging on our pal Falko here, and fifty years ago, he murdered three of his medical students using the exact same instruments that were donated.”

“How do you explain the blood draining with no marks?” You asked.

Dean grinned from ear to ear. “I am so glad you asked.” He grabbed one of the case files that the corner had given you, and opened it, revealing the photographs from the autopsy. “Our coroner friend did miss something. See this right here?” Dean pointed to one of the autopsy photos, which was a close up picture of one of the medical students hairlines by their neck.

“That mark right there?” You asked, pointing to a small circular mark that looked extremely similar to a mole.

“Yep. That’s not a mole like the coroner thought. It’s actually a puncture wound. What Falko did fifty years ago, was he punctured the base of the students skulls close enough to their hair line so it looked like a mole and essentially, went unnoticed,” Dean explained. “Until now anyway,” he winked.

“And because he was their supervisor, that’s why there was no forced entry,” you stated, and Dean nodded. “What about the lack of struggle?”

“All three students offered to make Falko coffee, and when the students weren’t looking, Falko would drug them. So, when the students drank the drugged coffee, they would fall asleep, and that’s when he could do his handiwork,” he explained, and his explanation made your blood run cold. Not only did Falko kill three people, he did it in a cowardly way.

“It would make sense for Falko to be our guy. Do you think, and it’s a stretch here I know that, the reason that there are no drugs in any of the students systems is because he can just knock them out from being a ghost?” You knew how crazy your theory was, but in this line of work, sometimes the craziest of theories were the most logical of ones.

Dean shrugged. “Could be possible. But at the same time, even in death, serial killers don’t really change their M.O. And I can’t believe I just said that out loud.”

You chuckled at his comment. “I’m sure it’s not the craziest thing you’ve ever said,” you slightly smirked.

Dean smirked back. “Actually —” but before he could indulge in your comment, you cut him off.

“Please tell me the medical instruments are still at the college, because I’m assuming we can’t just salt and burn this guy,” you said. Both Dean and you have been on plenty of ghost cases, and rarely was it that easy to just salt and burn the remains — there was almost always something else involved.

“You would be correct because our buddy here was cremated,” Dean replied.

“Of course he is,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes. “Alright. Well. Since we have a few hours to kill before dark, I say we take a little nap and fuel up before we steal some historical medical equipment from a prominent university.”

Dean smiled, chuckling to himself. “Couldn’t have said it any better myself.”

The rest of the morning and afternoon with Dean couldn’t have gone any quicker. It felt like the time flew by, and it was time that you desperately wanted to re-live again; which is funny because it was relatively uneventful. The two of you did what you had suggested: take a nap, refuel, and watched some tv. But during those hours with him, you felt safe and comfortable. You felt truly safe with Dean despite barely knowing him a couple of days. He was still relatively a stranger to you and yet, you’d trust him with your life if it ever came down to it.

When it came to your nap, you were the first one to wake, which you were strangely grateful for as you were able to admire the way Dean slept. He looked so peaceful, like he didn’t have a care in the world. You wanted desperately to reach out and touch him, to feel his stubble underneath your fingertips. But you had to resist the urge even though it was getting stronger with each passing second.

When nighttime had finally come, it was time to head to the medical museum at the university, and hopefully put a stop to this once and for all. But based on the information that the two of you had gathered though, you figured that Falko was done with his little murder spree, but you needed to make sure that he would never be able to harm anyone ever again. Three now, and six in total was far too many innocent lives lost.

As you and Dean drove to the university, there remained that comfortable silence that seemed to often appear between the two of you; the only sound to be heard in the truck was The Clash, but the volume was scarily low for you, as you tended to blast your music — not caring who heard. But in this moment, you felt it wasn’t necessary.

Despite the silence that you were enjoying between the two of you, you were the one that broke it. “Before, you asked me how I got into hunting so young,” you began, still keeping your eyes on the road.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Dean reassured you. “It’s not a big deal if I don’t know.”

“I want to. I trust you,” and you meant it when you said that, as trust was something you rarely gave to people since you became a hunter. You removed your hand from the wheel briefly, and touched the dog tags that were hanging in your review mirror. “See these?” You asked, and removed your hand, putting it back on the wheel again. Dean nodded. “He’s the reason I got into hunting.”

Dean looked at you, inches away from touching the precious dog tags you had refused to burn after all this time. “May I?” He asked, and you nodded. He removed the dog tags gently from the rear view and you felt your heart pounding quickly. You never let anyone touch them, and yet, you were letting Dean. “Joseph A. Baxter,” Dean read.

“Joey,” you corrected, partially smiling as you said his name. “He was my best friend and my neighbor. We were…inseparable, attached to the hip. Our parents always wondered when the two of us would start dating but, we…” you sighed deeply. “Never got the chance to.” You hadn’t talked about Joey in such a long time, and it felt almost therapeutic in a way to talk about him, but at the same time, he was someone you rarely talked about because sometimes it was too painful for you to bring up the memories of him, despite the amount of fondness and love you had for him.

You felt tears coming on, and you quickly did your best to bat them away with your eyelashes, but some still managed to escape to your cheeks. “He enlisted, and he left. Said he’d be back in no time,” you took a deep breath again. This was harder than you expected it to be. You wanted to continue, to tell Dean about him, as you felt safe enough to tell him, something you rarely felt with people since Joey died. As you were almost about to give up, you felt Dean place his hand on your thigh. Not in a romantic way, but in a comforting way. But the gesture didn’t last long, as he quickly pulled it away. But that small gesture gave you enough strength to continue.

“When he came back he was…he was dead. We got the news when an army vehicle pulled up in front of his parents house with one of those folded flags with his dog tags on top,” you paused again, but Dean remained silent. “His funeral was a week later. I was just so…angry at him. He promised…he promised he’d come back.” You didn’t fight back any of the tears now, as they were running down your cheeks. You knew you were in no condition to drive now, so you pulled over to the side of the road.

As soon as you did, you couldn’t control yourself anymore. Your body was on autopilot. You turned to Dean and wrapped your arms around him, and without hesitation it seemed, he wrapped his arms around you. He gently rubbed your back the best he could at the angle you were at, and he started humming, as if he was trying to help you calm down. “It’s okay,” he whispered on repeat to you.

⤑ Move Forward & Read Chapter 6 (Not yet available)

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[badkitty3000]

You Can't Go Home Again

Chapters 1 and 2

All Five wants to do is rest. But when yet another apocalypse threatens to doom them all, he doesn't have that luxury. This time, the only solution for the Hargreeves to try and save the world is to unite Five with another, alternate version of himself.

Five starts to spiral when he is faced with the alternate life that he could have had, if only he hadn't gone and ruined everything. But maybe, just maybe, there's still time for him to obtain the happy ending he deserves.

An alternate season three rewrite for a request I received.

Warnings: None

More chapters will be posted as I continue writing this multi-chapter fic. Enjoy!

Chapter One: The Other You

So much for being their ringer, Five thought bitterly as he stewed about the day’s earlier events. Lying there in his shitty bottom bunk bed like he was actually 13 years old, and waiting for Klaus to get back with his scotch, he tried to think of what to do next. Everyone was waiting on him, like he knew the answer to everything. It was damned if you do, damned if you don’t with this family, because no matter what Five said someone wasn’t happy with him. He sighed and flopped a pillow over his face, trying to drown out Diego and Luther’s arguing. At this point, he wished that Cobra Girl, or whatever the fuck her name was, would make him hallucinate he was on a tropical island with a fruity drink in one hand and Dolores in his other.

God damn it, he was tired.

Maybe this was for the best, though. Maybe they could just live here and be normal for once. After all, it didn’t seem all that bad. They just needed to avoid Dad’s merry band of Mega Assholes, but that should be easy enough. They could even keep the briefcase. He didn’t really need the reminder of that part of his life, anyway. The more he thought about it, the better it sounded. This was just what they all needed to start over.

Wait, where are all the lobsters? Fuck.

************************************************************************

“I swear there was a great vintage clothing store around here somewhere,” Klaus muttered to himself as he walked down the busy street, a few blocks from the hotel. He stopped and looked around, shading his eyes from the sun. He let out a frustrated groan. “The one time I could actually benefit from Ben being up my ass all the time. That jerk was like freaking Magellan.” He chuckled. “No wonder I’ve always been bad at directions. I usually just followed him.” Klaus caught the side-eye of a woman hurrying past him. “Aaaaand…now I’m talking to myself. Wonderful.”

As he stepped off the curb to try the other side of the street, he stopped dead in his tracks. Coming out of the café across the road, was an absolute dead ringer for Five. Well, an older version of him. But not like his real, 60 year-old version. More like the correct version, if the correct version had been allowed to age normally with the rest of his siblings.

It had to be him. Same dark hair swept to the side. Same lean build and sharp facial features. Same aggravated look on his face.

The one thing that was clearly wrong, besides the fact that he was roughly 30, was that he had two small children in tow, with one of them holding his hand. Then Klaus almost passed out when he saw a very pretty woman follow him out, putting her arm around his waist and kissing his cheek.

And Five just… smiled at her. Like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“What the…” Klaus started to wonder, before almost being run over by a delivery truck that came zooming down the street. “Shit!”

He stepped back onto the curb just in time, as the driver honked his horn and yelled obscenities at him as he drove past. But Klaus barely registered all of that. He couldn’t stop staring at his brother’s doppelganger, trying to figure out what to do about it. Would he even know Klaus? This was probably a completely different version that grew up here, in the Sparrow’s timeline and would have no idea that the Umbrella Academy even existed.

“Five!” Klaus yelled out, not even thinking.

The older version of his brother stopped and turned, looking for who might have called him.

“Fuck, it really is him,” Klaus muttered. “Five! Over here!” He waved his arms in the air, catching Five’s attention.

He watched as Five squinted across the street, then looked at the woman next to him, shrugging. The small girl holding his hand gave a sharp tug to get his attention, and Five let her pull him along down the sidewalk, taking one last confused look at Klaus over his shoulder.

“Fuck…now what?” Klaus said, one hand on his hip. “What would Ben say? He’d tell me I should not follow him and just go back to the hotel and tell Five. So…yeah, I’m going to follow him.”

Klaus stayed on the opposite side of the street, and hung back a little, but he followed Five and his family for a few blocks. As he paused behind a telephone pole, trying to hide for a few seconds to widen the gap between them, he was engulfed in a flash of blue light before being thrown against the side of a building, the front of his shirt clutched in someone’s hands, and a snarling voice speaking to him.

“Who are you and why are you following me?”

Klaus looked into the familiar green eyes of his brother, whose other version he had just recently been reunited with. There was no doubt it was Five now. Even without the spatial jump and the physical assault. When Klaus’s eyes dropped down to the fist that was clenching his shirt, he saw the tattoo that matched his own.

“Holy shit! Five, it’s really you!”

“How the fuck do you know my name? Who are you?” Five demanded again, pushing Klaus further into the brick wall.

“It’s me…Klaus! You know, your brother?”

Five paused, but didn’t loosen his grip at all. “What are you talking about?”

Klaus held his hands up in surrender, while also showing Five the inside of his left wrist. “See? It’s me! Numero Quatro. Remember?”

Five took a small step back, his eyes wide, but he still held tight. “Klaus?”

Klaus laughed. “Yeah! Hey buddy, how the hell are you?”

After a few more seconds of staring blankly at his brother, Five let him go and Klaus smoothed his shirt down. “I don’t understand. How are you here? This isn’t your timeline.”

“I know!” Klaus giggled. “It’s a LONG fucking story, one which my brother…well, you, actually, can explain much better than I can. But after a couple failed time travel attempts, here we are! And Dad was NOT thrilled to see us, let me tell you. Do you know he has a whole ass other family now? And Ben! He’s alive…or a version of him is alive. He seems like a real dick. But then there’s you, and look at you! All grown up and with a family? That’s so great! But how did you get here? How are you not a Sparrow?”

Five pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger and sighed before smiling at his long-lost brother. “Klaus, it is really good to see you, but please, give me a minute here. I need to think.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“So, how did you time travel here? With what resource?”

“To this particular timeline? A magical briefcase. Before that, it was just you.”

“Ignoring whatever the hell a magical briefcase is, do you mean you used my powers to time travel?”

“Yes, but with varying success.”

“Ok. So, there’s a version of me with you now?”

Klaus nodded. “Yes. And you are ADORABLE.” He saw Five’s frown of confusion. “You’re thirteen. Well, not really. You’re actually 58, since you got stuck in an apocalypse for 45 years and then messed up your own time math on your return to 2019. So, yeah, you’re super cute but, wow, are you ornery.”

Five thought for a moment before quietly mumbling, “So you must be from an alternate Umbrella Academy timeline where I still time traveled at thirteen, but with a different outcome.”

Klaus nodded. “Sure, that sounds about right.” Then he tilted his head in confusion. “Hang on, if you’re here and the same age as me, and you still have the Umbrella tattoo, then how did you get here and how are there two of you?”

Five frowned. “Again, I’m going to speculate, because I can’t be entirely sure. But from what you’re saying, it sounds like there were at least two original timelines where the Umbrella Academy and us and the rest of our siblings existed. I decided to defy Reggie and jump to the future in both of those timelines, except that’s where things went differently. It sounds like in your timeline, that version of me got stuck in the future with no way back. In my particular case, I jumped and instead of going forward in time, I went sideways and got stuck.”

“Sideways?”

“Meaning, I jumped to a different, alternate universe with the Sparrows, but the time remained the same. So, I grew up here, in this timeline but without good old Dad to raise me.”

“Oh right…” Klaus said, nodding as if he completely understood. “So, you’re not the same Five that rubbed hot chili oil in my underwear in retaliation for stealing your sandwich when we were twelve?”

Five looked taken aback, but then he gave a short laugh. “No, but I did dare MY Klaus to touch his junk after cutting up a habanero pepper, then proceeded to take his picture when he started screaming and pouring milk down his underpants.”

“Man, you really are an asshole in every timeline!” Klaus laughed. “Poor me.”

With a grin, Five shook his head. “It really is good to see you, Klaus. The last time I saw any of my siblings I was thirteen. I’m glad to see you made it out and are doing well.”

“Well…I wouldn’t go that far, but I made it out anyway. And what about you? So, you landed here and then what? I didn’t see you with the other assholes who were beating the shit out of us in our own home.”

“Oh, the Sparrows? Yeah, they are a special brand of dickheads, that’s for sure. Even as teenagers, they sucked. Which is why—”

Just then, a pulsing wave of…something…washed over them and the entire city block, only for it to reverse itself and disappear the way it came. As Klaus and Five stood there in shock, a lady that had been walking on the other side of the street screamed loudly. When they looked over, they saw her holding up a dog leash attached to an empty collar. She pivoted in place, scanning all around her while she called out “Winston!” in a panic.

“Well, that’s probably not good,” Klaus observed; head tilted to the side.

“Yeah, no shit,” Five snapped. He glanced down the street, where his family was waiting for him on a bench. They appeared to be intact and he let out a sigh of relief. “Listen, I have to get back to my family. I don’t know what the hell that was, but if I had to bet, I’d say it had something to do with Reginald. So, as much as I’d love to sit here and catch up, I have to go.”

“Oh,” Klaus said sadly. “Yeah, ok. But don’t you want to come meet the rest of the gang? We’re all staying over the Hotel Obsidian, if you know where that is –”

“You’re staying there?” Five asked incredulously.

“Yeah, why?”

“That’s Dad’s place. He owns it. Didn’t you know that?”

Klaus shook his head. “No, I had no idea. Are you sure?”

Five rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ve been tracking Reggie since I was a kid. That place is basically his evil lair, and even if I haven’t been able to figure out what is going on in there, it’s a safe bet it’s in nobody’s best interest except his own.”

“Sounds about right, actually,” Klaus mused. “But, hey! He’s not there now, and our siblings would love to meet you, I’m sure. And OUR Five…he’s such a little shit gremlin, you should see him…you…well, you know what I mean. Don’t you want to meet your other self?”

“I’m sure there are terrible consequences to that, actually.”

“Oh, come on…just for a minute…”

“Klaus! A mysterious, dog-eating, energy wave from hell just passed over the city and you want to start planning a family reunion? They aren’t even my real family, anyway! So…while this has been fun, I have to go. Good luck with everything.”

In another flash of blue, Five was gone; reappearing at the other end of the street where his wife and kids were still waiting. Klaus watched in fascination as Five hugged them, and then continued down the street in a hurry, keeping them close to him for protection.

“Well, this is some weird-ass shit, even for us, right Benerino?” Klaus closed his eyes and sighed when he realized he was alone again. “Damn it. I keep forgetting.”

************************************************************************

Five was helping himself to the large selection of booze the hotel bar had to offer, trying to find just the right single malt to drown his sorrows and help him forget the happenings of the day. He decided that things couldn’t really get worse, so he might as well get plastered. He rattled off the earlier events in his head as he tipped back a bottle of Japanese whiskey and swallowed down a large gulp.

Lila tried to kill me. BOTH fucking briefcases won’t work. Lila tried to kill me AGAIN. The Commission is dead and the world is soon to follow. My old, one-armed ass died in front of me without giving me one single piece of useful information except “don’t save the world.” Jesus, what an asshole. And now this kugelblitz shit. He took another swig, grimacing as it slipped down his throat and burned his stomach. Oh yeah, let’s not forget that I’m still stuck in this prepubescent body, which is all sorts of fun. Although I think I spied one single hair on my nuts this morning, so things are really starting to look up.

“Fuck,” he muttered before laughing sardonically at himself and taking another pull at the bottle. “I should have listened to you, Dolores. I should have waited until I was one-hundred-percent sure of the math, just like you said. But you know me, always impulsive. I’m glad you’re not here to witness this, my dear, because I really stepped in it this time.”

“Five! Holy shit, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!

Klaus came running up to the bar, out of breath and smiling. Five frowned before taking another sip of whiskey. “Well, I’m not sure where you’ve been looking because I’ve been right here for the last hour.”

“Well, yeah…I mean I just got here. But, still, I have big news!”

“I’m on the edge of my seat,” Five said dryly.

“I met you!”

“Excuse me?”

“You! Well, another you, but it was still you! But like, older, you know? But with the same Umbrella Academy tattoo and surly attitude. And let me tell you…I was right because you did grow up to be hot. So, never fear little bro, you are one smoking piece of ass once you get past this awkward phase.”

“Klaus,” Five said, running a tired hand down his face. “What in the fuck are you talking about?”

Klaus took a deep breath. “I was walking around, trying to find this store I used to like, when I saw you. Another version of you.”

Five set the whiskey bottle down with a hard “thunk.” He crossed his arms on the bar top and leaned in toward Klaus, his eyebrows drawing together. “Come again?”

“You, Fivey!” Klaus repeated, gesturing wildly to his confused, smaller brother. “And get this…you have a family! An adorable wife and two precious little children. You should have seen yourself in absolute domestic bliss.” Klaus put a hand to his chest. “Oh, it was precious.”

Five slow blinked a few times, trying to understand what his moronic brother was babbling about. The whiskey was slowing his processing speed and he needed to catch up. “Hang on,” he squinted, trying to keep things in focus. “You saw another version of me? And you talked to him?”

Klaus nodded. “Yes!”

“This is…” Five muttered, picking up the bottle, but then setting it back down again with a frown. “This is not good.”

“That’s what he said! Well, not those exact words, but pretty close. I tried to get him to come here and meet everyone but—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Five barked.

“What? I thought he’d like to see the other versions of us, since he comes from a different timeline, apparently. This you didn’t get stuck in an apocalypse, he just landed here instead. I don’t really understand everything and we didn’t have time to get into specifics before the scary energy tsunami killed the vibe.”

“Energy…what? Damn it, Klaus, I’m too drunk for this.” Five sighed heavily, dropping his head onto his arms before raising it again. He passed a hand through his hair, sweeping it out of his eyes. “Ok, listen carefully. Do NOT, under any circumstances, interact with my other self again. Understand?”

Klaus pouted. “Why? Aren’t you curious about this you?”

With a sorrowful look in his eyes, he shook his head slowly. “It doesn’t matter if I am or not. What matters is keeping us safe. You and our siblings. We can’t worry about anyone else right now, and that includes any other versions of ourselves that may be walking around. We just don’t have that luxury.”

“But…your kids…”

“They are not MY kids, Klaus! They’re HIS!” Five snapped, much more harshly than he had intended. He backed down a little. “I’m sorry. There’s too much at stake. Not to mention I can’t be trusted if I’m around another version of myself.”

“Oh, right…the psychosis thing. Yeah, Luther mentioned you went a little..” Klaus made a cuckoo bird noise and circled a finger next to his head. “I forgot about that.”

“Yeah, well I haven’t. It’s not exactly a great feeling to want to scratch your ball sack off while your doppelganger tries to murder you. You tend not to forget those things.”

“Point taken, mon frere.” Klaus grabbed a shot glass from behind the bar and poured himself some of Five’s whiskey. After throwing it back in one go, he looked around. “Alright, I have to go find everyone else and tell them the news. They aren’t going to believe this.”

As Klaus walked away, Five knew he should stop him. He needed to tell him about the kugelblitz, especially since it sounded like maybe he had already experienced a wave of it. But he had just been thrown some very heavy news and he needed time to think. It didn’t help that his brain was foggy with booze and he had already been in a maudlin mood even before Klaus had dumped this on him.

There was another version of himself walking around that city right now, not that far away. Another version that grew up in a normal world. That didn’t spend decades in a lifeless hellscape, scrounging to stay alive and slowly going insane. One that hadn’t fucked up his life, not once, but twice, with shaky math and a too-cocky attitude. And one that had a real family.

That was what Five kept circling back to. Klaus had seen him with a wife and two kids. Just the thought that there was an alternative life for him out there that included a real family nearly sucked the air right out of his lungs. A wife. A real wife that he presumably loved and that loved him in return. Children of his own.

It was too much. He couldn’t breathe and he furiously pulled at his necktie as if it were a noose tightening around his thin neck. Five pulled in loud gasps of air, but it still wasn’t enough. Grabbing the half-empty bottle of whiskey off the bar, he staggered towards the first bathroom he saw off the main floor. Panting with eyes wide, Five trudged to the old, grimy sink and stared into the mirror.

“Fuck you,” Five hissed to the skinny little shithead that was staring back at him. “You’re useless.”

He took a long swig from the bottle, his hand shaking on the way. As two small rivers of brown liquid seeped out of the corners of his mouth and down his chin, he lowered the bottle clumsily, hitting the side of the sink and smashing it into pieces. As shards of glass rained down onto the tiled floor, the pleasant tinkling sound echoing around him, Five laughed. It was a dangerous, demonic laugh that frightened even himself. He stopped abruptly, his hands clutching the sides of the sink, palms digging into the slivers of glass that had fallen there.

“You stupid asshole,” he snarled at the kid-version of himself. “You absolute piece of shit. Look what you’ve done. You’ve ruined everything.” He looked down sadly, then back up again. This time, instead of hate in his eyes there was only bottomless sorrow. “You don’t deserve that life. That’s why you ended up here, looking like this. Because you are the version that shouldn’t exist. You are the version that does not get happiness.”

Five’s cold eyes flitted down to the ground. There, lying next to his polished dress shoes that he had been so excited to complement his tailored suit, was a large piece of the broken bottle. The shard was long and tapered at the end to form a jagged dagger shape. Perfect for stabbing. Or slicing into a main artery so that someone, or yourself, would bleed out in a matter of seconds. Five stared at that piece of glass for far too long before slowly lifting his head again, facing himself in the mirror.

“I know. Don’t worry, Dolores…it was just a thought. Besides, that would be like drinking bleach while your car is flying off a cliff into a ravine. Why bother? Either way it ends the same.”

A few hours later, after cleaning the bathroom of any evidence, and composing himself back into a man in full control, Five found his siblings. It was clear that Klaus had filled them in on his discovery, and they all hushed as Five neared the group, although he noticed Klaus himself was missing. Pausing to grab himself a tumbler of scotch on the way, Five joined them. After stopping to take a casual drink, one hand in the pocket of his suit pants, Five gestured with his glass in hand.

“Alright, let’s hear it. I know Klaus told you, so let’s get this over with.”

“Five, you have a family! That’s wonderful!” Luther gushed.

“I guess I was wrong, maybe you do have a bit of domesticity in you,” Lila snorted.

Viktor shrugged with a smile and Allison rolled her eyes, neither of them saying a word.

Diego nonchalantly flipped a knife in his hand while eyeing Five up. “So now what? We have to deal with two of you? Because I can barely stand one of you.”

Five smiled his usual, acerbic smile. “Well, Diego, the feeling is mutual. But fear not; neither you nor I will be coming anywhere near my other self.”

“Why not? Klaus said the other you seemed perfectly nice after you stopped slamming him against a wall,” Luther said innocently.

Five sighed heavily, wishing for the umpteenth time that he didn’t have the sole responsibility of critical thinking skills in this family. “Because…” he began slowly, to make sure they were understanding, “Not only does it have the possibility of creating even more havoc to this timeline, there’s also the little matter of –”

“Oh!” Luther interrupted animatedly. “I remember! The paradox psychosis!” He turned to the rest of the family. “You guys missed it, but he kind of went a little…” He lowered his voice to a whisper even though Five could hear everything. “…psycho, if you know what I mean.”

“Jesus, Luther, I’m right here!” Five closed his eyes to try and regroup. “But, yes, paradox psychosis is the real deal. And there’s no way around that. So, let’s just focus on the task at hand, which is trying to get out of here before the world implodes with us in it.”

Five’s gaze landed on Lila, and he immediately knew she was up to something. “What the hell are you smirking at?”

She shrugged while sticking her hand up her short skirt and pulling out a small item. Five made a disgusted groaning noise. “God, please, whatever that is, I do not want it.”

“Oh, shut up, you little perv. Here,” she said with an eye roll, shoving the item into Five’s hand and forcing him to take it. “While you were having your little heart to heart with your freshly deceased corpse back at the Commission, I found this.”

Five peered down at his open hand. It was a syringe filled with a yellowish substance. On closer inspection, he could make out two words scrawled along the side, in what looked like his own handwriting. Paradox Juice.

“Paradox Juice?” he questioned out loud. He looked back up at Lila. “Is this what I think it is?”

She shrugged again. “Your guess is as good as mine. I assumed it was some sort of concoction to ward off psychosis should you ever have to meet with your doppelganger. The old, decrepit you probably made it during his time at the Commission.”

Five held the syringe up to the light and peered intently at the golden liquid inside. “Where did you find this?”

“On one of the tables in the bunker. When you so rudely had me leave during your existential crisis, I swiped them on the way out.”

“Them?”

“Oh yeah…” she reached up into her skirt again, revealing an identical syringe. “There were two.”

“How did you…where did you have those, because we just…I mean I’m pretty sure I would have found those when we were upstairs doing…what the hell?” Diego stammered; his dark eyes clouded with confusion.

“Don’t worry about it, honey,” Lila answered with a smile and a quick pat on his cheek. “Every girl has her secrets.”

“Well, regardless of this finding, there is no reason for me to make contact with my other self. I don’t see the benefit, and it could possibly do more harm, like speed the kugelblitz along,” Five explained while shoving both syringes into his inside suit coat pocket. He took another drink from his glass. “Let’s just forget it, ok?”

“Guys!” Klaus yelled as he rushed up to the group. “I have some bad news.”

***************************************************

Chapter Two: Homicidal Rage

As the seven of them trudged along the city streets, taking up the width of the sidewalk, and bumping into one another while grumbling and shoving each other in return, the sky began to darken. Another pulsing kugel wave washed over them and the surrounding buildings. They all watched in horror as every other living creature evaporated into ashes and blew away with the wind. In a matter of seconds, they were the only ones around.

“Fuck, this is not good,” Five groaned. “I really don’t see how finding my other self is going to help anything. Besides, for all we know, that wave right there just destroyed me.”

“We don’t know, but we have to try,” Viktor said. “Between the two of you, maybe you can figure out how to get the briefcase working again.”

Five looked dubiously down at the mangled black case in his hand. “I just don’t think my other self is going to welcome us into his home with open arms. I know I wouldn’t.”

“I’m telling you, Fivey, this you seemed much less ragey,” Klaus said. Five glared up at him. “See? That look right there, the one that means you want to rip my throat out? I didn’t get that from this other you.”

“Probably because that version is getting laid on a regular basis,” Diego murmured to Lila.

Ignoring his brothers, Five went back to his own thoughts as they continued down the street. When Klaus had told them Chet was kicking them out of the hotel due to “insufficient funds”, there was a moment of panic. They had no money and their only home was currently occupied by the world’s biggest assholes. Five glanced up at a giant billboard looming overhead featuring those same assholes, before looking back down at the ground. Fucking fuckers.

After a family meeting that involved more bickering and finger pointing, they had concluded that the only possibility, no matter how slim, of stopping the kugelblitz by returning to their correct timeline, was to track down the other Five and ask him for help.  Five had been the last hold-out in agreeing to the plan. He had no desire to find out what this other version was like. The one with the home and a wife and kids. Because he already knew the answer. He had everything and Five had nothing.

Allison, who had been leading the group, suddenly stopped, causing everyone behind her to cartoonishly crash into one another. She shoved Diego away from her with an irritated scowl, while continuing to look down at the piece of paper in her hand. She lifted her eyes to the building in front of them. It was a beautiful brownstone with magazine-worthy flowers and plants covering the front stoop; the gorgeous geraniums and petunias overflowing from their tasteful terracotta pots.

“I think this is it,” she noted.

“Damn, Five…nice digs. You must be doing well for yourself,” Diego commented after giving Allison a shove in return.

“Why do you assume Five is the breadwinner here? Maybe it’s his wife,” Viktor argued.

“I don’t. But Five is all smart and shit, I assume he’s probably some hot shot scientist or something.”

“Maybe his wife is a hot shot scientist,” Viktor shot back.

As the conversation quickly devolved into an argument among the entire group, Five remained silent. He peered up at the house in question. The one where the supposedly more successful version of himself resided. He stared at the flowers and the set of brick stairs that led to the front door with the cheerful looking wreath. He thought back on a time during the apocalypse when he and Dolores were scavenging for supplies. They had come across a destroyed row of brownstones just like this one, and he remembered finding broken shards of terracotta intermixed with the crumbling bricks. The odds that it had been this exact same house were pretty slim, but not impossible. Talk about fucking irony.

Five wiped the sweat from his brow and absent-mindedly scratched at his shoulder. Luther noticed and pointed his big meaty finger at Five.

“Dude! I saw that. You just scratched yourself.”

“Yeah, and you’re starting to sweat again,” Lila added, wrinkling her nose.

“I just walked several miles in a three-piece suit, of course I’m sweating. And people itch, Luther. Stop being dumb.”

“Denial,” Luther said, crossing his arms over his chest and nodding wisely. “Stage one.”

“God damn it! I am not…” Five started before scratching at his ass cheek, “…In denial, ok?”

“You do look a little weird,” Diego said, leaning in closer to Five in curiosity.

Five stuck his hand out, pushing his brother away with a palm to his face. “I do not look weird. Fuck, I need to take a piss.”

There were multiple grumblings around him, and Five was starting to suspect that maybe they had a point. He didn’t feel great. But…

“Hang on,” he said, glancing around and above him, looking crazier by the second. “This could be a trap.”

“How could it be a trap? He doesn’t even know we’re coming,” Allison reasoned.

Five whipped his head in her direction, eyes wide and manic. She took a small step backwards. “Because, dear sister…I am a fucking genius, remember?” He tapped his temple with his finger. “And I would anticipate our arrival. Probably set up some trip wires or something,” he mumbled, looking frantically around him.

“Ok, this is not going to get any better,” Luther told everyone.

Klaus nodded. “Yeah, Five, I think you need to take that shot of paradox juice.”

Remembering he had the two syringes in his jacket, Five took them out and held them up for everyone to see. “I’m not taking this, are you crazy? HE probably made these and poisoned them just to try and get rid of me,” he raged, pointing up at the house. “Paradox juice? You expect me to believe that I would come up with that lame ass name?” He turned to yell up at the windows facing the street. “I’m on to you, asshole!”

“Oh, for fucks sake,” Lila groaned. Mimicking Five’s powers, she blinked over to him, catching him off guard as she grabbed the syringes out of his hands. As Five began to protest, she looked over at Luther. “Hold him still, big guy.”

No stranger to taking orders, Luther immediately complied. Holding Five in place by pinning his arms to his side, he tried to reason with his struggling, smaller brother that it was for his own good. But that was like trying to reason with a cocaine-fueled raccoon, and Five snarled and hissed while trying to get away.

“Get your giant ape hands off of me! You tried to kill me before, I know you’ll do it again! LET ME G—OW! SON OF A BITCH!”

Lila sunk the needle of the syringe directly into the side of Five’s neck, pushing the plunger down and smiling gleefully while he writhed in pain.

“FUCK! FUCK FUCK FUCK…” Five screamed as Luther continued to keep him trapped.

“How long do you think it takes to work?” Viktor asked worriedly.

Lila shook her head. “No idea. Might not even work at all. Or I just killed him. But, you win some, you lose some, am I right?”

Everyone watched in fascination as Five slowly started to relax in Luther’s grip. His jaw unclenched and he stopped swearing. After about two minutes, the crazed look in his eyes left and he gazed at the concerned faces around him like a man waking from a dream.

“I think…I think I’m ok now,” he said weakly.

Luther leaned down, studying his face up close. “Are you sure? Because if I let you go and you kick me in the balls again, I am not going to be happy.”

Five shook his head. “No, really. I think that shit actually worked.”

Luther looked around for confirmation, and receiving nods of approval from everyone else, he let go of Five’s arms. Stepping back, he shielded his crotch from any unexpected backlash.

Five took in a deep breath of air and wiped away the last few drops of sweat that had been trickling down the back of his neck. Then he ran a shaky hand through his hair before straightening his suit coat and tie with as much dignity as he could manage.

“Sorry about that,” he told everyone, trying to regain his composure again. “If I said anything rude, I apologize. I was clearly not in my right mind.”

“So, no different than any other day,” Diego muttered under his breath.

Five shot him an irritated look, but said nothing. He turned to Lila. “Even though it was entirely unnecessary to stab me directly in the neck, you lunatic, thank you.”

“Happy to do it,” Lila grinned, slapping him hard on the back.

“Alright, then,” Five stated, rolling his shoulders back. “Let’s do this.”

As he took one step forward, the front door of the house swung wide open, revealing an older, and very sweaty and harried looking, version of himself. In his other self’s hands was a rifle that was trained directly at Five’s head.

“Don’t fucking move,” the other Five warned through gritted teeth.

Five paused, taking in the clearly psychotic version of himself before quipping. “Hey, asshole…the safety’s still on.”

As the alternate version lowered the weapon to check the safety, Five and Lila exchanged knowing glances with one another, before simultaneously blinking onto the porch. Appearing directly in front of himself, Five grabbed the rifle out of his doppelganger’s hands, while at the same time Lila stabbed the needle of the second syringe into his neck.

“AH! MOTHERFUCKER!” the other Five screamed, falling to his knees as he slapped a hand over the pinprick of blood that had started to seep out of the small puncture wound. “WHAT THE FUCK, YOU PSYCHO?”

Five threw the rifle down to Luther, who caught it in one hand, before turning to Lila. “Really? In the neck again? What is wrong with you?”

“I live for your pain.”

With a shake of his head, Five looked down at the panting, cursing version of himself. “Stop being a pussy. It’s not that bad.”

His alternate glared up at him. “Fuck you, Blue’s Clues.”

Lila laughed loudly. “Nice!” She held out her hand for a high five, but when she only received an icy glare from both men, she shrugged. “You’re too close to the situation, but trust me, that was hilarious.”

************************************************************************

“You have a lovely home, ma’am,” Luther said with an awkward smile as he sat scrunched on the couch between Klaus and Viktor.

The seven siblings, plus the older looking, alternate Five and his wife were gathered in the small living room. Five’s wife, who was introduced as Marie, sat perched on the arm of her husband’s chair, rubbing his back while he stared down his younger looking self.

“Thank you, Luther, that’s very kind.”

There was more awkward silence until finally Allison spoke up.

“Ok, so we obviously did not come here just for a friendly visit, although it is lovely meeting you two. However, we have a big problem. Our being in this timeline has caused a rift, so to speak, in the universe and now it’s trying to kill us.” She looked over at her smaller brother, who was standing with his hands shoved in his pockets, glowering angrily at his other self. “Five? Care to explain?”

Snapping reluctantly out of his stupor, Five faced his sister. “Right.” Then he addressed the other Five and his wife again. “So, as I’m sure you’ve noticed there are large energy waves pulsing over the city, erasing dogs and lobsters and now people.”

“Yeah, I have noticed. And I also happened to notice they started when Klaus here decided to follow me.”

Klaus started to protest, but Diego bumped him with his elbow, telling him to shut up. Five continued.

“Well, you are right about that. But it’s not Klaus’s fault, at least not solely. It’s all of ours. I thought we’d be able to remain here, just keeping a low profile, and live out our lives here. But, it seems the universe has other plans. So, we have accidentally created a kugelblitz and in a few short days it will destroy the entire universe.”

“Like a prolapsing rectum,” Lila added helpfully.

Both Fives looked at her with a frown and then turned back toward one another. The alternate Five set his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and steepling his hands under his chin. “So, you’re telling me that you group of assholes are the reason my family is going to be wiped out?”

Five nodded, actually looking a little sad. “I’m afraid so.”

“And you just came here to let me know, why? Just to give me a heads up? Mighty kind of you, thanks.”

Five gritted his teeth. “No, jacka—” He stopped mid-insult when Luther cleared his throat and gave him a look that said “Behave”. “No, that’s not why we came. We came…” He pushed a hand through his hair and he saw Marie bite back a smile as she recognized the same mannerisms as her husband. “We came to ask for help.”

“How am I supposed to help you? In case you forgot, James Bond, Jr., I AM you!” Marie gave him a pinch under his arm and the older Five jumped before looking just a tiny bit guilty. “Sorry.”

Five turned to his siblings, throwing his hands in the air. “See? I told you coming here was useless.” He turned to his doppelganger, leaning in with a caustic glare. “And just to remind you, shithead, I’m 28 years older than you, so watch your mouth.”

“Ok!” Luther jumped in, trying to salvage the conversation. “The thing is, Five,” he said, addressing the older version that was currently looking like he was considering punching his smaller self in the mouth. “We really do need your help. And you need his help. The two of you together are the only chance we have to stop this thing and get back to our correct timeline. Then you and your family, and the rest of the world, will be safe.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” the other Five said, tearing his eyes away from himself and turning to Luther. “My time travel math is just as shaky as his. I’ve been studying it my whole life, so it’s gotten better, but I still wouldn’t trust it. I certainly wouldn’t trust it with my wife and kids’ lives in question.” He placed a hand on his wife’s knee and squeezed it gently.

“Well, luckily, we won’t have to rely on just our powers,” Five explained, picking the black briefcase off the floor and holding it up for the other version to see.

“What the hell is that?”

Klaus piped up. “Remember I told you about the magical briefcase?”

The alternate Five nodded. “Yeah, I remember. So, how does it work?”

“Well, currently it doesn’t. Which is why we need you,” Five said.

The other Five took a skeptical look at the battered case. “How am I supposed to help? I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

Five sighed. “As it turns out, another version of ourselves created it, using our powers as its basic design. It’s one-hundred-percent reliable, unlike our blinks. That is, when the universe isn’t collapsing. Now, it’s a hunk of junk. That’s where you come in.”

“What makes you think I know how to fix it?”

Five’s mouth turned up at the corner with a smug smile. “Because, I know us. And I am willing to bet that you work in some sort of scientific field.” When he received no denial, he continued. “I am also willing to bet you have some sort of lab right here in your home where you’ve been working on time travel over the years, trying to perfect it.”

Marie laughed. “Wow, you are dead on with that. He’s made it his life’s work figuring out how to accurately time travel. Even when he was a teen, his mom said he was constantly in their basement working on it. She showed me pictures of him slumped over his desk, looking just like you actually, having fallen asleep while running his numbers. It was very cute.”

Five paused, thrown for a second by that comment. “His mom?”

The other Five nodded. “I was adopted after I jumped here,” he explained offhandedly. “So, what you’re telling me is that if we can get this briefcase up and running again, you can return to your rightful timeline, the universe will correct itself, and my family will be safe?”

Still dwelling on the fact that his other self had been adopted by different people, Five nodded slowly before collecting himself again. “Theoretically.”

The alt Five turned to look at his wife. “What do you think, darling?”

“Five, they’re your family, even if they aren’t from your same timeline. You told me how much you’ve missed them over the years, and now here they are! They need your help, and I know you can give it to them.” She brushed a piece of hair out of his eye with a sweet smile. “This is what you’ve been working towards. To use your powers for something good and big.” She kissed him, placing a hand on his cheek and he closed his eyes for a moment. “You can do this.”

He nodded and then turned back toward the group. “Ok, I will do what I can to help.”

“Thank you,” Allison breathed out with a sigh of relief. “Thank you, so much.”

“Better go show him your lab,” Marie told her Five. “In the meantime, you must all be starving. The kids were just next door playing, but I’ll have them come back and I’ll make dinner. Sound good?”

“I know I could eat,” Luther said excitedly while Viktor rolled his eyes at him.

“That would be lovely, Marie, thank you. Can we help?” Viktor asked.

************************************************************************

As the two Fives made their way down the basement steps, neither of them said a word. Five was still reeling from the brief bit of information he had just received about his 30 year-old self. This other Five had been adopted by someone other than Reginald. And from the sounds of it, they were nice, normal people. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, trying to clear his head and focus on what he needed to do. But it was extremely difficult when all he kept thinking about was how this alternate version of himself had been given the chance for a normal life while he just kept getting shit on over and over again. It was maddening to think about, and if he let it fester in his mind, he was going to go crazy.

Fuck, he needed a drink.

As his other self flipped the light switch on at the end of the stairs, the overhead lights flickered on with a quiet hum. Five stopped on the bottom stair and took everything in. The space wasn’t huge, but every single usable square inch was filled with something. Long work tables scattered with tools and notebooks, empty coffee cups and paper plates filled with crumbs. The walls were lined with white boards; each one crammed with lines and lines of familiar equations and scribblings. It was surreal to see his own handwriting and obvious work in a place he’d never set foot in before.

As he scanned over the jam-packed computer desk against the far wall, his eyes fell to the framed picture sitting amongst the clutter. It was the other version of himself, with Marie and his two kids. It must not have been taken that long ago, because the two adults looked the same. The kids in the picture looked to be about four and six. A girl and a boy. The four of the them were on a beach somewhere, the sun shining down and making the water behind them sparkle. The girl was perched on her dad’s shoulders, a pink sunhat on her head. The boy was standing in front of Marie, grinning widely with a plastic bucket and shovel in his hand. The other him was smiling directly at the camera, while his pretty wife looked lovingly over at him. Five had never seen himself smile like that before. He had no idea that’s what he looked like when genuinely happy. It was off-putting, to say the least.

“You ok?” the other Five asked gruffly when he realized his older yet smaller self seemed frozen to the spot.

 Five cleared his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. So what is all this stuff?”

“Well, I’m sure you recognize the equations and proofs,” he said, pointing to the white boards. He gestured to the tables. “I’ve been working on developing a type of time travel system, much like that briefcase. Some sort of object that could be programmed specifically to a certain date and time, so we don’t have to rely solely on our powers. Like—”

“A watch,” Five finished for him.

The other Five nodded. “Exactly.”

“I never did understand the briefcase,” Five mused. “It’s so bulky.”

“I assume it’s bulletproof, though?”

Five scoffed. “Don’t get me started.”

“Well, anyways, have a look around. Maybe something here can help, I don’t know. I’ve never really tried it in practical application before. It’s always been theoretical.”

“That’s ok,” Five said, setting the briefcase on top of one of the tables. “We have this as a guide. We can see if the inner workings of the case make sense in comparison to your work here. Then maybe we can piece things together to create a working timepiece.”

The alternate Five nodded thoughtfully again, studying his other self. “Hang on,” he said before striding over to the desk and opening the bottom drawer. He pulled out a bottle of single malt scotch and two glass tumblers. After filling each one halfway, he handed one over to Five.

“I recognize the need for a drink,” he explained with a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Five accepted the glass, trying to disguise the fact that he was practically salivating at the sight. Needing a drink was an understatement. He wanted the whole damn bottle. But he didn’t need to be getting drunk at a time like this. And he also didn’t need to be showcasing his shortcomings to this clearly sober, well-adjusted, life-is-just-peachy-keen version of him, either. The fact that he was a raging alcoholic with unhealthy coping mechanisms didn’t seem pertinent to the current situation. Instead, he lifted the glass in a toast and took as generous of a swallow as he dared. The whiskey was smooth and it tasted so fucking good, Five had to silently tell himself to not slug the whole thing back in one gulp. He watched as the other him took a leisurely sip from his own glass. He probably goes to church every Sunday, too. Fucking Mother Theresa over here.

“So, where do you work?” Five asked, trying to change the subject.

“Over at the university.”

“Physics department?”

“Naturally.”

Five nodded. “That’s where I always figured I’d end up, too. Just…didn’t work out for me.”

“Yeah, what happened? Klaus said something about a different apocalypse?”

Five paused, staring into his glass. “Let’s just get to work, ok?”

The other version shrugged. “Sure thing.”

[rosakuma]

Sorry for another post guys, Imma be annoying about this chapter a lot with everything that happen but I also wanted to say this

Y’all and I swear, none of you all better not hate on Eden just because she wasn't the culprit. I know some of y’all wish it wasn't Ace and I wish it wasn't too. You don't know how so bad I wish it was someone else and I didn't even want it to be Eden. I only thought it was Eden because at the time, she seemed more suspicious than Ace + I didn't think him being the culprit fit narratively(I see now tho). If you want to get mad at one of the characters for what has happen, get mad at the ones who caused it in the first place. Get mad at Veronika(although I still love you Veronika), get mad at Arturo(I still like you too), get mad at David, get mad at Hu. Actually Hu and David is really the entire cause of this chapter’s deaths with David causing fights over the motives and Hu fricken defending Nico constantly when she could’ve just understood both sides. But noo she had to defend a almost murder instead of the guy who almost died and now is gonna die.

Sighs.……Look at the end of the day these characters are fictional and Dev is allow to write however they want the story to be. I think even if I would’ve preferred a different route and that this trial felt off in the second half near the end. This chapter has been amazing and I cannot wait for when we eventually get to ch.3 or even extra content like the bonus episodes, FTEs, or even maybe another Mv. So let's not get mad at each other or blame the wrong person or character over what happened okay? We don’t want us to end up like the cast with how their infighting and distrust caused everything to go hill for them.

EDIT: Okay just adding this to be safe, but also I know I gave examples of characters to be mad at instead. But y’all also don’t go crazy about them okay? Or at least don’t go crazy towards any of characters I mentioned above’s fans(I don’t want to see any potential drama of some people getting at any Hu, David, Veronika, or Arturo fans kay? We’re all humans here and Arei and Ace proves that).

[longing-for-rain]

Just so you know, some of your anons are coming from a blog called @mal3vol3nt

I do not know if you’re aware, but she’s chronically obsessed with you and has also been sharing your ao3 on Twitter and inciting harassment there too, saying you’re “racist” and a “degenerate” and accusing you of writing underage. Her blog lately is mainly posts about you and it sounds very similar to some of your anons

I had to check this out for myself and...wow. All I can say is just...wow 🤣

No, I actually had no idea who this person was but from the looks of it she's been obsessed with me for months? I guess that explains the anons, I knew these people were mad, but apparently they've been over here steaming over my takes and are legitimately terrified of me. And I didn't even know them! Didn't realize I've been doing numbers on Twitter (or X whatever it is now) despite never having an account.

(The rest is below; please don't click if you do not wish to see insensitive discussions of rape or if you are not in the mood to read opinions so malformed they will melt your brain)

I guess I have another angry little troll who doesn't know what a captial letter is obsessed with me. Wish I could say it was the first time, but alas. A lot of particularly funny things here though.

> Advertising your terrible ragebait Twitter like anyone finds you important

Lmao.

> "write fanfiction of katara being raped so zuko can save her"

What a terrible misread of the point of that story, but then again, I don't expect much else from a terminally online crybaby who exclusively consumes media for children. If you can't handle adult discussions about adult topics, maybe don't read stories that are clearly marked 18+ and with far more extensive trigger warnings than any mainstream media will give you.

> "measuring the size of her breasts and hips"

Lmao. I said she is drawn differently in different scenes. That's it. You guys are another level of unhinged.

> "obviously fetishes and racism"

It's kind of creepy how they sexualize Zutara, while simultaneously accusing us of doing that. Why do you assume a fetish is the only reason behind someone liking a ship? Why would you say this about a group of people including many black, brown, and indigenous women? And minors? And if you want to get into the whole fetish thing, don't even get me started on the shit I've seen from the kataang fandom. Hint: when I say some of you have a "mommy fetish" I mean it in a very literal sense. Not to mention the whole kataang rape discord debacle.

> "sick fantasies about these minor characters"

I have never depicted a minor in a sexual situation. I make a point to explicitly avoid doing that, and all characters are depicted as adults. Your lack of media literacy isn't an argument. If you're going to criticize my writing, at least read it, which you clearly didn't. And if the content is too upsetting for you, you clearly lack the maturity to engage in these kinds of discussions.

Imagine treating ship discourse this seriously, actually unhinged. Who said that Ember Island Players is the real Katara? What? She talks a big number about coke-fueled rants, must have given it a try herself. How do you expect to be taken seriously when you never say anything of substance and screech "racism" or "colonizer" every other word but can't even articulate the significance of those terms? Honestly, at this point you sound like a right-winger who thinks saying "but I'm [identity] and I agree with [opinion]" is a golden ticket to winning every argument.

And look at this: apparently I deserved all the things she and her friends sent me? Actually I respect this take, at least she's honest about it unlike the people who cry and backpeddle when they get caught red-handed.

I'm actually cackling at this one. Genuinely laughing; my neighbors are probably concerned. It's like you took every single Bad Person Allegation and threw it into a blender. And to top it all off, apparently 24 is "pushing 30" now LMAO. And apparently I, a lesbian, could only possibly like Zutara because I think Zuko is hot. Not to mention the way they entirely miss the point of Zutara, but ATLA itself, by insisting that Zuko is a "violent imperialist" who is apparently unworthy of love by anyone who does not share his skin tone. Kind of ironic coming from the people crying that I'm a racist who doesn't understand the show. Next level clownery.

This is so funny. These people are absolutely terrified of me, no amount of unhinged anons will hide that. It's fine for men to tell me I deserve rape and death, that I'm a dirty pervert for daring to speak out about sexual trauma, and that women's sexual trauma is nothing but a fetish, but if I respond to that man telling him he should die for being so disrespectful and misogynistic to rape victims, I'm the monster? I stand by it. If you think what he said about rape and rape victims is acceptable, especially if you're a man, die! Hang from ropes, as I said.🥰

I guess I should be really scared though. This is clearly a very influential figure in the fandom who is renowned for her enlightened wisdom on the plight of fictional cartoon characters against evil imperialists like me (adult with job).

...oh wait. I was excited for a minute, I thought I was dealing with a celebrity. But even the "callouts" struggle to hit 20 notes :/

And to everyone sending me positivity during this time, thank you very much! But I wanted to show you this to assure you I'm doing just fine. People can act as weird as they want behind a gray face, but after seeing the kinds of whiny little brats they are in reality, it's pretty hard to take it seriously. "I got my plane ticket" my ass, that would require you to leave your decaying, trash-filled apartment.

[crossbackpoke-check]

it’s all the rest of what i want with you

connor dewar/brandon duhaime :: 8k

Summary:

“Brandon,” Connor says with a sigh. “There’s no baby in there.”

“Not yet,” Brandon says. Connor feels his stomach twist, almost like what he would imagine a baby kicking to feel like.

in these trying times of dewvorce, may i offer you 8k of pwp inspired by @stillfertile’s wonderful art which i had. several breakdowns about 🫶 anyway please enjoy!!!

[itsalwaysforyou]

jay not asking coach about letting lonnie onto the team bc he doesn’t want to do anything coach might disagree with…….

[fountainpenguin]

"Why do you enjoy predator-prey species dynamics and/or cannibalism content so much?"

Well see, when I was a wee child, Mario & Luigi: Partners In Time gave us a canon lifeforce for Toads and made us watch it get sucked out of them so they turn into item mushrooms, and I spiraled into building an entire lore system about Koopas eating Toads for extra lives and Bowser getting abused by his mom for trying to end that custom (and befriend Princess Peach) until he finally snaps and tumbles through the path of growing increasingly bitter as both the Mushroom and Koopa Kingdoms lose faith in him and his horrific decisions, and I've been chasing that high ever since <3

[wereh0gz]

Is my discomfort with my boobs gender dysphoria, body dysmorphia, or just a general discomfort with the sensations of having a human body that comes with possible neurodivergency

[daddyplasmius]

hand on my stupid heart flashbacks

this is a No One Knows AU & Full Hazmat AU where Danny ended up in the Ghost Zone & didn't go back into the human world initially because he thought he was dead. by the time he realized he is, in fact, at least half alive, he'd already been missing for at least 2 weeks. will probs never finish homsh sorry. i wrote this a couple years ago in a haze & just haven't been able to finish it because i can't replicate the style, which i find is what i love about this fic the most. it wouldn't be the same without it. posting the flashback introsーwhich are meant to be read between chapters/the actual plot, starting after chapter 1ーcuz fuck it. excuse typos & shit, i never properly edited it, as i forgot it existed immediately after i wrote it original description of homsh: Danny Fenton has officially been missing for over a year. Maddie & Jack Fenton refuse to give up on their son. Sick and tired of the police running them in circles, and the case getting colder by the day, the Fentons turn to their last resortーPhantom. 800~ words (full unfinished fic is 20k~)

-

When Danny woke up surrounded by thick, green fog, and couldn’t breathe without swallowing heavy air that was more like water than anything, he was sure he was dead. The portal glowed behind him, illuminating the pitch darkness around him in soft, yellow, warm light.

He almost went back.

Almost.

He was dead. His parents were ghost hunters. They had drilled into his head from the moment he was born that he could never, ever panic in death. That he would accept it. That he would not be scared. So he would be prepared to be brave in the face of death and would not become a ghost.

He panicked. He did not accept it. He was terrified. And so he woke up in the Ghost Zone.

-

Danny went back through the portal when he saw some ectopuses acting… strange. Like they had an idea in their heads. Like they had a plan.

Which was weird, with animal ghosts. He had only been in the Ghost Zoneーmom and dad called it that, he rememberedーfor a couple weeks. Or, he had already been there for two weeks. Or maybe time worked differently and he was there five minutes, or four years orー

The ectopuses went through the portal and, despite everything, Danny went after them.

While he was busy reeling at being home, the ectopuses immediately attacked dad. Danny was horrified. Jack was overwhelmed. Danny stepped in, in a moment fueled by sheer adrenaline and stupidity, snatching a Fenton Thermos™ off a shelf and releasing his shaky invisibility. The ectopuses didn’t stand a chance. And when they were safely in the Thermos, he slowly turned around to dad, ready for the confrontation. Ready for the “what happened to you?” and the “where have you been?” and the “we’ve missed you”.

Dad scrambled to shoot at him.

Danny fled.

His parents didn’t recognize him.

-

The Lunch Lady attacked when Danny was mourning Halloween.

He’d waited all year. He made a costume that summer. He wouldn’t get to go trick or treating with Sam and Tucker this year. Or any year. For the rest of his lifeーor existence. Whatever.

The Lunch Lady appeared in the school and demanded in straight fury, “Who changed the menu?”

Everyone pointed at Sam.

Danny hadn’t known just how powerful ghosts could be. His parents never told him the specifics. Just that they were dangerous.

This ghost grew and her aura hit him like a hurricane, almost physically pushing him back. It was so strong that the students in the Casper High cafeteria seemed to feel it too.

The Lunch Lady was a much harder opponent than the ectopuses. She levitated meat. She used it as a weapon, and seemed to bring it back to life. She created weird meat creatures that grew sharp teeth and claws out of bones. They were mindless, attacking everything that got too close to the ghost. Danny would have run away without hesitation, if Sam hadn’t been in the crossfire.

Danny fought the Lunch Lady. It was a long struggle, but he caught her in the thermos after over an hour. When he turned to Sam and Tuckerーboth of whom he had to save due to Tucker trying to jump into the fightーall three of them bloody and bruised, he cringed. But a part of him hoped. Desperately.

Surely they would know him on sight.

“Wh-what are you?” Sam gasped at him finally.

Danny flinched as if she had struck him. “J-just… your friendly neighbourhood phantom.”

-

Danny didn’t know what possessed him. Oh. Pun not intended.

He just barely caught the Fentons leaving in the GAV, dragging suitcases behind them. He couldn’t help himself. What on Earth were they doing?

They were going to Vlad Master’s mansion for their college reunion.

It was a whole thing. But something was off. Besides all the adults reminiscing about the 80’s.

Danny sensed ghosts immediately but he couldn’t see anything. Unfortunately for him, Vlad could also sense him. It was two days of Danny staying invisible, and Vladーthe halfa? Is that what Danny is?ーtrying to kill Jack. Somehow, Danny managed to fight off Vlad, not turn back, and without the Fentons getting hurt. His secret intact.

VladーPlasmius, also learned about Phantom. And Vlad hated him. The manーghostーwhatever, seemed to only care about one thingーpossession. Of money. Of things. Of people. He was more ghost than Danny had ever seen. Vlad’s obsession was overwhelming.

Danny couldn’t believe someone so much like himself could be so disturbing.

[arolesbianism]

Thinking abt Sif Odile duo looping au again and I wanna be able to plot everything out more coherently but act 5 eternally looms overhead and boy I do not wanna look up

[lurking-latinist]

⛵

[the-halfling-prince]

The B plot of the bmw season 3 episode Stormy Weather (you know, where Mr Turner, and Shawn's gf's mom decide to date) is like funny as a concept but also every time Shawn and Dana do that "oh no if they date we'll be step siblings!" thing it makes me lose my goddamn mind. Y'all know me, y'all know I'm obsessed with the Jonathan Being Shawn's Dad™ thing, and that episode really went "uhhh duh obviously Shawn sees Jonathan as his dad" like why did they do that to meeeeeeeeeeeee

[lieutenantselnia]

Internet archive I love you❤️❤️❤️

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Ambitions, or; What I'd Like To Read By End Of Year.

Behold: (Part of) my TBR! I wanted to reorganize books today, and I figured while I was moving things around I might as well put them in stacks of To Be Imminently Read.

The top four are the last of my Driscoll-adjacent reads to see me through the end of August (I might end up doing Split Tooth before then, too!). Then some writing stuff for a Between Projects Palate Cleanser, and then Hench through One Hundred Years of Solitude is my gearing-up-for-NaNo stack (not featured: Vicious and Vengeful, currently boxed up, but will reread). Babel and Bitch Queen are for after NaNo!