#probably i should make a better post with all directions (there's very few directions)

[vorakh]

🌫️ SCARED AND TERRIBLE AIR SATURDAY 🌫️

“Commissar, no commissar.„

Group reading for the second chapter of Sacred and Terrible Air! Join the meeting on next Saturday March the 30th all day on the Pale Acceleration for Dummies server!

[37-drc89]

the way things go; lee minho

❁ nothing warms your heart more than his presence.

trope: roommates to lovers.

genre: comfort, slight angst, work exhaustion, happy ending.

summary: finally understanding that your failure doesn't scare him away.

warnings: blood, mention of overprotective parent, family problems, let me know if i should put anything more in here.

word count: 3,7k.

masterlist

note: this is very much my first fic here, like, ever. i'm still green in tumblr, any links and mostly making posts look good, but i'll eventually master it. i look forward to seeing your opinions and things i can change or make better, i'll appreciate every comment. and, please remember that english is not my first language! if you see any typo or something doesn't make sense, please inform me! thank you:)

Coming back home on Friday after whole week of working your ass off really feels like a walk of shame. You feel like everyone passing by can tell how awfully you did at your workplace today. And they wouldn't be wrong, the amount of scolds your boss threw in your direction through past few days is worryingly numerous.

Whether it was missing out on paper work your boss asked you to do for him, because you were so sure the deadline was set on the day after, or accidentially knocking off of your desk whole cup of hot, sweetened tea that later on you had to scrap off of the covering, under the strict eye of the middle aged man that scared you so much. Especially with the amount of misfortune that chased after you lately, like it was glued to you.

Cringe makes its way to your face. You're shuffling your way to your apartment, not really in a hurry, feet lazily dragged after you as you didn't even have any strenght to properly lift them off the ground. You most likely look like you've been partying for at least three nights in a row, but you can't find it in yourself to care about it. Not now.

Seeing the building in which your apartment is placed have never felt so relieving and you can feel your legs giving up under your weight just at the thought of splashing on the bed and dozing off. Vision of passing out on the sidewalk doesn't seem appealing to you, so you rush yourself to the door, typing entrance code and walking into the elevator, stairs not even crossing your mind. Your tired body slumps itself against the wall as you patiently wait to get to the 6th floor, finding relief in having something to support yourself on. Finally getting to the door you can't help but feel excited, tapping your feet happily just at the thought of making up every hour of sleep you've missed this week because of your busy schedule. You slide the door open and the very first thing reaching your ears is eager meowing, three fur balls appearing at the entrance immediately. You can't help but smile, kneeling to give each of them gentle head pat before taking off the coat and shoes. This truly felt like a bliss, like you've just slid off a bag of stones off your back. Sigh leaves your mouth, heading to the kitchen you turn on the kettle as your tea craving grows with every second. Soonie appears next to you, sitting at the table just across from you. You've grown so friendly with your roommate's Minho's cats that neither you nor him have any problem with kitties occupying places people normally wouldn't let them sit on.

Then you freeze for a second.

You look at Soonie.

Soonie looks at you.

Your brows furrow and the cat goes back to whatever he was doing previously.

Fuck.

Minho is coming home today. He's been away for past five days due to his business trip, that was probably exhaustion fogging your mind enough to forget about this. He's coming back today. And your apartment looks like a bomb has been detonated right in the middle of it all. You can't risk him seeing how messy you got, Minho is always the one to put stuff at the right place, making his bed no matter in how much of a hurry he's in, always the one to do the dishes and basically make everything look perfect. You can't see him disappointed in you for such an easy thing, he'll think you don't even gather your life together. Not like you do, but it's nothing in his business, you shouldn't become another one of his problems. He's just your roommate and the only thing you share and should take care of is apartment that is now in complete mess. You can blame it on your lack of time, barely spending any time at your place recently, but that won't help in current situation.

Quick glance at the time, 4:23 pm, you reach out for your phone to scroll up the conversation with your friend to make sure how fast you have to act.

He's back in town at 5 pm. Could this possibly get any worse?

You scold yourself internally for letting this whole situation happen. But you don't have time to think about this now, and as you turn off the kettle you speedrun to the livingroom, gathering scattered clothes from all around the place. You blame it on Monday when you got up so late you didn't even have time for brushing your hair and of course, the shirt you were looking for was nowhere to be found. Out of all things, it was the one you needed that day.

Then you pick up empty cans of soda, bottles of water and cups of coffee from the table and quickly throw them into the dishwasher. You blame it on Tuesday, the night you realised you have to write that fucking paperwork you got scolded for missing on Monday. So you sat there for hours, head empty, taking breaks only when your tired tears started wetting your pages, scared that all your miserable efforts will be ruined.

Rushing to Minho's room you pick up blanket and pillows from his floor. You blame it on Wednesday, the day you were already on the edge of breaking down and giving up on your job. Even though the boy is only a roommate for you, you've grown so used to his presence you started finding peace in it. Even after the worst day you knew that someone will always be there waiting at your apartment to serve you cup of hot chocolate and bowl of ramen, to take your turn of folding laundry or just listen to how appaling your day was. But he wasn't home and it left you all to yourself which was never the best idea. So, seeking for at least tiny bit of comfort, you slept on his floor. That sounds so fucking stupid and weird when you think about it now, but just the aura Minho left in his room made you feel a bit closer to him. Reminds you of every time he invited you over to play some online games for 12 year olds or spill any tea that happened at his work. Though, you never wanted to interfere his private space, so sleeping in his bed didn't even cross your mind. Floor was just sufficient for you, and you let your tears flow that night, just as much as you needed it. You know he would understand. He might seem cold to others, but you know he would. He already unwrapped his side of him to you letting you see that truly, inside, he's softer than anyone you know; It's all for Soonie, Doongie and Dori. They really do get the best of Minho.

Going back to the kitchen, you gather empty boxes of instant ramen, snacks and every ready shop food that you could possibly find at the convenience store. You blame it on the whole week of rushing, not even having time to eat a proper meal. You can feel it down your stomach, body demanding anything that could properly feed it and give it any strenght to function as it should be functioning. Honestly, you can't recall the last time you didn't feel sick. Lump in your throat was your loyal companion since a week ago, constant urge to throw up not leaving your body even when you were falling asleep and you know you'll have to appreciate normal, nutritions food more.

You run around the apartment holding a wet towel, wiping quickly every mirror hung on the walls as you know nothing pisses Minho more than fogged glass. So you try your best to do it carefully, just like he does it. Reaching the last mirror placed in the front hall you eagerly wipe it, aware of your lack of time. Then it all happens at once.

Shitty food, lack of sleep, liters of coffee and ungodly amount of stress feel like kicking in all at once, like it's been gathering in your exhausted body for the whole week just for this one moment that you needed to be fucking careful.

Vision blurry, feet suddently tripping over itself, mind going blank just for a second, but second is enough for you to try holding yourself onto the small table placed right under the mirror and shaking it so hard when sudden thump reach your ears, followed by loud sound of shattered glass. You don't want to look. Because you're fully aware of what just happened. You don't want to look but you do. Eyes landing on the remains of now broken vase, water all over the floor, flowers that were resting inside it now cut in half and completely soaked.

And it was Minho's favourite vase. The first and the last thing he always glanced at when leaving or coming back home, admiring its beauty, pretty patterns, unique shape and the prettiest flowers inside. Flowers that he got for his 25th birthday that passed not so long ago from his dearest best friend Jisung. Flowers that he was so happy to receive, first thing he did after coming home that day was showing them to you, proudly, ranting about how they perfectly suit the room. And you ruined it all.

Your body slides slowly on the wet floor, water soaking your pants on your knees and you support yourself on the palms of your hands not to completely fall into the mess. You feel small pieces of glass ripping open your delicate skin of your hands, small streams of blood making their way to the floor, mixing with spilled water but you couldn't care less. Elbows start to shake under the weight of your body, shoulders tensing and your head falls, your own quiet sobs reaching your ears. It quickly turns into uncotrollable groans and whines, tears now flowing down your face with no end, nose already full, loose hair stick to your now completely soaked cheeks.

And you blame it on yourself. You could seek for anything to put his all on, like your boss, for making you feel useless for not even managing to do your fucking job properly and assigning you more work than anyone else in your department. Or your mother for not teaching you how to manage your time and how to function on your own, her overprotectiveness during your childhood and teenage years showing so often that you never even got any time to learn adult life before stepping into it. But you know it isn't their fault, no matter how hard you try to think that it is. You let yourself into this situation. You let yourself be in the state you're currently in. You didn't try hard enough to make yourself a decent person. There's no one you can blame but you.

Your endless cries must've muffled the sound of door cracking open, eyes reaching only feet of your roommate that was now standing at the entrance. You couldn't look up, even if you wanted to, you couldn't look Minho in the eyes. Not when he's witnessing your failure and the mess you made out of something so dear to him.

Meanwhile Minho stood there, body frozen, gazing at your tiny figure splashed on the floor, shoulders shaking. He doesn't even notice the crashed vase at first, your current state drawing all his attention immediately to you.

He doesn't give himself any time to think much longer about what's happening in his front hall right now, dropping bags he's been holding in his right hand and suitcase on his left and appearing at your side the second after, kneeling by your vulnerable body on the floor.

"Hey, hey.." Minho lightly lays his hand on your shaky back, carefully caressing it to soothe you. "Easy now, I'm here."

The only respond he gets is your dramatic, loud sob ripping out of your heavy chest. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Minho... Is the only thing you could get out of yourself, followed by another set of pretty disgusting, wet cries.

"Are you hurt? Let me see your hand, please," your roommate asked quietly not to scare you after noticing red coloured drops beside your knees. Gently, he took your harmed hands into his and studied small pieces of glass stuck in your skin. "Let's get it cleaned, okay?"

His hand makes its way to your waist and he stands up slowly, careful not to make any sudden moves that could put you in pain. He shuffles you to the bathroom and helps you sit on the toilet seat and starts preparing alcohol and wet towels.

You feel pathetic.

Not only you ruined his special item, something so important and beautiful, but now he has to take care of someone that caused all the damage. You feel helpless once again, like you couldn't do anything fucking right for once. Once.

Your caring roommate starts removing glass shatters from your wound, his tongue sticking out a bit from the corner of his mouth, fully concentrated in his task. He knows that if his hands twitch even a little bit, he might hurt you even more, and let me tell you, his hands are trembling. He can't recall a situation when he saw you in such state.

You always seem tough, tough against any misfortune that meets you. You surely talk to him when you need some shoulder to lay on, about your worse days and he's cautious enough to notice when you're exhausted. But he's never seen you at your breaking point, starting to believe you don't have any. Yet you're here, in front of him, not even being able to speak properly. He can't help but feel kind of relieved at the whole situation knowing that your hard, protective shell cracked a little bit, letting him see something he's never seen in you before. Weakness.

"This might sting a bit," Minho informs you as he presses alcohol soaked paper to your wound. Whimper leaves your mouth at the unpleasant feeling and you hang your head down. He quickly wraps bandage around your hand and clasps it between his warm palms.

"Hey, you don't have to worry about that the hall. I'll take care of it, okay?" He tries to lower himself, kneeling in front of you, so he can get a better glimpse of your puffed face. You shake your head and straighten your back, looking at him with serious expression.

"No." You sniff, "No, I broke it, I broke something so important to you and it's my fault. I'll clean it. I'll buy you a new one, the same one, I promise Minho."

His hands make their way to your back, slowly, eyes remaining on you for any sign of discomfort. When you sneakily lean into the touch, Minho pulls your body entirely towards his, clasping your weak figure into his arms and sways you left and right, wanting to feel your muscles relax in his embrace.

"What's wrong, hm? My roommate senses are tingling," his voice muffles itself by pressing his mouth against your shoulder, "Talk to me, y/n, please?"

"I had the worst week ever here, without you."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You just shake your head no, holding onto his waist tighter than ever. You feel him nod. His calm aura pulls you in completely, feeling like walking into hot building during snowy, cold winter. Your cheeks warm up, pressing right below his neck, his body warmth transferring itself to you.

"It's lowkey weird." You choke out, coughing right after because of how stuffed your poor throat felt.

"What is?"

"You comforting me while I'm sitting on a toilet seat."

You manage to let out throaty chuckle to light the atmosphere up, however, you can't help the warm stream of tears flowing right after.

"Want to move it to the livingroom?" Minho pulls out of the hug slightly, setting his gaze at your red face again and your eyes make their way to the floor. You still haven't looked him in the eyes, not even once, as you're scared of the wave of guilt that will follow. As if the one you're feeling right now isn't enough. You feel like a child scared to get shouted at by their parents.

Minho crouches down in front of you and you hum in question, brows furrowed. He only gestures with his hand for you to hop onto his back, already positioning your legs on his hips. You groan but don't protest, you know how Minho is and you know fighting him is hopeless. Wrapping your arms around his next securely and glueing your chest onto his back, you melt into the warmth of his body. He stands up, feeling your breath tickling the skin behind his ear and smiling to himself, noticing how it got much steadier than it was before. He leads both of you out the bathroom and again, the sad view of Minho's favourite vase on the floor, not really looking any similar to vase anymore, hits you, shoving another wave of guilt through your nerves. You close your eyes and rest your forehead on your roommate's shoulder.

"I'm truly, so, so sorry Minho. I never meant to do this, I was just trying to make the place look presentable for you and it ended like it always does." the words left your mouth as quiet squeak, taking another deep breath before speaking again; "Yet you still have to clean the mess I did, like you always do. I don't deserve it, I don't deserve you. I failed being your perfect roommate."

"Who said I wanted a perfect roommate?" he asks as you reach your shared couch, carefully laying you on it then sitting by your side, facing you. "You think I'm mad at you, but I'm not. I've broken like five vases in my life and none of this was anything I planned, just like you."

You finally find some strenght in yourself to raise your gaze and lock it at his round, dark eyes. And he's right, no matter how intensively you look into them, you can't find even a tiny bit of anger in them, they sparked with understanding and you find yourself feeling bad at even thinking someone this precious could get so mad at you. They were so pure you could see your ugly, messed up reflection in them. Before you could start thinking about this again, his eyes squinted a little bit as corners of Minho's lips curled upwards in the most beautiful, sincere, affectionate smile you've ever seen. You only realised that his hand was placed on your trembling knee when you felt his fingers caressing it softly, sending warm shiver through your whole body.

"What about the flowers? You loved them..." You turned around to take a glimpse of the mess once again but Minho quickly grabbed your chin with only pads of his fingers and made you look back at him. "I'll take over from here, you get rest now."

Just as he was about to stand up from the couch you grabbed him by his sleeve and almost agressively pulled him right into your arms, crashing in the tightest, breath taking hug as you truly couldn't believe you had him by your side. Just when you thought you crossed his boundaries by that sudden action and started to loose your grip on him, he dragged you right back to him like he was waiting for this moment to happen. His heart pressed to yours, he definitely could tell how fast and heavy its beating right now. Both of yours eyes closed, you just enjoyed this such intimate moment, very first one since you've moved in together. Neither you or him dare to make a move in fear of ruining this beautiful scene.

"Thank you," you murmur into his neck, so quietly you're not even sure he heard it. "only you can endure me as your roommate. How are you not tired of this?" Chuckle leaves your mouth but you quickly tone it out in case he responds, Well, I am actually tired.

"Because you're the only one that can endure me, too." He pulls out of the hug, though he doesn't move too far away, being so close to your face you could feel his minty breath on your nose. "I guess it's just the way things go."

Next thing your brain processes is his perfect lips landing on yours in swift motion. Suprisingly they're not rough, not even a little bit, they're so soft you barely feel them at first. Your heart goes up your throat for a mere second, dropping back down the moment he caress your cheek gently with his warm hand, now covered in the tiniest layer of sweat caused by the adrenaline. When your body finally understands what's going on, you lean into him completely, hand going up on the back of his head, tangling into his soft, dark hair and Minho takes is as a sign to continue, now pressing his lips onto yours with more force, making sure you feel them properly. A sigh of relief leaves both of your mouths and you smile into the kiss. When you eventually just slightly pull away from each other, faces still close, you notice new emotion making its way into his eyes, overtaking the rest as he studies every part of your face carefully. It's love. His eyes are full of love. Its so intense like it just have been freed from his chest after months of hiding in the deepest corners of his heart.

There's still so much you don't know about him and there's so much he doesn't know about you, but the gate has opened now and there's no turning back. You don't know what any of this means yet, but you can think of it tomorrow. Or in a month. Or in a year.

For now it's just you and him. And that's what matters the most in the world.

[kiwi-cult]

PARSELSCRIPT!!

Hi. This is mostly for the people from Discord but tadah! I'm finally making that Tumblr post I've been talking about for months.

(Warning this will probably be very chaotic)

To anyone new who sees this: me and some friends made an alphabet for Parseltongue from Harry Potter, aka Parselscript. I'll take you on a little journey to explain my process and give you some tips, should you want to start writing it.

Disclaimer: I wanted to make this script usable for the writer I made it for so it's less of an actual language and more just some characters to represent the Latin (or ‘English’) letters. Like a cipher. It is not realistic. If I made this realistic I'd have to add all sorts of things to indicate body language and smell etc and also have to figure out what sounds Parseltongue actually has etcetera etcetera. No.

Alright.

It all started when we started talking about Parselscript in a Discord server and I asked my friend Ava to visualise the script because she seemed to have a clear vision of it, so I could use it to go from there.

That's how we got this.

I think we all wanted to go with something flowery for some reason, so we did.

After this I just messed around with brushes and shapes in Procreate for a while, tweaking things and trying to make it more writeable. I ended up with something like this (still a rough draft).

It may look a bit like random squiggles at first, and it kinda was at this point. As you can see there's also a lot of added dots and lines, which can be a bit hard to remember and I see you wondering what it looks like without them.

Well here it is.

I showed this to the people I brainstormed with in Discord and we decided to go with the more complicated version because it looks better lol.

This is one of the final versions.

It says: "Hello, my name is Kiwi Cult. I made this script after reading a fanfic called Terrible, But Great written by Isalise the loml on Archive Of Our Own."

Now, to talk about some of the (boring) logistics.

It is read from left to right, top to bottom.

Every separate combination of squiggles you see above is a separate word. Every word is made up of a starting character, one or more letter characters and an ending character.

The very first character you see in the top left corner, with the three petal looking thingies, is a silent starting character that indicates the start of a sentence. Not word: sentence. The end of the character, that little circle thingy, is a comma. So, the first combination says: "Hello,".

Then, the second combination starts with a kind of hook going down and right. This is also a silent character and more meant as an interpunction, that's why you don't pronounce it. It's kind of just a way to start the word when there isn't anything special about it (aka it's not the start of a sentence, a name, an exclamation or a question. But every character is special in its own right🥲). The same kind of hook can be found at the bottom of the combination, except going up. It has the same use, basically just a way to end the word when there isn't anything special about it. Now, you might ask: why does it go right and not left?

We talked about this a while, because I wanted the direction to have some kind of meaning. We wondered about gender, tone, blah blah all kinds of complicated things but in the end I just wanted this script to be writable so I chose to have proficient writers in Parseltongue make their hooks go left and beginners have their hooks go right.

Now, you might notice that I end my words with a hook going right. That is because I don't see myself as a pro in writing in Parselscript okay? It's hard!😭💀

Now, other than the character indicating the start of a sentence, the circle, and the simple hook, there are a few other characters to start or end a combination (don't worry I'll show them all to you at the end, you won't have to use your imagination for long).

We have a character to indicate a name. Now, the rule is: name indicator over start of sentence indicator. So, if you start a sentence with a name, you'll use the symbol to indicate a name, NOT BOTH. (That's not even possible but I don't even want to see you try and butcher my child).

There is a character to indicate a sentence that would usually be followed by an exclamation mark (!), but at the start of the sentence. Then you’d end the exclamated sentence with a period.

The same goes for a question mark (?): put it at the start of a question, not the end. Again, it wouldn't even be possible to use it at the end of a combination but I DON'T EVEN WANNA SEE YOU TRY.

Finally we have a period (.), which looks a bit like a flower with four petals. You do use this one at the end of a word, and it is always followed by a start of sentence indicator or a name indicator. I know people are rejecting capitals these days in their typing but I don't wanna see it. If you start a word after a period with a hook I will find you.

If a sentence starts with a name that is also a question or exclamation you’d use the question/exclamation mark above the name indicator, otherwise it would take away a vital part of the sentence while a name can still be read even if it doesn’t have its indicator.

So, to put it all next to each other, the symbols we have are: -start of sentence indicator -name indicator -exclamation mark (!) -question mark (?) -period (.) -hook (direction depends on efficiency) -comma (,) (direction depends on efficiency)

I didn't make adjusted characters to indicate a capital letter like we do in the Latin alphabet, meaning that the only things you can kind of 'capitalise' are the start of a sentence and the start of a name.

It is also slightly phonetic. Emphasis on slightly. I made separate characters for almost all letters in the Latin alphabet, so you can just write your word normally with Parselscript characters. The only difference is that I made only one character for the 'f/v' sounds and that there is no 'c' character. If a word has a 'c' in it, you'll have to use the character for a 'k' or an 's'. Also a ‘q’ can be made with ‘k’ and ‘w’ etc.

A few examples: -character=karakter -parselscript=parselskript -crazy=krazy -science=siense

-quiz=kwuiz

I know it looks a bit confusing, but I trust you guys' ability to read context clues and figure out what someone means when you try to decipher Parselscript.

Now, for a word like 'phonetic' or 'decipher' I don't really care whether you use the separate characters for 'p' and 'h' or just the one for the 'f/v' sound. You do you.

I also don’t use any double letters because they basically sound the same and it looks ugly but if you want to use double symbols feel free.

I also made some numbers that do not look like they fit with the rest of the script but I promise you that's just because you're not used to it yet. Our own numbers don't belong with our alphabet either because we nicked them from the Arabs (I think, don't quote me on this) but we don’t notice that either.

Tadah. (Yes I know it’s out of order I told you this was gonna be chaotic af)

Other than that, feel free to ask me questions if I've forgotten anything or if you're wondering about anything. I can't guarantee that I have a good answer because I might not even have thought about it myself, but I can always try to come up with something. I am one person, I'm afraid I haven't been able to take everything about a script into consideration.

Now, without further ado; here is the key.

No, your eyes didn't deceive you: there are two versions. The first has a bit more loose squiggles than the second one. I realised that when I was writing physically, the second version was much nicer to write, so it is kind of like Simplified Parselscript. I haven't decided yet if I'm gonna put some lore behind it or not yet. But I included the og one if you're a tryhard and wanna take it on.

Now, if you're gonna start writing it yourself, here is the stroke order.

I tried to make it as clear as possible but please ask me if you're confused on anything.

Red is the starting point of the whole symbol, the arrows indicate the direction to go in, x marks the start of the small extra's.

Now, I'd also recommend writing on some type of paper with vertical lines like this if you're gonna do it physically.

You can just turn a paper with normal, horizontal lines a quarter to get vertical lines. Also, do NOT write in between the lines. They are meant to help you keep the start and ending on the same line so you don't start going into crazy directions while writing. So, start your sentence symbol or hook or whatever in the middle of the line and try to keep coming back to that vertical line after every letter. As you gain more proficiency you'll probably go straight into the next letter without going back to the line all the time but I think this is a good starting point.

I also recommend writing with a fountain pen or something else that flows well because it’s easier to write that way.

Here is another rough draft I made on physical paper to get a feel for it. As you can see this draft had a lot more different starting characters and ending characters so just ignore that. Hope this motivates you a bit or smth.

Lmk if you want me to post a video of me writing in this Parselscript.

Also please let me know if you know of someone else who's also made a Parselscript because I tried to look for it on Tumblr and Twitter etc but I couldn't find anything.

I also feel like there’s a big mistake I made that I realised the last time I worked on this script but I’ve forgotten it now so if you find out please comment or dm or anything💀

Also feel free to use in your own fic, tho a little tiny shoutout in the a/n would be nice :) I’m @/kiwi_cult on Ao3, @/slvtr_ on Wattpad, @/kiwi cult on ff.net, @/slvtr.1 on TikTok and @/.slvtr on Discord.

Credits:

@natis-balamnimaja @asterialvia and @/zee (who unfortunately left the server and I don't know the Tumblr @ of) for brainstorming with me and @isalisewrites for inspiring us and making the server we discussed this in.

Okay bye :) tell me if I forgot anything.

🥝

[dfortrafalgar]

Special Delivery

(Sanji x Fem!Reader- Offscreen)

Sanji reaches out to Zeff for the first time in years.

I wrote this many, many months ago now, and it was the first fic i posted anonymously on AO3. I got a few requests after it was originally posted to write a second part, which I eventually did!

You can read Part 2 here! Original AO3 link

(I figured I should let my blog breathe a little in between the really heavy and emotional Law fic im writing, and what better way to cool down than some sanji fluff <3)

A sharp squawk awoke Red-Leg Zeff from his daze. With a grumpy expression and a low grunt, he peered towards the direction of the sound.

A messenger coo was seated on the railing of the Baratie's upper deck next to where Zeff stood slouched over with his forearms leaning against the wooden support. It cocked its head to the side as if it was deconstructing Zeff's appearance before reaching into its pouch and procuring a parchment envelope. Zeff found it strange. Messenger coos only usually delivered the newspapers or the latest bounty reports, very rarely were they put in charge of personalized letters. It must have been paid off by whoever wanted this delivered.

The gruff man took the parchment from the beak of the bird and watched as it took back off into the air, leaving a few molted white feathers behind in its wake. He looked at the envelope.

All it said on the front, in very elegant handwriting, was "Captain Zeff." He flipped the paper around, revealing a wax stamp holding the opening down, which he peeled off with a calloused thumb.

Tucked neatly inside the envelope was a white piece of paper, tri-folded over itself. Zeff slipped the paper out, unfolding it to reveal the written contents of the letter. The penmanship was impeccable, and the ink was very sleek. He knew immediately it was from Sanji, not many other pirates had handwriting as good as his. He had completely lost track of how many years it had been since the curly-browed boy left with that ragtag group of pirates to sail to the Grand Line, but Zeff had every single one of his bounty posters. He'd never admit it, but they were tacked up on the wall of his sleeping quarters. Every time Sanji's bounty increased, Zeff felt pride swell in his heart.

"How are you doing, you old geezer. It's been a little too long since we've had any contact, so I thought I'd write to you just to see how you've been. You're no slouch, I'm sure you've been keeping up with the world's events over the past however-many years. Do the Marines even bother to keep sending our bounty posters to the Baratie anymore? Well, regardless, I'm sure you can read right through me. I can't deny it, I miss you, old man. I'm happier than I've ever been in my life, and such a huge part of that is thanks to you and the guys back on that old cruiser. Every recipe I try to make, I imagine you screaming in my ear and telling me that it tastes like shit. Some days I really wish I could be back there, but most of the time I'm joyful. Life has been really, really good. A few years ago, I met someone. Last year, we got married, and soon after our lives changed so drastically. She's the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on, and she's as sweet as an angel. I mean it, too. I know you'd probably think something along the lines of me playing up my affections again just because she's a pretty woman, but I mean it. You'd love her, Zeff. Living as a pirate is the most stressful thing anyone could ever do, but she makes every day worth it. The crew was discussing the possibility of returning to the East Blue a bit ago, and when we do, I'm going to introduce you to her. I've spent the last years talking all about you, how you taught me everything I know about cooking, and I can tell she's just as excited as I am to finally see you. This letter's gone on long enough and I don't want to use up all of Nami's paper.

-- Sanji"

Zeff felt a lump in the back of his throat. Sanji had grown into such a fine young man, eloquent with his words and his feelings. He knew how big of a deal it was for the boy to be so honest and open. But one thing in the letter caught him off guard. What did he mean by, "Soon after our lives changed drastically."?

Zeff peered into the envelope, where another, smaller envelope was tucked inside. He almost didn't see it. Pulling it out, he held the letter and original envelope in between his fingers while he opened the second. Sanji was thorough with his packaging, that's for sure.

Inside, there were three photographs printed on thin, matted paper. The first was of Sanji and you, the wife he wrote about in his letter, taken by someone else holding the camera. Sanji had his arm around you, holding you against him, and you had your face nuzzled into his neck. His other hand held a cigarette away from the two of you, like he was in the middle of telling a story. The two of you were smiling brighter than the sun, Sanji's eyes completely closed with the motion of laughter, and yours creased, your irises looking up towards him.

The second photo made Zeff's eyes water. A photo of you and Sanji on the deck of the Sunny, exchanging rings. Sanji was wearing a sleek navy blue tuxedo, while you were wearing a gorgeous white ballgown. For pirates, you cleaned up phenomenally. He could just make out tears in Sanji's eyes as the photo displayed you sliding a band onto his finger. A skeleton with poofy hair stood between the two of you, which Zeff found a little odd, but he chuckled at the absurdity of it all.

Zeff flipped to the last photo.

The tears that were welling in his eyes from the previous image finally slid down his cheeks in heavy, salty droplets. His lip quivered.

Sanji sat in a chair, beaming down at a bundle of cloth held gently in his arm. He was crying in this photo as well, and was reaching a finger over the top of the bundle, where a smaller hand was reaching outwards to grab onto it. A small glimpse of blonde hair could be made out from under the cloth securing the baby tightly. On the back of the film, Sanji wrote the birth date and the name of the baby.

Zeff used a sleeve to wipe his blubbering eyes. His lips quivered, but he couldn't help the smile that broke out on his face.

Was he allowed to call himself a grandfather now? He figured it was only appropriate.

[alphajocklover]

Would it be ethical to use the InstaJock app on some fellow nerds who are being assholes to everyone in our college major? I doubt anyone would miss the old them~

I can’t really speak for the ethics of using a mysterious app to turn asshole nerds into manly jocks, but I do have to warn you of a couple… logistic issues. See, you’re asking if you should give this guy the app. But what you should be asking is if you even can. See, the only people who can invite people to use the app are… well, people who’ve already used the app. The people who’ve already been turned into jocks. There are some ways to get the app on a phone without getting jockified, but trust me when I tell you they’re very difficult, and you basically can’t ever use the phone again without risking being turned into a jock yourself. So if you, a geek, are going to turn these jerks without being transformed yourself, you’re going to need some help. Specifically you’re going to need someone who has already been jocked.

The first thing you have to do is find someone who has the app. That part is fairly simple. Look for anyone who suddenly had a massive growth spurt and change in personality. You can’t always tell if someone is on InstaJock, since with the ‘rewrite history’ setting on you’ll think they’ve always been a jock, but since most people don’t use that feature it should be fairly obvious. If you wanna be extra sure look for a jock with glasses. I’ve mentioned before that InstaJock isn’t able to remove glasses, so if a jock with perfect vision is wearing glasses for no reason you can be sure he’s a recent convert.

The next part, getting them to help you, is much harder. It’s not that they wouldn’t be happy to turn a geek into one of them. The first thing most InstaJock users do after they make their first post is send out a few invites. The problem is they’d be all too happy to transform you too. Don’t misunderstand, they don’t transform every geek they know into jocks. That’s way too smart of an idea for a jock to have. But if you, a geek, bring up the app and suggest using it… well even a jock can put the dots together. Both you and your target would end up jock bros. On the upside you’d probably get along a lot better. On the downside you’d be an entirely different person with a lot less brains.

The only way to do this without ending up a total jock bro is to get the jocks to notice your targets without noticing you. This could be done in a number of ways. You could trick the geeks into acting even more obnoxious so that they naturally draw more attention. You could whisper in the right ears, spread rumors that you know will make their way to the jocks. Or… you could just take a more direct route. Most jocks wouldn’t question an anonymous note. They’d probably get stuck on the spelling of the word anonymous.

That’s all there is really. Find a jock with the app, point him in the right direction, and wait. It shouldn’t be long until the asshole and all his friends are instantly turned into muscular bros. Jocks being jocks, they might still bully nerds at times, but they’ll most likely be so obsessed with their new bodies and bro lifestyle that they won’t have time for it anymore.

There is still some risk though. Once your targets are changed, they’ll have the app too. And if they ever find out you’re the one who got them jockified, or if you do anything that grabs their attention…

While I hope you appreciate the karma for as long as you can.

[reasonsforhope]

Btw, if anyone cares to know, my position on Biden and the 2024 election is this:

Starting September* 1, 2024, I will be doing whatever I can to make sure that Trump does not get a second term as president

Until that day, I'm going to be doing whatever I can to push for an end to the genocide in Gaza and an immediate ceasefire, and that includes criticizing, protesting, and lambasting Biden for funding and providing weapons for Israel's genocide

ETA: I will still be posting about significant good things the Biden administration has done, though, because some of it is a really big deal that people deserve to know about

ETA: But I will not be defending Biden from any criticism around Palestine/Israel/war crimes

*This originally said October 1st but someone pointed out to me that there are a few states where early voting starts in late September, including a couple swing states, so I changed it because that's a very good point

I don't plan to tell anyone not to vote for Biden in the meantime, myself, because shitty two party system and I'm really serious about Trump not getting reelected

But I'm also not going to do anything to discourage people who are seriously rallying against Biden, because he is, you know, literally bypassing Congress to make sure he can fund crimes against humanity

I never want to diminish that reality.

And more than that: If we want genocide to actually be a dealbreaker for politicians and presidents... then we need to start acting like it could be.

--

Details/related thoughts:

I will still be posting about good things Biden and his administration are doing, because they are the ones running the US government and Congress is super deadlocked, so a lot of the national-level good news in the US has been done by his administration, and I'm not going to stop posting about that good news

Shout-out to the anon who accused me of being a US government propagandist with a whole PR team bc I posted about Biden a few days in a row. I promise you I'm blogging from my bed in my pjs and do not have a PR team lol

Also, for people who don't think we should be spreading serious criticism about Biden, for fear of Trump winning in 2024: I hear you--that's an incredibly valid fear. I've struggled with that myself, in the process of coming to this(/these) decision(s). But consider this: it's better that we really pile on the criticism and pressure now, because a) people are dying, and b) Biden's chances will be much worse if Israel is still bombing/decimating Gaza on election day

Relatedly, for anyone who's tempted to think Trump would be better when it comes to the Gaza genocide, again, it's really understandable to want to put your hope in any viable alternative. However, I promise you that is not going to happen. Joe Biden at least conditionally gives a couple shits about human life. Trump doesn't. Remember Trump's Muslim ban? In all likelihood, Trump would just tell Israel to bomb Gaza harder and ban Palestinian refugees from entering the US

Last thing on Trump: maybe this is naive of me, but for a lot of reasons, I'm not actually particularly worried about Trump winning in 2024. If I was, I might have made some different calls here. I have a few asks about this in my inbox and will probably make a post at some point about the reasons why, but yeah, Democrats have mostly been wanting to run against Trump instead of DeSantis or Haley or whoever for some very real reasons

You're welcome to disagree with me/this post in any direction, btw

Seriously, I'm just a random person who doesn't speak for anyone besides myself and my own blog. I'm not saying these are categorically the right answers, or that any of this is what everyone should be doing. This is simply the system I have settled on (right now) for how I personally want to handle all of this

You're welcome to disagree with me but please don't send me any angry asks about any of it. Not that I in any way get a lot of those, thankfully! But yeah, this isn't something I'm interested in debating, this is mostly for notification/explanation purposes

[coraniaid]

I'm pretty critical of Buffy's final season (because ... well, I've watched it), but there are some things I think it does well and, since I'm trying to talk myself into working on my S7 AU fic again, I thought it might be worth trying to write down what they are.

I like the sense of completeness there is in going back to some of the show's beginnings. I like seeing Buffy in school again, but this time as an adult with a job. It doesn't just let us re-examine the high school years from a new perspective, it gives Buffy's arc over the last few seasons a nice sense of direction. I like what little we see of Dawn in high school. (I wish there were more episodes like Help.) In principle, I even like the fact that this season's Big Bad is a supernatural threat we've seen on the show before.

While I think there are a lot of problems with the execution (and even with the wider concept) of making the First Evil the primary (frequently the only) antagonist, the First being around does give you a lot of possibilities for having characters literally come face to face with their pasts. I like the final scene of Lessons and I like Conversations With Dead People and I like seeing the Mayor on screen again. I wish the show had done more with this concept.

I like meeting new (Potential) Slayers and finding out more about past Slayers. I like Robin Wood. I like Kennedy. (I wish the show did a better job making the audience care about any of the other Potentials.) I like that Faith comes back. I like that there is a focus on what it means to be a Slayer this season (compare how the show opens, with Buffy taking Dawn on patrol and telling her "it's about power..." [which Dawn doesn't have], to the scene in Chosen where Buffy asks the Potentials "what if you could have that power?").

I also (sorry) really like the fact that the writers resisted the urge to make Dawn a Potential or have her suddenly develop any magical powers as a result of being the Key (which there are at least rumours they were talking about doing). I like that the show stuck with the idea that Dawn is the part of Buffy who gets to be an ordinary girl.

For all its flaws (silly CGI battle against monsters I don't care about which is resolved by a random mcguffin from a different show; weird retcon about Sunnydale apparently being inland; a bunch of other unfortunate writing choices I won't get into here) I really do like Chosen a lot. It feels very fitting that the show ends with Buffy both finally getting to leave Sunnydale and with her no longer having to shoulde the burden of being "the" Slayer (or one of only two Slayers, anyway) anymore. I love how open-ended and hopeful that manages to be.

And speaking of Chosen, I like Buffy's "cookie dough" speech. I like the fact that the show lets Buffy end the series single, and recognizing that she doesn't have to be in a serious romantic relationship if she doesn't feel she's ready for one right now. (I like post-S7 Fuffy as a concept a lot, sure, but I think I prefer it as something that neither of them rushes into.)

I like that Amy comes back? I mean, I don't like anything the season does with her, but still: points for remembering she exists, I guess.

I like the fact that Willow gets to grieve Tara but also move on with her life and start dating again. [I don't know if I would have killed Tara off if I was writing S6 -- I think probably not -- but given that Tara did die I think this is the only good option.]

Empty Places is a good .... name for an episode?

For all my (many, many) issues with Andrew Wells this season (and in particular with just how much Andrew Wells is in this season, which is ... a lot), I think Storyteller is ... pretty good? I liked Jonathan, I think it's sad he dies (and his speech about missing high school now that he's left is another good moment from this season) but I wouldn't really have wanted to have him turn up and help save the day either. Having Andrew kill him (and then have to face up to the fact) feels like the right choice, to me, if you were going to bring either character back [I'm not really sure I would have done that though, to be honest].

Equally, for all my irritation at the time wasted on the "is Giles the First Evil?" subplot and at some of the other character deaths the writers did go for, I'm glad that the Core Four all survive. What the season actually does with Giles isn't very good, and neither Xander nor Willow are in this season enough (especially not in its second half), but at least they all get to live.

Oh, and Anya. I'm glad the writers didn't give in to the temptation to kill off Anya for some sort of cheap shock value, the way some leaked early drafts of Chosen suggest they were thinking of doing. Can you imagine how infuriating that would have been? I don't know if I would ever have accepted it. I might even now be living in denial. Thankfully common sense prevailed there and Anya definitely survived.

[eeveecraft]

The Fracturing and Decline of the Tulpamancy Community

Why am I back? Well, I've been thinking about this for a while and a friend of mine just discovered the Tulpamancy stuff. If you're reading this, you know who you are. Still not happy that you found out, but it got me thinking about some stuff I want to write down.

So, some of you may know, #RedditTulpas, the official r/Tulpas Discord server shut down like, a few months ago. The Tulpa.info server got shut down back in 2023, and there's also the debacle that happened with Tulpa Chat several years ago. Basically, all of the largest Tulpamancy Discord servers get shut down for whatever reason once they hit a certain point. The main reason why tends to be drama driving the staff to their wits end, which eventually leads to the server being shut down for the well-being of the staff's mental health.

I mean, I guess there's Tulpa Central with its 1,300+ members, but even though Kopase (eugh) isn't the owner anymore, it's still a server that deliberately excludes other forms of Plurality, and I don't think communities like that should be encouraged to exist. Because let's be honest, that's just thinly-veiled ableism and ignores how Tulpamancy techniques can help disordered systems function better. Oh, that and the fact that other plurals can have tulpas, too.

I also want to bring up how r/Tulpas has drastically declined in quality; we are especially cognizant of it because we moderate that subreddit. There's a lot of low-effort, redundant, and sometimes low-key unhinged posts on the Subreddit, and there is very little actual productive discussion. Most posts there nowadays are just questions, many of which have to be removed because they're already questions that are answered in the FAQ or so basic that they should be asked in the pinned post.

With Reddit specifically, I think a factor in this decline is the direction Reddit has been going with trying to become a publicly traded company, especially with their API changes essentially killing third-party apps. That, and Reddit gleefully giving away all of its user posts to OpenAI with no ability to opt out. We ourselves only check Reddit to moderate the subreddit nowadays because of these changes, and we wouldn't be surprised if others followed suit.

However, this doesn't discredit the general trend we've seen with the larger Tulpamancy communities just declining or outright dying.

The Tulpamancy side of Tumblr has been pretty quiet for several years now with the only major Tulpamancy-specific blog besides ourselves really being Sophie's and maybe Caflec's, and we're hardly active in terms of making posts (we just don't have much to talk about anymore).

There was also the Tulpa.info Mastodon instance, Tulpas.social, but that died pretty damn fast. Plural Café closed invites the moment we tried recommending it to others and has been gradually falling apart, too.

My point is: there's hardly any actual large gatherings of Tulpamancy systems anymore. I remember in one of my Tulpamancy Help videos, I explained how the community became fractured, but I think it's gotten even worse. Like, don't get me wrong, I don't think the community should be a monolith; niches exist for a reason. However, there's something just... disheartening about seeing gatherings of 1,000+ Tulpamancy systems just getting dissolved; thousands of people conversing, exchanging ideas, and helping each other just... separated.

You're probably wondering, "Well, if you're complaining about it, you surely have some kind of solution, right?" Well, not really. it seems to be a cycle tied with the general makeup of the community; enough people in the community just seem to be drawn to petty arguments and drama that takes a toll on the people who manage these communities. So for larger gathering to exist, the people need to be palatable. Otherwise, as new communities form and people flock to them, the same people that caused the downfall of the others before will follow suit. And to be frank, I don't quite have a solution in regards to getting people to stop gravitating towards and starting mentally-taxing drama. That's up for the individuals inside the community to figure out, let alone want to change.

So, what's the conclusion? I guess it's just that I believe the community is heading towards some kind of recession, a dark age of some kind. And that makes me sad to extent because the more Tulpamancy spreads, the more its techniques can be used to help people. There's a reason anthropologists and psychologists are studying Tulpamancy, especially with the interest in its possible therapeutic applications. Despite that, I want to be optimistic and hope that eventually, the community finds its stride again instead of fading into further obscurity.

7-15-2024

[badkitty3000]

You Can't Go Home Again

Chapters 1 and 2

Link to Chapters 3 and Four

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.”

[oneknightstand-if]

So, uhhh, first ever message on tumblr, here's to hoping this is actually the place to post that stuff?

It's great, As a Game Master (mostly for rpgs on discord) I'm a big fan of the freedom of expression when it comes to characters. I just finished a run I'm pretty happy with, so I figured I should do as asked and share the results below.

(A word of warning, since I can only draw anime-style, this is now an anime.)

As a bonus, here's some design I doodled up for the character, to help myself visualize her.

Additional Data:

Adrian: Crush Merlin: To Befriend Pet: Cat (Roland)(Like the Paladin of Charlemagne) Wears: Frilly blouse and long skirt (She started wearing those to get reactions out of Adrian while avoiding more extreme outfits) Camelot Sequence: Lucid dreamer, talked to Merlin in the past (monty python reference to prove she's from the future), got directed to Arthur, asked Past!Arthur about lucid dreaming, Caught Current!Arthur about Lucid Dreaming (He now knows who she is), then spilled all the beans to Merlin after waking up (He knows who she is). Items: Magic 8-Ball, Cat memento, pouch of pearls, miniature garden (Audrey III!) Gas Station: Followed Merlin, Destroy Cameras, Clean traces, Get matches.

And now, for the wall of texts that nobody asked for but that you're all getting anyway!

Character Design

The design I went with was 'the super sussy character who actually is kinda hiding the least'.

Physically, she's basically hopeless, with her teeny tiny 10% on physical, which puts her firmly into the 'dead weight' category. Considering what's going on in here, it's a bit sus.

Even more sus is the amnesia background, because here's that girl popping out of seemingly nowhere with no memories right around the time the failed Lesser Circle happened, who just so happens to be a potential harbinger? Sus.

Appearance wise, her best features are her eyes (my dice determined they should be violet), but they are downturned (Tareme) ones, that usually express either gentleness, or belong to suspicious people, with a gentle, caring and overall traditionally feminine/motherly behavior (wears frilly outfits, cooks gourmet food, tends to her (mutant) plants). In other words, she's very much an 'ara ara'-type character. (The cuckoo is mostly limited to the confines of her mind).

However, she is an imposter whose special move consists of spilling all the tea (ironic, her favourite drink is Jasmine…), all the time. Had a weird dream (Part 1)? Write a report and drop it on Adrian's lap, almost shoving the marked arm under his nose. Freak encounter in a horse trailer? Write a report and drop it on the club leader's lap. Meet a strange but weirdly helpful stranger? Drop the Weird dream Dossier (part 1) on his lap. Questions about the self medication? Ha! She's got her entire (albeit short) life written in a folder ready for perusal! Had a weird dream (Part 2)? You better bet she's writing it down and dropping it on Merlin and Adrian's laps.

…

This is probably a side-effect of being overworked all the time and getting in the habit of making biology reports for everything, isn't it?

IC Thoughts on characters:

Merlin: Super strong incubus who may or may not be the actual Antichrist, may or may not want to cause the Apocalypse themselves to put humanity out of their misery if the Arthur plan doesn't pan out, and yet may very well be the most trustworthy person in this entire group, if only because waking Arthur up seems to be their number 1 priority. After all, all they needed to do was stand aside and do nothing if they wanted the Lesser Circle to fail, right?

Adrian: 'Friend' for several years, eventually got a crush on him a few months ago, but his ambiguous way of almost-but-not-quite friendzoning her is beginning to wear her down. Slightly suspicious due to his being much too prepared for the crisis at hand for a random bystander, but he had all the opportunities in the world to get rid of/corrupt her in all the years they knew each other, and she herself has this 'tiny' Impostor secret going on so she's trusting him so far.

IC thoughts about the adventure: 4 (Reluctant/panicking, but not forced)

What is there to be said. The end of the world, man-eating monsters, plagues, the end of the world, homicides, abductions, did she forget to mention the end of the world? For a woman with little inclination toward physical fighting and who would rather read a book in a corner, this is very much outside of her field of competence.

With that said, she almost got eaten by the monster under her bed and Merlin healed her when she was at Death's Doors, so she's giving them the benefit of doubt, for now.

Character affinities:

Probably Percival (cuckoo connection), Arthur (dream shenanigans) or Broderick (this entire thing is crazy!) would work best?

Here's to hoping this didn't get too long, I tend to get too verbose when I become enthusiastic about something.

It's impossible to be too verbose, especially compared to me. Also, my imagination runs in 4K surround-sound anime-style, so it was anime all along! Olwen fits in perfectly!

[darcytaylor]

I am surprised Luke's team hasn't taken temp of the lukewarm reacting and lack of engagement on all things Luke + gf and worked to establish a new narrative for him. Even a lighthearted podcast guest spot would've made a big difference IMO. And if doing an appearance wasn't something he had in him, a few better instagram posts would've at least started setting up a new story around him and his career.

It took a bit for other season's leads to line up some projects, so they could've easily done a bit of a pivot in effort to clear up some of the subpar press around him in effort to set up whatever is up next for him.

Even his few posts since S3 came out don't seem to be well thought out, or that good of content.

I'm also desperate to know what the other Bridge cast thought about pap pics of him and his GF going out the day of the part 2 premiere lol. At best, it seemed sloppy and horribly timed, and at worst it seemed attention pulling and like he couldn't wait to get off the Bridgerton train.

It is a really sad situation to see play out if I am being honest. I just hope that his team do have a plan and maybe it isn't in motion yet. It could be that Luke's team knew he would be attending Rory's birthday party, so to wait it out just incase of backlash from that.

I don't think his team is stupid (and I know some people disagree), but they have been in the game for a long time. His team would know photo's would be shared on his friends social media accounts and I think it would be worse to have Luke make steps in a certain direction only to see a regression. I think that would have the potential to harm any plan that they may or may not have (while also making Luke's situation worse).

Luke's social media is interesting. I have said this before but I think that his decision to make it professional came a bit too late. He should have set it up that way long before the promo tour. But he probably wasn't completely sure until it was too late, and now it is clear he is having issues with his decision. He doesn't have jobs lined up other than Bridgerton season 4 (that we know of anyway) and his recent posts are subpar.

I also don't think Luke truly understood the potential for people to switch on his friend group (for the longest time people loved Rory, it's also been interesting to see that switch in the fans). He doesn't have the upper hand of his friends keeping his name out their, without it bringing drama and hate.

I am completely on Luke's side to want to distance himself from social media, but he's been put in a hard spot since his friends seem to be unwilling to not capitalize on him (even when they know it will not benefit Luke at this very moment). But I realize that they are also learning about the newfound fame of their friend, so it may just be a learning curve for them as well. (I do realize that their public persona's aren't doing them any favours and it's their actions that have made people come to this conclusion, but sometimes empathy is cool).

I do think that because of the backlash from Rory's birthday, Luke's team did contact him to make sure he is unseen in any of the photo's or video's. Or it's Luke's way of protecting his friends and asking them not to post any photo's or video's of him in them (does this make a difference at this point since they were caught by somebody else? Probably not).

I would assume that all of the Bridgerton cast mates think that the paparazzi walk on the night of the premier was unfortunate, and probably wish for it to have not happened. I agree with what you said - "At best, it seemed sloppy and horribly timed, and at worst it seemed attention pulling and like he couldn't wait to get off the Bridgerton train."

This was a very long winded response but I guess I had lots to say about this topic!

And as always, this is all speculation. I do not know any of these people personally. Could all of this be untrue, true or somewhere in between? Yes. So please keep that in mind.

[sixtynineinchnails]

I've been wanting to make this post for months and in light of the recent ex-presidential ear piercing now seems as good a time as any.

As a non-usamerican, as someone who is pro Palestine, as an anarchist: I am begging you with every fibre of my being to go to the fucking polls this fall and

VOTE.

Disclaimer: I don't live in the united states and I never have and I probably never will. I can never truly understand what it's like to be a usamerican and I'm not going to pretend like i could. I fully expect to get called a fascist or some shit for saying your should exercise your right to vote but at this point I don't care. I'm scared, we're all scared, and news like we've just gotten tonight is only going to compound the fear and chaos and conspiracy thought and fearmongering and hopelesspilled doomerism we’re all dealing with rn. I don’t want to make anyone’s day worse. I'm not looking to debate you. I just want to say some things that i’ve been thinking about for a long time now while a couple people might actually stop to listen.

The united states of america is the most powerful country in the world.

What happens in the united states government this fall will affect every single person on the planet, in some way, for better or worse.

You aren't just voting blue to avoid trump turning the united states into an alt-right theocratic dictatorship (which on its own is bad enough). You're also voting to avoid the right from gaining power (where they haven't already) in of other powerful democratic countries. You're voting to stop Palestine (and let’s be real, probably a handful of other places) from being wiped off the face of the planet with nuclear bombs. You're potentially voting to avoid a third world war. I'm not saying this to spread fear of these things happening. I'm saying this because if you're not already aware of how huge the scope is here: you're not voting to save your country, you're very likely voting to save the entire world.

I can't speak to how people feel everywhere (if you’re also a non-usamerican please feel free to share how this is/has/will affect your country in the notes) but I want to speak to my own for a bit. I can confidently say that what happens in america heavily affects the political and social situation here in canada. We would not have had a convoy of thousands of people drive across the country (which takes days to do) to occupy our capital city for a month and halt almost $4 billion in trade to protest, i kid you not, wearing a mask during covid, if trump supporters hadn't paved the way (and directly influenced canadians to follow in their footsteps). We wouldn't have had "concerned parents" protesting against sex-ed and LGBTQ+ inclusivity in schools (protests full of armed+mounted police which they brought their young children to during school hours) if trump supporters hadn't paved the way. There are people waving flags and signs around on street corners along major roads every single week everywhere from the largest city in our country to small towns of under 5000 people. I’ve heard of people who’ve spiraled into such severe conspiracy rabbitholes that their entire lives and personalities have changed in just a few years. Despite being canadian nationalists, these people and their patterns of behaviour are all a direct result of donald j trump and his followers. And no matter your political leaning, pretty much everyone hates our current prime minister, our economy is bad, even people with decent incomes can’t afford to eat, and everyone is frothing at the mouth for something to happen. If america votes trump this fall, I see very little hope that our country won't vote conservative (our main right-wing party). They will backpedal decades of LGBTQ+ rights and Indigenous peoples' rights and climate action funding and children's education and a whole pile of other important stuff. They have made it very clear that they will follow the exact same path as right wing america and there are a scary amount of people here who want that. And even if canada remains centre/left while sharing the largest land border in the world with a trump dictatorship....well I for one can’t see that going over very well either.

And that's just my country. I know a lot of other countries have been battling a similar spike in alt-right groups and conservative ideologies following the last trump presidency. I don't think any of us are truly prepared for what will happen in the event of another one.

Look. I hate biden too. In general I disagree with the very concept of colonial government and money and the division of countries/states/etc and the legal/carceral system and a whole whack of other shit that we have to live with right now. Someone’s said this before but if any of us thought that telling you guys to blow up a walmart would save your country from a fascist dictatorship I for one would encourage it. But none of us are actually going to blow up a walmart, and it wouldn’t solve anything at this point anyways. We all have to take action in whatever ways we actually can and will. Voting is one of many small, simple steps you can take, should take, fucking better be taking. It’s easy, it’s legal, if you mail in you don’t even have to go to the polling station, and if you really can’t vote for whatever reason, encourage everyone you know who can to do so. Hell, if I could vote on november 5th I would crawl my ass over the border on my hands and knees to do it. I'm sorry that the two options are a fascist police state and an even worse fascist police state run by a man who thinks he's a god, but not voting won't fix that problem. You're not going to establish a revolution by purposefully not taking part in social change, and encouraging others not to either. Not voting against trump = voting for trump. If you don't vote and that orange nukefucker takes over your country it is your fault. And we’re all going to pay for your inaction, especially the people in places like Palestine who will be in significantly more danger than they already are if trump gets his fake tanned hands on the situation.

Anyways. Keep fighting. Stay safe. Do what you can. Don't give up. There is always hope for a better future. And for fucks sake go vote.

Oh and if we do end up in the worst timeline this november and I see you anti-voting fuckers making "lmao time to move to canada" jokes...count your fucking days.

-

TLDR: usamerica is not the only place in the world affected by the actions of usamerica. If you’re still railing against voting at this point you’re pro-trump lmao.

[insanelyadd]

OKAY SO THE FRESH ANALYSIS

ME DEARLY BELOVED FOLLOWERS, you probably started wondering why I like Fresh so much. Why I have been lovingly rotating him in my mind like a rotisserie chicken.

SO ANYWAYS I AM GOING TO DO MY BEST TO WRITE DOWN EVERYTHING I’VE READ ABOUT HIM. This is not complete simply because I haven’t read EVERYTHING on the old RP blog CQ ran for him. This is also mostly from the perspective of his character so other facts like Fresh using he/they pronouns and having furby bombs and canonically liking kissing (okay actually that does play into his character slightly) won’t be the primary focus of this analysis. This also, All, my own interpretation.

This analysis will be in three sections: His original characterization, his Monologue, and finally what could be inferred about how how his character changed due to the Event that gave us the Monologue.

His Original Characterization

The first thing you need to know about Fresh is that his goofy 90s persona was chosen specifically because they thought it would be non-threatening. This plays into a major part of his personality, which is that, baseline, everything he does is for survival. Once everything needed for that is met and taken care of the next major component is that he does whatever he wants to do to entertain himself.

He possesses people to live, but torments people on occasion (not too often, making enemies would go against the survival thing, unless he’s assessed that they would be a harmless enemy perhaps). All his weapons are innocuous at first glance to once again pass himself off as non threatening (oh hey the furby bombs come into play here, huh, he also uses a wiffle bat).

He doesn’t feel most emotions, but he can feel a few, (and at one point CQ said that the longer Fresh is in the same host the more he can feel? Not sure if that still applies, take that with a grain of salt) but those emotions are fear, anger, and amusement primarily (though affection and others are not off the table, it would just take A Lot of work for him to get to that point). Primarily his emotions that he portrays are all ones he’s imitating based on what he thinks are non threatening reactions. He easily pretends to be chipper or indignant but he doesn’t truly feel most of these emotions. According to posts written by CQ he is not genuinely flirty though him imitating “safe” emotions might put him in situations where he does that (most likely just to entertain himself, which is the primary reason he likes kissing. He doesn’t understand why kissing is meant to be important and does it because he’s amused by people’s reactions to it. Absolutely no thoughts [about kissing] behind those glasses.)

He is also very full of himself. He thinks he’s better than other people (but obviously he recognizes that as being a negative/”unsafe” thing to voice so he keeps it to himself and privately believes it). He thinks he’s better and deserves good things (this is directly stated in The Monologue), which is another reason he amuses himself by scaring people. IT’S IS ALSO A RESULT OF ANOTHER MAJOR COMPONENT OF HIS PERSONALITY: He has an ideology that people are primarily driven by selfishness. This is likely a direct result of him being a literal parasite who needs to harm others to live. He is really unable/unprepared to comprehend that people can care about others so much that they would put their loved ones before themselves. When this is challenged it typically makes him irrationally angry and ready to hurt people (even ones he “pretends” are his friends, and even though this contradicts his need to survive at any cost) to prove to them that they should never trust anyone. This is also why on occasion in a few comics CQ has done Fresh will offer up being possessed to desperate people with the lure that they won’t feel pain anymore (which is implied to be a lie because people who can read souls and Fresh himself say they can hear the host screaming, possibly in agony).

THE MONOLOGUE

Okay so I’m going to explain the events leading up to The Monologue, and then I’m going to share the whole monologue here, then I will analyze it (plus here is the link to the post with the monologue and a more in-depth recap of events from Fresh’s old RP blog)

There was a huge multi-blog RP event (these used to be very common, I don’t go to the RP scene anymore though so I’m not sure if they stopped or I just stopped seeing them, basically a whole bunch of blogs get together to RP through one big common event, typically a party that they are all attending) called the LoveBall that Fresh went to with the plan to infect as many people as possible with parasites he produced and from there infect the whole multiverse (which he claims is to “help” them all). Fresh directly states that he’s not a Sans here, even though this was before his redesign when he was still possessing one (STARES DIRECTLY AT EVERYONE CLAIMING I AM A SANS SIMP FOR LOVING FRESH).

Anyways he gets confronted by another Not Sans, who takes him to The Last Corridor (judgement hall) and Fresh is sure he’s going to die, though he still tries to act unbothered. They talk a bit and it is revealed to Fresh that he is a fictional character (he could see the whole multiverse was code too which is a fun detail), he’s clearly taken aback but still tries to play it off as it’s explained to him that him and the other Not-Sans and everyone they’ve ever known are Nothing, and that it would be for the best if he doesn’t try to get OUR attention.

SO NOW WE COME TO THE MONOLOGUE ITSELF WHICH IS SO GOOD THAT I WANT TO EAT IT. Anyways:

…….I’ve thought about a lot of stuff lately. Ya know. All these inner thoughts I ignore or avoid listenin to. And I realized. Ya know. Maybe I wasn’t lookin to ‘help everyone’. It was some excuse, ya know? I like messin with people. I like the concept that in some way, I’m more clever, or amusing, or hilarious, or-…. simply put, I’m BETTER then the rest of em. I’m better and I deserve to get what I want, and I wanna mess with people and I want to hurt people, and since, ey, I gotta possess people to survive, I might as well ENJOY the process as well, ya know dawg? I wanted to take over the multiverse because yeah, it extended far beyond somethin so noble as ‘helpin’ people, I wanted to take over because I COULD, and because it was FUN, and because I couldn’t be STOPPED. I wanted the power to enslave E͏̷͏V̨̀͜E̸͠͠R̡̢͠Y̸͢͟T҉̢͠H͏͜͞Ì̴̕N̡̨̕G͡. The power to enslave everything. But. I can’t do that. Can I?

B̷͠E͢͝͡C̕͠͝Ą҉̀́̀U̡̢S̀͏E҉́͢͟ ̷͜͞Ó̡̢F̢̧͝ ̶Ỳ̨́O̢̢̢Ù̶͡.̨̛ ̵͜͜R͏̷͢Ì́Ǵ͝͞H̡̡͟T́͞?̛͜͠ You’re the voices Error hears. Aren’tcha. The voices Error always talks about. Always chats with. You’re ONE OF THEM. BEYOND THE CODE. YOU’RE WHAT I WAS WARNED ABOUT. YOU’RE WHAT HE WAS TALKING ABOUT. BEYOND ALL OF MY KNOWN EXISTENCE. BEYOND ‘THE GAME’. You’re toying with Error. Askin him questions. We’re all your toys. Every single thing I’ve seen, every Universe, every single creature I’ve come across or possessed, every bit of data…. is something you are capable of manipulating, right? And now.I got your attention. Just like he warned me against.

….y-ya know. I won’t stop. Right. I’m gonna keep possessin peeps, and runnin around and having a radical time.

That’s what you WANT, right?? That’s what you’re lookin for, to be amused, and have a laugh! Well you’re in luck! THATS WHAT THE FRESH IS HERE TO DO! No worries, my good ol chums!!I’ll keep it up. Everything.

Right?? THATS WHY YOU’RE TALKING TO ME NOW. Right?? You are amused by me!!! Ah hahaha wicked brah! I’m glad! I’ll just- keep–

I-I…. I’ll just. Keep up my dated lingo. I’ll heelie right into every situation and make a joke of myself, and then when peeps drop their guard I’ll do somethin creepy or hilarious– OR BOTH! Ah hahahahahahaha. That’s what you want. THATS WHAT YOU WANT?

….don’t kill me. Don’t kill me. Or worse. Whatever you’re capable of….

I… I’ll do what you want!!

I PROMISE. just….just.

Don’t kill me. Please.

So one of my favorite details here in the monologue is the fact that it starts with him outright stating that he thinks he’s better than everyone else and it ends with him begging us not to kill him. His hubris hit an unmovable wall at 100 mph.

I really feel like the monologue speaks for itself, so onto the next part!

Post Event Characterization Implications

So one of the things that could probably be inferred by this is that all three of his major motivators, His Need to Survive, His Want To be Entertained/Amused, and His Ideology of Selfishness are basically shoved into a blender. I’m sure he still believes in inherent selfishness but his ego about it should be at least slightly bruised, knowing that he’s just as microscopic and inconsequential as anyone else in the multiverse. As for his need to survive and want to be entertained, they’ve both been subverted to different extents. His want to be entertained is completely subverted where instead of being the one being entertained by bothering people, he is now the one wanting to do the entertainment because they believe it is necessary for their survival.

I imagine he is being eaten alive every day by the worry that he’s not being interesting enough and will be abandoned and effectively killed for not entertaining us enough. Though he might be able to push that out of his mind most of the time to continue what he normally does, because he might be able to convince himself that we have to like him for who he is to some extent or he wouldn’t have gotten this far, which seems very plausible given how good he is at hiding his fear and anxiety during his confrontation with the other Not-Sans.

Anyways he’s a bastard and he’s great and I am unfortunately in love with him. He probably wouldn’t be down for it but I will still imagine holding his hand and then picking him up and slam dunking him into a trash can (lovingly).

[nalyra-dreaming]

It's probably going to be answered soon by the show itself (at least partly), but the whole behind the scenes that happened with the coven won't let me sleep at night. What do you think was happening? What were the choices they presented Armand with? There should be such a huge line of events with Lestat, because I feel it's all very complicated. And what is worse they'll probably leave it for TVL.

Did the coven find Lestat? Did Armand held him hostage or they did? My mind is spinning as I write and...what if they didn't know Armand had Lestat until they went to the attorney and then Armand had exchanged him for something? Make it make sense, please, I believe you might have solid theories :)

Okay.

So in the last moments we see the coven giving the "10 minutes" call to Lestat. Who is staring into the mirror, literally emulating "smoke and mirrors".

Which means, if we can trust what we saw, that the coven knew of Lestat. And that Lestat is part of the scripted performance. Then.

Now, he is not bound or anything, but he wouldn't need to be. What they have against him is not a threat to his own life after all, but the threat of hurting Claudia and Louis.

Of course they will make it seem as if Lestat is after revenge. But... given that Armand obviously knew about the plotting (here is a nice post on that)... and that we know that episode 5 supposedly is very important for what is to come... it is highly debatable. (Totally apart from later book canon.)

I do not think the coven found Lestat. I think they went to Roget's to confirm their suspicions. But there is a time gap, right there. Because Louis sent Claudia and Madeleine out of town after the turning... and by the time they return (and the coven naps them) - they have prepared the trial with Lestat.

So. Louis inviting Armand to the turning, Armand ... not coming. Well. Not in time. Which, given his powers, was very much intentional.

And, looking back... that must have been the final straw, Louis turning Madeleine. A direct blow against rule #1. Against Armand himself. That is when Armand must have revealed Lestat to the coven, that is when they must have set up the trial. Because he comes by Louis' apartment after, with the cuttings of the Magnolia tree prepared. Saying that the coven gave him a choice. And that he... chose. (Of course we are led to believe he chose Louis... when it later becomes clear he did... not.)

Armand is a stickler for the rules. Not even really by choice, but that's what a few hundreds of years of indoctrination do, I cannot even really blame him. A direct and announced breaking of rule #1 is something that would raise his hackles, to put it mildly.

I think he pretended that final few weeks? months? then that he had broken with the coven. Given that it is book canon that he influenced Louis to turn Claudia... I could see it that he influenced Louis to make Claudia and Madeleine return by longing for her. I am not sure if that is the case, but it would fit with book canon, imho.

The choices he was presented with was likely full mutiny... or becoming the coven master again - IF the coven actually made him choose. Because I can easily see this being Armand's own choice as well. Him making up his mind... for better or for worse.

And so he revealed Lestat then to the coven, imho.

As we have already seen in that one teaser that Lestat seems to be in some kind of cell at some point I do think he is in some kind of dungeon. IF it is Magnus' tower? Then there is no way in hell that he would stay there without force, or without subjugation. The same goes for other dungeons, like, we are talking about Lestat here. I know that the show only audience does not know him so well yet, but... for Lestat to stay locked up for months and then show up at a trial to take part in it??? He was locked up. Meaning he did go to Armand... and Armand locked him up. Because Lestat would have gone and confronted Louis and Claudia otherwise, if he had known where they are. But he can only feel them. And other than the weak Claudia and Louis... Armand would have known Lestat was there immediately. And Lestat knew that, too. And so he went to Armand.

And the tragedy unfolds.

I think the trial will go as in IWTV. Mock trial, Lestat will accuse. Louis will sense things are off. There will be things off the script, the line "you cannot script a hurricane" will come into play for the "scripted last play".

I hope my thoughts make sense? :)

[bamber344]

Cracks In The Façade

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posting this now because i can't be F'ed waiting till tomorrow morning tbh...

We've got a Steve and Vivienne double POV special! it was my first time inside both of their heads so I hope I've done them justice!

CWs: references to previous torture (beating, cutting), gun whump, minor medical whump, caretaker who is just doing her best fr fr, references to past gaslighting, living weapon whumpee

enjoy!

Cracks in the Façade

Detective Steve Matthews sighed, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling it away from his chest to allow some airflow. It was a blisteringly hot day, and he’d rather be anywhere other than where he was right at that moment; standing in the sun outside of a convenience store that just got held up. The perp didn’t get very far, thankfully. Seven had been patrolling nearby and took the man down before he could make it across the street. Now Steve was just here to take statements and collect evidence in the summer heat. Or, more like he was there to supervise the beat cops as they did all of those things under the direction of another detective while he just stood around sweating. As if Captain de Vygon would actually let him lead his own investigation.

At least he didn’t have it as bad as Seven did, though. It couldn’t have been cool in that intimidating black armour, and he knew that the captain was breathing down her neck just as hard as his – probably even harder. Ever since those SWAT officers were killed a week ago, Seven had been moving differently; almost gingerly, as though she was hurt, or so Steve had noticed in their few encounters. It rose warning flags in the back of his mind. Something just wasn’t right about that whole situation. Steve didn’t trust de Vygon’s integrity at the best of times; he wouldn’t put it past him to beat his volunteer superhero for a mistake, especially one so extreme. The real question was, why would Seven put up with it? It just didn’t sit right.

Well, what was he going to do about it, anyway? He wasn’t a hero. He was barely a cop. Seven was an adult woman and a borderline supersoldier. He’d seen her flip a grown man over her tiny 5’3” frame and break his arm with ease. If she had a problem with how things were going behind the scenes, she could get herself out of it. The Union would take her in no questions asked if she wanted. It was probably just in his head.

Right now, the woman was standing some distance away, seemingly spacing out while staring through the window at the mannequins on display in a woman’s clothing boutique. She seemed to have relaxed some now that she wasn’t on active duty, antsily twiddling her fingers together as she examined the clothes. Steve walked over to her. He had nothing better to do, after all.

“Thinking about buying something?” he asked.

Seven jumped a little before turning to him. “S-sorry?”

“Are you thinking about buying something from here? You seem pretty fascinated by what they got on display.”

Seven looked at him, and then back to the mannequins, wringing her hands nervously. “Um, I don’t have any money. I was just… looking.”

No money? That was odd. Though, perhaps she just meant she didn’t have any on her. It didn’t look like her armour had pockets, to be fair.

Steve shrugged. “Still, you work hard. You should treat yourself. Why not come back after your shift is done?”

Seven stared at him, and though he couldn’t see her face, he could sense the confusion in her body language. She looked back and forth between him and the boutique a few times. “Uh… O-okay…”

The more Steve interacted with her outside of combat scenarios or de Vygon’s presence, the more he felt like there was something seriously weird going on. Her apparent personality just didn’t match the front she put up whenever she was working. If he had to guess, he’d say she almost felt like… like a sheltered kid or something. Where the hell did de Vygon find this girl?

A memory flashed through his head, but he shook it off. He’d heard it enough from the precinct counsellor; it was just a hallucination induced by stress and a lack of sleep, nothing more.

The awkward silence stretched on. Steve sighed. “Well, whatever. Do what you want. I’m gonna head back to the scene; I think the boys are almost done with the evidence.”

He turned and started walking away, hearing Seven’s footsteps following along behind him. He approached her because she’d looked a little lonely, standing there staring at the store like a puppy with a toy it couldn’t have, but now he felt bad about interrupting her privacy and ruining her quiet moment.

They got back to the scene. Steve busied himself catching up on the evidence that had been logged, while Seven milled around, as she was wont to do at crime scenes. A few days after her first appearance, a couple of fleeing perps returned to a scene that she’d already left and ruined some evidence before the police could stop them. Ever since then, she’d made a habit of sticking around to ensure everything went smoothly, unless there was another pressing issue that required her attention.

It was a few minutes later that things went awry. A loud crack echoed across the street and Seven flew backwards. All of the officers dove for cover and Steve was no exception; throwing his car door open and hiding behind it. There was a shooter, and if they had managed to knock Seven off her feet, they had to be packing some serious heat.

Steve glanced around. Seven was on the floor, but she was still moving. According to de Vygon, that armour of hers was bullet-proof. He hoped for her sake that was correct. She lifted her head, trying to get up, but another shot ripped through the air and sparks flew from Seven’s helmet as she was forced straight back to the ground.

Steve drew his pistol, taking a deep breath. He peeked through the window of the open car door, looking up at the roof of the opposite building. The sky was blindingly bright, but he could just about make out a figure perched on the edge. Light glinted from the scope of the sniper rifle in their hands.

One of the other officers returned fire and the figure startled, backing up and taking their rifle with them. A huge pair of dark wings unfurled from their back and flapped, lifting them from the roof with improbable speed. Steve took aim and fired a few shots, but none of them met their mark. The figure was too fast, ducking and weaving through the air until they were gone from sight.

“Seven, are you alright?!” Steve asked, jumping out of his hiding spot to check on her.

Seven groaned, lifting her head again. The glass on the front of her visor was cracked, but it didn’t look like the bullet had gone through. Most likely, it ricocheted off the edge. He couldn’t tell where the first shot had impacted, but the woman didn’t seem that much worse for wear, if a little winded. “Y-yeah… I’m okay.”

“Come on, we might still be able to see them from the roof!”

Steve turned to the other officers. “Put out an APB! We’re looking for someone with huge black wings and a sniper rifle! They won’t be able to hide!”

The authority in his voice surprised even him, but it spurred the officers into action, scrambling to communicate with dispatch to organise a manhunt. With that out of the way, he turned back to the building the shooter was perched on, running towards it. Seven was back on her feet by now, right behind him.

She cleared the building in a single jump, disappearing over the edge of the roof. Steve wasn’t so blessed with augmented abilities, and as such had to painstakingly climb his way up the fire escape, activating muscles he probably hadn’t used in years. He was definitely going to be sore by tomorrow morning.

Finally, panting and gasping from exertion, he reached the roof, but it was too late. The winged person was nowhere to be seen. It was just their luck that their suspect would be able to fly. Still, they’d find them in time. There was no way someone with such an obvious power could hide themselves for long.

Seven was looking at the floor, where the shooter had been perched. Scattered around the area were a dozen long black feathers, no doubt left by their wings. Once again, Steve was hit by a memory he’d been trying to forget, of a night roughly eighteen months ago, where he’d seen an impossible sight that subsequently nose-dived his career.

~~~

It was a little past one in the morning on a cold winter’s night, and Steve Matthews was returning to precinct 23 to pick up some case files he needed to look over. It had been a long week, and exhaustion was clawing at him like a feral cat, trying to drag him to bed, but there was still work to be done. He promised himself that once he got back to his apartment, he would sleep and go over the files in the morning, and that assurance gave him the strength needed to keep going for these last few hours.

It was when he was just about to enter the precinct that it happened. The glass door flew open and Steve froze as he came face to face with the two girls running out. They froze in turn, staring him down. In the dim light from the street lamp, Steve could just about make out their appearances, and what he saw shook him to his core.

One girl was older; clearly an adult, and the other was probably in her early teens, if Steve had to guess. They were both dressed in identical black thermals and had shaved heads. The older one had a large pair of wings sprouting from her back, the feathers puffing up in anticipation. Both girls had the exact same face; one that should’ve belonged to a dead woman. The younger one’s eyes held a cocktail of fear, sorrow, and pain. In her older sister, there was only rage.

A small twitch of her feathers was all the warning he got before the older one was wrapping her arms around the teen, beating her wings against the cold air and disappearing into the dark sky, leaving Steve alone to contemplate the impossible thing he’d just witnessed.

~~~

Steve remembered how hard Captain de Vygon had tried to convince him what he’d seen wasn’t real. He remembered all of the counselling sessions he’d been forced to go to, all the cases he’d been forced to drop because of his supposed ‘unstable mental state.’ According to de Vygon, of course it had been a hallucination! Why else would both girls have had the face of a dead superhero? Rosalyn Garcia-Holmes was one of the most famous superheroes Tombguard had ever seen, and Steve had even met her a handful of times before her death thanks to his niece. It made sense that his brain would pick out her face to put on the actors in its mysterious play. It was all just in his head. Steve had even started to believe it himself. Now, however…

Steve looked over at Seven. She came from precinct 23, just like those two mystery girls. What face hid underneath that visor of hers? Why was everything about her so weird? Just what exactly was de Vygon doing underneath the precinct?

Seven was still staring at those feathers. A thought occurred to him; a pit opening in his stomach. If those girls had all come from the same place, there was every possibility that they knew each other. And now, one of them had just shot Seven with clear intent to kill. Regardless of what else was going on behind the scenes, that had to sting.

“Did… Did you know who that was?” he asked carefully.

Seven hesitated, but ultimately shook her head. “N-no. Captain de Vygon has spoken of a girl with wings before, but I don’t know who she is.”

Her voice was slurring a little. Steve frowned. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I-”

—

“Did you hear that?” Brianna asked, craning her head around despite the fact that she wouldn’t be able to see anything, anyway.

“Hear what?” Viv replied. They were sitting together on a rooftop, enjoying a lunch break from their patrol. Not that there was really much to be patrolling for, especially not for a support hero and rescue hero, but it was a good excuse for both of them to get out of studying for a while, and enjoy the warm summer’s day. That reminded Vivienne that Maddie was probably about due to be dragged out of the house again, as well. Rosie would kill her if she let her wife rot inside all summer, and they hadn’t really done anything since Rosie’s death anniversary aside from hang out and play video games together.

Brea frowned. “Sounded like gunshots. Over in that direction.” She nodded her head down the street, her shoulder-length braids swishing back and forth with the movement.

“Should we go check it out?”

Brea shrugged. “If you wanna. I’m not too keen to get caught up in a fight or something, though.”

“We’ll just have a look from a distance,” Viv said. “If it’s something we can help with, maybe we can step in, but we’ll see.”

“Alrighty then, sounds good.”

The two of them stood up and Viv took Brianna’s hand. In an instant, the scenery changed and they were about two kilometres down the street. Brea shuddered - she still wasn’t very used to teleportation - as Viv looked around. There were a few police cars parked a ways away, and she could just about make out two people on a rooftop nearby.

“So?” Brea asked. “Anything interesting?”

Vivienne squinted. “A couple of cop cars, and… I think that’s my uncle? And that new hero that works with the police, too. They’re on a roof. Doesn’t look like anything dangerous is going on anymore.”

“Y’know, I’ve been wondering what that new hero’s deal is. I’ve heard a lot of weird rumours on the radio. What’s her name again? Seven?”

“Yeah. Maddie and I met her a couple weeks ago. We didn’t really get to chat though, because de Vygon showed up and swooped her away. Wanna see if we can say hi?”

“Might as well. Not like we’ve got much better to do. Just… warn me before we teleport next time, please? I know I can’t actually see that we’ve moved, but something about the way the air pressure pops just throws me off.”

“Sure, sorry about that.” She took Brianna’s hand again. “You ready?”

Brea took a deep breath and nodded. Vivienne focused on the empty space a few feet away from her uncle. She did a countdown for Brea’s benefit and as soon as she reached zero, Viv flipped the switch in her brain and the space that she was focusing on appeared under her feet. She turned her good cheer up to eleven and announced herself to the two police officers.

“Hey guys! What’s-”

Seven whipped around and a wave of darkness spilled from the seams in her armour, barrelling towards the two of them. Viv stumbled backwards, waving her hands.

“Wait, wait! Friendly!”

The wall of shadow stopped inches from her face, dissipating into the air. Seven didn’t drop her combat stance though, watching them through her visor like a hawk. Speaking of which, her visor looked seriously messed up. The opaque glass was spiderwebbed with cracks, coalescing at a point near her temple. Also, it sort of looked like there was a hole in her armour, right above her heart. What the heck happened here?

“I-it’s just me! You know, Vivienne? We met one time? Oh yeah, and this is Brianna, she’s my friend. Hi, uncle Steve!”

“Yo,” Brea said.

Steve sighed. “Hello Vivienne. This is a crime scene, you can’t be here.”

They must have startled Seven something fierce. Her whole body was shaking. Viv frowned, ignoring her uncle.

“Are you okay? You don’t look well.”

The woman finally dropped the combat stance, putting a hand on her chest. “D-detective… I… I think the first shot pierced my armour…”

Steve whirled around. “What?! You said you were okay!”

“I- I thought… The shock must’ve… It… It hurts.” Her voice cracked into something almost like a sob at the end. Vivienne’s gut wrenched.

“Uncle! There’s a first-aid kit in your car, right?”

Steve blinked, taken aback. “Y-yes, but-”

“Brea, get her to lay down. I’ll be back soon!”

“You got it,” Brea replied.

Viv turned to Seven. “You can trust us, alright? I know first-aid; I’m studying to be a nurse right now. It’s going to be okay. We’re gonna fix you right up. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Seven nodded shakily. “O-okay…”

Vivienne jumped into action, grabbing her uncle’s wrist and teleporting him down to where the police cars were milling. He barked some orders at the other officers as they made their way to his car, relaying the situation and telling them to inform Captain de Vygon while Viv opened the trunk and grabbed the first-aid kit. She wasted no time teleporting them back to the roof-top, pleased to find Seven already lying on her back. Brea was holding her hand, speaking softly to her.

“Do you want to take your helmet off?” she asked. “You might be able to breathe a little easier without it.”

Seven shook her head. “Not allowed to let anyone see my face…”

“Well, I’m blind, so I won’t be able to see it anyway. If you’re more comfortable with it on, that’s fine.”

Seven reached a hand up, and for a moment Viv thought that she would get to see the face under the mask, but all she removed was her mouthpiece. Her lips were chapped and dry, and the surrounding skin was discoloured with fading bruises. Her bottom lip looked like it had been split recently. She and Steve shared a look. Clearly, he was thinking similar thoughts.

If Seven never took her helmet off when she was out, where had she taken those hits?

Viv tried to ignore it. That wasn’t important right now. She knelt down at Seven’s side, examining her abdomen.

“We’re gonna have to remove your chestplate to get a good look, Seven,” she explained. “Don’t worry, help is on the way. We’re just gonna make sure you’re as well as you can be until they get here.”

“Latches ‘re under the armpits,” Seven replied, slurring slightly. Without the electronics in the mask obscuring it, her voice was soft. It had a rough sort of cadence that reminded Viv a little bit of Rosie, only without the hispanic accent.

Viv followed her instructions, finding the latches and pulling the chestplate off. If the state of what little she could see of Seven’s face had shocked her, then she definitely wasn’t prepared for the state of her bare torso. She sucked in a breath, and heard her uncle curse quietly.

Below her armour, Seven was wearing nothing but a sports bra, leaving very little to the imagination and filling Vivienne with some very conflicted emotions. On one hand, Seven was fucking sculpted. She looked like a goddamn greek statue, and the sight of those sweaty planes of muscled, tanned skin were leaving Viv a little breathless. On the other hand, it looked like someone had used her abdomen as a punching bag, leaving a tapestry of colourful bruising across every inch of aforementioned skin. What was even more concerning than that, however, were the two sloppily stitched-up cuts intersecting each other on the upper-left side of her belly. They were too clean to be anything other than intentionally made, and clearly the patch-up was far from a professional job. Vivienne didn’t know what to think about any of this, but it was giving her a distinctly bad feeling.

She pushed all of those thoughts down. Now wasn’t the time. Seven was her patient, and right now all that mattered was finding and assessing the damage from the bullet she was presumably shot with. Thankfully, it wasn’t hard to find at all. A large patch of blood had saturated the cotton of her bra right above her sternum, surrounding a very obvious hole.

The fact that she was still conscious and alive meant that the bullet had most likely been slowed down enough by her armour to be stopped by her sternum, but Viv doubted that the bone remained entirely intact in the process. It was a marvel that she was still able to move about in the way she had. Either Seven was very used to pain, or she was still bursting at the seams with adrenaline. Based on the state of her body, it was probably a mix of both. The only certainty was that she needed a hospital. Until professionals arrived, Viv and Brea would just have to do their best for her.

Step one was to find the bullet. If it was deeply embedded in the bone, there wouldn’t be anything they could do for her now aside from slowing the bleeding, but they might be able to remove it themselves if it just impacted the surface. There weren’t any major blood vessels in that area, so they could probably do most of the patch-up work on site.

“Brea, can you check how deep the bullet is?” Viv asked.

Brianna nodded, moving her hand closer to Seven’s chest. Two of her fingers disappeared, turning into thin wisps of smoke that then drifted daintily down onto Seven’s body. The smoke wafted around searchingly until it found the hole, sinking into it and examining the interior painlessly.

“It seems like it’s just below the surface of her skin. Doesn’t feel like it’s fragmented or anything. We shouldn’t have any problems removing it here.”

“Cool,” Viv replied, pulling on some gloves from the first-aid kit and searching for a pair of tweezers.

“Don’t worry,” Seven muttered. “I’ve got it.”

Vivienne was about to protest when blackness began to seep across Seven’s skin from the shadowed edges of her armour. It travelled like a liquid, remaining flush with her body as it slipped under her bra and amassed in the bullet hole. Seven tensed up, balling her fists and clenching her teeth, clearly trying to power through the pain of whatever she was doing. Viv was a little too distracted by the mouth-watering sight of her tensed abs to question it. After a few seconds, Seven relaxed, her body deflating with a sigh as a flattened, gore-covered bullet rose from the hole, lifted by a pillar of shadow, before being discarded and rolling away down the side of her chest, leaving a trail of red on the cotton in its wake.

Viv blinked. “Where the hell did you learn how to do that?”

“‘s not the first time I’ve had to pull shrapnel out of myself,” Seven replied.

Well then. Just another thing to file away under the ‘weird and concerning things about this new superhero’ tab in her brain.

Vivienne took a second to get her brain back in order. This next part was important.

“Alright, well… Are you okay with me lifting your bra so we can patch up the wound?”

Seven waved a hand that flopped limply back to the ground. That wasn’t a great sign. “Go right ahead.”

Viv took a breath and ripped the metaphorical band-aid off, lifting the garment and looking only at the bloody wound on her chest, refusing to let her eyes drift anywhere else. Time to do her thing.

“I know I said we’d do our best for you here, but you should really go to a hospital just to be safe. The risk of infection here is pretty high,” Vivienne explained as she gently rubbed the wound down with an iodine wipe. Brea kept hold of Seven’s hand, whispering comforting nothings to her to distract her focus away from the pain Viv was no-doubt causing.

Seven shook her head. “N… No hospital. Not allowed.”

Oh boy. It just got worse and worse with this one, didn’t it?

“Do you at least have some sort of medical facility you can go to?”

Seven nodded, so at least that was one less thing for Vivienne to lose sleep about. She pulled out a bandage and placed it over the wound, deciding it was safer not to stitch it up here in case she missed anything that the actual doctors would need access to treat. With that done, she pulled Seven’s bra back down into its place.

“Well, that’s about all I can do for that right now. Is there anything else I can help you with?” Viv asked.

Seven let out what was probably supposed to be a considering hum, but it ended up sounding more like a groan. “Mm, I dunno… Thanks for your help, though. You guys’re nice. And you’re really pretty, too.”

Brianna barked out a laugh as Viv’s insides got caught in a vice. “O-oh. Um, thank you.” She could feel her face burning with an obvious blush. Stupid redhead genes. 

“What about me?” Brea asked, smirking.

“Yah, I meant you, too,” Seven clarified. Her voice was slurring a lot now. “I really like your… your face. ‘s nice.”

Brea was trying to act cool, but Viv could still see her dark complexion deepening from the blush on her cheeks, too. 

Steve - who had walked away once Viv removed Seven’s bra for the sake of her modesty - made his way back over to them. “Seven, do you have a concussion? You’ve been acting a little strange.”

“Oh, uh… Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Viv groaned. “Of course you do. How do you even know?”

“My visor can check for it… That bullet hit me in the head pretty hard, so the first thing I did was get it to check.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” Steve asked.

“A lil’ bump‘s no reason to stop working.”

“We should take your helmet off to check. It might be pretty serious,” Viv said.

Seven shook her head again. “Not allowed.”

“Seven, I’m not kidding! You could be in real danger and we’ve had no idea this whole time!”

Steve sighed. “It’s fine, Vivienne. You’ve done good. Her medical team will take care of the rest. Speaking of which…” he trailed off, glancing over the edge of the building. “Looks like the cavalry’s here.”

Everything moved quickly from thereon. A group of people ascended up the fire escape with a stretcher and carefully laid Seven out on top of it. They were about to make the painstaking journey down when Viv just offered to teleport them. It would be dangerous taking her down the fire escape, and the quicker Seven got some proper medical attention for her head, the better. It wasn’t long before she was bundled into the armoured van and driven away to wherever her supposed ‘medical centre’ was, leaving Vivienne, Brianna, and Steve alone on the roof.

“Yeesh,” Brianna said, breaking the silence that had fallen over them. “That girl has issues.”

Steve shook his head. “Everything about her is just… giving me a bad feeling.”

“I’ll say,” Viv replied. “Did you see the state of her torso? Those bruises were awful! Not to mention the cuts…”

“I’d suspected something like that. The way she’s been moving recently, it was obvious that she was in pain. And I’d bet good money that Andreas de Vygon had something to do with it. He practically has her on a leash.”

The name made Vivienne’s blood boil. That man was truly scum. He’d tormented the Union for years, harassing and slandering her and her friends. Why any superhero would choose to join him was beyond her. That being said, the more she learned about the mysterious woman, the more it seemed like it might not have been a choice after all. 

“There’s gotta be something we can do, right?” Brea asked, voicing Viv’s thoughts. “If de Vygon’s mistreating her, surely there’s someone we can tell about it to get her out of his hands?”

“He would just cover it up,” Steve said. He let out a breath, rubbing his face with weary exhaustion. “Look, the only thing I know for sure is that that woman is strong enough to take down the entire precinct if she wanted. If she had a problem with how she was being treated, she could get herself out of it. De Vygon might have influence, but he’s just a normal man when it comes to power. Seven could easily kill him if he angered her. We’re probably just looking too much into it. Those injuries could easily just be from combat training or something.”

Vivienne sighed, looking out over the city in the direction Seven’s medical team had left in. “I hope you’re right, uncle. I really, really do.”

Taglist: @steelandblood @sapphicwhump @urnumber1star @alsolucakairomi @idkwhattodowiththisaltiamsorry

@iamheretohurt @anoyedartist @dontyoubleedoutonme @seastarblue

Even in the midst of a concussion and a broken sternum, Jordyn can't help but be a hopeless lesbian

Viv didn't really get as much introspection into her character as I would've liked but that's just because she was so focused on Jordyn that there was no time for that. Chapter was ballooning a lot as is. I'm sure she'll get more later :)

Thanks for reading. Let me know what you thought! Comments and reblogs very appreciated :)

[sufficientlylargen]

A few of my favorite words

Note: I scrolled back to the very beginning of my drafts folder, and found this post that I apparently saved as a draft on July 1, 2014, almost exactly a decade ago. Please enjoy it now.

Eunoia

This is the shortest word in the English language with all five common vowels. It comes from a greek phrase meaning "beautiful thinking", and now means "the goodwill that a speaker or author has towards their listeners/readers". There's an archaic spelling "eunœa", but then it doesn't have all the vowels. So eunoia is also one of very few words where adding a ligature makes it less cool.

There's a taxonomic genus called Iouea, which is an even shorter word with all five vowels, but you can't use it in Scrabble because it's a proper noun, so it doesn't count.

Kea

This is a species of parrot that kills sheep. This is because birds are dinosaurs. That's really all there is to say on the matter.

Ucalegon

From time to time you see lists of non-English words for things we don't have words for, and then you get jealous of people who have a single word for that thing where you tap someone on their far shoulder so that they turn and look in the wrong direction. But now you can feel better, because "ucalegon" means "a neighbor whose house is on fire". Every now and then I find myself wishing that a nearby house would catch fire so that I could have a ucalegon. A small fire, obviously - no real damage, just some singing on a rug or something.

I learned this word at a talk by world-renown puzzlemaster Will Shortz. It's his favorite word.

Facetiously

I didn't realize the significance of this word until I played 3 in Three way back in the 90's, a phenomenal puzzle game by Cliff Johnson about a number 3 who, during a power surge, gets knocked off her spreadsheet and falls into the inner workings of the computer. You should go play if you haven't, and if you have played it you should go play it again. The cool thing about "facetiously" is that it's one of very few words in our language to contain A, E, I, O, U, and Y, in that order. Arseniously also works, as do a few others, but facetiously is the only one common enough that your spellchecker probably knows it.