#so my apologies if i got any part of the tradition wrong

[frodo-with-glasses]

Would you do wassail for the word ask game please?

"Concerning the origin of the custom there is some debate; the Tooks claim that the practice was the invention of the Thain, while the Brandybucks have long maintained that it was invented by the Master of Buckland. Most scholars agree that the likeliest theory--given that the Thain and the Master were dear friends and were historically known to hold their extensive Yuletide celebrations in a joint fashion--is that the toast was the result of communication between them and the brainchild of both.

"Nonetheless, there is no record of the practice in those early years of its inception, save a journal entry by the Master of Buckland on the Yule of 1436, in which Mistress Estella prepared 'a sweet spiced cider...with apples from the New Orchard by Bagshot Row, and [we] drank to the health of the Shire, and to its fields and orchards, and to our friends in Rohan and Gondor, and to the Ents (with good luck in their search), and the Elves, and the Dwarves, and our kinsmen over the Sea'. This anecdote is believed to be an early iteration of the custom from which later developments were derived.

"Through the generations, the toast remained a staple of Yuletide celebrations in Buckland and Tookborough. Though the original import was eventually lost, its association with the Ents and good health of trees was maintained, so that it began to take on something of a superstitious nature; a 'wassail tree', often oak or maple, was selected as proxy for its brethren, and so received the blessing and good wishes for the coming year, often in the form of bread soaked in the cider and hung from its branches for the nesting robins.

"The drink, or variations upon it, is still enjoyed in certain parts of the Shire, traditionally made with fruits from those old trees which, according to family histories, were blessed with a grain of earth from Lorien when they were planted."

WORD ASK GAME!

[the-badger-mole]

i've scrolled through your blog quite a bit, and one thing i haven't seen you talk about (though maybe i just didn't scroll far enough) was the scene where sokka is wearing the kyoshi warrior uniform.

i've seen so many people say "wow, the show is really taking a stance against toxic masculinity! sokka wore a dress! it humbled him!" but if you actually watch the show . . .

it wants you to laugh at that, actually. it's one of my least favorite lines from aang. sokka is repeating something suki told him about what different parts of the uniform represent or something like that and he's looking pretty proud, but then aang walks by and says "hey sokka, nice dress" and laughs. and that's never walked back and aang's never punished. so the narrative is clearly pushing that . . . what aang said was okay? but if what aang said was okay, then that means that sokka wearing a dress was meant to be laughed at, right?

anyway, i don't understand how people watch that scene and take away "wow, that scene was so progressive! sokka wore a dress!" yeah . . . we as the audience are supposed to laugh at it. it's supposed to be funny. because boy in dress can't be taken seriously! it has to be a joke!

and i don't understand how people watch that scene and like aang. that was his first major red flag for me. like??? it get that he's twelve and a little shitster, but as you've said so many times, his age isn't an excuse to not hold him accountable. in fact, his immaturity means he should be held extra accountable, so he doesn't end up the same little shitster as an adult. the end of that episode should have had aang apologize to suki (who was also there when aang made that comment iirc). that comment was demeaning and threw away the entire point of that scene (and episode, honestly) in just four words. it demeaned the kyoshi customs and culture, and it completely throws away the point of suki telling sokka "if you want to train with me, you have to follow all our traditions" (paraphrase, not real quote).

anyway aang sucks, and if you've already talked about this, sorry. but if you haven't would love to hear your thoughts.

Of all the things that I think are wrong with Aang, his sexism is pretty low. That's not to say I don't think he's got the potential to be sexist, I just don't think it's occurred to him. He grew up in a gender segregated monastery. I wouldn't be surprised if Katara was the first girl around his own age that he'd spent any time with at all. What were the monks teaching him about girls, and why they were separated? Who knows? Clearly, he knew enough to ridicule Sokka for wearing a dress and to be upset about being played by a woman in EIP. Aang does have some sexist tendencies, but I don't think he's thought through the implications enough to actually be outright sexist. His worst moments have to do with his cultural biases, and an Air Nomad superiority complex. One of his worst moments had to do with him being disrespectful towards Bato about SWT artifacts.

The most obvious potential example of his sexism the way he treats Katara throughout the series, at least on the surface, but while there was absolutely sexism involved in how Katara was treated, I think it was more sexism in the writers room than in Aang himself. With Aang, it was less sexism, and more general entitlement. He wanted Katara. Her feelings didn't matter, not because she was a girl, but because she was an object. I've pointed out before that Nightmares and Daydreams proved that he understood what enthusiastic consent is, but he never even considered her feelings enough to think that she could turn him down. He was very entitled about Katara's affections and even her body, but I don't think the entitlement would've been different if the genders were reversed (look at how entitled Korra felt to Mako), or even if Aang and Katara were both boys.

I'm sure someone else could find more examples of Aang being overtly sexist- in fact, I remember reading a really good meta about Aang's reaction to being played by a woman in EIP, but I can't remember who wrote it. Still, don't think it matters if Aang was sexist or not. He's more toxic than Sokka ever was, even without being overtly sexist. Sokka, at least, was open to learning and growing, and his sexism was never that deep. But Aang? He never gets the opportunity to grow, because his bad traits are never called out like Sokka's are. I'm convinced that Aang benefits from cute privilege within the fandom. If Aang was a year or two older, and looked like Sokka or Zuko, he'd be right up there with Ross Gellar and Ted Mosby in the Nice Guys Who Aren't Actually That Nice pantheon, but because he's got big ears, chubby cheeks, and a big ol' smile, he gets a pass.

[quins-makeshift-menagerie]

I know the answer could possibly be a spoiler but

Is Janus meant to be a villain or not??? I'm assuming they are because they literally admitted to MURDERING clones we didn't see because they were "genetically inferior" (obvious disgusting behavior) and have generally been an extremely toxic presence in the lives of the other characters. but you've been giving kinda mixed signals?? I know there's nuance but I'm. Worried. Because I've seen commewnity artists reveal some very ableist and/or abuse-endorsing behavior/beliefs under a friendly facade and it's concerning me. I don't think YOU would do that, but a surprising amount of people completely missed the message of the first pokemon movie so. Idk I'm worried.

Firstly, if anything I create comes off as ableist and/or abuse endorsing that is ENTIRELY unintentional and does not reflect my views at all. Apologies if you feel that way but know it was never my intent to give off that vibe.

Under a read more because this got a bit long…

To put it very simply, Janus is not meant to be a villain. Janus was never meant to be an antagonizing force and if they come off as such then that is a failure on my part. I’ll do my best to address your concerns but again apologize if my explanations don’t clear it up 😔

Please keep in mind Janus stems a lot from the original translation of the first movie, where Mew does see clones as inferior beings. I won’t deny that originally this was Janus’ mindset when first introduced. This isn’t a view current Janus holds and I need this to be understood. They’ve grown since their introduction.

Though yes Janus did hold this view, it’s become very complex given their nature. Janus is parent to all life, even clones. They weren’t happy about the clones existing, but this stemmed a lot more from humans and their intentions which, more often than not, have never been good.

On an semi-related note, despite being more aggressive towards human made clones due to what corruption humans could pass onto them, Janus was shown to be (at the very least since they had not gone through any development yet) tolerant of Mnemosyne, even respecting their desire to live peacefully and offering to train them so they would be prepared when the mittens came.

Apologies if I am wrong, but I’m a bit confused as to what you mean by them being an extremely toxic presence. While admittedly Janus is not the traditional kind and bubbly many seem to expect from Mew characters, they haven’t gone out of their way to be an extremely toxic presence. If anything they’ve taken a more neutral/passive but positive leaning position. They’ve helped Mnemosyne, they’ve helped Calliope, they’ve helped Bellatrix, they’ve begun to put forth the effort to actually be in their son and granddaughter’s lives despite their rough history. Janus is trying to be better.

Unfortunately Janus is a character I fear I will never be able to portray correctly because they have a viewpoint that no one could ever hope to experience/understand. They’re old, older than time itself. Their perception of time and morality are complicated, yet at the same time they’re so detached from the mortal experience that they’re like an infant when it comes to their understanding of the complexities of life. However they’re allowing themself, through becoming involved in those complexities via the Mirage Island crew, to grow and learn.

I understand if you hate Janus for what they did and do not forgive them, I’m not asking that of you. All I ask is that you understand Janus is a deeply complex character, but they were never meant to come off antagonistic towards the Mirage Island crew, especially at this point in the story.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

The Performer: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Summary: Hold on. Just hold onto what's good. Don't let him see how broken you are. Spencer becomes heartbroken when he realizes that you don't want to see him but you'll see everyone else. How can you see yourself through his eyes like this?

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

"In all the darkest pages in the malign supernatural, there is no more terrible tradition than that of a vampire--a pariah even among demons." - Writer Montague Summers

Spencer's been busy all month. Hotch and Derek have been giving him task after task so he hasn't had a chance to see you. He finally finished everything he needed to do so he gets ready to visit you before returning to work. Derek sees him trying to leave so he drops what he's doing and approaches Spencer.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"To see Y/N. We're not that busy here, and I figured I could be back to work in a couple of hours."

"I need you to complete these files. They're urgent and must get done right away."

"You have a whole team at your disposal. Is it selfish if I ask you to give that to someone else? I promise I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Spencer, I need you to get this done."

"Morgan, I haven't been to see Y/N since she got arrested. Is it too much to ask if--"

"She doesn't want you there, man," Derek blurts.

The entire floor is quiet as Spencer tries to process his words. He looks at Emily and JJ who have sad looks on their faces, Rossi and Hotch have stoic looks, and Penelope is close to tears.

"What? She said that?" Derek opens his mouth to answer but nothing comes out. "Morgan!"

"Look, she loves you. There's no doubt about that, but she doesn't want you there."

"She's my girlfriend. I deserve to see her! I have to know how she is doing."

"Why don't Pen and I go?" JJ offers. "We can check on her and we'll let her know whatever you want us to tell her."

Spencer scoffs at her offer and shakes his head. He walks back to his desk and sits down angrily. Derek nods to JJ and the two women leave the office. Spencer's jaw ticks but he doesn't say anything about it. You don't want him there? Bullshit. Derek watches Spencer with a careful eye as he goes back to what he was doing before.

It takes JJ and Penelope 2 hours to get to you. You're glad to see your two best friends knowing that Spencer probably fought to go with them. Or maybe no one knows they're here. Regardless, you're glad to see them. The bruise on your face has gone down a lot but it's at the yellow-brown stage. It's healing but still noticeable. JJ doesn't say anything when she sees the bruise but Penelope almost breaks down at the sight of you.

"Please don't cry, Penelope, or I'll cry," you sniffle. She nods and tries to stop herself. She shakes her head and hands the phone to JJ while she calms herself down. Seeing you like this breaks her heart because she considers you to be one of her best friends and she hates seeing people she loves in pain. "So, how's Henry doing?"

"He's doing really good. He's sleeping a lot better, but he misses you a lot."

"I miss him, too."

Once Penelope is calm enough, she leans closer to the phone while it's still in JJ's hand so she can talk to you.

"I am trying really hard to work on your case. We're all being monitored very closely."

JJ hands the phone to Penelope so she can hear what you have to say.

"Don't apologize for doing your job. There is nothing wrong with that. Those people need you to help them."

"Whose going to help you? You can't be stuck in here for something you didn't do."

"My trial is coming up soon. There's still a chance I'll be released."

JJ gestures for the phone.

"We will be right there when it happens. You won't be alone."

"I know."

"Look, we have to get back but I want you to know Spencer--"

"He's not here, is he?" you panic.

"No, but he wanted to see you this morning. Morgan gave him some work to do but he was angry."

"I can't let him see me like this," you sigh. "He's going to remember me this way, and I don't want him thinking of this when he thinks of me. I don't want him to see me in pain because then he'll be in pain, and I'll feel worse than I already do."

"I get it. Trust me."

"Please try and keep him away from here."

"We'll try. We have to go now."

"Okay. I miss and love you guys."

"We love you, too," Penelope smiles.

When JJ and Penelope get back, Spencer doesn't talk to him. He's still upset over what happened. If something was wrong with you, they'd tell him for sure. They'll let Spencer be alone for right now and will talk to him when he's ready. Derek got a case just in time for their arrival, so everyone met in the briefing room to talk about it. JJ knows about this case since it came across her desk first, so she knows what to talk about in the briefing room.

"Alright, the latest victim is Tara Farris, twenty. She's the third victim in two weeks. All were found on freeway off-ramps by commuters."

"He's not hiding them. He must want them found quickly otherwise he wouldn't dump them on an LA freeway before the morning rush."

"Well, they're still dressed. That minimizes the shock value. Maybe he's concerned for them. Do you think he wants them taken care of?"

"There are no signs of sexual assault on any of the victims. All of them were severely hypovolemic. Tara had less than a pint of blood in her. The first two had more than three pints each. If exsanguination is the goal, the unsub is definitely becoming more proficient."

"This is new," JJ says. "Tara's the only victim to have a written message."

She puts a picture on the screen of Tara's crime scene. There is something written next to her body.

"The liar," Hotch reads. "What did you lie about, Tara?"

"All of the victims appear to have been strangled and then bled out through identical wounds in the throat," JJ says, showing the necks of the victims.

"Seriously? Are those supposed to be fang marks?" Emily asks.

"All of the wounds on the victims were covered in saliva. Human saliva, as though someone drank their blood."

This conversation has to continue on the plane since they need to get to Los Angeles right away.

"So, they've already set up a task force in Los Angeles," JJ says. "You remember Detective Owen Kim, right?"

"From the stalker case, yeah," Hotch nods.

"You remember that case, don't you, Spence?"

"Yeah."

"Do you still talk to Lila?"

"How can you expect me to think about another woman when mine is sitting in prison where I can't visit because she doesn't want me to?" Spencer asks angrily. The entire team is silent. "Please, continue."

"Why don't you tell us about blood drinkers, Reid."

"Human blood consumption, or clinical vampirism, is known as Renfield's Syndrome. It's named after the insect-eating character in Bram Stoker's novel Dracula."

"Are they sadists?"

"Not necessarily. Pain to the victim is usually only a byproduct. Blood is the focus. Renfield's syndrome is usually accompanied by varying levels of schizophrenia, and occasionally more classic cannibalism if the condition evolves."

"Classic cannibalism. Lovely job we have," Rossi says sarcastically.

"I will say this, true cases are exceedingly rare."

"Renfield's may be rare but vampires are anything but. There's a huge subculture in Los Angeles of the red-drinking undead," Penelope says over video chat.

"Garcia, all these people drink blood?" Derek asks.

"Au contraire. They mostly just dress up like Prentiss did in high school, and they make-believe. It's all kinds of delicious."

"It's not the same thing at all. As a matter of fact, we should refer to this unsub as a vampirist, not a vampire. They would be attracted to the subculture merely for its professed worship of blood," Spencer corrects.

"Okay, I'm going to continue spelunking through the various online sites and see if anything jumps up and bites me."

"Thanks, baby g--" Derek stops himself from flirting. She is now underneath him and he can't be seen flirting with his subordinate. "Thanks, Penelope. Stay close."

"Yes, sir. Garcia out." 

"One more thing, vampirists are coveters," Spencer says. "They most generally always have some sort of relationship with the victim, even if it's tangential. They're likely to become obsessed. They've almost certainly crossed paths in some way."

Detective Kim is eager for their arrival, and he is practically at the front door when they arrive.

"Hi, Lieutenant Kim. Agent Jareau," JJ shakes his hand.

"JJ, of course. I remember most of you. Agent Hotchner. Reid. Morgan. Where's Y/N?"

"Not here right now," Hotch says. Spencer's face drops at the mention of your name but he doesn't say anything. "These are Agents Prentiss and Rossi. I believe they're new to you."

"Hi. We already have a room set up full of glass boards, case files, and extremely bad coffee."

"Agent Morgan's in charge now. It's his show." Kim gives him a weird look. "Long story."

"I know you like to start with the freshest information and work your way back. So, Tara's apartment has been processed and sealed in case you want to go there. Her body, along with that of the first two girls, is at the morgue with an ME waiting there for your call."

"Alright. JJ, get set up here and then hook up with Garcia. Send her the witness information so she can start cross-referencing with the first two victims. Reid, I want you to go through all the case files and set up a preliminary profile based on what you already know about psychopathology. The rest of us find out what we can on Tara."

JJ and Spencer get together to work off each other while the others do their own thing. Spencer is distracted, rightfully so, but he tries his best to focus on the case. How can you say you don't want him to see you? After everything you two have been through.

"When vampirists become obsessed, they aren't likely to find a random victim. If we can find a cross-relationship, someone in all the victims' lives, that'll be incredibly helpful," Spencer says.

"Gina King knew Tara the longest. They had some classes together."

"Let's get all the information we can on that relationship. As a matter of fact, get me everything you can on all of Tara's friends."

"Alright. In the morning, I'll track them down and do some follow-up."

Rossi and Emily went to Tara's apartment where her murder took place. There are books about movies and films that she was using to study. Everything she needed to know to make movies. In her bedroom is where they find the most interesting stuff. On one side of the room are posters of a goth man named Dante. It's a mini-shrine to the man fit with posters of him, trinkets about him, candles, and other things.

She has a laptop which probably has everything they need to know about her, so Penelope is going to have to work her magic to get inside of it. If Tara was into some creepy cult shit, then her social media will show it.

Derek and Hotch went to the ME's office to inspect the bodies of all three victims. The saliva found on them hasn't been a match of anyone in the DNA database but they have it going through the lab for more testing. If the ME sends the samples over to the local bureau lab and has them rush it, they'll have something by tomorrow.

The weird thing about the bites is just that... they're not bites. The edges of the wounds are razor-sharp. A tooth would leave a ragged, torn edge. Even with animal bites, the edges are torn by teeth. The "bites" were done with some sort of sharp and efficient instrument. If the bites aren't really bites, then why is there saliva on the wounds? From licking it afterward?

All they know for sure is that once an unsub like this gets started, it only gets worse.

Nothing can get done until the lab results are back in, so the team picks up the investigation the next morning. However, by the time they got into the station, there was news of another body. Spencer and JJ have gotten custody of Tara's laptop so Penelope is working remotely trying to get into it. The news is on about the recent murder and what it could mean, which is where most of the team is.

"This is Chase Manning, News Chopper 12, over the 101 freeway in San Fernando Valley. Apparently, a second body in as many days has been found near an off-ramp," a news reporter says.

"So much for keeping the media out," JJ scoffs. Penelope calls and she places her on speakerphone. "Penelope? Are we in yet?"

"All yours. I always feel skeevy going through someone's life like this."

"Okay, so everything looks like it's password protected so you might not even be able to--you're in already, aren't you?" JJ chuckles.

"The password was 'Cullen'."

"Of course," JJ laughs.

"Colon?" Spencer asks.

"Cullen. The vampire family from Twilight." Spencer's bottom lip wobbles as he tries not to cry. "Are you okay?"

"I kept putting off having a Twilight marathon with Y/N. She really wanted me to watch it."

JJ becomes sad for Spencer. She hates what this is doing to him. If it were up to her, she would bring him right to you. She understands why you don't want him to see you but she understands why he feels like he has the right to.

"If it makes you feel any better, she seems to be doing okay," she white-lies.

"It doesn't," Spencer sighs.

"Okay. I am gonna go talk to Tara's BFF before the media requests come in and it gets too crazy."

"What's a BFF?"

"Best friends forever."

"Should I go with you?"

"No, you have a profile to deliver."

"I should really work on it a little more."

JJ rolls her eyes and grabs his phone before he can stop her.

"What are you doing with my phone?"

She dials someone and places the phone against her ear.

"Derek, hey, Spence is ready for the profile." Spencer tries to grab the phone from her but she moves away. "Why, yes, he is right here." She hands him his phone and waves. "I'll be back."

"Hey, yeah, I have the profile ready to go whenever you are."

"Alright, we'll be right in," Derek says before hanging up. "Hotch, Reid's ready with the profile."

"Good."

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[theerurishipper]

Hey I have a question I read some takes that Adrien is a supposedly good liar? How though are there any examples..I always just assumed people never put two and two together with his identity is because he doesn't connect much with the class nor does Gabriel so it made sense in my head. I'm sorry if I don't actually make sense I just assumed that if even one of the classmates kept getting closer with him maybe he'll open up. I thought that'd be Nino but like I feel that he's so much more closer to his girlfriend and with Kagami that scene where she backed him into the wall and she said that wasn't the real him when he did goofy poses made me uncomfortable and sad for him. Marinette kind of disappoints me as a love interest like that time he was in the park on the bench and she decided that this was the perfect time to give him a present made me annoyed like I understood she has such a huge admiration for the guy and will climb mountains for him but I thought she'd get past that and they'd have like a one on one you know a talk. Usually the love interest would start to bond and grow closer but like I feel she's more into the relationship for herself because of this whole fantasy she builds up in her head it's why their relationship kind of a bummer.

I don't think Adrien that hard to get him to open up to but again this is my own opinion. I don't know really I just feel if someone like a teacher, classmate or even Master Fu get him to open up more and more and they start to bond. I feel like all he wants is a relationship to not be so conditional if someone kind enough allowed him a shoulder to cry on or even acknowlege his habits or when he's in a bad mood I think it'd work I ain't sure though. I wish the dude had more male friends.

I don't really get why the classmates just think Gabriel a strict dude when he seems pretty abusive. Marinette especially she knows how strict he is especially in season 5 and the whole adrigami thing and even with Chloe mom lol I think abuse or parental abuse just doesn't register an actual thing in her mind which is weird lol.

I don't watch Miraculous religiously lol I just watch it sometimes so if my takes and memories are wrong please forgive me. I am so sorry for this being a long ask I ramble way to much.

No need to apologize anon! Feel free to ask me anything.

Personally, when I say that Adrien is a good liar, I don't mean lying in the traditional sense. He doesn't do a lot of actual lying (except when it comes to his secret identity), but it's more than he doesn't really reveal his true self to anybody. He doesn't fake his personality per se, but he only shows people the parts of himself that he thinks they will like because he's been conditioned to believe that he has to conform to everybody's expectations of him and be perfect for them. It's why Chat Noir is so different from Adrien Agreste™, because he's always performing in every part of his life. And putting on a mask at all times isn't the best way to connect on a deeper and intimate level with the people around him. I think Adrien's friendships with Nino and Kagami and everyone else is real, and whatever he shows them is genuine, but it's still not all of him, and he still feels the need to hide the parts of him that he feels they won't like. His relationship with Ladybug is an exception (obligatory until Season 4 disclaimer) because while he's still putting on a performance, it's not for the sake of pleasing her.

You mentioned his closeness with Nino, and I always felt that Adrien was more at ease with Nino than anyone save Plagg. He was more relaxed and at ease with Nino in like, Seasons 1 and 2, enough to show a little more of himself, and I got the sense that he was a little more open with Nino. Then Rocketear happened and Adrien pretty much shut down on that front and started to put on the mask even more, and their friendship never was the same after that.

The thing with Kagami is that she was right about Adrien. Chat Noir isn't his "true self," it's a persona based on him acting out in the way he's never allowed to as Adrien. And the model Adrien is a persona crafted based on the demands from his abusive father who expects him to be perfect. Kagami isn't able to see under Adrien's mask, but she's able to understand that he's putting on a front, and she wants him to quit it.

Marinette kind of disappoints me as a love interest like that time he was in the park on the bench and she decided that this was the perfect time to give him a present made me annoyed like I understood she has such a huge admiration for the guy and will climb mountains for him but I thought she'd get past that and they'd have like a one on one you know a talk. Usually the love interest would start to bond and grow closer but like I feel she's more into the relationship for herself because of this whole fantasy she builds up in her head it's why their relationship kind of a bummer.

This is exactly the problem I have with canon Adrienette. Marinette literally doesn't even know that Adrien is putting on an act, and she literally thinks he's perfect. It was so funny to me when Pretension made Gabe out to be so wrong and evil when he accused Marinette of falling wholesale for Adrien's performance, because Gabe was fucking right, damn it.

The problem is that the show never challenges Marinette's view of Adrien. She doesn't have to learn to look past his masks and see him for who he really is, he just up and tells her thanks to an Akuma's influence, and then he spends the rest of the time in Season 5 pursuing her, so she just gets handed her trophy boyfriend without having to put in the effort of getting to know him as a person. The show never wants Marinette to be inconvenienced by *checks notes* learning to see Adrien as a person, and it just wants her to get her dream relationship without an effort on her part to truly understand him. She's not much different from the rest of her class or any of Adrien's fans, because they all just see what they want to see and what he shows them. By virtue of them being the endgame, Marinette should have been special in that she tried to look past the masks to understand the real Adrien once she realized his "perfection" was a front and an act, but she didn't. She remained as delusional about him as she always was and got the relationship dropped in her lap. Thanks, I hate it.

I don't think Adrien that hard to get him to open up to but again this is my own opinion. I don't know really I just feel if someone like a teacher, classmate or even Master Fu get him to open up more and more and they start to bond. I feel like all he wants is a relationship to not be so conditional if someone kind enough allowed him a shoulder to cry on or even acknowlege his habits or when he's in a bad mood I think it'd work I ain't sure though. I wish the dude had more male friends.

I don't think it's that simple for him to break out years of being conditioned to conform to other people's needs, but the fact remains that, you know, no one even cares. Kagami was literally the only one who cared enough to try and understand him, and even she was made to spend Season 4 as Adrien's bitter ex (not Kagami salt, I love Kagami, this is just writing salt). The rest of the class admits in Felix that they don't really know him, and they never really seem to try to get to know him either. They do care about him, but not that much, you know? Everyone is honestly content to keep seeing him as the perfect guy, and no one tries to see the real him. Like I said, I feel like he was a little more open with Nino in the earlier seasons, and he's more open with Plagg, but that's about it. He was a little more open with Ladybug, but that also went down the drain in Season 4 because of the Ladynoir conflict. It took an Akuma for him to open up to Marinette. I don't blame anyone for falling for his act, but they clearly don't really care to get to know him either. I think you're right in a way, that he would be a little more willing to drop the act if someone tried to understand him, like Nino and Plagg. But no one cares, unfortunately.

I don't really get why the classmates just think Gabriel a strict dude when he seems pretty abusive. Marinette especially she knows how strict he is especially in season 5 and the whole adrigami thing and even with Chloe mom lol I think abuse or parental abuse just doesn't register an actual thing in her mind which is weird lol.

Tbf they don't know much about what goes on inside the Agreste household, and they are just kids, so I understand that they wouldn't be able to completely recognize what's going on with Adrien. But the show itself doesn't think Audrey and Gabriel are abusive, and Marinette is basically the mouthpiece for all that, hence the solution is that apparently Chloe and Audrey should just bond, and Adrien should be fed a lie that Gabriel is not a bad guy actually. Marinette seems to have a pretty black and white view of the matter, and since she comes from a loving home, it doesn't really register to her that parents can be so awful. But the show frames Marinette as in the right to push Chloe and Audrey together when what Chloe needs is to get the hell away from that abusive person. It tries to frame her as right for gaslighting Adrien into loving his abuser. It's pretty nasty stuff.

But that's just my opinion. Honestly, I think the best meta on this subject is this excellent post by @fearlessinger. It's a wonderful analysis, I highly recommend it.

Thank you for your ask!

[eternal-armin]

SO, HOW SHOULD i begin this?

this is the first time i'm going to do a multi-part fic that goes beyond like 2 or 3 parts (rip to the chandelier fic.) bear with me ;;;; but i'm obsessed with everything everywhere and i wanted to do something with the abilities evelyn and joy specifically have. and, of course, the angst that can come from it. looked over this as much as i could but im exhausted so my apologies for any errors ;;;

pairing : five hargreeves x male/transmasc reader [he/him pronouns]

─────

where : five is instantly intrigued by the eighth sparrow, a kid just like himself, which makes him try to seek him out specifically; nothing better than a second opinion about time from another person who knew its intricacies, right? well, he... may have gotten more than he bargained for.

─────

warnings : future mentions of trauma, fighting and injury (specific mentions of choking), existentialism, reader is just exhausted of life and shit in general, future cheesiness and such because i said so, depression, a whole lot of 'if i can bend reality to my will then how much does it really matter' kind of questioning (later on for the most part.)

the disheartening sight of seven other people—ahem, sorry, and one very confusing cube—was made endlessly puzzling by the appearance of a kid behind them. someone who looked five's age. physically, anyway. they both seemed equally entranced by the other; the kid's eyes were wide, his lips slightly parted, as if seeing someone he had been missing for decades. he furrowed his brow a bit, cocking his head, and klaus found himself peering where five glared.

"well, would you look at that? they've got a little brother, too!"

"zip it, klaus," he hissed, though with a certain degree of gentleness in his voice, even excluding the volume he had to use. looking back at the balcony, he was wearing more casual clothes with a sort of... varsity jacket of the sparrow academy's traditional colors and emblems. he was a sparrow, meaning he was born in 1989, meaning he was around thirty years old. so why did he look thirteen? it clicked then, suddenly; his power could have something to do with time. five felt instantly that he needed to speak with him. and if it needed to be done by force, then...

hands crossed neatly over his lap, barely restraining that very obvious agitation, ben chimed in with, "dad, who the hell are these assholes?"

a chorus of "shit" rang out amongst the umbrellas. five stared at him with the same amount of emotion as usual, mostly overrun by confusion, however his sentimentalities ended there. that balcony, barely a few yards from where five stood, held something—someone, rather—that could be an answer to his predicament. or at least help figure out if he could retire or not. if this world was safe enough to stay in. there was a whole host of colorful characters. if he was the sparrows' number eight, what exactly inspired reginald to adopt him as well? or was it just sort of a convenience thing?

luther stepped forward along with klaus. "is that really you?"

no amusement struck ben. if anything, he somehow managed to look more annoyed.

"and who are the weirdos on the balcony!"

"they are the sparrows. my children." reginald's controlled, vaguely irritated voice was such a contrast to diego's harsh tone.

much to five's chagrin this moment was a bit more important than staring at a boy. he turned on his heel, narrowing his eyes at the old man. "i'm sorry, what do you mean your children? that's not possible, old man."

"of course it is! i think i'd know, wouldn't i?"

well. something was very wrong, wasn't it?

the sound of footsteps and shuffling caught his attention and yet again he looked back forward; all of the sparrows once situated haphazardly on the balcony now stood across the tile threshold. the kid was shorter than he expected, in all honesty, and he seemed to be the least serious out of all his siblings—not to say that he looked like he was having fun or that he was laughing, but that he didn't want to fight. he looked like he would avoid it at every cost.

"everyone else can see ben, right?"

"cute hat, sundance."

"they call themselves the umbrella academy," reginald interrupted, "a group of scheming, perfidious malcontents who accosted me in the fall of '63 when i was away on business in dallas. be warned—they claim to be my spawn." all throughout reginald's little schpiel, five and the other kid maintained eye contact, five puzzled at his existence and him puzzled by five's puzzlement. he seemed to find it weird but, oddly enough, he didn't seem weirded out specifically. occasionally five would glance about the rest of the sparrows, gauge them if he could, and when that happened he would sometimes catch the barest glimpse of the kid looking at two of his sisters with confusion.

should i be worried? he was probably thinking to himself.

with five on his opposition? absolutely.

"claim? look, five, what the hell is going on?" allison sounded like she was moments away from boiling over.

"not sure yet, but it's concerning."

"is he telling the truth?" seeming to sense the steadily-rising tensions, the kid started, very slowly, to back away, retreating to the furthest reaches of the carpet before the battle had even begun.

"not the part about us being perfidious." vanya seemed to kind of placate that cowardice in him. maybe he even smiled at vanya.

"no! no, we're amateur-fidious, at best!"

"but we are his children, this is our house."

"yeah, we grew up here."

"yeah, yeah, we grew up here," alphonso mocked, getting a snicker from jayme, however the kid just shot them both a slightly judgmental look.

"i kind of think we would've noticed you," sloane said, to which luther stated his name and offered out his hand. sloane did not accept, really she didn't do a thing, and some whispers broke out amongst her and her little brother, whispers that five couldn't make out.

"okay. none of you belong here."

"oh! well, then. i guess we'll just pack our bags and move out."

christopher babbled and chittered, milking chuckles from his brothers and sisters. five had to say he looked way better smiling than frowning, though he figured it would probably be the same for anyone.

grace came in to the living room, heels click-click-clicking, holding a plate of cookies in her hand and apologizing that she couldn't do better. five couldn't catch the precise details. it was just kind of nice to see her again, even if she was certainly in need of a... few repairs.

"mom." diego's sentimental mumble caught some of the sparrows off-guard. the kid included.

"she's a robot, you perv."

"it's not a robot."

"don't call him that!"

"or what?" ben challenged.

"come closer and find out." bickering broke out between the two families, vanya and marcus actively trying to keep everyone's heads on straight, and five may have lost track of the conversation. until ben threw the first punch, anyway. he ducked back, watching as luther next was flung like a ragdoll across the room, landing on and breaking the poor couch. he saw the boy duck out and wanted to chase but first kept his loyalties, attacking ben and getting lost in a flurry of sharp punches and occasionally-failed dodges.

"you're alive. that's—great, or possibly horrible, i haven't decided yet."

"is that some weird kind of smack talk?"

"it's more of an existential problem, really, ben."

"awesome. well, here's your next problem." with his arms extending back and torso leaning forward, a grimy tentacle quickly burst from his chest, though not fast enough to stop five before he blinked away and onto the balcony.

"y'know, even though you're a total asshat now," five began, rudely cut off by another attack which he yet again evaded with ease. it was easier to land a punch and he watched as ben crashed into the ground. "it's nice to see you again. really." after seeing a particularly disturbing scene between diego and the cube, he stepped in to save allison from a few of the other sparrows, yet again finding himself on the second-floor balcony.

"thanks," allison managed through uneven breaths.

"no problem." both standing up, both dusting themselves off, they saw someone rounding the corner. it was him. still, that look of passive pacifism remained, now somewhat stoic in nature; he didn't want to fight, but he may need to. he was resigning himself to that fact and five could see it in his setting expression. and most importantly, there was also endless loyalty. oh, well.

five furrowed his brow, readjusting his jacket. "go help the others. i'll handle this one."

his new opponent almost seemed to space out, eyes narrowing just a bit as if being flooded by tons of new information. with grace and precision, and certainly speed, he set into a defensive stance. five blinked behind him to try for an attack and it was blocked. he continued to block, evade, block, evade, as fast as five tried to attack. the only sounds he made for a while were little grunts.

every failed punch and every successful block was adding to five's aggravation and his exasperation.

"y'know, five," he said, and hearing him speak for the first time startled five terribly, "delores wouldn't like you fighting like this! i'm not doing anything to you!" that shocked him so bad he misfired a punch but it landed for the first time because of how he went to dodge. he was weaker than five first surmised, falling onto the ground, and five continued to strike him back down until he was pinned and unable to move. he looked enraged, face twisted, eyes wide, teeth bared and gritted, glaring daggers at the kid, who looked to be in quite a bit of pain.

"how do you know my name?!" he barked. "how do you know her name?!" five got no answer and that was endlessly more irritating. the kid slammed his hand onto the ground and grabbed the first thing he could, a small piece of rubble, but five watched as, in those few fractions of seconds, that small piece of debris turned into a metal candlestick.

a metal candlestick.

the moment five saw that, he teleported, reappearing just a few feet away. he pushed off his total confusion; no time. the kid kept the candlestick in his hand when he fumbled to stand, not getting even a moment before five tackled him into a headlock. he didn't think twice about the look of pain on the kid's face because that wasn't exactly imperative and he didn't hesitate at the sounds he made.

the kid raised the candlestick again and five watched in subtle horror as it flitted between many different forms, each punctuated by a small sound and a bit of light. he only recognized a few of those hundred forms before he saw it land, like a wheel of fortune, on a knife and he plunged it down. five jerked out of the way of the blade. even though he had once been so hesitant to fight, so afraid of hurting other people, he seemed finally able to push that away and actually defend himself. he may not have been particularly strong, but he was swift and flexible while wrenching himself out of five's grip and adept at landing hits that would still make five flinch and pause. the kid blocked a punch and the moment that they came in contact with each other, the world around them... changed.

from the slightly destroyed upper floor of the academy house, it became an office building, papers flying about while people panicked about the violent fight between the aisles of cubicles. in that moment of confusion, he landed a hit on five, right in the gut. after a pained second, eyes squeezed tight, he grit his teeth and kept fighting.

the office building had become a high-rise skyscraper that they were fighting on the edge of.

another punch and they were on the deck of a cruise ship.

another block and they were in a spanning parking garage. the kid advanced and forced five to back up, closer to the edge of the space, and certainly to a painful fall. he continued to evade every attempted hit, no matter how five had calculated them, before pouncing on him and shoving him right out of the concrete monolith, plummeting down toward the ground along with him.

"how the hell are you doing this?!" five shouted, voice swallowed up by the shouting winds. he grabbed his shirt, bunching up his collar tight enough to cut off his breathing. the panic in his eyes welled up very quick.

and then they were back. instead of hitting the hard pavement ground, five lost all the air in his lungs when he thudded onto the carpeted academy floor, gasping for a second as the kid scrambled away from him, coughing and wheezing.

five hadn't even strangled him for that long, what the hell?

five forced himself to sit, to stand, shooting the glare to end all glares at the boy across from him—however he didn't attack yet. after all the disorientation he felt from those few... transitions, he wanted to keel over and vomit. he was in no condition to fight. luckily, however, neither was his opponent.

killing the kid would not get five his answers, no matter how badly he wanted to do it.

the kid was on the ground, propping himself up on one of his hands, his entire body seeming wracked by pained, nauseated tremors. he looked to be heaving, expression conflicted, exhausted beyond exhausted. he held his head the way one would when suffering from a bad headache.

his question went unanswered, which just served to annoy five further. "are you a time traveler or something? no. a multiversal traveler? do you work with the commission? that's the only possibility i can think of." knowing about delores, knowing about his name, certainly knowing his past, instantly transporting both of them to different places, it could all connect to multiversal travel.

but that spacing out part, before he could dodge like some highly trained professional, and that debris-to-candlestick-to-knife part? those still kind of puzzled him.

the kid wrinkled his nose. "that's the only possibility? you've got a narrow range." for someone who sounded so pained and exhausted, he could manage some mouthiness. somehow he sounded more genuine than sarcastic, though. strange. what about him wasn't?

five's eye twitched and his lips pressed hard into a scowl. "a narrow range? a narrow range? my 'range' isn't narrow! i've seen so many possibilities unfold! do you even know what i had to do to get here?" his words hissed with pure venom. that didn't faze his opponent, even whilst he jabbed an accusatory finger at him, as though somehow this was his fault.

"i do, actually," he managed, although still short of breath. "you got trapped in the apocalypse for a few decades, offered a deal from the commission, broke your contract with them and became a fugitive, got back to your family, and have been trying to evade apocalypses ever since. third time's the charm, right, five?" he recounted it all with the cadence and sensitivity of a history teacher summarizing an important, yet complicated, period of time.

"how could you possibly know—stop calling me that! how are you able to do any of this!"

"i'm not gonna stop calling you by your name." he laughed through his words. he laughed.

"is my exasperation funny to you?"

"i-i mean, kinda! do you know how many ways i've seen this conversation going?" five stilled like a statue. "this was the most common outcome. well, uhm, aside from you just killing me. it's just a little funny how you always react the same way." he shrugged a bit, as though this was simply some high school gossip, and not (one of) the most puzzling thing that five had ever been exposed to.

"look," five began, trying to steady himself. "if you don't tell me how you know about me—how you know about delores—this will become a timeline where i kill you. okay? capiche?"

he raised his hands in surrender. they shook. "capiche, five."

"stop. calling me that."

"to even the playing field, i'm [y/n]. there." he sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees, checking his hands. yet again he seemed to space out, just for a moment this time, before going through a grounding technique. he looked determined now, not as tired as before, though it did remain rather clearly in his eyes. [y/n] was just a kid again. he looked like a pathetic, sick kitten. "it's my power. i was born like this. you travel through space and time, i travel through reality. all of reality. alternate universes, as you know them. close by, far away, ones almost exactly the same and some with very distinctive evolutionary branches. the further away the world, the... stranger they get. i can see literally any possibility. so i—i fucking know you, five. i know you. i know your brothers and your sister and your in-laws and your niece and every other niece or nephew you could've had. there are so, so many worlds where i was an umbrella, or your friend, or stuck with you in the apocalypse, or... something like that. that's how i know you, and know delores. i was there."

sister, singular?

fuck, why was that his first take-away?

five narrowed his eyes slightly. "you can see every alternate universe," he said, slowly, as if clarifying something to [y/n] when he really needed the clarification for himself.

he nodded. "use them, too."

"use...?"

[y/n] broke into a little smile. his answer remained unknown because their restrained conversation was interrupted by one of [y/n]'s sisters. just one glance and his smile disappeared, staring at five with now-widened eyes, mouthing something along the lines of 'get the fuck out.'

five didn't need to be told twice. a flit of light and he had disappeared to who-the-hell-knows-where.

"who the hell was that creep," jayme mumbled, watching as [y/n] stumbled to his feet and dusted himself off. she grabbed him by the scruff of his jacket out of instinct to make sure he didn't fall over.

"uh... someone pretty interesting," [y/n] said, staring at where he'd once been, the flash of bright light still burned into his eyes. he wanted to find him. maybe needed to find him. probably because something in the world was very wrong, even if no other timeline had figured it out yet.

if any of the umbrellas knew where to hide out, it would probably be klaus, right? simple solution. kind of. as long as he could sneak out undetected by his siblings.

a good bit of time had passed when you finally had the chance to scope out the hotel obsidian. you had changed into something more casual and lowkey, sunglasses now balanced atop your nose and a nice light scarf about your neck. music played over your headphones and you wandered inside of the place, stricken with the sight of heavy art deco. it was rather nice, actually, when you took the time to appreciate it. then again, your mind was rather preoccupied with what was probably a very big deal. on the other side of the lobby, in the little bar and lounge area, you could spot a few of the hargreeves siblings. most notably five, now wearing a white bathrobe. soon his eyes glanced to you and you could feel his gaze sharpen. he looked back at his brothers and excused himself, stepping off the stool and teleporting to you before his feet hit the ground.

"what are you doing here," he hissed through gritted teeth.

"i mean, our conversation got cut off earlier. seemed right to continue it, y'know?"

five looked back at his brothers and then at you once more. klaus was staring after him but you didn't know if he recognized you; luther and diego were still totally enraptured in their chinese food.

the look on five's face told you a whole lot; it was critical to him to talk with you, figure things out, because he guessed—and guessed right—that you weren't just here to politely finish a conversation. something weird was going on, whether he wanted to know or not. "alright. okay. fine. just," he grasped your shoulder after a second and then you were both gone, reappearing instantaneously in a room you assumed to be five's. small cot in the corner, bunk bed opposite, and a couch.

god, you wanted to throw up. you clutched your stomach, squeezing your eyes shut for a minute.

he crossed his arms and looked at you. "so where exactly did we leave off?"

you paused to scrub your mind, trying to recall. a few blinks broke the few seconds of spacing out. usually you weren't this forgetful, but, uh, today was an interesting one. "i said i can use those universes and that confused you. and then jayme came around and i told you to leave."

"right," five muttered. "what exactly did you mean by that?"

"well, obviously i can use them for information." your voice was somewhat soft, actually, which was mighty strange to him.

"hmph. how could i forget." five's flat voice was thick with sarcasm.

you managed a smile. "but i can also use them for skills and stuff. the dodging, earlier; i can't really do that here. there's a world where i star in fighting movies and stuff, where i'm good at dodging and i'm fast and flexible, and i can... link my mind, i guess, and use those skills. and the... the candlestick. knife. thing. i can change things to whatever another me is holding. i can change my clothes. i can change reality."

"so, in essence, your mind is able to find every other instance of you across time and space and access them? and... communicate with them, i suppose, in some way or another."

you shrugged a bit. "about explains it. but the—... can i ask you something?" you suddenly sounded sheepish, hesitant, like you were constantly rethinking what you were about to say. five furrowed his brow, a little surprised to see that look on your face, and he really didn't like it.

"depends on what that something is," he responded, speaking cautiously.

you found yourself spacing out again, but this time not to access some alternate plane of existence. every other universe had its own noise, and every other universe was persistently audible; that loud buzz was starting to give you yet another headache. it was probably possible to overdose on tylenol, right? suddenly that constant look of exhaustion on your face was even more obvious to five. for a moment, he seemed almost sympathetic to that. he could certainly understand it, at the very least. "you've got about twenty-eight years of experience on me," you began, forcing your voice to be steady. "do you have any clue how to deal with the, uhm, existential part of it all?" lightheartedness seemed to be a skill of yours. five could respect it.

you doubted, sincerely doubted, that there could be anything in the world to help you from the persistent noise. or from the pain and exhaustion of swatting from world to world to world in the span of thirty seconds during a fight. it was a wonder you were still walking.

"why should i help you with that, exactly? your family tried to kill mine."

"i didn't try to kill anyone. i hid upstairs the entire time. well, uh, almost the entire time. i can be an ally to you guys. i'd... prefer to be allied with you guys." if anyone else in the world knew about the ins and outs of the umbrella academy, five had no doubt in his mind that it would be you and your presumably-torturous ability. it would probably be a smart idea on their side as well, to ally with you.

"before i agree to help you at all, how can i be sure your family isn't using you as some sort of... puppet? some sort of inside man?"

you shrugged a bit after a second. "i wouldn't be a very good choice."

"seriously? do you think i'm stupid or something?"

you crossed your arms, looking at him with narrowed eyes. "no. i know you aren't stupid. and i'm pretty sure that your first choice wouldn't be a 'weak thirteen-year-old kid with a power that cripples him with headaches and exhaustion whenever he uses it,' either. not to mention that said kid can't hear what's going on sometimes because of literally every other sound in the expansive multiverse." the words were sarcastic but the tone was very genuine, almost excruciatingly so.

"i have... so many more questions now."

you shrugged a bit. "i can answer some of them, i guess." considering that you knew almost all the ins and outs of his life, it seemed only fair to share some of yours. you were too tired to steer the conversation back to why you had came. perhaps you'd already forgotten it.

"why exactly are you thirteen? you were born in 1989, you had to be."

"... i chose to stay this age."

"how can you just choose to stay that age?" exasperation met with confusion in a very strange voice of five's. even after all he'd gone through and learned, you were just springing question marks all over the place. god damnit.

"i can manipulate almost every aspect of reality, five," you said, softly, in response. "it's not out of the realm of possibility to stay thirteen. not for me."

five nodded slightly after a second. that nod steadily turned into a shake of his head. "jesus—i should've grabbed some coffee." he pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. "just give me a second."

"oh. uh, no need." glancing about the room, there was a small corner table, atop it an ice bucket and some plastic cups for water. he watched, for some reason a bit puzzled, as you placed your hands on it. spaced out. and it flitted to a fresh coffee pot and a mug. they seemed like something from a diner.

well, that would make sense, wouldn't it?

you poured him a cup and handed it, still steaming, over to him.

five scowled a bit, staring down at the filled mug, before his sharp gaze landed on you again.

"it's just coffee, five. it's not poisoned or anything. here." you plucked it back out of his grasp and took a sip, waited a few seconds, and handed it back. "see? you're fine."

after a second, he nodded. "right." he didn't find himself bothered by drinking from the same mug you had. he'd done a lot worse things, hadn't he?

"so... what were those other questions?"

after taking a few healthy swigs, he cleared his throat. "your ability—it really taxes you? even after all these years?" five would never admit it, but the coffee was pretty goddamn good. whatever diner your alternate-self worked in was worth a visit, if it existed in this world. "is that why you were shaking and panting so much earlier?"

you felt a bit embarrassed. "yeah," you mumbled. "i trained with it a lot, but, i wasn't very strong to begin with." you sat down carefully on the sofa, pulling a bottle of painkillers from your coat pocket.

"when's the last time you had a dose?" five asked, mug to his lips, shooting you a side-eye.

"... maybe three hours ago. why?"

he clicked his tongue and shook his head, plucking the bottle out of your hands. "not now, then."

"dude! what the hell! i-i need those!"

"well, i can't keep asking questions to someone sick from taking too much tylenol. and you can wait three hours."

you groaned but didn't complain, just settling back against the comfortable cushions. "fine. i'll wait." and you mumbled 'you're just like sloane' under your breath.

"good," he mumbled, sitting down beside you after tossing the pills onto his bed. "you said you could hear every sound in the multiverse. something tells me that isn't a hyperbole."

you nodded a bit and slouched down, trying to figure out a decent analogy. "when you remove a door from its threshold, you can always hear what's on the other side, unless you actively tune it out. just, for me, there were never doors. it was always like this. every single feasible universe is out there, fighting for my attention, almost every waking moment." you recounted with a deep sort of mourning. five couldn't blame you, he supposed. you had been robbed of silence, of pure solitude, of privacy. his heart almost ached for you.

had you been born with the doors off their frames? he wanted to ask, he really wanted to ask, but it was probably going to be way too... private of a thing. personal. from what he could tell.

"and i thought wrangling that crowd of toddlers was bad. i can't imagine hearing everything they do, everywhere, constantly," he mused.

you cracked a smile. it had been a while since you were able to joke around with someone, even if that someone had interrogated you like a police investigator. "oh, it's the worst," you giggled, and he laughed along. "i mean, it's bad enough knowing what your brothers do into their socks, it's even worse to walk in on them over, like, over two thousand times."

"i've known you for a very short period of time, but something tells me that's the worst thing you've ever said."

for someone in a very persistent and terrible bout of pain, your laugh, and your smile, were incredibly bright. five couldn't really say that he was expecting this when first appearing in the umbre—ahem. in the sparrow academy building, but he wasn't exactly complaining. this could be nice. he really hoped it would be, anyway.

silence fell on you two for a while. the overbearing static was starting to edge back in now that you had nothing more to say. the pain was ebbing.

"... something's wrong." you sounded deadly serious, it was horrifying.

"s—sorry?" five felt like he had whiplash after such an extreme diversion from the topic.

you seemed to be fighting that urge to space out a whole lot more. this was important, you needed to stay on track, and yet your stress was doing exactly the opposite of tunnel vision. shit.

five noticed; and he kind of needed you to talk, as fast as possible, so reached out and pinched your neck, successfully getting you to tense and wake up, in some sense of the words. offense was replaced with gratitude in your eyes. "i don't know exactly what. no other universe has figured it out. but you aren't supposed to be here, this isn't your timeline, that's—a very big problem. it could potentially 'rip a hole in space and time.'" five muttered along with you, cussing and hanging his head.

"why didn't you say this first?" he hissed.

"i'm sorry!" you sounded very genuine and he felt rather bad. "i-i—the interrogation and then the pain and then the... getting along with you, i forgot." it was another world, some utterance of 'not normal yet' that brought the thought back to you.

your voice was cracking. you felt far worse than five could ever make you feel.

"... it's fine. it's fine."

"it very much isn't. you know that."

five knew it all too well. he groaned, pinched the bridge of his nose, and downed the rest of his coffee. "fantastic."

"i mean, it may be a problem we can solve." you shot him a smile, a tired and weak little thing, but it did comfort him a bit.

"the universe will really mind if seven dumbasses stick around?" his humor had soured, but it was still there. you felt very guilty, unable to look him in his eyes, shoulders slouched as if defeated in some great thing.

"she's a stickler for rules."

"hmph." he scowled a full-face scowl. "no retirement yet, i guess."

out of all the things you could ever have seen, heard, felt, and known, one thing seemed... important. emotionally, anyway. "if it's, uhm, any consolation... retirement did look good on you, by the way."

he couldn't help but smile a bit. somewhere out there was a world where you and five were friends well into his retirement, be that at his confusing age or his chronological age from 1989, where he was happily retired with no time-threatening anomalous issues to draw him out. even if he was bound to die in this timeline, there was some comfort in knowing many other timelines saw him content. "i'll take your word for it."

[artiewiles]

Take Our Inter School Credit for Fuck's Sake!

[WP] “…and that class is why Humans are considered the most peaceful species in the universe.” The only three humans in class looked at each other horrified. All the facts about humans that the aliens had were wrong. One student slowly raises their hand.

"Is this going to be on the test?" Claire asked.

"Of course, it will! But I expect you and your friends to have no issues. Don't worry."

Claire looked at Tom and David. They weren't her friends. They could barely stand each other and the group projects were literal nightmares. Nobody could imagine the Humans wouldn't want to work together so they always grouped the three of them. Always. It was for the “human perspective” or some other crap. 

"Dude, we're fucked," David whispered and this time, Claire agreed.

"I can't fail this one! I'm already in trouble. And there's no way I will remember all this bullshit," whispered Tom frantically. "You know how hard it was to memorize the history for the Human School? And now this! It will mess everything up!"

Tom was right. Claire liked the Human School they went to every "Saturday" but the history part was hard. And if they were to add this nonsense to the mix... There's no way she's messing her finals because of it! They got the dates wrong, the conflicts wrong, the resolutions wrong...

She's not learning all of that just for one stupid test! She looked at Tom and David. They looked at her. And at that moment, an alliance was forged. As the ancient saying goes, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.

She slowly raised her hand again. "Will you accept our credits and scores from our Human School? This way we could use everybody's time more efficiently. There's no need to waste academic resources. Maybe we could work on our final project instead?" she offered in her best I-love-school tone.

"Nonsense," mandibles clicked. "It will be quick and easy for you three and you know well enough we don't accept inter school credits."

"The creaky old bug doesn't accept credits," Tom grumbled. "Everyone else does."

Claire hid her smile. He was right. The creaky old bug was the worst.

This time, David raised his hand.

"Yes, David?"

"What if our knowledge is more complex and therefore -"

Therefore? He's using the big words. Count her impressed.

"- our answers would be more complex and seemingly contradictory to what you taught today?"

Mandibles clicked in frustration. "What do you mean? How could your answers be contradictory and complex? Explain."

"Well," David scratched his head, "the reality was far more troubling? It's understandable that it could cause the softer species a high amount of distress so it's omitted in the lectures..."

Tom nodded and followed that up with: "But our species prides itself for learning about past mistakes. And it seems wrong to omit that for the sake of the test."

"Again," Claire joined them, "we understand why it's not discussed in a class. But as responsible Humans we simply have to uphold our species traditions and rites. Learning about one's history is the core of our culture and learning the simplified and sugar-coated version is a direct jeopardization of our culture."

"Exactly," Tom agreed. "It's the highest offense we could do to our ancestors."

"And I'm not saying we would be shunned..." continued David with the heavy implications, they would, indeed, be shunned. Then he sighed. "It wouldn't be pretty."

Their teacher turned ugly shade of purple. "Jeopardization of your culture? My apologies. Of course, that was not my intention."

Claire bit her lip to keep a straight face. Everyone tries so hard not to offend any species and their culture. Sometimes it's a pain in the ass but at least it's useful now. "We understand that. I'm sure it wasn't. But can you see how troubling this would be for us?"

"Can you give me an example of one of those discrepancies?"

They shared a look. David had this glint in the eyes she usually hated. It meant trouble. But this time... 

She nodded her head a little.

Tom smiled at him. "You go, buddy. You got thousands credits on the history last year."

He shrugged. "Okay. So..."

Claire shifted in her seat. David was well known for his... Fondness of the conflicts and the war strategies. What era is he going to pick?

She would pick the witch hunts. They weren't competing for the best woman in the village as the professor led the class believe. It wasn't some weird Miss Witch competition for the Earth-God sake!

"So, you know how you talked about the global Earth program for better health and species improvement? People being sent to camps for better concentration performance?"

Oh no. He's not going there! She was aware her mouth was wide open, but the balls of him! Maybe this was too much. This was… Well, at least it’s gonna be interesting.

"Those camps weren't nice? And the whole global initiative wasn't nice?" David continued sheepishly.

"What do you mean?" asked their teacher.

"It was more like a war and species reduction camps?"

Mandibles clicked. "I'm not sure I follow."

"It's called Second World War for a reason," Tom quipped.

"Second World War?" wave of whispers raised in the class. 

"Did he said second?”

“War of World?”

“Like the entire planet?”

“Isn’t that a class Four planet?"

"Many people died," said Claire. She for sure didn't remember how many. It was some insane number she forgot right after the test. Some million something.

"Impossible!" clicked the teacher. "I wouldn't stand such jokes in my class. You're having a detention."

They shared a look. Hell they are.

Claire stood up and raised her voice to be heard over the ruckus. "The concentration camps didn't improve mental performance! People were systematically killed there or starved to death."

"And used as ingredients for daily use objects. Like a soap," Tom added and stood as well.

David slowly rised. He shot the teacher a firm glance. "Our history is bloody, violent, and disturbing. We massacred each other and only in the face of the worst crimes and devastation did we finally started working together to reach peace.” His tone was cold and menacing. 

The class quieted and the faces of their classmates grow more alarmed with every sentence. 

He continued gravely: “We choose peace everytime we can because we remember the horrors. We always choose peace and treaties because we know the depths of violence we are able to reach. We choose to be peaceful because we value life and know very well how fragile it is. Do not deny us our past for we need it to remain better than our ancestors. We know who we are and we won't let you spit on the billions of dead. Only thanks to them we are where we are as a species. Do not stomp on our dead.”

Someone's digital pen clattered to the floor.

“Now, teacher Fixhurati, what do you think about our previous offer?"

The teacher was slightly yellow around it’s many edges. "Yes. You can work on your final project. Class dismissed."

Several students jumped and rushed out of the classroom. Probably to take care of some of their bodily functions. The teacher was way ahead of them.

"Dude, did you really whipped out Terminator 15 monologue?" Tom asked.

David smirked. "I always wanted to do it. And you can’t say it didn’t fit."

"I can't believe it worked," Claire muttered. "Everyone knows Terminator 15. It's classic. How did nobody here recognize it?"

"They're puppies," muttered David darkly in the Terminator imitation. "Soft."

He hold the badass expression for two whole seconds before he burst out laughing.

"I'm glad it worked, man." Tom clapped him on the back. "And hey," Tom looked at Claire, "aren't we already done with the project?"

"Yeah," she shrugged. “They are going to cover this crap for the rest of the semester. Free period is always nice."

The boys exchanged glances. "You've got a point."

"Anyway," Claire said and took her backpack. "Bye." And with that she was on her way to get a cup of goofe before her Xiorish class.

"She's still super annoying," she heard Tom mutter behind her back.

She just raised her hand with a nice pointy middle finger. That everyone still believed to be a peace gesture. Man, she loves being Human.

________

Slightly improved version of the writing prompt I did on Reddit. Link to the original here.

This version also on AO3.

[rugtopper]

I Hate Butterscotch

By Rugtopper

I was beyond excited.  After making every excuse imaginable to see my dentist whenever I could over the years, Dr. Goldstein finally asked me out to dinner.  Yes, I guess I could have been bold and asked him myself, but he is at least 25 years older than me.  I have had a crush on him since I was a teenager.  He is so handsome and dapper.  He also has something else that most anyone, male or female, would find off-putting.  He wears a toupee.  It's not high quality in any way.  It doesn't even match the color of his real hair. You see, I have this bizarre problem:  I have a fetish for toupees.  Every time I'm in that dentist's chair, I get so turned on just staring at Dr. Goldstein's hard, fake hairline.  His toupee is a deep chestnut brown, very thick and full, with a traditional left-sided part.  The thing that makes it stand out is the upsweep off the forehead.  There are far better hairpieces on the market that he could have purchased, but for whatever reasons he went with a less-than-perfect facsimile of human hair.  I have never said anything to him about it, although I have wanted to.  

The night finally arrived.  I had changed my mind nine times over what to wear.  I knew he was taking me to a very upscale restaurant, so I knew I needed to wear a suit.  I had debated which of the three I owned to wear, and decided to wear the dark navy; then, there was the decision about the tie.  I had many in my collection that had belonged to older male relatives who had passed on.  Twenty minutes before he arrived, I finally decided on a bright floral.  My shirt was crisp and white.  My undershirt was taut across my pecs and clearly apparent underneath.  I had decided to wear these silly silk pink boxer shorts with red and white hearts on them - just in case.  I had gone all-in with garters for my socks.  I had worn them since college.  A fraternity brother had gotten me into them.

Dr. Goldstein arrived on time looking handsome as ever in a dark charcoal suit.  Like me, his shirt was crisp and white, but thicker than mine.  Still, I could see the faint outline of the scoop of his a-shirt.  I knew he had more traditional leanings in apparel.  When I opened my front door, my voice caught in my throat.  The way the porch light seemed to magnify the artificiality of his hairpiece took my breath away.  I didn't want to go to the restaurant.  I just wanted him in my bed with his hair on my dresser.  Still, I managed to find my voice and greet him.

"Good evening, Dr. Goldstein."

"None of that 'doctor' stuff tonight, Chris.  Please call me Jake.  Now, are you ready?  That restaurant won't hold our reservation."

"Sure, of course."

I'll skip over the dinner conversation.  It was pleasant, but pedestrian.  The food was excellent.  I thought that I had been fairly successful in avoiding staring at his hair, but I guess I failed because as we got to dessert and coffee Jake put his fork down and looked directly into my eyes.

"Uh, Chris, is there something wrong with my hair?  You keep staring at it."

I immediately crossed my legs and said, "I am so sorry, Jake.  I didn't mean to stare, or embarrass you.  I never would want to do that."

"Then why do you keep staring at it?  You seem to do it all the time, especially when you're in the chair for your checkups."

"I apologize, Jake.  It's just that . . . Never mind.  I can't say."

"Of course you can, Chris.  I've known you since you were 12.  You can tell me anything."

"Okay.  Uhm . . .  I don't want to embarrass you or hurt your feelings."

"You won't, Chris.  Now, just say it."

I took a sip of my coffee.  It tasted very bitter, so I added another spoonful of sugar and took another sip.  "Okay.  Jake, I really love your hair.  I think it is so beautiful.  There, I finally said it out loud".  After I said that, I tightened my crossed legs even more to keep what little I had from popping up.

At first, Jake got this slightly shocked look on his face, then he seemed to blush.

"You didn't hurt my feelings at all Chris.  In fact, I'm quite flattered.  But, I'm also somewhat embarrassed."

"I'm so sorry, Jake.  Now I'm embarrassed for upsetting you." I took another sip of coffee.

"Chris, I'm not upset, but I am a little embarrassed.  You see, this is very difficult for a man to admit, but I actually wear a toupee."

I crossed my legs even tighter, forcing my nuts to roll up inside myself!  I tried to keep a pleasant look on my face, but I was so excited.  I was also suddenly flushed and slightly dizzy.

"It looks great," I lied to him.  Actually, it looked great for someone with my issues, but it looked bad for someone who is trying to convince the world that his hair is real.

"I had to start wearing one when I was in college.  A lot of men are embarrassed about losing their hair, especially at a young age.  Are you okay, Chris?  You don't look well." What I tried to say was, 'I feel fine if a bit warm'.  What came out was some sort of incoherent gibberish.  After that, I think I passed out, but I really don't remember.

The next thing I do recall was the acrid smell of burning hair, and a coolness on my knees.  I slowly opened my eyes.  I was sitting in a huge barber's chair with a clear cape covering me, yet I could see my undergarments!  What was going on?  I looked up and saw my reflection in a huge mirror.  There was a husky man standing behind me.  He had the most exquisite black pompadour, clearly a full wig.  He was holding a tiny pen with a cord attached.  He kept touching the top of my head with it.  Each time he did, I felt a slight tinge and smelled burning hair - my hair.  There was only stubble on the top, but the rest of my hair on the back and sides had been trimmed very short.  I tried to talk, but was unable to utter a word.  In front of the mirror was a shallow ledge.  There were two styrofoam wig heads with a very dark ginger toupee on each.  At first I tried to think who I'd like to see wearing them.  As my mind cleared more and more, I realized that those toupees were for me.  As this reality became clear, I saw Jake via the mirror walking toward me.  

"Oh, good.  I'm glad you are finally waking up, Chris.  You know, I love the cute boxer shorts you wore just for me.  Still, it's a waste of all that silk to cover that little dicklet of yours.  I bet you sit down to pee.  Still, it's good to know you have some traditional leanings in your choice of apparel."

"What's going on, Jake?" It sounded somewhat slurred.  I must have still been hung over from whatever was in that bitter coffee.

The husky barber continued to denude my scalp while Jake spoke.

"Chris, you are very intelligent.  I think you have figured it out.  I am flattered by your schoolboy crush.  I even found the story you wrote about me.  Now, don't look so startled.  I recognized myself in the story immediately, even if you did change my name.  You see, Chris, you were very chatty a few months ago during that extraction surgery.  Afterwards, with Antonio's professional skills, I decided to help you become the mature man you have longed to be.  I think you need to know what it's like to have everyone stare at your hair all the time."

As Jake finished talking, he took a step back.  Antonio took one of the toupees off the styrofoam head and applied four pieces of tape to the underside.  Two of the pieces of tape were curved.  They were placed at the front and back of the hairpiece.  On the sides were placed two straight strips.  Antonio quickly placed the toupee on my head.  The perimeter was rather stiff.  The tape immediately stuck to my scalp.  When Antonio had my new hair on my head, I felt the curved tape in back adhere just above my occipital bone. I knew then that I was forever going to be a Norwood Six male patterned bald man in a rug. I could feel the light mesh foundation of the center of the toupee against my smooth, sensitive bald head.  The toupee was thick and full with a fixed left-sided part.  The texture was smoother than my own hair.  The contrast between my flat brown hair and what had been taped to my head was stark to say the least.  Antonio began trimming my new, fake hair with scissors. He used a small handheld steamer in the front. Suddenly I could tell he was giving me the same up-sweep that Jake's toupee had. I realized that apart from the color, I had the same model toupee as Jake did. The laser wand Antonio had earlier used had killed the hair on the top of my head. It has also destroyed the hair at my temples. Without that, it was even more glaringly obvious what I had on my head. My little dicklet decided to do a happy dance. I was enjoying my new look without a thought about the day-to-day life experiences I would certainly encounter.

I was mesmerized, humiliated, vulnerable, and thrilled all the same time.  I was also a little upset.

"It's butterscotch," I blurted out.  "I hate butterscotch."

"I know Chris.  You told me after that surgery as the nitrogen oxide was wearing off.  You told many, many things.  You told me about your crush you have had for me, and you told me one other thing."

As Antonio finished styling my new hair, Jake walked up behind me, leaned down beside my ear, and whispered, "you have a great toupee, Chris, but it's still just a cheap toupee."

The End

[potofstewie]

Deja Vu

The low down: History is repeating itself and for once, Kyojuro is tired.

The things to know: Reader uses she/her pronouns, Absolute angst (I kind of got teary eyed while writing this), mentions of blood, character death, this mostly takes place before mugen train , ooc shinjuro but he's a nice guy promise, Venting, sobbing kyojuro, like literally this ray of sunshine is BROKEN, a peaceful and sober Shinjuro, Y/N is literally a bg character lmao sorry, daddy issues

Pairing: Kyojuro x Reader

W/C: A WHOPPING 3.8K WORDS, MY BIGGEST ONE YET!

Words/phrases to know:

Monstuki Haori Hakama: Traditional formal garment that would be worn as simplified attire by people in the Samurai Society (during the Edo Period)

A/N: Hey you guys, I'll come clean. This one is a doozy not necessarily in length but in the emotions I tried my best to display in this one. It's true, reader is nothing but a background character and I kinda apologize for that. I really wanted to write a fic that portrays a new leaf in Kyojuro and Shinjuro's relationship and what better way than with sacrificing Y/N? Anyway, I finally made a pinned post linking my masterlist and other stuff for my mobile users. I plan on posting this and my other stuff on AO3 probably tmr as well. I hope you guys enjoyed and DO TELL ME YOUR FAVORITE PART

It was happening again. 

Kyojuro laid wide awake within his futon, puffy and reddened eyes burning the ceiling with his intense gaze. The calming silence of the night was occasionally interrupted with your pained coughs erupting from the other room. Kyojuro ran a tired hand through his disheveled mane, completely fed up with it all.

The coughing, the wheezing, the piles upon piles of tissues that were stained with spots of blood and phlegm. The never ending servings of soup, the countless doctor visits that always ended on the same confusing and irritating note. 

“It’s only a matter of time.”

Kyojuro didn’t hate a lot of things in the world, but that sentence he hated the most. “It’s only a matter of time.”

A matter of time until what? Until she gets better? Until she becomes the second one to leave them? What the hell did it mean? The situation weighed heavily on the Rengoku males, tension forever present within the household. At the beginning, all three of them would listen intensely to whatever orders and updates the doctors gave. They would each take turns administering medicine and delivering soup, massaging sore muscles that grew tired of being idle under a futon. Now, however, it was only Senjuro who listened. Kyojuro, as well as his father, continued to serve your every need despite giving up on worshiping the vague and aggravating words of the doctors.  

Your lover tried to keep his cheerful façade on display as usual, but as the days went on and the coughing grew louder and longer, his smile would falter and heavy sighs would take the place of his boisterous laughter. The bubbling fear and anger within him replaced his ever so optimistic and happy demeanor. There was no doubt that his family took notice of his change no matter how hard he tried to hide it, you included. Any time he would be with you, you would always ask the same things:

“How have you been, honestly?”

“Have you been eating?”

“Are you taking care of yourself while you’re away?”

“Something is on your mind, my love. What’s upsetting you?” 

You were easily satisfied with the simple “I’m alright, don’t worry about me.”, “yes” or “nothing is wrong my dear, honest.” You’d always give him that smile which he loved dearly before turning your back to him, returning to the warm embrace of slumber. Kyojuro’s beaming smile would always dissipate immediately when your eyes were no longer on him, fatigue tugging at his spirit. Of course something was bothering him; you were crumbling away right in front of him and he was absolutely powerless to do anything. 

On the days he would be free from pillar duties, all he could do was roam the house aimlessly like a ghost who couldn’t pass on properly. Even at night when sleep couldn’t find him, he would wander the halls. His frame would always buckle and slide against the walls, silent tears covered his cheeks every time as he curled in on himself. This all felt like Deja Vu to the flame hashira, every second he experienced was just another second he had already gone through. However this time he would be the grieving partner. He was grateful, though, that instead of turning to alcohol like his father did once upon a time, he stuck to wandering like a stray dog. 

Kyojuro grew to envy his father when your illness took a turn for the worst. He took notice of the lack of sake present in the house and the ever growing moments he and Senjuro would catch their father outside his room. He took note of how attentive his father was to your every beck and call, even to those that didn’t require him or ask of him in the first place. Even without being told he would do his damndest to ensure his would be daughter-in-law is alright. Opening the Shoji to let the sunlight flood into the room, cooking hot meals for the house and giving you the largest servings, taking up extra chores so Senjuro could keep you company. All these things Kyojuro wished he had the enthusiasm for. He loved helping you, truly, but his determination had depleted almost completely. 

Rubbing his eyes, Kyojuro sat up, a heavy sigh leaving his dusted red nose. The corners of his mouth twitched, heavy with sadness as a revelation dawned upon him. His father was probably doing this out of habit, out of fear. He faintly remembered what it was like when his mother was sick, his father doing everything he could when he had the time to be at home. He supposed that maybe doing all of these things and more was a way for his father to cope with the haunting truth that another person he cared about would die due to unchangeable circumstances. Maybe, just maybe, his father hoped that things would get better and that he wouldn’t have to relive the same pain he had once experienced; even if it wasn’t him who would take it the hardest. 

A single tear escaped Kyojuro’s fiery eyes, his hand quickly erasing it as he sniffled softly. No, the one to bear the pain the most would be him. It was his turn now, and no amount of soup and small conversations his father offered to the family’s source of light would change that. Getting up from his futon, Kyojuro wondered if there had been a curse placed upon his family. It couldn’t be a coincidence that this same situation would happen twice. Did a demon from his father’s past place a curse on the bloodline as it died to his blade? Damning every Rengoku to suffer absolute heartbreak?

Entering the dark hallway, Kyojuro silently stalked his way to the entrance, mind lost in sorrow. Staying in bed couldn’t help him and wandering the halls wasn’t something he was up for. Instead, he aimed for the fresh, crisp night air to fill his lungs and clear his mind. Oh, how he wanted so badly to purge the sickness in you and toss it to the farthest reaches of the earth. He wished to take you out to all your favorite restaurants again, to go on a picnic with you again, to bear witness to you playing with Senjuro under the cherry blossom trees again. He missed being able to kiss you during the cold winter nights that only a lover’s embrace could heat up. He could no longer give you the sweet kisses you had once pleaded for, your illness putting a stop to most intimate tokens of affection you were both accustomed to. 

As a heavy sigh left his lips, Kyojuro opened the shoji and blinked in surprise. His father, broad back facing the house and his eyes focused on the sky above, was sitting on the engawa. Legs hung over the edge, a half empty cup sitting next to its owner. Shinjuro turned around slightly, acknowledging his son.

“I couldn’t sleep.” He explained softly, turning his attention back to the dark sky, the bright moon the only thing decorating the endless dark abyss. Kyojuro closed the shoji behind him and took a seat next to his father, burning eyes gazing at the cup in suspicion before looking at his father in silent question. Shinjuro picked the cup up and slightly turned it. “It’s just water.” He said simply, resting the cup on the other side of him before resting his hands in his lap. 

“I..couldn’t sleep either.” Kyojuro said softly, hesitation ladened in his sleep-deprived voice. Although things within the house had gotten better since you entered his life and the lives of his family, Kyojuro still had a slight problem conversing with his father. You managed to change his father for the better, instead of heaps of sake littering the house only one or two bottles were kept in the kitchen before his father made the decision to get rid of it entirely once you fell ill. He started to eat with the family, although he barely spoke, only talking when answering a question or giving Senjuro or you his praises for the meal. He started training Senjuro in simple hand to hand combat, leaving the sword work to Kyojuro. He even had daily, lengthy conversations with you about an array of things; from what Ruka was like to how happy the birds seemed to be that day. 

It wasn’t easy but progress was slightly made between the father and son. His father started returning any greetings he was given, he waited alongside you and Senjuro when Kyojuro finally arrived home from a grueling mission and even confessed to him that he was proud of him being a hashira but still preferred it if he turned away for his own safety. But, all of that still didn’t quite quell the nervousness Kyojuro had when it came to him. 

“I know. That’s why you’re here, Kyojuro.” He remarked quietly, taking a sip of his drink. If he focused hard enough, he could’ve sworn that there was a twinge of tease hidden in his father’s voice.

“R-right.” He replied, voice barely above a whisper. For a few pensive moments, there was a cold silence between them. Kyojuro furrowed his wild eyebrows slightly, oh how awkward this all was! He didn’t know what to say to his father, even if he did he still wasn’t sure if he should voice it. He was in an intense battle with himself and by the looks of it, it was going to end in a draw.

One part of him wanted to vent to his father, to tell him all of his frustrations and woes about the depressing situation all of them were currently in. He wanted to bawl and curl up by his father, have his hot tears soak through the clothing on his father’s shoulder. He wished to be a little boy again, to trip and scrape his knee and have his father pick him up like he used to and comfort him. To hear him say: “It’s alright little one, you don’t need to cry anymore. I’ll patch you up, good as new.” like he used to. To plant a loving kiss on the top of his head and rock him in his arms. To call him a big boy when he was finally at ease and say how proud he was for being brave. All that he wished to have again.

The other part of Kyojuro, however, wanted to keep the peaceful silence between them. To just gaze up at the moon with his father and bottle up his emotions; to burn through it all passionately as he usually would. But even Kyojuro knew that would end in failure. He wanted to be as strong as he could, to bear it all on his tired and weakened shoulders. To give hope to his father -and to himself- that things would be alright and that you would bounce back better than ever. That you would play with Senjuro again, that you would do morning stretches with his father again in the garden, that you would plant millions of loving and passionate kisses all over Kyojuro’s face. 

As the young man sat in silence, mind ravaging with his thoughts, Shinjuro broke the silence with the clearing of his throat. “I..think it would be best for the two of you to get married as soon as possible.” Kyojuro turned his head to his father, his puffy eyes blown wide as his father continued to stare at the sky. “It..would be best for all of us if there was one last good memory to hold onto.” With that, he finally gazed at him, tired eyes drinking in the clear signs that his son was crying earlier.

“Oh, um, yes. You have a point…I’ll bring it up with Y/N tomorrow morning.” Kyojuro muttered, calloused hands slightly gripping his yukata. Kyojuro’s gaze lowered to his lap as he tried to figure out how to pose his question. “Um, father?” He called out. Shinjuro answered with a gruff hum, taking another sip of water.

“Father, Y/N..isn’t going to get better, is she?” Kyojuro could feel his ears heat slightly at his question. He sounded like a small child that couldn’t grasp the concept of someone he cared about dying. He reminded him of himself once upon a time. Shinjuro grunted again, looking at Kyojuro.

“She won’t, Kyojuro.” He answered simply, flaming eyes once more concentrating on the moon. Kyojuro’s bottom lip twitched at the obvious confirmation, a painful lump slowly forming in his throat.

“Father?” He started again, picking at the hangnail that resided on his pointer finger. Shinjuro sighed softly and leaned back on his palms. 

“Yes, Kyojuro?” He answered patiently, completely understanding the heavy task he was assigned once Kyojuro sat next to him. He knew how fragile his son currently was and he knew just how painful it was. Nobody was by his side when Ruka fell ill but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t be the lighthouse for the ship his son sailed on, horrible waves from the daunting storm threatening to capsize him. 

“It’s all useless, isn’t it? The doctor visits and the soup.” He started, worry taking the reins and causing him to talk faster. “A-As well as the medication and the massages and-”

“Kyojuro.” Shinjuro interrupted sternly, shocking the young man and causing him to look at his father with worry plastered on his face. An iron gaze was focused on the young man’s sorrowful features. A sigh flew from the older man’s lips as Kyojuro looked back down at his fingers, eyes covered in a sheen film. “It may all seem useless, hell, it might actually be. But those things..bring her ease. It brings Senjuro ease. It gives them hope and it would be cruel to just stop it and force them to face the grave truth.” 

“Right, I apologize.” Kyojuro said meekly, lolling his head back to keep from sniffling. A tender yet battle-worn hand rested on the top of Kyojuro’s head, giving him a slight pat before leaving his messy hair. 

“It’s alright, Kyo.” Shinjuro reassured softly, sitting up straight again. He dithered, unsure of how to say his next words. If one thing Shinjuro wasn't good at, it was being reassuring. But, his son needed him and he truly didn't want to let him down this time. Never again, he silently vowed to himself as he took a deep breath, lips parting slightly.

“It’s okay to feel this way. I don’t have to tell you how hard this all is and how awful everything feels. But just know that I won’t leave your side for any of it. I’ll be there to hold your hand through it all and I’ll make sure that you don’t end up like I did. I promise you, Kyojuro.” He finished, a small yet reassuring smile resting on his lips. Kyojuro looked at his father in both bewilderment and comfort. For the first time in a while, Kyojuro was finally receiving the love and care that he had longed for from his father for a long time. With a slight nod, Kyojuro once more looked down in his lap, fingers tightly woven. A single tear finally broke through, leaving a small dot on his clothing.

“Father, I..I’m so scared. I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know if I can keep being cheerful anymore. I’m so tired, father. I feel like I'm lying to her, lying to myself. And I can't stand it, I just-” And with the last word to leave his trembling lips, a struggling wail escaped Kyojuro’s throat. Rapid streams of tears left his screwed shut eyes as his shoulders convulsed, rough hands frantically trying to wipe away the stains on his crimson cheeks however they just kept coming even stronger than before. Large hands grabbed the side of Kyojuro’s head and shoulder, pushing him into a tight hug. Soft hushes filled the heavy night air as Kyojuro’s wails grew louder and became filled with incoherent babbling. 

“I don’t wan’ to lose her, I hate it. I hate it all! I-I wanna save her but- but I can’t!” Kyojuro spoke through an agape frown, drool beginning to leave his mouth while his hands gripped the back of his father’s yukata tightly as Shinjuro’s hand rubbed his back. “P-please, Papa, help me, Please!” He pleaded, voice muffled as he buried his head further into his father’s embrace. Shinjuro’s lower lip twitched slightly before burying it on the top of his son’s head, placing a soft kiss in the blond tresses. 

“I know, Kyo, I know. I’ll help you out, don’t worry. It’s okay, my son...I promise.” Shinjuro whispered as the gut wrenching sobs left his son’s lips. Shinjuro hated it all too. He hated seeing the memories of Ruka’s final moments every time he visited you. He hated seeing Kyojuro slowly turn into a shell of his former self, he hated looking into the mirror that was his son. He hated seeing younger Kyojuro within Senjuro, always trying his hardest to raise everyone’s hopes and quietly asking him if Y/N will for sure get better; always being met with vague answers. It was all Deja Vu to the older man, as if he was watching the past play out right in front of him but ten times worse. They hadn’t even gotten married yet, let alone have one or two children. Shinjuro could feel nothing but the sorrow and anguish within his battered heart beating loudly in his ears as Kyojuro finally succumbed to his emotions. 

Shinjuro started to slightly rock his son side to side as burning tears soaked through his clothes. He didn’t mind not one bit. He would have all of his clothes drenched in the salty tears of his children if that is what they needed. He would rock them and comfort them as many times as they requested, no matter how big the issue was or how old the children were. It was his responsibility as their father to do so, as well as something he owed to them for all the years of negligence. 

Kyojuro’s wails died down to occasional sniffles and heavy breathing. His grip on his father slightly loosened as he partially uncovered his bloodshot eyes, gaze resting on nothing in particular. “What..am I going to do? I love her so much, it hurts. It hurts so bad. I feel like I can’t breathe, my lungs are burning. I-I’m so tired, Papa.” Kyojuro mumbled, no longer caring about how childish he seemed calling his father “Papa”. That’s what he was after all, Papa. Papa the Brave that chases the demons away every night before bed and when he’s away from home. Papa the Strong that can carry both his children and his wife on his body, carrying them throughout the house as tiny, sweet giggles filled the air. Proud Papa that teaches his sons how to hold a sword and praises them when they beat the air with wooden swords. Loving Papa that coats Mama in sweet kisses when he comes back home. Helpful Papa that saves little boys with snakes from sorrowful places and wipes his children’s faces every meal time. His Papa. 

Shinjuro sighed softly, rugged hand traveling in his son’s hair. “I’m sorry, Kyojuro. There isn’t much you can do but be there for her. Love her as much as possible no matter what. Try to make her happy every day, even if you feel like giving up. And when you do feel like giving up, find me. And I’ll carry you.” 

Kyojuro sniffled as his body felt the brunt force of fatigue. His wild eyebrows furrowed as he began to succumb to the sweet luls of slumber. “Okay, Papa..” Softly leaving his lips as he finally slept, Shinjuro kept his steady rhythm of rocking until the morning sun crested the horizon, birds singing their wake-up songs to the once still Earth.

A warm, gentle breeze traveled throughout the lively forest as boisterous laughter filled the air. Shinjuro chuckled softly as he watched his two sons walk briskly ahead of them, jokes and funny stories exchanging between the two. Kyojuro laughed loudly again as Senjuro entertained him with a funny face in the middle of his story, swinging the picnic basket in his hand.

“Kyojuro!” Shinjuro called out, his sons giving him their attention. “Try not to laugh too hard, remember? You’re still healing.” He reminded the young man, gesturing to the bandages that were wrapped around his torso, hidden underneath his Monstuki Haori Hakama. Kyojuro gently rubbed the eyepatch that rested on his face, a habit he started to pick up when in thought, a beaming smile shining at his father.

“Don’t worry, I feel good enough to laugh. It doesn’t hurt, promise!” He assured before joining his little brother that was already ahead of the both of them and underneath the tree. Heaps of food sprawled out on the red blanket once Shinjuro finally caught up to his children, a bento and chopsticks already out for him. He sat down carefully next to Senjuro, content eyes soaking in the picturesque view that laid before him. Many trees danced with the gentle summer wind, birds swooping and diving into the canopy for their lunch. A nearby stream sang its song elegantly as the two sons conversed with each other. Shinjuro took a deep breath in, the sweet scent of the manju and flowers filling his nose. 

“She would’ve liked this place, right Aniue?” Senjuro said softly, snapping his father from his silent appreciation of nature. Kyojuro lowered his chopsticks, a small smile plastered on his face. He rubbed his stomach gingerly, before turning his attention to his little brother. 

“She would have. Both of them would, I reckon. However, they’d probably yell at us for being late.” He chuckled, producing a large smile from Senjuro, a smaller one from his father. “Not to mention, we didn’t make Y/N favorite food to bring with us.” He finished, laughing loudly as Shinjuro released a soft snort. 

“She’d be mad at you, not me and Sen. I told you we should’ve made some but you insisted on rushing.” He retorted, Senjuro giggling softly at his father’s remark. Kyojuro chuckled sheepishly as he rubbed his neck. His father was right, of course. But you would forgive him, Kyojuro knew you would. 

“Then let’s make some when we get home and give it to her. Now hurry up and eat before I end up taking everything.” Senjuro warned before quickly snatching up a mitarashi dango, eliciting a shocked and hurried response from his brother as well as a scoff from his father, joining in the competition. 

Things hadn’t been fair to the Rengoku family and although things would forever change for them, one thing was for sure; no sorrowful bouts of Deja Vu would visit them. And if they did, Papa the Brave would be there.

ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ʙɪɴᴅ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏᴛᴏꜰꜱᴛᴇᴡɪᴇ™ 2022

[writingintheshadowsforever]

Hi Let Me Explain

Quick Note: This might be a long post so I don't blame anyone who doesn't read the whole thing. This is an explanation, an apology, and an update all in one.

Hi everyone I'm back this time for real. I won't make any promises to posting three to four times a week. I won't make any promises on what series or request will be updated first. I will reassure all of you than none of my series or requests are forgotten about. I have them saved somewhere and plan on finishing them. The plan here is to take it one day at a time. One fic at a time. As I start my journey to finding the joy in writing again.

You see I've been doing a lot of self reflection these past couple of weeks. I've been at war with myself on rather or not to let a dream go. That dream to become this big time bestselling author one day. I didn't want to admit that dream which has always been my biggest dream since like high school was doing more harm than good. The dream of being a published writer is destroying my love for writing. So I need to let it go before I find myself hating writing altogether.

Its never easy to walk away or let go of your dreams especially for creatives. I sort of feel like its harder for any type of artist in whatever field to admit that they want to move onto something else. Because we grow up having to listen to parents and teachers telling us. Its not a plausible goal and to pick a safer path or at least have a backup goal. And most of us decide right then and there no matter what we're going to prove all those people wrong. No matter what obstacles we have to face, how many times we fail, or how long it takes. We are determined to find success with our craft and make them eat those words.

Some of us refuse to even consider another interest or path. Some of us put all our eggs in one basket. Some of us let our craft become our entire identity meaning. Later on if we want to walk away or maybe just put on the back burner for a while. Its like losing who you are as a person. You feel like you've failed yourself and at life for letting go. I say letting go and not giving up because I will never give up on writing or more specifically storytelling.

Storytelling made me the person I am today. I wouldn't be here today without my love for storytelling. It got me out of some dark places as a kid and still does today. Storytelling is the only real magic in this world.

As a writer who feel like the heart of storytelling is dying because of capitalism. I can't let it go. I can't let my love for it die which is why for now I have to let the dream go. It doesn't mean my dream still won't come true one day. And its not like becoming a bestselling author is my only dream. I have other dreams that have take the backseat, and I think its time to move them to the front seat.

For now on I write for the joy of it. I write to get those stories out of me. When it comes to my writing I don't ever want it to be about money or fame. Starting now I'm going to stop stressing over traditional publishing and rather or not I'll ever be good enough.

I'm sorry everyone for being gone so long. For a while a part of me started to contemplate giving up on writing altogether and even deleting this account. I was starting to hate writing because I was so stressed trying to figure out how to achieve success as a professional writer.

I once had a stranger who I didn't know at all tell me that one day I was going to be a great writer. Never met or talked to this guy a day in my life. I felt like it was a sign from God, the universe or whatever you believe in. Either way it was some divine intervention moment letting me know I was one day destined for a long and great career as a professional writer. But do you have to be a professional writer to be a great writer? Is it the same thing? Can someone be great at something but never find traditional success? Those are the questions that have been running my head every time I thought about letting go. I still going to struggle with those questions, but I hope one day I find the answer. What makes a great writer?

After going through my old fics the ones I'm going to get started on are:

Queen Ramonda x Reader Enemies to Lover

Part 2 to being Namor's daughter and choosing Wakanda over Talokan

Steal Your Heart

Not Who You Think I Am

New Marvel Stuff

New Addition

My Hero Academia imagines because its my new anime obsession

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

Scary as a sleepy kitten

When - 10 or so minutes after He hasn't been himself, which takes place during the Chupacabra episode of Season 2

What - the finishing touches on Daryl's medical care, how Andrea's handling almost mistakenly killing the guy. You assure her that he's about as scary as a sleepy kitten right then. Then, there's digesting big bro Shane's descent from morality along with Daryl's simultaneous growth in it. Bonus is a hint regarding the Greene's barn. So sad there aren't any barn cats in there anymore, wonder what happened...

Genre - a little angsty, a little fluffy, a little found-family.

Who - You, Mangy Hick (that's Daryl), Patricia, Andrea, Papa Dale and his not good book, and sweet little Beth (who's got the same headcanon from the Fabulously Confident Reader stories about liking choose-your-own-adventure books)

Perspective - 2nd person, and 3rd Daryl

Pronouns - did GN again this time

TWs - some language, otherwise you just have a brief blow-up. The day's been something else, y'all

Length? - 10-15 minutes

References - when Daryl made that funny in Like a traditional Sunday dinner, the incident with Ed as seen in "Deserved" Part 1 but mostly Part 2 and its cooldown in It's not the end of the wo - oh. There's the continuation of big brother Shane's descent, a slow progression in a bulk of the chapters. Be sure to check out Invisible Tugging Strings, Part 1 and Part 2 , then Spell your last name, please. as well as He hasn't been himself

Official Masterlist here (find fabulously confident reader there!) and the Chronological Slowpoke Masterlist here

have fun and happy reading!

Apologies for the lengthy delay, slowpokes, my brain has been on power-saver for about a month, might could be evident in the chapter, too XD

...........................................

“Guess I'll just move this arm like a robot—oh-ho, check it, I can still do the tomahawk chop, y’all!”

And yeah, then his friend proceeds to make barely one and a half chops before wincing. The slight pout that forms afterward makes him want to smile, it’s damn cute.

“Hurt more than I thought it would.”

The twangy blonde lady looks entertained. “Tell me why, Y/N.”

Their pout turns more embarrassed. “…Movin’ the forearm requires these here muscles.”

He liked that their accent revved up more with the blonde lady—sorry, her name’s Patricia, he knows, got it.

“Which affects what?” Patricia asks.

“My shoulder and chest.”

“Which are injured and got irritated something serious today, along with what I’m fairly sure is maybe your C6 and 7, maybe the T1, whenever you first got hurt.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they mumble.

Stop thinking Y/N looks cute. Also, what were those letter-number things?

Sighing, his friend stares at their upper arm.

So, during the, like, he doesn’t know, 5 minutes or whatever it was when the old man helped him slump to the bathroom so he could finally take a piss, Y/N’s upper arm was wrapped to their torso to prevent them from hurting it more. They keep overdoing it, and they keep taking their damn sling off, so Patricia made a compromise, he guesses.

And after doing a modeling-pose type thing with their wrapped arm and asking who was wearing their gauze better, them or him, Y/N immediately tried to do the tomahawk chop and move like a robot and why is he finding that so damn cute right now?.

Patricia winks at Y/N. “Name some of the muscles up there and I won’t put the rest in a sling."

You

“Ooh, bicep, tricep,” basics out of the way. “This, um, one of these over here is the brachialis, this is the deltoid, the teres major’s under here.” You got that muscle wrong on an anatomy midterm back during college and never forgot about it. “This here is the trapezius.” Because the dudes who do the trapeze at the circus got real big ones (or at least that’s how you remember it). “And, well, the clavicle is this bone, so the bone under it is the scapula, which means right about here’s the subscapularis muscle,” that she said you may have hurt, “Oh, duh, then ‘the major one is the pectoralis.’ And—”

“—Okay, no sling.”

Phew. “Thank you!”

“For now, anyway. Meanwhile, Hersh is givin’ me a look, let’s get to cleaning our friend, here.”

Him

The funny part is, as Patricia left, she made a face and said, “I don’t remember most of the muscle or bone names, I just took Y/N's word for it. Now, Daryl, don’t go gettin’ out of bed, stay put.”

Now he’s finally laying down, nothing else to be done to him. He’s so damn tired.

He’s scrubbed up, too. Got a big-ass bandage over his head, wrapped all around. That was a trip; Patricia and Y/N washed his head and neck over a bowl. He counted the seconds til it was over, half-listened to whatever they were chatting about to distract himself.

Once he was bound up like a cartoon character and given instruction to not get it wet, Hershel came back and walked him to the bathroom again, this time to clean everything else off.

There was a little stool thing in the shower, with the shower hose on the ground instead of hanging. “Don’t get your head or the bandage wet. There's a waterproof cover over the dressing on your side that you'll have to remove when you're finished. Now, I imagine you prefer total privacy, but if you need the help, I can assist, or I can get your friend Theodore, if your prefer.”

“M’fine.”

The simple response “I’ll be outside the door, Daryl,” surprised him. Made him feel stupid and ashamed and comforted all at the same time.

And he…he needed the damn help. Ain’t like the old guy hadn’t seen his back already, anyway.

Still, the old man mostly stayed behind the shower curtain at his request, and he didn’t see his junk or nothing, Daryl made sure to keep himself covered.

Part of him felt like some pathetic little cat getting a flea bath.

Today was something else.

So goddamned tired…

You

Not 15 minutes went by since he was escorted to the washroom and now he’s fast asleep under the sheets.

Lori and you stayed inside with Carl (and Daryl), and Carol and Rick brought in plates of food into the house for the four of you.

Carol cooked up some jerky with an egg for Daryl as a special treat with the rest of his meal. Menu for tonight is peanut butter sandwiches (sort of, they’re on saltines), hard-boiled eggs (not soft-boiled, you checked this time), with sauteed field greens.

Your poor friend must be ravenous, but it looks like tiredness won this round. He looks so different asleep. Sweet, even. It's silly, but his light snores almost sound like purring and now you're thinking about kittens.

Another moment in the quiet, and you figure you shouldn’t stand there like a weirdo anymore.

Well, his egg and the peanut butter sandwiches will keep until he wakes up, and the jerky and egg will taste great either way, but his portion of sauteed field greens won’t be nice cold. You’re only a little bummed when you slide your portion of little sandwiches onto his plate and take his portion of greens. He’s earned extra treats, he can have all the peanut butter he wants after what he found today.

You inhale deeply. Exhale slowly. Close your eyes and ask inwardly for help after offering more thanks that he came back alive, and found concrete proof of Sophia.

It’s nice to be in the quiet. It feels safer better to be away from Shane right now, too. You aren’t sure what you’re going to do about the sleeping situation other than tell your brother to set up his own tent.

You also take one of the cracker sandwiches, it’s been a rough day. But when you start to nibble on it…your appetite is gone. Which is so dumb, dude, you’d been stoked at the thought of chowing down when you were high on Daryl being okay and having found Sophia’s doll.

Daryl’s chest rises and falls. You listen to his light snores, and find it, as Amy would’ve said, “interesting,” (but understandable) that your stomach has a few butterflies at seeing him so peaceful and still.

You miss Amy. Which prompts you to consider that you should check on Andrea. Earlier, Dale had come in and asked a bunch of questions for her because she was too ashamed to see people. From wherever she is right now, Amy is probably hoping you’ll help comfort her big sister.

Patricia stops you before you exit the house through the side-door. “Been meanin' to ask, I heard you tell your brother to get out, earlier. Everythin’ okay?”

That question was unexpected, words aren’t working for you. You shake and nod at the same time, which is weird, so, you open your mouth to fix it, but nothing formulates.

After a second try, all you can stumble through is “I don’t know, ma’am,” before ungracefully scooting outside.

After 5 minutes of polite conversation on the steps, mainly between you and Dale regarding Daryl’s status, Andrea is still dumbfounded that she’d almost killed someone.

“He’s really okay?”

“He’s bandaged and resting now. You only winged him, but the falls he took earlier did the most damage, Andy.” You’re trying not to be angry with her, but failing. Which sucks, because you know she was trying to protect the group…

But that she still shot it even though it was against Mr. Greene’s wishes and she knew that indicates an unhealthy variety of pride. One can't be having that kind of attitude with a firearm, it ain't good. And Daryl was almost a casualty because of it.

And like, come on, there were five of you running toward her target, it was dangerous for her to attempt to shoot from that angle! Doesn’t she understand that’s irrespons—ugh, and isn’t Shane supposed to have been doing gun safety shit with her? Isn’t that his whole wannabe jarhead schtick—great, now you’re more upset about Shane!

“I’m glad you’re enjoying those, ” Dale tells you, nodding at your cracker and chuckling. “They’re the part of dinner I rushed to help make, this evening was…something.”

He shrugs, and you remember how Daryl grunted that today was ‘somethin’ else.’

“I suppose having spread the peanut butter on crackers was a small step up from offering it on spoons to everyone,” he muses.

You can’t help but hum, a spoonful of peanut butter sounds scrumptious right now. Makes a good breakfast or snack, too.

“Did Daryl eat enough?” Andrea worries. “Does he need anything?”

“He was asleep when I brought him his supper, but I left my portion of the crackers—minus this one—on his plate.”

“Come to think of it, I’m not sure he’s a fan of peanut butter,” Dale thinks out loud. “I offered him some for breakfast one morning, and now that I recall, he backed away from it.”

Not like peanut butter?

“—Oh my God, what if he’s he allergic?” Andrea breathes.

“Nah, he ate a peanut yesterday. I was havin’ one of the little packets for lunch and he tried one, he can’t be allergic,” you assure them. And surely he doesn’t not like peanuts. That would be so sad!

It gets quiet.

Andrea stares at her feet.

“I can’t believe almost killed him.” She inhales and buries her face in her hands. “I shot someone.”

And Dale is only meaning to ease her discomfort and add some levity—but whether it’s because of the new bond you have with Daryl, or maybe because here’s something of a flashback hitting you from how you’d had to actually shoot a living person a few months ago—when Dale jokes to you, “Like I told her, we’ve all wanted to shoot Daryl,” you become livid.

After two shallow breaths of your inner tea kettle screaming, this sentence: “Guess y’all will want sunshine over here to work on her aim, then,” seethes out as you stand and book it to the fields.

The past several days especially has shown you how wrong your initial conclusions about that man were. He’s a work-in-progress, make no mistake, but shit if he ain’t working on it!

Unlike your brother, who keeps getting worse, who just tried to flirt with Lori by saying he didn’t care about a missing, abused little girl—the same little girl Daryl was willing to almost die to find!

Horrified at Shane and about today; confused, embarrassed, overwhelmed, in pain, overtired, and therefore angry about everything, you walk, hyperventilate, and finally, quietly, start to cry.

Then you accidentally drop the peanut butter cracker and cry harder.

The light swish of your boots in the grass starts to crunch when you reach the sandy part by now-boarded-up well. You walk faster, neither wanting to be near the two-part walker inside nor in the area where apparently, Daryl dumped Merle’s ‘hard stuff,’ as he slurred to you earlier during his trauma assessment.

Soon you’re by the rocks you’d climbed the other night. You step up and sit on a lower one and sniffle another minute or so until the worst of it seems to have spilled out.

When will you get a better handle on your temper?

While you’re busy wallowing in self-pity, you notice Dale’s watch ticking and are reminded that you have to return it.

You stand.

Trudge back with your tail between your legs.

He and Andrea are still on the steps.

“I’m sorry. I let my anger get the better of me,” you tell them softly.

Dale waves you over. “Come back and sit if you like, kiddo. It’s been a long day.”

“It’s been somethin’,” you mumble. “And you aren’t a bad shot, Andrea, I was being snotty.” About an inch to your left and he’d have been a goner, you leave out.

“I’m glad I wasn’t as good a shot as I’d hoped,” she sounds ashamed to say. Her head is still hanging low when she makes a one-sided smile and taps the spot next to her. “Will you be helping with shooting practice tomorrow?”

“If that’s still on, yeah.” Shane was enlisting your help with that, which means you’ll have to act civil…ugh, why worry about tomorrow, tomorrow will worry about itself. You take the watch off, hand it to Dale. “Here you go, Mr. H.”

“Ah, very good. I would hate to start losing track of the days, then we’d really be in for it. Let’s see…an hour until it’s time to wind her up.”

The breeze carries the smell of woodsmoke with it. You lean against Andrea for a moment, she leans back.

Then Shane comes into view.

When you catch his eye, you shake your head in warning in case he’s thinking about coming over and schmoozing with the others as if he didn’t just f—tomorrow will be better. Things will be better in the morning. He’ll apologize and things will be better and you’ll all have a good day and maybe Sophia will be found.

“Y/N, how about we talk later tonight?” Dale murmurs.

Did he see the face you made at Shane?

Best change the subject. “If we do, is it finally my turn to borrow that awful book I’ve heard so much about?”

“The Case of the Missing Man is not an awful book,” he chuckles back, then shrugs. “Maybe Jimmie Herron’s style isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. My Irma didn’t like his work, either.”

“Y/N, it’s really not great,” Andrea drones.

“Glenn said the same.”

“Amy had me read it so we could, um,” her gaze grows teary. She closes her eyes for a moment, then smiles and shakes her head. “‘Share the trauma.’”

You smile and shake your head, too. That sounds like Amy. “She finished it up in my tent while I was knocked out with a migraine, first thing out of her mouth to me when I woke up was how lame it was. Told me you had first dibs.”

“Then I lent it to T-Dog”

Oh, right. On the first half-week of the trek to Fort Benning, his nose was stuck in it. “He plowed on through it, didn’t he?”

“He wanted the torture to be over.”

You and she snort, Dale just chuckles again. “After you finish it, only Rick, and our young Carl—oh, and, uh your br—and Shane, they’ll be the only ones to not have done so.” He points his finger as if an idea just popped into his head. “But both Jacqui and Lori thought it was good.”

“Bless their hearts, they loved watching soaps, though, what does that tell us?” you giggle to them.

Dale lifts his hands in surrender. “See me later, troublemaker, I’ll lend you my ‘awful’ book and we can talk. I’m gonna hold you to it.” He looks at Andrea. “Young lady, will you be alright?”

“Yes. I'm just not ready to face anyone yet.”

“You know where to find me.”

She rests her arms on her knees and slouches again, stare fixed on nothing much. You go to rest your arms on your knees, too, and are immediately reminded that that particular position is a no-go for you right now.

“Y/N, after what happened with Ed, when did the feeling of wanting to hide go away?”

“Mine was an easier situation," you quietly point out. "And it wasn’t just me, Shane was the one who—" you grimace at the memory. "You were there.”

“Mm.”

To answer her question, “But I guess it wasn’t til, y’know, I faced people again that I got I didn’t have to hide. Shane's sense of 'duty' helped, too. But after I talked to Carol, saw Sophia smile at me, when I knew they were on my side, I didn’t mind so much about the rest.”

“Pretty sure everyone was on your side with that,” she mutters. “For what I just did…”

“Pretty sure even Daryl will, um, well th-that you were tryin’ to protect the group.” …oof.

She lifts her eyebrows. “You aren’t good at lying, Y/N.”

It wasn’t a lie, per se. “Objectively, you were tryin’ to protect the group.”

“I wanted to feel in-control and like I could do it.”

Oh.

She admitted that? If only your brain could come up with something heartfelt or whatever the situation called for to convey how much humility from someone so confident and self-assured means, instead of this: “I wanna be on your apocalypse survival team.”

A sigh leaves her, and she simply asks, “Just let me know how furious he is with me. I'm dreading how he’ll be when he’s up. I'm a little scared, while I’m being honest.”

“Hm?”

“Daryl.”

“You’re scared of him?”

She eyes you. “We’ve all seen how he can fly off his handle. He waved that knife at Rick and your brother, the axe at Jenner.”

Oh, right. That didn’t even consider cross your mind, that she’d be scared of his reaction to...being shot in the…head. Man, your brain is not working.

It can’t even configure a response again, now you’re just shaking your head like a confused mute.

“You don’t think I have to worry, Y/N?”

“No,” you answer truthfully. “You might would feel better if you saw him, he's probably up an eatin' dinner by now."

"I think now's too soon."

"Trust me, he’s holed up in bed now, he’s about as scary as a sleepy kitten.”

“Kittens have teeth and sharp claws,” she dryly states.

Your mind immediately hops to the exciting fact that you have yet to meet the Greene’s barn cat(s) as you stand and lead Andrea inside through the side door to get to Daryl’s room, waving to Beth reading her book as you pass.

“Beth, this is Andrea. Andrea this is Beth. She’s the one who made the pudding for Carl. She’s Mr. Greene’s youngest.”

Andrea smiles and goes in for a shake. Beth shyly waves, the returning of the handshake ending up as an awkward afterthought.

Sweet as she is, leaving her in peace is probably what she’s hoping for (the poor teenager’s home and front yard is full of wounded strangers).

And you almost make it through the full sentence before gasping in delight when you see what book she has.“We’re just checkin’ on Dar—is that a choose-your-own-adventure book??”

Him

There was this loud noise in another room, woke him for a second. Y/N’s laugh stuck out from the other sounds.

While falling back asleep, he remembered how he'd made them laugh really loud when he ripped that $20 bill that night at the CDC. How they’d belly-laughed so hard at his dumb, tipsy-ass joke had felt so damned unexpectedly good.

He’s back asleep before the amount of pain he’s in can really register.

You

“I’ll bring it over after I talk to Mr. Horvath. He’s the older man in our group, I love him to pieces, you probably saw him in his bucket hat?” you tell Beth.

Jimmy apparently has been poking fun at her reading choose-your-own-adventure books to pass the time because they’re ‘for kids,’ so, lending him The Case of the Missing Man was decided to be the best way to get back at him.

You hope y’all didn’t wake Daryl, it’d gotten a little animated for a minute. To make up for it, you tiptoe when you trek down the hall to his room, Andrea and Beth behind you.

Beth left something of hers in there before he was brought in, but she was hesitant to go in there (which you praised, teenage girls and unknown older men don’t mix). Anyway, she was hesitant because she’s a little, um, well, kinda intimidated by him.

Andrea invited her to join you two, citing “Y/N says he’s as scary as a sleepy kitten right now.”

At his door, you knock lightly and call his name. Wait for an answer, try again.

Upon listening more carefully, his snores sound through the door and let you know he’s still asleep. Slowly, slowly, you open it.

As subtly as you can, you step into room and pull the sheet that had fallen down back over his shoulder before the girls see the scarring.

Daryl stirs, then grunts something incoherent as he flinches, blinks, and tries to turn toward you.

“It’s just me,” you hush. “I was fixin’ your sheet, it’d fallen.” You tuck the sheet down over his shoulder, gently and slowly. “You’re safe in the Greene’s house. Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

His muscles relax and he’s back to snoring before the pet name is finished slipping out of your mouth.

Still standing beside him, you watch his side rise and fall, rise and fall. Reminds you how grateful you are. He really does look so helpless and sweet right now.

You notice Beth peeking back and forth between you and him, but she quickly looks away.

Poor buddy. If the man is this tired, he’ll rest better with closed curtains. He’s big on privacy, besides. Carefully, you start to draw them shut. Andrea joins.

Once they’re all pulled closed and the room is dimmer, she puts her hand on your arm and gently pulls you back into the hall, Beth leading the way. You make sure the door doesn’t make too much noise as it shuts.

“Thanks,” Beth whispers.

“Scary as a sleepy kitten, right?” Oh, that reminds you, “Y’all don’t have a barn cat or two, do you?”

“N-not anymore.”

Aw, that’s sad. “I’m sorry, little one.”

“Oh, um—d-don’t get too close to the big, shuttered barn, okay?” she rushes to add.

Before you can both nod and tell her ‘of course,’ she then stumbles through, “There’s—it’s—the, um—it’s just not real safe!”

She looks so freaked out and nervous that you forget you’re supposed to respond.

Lucky for you, Andrea, smooth as ever, assures her “We’ll let Carl know not play around there,” and starts to chat about how she “steers clear of old barns” ever since she spotted “the biggest rat I’ve ever seen come out of one at a company retreat,” while Patricia comes downstairs hugging to her side what looks like a wedding photo.

Beth scurries away, you make eye contact with Andrea, then Patricia gets your attention.

“Sweet pea, about tonight,” she begins, hands pressed together with her fingertips toward you. “Daryl’s gonna need to be checked on—”

“—Of course. I’ll stay with him. Please do me a list of what to check for and how often?”

“Will do. Try and borrow that big watch again, you’ll need it. Prolly will do well to have somebody else, maybe Carol to help. I'll go find her. You know, there’s an old air mattress in the attic, I’ll have Jimmy fill it up. Just go grab your sleeping bag,” she tells you.

“Thank you!” You’d been hoping for a way to avoid Shane all night. Is this a gift from above or something?

A reminder of, “Don’t use your injured side to carry your sleeping bag in,” from Patricia sends you on your way outdoors to retrieve your stuff.

The air is cooling off as the sun sets. The sky is a hazy orange-pink.

“Y/N, I didn’t realize,” Andrea says, slowly walking beside you.

“Realize what?”

“You two.”

You, too? Is she talking about your shoulder, maybe? “What’d I do? Do you mean my wrapped arm?”

She peers at you, head tilted to the side. “You and Daryl,” she softly clarifies. “It was Dale who wondered first, after you had to excuse yourself.”

Me and Daryl? “What’d we do?” Perhaps she's referring to the search today? Andrea isn’t one to not speak her mind plainly, you wonder why she’s not being more succinct. She doesn't know about you having shot that guy. Dale has an idea, but he's tight-lipped about it.

“So, you and he…?” she trails off.

?

So, you start to fill her in about the search. “Before Daryl found the doll, we’d—”

—OH WAIT, now you get it!

---------------------------

---------------------------

(for those wondering, the tomahawk chop is something Georgia Braves fans do)

> Masterlist link here

and our teeny tiny taglist :D

@spenciepoo338 @its-freaking-bats​​​​ @whistlesalot​​​​ @buffy-the-assbutt-slayer​​​​  @dreamingaboutthewonderland @kwazii-kat​ @darylsmavis​​​​​  @outlanderhornet22​​​​​ @battinsonrobs @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @multiifandomhoe @writingmybeloved @boomergirl123 @iheartathena0 @moonliight-luv @suniloli

(inbox is open if you would like on or off the taglist, slowpokes. Please don’t feel bad or nervous if you don’t want to be tagged anymore,  just let me know, we’re all friends here and your comfort level is important!)  

[eadanga]

The Royal Romance Chapter 10 Part 1

Riley and Maxwell walked through the palace halls after breakfast Maxwell stretches out his arms “Ahhh it’s nice to back Don’t get me wrong I loved our ski chateau adventure but give me a good beach party any day”

Riley giggles “Is that what’s going on today I thought we were watching a bunch of boats race”

Maxwell nods “Well the Royal Regatta is a morning of sailboat races” He slowly grins “Followed by an afternoon beach party!”

Riley looks over at Bertrand who stands silently in thought she looks at him in confusion “Hold up something is wrong it’s Bertrand he hasn’t said a grumpy thing all morning”

Bertrand snaps out of his thoughts “Uh what?”

Riley smirks “Normally you’ll be saying things like it’s not a beach party it’s a dignified beach soiree or don’t embarrass House of Beaumont commoner”

Maxwell laughs “He does say that stuff doesn’t he?”

Bertrand sighs “I suppose I’ve been distracted lately I’ve been dealing with some complicated matters regrading our estate”

Riley places a hand on his shoulder “I’m sorry to hear that”

Bertrand nods “Thanks I suppose” He squares his shoulders “Now I apologize for being distracted you have my full attention I have to ask what are you planning on wearing Riley”

Riley sighs “And he’s back”

Maxwell shrugs “I think she looks good”

“Be as it may you might want to wear something more seaworthy not only will he participating in your first race”

Riley’s eyes go wide “Wait I’m gonna to be what?”

“But the Regatta is open to the public so the press will be there to take photos and do interviews it might behoove you to wear something more nautical”

Riley walks up to him “Can we go back to the part where I’m racing I don’t know anything about boats”

“Anytime a social season involves picking a royal bride the first race of the Regatta is traditional one the suitors participate in mostly for show really”

Riley sighs “Whew so there’s no pressure to win then”

“Oh there’s pressure the Regetta is one of King Constantine’s favorite events he bestows the honor upon the woman who wins the ceremonial race so it’s an opportunity to get into his good graces” He waves a hand dismissively “But you needn’t not worry I’ve commissioned a qualified crew to man your boat you just worry about looking good on the railing”

“So what you’re saying is I need to go boutique?”

Maxwell nods “It wouldn’t hurt to look”

Riley nods “On it” She dashes down the hallway into the boutique she immediately goes trough the racks Hmm let’s see seaworthy and can’t help that Liam would love it too She blushes at the thought and continues to look she notices a stripped shirt and shorts “Ooh this is perfect just need an accessory to pull it all together” She looks at the accessories till she notices a rope belt hanging in the back “Oh nice this will do” She quickly pays for the outfit and quickly changes into it She heads out to meet Bertrand and Maxwell and poses “How’s this?”

Maxwell grins “Now you look like a sailor!”

Bertrand nods “Good now let’s head out”

After a long drive they arrive at the marina Riley smiles as she sees the many boats and grins “This is amazing”

Maxwell nods “This is great the weather is perfect!”

Riley grins as she throws her arms out “Yes the suns out and funs out”

Bertrand stands next to them “All right that’s enough of that you two keep your wits about you Lady Riley you must always remember that in a crowed event like this a photo can be taken at anytime you must refrain from silliness and a word of advice if the press corners look be sure to hint that the Prince likes you but you don’t want to be too oblivious about it”

Riley nods “Got it were close but not too close” As she looks around she notices Liam in the crowed he smiles when he sees her and heads towards her

Bertrand nods “Ah the Prince Maxwell and I will get the paperwork squared away you go mingle our yacht will be docked at gate B”

****

Liam walks up to her and grins “Riley fancy seeing you here it must be a strange coincidence that we keep showing up at the same events”

Riley giggles “Fate must be on our side”

Liam kisses her on the cheek then looks her up and down Wow she looks amazing “You look beautiful today I love the rope belt”

Riley smiles “Heh hopefully I don’t have to use it but I do have a race to win today”

Liam nods “Ah yes the ceremonial race you know it’s an honor to be part of the Regatta tradition”

Riley nods “Yes it is” She looks at him “Now tell me the truth are you enjoying yourself”

Liam looks at all the boats in the area “Well it’s a beautiful day the staff have been well prepared and we’re ready to celebrate our fine seafaring tradition my father in particular seems to be in high spirits but he’s always loved the this event”

Riley raises an eyebrow “That’s all good but not what I asked you’re not even smiling what’s wrong?”

Liam’s eyes go wide How does she do that she can see right through me “Well…” He scratches the back of his head then sighs “My father loves the Regatta so much I haven’t had the heart to tell him I hate sailing”

Riley looks at him shocked “Really I thought you were descended from Poseidon”

Liam chuckles “I would love boats more if that was the case I actually used to enjoy sailor but one experience soured it for me”

“What’s the story there?”

“I went out with Drake one night when we were kids we snuck out with one of the royal sloops the weather had been sunny but it turned gray and stormy when we were a few kilometers out the choppy waters capsized out boat and we had to swim back I don’t know what was worse the cold or the taste of the saltwater and we had to push the boat all the way to shore so that we wouldn’t get in trouble”

Riley places a hand on his shoulder “That must have been awful”

Liam nods “It was a pretty miserable experience but I can laugh about it now we were cold, wet exhausted but alive I’ve never told anyone that story no one ever found out what we did although my interest in sailing did drop a bit” He turns when he hears the sound of the trumpets and the heralds “Oh it’s time for my father’s opening remarks”

“Ladies and gentleman I welcome you all today is a momentous day as you all know I have a soft spot for the Royal Regatta and it remains one of my favorite events of the social season because this event has always held significance and personal importance I have chosen today to make my announcement”

Liam looks in confusion What announcement could he be referring to?

“That is at the end of the social season I will be stepping down as your reigning monarch and in a few weeks time Prince Liam will be your new king”

Liam’s eyes go wide with shock What?

Tags: @choicesgodfanatic @indiacater @gkittylove99 @princess-geek @iaminlovewithtrr @twinkleallnight @the-soot-sprite

[capitano-marina]

As usual, now that the season is over/as all good traditions hardly come to an end, here's my thoughts/post (call it however you want) about this season

1. Maya DeLuca Bishop

Oh Maya my sweet Maya I absolutely loved the character growth she went through this season, as much as it pained me to see all the negative things said about her and the zero empathy at times to what she was going through. Her demotion was not fair and will always not be fair and i get the need to make other characters look great but it was to the point of being annoying. Her apology to Ross felt wrong (i get that she needed to apologise for the blackmail) but chief Ross clearly hates her even Maya knows this and she drove her to her breaking point with Beckett treating her bad, that’s some very twisted way for revenge, and the way absolutely no one even apologised for the way they treated Maya for months or even someone tried to stop it but instead we got people making fun of her and not welcome her back the proper way!

One thing is for sure and will always be Maya will always choose her wife and will always have heart eyes for her.

2. Carina DeLuca Bishop

The sad reality that we all should accept by now that Carina in this show will be Maya’s wife and nothing more yeah she will have her moments with Vic, Ben and the rest but it will always be For Maya’s storyline, I guess this what makes it hard for fans with certain lines being said you feel the need to pick a side when both sides feelings and emotions are valid but when only one side shown on TV it becomes a war between fans that only love/respect/understand (call it whatever you want) one half of the ship.

Glad Carina now knows she is Maya’s number one priority 🥹 and yes she will also always have heart eyes for her wife.

3. Marina my beloved

I am no fan of angst and will never be specially knowing the shows won’t give as much as i want, yes we had good moments between the bathroom scene, shower scene and all in between the sweet and not so sweet moments it was still missing lots of things, my favourite TV wives don’t get as much as they deserve and i am learning to accept that (not really). At this point i am just glad they are back together because I really didn’t see us getting them back maybe that was just the effect of the drama/angst.

4. The rest

Vic needs to leave Theo, the mayor storyline wasted so much time and no one really asked for it or even enjoyed it, couldn’t care less about this captain storyline that’s been going on since the show started, one character is gonna take it and we all know it will always end like that so why drag it out so much when none of us care! (Captain Maya Bishop forever tho), don’t even get me started on Ross double standards.

I know fans want more action and calls to be added like other wee woo shows but I honestly don’t want it, i like the “family” vibe that is going on here because more action less focus on the personal stories that are imo more important than a good call.

5. Episode 18

That was way better than expected tbh. Hot,sexy and the most beautiful wives there is, find it hard to believe that Carina doesn’t have a dress, but they looked amazing so not complaining, them talking about plans for the baby is what i needed to hear, that baby they delivered might be adopted or maybe not I still want Carina to get pregnant because that’s what she wants so s19 please at least give her that!. Captain Andy about damn time now we can move on 🤞🏻, Glad to not be part of any cliffhangers my heart can’t handle it at all.

6. D&S

I am forever in awe for their talent and love to this ship without them so many little moments would go unnoticed because let’s be honest here they don’t give them as much as they deserve storyline wise for whatever reason there is. We as fans notice and want things to the point of being delusional (we all been there) and we give the show more credit than they give to the TV wives (no disrespect to anyone) so yeah it hurts when fandom theories are really good and make sense but you don’t see it on screen.

Thanks Danielle and Stefania for being the captains of the ship and adding your little touches here and there you will always shine even in the background.

Until next season ❤️

[bbotan]

Headcanon/Ramble ask

Anything about the Swans/Fans I am begging /hj

it took me long enough to get to this .. my sincerest apologies waa

okay ! as reimbursement i will write for all of them , thank you for asking~

The fans headcanons !

starting off with ...

Alex and Ash

Alex and Ash are probably some of the closest siblings you'll ever meet, but that doesn't mean they don't have their fair share of sibling rivalry. They're twins, but Ash is more of a little brother to Alex and loves to torment him with that sort of dynamic [with love!!!]

Ash is sort of a fuckboy type of guy and posts thirst traps on social media but never really gets any kind of engagement on his posts, Alex will humiliate him by asking him in front of the rest of the fans if his latest post got any women in his DMs yet.

Alex also has her drivers license, but Ash doesn't [he's tried so many times and failed …], so she has to put up with him begging her to stop at McDonald's on the way home or to their next mission. If she feels like lovingly bullying Ash that day, she'll just order a coffee for herself and nothing for her brother.

But the worst [and most fatal] mistake you can make is hurting either one of them. Ash is very protective of his sister as Alex is of him, as much as they like being dicks to one another, they're really each others best friends in the whole wide world. Alex was catcalled once and Ash responded by beating the absolute shit out of the guy until he was an unrecognizable pulp. They also got Ash's burger king order wrong once so Alex yelled at the cashiers for him [EQUALITY]

Corey

Though she has the potential to be a pretty vicious killer, Corey is quiet most of the time and doesn't speak unless she's prompted to or she just really to get a word or two in. She'll go along quietly with the rest of the gang's plans, but that doesn't mean she's submissive or anything, she's actually quite capable of standing up for herself when the time comes.

Corey has heavy anxiety and depression that she keeps hidden because she doesn't want to be worried about, the fans were her first real group of friends which keeps her contemplating if she really wanted to be part of this or not.

She wishes she could get closer to Alex, mostly because she's the only other girl in the group and she admires the swan for being much more courageous than Corey could ever see herself being. Corey wishes she could become better friends with the rest of the fans in general.

She's a lone drinker rather than a typically social one, she'll tag along if asked specifically but outside of that she feels too embarrassed and self conscious to be seen in a vulnerable state like that.

Tony

Tony grew up in a military family and was taught in his youth that as a man, he shouldn't show his emotions at all unless it was anger or bravery. Without someone to properly support him, he ended up projecting his emotions onto everyone and tends to be quite stubborn in what he believes in. Everything has to be traditional. He has to be strong. If he doesn't die for his country than what more is he than a cowardly bastard?

He spent his childhood living on a military base so he was always quite isolated and never was able to make real friends if it weren't in things like football or other "masculine" activities. Ironically though, he was always really shy about talking to the girls he liked.

Beneath that hard, confident shell lies an emotional and caring man, but he doesn't feel like he has the means to truly express just how much he appreciates his friends.

He likes Corey but doesn't know how to approach her without scaring her off... So he just watches from a distance and hopes in silence that one day he'll get the confidence to talk to her.

Mark

Mark is one of the coolest people you could ever meet, if you ignore the obvious fact that he kills people. He's also a very non-judgmental person, so you can talk to him about almost anything without feeling like he's criticizing you secretly.

He's definitely the father/big brother figure of the group so a lot of the fans, even Corey at times, will go to him for advice. If he sees two of his friends fighting he'll peacefully break it up as well if he thinks it's possible, if not then he'll just mind his own business.

He smokes a lot of weed with Alex after missions, he tried [and failed] to get the others into it as a nice way to relax after committing mass murder but nobody else really accepts. Ash will tag along though occasionally.

thank you so much for the ask !! if anyone is interested , my inbox is still open for requests and i appreciate anything i get :]

[tenpintsofsundrop]

was it just me or was the ending to titans...shitty a little silly.

for someone who hyper fixated on that show for so long, I was kind of disappointed in the ending.

(side note- sorry i'm like in ur ask box every two seconds I just have a lot to say😭😭)

I have to agree with you omg

also don't apologize for sending me messages!!! I love talking about this stuff!!

But like okay I have an entire rant brewing just about the concept of - found family splitting up after they are 'done' with each other??? Like how is that a happy ending??

Like going through the ending:

Jason ends up alone.

Gar ends up alone.

Rachel goes to university - and yes, it looks like she has a lot of friends, but she's an orphan and she just lost the one chance she had at having a biological brother and there is no explicit depiction of her living with Dick and Kory - so her 'independence' is code for her being 'alone'.

Conner does get to meet up with Superman, but there is nothing to say that he is living with the guy or that there's any true parental aspect to the mentor relationship like Conner always wanted. (Because Conner wanted a father, he didn't just want a mentor. And the closest thing he ever had to that was Dick.) So we don't know what his emotional state is actually like.

And the only people who aren't totally alone are the ones who are in traditional romantic couples - which puts a weird emphasis on romantic connections instead of the family or friendship dynamic?

Tbh, I think it would have even been nice if there was a clip of Tim bringing Bernard back to visit his very much alive and well blood related family in Gotham, showing that they are still important to him.

It's so funny, because Dick and Kory got such a romcom ending, and it seems like DickKory fans are convinced that the entire show was written around that ending - no it wasn't. It's just very easy to put a het couple together in the end and hint at them having a baby and call it a happy ending. Like if you think that Dick and Kory would just buy a house off in the burbs somewhere and be peaceful and Dick wouldn't be breathing down Rachel's neck checking on her and Kory wouldn't have to move every few weeks because she'd blow up the neighbours if they put their trashcans in the wrong place - they would not have a cute and peaceful life. Nah.

But like - I am just annoyed that they have to part ways because there is no longer danger to defeat. Why can't they stick together and continue being a family even when the world is safe?

It feels like such a boring and like way too typical idea of a 'happy ending' where each character has to get their own individual happy ending rather than all of them being happy together.

So, here's my ending (like a 'money is no object, all the actors are no busy that day' fantasy ending);

They move back to San Francisco and re-open the Tower and it actually goes well this time. They use it as a place to take in misfit kids who need their help (just like Dick did for Rachel) and they all act as mentors for those kids.

Conner has an active mentor relationship with Superman, but he still has the ongoing support of the family he has always known. Rachel can balance a life of 'being normal' and going to a 'normal' university, but she can still use her newfound powers to help people (if she wants).

Gar spends regular periods of time meditating in the Red to help the welfare of animal kind, but he is always there at family dinners, and when there is animals in danger, he has the team as back-up to help rescue them. He doesn't do it alone. Tim and Bernard have an ongoing relationship; Bernard is outfitting the entire Tower with STAR Labs technology (as an excuse to work with the team) and Tim is continuing his training under Dick's supervision.

The last scenes of the episode would be:

They turn on the news and see that Dove and Wonder Girl have formed a new team, and they have just taken down an international crime ring operating out of Paris (because Dawn can't resist sticking her nose in fishy business and she called Donna when she needed help). Ultimate girl duo.

And one of the last scenes would be - Jason knocking on their door, apologizing, and asking if he can be welcomed back to the team - because he stumbled on a case that's too big for him to handle on his own, and he needs help. Him coming full circle from the Doctor Light storyline, fully maturing, acknowledging that he truly needs the Titans to back him up and he can't always do it on his own.

They accept him back with open arms, they all give him hugs (my personal self indulgence) and the last shot of the show is zooming out as they all lean in to look over the information Jason has brought them.

Like please!!!

Also I said in a different post on my old blog that if I didn't get a Gar/Jason reunion hug in S4 I would sue and I still feel like suing because they didn't have any contact in S4 at all. I feel fucking robbed.

But yeah the ending sucked - like you don't have to split them up. Keep them stuck together. Keep them bonded. Booo

[nimuetheseawitch]

for character headcanons: klinger and margaret

Klinger

1: sexuality headcanon 

Flexible. Hard to label because his gender is hard to label/he doesn't canonically seem to claim anything other than cishet. But I 100% see him as someone who says he's a straight man and then enjoys being a woman and will also totally have relationships/sex with men. He doesn't care about coloring in the lines of any chosen label.

2: otp 

I can't help it, I love canon for this. Soon Lee is perfect for him and I just died when she said she wanted to see him in a dress sometime. I also love to imagine that he and Henry hooked up before the war.

3: brotp 

Mulcahy. They gamble together, they both have black market connections, and they care about a lot of the same things in some really sweet ways. I love it when we see them team up on things, and I love their interactions in church and gambling in backrooms. They deeply respect each other and their differences and I love that.

4: notp 

Winchester. My apologies to those who love this, but Charles has often done wrong by Klinger, and it's just a no for me.

5: first headcanon that pops into my head 

Post-war tailor shop that secretly serves the queer community. Who else in Toledo knows how to tailor women's clothes to masculine bodies?

6: one way in which I relate to this character

I would also trade away my favorite salami for an incredibly personal gift for a friend and then take zero credit for it (it would embarrass me to be acknowledged).

7: thing that gives me secondhand embarrassment about this character

I don't think anything Klinger does embarrasses me. I'm furious about some things on his behalf, like how everyone treats him when he decorates, but I can't think of any embarrassment.

8: cinnamon roll or problematic fave?

Cinnamon roll all the way through.

Margaret

1: sexuality headcanon 

This is fun because I recently changed my mind. I now hc her as aromantic. I always thought of her as bi/queer, but I've been thinking a lot recently about the possibility of her being aromantic and how that intersects with her perception of her gender and related expectations. The happiest liaison she has is the carefree one night stand after her divorce where she really embraces her freedom to not worry about all the trappings of romance. She tries so hard to fit into this box of the woman who needs a man and marriage, and we see her fumble with this idealistic romance after sleeping with Hawkeye and with Scully. We also see her really happy when eschewing traditional gender roles with Frank, and although she keeps asking him for romance, it either goes horribly wrong or seems to really be about sex and not much more. I don't know, I got rambly, but I like my new headcanon.

2: otp 

Herself. I know this is kind of cheating, but I kinda want Margaret to be single and become part of the 60s free love thing. Eschewing marriage and boxes and embracing bodily autonomy seems right up her alley, and I want her to find happiness without being tied to any one person. I want her to love herself.

3: brotp 

Hawkeye. They are the best besties and should be best friends forever. I want Margaret and Hawkeye to get together and gossip about their various sexual escapades and scheme together to set up an illegal abortion clinic.

4: notp 

Power imbalances in either direction. This isn't one specific person but more about her characterization of someone who sleeps with generals. I am incredibly creeped out by the implication that some of them are her father's friends. I also think she wouldn't sleep with someone who she commands because she'd be uncomfortable with the power imbalance (she makes a comment at some point about how she's dating Frank because he's a Major) - she already struggles to even be friends with those she commands.

5: first headcanon that pops into my head 

She has 100% explored her sexuality with both Lorraine and Helen.

6: one way in which I relate to this character

All of those feelings about expectations - from the expectations of her parents to behaving professionally to gender.

7: thing that gives me secondhand embarrassment about this character

The shrieking over Radar waking her up and other similar things. She's so quick to assume he's a creep and doesn't give him the benefit of the doubt (tbf, he does peek in the nurses' shower, but he pretty much always treats her with respect).

8: cinnamon roll or problematic fave?

*sigh* I want her to be a cinnamon roll (and by the end she's pretty much there), but she definitely starts out as problematic. She has so much character growth, and I love her.