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speaking of protective big brother five one thing that will always always take me out is that s2 scene where the bricks are about to fall on luther and five just, pushes him out of the way and gets buried under the rubble. little twig man pushes luther, big superhuman strength luther, out of the way of danger. because he couldn't do that originally. because he wasn't there to save any of them back then. because he found them all under piles of brick and rubble in his apocalypse. the way i would have liked to see more of this kind of little protective actions re: his family within fight scenes.

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the only lila five interaction i cared for was at the end when she was like 'i hate you i hate you for this' and he was like 'i know'

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"five needed a love story" don't pmo his love story was about his love for his family and that was the only thing we needed

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five about umbrella ben probably: if anything happens to ben i'll kill everyone in this room and then mys-

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the tua rpc scrambling to fix the timeline and rewrite season 4 better

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i don’t know if i’m strong enough to write here yet but here’s a sketch of this little freak,

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thought they were going to touch on five's trauma but jokes on me for having expectations once again-

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oh girl i watched the finale. some things i liked many many things i didn't overall still feeling a little sad about what looked like rushed writing and cut character development stuff. and unanswered questions i fear. anyway if i do anything here i will be canon divergent bc there's a lot i don't rly agree with in how five was handled this season

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just my opinion but the potential for five actually having to confront the fact that post s3 his family didn't ~need him anymore was simply a missed opportunity. there was no Task to complete. there was no impending apocalypse. yeah it made sense that he went to the cia to just Do Tasks but i just think there was space for a little bit of an interesting tailspin. guy who spent countless yrs and did the worst kinds of things trying to save his family, save the world. but he'll never fit right outside of an apocalypse, he'll never be able to operate alongside normal life. and now he doesn't have his powers to rely on, can't control shit. the whole fam struggles this season, but it just was like. five's writing just did not have the same spark it did when his motivations were clear and centered around his family

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the girlies getting on dash: AND ANOTHER THING-

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me squinting at s4: i'm liking it tua is always gonna be fun to watch but girl we are once again doing Same Narrative Thing to five. i just think we could have mixed up the dynamics more if it was gonna be him doing Further Timeline Gymnastics. i just think i missed five interacting w his family like i get doing things on his own is his whole Thing but it takes away some of the heart of the show fr me personally. a known five enjoyer.

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leans into the mic hey guys how come five hasn't killed a room full of people this season yet EITHER!!

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                                        ❝  you  trailed  klaus  all  those  years,  ❞   five  says,  quiet  and  thoughtful.  then  brows  raise,  curious,  or  impressed;   ❝  …  anyone  ever  tell  you  you  have  the  patience  of  a  saint,  ben?  ❞   it’s  a  trace  of  wit,  of  warmth  in  the  space  between  his  ribs.  it  was  nice  to  talk  to  him  again.  and  it  was  impossible  to  voice  how  much.  

just  like  all  his  other  siblings,  ben  had  grown  up.  but  five  could  still  see  them  all,  shoved  into  a  booth  at  griddy’s  —  the  orange  glow  of  the  diner  lights  and  their  unbridled  chatter  filling  the  air,  talk  of  everything  and  nothing  —   the  way  only  children  do.  while  outside  the  city  crawled  quietly  in  the  night.  could  still  recall  childish  ventures  in  dragging  his  reluctant  brother  along  at  the  wrist,  when  he  wanted  to  sneak  around  the  closed  doors  at  the  academy.  no,  not  all  of  their  childhood  was  a  jagged  edge,  some  fragments  glimmered  with  beams  of  sunlight  in  old  manor  windows,  and  lamps  lighting  an  empty  street,  and  the  deafening  but  familiar  laughter  of  his  brothers  and  sister.  

five’s  gaze  softens.  it  wasn’t.  he  would  have  taken  it  a  thousand  times  over  what  really  happened  to  his  life.  (  maybe  you  were  only  bitter  )  —  memories  were  all  you  had  to  hold  onto  for  all  those  years.  and  they  got  further  and  further  away.  they  became  old  photo  albums  in  attic  boxes,  shelved  and  forgotten.  and  ben  —  ben  was  a  box  of  old  photos,  too  —  was  like  an  uncovered  mirror  at  the  end  of  the  hallway.   (  a  dark  statue  catching  the  rain  in  the  courtyard,  a  portrait  in  the  living  room.  —   each  little  more  than  a  cautionary  tale  to  loved  ones.  ) ❝  is  that  why  you  stayed?  ❞    it  comes  away  unexpectedly  pointed.  he  turns  to  ben,  expression  misty  and  unreadable.  if  he  had  to  guess,  there  was  a  familiarity  in  it  —  a  safety,  a  tether.  five  didn’t  know  if  there  was   a   ‘better  place’   —   if  there  was  a  bright  light  to  walk  into.  but  uncertainty,  desperation  —  that  he  understood.  he  understood  sitting  among  the  academy  ruins  with  their  bodies.  the  compulsion  to  dig  through  what  he  could,  finding  voiceless  music  boxes,  dogeared  books,  a  jacket  that  had  once  held  the  warmth  of  someone  he  loved.   (  but  i  never  found  you.  )

                 (  and  always,  always  the  question:  was  it  worth  it,  to  go  on?  was  it  worth  it,  even,  to  remain?  )

❝  it  feels  like  a  lifetime  ago.  ❞   and  wasn’t  it?   ❝  … but  i  guess  i  missed  the  worst  of  it.  ❞   he  looks  over  ben’s  face  —  knows  by  now  the  grave  importance  of  committing  it  to  his  memory.  he  thinks  again,  of  the  lonely  statue;   ❝  … i’m  sorry,  ben.  i  should  have  been  there.  ❞  

@paradoxcd      :         “ and the saddest part of all? you’ll cling to the good memories, as if there were any. ”    sorry that he’s being like this             *

a  picture ,         in  which  they  are  not  older  than  ten ,         speaking  with  hushed  tones  and  racing  hearts ,       until  they’re  far  away  from  the  academy     —     when  laughter  booms .     its  constricting  walls  and  controlling  inhabitants  can’t  do  anything  to  them  here ,          so  they  laugh      (    without  children ,     quiet !   )     when  klaus  tries  to  do  a  cartwheel  in  the  middle  of  the  street  and  somehow  fails ,          and  they  yell  at  each  other      (     without  children ,       behave !    )       when  they  can’t  agree  on  where  to  go ,          until  someone  pops  out  from  a  window  and  screams  at  them  too ,     ‘  shut  the  fuck  up !    ’       and  they  laugh ,       again ,         louder  the  farther  they  get .        it  isn’t  perfect      —      but  their  family ,         dismantled  and  resentful ,        anything  but ,        is  what  kept  ben  tethered ,        what  kept  him  here :         he  thinks  back  on  the  many  years  spent  as  a  ghost ,       clinging  to  his  poor  brother’s  side ,         nagging  him  about  drugs  or  life  decisions  or   ‘   klaus  i’m  bored  ’    when  he  could’ve  simply …          left ,          and  wonders  if  it  would’ve  changed  anything       (      it  was selfishness ,       perhaps,       a  part  of  it :         no  one  talks  about  how  scary  it  is  to  walk  into  the  light ,        as  they  say ,      to  leave  behind  everything  you  know  when  what  awaits  you  is  unlikely  to  be  any  better  than  what  you  currently  have    ) .

he  thinks  it’s  the  same  for  five       —      it  has  to  be ,       one  cannot  spend  so  many  years  trying  to  recover  something  if  there  are  not  some  good  memories  attached  to  it .        maybe  it  is  sad ,        that  the  good  ones  they  have  are  ancient ,       older  than  this  newlyfound  sense  of  purpose :            familiar  only  in  the  way  that  five  wears  their  old  uniform ,       in  the  way  ben  can  sense  them  squirm  underneath  his  skin .         equal  parts  depressing  and  comforting .     “     it  wasn’t  that  bad ,   ”      he  says ,        but  it  sounds  insensitive  —      or  worse ,       untrue .         the  kind  of  lie  frightened  kids  tell  themselves  when  they’ve  been  pushed  past  their  limit .       “      we  all  would’ve  gone  crazy  earlier  if  there  weren’t  any .    ”

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I’m relieved, actually. This time, everything goes. There’s no Commission, no leaping away. No life spent going mad with the desperation to see a familiar face.

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wrote sparrow academy five once today and verified that No, He’s Still Insane

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@bledlose​  said:    'brought    you    coffee.''    marcus  is  already  tucking  it  into  five's  hands  before  the  sentence  has  finished,  he  stands  just  inside  five's  room,  still  dressed  from  his  morning  workout.    'breakfast    together    in    fifteen.    you    &    i    are    on    snack  run    today,    so    if    you're    wanting    anything,    now's    the    time    to    say    something.''  

                                                     he  needed  a  bigger  whiteboard  —   this  one  was  beginning  to  look  closer  to  a  crime  scene,  or  a  madman’s  scrawlings,  with  red  marker  equations  from  end  to  end.  none  of  which  had  been  productive  in  answering  his  question  —  about  his  small,  deranged  doppelganger   that  had  magically  materialized  in  the  academy  foyer  a  day  before. 

at  first,  he’s  too  steeped  in  his  own  impatient  simmering  to  look  up,  to  offer  more  than  a  muttered,  distracted  ‘thank  you’  —   until  marcus  is  physically  placing  the  coffee  into  his wringing  hands.  five  offers  a  dry,  thin  smile;   ❝  why  don’t  you  ask  fei.  she’s  the  one  feeding  her  birds  all  the  trail  mix.  ❞   he  narrows  his  eyes  over  the  coffee  as  he  brings  it  to  his  lips;   ❝  if  i  come  to  breakfast,  can  we  talk  about  what  the  fuck  happened  yesterday?  ❞  

five  blinks  down  from  where  he’d  been  perched  on  his  desk,  irritability  steadily  reigned  in  to  just  vague  displeasure.  marcus  had  that  sort  of  effect,  and  so  did  freshly-brewed  coffee.   ❝  i  don’t  suppose  you’ve  given  any  thought  to  what  we’re  going  to  do  about  our  outstandingly  dimwitted  knockoffs,  have  you?  ❞   (  give  me  a  fucking  break;  the  umbrella  academy?  )   well,  they  were  pedestrian  copies  at  best,  and  spacetime-shattering  at  worst,  so  there  was  that  to  consider.  impatient  to  move  as  he  was,  ultimately,  he  trusted  marcus’  judgement.  and  unlike  their  dear  ben,  he  wasn’t  so  terribly  inclined  to  trip  over  himself  having  a  pissing  contest.

then,  it  wasn’t  exactly  their  skill  that  concerned  him.  five  falls  into  step  with  his  brother,  now,  gears  turning  visibly  behind  his  expression.  brows  furrow  down  in  thought;   ❝  … not  everything  they  said  was  total  bullshit,  if  you  were  wondering.  ❞   he  gestures  vaguely  with  his  coffee.   ❝  — statistically  unlikely,  and  an  unprecedented  paradoxical  anomaly  —   yes.  but  not  impossible,  ❞   he  glances  up  to  regard  marcus  placidly;   ❝  and  if  it’s  not  impossible,  marcus,  then  we  have  bigger  problems  than  property  damage  on  our  hands.  ❞

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sovery​:

IT’S LIKE TALKING TO A GHOST .  yeah, i never really mourned properly because i never let myself believe he was gone, but five has lived an entire lifetime outside of the family, out of our time, and part of me can’t quite recognize him anymore. just as sharp, just as ambitious, but with a weathered edge that makes me unsure if i, of all people, still need to keep him at arm’s length. 

                                  he’s my brother, for fuck’s sake.                                   the only one i still consider as such. 

“ yeah, how dare you, get trapped in the future. i’m sure you knew just how to come back the whole time and was trying to avoid me, specifically. ”  i scoff, matching his edge with my own. i’ve had my own hardships, all too pedestrian to complain about now, but enough to change me, too.  

BUT HE’S TOO SERIOUS .  he’d left the group in the kitchen without a real word, but he’s telling the truth to me. that’s the way it’s always been; two sets of knowing eyes, impossible to hide from, sharing a look indecipherable to anyone but the two of us. i put my drink aside, taken aback by the closest thing to an earnest plea i think i’ll ever get from the guy, and regard him seriously. 

                              he doesn’t ask for help.                               but when he does,                                            i have been, always will be there. 

“ do we ever fucking like anything we have to do in this house? ”  the joke falls flat, and so do i, regarding him with a serious look, trying to ground him in the present day.  “ i’m a little out of practice, but… always, whatever you need from me. ”

                                        he  sighs,  resigned;   ❝  never  thought  i’d  say  this,  but  i  probably  should  have  listened  to  the  old  man.  time  travel  is  a  real  shot  in  the  dark,  it  turns  out.  ❞   maybe  it  was  some  kind  of  mercy,  that  dad  wasn’t  alive  to  give  him  the  i  told  you  so  in  person.  veronica  very  well  could,  if  she  was  so  inclined.  five  hesitates  a  beat;   ❝  should’ve  listened  to  you,  too.  ❞  

he  allows  her  teasing,  now,  with  a  subtle  roll  of  his  eyes.   ❝  … fair  point,  ❞   he  says.  her  wit  is  refreshing  —  it  was  better  than  pity,  anyway,  or  questions  he  didn’t  have  the  time  or emotional  bandwidth  to  answer.  veronica  was  veronica,  as  far  as  he  could  tell.  he’d  looked  in  on  them  all  in  passing,  during  his  time  in  the  commission.  he  had  read  viktor’s  book.  but  he  still  knows  next  to  nothing  about  them  now  —  all  of  it  had  been  on  the  other  side  of  the  glass.   (  don’t  get  too  attached,  if  it  all  goes  wrong.  if  you  fail.  if  you  have  to  turn  back  the  clock  again.  )

❝  you  haven’t  changed,  ❞   he  notes,  after  a  moment.   ❝  that’s  a  compliment,  by  the  way.  ❞   the  same  of  which  could  not  be  said  for  some  of  their  other  siblings.

there’s  still  no  easy  way  to  say  it.  all  this,  and  he  still  doesn’t  know  when  to  shoehorn  in  the  timetravelling  assassins  part  of  the  debacle.

❝  … the  world  ends  in  ten  days,  unless  i  can  figure  out  how  to  stop  it.  ❞   five  shifts  a  hand  into  his  jacket  pocket,  retrieves  something  gleaming  and  white  —  funny  he  had  never  lost  it,  after  all  these  years.   ❝  … problem  is,  i  have  no  idea  what  causes  it.  the  only  clue  i  have,  is  this,  ❞   he  holds  the  glass  eye  out  for  her  to  take.   ❝  i  found  it,  ❞   five  drops  his  gaze  now,   ❝  in  what  was  left  of  the  academy.  ❞   he  refrains  from  further  elaboration;  from  saying  what  else  he  had  found  there.