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plus-size-reader · 3 years

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That Shirt

Klaus Hargreeves x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2083 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Reader and Klaus decide to get married, but they run into a few issues, only remedied by his unique wardrobe

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You knew it was crazy.

The idea that you had even considered getting married didn’t make any sense at all but you couldn’t help it..

The truth was that you loved Klaus, more than anything in the world, and when people loved one another, they got married.

It was what normal people did, what you would have done if Reginald hadn’t turned you both into some kind of vigilante superhero squad.

All things considered, it was probably the most mundane thing you’d do in your life.

Still, that didn’t mean everyone else in your interesting little family was so keen on the choice you were making.

Of course, they were shocked by the announcement of your engagement, but you didn’t really think it was going to be as big of a deal as they were making it. You were both adults, and only related as far as your adoption went..

It wasn’t hurting anyone.

...but given the fit Allison was currently throwing, you would have thought you had suggested that you end the world, again.

“I just can’t see you going through with it. I mean, Klaus?” she repeated, for what felt like the fifteenth time since you got here. You wanted to go impromptu dress shopping, seeing as you wedding was in two days, but she wasn’t having it.

Instead, all she wanted to talk about was how bad of an idea getting married was, and the worst part was, if you were her, you would have been doing the same thing.

You knew Klaus, and you knew better than anyone how flippant and strange he was, but you weren’t a child. You knew what was best for you, even if it didn’t make sense to anyone else.

Even if it didn’t make any sense to someone as close to you as Allison.

You understood why she was doing this, why she was your biggest critic, but you also couldn’t make your every decision based on that. You had all lived your entire lives like that thus far, and it wasn’t worth it.

By this point in your life, you wanted to be able to make the choices your father had taken away from you all for so long.

“I know it’s not the choice you would make for me, but I could say the same to you. Like Luthor is such a prize” you shot back, using her crush against her as you so often did when she tried to tease you about Klaus.

She thought this was so strange, but you both knew that sometimes these kinds of things didn’t make any logical sense.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about-” she tried, as if she hadn’t been the one to start this in the first place.

All you wanted was to marry the man you loved, and Allison was the one trying to force cold feet on you.

“I do, actually, and every day, I wish you could accept it” you sighed, turning around and leaving the way you’d come without much more in the way of an order.

You loved Allison and you knew that at some point, she would come around. Until she did, you were just going to have to go find a dress yourself.

...unless, of course, there was another way.

There was always one place you could go when the rest of the world felt like it was against you. A place that wasn’t much of a place at all.

“Woah there, why the long face?” Klaus cooed, rolling over in bed the second he heard the door, open and close in succession, followed impressively closely by a heavy sigh from you.

You had that far away look on your face, the look you got when the world made choices for you that you didn’t agree with.

Not that figuring that out was the hard part.

“Oh nothing, I just found out that Allison doesn’t think we should be getting married. So, it must be a tuesday” you grumbled, flopping down on the space on his bed Klaus had made for you, having already anticipated your deflating into him.

There was no good reason a man like him should have been so good at reading you, and yet, even with his brain scattered five ways from Sunday, he could crack you open like a book.

“It’s okay honeybunch, I still think getting married is a great idea” he allowed, a soft chuckle leaving his lips as he did his best to focus on actually making you feel better. The two of you knew this was going to go down this way.

The only thing he couldn’t figure out was why you cared so much.

You had never worried about the opinions of your siblings before.

“I’m not kidding, Klaus. What if it is one big mistake?” you sighed, ignoring the soft kiss he pressed to your forehead as you further retreated into his frame, rather than focusing on the disaster that surrounded you.

You were supposed to get married in two days, and so far, you didn’t have anything.

The two of you had decided to have your wedding in the backyard of the manor, so it would be small and private, but even then, there was still so much that had to be done. There had to be food, places to sit, and a dress.

You still needed a dress.

“We aren’t ready for this” you muttered, your words buried so far into his chest that you weren’t even sure that he had heard them but the more you thought about it, the more you hoped he hadn’t.

Deep down, you knew that this wasn’t a mistake.

You knew that marrying Klaus was the only thing you wanted to do, and that it was going to make you happy.

...and thankfully, Klaus knew it too.

Even after all these years, there wasn’t anything you could hide from him.

It was clear to him that the stress was getting to you, and because of that, Klaus made up his mind. This was one of those times when it was his job to take care of you like you had taken care of him a million times over.

After all, he was going to be your husband pretty soon and husbands didn’t let their wives stumble into nervous breakdowns.

“Okay, get up grumpy. I’ve got an idea” he prompted, all but rolling over you to stand up. You were going to get a dress with Allison, but given the circumstances, it seemed she wasn’t going to be joining you.

Instead, the man in front of you was going to use every bit of fashion prowess and skill he had to figure something else out.

All he had to do was get you up out of bed.

“There’s no point. I doubt anybody's even going to come”

Those words were little more than another groan from your throat, this time flowing seamlessly into the fabric of Klaus’ sheets. Evidently, since everyone else thought your getting married was a mistake, maybe it wasn’t worth throwing a big party.

Maybe it was stupid.

You weren’t children anymore, and the idea of a big white wedding was one that seemed sort of out of place for you. If your father could see it now, you were sure he would lock you in your closet.

He hadn’t raised you to get married, or care for anyone in the first place.

Not that he managed to actually raise you to do much of anything.

“What if this whole wedding is just to get back at him? What if it’s one big mistake?” you repeated, your voice just as small and uncertain as he could have expected when you did manage to raise your head from the mattress.

However, as much as Klaus wanted to rush to your side and convince you of just how wonderful an idea this was, it wasn’t going to make a difference.

His words weren’t going to make you feel better. Klaus knew that if he was going to make a real difference, if he was going to convince you that this was what you should be doing, it was going to take something bigger.

Something grander.

Thankfully, before you could wallow anymore in your upset, Klaus found exactly what it was he was looking for.

“Hold that thought, for one second” he prompted, leaving the room for just a second with the garment he’d been searching for tucked under his arm, hidden from your curious gaze.

You had no idea what he could have had going on, or why he wasn’t taking this more seriously but you knew Klaus well enough to know that there was no stopping whatever off the rails thing he had in mind.

It would just be better to let him do his thing, and maybe, he may even help you figure this out by the time he’s done.

He did have a habit of surprising you like that.

“Here! If I wear this, no one will pay any mind to what you’re wearing” Klaus teased, entering the room again with a start, a smile so wide there that you feared he may physically tear the flesh of his handsome face.

After so many years with Klaus, you had learned not to be shocked by anything he brought to the table.

That being said, you couldn’t stop yourself from gawking a little bit at the dress shirt Klaus was currently wearing, waiting for your input.

It was quite the shirt, flowy with an ornate pattern in emerald green and black, finished with a red-orange trim.

“That actually works quite nicely with your complexion” you shrugged, only standing when he offered a hand to you, the cuffs of that shirt flapping as he moved in a way that brought a smile to your face.

It didn’t matter how hard you tried to remember who frustrated and flustered you were, that garment had to have been the most hilarious thing you’d ever seen.

“I sure hope so, this is my nicest outfit” he defended, shooting you a wink that let you know this was his plan all along. Always the clever jester, he knew it would be better to distract you than to let you wallow in your own self-pity.

You wouldn’t have looked at it as something to get married in, not at first, but the more you studied the truly hideous shirt, you understood just what he was getting at.

Klaus was quick enough to pose it as a joke, but the point behind his actions was loud and clear to you. As long as the two of you were together, it didn’t matter who was there to witness it or if you were wearing a potato sack.

Marrying the man you loved was the most important thing, and if he wanted to get married in something like that, you would happily stand by his side.

“I love you” you gushed, barely holding back a cheek-splitting grin of your own as you admired the beautiful disaster in front of you.

Klaus had always been the most authentic, raw person you had ever had the privilege to know and the fact that you were lucky enough for him to love you as you loved him was all you should have been thinking about now.

Your wedding was supposed to be one of the best days of your life, after all.

...and, even though it wasn’t here yet, you knew that it would be as long as Klaus was by your side.

“You love the shirt, but I’ll take it” he grinned, reaching down to capture your hand in his own before leading you back toward the entrance of the room, his focus set on something that you couldn't have hoped to predict on your own.

Not that you got a chance to ask him to tell you before he took it upon himself to fill you in.

After all, there was still a problem at hand, even if he had managed to put it into perspective for you.

“We still have a little bit to do before this shirt and I can make you our wife” he teased, only further proving to you that this was the man you wanted to marry. Only Klaus could talk about his shirt like its own entity.

To be fair, though, there was nothing more you wanted than to be the Lady Hargreeves, floral shirt or no.

#klaus hargreeves #The Umbrella Academy #tua #klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves x ps reader #klaus hargreeves x plus size reader #klaus hargreeves imagine #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy x ps reader #the umbrella academy x plus size reader #the umbrella academy imagine #tua x reader #tua x ps reader #tua x plus size reader #tua imagine #number 4 #The seance

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thegreatestofheck · 4 years

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By Dawn pt. 3 ☼ John B Routledge ☼

find parts one and two here!

word count- 3.6k warnings - Light swearing, that’s about it synopsis - John B meets a mysterious girl at his court ordered group therapy. After spending weeks trying to get to know her, he slowly realizes that she’s a tough nut to crack. But then one day, she leaves him a cryptic message…the night before she goes missing. With the disappearance of his father still so raw in his mind, John B refuses to lose anyone else. And he will stop at nothing until he finds her. taglist - @simonsbluee @parkerpetertingle @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @hopelesswritingxd a/n - I really hope you like this! I know this fic isn’t as popular as some of my others, but I’m really excited for where this is going! I’ve got ideas planned out in my head and I’m really hoping that it’ll all make sense! Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist. Stay safe, stay healthy, and stay groovy out there folks!

John B said very little the next day. His mind was fixed on Gwen, but not in the same way it usually was. When he thought of her, it left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he had no idea why.

“Dude, are you okay?” Pope asked. “You’ve been spacey all day.”

John B looked up from his cheeseburger and up at his friend. Pope dipped a fry in his milkshake, waiting patiently for an answer.

“Do you ever get a feeling that something is wrong?” John B dropped his hands to the booth beside him.

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno.” He scratched behind his ear, thinking about how exactly to phrase what he was trying to say. “Last night Gwen was being really...strange and ever since she left, I’ve just had this bad feeling.”

Pope swallowed, giving himself time to mull over his answer. John B wasn’t really expecting much, but when he needed a reality check, Pope was always the guy to go to.

“It’s Thursday, right?” John B nodded his head. “Then you have group tonight. You’ll see her there.”

“You’re right.”

“I’m sure you just ate something bad yesterday. Nothing to worry about,” Pope told him, shoving a few more milkshake covered fries into his mouth. John B nodded his head slowly, turning to look out the window.

Pope was probably right. It was only a few more hours until group. He would see Gwen there like he always did. So why wasn’t the bad feeling going away?

“Hey,” Pope said, pulling John B’s attention back to the present. “If something is wrong, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

John B nodded again. He wanted to believe his friend, he really did. But he had been trying to convince Pope, Kie, and JJ his dad was still out there for months, but none of them really believed him. No one did. Except Gwen. If something did happen to her, would his friends really believe him this time?

He had been planning on going out on the boat with the Pogues, but he wasn’t feeling it. The constant twisting in his stomach was making him sick. He didn’t want to eat anything, didn’t want to do anything. He just wanted to sit around and call Gwen. But when she first gave him her number, she had asked him not to call her during the day. He didn’t want to push her boundaries that she had set up. Still, not calling her took all of the strength he had in his bones.

“What should we do?” Kie asked, watching him through the window. JJ sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

“Leave him?” JJ offered. Kie slapped his chest with the back of her hand.

“He was like this the first few days before....” Pope trailed off, but Kie knew what he was talking about. She lowered her head. “It didn’t stop until Peterkin finally told him that Big John was missing.”

Kie let out a heavy sigh.

“What did you guys do then?” She asked, looking at her two friends. JJ and Pope both shrugged. Kie rolled her eyes and pushed the front door open. She sat next to John B on the couch, but he didn’t even recognize that she was there.

“John B,” she said, her voice set at a whisper. John B paled and shook his head, so she didn’t say anything else.

“It’s still a few hours before group,” he told her, putting his hands over his face. “But I’m so worried-”

“Hey.” Kie put an arm around his shoulders. “Everything’s going to be okay. She’ll be at group tonight.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

***

John B waited outside, like he always did. Even before the sun had set, the night was cold. He wore his red hoodie, hands shoved into the pockets. A few of the other members waved as they walked in, some even said hi. But Gwen’s car never pulled into the driveway.

He checked his watch every few seconds until the clock struck 8 o’clock.

His heart stopped in his chest. Gwen was never late. She was always pushing the clock, but she was never late. In all the weeks he had known her, she never pulled up later than 7:59. And Allison Preacher told John B that Gwen had never missed a meeting.

Something was definitely wrong.

Hands shaking, John B pulled out his phone. His first instinct was to call his dad. He froze for a second, his thumb hovering over his dad’s contact. Shaking his head back and forth, he found JJ’s number and called.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” he begged, his legs bouncing up and down. All he got was voicemail. “Shit!”

He tried to suck in a calming breath, but it wasn’t helping. Squeezing his eyes together, he told himself that she was just stuck in traffic. Right. Traffic...on the cut...at 8 o’clock at night.

There was some simple explanation as to why she wasn’t there, he just had to calm down. That’s what Kie would tell him to do.

That only last for a minute before John B pulled his phone out again to call Pope. He didn’t pick up either.

“Damn it!”

It was 8:05 when John B pushed himself away from the brick wall and started toward his car, a flurry of nervousness. His hands shook as he slid into the front seat.

He knew something was wrong and he still did nothing. If something had happened to Gwen, it was on him.

John B finally called Kie. Hers went straight to voicemail.

“Damn it!” John B slammed his fist against the wheel of his car. The horn blared for half a second before he pulled his hand away. Pressing the heels of his palms against his forehead, John B tried to suck in deep breaths. He would be no help to Gwen if he was panicking and disoriented.

Jamming his key into the ignition, John B tore out of the school parking lot, his hands still shaking. As he barreled down the road, he glanced at his phone, wondering to himself if he should risk calling her. He wasn’t entirely sure where he was driving to yet, but there was no way he was going to sit in group for two hours and listen to all those kids prattle on about how shitty their parents are.

Finally, John B couldn’t stand it anymore. He picked up his phone and found Gwen in his contacts. He listened to it ring. With every second she didn’t pick up, John B’s heart rate increased a hundred fold.

“Hi, this is Gwen. I’m sorry I can’t come to the phone-”

John B threw his phone against the passenger seat with a frustrated cry. He pounded a fist against his steering wheel once again. He could barely see the road through his bleary eyes, but he somehow managed to make it back to the Chateau. What he was going to do once there, he had no idea.

Storming out of his car, he made for the house.

“JB?”

John B froze where he was, turning toward the hammocks. All three of his friends were there, now sitting up or lifting their heads to look at him. Looking at them left a sour feeling in his stomach.

“I tried to call you,” he said, ashamed of the way his voice broke. Kie was out of her hammock almost instantly. JJ almost fell out as she climbed out.

“My phone’s dead,” she said as she got closer. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you at group?”

John B’s chest heaved as he sucked in rapid breaths through his nose. He ran a hand through his hair, turning in a circle as if Gwen would just be there when he got back around.

“Gwen didn’t show,” he said, finally meeting Kie’s gaze again.

“Ah, shit,” JJ mumbled, kicking the tree he stood beside, hands shoved in his pockets.

“That doesn’t mean anything’s wrong,” Pope said as he took a step forward.

“She’s never missed group before,” John B told him, his smoldering gaze fixating on his friend. “Not once.”

“Hey.” Kie placed a hand on John B’s arm, bringing his attention back to her. “I’m sure she’s fine. Maybe she got sick.”

“She was fine last night.” John B couldn’t breathe. He felt hot, sweat beading on his forehead.

“Just sit down-”

“No!” John B took a step away from them. “No, I have to find her.”

With that, he turned and ran back toward his car.

“John B, wait!” Kie ran after him. Pope and JJ hung back. By the time Kie caught up with him, he was already in the front seat. “Let us come with you.”

“Us?” JJ asked. “This sounds like a him problem.”

“JJ-”

“No! I mean, he’s been spending all of his time recently with her, ditching us every chance he gets.” John B could see the anger in his friend’s eyes. He’d known JJ since they were like eight. They had their fair share of arguments.

“JJ, stop it!” Kie snapped before turning back to John B. “We’ll help you.”

Kie pulled the sliding door open and climbed inside. Neither Pope nor JJ moved.

“Well?” She gave her head a little shake, tightening her jaw. Pope eventually took a step toward the van and climbed in after Kie. JJ waited a little bit longer. He huffed and kicked a rock before clambering into the back with the others. Kie slid the door shut.

“Where are we going?” She asked John B, who tightened his hands around the wheel.

“I have one idea.”

***

John B pounded his fist against the wooden blue door. His heart tightened when he saw how much it gave way beneath the force of his hand. He shook away the nervousness and waited for a response. Kie stood right behind him, Pope and JJ standing at the bottom of the stairs.

The moon hung low in the sky. John B shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, bouncing up and down ever so slightly. Crickets chirped in a bush nearby. The breeze rustled a series of wind chimes almost like music to the owl’s song.

Then the door opened. An old, wrinkled woman stared up at John B, her eyes pinched together.

“Who are you?” She asked, her voice gravelly.

“Um, my name’s John,” he said, glancing over at Kie, who was trying to smile. “I was just looking for Gwen.”

“Gwen?” John B nodded his head a few times. The woman’s scowl deepened into a glare. “I don’t know a Gwen.”

John B was taken aback. His eyebrows furrowed together and he pulled his hands from his pockets. Looking over at the house number, he double checked to make sure that he had gotten the right house. There was no doubt about it. Every time he dropped her off, this was the house that Gwen would walk into.

“No,” John B said. “This is her house.”

“Young man, this is my house.” The old woman had a strength in her voice. “Now, get off my porch before I call the police.”

Without another word, she slammed the door shut on his face. John B’s lips parted.

“Are you sure you have the right house?”

“Yes, Kie, I’m sure.”

“What do we do now?” Pope asked. John B put his hands on his head, turning toward them. He shook his head slowly. He could talk to Allison, but she would still be in group for another hour and who knows if she would even tell him anything.

“Let’s go back to the Chateau,” Kie suggested when John B didn’t say anything. “Rest for the night and then regroup tomorrow.”

“What if she doesn’t have until tomorrow?” John B asked.

“What do you mean?” Pope put a hand on the wood railing.

“I mean, if she was kidnapped, they say the first 24 hours are the most critical,” John B said.

“We don’t know if she was kidnapped, John B,” Kie said, putting a hand gently on his arm. “You need to sleep. You can’t help her if you’re sleep deprived.”

John B let out a heavy sigh, but let Kie lead him down the stairs.

“I’ll drive home,” JJ said. John B barely heard him. He climbed into the back of the car, Kie sitting beside him.

“I shouldn’t have let her leave last night,” he said absentmindedly as he stared at his hands.

“From what you’ve told us about Gwen, I doubt you could have stopped her from leaving if she wanted to.”

John B put his head in his hands and let the silence drag on as JJ drove home.

***

Pope, Kie, and JJ all stayed the night. They fell asleep promptly, but John B couldn’t close his eyes. He knew that Gwen was out there, somewhere, he just didn’t know where and he wasn’t sure how he could get to her.

Eventually, he was tired of trying to pretend he was going to sleep. Sitting up and tiptoeing around his friends as they slept on the ground, John B headed out for the dock, grabbing a beer on his way out.

He sat there with his legs dangling just over the water, nursing on the beer bottle. He pulled out his phone, hoping to see that Gwen had called him back, that she could just smooth things over and confirm that everything was fine so the sick feeling in his gut could finally go away.

But he had no such luck. With a heavy sigh, John B opened his photo album. Pretty much every single picture from the last few weeks was of Gwen. John B flicked through them, remembering the night each on was taken. Her smile was so genuine, like she didn’t have a worry in the world. But then he got to the last picture, the one from last night. And his heart dropped.

He hadn’t seen it the first time he took the picture because he had been far too worried then, but he saw it now.

A tear rolled down her cheek. Just one. From the smile on her face, one might have thought that it was a tear of joy. But her smile went no farther than her lips. There was a haunted look in her eye, shimmering behind a layer of tears.

Whatever had happened to her, she knew it was coming. Could it be that she had just moved and refused to tell him? But that didn’t explain the house issue. No, it had to be something else.

John B went to his contacts and scrolled until he found her name. He hesitated calling her again, but part of him knew that she wasn’t going to pick up. He called her anyway.

The dock creaked underneath the weight of someone walking toward John B as the phone rang. With a heavy sigh, JJ lowered himself to the ground beside John B. He glanced at his friend, but said nothing.

“Hi, this is Gwen. I’m sorry I can’t come to the phone.” John B closed his eyes, listening to the sound of her voice. If he kept his eyes closed and pictured her in his head, he could almost fool himself into thinking she was here. “I’ll try to call you back as soon as I can. Thanks, bye!”

John B waited for the beep. He might even leave her a message, maybe. Having his life long best friend there beside him gave John B at least a little bit of strength.

He waited for the beep, but it never came. John B scowled, catching JJ’s attention.

“Booker?” John B’s eyes widened and he turned toward JJ, who scowled at him in response. John B took the phone from his ear and put it on speaker. “I recorded this just after I left your house for the last time.”

He listened to her laugh to try and cover the break in her voice. Realization dawned on JJ as he listened to the message.

“There are things about me you don’t know and I think it’s a good thing that I keep it that way. If you’re listening to this, I don’t know how much longer I have. People are after me, bad people. Please, if you’re listening to this, don’t call the police, don’t go to my house, don’t try and find me. Just...look at those pictures and remember me, okay? You’re one of the only people that will.” She paused. John B swallowed a lump in his throat. “I know I told you this already, but you gave me so much in these last few weeks than you could possibly imagine, so, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.”

Another long silence followed. John B wondered if she was going to say anything else. But the line went suddenly dead.

John B stared at his phone as it ended, feeling like a thousand bricks were laid on his chest. He struggled to find a breath.

“It sounds like she’s in trouble for real,” JJ said, breaking the quiet that fell over them. “I’ll help you find her, man.”

John B nodded his head, letting out a single, shaking breath. He really couldn’t believe what he had just heard. He had been right about Gwen. She was in danger and maybe those people who were after her already had her.

“We need to wake Kie and Pope,” John B said, his mouth dry and the beer by his side forgotten completely. “They’ll want to hear it.”

“Yup.” JJ pushed himself to his feet before offering a hand to John B. He pulled his best friend up onto his feet and the two of them headed back to the Chateau.

***

“...from the bottom of my heart, thank you.”

Pope had his head in his hands and Kie was staring at John B’s phone. It was the third time.

“Play it again,” Kie said, eyes narrowed as she looked at the phone. JJ tapped the back of his head against the wall, his eyes shut. He was sick of hearing the same thing over and over again.

“You heard it,” John B said, voice tight. “She knew she was in trouble before she even came to my house. Someone was after her and now she’s gone!”

Kie screwed her mouth shut tight, pressing her lips together into a fine line.

“John B, you can’t ignore the part where she told you not to look for her,” Pope said, lifting his head.

“Yes, I can, actually.” John B leaned against the table, snatching up his phone. “She’s in danger and she needs our help.”

“John B....” Kie spoke slowly, as if preparing herself what it was she had to say. “There is a chance-”

“Don’t say it,” John B said, holding up his hand. The thought had already run through his own head a thousand times over. There was a chance that she was already dead. But he refused to believe it.

“Where do we start?” JJ asked. He didn’t care if Pope and Kie were in on it. John B needed his help and he wasn’t about to turn his best friend down.

“I think I have an idea.”

John B nodded his head. For the first time since last night, the unsettled feeling in his stomach was gone. The danger was far more real than it had been before, but at least he knew. Knowing the worst was better than not knowing at all.

Gwen had to be out there somewhere and wherever she was, she was probably terrified.

***

With a gasp, Gwen shot upward. The cold water ran down her back, soaking through all of her clothes. It chilled her to the bone almost instantly, the shivers sending painful tremors all throughout her body.

The cold made it hard to breathe. Like the ocean itself was pounding against her, her lungs screamed for air.

“Gwen, right?”

She jumped, her teeth chattering. There was a stinging pain on her left cheek, a dull ache in the back of her head. She could almost remember what happened that landed her where she was, but she could barely think back to a few seconds ago without a horrible migraine.

“That’s your name, right? Gwen?” The voice said again.

She tried to blink the blindness out of her eyes, but it wasn’t really working. She couldn’t place the voice, but she was worried that if whoever was talking to her asked again, she would be in for a world of hurt.

“Yeah,” she ground out through her teeth before smacking her lips. “I’m Gwen.”

“See, I find that hard to believe.” The voice was becoming clearer. It was a man, that much she could tell.

“Why’s that?” Gwen groaned. She went to lift her hand to rub the migraine out of her head, only to find that her wrists were bound, probably to the chair she was sitting in.

“Because I happen to know who you are.” Gwen’s stomach clenched. “And I happen to know your real name, Dawn.”

Gwen lifted her head, her vision finally coming to. Sitting in a chair in front of her was a young man, his hair plastered perfectly against his scalp. She didn’t recognize him, but if he knew her real name, that meant he knew exactly where she was coming from. And Gwen knew exactly what he wanted from her.

“Shit.”

#john b routledge #john b obx #john b imagine #john b #obx #outer banks #obx imagine #outer banks imagine #jj maybank #jj obx #canon divergance #original female character #john b x oc #pope heyward #pope obx #kiara carrera #kie obx #i'm still really bad with tags #john b angst

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antique-traveler · 4 years

Text

you’re gonna be here for it

read it on ao3

Five could feel the energy pulsing from his palms, through the gaps in his fingers as he curled his hands into tight fists. There was something distinctly exhilarating about telling Reginald off like that. Now he ran down whatever street it was he had jumped too (he was too excited to really care) and felt that familiar tug build up in his ribcage. He followed that tug, pulled it back, let it launch him forward to… spring, it looked like. Christ, he had done it! He balled up his hands, wrapped himself around the tug and jumped to winter. Twenty seconds ago he had been in an unusually warm November, now here he was, running down the street with gentle snowfall landing in his hair. He gaped at the world around him, let that energy build back up, followed it, and-

Jesus Christ. What happened? All around him were ruins. Crumbled buildings and decades-old scaffolding set ablaze, the sky scorched a dusty grey. Five stopped in his tracks. Instead of that breezy March he had just visited, or the biting chill of winter he ran through, the world he stood in now was dry and hot, completely devoid of life. He took a tentative step forward and felt a rustle under his shoe; a newspaper. April 1, 2019, the date read. Seventeen years, he had jumped. Seventeen years and it led him here.

He clenched his fists, searched around inside him for that energy, that tug that would get him home, but he found nothing. He felt sweat forming on his brow as he tensed himself, trying to find that blue glow that would save him, but there he stood, a normal, non-glowing thirteen-year-old in a wasteland.

He saw beside him a street sign. 36th and Wharf St. God, he knew where he was, he was only a few blocks from the Academy! He found his bearings and sprinted towards his home and prison, begging whoever would listen to let him find something, anything other than ruins.

Turned out no one was listening, though. Laying on top of the rubble was the iron gate bent into the shape of an umbrella. The Academy had been flattened, just like the rest of the world. Five felt his breathing quicken, panicking at the thought of losing his last chance to survive this… apocalypse.

“Vanya! Ben! Dad! Anyone!” He looked around the ruins of his home and saw no one.

Except for a hand. A hand sticking out under a crumbled stone pillar, bearing a tattoo on the forearm. He ran over to it, not caring if he tripped on rubble as he excavated the body from the debris. Finally, he could make out a face. It was gaunt, with a scraggly goatee and curly hair, black eyeliner smudged around the eyes. Klaus, Five thought. He looked up, and saw a foot across what used to be the foyer. Brown skin peeked out from beneath fitted jeans and black kitten heels. He clawed his way through the wreckage, and saw tight curls around a beautiful woman’s face. Allison. Next he found what he assumed to be Luther, judging by the blond hair and ridiculous muscles. Ben, Vanya, Dad, Pogo, Grace, all of them were nowhere to be found. Lying beneath a splintered oak door, though, was a stranger. The man had tightly shaved hair and a respectable goatee, and wore a ridiculous harness adorned with every manner of knife Five could think of. He grabbed the man’s left arm, rolled up the sleeve and… there it was.

It couldn’t be Vanya, her lips weren’t nearly as full as the body in front of him, and she certainly could never be as tall. He didn’t have the right skin tone to be Ben, so that left Carmen. Maybe that name wasn’t right anymore. Five sat back on his heels and looked at the body in front of him. He supposed it made sense, somehow. He and Carme- Two had never been close, but Five knew how much she (he?) always hated that uniform skirt, and the expectations to be a strong Hargreeves sister.

He lay a hand on Two’s face and felt his eyes start to sting. God, he had missed so much, and he had no way to get back.

~~~

Two weeks and a hell of a lot of coffee later and things were… normal, for the most part. Sure, Five’s body was 45 years younger than it had been a fortnight prior, but the important thing was that he had his family back. The Hargreeves had fallen into a strange sort of normalcy after saving the world and the timeline; for the most part, they all lived in the Academy again. Klaus had technically been homeless before this all started, Luther had lived on the goddamn moon, and Five was physically thirteen, so none of them had many options for living situations. Vanya wanted to distance herself from her past, and Diego had realized how truly shitty it was to live in the back room of a boxing gym, so that just left Allison to get her own apartment. She was adamant that she wanted to be with her siblings as much as possible, but the divorce court ruled she needed to have a stable living situation to have visitation with Claire.

And of course, Ben was gone. Five walked past his old bedroom on the way to the staircase leading to the foyer, and never could stop himself from peeking in. It was frozen in time the same way he was: forever a door into the life of a lonely seventeen-year-old trying to cope with an abusive father figure and his own inhumanity.

Five’s days had developed an oddly comforting schedule: wake up too early for a thirteen-year-old and too late for a 58-year-old, have coffee with Luther, spend the day reading or revelling in being with his family again, dinner with all his siblings, and in bed by 11:30. He knew that other people his age were either in seventh grade or halfway through a prostate exam, but he found solace in the Academy, especially now that dear old Dad was gone.

There was something he was yet to address, however: Diego.

Five only learned his name by reading Vanya’s (slanderous) book, and it took him far longer than he’d like to admit to stop calling him a ‘she’. He would be lying if he didn’t say he let himself mess up sometimes, allow himself to call Diego ‘Carmen’ again, just so he could pretend he was back in 2002, and everything was exactly the way he left it. Now, though, he didn’t have that luxury.

He had to face his shortcomings head-on whenever he asked Diego to pass the coffee pot, or he saw him walking shirtless from the bathroom after a shower with his newly flat chest on display for all to see. Five had to fight the urge to look away in shame, or to stare at his sister’s brother’s sharp jawline. He knew that whichever path he chose would only end in awkwardness and humiliation, so he decided to simply avoid Diego whenever possible. Sure, it wasn’t the most polite option, but at least he could escape whatever sappy, emotional conversation was in store if he slipped up while Diego was around.

If there was one thing that Five had learned in the last 45 years, though, it was that he couldn’t run away from his problems forever.

Going through puberty once already meant that Five knew that his pubescent body was about to start overloading his body with hormones, and he was incredibly prone to acne. It was a chore, but Five knew that unless he wanted to go through constant red itchiness for a second time, he had to commit to a steady skincare routine. Allison managed to get him some high-quality face wash and moisturizer and whatever-the-fuck-else through some brand deal she’d done on social media, so he spent fifteen minutes every morning and night rubbing different serums and elixirs into his face until he felt slimy and raw.

It was a Tuesday, if he recalled correctly, when It happened. He was doing his morning routine in one of the upstairs bathrooms, still in his pajamas (Klaus called them “old man pjs”, but Five thought they were too comfortable to care), when Diego walked in, bare-chested and stood in front of the mirror besides him. Just as Five looked up from applying his coconut-scented moisturizer, he saw Diego drag a razor across his cheek, making a clear line through the shaving cream covering his face and defining his goatee. Five hadn’t even had his morning coffee, and he was too tired to notice that he was staring at Diego’s reflection and curling his hands ever so slightly into fists.

Diego brought his hand down to rest on the counter tentatively, not breaking eye contact with his reflection. “Why don’t you take a picture? It’ll last longer.”

Five blinked and looked away, pretending to busy himself with packing up his ointments and creams. “Uh. Sorry.”

“S’alright. I, um…” Diego sighed and looked down at Five beside him, “it must be a lot.”

“I guess.” Five rocked on his heels, “Uh, when- when did you-”

“Come out?” Diego cut him off. “Couple years after you disappeared.”

“Ah. I see.”

“When you saw me, in the… you know, did you recognize me?”

Five sighed. What a question. “Not at first, no. You were wearing a shirt that covered your tattoo, I had no clue who you were. For a while after I figured it out, I just called you ‘Two’, but then I read your name in Vanya’s book, and…”

“Gotcha.”

Five knew that they would hit this roadblock whenever he imagined this conversation. They’d say the polite stuff, both want to address the uncomfortable muck that is their relationship as (new) brothers, but neither of them would know how to proceed. Five was too old and impatient to wait around for Diego to break the ice though, so he figured he might as well take the plunge.

“I’m an old man, Diego,” Five said, feeling his voice break embarrassingly, “I’m ashamed to say I’m a bit… uneducated. What with the apocalypse and all. Sorry if this comes off as rude, but I… I don’t think I understand completely what it is this all… is.” He gestured to Diego vaguely, avoiding eye contact.

“Yeah, that, uh, that makes sense.” Diego sighed and set his razor down on the counter, bracing his hands against the edge of the granite, face still half-covered in shaving cream. “So, I’m tra-transgender.” (It never gets easier saying that, Diego had thought to himself). “Didn’t really jive with the ‘woman’ thing, so I… did all this. Cost a lot of friends and a lot more money, but, you know, here we are.”

Five stared up at him, brow furrowed. “When? Uh, when did you go through with it all?”

Diego huffed, “Uh, changed my name legally in 2008, went on hormones 2012, and I’ve had these bad boys,” he looked down and patted his bare pecs, “since last year.”

Five stared up at his brother, really took him in. He was certainly more muscular than the last time they had seen each other, though Five wasn’t sure if it was Diego himself or the hormones he was on that was responsible for that. His shoulders had widened out a bit, his frame becoming more solid, more firm. Beneath his pecs ran two scars, perfectly straight, the skin only slightly puckered beneath Diego’s nipples. His face was much more angular and square, brows thicker and jaw more pronounced. He had shaved his hair down short again, once more revealing that scar that ran across his temple. And God, how could Five ignore that beard? It wasn’t long or particularly bushy, but it was thick and well-taken care of. Five absentmindedly remembered the moustache he had been so proud of two weeks ago.

Five furrowed his brow and looked around the sink, trying to find the right words to not come across as ignorant or rude. “How, um, did you know?”

Diego dragged the razor once more across his other cheek, scraping off stubble and shaving cream to leave a clean line between his skin and his goatee, “Took a while, to be honest. Dad didn’t really foster a very open-minded environment ‘round here, so I didn’t really know what it was. And then once I did figure it out I had to keep it to myself for a while. First person I told was Klaus, naturally, ‘cause of all his…” Diego gestured vaguely.

“Yeah.”

“I waited to tell everyone else, though. Kept coming up with excuses for why I shouldn’t, but they all found out eventually.”

Five hummed nondescriptly, leaning against the off-white tile wall beside him so he could face his brother. He wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not, but he thought that Diego looked remarkably similar to the last time Five had seen him, back in 2002. That scar that ran through his left eyebrow was from crashing through a stained-glass window during a museum robbery in '98. He still kept his nails trimmed short, and had that same intense look in his eye as he had had all those years ago.

"You didn't answer my question,”Five said.

Diego wiped his face off with a towel and raised an eyebrow at his brother.

"How did you know?" Five repeated.

Diego huffed. "Why do you care?"

"Because l missed it the first time!" Five didn't mean to raise his voice like that, but it felt like he came to that realization at the same time he said it. He feIt energy building up inside his fists, trembling with anger he didn’t know he had. “I missed it the first time, and I’m only now getting to meet my brother, alright?” He let out a shaky breath, ashamed at his outburst. He felt so small, so weak compared to his brother. Diego was strong and masculine and everything that Five was two weeks ago.

Diego stared at him and sighed. “Jesus, Five, I… I don’t know what to tell you. I fuckin’ hated myself, so I changed. Simple as that. I-” he swallowed and looked around the room, searching for the right words, “I needed to be a man. None of me was right. I had to do something about it.”

The air between them was thick and filled with words unsaid. Five felt like he could relate to Diego, in some strange way. Being a man, but not looking the part, being stuck in a body that wasn’t his own. Helet out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding. God, he had been so naïve. He had thought that all he had to do was clench his fists tight, go back in time, save the world, and then he would be done. He could just exist with his family without any conflict. Boy, had he been wrong.

He had missed so much.

Five cleared his throat after staring into Diego’s eyes for probably way too long. “Right. Thank you for… answering my questions. Good talk, Diego.” Five made his way toward the door, but a hand on his chest stopped him dead in his tracks.

“You don’t have to miss anything else.” For all the shit he got for that intense look in his eyes, Diego really knew how to look soft when he needed to. He lowered his voice and knit his eyebrows together. “You’re gonna be here for the rest of it.”

Five swallowed, not tearing away from Diego’s gaze. “Mmm-hmm.”

“No, not ‘mmm-hmm.’ You’re gonna be here for it.” Diego placed a firm hand on Five’s shoulder and pulled him into his chest, arms wrapping solidly around Five’s tiny frame.

Five was stunned, frozen solid, confused by his older brother, who used to be his younger sister, towering over him, squeezing him so tightly he was almost claustrophobic. He simply let Diego hold onto him (and he would never admit that he brought his own arms around Diego’s waist). If he was being honest, he didn’t believe Diego when he said that. Five was so used to missing his family’s lives he was sure that the pattern would only continue. But here, standing in the bathroom, smelling freshly of coconut-scented moisturizer, Five almost let himself trust his brother.

#the umbrella academy #tua #five hargreeves #number five #diego hargreeves #trans diego hargreeves #my fic #fluff

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thefloatingstone · 4 years

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Last time I made a playlist of recommended youtube channels to enjoy while in lockdown or self quarantine, I focused on individual videos while also recommending other videos from the same channel.

I thought I’d make another list only this time I’m going to be recommending playlists or series on youtuber instead of just individual videos.

This is gonna go exactly like last time, so check out any of these that might seem interesting to you, and hopefully I can give you something to look into if you want something to watch but don’t feel like watching a Netflix or Crunchyroll show.

Last time I tried to put this under a read more break but it didn’t work and I ended up posting this long-ass post on everyone’s dash. Well I decided to do so again here. hit J to skip to the bottom of the post if you don’t feel like reading this whole thing. If you’re on tumblr mobile; why?

In no particular order;

Cinemassacre movie reviews and topics

All of you already know James Rolfe as the AVGN. I started watching him before Youtube was even a thing, before he was even signed on with Screwattack. Back when his videos could only be seen on his own website (or for some reason included on the free DVD you got with the local video game magazines). However, I eventually outgrew the outrage style humour of the AVGN episodes... but then James started doing Monster Madness where he would talk about his love for horror movies, and this where I learned about his vast knowledge about movie history and even films I had never even heard mention of before! I think it’s safe to say, he got me to be interested in movie history just as much as movie production and film as a viewing experience.

I recommend this playlist which is a hodgepodge of James talking about old horror movie franchises, talking about his first experience with Power Rangers as someone who didn’t grow up with it, or how Bob Ross is a childhood hero of his. It’s an excellent play list that’s really laid back but you learn a lot of stuff from it. James is very informed for the most part and it leads you to wanting to check out a lot of these things too, just because he’s so passionate about it.

If I ever get over my weird hang up about speaking out loud, these are the kinds of videos I’d like to make.

Vinesauce Vinny: The Neverhood

Vinny is by no means a new Let’s Player, having been on Youtube for over 10 years now, but I only started watching him a few months ago. I started with this playlist when I saw he was doing The Neverhood, a game I had heard about but never seen played before. The Neverhood is a bizarre game, as a point and click PC game from the 90s where the entirety of the video game was made with stop motion and clay. Something that sounds so insane you would say it’s impossible if not for the fact that it exists. The claymation itself is extremely well done, and the game has a really weird and absurd sense of humour. Just the strangest things happen in this thing. Now couple that with Vinny’s very dry and straightforward delivery and you have probably one of the funniest Let’s Plays I’ve watched in a long time.

This is also “short” for a Let’s Play series. With only 4 parts to it, the longest video only being a bit under and hour and 30 minutes. It’ll still take up a good chunk of your time, but it’s not as daunting as some of the other Let’s Plays I’ll mention on this list.

Team Four Star: Pokemon Shield Nuzlocke

Exactly what it says on the tin. The guys from Team Four Star play Pokemon Shield with Nuzlocke rules. They’ve done several Nuzlocke runs in the past, but I find the Pokemon Shield is the best one they’ve done. Especially since a lot of the needless fluff and grinding has been edited out. So unlike some of their previous series you don’t see a lot of Kieran and Grant running in a circle for an hour trying to catch a specific pokemon or trying to get to a certain level.

It’s also hilarious as they have a lot of “house rules” for the Nuzlocke often involving the exercise bike they.... have..... for some reason.

It’s very good and the gym battles become SUPER hype with the Nuzlocke rules and the music.

Baywatching

Having been going to a few years now, watch Allison try her very best to go through and do a video series where she talks about summarises every episode of Baywatch.

.... Ever. Single. Episode.

She’s not even close to done yet (and now she’s introduced Baywatch Nights AS WELL) but her trying to explain the batshit insanity of this show, it’s over the top characters, it’s insane plots and behind the scenes weirdness with all the enthusiasm and love for this slice of 90s is amazing. Please enjoy a good thick chunk of inside jokes, silly character voices, and a whole lot of ?????

Brutal Moose: Shenmue

Probably one of the most chill channels on all of Youtube, Brutal Moose aka Ian, prefers playing games you wouldn’t think would make for good Let’s Plays. And maybe they don’t, objectively. A collection of playlists covering Truck Simulator, Nancy Drew, Hidden Object games etc etc, spliced in with old commercials from drive in theaters from the 50s,60s and 70s. Ian’s Let’s Play channel is great for just putting on and letting play for company while you’re drawing or grinding in a video game or playing Stardew or something.

I recommend his Shenmue playthrough as Ian completely fell in love with the game and went on to play both the sequel and the newly released third game. Ian genuinely adores the weird voice acting and all the menial tasks and mini-games you can do. I watched this a lot in 2018 when I was going through a rough time, and it really helped me in a strange way to just put Ian on and listen to him talk to the chat and drive a forklift around for like 4 hours straight before going to Tomato Mart or wasting all his money on the gacha machines.

A Measured Response to “In Defense of Dark Souls 2″

At some point, big name youtuber Hbomberguy made a video called “In Defense of Dark Souls II”. I’m not subscribed to Hbomberguy but I enjoyed his video on why Sherlock (the BBC show) is trash. (come to think of it I should have added that to the first list). And it seems the video on Sherlock was really good and well argued.... and it seems his “In Defense of Dark Souls 2″ video... was not.

Using subjective language, bad representation of facts, or simply outright getting certain information wrong, Hbomberguy′s video on Dark Souls II is, at best, a man trying to argue that he likes Dark Souls II because it is “Objectively good”, rather than simply accept he likes it... because he likes it.

MauLer is kind of an asshole, but I have learned more about dissecting someone’s argument and deconstructing what they have said watching his response series than I have in any english or debate class I have ever had.

The response is over 10 hours long, but this is because MauLer takes time with each and every statement he takes umbrage with, discussing what is being said, discusses why it is false or dubious, and then compares with actual facts and research.

If you ever want to know how to to distinguish subjective opinion from objective fact in someone else’s argument regarding... ANYTHING really, I highly recommend this series.

I may not like MauLer as a person, but DAMN if he doesn’t know how to deconstruct an argument in a logic, emotionless way.

John Wolfe: Maize

Maize is a stupid game. a Stupid stupid game.

It involves sentient corn, and underground secret genetics lab, a Russian bootleg teddy bear that hates everyone, sentient corn, and a crumpet.

This game IMMEDIATELY went on my wishlist after watching this playthrough. Please watch John try and figure what the actual fuck is going on in this Monty Python-eque weird black comedy. It’s stupid, it’s weird, it’s bizarre and it’s honestly one of the funniest games I’ve seen streamed.

Hollywood: a Celebration of the Silent Era

This is not a youtube playlist. I mean it IS, but what this actually is, is a TV series released in the UK in 1980 covering the Silent Film era. As it was made in 1980, it includes interviews with many of the silent film stars who were often still alive during this documentary’s production. Each episode covers a specific theme of the silent movie era. One episode is about comedies, one is about WWI, one is about Westerns etc etc.

It’s a fascinating series, because it focuses on the silent era which, in modern day, I think many people unfairly think of as “those first few years of movies before movies really became a thing.” And that’s such a shame and really not true. The artistry, camera tricks, and raw nature of this early era of film making is so important and produced films which can still be watched today easily, possibly even easier than a few modern movies as often the very fact that the films are silent means they are universal, regardless of what language you speak.

I think an episode or two might have been turned to private or copyright claimed in this playlist, but I know if you do a search on youtube you can find the episode uploaded by someone else.

Diamanda Hagan: Bonekickers

Bonekickers is the show Mathew Graham made before he went on to work on the new Dr. Who. It is about archaeologists and it is God-fucking-Awful.

It is.... look. Ok. I like Archaeology a lot. But this isn’t a show that’s bad “if you like history” or “if you know things about archaeology”. This show is bad because it doesn’t make a single fucking lick of sense, all the characters are awful and terrible, and even if you understand what’s going on in the story you’re still going to be screaming “WHY????” at the screen as each new baffling stupid piece of the puzzle slots into place.

Diamanda Hagan has 0 time for this garbage and she’s going to walk you through each episode to show you how truly horrible this piece of garbage is.

Cry Plays: Ori and the Blind Forest

With Ori and the Will of the Wisps releasing recently, now is a great time to go and watch Cry playthrough the first Ori game. an absolutely gorgeous piece of work with a beautiful soundtrack and really likeable character designs and a sweet story, Ori is a great game to put on, sit back, and just let it wash over you. Cry’s playthrough is also great because although its a Metroidvania game, Cry fast forwards the parts where he backtracks for a long period of time, so you don’t get stuck watching him run back and forth as he tries to figure out where to go next or anything like that.

Cry also recently started playing the sequel as well!

If you enjoyed this list at all, please consider tipping me for a coffee

☕️ Ko-fi ☕️

#self isolation #Quarantine #Youtube #Links #Recommendations #Recommended #ask to tag #long post #No editing we die like men

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tabloidtoc · 4 years

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OK, October 19

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Pregnant Princess Eugenie betrayed by her own dad -- Queen Elizabeth bans Prince Andrew from delivery room

Page 1: Big Pic -- Lea Michele and husband Zandy Reich enjoying a leisurely stroll with their son Ever in a stroller in face masks

Page 2: Contents

Page 3: Contents

Page 4: Demi Lovato moving on -- a heartbroken Demi is picking up the pieces after splitting from her fiance Max Ehrich

Page 6: When Kris Jenner shocked fans with her announcement that Keeping Up With the Kardashians was ending she didn’t explain why she decided to pull the plug on the show after 20 seasons but now she’s gearing up for a big TV interview in which she’ll reveal the real reason she’s calling it quits which is ironically because there’s too much drama going on with her family and she wants to see her children happy again

Page 7: It’s a good thing Taylor Swift has been sheltering in place at her Nashville farm and not at her posh pad in New York City where bullets were flying outside her $18 million Tribeca townhouse during an armed robbery at a sneaker store next door, after just one season on The Talk Marie Osmond has been unceremoniously given the boot because her ex-cohosts Sharon Osbourne and Sheryl Underwood threatened to quit unless she was canned because they felt Marie didn’t bring anything to the table and just made it difficult for them to get their ideas across plus they thought she was too refined and too nice and too polished, Emma Stone’s recent hush-hush wedding to Dave McCary has her ex-boyfriend Andrew Garfield crying the blues and ever since Emma and Dave were spotted wearing matching wedding bands Andrew has been telling people that he’s happy for Emma but everyone knows that deep down it must be devastating for him because she was the love of his life

Page 8: Red Hot on the Red Carpet -- stars are chic in suits -- Emily Blunt, Sandra Oh, Gugu Mbatha-Raw

Page 9: Olivia Palermo, Charlize Theron

Page 10: Who Wore It Better? Lily-Rose Depp vs. Kaia Gerber, Mj Rodriguez vs. Kat Graham

Page 11: Brie Bella vs. Kyle Richards

Page 16: News in Photos -- Gwen Stefani modeled one of the new styles from her L.A.M.B. eyewear collection while shooting a campaign

Page 17: Brie Larson and her boyfriend Elijah Allan-Blitz wore masks at a grocery store, Drew Barrymore posed on the set of her new talk show, Katie Holmes and boyfriend Emilio Vitolo Jr. had dinner with his dad Emilio Vitolo Sr.

Page 18: Kidding Around -- famous parents can’t get enough of their mini-me’s -- Prince William and sons Prince George and Prince Louis, new dad Artem Chigvintsev and his son Matteo, pregnant Ashlee Simpson enjoyed a day of shopping with daughter Jagger

Page 20: Wells Adams out on a run, Keo Motsepe and Anne Heche take a selfie, Alessandra Ambrosio spending a day at the shore

Page 21: Arnold Schwarzenegger and his girlfriend Heather Milligan took their two-wheelers out for a spin

Page 22: Farrah Abraham clad in a patriotic bikini in Venice in California, Olivia Jade and boyfriend Jackson Guthy on a dinner date

Page 23: While guest-hosting the Ellen show Stephen “tWitch” Boss created a TikTok video with wife Allison Holker and guests Addison Rae and Derek Hough, Irina Shayk served looks for designer Nicole Benisti’s Fall/Winter 2020 campaign

Page 24: At the Hometown Heroes Live Music Festival Snoop Dogg honored his late friend Tupac Shakur with fellow headliner Nelly, Helen Mirren stunned while attending Prince Albert II’s Monte-Carlo Gala for Planetary Health, Megan Fox and Machine Gun Kelly

Page 25: Ireland Baldwin getting her tresses dyed back to blonde, Kaley Cuoco filming a scene for her show The Flight Attendant

Page 26: Inside My Home -- Armie Hammer and Elizabeth Chambers’ historic home -- the spouses of 10 years are calling time on their marriage and saying farewell to their L.A. hideaway

Page 28: Julianne Hough and Brooks Laich’s divorce is off

Page 29: Ryan Gosling will turn 40 in November and there’s just one thing he wants for his birthday -- baby No. 3 with longtime girlfriend Eva Mendes because he loves being a dad and is eager to grow their family and Eva is totally on board and the couple who already have two daughters would be thrilled to have a baby boy, after quarantining in Big Sky in Montana for months Justin Timberlake is itching to get back to work in L.A. but his wife Jessica Biel doesn’t want to let him out of her sight -- while Jessica likes the slower pace of Montana Justin is bored as hell but Jessica wants Justin around to help with their son Silas and their new baby boy but everyone knows she’s afraid Justin will go back to his old habits

Page 30: Rebel Wilson’s romance with hunky new businessman beau Jacob Busch is heating up and the two have been inseparable since she returned to L.A. last summer after shooting a TV series while Down Under -- they hang out at her house cooking healthy meal and exercising and go for hikes in the canyons and Jacob is wonderful and generous and sweet and he loves her sense of humor, Kim Kardashian is close to ending her marriage to Kanye West but she’s holding off on filing court papers until she finishes mapping out the details of her post-divorce life, Oh Baby -- these couples secretly welcomed little ones -- Amanda Seyfried and Thomas Sadoski welcomed their second child which was a boy, Billie Lourd and Austen Rydell welcomed a boy named Kingston Fisher Lourd Rydell, Rooney Mara and Joaquin Phoenix welcomed a son named after Joaquin’s late brother River

Page 32: Cover Story -- Princess Eugenie’s royal baby drama -- the mom-to-be is worried her disgraced father Prince Andrew will steal the spotlight for all the wrong reasons -- Queen Elizabeth is set on making sure that Eugenie and her great-grandchild are spared any future embarrassment caused by Andrew because she’s had enough of his reckless behavior -- Prince Andrew is crushed by Eugenie’s decision to keep him out of the delivery room and is hoping she’ll reconsider

Page 36: Sandra Bullock -- wedding and baby and a tell-all -- she is planning for a family-focused future and ready to clear up rumors from her past

Page 38: Parenting the Pandemic -- Ex Factor -- these former couples may have their differences but they make it work for the sake of the kids -- Gwen Stefani and Gavin Rossdale, Khloe Kardashian and Tristan Thompson

Page 39: Tarek El Moussa and Christina Anstead, Anderson Cooper and Benjamin Maisani, Jennifer Garner and Ben Affleck

Page 40: Interview -- Demi Moore -- the star talks about her bravest roles including her latest in the pandemic thriller Songbird

Page 42: Primetime Babes -- how this fall’s hottest stars stay in tip-top shape -- Gabrielle Union, Hilary Swank, Nicole Scherzinger

Page 43: Lily Collins, Nicole Kidman

Page 46: Style Week -- Becky G’s new collection of sunglasses with Dime Optics

Page 48: What’s Hot Right Now -- be a trailblazer this season in a statement-making jacket -- Iskra Lawrence

Page 49: Mad for Mascara -- Rosie Huntington-Whiteley

Page 50: Think Pink -- shop these pretty items that support breast cancer awareness month

Page 54: Entertainment

Page 55: Q&A with Candace Cameron Bure

Page 58: Buzz -- VanderBump Rules -- Brittany Cartwright and Jax Taylor the latest Vanderpump Rules couple to announce they are expecting celebrated the news at a gender reveal party and among these guests were current costar Lala Kent and their former castmate Stassi Schroeder both of whom are also pregnant

Page 60: Sound Bites -- Jane Fonda recalling the time she told Kim Kardashian West she had a beautiful butt, Millie Bobby Brown on doing arts and crafts during quarantine, Drew Barrymore revealing her experience on the dating app Raya

Page 61: Catherine Giudici joking about how her life revolves around poop with three kids, Sharon Stone on how she was madly in love with Robert De Niro before the two starred in 1995′s Casino, Chace Crawford joking about the time he turned down an offer to become a Chippendales dancer

Page 62: Horoscope -- Libra Cardi B turned 28 on October 11

Page 64: By the Numbers -- Julia Garner

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0004-hargreeves · 5 years

Text

Death on Two Legs, You Never Had a Heart

Summary: Klaus is the victim of Leonard(Harold)’s mind games. Or what would have happened if Klaus could see Harold’s ghost.

Warnings: Some detail of gruesome-ness, swearing(1 shit), death, verbal abuse, L*onard P*abody

The gang was horrified, really. They walked into Harold’s house, expecting to be met with an intense fight, or worse; Vanya’s dead body as Harold, or Leonard, as they previously believed, was nowhere to be found.

They were not prepared for what they did see.

Klaus knew something was wrong. He sense it when they ran up to the house. It also didn’t help that he could see Harold standing off by the corner covered in knives.

That was probably the first clue.

Harold’s house was creepy, pictures of him and his dad were in a few places, but his dad was scratched out, just like the pictures Diego, Five, and Allison saw in the attic.

Harold’s dad stood in the darkened stairway, his face a swirl of blood and muscle, with tiny fragments of bones peeking out.

That was the second clue.

The gang turned the corner and saw Harold on the floor, 15 or so sharp-tipped objects protruding from his chest. Five stepped over broken glass and took the eyeball out of his pocket.

“What are you-” Diego began, as Klaus retched at both the sight and sound of Five pushing the glass eyeball into Harold’s empty socket.

“Same eye colour, same pupil size. Guys, this is it!” He exclaimed. “The eye that I’ve been carrying around for decades, it...It’s found its rightful home.” He pushes the eyeball back out.

“We got the guy we needed to kill to stop the apocalypse.” Diego stared in amazement.

Klaus looked over at Harold’s ghost, who followed everyone in the house and stood by his body, smiling softly. Smiling with clear insanity in his eyes. He looked up at Klaus.

“Yay! Let’s go.” Klaus said, turning around to avoid the crazed look in Harold’s eyes. Diego, however, was not so willing to let him go, instead choosing to grab the back of his vest.

“Wait, wait.” Five said. “It can’t be this easy. Who did this? Who killed him?”

Five walked toward the door, hungry for answers. Diego looked at Harold’s body once more.

Harold made eye contact once more with Klaus, smiling his odd, crazed smile. “You might want to find Vanya for that one.” He said, making Klaus uneasy.

That was the third clue.

He had to admit, he may have hated the guy, but he had a good idea. Klaus tore his eyes away from Harold and focused on the wall across from him. “I’ve got a crazy idea-crazy!-but how about we find Vanya,” He looks at Diego. “And ask her what happened?”

Diego seemed to think over it, before mentioning that Vanya could be at the academy. Klaus was grateful that someone took his idea seriously, even if he stole it from Vanya’s dead psychopathic boyfriend.

~~~~~~~~

Klaus watched as Vanya banged on the glass, tears streaming down her face as she screamed unheard pleas.

Harold was right next to him, staring at Vanya with contempt, as if this is what he wanted to happen. It sickened Klaus.

Everyone had left, and Klaus came back to try and help Vanya, to save her. He had a sickening feeling in his stomach. He could feel the cold floors of the mausoleum and the ghosts that danced across his vision.

Harold stood by the corner, invisible to Vanya as she banged harder of the glass, her palms pink and raw. Klaus tugged at the vault doors. He tried, he tried so hard. He wasn’t the strongest hammer in the toolbox, stronger than maybe Ben, but since he died, it appeared that Klaus was the weakest in the family.

“She doesn’t have much control over her power, you know,” Harold spoke up, and Klaus let go of the cold metal, whipping around and narrowing his eyes.

“Oh? And why should I believe you, huh? You’re the one who manipulated Vanya into all kinds of shit!” He raised a finger and jabbed a finger in Harold’s direction. “Hell, you’re probably manipulating me someone with your...Your devilish ways!” He was fuming, it was bad enough he had to listen to all the other ghosts, but this was torture. Even Ben wasn’t as bad.

“So, you don’t believe Vanya is redeemable for almost killing Allison?” Harold asked, starting to cross his arms before he bumped into one of the dozen knives sticking out of him and set them down. “That’s low, Klaus. For someone who was so against locking her up about an hour ago, you seem to have changed your tune.”

Klaus faltered. He hesitated, giving Harold more room to berate him further.

“You know, Klaus, I liked you. You had almost as much promise as Vanya. I read your father’s journals. Your guys’ childhood was rough!” He laughs as Klaus walks towards him. “I mean, wow. Your dad? Locking you up in a mausoleum? At 14? That must’ve sucked.” Klaus bit his tongue so hard that the next time he spoke, bits of blood sprayed the wall behind Harold, passing through the ghost.

“I don’t like that Vanya is locked up.” He said through gritted teeth. “I just don’t trust a pathological liar like you when he tells me something I already know!” He yells the last part, this time spraying more blood on the wall.

Harold laughs. it starts out soft, like he’s afraid to make any noise. It grows, it grows until he’s a full-on maniac, clutching the free parts of his stomach.

“You already know, huh?” He burst out in between giggles, his hysteria dying down. “Tell me, Klaus. Do you think anyone will believe you? The sad, pathetic junkie who everyone knows is always too high to see ghosts. Face it, bud. You’re alone. No one will take you seriously.”

Klaus stayed quiet. Harold, once again, was right. That was, what, a streak of two? No one would believe him if he said anything.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t try.

He ran upstairs to tell Luther. To tell Diego. To tell anybody who’d listen. They needed to know.

He burst upstairs, running into each of the rooms, trying to find someone to warn about Vanya before-

A loud explosion interrupted his thoughts.

#klaus hargreeves #tua klaus #the umbrella academy #tua #umbrella academy #vanya hargreeves #tua vanya #five hargreeves #tua five #diego hargreeves #tua diego #s1e9 and 10 basically #harold jenkins #leonard peabody

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bigskydreaming · 5 years

Note

What kind of house/apt do adult successful Scanny have?

I think it would be something smallish and unassuming on the outside, very approachable. Maybe even like, a townhome or a duplex or something like that, depending on what city Scott ultimately settles in with whatever pack he builds up around him there vs whomever stays in Beacon Hills.

I don’t have any specific headcanons for where Scott relocates to, its just very important to me that he does, because like. He deserves to get far, far away from Beacon Hills. There are too many bad memories there. Its where he died. Its where Allison died, Boyd, Erica. Like, all the bad things that linger with Scott came from Beacon Hills and that damn evil attention-seeking tree stump, and all the good things that linger with Scott are one hundred percent the product of his own actions and the relationships he fostered with the people that became important to him.

There’s nothing in Beacon Hills that gives Scott anything he doesn’t already have by this point, no reason for him to stay other than his mother, who can literally just move as well. But not with Chris Argent. On account of like, well he died too. It was very sad and tragic, I don’t want to talk about it. Tears were shed, its all still really fresh and raw, we should probably just move on. Its what he would want. Probably. Also who cares, ding dong he’s dead and Melissa’s married to some nice doctor who’s never pulled a gun on her son, as well as possessing other qualities that meet somewhat higher standards, I’m sure.

Anyway. We were talking about Scott saying hasta la vista baby to Beacon Hills followed then by a slow motion dramatic walkaway shot before he gets on his motorcycle, adjusts his mirrors, revs the throttle all action movie star-esque, and also sexily - look, they’re not always automatically the same thing - and then he drives away forever from that toxic cesspit of a homicidal zipcode where square footage is calculated in terms of dead bodies. Leaving behind all the like, million and one reasons for him to say Bye Beacon Hills, see you never, try not to become a central locus for evil, but also, I don’t care if you do, it is hashtag NotMyResponsibilityAnymore. But also, I mean. It never was. Just FYI.

And then he flips the town off and accelerates off into the sunset while the town eats his dust, and admittedly Scott isn’t really the type to throw around middle fingers even where deserved, but fuck it, I’m projecting onto him and its my headcanon and I say that pile of excrement in real estate form needs to be flipped off and also, like. Its just an aesthetic thing. For the visuals. Its the whole dramatic end scene, roll credits, “I came, I saw and I blew shit up and now I’m off to reunite with my love interest and have vigorous victory sex” vibe. You get it.

So they relocate somewhere, wherever that is. I honestly don’t care, so long as its nice and doesn’t murder them or inflict gratuitous bodily harm every week and the nearest Satanic foliage is at least two statelines away. Preferably with a thriving supernatural community where Scott and his pack can all feel welcome and like they belong, rather than outsiders eternally hiding in plain sight among potential enemies. Like, somewhere where their neighbors are all vampires and Fae and other supernaturals, but only so long as like, the only reason they ever come over is to borrow a cup of sugar. Never to betray them to randomly resurrected enemies or guilt trip them into solving someone else’s centuries old and completely pointless grudgematch of Unnecessary Drama and Also Doom.

And wherever it is, the pack have their own dwellings and much needed privacy. Far enough apart that even supernatural hearing and smell don’t have them all playing Peeping Tom whether they like it or not, every time a couple wants to get frisky, but close enough together that they’re all still together, and know that more pack, more community, is always just a short walk away.

Scott and Danny’s place is some sort of small but cozy townhome or duplex or something like that, as I said. Scott’s always very aware of his presence and reputation and the power he both commands and also is afforded by peoples’ embellished expectations regarding him. So it was really important to Scott, and thus important to Danny, that their home be unpretentious. Inviting and approachable and not ‘above’ anyone else, or trying to be. Somewhere that when you got to their street and checked the address if you’re new in town and looking for an audience with True Alpha Scott McCall, you stop and do a double take and almost have to revise whatever preconceptions you have, or at least put them on hold, because like…this is where the famous True Alpha lives? Its so…ordinary.

But that’s the point after all….because the more he was looked at as standing apart from all others, the more ‘ordinary’ became the only thing Scott’s really ever aspired to be.

So its not poor, by any means. They do well for themselves, the whole pack, like you said, Scott and Danny are successful in this future. They have jobs that afford them both a sense of purpose and fulfillment of longheld interests, as well as the potential for discovering more, rather than getting locked into things that grow stale overtime as they outgrow fantasy careers that seemed more validating when they were kids dreaming of the future.

Also their jobs, whatever they might be, make them at least successful enough that it allows them both a large degree of autonomy. They can pick their own schedules, more or less. They have finances, but none that will be massively disrupted or stress-inducing if Scott has to take time off for a couple weeks to help a neighboring pack relocate somewhere new after they flee from hunters. Something where Scott’s never forced to choose between his job and keeping him and his pack financially afloat, versus someone needing his help and it not immediately apparent how long that might take resolve. The dream is stability and comfort, and enough personal agency for Scott in how and where he gets both of those, that he never feels like he’s letting down either his pack or innocents asking for his help, because the demands of his job or finances make him feel like it has to be one or the other, he can’t possibly do both.

Ideally, that flexible schedule means that when Scott isn’t helping others, something he now does by choice and simply because he wants to and he can, not because he’s made to feel he has to, like its his responsibility and his alone, because certain boundary-blind best friends have decided they want to play Peter Parker but are gonna need Scott to step up and play the actual Spider-Man part and lend his power even when someone else gets to decide for him when its his responsibility. Oopsie, I tripped and fell and my Bitter Resentment and Still Not Over It slipped out. Oh no. How terrible. Much woe.

Ahem. Anyway. As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted by myself, Scott’s flexible schedule means that when he’s not using it to help others, he has enough left over that he can afford (and justify to himself) using it for himself and his own personal enjoyment and interests, actually prioritize and commit to his own self-care, because a healthy, happy Alpha is a healthy, happy Pack. Someone said that once, probably. Probably not Hobbes. Definitely heard that somewhere though. Trust me, I’m a doctor.

So with the aid of this newfangled invention produced by cutting edge technology, this quote unquote “Free Time…” Scott explores other interests. His own. Le gasp, le shocking, le about the fuck time. He explores the novelty of being able to even have hobbies, because depressingly (why am I like this, science side of tumblr), there was once a time when Scott stopped bothering trying to figure out what all he was interested in, because he kinda assumed he’d be long dead before it ever had a chance to matter.

But by the power invested in me by Fuck You, Jeff Davis, in this future, none of that comes to pass. So free time and personal passions for Scott. He has them, in abundance. So like. He gardens, for sure. That’s why I specified a duplex or townhouse instead of an apartment in a complex or building….they live somewhere where they at least have their own garden or yard. Scott designs and implements it personally, something like his own personal Zen garden on a scale commensurate with What He Deserves. He goes outside whenever he’s starting to feel stressed about some obligation or commitment or another, and just….plays.

That’s what it is to him. He just plants things. Prunes things. Adds fountains or bird feeders or statuary, little personalized touches here and there that make his own personal territory uniquely his and his alone. Gardening in his yard is His Time in His Space, and all the pack know better than to interrupt him when he’s out in his yard working away, unless its an absolute emergency.

Danny enforces this with an iron fist and an ability to tank your credit score and spread all your most embarrassing pictures internet-wide with just a single keystroke. And Danny is the enforcer Scott doesn’t have to be. People forget that everyone loves Danny….but in no small part due to his usual proximity to Jackson. Next to Jackson, everyone looks like an angel. But Danny, on his own? Can be mean. Will be mean, if you touch or hurt or threaten or even just inconvenience his man, because like, who the fuck do you think you are and also it doesn’t even matter because he just replaced your whole identity online and if you’re nice and apologize and kiss ass without Scott ever having to know What You Almost Did, maybe Danny will have mercy on you and actually let you know what your new identity is, so you can use it to like, make a new life with the details he made up to replace your old personal info that no longer gets you anywhere.

Danny - that’s Miss Nasty if you mess with his husband - is chaotic neutral with an exception for “this is my list of special people. Touch any of them and my alignment is Chaotic Evil for however long as until I have personally escorted you to your Doom and physically kicked you into a bottomless pit where you will suffer for eternity.”

But then he smiles and charms everyone into only remembering lol oh yeah, everybody likes Danny, so that once again, everyone forgets that’s at least partially self-preservation because if you don’t love Danny and everyone Danny loves, like, you’re dumb and also screwed. Why are you bad at making good choices.

Don’t feel bad though. Danny’s very good at making people forget this part, t least until the next time he reminds people of that little piece of trivia. Have you seen him smile? Its like that flashing bulb thing Will Smith uses in Men in Black to make people forget what they just saw or were doing. Except without any supervision and/or morality because fuck your ethics, its Danny’s bewitching smile, he’ll use it however he wants. Get your own.

(The thing is, any best friend of Jackson has to have at least a little capacity for Evil. Danny just hides it well, thanks to the cloaking camouflage of Actually Having a Soul in Addition, and like, being a people person who actually understands how people work and how not to alienate them by being a total uncaring jackass 24/7. Its a fine line, except its really not, and Danny is very talented at all things and possesses an abundance of charm. Plus he’s just hot, and like. Let’s face it. That always helps. I mean, definitely never hurts).

The end result of all this tangent-having, is that Scott has enough him time and enough of a barrier from people constantly distracting him, that the exterior of Scott and Danny’s place, for all its otherwise ordinary appearance, Scott has over time turned into his own personal slice of paradise, and is exactly what that looks like to him.

See, the thing about Scott is no matter how hard he tries to be ordinary and value being just like everyone else and get lost in the crowd…..he never will quite manage it, because Scott just isn’t like anyone else. He’s good, in a way that too few people even aspire to be, because so many people just think its not possible. Especially not after having lived through the kinds of traumas Scott has, been dealt an especially unlucky hand. But Scott manages it anyway, in spite of everything, spiting every thing that tries to make him be anything lesser….and because of that, he’ll always stand at least a little apart from the crowd, be a little distinct from the rest, impossible to ever fully be lost or muted by any crowd of any size.

And the little slice of the world Scott makes just his and Danny’s, no one else’s. He doesn’t even need to share it with his pack without it being any less inviting to his pack for all that. It reflects this understated aspect of Scott, this impossible to quantify essence of him that he himself is too unassuming to ever fully realize is there, and everyone else just accepts without questioning…because they’ve learned by now when you’re given a gift, just accept it and appreciate it.

So in structure and layout, their home is nothing special, but amidst a neighborhood of similar structures, it pops all the same. It draws the eye without dominating your vision. It makes you want to look at it, want to come closer, want to be around it, much like the man who designed it. Who made it, cares for it, and never neglects it or takes it for granted. Its always green, year round, and filled with a variety of flowers that come from all over the world but can all complement each other and coexist without endangering any of the neighboring plants. None of them overgrowing the garden or in any way being at any of the other plants’ expense.

They’re like Scott’s pack in that way….of all shapes and sizes, coming from all around the world, of all kinds of types, not even just limited to werewolves. All beautiful, all unique, all existing in harmony. Even though Scott’s never shared this with anyone else, in his mind, each flower or plant he adds to his garden represents one specific member of his pack. Its Theirs, its what he associates with them. In this way, they’re all represented, it reminds him whatever conflict arises internally, its nothing they can’t ultimately all work out without compromising any single individual. And with each plant needing its own special attention and time devoted to cultivating it and caring for it, they serve as proxies for the pack members they represent.

Due to this, Scott can tell himself with just a glance at his garden - reassure himself, whenever his self-doubts get the better of him and he starts to beat himself up for not being there enough for someone or neglecting someone or not doing better - but with his garden, just going outside and checking it over can remind Scott that he’s not neglecting anyone. Because every time he tends to the plant that represents a pack member, Scott reflects on that pack member as he does so. Just going over what they’ve been up to, mentally checking in on them, casting about to see if he’s noticed any sign something’s been bothering them, making sure to spend one on one time with them.

He can’t tend to a plant without associating it with their linked pack member….and in this way, as long as he can look around and take in with a glance the sight of his garden, all carefully tended to, no plant neglected, all watered and pruned and harmonious and appreciated….and it serves as a visual reminder with which to reassure himself….he’s not forgetting anyone, overlooking anyone. Nobody’s being neglected, he’s always thinking about his pack and keeping their best interests at heart and if any problems do pop to mind while he’s tending to one of his plants or flowers, of course that would be the first thing he’d make a plan to go check in on and address personally, once he’s making his rounds later and having a little face time and conversation with his various packmates.

Of all the flowers and various plant types in his garden, there’s only one fruit….a single eye catching and lovingly attended orange tree. That’s Danny. They’re his favorite, and orange is his favorite color. There’s just something unique about it. Especially in the midst of so much green.

The flowers nearest the front door and around the external structures of the building, a pillar underneath the small, roofed-in entrance way, perhaps, a gate at the front of the property, next to the driveway, maybe a trellis along the wall just next to the door…..the flowers adorning and framing the entrance to their home are a carefully arranged spray of seven different hues.

A literal rainbow, advertising this House and All Who Live Here Be Gaaaaaaay.

Scott’s always had a sly, understated sense of humor. Mischievous, but not usually at anyone’s expense, and subtle enough that most people don’t tend to credit him with having much of a sense of humor. He does though….he’s just never needed words to express it.

Advertising himself and his personal pride with a literal year round rainbow that’s still subtle enough that most people don’t clue into its layered meaning or implications without being told. Later in life, stable and safe and more centered, Scott gets a pretty big kick out of how often people fail to see what’s right in front of them. Him living his best life on his own terms and not even being shy about it….and if other people can’t connect the dots on their own….its a pity, Scott muses with a mostly internalized laugh, that most people are just in too big a hurry or too eager to take things at face value to truly see what their surroundings look like and are full of.

Danny gets the joke, and thinks its hilarious how few other people figure it out. But that’s mostly just because Danny can be kind of a dick. He’s sorry not sorry. Its not his fault people are dumb. RIP to 90% of humanity, but he has braincells.

He and Scott complement each other well.

Similarly, just as Scott’s personal space is outdoors, natural, and helps him feel part of the world, feel part of nature, connected to it and in harmony with the natural order of things and not something completely separate….Danny’s personal space is indoors, the extra room converted entirely into his personal office or Batcave. Filled with monitors and screens and hard drives, a Hacker’s Paradise that keeps Danny plugged into the grid, manmade tools and his own cultivated expertise giving him the world at his fingertips. Any needed information or a satellite view of something happening with allies on the other side of the world is just a few clicks of a mouse away.

He’s also got every video game console known to man, because Danny’s Me Time is kicking ass on whatever game the latest redditor or twitterbaiting bigot to catch his ire is high-ranking on.

And if he also happens to use his gameplay as an opportunity to backdoor into said Wankstain’s systems and do whatever needs doing to make his life and those of all his enabling social circle’s a living hell and a lesson in empathy that comes too late cuz nobody has any for them because they suck and are Satan….

Well. Sucks to be them, and also, what kind of moron makes enemies while online gaming without first erecting even a nominal defense against Superior Intellects who might feel like retaliating against his jokes, that aren’t really jokes so much as the synaptic misfiring of racist braincells and proof that sometimes, evolution shits out a turd?

“That sounds like victim blaming,” Scott notes in an absent kind of tone when watching over his husband’s shoulder one day. Not really judgmental so much as just something to say.

“You say victim blaming, I say pest control,” Danny hums unapologetically. “Sides, can’t be victim blamed if you’re not a victim, and you can’t be a victim if you’re really just a human-shaped mistake who has no redeeming qualities, an online presence that’s the virtual equivalent of bad BO with no medical cause for an excuse, and a social media history that makes a strong case for your best possible contribution to society being a qualifier for a Darwin Award. Would you blame a cockroach for getting itself stepped on by stepping out into the light? I mean, you could, I guess. Just doesn’t seem terribly productive if you ask me.”

“Why do you hate cockroaches? They’re living creatures who never did anything to you, why would hurt them by comparing one to this guy?” Scott asks, because that’s really the more important part of the conversation.

“Dunno,” Danny shrugs. “I’m sure I could find some way to blame it on childhood trauma if you really need an answer.”

“No, just wondering if you’re gonna be done in time for dinner. I’m making tortellini.”

“I’ll be done in ten minutes, I swear. And ready to eat like a metaphor that’s more appropriate to you. Righteous vengeance really works up an appetite.”

“Uh-huh. Just out of curiosity, who exactly are you righteously avenging at the moment?”

“Humanity? Good taste? God, who couldn’t possibly have foreseen this free will thing would go so very wrong? That poor defunct condom that tried its best but in the end, just wasn’t up to the task of keeping this shithead from being unleashed unto the Earth? I dunno. Do I have to pick just one?”

Not really. As stated, Scott’s not actually judging anymore than Danny’s trying to hide this from him. They’re both in total agreement about the kind of people Danny cyber-vigilantes. They just have different approaches about how they should be handled. Scott, while not violent by choice for the most part, does tend to favor the direct approach. He just feels its right that a person know why exactly he thinks they’re a terrible person who deserves what they get. So he tends more towards the approach of: punch a bigot in the face, wait for a second for a whiff of remorse or sign someone might be suddenly reevaluating life choices, because he’s Scott and hope springs eternal, but when no such revelation comes, just shrugging and walking away. Oh well. He tried. Sorta. Well, kinda.

Danny, in contrast, prefers to go for the jugular and leave no hint of who or what might have been behind the all-encompassing full frontal assault that hits every online trace of his target’s miserable and miserly existence. It keeps them paranoid and this keeps him sated. Plus, his stance is when they don’t know what exactly earned them an enemy of his caliber, it forces them to reflect or at least call to mind every thing they can think of doing wrong to someone that might result in that someone hating them this much.

The ironic thing of course is Danny doesn’t even really hate them, because that implies a level of giving a shit he can’t ever quite seem to muster. He mostly just thinks they suck and should suffer for that. And he gets bored a lot.

Look, his husband and fellow werewolves are off saving the world every other week and being all kinds of kick-ass and action adventure movie-star types in the process. A guy sitting behind at home all the time has to get his jollies somehow. Also, he’s compiled a very engaging soundtrack to accompany his personal heroic undertakings, and it does wonderful things for his self image. Danny’s all about that self-care.

Plus, the first time he and Scott had something of a disagreement on their approaches, Danny unapologetically stated that loving him meant loving his vindictive side, because he personally was quite fond of it and thought it was really something of a Look. Also, making that Look into a Thing might be something of a dealbreaker for him, because he really didn’t want to undersell his capacity to be petty, and how little shame he felt about having said capacity. His essential life philosophy boils down to sometimes people just suck and somebody needs to say so. Maybe by draining their bank account and redirecting the funds to an ironically relevant charity.

“Fine,” Scott had conceded with a sigh. “Just be careful about making enemies like this, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

(That was really his only real concern all along. He’s a Nurturing Nelly. Scott can’t help but be a worry wart when his husband roams the internet highways under a masked IP address, taking on bandits and bigots all willy nilly, with not a bit of concern for himself. Its their biggest common ground, and Danny doesn’t have claws or a killer bite to protect himself with. A bite fetish, maybe, but that’s not quite the same thing, and also neither here nor there, and also also, he would like to plead the fifth while reminding you he can access and pull up your full porn-browsing history if you’d like to press that line of conversation further. Pervert).

Anyway, alls well that ends well, and thus Danny couldn’t help but be charmed at the reminder that his hubby is a man with clear priorities and his biggest is always gonna be the safety of his loved ones. Aww, sweetums.

“Aww, sweetums,” he said, just to see Scott squirm, because the more unexpected the endearment, the more Scott doesn’t know how to take it. And a squirmy Scott is an adorable Scott, Danny has always felt, and he is a man who appreciates his eye candy, as well as a go-getter who knows what he likes and goes and gets it, even if that means playing dirty. Especially if that means playing dirty. Danny likes dirty.

After all, dirty men need to shower, and showering together conserves water, and having sex while showering together is just a solid application of having eyes, a hot husband, and a healthy libido. It just makes good sense. He’s goal-oriented and a linear thinker, what do you want, leave him alone. He’s valid and you’re just jealous.

Still, exotic endearment applied, he’d then followed up with:

“How dare you accuse me of being so bad at the thing that I am most skilled at that you imply I’m even capable of ever leaving digital tracks like a total N00b. What do I look like to you? A 4chan poster who just figured out how to spoof their GPS for the first time?”

Danny rolled his eyes, exaggerating his wounded pride. It was the principle of the matter, and he was very principled. Sometimes. Kinda. If principles mean whimsy and whimsy means shh, don’t interrupt me, I’m doing bad things to bad people and this is very important work that must be savored or you really don’t get the full oomph of the revenge-gasm. Yes, he said revenge-gasm and he meant it. No he will not elaborate. Imagination is free.

“Ten points from Gryffindor for your low opinion of me, your valued and valuable life partner. Also, no sex for you, until…..okay maybe that’s too far. You seem like you’ve learned your lesson.”

“You’re too merciful,” Scott had said drily.

“Nobody’s perfect,” Danny had said lackadaisically. “Also, not to disrespect your tortellini-making expertise, but any chance we can put a pin in dinner until after we go have wild, passionate sex? This pending revenge-gasm is making me horny and I really hate to waste a good head of moral crusading.”

“That was a terrible pun.”

“I have never made a pun in my life, how dare you, my sense of humor is sophisticated. I’m not a peasant, Scott. And where did we land on the sex.”

“Didn’t we just do it this morning?”

“I have needs, Scott.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“And water is wet. I don’t see the relevance. Also, if you don’t want me jumping you 24/7, you have no business being so hot. Its your own damn fault, deal with it.”

“There you go with the victim-blaming again.”

“I’ll do five Hail Marys after I finish doing sinful things to you and racking up another five. Its more efficient to tackle them all at once.”

“Not sure that’s how that works, babe.”

“Eh, guess I’ll just go to hell then. Still worth it. Still your fault. Oh look, I’m naked all of a sudden, how did that happen?”

Scott sighs. “What am I going to do with you?”

“R is for Ravish me, if you’re really looking for suggestions. I can probably do the whole alphabet if you need. Or just do me. Whichever.”

Scott cut off further melodramatic peacocking with a kiss.

Things proceeded to a total media black out from there. Further voyeuristic attempts at seeing the Alpha and his mate get down, get down, would necessitate the invocation of the cautionary tale of the last pack member to not properly respect the sanctity of the inner sanctum of the Vindictive Master of Digital Identities and Other Important Details. His name is Chester, middle initial A., surname with a phonetic similarity to certain orifices. That wasn’t always his name, but it was once Danny got done with him, and that was only after Scott gave him the Pointed Stare of One Who Will Look More Benevolently On Those Who Demonstrate Both Mercy and Restraint.

Tis very much a tale of woe, as Chester is 6′5″, 260 lbs of visually intimidating werewolf muscle, and facial features that when accompanied by choice words and phrases, rather does call to mind certain similarities to certain orifices.

Like I said. Danny is very good at what he does. And everybody loves Danny.

….Aside from all other motivating reasons, its just a good idea in general.

Y’know.

Practically speaking.

#scanny #future fic not fic #idk #look call it whatever you want just dont quote me #like I ever know how to describe half the stuff that comes out of my head #lol as ifffff

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izupie · 5 years

Text

So I entered the Fruits Basket Gift exchange over at @lgbtfurubanet and my giftee requested a genderbent story, and one of the ships they had on their preferred list was Kyoru, and I thought this sounded like a great challenge!

So here’s a gender swapped, fluff filled, festive cookie baking story for my giftee, Allison (who I can’t tag because I don’t know their tumblr name!) Happy holidays!

————

[AO3 LINK]

It’s an unseasonably sunny day for the ass-end of December, Kyoka decides, as she practically burrows herself further down into her futon. It makes the task of getting out of bed practically impossible, when she’s so warm and comfy, and it feels like forever since she had a day off from school to just enjoy an extra-long nap. An overdue extra-long nap.

She was usually the first one up in the house, though sometimes Tokuro was already making breakfast by the time she came into the kitchen. Kyoka often found herself wondering if he even slept those nights. He always seemed to be smiling a little bit too hard those mornings – with a smile that looked not quite right, despite how hard he was obviously forcing it on there. Bad dreams maybe?

Not that it was any of her business.

Kyoka turns over and huffs into her blanket, trying to force out the thought of Tokuro’s sad smile. Today was a day of napping. That included no annoying dogs or rats and definitely no thinking about him.

As if summoned by the very thought, Kyoka perks up automatically as she hears the soft tones of Tokuro drifting up through the floorboards. She immediately pulls her duvet up over her head, but even that isn’t enough to drown out the sound of Shihori’s cackle of a laugh that answers him and assaults her ears. Tokuro’s pitch raises, though now she can’t hear what he’s saying, and Kyoka frowns as she pulls the quilt back down. She’s not quite sure why it bothers her so much when something is making him unhappy, but even just the idea of Shihori being a nuisance to him this early in the morning is making her face scrunch up in annoyance.

Someone needs to get that dog a leash.

Kyoka finally throws off the blanket completely and shoves on the closest clothes to her she can reach; a quick glance reveals she’s wearing a black sweater and khaki cargo pants, then she runs a quick hand through her orange bob, hoping it’s not too tangled from sleep, as she pounds down the stairs barefooted.

Shihori looks up and freezes in place as Kyoka enters the kitchen, wooden spoon deep into her mouth, while Tokuro flaps his hands in a panic beside her.

“P-Please put the spoon down Shihori, y-you could get sick from raw cookie batter like that,” he says with a concern that makes his voice fast and high.

“Buh itsh sho tashty,” Shihori just about manages, with her mouth still around the spoon, as she places a hand to her cheek and swoons.

Kyoka makes a disgusted sound in the back of her throat that makes Tokuro jump on the spot as he turns in surprise to see her in the entrance to the kitchen, though it only takes a beat for his face to brighten instantly into a smile. Kyoka stamps (hard) on the impulse to smile back.

“Good morning Kyoka!” Tokuro chirps.

Kyoka folds her arms tight over her chest. “M-Morning,” she acknowledges, then turns to Shihori with a scowl. “You’re disgusting.”

Shihori is dressed in one of her more casual kimonos, open so low on the chest that it borders on inappropriate, and there’s a bag over her shoulder.

“You’re going out?” Kyoka asks out loud.

“Mm,” Shihori hums, licking the spoon thoroughly clean before she hands it to a concerned looking Tokuro. “Only to the main estate. Oh, don’t look at me like that Tokuro, don’t you know that dogs have iron stomachs?”

“O-Oh, they do?”

“Absolutely. I can eat anything, and I’ll be totally fine.”

Kyoka blinks. “What? That’s not true.” But her voice has less fire in it that she wants as doubt creeps in, and she glances at Tokuro as if his expression might tell her the truth, even though he always agrees with whatever Shihori says as much as she does.

Goddamn that dog’s gold-class bullshitting always makes her doubt the stuff she already knows is true.

“Oh, Kyoka,” Shihori wails, as if fatally wounded, “so little faith in what I tell you. Tokuro always believes me.”

I’m supposed to be napping, Kyoka remembers with an internal huff as she resists the urge to outright growl, but instead I’m dealing with the fucking theatrics of the ‘adult’ of the house.

“I’ve even eaten Hatsumi’s cooking,” Shihori adds in a proud voice, “though I suppose if she’d ever poisoned me, she could have just treated me straight after. Not really in any danger if a doctor gives you food poisoning, right?”

“Unless she does it on purpose,” Kyoka snaps.

Shihori cackles another laugh and shakes her head, though Kyoka notices she doesn’t disagree. She finally gives them both a wink and turns to leave the room. “Have a fun morning you two, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Kyoka chokes out a cracked, “Just go already!”

Another cackle and Shihori is finally gone. The front door slides shut with a definitive click.

Kyoka sighs loudly and feels her shoulders sag, feeling like she’s just lost some of the years off her life. When she turns back to Tokuro he’s already at the sink washing the spoon Shihiro had just been licking for dear life (gods, she’s gross) and drying it off with a towel. Only then does she notice the big bowl of what must be cookie batter on the table, the big pile of plastic cookie cutter shapes, and the tubes of different coloured icing covering almost every available surface.

“What’s all this?”

Tokuro brightens and a soft embarrassed blush blooms onto his nose.

Kyoka feels like someone has punched her in the chest and kicked her in the stomach all at once. She hadn’t really paid attention to him when she’d first walked into the kitchen, trying to deal with the headache that was Shihori, but now he’s all she can look at and, shit, the boy is trying to kill her. He’s wearing an oversized sweater in a brown that’s almost the same shade as his floppy hair, underneath denim overalls. She remembers Tokuro bashfully telling her that he has no fashion sense once, and that he prefers plainer clothes, but even at the time she could only stare blankly back in amazement because he clearly has no clue that this stuff makes him look cute as hell.

It makes her a bit self-conscious of her hastily thrown on clothes, creased from the floor, and her un-tied, un-brushed hair.

Kyoka realises his brown doe-eyes are wide and she’s completely missed what he’s just said. “What?” she snaps, harsher than she intended as she tries to wrestle her feelings back under control.

He blinks and goes back to the bowl of cookie dough. “O-Oh, um, I said I’m baking holiday cookies. B-But I didn’t want them to be just Christmas themed, so I thought I’d make them… festive… zodiac… animals.” Tokuro ducks his head down with a shy smile.

That’s so him, Kyoka thinks with a fondness she wishes she could stop as easily as she stops the small laugh that wants to escape her lips.

The big pile of random cookie cutters does seem to contain a whole collection of different animal shapes, so Kyoka makes her way over and picks them up at random. They’re all there: rat, cow, tiger, rabbit… the whole zodiac. A shape catches her eye and she realises there’s a cat shaped on there too. It makes something fluttery and warm flap in her chest.

By the time she’s turned back around Tokuro has started rolling out some of the dough.

“And let me guess, you’re gonna to give them out to everyone, right.” It’s not even posed as a question, because she already knows the answer.

Tokuro nods excitedly. “Yes!”

Kyoka definitely can’t stop the smile that tugs up her lips then, and without another word she begins sorting out the shapes into order. She frowns at the rat shape as she places it at the head of the group, then grins to herself as she pushes it down and puts the cat cutter there instead.

“Kyoka?”

“Yeah?”

“Um…”

“I’m helpin’. That a problem?”

“N-No! It’s just… you don’t have to. I don’t want to take up your time on our day off school.”

Kyoka snorts. “It’s fine. Not like I’ve got anythin’ else to do anyways.” She ignores the thought of her futon.

Tokuro says thank you each time Kyoka hands him a shape cutter and it winds her up slowly more and more each time. His soft voice is so shrill and high when he’s panicked (which is often) but it sounds entirely different when it’s just the two of them. Sometimes she could kid herself that he has this voice just for her. She shakes her head and folds her arms again as Tokuro pushes down on the last shape and places each cookie onto a baking tray for the oven.

The instant the oven door is pushed closed Tokuro says, “Phew,” and wipes a hand over his forehead, brushing across his fringe and messing it up.

Kyoka feels an unexpected jolt of longing to brush it back into place. Instead she says, “Your fringe looks dumb.”

Tokuro laughs and smooths it back down.

Kyoka wants to jump into the oven with the cookies.

“So, what’s with all the icing?” she says, trying desperately to go for ‘I’m so casual, I definitely wasn’t thinking of touching your hair’.

“Well, I wanted to do zodiac animals, but I still wanted them to be festive, so I’m going to put different coloured scarves on them. And I want to do all the animals in different colours too. So I, well, I needed lots of tubes,” Tokuro says, as he turns the base on a kitchen timer with a few clicks.

“Seems like a lotta trouble to go to for some cookies.”

“Oh no, I don’t mind, it’s no trouble at all really. I just… I like doing something nice for everyone. And with it being nearly Christmas and everything, I thought this would be fun.” He smiles. “I don’t really have much money to spend on Christmas presents, and it’s not like they’re going to be especially professional looking cookies, but…”

“Look, everyone’s gonna appreciate anything you make them. Trust me. And don’t even worry about presents or nothing. Buying presents for all the zodiac members would be insane – there’s no way you earn enough money to shell out that much. Especially since half of ‘em don’t even deserve you spendin’ your money on them in the first place.”

Tokuro’s face softens as he rubs the back of his neck self-consciously. “B-But, um- I think your family- the other zodiac members- I feel like they’ve been so nice to me. And it’s nice to return those feelings in something tangible at Christmas. Something that says, ‘thank you for knowing me’. I couldn’t not get them anything, even if it’s small.”

Kyoka feels her cheeks warming and she looks away sharply to hide the blush she knows will be there. “Still think some of them don’t deserve it,” she gripes, “especially Yukari.”

Tokuro laughs good-naturedly and turns to wash up the cooking equipment he’s finished using in the sink. “Everyone deserves a gift at Christmas,” he says belatedly, and Kyoka notices his smile has faded as he looks at the water.

She wonders if he feels his dad’s loss more at this time of the year. She wonders what kind of gifts they got each other. Did he bake cookies for him too? She bets that Kyodo Honda spoilt his son rotten at this time of year. But with the things that really mattered; like time spent together, love, good times, that sort of thing. It sounded like the Christmases she’d spent with Master, who’d always tried her hardest to make it a special time for Kyoka. Up until Master had taken her in, she hadn’t had a single a happy Christmas time throughout her entire shitty childhood.

Kyoka moves to the sink with the dishtowel and begins to dry off some of the clean cookie cutters, which makes Tokuro look up in surprise and take a breath (to probably tell her that she doesn’t need to help) but she shrugs and snaps, “I wanna help,” before he can get a word out.

She cringes at her own tone and delivery, and desperately wishes she could spend a whole conversation with him without snapping or saying something she didn’t mean, but when she peeks a look over at him, ready to apologise, his smile has returned. Kyoka hopes there’ll come a day when she can speak to him without messing up and losing her cool, but she’s glad it looks like he knows her well enough to know that she doesn’t mean it. It makes her feel like they’ve got something unspoken between them, because he knows her better than anyone her own age has ever done.

The kitchen timer rings just as Tokuro is about hand over the mixing bowl for her to dry, and it makes him jump so badly that he loses his grip and drops it back into the sink with a splash that peppers them both in soapy water. Kyoka flinches backwards while Tokuro yelps.

“I-I-I’m so sorry Kyoka!” he says in a fluster, turning to her immediately.

Kyoka splutters and wipes her face. “It’s fine. It’s fine. Jeez, you’d think you’d just accidentally murdered someone or somethin’ the way you panic.”

“I’m sorry!” he repeats, his expression worried.

Kyoka lets out a laugh. “Stop apologising.”

“Sorr-” He clamps a hand to his mouth.

“That’s better,” Kyoka says with another laugh. She sighs as she continues warmly, “You’ve got bubbles on your face.” Then without thinking she reaches out a hand and lightly brushes away the bubbles from his cheek.

She pauses.

Tokuro’s eyes are wide above the hand still clamped to his mouth.

Kyoka snatches her hand back and rubs her own face free of bubbles, trying not to let her internal screaming show on her face; Why did I do that? Don’t fucking caress his fucking cheek like that, what will he think?!

There’s an awkward pause while Kyoka tries to think of something to say, until Tokuro suddenly yelps again. “The cookies!” He rushes over to open the oven door and he’s about to reach in for the baking tray until Kyoka reacts just in enough time to throw an oven glove at him.

“Gloves!” she chokes out, trying not to let the image of him grabbing the tray with his bare hands float into her mind.

Tokuro thanks her in a wobbly voice as he pulls the glove on, grabs the tray, and sets it down onto the counter. He sighs deeply and wipes his gloved hand across his forehead while Kyoka feels her whole body unclench as she lets out a breath.

“They’re fine,” Tokuro whispers in a happy voice, “they’re safe. A perfect golden brown.”

“Maybe you should save the washing up for after the cookies are done next time,” Kyoka suggests, even though she knows, with a cold, guilty feeling in her gut, that it was more her fault that he got distracted than anything.

“Mm,” he hums in agreement, smiling at his creations, “I think you’re probably right.”

Kyoka frowns at how readily he agreed with her, but she pushes her guilt away – the cookies turned out fine anyway, didn’t they? – and instead grabs a plate from the cupboard and fans the food gently to cool them down quicker for the icing. Tokuro beams at her and she looks resolutely down.

Once they’re cool enough Kyoka puts the plate down and watches intently as Tokuro pipes icing over them with surprisingly steady hands. Whenever he needs a new colour, she helps find the tube he needs and hands it over. Their fingers brush together once or twice and they nearly drop the tubes.

“You think we could mix some chilli powder into this one?” Kyoka asks cheekily as Tokuro begins to pipe lilac icing over the rat shaped cookie. “Could be like a Christmas surprise,” she adds with a barely restrained laugh at Tokuro’s panicked refusal. “I’m just joking. Wouldn’t want her to think you can’t cook or somethin’ I guess.”

She wonders if she imagines the extra care Tokuro takes in decorating the cat shaped cookie. Or the light blush on his cheeks as he looks up and smiles at her when he’s done.

They both laugh at their combined confusion of how to make the seahorse cookie look like it’s wearing a scarf, and how sincerely Tokuro tries to give it a happy expression. It doesn’t really work, but she thinks it’s the happiest looking seahorse she’s ever seen anyway.

When all thirteen are done they both stand back and admire the festive looking zodiac animals. But Kyoka’s face scrunches into a deep frown as she counts them all again, and she looks up at Tokuro, trying to keep her voice steady as she asks, “Wait, where’s yours?”

How had she only just noticed that there are only thirteen cookies there. Why didn’t he make one for himself?

Tokuro laughs lightly and looks down. “Oh, well, since I’m the one making them, I didn’t think I should make myself one. It seemed greedy somehow. And besides, they’re all gifts for the Sohma family. Not for me.”

“But you are part of the Sohma family,” Kyoka huffs before she can stop herself. She realises what words have tumbled out of her mouth when Tokuro’s wide eyes snap back up to hers. He looks a bit like he’s about to cry and she doesn’t know how she’ll deal with that so her voice comes out rougher when she tries to backtrack and say, “W-Well- I-I mean, y’know- you live here with us and- it’s like you might as well be part of the family or something. As messed up as it is…”

Tokuro is practically beaming at her, his whole face lit up by some expression that Kyoka can’t even comprehend. Something like family. Belonging.

“Alright, alright, look, just dry off that mixing bowl and grab me out the ingredients.”

“Huh?”

“The mixing bowl. The ingredients. So I can make another cookie.”

“Wh- N-No, don’t got to any trouble for me!”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Kyoka says, echoing exactly what he’d said to her. “I want to.”

They both blink at each other in silence, and she wonders if her blush looks as intense as his, then he finally follows her instructions.

Kyoka mixes up what she needs to and rolls out the dough, then reaches hesitantly for the cat shaped cookie cutter.

She hopes her voice holds steady as she says, “Since you don’t have any other shapes I’m just gonna use this one again, okay?”

“Y-Yes! I told my dad that I’d be born in the year of the cat, so we can both be the cat cookies. I’d love that!”

He smiles and Kyoka’s entirely sure she must still be asleep in her futon and none of this has really happened at all.

When they’d had their first real conversation, where Tokuro had confessed that he’d wanted to change his zodiac animal for the cat after his dad told him the old zodiac folk tale, Kyoka had been flustered as hell, but some part of her still screamed that it was a lie. She hadn’t known Tokuro back then, and she didn’t know that he was the most genuine person she’d ever met or will meet. To hear him say it again, now, when she knew he meant it – that he’s happy to be lumped into the ‘year of the cat’ with her – it’s both the scariest and best thing she thinks she’s ever experienced. “I’ll decorate it after, so you’ll know which one is for you,” she says eventually, swallowing the lump in her throat. “And you can make whatever else you want with this leftover dough.”

Tokuro excitedly gets out a knife and begins cutting out more festive shapes by hand while Kyoka places the extra cat cookie on the baking tray, ready to go into the oven with the others when Tokuro has finished.

“It’s a Santa hat,” he proclaims proudly as he lays an oddly shaped cookie on the tray.

“Hm, looks like a banana with fluff on the end to me.”

“Oh no, really? Do you think it’s too thin?”

“I’m kiddin’. Looks fine. Almost as good as the Christmas tree there.”

“Th-That’s supposed to be an elf…”

#fruits basket #gender swapped kyo x tohru #kyoru #gift for Allison #my writing #furuba fanfiction #kyo x tohru

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fullmetaldevil-blog · 5 years

Text

Stitched AU Short: Cookie Time

YAY~! Knocked out another little short ( got like 4 more XD ) for the little demon boys. I write theses shorts on my phone at my job during my lunch breaks when I’m not doodling.

Summary:

Allison and Benny were invited over for tea and cookies by Linda. The hostess had the idea of having their little demonic ‘children’ help them out with making the cookies. After all, you eat, you work.

On with the show~!

Benny happily swayed from side to side in his seat of the car while he and Allison happily sang songs on the radio. Linda had invited Allison and Benny over for tea and cookies, and since Tom was off at work it was a perfect little outing. So both of them cheerfully drove down the road into the valley singing songs all way. Benny bounced in place happily thinking of all the cookies he could possibly eat. His mouth watering at the thought as he hummed to himself.

Linda heard the small rumble of an engine from the front of the house and strode to the window peering out. Sure enough it was Allison and Benny whom arrived a touch early, but all the better. She knew she didn't even have to inform Bendy that Benny had arrived, the little toon somehow being able to sense the other. She approached the door and opened it to greet her cherished guests, and with careful precision she stood off to the side clearing a path to the outside. Like clockwork a small black blur went barreling out the home and slammed into Benny who had braced for impact, but still couldn't withstand the blow. Both toons rolled around in the grass laughing as they briefly wrestled with each other before hurrying back into the home. Neither toon could contain their excitement at seeing the other.

Allison could only laugh as she stepped away from her car and up the walkway towards Linda who was also laughing in the doorway. "It's always funny to see how energetic both toons are. Benny is never this energetic unless Bendy is around."

Linda smiled at her friend "We'll they are toons, Bendy has an infectious level of energy."

The younger actress chuckled as she was welcomed into the home with a warm hug from Linda. "That he does."

The two older women happily chatted away as they entered the kitchen, noting that both toons were already at the table waiting and chatting with each other.

Linda placed her hands on her hips and tapped her foot gaining both demons attention before looking at both toons dead in the eye. "Oh no you won't boys, you're helping. You eat, you work." she jokingly chided. "You want the cookies, you have to make them."

Both Bendy and Benny looked at each other confused, but simply nodded and hopped off their chairs to help. Allison made both demons wash their hands quickly since neither can handle water for long periods of time while Linda rifled through her drawers trying to find some aprons. The boys dried their hands off and Linda happily produced 3 spare aprons; pink, green and blue. Bendy joked about Benny getting the pink one since yellow and pink are a good color combination and that he was a doll. Benny growled at him and Allison sternly told them she will take the pink apron and that Benny gets the blue apron and Bendy gets the green one.

Both women chuckled as how long the apron was on their respective toons since the aprons were for full grown adults. Though it was a wonder how the aprons even hung on the toons since neither had a neck. Toon logic was still confusing. Benny snickered about how the apron looked like a dress on Bendy, but chose to keep the comment to himself lest he cause trouble and loose out on cookies.

Linda had Allison pull out 2 step stools and place them at the table while she dug around gathering up all the necessary bowls and spoons. Bendy and Benny made it a point to stand off to the side allowing the women to work and to not be under foot. As soon as Allison located the step stools she place them and the table and had both toons hop on top while she assisted Linda and gathering up the remaining bowls as well as additional ingredients.

Since the addition of the toons also known as the 'kids' to the women's little 'ladies night' they decided to make double the batch of cookies since both toons combined can eat a batch by themselves. While normally each woman would have their respective 'child' for doing projects together, for grins they decided to mix it up by pairing themselves with the opposite toon. Allison had Bendy while Linda had Benny. Each toon was confused why they weren't with their respective 'mom', but thought it would be fun to work with another for a change.

Both women gathered up their share of ingredients and showed their respective toons what each ingredient was, how it smelled and for the safer to eat raw ones, how they tasted. Linda had to chuckle at how careful Benny was at measuring out ingredients as the little toon was very tedious in making sure they were properly measured once he was shown how. Bendy on the other had had the 'if it's sugar cookies then it needs a lot of sugar' and had to be stopped by Allison and told that they wouldn't bake right if he put a 5lb bag of sugar in the dough. After some explanation Bendy learned that for many recipes to work properly they need to have specific amounts of ingredients of else all the food will go to waste and it won't taste right.

Both teams had reached the point of adding in the flour which was a stage both women loathed. Sugar cookies always tasted great and were fun to make with especially with children, but mixing in the 4 cups of flour into the dough easily becomes difficult to do. The women held onto the cookie bowls while each toon slowly added in the flour per the women's request while they stirred away. The more flour that was added to the dough the more the women struggled with stirring the contents. Linda's face contorted as she was struggling more and more with Allison right behind her.

If Linda were a toon a little light bulb would had lit up on top of her head as she looked at Benny whom was carefully adding in the flour. "Hey Benny?"

"Yeah?" The plushdemon looked up at the woman tilting his head.

"Can you do me a favor?" She looked at him sweetly getting a small 'sure' from him as he beamed at her. "Can you go Ragdoll and stir the bowl for me? At my age it gets tough to stir for long periods of time and you're stronger then me in that form."

Benny looked at her confused and with a hint of worry. "umm... ok."

The little toon hopped off the step stool and stood a small distance from the woman. The little toons body rapidly grew taller with his arms falling apart at the stitches that held them together. His stomach split open with large white teeth lining the upper and lower rim, the cord like thread keeping the maw closed. Ink dripped over Benny's right eye as his left was now large and black with a yellow iris now looking at the woman.

"Is ThIs Ok?" The Ragdoll demon looked at Linda nervously.

"Perfect, thank you." The older woman gingerly held out the bowl for him to take which was dwarfed in his large gloved hands. She helped him hold the spoon in his other hand and went through the stirring motions with him till he did it on his own. "Now I'm gonna keep adding in the flour and keep stirring while I do so, ok?"

Benny nodded and cup by cup Linda started slowly pouring in the flower while the Stitched demon stirred.

Bendy watching Benny use his other form to help Linda had turned and shot Allison an hopeful glance.

Allison recognized the look on Bendy's eyes, he wanted to do the same for her since she was having the same level of difficulty. Allison was slightly hesitant since Bendy's other forms were images of fear that terrorized the entirety of the studio, herself included. Things were different now, they were no longer in the studio and Bendy was ashamed of his actions and apologized many times. If that other form of his can be useful then he was more then welcome to try. "Well, go on." The woman encouraged him chuckling.

Bendy's face lit up and he soon wrapped his arms around her legs "Thank you, thank you, thank you." He couldn't believe she was letting him actually help in that form. He was fully aware that he terrorized her as the ink demon and was afraid she'd say no. She was giving him a chance to help, he was getting that 2nd chance.

With a spring in his step he gave himself some distance from the group twirling a bit before taking a bow as if greeting an audience. As he slowly stood up from his posture his body dripped profusely and seemed to be rising as he stood up. His ink expanded and stretched his body with his torso looking starved and thin with protruding ribs. His arms and legs grew long and lanky with his right leg bent at an awkward angle, his left hand maintained his trademark white glove, but was now larger then his right hand that was very human like with 5 fingers instead of 4. Ink dripped from his elongated horns covering his eyes and almost dripped over parts of his mouth that now seemed to be stretched in a permanent grin. This was the form of nightmares, the ink demon that roamed the halls of Joey Drew Studios terrorizing all who got in his way.

"I'm ReAdY" Bendy quietly spoke daring not to move.

Allison was well aware Bendy was being careful in this form since he was blind, it seemed he was taking further precaution by not conjuring up his inky aura he used to 'see' his surroundings along with keeping the normal drip of his body to a bare minimum.

With small chuckle Allison scooped up the bowl and gently grabbed Bendy's left hand lifting it up and held it out flat placing the bowl in his hand which gently grasped it. She gently pulled on his right hand and placed the spoon in his and folded his fingers around it holding it tightly. "Now sweetie hold still a moment while I get you something so you can 'see', ok?"

Bendy nodded his head and stayed put while Allison went to get him a 'pair of eyes' as Henry called it. It was common knowledge that any item with his image he can see out of if he was in range. They had long since figured his weakness out but his inky aura made of for his lack of normal eyes as it acted like echolocation for the blind demon. Though he did have to admit that he was fooled many times when they would throw something to make a sound elsewhere making him believe they were in a different location. His hearing was very acute since his aura only went so far.

Allison returned shortly with a little plush Bendy which made Benny snicker at the demon. Bendy shot him a heated glare, but under all the ink that coated his eyes the Ragdoll demon couldn't tell. The woman patted Bendy on the shoulder gaining his attention as she slid the little plush into the breast pocket of his apron that somehow was soaked black from his dripping ink. Toon logic. Bendy used his aura to see through the eyes of the doll and his grin grew wider now that he was able to see what he was doing.

Allison noted the widening grin on his face and chuckled "ready?"

"YeP!" The ink demon happily nodded.

Like Linda, Allison showed Bendy how to stir the dough and once he was comfortable she added the flour in bit by bit. Both demons were happy that their alternate forms could be of use outside the studio. They both were afraid that someone would see their other forms and report them to the authorities and be sent back to the studio, or worse killed. They never dared transform and always kept their smaller default appearances and even then they occasionally shy-ed away from people just in case. Never in a million years did they think that they would be accepted outside the studio.

"Alright looks like everything is mixed. We're done." Allison smiled as she peered into the bowl in Bendy's hands.

The ink demon's grin grew wider and he handed the bowl back to her. The ink that made up his body collapsed and pulled inwards to reveal Bendy back in his normal toon form. He eagerly bounced in place waiting to see what was next. Benny watching his counterpart looked at Linda to see if they were done as well and she gave him a nod after checking their bowls contents. He turned to head outside to expel the excess ink and once he was done he nearly skipped back into the house with Linda waiting for his return.

Both Allison and Linda set the bowls in the fridge to chill for a few minutes while Linda started rolling out parchment paper and Allison grabbed a container of cookie cutters. The demons patiently waited next to their stools till the dough was ready and Linda pulled the bowls out of the fridge and set them on the table.

Linda turned to Benny and Bendy and lifted them up onto their stools facing the parchment paper. "Now what we do is roll out the dough to flatten it then we follow up with the cookie cutters. But first we need a little flour on the paper so the dough doesn't stick."

Linda handed Benny a little sieve filled with flour and with her hands over his gently patted the sieve sprinkling flour over the parchment paper. Allison was right behind her with Bendy and both toon's grins couldn't be wider.

"OK. Now to roll out the dough flat so we can cut the cookies, but where did I put that rolling pin?" Linda pondered as she stepped away from the table to look for the pin in the drawer and proceeded to look in multiple drawers failing with each one. Noting that the older woman was struggling with finding the pin Allison joined her leaving both toons watching from the table.

Bendy had a small frown as he watched the two women rifle through drawers and cabinets looking for the rolling pin, then a little idea came to his mind. He lifted the bowl and carefully slid the dough out onto the parchment paper and grinned.

"Got it!" Allison triumphantly boasted as she held up the rolling pin catching Linda's attention.

"Great. Now we can finish up." Linda smiled at the actress. "sorry to keep you boys wai-" she didn't even finish the sentence as Bendy leaned back then slammed his head down onto the dough flattening it out perfectly. Benny watching Bendy's method of rolling dough followed suit and repeated the motion. Both toons grinned at each other before turning their attention to the women and smiling brightly at them with both their faces covered in flour.

Neither Linda or Allison spoke while they watched the display of toon logic, both stood there slack jawed as words failed them. Allison lifted her finger and pointed at Linda "That's your boy." succumbing to her snickering.

The older woman choked briefly before sighing covering her face to hide her smile "That's Henry for you. He gets it from him, not me."

Allison chuckled "playing that old 'it's the other parents fault for the kids behavior' card?"

Linda looked over at the smug younger woman. "Oh don't act like you haven't seen Benny do stupid things that Tom's done and claim him as yours."

"Touche`. I see where Bendy gets his quick comebacks." Allison chuckled making Linda laugh.

"Oh he gets that from the both of us." Linda smiled fondly.

While the women were quietly chatting between each other the two little demons cleaned their faces off and looked at the dough wondering what to do next. Benny looked over at Bendy to see if he knew what to do and the demon shrugged. Benny looked over at the container of cookie cutters and pulled out some of the different shapes. He had remembered the cookies Allison had bought him at the market and their shapes and that Linda said something about cutting the dough. A small light bulb above his head as he made the connection. The cookies are 'cut' out of the dough with the cookie cutter then baked.

A wide grin spread on Benny's face as he placed the star cookie cutter on the dough pressing it in. He wiggled it slightly to free the dough from the cutter. Once he was sure it was free he carefully lifted the freshly cut cookie off the paper and placed it onto the cookie sheet. Bendy saw what Benny was doing and watched him for a minute before repeating the motions.

Both Allison and Linda briefly stopped talking when Allison caught Benny's movement out the corner of her eye. The little devil was like Tom at that moment. He would just figure out things on his own and work with it. Seeing the little toon figure things out as he went without guidance tugged a smile at her lips.

Linda nudged the younger woman and gestured to Benny "Like father, like son."

Allison could only chuckle at the comment cause she knew all to well it was true. She rolled up her sleeve and went back to the toons whom were making quick work of the dough. "Wow, looks like you boys got a handle on the situation."

Benny paused and looked up at Allison. "I just kind of figured it out as a I went."

Bendy chirped up next to him "what do we do with the excess dough?"

Linda rest her hand on Bendy's head between his horns gently scratching the area getting a hum out of him. "Well there isn't much of it left and not enough to make some of the shapes with so." She reached down and lifted up all the dough off the parchment paper. " we roll it up into small balls then flatten them out to make round cookies then we're done."

Allison pinched off small amounts of dough and rolled them into round balls and placed them onto the cookie sheet. Bendy happily followed behind pressing them out into flat disks. Linda and Benny were right behind them doing the same thing except when the last bit of dough was too small Linda let Benny eat it.

The group stood back to admire their work as the cookie trays were covered in stars, moons, flowers and hearts. It was a bit messy at first but everything came together. The women scooted the toons away from the oven while they placed the trays inside and set a timer. Benny and Bendy moaned about having to wait but when they were told that the baking time was only 11 minutes. While the cookies baked Linda set a kettle to boil and heated up a small pot milk for some hot cocoa. Allison had the boys help her clean up the table while she washed the dishes.

As soon as the timer went off and Linda went to check on the cookies she soon found herself with a sepia faced barnacle. Benny. He was always over zealous when it came to food and his eagerness seemed to spread to Bendy as well, and he soon joined him. Allison openly laughed at Linda balancing the cookie trays and the new additions to her legs. Once she got her laughing under control she relieved Linda of the cookie trays which she soon regretted. As soon as she had the trays in her possession Benny removed himself from Linda and reattached himself to Allison with his counterpart right behind him. Linda nearly doubled over laughing while watching Allison waddle around the kitchen with the demonic leg weights, the younger woman clearly used to demonic bondage.

Allison laid the cookie sheets on some coasters to cool and both Benny and Bendy were repeatedly trying to sneak a cookie only to be thwarted by Allison's faster hand. Linda had pulled the now ready kettle off the stove and poured out 2 cups of tea before setting the kettle back down. She grabbed a few marshmallows out of the pantry and dropped them into 2 mugs before pouring the now ready hot chocolate into them. She set the cups and mugs on a serving tray while Allison placed some cookies into a basket.

"C'mon boys come get your cocoa" Linda chuckled while watching Allison swat away Benny's for the who knows how many-th time.

"Yay! Thank you Linda." Bendy hopped away from Allison and was followed by Benny.

Allison opened up the patio door letting Linda outside with the tray of drinks and was followed by both little demons. She set the tray down on a table they kept on the patio and helped both Benny and Bendy into their chairs and got them situated with their drinks while she returned to the house to help Allison with the cookies. The women divided the cookies into a basket and 2 containers. One container was for Allison and Benny to take home, the other was for later for Bendy and Henry, and the basket was to enjoy at the moment.

Linda and Allison exited the home returning to the patio with the basket of cookies setting it in the middle of the table while they took their seats.

"How come there's no frosting?" Benny chirped while holding up a cookie.

"If you put enough Vanilla in them then you don't need any frosting sweetie." Linda patted Benny on his head.

Both Benny and Bendy looked at their cookies and each took a bite and their eyes grew wide and sparkled.

"Oh wow these cookies are really good!" Both demons happily chirped. Benny and Bendy looked at each other with a sense of shared pride. They had spent so long destroying things that it was refreshing to actually make something that not only they can enjoy, but so others as well. Their grins were a little wider when they watched Linda and Allison both happily munched on a occasional cookie, the women smiling at the good food.

Linda looked at Bendy who wore a honest to true smile on his face while he ate his cookies. It was nice seeing the toon how he was meant to be. Though that smile was replaced by a frown when they realized that after all the chatting and munching they were down to the last cookie.

Bendy and Benny both stared each other down, daring the other to make a move. Bendy moved first to grab the cookie while Benny's threads immediately grabbed his hand and pulled it away. Benny reached for the cookie to be stopped by an inky hand. Each demon stared the other down while Linda calmly scooted the basket away from them and split the cookie in half.

"C'mon boys here you go." She chuckled while holding up each half.

The two demons looked at her and both went back to normal as they happily took their halves munching on them.

The door creaked open revealing Henry whom had just gotten home from work. "Oh? Hi ladies. I was wondering where everyone went." The animator walked up to Linda lightly kissing her on the forehead and gave Allison a small hug. "huh? You ladies made cookies?" He eyed the now empty basket littered in crumbs.

Linda looked at Allison and both shared a mischievous grin before Linda turned to her husband "Yep. Fortunately I saved one for you, but if Benny or Bendy catch you, you forfeit the cookie. You got 3 minutes." To emphasize her point she set a little egg timer on the table.

As soon Linda's words left her mouth Henry paled and looked up to see Beast Bendy and Ragdoll looking down at him both drooling for the last cookie. "That ain't fair!" Henry spun on his heel and tore across the yard with both demons hot on his heels earning a raucous laughter from both women.

Allison wheezed as she watched Henry do anything and everything within his power to dodge the two hungry demons. "Please tell me that isn't the last cookie?" She weakly tried to control her laughter. Her ribs aching in protest from her laughing fits.

"Nope I actually have 3 left, one for each boy. I couldn't resist" Linda laughed as she watch her husband scale the tree with both demons circling below like sharks.

By the end of it all both demons had reverted to their toon forms in a dog pile on top of Henry. The man was worn out, but laughing at the persistence of the two little devils. It was all the better when Linda presented the last 3 cookies and the group eagerly munched on the sweet treat. Benny and Bendy joyfully shared their tales of baking with the ladies to Henry and the man smiled at watching the level of joy on the toons faces. They should do this more often, but without sicking the demons on someone.

The group chatted the day away and it soon bled into the afternoon meaning it was time to head home. Allison and Benny both hugged and thanked the Stein family for allowing them to come over for tea and Linda handed over a container of cookies for them to take home to Tom. The day started with a song and ended with a song as Allison and Benny but sang and swayed in the car on the way home.

#batim stitched au #benny the stitched demon #benny the stitched devil #benny the stitch devil #benny the stitch demon #bendy the demon #bendy the dancing demon #bendy the devil #bendy the dancing devil #linda stein #allison connor #allison pendle #batim linda #henry stein #batim henry

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mystic-scripture · 5 years

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tv show tag game!!

Pick 5 tv shows, then answer the following questions, don’t cheat!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I was tagged by the ever so sweet @darknightfrombeyond. Day, you have a sixth sense that tells you when I’m bored and wanna be tagged in things, I swear. (Well, I’m always bored and wanna be Tagged in things, but you know what I mean… :P)

My 5 tv shows (Which let me tell ya was pretty freaking hard to pick)

1. Supernatural

2. Teen Wolf

3. The Walking Dead

4. Gilmore Girls

5. Altered Carbon

· The Questions

1. Who is your favourite character in 2?

It is a tossup between Stiles and Isaac. I love them both so much, and really it depends on the episode. (Given that Stiles is IN more, I suppose that would be him…)

2. Who is your least favourite character in 1?

Metatron…yeah, that’s about it.

3. What was your favourite episode of 4?

Oh damn…that is so unfair, there are so many good ones! I think my favorite has to be the one where Rory goes to water the neighbor’s garden for Lorelai. She gets stuck and she can’t get Dean so Jess saves her, but then Dean finally gets back to her saying he’s on his way and he unsaves her because he knows how important Dean is to her. It’s also just a really funny story about this random neighbor that makes you realize that apparently only the Foresters can be the only normal new people in the Hollow.

4. What is your favourite season of 5?

Well there’s only the one out right now, but I love it, I don’t think it’ll be topped. It’s one of those scifi shows that is made into a pretty complete story in one season.

5. Who is your favourite couple in 3?

Maggie and Glenn Rhee! They are such sweet babies and they went through so much together. I loved their story and it is so compelling to see where they strayed or stayed true to the comics.

6. Who is your favourite couple in 2?

Scallison. I just can’t get over them, though Scira is a pretty damn close second. Scott and Allison were such a well rounded couple, they weren’t perfect, and they had their hold-ups, but they always loved each other and always found a way to make things work, whether they were dating or not.

7. What is your favourite episode of 1?

Oh, Jesus… Probably the episode where Dean dies a thousand different ways. It was the first real glimpse we got of what would happen if Sam lost his brother, and how far he would take things. Or really, it just shows how much he could be like Dean and John and it scares the viewer as well as Sam.

8. What is your favourite episode of 5?

That would have to be the episode where Kovach saves Kristen and he just lets her be pissed at him because it was so much better than her dying. Also watching her grief over losing her partner. And the way the episode just flows into the next was so flawless. The raw emotions that were there, as well as the humanity that was being laid out in front of you was freaking amazing.

9. What is your favourite season of 2?

Season 3. And no, I will not be choosing between A or B (it’s totally B because Nogitsune was Badass, but I digress)

10. How long have you been watching 1?

YEARS! I think I watched it around the time that season 4 aired, so my sister and I were a few years behind, but I’ve been watching it ever since. I take breaks from it every now and again, but I always end up going on a binge so I can jump back into it. It’s my comfort show, my homework show, my I’m doing things and need something in the background show…if I am watching TV and it is on I zone in on that channel and will watch it, not caring where in the story I am.

11. How did you become interested in 3?

So, I remember it came out on Halloween one year, and it was a cold year. Because I wasn’t going to watch it due to trick or treating and school the next day. But then my parents said they were gonna let us skip it and I sat and watched that premier in my parents room because I was the only one that wanted to see it. I fell right down the rabbit hole, got comics for Christmas started slowly luring family members into watching it. They’ve all given up on it, but I’m still hanging on. (and contemplating watching Fear the Walking Dead as well as whatever movie special they’re gonna have with Rick in it.)

12. Who is your favourite actor in 4?

Melissa McCarthy. I am such a Hipster when it comes to her. I loved Sookie more than anything else I’ve seen her in (except for maybe the Heat, that movie is a fuckin’ riot)

13. Which do you prefer 1, 2 or 5?

I’m pretty sure that how I answered 10 should tell you the answer to that.

14. Which show have you seen more episodes of, 1 or 3?

Supernatural, but that’s because there is WAAAAAY more of it.

15. If you could be anyone from 4 who would you be?

Rory Gilmore. Granted, if you ask certain people in my life I already am so it may not be too much of a stretch.

16. Would a crossover between 3 and 4 work?

I mean maybe if there were a mini-series, but honestly, Rory and Lor would die due to lack of food and all of the physical activity. Also, pretty sure Luke would disappear and never be heard from again. Or maybe he’d just buddy up with Daryl and then it would be The Walking Dead and Danes.

17. Pair two characters in 1 who would make an unlikely but strangely okay couple?

I’m fairly certain the fandom has done enough of that for me to not make any surprising comparisons, but Uh…I really would have like to see Bobby and Ellen actually get together. We see it in one episode, so maybe that’s cheating, but I think they would work really well together.

18. Overall, which show has the better storyline, 3 or 5?

Not gonna lie, there were so many micro stories and branches and intricacies in Altered Carbon that I can’t even begin to compare it to Teen Wolf, sorry Jeff Davis, but you were far to wishy washy to stand a freaking chance against it.

19. Which has the better theme music, 2 or 4?

I love the music for both, but I think Teen Wolf has to win, because the Laaaa laaa laa-aaah lala gets to be really freaking annoying after a while.

Uh shoot Idk who to tag or even how many people to tag!!! @captdnvrs @whindsor @ceruleanmusings @ofbadchoices @have-fun-storming-the-kastle @drbobbimorse @nightstorms-universes aaaaand @purple-and-red-ribbons

#I was tagged #fun stuff #thanks for tagging Day

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pippa-frost · 5 years

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Seven, not Six - a TUA fanfic!

Hello! So, i’m new to the fandom and reaally needed to get this of my mind. I did so in the middle of studying so it was pretty rushed, and now i finally had the time to really work on it!

It was going to be a sort of list but it just kept growing longer and out of hand so i’m afraid it’ll be more than one chapter! Anyways, i hope you like it and tell me what you think!

I just loved this show so fucking much i can’t even. SECOND SEASON HERE WE COMEEEE!!!!!!!

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Number One

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So, they go back in time. It’s all a messy, long and hard process. There are tears, yelling, accusations and apologies, goals and regrets. But they get through it, together. Finally.

They talk, for once, place all the cards on the table, information is their only weapon, Five stresses.

So they learn about everything that happened to each of them, they learn about Diego and mom and Patch; about Allison and her little girl and her sin; about Five and his math and the destruction he got shot for, about Vanya and her pills and her music; about Klaus and Ben, about the drugs, the ghosts, the War, Them, the truth - by which point they get to Luther. They all have things to feel guilty about, things they regret, mistakes they wish they hadn’t made. But the truth, as Ben calls it, a dark look on his face, is worse than all that. Because the truth is that which Klaus almost gets to bury, but Ben won’t have it. So he tells them about the ghosts (cold, screams, misery, madness), the drugs (silence, peace, warmth, numb, numb, num-), the withdrawal (hot, pain, need, panic, want, want, want, need, need, nee-), and the death. Ben has punched Luther twice by the time Diego is ready to get a go at Number One.

But. They get through it. Kinda.

They hardly ever sleep alone, always one of them next to another. All seven of them more often than not. Because Five is paranoid and (quote) he’s the only one who stands a chance if people come for them; they don’t mention that they know he’s counting heads at all times, it’s not like they’re not guilty of doing the same. Luther would stay with Allison, but she won’t let go of Vanya, who isn’t Luther’s biggest fan. But she’s not the only one. While Diego might eventually forgive, he never forgets, and he’s not about to engage in either of those after learning that not only had Number One trapped Vanya by tricking her with a hug, but that he had choked Klaus and then left him for dead a few hours later. Actually dead. It’s all he can do not to cut his throat every few minutes.

Five isn’t one to snuggle so he stays close but never touching.

And even if this wasn’t the new arrangement, no one could separate Ben and Klaus if they tried. Klaus has no problem with Luther, and while Ben doesn’t share Diego’s aggressiveness, there’s something in the way he stares at him whenever he gets too close to Klaus.

And so they end up in Allison’s room, mattresses on the floor, bed sheets and blankets and pillows all around them, maybe not all close enough to touch, but together in one room all the same.

Reginald had not been amused, but with Five’s lead and Allison’s voice, the midnight surveillance had been taken care of.

They soon realize that it’s not enough, however, because Pogo can tell something’s up. By then, any remorse any of them could have felt is long gone, after days of training that their brains had somehow been able to downplay in tragedy. Their memories hadn’t been this bad, training hadn’t been this bad. But then again, they didn’t have the perspective they do now, didn’t have anything to compare their activities to fully comprehend how horrible it was.

They had never blamed Pogo for anything.

They do now.

Vanya doesn’t take her pills. They won’t go as far as to suddenly make Reginald stop being a bastard and get some sense all of the sudden, but they’re easy enough to hide and get rid of, much easier than making sure to train their sister into not showing her powers along with every emotion. But they make do, they can’t afford not to.

They keep training because they know they’ll need it, but not all of it follows Reginald’s plan. And little by little, they get time of their own. Both for training and just being together, this time with Vanya and with one another, the way they wish they had known was the normal sibling way. It’s little, maybe one or two hours a day, but it’s all they can afford, all they can risk.

They go on missions, they protect each other. Vanya starts learning first care with their mom, and is there every time they step back into the house after a mission.

Reginald doesn’t like it. He knows they’re stronger together and more than once he realizes what’s happening, just as Pogo does. Those are days they all panic, and find it hard to breathe afterwards. However, Mom is theirs. One of the first things they do is rumor Pogo into fixing Grace, they know the only one who could have brought her back last time was him, and they were right. So they make it so that she’s no longer trapped by Reginald’s goals in her creation, and that not Pogo nor Reginald can ever change it back.

They still suffer, it’s still all messed up. To call it abuse doesn’t begin to truly describe what they are forced to go through for a second time. But it’s not as hard to handle as a group. They still have to endure a lot of things. A lot of... experiments. But it’s better than last time, and they make sure to draw a line.

Klaus is not forced into mausoleums again even if that doesn’t erase the times he was locked in before. Five is not forced to continue jumping after passing out more than once. Ben is not forced to bathe in animals’ blood (so much). Diego is not forced to aim at their mom or their siblings, or animals (so much). Allison is no longer made to play with people’s minds until her throat is raw and thoughts a mess. Luther is no longer forced to work until he can’t even scream anymore and his muscles feel like tearing apart. There’re no more days without food.

They are still forced to do a lot of things. And a lot of nights are spent with tears of fear, frustration and anger, nightmares and flashbacks. They’re adults, they already escaped this hell once, they don’t have to put up with this. But they are also children, and the fear and so many other emotions that come with it are almost unbearable. And yet there’s nothing they can do and this is the best they’re gonna get.

They can’t mess up with the timeline.

They discuss about it a lot. How can they prevent the apocalypse and expect not to change the timeline too much?

Reginald is not too hard, the public never knew much about him, not really, so all they have to do is keep him from tormenting them too much. As long as the world knows he’s still there until the moment he takes his life.

It’s hard to get the point across to Diego and Ben, the latter being a surprise for them all.

Ben dying is not an option. And even still, it was never something they went out of their way to tell the world.

They’ll stay together until the time most of them left to live alone, only this time, they’ll leave together. Luther did stay, however, so they know they will have to do some missions even after leaving, but they try not to think about that.

Of all this, they are certain. Anything else, they’ll figure it out along the way.

Only, if it were easy, everyone would do it. There��s a reason why things happen the way they do, and the existence of the Commission is not the main one.

Five doesn’t leave, and PTSD and touch are things they become experts in; Ben doesn’t die, they all help him with his fear of Them, just as they help Klaus with the screams of death and war, being there before any drugs can get him. Vanya and Ben are the experts, both of them know and admit they are all messed up and know there are ways to work through it, Ben with his books, Vanya with her experience with therapy. And they work hard to get Allison and Luther to understand how abuse was every bit of a scar on their minds as it was for the rest of them, especially to Luther.

But knowing how the future plays out makes them all the more vulnerable to unexpected things, to unconsidered variables.

Later, tense with rage stronger than his hatred towards the Handler, Five is the first to admit they somehow managed to underestimate their bastard of a father, even having a whole timeline of experience over him.

They have plenty of close calls, plenty of scary moments, where they’d stay awake wondering if they saved one sibling just to lose another.

There’s Allison getting shot, Luther getting stabbed, and Five-

Well. Five doesn’t get to get hurt after Klaus acted as a shield.

Is in this last case that Reginald finally gets proof that powers are one more thing the children are hiding from him. He’s known for months, but can never truly grasp it, and he knows he must have only for it to be taken from him with a few childish words.

But he sees. He sees useless, weak Number Four. He sees his fists glow, might even see a few ghosts, but most importantly, he sees him die. And he sees him come back.

The kids by now know that there’s something about Klaus and death, something mysterious and similar and even familiar, a connection of sorts, one that scares them like little ever has, no matter how apparently okay Klaus is with the whole concept, how sure he is of its existence as an unconditional backup, as an absolute truth, how ready he is to take it for granted. They’re not about to put the veracity of this supposedly safety net to the test; and so they do all they can to avoid the matter all together.

That is their downfall.

Reginald has been taking notes all his life. The rumors don’t change that. In fact, they only make him more careful. So while he might not remember, he knows enough. And he knows that while the children might have a way to keep him off their backs, there’s a reason why they still keep up with most of the training, which means they are not as in control as they would like to be.

And everyone knows that to take control, you start with the weakest link, which so happens to be the subject of his interest. It’s perfect.

So when training time comes for Number Four, he takes him to an old, far away part of the mansion instead of the graves, without anyone knowing.

“Where are we?“ Klaus asks, a sick feeling settling in his stomach. He’s gotten better at dealing with ghosts, a few of them acting more like Ben used to do, silent companions, always there. Nothing compared to what Ben had been of course, but a hell of a lot better that the others. He was getting better at making them corporeal, especially with Ben’s input from his own experience, and he knows now that he can apparently move things with his mind, tho he hasn’t really been able to do it other than by accident.

“Did you know, Number Four” the man suddenly starts “that out of all of you, your powers are the least threatening? The weakest, truly“

Klaus did know that.

“Number One could crush my head with one single hand“ he says conversationally, his back to Klaus inside the big slightly dark room. Luther is still pretty much a Daddy’s boy, even if he can see now how wrong he’s been about everything, and it’s hard for him to accept the way they screw with Reginald’s mind, his hero complex unable to come to terms with all he’s known and believed in being turned upside down. So, no. Luther couldn’t do that.

“Number two” he continues “one flick of his hand and a knife would be deep between my eyes” he laughs. Klaus feels cold and scared, glancing every so often at the woman who he’s gotten used to seen in the corners. She doesn’t look back. Also, Klaus knows that’s exactly what Diego would love to do, but he isn’t sure if his brother would actually go through with it.

“Number three... Well, she could make me kill myself in lots of ways“

Allison would never do that. How could he even think that?!

“Number Five... he could kill me in my sleep and make it seem like an accident“

Well... yeah. That is true.

“And Number Six...“ he hums, turning around to look down on him and letting out a scoff “He’s a monster!“ and Klaus feels rage he hasn’t felt in a very long time, years of numbness and forced obliviousness as coping mechanisms leaving him unprepared for strong emotions for his already pretty mellow personality, and he has to fight everything he has not to let his fists turn blue. The fucker can’t know about his powers.

“He could kill us all in one night“ he says, pulling out his pocket watch and then giving Klaus a look that makes his limbs go rigid “So, you see, Number Four, it would be simple madness for me not to be prepared for such potential situations. You are all supposed to save the world, yes, and just as it’s my duty to prepare you for that, it is also my duty to do everything in my power so that you can’t do the exact opposite“

Klaus gulps, cold settling in the room. He doesn’t know where the asshole is getting with this, but it doesn’t sound good. It almost sounds like he knew about Vanya and the apocalypse and her powers, but that couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. Besides, it was exactly his fear of Vanya’s power what actually led to the end of the world

“I know you all have been playing with me” and Klaus stops breathing, his heartbeats loud inside his head, he dares a look to the side, were the closed (locked, the key on the man’s pocket) door blocks him from escape “And I have let it go because you have gotten better at both missions and training. However” he turns around again, opening the suitcase he had placed on the table behind him and starting to pull things out of it “My patience runs short, and your abilities run predictable. So imagine my surprise“ he sits on the chair behind the table, as if ready to give a lecture to a one-child class “when i saw you actually have been improving your abilities!“

Klaus feels his knees go weak, the woman is watching him curiously now, and he knows, he knows, so maybe it wouldn’t matter if he made her corporaal now? And begged her to help him? To go get Ben somehow, or Five, anyone!

How did he screw this up? How did he let Reginald see? How did he screw everything up again?! And he can only think of Five, of Diego, of Ben, where are they? Help! His mind screaming for him to run run run run!

“How did you do it, Number Four?” the man ignores his reaction “How did you die?”

And every sound banging inside his skull makes a sudden stop. He must have heard wrong. There’s no way he’s talking abo-

“How did you come back?” the man’s voice sentences like a jury of hell.

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about“ he manages, just as his panic makes his fists glow and more dead people appear around him, still invisible to the man in front of him somehow. Reginald lifts and eyebrow.

“I saw you. I know what a fatal blow is. I saw the tapes as well. Number Five lowering your body down, the whole lot of you screaming like toddlers. I know you died. And I know your brothers know that too. I also know that they must have known about this beforehand, no? It’d make sense of the way they’ve all been behaving during missions. There’s a reason why you all tried to cover it up, which is all I need as proof of the veracity of the fact“

“I- I didn’t die! You’re crazy!“

“Oh, but you did, Number Four. And then you came back“

“That’s im-“

“It is impossible“ he nods, before lifting his shin “For your siblings at least“

And Klaus freezes. There are at least ten ghosts around the room now, all looking at the man before him, and yet, right now, not one of them scares him more than said man. There’s a whisper of a ringing noise between his ears, and maybe he’s imagining it just as he’s imagining his hot breath against the now cold, cold room. His hands are covered in blue fire, but it doesn’t burn at all, unlike the burning caused by the knot inside his throat. The ghost aren’t corporeal yet, and while he’s been trying his best not to show them so far, he’s now stuck, because letting Reginald see them seems like a better choice than keep this conversation going, especially with the look his father is giving him, a gaze colder than those of the dead, scarier than the sights of gore that always follow his step.

He glances at the door again before he can stop himself, his whole body trembling in terror.

“Ah, don’t waste your time, Number Four” the man scoffs, fumbling with the briefcase still “You won’t leave”

“Why is that” he asks after gulping, trying desperately to keep the fear out of his voice. He’s not a kid anymore, he’s an adult, he’s been tortured, he’s been a soldier, this isn’t as scary as he thinks it is. It can’t be.

“Hmm, so I see your newly developed powers didn’t come with higher thinking capabilities” he stands up, now a knife between his fingers, unimpressed expression firmly in place “I told you, I have ways to get rid of every single one of you, of keeping you in your place, of making sure you never get to play this silly game again. Maybe they won’t work on you, at least not until we make some tests, but they will definitely work on your siblings. Up until now I hadn’t had a reason to use them, but with all your little games recently, well. You’re getting dangerous, and I’m running out of patience. However, balance can always be achieved”

“You wouldn’t” he manages brokenly “You need us” and Five had said so himself, so it couldn’t not be true. The bastard is now a few steps before him, and laughs.

“Number Four. There’re dozens of you out there. I managed to get you seven once. I can get a few others again. And yes, you could try to stop me with your silly little game, but believe me when I say, there would only be six of you by the time you managed to do so” the man finishes, his tone unbothered, as if shrugging through his words.

And that’s it. The man moves around and Klaus is distantly aware of being pushed backwards to sit on a chair, his Father somewhere above him. Everything else is silent. Klaus, ironically, feels a kind of numbness surrounding him, so different from the kinds he’s used to, and yet so similar. There’s no longer ringing on his ears, panic’s whispers; instead, there’s silence, but not empty silence. The air feels heavy around him as if surrounded by an invisible fog, cotton around and inside his head, blocking thoughts and emotions alike.

Because it’s true, isn’t it? There’s absolutely nothing he can do. No option for him to choose, no actions for him to take. There’s nothing he can do to stop their dad. Who would stop him? Who could stop him? Who knows what things he has to get rid of them? It was easy enough for him to do as such to Vanya, what else couldn’t he do? His siblings, they’re all human, they’re all vulnerable. They can all be killed. They can all die. They already had in one timeline. Hell, they all had in several timelines.

There was absolutely nothing he could do. He could try to escape, but would he dare? Would he be able to run fast enough towards his siblings before any of them being killed somehow? They weren’t even close to their usual part of the mansion. He wouldn’t make it. He couldn’t make it. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything.

He’s frozen, barely there, hopelessness numbing everything, a void inside his chest, something broken, something inside his chest he had almost managed to forget, taking everything away. He’s trapped. They were supposed to be better this time around. And now because of him he might lose everything again. He can’t. He can’t leave. He can’t let him do that, not to any of them. They are all he has left. They are everythi-

He flinches and reality rushes to him.

Reginald has just made a cut on his wrist. His vision is blurry from silent tears he hadn’t felt falling, blood feels warm against his skin as it runs through his hand. His Father takes a few steps back to lean on the table, now full of equipment he hadn’t seen before.

He’s trapped again. He actually doesn’t feel the need for drugs right now, and what a funny thing that is. Somewhere in his mind, a little Klaus actually acknowledges that fact, but it’s almost drowned by the numbness stuffing everything like cotton, his mind, his eyes, his ears.

He’s trapped again, and for the first time that isn’t the problem. All the times before, it was all about how long he’d be locked for, how long he’d be forced to endure the screams and the agony and the hatred and the desperation of lives cut short. Getting out eventually had never been the issue.

Now? Now there’re ghosts looking at the scene with blank faces yet curious eyes, but he can’t hear them; there are broken souls around him, yet they don’t go near him; there’s a Monster just like before, yet now he isn’t the one throwing him to the wolves, instead the Monster is now the sole torturer.

He’s trapped again, and now he knows there’s no getting out at all.

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overlyobsessedgaygal · 6 years

Text

Sleep Killing my Brother

Words: 2,227

Fandom: tua

Characters: Five, Klaus, Ben

Summary: Klaus finds Five having a nightmare while sleep walking, unfortunately Five also has knives and average aim. This can only end in one way, Klaus in a hospital, Five being depressed and Ben being super grateful he's dead. This got longer than I meant it to and the ending is kind of abrupt so I'm not sure how good it is, enjoy it anyway.

“Five, what the hell are you doing?” Klaus angrily questioned his younger brother. The two of them were the only ones in the house right now, Luther finally decided to get his own place and the others had gone back to their nearby apartments, Allison had just got hers. So when Klaus heard a loud smashing sound from downstairs in the living room he stumbled down the stairs, sleep still invading his senses.

He had expected to see a burglar that would scare away or some enemies that Ben would take care of. He did not expect to see dozens of screaming ghosts, all with a bullet hole right between their eyes, and his brother crouched on the bar. Five spun to face him, a feral snarl was playing on his lips.

Klaus barely had time to register the flying knife before it was lodged in his shoulder. “Five! What are you doing? That fucking hurt!” Ben cursed loudly at Klaus, the stupid man was still just standing there, staring at their brother. Their brother who had a pure murderous intent based on his facial expression.

Klaus seemed to get the hint as Five raised his arm to throw another of Diego's old knives. Klaus ducked behind the couch, which Ben wanted to point out did totally nothing since Five could teleport. Klaus put a hand to the knife in his shoulder. “Five, come on what's going on buddy? Talk to me,” Klaus tried.

He felt like he wasn't in the same house as Five, Five was somewhere else and Klaus was stuck with an isolated master assassin. Klaus was kinda stuck here, Ben couldn't really control the tentacles so if they came out then they would kill anything they deemed a threat and Klaus doubted Ben would be okay if he killed Five. Klaus had never learned how to fight really, he mostly just jumped on people's backs or took care of the mess that Luther left behind.

“Klaus, you have to call for help,” Ben said. Klaus knew that obviously, the problem was who to call. Allison would be perfect, but her voice was on the mend. He didn't want to risk Vanya getting upset and causing the end of the world version two. Luther would most likely just crush him because that was what Luther did. Diego was Klaus’ best bet but how to get his brother to answer. “Klaus!” Ben screamed the warning but it was too late. Five was already in front of him, knife pressing into his skin, the only thing stopping it from sinking into his flesh was the desperate will to live that had Klaus pushing at his brother's hands.

“Five, listen. It's Klaus,” Klaus said, trying to not sound terrified. The knife went deeper, the screaming ghost around them got louder. Ben was panicking, cursing up a storm. Five growled, like an actual growl that should come from an animal, not a human.

“You're not going to live,” Five said with a cold voice, “unless you tell me everything.”

Klaus wished he knew what Five was talking about. It seemed like all the agents from the commission were keen on getting information. If Klaus had kept his cool with the other agents than he could definitely handle his little brother.

“Five, lis-” Klaus was cut off as the knife was pulled away from his chest and a rush of warm liquid began to run down his cheek. Well, Five had just sliced his cheek open and was back to having the knife against his chest.

“Doing great Klaus, keep that up and you'll be dead in no time,” Ben said with sarcasm. It went unappreciated as Five spoke up next and the words shocked Klaus into dead silence.

“Where is my brother?” Five demanded. Ben and Klaus shared a look. “You promised you would keep them alive!” His voice held the perfect amount of sorrow to make the malice seem real. He was going to kill Klaus if he didn't find out where his brother was and honestly Klaus was just so lost.

His options now were to either let Ben take care of Five, which made Klaus want to stab himself for even thinking, or to play along and try and get Five to snap out of whatever trance he was in.

“He's here with us, right now,” Klaus stated. Five narrowed his and ripped the knife out of his brother's shoulders. “Fuck!” Klaus screamed as the feeling of his flesh ripping open more and blood staining his skin. “Fuck,” Klaus was tempted to say Five's name again but honestly this hurt.

“Take me to him,” Five demanded. Klaus quickly nodded. His plan was to take Five to his room and hope that snapped him out of whatever freaky dream he was in.

Together the two boys walked up to Five's room. Klaus had a blade pressed to his neck in a really awkward position since he was twice as tall as the delusional assassin. Klaus had nearly made it up the stairs completely when there were small gaps from behind him. Klaus started and went to turn around.

Before he could turn around the blade Five was holding to his neck dug into the skin near it, leaving a thin trail of blood as Five fell backward. “Five!” Klaus yelled and tried to grab both his brother and the knife in his hand. This only resulted in Klaus tumbling after him.

Ben spit out more curse words then he thought he knew as he leisurely strolled down the stairs to where his two brothers were both lying dazed on the floor. Five had passed out it seemed, his eyes peacefully shut, breathing harsh but not worrisome yet.

Klaus, on the other hand, had his eyes wide open and his face angled towards Ben but it was like he was seeing right through the ghost. His breathing pattern was erratic and goosebumps were breaking out along his shaking arms. A flashback if Ben had to guess. Whimpers broke through the clenched teeth as Ben crouched down by him, the whimpers weren't the only thing leaking from his mouth, though.

A thin trail of blood mixed with saliva was dripping from his chin to the carpet. Ben startled as Klaus open his mouth to say something but the only thing that came out was more of the slimy mixture. Ben screamed, Klaus didn't react as Ben screamed.

Ben screamed so loud that if he were alive the police would come but as he was dead, the only person who could hear him had his eyes fluttering shut. Ben screamed louder, someone had to hear him, they had to.

Five blinked as he woke up, his whole body was sore. “Shit,” Five mumbled as he recognized the hard, cold surface underneath him as the floor. “I hope I didn't break anything this time.”

With a motion that made his head swim he sat up. He looked first at the steps that he was sprawled before, second at the splatters of blood and thirdly he looked to his right to see a huddled mess of flesh, blood, and ridiculous leather pants. His heart seemed to stop in his chest.

“Klaus?” The whisper sounded a lot more scared than he wanted and any second now Klaus would laugh at him. The only response he got from his brother was a short huff of breath that caused blood to fly out an land pathetically next to him.

Five jumped into action and rolled his brother to his side so that he could assess the damage. A sob caught in his throat, two knives were sticking from Klaus, one in the shoulder that looked like it had been purposeful and one in his stomach that was too jagged and messy.

“Grace!” Five screamed for her, she would know what to do. Five just had to get her off the charging station. “Grace!” He screamed his throat raw, even after he could hear Grace's soft footfalls approach him.

“What did I do?” Five repeated the question to Grace as she knelt besides Klaus. He watched in horror as Grace examined Klaus, who was babbling to himself and spitting blood everywhere.

Grace began to calm Five down as she gave him orders. The calming reassurances had no effect on Five but he understood that he had to move and help Grace save Klaus. So he did, teleporting from one end of the house to the other to get all the things she needed.

The others arrived after Klaus had been stabilized and moved to the medical room. Five stayed locked away in his room, packing a suitcase. He was dangerous. He killed hundreds of people, if he stayed he would just kill them too.

Ben honestly couldn't believe he had to deal with so many idiots. First Klaus almost dies, then Five disappears in guilt, Luther wants to lock five up, and, most importantly, Ben is the only one to realize Five is missing.

It's been two hours since Ben went to check on Five to find him shoving a suitcase full. Ben had tried to get his attention, but that was about as useless as talking to the wall. Now Ben stood in the medical room, intently watching to see when Klaus would come to. Not that he would be in any shape to do anything about Five missing but at least he would listen to Ben.

Days passed like years, Klaus woke up and demanded that Five be found. The others hadn't wanted to go after Five, “he tried to kill you!, but Klaus and Vanya had none of their bullshit this time, “He's our brother!”

One day while everyone was out and Ben was watching over his sleeping brother the door creaked open. Ben looked up, expecting to see Grace. He blinked in shock as a small, scared, thirteen year old boy snuck into the room. “Five.”

Five didn't know Ben was there so Ben got to watch as Five walked over to Klaus, his shoulders lacked the movement of pulling in breath that most living things had and tears were pooling in his eyes. Five swept his eyes up along Klaus, lingering on his wounds.

“Shit. What did I do?” Five mumbled. His voice broke as he put his head in his hands. “I'm a monster, a no good monster, I'm dangerous, a killer,” Five kept saying awful things about himself in a monotone as he began to back up.

Klaus apparently hadn't been as asleep as the other two thought because he reached out to grab the hem of Five's shirt. It was the most Klaus had moved since his tantrum about Five missing and Ben was a proud older brother. Five didn't react just stared at the hand. “I'm a bad person,” he said it so casually.

Klaus gave Five the look, the look that meant he was mentally rolling his eyes. “Five,” Klaus started the sentence off shaky, “did you have a nightmare?”

And holy hell Five broke into tears. Five was crying. Five and crying were two words that didn't belong in a sentence together, unless it was Five making someone else cry but that's besides the point.

“I could have killed you!” The teenage boy shouted as he walked closer to the cot Klaus was on. “There was a knife in your stomach! You were coughing up blood!”

“It's not the first time,” Klaus tried to shrug, realized that was a bad idea and hissed. Five looked at him, Ben could already tell that Five was about to say something self deprecating. “Save it, you were sleep killing,” Klaus half smirked, “and I was the one to tumble down the stairs onto the knife.”

“I dreamt that Hazel and Cha Cha had kidnapped you again,” Five mumbled. Klaus raised an eyebrow. “I had to save you. They were torturing you because of me. You're my brother, everything that happened to you is my fault.”

“The only thing you're at fault for is saving the world,” Klaus thought for a moment, “and for getting me sober, and me meeting Dave, and for Vanya being happy. Okay, so you're responsible for a lot of things.”

“I'm responsible for a lot of deaths, the world is a horrible place but what I've done has shaped the whole culture of the world and altered time to the wishes of a mad woman. I'm a monster Klaus and if you continue to let me keep up this charade of being normal than you'll only get hurt. I have no humanity left.”

Klaus rolled his eyes at his little brother. “No humanity, yet you cry for me and I'm not even dead yet.” Klaus turned to look at Ben. “Honestly, what is it with teenagers?”

“I'm not a teenager!” Five automatically argued. A mischievous twinkle in the eyes of Klaus told Ben all he needed to know. Klaus planned to get back to normal by making Five go right back to hatted him. Ben shook his head, it was a good thing ghosts didn't get headaches.

“If he stabs you again I don't want to hear about it,” Ben said as he settled back to watch Klais work his charm. Klaus just sent him a sly wink before turning back to Five.

#tua fanfic #tua klaus #tua #tua fic #tua five #tua ben #the umbrella academy #kaytikittyfanfics

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uniewaznic · 6 years

Text

❝ Phone’s for you, ❞ Scott says almost as soon as the door clicks closed.

❝ Hey, Stiles. How was work, Stiles? Did you catch any bad guys, Stiles? Did you confiscate another zip and get high after work again, Stiles? ❞

❝ Don’t joke. ❞ Scott’s expression shifts from a momentary look of frustration to one of devout concentration as he drops something fine and green on top of buttered slices of French bread. His phone is balanced between his ear and shoulder, and his teeth are bared as if the grit of them will help his precision. ❝ Okay. I sprinkled the parsley. Now what? ❞

Oh, no. Ohhh, no, Scott is being given another cooking lesson. That can only mean one person is on the phone right now. Stiles begins his retreat backwards, one hand fumbling for the doorknob blindly. ❝ You know what? I forgot, buddy, I can’t do dinner tonight. I forgot that I have to take my dad to the doctor’s tonight; he’s having cholesterol problems again, you know how he is. Anyway, we’ll have to reschedule for, like, next week or maybe even-- ❞

❝ Yeah, he’s right here. ❞ In the time it has taken Stiles to finally make purchase with at least the frame of the door, Scott has come around the kitchen counter and crossed into the adjoining living space of his small apartment. Suddenly, without his consent ( Scott, come on, you of all people should be the type to ask first ), the phone is being pressed to Stiles’ cheek and he is left having to clutch at it when Scott pulls his hand away.

❝ Stiles. ❞

❝ Ally! Heeyyyyy. Uh. How’s it goin’? How’s Louisiana? You perfecting your beignet recipe? I always thought it could use some work. ❞

❝ My beignets are impeccable. You ate the entire batch when I made them for everyone at Christmas. Before the werewolves, Stiles. ❞ She doesn’t sound as amused as the recap implies and Scott has become decidedly unhelpful if the deliberate view of his back is anything to go by, but Stiles laughs anyway. It is a nervous sound, a little high and a lot unattractive, and no amount of throat clearing fixes the pitch. Through the static of the call, he hears Allison sigh. Oh, no. ❝ Have you at least texted her back? At all? ❞

❝ Who? ❞

Another sigh, though a little less tired and a lot more exasperated. ❝ You both are the worst. Do I really come off that stupid? I know she’s a genius and you’re...you, ❞ his exclaimed disdain goes ignored, ❝ but I’m not an idiot. Stiles. Why won’t you text her back? ❞

❝ I’m hanging up now. Great talk, as always. Really love these conversations with you. Truly the highlight of my week. You know I’m a cop, right? Like, that happened, much to everyone’s surprise. I know the ins and outs of the third degree. I knew the ins and outs before I became a cop. Anyway, hanging up. Saying goodbye. Don’t call back. Scott is mine for the rest of the evening, so don’t-- ❞

❝ Are you done? ❞

❝ Yep. ❞

❝ Stiles. I’m going to tell you something very obvious. ❞

❝ Here we go. ❞

❝ You’re an idiot. ❞

❝ There it is. ❞ In the kitchen, Scott is pretending not to be listening in on the phone call with his wolfy spidey senses, but Stiles can see the slight shake of his shoulders from his chuckles and scowls deeply at the back of his best friend’s head. ❝ Is this, like, the whole you broke my best friend’s heart and now I have to kill you spiel? Because I have to tell you, Ally, it could use some work. ❞

It pulls a laugh from her, which makes him smile because it is always gratifying to make Allison laugh. ❝ Oh, Stiles. If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead. ❞

Now, Scott does a terrible job of hiding his laughter with a coughing fit. The coaster Stiles picks up from the coffee table and flings across the room smacks the side of the alpha’s neck and, when he turns to glare, Stiles is offering a tasteless hand gesture. ❝ Noted. I’d be dead by now. Anyway. ❞

❝ Anyway, you should text her. ❞

❝ Why should I text her? ❞

❝ Because you want to. ❞

There is a long moment of silence. Stiles meets Scott’s eyes across the room and reads the empathy there loud and clear. The tattoo on his arm peeks out from under the sleeve of his t-shirt ( I always wanted one. I just decided to get it now to make it kind of a reward. / For what? / For not calling or texting Allison all summer. Even when I really wanted to. Even when it was so hard not to sometimes. ). He wonders if Scott still feels a little torn open, a little broken-hearted. A little like bleeding, even though he can talk to the woman he loves when he wants to now. He wonders if he still feels that open wound. Stiles lifts a hand to his chest, rubs at the hard bone of his sternum, and swallows thickly. ❝ I do want to. ❞

❝ But you’re afraid. ❞

❝ Yeah, ❞ Stiles whispers, like he is too ashamed to admit it. The high rose hue of his cheeks would indicate that he is.

Allison hums, something empathetic in the soft note. Stiles wants to ask her when she has ever been afraid of anything. He has never known her to be anything but brave, this girl who runs with wolves, who tames and loves them too. ❝ Do you want me to baby you, Stiles? Because I can do that. I can coddle you and it will do absolutely nothing for everyone involved. ❞

❝ You could go back to ignoring me. ❞ Allison inhales sharply, stung, and Stiles sees Scott wince. ❝ Fuck. I’m sorry, Ally. Allison? I’m sorry. I know why you-- ❞

❝ I could baby you, ❞ Allison continues, determined and strong and brave, so fucking brave, ❝ or I could be real with you. Choose wisely. ❞

❝ I don’t think I have a choice. ❞

❝ You do have a choice. You always do. It’s just that you’re really good at choosing the wrong one. ❞

He never knows when he is pacing anymore until he stills, so ingrained in him is anxious energy that it is more than second nature. Stiles slows and finds himself facing the translucent reflection of his own face in the large window overlooking the street where his jeep is parked outside. There is something tired and ancient in the look of him, aged, and his eyes look supermassive and dark as they blend into the shadowed night sky. Stiles breathes out slow and tries not to think about how much he hates what he sees. ❝ Do your worst. ❞

❝ You’re being a coward. You have wanted her for so long and the minute you had her, you turned around and ran the other way. Because she wasn’t what you wanted or she wasn’t the way you thought she’d be. Because you made her into what you wanted in your head, but the reality didn’t fit the dream and it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t enough. You’re an asshole for that, too. She was more than pretty and she was more than smart and it scared you. Just like it scared Jacks-- ❞

❝ Fuck you, Allison. Jesus Christ. What the fuck? Are you seriously going to compare me to that dickhead? ❞

❝ Are you seriously going to tell me that you don’t? ❞ Stiles’ silence is loud and telling. There is movement on the other end of the line and he thinks maybe she has taken a seat somewhere. Scott is no longer in the kitchen when Stiles can’t stand to face his reflection anymore and he is grateful that he is not witness to the tears that cling his lashes together. He would take that blame needlessly, as he is wont to do, and Stiles is too hurt, too raw, too open wound to handle it. ❝ I know you’re nothing like him. Stiles. You’re nothing like him. ❞

❝ But I left her, too. ❞

❝ She knows you’re nothing like him either. ❞

❝ I tried not to be.❞ Stiles manages to knuckle one tear away, but the rest trip down his cheeks. ❝ God, he-- He made her small and I just wanted her to be bigger. I wanted her to be bigger and she needed space for it, Allison. She needed more space. She wanted more space so she could be bigger. I don’t want to make her smaller. ❞

❝ She can have space to be as big as she wants, Stiles, but she wants you in her orbit, too. She didn’t push you away. You ran from her. ❞

❝ But not because she wasn’t enough, Allison. Not because of her. ❞

❝ I know that. Does she? ❞

The slow fold of his body into the couch is crumbling in nature. It feels like exhaustion in the way he slots himself into the cushions; it feels like hiding, it feels like open maw and crawling into the jaws of something. Counting teeth always risks a bite, but Stiles would welcome that pain if it would distract the drowning in his lungs or the ache in his chest. ❝ I can’t text her now, Ally, ❞ his voice is trembling. ❝ I can’t. Not now. She stopped. She won’t-- She doesn’t-- ❞

❝ She does. She will. She would. Stiles, she already forgives you. ❞

It should amaze him that she has found the root of him and yanked it out to the sun’s gaze, but she is good at taking terrible things and dusting off the grime of them. ❝ She shouldn’t. ❞

❝ Maybe you’re right. But she has. ❞ A pause. ❝ And so have I. ❞

Anguish is familiar, just as familiar as guilt, and both hit him so hard, he thinks for a moment that he has tumbled off the couch. It leaves him dizzy with the taste of grief, with the loss of so much, even after all this time, and Stiles presses his lips thin, closes his eyes tight. Her words, soaked in meaning, are medicinal, but he does not swallow them. Not yet. Instead, Stiles says, ❝ Okay. ❞

Allison sighs for the third time. This one sounds only tired. ❝ You’re not going to text her, are you? ❞

❝ I’ll think about it. ❞

❝ You’re an idiot. ❞

❝ So you’ve said. ❞

❝ I guess I should let you get to your little date night. Don’t let Scott cook the pasta. He will burn it. ❞

Her voice has gone deliberately lighter and he is glad for the subject change. His cheeks are starting to dry, but the tightness in his throat has not yet abated. ❝ When are you going to come back home and have your own little date night, hmm? I could be persuaded to give him up for a night. ❞

❝ Good night, Stiles. ❞

❝ What? Come on! You made me sit through all of that and now that we finally get to the good shit, you’re going to blow me off? Allison. Allison! I may be shit at my love life, but you and Scott-- ❞

The line goes dead.

#lydstm #drabble tbt .#canon tbt .#this is so goddamn long #lena i am so sorry for this absolute PIECE OF GARBAGE #i hyped it up too much #but anyway can we at least agree that allison argent is the best thing to ever happen ever amen

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braedens · 6 years

Text

based on this post || read on ao3

Through laughter, over a chorus of voices, knowing it’ll strike home anyway. It’s meant for everyone here, after all.

There are so few moments in their lives where there is peace. Not in Beacon Hills. So, the disheveled group of teens don’t waste a second to enjoy the calm and the storm, because even when all hell breaks loose, even when the world is ending and it seems like Death stand ominously over them all, they have each other. And, that’s enough.

Their laughter and joy fills every crevice of Derek’s loft, movie abandoned for riffing and quips at each other. Beacon Hills is unruffled, if only for a moment, their teen protectors clustered together and damnit, it makes Stiles just a little bit emotional. This is his family, supernatural and all. “God, I love you guys,” he barks, and a collection of laughter and cooing follow as he looks around the room, and he finds his eyes stop at Derek, for a small moment.

It’s quick, but Derek meets his eyes, and he thinks they share a look. Something is exchanged there, but he isn’t quite sure what, but he knows that it settles him for the better because of it.

Slipped under your tongue, twisted into something else. “I trust you,” maybe. Trust them to figure it out.

Stiles gets himself into more trouble than any human should desire in their line of work, this Derek knows. He’s eighteen, but when he squares his shoulders and furrows his brows, Derek can visibly see the years that this life has put on him. He wonders what Stiles would be like if he hadn’t brought Peter into their lives, to Beacon Hills. Would they have met under different circumstances? Would they have met at all?

They’re crouched behind some crates at the old canning factory outside of town, and Derek wonders how many times they’ve been in this situation before. Same story, different venue.

The omega pack that seems hell bent on ruining their lives this week argue farther into the factory. If he listens closely, he can hear Scott and Isaac on the upper level. From outside, he hears the click of Allison’s bow notch into place.

“I’ll distract them,” Stiles moves to get up, but Derek brandishes an arm out to stop him, and he already knows the look Stiles is giving him.

Usually, Stiles falls back. So, when Derek feels Stiles push his arm away, he stares at him bewildered, but the eyes he’s met with are not eyes he’s looked into before. They speak to him clearly, more sure. They say I am no longer a child. They say do not mistake my vigor for weakness.

They say trust me.

So he does.

He nods his head once, and Derek is sure Stiles knows what he’s trying to say, even if Derek isn’t entirely sure himself. But, he can’t stop the fumble of his tongue as they carved a cavern for Stiles to burrow into his chest, somewhere for him to come back to. Not home, not yet. But a soft place to land.

“I trust you,” he says.

Instead of “thank you” or “see you soon” or “drive safe.” Because no matter what you say it’ll mean the same thing.

Derek has to leave. There’s nothing left for him here. Or at least, nothing worth more than Cora. Beacon Hills is a graveyard of hollow dreams and promises of love that never stayed, and Derek has given this town far more than it deserves. So, he gets it. Frankly, he’s surprised Derek stayed as long as he did in the first place.

So when he hears a soft knock on his front door, the last person he expects to see is Derek.

“Hi,” he blinks.

“Hi.”

He takes note of Derek’s car in his driveway, still running and one Cora Hale in the passenger seat. So he makes no move to let him in. He knows this will be quick. Everything with Derek usually is.

“I, uh,” Derek starts, and he shifts his eyes anywhere to Stiles, and no. Fuck that. If this is the last time he’ll see Derek, he deserves eye contact. So, Stiles does that annoying movement where he maneuvers his head until Derek has no choice to look at him.

Derek breathes, but this time he’s looking at Stiles. “I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“So you’re making housecalls now?”

“Don’t be a dick,” Derek rolls his eyes.

It feels like eternity, the time they spend standing there, just looking at each other. Stiles feels bold, though, so he pushes off where he’s rested against the threshold and puts his arms out, enveloping Derek in a hug. It takes Derek a second, before Stiles feels his hands splayed on his back.

I’m scared, Stiles wants to stay. Please stay. Don’t go. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you. But Stiles has battled his demons, still is. And he knows if he was given the chance to skip town, he would have taken it. So instead, he says, “Be safe.”

Somehow, he thinks Derek knows what he’s trying to say, how he feels, because Derek tightens his hold on him just slightly, an apology and a blessing all wrapped in just one press.

Derek leaves, and Beacon Hills is still and serene in a way no one can comprehend, and Stiles sleeps all through the night for the first time in a while.

Casually, as if you don’t mean it. Trying like hell not to mean it.

Of course they find their way back to each other.

Stiles is twenty-two, and Derek is living in New York. It’s been a year since Derek sent him a text for the first time in three years since he left, and suddenly it’s like they are ribbons, curved around each other in a symphony. Stiles gets accepted to NYU for graduate school, and Derek offers to let Stiles live with him. He’s been on his own far too long, he tells himself. It’ll be nice to have someone other than Cora around.

He feels nervous the day Stiles moves in. Most of his stuff has already been mailed to his condo, and Derek took the liberty of sorting it all in the spare bedroom. He’s a nervous wreck- an hour in the fragrance aisle at the Whole Foods trying to decide what air freshener Stiles would like is what he has to show for it.

He can hear Stiles in the lobby, his humming an echo in his ears and suddenly he’s thankful Stiles isn’t a werewolf, because he’s pretty sure you could hear his heart beat like a bongo from across the city.

And then the door opens, and it smells like lemongrass and orange and hand sanitizer and the smile on Stiles’ face is how warmth feels, like the first step into the sun on your chilly skin.

But Stiles’ eyes dart around his apartment, his mouth wide open. “You live here? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Well, you live here too, now.”

And Stiles just stares at him with the same gobsmacked expression, but he treks to him with arms wide open. “Dude, I fucking love you!”

Derek laughs, it’s all he can do in that moment when Stiles pulls away too quickly, already distracted by his self-guided tour of the place.

I love you too, Derek thinks to himself, just maybe not the same way you do.

Wrapped up in a question. “How’s your day been, have you eaten, you know you can tell me anything, right?” You know you can tell them anything. Right?

Stiles doesn’t spend much time in the apartment. Between work and grad school, he doesn’t make it back home until late into the night, if he even makes it back home at all.

On Laura’s birthday, Cora has already moved to Spain, so Derek is alone. Which is for the better, really. He loves Cora, but he learned quickly that they both had become so used to mourning on their own. But still, knowing she isn’t near him still makes it harder.

He takes the day off, can’t imagine being able to focus on anything besides the flicker of his eyes, from their normal emerald to glowing gold. And he stays in bed, no energy to face a day that only reminds him of the decisions he’s made and their consequences.

It’s closer to one in the afternoon when he hears their front door open and close, the familiar sound of Stiles strikes him as odd during this time of day. A soft tap at his bedroom door, and before he can tell him to leave, Stiles is already all the way in. Derek watches him as he looks around the room before his eyes fall back to him, and Derek suddenly feels too vulnerable and raw.

“What are you doing home?” Derek voice cracks, the first time he’s spoken all day. Stiles steps closer to the bed.

“I got off early,” Stiles lies. He can hear it in his heartbeat, but somehow he thinks Stiles meant for him to know that. “Have you eaten today?” “Not hungry.”

Stiles just nods, puckering his lips. And then, to Derek’s surprise, he’s up by Derek’s bed, pulling back the comforter and climbing into his bed and pushing himself beside Derek. At this close, Derek can smell old leather and paper on Stiles. It’s comforting, reminds him of his parent’s old library.

“C’mere,” Stiles mumbles, and Derek can’t help it, he immediately moves to burrow into Stiles’ arms, burying his face in his chest and breathes in deeply. He feels a tension release from his shoulders and they just lie there, in silence, Stiles stroking the hair at the nape of his neck as Derek mirrors his breaths to the rise and fall of Stiles’ chest. It’s a peace he’s never known, or at least can’t remember.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Stiles says under hushed tones, hours later when they’re tucked under the comforter.

It’s something Derek knows more than anything. Something he’s practiced for years, the way he confides in Stiles, lets him into his space and Stiles never asking him to break down his walls, but rather provide him a ladder.

So, as moonlight spills into his room, he does. He tells him everything. Everything and anything he can form into coherent words. He tells him about Laura. About his parents. And life before pain. About fears, faux pas. He makes perfect sense and no sense at all as they exchange soft conversations just for them. For the first time in what feels like so long, he lets someone listen. Because he knows Stiles will hear him.

Under your breath while the whole house sleeps, just before you have to leave for the day. More for yourself than for them.

It’s the final stretch for Stiles. He just has one more month left before he sits for the bar, and the studying has utterly destroyed him. Graduation is in his reach, but not without copious amounts of Red Bull and bribing the librarian to let him stay past hours.

He finds himself coming home later and later, taking his naps on the subway and treking himself up to their apartment. When he walks in, it’s still- the clock on the stove reads almost four in the morning, and the light above the island is on. Derek never leaves it on.

On the counter is a single plate, covered in tin foil. There’s a sticky not on the counter, and Stiles can already tell the neat handwriting belongs to Derek.

Figured you’d be hungry. Tired, went to bed

Stiles smiles to himself, rereading the note. Under the foil is a slice of lasagna and mixed roasted vegetables, so he does what any sane person would do in the middle of the night- grabs a fork from a drawer and sits at the island.

“God, I am so in love with you,” he mumbles to himself so softly, and digs in.

In Derek’s room, awaken long ago from the sound of the door, he hitches his breath.

With a hand on their shoulder, a song on your lips, or a carton of their favorite ice cream in the freezer.

“Who’s ice cream is this?” Stiles asks, freezer door swung open, and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Americone Dream in his hands. Derek barely looks up from the book in his hand from the sofa. It’s mid-July, and Stiles has spent want too much free time now that he’s passed the bar and graduated from NYU. And his free time usually included enjoying all the treats he never got to have during the school year.

“It’s yours,” Derek says, eyes quickly moving back to his book.

“I didn’t buy it?”

“I bought it,” he says simply.

“You,” Stiles says slowly, “you bought me ice cream?” He’s looking between the ice cream and Derek, who’s paying no attention to him. It’s his favorite flavor.

Derek stays silent, as if to say ‘Yes, you idiot’.

Stiles just keeps staring at the carton in his hand. “Huh.”

Over a nervous smile, biting back the just-this-side-of-desperate hope they’ll say it back.

When they kiss for the first time, it’s entirely wrong.

They’re arguing about rock albums, and Stiles has formed a three-pronged thesis in his head on why Derek is ridiculous for putting Muse above Queen in his list. And it just happens.

Derek’s not sure he believed it was the right time. Hell, if you asked him he’d say there was never a right time. He leans in to kiss Stiles, and when their lips meet, he has no regret. He forgets that there was no build up to this- they’re not dating, let alone have they even remotely talked about their feelings. He feels the corners of his lips tug upward and his mind races to the thought that this is it. Maybe this is when they’ll stop doing figure eights around each other and come in the middle.

But then Stiles pulls away.

It’s abrupt, Derek feels. And they just look at each other in silence.

“Is that your way of trying to get out of this debate?” Stiles deflects. “Because I’m trying to understand why you really would think I Want To Break Free doesn’t absolutely kill.”

Stiles shifts back into the sofa, continuing his argument, and Derek thinks maybe this is for the best. He doesn’t want to lose Stiles as a friend, so if he’s willing to pretend this never happened, so be it. He missed his chance. He misses a lot of chances, he thinks.

Later, when Stiles closes his bedroom door behind him, he finally exhales on a breath he feels like he’s been keeping inside him forever. Briefly, he touches his lips. For a moment, he considers going back outside to where he hears Derek cleaning up, and doing something. Anything. Figures he’ll know what it is when he gets to him.

Instead, he flips his light switch.

Straightforward. Soft and heavy, like morning before the coffee’s started brewing. Like that’s all there is to say.

It is no special day. It’s just not.

It’s early in the morning, Stiles packing his briefcase for work, Derek making coffee in the kitchen. They’ve fallen into routine now that Stiles is working at a firm, in sync with their actions and movements that it isn’t until right now, on some ordinary day in the middle of the week, that Stiles feels overwhelmed by the feeling of content.

“I love you,” Stiles breathes out, wide eyed and mouth ajar, the sides of his vision blurring because Derek is the only center of focus he seems to be able to land on. “And I’m not sorry about it.”

Of course he’s not. He’s never been so sure and so confident about a fact in his life, and Stiles is one to endure copious amounts of research to prove his theories. But this, this is no theory. This need not analyzation. He is sure.

With a soft sigh. Past exhaustion and frustration and despair, like it’s the only good thing left. Sometimes it is.

It’s only been a week since the night of their kiss, and nothing’s really changed since then. If he’s being honest, Derek forgot about it. Frankly, he was content with erasing it from his memory.

He’s making coffee, wondering to himself if he should go to the gym or finally drop off the boxes for Goodwill he’s had in his room for a few weeks, when he’s blindsided.

“I love you,” Stiles says. Like, just announces, and for a second Derek’s having an out-of-body experience where he’s wondering if it wasn’t directed to him.

But, he’s the only one there. Coffee pot hovering over Stiles’ travel mug that he was filling up for him. Cream, two sugars. How he always takes it.

“And I’m not sorry about it.”

Derek shakes his head, starstruck and wondering if this is some fever dream he’s experiencing.

“You don’t have to be sorry about it.”

He places the mug and pot down and walks around the island where Stiles is just standing there, holding the strap to the bag around his shoulder so tight. Derek can’t help but remember when Stiles was a teenager, throwing caution to the wind any chance he could, and all he asked from Derek in return was trust. Love, really.

“I’m just so tired of dancing around it. I know-” he pauses, collecting his thoughts. “I know I don’t make it easy, I know I have an issue with trust and second guessing literally everything but I just, I want you to know.” His hands flail as he talks, and he furrows his brows that feels all too familiar to Derek. “That I love you,” he adds, as if Derek didn’t understand.

He’s not a man of many words, Derek, but he knows the weight they have. He knows that there probably aren’t enough words in the human language that are comparable to the weight of the feelings he has for Stiles. Because to him, this isn’t their first declaration of love. They’ve said it every day to each other, without words. In simple gestures. In bickering arguments. In chores done when the other can’t find the time. In passing brushes of skin. In good (and bad) cooking.

But this, right now, is probably Derek’s favorite. Unrushed and outright.

“Stiles,” he breathes out, taking a tedious step towards him. “Loving you has been the easiest fucking thing I’ve ever done.”

Stiles doesn’t even hesitate crashing into him, hands cradling Derek’s face and kissing him restlessly, like he was given permission. And Derek feels all the more comfortable snaking his arms around him until he’s pressing Stiles closer to him, so much more closer, letting his bag fall from his shoulder onto the ground. With Derek in his arms, he thinks, Fuck work. Fuck New York. Fuck the entire world and universe for all he cares.

Some things are just more important.

#sterek #sterek fic #derek hale #stiles stilinski #derek x stiles #teen wolf fic #tw #tw fic #teen wolf #fic #my writing #mine

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