#or havent lived there for a good period
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madtomedgar · 1 year ago
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I thought yankees trying to use y'all was painful but when Europeans do it... Ouch.
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crescentfool · 1 year ago
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the persona 3 protagonist 25th anniversary nui in food appliances!
#lizzy speaks#persona 3#minato arisato#makoto yuki#guys friendly reminder that this is what adulthood is about dont listen to anyone who calls you cringe#hence why im putting these in the main tags. i mean they're not incorrect for what the photos are about. lmao#anyway this was a very fun birthday!!! i feel very loved and supported by so many people and i got to do very fun things (like this)...#i think... birthday is like thanksgiving to me. in the gratitude respect.#a reminder of all the lovely people that i have gotten a chance to meet and how i've learned from them#it makes me very happy to have been born... i think every day is a great day to celebrate life's grandeur + brilliance + magnificence#it's just a very poignant and strong feeling that i have that i'm happy to have met so many wonderful people#and while there are some people i've only known for brief periods of time or people who i havent really been good at keeping in contact wit#i do cherish it! im so grateful. so happy that there are people who cheer my silly shenanigans on#while there are ways in which aging makes me go “oh hmm” i think overall i'm happy that i get to keep on living and learning#i have so much fondness for humanity and people... like even if i dont get to talk to ppl directly i just get very emotional yknow#like wow.. you exist.. thats so fucking awesome... i hope you have an awesome day... im glad our paths could cross#if you have read up to this point of my tags.. thank you for reading and being part of my life#i will keep on being the silliest guy ive ever known! cheers to more shenyanigans and self-discovery :3
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takkamek · 7 months ago
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sad i'm gonna have to miss the sprint quali on friday BUT it's because i have a job interview!!! ᕙ(`▿´)ᕗ
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jefferythejelly · 1 year ago
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debated even doing this bc i feel like i am Barely a fic writer but i got tagged by 2 people (thank u @negativepeanuthoarder and @rutadales) so i am going to be brave
Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Then tag as many people as you have WIPs
couple of brief notes before i give u the list:
i have far too many wips (bc i never finish anything adsfjbdsa) so for simplicity's sake and to cut out ones that are kinda nothingburger this technically isnt All the files in my wip folder
almost all of these are nsfw in some way and several of them deal with omegaverse/mpreg/various other weird kinks. sorry if that is not ur cup of tea when it comes to fanfiction but you have been warned👍
anyways list under the readmore bc theres 17 of them so it got a little long lmao
sap unplanned pregnancy dnn to dnkn
karl gets abducted by aliens yay
subnap (that title might be a little misleading im ngl it kind of got away from me. also this is one of the oldest in there i started it may 2022 adsfjbadskjf)
funz pregnancy slash kidfic brainrot (this one is less of a fic in progress and more of a series of brainrot bullet points. but i like it a lot its very self indulgent)
dogboy foolish
funz body worship nonsense
ahaha yeahhhhh (this one is one of the few where the title is not descriptive at all. wildcard)
funz empty
yep its funz time
punznap pog
omega punz
funz new years kiss
karlnap maid outfit
wrow (another wildcard)
cdrunz eggs
karlnap chapstick
mr beast hide and seek but im in heat (not clickbait)
tagging @tinynap and anyone else reading this who wants to talk about their wips (bc i am at a loss for people to tag who have not already been tagged by a different mutual asdfbsk)
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stuck-in-the-ghost-zone · 1 year ago
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i think chulip would fix me
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devotedlystrangewizard · 2 years ago
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i get so ridiculously obsessed with fictional characters sometimes like girl shut up i have a french class to participate in i dont need the middleaged man in my brain
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stars-and-guts · 1 year ago
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...
fuck you /j
"everybody experiences that" says mother who has the same symptom of the same mental illness
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nyctarian · 1 year ago
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.
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thedeathwitchescats · 2 months ago
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My collection of tips for people who are just now developing a chronic illness or just now realizing they have one. ((As someone who has only been struggling with mine for a little over a year))
-dont blame yourself for not being able to do what you used to. Your body used to do its job to a better degree than it does now. You are not lazy bc your taking more breaks or bc you cant get out of bed. Your taking care of yourself. I struggle with this all the time. Especially considering my living situation. Shit doesnt get done when I dont do it but I simply cant sometimes.
-that leads me into my next point. Take advantage of your good days, but dont overwork yourself just bc your "not feeling chronically ill." When you have the energy, start the laundry, do the dishes, take out the trash, but still take breaks as needed
-keep a set of your meds literally everywhere. I have a pill box I specifically keep in my car with a weeks worth of my morning meds. I have a three sets of my most important meds in my bag at all times. I have pain meds stashed in every crevasse they could be stashed. Trust me, when your running late and you get half way to work before you realize you havent taken your meds your gonna want to be able to reach into your glove box and take them rq
-buy the mobility aid. You think you need a brace bc a specific joint hurts like hell and wont stay in place?? Get it. You cant walk for long periods of time and think a cane would help?? Get it. You think a shower chair would do you good so you dont pass out with shampoo in your eyes and naked?? Get it. Just get it. Walmart sells canes for under ten bucks and they work really well. They also have extra tips in a two back for 2.50. Dollar tree has braces and like 12 different pain creams. Five below also has some braces and quite a few pain relief options. You can also get them cheap on sites like shein or Amazon and sometimes depop. ((I know I know, dont support those sites but a bitch is broke and two bucks for compression socks is a fucking steal)) You can also sometimes find wheelchairs and canes and crutches at goodwill. It isnt a guarantee but its a good option if you need smt cheap. ((Be careful and check that their not broken before you buy))
-take the pain meds. Put on the pain cream. Ice that joint. You dont get brownie points for toughing it out and it will help your health in the long run. If someone looks at you like your weak for taking smt to help with your pain, their the problem, not you.
-create a good support system. Find the people who will drop their brand new iced coffee to stop you from slamming your head into the ground during a fainting spell. They are out there. Find them and hold onto them for dear fucking life
-try to make the best of what you can do every day. Put on cute earrings. Buy cute compression socks. Get braces that fit your vibe. Put stickers on your mobility aids. Put pins on your bag. Carry a cute weighted stuffie for when you need some extra comfort. Make the most of what you are capable of doing.
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stgosupremacy · 2 months ago
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Hi so this is me ranting about Ash being Goh's n01 supporter in project mew 😍 (as he always is ofc)
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"I wanna join. Project Mew! For sure!"
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love that cute sneaky side view
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"You know what? I'm gonna cheer you on with all my might!"
the way he said you sounded a bit like it was a thank you for goh always cheering on ash during his battles 🥺 (it also sounds like I'm analysing too much again looooooooollllllllllll)
I always thought this was Ash just being dead supportive to Goh like he always is but he meant this so much 😭😭😭💗
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"You're coming too, Ash?" (the hand on goh's shoulder omg and ash looks so cute idfjkmf)
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"I promised I'd always cheer you on, didnt I?"
everyone smiling around them lol (they so know whats going on)
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"I'll clear the mission for sure!"
"That's the spirit, Goh!" (always so supportive 🥺💖)
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STOP HE'S SO HAPPY TO BE ALLOWED TO GO WITH GOHH AW 🥺
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"You failed. You'd be toast if I hadn't saved you."
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"Wait just a second, what are you talking about failed!?"
i love how as soon as ash sees goh's sad face he gets his protective boyfriend mode activated 🥰🥰🥺
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"Good for you, Goh! I'm fired up about this too!"
i am so tempted to make a post on how touchy these guys are bc oh my god they are so touchy 💀💀 and hellllllll ash was not lying at all about being fired up about project mew, the entire trial period it was almost like ash was taking the missions, bless him 💖😂
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"I'll help any way I can!"
it's so sweet to me ash constantly reminds gohof this fact <3
look at danika leaning in the back guys she knows
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god ive talked ab this episode far too recently to rant about it here but 🥺😂
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"You can count on us! Dont let it win!"
🥰the way ash looks at him
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"Plus, I'll be there, you'll be fine!"
no words from me just pure SUPPPPPPPPPPPORTTTTTTTTTT is radiating here (and also goh looking like he's crushing bad)
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"Only the challenger is allowed in this mission."
"You've gotta be kidding!"
bless the way he seems so fed up when danika says he cant come- LIKE CMON CAN THEY GET ANY CUTER??? 😭
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but as soon as goh says this.....
"No worries Ash, I'm sure i'll be succesful!" (his smile is so sweet)
"You're right Goh, just make sure to pass that mission!"
...Then ash is totally supportive of it if Goh's fine with it too 💗
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"Right?" 🥰
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"Right!"
yeah....sorry i had to include that it was so cute
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"Goh!"
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"Dankia, did you do this on purpose!?" the way ash is so stressed for goh for literally no reason but his safety, enter: PROTECTIVE BOYFRIEND MODE ACTIVATED AGAIN WOOOOOOO
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HE LOOKS SO SAD WHEN GOH DOESNT GET ANY TOKENS STOPPP 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺
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the way ash is looking at him so intently...i cannot 💀💀💀💀💀
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"This time I'm going by myself."
"WHAT? HOW COME?" 😨😨 (that literally deserves to be in caps because he indeed shouted it lol ) he sounds so in disbelief, it's so sweet he just sees going along with Goh everywhere now his second nature 😭💙💙💙
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but after goh explaining why, then ash just smiles and wishes goh the best of luck (as he always does bc he's just happy goh is happy)
like
why is this boy so precious
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"I made it through!" I SEE THAT BLUSH HEAJDKAJ (it was obviously from excitement but blushing goh is quite rare in ultimate jrnys and he looks too cute when he does it) 😂
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"No joke?! Congratulations Goh!"
YAYYYY HES SO HAPPY 4 HIM 🤗🤗
"Thanks to you, Ash!" 🥰🥺💖
"Thanks to all of your hard work!" STOPP LIKE the way how he tries to deflect the praise back onto goh makes me smile every time but yk so does this entire scene at this point
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right the way goh ends the call and breathes out as soon as he does is definetelyy not gay at all 🤨🤨🤨 (fr tho they make each other so happy and i'm always living for it....if you havent noticed)
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...right i should stop thats enough for today
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horseimagebarn · 4 months ago
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hello friends and welcome to the horseimagebarn weekly interaction recap where i respond to many of the comments reblogs and asks i received in the past week it has been a while and i appreciate endlessly the happiness i have borne witness to due to my return i shall do my best to continue serve you all as curator of the horseimagebarn
which by the way i do appreciate all of the love i receive in reblogs and asks and comments more than you will ever know and i want to in my heart respond to every single one but i do not want to turn this account into some kind of vanity project and clog everything up with my own responses to praise of me especially when i have nothing else useful or entertaining to add other than my many humble thanks so know that even though i dont always answer i really do read every single reblog and comment and ask i get and it is indescribable the happiness it gives me to know that my stupid horse posts have such a positive impact on other peoples lives and even though i dont say it to every single person i do love all of you dearly
anyway i will respond to things posted both this week and what i have seen from the period of my absence so nothing is missed
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you know it brother
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this gave me a good chuckle thank you
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i do love pigeons i am happy to find that there are three hidden in my post
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this is from before i vanished but i hope you feel better now
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there are no words i can say to properly alleviate the grief i am sure you are feeling but i hope you find it comforting to know that because of your submission he was loved by many more than he will ever know and i feel very lucky to forever count him among the horseimagebarn horses
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literary students rise up
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i was not inspired by actual image ids rather it was those twitter accounts that post reaction images with descriptions full of somewhat disparate words meant to help people who are searching for a specific image that led me to this concept i have considered using this style of posting as a type of cool storytelling medium on another blog but i think i need to improve my photoshop skills first to make it really work
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being high either shows you the beauty of the world or the evil of it
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it is comforting for me to write the posts as well i havent had as much time for creative writing recently especially poetry and this is close enough to scratch the itch i suppose i really enjoy comparing it to a form of literary doodling it pleases me
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i am glad to have been of service
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maybe that is why the ancient greeks believed horses a creation of poseidon maybe they saw it far before any of us
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shoutout monkeywikis cats
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lethalchiralium · 2 years ago
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Hey, I loved "No more" :) Could you maybe write something where Ghost and reader got real close and personal on their leave, but the reader worried their closeness might make things harder on the field so they distanced themself from Ghost and it hurt him more than he thought he would ever allow himself? I'm a slut for angst
Don’t Leave Me Like This | Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader
a/n: bro i gotta stop getting distracted cause i wrote like most of this and then was like “mmmm family fic” and evaporated . ALSO IGNORE THAT I HAVENT BEEN POSTING I AM WRITING I PROMISE
warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Mentions of sex, of death. Heavy arguments.
Summary: You we’re trying to keep him at arm’s length, knowing that karma was coming for you - but you unknowingly unleashed something much more harmful: Betrayal.
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You had only been sleeping with Ghost for five months when you brought him home with you. You forcibly made Laswell cough up leave days for you since you were promised them years ago, and had been saving. A month period out of the field would do you good, so you forced Ghost out too so you could see what he was like.
It was the best month of your life. Granted, it took the Brit a while to get used your simple life outside of the military. A small apartment in Berlin with a normal routine of riding subways and exploring the city. But you didn’t do it more than once with Ghost there, you stayed cooped up at home with a man twice your size fucking you so hard that it was hard to even stand.
He cooked dinner. And he was a surprisingly good cook, you didn’t go to a single restaurant the whole time he was there. It was like you two had lived together the way you waltzed around each other.
You would say that it was just fucking. Just points in time where you cross paths with Ghost and spend twenty minutes getting high off of each other’s bodies, but that month? It was different.
It was the little things. Tracing the plush skin of your hips, tongue licking from your sternum to your jaw - hands staying on you longer than ever before. You thought he was taking his time now that you had all the time in the world. He was wrapped around your finger every moment he spent placing feather light kisses to your beautiful skin, every moment he pressed ‘Mine’ into your neck. Even the way he pushed himself deeper into you had changed - it was soft, graceful; a complete 180 from his usual roughness to get you both to cum as fast as possible.
The days flew by, but they ticked down like a doomsday clock. You felt a tug in your chest one night, his masked face nestled into your neck as he silently slept. Your eyes watched your ceiling fan turn, the wafts of cold air hitting your half covered body.
This couldn’t persist when you were back at work. You liked him, you really did - but you liked your job too. This was wrong, you knew it. A medical sergeant sleeping with their lieutenant broke a slew of rules, but you didn’t want it to end. You didn’t want his touch to depart from your skin ever again, but you knew it had to be done.
So you had the best sex of your life that next night, then you were back on base in England at 0600 the next morning. Everything was perfect for a while, and everything hurt when he finally had enough. You had began to loosen your ties with him, getting more involved with work and staying later and later, to the point where you locked yourself in your office to sleep instead of the barracks.
You knew he had come to see you sometimes, but you never let him in.
So, he was more rough with you. Almost giving you concussions when he slammed you down on the training mat, growling, “Do better.”
He gave you the cold shoulder back, it was hard not to know that he was fuming. Even Soap was concerned, trying to get you to talk so he could play the middle man, but you were closed lipped. You figured it would be better for both of you in the long run if you stayed detached.
You’ve been the last man standing for too many teams in your career, karma would come back in full and take you too. You didn’t want him to shatter when karma pulled you down into Hell.
It was nine at night, you had finished your shower without seeing anyone. You were dressed in some old sweats, a band tee from your high school days. You had left all of your shower supplies in your locker in the shower rooms, all you had in your hands was your towel - which you were using to dry your hair.
Ghost was extremely rough today, almost pulling Soap’s shoulder out of socket and almost giving you a concussion. You let out a little sigh, rubbing your scalp with the scratchy towel - he’d get over it. Get over you, he just had to let out some steam, right? It’s been three weeks and he was still almost breaking bones with everyone on the sparring mat, never losing a single time. Even Price wouldn’t enter the ring, even with you, Soap, and Gaz throwing down a hundred dollars each. He pulled the superior card, stood and watched as his ruthless Lieutenant looked like a rabid dog, fighting for its life. And for as long as he stared at Ghost, Price stared at you, knowing that something happened to make Ghost turn into an animal. Rabid. Deadly.
You pushed your key into the lock, turning it to find that it actually wasn’t locked. It didn’t raise any sort of alarm, you were so damn tired that you must have forgotten to lock it behind you when you went to the showers. Your shoulders ached, sides throbbed - your fingers hurt from typing reports into the computer earlier. Sleep was going to be a saving grace.
You pushed open your door after you pulled your key out, shutting it behind you with your foot. You turned towards your door, hand reaching for the wall to turn on the light. You flicked it on before using both hands to dry your head. You turned back around, yawning.
“Why are you doing this?”
You jumped out of your skin so hard that you tripped backwards, your back slammed against your office door. Your eyes moved from the floor to across the room, where Ghost stood up from your cot. That explains the unlocked door.
“Ignoring me.”
He stood tall, shoulders back and arms across his chest. Your hands pulled the towel from your wet hair, moving to settle it against your chest as your back was still pressed against your door. Heartbeat in your ears, you struggled to take in a breath before whispering, “I’m not ignoring-“
“Bullshit!” His voice was sharp, almost like throwing knives into your skin - sharpened to leave marks on your bones. You stood there, frozen - his eyes bore holes of ice into your head.
“Ghost…“ The voice that left your lips did sound like you, but it sounded like an echo; small, scared.
“Fuck!” His hands went to his masked face. He took a step forwards, begging, “You can’t just-“ He held his hands up beside his face, taking in a breath through his teeth, “Let me in and when I come back, just slam the door in my face without a reason why.”
You wanted to take a step forwards, step closer to the man you did love - but you couldn’t move. Your legs felt like stone, solid and unmovable. “Please, Simon, try to understand-“
“No, fuck you for makin’ me feel like I’m allowed to be loved. Fuck. You.” His finger was pointed straight at you, he took three steps towards you while you took four steps to the side, your fingertips brushed against your locker.
Tears stung at your eyes, your heart hurt as you observed his anger. His eyes flooded with fury, maybe hatred, but you knew he felt betrayed. He had shown you his most intimate pieces, letting you hold them but you crushed them in your grip. You swallowed the thought, knowing that you had already hurt him but you couldn’t let him get hurt because you died. “I’m trying to make sure you don’t get hurt.”
“Hurt by fuckin’ what? You?” He scoffed, hands flung out to his sides. “There is nothing that-“
“When I die in the field.”
Your voice sounded so sure that it gave Ghost whiplash. The metaphorical knife you wedged between his ribs twisted as you turned your back to him, opening the locker you kept your civvies in. If you looked through his clothes, you’d see his chest wide open - ribs cracked and exposing his heart and lungs, pouring out blood that only he could see.
You grabbed an old sweatshirt, tears falling down your face. Your hands furiously rubbed at your eyes with the sweatshirt, trying to stop the flood of tears.
“You’re not gonna die in the field.”
You whipped around to him, holding your sweatshirt in your hands as you snapped, “Every one of my friends have died in the field,” Your hands tightened on the fabric, almost wanting to rip it in half. “It’ll be my time sooner or later, karma is nothing but punctual.”
He took a step towards you, his voice lowering and calming down - even just a little. “That’s stupid that you think I wouldn’t be there to protect you.”
“You can’t protect me every single second, Simon!” Tossing the sweatshirt to the side, your arms out wide, signaling that you were wide open for any attack - verbal, emotional, physical, if need be. Your eyes were soft, tears dripping onto your undershirt that almost felt like acid. “You’ve had everyone in your family die, your friends betray you, I can’t let myself be another tally on the board of people who have hurt you.” You took a step back, feeling your calves bump against the door of the locker and your hand flung back to keep yourself steady. You closed your eyes, taking a breath to steady yourself as you whispered, “I don’t want you to grieve me.”
The hand he had outstretched fell to his side, the puppet string that held it was cut. The gaze from underneath the mask felt pure - a gaze sharpened underneath a blade and ground to a point. Meant to hurt, injure. It was meant to kill. And it had turned cold.
“You hurt me more than any of that did when you turned away from me without a fucking word.”
He chuckled to himself, turning away. His footsteps were soundless as he turned to the cot, swiftly sitting down and spreading his knees to place his elbows upon. Your hands felt like stone too, chipped and worn. Was it wrong to want yourself to walk to him, kneel between his legs and beg him for forgiveness? To take his hands into your own and plead? But was it wrong to want him to find someone who wasn’t military, someone who would wait for him at their home and love him like you have?
“Did you mean it?”
You moved and grabbed your sweatshirt off of the floor, wiping your tears with one of the sleeves. “Did I mean what?” You mumbled, knowing he was only trying to get a rise out of you to continue this battle.
“When you told me that you loved me.”
You remembered it clearly.
His head was settled on your chest, stubble dug into your skin as your fingers drew shapes into his scalp. His breathing had evened out a long time ago, your eyes were settled on the ceiling fan in your bedroom.
You were halfway asleep, the comfort of his weight on your body made you so cozy, warm - you felt safe. You had mumbled the words to him, too scared to look him in the eye when he told you that he didn’t. You had to say them, they were fighting to be freed of the cage that was your heart.
You couldn’t lie to him now. “Yes.”
He wiped his nose, keeping his head down as he spoke, “You aren’t supposed to hurt people you love.”
“Me dying would hurt worse.”
“No, it fucking wouldn’t!” His head whipped up so fast, you kept your back to the locker as he stood again, hands flying out as he snapped, “Watching you live without me hurts more than any wound I’ve ever had,” His hands fell to his side, hands clenched. “losing you would haunt me more than any of my mistakes!”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Why don’t you believe me?”
“‘Cause no one loves me.”
The look he gave you was going to haunt you for forever, the look of absolute offense. He was offended that you would even say that. “I do! I fucking do, that’s why I’m in here - asking you to come home with me. Please.” He took your hands as he dropped to his knees in front of you. “Please, please put me back together. It hurts so much,” He buried his face into your hands, squeezing them. “Please, Riot.”
“Take off your mask.” The words you mumbled made him look back up at you. His hands left yours, moving to pull off his mask. As soon as he did, you could perfectly see his face that you’ve only seen twice before. The silvery scars that littered his face, the tears that fell down his face made him seem like a work of art. “Now you don’t have to keep lying.”
“Why don’t you believe me?” His hands took yours again, his dark eyes observing yours intensely, looking for any indication that you were joking. “What do I have to do to prove to you that I love you? What do you need from me?”
You gazed at him, tears falling down your cheeks. Every one of your friends had died when they were on the same team as you, two separate teams, two separate situations in two different parts of the world. You had become a medic after the first team had been killed by an unexpected ambush, but there was nothing you could do for the second team being blown to high heaven by an IED. You joined Task Force 141, prayed that the third time’s the charm - that this team would live.
Karma was a vicious beast, disguised as a haunting specter, roaming the Earth and following ten paces behind you until she decides to pounce. You were scared to die. You were scared that you would die before you could live with him.
“Don’t let me die without you.”
His eyes softened, squeezing your hands. “You’ll live as long as your heart allows when I’m around, my love. I’ll defend you until my last breath.”
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Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.
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livingproofoftbd · 26 days ago
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the pain that's living with us
rated t | 1.8k words
tags: a/b/o dynamics, werewolves, 1980s, domestic fluff, mild hurt/comfort, boys in skirts, period typical attitudes
Dream’s cheeks warm. “You liked it that much?” he asks.  George smiles. “Didn't you?” “Of course I did," Dream says. He picks at the pants. “I just don't think I should wear stuff like that.” George frowns and stands up to join him in the hall. “Why?” “Because I’m a man,” Dream mutters. “And an alpha.” George’s hands take his, lacing their fingers together to squeeze them. “And I can't even wear it out, so what’s the point?”
or, dream likes to explore with human fashion, and george likes to love him
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DAY SEVEN im only a little late its fine. this is a part two to if forever never ends because i didn't have a good way to start it until i decided to throw the werewolves in there. but if you havent read the first one you dont have to, it can be a standalone :))
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heliads · 9 months ago
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If requests are still open :) Something for dead poets society, just sth with the gang having a good time, maybe trying to stage a play in the woods? Tbh just a everyone lives and is happy AU with fluff and winter and hot tea! (while I love this book I havent read it in a very long time...)
ok consider an everyone lives au but they are not 100% happy. (i am incapable of not writing angst my apologies) also this is movie dead poets society not book because i have not yet read the books whoops. hope you enjoy xoxo
'and it's not tonight' - dead poets society
masterlist
Todd Anderson is looking out the window at a gray, blustery morning, when they ask him if he’s going to be alright. It wasn’t quite certain before then. It’s not quite certain now, either, even after he answers.
“Of course,” he says somewhat unconvincingly, “Why do you ask?”
Behind him, Charlie Dalton raises a dubious brow. For once in his life, he’s holding himself back, but the situation requires discretion, and who is he to mess up at a time like this? He’s already been warned about treating Todd like a glass doll rather than a paper mache target, but even Charlie can tell that now is the time to pull a few punches. The hollows under his friend’s eyes are far darker than they were a couple of months ago. He wears unease like a well-traveled coat, thin at the elbows and rubbed raw at the seams.
“Look at yourself,” Charlie answers at last, “You’re exhaustion walking. And don’t tell me otherwise, I’ve got eyes.”
“I should hope so,” Todd remarks, and permits himself a small curl of his lips up into a half-smile. Half-smiles are good, though. Almost there to the real thing. So he’ll tell himself, at least.
Even a half-smile can let Charlie know that he’s alright. The other boy breaks into a well-intentioned snorting laugh. “Hey, ask any girl in town and they’ll tell you I’ve got beautiful ones. ‘Sides, Anderson, you know everything’s alright. The stuff with Neil was cleared over, right? He came back.”
“He came back,” Todd repeats somewhat weakly.
“Yeah, yeah, he came back,” Charlie confirms, walking over to clap his friend on the shoulder, shaking him a little bit just to mess with him but mainly to get his affections across. “He’s a little more tired than he used to be, and we’re all plenty scared from what could have happened, but overall we’re glad to see him again. His parents realized they messed up in the nick of time, and even if they wanted him under watch for a little bit, he’s back and we’re back and everything’s alright. Capiche?” He asks dramatically, wiggling his eyebrows for a bit of flair.
“Since when are you Italian?” Todd asks doubtfully.
“Since the situation requires it,” Charlie answers him, and slings an arm around the boy’s bony frame. “Come on now. The snow’s cleared up, and even if all that does is remind us how little grass grows on our campus, it means we can go into the woods again. I’ve been talking to the boys and we all agree that it’s time to dust off our finesse with literature. What do you say, Todd? You up for another rousing poetic exchange tonight?”
Todd jerks his head up and down in a hasty agreement. “Yeah. Neill’ be there?”
“Yeah, and me, and Knoxie, and everyone else you forgot to mention,” Charlie says in a tone of mock outrage. “God, you live with the guy, don’t you? Can’t you spare some excitement for the rest of us, too?”
Todd rolls his eyes, and finds the grace to elbow Charlie in the ribs. “Spare me the self-indulgence, Dalton. I’m glad to see all of you.”
“Don’t I know it,” Charlie affirms. “It’s been a while since we were all together, yeah?”
Todd blows out a low breath as they walk back towards the halls. It has been a long time, or it felt that way, at least. After the– after the incident after the play, in which Neil was found in his father’s study with a gun in his hands about to blow the trigger, it was decided that all of the pupils of Welton Academy would go home for a short period of time to clear their heads and come back ready to face the end of term. 
Mainly, Todd thinks it was so rumors couldn’t spread about just what happened with Neil Perry to take him out of school, and he’s glad for it. Neil doesn’t deserve to have everyone whispering about what happened to make him decide that the best thing for his life was to end it. Neil deserves the world, and none of them could give it to him.
That was the worst part of it all, Todd decides. The guilt, how it wrapped around him in wires as strong as the heaviest chains of iron. He couldn’t escape it. If he was really Neil’s friend, he would have known. If he was really Neil’s friend, Todd could have stopped him. If he was really Neil’s friend, Todd wouldn’t have found out about the attempt the next morning, quietly awoken from drowsy sleep by a Charlie Dalton with eyes like a stricken soldier as he lurchingly informed Todd that Neill Perry had tried to kill himself the night before. And none of them had known. And when his father had taken the gun away, Neil fought and screamed for it, worse than he did when he tried to convince his parents that he wanted to act, louder than he protested that he would be sent away to military school.
And then they were alone. At home. The worst place for boys to be. Should you grieve the friend who is not dead? Do you call each other on the phone, and ask if you have been playing any sporting games with other boys your age, or if you have given any thought to the fact that your friend might not have wanted to die if you had praised him more in class, or clapped louder when he performed, or said something– anything– to this beautiful, brittle boy?
They don’t say any of that. They think it quite loudly, but unspoken thoughts do not travel well over the telephone. The flittering ghosts of would-be words tend to get lodged in the coils of wire from receiver to housing, across the street and over the miles of terrain until they reach the abode of the boy on the end, who also has a lot to say but won’t. And then they both stay silent. And they both know exactly what the other wanted to say anyway. That is how friendship works.
They came back, though. Welton sent out a series of letters to usher back the pupils, even had its secretaries working overtime to call the people who never seem to answer their mail. There was another rush of cars and luggage to the dorms, and then they were settled in again. Todd had wondered if he might be assigned another roommate– anyone other than Cameron, God, but preferably Neil still– and then the door had opened quietly and Neil was there again, trying for a brave smile, and saying, “Todd?” in a voice that had once rung pure and true through a theater that loved him.
Todd loves him for it. He’d embraced Neill with open arms, felt the air punch out of his lungs in one strike, but it came back. He came back. They were alright again, sort of. They might be alright in time, but time is what they have.
Now they’ve all been waiting for the snow to melt, and treading on thin ice around topics they don’t dare broach. Neil has been a good sport, never making them feel awkward for wanting to treat him like a china doll. He was good before, too, though, and– It gets hard to tell sometimes, that’s all. Hard to tell when he genuinely is unbothered and when he’s superbly good at pretending otherwise. They stick to safer subjects anyway.
At last, though, the ground is firm, the weather not terrible, and Charlie’s gone and rallied the troops for a night out there. At first, Todd’s first instinct is to panic. They aren’t supposed to be having any more meetings of the Dead Poets Society, not since Keating was the scapegoat for all the trouble and everyone cracked down on what makes a good boy want to escape, but over time he realizes that it’ll be alright. Some things are worth the risk. Making Neil smile again is one of them.
They meet at midnight. Todd sits awake with bated breath, even though the act by itself isn’t even all that unusual. They’re teenage boys. Staying up until the moon hangs high and lofty in the sky is expected, not uncommon. Still, a delicious shiver of inherent wrongdoing whispers down his spine when Neil walks slowly into the center of their shared dorm room and says quietly, reverently, “It’s time.”
As if the others had been waiting upon that very proclamation, the remaining boys peer out into the hall immediately after Neil and Todd silently close their door behind them. Their eyes meet with shared secrecy, shared triumph, and they make their way down the wooden stairs and out into the bristling chill of night. The stars are out tonight. We are all out tonight.
They all start heading out into the woods. Charlie takes off like a flash at the end of a matchstick, hurtling at a runner’s sprint across the hills, and the others follow him at varying speeds. Todd begins walking at a normal clip until it occurs to him that he doesn’t see enough heads bobbing around him and he turns to see Neil hesitating by the door.
They lock eyes, and Todd sees a whole host of things swimming in brown irises, fear and apprehension and a sick sort of guilt that makes Todd’s stomach squirm in sympathy. He gives Neil one last moment over the threshold, then jerks his head towards the others, putting a little faux arrogance into the gesture in the hopes that an actor might appreciate an act in someone else and remember what it is like to trust oneself again.
Neil accepts the move and grins, his teeth flashing in the moonlight. “I’ll race you to the caves,” he calls, and begins to run, his footsteps sure and strong.
Todd stares after him, an astronomer watching his first comet, then takes off after him. The grass is dry and quick under his feet, spread out under each footstep like the wake of a speedboat. The wind, already coarse, pulls at Todd’s skin, his hair, his clothes, but not even the strongest gusts could keep him down. Somehow, he’s already to the edge of the forest, and he lets out a loud, delighted whoop. A barbaric yawp, if you will. Somewhere in the back of Todd’s mind, a dark-haired man in a comfortable brown sweater smiles indulgently, and chalks up another small victory to the wonders of poetry.
The second his war cry leaves Todd’s throat, the other boys swarm him like moths to a flame. Someone claps a hand over his mouth, and around him, laughs echo into the crunching of leaves underfoot. 
“Don’t be so loud, you’ll get the professors on us in no time,” someone admonishes, but then a different boy cuts in, “Don’t be stupid, we’re far enough out that we can all be shouting,” and Todd’s punishment is lifted and he can yell once more. His defender– Neil, it must be, no one else can make their voice ring with glory like that in just a few words– joins in in the triumphant calls, and then they’re all shrieking up to the stars above, here we are, not boys and not men, bold enough to scream and young enough to never listen.
Todd thinks, as they run through the forest, that it’s been a while since he let himself go free. He hasn’t listened to his mind in a long time, hasn’t let the words roll around in his brain, loose marbles of similes and paraphrased poems. His musings are dusty, dark things most of the time, but sometimes the light catches them just right and they glow like sapphires. He could write a thousand stanzas if he wanted to, right now, and everyone would listen.
The Dead Poets Society reaches the caves and a hush falls among the crowd. Slowly, they edge inside, eyes wide. The rock faces and crumbling caverns should be different, Todd thinks, something should mark the passage of time and all the awful things that have twisted their fates since the last time they sat together and thought of prose, but the stones still look as they did the last time they were here. The moss grows in familiar patterns, albeit a little thicker in certain patches now that it hasn’t been scuffed by boots in a month or so, but one of Charlie’s magazines that he forgot to take back with him turns up under some spiderwebs, and Todd’s favorite place to sit is still just as inviting. Maybe, then, the only thing that changed was them. Maybe that’s all that needs to happen.
“So?” Meeks asks, settling into a seat, “What are we doing tonight?”
“Poetry, duh,” Charlie answers him, rolling his eyes fondly. “We’re the Dead Poets Society. What else would we do, peruse our textbooks?”
This earns him a vengeful swat on the shoulder from Meeks, but even Charlie can admit that the question was fair. They’ve read plenty of poems, they’ve written a few, they’ve even gone off and run some improv limerick challenges, although Todd notes that they haven’t brought nearly enough alcohol for that tonight.
After a few moments’ thought, someone suggests a play. It might be Todd. Instantly, the idea is accepted, and roles are divided out. They’ll be doing Hamlet, since there are plenty of long sticks outside and everyone is quite fond of the idea of pretending to run each other through. Pitts is already practicing his death rattles, except he’s not very good at it, and it sounds more like he’s hacking up a lung or two.
Neil, though, is glowing at the idea, and even though they haven’t got any scripts so everyone is mostly just planning on paraphrasing the hell out of one of William Shakespeare’s finer works, Todd gets the idea that Neil has a few memorized soliloquies rattling around in his head already.
Good, then. They’ll enjoy tonight, and the next night they’re out here, and the one after that, too. It has been a very long winter, but Todd has caught his first glimpse of new spring, and he gets the feeling that warmer, sunnier days aren’t the impossibility they seemed a few weeks ago. The days are healing, and they will too. And so the Dead Poets come back to life.
requested by @reinekes-fox, i hope you enjoy!
dead poets society tag list: @faerieroyal
all tags list: @wordsarelife
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senfena · 1 month ago
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Life is Strange: Double Exposure spoilers below
So I got involuntarily spoiled about the pricefield sitch. I'm still mostly spoiler free, but after getting spoiled, I read up on what i could about chloe. Seems like it's still a good game so far...if you picked the sacrifice chloe ending. But if you picked the sacrifice arcadia ending...chloe leaves max? The same chloe who formed an immense bond with rachel within a 2 day period, intense enough to decide to leave town with her after only knowing her for that long, and resented her for leaving her for frank? the same chloe who said she'd take max back in a heartbeat even though she hadnt made contact in 2 years? The same chloe who promised that she would never leave max, and would forgive whatever decision she made at the end as the right one? No, this isn't the same fucking chloe at all. She decides to leave max on her own, because max is apparently still stuck in her trauma and chloe wants her to move on from it. Y'know, the complete inverse of their dynamic in game 1. They didnt even give their reason for breaking them up as anything *good*, no, its "max i really wish you'd move on from this ptsd already, the thing i refused to do for years and regularly took it out on you that first week we reunited and we fell in love and you let me live by destroying an entire town anyways, also i kinda blame you for killing my mom even though i promised you that would not happen and seemingly has not been an issue for the last 10 years of our lives until now."
I'm still gonna give it a shot, because i wanna see how it goes, but my playstyle is absolutely gonna be informed by this. As much as i can make this happen in game with the plot and choices available, without chloe, my max truly doesnt fucking care anymore. not about herself, and not about how her decisions affect anyone else. "you are my number one priority now, you are all that matters to me" still rings true, even in their current state. And if my investment in these people's well beings is non-existent, then so is hers.
I don't wanna give a full judgement on this game when i havent completed it yet. But as of this moment, don't be surprised if my final review ends up being "if you saved arcadia, play this game. If you saved chloe, read the fuckin comics."
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strawberrymilkcart · 14 days ago
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oc dump(pt 1)
i'd TOTALLY do a whole post on each and every character thats important to this story but im pretty sure theres a word limit, also i havent gotten to drawing most of them.
the story ranges from 1905 to 2002, surrounding a certain bloodline and how different their lives are in each time period.
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⬆️Louisa Montour is the daughter of a successful horserace track owner from Canada that just recently opened another track in California. She's considered apart of upper-class society since her father is so wealthy. Being a young lady in the Edwardian era is hard, she dreams of being a successful painter who travels but can't obviously - because back then women were expected to be maids or mothers. She's engaged to a Sicilian-American, Calogero Sciascia, an heir to his family business - but shes in love with another man, a stable hand, Samuel.
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Samuel(left) is a stable hand who works for Louisa's father. He left home for higher pay, he always sends majority of his check to his family. He and Louisa bond over music and books. Calogero(right) is a snob from New York who only cares about money.
Samuel is a total sweetheart who dreams of becoming a lawman and having enough money for his family to live comfortably.
Calogero is just a coward who only thinks of wealth and his bloodline being successful. The only good thing about him really is he's charismatic.
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