#or will it just live inside me until i die
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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 2 days ago
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reader pronouns: she/her Glenn was up early. Maggie was still sleeping and she needed it... so he'd headed downstairs and dug through the cabinets until he found an old box of chai tea. He'd put on the kettle, poured his own cup and a spare, and sat himself down at the kitchen island, and he waited.
And right on time, Daryl's boots shuffled up the stairs from the basement and he dragged himself into the kitchen to face another day.
"Hey," Glenn greeted him kindly. Daryl looked up, struck by someone else being awake at the early hour.
Daryl tried to answer, but nothing came out at first until he cleared his throat, and then he managed a gravelly, 'Hey" in return.
"You look terrible," Glenn said sympathetically.
"...Thanks," Daryl growled back. Then he noticed that there was a second cup of tea sitting on the kitchen island beside Glenn. Swirls of steam lazily rose and drifted in the air.
"Come on and sit down for a minute. I think we should talk," Glenn said. He gestured to the stool in front of the mug.
Daryl hesitated, but then went to join him.
"I think I know why you've been looking so rough lately," Glenn said.
Daryl stared back at him, his blue eyes narrowed in something remarkably like suspicion. "I just ain't slept—"
"—since she left," Glenn interrupted. "I know. And it's not exactly a coincidence. Is it?" he asked.
Daryl shifted nervously and dropped his gaze to the counter, to his boots, to the mug sitting untouched in front of him, to anything except Glenn.
"When Maggie and I got separated after—after the prison... it was agony. I mean, I really thought that if I couldn't find her... I'd just give up and die. That would be it, you know? Because nothingness seemed like the better option compared to living without her." Daryl's blue eyes furtively glanced up to meet Glenn's. "But I knew, I knew, that she was out there. And that kept me going and it was the only thing that could put my world right again. So I did everything I could in my power to make that happen."
Daryl gulped and chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, so hard that he tasted the tang of copper. "Why're ya tellin' me this?" he drawled, his voice gritty and tired.
"You know why. She's the one who sets your world right. And if that's true... then you have to go after her and bring her back. Whatever it takes. You have to find her and tell her. And I'm not telling you anything that you don't already know. I'm just trying—to... speed it along a little, I guess," he said with a dry laugh and a sympathetic look. "Whatever is stopping you—" Glenn shook his head, "fuck it. Do it. Set your world right, Daryl. You can't keep going like this. More than that, you shouldn't." Prompt: "I haven't slept since she left." A/N: I'm not crying. It's just raining on my face...
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girlfishes · 1 day ago
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I think that there is a compelling biological argument that men are naturally aggressive.
This will be me yapping for way too long, but hear me out.
In many sexually dimorphic species, the males live a very short life. Think of bugs, like spiders and wasps. When males are born, they inseminate eggs and then die, or eaten, or exiled. To keep them involved any longer is a waste of resources that could be used on the females to create more offspring. Male bugs live a harsh life, because they are barely necessary except in their limited reproductive role.
Bugs are r-selective species, which means that their reproductive cycles prioritize producing as many offspring as possible with the expectation that most will die before they reach maturity. And the limiting factor in that equation is the number of females, which means that more males are created than are necessary in a 50-50 split.
As life forms become more complex, species become k-selective. This means that the energy in reproduction is put into creating few good-quality offspring. The mothers spend more time with their children, gestate them inside their bodies in the case of mammals, and stay with them until they reach maturity. It takes much longer for a k-selective species to reach sexual maturity, and males in such species are no longer anatomically inferior like they are as bugs.
The primary interest of the individual male is to make sure that his genes are passed on. But this isn’t so easy. I’m going to speak in terms of bears from now on. One male bear can impregnate 50 female bears, and those female bears will no longer be fertile for some time. Bears won’t just pair off monogamously, so male bears face steep competition. They kill each other and they kill each other’s cubs in competition to the limited females who can pass on their genes.
Now what does this have to do with humans? Well, we’ve established that in order to survive and personally reproduce, a male of any species is fighting an uphill battle due to the limited number of females and the female need to not waste precious resources on them. Both of these stem from the different reproductive roles inherent in sexual dimorphism seen across species. The males who succeed in reproducing will have necessarily been stronger and more aggressive. Basic survival of the fittest method will tell you that whatever causes these traits will be passed down.
Humans are the same. The bodies of women are largely organized around the production of large gametes and the gestation and feeding of offspring. The male body is organized around the production of small gametes. Males have been selective bread over millions of years to compete with other men and ensure that women cannot siphon resources away from them. This manifest in higher muscle mass, larger stature, and yes, high testosterone.
For thousands of years human males have forced themselves to remain relevant by crippling the lives and freedoms of women by the disabling nature of pregnancy and their superior strength. They also wage this battle psychologically, which is unique to human beings.
It is important to note that I can argue these points and still acknowledge that men do have the ability to think, feel, and reflect on their actions. If they so chose, they could turn their backs on this troubled past and start a new way of society which values individuals for their minds instead of their bodies.
This is not a fatalist dooming of all future men to forever stick to this pattern. The aggressive actions of men are borne from a deep insecurity that women do not need them. Because we don’t. But the thing is, human beings are capable of valuing each other for more than our reproductive roles or capabilities. Men need to not let their maleness define how they relate to women and each other, but let their humanity guide how they treat other humans. Only then can we leave this all behind.
If you read all of this, thanks for bearing with me.
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fishylikeakoi · 3 days ago
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I think I fell in love with a vigilante - Jason Todd x Reader
First time trying in this format, let’s see if I’m still kicking lol.  
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I (GN23) think I'm in love with one of the vigilantes in my city and this makes everything more complicated for the simple fact that he makes my job 10 times more difficult, being a nurse where I live is not an easy task. The vigilante (M23) in question isn’t someone accessible on a daily basis and is often seen as deadly by the criminals I end up looking after, I don't blame them, if I were one of them I would also die of fear just seeing the silhouette in the shadows. We met when he was almost unconscious and having a lot of difficulty getting from one ledge to another, landing disastrously on my balcony and casually covered in blood as if he had plunged into a river, I gathered all the strength in my body at the time and took courage to bring it inside my cramped apartment and, apparently, against the man's wishes.
After tending to his wounds properly and giving him some food, he disappeared through my balcony door and after that, we unconsciously created a routine by the way he returned daily and sometimes approached me on the street during my walk home, claiming that it was 'dangerous for me to walk alone through the city streets at such a late hour'.  - “The window is open, be careful with these shits.” He said, already entering through the window.
The hospital also benefited from this secret interaction, receiving large donations of equipment and money in the name of the security guard, now the criminals were “cataloged” by blood type and even some organs that were functioning for donations and I remember well having commented on this problem with him on one of our nights eating together. He is someone very kind despite his appearance and that is what caught my attention the most from the first day, from the way he makes sure my entire apartment is safe to putting his number as an emergency contact on my cell phone, fighting with me for not eating right and staying silent when I talk about his completely healthy habits like staying awake for more than 72 hours at a time.
He, with all the certainty in the world, must know who I am even though he didn't ask anything, after all he buys my forgiveness through things that interest me, homemade food and motorcycle rides until the wee hours of the morning even though he knows that I would forgive him easily, he insists on do this. I, on the other hand, don't question much about his life, even though the scars tell me it's painful and I probably won't like hearing the end of it. Every time I remember him my heart beats faster and my stomach stops working and my hands itch to touch his, to cover his helmet in kiss marks and then leave even more marks beneath it.
Honestly, I feel like a teenager confessing here, but my friend from work S (F19) insisted on writing and seeing what you think I should do, even though I knew the answers would be obvious at this point in the tournament. I don't know whether to update as I make some progress in our relationship (?) or pretend to have dementia if nothing works out, but one thing is certain; 
If he ever sees this, know that I won't try to deny it anymore, Red Hood.
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ungarmax · 2 years ago
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This is what Taako remembers, later:
He remembers the attic, small, dusty, claustrophobic. Things stacked up in corners, becoming looming shadows in the low light of the candles. Dust that kicked up from every surface, over books and papers and wood.
He remembers the circle, lines of white chalk that curve around in delicate strokes erased and redrawn many times by hesitant hands. Symbols along the edges; the dragons entwined, male and female, symbolizing the perfect human, drawn upside down to depict God being summoned to earth; the lion with its jaw wide open as if to swallow the sun, the souls returning to the world from where they reside.
He remembers fear and excitement and anticipation, all rolled up into one feeling exploding out of his heart, a feeling too big for his body. It's a feeling of satisfaction; he's brilliant and he knows it, they're brilliant, and anyone who says otherwise is selling something.
He remembers light, white at first, blinding as it rises up from the edges of the circle where his hands rest, around the materials they had gathered for the transmutation, and he remembers knowing they've cracked the code. He remembers light, the way it had suddenly dimmed into a deep purple, casting dark shadows over his face and hers, and that had been his first indication that something had gone wrong.
He remembers the way his body is unmade, he remembers standing and then falling as his left leg unwraps like a ribbon falling away from him, all the way up past his knee. Then there is blood and blood and blood, and he remembers crying out as the pain hits him like a freight train. He sees the truth and he won't remember it right away later, but it has his leg now.
He remembers Lup, hand outstretched and screaming as she too falls away, spiraling, unmade, into nothing, nothing, nothing.
He remembers being alone.
He remembers knowing the answer now of how to get her back, of the old set of armor under the deep red cloak. He draws the circle in his own blood, still pooling underneath his untidily wrapped stump of a leg, and there is no hesitation in his hands this time. There is no tremor in his finger as he traces the circle on the cloak, almost invisible in color; no fear as he faces the truth a second time. It takes his hand that time, his arm, up to his shoulder (right hand, no more drawing circles for him, he thinks, but he doesn't mind as long as he has his sister back).
He remembers the cloak lifting off the suit of armor like a specter, a single pinpoint of glowing white light where the face would be. He remembers his sister's voice calling his name as he bleeds out on the floor.
He doesn't remember much after that.
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acourtofquestions · 5 days ago
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Chapter 89
I just finished Chapter 89
#I just finished Chapter 89… I don’t know what else to say… I have a lot to say… but… like… no. Just no.#Kingdom of Ash spoilers in tag and I guess kinda post but not really#90s only gonna hurt more with Abraxos & Narene & I hate reading reactions & Dorian’s not there & Manon my love like what do we do now what#first read#reading reacts#live updates#read with me#cry with me die with me idk cause why with me all I have now is bad rhymes cause my brain has been evaporated too (too soon?)#read along#Chapter 89#Kingdom of Ash#Sarah Jessica Maas why did you do this to me#I miss ACOTAR where no one dies#I mean it’s well written#and I’m fangirl heartbroken#but also real world crying#cathartic read world grief Maasverse moments and love and loving and hope and destruction and despair and fangirling and feels and agh#this better have a happy ending#I can’t keep calm but I guess I’ll read on#I don’t know the last time a book made me actually cry this much and broke my heart so deeply… I miss you already Asterin… Vesta… Sorrel… 13#stupid tag letter count cut off stopping me from listing them all but my loves … always … until the darkness claims us… and even then…#I am not okay#I am dead inside#I will never recover#KoA actually stands for Killed Off All of my soul that’s what the KOA part means#SARAH WHAT DID YOU DO#I wish I could hug fictional characters#haven’t finished the book yet just the chapter that finished me#once 13 always 13#I prefered live Fenrys since it ACTUALLY INVOLVED LIVING
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truly-quirkless · 3 months ago
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@djsouled asked:
[ sms ] what are the odds you can cover for my english class today, eh? say one of our favorite blonds ('sides you, of course) started coming down with something. :)
[Unprompted. || Accepting!]
Yagi tilted his head. It wasn't often that his phone went off for reasons other than missions- so to see Yamada's contact flash on the screen caused him a small deal of worry. He was quick to unlock the device, heading to the chat in question--- and relaxing slightly, though his concern was not fully abated.
[Present Mic] [what are the odds you can cover for my english class today, eh? say one of our favorite blonds ('sides you, of course) started coming down with something. :)]
A small chuckle escaped him at that.
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[Self] [The odds are one in one. Just send me whatever lesson plans you have, and I'll look them over when I have the chance. Do you want me to pick up anything later? I can make a rather nice soup for the funniest blond, if you want.]
He could let Nezu know that he'd be taking over Yamada's English courses for the day. Of course, Yagi had already spent all of his hours...- He couldn't just let villains slide!- But at least he'd be able to teach as his True Form. Another day as 'All Might's personal assistant', it would seem...and slightly, this time, Yamada's.
That caused another soft chuckle.
[Self] [There isn't a quiz today, is there?]
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faaun · 1 year ago
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whenever i think/talk abt a "you" it's at least 5 different people usually
#ive been thinking about how you separated the star of david into triangles and taught me about the equilibrium about as above so below#are we in equilibrium? ive been thinking about the star of david and the rest in peace beneath it#fuck the fascists and fuck how they took you and fuck how theyll take everyone. am i good at analysis?#it turns out weve all been lying a lot. it turns out the person weve all lied the most to was ourselves.#ive been thinking about your 5 journals and a whole week of crying just to realise our sin. you felt like a nucleus inside a fuzz of#electrons and i felt like the fuzz of electrons. we caught a ribbon and followed it past the point of discomfort#this is how you breathe so that you dont die and this is how you breathe so that you do. on your own terms.#i am going to be a good architect. i am going to be a good engineer. i am going to be a good neuroscientist. i am going to be good.#i reserve the label for being a let-go-of-labels person. i am going to be the one who lets go of identifiers#and make it my identity. how do you achieve constant bliss? separate the nucleus and the fuzz.#suffering from the impact of the self and the self-image، you told me about the bliss of separation.#okay. let them hate the cloud. youre inside of it all. i am nothing. this is not a label for the self. mereology is a lovely thing.#baby you are ripping through all these spiderwebs just to live. this is part of the normal developmental process. i am surrounded by people#who throw sums of millions out of their mouths like any other lovely word. i cant stand the thought of your loss#except only in theory. ive been thinking about the bird with the broken wing in florence and how we stood around it until#two friends picked it up and took it home in hopes of nursing him back to flight. ive been thinking about how we are designed to care#for each other. tomorrow you will have your dreams crushed. the day after you will keep going. we are sharing#in the wonders of being perceiving beings. isnt that enough? why do you need to perceive the monstrosity of your own soul? is it#because i love you? is it because you love yourself? you love yourself enough to allow yourself to feel the terrible corners of you.#you can finally stand on your own. you can only stumble forward until you walk for the first time.
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boygirlctommy · 1 year ago
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ok but this animatic is gonna be so good if i actually make it
#my post#now i just have to. draw it.#but like!! it goes through all 3 episodes right. it starts w ranboo opening his eyes and waking up in the cabin#he goes through the cooking show and when the audio distorts on the word ‘decimal’ the slime turns red!#then all the sneeg stuff and at ‘condemn him to the infirmary’ rnab walks through the door and gets snatched by rats! then its the key room#from ep 2. gets through thst quick and its the surgery room! when audio distorts on ‘trouble’ the slime turns red AGAIN! and then the#‘scattering sparks of thought energy’ bit is the 3rd room w all the people! ‘here in my kingdom-cower and pray’ is sneeg being mind wiped.#the crazy bit is when we go through all the other rooms and the ending of it is hitw. then rnab going through puzzlers office. the ‘sososo’#is rnab seeing the cameras and walking off set! ‘spiralling down thy majesty’ is when hes staring at the showfall logo! then hes following#hutchs instructions and then he finds charlie and drags him along on ‘i was just a boy you see’#and on ‘i plead of you have sympathy for me’ theyre running and ranboo hits the button on ‘me’. he turns and the camera spins with him. and#he gets kidnapped again. ‘see how the serfs work the ground’ is hutch. ‘see how they’ has the lights slowly coming up#‘see’ shows a few… employees? then ‘how’ is a bit more and ‘they’ a spotlight shines on rnab all crucified yknow. and ‘see how the brain#plays around’ is mr squiggles! ‘and you fall inside a hole you didnt see’ both. then the die/live vote pops up. it goes back and forth until#‘someone help me’ on ranboo struggling against the restraints. ‘understand’ on the red lights of the mask. ‘whats going on’ on the symbol on#the back. ‘inside my mind’ is the vote struggling around the 50/50 mark. ‘doctor i cant tell if im not me’ is a wider shot of ran and then#the box snaps shut and the screen fades to black.#but! but then! on ‘when it grows bright’ the same animation from the beginnibg plays!#ranboo wakes up in the cabin and looks around!#:) ‘when it grows bright the particles start to marvel having made it through the night#never they ponder whether electric calming if you look at it right’#yeah. abywahs i like this animatic so far
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tchotchkez · 3 months ago
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🥲
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hereticsgravesite · 3 months ago
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incendiorum · 4 months ago
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ADAIR WE HAVENT DONE MERMAID PIRATE STUFF IN SO LONG WHATS WRONG W US
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and if you vote for ME this NOVEMBER I WILL remedy this
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pickapea · 5 months ago
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i have rough, calloused fingers but not because i've been working the earth or have learned to play the guitar but bc i have very strong compulsions to hit really hard at random places on my phone screen or computer keyboard when the vibes under the surface of them feel off
#shady websites are my greatest enemy bc i have to slam down on the mouse very hard many many times per minute to find peace#and that's where the evil ads wait for me#i also can't stalk people on instagram and so on bc i WILL have to hit the screen vv hard many times at random and that's how you get caugh#my fingers hurt really bad if i've spent a whole day on the computer bc i have banged on it many many times every minute very very hard#this started months ago#it's also soo annoying when watching videos on my phone bc i keep pausing the video and skipping around accidentally#i once tried to not do it i watched a music video and the Feeling came over me that there is something wrong and imbalanced under the scree#and i said No. i will not slam hard at the screen. i am strong. i will simply watch the video and the feeling will go away. it doesnt matte#the feeling did not go away and i did not simply watch the video and i was not strong. i did slam hard at the screen#it felt HORRIBLE! i couldn't live like that. my whole body was goddamn screaming until i gave in. i couldn't even focus on the video#anyway. my fingers hurt and the pads of them are harder than they should be all things considered#i can't even describe the Feeling. it waits just under the surface of the phyical object. and i have to hit it#the only way to not his it. for example the computer keyboard. is to simply press on the button instead of slamming it#press on it for a really long time and in the exact right place so the energies become balanced again#lowkey it takes me longer to write anything bc i have to rub at my fingertips with my other fingers bc the vibes feel off inside the finger#bc they touch the evil keyboard with strange energies hiding under the keys#RRRRAAAAAAAAAHHHH#i don't even have ocd. it's not like i have obsessive thoughts that i try to control by doing compulsions#there's no ''my parents will die and i will get a disease and i'll burn the house down''. it just feels. Bad. and Wrong. and i can't let it#can't let it be#AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA#pickapost
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steveyockey · 5 months ago
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To be aware you might be trans but unwilling to do anything about it is to create endlessly bigger boxes within which to contain yourself. When you are a child, that box might encompass only yourself and your parents. By the time you are a gainfully employed adult, that box will contain multitudes, and the thought of disrupting it will grow ever more unthinkable. So you cease to think of yourself as a person on some level; you think not of what you want but what everybody expects from you. You do your best not to make waves, and you apologize, if only implicitly, for existing. You stop being real and start being a construct, and eventually, you decide the construct is just who you are, and you swaddle yourself up in it, and maybe you die there. There is still time until there isn’t.
This reading of TV Glow’s deliberately anticlimactic, noncathartic ending cuts against the transition narrative you typically see in movies and TV, in which a trans person self-accepts, transitions, and lives a happier life. Owen gets trapped in a space where he knows what he must do to live an authentic life but simply refuses to take those steps because, well, burying yourself alive is a terrifying thing to do. The transition narrative posits a trans existence as, effectively, a binary switch between “man” and “woman” that gets flipped one way or another, but to make our lives so binary is to miss how trans existences possess an inherent liminality.
Humans’ lives unfold in a constant state of becoming until death, but trans people are uniquely keyed in to what this means thanks to the simple fact of our identities. You can get lost in that liminality, too, forever trapped in a midnight realm of your own making, stuck between what you believe is true (I am a nice man with a good family and a good job, and I love my life) and what you know, deep in your most terrified heart of hearts, is real (I am a girl suffocating in a box).
And yet if you want to read the film as being about the dangerous allure of nostalgia, you’re not wrong. I Saw the TV Glow totally supports that interpretation, too! But in tempting you with that reading, the film creates a trap for cis viewers that will be all too familiar to trans viewers. Somewhere in the middle of Maddy’s story about The Pink Opaque being real, you will make a choice between “This kid has lost it!” and “No. Go with her, Owen,” and in asking you to make that choice, TV Glow is simulating the act of self-accepting a trans identity.
See, the grimmer read of the film’s ending truly is a nihilistic one. It leaves no hope, no potential for growth, no exit. Yet you must actively choose to read that ending as nihilistic. If you are cis and the end of I Saw the TV Glow left you with a gnawing sense of dissatisfaction, a weird but hard-to-pin-down feeling that something had broken, and a melancholy bordering on horror — congratulations, this movie gave you contact-high gender dysphoria.
In an infinite number of possible universes, there is at least one where I am still living “as a man,” embracing my fictionality, avoiding looking at how much more raw and real I feel when I “pretend” to be a woman. I think about that guy sometimes. I hope he’s okay.
Consider, then, my cis reader, that TV Glow is for both you and me, but it is maybe most of all for him. I hope he sees it. I hope he breaks down crying in the bathroom afterward. I hope he, after so many years locked inside himself, hears the promise of more life through the hiss of TV static.
Emily St. James, “I Saw the TV Glow’s Ending Is Full of Hope, If You Want It to Be,” Vulture. June 4, 2024.
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be-good-to-bugs · 8 months ago
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maybe i WILL get to move back home
#the bin#i talked to my mom and things might go ok but idk#i just have to wait and see but i desperately hope i can move. i need to see a doctor so bad. my whole body feels horrible all the time#and my tooth has gotten so much worse. i can deal with it if thres an end date. i cant deal with it indefinitely. and i cant afford to get#it fixed without insurance. i would rather die than deal with this shit for another however long i have to i CAN NOT do that#esp bc i would need to go to work while experiencing it. idk. im shaky literally ALL the time and my insides alwyas hurt and my joints#hurt so much too. and half the time im at work my chest hurts and i cant see straight. i cant fuckin do this anymorew.#apparently my dad might be getting a new job so their landlord might be more willing to renew but idk. she said she should know on april 1st#which isnt that far away but idk. i mean. its not impossible theyll renew. who knows. i hope so.#i know at keast thst i have a way to get there if there is a place for me to live so thats good. my health cant take this anymore. and im#also not able to emotionally. idk what other option i have but. god. its hard enough as is. im having like a perpetual panic attack since i#found out i probs wont get to move. im tryna be optimistic. i dont think im physically capable of staying here any longer#it was hard enough to stay herenthis extra yearm ive been having breakdowns repeatedly over it. and my physical health keeps worsening#i miss my little sister. i wanna be able to see the people i care about. theres so few people in the world i enjoy being around and i dont#get to see them ever. instead i have to see my second least favorite person in the world in order to even just get groceries#hhhh. i want the time to pass so i can know for sure but i also desperately dont wnat it to cause im so scared itll be bad news#whatever. i will hope and believe that itll work out until i know that it wont. hhhhh. worst case scenario i guess ill just have to save up#and figure out moving there later on but like. i was really happy to NOT have to worry abt rent or working so i could focus on my health and#then i could go back that that stuff. oh well
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suguann · 8 months ago
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an. part two of this | masterlist
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You tell him you broke up with your boyfriend while he’s away for work, bunked up in a safe house in the middle of nowhere with shit reception, hearing your words as clear as day as if they weren’t the chopped-up version coming through his burner phone.
“It just…didn’t work out.”
It didn’t work out.
He pretends his stomach doesn’t pleasantly twist because he’d expected it to happen eventually. He’s not happy about it—although it does make the desert heat more bearable in his heavy tactical gear—and tells Soap to fuck off when he comments on it.
It was a one-time fuck because Simon doesn’t date. He’s tried in the past before he met you—the flowers, the late-night dinners—but with him being gone almost every other month (sometimes longer, shorter if he’s lucky), it never works out in the end. Sleeping with you twice would fall under that category, the quasi-relationship kind, and make everything messier than it needs to be. 
Just some fun, no strings, those are the words he promised.
If only he believed them.
He does, for all of two weeks until he’s home again, and it’s summer, so you’re wearing a flowy dress that shows off the long expanse of your legs. 
(He’s a goner—not even sure why he tried to think otherwise.)
That one time he’d promised turns into a second, both of you stumbling into your apartment after a night out. The music from the pub still thumping loudly underneath your floor as he pushes you against the front door, hands in your hair—on your waist, underneath your skirt, down your thigh to hitch it over his waist—teasing your mouth open with a swipe of his tongue across your bottom lip.
You make this delighted little noise in the back of your throat, arching into him, and his hand spans down your stomach, beneath your underwear, to nudge your messy clit with his knuckle, wanting to hear all the sounds you make now that he has you alone. 
A whiny cry of his name rewards him—jeans tightening around his waist at the sound—when his fingers go down, down until they press against your tight little hole, one finger pressing inside slowly. "If I make you cum, I get to fuck you here.”
You smile prettily, and it disarms him. “If you make me cum, you can fuck me however you want.”
Neither of you makes it to the bed, falling asleep on the living room floor instead, the blanket from the couch draped haphazardly over both of you with his arm curled over your waist.
That night had been a slip of judgment, a product of wanting something warm and soft after several months of only having his hand for company.
It happens again and again, and he keeps letting it happen until there’s no more hiding under the guise of just fun because it somehow turns into a lot more than that.
Simon can’t explain how it happens—maybe becoming something he can touch and hold and think about often—but he finds himself in an exclusive relationship with you that isn’t exactly a relationship because he’s unsure of the ins and outs that they entail.
(Always has been.)
His father was a shit role model, and it was always easier finding someone new who didn’t know his name or care about his scars and only wanted a nice fuck. There had never been any point in shooting for something serious when it was always out of the question for him, until now, that is.
He takes you to that over-rated restaurant overlooking the Thames Marcus never brought you to. A picture of you and him with the sunset in the background—your smile almost blinding in the photo—becomes his home screen, and he finds he doesn’t care when Soap has something to say about it.
He lets you do nonsensical shit, like buying small plants for his house that are surely going to die from him being gone before he comes up with the great idea to give you a key. It’s just a key.
(It’s more than just a key.)
Simon finds himself asking if he can come over more often throughout the week, which slowly moulds and shifts into nights filled with things other than sex—sleeping after a long day of work, cuddling on the couch, cooking together, going to the movies—he doesn’t try to make a big deal out of it because you used to hang out all the time without sex. 
(Somewhere, there’s a but in there.)
There’s still no label to whatever this is, and he wonders if you want him to be the first to say the thing you’ve both been dancing around for a little over…he can’t remember, but he knows it’s been long enough for your things to mix in with his at his house. 
Be with me because I’m yours, and you’re mine, that’s what he’s trying to say, and it’s never the right time. Men like him—a little broken, rough, and jagged around the edges sharp enough to cut—aren’t good with words like that.
(That’s what he thought.)
If he hadn’t seen you talking to a guy at the pub, eyes crinkling in that same sweet way whenever Simon makes you laugh, he wonders if he would’ve been the first to break from the start. He knows it’s your job as a bartender to be nice, but his jaw clicks at the sight of the guy leaning over the bar and into your space, almost too close.
The feeling doesn’t go away until he has you spread out on your mattress under him—clothes haphazardly peeled out of the way for him to put his mouth on you—your lips pursed tight around two of his fingers to give you something to focus on as his other hand works between your thighs, pressing down on your tongue when gurgled little sounds slip out.
He teases you with a small, pink vibrator he found inside your bedside table, your legs kicking out and toes curling into his calves.
“Mine. This is mine, love,” he groans, pressing you further into the bed with his weight. “Do you understand?”
You nod, tears pearling and leaking from the corner of your eyes.
“Lemme cum,” you whine, words muffled. “Simon, I want to cum. Please.”
He won’t lie that he’s close after jerking into his fist to the sight of you writhing on the sheets—swears he can feel his heartbeat throbbing against the back of his fingers—takes in your surprised expression when he pushes forward, impaling you on the first few inches of his cock.
His stomach twists from the squeal that escapes your throat, and fuck, your cunt, so hot and tight with little pulses that drive him crazy, only growing tighter when he turns up the speed on the vibrator.
“‘Mm, gonna cum. I’m—”
He grits his teeth as you start to flutter around his cock once he’s rooted inside you. “Go on—fuck—go on, love. Let me feel it.”
You look so perfect like this, like a dream: lips parted into an enticing little O with his name tumbling out in breathy mewls, tits hanging out from the bra he shoved to the side, eyes glassy and unfocused. 
“So fucking pretty.” He kisses your throat, panting into your sweat-slick skin, and it’s not long before he’s falling over the edge with you. 
Next time, he’ll have the courage to tell you: that you’re not someone he calls for a meaningless fuck on the weekend, that Simon misses you when he’s gone and can’t wait to come home, that he wants to try with you—except not when he’s balls deep and trembling inside your heavenly cunt.
But the smile he feels against his shoulder makes him think that maybe…
Maybe you already know.
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helaintoloki · 3 months ago
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Hey I want to request something since I saw your request was open. So can you do a fic where five and y/n ( they are already married) end up in the deli with the other fives.
Basically there are only few fives that have a y/n but she's died in their timeline. So basically it's just the other fives wanting to know more about her abd the fives telling their stories of their y/n
Y/n absolutely loves the attention she almost sequeled when she saw the other fives lol.
a/n: so this actually ended up turning into a more depressing piece than i planned LOL but the original intention is there
warnings: language, angst, mentions of death, light amount of fluff
summary: your search for answers leads you to a deli with multiple versions of your husband inside
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As the danger of the impending apocalypse finally begins to sink in for Five, he realizes he needs to get you somewhere safe until he figures out a way to stop the world from ending. Thus, while his siblings continued to fight off the monstrous cleanse that was Ben and Jennifer, Five quickly grabbed hold of you and jumped you both to the only place he could think of.
You stumble over your own feet as your body adjusts to being dropped into a new setting, your hand quickly raising to shield your eyes from the bright neons that hang above you as you take in your surroundings. A subway car comes to a screeching halt in front you, and before you can protest Five is quickly ushering you inside.
“Five, where are we?” You demand, completely disoriented from having been transported away from the fight without warning and preoccupied with worry at the thought of your family fighting against the Cleanse without you both present. “Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you somewhere safe where you can stay until I figure out how to undo this mess,” he instructs you hastily, his lips pulling back into an exasperated frown at your resistance to enter the subway car. He doesn’t have time for you to fight him on this, his siblings need him, and he needs you away from the fight. Though you’re skilled at combat and wickedly smart, you don’t have powers, and Five can’t risk something happening to you while he’s preoccupied with saving the world.
“You’re leaving me?!” You exclaim in distress as panic immediately begins to take over your rational mind. You push against him harder to move away from the train, but despite all your efforts the boy doesn’t budge.
“It’s only temporary, I promise you,” he assures you, and when you shove him hard in the chest once more he tightly takes hold of your hands and brings them to his lips to comfort you. “I’ll take you somewhere nice, somewhere with a beautiful house and a garden full of strawberry bushes. I found it while exploring other timelines in search of clues on how to prevent the apocalypse, I know it’s safe because I went there alone. You can stay in the house until this is all over and I’ll come back for you.”
“Five, what if…” you swallow harshly as tears begin to well in your eyes, your emotions overtaking you at the thought of this being goodbye, “…what if you don’t come back?”
Five refuses to meet your gaze when the question leaves your lips. He’d never lie to you, and he knows he can’t guarantee he’ll live long enough to join you in the peaceful timeline he’d found, but he doesn’t have the heart to voice this to you. How can he look you in your tear filled eyes and tell you that this might be the last time you’ll be together as husband and wife?
Sighing, he releases your hands in exchange for cupping your face so that he may brush away the tears that slide down your warm cheeks. He hopes that one day you’ll be able to understand that every moment leading up to this has been for you, and he would happily die a hundred times over if it meant keeping you safe. “You’re just going to have to trust me.”
You open your mouth to argue only to snap it shut when your gaze falls over his shoulder and lands on another figure in the subway. You blink away your tears to get a better view and are left speechless when you realize you’re staring back at the face of your husband.
But how can that be when he’s standing right in front of you?
Noticing your change in demeanor, Five follows your gaze and spots the lookalike that stands across the way from you both. His features contort into confusion as you both watch the second Five offer you a wave in greeting before disappearing down the stairs. Exchanging looks of uncertainty, Five and yourself immediately rush after the doppelgänger to figure out just what exactly is going on.
Your quick chase leads you both to the front doors of a deli, the dazzling sign above welcoming you warmly as you cautiously open the doors and set foot into Max’s despite Five’s protests to wait. If this other Five has the answers you need to return home safely together, then you’ll stop at nothing to get them.
Your originally confident demeanor quickly dwindles when the restaurant becomes deathly silent upon your entry. While you only expected to see one Five, you now find about twenty of them staring intently at you as you slowly walk towards the lookalike from the subway that waves you over to his table. Five is quick to rush after you and place a protective arm around your waist; you’re not the only one unsettled by their stares, and he feels uncharacteristically territorial in the presence of himself.
“Have a seat,” the subway lookalike offers with a gesture towards the empty space across from him, and you’re both quick to slide into the cushions at his command. “I’m glad you found me.”
“What is this place?” Your husband demands impatiently as another Five dressed in a waiter’s uniform approaches your table with three cups of coffee in hand.
“This is where all the Fives come after they decide to give up on figuring out a way to stop the apocalypse.”
As he speaks, a plate of pie is suddenly placed in front of you, and before you can even open your mouth to question it, the waiter offers you wink and assures you, “It’s on the house.”
Picking up the fork, your eyes widen in surprise as you realize what specific dessert has been given to you. Looking up at the Five across from you, you ask, “How did he know that-“
“Pumpkin pie is your favorite?” The lookalike finishes for you with an amused smile before leaning back to take a drink of his coffee. “We all know that, because we all know you.”
“Me?” You repeat quietly, brows drawn together in confusion as you look to your husband who seems rather displeased with all of the attention you’re getting. He never once thought to think of himself as potential competition over you, but it figures. Who better than himself to sweep you off your feet?
“Mind telling me why you all seem to have such a great interest in my wife?” Five demands with a wry smile, eyes blazing with annoyance and a subtle hint of jealousy.
“‘Your’ wife?” The Five behind the deli counter scoffs in amusement. “Take a number, pal.”
“What deli Five means to say is that each and every one of us has our own y/n in our own perspective timelines,” the boy across from you clarifies before gesturing to the the back of the shop. Your eyes widen in shock as you take in all the various pictures of yourself that line the wall from top to bottom, and it takes you a moment to process the fact that various versions of you have existed throughout time unbeknownst to you.
“My y/n was a trained assassin,” the Five at the table next to you describes with a dreamy smile before biting into his sandwich.
“Mine was sent alongside Hazel and Cha Cha to kill me,” another voices while pulling down the collar of his shirt to showcase the ghastly scar on his chest. “She gave me this along with three beautiful kids before I screwed it all up with this end of the world bullshit.”
“If you all care so much about her then why did you give up trying to save the world?” Your husband protests in agitation. Your search for answers is going absolutely nowhere, and you’re both left with more questions than solutions. If these doppelgängers were really meant to be him from different timelines, then why did they quit so easily? His sole purpose, his entire being, was doing everything in his power to ensure the safety of his family. Come hell or high water, Five would always be willing to get his hands dirty if it meant you and his siblings lived to see another day. So why weren’t they doing the same? “Why come here instead of preventing the apocalypse so she has the chance to live a safe and happy life even if it means you can’t be in it?”
A forlorn silence fills the deli at his question, and now none of the Fives can find it in themselves to look at you. Their features are almost shameful, their eyes full of guilt and their shoulders full of tension as no one dares to answer.
“When us Fives find a way to save the world, y/n is the one that pays the price,” the boy across from you discloses somberly before tilting his head to meet your gaze. Looking at you is like looking at a ghost, and he has to stop himself from reaching out to you as if you are his own. “The Handler killed my y/n after discovering my betrayal of the Commission.”
Another Five raises a woeful hand before announcing, “Viktor killed my y/n on accident with his bow after he discovered his powers.”
“My wife took a bullet for me because she thought my life was worth more than her own.”
“Dad had y/n disposed of in my timeline because he saw her as a distraction to me and my siblings.”
“Cha Cha tracked us down, found our home, and burned it to the ground with y/n still in it while I was away trying to save the world.”
You swallow harshly and ignore the knots in your stomach at hearing all the violent ways in which other versions of you had met their end. Your heart aches at learning what these men have been through and how much they’ve lost, but it also makes you begin to wonder if your fate will be worse than any story they can come up with. Sensing your discomfort, Five wraps a comforting arm around your figure and pulls you closer into his side.
“No matter how many times I traveled back to make it right, the result was the same,” the boy across from you relents in a desolate tone. “If I couldn’t even keep the most important woman in my life safe then how could I expect myself to save the world?”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” you murmur softly, taking it upon yourself to reach across for his hand and offer your comfort. “I’m sorry for all of your losses. But as a y/n myself, I don’t think she would have wanted you to give up. She would have wanted you to keep going in spite of her death because that’s what she loved about you- your strength and your resilience when it comes to saving the people you care about.”
“God, you sound just like her,” he comments with a doleful laugh before shaking his head and pulling his hand away. “Believe me, I did everything I could. But no matter what we do, there’s no escaping the apocalypse.”
“So that’s it? There’s nothing we can do?” Five retorts in disbelief. This was all a complete waste of his time. He’s nowhere near close to preventing the Cleanse, and you’re still not somewhere safe away from the impending apocalypse.
“You can enjoy the time you have left with your y/n,” the lookalike instructs firmly, the other Fives in the deli nodding along. “You got lucky, you still have your wife, so why don’t you do us all a favor and take her somewhere nice?”
“I’m not giving up on this,” your husband argues before hastily rising from his seat in the booth. “There has to be a way to save the world, and I won’t stop until I figure it out myself.”
You watch him stalk out of the deli with purpose as he slams the door open and begins to formulate his next move. The room is silent other than the bell that jingles above the door, and you take this as your cue to leave.
“I should probably go after him,” you admit with a meek smile before scooting your way out of the booth. The Five from the subway rises to meet you, and he can’t help but to carefully cup your face in his hands and admire your features for just a moment. This might be the last time he’ll ever get to see you in person, and he’d like to commit every detail of you to memory from the reflection of the light in your eye to the smell of your perfume.
“If he ever gives you any trouble, you know where to find us,” he instructs you firmly before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head and releasing you from his hold. Smiling faintly, you return the gesture by chastely pressing your lips to his cheek before rushing off after your husband.
Who would have guessed that in every timeline, in every possible version of himself to exist, Five’s love for you knows no bounds.
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