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got annoyed with sideblog bullshit so i’ve moved five to his own blog over at @temporalies. will be following people on there as i make a taglist!

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thinking of moving five to his own blog because i hate sideblogs

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[ @violnc​ : my life feels wrong, but good. maybe that’s the best i can do. ]

as though he should be the judge of anyone's life. five scoffs a little to himself, perched on the stoop of her apartment building. he thought about teleporting into her apartment, but it's nice outside. there's a part of him that likes to look at the city minus all of the nuclear destruction. it's nice to have proof of his victory, as little as that actually means. the barista at the coffee shop a few blocks over from vanya's apartment gave him a look. unsurprising. some kid in a uniform straight out of a private school wandering new york city at night, getting a black coffee and walking back out onto the street. gone in the next second, as a bus wandered past, trundling through new york traffic.

he can see the moon. the first time he saw the moon after all those years in the apocalypse, it felt like something he didn't even recognize. like it shouldn't have even been there. it was dark at night without it. you don't realize how much light it produces until it is utterly gone for a long time, no natural cycling of the moon. he takes a long breath. he knows what vanya's hiding under the plainclothes and in the bag at her side -- the blindingly white suit, bleached by her power. so many layers in the new york cold, yes, but no one's going to notice, even if he can see the barest hint of the suit's lapel above the collar of her jacket.

no blood. utterly clean. would blood lose color, too, if it touched her skin? would it turn to vapor before it even touched her?

❝ trust me, there are worse alternatives. but i know the feeling. ❞ not the apocalypse, of course, but the afterwards. he stretches his legs out and stares at someone staggering drunkenly down the street, trying and failing to hail a taxi. ❝ that stupid old saying, you know? do what you love and you'll never work a day at your life? bullshit. ❞ the laugh is more of a sigh, any faked joy in it rising up in his throat and then suffusing outwards. ❝ people that say that didn't really think about the people who are doing something fundamentally wrong, but they're good at it. and maybe it even feels good to do. or it's all they have. or all of the above. if you're especially unlucky, i suppose. ❞ like him. like her. like us, he could say. but he really doesn't need to. the hargreeves family knows exactly what it means to be unlucky. seven children who happened to be bought from their parents by a billionnaire with an ego and no conscience.

lucky them.

five smiles to himself, staring up at the moon again. thinking about how every time she goes out and comes back, she is pristine and untouched, and how when he comes back, he is utterly covered in blood, how he cannot escape it. how he has to scrub it away and clean sets of clothing again and again. how easy it is to never forget the stains, not even when he'd like to.

❝ so maybe that's the best anyone can do. me. you. ❞ he gestures out at a few people walking past, close together and laughing to each other. ❝ them. it's a whole wide world with a lot of people in it, and i've seen a lot of them, and no one knows what the hell they're doing. most of us are just improvising. ❞ he sets his coffee down between their knees. ❝ you know, one time i had to kill a gardener in 1873. he had inadvertently invented the telephone a few years before alexander graham bell. this one little thing disrupted approximately two thousand, two hundred and forty-three other events across the timeline. one afternoon and some inspiration from watching two children extend a string between two cans. so i killed him with a garrote wire and hid him in a box in a shed. apparently no one found him until the stench was too strong. ❞

he can feel vanya looking at him. ❝ like i said: no one ever knows what they're doing. he didn't know that his invention of the telephone a few years too early would cascade outwards. that it was wrong, in terms of its repercussions. at least you're lucky enough to have the awareness that things are wrong. people don't get that opportunity. mostly they just die. ❞ he picks at a loose thread on his sleeve for a moment. 

she's giving him that look still. he can feel it on him, boring into the side of his head. five swings upright, picking up his coffee as he goes. ❝ come on. there's a chinese place a few blocks over that's open twenty-four hours. ❞ before she can stand up, he reaches over to adjust her collar, pulling it up to avoid the white peeking out over the plain brown. ❝ careful, ❞ five says mildly, drawing his hand back. ❝ right now, i don't think white should be your color. ❞

sometimes it's good to have a life-work balance, or so he's been told. he's never really known what that is, himself.

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—   ask meme   :   THE SCARY JOKES,   BURN PYGMALION!!! A BETTER GUIDE TO ROMANCE.

full disclosure, i am a monster.

despair is less abundant in those who understand how to plant their hearts in community gardens.

who could ever hurt you? who could be so cold?

the price you pay for arrogance and a false sense of humility is to face the wrath of a dying star.

the years have been hard on this lonely heart.

have you got a clue how long i’ve been pining for you?

the awful truth has eluded you for so long. everything you know is all wrong.

sucks to be an optimist in this listless dissolution.

i hope you know that you can trust me, baby.

it’s quiet now. i doubt if any thoughts will ever come again.

i’d burn it all, i’d set the world on fire just to be with you.

things will calm down soon. i’ll drink up every second i have with you.

do you want to go to the party? i want to show you off to every person i know.

you’re being followed by the ghost of what i can’t absolve.

do you find yourself at the edge of my ocean? tip-toeing ‘round the broken glass in the sand?

love is just a name for you to call me by.

to be honest, i would like it if you would cry more than you do.

i’m just barely keeping up with my constant unraveling.

i’m verbose enough for the both of us.

we can’t all be open floodgates, after all, but you don’t have to be a dam for me.

don’t you know i’m obsessed with you, too?

what a fraud you are. the only gift you possess is your viscousness.

every day, you’re like a different girl. who are you trying to fool?

it’s such a pleasure to know the real you.

consider the vastness of the countryside, the darkness of the mountains.

you say that the moon is your only friend, but she’s a bitch and she doesn’t listen when you cry.

i’ll distract from all the tragedies.

i know my survival is so boring, but i’ve got nothing else to give.

i have never been the type to go to church, and i have never prayed for anyone but her.

i hope, my dear, life doesn’t wear you down.

how long will this follow you? it’s so bitter that it’s lost control of you and it thirsts for your destruction.

i can be a person if you give me the chance.

i tried just burning the whole thing to the ground today.

i danced with you in a nightmare.

the sun is just a copper coin i flip in bets against the void.

i just can’t stand the thought that a love as beautiful as ours could be forgotten.

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hmm... starter call after dnd? (or send in memes i will reblog one shortly)

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spare a Plot....

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aesthetic sideblog over at @atopiae

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some people may say things like ‘haven’t you seen john wick, don’t you know five having a Revenge Quest against the commission will end badly’, and i go ‘yes i have also seen the vengeance trilogy by park chan-wook, i think about revenge themes and cycles of violence all the time, and this is why i think it is actually valid of five to fall back into a cycle without the easy answer of Stopping The Apocalypse, in the same way he very easily falls back into functioning alcoholism the second he thinks he’s stopped the apocalypse.’ in this essay i will,

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book meme :// the city in the middle of the night by charlie jane anders ( lightly edited to fit structure; change pronouns as necessary. )

i used to imagine that in the darkness, i could change shape.

that’s what history is – the process for turning idiots into revolutionaries.

i don’t think of myself as special. i think of myself as invisible.

i want to keep surprising them all, until they die of surprise.

every time i think i know what’s wrong with me, i find something else.

tell me all about it when you’re yourself again.

you only fantasize about princes when you’ve never seen one.

i’ve lost a lot of people, and i’m very familiar with that thing where the past becomes an optical illusion.

dreams intrude into reality all the time, and you can’t waste your energy getting mad at them.

most people die for stupid reasons. the most anyone can hope for is to make some noise before that happens.

my life feels wrong, but good. maybe that’s the best i can do.

you’re in control. you’re stronger than those monsters.

have you ever had something happen to you that scared you so much you felt like you were going to keep reliving it forever?

i think this town thrives on hate.

i would have broken everything. i would have killed anybody to have you back here with me.

the part that worries me is where you care more about ghosts than the people right in front of you.

whatever comes next, we’re going to demolish it together.

a lot of what people call civilization is just neglect.

time passes, even when you can’t see it, and people keep grudges too long and die too soon.

i don’t know why i deserved to survive.

it’s already decided.

wasn’t like i chose to become a pacifist or anything, just that my body chose that on its own.

of course somebody was bound to try and weaponize you.

people always have brand-new reasons for doing the same thing over and over. i need to see something new.

i can’t stop screaming, after holding it in for so long.

i am so tired of this clumsy human voice. i never even liked talking.

i can finally understand, and be understood.

i wasn’t ready for how much i miss people, after always wishing i could escape from them.

dread lasted longer and went deeper than awe or joy.

i can’t stand to think of myself as having a human body, or a voice that could expel sounds human ears could catch and ingest. 

i thought i’d made peace with these memories.

you’re my jinx. i guess i have to find a way to live with you.

to join with others to shape the future is the holiest act.

you were going to make everything better.

i’m still me. i haven’t changed.

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Ok <walks away in a direction you cant see or imagine>

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[settling in for my day job at the hot take factory] hey so rather than having five constantly ping pong around between apocalypses (apocalypsi? i like that i know it’s not grammatical) we should instead let five deal with the fallout of all the shit he’s gone through. yes i know this ignores the audience demographics of tua but it’s my blogue and i make the content. also they had to cut five out of the scene w/ vanya locked in the hell room by luther because frankly five would’ve ended that shit instantly by no-clipping through the wall and getting vanya out of the room. 

basically let’s let five consistently fail at being a person for a while and also just go after the commission and nearly make his life into the structure of a korean revenge thriller because of it

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                 Who will help me

                 never again, I need an excarnation specialist—                  Having been born,

                 I get so tired waiting and waiting for the world to end—                  Such a slow

                 drip, rushed by occasional                  devastations: flood, fire, storm, plague, the whole

                 routine—

— Dana Levin, from “By the Waters of Lethe,” Banana Palace

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so this is pretty much cannon right