suicidal-sunshine-boy

[suicidal-sunshine-boy]

knights of the round table

[suicidal-sunshine-boy]

Do you ever wonder what happened to the weird girl from your middle school?

[suicidal-sunshine-boy]

hi, my name is ofelia and i got in a car accident a couple weeks ago and i’m moving in November. I need help to be able to afford both those things. While I do work full time I am a teacher and it’s simply not enough to handle both at the same time. and i’m in trouble. so please if you can consider helping me and my soon to be roommates out so we can have a safe place to live. 

paypal / cashapp / gfm / venmo: cosmobaut

[suicidal-sunshine-boy]

brown paper napkin tastes a little bit worse than the pages of a math textbook, which have a sort of generic sweetness to them almost like the glue on an envelope. math textbook paper sticks to your tongue and leaves it pleasantly dry, because the density of paper is easily capable of absorbing the quantity of saliva on the average tongue. that must be the reason you can dry flowers between the pages of large book. you could almost say it's astringent in a roundabout kind of way, the dryness of the tongue leading to an altered sense of taste, certainly less vibrant but bringing intensity to the subdued flavors in the same way that silence can sometimes bring an intriguing character to otherwise quiet and unremarkable sounds. brown paper napkins on the other hand are much too flimsy and merely turn into an unpleasant pulp that clings to your tongue and makes you want to eat the burger or french fries instead of the napkin

[suicidal-sunshine-boy]

Hi, I really like your writing! Could you possibly write a snippet with hero who is awfully scared of pain and villain who enjoys frightening them with it but not actually causes serious damage? Thank you

"You know," the villain said. "I think you may be in the wrong profession."

The hero said nothing, their breathing shallow, their attention stuck unerringly on the villain's hands. Those hands, that touch, that could cause such unimaginable pain whenever the villain so wished it. Hands that, right then, were doing no such thing.

Indeed, the villain's fingers were massaging gently at the hero's scalp, working steadily downwards from the top of their head. The hero could see them in the reflection of the mirror, standing behind them, perfectly at ease.

"The life of a hero," the villain sighed, "is pretty much a guarantee of pain, you know? Noble suffering, yada yada. Emotional trauma. Physical, too, of course."

The hero whimpered.

"Oh?" the villain raised a brow. "Sorry. Am I using too much pressure? You must tell me. You're very tense."

The hero opened their mouth to say something, perhaps please god step back and stop touching me, but their mouth was too dry. Nothing came out. It was pathetic.

The villain met their terrified eyes, and smiled sunnily. They rubbed massage oil over their hands, filling the room with the soothing scent of lavender, and found a particularly tight spot right where the hero's neck turned to shoulder and dug their thumb in.

The hero gasped, squirming like a fish on the hook, because sure it was a good sort of pain but those hands - those hands -

The pain melted into relief, into lightness, into something like pleasure as the knot unravelled away beneath their skin.

"Please," the hero managed. "Please." They slumped boneless, shaking, chains rattling where they kept the hero's wrists pinned to the stool.

Shame and fear burned through them. They could feel the tears prickling at the corners of their eyes.

"You're alright," the villain said. "I've got you. Breathe."

As if that wasn't the awful part! As if the hero couldn't see the gleam of terrible delight in the villain's eyes.

"I said," the villain's hands tightened, momentarily. "Breathe."

The hero forced themselves to take deep breaths, in and out, in an out, counting the dizzying seconds. They dug their nails into their palms.

"Good," the villain said, and their hands moved onto find another new point of tension on the hero's back. "Anyway. I appreciate you're very brave, and all. Braver than the fools who are too dumb and reckless to think to be scared certainly. But it's not good for your health, darling. I appreciate you are a talented healer with that regenerative ability of yours, but the psychological damage..."The villain sighed again. "I mean, just look at you. It's going to take me hours to smooth you all out. The body remembers trauma, you know? It builds up over time, even if the pain is only in your mind."

Hours. The hero had a stomach ache. They were going to pass out, they were certain of it. Their vision was tunnelling at the corners.

"Please let go of me. Please."

"You should stop," the villain said. "Before someone breaks you, yes?"

But the villain knew the hero couldn't, wouldn't, stop. Surely they knew. If fear of pain alone was enough they would never have got in the business in the first place. It still felt unbearable.

Their eyes met in the mirror again. The hero felt a tear roll down their cheek.

"Ah, look at you." The villain raised a hand, to wipe the tear away, and the hero flinched. "All this chatter isn't helping you relax at all, is it? You get my point anyway, don't you?"

The hero didn't know if it would be better or worse to agree, so they simply found themselves staring again.

The villain hummed, and reached for a box of tools, for a sharp knife-

"I'm relaxed!" the hero yelped. "I'm so relaxed. Please. I mean- you're doing a wonderful job and-"

The villain cut some slices of fresh cucumber and the hero's mouth clicked shut.

"I'll stop babbling," the villain said pleasantly, placing one slice over the hero's eye, and then the other.

The hero froze. What would happen if they knocked the slices off? They couldn't see. Where was the villain now? Where were their hands?

"There," the villain cooed, and pressed a kiss to their cheek.

The hero jumped.

The kiss felt like an electric shock - small but literal and it stung more than it actually hurt but - It wasn't just the villain's hands, was it, that could do what they did?

"Please," they could hear themselves, nonsensical, unable to even get a coherent sentence out, let alone something witty or scathing or casual. "Please god-"

"God?" The villain laughed, hands returning to the hero's newly bunched up shoulders. "There's no god here, darling. There's just me. So sit back. Close your eyes, and focus on my hands. Let me work my magic! You'll love it."

The hero soon lost track of time.

[suicidal-sunshine-boy]

prompt #33

tw: captivity, blood drinking, cannibalism, implied amputation, graphic descriptions (of gore)

“You’re going to taste exquisite, darling,” Supervillain purred, raising the wine glass to their lips. Civilian sobbed harder as they watched the red liquid slosh around the glass, knowing that the strangely thick liquid was their blood. The supervillain didn’t break eye contact as they took a sip, causing Civilian to shudder in disgust.

“Please,” they wailed, struggling uselessly as the henchmen grasped at their arm, and forced it against the table. Civilian frantically tried to pull away as pure panic gripped them, but their arm was securely pinned down against the chopping board. “Please, p-please, don’t do this.”

Supervillain hummed. “I’m going to savour you. You’re lucky I like you, or I would have cut you open and roasted your liver first.”

Civilian screamed and flailed uselessly, but nothing they did seemed to deter the henchmen. They only watched in horror as a chopping knife hovered just below their elbow, blade ghosting against their skin.

“Please don’t hurt me,” Civilian blubbered, wide eyes trained onto the huge blade as it was lifted into the air. They tugged frantically, but their arm didn’t budge. “I-I’m scared.”

Supervillain relished in the taste of the blood on their tongue, and smiled thoughtfully to themselves. “Good. You should be.”

[suicidal-sunshine-boy]

IT WAS A MAN'S VOICE AND IT WAS SCARY BUT HE SOUNDED NICE AND I JUST HUNG UP THE PHONE. HE EVEN SAID GOOD MORNING. HOW DOES THIS STIP IF YOU CAN'T USE YOUR FUCKING WORDS

[suicidal-sunshine-boy]

UGH WHY CAN'T YOU HEAR ME??? I CAN'T SCREAM ANY LOUDER.

This is about blood on a McDonalds floor and shards of glass in your pocket digging into your chest a

[suicidal-sunshine-boy]

YOU CAN'T SEE ME YOU CAN'T SEE ME YOU CAN'T SEE ME YOU CAN'T SEE ME YOU CAN'T SEE ME YOU CAN'T SEE ME YOU CAN'T SEE ME YOU CAN'T SEE ME YOU CAN'T SEE ME YOU CAN'T SEE ME YOU CAN'T SEE ME YOU CAN'T SEE ME

[suicidal-sunshine-boy]

How do you not see that I am drowning?????

[suicidal-sunshine-boy]

I am planting a garden full of love. No longer will I neglect myself. I am becoming whole once again.

Nicole Addison

[suicidal-sunshine-boy]

And now you don't know if we'll be Okay???????

This was your choice and now the consequences of your choice scare You?

I don't know if I could ever trust you again

[suicidal-sunshine-boy]

Why the FUCK would she even want you to speak, to breathe.

Your lungs are lined with poison, your breath suffocates those around you

If you just hold your breath maybe no one else will get hurt.

[suicidal-sunshine-boy]

YOU'RE FUCKING POISON

[suicidal-sunshine-boy]

No one could ever stay with YOU

You're not even second best

You're the last choice

[suicidal-sunshine-boy]

Poor touch starved little thing you are, patheticly chasing after those who have outgrown you

[suicidal-sunshine-boy]

How would you preserve Yakito? Like in resin or taxidermy? A darling doll 0.0