#i wake up and everything i can think of that would make me happy is a mirage

[cybrasigilism]

Thanos (Player 230) Smut Drabble

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warning: smut and all things of the like | lowercase intended | degradation | spanking | protection not implied (wrap it before you tap it) | PiV | reader has female genitalia | not proofread

character: thanos/choi su-bong (player 230)

A/N: thanks for 50+ followers! i appreciate each and every one of you so much :) i just wanted to say that i was thoroughly surprised with how many people wanted me to do a thanos smut drabble because i personally felt my writing for him was less than satisfactory, i’m just happy i was able to do him justice! also, my request box is open! if theres anyone you want me to write for please drop a request there!

MDNI! 18+ content beneath the cut, readers discretion is advised

you and i both know damn well that thanos, player 230 himself, is an absolute freak.

it doesn’t come as a surprise to any of his partners when he goes absolutely buck wild in bed, dude is willing to try and experience just about any and everything just as long as it involves him inside you.

need him to go down on you? you may have to pry him off if you want his cock because he will get lost in the pleasure. he won’t even just eat you out, he’ll suck and lick on your clit while fingering you, working at absolute god speed just to make you cum. need to dry hump? he’s more than willing to let you grind on his thigh while he kisses and marks up your neck, leaving a cluster of hickeys and bite marks in his wake. trust he will be pulling your hair back to ensure you’re thoroughly marked up, not a spot on your neck left unscathed by his mouth.

when it comes time for you to please him, he will grab a fistful of your hair and guide your head up and down his dick, and rest assured that you will without a doubt be deepthroating him. he’s quite vocal when pleasing you, sure, but when the roles are reversed and you’re doing the work on him? such slutty sounds have never before been expelled from human lips, he’ll go on about how good your mouth feels on his cock, how impressed he is with your ability to take the full length of him between your lips. oh and god forbid you lightly graze your teeth over his dick, if you plan on making him cum through a blowjob god please use your teeth.

“oh fuck girl, yeah..that’s right suck my dick just like that fuck” and “god if you keep going like this.. i dunno if i can take it, shit.” are both phrases you can expect to hear, that’s if he’s too far gone to focus on degrading you. if his thoughts haven’t been totally clouded by how good you’re making him feel, he’ll make sure to mock you and be kind of a dick about the whole ordeal. “finally putting that bitch mouth of yours to good use.” “awe, is it too much? can’t take it? too fucking bad.”

when it comes to actually fucking you, it’s face down, ass up all the way. you’ll for sure be leaving the situation with a bruised ass from how much he’ll be spanking you. the hair pulling carries over here too, he’ll pull you back into it while he fucks you senseless, whispering filthy things all the while.

will 100% call you his “personal cum dumpster” and the degradation does. not. stop.

“how does it feel, huh? to be on all fours like the little bitch you are for me? bet no one else could make you feel this good, huh?”

“fuck, you’re such a good cocksleeve, holy shit”

“god, moaning like such a slut for me, didn’t think you were such a needy whore”

when he’s not spanking your ass or pulling your hair back, his hands are firmly affixed to your hips with such fervour that marks being left behind would not surprise you. the twinge of pain that comes when he digs his nails into the grip is something you find yourself waiting for. he knows you love it, to be honest i don’t think he would do any of this if it didn’t get you as wet as it did. trust he will also rub your clit as he fucks you like this, when you end up cumming, it might be too much to handle with how this man attacks your senses from every angle.

biting, scratches, hair pulling, the whole nine yards can be expected when you let thanos use you like this.

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thanks for reading again! you know the drill, any advice/constructive criticism is appreciated and requested! i’m always looking to improve my writing, and of course, more to come :)

[nobodyfamousposts]

What if Chloe had lost her memories of her old life after making the wish in Chloe's Lament? If so, would she remotely be nicer given not being rich means her father has less reason to spoil her? Or would she still be mean anyway even with her memories gone, implying she may just be born evil?

Yes but also no? It's a bit complicated so please let me explain:

If Chloe's Lament didn't happen and Chloe was the Chloe of the reality in question, things would pretty much be the same way they are for her in the Lament. The difference would be how Chloe herself handles it since she's fully aware of her position in this life going in without any memories from an alternate self getting in the way.

Andre is still Andre. He is a pushover and loves his little girl. He WANTS to give her whatever she wants, so it's not that he has less reason to spoil her and more that he simply CAN'T, at least not to the extent she wants. Think to the setup in canon where he was able to buy Chloe a golden bracelet and a diamond-filled phone case, fire Roger when he upset Chloe, arrange the closure of an ice rink to build a gym for her, and shut down Clara's music video on her demand...but ended up in an outright panic when he told Chloe that he couldn't banish Marinette and her family from the city, something he legitimately could not do. Not for lack of wanting to. Just that he can't.

That's pretty much the position he'll be in here. He loves Chloe and he WANTS to give her her every desire, but he's not rich or powerful this go around and he has no weight to throw, no money to spend, no influence to use, and no status or backing to protect himself or Chloe from the repercussions of her antics.

But this ask isn't about him, I know. I'm just trying to give perspective here.

Andre would still spoil her...at least as much as he could. And you have to bear in mind that he is trying to make up Chloe's lack of a present mother while also running a functional and decently well off but not outstanding business. He would deny her things she wants because he can't give her everything she wants.

But the Chloe of this world would know that. And since she never had the wealth and power that Canon Chloe has, she wouldn't expect all the things that Canon Chloe did when waking up in her position.

This is actually what makes the primary difference. I have said before that it is fully possible for the characters who make the Wish to end up happy in their Lament, and while I'm sure many of you doubt me or think I only apply that to Marinette, I meant it for everyone.

See, the main thing that makes this a Lament isn't the position of the Chloe in this world but in how Chloe HANDLES it. Canon Chloe is going to try and handle it like Canon Chloe handles anything, and it's going to fail because her expectations are based in a setup that she cannot understand no longer applies and her go-to methods require resources and protections that she doesn't have here.

THIS Chloe is going to handle it differently. Her expectations are already more down to earth than Canon Chloe to begin with. And by the time the events of the story start, she's going in with the knowledge that she is on thin ice and some change needs to occur if she doesn't want to lose everything she has left.

Chloe by this point is the bastard child of "Style Queen Audrey" and is just as acknowledged by her as she was in canon if not less, so she's still dealing with abandonment issues while trying to endear herself to her mother however limitedly she can. She still has Adrien as a friend but knows that's hanging on by a thread as well (her friendship with him was mostly through Andre's friendship with Emilie and she's gone now, and Gabriel himself is not that impressed with her). She has Bustier's support and is still able to go to the school, but she's on probation with the administration watching her. And her father is working desperately to get her out of consequences for her previous behaviors. So if she messes up again, she's going to lose all of that.

So yes, in that sense, this Chloe is going to be "nicer". She has to be. She is trying to change her behavior in order to avoid a bad situation. To try being "kind" and "helpful" when she's still very much a selfish and angsty teenager who doesn't get why she should. "Nice" and "Good" are two different things, after all. Though that's not to say that she'll be very good at either.

This change in behavior is difficult for her. Change usually is. But practice makes perfect, right? So that's why Chloe starts trying to do things she normally wouldn't. Like helping her father in the bakery. Planning a box of goodies for her classmates to try and make peace for the next school year.

And yes, help out an old man on the street.

However, there's another aspect to consider here.

After all, in this universe, Chloe and Adrien are childhood friends. And Adrien and Marinette are childhood friends, too.

So wouldn't it stand to reason that Chloe and Marinette were also childhood friends as well?

...

...

IF I wrote this setup as its own story sans the Wish and Lament, we'd be dealing with a story of Chloe growing out of a negative mindset, addressing her inner fears that drive her actions, and improving her life and her relationships. All while dealing with the stress and responsibility of being a hero. And just the clash overall of the difference between who she is as Chloe vs who she is as the Ladybug Hero.

As Marinette in Canon pointed out, "Ladybug has made me a better Marinette. So, perhaps being Queen Bee will make her a better Chloé, too!"

That's what happens here.

Chloe KNOWS she's not a good person. She'd even convinced that a mistake was made when she was chosen. But being a hero lets her do good more easily under a mask where no one has preconceived feelings or expectations of her. It would be freeing in a way. And give her the positive reinforcement she needs.

But the biggest issue would be dealing with her toxic mindset and how it led to her situation and strained relationships. Which would be what the course of the story is meant to address. Chloe in this world doesn't understand what "healthy" or "healthy relationships" are anymore than Canon Chloe does. But she's getting a crash course in the matter while also receiving guidance courtesy of Tikki.

Ultimately, this Chloe would have more of a chance than Canon Chloe.

She wouldn't go into this looking to take advantage and cause harm the way that Canon Chloe did.

She would be a selfish teenager learning to be a little less self centered and a little more aware of her impact on others.

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

request: can you write about her morning in the life where it’s just happy and she’s full of life and bringing chaos to their morning and they are all joking around with each other.

A/N: Hope you like the way I wrote this! If you were thinking something different just send in another request!

Sam and Dean Winchester x sister!reader

The first rays of sunlight barely made it through the cracks in the Bunker’s steel-bladed blinds, but it was more than enough to rouse you from your slumber. To most, the early morning hours would be a time for grogginess, the soft groan of the world slowly waking up. Not for you. You had been awake for hours, despite it only being 7 AM. Which, for most people, was barely even considered "morning," but for you, it was basically lunchtime. You’d already done a couple laps around the Bunker for no reason, rummage through random things in your boredom, and had a concert in the shower.

Your energy was a tornado of chaos, already whipping through the old walls of the Bunker, leaving a trail of disruption in your wake. You didn’t care. It was your version of "me time," and nobody could stop you. Especially not Dean, who, by all indications, was trying to make breakfast now, which you knew would only result in more chaos for him.

Dean, standing over the stove, could already feel the impending chaos. He heard you rummaging through the cabinets and talking to yourself, which was a sure sign that the madness was about to unfold.

"Don't start anything until I'm done with the bacon," Dean called over his shoulder, flipping eggs like a culinary pro, with a concentration that could only be matched by a bomb diffuser.

You leaned in the doorway of the kitchen, grinning way too brightly for someone who had just gotten up at 5 AM for no particular reason. “What’s the magic number for ‘this is too early for chaos,’ Dean?” you asked, your voice dripping with sarcastic sweetness. Dean glanced over at you, shaking his head. “You're way past it.” You grinned wider. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Then, without missing a beat, you skipped over to the counter, tapping your fingers along it rhythmically, setting the beat of your own personal symphony. You couldn't help yourself. Everything felt like a joke waiting to be cracked. You paused just long enough to stare him down with exaggerated seriousness. "I'm basically your live-in caffeine, Dean. Without me, you'd fall asleep standing up and trip over your own feet, and Sam would have to carry you like a baby."

Dean let out a half-laugh, half-sigh, and flipped the bacon onto a plate. "Yeah, yeah. Just... watch out for the stove, it’s hot, alright?" He turned back to his skillet like you weren't about to launch into yet another round of ridiculousness. You flashed him an exaggerated salute. “You got it, boss! I won’t burn myself, I promise!” You declared. And then, like clockwork, the next phase of the storm arrived.

Sam had finished his morning run and was coming back into the Bunker through the main door, wiping the sweat from his brow. Without even thinking, you launched yourself from the counter and darted straight toward him, your arms wide open in a playful attack.

"Sammy!" You shouted in a tone so overly sweet it bordered on mischievous. "Come here, I missed you!"

Sam, not fully expecting the surprise ambush at this hour, had just enough time to raise his arms defensively. You jumped, your legs wrapping around his waist, your arms around his neck as you tried to steady yourself.

"Whoa, easy there," Sam grunted, staggering backward slightly under your sudden weight. "Jeez, you're like a—"

"Ugh! Ew! Ew, you stink!" You complained dramatically, wrinkling your nose and dramatically pulling away. "What is that? It’s like a mixture of old socks, sweaty gym clothes, and regret."

Sam grinned despite your exaggerated reactions. "It’s called 'morning run' scent. Maybe you should try it sometime."

"I don't need that kind of negativity in my life," you shot back, but before you could free yourself, your feet slipped out from under you. In the blink of an eye, you lost your grip on Sam’s back and tumbled to the ground, letting out a small yelp. But Sam was quick, steadying you before you could slam into the floor.

He caught you around the waist and effortlessly eased you down to the floor, ensuring you didn’t hurt yourself, and that you didn’t land on your face. "See? This is why you shouldn’t get out of bed until at least 7am," Sam said with a teasing smirk.

You took a deep breath and rolled your eyes. "Okay, first of all, I am very graceful. Second, I had it all under control—until I didn’t. But it was mostly your fault for being so stinky."

Dean turned around just in time to witness your spill, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he tossed you a mocking thumbs up. "Nice save, Sammy. You really know how to handle your little sister."

You stuck your tongue out at him while Sam ruffled your hair.

"Hey, she’s your sister too and if we’re being honest, she’s more like you than she’s like me."

Dean’s eyes widened as he mock-scowled. “Oh, hell no.” He wagged a finger at Sam. “You can’t throw that on me. That’s not fair. You two are always conspiring together, teaming up on me.” He turned back toward you, his smirk widening. “See? You’ve already got him wrapped around your little finger.”

You tilted your head and flashed a wicked grin. “Well, I’m a lot of things, Dean. But mostly I’m a work of art.”

Sam laughed, nudging Dean. "Tell me again how she’s more like you? She’s practically a mini-you already. The sarcasm, the chaos, the unpredictability—it’s all Dean Winchester in a much smaller package." He looked at you and chuckled.

Dean threw a playful punch at Sam’s shoulder, but his eyes were narrowed, clearly trying to play the ‘big brother’ role. “Don’t tease her. I’m warning you.”

You leaned dramatically against the doorframe, crossing your arms. “Pfft. Tease me? I’m too smart for that. I’m basically un-teasable.”

Sam’s grin widened as he leaned against the counter. “Man, you two are impossible. Every time I think you can’t get worse, you prove me wrong.”

“I’m like a surprise gift that just keeps on giving,” you said, tapping your finger to your temple. “You two better buckle up, because I’m about to give you the facts.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I can already feel my sanity slipping.”

You took a dramatic step toward the kitchen, striking a pose like you were about to give a speech. “I’m basically your moral compass. Let’s be real, without me, you two would just be a couple of grumpy old men in a bunker, drinking whiskey and complaining about the world.”

Sam let out a deep laugh. “Okay, okay, maybe you’re not completely wrong. But just remember that this ‘moral compass’ of yours has a habit of getting us in more trouble than it’s worth.”

Dean, clearly trying to stay composed, muttered under his breath, “You’re both gonna drive me to drink... before breakfast.”

You threw your arms wide, laughing. “Hey, at least I know how to make things interesting!”

Sam and Dean exchanged a quick glance, the kind of look that said they’d survived this madness before and would do so again. But neither of them could suppress the smiles tugging at their lips. As much as you were pure, unfiltered chaos, you were also exactly what they needed to make life a little less predictable—and a lot more entertaining.

[sweetiesicheng]

ateez - birthday

yeosang x reader

word count : 1,064

happy birthday to me haha

-

after a day of schedules with the guys, you hang out with them at one of the dorms. you lay your head on yeosang's lap while going through some photos that you need to delete.

"y/n, what are you doing for your birthday?" wooyoung asks you.

you pull your phone away from your view for a second. "we have a late shoot, don't we?" you reply, looking up at yeosang.

"yea, the shoot is pretty long," he replies. "and i think you'll be the only artist with me tomorrow too."

"you're not flying home?" yunho asks you.

you shake your head, "i didn't take time off. i'll probably just do dinner or something. i just haven't felt like planning," you laugh. "oh, i need to call about an appointment. i'll be back," you mention and get up from where you're sitting. you leave the room and use hongjoong's room to make a phone call while the guys stay in the living room.

"should we plan something?" wooyoung immediately asks.

"if all of us don't have to wake up early the next day, we could do something late tomorrow," hongjoong says, looking over his personal calendar. "i'm free," he mentions.

"i'm free too," seonghwa speaks after turning his phone screen off.

"let's plan something. she'll be really happy," jongho says.

—

"babe, can you touch up my makeup? i want to take some photos," yeosang asks you.

"of course," you answer and gesture him to sit down. "i thought you took photos earlier?" you question him.

"i want to take some more," he replies. "can we take some together?" he asks.

you nod, "yea, sure."

you fix his makeup and his hair, making sure everything is the same as before he left for the shoot. you fix his outfit and grab your camera.

"can i take some pictures of your makeup?" you ask him while checking the last few photos on your camera.

"don't you have a bunch of me already?" yeosang asks as you two step out of the room.

"it just helps my portfolio," you reply. "besides, i rather print photos of us from here. this camera is a good one."

yeosang smiles, "alright. let's go get your photos."

you and yeosang go to a popular spot backstage to take photos at. both of you take photos of each other with you mainly taking photos of him. you highlight his makeup for most of the photos since you want to post them to your work account.

one of his managers takes some photos of the two of you afterwards. that way, you two have some photos that you can keep for yourself.

—

meanwhile...

"isn't this too much?" san asks while trying to peel tape off of a roll.

the half decorated dorm is a mess. decorations are everywhere and the guys are trying to make the room as presentable as possible. luckily, yeosang and yunho have furniture now, but it’s still a mess at the moment.

"what's taking jongho and seonghwa so long?" hongjoong questions while opening the package of a "happy birthday" banner.

"jongho probably dropped the cake," mingi answers. he takes some balloons to the walls.

"no, you would drop the cake," yunho replies as hongjoong hands him the banner. "someone hand me tape," he requests.

"here," wooyoung says, handing a new roll of tape to yunho. "hyung, help me set the table," he says to san.

"sure."

the group continues to set up the living room. eventually, seonghwa and jongho arrive with dinner and a birthday cake.

"you guys should of seen the lines," seonghwa says as he sets down some bags.

"y/n's favorite bakery is so expensive," jongho comments, looking at the receipt again, "and they go to this place all the time!"

"they do love their treats and drinks from there," hongjoong says as he takes items out of one bag. "anyone have a time check?" he asks.

wooyoung looks at his phone, "yeosang texted. he says twenty minutes."

mingi peeks at wooyoung's phone. "dude, that was twenty minutes ago."

"oh no."

—

"babe, i'm too cold," you whine to yeosang. "i thought you said we were getting dinner first."

"we are getting dinner. i just need to grab something from the dorm," he says and checks the time.

"did you need a reservation for somewhere?" you ask him.

he shakes his head, "no, but i wanna show you to this place later," he mentions. you two head to the dorm, bringing both his and your stuff so you can drop it off before you go out.

right before you reach the front door. yeosang steps behind you, "okay, i'm going to cover your eyes!"

"huh? yeo—"

"just go with it," he says to you.

“but it’s just the dorm.”

“i said go with it.”

you let yeosang lead you down the hallway. after a short walk, he stops walking but moves you over a few steps.

"three, two, one!"

you hear the door open and yeosang uncovers your eyes.

"happy birthday!"

you discover the decorated dorm with the rest of your friends. you stand there confused and surprised that everyone has been involved with your birthday.

you look at yeosang. "yeo..."

"happy birthday baby," he says and kisses your cheek.

"hey! save the pda! we got candles to blow out and food to eat!" wooyoung speaks up.

“y/n, we really need to talk about the bakery you love,” jongho comments as he holds a drink in his hand.

you step into the room while laughing. yunho comes over to you with a cake in his hands. it's a simple cake but it's more than enough for you.

everyone starts singing "happy birthday" to you. you smile and quickly make a wish after the song ends. then, you blow the candles out and everyone cheers.

"let's get this party started!" mingi announces while you become the center of attention for tonight.

everyone starts diving into the food that was bought, and you start with a piece of cake. you sit at the table next to yeosang, who has his arm around your shoulders.

"so we're not going out later?" you ask yeosang.

"hey, i never said that," he replies, "we'll go out after this, alright?" you nod. "happy?"

"more than happy," you reply. "love you."

"love you more, birthday girl," he says and kisses your cheek again.

[hardyshoe]

Sonnenblumen - Chapter six: Anemones, for anticipation.

⚘⚘⚘

On the twelfth of December, you pull on two jumpers under your thickest coat and walk out into the field. It had started snowing in the night when you were in Aegon’s dorm, he had woken you when the sky was bleeding orange into purple and kissed you until he started swearing at the hour. The magic of fearful excitement had chased you to the perimeter of the grounds, past the backs of buildings and in between tree lined paths. He had taken you all the way to the back gates under the crystalline dawn, his white hair glowing pink under the catching snowflakes.

There is no colour to the sky now, just a roiling mass of grey clouds. You stand in the middle of the field, close enough to startle the birds from the trees when you clap your boots together to shake the clumping snow loose.

It is ten o’clock, and the sun has forgotten to rise.

Your nose burns from the cold with every breath you take and you can feel the ends of your hair begin to stiffen and freeze but you stay where you are.

A mechanical screech in the distance pulls you in its direction, just a step, and you rock forwards onto your toes when the steam starts to pour from the tree line as though the woods themselves were on fire. The first glimpse of the locomotive, burning forwards in all its crimson glory, evokes flames in the base of your lungs. They smoulder with the deep breath you take to try and douse them.

You watch it shuttering past in flashes, speeding up as it rockets away for a distant destination. You remain rooted to the spot even after the last gasps of steam have cannibalised themselves in the sky. In the wake, the air smells like longing, and your veins course thickly with powerlessness.

When you walk home, turning with reluctance from the woods, you feel alone in a way that you hadn’t when you left.

As small as it makes you feel to do so, you let the tears burn down your cheeks without wiping them away. Not even when they start to chill at your neck on their way down. However, when you get to your room and are faced with your reflection, the tracks of fine, pale salt start to irritate your skin. Confronted by the silence of his absence, everything starts to feel too much, too hot, too tight. Wrong in an unfixable way.

You start shedding off the clothes you're wearing with frantic panic making your hands fumble. The necks of the jumpers catch on the pins in your hair and pull harshly at your scalp, leaving your two plaits wispy and tangled. Left only in your slip, the cold catches up on you quickly and your numb fingers sting against your feverish skin as they trace across the neckline to hover shakily over the yellowing bruise he had left that night with his lips and his teeth. It is all you have of him to cling to and the way it loses its colour at the edges, the border between you and the barest visage of him fading, makes you feel all the more powerless.

How unfair it seems that, in a few days, you will be robbed of this too.

⚘⚘⚘ Dear Aegon,

I hope you have made it back to London safe and well and that it is not as miserable as you feared it would be. I went to watch the train go past, I confess I had a moment of wanting to chase it. I will also confess that I am writing this the same afternoon. I don’t know when it will get to you but I expect you will be itching to leave again by then.

If you have a great escape planned, which I am sure that you do, please don’t let it be some faraway land that will keep you away from my dull corner of England. Please don’t come back with any new scars either, you must save some space for ones made in happiness, not moments of pain.

It is mad to say, but I miss you. I missed you when you left me at the gates and I missed you all the days in between. I think I miss you every moment that you are not around. However, watching you steam away made it feel all the more difficult. I can feel the distance stretching between us even as I write this.

I want you to know that I don't regret a thing of what we did the other night. I did not know it would be like that, so tender and so lovely. I feel as though you took a little bit of my soul when we did what we did. I don’t mind, I am glad for it, I give it willingly. I will treasure what you have given me of yourself forever.

Please tell Daeron that I say hello, I dearly hope he is doing better now that he is home. Tell him that the next time I see him it will be under better circumstances when I can get to know him better.

I will end here, with you being away I fear I will have very little to report on and I must therefore ration what I want to say. I look forward to hearing from you, though saying it like that feels an understatement.

Your sunflower. Ps. I would very much like to kiss you right now, so much so that I can think of little else.

⚘⚘⚘

The girls come back, one stronger than last time with the return of Mary. Barbara seems lighter with the tiny girl by her side, smiling easier. She has shed her self-conscience, no longer moving like her legs feel too long.

Mary is just as you remember her, so happy that it pours from her. She hasn’t stopped smiling since they arrived, when Barbara tucks her under her arm in the corner of the booth, she laughs at nothing and leans in closer.

It is nice to be among them, to think about something other than the fact that it is a Wednesday and Aegon is not coming. Still, your reflexes have you watching the door when the conversation lulls.

Since telling them that he has gone home for the holidays, they haven't asked you anything at all. You think they can sense that their teasing would not go down in the way it had last time. The odd numbness badgering at you still has you excusing yourself under the guise of needing another drink.

“Where’s your gentleman caller then?” Bill asks as he sidles into the space next to you at the bar, shaking his glass at your mother over your shoulder.

Brian appears on your other side, the pair making for an almost humorous dichotomy with Bill towering over you and Brian hardly coming up to your shoulder. “Yes, we were planning on challenging him.”

“Challenging him?” you echo, not quite following.

They both mine throwing darts, “to a game of course.”

“Oh,” is all you can muster. The pair are known for being territorial over the board. You recall a time, some years ago, when the young mining boys had come in, still sooty and blinking at the overhead lights. They had sat themselves down on the nearest table to the board and waited for their turn. Four hours and many rounds later, they had given you dismayed shouts when you had rung the bell for the end of the night. Bill and Brian had clapped them on the backs as they made their way to the door.

“You see, young lady, on the very rare occasion that he isn’t staring a hole in that there door, waiting for you to come down,” Bill starts, poking you in the arm until you watch him gesture over to the door up to the flat.

Brian finishes, “He watches us play.”

“I’ve even caught him lining up shots in the air a few times.”

You can picture that so vividly it makes you laugh weakly.

“So,” Brian continues, a cheeky grin on his face to match that of his best friend, “we have decided to challenge him for the affections of our favourite barmaid.”

It's incredibly sweet, especially coming from two men who so rarely leave their little corner. You don't quite know what to say.

“We need to make sure he’s good enough for you, don’t we Bri?” The man in question nodes sagely.

You're a little choked up when you finally do find your words. “You two are too good to me.”

“Not at all,” Brian says, Bill nudges you on the arm with his pint. They head back to the darts board and you call after them as they go.

“I will tell him when he gets back in the new year, but you have to promise me not to be too hard on him.”

“Anything for you, my dear,” Bill says but you watch him elbow Brian in the side where his shirt sleeve is pinned to the shoulder of his shirt. They share a wry smile.

You hardly have a moment to recover before you are called for again.

“Come back to us quickly,” Marlene begs as she takes you by the arm. “Barbara and Mary have started using big sciency words and I think they have short circuited Joan.”

You laugh and let yourself be dragged along, picking up the end of Mary’s fast and excitable rambling. “-an essay on benzene in organic chemistry from one of the girls in my class, it’s absolutely fascinating. She was kind enough to let me take it to the library and run it through the xerographic copier so you can read it too, Barb.”

Barbara smiles happily and lets her witter on.

“Where’s my present?” Joan asks and Marlene swats her on the arm for it when Mary’s face falls.

“Oh! I’m so sorry Joan. Did you want a copy too? I didn’t think it was your sort of thing but I can go and make another one if you want?” Her genuine sincerity has Barbara burying her face in Mary’s shoulder. You hide your laughter in your drink but Marlene cannot contain herself.

Mary looks at her, confused, which only makes Marlene laugh even harder. Mary then starts to pester Baraba for an explanation of what is so funny. You turn to the room, still chuckling, and look onto the Christmas tree near the fireplace.

Your mind begins to float in a familiar direction, the tides unchanging. Leading back to the same shore every time.

What must he be doing? All those hundreds of miles away. You have tried picturing his house so many times, always a tall, grand thing somewhere terribly important; on a road lined with shining motorcars. He looks so funny when you try to put him there with his rolled trousers and cardigans missing half their buttons.

You are glad, at the very least, that Daeron has gone home. The image of him in that freezing corridor haunts you. You think of how he had cried for his mother and hope that she has it in her to show him some kindness. Perhaps some of what she has withheld from her eldest son.

You hear your name being called and leave the thoughts of a shaggy blond head silhouetted in the darkness, up high in the window of a house he is too alive to haunt.

“Yes, yes. Sorry.” You say, shaking yourself. Barbara squeezes your shoulder and you blink hard at the understanding in the gesture.

“We were asking if you wanted to come Christmas shopping with us next week?” Asks Joan, somewhat tentative.

It is both a step forward and back. Out from your cave of self-imposed exile and back into the village. You try to quell the disquiet by speaking before it can overwhelm you. It is an imperfect solution but it works for the moment.

“That would be nice, thank you.” You say and they all smile at you. It's nice, nice as it always was. You still feel like you're having to leave a bit of yourself behind for it though.

⚘⚘⚘

Dear Aegon,

I am sorry for writing to you again before you have replied to my first letter but I truly do not know what else to do with my thoughts. The girls came by on Wednesday, it was nice. Barbara is so happy now that Mary is back. I kept thinking you would come through the door, they would say something and I would laugh and forget for a moment and then the door would open, and it wasn’t you.

I am going to go shopping with them in a few days, and might even get you something if you're lucky…

Anyway, I really hope you're doing okay. I am looking forward to hearing how you are, what you're getting up to and such.

Your sunflower. Ps. You might like to practise your darts playing, I don’t know if you have ever played but unless you want your arse handed to you by Bill and Brian you really ought to spend some time on it. They were very sweet, I think they are quite fond of you really. Not that they would say as much though.

⚘⚘⚘

Your mother is elbow deep in a bowl of mince pie filling. You sit across the table from her shaping little pastry cases. The kitchen windows are open on her insistance that the chilled air is better for the butter in the pastry. The day outside is bright in that watery-pale way of midwinter.

Frank Sinatra’s ‘Songs for young lovers’ is spinning on your player, brought down from your bedroom to sit on the kitchen counter. Her choice, you raised an eyebrow but she just smiled evasively.

You've been at it nearly half an hour, working in comfortable silence. Then she speaks, “So,” she starts and you know to brace yourself, “How is Aegon?”

She isn’t looking at you, eyes focused deliberately on the red gingham oilcloth on the table.

“I haven’t heard from him yet,” you say, trying to keep your tone lighter than the weight of the words on your tongue.

“Oh?” she questions, her brows pinching. You can see that she is looking at you but you keep your eyes on the little cases.

Her tone doesn’t help with the game of avoidant denial you have been playing and you try not to let your shoulders drop visibly. It has been a week and a half since you watched the train take him away and still, nothing. No thinking can make post go that slowly even on a second class stamp, not if he had sent one even a few days after getting your first.

“I don’t know, he might just be really busy. I know he told me that Christmases there aren’t quiet, his mother hosts all these events…” you trail off, she catches the hint and leaves well alone for the moment.

“Hurry up with those, my girl or I will make you stir the next batch of mince.”

You follow her instructions quickly. It is a tradition every year at the pub. In the days leading up to Christmas, you and your mother make a truly obscene amount of mince pies and sell them for two shillings with a pint. This is the first year in memory that your mother hasn’t had to do a whip around of ration points for something. It was only butter last year but it had still left her with a funny energy, guilty despite the kindness she was doing.

She is taking the opportunity to go all out, more of everything than you have ever seen before. She sent you to the grocers for the currants and the old man and his wife had smiled and only let you pay for half. They said they were looking forward to coming down to the pub when the pies were ready.

It is therapeutic in the way that a diverting task always is, the sense of accomplishment when the first batch comes out steaming and bubbling, alleviating something from your chest. It will take the whole afternoon to bake the hundred or so little pies but you don’t mind, there is nothing else to do but think.

⚘⚘⚘

Dear Aegon,

Are you alright? I know this will be the third letter without a word in return from you but I cannot stop myself from worrying about you. I am sorry if I have done something to make you not want to write back to me but if I have then I do not know what it was. Please tell me if I have, I want to make it right if so.

I desperately want to know that you aren’t having too bad of a time. If it isn’t my place to ask then you need only let me know but I can’t stop thinking about all that you have told me. I want you to remember how lovely you are, that it isn’t all your fault. I care for you deeply, that cannot change.

Please, if only this, just tell me how you are?

Your sunflower.

⚘⚘⚘

The windows of the village streets are bright with decorations, strings of tinsel hanging from a tree in the café and paper snowflakes littering the books in the window of the bookseller’s. You duck in there with Joan on your tail, you for a copy of Arthur Miller’s newest play ‘The Crucible’ and Joan for a biography of King George the sixth.

Marlene has Elsie in a pram but the little girl soon kicks off and ends up passed between the five of you, her pram filling with your purchases. She babbles indistinctly all the way, Mary agreeing with everything she says like she understands while holding her. She has a tiny tweed coat on and you smile when she is passed over to you.

Barbara and Marlene go into the butcher’s together, the latter for the ham for her small family’s christmas lunch and the former for the dinner she will make for herself and her mother. Barbara’s mother has been unwell for years and, since her father had died from black lung when she was ten, Barbara had looked after her. You all knew that was the only reason she hadn’t gone up with Mary and the injustice hands a little on Marlene’s shoulders, like she could have done anything at all when really it is just life getting the best of everyone as usual.

While they are in there, quickly followed in by Mary who wouldn’t leave Barbara’s side for a moment and Joan who felt left out, you cross the road with Elsie to the town square. You pick through the mucky streets, browned with dirt from horse carts and pedestrian footfall, to where the snow still clings to the stone of the war memorial in the centre. You sit and bounce Elsie, reading through names absentmindedly. She pulls on your coat buttons and you smooth down her little woollen hat.

You watch the postman pass by the shops in the corner of your eye and have to force yourself not to watch him to see if he turns to walk up the road to the pub.

“Sad,” Elsie says, vowels pulling wrong and consonants too heavy. At a year and a half old, she can say a few things but mostly chooses to communicate through grabbing things and pointing.

She jabs her mittened hands into the corners of your mouth to force them upwards and it's so clumsily sweet that you actually do.

“I’m sorry darling,” you say, muffled by her hands still pressing into your cheeks. “I’m not sad, I promise.”

She starts singing a disjointed song comprised entirely of non-words and you kiss her on the forehead.

You wonder though, if she can tell so easily with her terribly limited scope of emotion that something is wrong, how clear his absence must be in the way you carry yourself. You wonder if there is a ghostly Aegon following you like Mary’s apparition hangs around Barbara when she is gone.

You just wish so desperately that you could think straight, get past the personal bits and be rational about it for a minute. You know you are clouding your own judgement but you can’t stop that, not now, after everything.

Not asking questions just isn’t in your being, you are curious by nature and the idea that you are missing something here because you haven't thought about it enough is causing you so much grief it is becoming overwhelming.

More than anything, you can’t shake the idea that something else is afoot. In your heart of hearts, you know you haven’t done anything wrong and Aegon had given you nothing but warmth and joy when you had left him in the snow. It does not make sense, you hate that you can’t figure it out.

You are so worried you feel sick with it.

When the girls come out, pram laden heavily with even more good, you get up with Elsie to rejoin them. You try to leave your thoughts of Aegon behind but, inevitably, some follow anyway.

“I just want to go to the men’s dress wear shop, John wanted a new dinner jacket for christmas.” Marlene says as she steers the group down one of the side roads off the square. Joan poaches Elsie from you and takes her on a trip to the haberdashers for some ribbon with the other two.

You would blame it on your cold hands if anyone asked why you followed Marlene instead of them. Thankfully, no one does, flimsy an excuse as it is.

The shop is not large, one wall dominated with denim overalls for the miners and the rest populated with more traditional suits and day jackets. You run your hand across the various tweeds and wools, letting the fabrics itch at you as you go. Marlene is asking the shopkeeper about lounge suits and you lose yourself in the racks while she chats.

You stop short when your hand meets buttery soft leather instead of scratching wool. It is a big brown leather jacket, far too much room in the shoulders and too short to look tidy. You think of Aegon instantly and, despite everything, you take it from the rack and replace the bare hanger in the space left behind.

Images of his skin flushed pink from the cold and the way he would bike back to school without even a jumper take you to the counter.

“I wouldn’t have pegged your father as liking this sort of thing,” the slim cashier behind the counter says, peering at the jacket over the half moon spectacles perchen on the end of his nose. You don’t care to explain anything to him and offer him a paltry shrug instead. He rings you up without asking anything else. It isn’t cheap, in fact it is the most expensive piece of clothing you have ever bought, but you so rarely spend money on anything but books and journals and you work so often that it is hardly a dent in what you have saved.

The money sits in tightly rolled wads of cash in a box under your bed, waiting for a day when you can spend it on a suitcase and a train ticket. The cloud of uncertainty hanging over that disquiets your mind further but you try not to dwell.

The paper wrapped jacket is heavy in your hands, almost as heavy as Marlene’s questioning gaze when she returns to the counter with a deep brown jacket for her husband. You stare at her and she gives you a hug you did not ask for, but needed more than you knew.

⚘⚘⚘

Dear Aegon,

It is snowing again here. I am not sure what the weather is like where you are but it looks like there’s going to be a blizzard tonight. I’ve been staring at the school these last few days, at least I can see of it over the trees from my room. It is hazed out with white right now. I have a lot on my mind which I cannot quite get into a sense of coherence.

I have so many questions, I hate this silence. I don’t know how to shut off the part of my brain that is still listening out for you.

I worry about you all the time and I miss you even more. I remember realising that nothing would be the same after I met you but I could not have known how true that was at the time.

I wish I could show you how you look in my eyes, how wonderful I think you are. The truth is, I do not care what anyone else has to say about you, not when I have so much to support that they are all so very wrong. I just need you to know that I don’t think of you any differently for what you have told me of yourself. You keep saying that I will when I learn bits of you but I just don’t think that is true.

If you are worried you gave too much or that I do not want to hear more then please do not be. I am listening.

Still your Sunflower.

⚘⚘⚘

Christmas is a huge affair, the pub heaves from opening with people pouring in from all over the village. You are moving between the front and back of house, helping your mother finish cooking the huge dinner for as many people as she can, and serving people alongside your dad behind the bar.

It is warm and jolly and the fire is roaring in the corner. Everyone is smiling, even you despite the hectic atmosphere. Every time you step out onto the floor you are pulled into a hug by someone or another. You and your mother receive a deafening toast when you finally bring out the food.

There are plates and plates of potatoes and roasted vegetables and stuffing. The star of the show is the assortment of roasted meats which your mother glows at. The last thing to be taken off rationing, meat had always been scarce in the Christmas dinners of years before but not this one.

You are sandwiched tightly between your parents on one of the tables, paper crowns on all your heads. Cracker jokes are read around to varying levels of disapproval. Bill and Brian take turns making up rude ones and pretending to read them from the scraps in their hands. When one of them says a truly crass one, Joseph Blackburn, much to his wife Helen’s dismay, throws his empty cracker at them and Brian falls off his chair backwards.

Everyone laughs raucously and you feel warmed to your bones. You are not letting yourself think about the wrapped jacket under your bed or its absentee recipient today. You can worry again tomorrow.

Gasps of excitement go through the gathered crowd when your father lights the brandy on the massive christmas pudding. It burns blue and orange and Joseph burns his finger when he pokes it too soon.

Helen pulls you and your mother aside to congratulate you on the feast and you thank her warmly. She mutters about her husband under her breath but you catch him chasing her with mistletoe later and she cannot wipe the smile from her face.

You excuse yourself when the night starts winding down, leaving your father to do the rounds of waking the patrons who have fallen asleep after a good meal and far too much to drink.

Your ears ring in the quiet of your room and you can feel voices through the floor but you need some time away. You close the door and breathe for a minute before turning on the light.

You stand in front of your bed and run your fingers across your present from your parents again. A beautiful, navy, two-piece travelling outfit, it is far nicer than any of your clothes and you adore it. But that is not what you love the most.

That spot goes to the three piece set of matching powder blue suitcases, stacked inside one another’s open mouths. The viscerally tangible excitement that they evoke makes you giddy.

⚘⚘⚘

Aegon,

I do not know if I will send more letters after this. I am not stopping for any other reason than that it hurts to hope that you will respond more with each one I send.

The new year begins tonight and I know you will come back to school in a week. I hope you will come back, I hope there is some explanation for all of this. I hope you are okay and I hope you do not have any regrets just as I do not. I hope an awful lot these days, sometimes I think it is all that I am running on.

There is still space for you here, that has not changed. Nothing has on my end, nothing at all. I just don’t know how many times I can watch the postman come and go without anything from you.

I suppose I don’t have much to say, not without knowing that you want to hear it. I have so many things I have been waiting to tell you, I am not sure where to put them anymore.

Your sunflower, I hope.

⚘⚘⚘

You do not go out to watch the train go past on its way back to the school.

The girls are in for one last night before Mary goes away again, you settle down with your drink next to Joan but move to stand again when you see that Marlene doesn’t have one. “Sorry Marlene, did you want me to fetch you something while I’m up?”

She widens her eyes at you and says no quickly, “I am fine, thank you. I don’t fancy it tonight.”

You can tell she was trying to be subtle in a way but she is perhaps the least subtle person you know. Well, apart from one.

The others stop talking and look at her, she flushes pink and smiles awkwardly. Joan gasps and Mary hides a squeal behind her hands.

“You're not!” Joan exclaims, nearly leaping out of her seat.

“I didn’t want to say anything! It’s Mary’s night and it’s still so early on…” she trails off and Joan almost tackles her with an embrace.

“Oh don’t be daft Marlene. This is far better news than me going away, now we have something to celebrate!” grins Mary. You all take turns shuffling around the table to hug your friend.

Marlene is glowing, from more than just happiness too. She has tears in her eyes when she smiles, “Thank you all.”

“Here she goes,” mutters Barbara and you laugh as Marlene starts to sob with joy. It is so lovely you find yourself emotional too, even Barbara is bright eyed.

Joan and Mary start asking her questions at a frantic speed, due date, names, what she thinks it is. Marlene can hardly stop crying enough to respond.

It is only later, when they have left and you are alone again, that you realise you didn’t even hear the train whistle as it went past.

⚘⚘⚘

The first Wednesday has you bounding on your feet behind the bar, uncertainty coursing in your veins all night. However, as you watch the clock run further towards closing you sag more and more. The final drinks bell ringing like a death knell in your ears.

The routine follows much the same on Friday.

He misses the first quiz night of the year and you lose a little bit of hope. More dies with each evening he does not come in.

You have half a mind to march over to the school yourself and find him, but you don't think you could face it if you actually tried. It has gotten to a point where you cannot even think of what you would say if he did come back.

Marlene comes in a lot, mostly for tea in the mornings. You know she knows that something is wrong but she doesn’t ask. It is nice to have company though.

By the time February hits, you start to make up your mind about some things. You cannot bear staring at the suitcases in the corner of your room anymore, nor can you bear the undying hope that prickles at your mind every sodding time the door opens for someone who is not him.

You make the decision and your parents smile at you hesitantly, they had known this day was coming for years but you know they don’t feel so sure about it all the same. Marlene cries when you tell her and makes you promise her Joan and Barbara one more night in the pub. You acquiesce.

So, you pack your clothes into the three suitcases. You take down the clippings you love the most and paste them into the scrapbook that Barbara had given you for Christmas. You do not touch the ‘Sonnenblume’. Its frame of reverence grows around it with each cutting taken from the wall.

Your mother helps you, folding things on your bed while your father stands in the doorway and watches quietly. By the time the sun sets, your wardrobe is empty save for the things you do not want to take and your walls are so bare you don’t want to look at them.

“Are you sure about this, my girl?” your father asks as you sit back wearily on your heels.

They both wait for your answer patiently and you pick at the pile of your pink rug. “No, but I don’t think there will ever be a time when I am.”

“It will hurt less with time, but you cannot force time with distance” your mother says and you blink hotly at the floor.

“I just,” you ball your fists up in your lap until your nails burn sharply against your palms, “I need to do this.”

When you look up at them, they nod in understanding and do not say a word when you cry in their joint embrace.

They leave you alone with reluctance, telling you they love you on their way out of the room. You turn off the lights and get into bed. Frenetic energy sizzles between your skin and blood. Sleep will not come easily tonight as you try to chase away dreams of a blond miracle with thoughts of places far away.

⚘⚘⚘

Happy Friday dear readers! lovely to see you again! Please don't hate me for this chapter, I know that probably will not help but oh well. This was the hardest chapter to write for me but, in the end, it had to be done. Shout at me if you must! All my love, SlaginSecret xxx

@neithriddle

[numberonetacostan]

Thinking about the characters who are still in MeAfterlife (Some of them have canonically seen people they were friends with die too)

Also that 4s can't even attempt the red line game because it would, at best, cause him to take back over the body.

Hi there!!!^^ Welcome, and thank you for your submission!!!!!! X] Strap in because you've given me THOUGHTS.

So we're gonna focus on 4S here because it makes my heart go pitter patter that he never attempts the red line game. He has been inside MeLife for a decade or so, almost completely alone before everyone linked to MeLife got deleted, (since it's not as though Mephone just went around deleting people he made, yeah? We don't know if he ever ended up meeting Box, but I hope they did meet.) and he never tried it. He never regretted giving his life up for Mephone4's. It doesn't get more the brothers of all time than, guys, idk what to tell you.

Onto the THOUGHTS. And by that I mean an entire AU has spawned. Gold star for you, anon!! Okay, please consider Taco and 4S interactions pls. Yeah big surprise my THOUGHTS are about Taco. Anyways, consider her not being revived post-Truth or Flare and meeting 4S inside of MeLife, yeah? One ex-villain who redeemed himself with his last act and one villain who believed she could never be redeemed and played her act until the bitter end. I'm cooking people. So, to clarify real quick, Mepad would absolutely not let this happen if Truth or Flare played out as it did in canon, so there would have to be a little tweaking here, but it's not too tough actually. Taco just doesn't turn him on. She can teleport without him being on, he himself says she didn't need to activate his consciousness to get the files for the challenge, so she just. Doesn't. Even in canon I think she does it in a, erm, moment of weakness in a sense, with her missing Mic's company and deciding to turn him on for someone to talk to. In this version she simply wouldn't let herself do that and shake off the notion of doing such a thing, continuing to stubbornly ignore her feelings. She does Truth or Flare with Mepad's body as her hostage rather than just himself, dies, and isn't revived. Mepad would be powered back on and get the details on what happened from Mephone4, who would conveniently not mention that Taco died. Being more caught up in the challenge/elimination/making sure Mepad is okay/the next elimination, the contestants wouldn't think about her revival until later, in which they could safety assume Mephone has already revived her while they weren't around since they have no precedent for him not reviving people at this point.

And then there's Taco. Dead. Wakes up in MeLife and honestly? Not very happy to be waking up at all. Was hoping for a more final death. Believes herself to be incapable of starting over in more ways than one, was kind of hoping to just be done with everything when she'd died. She'd wander around the void for a while, it's still mostly empty at this point so there's not much to see, run into 4S!!!!! And!!!!!!!! We see him having words of wisdom for Knife in the finale, and he could have some for Taco too!!!!!!!!!!! They would not be delivered as... gently as Mepad delivers his, but still!!! They've both been pretty shit!!!!! Hard!!!!! Especially with Pickle, interestingly enough!! I don't have an exact discussion for them to have yet since I came up with this au like 20 minutes ago when I read this ask but hopefully you guys are picking up what I'm putting down!!! They can talk, or Taco can be talked at, since she's still incredibly sad at this point, about redemption and being better and past mistakes and fhueifhuerifhruei. I need them to interact!!!!!!

So, either 4S could revive Taco on his own- he probably knows about the red line game and could throw her all the way over the line if he really wanted to. She is a rather throwable shape, after all. As well, he could probably approve her revival himself, in the way that Mephone had to press "Yes" to revive all the contestants in the finale. It's his hardware, after all. So he could have a nice talk with her and than throw her out back into the world (like that one vine)!!! Or, in the finale when everyone's been deleted, the two of them can meet up with everyone else. I do like this one because they get more time to bond and talk!!! More development for Taco!!!! And more pain for her because leaving MeLife means leaving 4S behind. So they end up finding everyone at the Wall of Them All and Taco finds out that Mephone created them!! She can not catch a break, my angel <3. "...I'm really gonna do it this time, 4S". Anyways. She probably wouldn't want to come back with everyone, honestly. She hasn't gotten to be rejected by Pickle yet, yeah, but she also didn't connect with Mepad and hasn't made up with Mic either. 4S is her only friend, she really doesn't see any reason for her to go back to life. 4S would though!!!! 4S would be pretty adamant on going back, and even if they haven't made up yet, I think Mic would also encourage her to come back!!! Despite their break up, Mic's yearning was still a 7/10 at this point, and either way she doesn't want Taco dead forever, and has been very worried about her especially since hearing about Truth or Flare. The fact that Taco wants to remain dead is also very concerning!!! So she and 4S end up saying their goodbyes and she plays the red line game <3.

I will stop here since this is no longer about your ask. Sorry!!!!! This is fun to think about though!!!! :D

[phagodyke]

yeah I'm not gonna talk abt it am I...

[facetsofthecloset]

Tbh my life would be pretty perfect right now if my current part time janitoring job paid. Like. A livable wage. Genuinely love doing it, the hours are perfect, I like my coworkers (and don’t have to interact with them much which might contribute to that lol), it leaves me so much time and energy afterward to enjoy my day and live my life—

Except I’m still scraping the bottom of my savings to pay the Existing Fees. Not quite as fast, which is nice, definitely, but like. What if I wasn’t in the red and had this job I think is important and enjoy but also doesn’t consume 110% of my whole life. What then, huh? I might have a good time? I might actually have a chance of kicking my constant SI at some point? Can’t have that can we? Misery is the currency that runs the world isn’t it? Can’t have people having a good time. We might be better off as a society then and that’s not allowed obviously

[willowfey]

what do u do on days u wake up feeling empty and the only things that stir smth up in ur brain and body are memories of times/places that are long gone…. like what am i supposed to do with that….. i don’t feel like a person today i just wanna wake up in my childhood bedroom and smell the way it smelled in winter but i can’t do that so i just go through my day feeling vaguely nauseously unsettled and untethered…. and that doesn’t feel fair but i don’t know what can be done about it

[stereax]

woohoo spiraling out of control right now (what else is new really I've been fucked up and spiraling for weeks now) and trying to figure out reasons not to delete my tumblr and discord and myself along the way

but you know. talking about myself on my blog automatically means I'm attention seeking and fishing for pity right? should just shut up and stick to the news eh, it's all I'm good for :D

anyway if you need me I'll be in the corner reliving the past, coming to terms with reality, and trying to convince myself I'm not the problem despite every indication to the contrary ✌︎︎

[todayisafridaynight]

i see you are a fear and hunger fan. Injecting my brainwaves onto you

ouuugghhh these branwaves make me want pretzel sticks.....

[archipelagolago]

good things but personal so hiding in the tags

[itsalwaysdark]

ome day i will be so normal

[carebearbussy]

𝙨𝙖𝙡𝙩𝙮 & 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩

ᥫ᭡ 𝙨𝙮𝙥𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨: 𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝… 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖𝙨 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙣𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨.

ᥫ᭡ 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙧𝙖! 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚! 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

ᥫ᭡ 𝙘𝙬: 𝙋𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛 <3

ᥫ᭡ 𝙬𝙘: 1.3k

𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

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Your cravings have been going wild.

Ever since you had fallen pregnant by an absolute gargantuan of a man, you are forced to carry twice the amount of nutrients and food stored in your body. The local doctors had recommended that your usual meals be doubled in size, in order to support the extra weight it carried by having a child under Sukuna. And even Sukuna had chimed in, adding that maybe his diet would work for you. But you quickly declined the offer, taking into consideration the life growing inside of you. You did not want your child to grow up to be a cannibalistic monster, much like his father.

But your food choices have been much more bizarre as of lately. Things ranging from huge one course meals that could feed a family of 7, pickled everything, anything covered in cheese, and any regular foods you ate had to be made a specific way, or served in larger portions. Which is why you had decided to wake Sukuna up in the middle of the night, one of the cravings you had pondered on being at the top of your to do list.

Every now and then, your cravings would get really bad. To the point where it was now everybody else's problem. But you truly couldn't help it.

"Kuna, 'Kuna wake up!" You whispered, as you lay spooned beside him. You shook his body from behind you as you spoke, making sure he could hear you. You felt him stretch awake with a low groan, letting you free of his grasp. "Are you awake? Its important..." you ask, awaiting a response out of him. And to your avail, he is awake, but not with the attitude you were initially hoping for. He seemed annoyed that his rest had been interrupted, but those concerns were to be put to rest, as you stepped out of bed, sliding your slippers on by the edge of the bed. He looks at your standing form with half lidded eyes, clearly making the first of many signals of his annoyance with you at the moment.

"What is so important that you wake me from my rest, woman? Im giving you six seconds to speak." He says, as he props himself upwards, sitting at the edge of the bed. With you standing near him, he seizes your hips with his lower set of hands, forcing you into his proximity. "I'm not waiting all day." He ushers you on to speak, but as you think about his possible answer, you start to rethink telling him what you truly want. You look away, clearly starting to get nervous with the attention. But as you do, he grabs your chin, forcing you to look down at him, as he searches for answers. "Go on."

"Well... i've been having cravings lately, and I wanted to know if maybe the kitchen could make me something..." You say, fiddling with your thumbs, as you feel your stomach start to growl lowly. He looks down at your stomach, as you quietly protest his decision to be made. He closes his eyes for a couple seconds, before responding.

"If this is what you really need, then I will indulge this once, brat." He says with a low sigh, as he lets go of his hold on your waist, getting up from his spot on the bed. You look up at him eagerly, silently squealing to yourself as you jump up and down slightly. You wrap your arms around your husbands neck, as you reach up on your tiptoes to pepper kisses all over his defined face. He looks down at your cheerful form, looking unaffected by the attention you give him, but deep down is smiling on the inside. He knows that as long as you stay his sweet, happy wife, then he can get a good nights rest after this.

He picks you up by the back of your thighs, as you are lifted off the ground what seems suddenly. He hoists you on his left side, one hand holding your ass up, the other acting as a back rest. Letting yourself be carried, he opens the door with his right hand, walking into the large hallway to your favorite place since becoming pregnant, the kitchen.

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It seemed as if you had started a national crisis.

With the way you had Uraume, as well as a team of the estates chefs working like dogs in the kitchen. All that could be heard from the upper left wing of the estate was the clinking and clanging of pots and pans, as well as chefs scurrying to prepare the food you had requested. Because it was well known that any request of yours, was to be taken as seriously as if it were from Sukuna.

Uraume seemed to be the only calm one, with them being used to your shenanigans. They were the head of the kitchen, as they lead all of the preparations for the 'big feast', as they like to call it. That big feast being for your pregnant self, of course.

As the kitchen was torn shred by shred trying to prepare you the perfect dish, you stood by the entrance and watched, one hand on your stomach. Standing besides you was Sukuna, with lower arms crossed, as his upper arms conducted the kitchen staff with whats right and wrong. Your eyes lit up with excitement, as you watched all of these people cater to your needs.

"Kuna, how about... chocolate filled dumplings?" You asked, looking up at your focused husband. He was busy keeping an eye on everything, making sure not to mess up your multiple requests you had made in the past twenty minutes. He looks at you with upper set of eyes, his lower ones hyper focused on the kitchen staff.

"That sounds disgusting. But if that is what you wish, so be it." He tells you, scoffing at all of the ridiculous things you had said so far. He then watches as Uraume heads your way, a silver platter in hand, holding what seemed to be at least thirty pieces of bacon, covered in chocolate and sea salt. To any sane person, this would look downright vile. But to you? Sukuna watched as your mouth practically dropped. You squealed in excitement, looking at the dish in hand. "Please enjoy, my lady." Uraume says, still holding out the dish to you as you happily devour it.

But you pause as you look over at Sukuna, still looking down at you. And thats when a lightbulb flicks in your head. You grab a piece of bacon from the tray, as you step in front of Sukuna. He looks down at you, wondering what you're up to, when you reach up on your tippy toes to try and pry open his mouth. "Pleaseeee try it!" You say, pouting your lips, still trying to open his mouth with your fingers. He looks down at you as he furrows his eyebrows, curling his lip upwards. "No, that is repulsive."

Your pout lowers into a full frown, your eyes glossy with the want for him to try what you are offering him. He rolls his eyes, as he picks up the piece of bacon you are holding with two fingers. He looks at it, as he scoffs, swallowing it in one go. "See! Its good right?" You ask him, a smile crossing your face. He looks at you with a 'are you serious?' look, before ruffling your hair, amused with how happy you were that he divulged you.

"It was horrible. Never again are you going to make me do these kinds of things for you, brat."

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[poohsources]

🐝  *  ―  𝑷𝑰𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 / 𝒀𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.

❛  i can't stop thinking about you even when i try.  ❜ ❛  every time i see you, it's like my heart skips a beat.  ❜ ❛  i never realized how much i needed you until you weren't there.  ❜ ❛  do you ever feel like there's something missing ... like a piece of your heart is somewhere else?  ❜ ❛  i wish i had the courage to tell you how i feel.  ❜ ❛  if only you knew how much you truly mean to me.  ❜ ❛  do you ever wonder what it would be like if things were different between us?  ❜ ❛  sometimes i wonder if you ever think about me the way i think about you.  ❜ ❛  i had a lot of dreams about you recently.  ❜ ❛  somehow, you're always on my mind.  ❜ ❛  i think i've been in love with you since the day we met - scratch that, i know i've been in love with you since the day we met.  ❜ ❛  my biggest wish is to hold you close and never let you go.  ❜ ❛  all my life i've felt like a part of me was missing, but with you i've finally found it.  ❜ ❛  you deserve better than who i am right now, but i'm gonna keep trying to become someone you do deserve.  ❜ ❛  every time you smile at me, i get this flutter in my chest.  ❜ ❛  do you think i'll ever be worthy of your love?  ❜ ❛  i want to be the person to make you happy. the one person you can always come to with whatever you need.  ❜ ❛  will we ever get another chance together?  ❜ ❛  you were the best thing that's ever happened to me.  ❜ ❛  my biggest regret is ever letting you go.  ❜ ❛  i'm still in love with you ... and i honestly never stopped.  ❜ ❛  when i wake up in the morning, you're the first person i want to see.  ❜ ❛  every time i wake up, i check if you wrote me another message.  ❜ ❛  i wish i could be as important to you as you are to me.  ❜ ❛  it hurts when you don't talk to me like you used to.  ❜ ❛  i miss everything about you, your touch, your laugh, your smile. i wish i could have that back.  ❜ ❛  i want to fall asleep wrapped in your arms.  ❜ ❛  hold me closer; i always feel safer when you're with me.  ❜ ❛  there's so much i wish i was able to tell you.  ❜ ❛  i know things aren't easy right now, but i want to remain a fixture in your life. after all, you're one in mine.  ❜ ❛  i miss the way you always made me smile.  ❜ ❛  you're the reason i keep holding on.  ❜ ❛  maybe we're supposed so to remain a case of 'right person, wrong time' forever.  ❜ ❛  if only you knew how i feel about you.  ❜ ❛  i'm yearning to hold your hand in mine.  ❜ ❛  i think you are the one for me, and i hope one day i'll be the one for you, too.  ❜ ❛  do you think i'll ever become more than a friend to you?  ❜ ❛  my heart belongs to you, always and forever.  ❜ ❛  my first instinct is to protect you, no matter the cost.  ❜ ❛  i've been thinking about us a lot lately.  ❜

[bokutoko]

you're losing me

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

he was late. again.

every time, when you’d fall asleep waiting for him and wake up the following morning, kuroo's pillow was cold. his mug that always held his morning coffee would already be in the sink when you’d make your own. even the usual lingering smell of his aftershave would be nonexistent when you’d step in the bathroom to wash your face.

the i’m sorry flowers he’d gotten for you a month ago sat on the kitchen counter, wilting, rotting, dying.

it was routine at this point: you’d let out a long sigh, listen to his ‘i’m sorry, i promise i’ll do better’ spiel, accept his apology, and the two of you would move on.

your apartment that once felt like home lost all its gleaming lights—now, sitting in the dark, you wondered just how many of those promises he’s broken.

every time, it was the same excuse. and this time was no different.

“i’m doing all of this for you! for us! i’m doing this so you can be happy!”

you blinked. “what makes you think i’d ever be happy in an empty apartment?”

he stayed silent, and you continued, “tetsu, i don’t want money. you’re all i need—“

the ringing of his phone made your blood run cold. “i have to take this, doll,” he sighed, and without listening to another word from you, he stepped onto the balcony.

watching him through the glass door, you felt worlds apart. you were never the first choice anymore. fighting on the front lines for a war you were bound to lose, you found yourself fatally wounded. even the bravest, strongest soldiers had their breaking points. and you’d finally hit yours.

it didn’t take long for kuroo to end his phone call, but it took even less time for you to pack and leave everything you knew, without a trace.

a/n: i’m sorry.

heavily inspired from taylor swift’s “you’re losing me”

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