#I don't think I have a soul anymore but it's all good

[runabout-river]

Thoughts on JJK chapter 270 (spoilers)

Before I write my thoughts down, I have to confess that they've been tainted by a post I read I after reading the chapter. I decided to write the first part of my review as I had initially wanted to but the second part will discuss the things I read afterwards.

We start the chapter with a beautiful scene of a grave belonging to Tsumiki but my first thought was... what about Tsumiki's soul that had prevented Megumi from killing a girl?

If this is what Tsumiki's end and Megumi's final reaction to that would be, why did Gege bother including her soul as an active character into the story?

I also tried to find the raws to see what exactly was written on her grave. Only her surname? And was it also in English?

After that we get to Tengen and what happened to her and it was exactly here where my thoughts of this chapter went a big 🤨😵🧐🤬🤪

So Yuji just punched her out? And nothing more happened to her? The Culling Games are over? How did that happen? And through which remains would she stay stable? There was nothing left of Sukuna, at least nothing that had gone through Kenjaku's ritual. The only place she would be stable would still be inside Megumi. Her barriers are magically stable as well.

What a... neat ending to all those plot threads...

Then we come to Maki finding her past helpers and telling them that all the reincarnated sorcerers would be separated from their hosts by Yuji soon and...

That's against established canon. We already had the discussion that the souls of the host's can't be saved because they've been pushed down to complete darkness. Choso couldn't feel the soul of his host anymore and that was how the narrative absolved him from any wrongdoing because now he didn't have to give his body back for ethical reasons and he hadn't made an unethical deal to be reincarnated either.

Only Megumi was said to have a chance of being saved and no one else.

So now I'm here and scretching my head thinking... was Gege so desperate or time constipated to end the manga that he threw that point out? Or is sth else going on here...

We get Takaba back and he has a suspicious looking partner now, with whom he can do more comedy.

Now I don't think that's the real Kenjaku there. It's more likely that Takaba simply imposed that hairstyle on his new partner because he's missing his short time best friend.

For an actual Kenjaku comeback, he wouldn't have Geto's body anymore. Imo, Kenjaku did have spare bodies lying around he could've fled to at the last second though.

We get more loose ends being tied up and for Higuruma it's clemency. This is another point in the "everything turns out perfectly good for the good guys" part we have been bombarded with in this chapter.

I'm like, Gege, isn't this too much? Wasn't JJK darker than this? Even Shoko gave up her smokes. The military plot is just "we'll deal with them" and there's no mention of JJ societal instability with the clans falling apart.

Either he really wanted to wrap every loose end up... or

Gege forgets Megumi's scar on a pretty big panel and we get an anime love complication with one chapter remaining. It was funny though.

Then we come to the end where we're set up to believe that life of the first year trio will go on as it should've been without those major Shibuya/Shinjuku complications.

Just going on missions and living life like that.

Now, one could accept that kind of ending (why isn't that in chapter 271 though?) But it comes off as so... lackluster and mended with fire after big chunks of the plot were cut off.

After I had finished the chapter, I was the most disappointed at everything that had to do with Tengen and the CG. So Gege sets up that the sorcerer life will continue afterwards. Even without wanting a Part 2, just ending the CG and Tengen's story like that is... unnecessarily boring and wasted space for nearly everything that came before that.

But then I read @thepersonperson post on how the last 3 chapters of JJK could possibly have been an induced dream sequence this whole time.

Induced by Yuji through his ability of creating fake memories right before defeat/death. His own DE is an application of this and Sukuna's strangely similar ability of talking with freshly deceased people in a dreamscape.

When Yuji had first expanded his domain, I went on such a ramble at the time about these strange abilities of them both. What I said back then was that Yuji wasnt an active/aware participant of them but by now he had acquired Sukuna's CT and again a DE.

This could mean that his induced dream sequences could've evolved enough that he became aware of them instead of only pushing them into someone else. In other words:

Yuji is dreaming of his best happy ending.

And here truly experiences that but he can't tell until now that it's a dream. He might very well be lying on the ground now about to die.

The post I linked adds more details to this theory like inconsistent character placements and "mistakes" like Megumi's scar suddenly missing, which would be commonplace in a dream.

That last picture up there with the guy who's supposed to be cursed but it was actually his girlfriend who had her perception of reality altered as well as the name of this chapter, would be the final hints about the last few chapters having been another glitch in perception.

Now only one week is left then we'll get our final answers to JJK. If this dream theory is true, then Gege will establish himself as the biggest troll, either with a JJK 2 or with a tragic ending.

(And if this really comes true, then I don't think I'll manage to escape the spoilers)

But whatever might come and even though I'm meh about the end (as it's presented to us right now) I still love JJK and immensely enjoyed reading, watching and engaging with it 😄

[eshieslovemaze]

what we left behind... | jungkook

summary: nothing lasts forever. everything comes to an end. so does your relationship with him.

pairing: jungkook × reader

genre: angst, hurt-no-comfort

word count: 2.2k+

warnings/includes: arguments, a relationship falling apart, eventual breakup, crying, mentions of depression

❤️‍🩹🍂

jungkook and you have been each other's everything for years. your relationship began to bloom in the late years of high school, and blossomed into something truly beautiful by your mid-twenties. your love story was one that your friends both appreciated and envied — two souls who found their way to one another through events aligned by the universe. but life has a way of changing things, and somewhere along the path, you started to drift apart.

it started subtly. you would come home late from your work, too exhausted with your new responsibilities as a high ranked professional to spend your time together. jungkook, overwhelmed with his own workload, would bury himself in his tasks to avoid the palpitating tension at home that only seemed to grow. conversations that used to flow effortlessly between you two became stilted, awkward, and i dare say, suffocating. the little things you once loved and adored about each other became sources of irritation and arguments.

one night, the tension finally boiled over. you fought about something very trivial —who forgot to buy milk, or who left the lights on, and it had escalated into something much darker and irreversible.

"jungkook, why do you always do this? you just shut down, and i feel like i'm talking to a wall! it's like you don't even want to talk with me anymore!" you snapped, your voice shaking with frustration, mind weighed down and haywire from the turn of events between you two.

jungkook's jaw clenched as he tried to keep his temper in check. "and you think i enjoy this? i can’t even remember the last time we had a conversation that didn’t end in a fight!"

"maybe if you actually listened—" you start, but he doesn't let you finish.

"i do listen! but all i hear is how i'm never good enough for you anymore," his voice rose, sharp and cold like a dagger.

you froze, the weight of his words seeping in like water through a sponge. the anger that had fueled you suddenly turned into something else — pain, guilt, and a deep sadness that you didn’t know how to express. "jungkook, you know... that’s not what i mean. i just—"

"just what, y/n? just wish you were with someone else? someone who didn’t disappoint you all the time? someone who isn't me?" his words seemed to bring out every negative emotion within you, his own chest heaved with each laboured breath, struggling to keep his temper in check.

"that’s not fair!" you cried out, your voice breaking. tears welled up in your eyes, but you blinked them back, telling yourself it's not the time, refusing to let them fall. "i never said that, i would never say that!"

"you didn’t have to," jungkook's voice was cold, distant. the warmth that once filled his eyes when he looked at you was all gone, replaced by a dull resignation, something that you tried to ignore to not break down. "maybe… maybe we’re just fooling ourselves, thinking we can keep doing this, when we both know we can't." he ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots in frustration.

you stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. "what are you saying? y-you don't mean it, right?" your nostrils flared, eyes blazing with a mixture of rage, guilt, and most importantly, hurt.

jungkook looked away, unable to meet your gaze. "i don’t know what i’m saying. i just— i don’t know how to fix, or do this," he points his index to you and then himself, "anymore."

the room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of your unspoken words pressing down. you felt a tear slip down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away. "maybe we just need some time, some space," you whispered, though you weren't sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

"yeah," jungkook simply replied, his voice devoid of any emotion as he looked away from your eyes. "maybe."

you didn’t speak again that night, both retreating into your own corners of the house like strangers living under the same roof. as the days turned into weeks, the once-familiar spaces felt increasingly empty. awkwardly polite exchanges, forced smiles, and a palpable tension hung heavy in the air, a constant reminder of the distance that had grown between you in an unalterable way.

then came the afternoon that would be the turning point of everything. you had suggested that you both go to the café where you had your first date, desparately hoping that a walk down memory lane would rekindle the spark you two have misplaced, and take things back to where they were. jungkook agreed, though he wasn’t really sure if he believed it would help.

the café was just as you remembered from your high school days —warm, cozy, with the same old jukebox in the corner playing soft tunes. you sat at your usual table, the one by the window, but the atmosphere was different now. the once comforting familiarity of the place only highlighted how much had changed between the two of you, igniting the tension instead of bringing back the lost warmth.

both of you forced a small talk, urging yourselves to pretend things were just fine when in all reality, they weren't. The tautness between you was palpable and growing, the uncomfortable silence between your words louder than ever.

you finally broke, your voice trembling as you spoke, "jungkook… do you remember how we used to dream about the future? about us together forever? how we talked about travelling, starting a family, growing old together?" you gulped, supressing the trembling emotions in your throat.

jungkook nodded, his throat tightening, "of course, i do. i remember."

"what happened to us?" your voice finally cracked, your eyes searching his for answers that neither of you had. "when did we stop being… us? when did things change from what they were?"

he looked at you, his own heart aching at the sight of your pain. "i don’t know, really," he admitted, his eyes dimming. "i don’t know when we lost each other. to the point that we let the rough patches take control of everything to the point of no return."

your eyes brimmed with tears, and this time, you couldn’t find it in you to hold them back. "i don’t want to lose you, jungkook. i love you. that... that never changed."

"i love you too, y/n. i know it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, choked with bitter feelings from the situation you both are in. "but maybe… maybe love isn’t enough for us anymore. neither of us are happy..." he weakly trails off.

you felt your heart shatter to dust at his words. you wanted to argue, to deny, to fight for the both of you. but deep down, you knew he was right. you both had been trying to hold on to something that was already gone, lost forever.

you finished your beverages in silence, buying time as both your minds wheeled to weigh the situation. when the twilight pink of the sky darkens with clouds, mirroring your thoughts, you two decide to leave. you two walk to the car, the rain that had started moments ago now falling steadily around you.

you drove back to your shared apartment in silence, neither of you knowing what to say. as you two entered the confinements of your shared home — if it even was a home anymore, you spoke up after finding your voice. "what now, jungkook?"

jungkook glanced at you for a moment before looking away, his chest tight with heavy, bitter feelings. "it's time. we will keep hurting ourselves if this goes on. we need to break up."

you looked up at him, your eyes full of pain, sadness, and regret, "i'll always love you, kook."

"and i'll always love you too, y/n," he replied, his eyes softening with melancholy as he gulped. "but… it’s time to let go."

you nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks as you closed your eyes. you couldn't stop yourself as you leaned in and gave him a final, lingering kiss — a goodbye wrapped in the echo of what you both left behind. he pulled you close, deepening the kiss as you both tasted the saltiness of your tears through the kiss.

as you parted, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, a final farewell. your heart ached with every item he placed into his suitcase, each one a piece of your shared life. the rain outside fell in sync with your tears, and you could only stand there, rooted to the spot. he gave you one last, lingering look before walking out the door, out of the world that you both dreamt of growing old in together, leaving it behind forever.

in the next few months, you went through the pits of regret and depression, wheeling your mind to replay every event during your togetherness and calculate what went wrong, when it went all downhill. you cried for days, mourning for what you two left behind. you made yourself a workaholic to stop yourself from spiralling, cooping yourself at your workplace till odd hours to avoid the memories that would rush back when you would step in your once shared home.

but you knew you couldn't grieve forever; you had to move on. slowly, you began having proper meals and taking care of yourself, gradually starting to change the decor of the apartment — as if to bury all the memories. with a heavy heart, you took down all the frames with pictures of two of you, safely placing them in a box and tucking it away in a corner under the bed. it was hard to let go of all those years of memories, but you did it for your own sake, knowing it would have been worse if you two stayed together. when the one-year mark of the break up hit, you believed that you had moved on, no longer caught up in the past. yes, you felt nostalgic at times, but you finally moved on.

you walked into the upscale downtown gallery, eyes sweeping across the room filled with art lovers and collectors. you weren’t here for the art, though; you had arrived tonight to support a friend who was showcasing her paintings for the first time. as you navigated through the crowd while admiring the art pieces on display, your steps faltered, your breath catching in your throat.

there, across the room, was jungkook.

he looked different — slightly older, more polished in a tailored suit, his hair a little longer than you had remembered, his jawline looking slightly angular. your eyes then fell to the woman beside him, laughing at something he said, her hand resting easily on his arm. she looked stunning, so much that a pang of envy shot through you; for now occupying the place you once had.

your heart tightened at the sight. it had been a year since that rainy night, a year since you had gone your separate ways, but seeing him now stirred that all-too-familiar ache in your chest. he looked happy — content in a way you hadn’t seen far too long.

for a moment, you considered turning around, slipping out before he could notice you. but before you could decide, jungkook's eyes caught yours across the room.

at that moment, everything else faded away. the crowd, the noise, the art — all of it blurred into the background as your eyes locked. but the once fiery connection between you was all gone, leaving only a cold, distant recognition in its place.

jungkook's smile slowly dropped, his expression unreadable. you felt a wave of emotions crash over you — nostalgia, regret, a tinge of longing — but most of all, you felt the cold sting of reality. you were no longer the jungkook and you who had shared dreams and whispered secrets in the dark; now you were just two people who had once been in love, but not anymore.

the woman beside jungkook nudged him, drawing his attention back to her. he offered her a small smile and leaned in to whisper something in her ear. a pang of jealousy flared up inside you, but you quickly pushed it down, reminding yourself that you were no longer a part of each other’s lives.

taking a deep breath, you turned away, forcing yourself to walk in the opposite direction. you mingled with the other guests, engaging in polite conversations, but your mind was miles away. the image of jungkook lingered in your mind, and you couldn’t stop replaying the way he had looked at you — like a stranger from a vague memory.

the evening passed in a blur, and as you left the gallery, you couldn’t resist glancing over your shoulder one last time. jungkook was still there, smiling with the woman who now held his attention, his form turned away from you — both literally and figuratively.

as you stepped out into the cool night air, you realized that the chapter of your life with jungkook had truly closed. you had become what you never thought you could — strangers passing by in the night, each on separate paths, separate lives.

with each step away, you finally allowed yourself to let go of the last remnants of what you left behind, embracing the unknown future ahead, no longer haunted by the ghost of your past love.

— copyright: © @eshieslovemaze 0924.

[pollen]

hii it's been awhile since i've given any updates about what's going on with me but!!! i think we're moving back to oregon at some point. and i'm gonna make grad school happen. i'm so yhappy

[death-rebirth-senshi]

I think it's interesting to look at ideas they played with in dark souls 3 that made their way into Elden Ring, because while I don't think the Lord of Londor ending is nothing, it's fairly. A whole load of nonsense that's just kind of there.

And like, to a degree that fits the vibe of dark souls 3. It's all a whole load of nonsense; linking the fire, an age of dark, usurping the fire, it's all equally desperate attempts at mending a world that started circling the drain long ago.

And becoming Elden Lord in Elden Ring is similarly kind of vague as far as what it means and what exactly you accomplish by becoming elden lord. And it's similar to me in the way these desperate masses bow to you and beg for you to "make Londor whole", somehow.

Slightly less vague in Elden Ring; like the first flame, the Elden Ring has power, and power specifically to enforce a new Order upon the lands. And you get to choose what kind of Order that will be, or you can reject it and burn it all down, or you can reject it for something dark and frightening and uncertain.

[bongsavior]

why does everyone else's state dictate how i'm doing? why do i obsess over how everyone is, except for myself?

[blacksurvivalnostalgichanges]

Luke:My favorite lyric here is definitely when Ariana suddenly says...

Luke:”Wishing on a shooting star in the sky”. “We can do anything, if we try”. “Can’t ressurect Ghandi”. “But if we put our heads together”. “We can do anything”.

Alex:Probably my favorite pop song lyric of all time.

Luke:Wish on a star! You can be who you are! We can do anything! Except ressurect Martin Luther King Jr who was killed by the FBI.

[manapeer]

I'll call my dad

The justice league was in disaray. They had failed to stop the summoning, and already the demon was stepping out of the portal. The last standing heros didn't have the manpower to stop a whole thrall army and the magic users certainly hadn't the power to deal with the demon himself. They needed a plan, or a miracle, or the earth was doomed.

Suddenly, Constantine braced himself, and strode right to the beast.

"Don't step further, or I'll have to call my dad."

The heros were baffled. The demon too.

"Your... dad ?"

"That's right," he was sweating bullets but he continued "I'm John Constantine and Phantom is my dad. He cares a lot about Earth. He will not take kindly your little invading stunt."

"Who is Phantom ?" wispered Flash to Zatana.

"I don't know."

The league didn't know if he was bluffing or not. Zatana had recently heard rumors about Constantine's father, but it was all vague, shrouded in secrecy.

The surprised past, the demon laught.

"Alright," he mocked, "Let see what your 'dad' think of that."

Constantine took a deep breath and reluctantly put out a piece of paper form his inner pocket. As he put it in fire with a spell, the cave they were in was breifly plunged in freezing cold and supernatural darkness. A thunderous ice crack resoned, that they could feel in their chest as much as they heard. The shadows sleethed into the form of a titanesque being, and suddenly big, bright, lazarus green eyes opened. And they didn't look happy.

"John."

He gulped.

"Hi dad."

"It's a school night."

"I know," the magician cringed, "I swear I have a good reason."

Now the being looked downright pissed.

"Damn, I would hope so ! Do you have any idea what time it is ?"

"He wants to destroy the Earth !" defended Constantine almost petulantly, waving at the confused demon.

The green eyes looked at the demonic being, then the leaguers in various states of injuries, then the demon again. The demon didn't seem like he wanted to be here anymore. He was proved right when he received a monstruous fist in the face.

The entity grabbed him by an ankle, threw him back to hell, then slammed the portal shut as if it was a door. Constantine visibly relaxed.

"Thanks a lot."

"Don't mention it," grumbled the being. "Anything else you need ?"

"No. And I'm really sorry, I know it's late."

"Just don't make it an habit. See you on sunday."

And just like that, he was gone. Wally had to sit down.

"What the fuck."

---

Hi everyone ! I was reminded of that post a while ago where Danny inherited of Connie's soul and decided it counts as adoption (can't find it now) and this is what came to my brain.

[acid-ixx]

a loving family, an unpalatable desire

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: would anyone hear me out if i ever wrote romantic yan! bruce (ft. platonic yan! batfam AND romantic yan clark kent alongside the superfam ofc) with a neglected spouse reader... because uhm, i've been thinking about it lately just yk... so anyways PLSPLSPLS send in asks about this, ive been thinking about it so much lately.

imagine wanting to raise a family so badly with a man who adopts problem children as a side hustle. you're not some invasive spouse, you've always been good, always been loving, so... so accepting, never questioned where or how he picked them up from the side of the streets, never once complaining about the hickeys on his neck or the once neat tussles of his hair now tangled accompanying lipstick stains on his white suit.

you love your children, you tell yourself all the time. you love them, you love bruce— even if he doesn't love you. you said it in your vows, despite it being scripted, despite your family finally sighing in relief in the sidelines at finally being able to sell you off to one of the wealthiest man in the world, rather than being wasting off under their care— your vows are real.

you wanted someone to love you, unconditionally, so viscerally eternal that it eats you up.

really, all you wanted was to play that fantasy life of trophy house spouses. all you wished for was a loving, healthy relationship. the american dream: the picture perfect family frames, your husband kissing you on the cheek as he leaves for work, your children bickering at the dining room, with the scent of homemade meals wafting about the vicinity. all you wanted was the warmth in your chest to flicker like candlelights. all you dreamed about was that domestic life, an escape from the abusive household you were raised in.

yet the manor is too cold, too unforgiving for a soul such as yours.

the longer you stay inside claustrophobic, yet oh-so large hallways, the quicker you drown in a neverending pool of self-hatred.

but you're not allowed to show them your sufferings. they've been through much worse, you tell yourself. they've suffered more, and as what good spouses do, as what you're taught, you stay silent, enabling them to turn you into their own emotional punching bag.

you only allow yourself to cry at the dead of the night, under the sheets of your too-cold blanket and your too-hot pillows. when the manor is filled with deathly silence and a looming sense of dread and ill fitting thoughts of ifs and when they'll come back in one piece, will you grant yourself temporary respite; worry for a family who never even called you their parent.

yet you've always been so considerate. despite the pang in your chest every time bruce flirts with anymore potential love interest at a gala, you chose to instead monitor your chaotic children, who have always never bat an eye on you despite you always gazing lovingly at them.

you know of their interests, they don't know yours, yet you still give them extravagant gifts on their birthdays, with tired, yet glinting eyes, and a silent excuse to return to your room; one separate from bruce.

you know of bruce's hardships, but you don't push too hard, don't force him to talk, only provide him your silence and an offer to serve him dinner; all the time he refuses without looking at you. you give him comfort only if he ever allows you, only if he allows his walls to crumble— but not even his spouse can amount to a warm, crackling fireplace. to him, you're probably only a matchstick under the deadbeat glaze of the snow in a winter night.

maybe that's why you're such a ghost in the manor, stalking through the hallways, looking out for any of your children in case they come across you with any injuries. maybe that's why eventually your resolve weakened.

and maybe the absence of familial love led you to find comfort in another man's arm.

''til death do us part,' is such a tragic saying in your case, because you know it in your fragile heart that bruce's love for you was never alive in the first place. and yet you allow him to play you like a fiddle, allow him to slowly allow you to slip away from his nonexistent grasp.

and now, you're a stand-in parent for clark's son, jon, after the tragic loss of his wife. now, your world seems a lot less bleaker, as you play the fantasy of a loving house spouse, fully abandoning the life you left behind, a life you've never been gifted with until now. you want to feel guilty, you want to feel absolutely terrible but the heartache of neglect has become too much and all you do was allow clark to warm you up each night, kissing away your tears and spooning your deep-seated anxieties away.

you don't let the past eat you up, not when the present is too perfect, too freeing, too delusionally beautiful.

your son, jon provides you every joy a parent could have. parent's day gifts, heartfelt letters at every nook and cranny of your shared bedroom with clark— even reading him bedtime stories, allowing him to sleep in your lap after he slowly nods off, with clark knocking softly on polished wooden doors, greeting you with a loving kiss on the lips and a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand—

it's everything a parent wants, needs even.

and you're everything clark, and especially jon wants, needs in their life.

so it's such a stupid mistake, really. a slip of the tongue, a too-enthusiastic smile, incredibly bright, shining eyes. it's not jon's fault, you still love him either way. but it's an error still— one a complicated matter at hand, so dreadful for you, that jon accidentally, all-too-suddenly, mentions you as his parent to damian.

a loving, wonderful parent, he says, with a picture of you in his wallet shoved right in front of his friend's face.

[suiana]

(yandere! corpse husband x gn! reader) (slight yan! male best friend too)

"and today, we are gathered to send off the late mr-"

you stand by his coffin, sobbing pathetically as your male best friend pats your back reassuringly. just a few days ago, your husband unfortunately died after you sat on his face. you hadn't wanted to! but how could you say no to him after he begged so cutely?

doctors said he died a pleasurable death, i mean, you could see it from his face when he died. and the fact that he exploded everywhere and it was all over his pants.

but you wish he hadn't died. you really loved him. you did. even if he was... slightly weird.

"he was my everything! now i don't even have his dick anymore! what am i supposed to do?!"

"hey hey... it's alright. let it all out..."

your best friend mutters, rubbing your shoulder as you sob into his chest. his hands run across the fabric of your shirt, tenderly reassuring you. if you pulled away a bit, you'd probably be able to see the way he had a smirk on his face.

"he'd probably want you to move on anyway... be happy with someone else."

"um, excuse me bro? what are you doing telling my spouse to move on?"

all goes quiet as your supposedly dead husband sits up, eyebrows furrowed as he glares directly at your best friend.

"like actually, I'd want them to be stuck on me until the day their physical flesh body dies so we can be together for eternity. we'd intertwine our star dust and merge our ascended souls into one so we'd never be apart again and-"

he rambles slightly, gritting his teeth as he continues to glare at your male best friend. you pull away from him immediately, standing still as you face your now... reanimated husband?

"honey? you're alive?"

your husband turns his gaze to you, soulless eyes now full of life as he tries clambering out of his casket. the funeral attendees all scream in horror at the sight, a fiasco taking place as your corpse husband approaches you with slowed movements.

"babe..? oh my love! come here! ah... you should sit on my face again- I don't think i can die again anyway..."

he coos at you, hands trying to grab at you as you make calculated movements to approach him. damn the embalmer did a good job... you're sure you'd be screaming too if there wasn't an embalmer.

"ah... i love you so much... i love you, really. you'd never move on from me right? you love me and only me. don't listen to that asshole over there. I'll fucking haunt your soul if you tried leaving me."

your dead(?) husband mutters, hugging you tightly against his chest. you feel his fingers dig into your skin, gripping you so tightly as though he were trying to tear into your skin.

"o-oi you're holding me too hard-"

"ah, apologies my dear."

he mutters, reluctantly releasing his grip before his hands trail over your frame before landing on your cheeks. you shiver slightly, the cold hands cupping your face before you grimace as he opens his mouth right in your face again.

"i love you so much, let's kiss-"

"ugh, your breath stinks."

"oh... sorry..."

he shoves a mint in his mouth, slowly chewing before choking and collapsing on the ground, unmoving.

...

did you just witness your husband die again?

[thebestsetter]

"If I was a color, I think I'd be yellow"

"Why?"

"Non-important. I just feel it"

He has never seen yellow the same way again. It was everywhere. He looked for it everywhere. And everytime, without fail, he remembered you. A pretty sunflower. Your blinding smile. A little minion figure he saw on the mall. You crying after watching the latest "Despicable Me" movie (and him laughing at your cute stupid crying face). A silly Winnie the Pooh keychain on a crying child's backpack. You talking to the said sad kid you both saw on the street and trying to cheer them up, playing with them and making sure they were smiling, their worries melting away in the speed of light (you'd make such a great mother, he thinks, making his face grow bright red right after). The sun in all of it's glory. You. You. You. You.

You were like a plague infecting his brain and soul. He couldn't focus on anything anymore because you were always running through his head, the sound of your laugh playing inside his mind 24/7 and driving him half insane. He couldn't take it anymore. He had to ask you why you said to him you were yellow. How did you know? What made you so sure of it? Why you had put him under this spell in which everytime he catches just the smallest and quickest glimpse of yellow, the image of you came flooding his mind and senses? Did you even think about him the same amount of times he thought about you? He didn't know. He couldn't know unless he asked you. And it was not fair. Not fair at all.

"Remember that day you told me you were yellow?"

"Yeah" you said, stopping mid-sip of your milkshake and looking at him with your beautiful a confused face "Yeah, I do. Why?"

"You never gave me an answer to the question I asked you that day" he ignored how the first sentence you said made his heart fluster and his stomach go silly.

"Which question?" How humilliating. He's gonna have to swallow his pride and repeat it. Utterly ridiculous.

"Why?" He couldn't care less about how hurt his ego was right now "Actually, how. How did you know you're yellow?"

"Easy. It's 'cause yellow and purple are opposites, so they look good when put together"

"What?"

"Yellow and purple are on opposite sides of the color wheel, silly! So they're complementary colors and go well together"

"I know that. But what does purple have to do with you being yellow?"

"You remind me of purple"

And suddenly, he realized yellow has never been alone. Next to the beautiful sunflower, there's a bellflower, that looks gloom when compared to the yellow plant, but basks in the joy it seems to bring nonetheless. Just like you are the one to bring joy to his life. Beside the minion figure, there's a figure of those bad purple minions, and while one is considered pretty, funny and nice, the other one is scary, angry and people tend to avoid them. It reminds him of you two: extroverted and kind you and introverted and rude him. Perfect opposites. Perfect together. He hadn't noticed before, but the child's backpack was purple, and this memory was followed by the the sound of the laughs you and the little fella shared. Kids should always be happy, smiling, harmless and having fun. Comfortable. Safe. In that way, you make him feel like a little kid. Your warm embrace, so protective and oh so motherly. He feels relaxed around you. Overjoyed. And even though he doesn't smile a lot, you always seem to make him want to crack a real, big grin. It must be a superpower of yours. Lastly, the sun, always followed by the moon. Even though they don't "meet" often, when they do, they create one of the prettiest phenomena known to humanity: an eclipse. They're always apart, but when they're together, it's so beautiful that the whole world stops to see.

"That's cringy. And kinda stupid."

"No it's not! We're a perfect duo! Just admit it!!"

"'Course we are"

"What did you say? I didn't quite hear you!!"

"I'm not saying it again."

So don't act surprised when your wedding is full of beautiful sunflowers and bellflowers. You should see it coming. They look good together right? Just like you two.

RIN ITOSHI, Kunigami Rensuke, Nagi Seishiro, MICHAEL KAISER, Barou Shohei, SAE ITOSHI, TODOROKI SHOTO, SHINSOU HITOSHI, BAKUGOU KATSUKI, USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI, KAGEYAMA TOBIO, TSUKISHIMA KEI (his name's kanji meaning moon is just so-- perfect fot this fic) , Osamu Miya, MEGUMI FUSHIGURO + any character you think fits this!!

Curiosity!!!: Bellflowers mean "everlasting love and commitment" in flower language, while sunflowers mean steadfast love!!

Masterlist

Wrote this in the middle of my portuguese class. I hate it. I'm in love with him

[chaosroid]

I am once again lamenting how neglected resist!Durge has been for months. The final climactic scene to their arc is met with some of the most milquetoast companion reactions I've ever seen.

We literally die.

Like Durge just stops being alive. Where's the angst? The emotion? None of this half-assing shit, give us the shock and denial. Hell, give us weeping! Make it unflattering, because loss can be ugly.

I wouldn't even be opposed to Withers not showing up immediately? Maybe they have to physically drag Durge's dead body back to camp. Show us Gale using the only revival scroll he has and his face falling when it doesn't work. Shadowheart being the healer, desperately expending all her energy to bring you back to life as a last hail mary. Minthara not caring that Bhaal is a god, vowing to make him pay. Lae'zel threatening you to wake up, and the devastation that follows when she realizes you won't. Wyll thinking of bargaining his very soul to Mizora just for the chance she could bring Durge back. Astarion and Karlach praying to whatever gods they can think of even though they don't believe in them anymore.

Show the grief, the exhaustion. Then Withers appears.

As it stands, the emotional weight of what happens to Durge gets resolved so quickly, there's never a moment for any of us to really react to it.

It's an issue all across the game tbh. Why do the companions have no reaction to Kressa's reveal that she tortured Durge? Why are there no consequences to your relationships when they find out you were behind the Absolute plan? Outside of Astarion, the other romanceable companions have very little unique interactions with Durge, which is a shame because there are plenty of them who share many parallels to Durge's experience of being used by a god/higher-power.

I feel like I'm playing the world's smallest violin when I complain about the lack of resist!Durge content because good god, Wyll and Minthara are fighting for their lives over here. But man, it really sucks knowing that patch 7 is allegedly Larian's last big content patch. Like if there was ever going to be an update where this sort of thing was added, it had to be this one. But it doesn't seem like Larian has any intention of closing the content disparity gap.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Would you ever consider writing out the Alley Boyfriends?

Tim's favorite brand of coffee since childhood- for one could not follow Batman and Robin around without losing some sleep- had always been the Heart Attack Coffee. It was known for its high levels of sugar and caffeine, with the added bonus of being cheap.

Heart Attack Coffee grew from a small family-run booth in Gotham's street market to five stores in Gotham, three in Bludhaven, and even one in Metropolis.

Their menu comprises about sixty percent of various coffees, but there are teas, fruit waters, and even pastries.

They rolled out signature drinks per season, and Tim was always the first one in line when the new menu was revealed. He preferred the winter ones- mainly because they were hot and always had a special kick to his coffee compared to the spring and summer that tended to lean more towards ice dreams like teas or fruit waters.

Tim adored Heart Attack with all his might. He collected their special cups, a book on all the different flavors he tried, and even cried for three hours straight after learning the Heart Attack team had made drinks inspired by the Bats.

He doesn't think he drank anything but the Red Robbin Rush for the three months the promotion ran. Yes, his heart was beating like a hummingbird in his chest the whole time, and he was a bit jitty, but it was worth it.

Then came the terrible day Bruce found out just how much caffeine was inside Heart Attack's coffee. Not enough to shut them down with health violations but enough to worry him.

He forbids the family from Heart Attack, suggesting another cafe that were safer. The thing is, Tim does not drink any other coffee. He tried of course, but unless he was the one that made it, the other coffee never came close!

That was Tim's coffee. His special coffee. He had one every day (that he was in town and not away on a mission) so much so the employees knew him by name and what time he usually showed up.

Sean, the morning cashier at the closest branch to WE, would have an experimental drink prepared for him. Sean would let him test out possible new flavors!

That's how valued he was as a customer.

Don't get him wrong, Tim tried to follow Bruce's mandatory boycott. But by the third day, his headache was killing him, and his hands were starting to get itchy.

Not only that. His whole day just felt off when he skipped out on his morning coffee or his after-work coffee. Tam had caught him re-organizing his office at least five times because his office just didn't feel right anymore. It wasn't balanced.

On the fourth day, he walked into a Heart Attack, and Sean smiled at him. He had a blond expresso Rush halfway made when Tim reached the counter. "Welcome back, Tim."

He placed a fifty in the tip jar grinning at the employee. He took his first sip of the golden nectar and felt his very soul breathe as it settled in his stomach. "Good to be back"

Tim figured that Bruce wouldn't notice because, frankly his adoptive dad wasn't the most observant when it came to Tim's habits. He got away with it for about a month.

Then came the faithful day Bruce reminded him why he was Bartman.

"I'm sorry, Tim, you've been placed on the Do not Serve Coffee list." Sean winces, showing the binder to the stunned CEO.

"I've been banned!?" He chokes, running his eyes over his own face in picture form. "What did I do!?"

"Not banned. You can still order caffeine-free teas or fruit waters." Sean reassures, but it means nothing. His apologies and his explanations mean nothing.

Sean-who he was half sure had been flirting with Tim for months- suddenly meant nothing.

Bruce has bought out Heart Attack was nearest WE in an effort to get Tim to cut back on his coffee intake. The man knew he did not like drinking any other brand, didn't function right without it, and still chose to pull this stunt.

Well, if he thought Tim wouldn't drive ten minutes to the next nearest Heart Attack, he was sorely mistaken. He got up twenty minutes early- and Tim loves to sleep okay. Just because he can't have too much of it with his busy life didn't mean he didn't adore sleep- and drove himself there to make sure he was on time for WE.

The employee gave him the same spiel, holding that dreaded binder. Bruce had also gotten to this branch. But Tim knew that while the branches could be bought out, the name was trademarked, so Bruce couldn't own them all!

He tried the Heart Attack that was thirty minutes away, showing up late to work due to him not planning the traffic for the morning rush, and still did not succeed in getting coffee.

. Then he tried the one that forty minutes, on the complete opposite side of his work, and that one failed too. By this point, a whole week had gone by since he last had a Heart Attack.

Not even on missions did he go this long. He usually bought those take-home packages when he knew the missions were going to be longer than three days at the most. They wouldn't even sell him that anymore!

The packages were just packs of Heart Attack instant coffee. It wasn't even the real deal!

He was feeling withdrawal; his headaches were getting worse, while his body felt slow with fatigue, and he was snapping at everything and everyone.

Just the other day, he yelled at Tam for sneezing. Sneezing.

Thankfully, she can give out as good as she gets. She reminded Tim why she was the one who tended to call all the shots around the office despite what others believed.

His skin was starting to burn, which didn't make sense since caffeine withdrawal did not include itchiness, but he couldn't stop scratching. Tim also hasn't slept in a while because his daily evening routines were all off now that he couldn't have Coco Connect!

He thinks he made all of his executives uneasy with his fidgeting and nasty scowl at the last meeting because he couldn't sit still when all he could think of was Heart Attack.

The last Heart Attack, the one right at the edge of the city, the one that was only a street away from Crime Alley and happened to be a forty-five-minute commute for both Wayne Manor and WE, was his last hope.

Out of all of the branches, this one was the least impressive. It was cramped with only three tables, the walls were painted a dark brown, and the light setting was all low.

It was nothing like the bright and spacious atmosphere of the other branches. It was even squished between two large buildings, the narrow doorway making it hard to even see. Tim was sure Bruce had not found this one yet.

When he pushed the door open, he jumped slightly at the chime from the bells on the door. His anxiety had been climbing to ridiculous levels, he needed his coffee.

At the counter, a boy who looked his age glanced up from his red bulky phone. He quickly slipped it into his pocket, giving Tim a friendly, if slightly bored smile. "Can I help you?"

Tim raced towards him, nearly tripping over his own feet. There was a slight note of deranged desperation in his voice as he responded. "Please, I just want a cup of coffee."

The boy nods, pressing a few buttons on his little cheap register. "What kind would you like?"

Tim's heart swelled with hope. "I want a large Blond Expresso Rush and a-"

The boy stops. He looks up slowly at the time, squinting his eyes as if trying to see into Tim's mind. Then, with a slow movement, he reached under the counter to withdraw a very familiar binder.

Tim's eyes burn with unshed tears as the stranger flips through the binder before stopping on a particular page. "I'm sorry, sir, but you are on the Don't Serve Coffee list. I can offer you some tea instead-"

"NO!" Tim yells, causing the employee to jerk back. He knows he must look like a mess, with tears rolling down his face, but he doesn't care. This was his last chance. He can't make it to the branches in Bludhaven or Metropolis, not daily and certainly not without Bruce noticing. " THIS IS THE FIFTH PLACE. BRUCE CAN'T OWN YOU ALL!"

He places his face into his hands and wails. His body is shaking with his sobs, leaning against the counter because he lost all strength to himself up.

The employee stares at him with a strangely understanding expression. "Does this coffee mean that much to you? Is it.... an Obsession for you?"

Tim can only nod because words are hard to push through his cries. The teenager sighs, running a hand through his hair before leaning forward and whispering. "Look, man, I can't give you coffee under the cameras. Meet me in the back alley in twenty minutes, and I'll get you a coffee. Bring Cash."

Tim snaps his head up at once.

"How much? Five hundred, six hundred, or hell, even a thousand? I'll bring whatever you want." He sobbed, knowing he looked sort of pathetic but beyond the point of caring about his dignity.

" Chill, dude, it's a cup of coffee. Three dollars is fine." The other says with a sort of uneasy smile.

"It's not just any coffee! It's my favorite brand, and Bruce bought them out to ensure they wouldn't sell to me anymore!"

The guy holds up his hands. "Okay, okay, this coffee means a lot to you. I get it. Twenty minutes alright?"

Tim stumbles his way outside, reaching for his wallet. He has no cash, but he says an ATM is not too far down the street. He all but runs there and sprints back with a crispy twenties.

He stopped at a local flower store to ask if they would break it for him and was told he needed to buy something first. Not wanting to meet the coffee angel, he picks out a lovely bouquet of lavender roses.

He gets four dollars as his change and races back to the Alley behind Heart Attack. Just in time, too, because the back door opens and out strolls the cashier with a large travel container.

Tim throws the cash and flowers into his hands to rip off the lid and check the inside. It's a Blond Expersso Rush. Even just a sniff has something in him settling. He takes a sip, and all is right with the world for the first time in a while.

"That good?" The boy asks with a slight grin. Tim hums, smiling back as he takes another sip. "I'm glad. Want your flowers back?"

Huh? Oh yeah, he bought those. He shakes his head. "Keep them. Think of it as a thanks for doing this."

"Cool. Never had flowers as a tip before." He jokes, taking a sniff of the roses with a broader grin. "Name's Danny, by the way."

"Tim. Nice to meet you."

"You too."

Tim tips his head back, letting the coffee burn down his throat. It's hot, but that hardly matters. Danny's mouth drops. "Dude, maybe wait for it to not be so hot?"

"I can't." He whines, downing the cup's contents, and only after it's all gone does he realize he forgot to savor it. He throws it over his shoulder in the direction of the trash can. "I don't know when I'll get a chance like this again."

"Don't worry about that. I'll make you more whenever you want. Here, have my number and text me when you're on your way so I can-"

Tim throws himself onto Danny. The other fumbles with the flowers, trying to hold them and Tim simultaneously, but Tim doesn't care. "You are the best person I have ever met! I think I love you!"

The other laughs, patting his hair. "I'm glad. You've been the first to give me flowers, so you're cool, too."

"When do you get off shift? I'll treat you to dinner."

"It's not a big deal, dude."

"I insist!"

"Well if you insist. I just finished, actually. Where do you have in mind?"

Tim leans back to smile at Danny, unaware of the two shadows that leap away from the still-embraced couple. They arrived sometime after Tim finished his cup, unaware he had drunk it since it was lying on the group near the other discarded cups in the trash.

They only saw Tim in the arms of a boy, holding flowers, which represented "Love at First Sight," and the way they heard Tim offer to buy him dinner.

"See B? Tim wasn't buying coffee. He was just meeting his crush!"

"Hmm. Based on what we saw, it's safe to say boyfriend. No one is comfortable with someone unless they have known them for a while."

"I think your right. I wonder when Tim will bring him over to meet the family?"

"Try not to push too much Nightwing. You know T values his privacy."

They both smile at each other knowingly, and even though Bruce suppresses it right away for his Batman persona they don't forget what they saw.

They pretend not to notice every time Tim disappears or that his GPS puts him back in that alley. They'll wait till he's ready to tell them. Besides, the barista seems good to him; Tim is far more energetic and bright these days.

A month goes by like this, where Tim is back to his normal self, no longer needing coffee to be happy. Bruce pats himself ion the back for his plan to help cut him off working so well.

Even though he seems to be texting constantly on his phone.

Neither Dick nor Bruce noticed the narrow eye stare of worry that Jason aimed at Tim whenever he slipped away to meet Danny. He has theories on what is inside those strange containers, but he hasn't gotten close enough to confirm his suspicions yet.

Jason prays he's wrong.

He waits until he knows Tim is gone (he is not. He likes to hide in the cave's shadows to overhear the latest family gossip) before turning to Bruce and Dick.

"Tim's on drugs! I've caught him trading cash for small containers in a shady alley six times. We need an intervention."

Predictably both men freak out.

"What?! I thought that was his boyfriend!" Dick wails, looking over all the pictures of Tim and Danny standing in an alley trading cash, flowers, and containers that Jason took.

"I also thought that was Tim's boyfriend, but if it's a drug dealer, we have to help him," Bruce grunts, eyes hard as he now sees Danny Fenton in a new, less favorable light.

And Tim, who is still hiding in the cave's shadows overhead, can only whisper a heartfelt "shit."

He rips out his phone to text Danny as the rest of the Bats below begin plotting. Thank goodness they don't know what Danny has been giving him exactly. Maybe they can steal Bruce's and Dick's ideas.

Meanwhile, Danny's tiny apartment across the city is starting to appear like a greenhouse with all the flowers Tim has been giving him. His small slip of loving flowers was all Tim needed to hear.

He's taken it as a personal challenge to always have some flowers for Danny as a thank-you for the coffee he made for him.

It was nice. It helped get rid of the boredom his life had developed. He looked forward to Tim's presence. He hadn't had this much fun or clicked as easily with someone since Sam or Tucker.

"Speak of the devil, and he shall appear," Danny grins as his phone dings and Tim's picture flashes on his screen.

If anyone asks you're my secret boyfriend who been making me teas in allies

Danny stares at the screen momentarily, before shrugging and texting back a confirmation. "Who the hell would believe that? But I've had a boring week, so yeah, I'm down to be a pretend boyfriend."

He's never met any of Tim's family, but he doesn't think they will be too hard to fool.

[alastorss]

Could you maybe write something with Alastor and reader,

and reader gets hurt in the extermination and he cares for her? And maybe like she takes a nap on his lap and he just sorta falls asleep right next to her?

a/n: hello!! i sort of got carried away with this one and made it more sappy than i originally intended, but i hope you still like it! for context: the reader stepped into battle when alastor was hurt by adam and this is the aftermath :) hurt/comfort and fluff!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Alastor has been eerily quiet since returning to the newly-rebuilt hotel, sutures and bandages in hand.

All his belongings, including his beloved cane, have been cast aside in lieu of medical supplies to be split between you. One measly box worth of gauze and sanitizing wipes. Definitely nothing to gawk at, but good enough.

He's stripped his shirt without any exchange of words. You know his silent request, too prideful to ask for your help verbally but desperation clear in his expression.

"Is this the only spot?" You ask, slowly stringing a suture through his skin. He hisses in pain—his only response. The demon doesn't even gratify you with his eyes anymore, opting to stare off into space as if his mind has taken a vacation elsewhere.

You frown but continue delicately stitching him, piecing him together until he's whole again. His back hits the dresser as he leans on it, body instinctively trying to crawl away from the stinging of the needle. Finally, you knot the end of the sutures and sigh in relief, reaching over to get something to clean the area.

"I'm glad this whole fiasco is over," you comment softly, knowing it won't make him look at you. "With their leader gone, maybe the angels will finally—"

"You disobeyed me," he suddenly snaps. "Why?"

You pause in your movements, blinking up at Alastor while he glowers at you. His eyes narrow into slits, half out of anger and half in a grimace.

"You were cornered. I couldn't just sit by and—"

"I told you to stay out of it," he interrupts again, slapping away your hand. You gasp, alcohol wipe hitting the floor beside you. Defiantly, you challenge him with a glare of your own.

"I'm trying to help, asshole!"

"I know, I know!" He explodes, obviously frustrated. "And look where it got you!"

He pinches your chin to tilt your head up toward him, rotating your face around so he can observe your wounds. A cut lip, a bruising eye—horrible reminders that sinners could be hurt. And you were no more of a sinner than he, much less an Overlord who knew the shape of a soul.

"You risked your life by intervening! What if you had been struck down, you fool?"

Alastor's voice is all panic and no composure, missing any semblance of that accent which is so beloved to him. You know he's telling you exactly what he feels, true emotions unburdened by the character he built for himself in the afterlife.

"So be it! It's no less a fate than what would have happened to you!" You emphasize by jabbing your finger just above his wounded abdomen, careful not to agitate his fresh stitches.

Wincing, he goes silent. It's unnerving how quiet it is again. You've gotten so used to the ambient buzz of his static, but with it missing, you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck pricking up in unease.

He still hasn't released your face, clawed fingers pinching your chin and holding you in place. It isn't until he feels the wetness of your tears pooling at the pads of his fingers that he recoils in surprise.

Sighing, he twists over to open new packs of wipes. You stay still while he carefully cleans your face, ignoring your little whelps of pain the best he can.

Once the blood is gone, he pauses. Then, his fingers gingerly wipe under your eyes, swiping away the globs of tears spilling down your cheeks.

You are pitiful right now, he thinks. Though he probably looks no better.

"I'm sorry," you hiccup. "I don't mean to make you worry."

His expression softens, though his viscous smile remains. You can see it in his eyes—something genuine buried beneath his act.

"I don't want you to die," you admit quietly.

"I wouldn't dream of it, my dear."

You laugh dryly, wiping up your tears on your own with your bloodied sleeves.

"But you almost did. What would I do without you?"

The question is rhetorical, but something vile still swirls violently in your stomach at the idea. As if knowing what's going through your mind, he grabs you by the cheeks and forces you to meet his stare again.

"Not another word out of you," he demands.

His gaze flicks to the bruising under your eye, flesh already discoloured and swelling. "Got a remedy?" You grumble.

Alastor shakes his head but leans in anyway, pressing a chaste kiss just below the swelling. His lips linger on your skin for a moment before he pulls away, amused by your stunned expression.

He invades your space again, this time kissing the crown of your head. Speaking into your hair, he whispers, "I will be more careful. I promise."

"And I'll think before charging into battle after you," you chuckle softly, overwhelmed by his warmth.

Slowly, he tugs you along and sits you on the sofa. He brushes the hair from your eye and takes the opportunity to look at it under better lighting. Just like that, he vanishes, melting into the shadows. When he reappears in front of you, he has cold packs. In a place so warm, they are of little use. But they are better than nothing, he supposes.

Groaning in pain, he seats himself beside you and allows you to slot under his arm. Two demons seeking comfort and companionship curled up together—any other Overlord would laugh.

But Alastor knows what it means to be loved, to have someone who would stand in front of a lethal blow for him, to be stitched back together by your hands.

In the safety of each others' presence, you both fall asleep with the faint hum of static filling the air.

~

taglist: @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria @for-hearthand-home @fantasy-is-best @angixyc @th3-st4r-gur1 @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it @dilemmaiscool @concentratedconcrete (send an ask to be added!)

[inkskinned]

we were drunk off mezcal and my dog had his paws crossed like he was fancy and we were giggling about it and i told you that with the sun coming back i can feel my fingers again and you grabbed my wrist and jokingly shook my limp hands while saying i have you i got you and i wanted to tell you i love you in that moment but it's actually just that it's spring and love actually seems like something that i can afford once in a while so long as i'm not overwhelmed by the crushing weight of having to do my laundry

i don't get so sad on sundays anymore and part of that is you but also part of it is that i've been watching a bird melodrama in the tree outside my window - first the robins had the run of it, then the doves. most recently a family of sparrows came through. the sky was pink today like a kiss, and i felt the pastel wrap in a warm piebald snake around my chest and hum herself into my bones

thank god for every person that forgives me for the depressive spirals i go on every winter without-fail like i swear there are absolutes in this world and it's stuff like. stoats go white in winter. the sun comes over the east. when it gets cold all parts of my soul go numb and the light can't pass through my iris without a tattoo gun. how many times can i tell a friend i'm sorry i wasn't talking to you, i truly wasn't talking to anyone

thank god i can feel my skin right now and you hold my weak little hand in your hand and then you flip it over so you can read my palm and you're smiling while you run fingertips over lines and read out my fate like it says here you like a good grillcheese sandwich and admit it you make salads by buying the pre-made spring mix and i have all your astrology shit memorized and i read your horoscope first when i'm checking my own even-though-i-don't-believe-in-it (but just in case) and i want to kiss you just to watch the blush spread in a tulip from under your freckles in that way it does, how you pull back and wrinkle your nose in laughter

thank god but today for the first time in a month i finally texted my friends back and actually made plans to hang out (how's that! barring disaster!) and i let my dog put his big muddy paws on my nice sweater and yeah actually when it's bad i always think i can't do that again. i can't crawl back up that mountain

but the sun touched me on the face this morning and we had a nice long talk about it and i said i gotta go the long way again huh and she nodded and shook back her solarflare hair and looked over to her moon girlfriend and she said you can do it. better things on the horizon.

[vngelicc]

⊹₊ ⋆ “that dick make my soul smile,”

TAGS — creampie, fingering, slight degradation, dirty talk (LOTS), jk’s a sleazy mess at first, oc is done, mamas is stressed out, rough sex, jk rocks her shit 💀, some praise here n there, jk’s affectionate tonight, sex tapes r mentioned again, shower sex(?) not rlly, possessive!jk, breeding kink, never ending saga of jk saying “mama” or “ma”

WORD COUNT — 2.6 k

“Trash, trash, trash,” you mumble to yourself while you sort out the mail in your hands, “oh definitely trash.” You sigh and shake your head. You’re knocked out of your thoughts when you feel a pair of arms wrap around your middle and pull you back, “What the hell–” You hiss in surprise.

“Hey mama.” Jungkook’s stupid voice comes from behind, you already know he’s sporting a stupid grin on his fucking face. You shove his arms off and turn around to look at him with an annoyed glare, “Oh c’mon don’t be like that, aren’t you happy to see me? You weren’t mad at me like this yesterday when you had my head between your–” You quickly reach up to cover his mouth and look around the empty hall.

“Are you insane? There’s people around, Jesus, you don’t have any shame do you?” You side eye him, “First off,” you shake your head, “what are you doing here? I didn’t text you and Jiho didn’t ask, so why are you here?” You give him a look, “And if you’re looking for Jiho you’d know he’s on a camping trip with his cousins.”

Jungkook raises his hands in surrender, “Can’t a man come see his baby mama anymore? Shit you suck the fun out of trying to surprise you baby,” he shakes his head but you know, Jeon Jungkook isn’t fooling anyone and certainly not you.

“You forgot, didn't you.” You scoff, “Of course you did, what else did I expect? This camping trip is all Jiho talked about last week and yet you still manage to forget that because you’re thinking with your other head.” You roll your eyes and turn to unlock the front door, “Sometimes I wonder what Jiho even fucking sees in you, you’re a deadbeat Jungkook, a deadbeat.”

Jungkook chuckles, “To be fair my other head is the reason you get a good night’s sleep.” He says with a smirk on his lips as he stands there admiring the way your ass looks in that tight pencil skirt you’re wearing. You turn around to shoot him a glare but say nothing else and simply step into your apartment. Jungkook leans against the doorframe with both arms raised, “So, you gonna let me in sweetheart?” He licks his lips, poking his tongue out to push at his lip ring.

You look into his eyes and then down at his lips, “Well?” You shrug your coat and slip your heels off, “You gonna stand there all night or what?” He chuckles quietly and slips into your apartment, shutting the door behind him.

“This is new.” Jungkook comments, “Don’t remember you ever smoking.” He inspects the ashtray with a noncommittal hum.

“It’s not just for me.” You say uncharacteristically calm, “I bought it for you, figured you needed one since you love leaving a mess on my patio.” You don’t miss the way he smiles fondly at you, “Don’t get too excited dipshit, I smoke too, don't forget that.” You scoff and disappear down the hall.

Jungkook whistles under his breath and follows after you, “I didn’t say anything ma,” he kicks your bedroom door closed and settles himself over your bed, “what’s up with you? You’re not being your usual angry self.” He watches you go around your room putting things away and picking out your clothes.

“I’m tired Jungkook, I had two meetings back to back and all I wanna do is come home to shower and sleep. Can’t do that because you decided to come bother me at this fuckin’ hour.” You mumble and then throw a pair of panties at him full speed, “Don’t think I didn’t see the shit you posted either, you’re not funny.”

Jungkook throws his head back with a laugh, “Really? Cause I thought it was hilarious, I think it perfectly describes us.” He cheekily grins at you with that dumb lovestruck look of his.

You stop to give him an exasperated look, “Jungkook,” sigh, “telling people you’re always fucking your baby mama regardless is not funny, neither is saying ‘I fuck her when she mad at me.’ You’re a child.” You shake your head. You throw more clothes onto the bed and grab your robe and towel, “Don’t make a mess in my house Jungkook, I’m not in the mood tonight.”

Jungkook watches you with a pleased smile, “I won’t.” He reaches for your tv remote, “I’ll be rightttt here, sitting like a good boy for you ma.” He winks, “You just go ‘head and shower.” You eyed him suspiciously for a few seconds, he kept smiling goofily so you ended up walking away with no words.

You know he was up to something with the way he kept smiling so stupid. You grumble under your breath and hope he just doesn’t cause you to have a fucking aneurysm or something. You swear this man was going to send you to an early grave at this point.

Everything sounded pretty quiet out there, you heard Jungkook get up at some point but you figured he was going to smoke or get something. He even left the TV on, which you were grateful for because you didn’t do too well with silence. “What are you doing..” You mutter with closed eyes, just enjoying the hot water running down your exhausted body.

You were in the middle of reaching for your loofah when you heard the glass door open and Jungkook step in after you. “Pass me that bottle over there.” You softly hum.

Jungkook whistles softly and tugs you back into him, “Relax baby, let me do all the work.” He says in your ear, “I got you..” He gently pries the loofah out of your hands, “Worked so hard this entire week, baby deserves to rest.” He squirts some of your body wash onto the loofah. You don’t correct him because that’s true, hell you deserved this princess treatment for putting up with his ass too.

He gently ran his hand over your body, lathering your body up in the soap suds leaving you smelling like strawberries. He doesn’t try any funny business surprisingly, when he finishes he puts his hands on your shoulders and begins massaging gently. A quiet moan escapes your lips as relief rushes through you, “Damn you’re stiff as shit here.” Jungkook comments.

You lean your head back on his chest with a closed eye smile, “You’re finally being useful for once.” You chuckle.

“What are you talking about? I fuck you plenty baby, far as I know this dick makes you fall asleep faster than the fucking melatonin you take.” He laughs, making you laugh a little too. Jungkook lets your shoulders go and wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you backwards so your back is to his front. “Got you something special.” He mumbles into your shoulder.

“Did you now?” you huff in amusement and gently stroke his arm, “What did you get hm?”

“Nothing much, figured you needed a night in so I ordered some fried chicken and soju.” He lays gentle kisses over your shoulder and buries his face in your neck, “I set up a movie to watch too.”

You turn your head to face him, looking into his eyes before smiling softly and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, “Thank you. Guess you’re not a dipshit afterall.” He laughs at your words and you ignore him, opting to press your lips against his once more. Jungkook welcomes you, his fingers dance across your tummy and inch downwards causing your breath to hitch in excitement.

Jungkook’s lips wetly smack against yours, muffled grunt leaving him as he holds you tighter against him. The kiss initially started off slow and more controlled, now it’s wet and messy with sloppy noises filling the space between you two. You pant into his mouth and your eyes flutter open to look at him pleadingly.

Jungkook grins softly as he pushes you towards the glass, “There you go baby, let loose for me, I’ll make you feel so fucking good.” He has you pressed right up against the glass, tits smushed and hands on either side of you. You bite your lip and push your ass back against his thick cock, it’s hot and throbbing against your cheek making you all the more eager to get it inside of you.

“Look at you, pussy’s drooling all over my cock,” he bites his lip and swipes his cockhead through your dewy slick folds, “hear that? ‘s your pussy callin’ out to me baby.” He pushes in slightly, letting the tip pop in with a lewd squelch.

Your lips part in a breathy moan and you push back for more but he stops you with a gentle hand on your hip. “Not here baby, relax for me.” He says as he lets his cock slip out, “Gonna fuck your pussy with my fingers first, get you nice and stretched out before I fuck you with my cock.” He cups your pussy in his hand and lets his fingers slip through the mess dripping from your folds.

Jungkook takes his time opening you up, slipping his middle and then his ring finger into you until they’re knuckle deep. Your mouth falls open but nothing comes out, this is exactly what you needed after those long hours in the office this entire week. Jungkook does not disappoint when he begins pumping them in and out slowly, making sure he hits every nook and cranny inside of you.

“There we go,” Jungkook whispers and begins kissing down your neck, “doing so good for me mama,” he sucks a hickey into your skin, “let go for me.” He nibbles on your earlobe and uses his other hand to wrap around your throat, not choking–simply holding it.

Your eyes flutter shut and you lean your head back on his shoulder, “Oh fuck yes,” you sigh in bliss, “right there.” You circle your hips, gasping when his fingers brush against your g-spot.

Jungkook pulls you back in and kisses up your neck slowly, “You’re so fuckin’ pretty baby, look at you, dripping all over my fingers like a little cock hungry slut. Bet you missed this dick baby, need me to come fuck it in your needy little pussy, have you all spread on the bed for me begging for more,” he whispers as he kisses the side of your face, “you gonna be a good girl and take it?” He jabs his fingers into your g-spot causing a burst of pleasure to hit you.

“Yeah,” you pant softly, “want it deep inside,” you bite your lip and spread your thighs a bit wider, “need it so bad.” You whimper quietly and push back on his fingers.

Jungkook chuckles breathily, “Yeah..” He moves his fingers faster, jostling you as your back arches, “Make it messy for me sweetheart, go ‘head and cum,” he has you locked in place, keeping you from moving anywhere. His fingers piston in and out of you rapidly, loud squelching noises resonating as bits of slick drip down your inner thighs.

“Oh fuck..!” You gasp and clench down, “C-Coming..” You hump his fingers desperately, “K-Keep going, right there, right there,” you whimper out and feel your orgasm come crashing down on you, hitting harder as all the stress lifts itself from your body.

Jungkook slows down until you’re whining in overstimulation, “Clean ‘em.” He slips his wet messy fingers into your mouth, “Fuck.” He groans, “C’mere baby.” He turns you around and lifts you up in his arms, “Need you on my cock.”

“Wait, the water!” You reach behind blindly to turn the knob, groaning when he begins sucking on your soft tits.

.

“Fuck..!” You throw your head back on the pillow with gritted teeth. He’s fucking you so fast and hard you’re honestly no sure what to focus on anymore..him? The skin slapping? The bed creaking? He’s not making it so easy either with the way he’s groaning and panting right by your ear.

Jungkook has you folded under him, his hands grip the back of your thighs and hold them up while he plows your swollen dripping pussy with his fat cock. The room feels stuffy, sheets are strewn about messily and you’re both laid bare in the open without a single care. Jungkook isn’t faring much better, his moans are choked up and every so often you feel him throb inside you.

“You like that baby?” He pants breathlessly against your lips, “Got you clenching so tight around my cock, practically drooling all over me.” He rolls his hips against yours smoothly, pelvis pressing down and rubbing along your clit stimulating it. His balls press against your taint with soft palping noises every time he grinds into you.

You shakily claw at his shoulders and moan needily, the angle certainly has your legs feeling like jelly and your poor cunt throbbing from the pounding he’s giving you. “Love it,” you turn your face to slot your lips against his messily, “fills me up so good baby.” You cup his face in your hands and hold him in place while he works his cock in and out of you.

Jungkook lets out a muffled moan as he starts picking up the pace, hips smacking into yours over and over again with deafening slaps. He lets your thighs go in favor of planting them on either side of you on the bed, “Hear that sloppy little pussy? Got it creaming all over my cock and makin’ a mess. Who’s fuckin’ you baby? C’mon tell me.”

“You are.” You whimper out, “Shit–right there,” you mewl.

“That’s right sweetheart, no one else can give it to you the way I can. You can fucking try but at the end of the day this pussy is mine to fuck,” slap, “mine to use,” slap, “mine to breed.” He growls in your ear lowly, “Gonna ruin you for anyone else, so next the time you plan on letting someone else have it you’ll be remembering the way I fucked you so good.” He hisses softly and sits up, landing a set of punishing thrusts on you, making your body bounce a bit off the mattress.

Your head rolls back and you let out a series of staccato moans, crying out for more and scrambling to grip the bed sheets, the pillows, the blankets–anything. He’s fucking you within an inch of your life and you feel like you’re about to pass out from the sweet pleasure mixed with a tiny hint of pain from the way his hips smack into your ass. “Jungkook..!” You sob out.

Jungkook grits his teeth and reaches down to pinch your clit cruelly, relishing in the way your back arches off the bed. “Go on, cum for me little mama.”

With perfectly aimed thrusts and the combination of his fingers on your sensitive bud, you cum for a second time on his cock. He leaves you trembling on the bed, whimpering and whining. Jungkook follows up shortly with a low moan and your name escaping his lips, “Fucking hell.” He whispers breathlessly.

You let your jelly-like legs fall on the bed, “I’m not getting up.” You mutter, “Put the chicken away, ‘m going to sleep..” You turn on your side and curl up, shivering when his cock slips out of your battered pussy.

Jungkook hums, “The things I do for you baby,” he sighs softly as he strokes your thigh up and down, “lucky I love and appreciate you mama so much.” He rolls out of bed and slips his loose sweats on.

“You love me.” You sleepily mumble, “ ‘n you love my pussy.. I love your dick too.” You smile in your sleep, a bit delirious from the fucking and the strong orgasm he had given you.

Jungkook eyes you with a grin, “Damn right I do.”

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys @frieschan

[bunjywunjy]

Hello Dear Friend.

I was in your country in 2019.I have gone through your profile and decided to go straight to the point on why i wholeheartedly contacting you.

My name is Mrs. Marion Gadsby from Thailand,Australian,79years,I have been diagnosed with Esophageal cancer .It has defiled all forms of medical treatment, and right now I have only about a month to live, according to medical experts. I have not particularly lived my life so well, as I never really cared for anyone (not even myself) but my business was my priority.

Though I am a very rich lady, I was never generous, I was always hostile to people and only focused on my business as that was the only thing I cared for. But now I regret all this as I now know that there is more to life than just wanting to have or make all the money in the world.

I Am very sick now and depends on machines to survive which I know one day one minute I will be no more , but before departing I have a fortune I will like to confined your position so that you can use it and do the humanitarian work which I failed to do when I had the grace and the time. I have willed and given to my immediate and extended family members ,but these last funds I would want to be useful to the poor and the needy. I don't trust any of my family members again because I don't think that they will deliver the fortune to the poor and needy. This is the main reason why I contacted you because I believe you will make it happen as I will instruct you in the future when the fortune is in your hands.

I want God to be merciful to me and accept my soul, so I have decided to give alms to charity organizations, as I want this to be one of the last good deeds I do on earth.

I cannot do this myself anymore. I once asked members of my family to close one of my accounts and distribute the money which I have there to charity organizations in Bulgaria and Pakistan, but they refused and kept the money to themselves and used it to buy flashy cars and big houses in the city. Hence, I do not trust them anymore, as they seem not to be content with what I have left for them. The last of my money which no one knows of is the sum of $3,000,000.00( Three Million dollars) my late husband was wealthy as an oil mogul, politician and other businesses, but he died in his private jet crash .WE CAN'T QUESTION GOD.

I will let you have 20% of his funds for your effort and time and the 80% should go to the poor and needy around you, especially those that are in war zones. Treat this message confidentially till it's done. I am waiting for your reply.

Contact me direct for more information. asikareginad@gmail.com

Mrs Marion Gasby. asikareginad@gmail.com

MRS MARION GADSBY FROM THAILAND AUSTRALIAN