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#he's very certain that they're better off without each other
panickedscribbles · 3 months
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I've been thinking about Star Wars discourse lately, and I think a lot of the reason so much of the fandom is constant back and forth arguments is because a lot of the time, two characters can be right simultaneously while also disagreeing completely with each other.
Take the whole "Too old, he is" thing.
On one hand, obviously wrong. Anakin is nine, he's at most a few years behind, and textually managed to catch up pretty well. Like, if Palpatine and the Sith Plan weren't constantly messing him up, there is every possibility that Anakin could have become a well adjusted Jedi. Nine is by no means too old to learn a skill.
On the other hand, the council demonstrates perfectly in that scene that they are completely unequipped to deal with a nine year old who hasn't been raised in their culture, especially one from a heavily traumatized background. The pop-quiz they ask him would be perfectly acceptable for a nine-year-old youngling, but Anakin literally just walked in. They are giving an end-of-year exam to a kid who has never even seen a school. And they assume this is fine, because that's just what you do with nine-year-olds.
More to the point, they are completely failing to take into account the previous nine years of his life. They ask a kid, who up until all of about 18 hours ago had been enslaved since birth, to be open and honest about his emotions, in a room full of complete strangers, most of whom answer to "Master"! They have somehow engineered a situation so psychologically damaging that Palpatine is taking notes in the corner, entirely without realizing. When the council says they shouldn't take him in, they are one hundred percent right. Nine is WAY too old when you've spent that time as a slave, and are being entrusted into the care of people who have never had to raise a nine year old who wasn't raised like they were.
Or how about Anakin not being made a master. Was he right to insist he get the title, or was the council.
Well, Anakin should be made a master, you see, because,
He's one of the main Generals fighting and coordinating the war
And he's one of their most successful warriors. Like, he's the guy they call in whenever they need an impossible mission completed
He's more or less the face of the war effort, as "The Hero Without Fear"
As an ex-slave, obtaining the title of Master would be a huge psychological weight lifted off his shoulders.
Since they're making him part of the council for espionage purposes, making him a master as well serves as better cover
Giving him more reason to stay loyal to the Jedi after they just asked him to betray the trust of one of his oldest and closest friends wouldn't be the worst idea
Like, if ever there was a reason to give someone a promotion, those are some pretty good ones.
However, on the opposite side of the issue, literally none of that has any bearing on "Mastery" as the Jedi define it. Being a Jedi Master is all about mastery over oneself, having a deep understanding of the force, and a certain level of inner peace.
You'll notice that at no point does being really good at large-scale violence, being well known for being really good at large-scale violence, or wanting it a lot factor into being made a Jedi Master. Everything Anakin is good at, Everything Palpatine, and the war, and the council have pushed Anakin into being good at, do nothing to bring him any closer to Mastery, and in fact often push him further away from it.
In both of these examples, you can make a very compelling argument in either direction. Hell, you can make a compelling argument in both directions at the same time. And I think that's really neat.
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twstjam · 10 months
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First Years Shenanigans at a Malleyuu Wedding
As much as I have Malleyuu Thoughts I'm also constantly thinking about First Years Gang so there's frequent overlap between the two, so have some Typical Wedding Goes Wrong Trope thoughts I had featuring the beloved First Years and many shenanigans.
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Malleyuu wedding centered around the First Years making sure the wedding is going to go smoothly. So much shit is going wrong and they're trying desperately to fix them all without Malleus or Yuu finding out.
Sebek is freaking out the whole time, Ace and Deuce are mixing up each other's jobs, Jack is the only sane one, and Epel who is helping Yuu get ready is trying his best to focus on distracting them instead of running out there (he's still a tough farm boy through and through but a lot of things have gotta stuck after all those years at Pomefiore and under Vil's tutelage). Ortho is the only one who is even marginally helpful (as long as his gear somehow doesn't break that is)
I've got this image of Malleus summoning Sebek in the middle of all the chaos to have a bit of a heart-to-heart with him, thanking him for his years of service and friendship with Yuu, but meanwhile, Sebek is trying desperately to keep his composure because the entire time Malleus is speaking all kinds of nonsense and shenanigans is happening behind him.
I can also see Epel working with the other hairdressers, makeup artists, etc. (Maybe Crewel is there too because heck yeah father figure!Crewel helping Yuu get dressed for their wedding) on Yuu and Ace suddenly smacking into the window.
Yuu: Did you hear something? Epel: *making sure Yuu doesn't turn around and see Ortho trying to unstick Ace from the window* Prob'ly just the wind.
There's also a subplot going on that makes keeping everything a secret exponentially harder where Malleus keeps trying to run off to go see Yuu because his Dragon Clinginess is acting up and Lilia if he's still alive along with Silver and other servants are doing their best to keep him in his room and also make sure he gets ready in time for the wedding (and also bcs of the bad luck abt seeing each other before the wedding thing)
Sort of like the Tangled wedding short, by the time all the problems are solved Yuu and Malleus look at their friends and are shocked by their various disheveled states.
I also think it'd be funny if Maleficia is also there and she's completely Aware of all the nonsense going on and is mildly amused by it. Though she's not exactly working together with the boys she's calmly helping them fix certain things with a wave of her hand behind her back and also helping distract Malleus.
None of them knew she was in on it until the end of the actual wedding where she casually mentions to the newlyweds about the "issues" with the preparations and the two of them exchange confused looks while Yuu's friends freeze and break out into a sweat.
Ngl I kind of forgot about Grim agshdgdj. I imagine that he's getting ready WITH Yuu, getting his coat all groomed and stuff, but it takes less time and he walks in on the others and the messes they're trying to fix and he's like "MYAH!! If Yuu and Tusnotarou find out about this they're gonna FREAK!!" "We KNOW! Instead of standing there and complaining why don't you help us out instead?!" (-Ace, probably)
Helps distract Malleus and Yuu by clinging to them, making demands, lying about things like his outfit feeling uncomfortable or his coat needing a better brushing. I've got this image of Ace picking him up and rubbing him all over the betrotheds' wedding outfits to get cat hair all over them.
Grim: UNHAND ME!!! Sebek: TRAPPOLA?! Wh-What are you doing?! Ace: Trust me, this is gonna buy us tons of time!
In the end, the wedding goes smoothly. Sebek cries ofc, so does Deuce, Jack denies getting emotional, Epel too but less insistently, Ortho is being all sweet and soft and mushy about it, and Ace is making fun of them all but very lightheartedly :)
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gotham-daydreams · 6 months
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Honestly (I know it’s typical yandere behavior) but instead of kidnapping, what if the batfam tries manipulating y/n into coming back to the manor? A lot of people forget that Bruce can be manipulative when he wants to be. Like each of them show up at Y/n’s usual hangouts, like they try to apologize but Y/n walks away and/or tells them off, “One apology isn’t going to erase the fact that you all neglected me!”
But each of them just pops in random places that Y/n happens to be to try to wear them down.
I'd say that jumping straight to some sort of kidnapping has become more common and typical of yanderes, honestly, which is part of the reason I'm putting it off- and also because of what you pointed out!
Some of the Batfam can be really manipulative and smart with their moves, and even more careful about what they say and how they say it to swing things in their favor. Bruce is also a very good example of this, as you've said! Though I'd also go as far as to say that Alfred can be as well but in a different way when compared to Bruce- and I feel like I've kind of shown that already.
Alfred from what I've shown does take a more hands off approach for the most part. Giving just enough of a nudge to get someone started (like Bruce), and or also conveniently place certain things that may or may not spark something, like what he does with Bruce, Jason, and Cass. Though he does also give a little more of a nudge at times as well, like what he does with Dick amd handing him the rest of the flyers for events that the reader wanted the Batfam to go too. And, well, we all see how that turned out.
As for Bruce, he'll simply insert himself into the reader's life as you've stated, and what can further his own manipulation is the family itself. Not to mention he has money, and even if it doesn't work on the reader, who's to say Bruce can't attach and pull a few strings on the people around them? I won't say much, but Bruce is definitely the type to where he controls the situation and environment itself, while Alfred does careful placements instead. Which both can be effective if they know their target well, and even if in this situation one does know the reader and their life better than the other, nothing says that little detail can't change.
What helps with how Bruce tends to be manipulative is that the reader has performances. Rather if their public of private, it doesn't matter because, again, Bruce has money. Lots of it. He could get in without even having to breathe.
Even if apologies don't cut it, there are always other ways to control certain things, and I keep pointing out how much money Bruce has- and honestly just a good portion of the Batfam because that could easily spell the end of it.
They could buy out the reader's apartment building. If they don't want to ruin the reader's career, they very well could easily ruin the lives of the people who dare to associate with them. They could cancel every performance or sell out each and every one just so that they could be the only ones that get to watch the reader perform.
Even without all of that! They could attend each and every performance or event that they know for a fact that the reader is going to, and basically force them into an interaction right then and there. They could even weaponize both their own popularity AND the reader's just to trap them, to overwhelm them, to keep them put so they can actually have a conversation- to keep them close.
There is lots that they could do, and even if the reader were to even gets ideas? What are they doing to do? What can they do? Run away? Leave before they're stripped of anything else or shown how vulnerable they really are without their family? Before they're further deluded into believing that one only people who'll ever see them, that'll ever hear them are the very people who start to show them how invisible they really were in the first place?
Best case scenario is that they manage to get away, but is that even possible? Who knows. Especially with someone as smart as Bruce Wayne on your ass.
----
Even if an arguably 'calmer' route is taken, with the Bruce and the rest of the Batfam trying to lure in the reader willing but without driving to the point or near insanity or collapse. I still feel like in a way they'd feel... infectious?
Like, as you mentioned- they'd appear around where the reader is a LOT, and I'd imagine it could get to a point where it feels like every waking moment, at least one of them is around. They'd make small talk, not being too pushy and if anything being careful, as if almost trying to be considerate of the reader's feelings- and that's what makes it so frustrating.
They're almost being reasonable- at least Bruce is with his endless amounts of patience, almost holding up a calm and collected attitude. The reader knows where he gets it from, seeing as it heavily reminds them of Alfred, but even if they appreciated it from Alfred in the past, with Bruce maybe they just can't help but hate it a little. It makes it so hard to hate Bruce when he's being cooperative and listening to the reader's wishes, giving them space and time when they ask for it (even if it's by telling him off), and listening to their woes.
He's actually being present now, and it's dreadful.
Ah! But excuse my ramblings! I love talking about these kinds of things if you couldn't tell, and I'd rather stop now before I spoil any potential ideas I might use in the future!
Regardless, no matter the approach taken, they are very determined to bring the reader home! Though I feel as if why a particular detail I'm going to include in a semi-later part doesn't last as long as it does is because the Batfam feels the need to fix things right now. They don't want to wait- already feeling as if they've wasted enough time without the reader, and we'll see if that gets across or not when that comes around :]
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thisapplepielife · 3 months
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Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.
Hell to Pay
Prompt Day 26: "Who did this to you?" | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: M | CW: Aftermath of Off-Screen Violence, Injuries | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, But Hawkins is Shitty to Him, Established Relationship, Uncle Wayne & Steve, Hurt/Comfort, Steve POV
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"If they don't pull this off, I'm done with them," Steve says, and Wayne laughs. 
The damn Pacers are trying to kill them both this year. It's been a losing year, and they can't seem to dig themselves out of this hole they're currently in. But Wayne and him keep watching games together, hoping they'll somehow turn it around.
Steve starts to say something else, when he hears the van pull up in the driveway, but it doesn't sound right. It came in too slow.
So, Steve gets up to peek out of the window, just to get a look at what's going on, and sees Dustin getting out of the driver's seat, which is not cool. 
But then he sees Dustin racing towards the other side, and Eddie is leaning heavily against Dustin's side, as Dustin tries to help him towards the front door. 
Steve's stomach drops.
"Wayne," Steve says, and that's all Wayne needs to hear to be on his feet, too. Both of them hurrying onto the porch, and down the steps.
"Who did this to you?" Steve yells as he reaches their side, taking over for Dustin. 
Eddie doesn't answer, and Steve wants to grill Dustin, but Dustin's crying, nearly hysterically, at Steve's side. He can't deal with both of these things at once, and Dustin looks okay. Just upset. 
Eddie is very clearly not okay.
Wayne is helping, too, and Steve thinks maybe they're headed in the wrong direction. Maybe they need to be going to the hospital, right now. Eddie's face. It's…bad. It's all bad, and Steve feels tears stinging his own eyes.
"You're okay, kid," Steve hears Wayne saying, and Steve doesn't think that's true, "We're both right here, now."
That is true, at least.
They ease him down onto the couch, and Steve crouches between his knees, gripping his thigh with one hand, the other hovering above his face, not touching him, not wanting to hurt him further. 
"What happened?" Steve asks, softly. Gentle. 
Wayne is in the kitchen running the water, and he shows up with a wet washcloth, and starts gently dabbing at the blood. Trying to get a better look at the damage.
"Got jumped," Eddie says, and it clearly hurts his battered mouth. 
"I'm calling Hopper," Steve says. 
Eddie has just wanted to ignore the vitriol that has been hurled his way, even after his name was cleared. But this? This is too far. Way, way too fucking far. Steve's gonna kill someone.
"Steve, no," Eddie says, "'m fine. Honest."
He's not fine, that's for goddamn certain.
Steve stands, lets Wayne move closer to work, and snags Dustin by the arm.
"Henderson, what happened?" Steve asks, and Dustin is just shaking his head, trying desperately to stop crying. 
Steve just pulls him to his chest, hugging him tight, "You did good, kid. You brought him home."
And Dustin just cries harder. 
"Steve?" Wayne calls out, and Steve lets go of Dustin and heads back towards the couch.
"This needs stitches," Wayne says, "a butterfly won't cut it. We better take you in."
Eddie is shaking his head, adamantly, "No. You do it."
"It's your face, kid, not your finger," Wayne says.
Steve knows the story. Eddie cut his finger opening a can of cat food a few years ago, and Wayne stitched it up for him. Using his skills from the war. Calling in a favor from the health nurse, getting her to drop by the trailer to give Eddie a tetanus booster right at home.
Eddie doesn't do hospitals. Not since his mom died.
But tonight, Steve thinks maybe they need to make an exception. This is different. This isn't a couple little stitches in the finger of a stubborn teenager.
This is a split across his cheek.
He needs a doctor, not homespun stitches. 
But Eddie's never gonna accept that, not without a huge fight, so it's just Wayne and Steve staring at each other, trying to make a decision. 
"Steve…" Eddie says, pleading with him.
"Can we please take you to the hospital? Don't make Wayne stitch up your face," Steve says, gently touching Eddie's hair. 
Every time they see the scar it would undoubtedly leave, they'll have to remember this night, and none of them want that. 
Eddie looks in Steve's eyes, then Wayne's, and finally nods. Consenting to the right decision.
Steve leans down and kisses him on the top of the head. 
"Can I shower first?" Eddie asks, and Steve looks at Wayne, and Wayne nods. 
Steve helps Eddie up off the couch, and down to the bathroom. Gets out a couple clean towels, a dark washcloth, and undresses Eddie. Then himself, stepping into the shower with Eddie. Gently helping him wash his bleeding face, his probably broken nose. His matted, tangled hair.
Eddie finally cries, here in private, and Steve presses kisses into his shoulder, his chest, right over his heart.
"I'm so sorry this happened," Steve says, and Eddie steps into his arms, and lets the warm water wash over them.
Once they're out, and redressed in clean clothes, they get into Steve's car. Wayne driving, Dustin in the front seat, so Steve can sit in the back with Eddie. 
Holding him, keeping a piece of gauze against the worst of the bleeding.
They pull up in front of the emergency room, and Eddie takes a shuddering breath against Steve's body. Steve just hugs him closer, tighter.
"It'll be okay, I'll be right with you," Steve promises. 
And he stays, even after there's been pushback. He watches as they numb Eddie's cheek, and then slide the needle through his skin, stitching him back together again. 
But, part of Eddie is broken now, Steve's pretty sure. This was a new low, even for this goddamn town, and there will be hell to pay when Steve finds out who was responsible. 
Eddie might want to let it go, but Steve won't. No fucking way in hell.
There'll be goddamn consequences, this time. 
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If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!
If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!
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written-in-flowers · 11 months
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A Different World: Gwinam x Reader
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Pairing: Yoon Gwinam x Plussize!fem!Reader
Genre: Smut. So much Smut. Minors DNI please
Word Count: 12k
Rating: M....very much M, explicit
Summary: Before the outbreak, you never thought you had a chance with Yoon Gwinam, and he thought the same about you. But, once you've both come into a new state of being, a "hambie", suddenly sexual fantasies don't stay fantasies.
Tags: Fat Shaming, Bullying, Toxic Friendships, Dom/sub, Light Sadism, Light Masochism, Spanking, Pulic Masturbation, Masturbation in bathroom, Mutual pining, blood and gore, blood kink, spit kink, rape fantasy, thigh worship, body worship, rough sex, rough oral sex, oral sex (m. and f. receiving/giving), anal sex, rimming, anal fingering, face slapping, facials, cum swallowing, multiple orgasms (m. and f.), multiple positions, no breaks, they're both fucking pervs and so horny for each other, kind of a forbidden romance? well, until all their friends die anyways. ****
You fixed your shirt for the millionth time that morning. You hated how your stomach and chest lightly pushed on the clear buttons of your shirt; it made you look fatter tucked into your skirt. The skirt is a different breed of annoying. Your thick thighs used to chafe from rubbing together throughout the day. You usually pull on gym pants if it becomes too much, but deodorant sticks and your thigh high stockings make it easier to bear. Other girls can wear the pants without a word; you, the chubby one, can't. You hoped the shirt did not pop open from the stretch. The laundry schedule at home meant you'd have at least one day with the smaller school shirt. Fixing it again, you decided to button your blazer over it for now. When you get to class, you can unbutton it to breathe before doing it again.
"Stop doing that. You're going to make it worse," Hyejin said from beside you. "You should've gotten a larger size."
"The store didn't carry any more of it," you admitted quietly. "I need to go there later to see if they have them again."
Choi Hyejin, small and narrow, was one of the two people you're certain you hate. A petite, brown haired girl from an upper class family, she carried the haughty air and snotty opinions of the high society she came from. Had you two not grown up together, you're sure you'd be her favorite punching bag. But since your fathers worked together, and your mothers ran in the same social circles, she resorted to backhanded compliments like this.
"Or you can have it tailored like my brother did," said the girl on your left.
Slender and tall, Kim Soomin was part of the girl's volleyball team and well liked in the athletic scene. Her black hair tied back in a long plait, she wore her volleyball jacket over her uniform, which made her look broader but slimmer at the same time. Another girl from an affluent family, you and her became close on your first day of primary school. That is where your trio-friendship forged, and where it would remain until the end of time. Soomin didn't discourage you like Hyejin did, but you knew why she hung out with you. It's the same reason they both did:
They look hotter when compared to you. Because even with Hyejin's hooked nose and Soomin's height, at least they're not fat.
"I suppose, but my mom might say no," you told her, holding your books to your chest. "She'll just tell me to lose weight."
"Then why don't you? It'd be better for your health, if anything. It can’t be that hard.”
The false concern for your health stabbed another hole in you. Hyejin and Soomin might not be ideal friends, but it was certainly better than having none. With at least these two, you avoided the cruel, harsh bullying you often witnessed happen to others. If Choi Hyejin and Kim Soomin liked you, then you must be cool. However, the trade off is the occasional 'you're fat and that's why your life sucks' discussion. You knew they didn’t actually care if you lost any weight. The longer you remained fat, the better they’d continue to look in comparison. In your mind’s eye, you saw all the boys who flirted with Hyejin at school. They ignored you completely. Not that you cared. Only one boy in Hyoson High School caught your attention, and he’d never notice you. Not in a million years.
"You can always come to the school gym with me!” said Soomin. “I don't mind having a partner and the coach won't say anything about it."
"No thanks. I hate gyms. I always feel people are watching me."
"Nobody watches you, YN," Hyejin scoffed. "They don't care as much as you think they do."
You wanted to tell her that a fat girl in a gym often attracted some kind of torment, but the words caught in your throat. Looking up the path leading into school, you spotted him. Yoon Gwinam. A tall boy with black hair that reached his neck, he wore the school shirt open with a black sweater underneath, likely to fight off the chill. Long limbs made him look longer and broader. You often imagined him completely encapsulating you in a hug, your head on his shoulder and hearing his heart beating. Your heart fluttered seeing him standing in the distance with his friends. He stood, chuckling and smiling when one of them made a joke. You wished it was you making him smile like that. You’d do anything to see it up close. Gwinam is a tough guy; you’ve seen him beat up people with little effort. The sort of guy who’d protect you and care for you above everyone else; the guy whose heart would only melt for you. No guy you’d managed to date treated you the way you wanted.
“-We did it by that old railroad track outside the train stations,” Hyejin’s story broke into your thoughts as you walked. Your eyes kept focusing on Gwinam, leaning against a building near the school. Absent-mindedly, you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, thinking it made you more attractive. “I love it when they groan. It’s super hot when a guy is vocal.”
“I can’t believe you did that,” Soomin laughed. “Especially since he’s dating Aro.”
“Aro should take better care of her man then, if you know what I mean.”
You tuned out Hyejin’s recount, and thought of saying something Gwinam as you walked by. ‘Hey Gwinam’. ‘Morning Gwinam’. ‘Gwinam, please rip off my panties, and fuck me hard.’ No, the last one is a bit too much. Besides, if Soomin and Hyejin saw you talking to him, they’d ask why you did. His reputation around school wasn’t very good; he hung around with bullies who picked on people weaker than them. Yet, it was this bad reputation that made you want him more. You didn’t want to “fix” him. You wanted him as he was, meanness and all. You couldn’t really explain it. Something about him attracted you, and they wouldn’t understand.
“Are you still talking to him?” asked Soomin, amused. “Or have you already thrown him away?”
“Nah, we’re still talking,” she said. Of course they were. You knew Hyejin would eventually forget about her newest conquest and move onto someone else. “He said he can’t get enough of me.”
“Oh my god, you’re so bad.”
The thought of Gwinam only wanting sex from you crossed your mind. It was why most guys approached you: they thought heavy girls are desperate and will sleep with them for crumbs of affection. Normally you reject these guys, since high school boys like to brag. Yet, if Gwinam ever showed interest, you’d crumble immediately. If you put out for any guy in school, it’d be him. Deep down, you sensed he enjoyed the kind of sex you did…At least, in your fantasies he did.
“You know, YN, he’s got a pretty cute friend,” she told you. “I mean, he’s not Namjoon hot, but he’s okay looking. He’s definitely your type. I could set you up-YN? Are you listening?”
“Huh? What?”
Hyejin looked between you and where Gwinam stood and let out a soft laugh. “Oh my god, no way,” she teased, “You’re actually checking out Yoon Gwinam?”
“What?! No,” you defended instantly. “I wasn’t looking at him at all.”
“He’s a jerk, YN,” said Soomin. “He’s a bully. How could you like a guy that bullies people?”
“He’s also a total idiot,” added Hyejin.
“I wasn’t looking at him,” you repeated firmly, heat rising in your cheeks. “He’s just…He’s in my eyeline, that’s all.”
“He’s not even a cute bully,” said Soomin. “You know, like the guys in the dramas. He’s ugly. He’s got a weird face shape.”
You wanted to hit her. Gwinam is by no means ugly. You liked his face, his body, his hair, and everything else. In your daydreams, he liked your body too. He’d spend ages telling you how beautiful he thinks you are, and how much you turn him on.
“Not to mention that ugly haircut,” Hyejin scoffed. “Besides, I wouldn’t bother. It’s not like he’d be into you.”
“Hyejin,” Soomin said carefully. “Don’t be so mean.”
“I’m not being mean. I’m being honest,” she retorted. “Guys like him are total assholes. He’d probably laugh at you and walk away if you confessed.”
“I won’t confess because there’s nothing to confess.”
It pained you to admit it, but Hyejin was right. Gwinam would never like a girl like you. You looked at him one more time as you came closer. He didn't even look your way. Why should he? There’s nothing special about you. Guys never looked at you; why should he be any different? You walked past his group, and your eyes met him for a split second. You quickly turned away before he noticed you. It made your cheeks burn more, simply having him acknowledge you for a second even if he thought nothing of you.
“Ugh, so gross,” Soomin huffed.
“The dude’s a walking red flag. You should like someone else,” Hyejin smiled slowly, “Like Lee Suhyeok. Isn’t he gorgeous?”
Yes, Suhyeok was the handsome, friendly guy any sane girl would like. Yet, you didn’t. You found it difficult when you compared him to Gwinam, who checked all your boxes. Your fondness for bad boys will eventually come back to bite you, you know. It was best for everyone if you kept it to yourself.
“Gosh, I’d kill to get a slice of him,” Hyejin sighed.
“But he’s not into you,” you said to her. A little dig into her made you feel good. “He likes someone else, I heard.”
“That’s because he hasn’t gotten with me yet,” she replied with a sly smile.
“Maybe he doesn’t want to get with you because you fuck any guy who gives you attention,” you heard yourself say to her. You instantly gasped and Soomin laughed out loud. “Oh, um, well, I mean maybe-”
“-Maybe ‘what’? At least guys actually look at me, unlike you. Namjoon told me he and his friends have a bet going, you know,” she spat back. “Yeah, to see who could bag The Pig. He told me to introduce you to his friend, since he said if he wins, he’d split the money with us. Want to know what I said? I said ‘no’ because I’m a good friend.”
“What?” Your throat dried up at that confession. It was always your worst fear: a guy showing interest as a dare from his friends. “So, you were going to set me up with someone who means to play a prank on me?”
“Oh, come on, like you’re that dumb. I told him you wouldn’t fall for it. He’d have to try really hard since you always get all weird when you like a guy.”
“But you still knew,” you stopped walking, and gripped your books tightly. “You were still going to go through with it just so some asshole keeps liking you.”
You wanted to hit her. You wanted to call her every name in the book, and smack her until you drew blood. She thought herself so above you and Soomin. You pictured yourself literally knocking her down a size. Your nails dug into the soft cover of your textbooks, so tight your knuckles burned. Images of you sitting in a restaurant, waiting on a guy who might never come, tightened your chest. You hated her.
“I was going to tell you,” she said, “Stop being so dramatic. It’s not like you’ll go through with it. You chicken out every time a guy comes onto you. I told you about it just now, didn’t I? See, I’m a good friend to you and you say mean things to me. I was only looking out for you.”
She turned on her heel and continued walking. Soomin stayed behind for a moment, seeing your eyes glare at Hyejin’s back. “YN?” she came to you cautiously, “YN, we gotta go to class.”
Why were you friends with her? Why were you friends with either of them? You knew why. Because it was better to be friends with them, taking the licks, than not having friends at all.
“YN-”
“-Fuck off,” you hissed at her before leaving her side.
You blinked back the tears building up in her eyes. Going into the school with teary eyes might attract more attention than you’d like. Crying in front of people showed weakness. You couldn’t let people know you’re weak because then you’d become a target too. Walking away from the school pathway, you ended up in the construction site beside the main building. You aren’t sure what the school planned to make the building, but that didn’t matter to you. The half finished, concrete building remained abandoned during the day time. Nobody will hear you crying. You walked until the sounds of the other students faded into nothingness.
You’re a joke to them. You’re the dumb, ugly fat friend who they can look at when they feel bad about themselves. Every rude word, every mean comment from everyone in your life came rushing back to you. Your mother scolded you for eating more than you should. Your father said he was glad because then he didn’t have to worry about boys coming to his door. Hyejin liked pointing out the flaws in your outfits and Soomin constantly offered unsolicited health advice. You doubted this “friend” of Namjoon’s would actually like you. Not even the boys you’d gone out with before liked you. They always shift uncomfortably or tell you to keep it a secret. God forbid their friends should find out they liked the fat girl.
You collapsed against a bare, concrete wall and looked outside a window frame. Fresh air blew past the window, only just brushing the window sill you leaned against. You forced yourself to enjoy the free air to drown out the pain festering inside you. Visions of beating every single person in your life passed like a movie reel. You briefly imagined Hyejin getting into an accident that disfigures her pretty face forever; you pictured your mother finally dying and being free of her hateful words. Why couldn’t people just let you live?
As you stood there thinking, your favorite daydream came back. Gwinam is your boyfriend, and he hears what Hyejin said to you and what Namjoon’s friends planned to do, and beats them all up for you. In this daydream, you have a protector who adores you; who loves you as you are. A Gwinam who’d burn down the world for you; who’d bring ultimate pain to anyone who hurt you. You knew this Gwinam did not exist, but you comforted yourself with the fantasy anyways. Wiping your eyes, hoping the redness won’t be noticeable, sudden footsteps from the next room made you jump. You listened closely and realized it was multiple people.
“I told you to have the money with you.”
The familiar voice of Gwinam sent shivers down your body. You didn’t know who he’d come with, but you guessed it was his gang of bullies. Visions of what they might do if they caught you in the building, weeping and weak, and you pressed yourself against the wall. You could stay there until they left, or maybe you could sneak out through the window. But, the temptation guided you to the nearby hole in the wall meant to be a doorway. You rarely get a chance to watch Gwinam undisturbed this way. Usually, you’re with one of your friends or in a crowded room, and someone might see you. These moments didn’t come very often, so you seized it. Quietly, you walked to the door nearby and peeked one eye into the main room.
There he was, standing a few feet from a short, skinny boy. You immediately recognized the boy as Park Jisung, a boy from your homeroom. Jisung cowered away from Gwinam, who had him cornered in the empty room. Gwinam looked at Jisung the way a cat looked at a mouse. Your eyes scanned over his long frame; you pictured him standing front of you with the same stare. If you wanted anyone to bully you, it’d be Gwinam.
“I’m-I’m sorry, Gwinam,” Jisung gave a bow, shaking and nervous. “I’ll bri-bring it tomorrow.”
“But I need it today,” he said. He sighed, “Guys like you really fucking piss me off.”
‘Yes. Yes, get pissed off. Make him regret it,’ your darkest fantasies screamed. You pushed yourself against the wall, heat starting to flare up in your body despite the cold wall. ‘Hit him. Hurt him. Hit me. Hurt me.’
“I’m sorry, Gwinam! If you give me a little bit of time, I’ll get you the money. I promise. My parents didn’t have any to-”
“-I don’t care,” he said. “Fucking asshole.”
You flinched as Gwinam’s hand slapped Jisung across the face. Jisung stumbled to the side. Psh, weakling. He didn’t even hit that hard. You looked at Gwinam’s face, anger rising in him as he smacked Jisung around more. If only he did that to you. You clenched your thighs together watching him swing his long arms in each slap. Once Jisung hit the ground, Gwinam’s kicks began harsher and deeper. He looked so hot. Being angry or scared brought out a person’s true nature; Gwinam liked hurting people, and you liked watching him hurt people. You liked how Gwinam threw Jisung around like a rag doll, smacking and kicking him. You thought of him doing the same to you. Guys like Gwinam made you feel small and weak, despite your heaviness. You bit your lower lip thinking of those hands pinning you to the ground, leaving bruises around them for later. He’d throw you on the ground, tear open your shirt to bite and slap your tits before fucking you. No foreplay. No gentleness or kindness. You’d be wet from his ferocity alone.
“Piece of shit,” Gwinam growled.
“What a loser,” you heard one of his friends laugh.
Your body slowly began grinding into the side of the doorway. Nobody would see you in the dimness, surely. They’re preoccupied with Jisung, who wept and begged them to stop. Your pussy pulsed watching Gwinam kick and stomp on him. You stuck your hand underneath your skirt, carefully running your fingers over your sex. It’d have to be quick, but watching Gwinam in the flesh this way made you wetter. Tightness built between your thighs, that familiar arousal burning as your fingers trailed over your slit. The chilling wall caused your nipples to harden, and you thought of Gwinam’s mouth on them. He’d bite and suck as his cock grinded into your pussy. You’d grip his shoulders and arms, nails clawing his flesh as he teased you.
You’d let him take you however he wished. You’d be his personal fuck toy; a thing only made to pleasure him.
“Psh, pathetic motherfucker,” Gwinam spat at Jisung. He crouched down and lifted his head by the hair.
You bit down on your lip as you circled your clit. His tongue swirls around it greedily, gripping your thighs hard and growling from the taste. He stood Jisung up to his feet. He’d do the same to you. He’d laugh at you for getting so wet so easily; he’d call you a whore, smack you one more time, before continuing the sexual torture. Maybe he’d do what he did to Min Eunji once. He’d grab a marker and write filthy words on your body, on your clothes, so people knew you belonged to him. Screw what your friends thought. This is your fantasy, not theirs. Your lips grew wetter, and you pushed your panties aside. You started rubbing yourself quicker. A slew of dirty thoughts came as Jisung groaned, and coughed.
Gwinam spanking your ass until it becomes tender and hot.
Gwinam spitting in your mouth, then calling you a filthy bitch for doing it.
Gwinam tying you to his bed at home and leaving you there for whenever he gets horny.
The climax hits you hard with the usual scene: Gwinam chasing you through a forest, feral and high on adrenaline, until he gets his hands on you. You rode it out on your hand as you pictured him fucking you like an animal. His teeth gritted, his muscles tense and tight, and his cock shooting cum over your face and breasts. It’d hurt, but you’d love that. Your juices coated your fingers, and you shivered as you came down into your post-orgasm glow. Gwinam finished beating up Jisung, who tearfully ran away when Gwinam and his friends let him go. Panting, running his hands through his hair, Gwinam stood there a moment while his friends left the building. You continued circling your sensitive nub, wishing you could go for a second time. The bold fantasy of you offering yourself to him right then crossed your mind, but no, you’d never do that. Then, the unthinkable happened.
Gwinam saw you. He’d turned his head casually; you supposed he’d done it to check if anyone had seen him, and spotted you in the other room. You froze in place, quickly withdrawing your hand from your panties. Due to the angle, Gwinam didn’t see your lower half, but him having seen you was enough. Dark eyes swept down the parts of your body he could see. What if he suspected what you’d done? What if he’d heard you and purposefully prolonged the beatdown? You gasped and whipped your body around out of sight. You worried he might confront you. You held back a whimper imagining him coming over to you, sticking his hands in your panties, and telling you how naughty you’ve been.
‘Insatiable slut. You can’t even wait until we’re alone to touch yourself for me. Do it again. Now.’
Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. You heard Gwinam’s friend call out to him, and you heard him leave. In reality, he’d never want to touch you. He’ll no doubt go to his friends and tell them what he suspected. They’ll taunt and tease you forever about it. Soomin and Hyejin would be disgusted with you, because even if you disliked them, they’re all you have. On wobbly legs, you picked up your things and left the construction site.
Your fantasies will always be exactly that. Fantasies. Nothing more.
How did you do it? How did you catch his attention when nothing else does? How do you make this entire world slow down when you walk past him? Any time Gwinam saw you, he swore everything around him stopped for you. Most girls at school didn’t have that effect on him. They were too skinny or too annoying. Gwinam liked girls with soft curves that made him drool. You are such a girl. The briefest of glances from you haunt him throughout the rest of the day. That small twinkle of acknowledgement sent him into a stunned silence for several seconds, if not minutes. So, to see you in that half-finished building, breathless and clutching the wall, inspired a fresh series of fantasies. He thought of going up to you in that building, pulling down your panties and shoving himself inside you. You’d stay up against that wall, shirt open and tits bouncing, as he pumped his cum into you. He loved your tits. And your thighs. He liked peeking at them during class. The desk always stopped just underneath them so he had a nice view. Lord knows what he’d do if you sat beside him. He’d leave class with wet fingers every day.
But, sadly, those dirty thoughts would never come to be. A smart, clever girl who always did well would never want an idiot like him. Girls like you wanted handsome, smart guys like Suhyeok. Gwinam is forced to live with thoughts of you in his arms in his dreams. You must be so soft. You always smell nice too. He’s noticed it before; it’s a flowery perfume that drew him to you. He thought of your laugh as he walked towards school with Myunghwa and the others. He wished he could be the one making you laugh. Visions of kissing you, walking hand-in-hand with you, and being with you clouded his mind. He’d be good to you. Gwinam wasn’t kind very often, but he’d treat you so well. He’d give you anything you wanted; do anything you asked of him.
He’d hurt someone for you, if you wished it.
The group entered the school before classes began, and Gwinam caught sight of you rushing past them. A hint of floral perfume hit his nose, causing him to breathe it deeply. He noticed you heading towards the bathrooms. He smirked. You must’ve made such a mess. Too bad he isn’t there to lick you clean. He shook the image of your soaked pussy from his head when Myunghwa smacked the nape of his neck.
“-Are you listening to me?” the short boy asked him irritably.
“Huh? Yeah, I was.”
Myunghwa scoffed disbelievingly. “Fucking idiot,” he said, “You never pay attention.”
“He was checking out Park YN,” Changhoon, another part of their group, smirked. “I can’t believe you like that fattie. She’s not even pretty in the face.”
“I wasn’t checking her out,” Gwinam said defensively. “I wouldn’t touch her even if she was the last girl on earth.” He considered the feeling might be mutual. You’d never truly like him. If you were doing what he thought, it must’ve been for someone else. The idea alone boiled his blood. “She’s ugly.”
No, you’re not. You’re beautiful. So beautiful. He thought of the other day when he saw you in the library. You often go there during lunch to catch up on homework or to read quietly. You liked reading, he noticed. You’d sat beside a window, and he admired how the sun caught in your hair, illuminating your face. He put the image to memory for those tough nights at home. Whenever his dad called him useless or his mom shook her head in disappointment, he pictured you in that chair. You’d lift your head, smile, and tell him he’s not a waste of space. You’d encourage and lift his spirits up…and he’d kiss you. He thought of your lips and the cherry lip balm he spotted in your bag. They must taste so good.
And he’d never have them. He’d never have you. He’s not supposed to like girls like you. He’s supposed to like skinny, pretty girls like your friends. Yet, those girls didn’t excite him like you did.
Myunghwa went on with some story about how someone mentioned his name in Jinsu’s disappearance. The police went to his house to question him. Gwinam wanted to tell him they’d done the same to him and the others. It’s not their fault Jinsu made it so easy for them; he never fought back until that night. Gwinam recalled the way his body hit the sign, hit a balcony, before finally crashing into the alleyway. He’d never seen a dead person before. He’d been sure that the police might arrest him. They could’ve found fingerprints on Jinsu’s skin or caught him on camera somehow. Yet, they’d done the opposite. They believed the story of them having been out in the street and nowhere near Jinsu’s last location.
Gwinam walked into class on his own, and spotted you in your usual seat next to him. You shared a desk space with your friend, Soomin, but his desk was across the aisle. He bit the inside of his lip seeing you crossed your legs under your desk. A small peek of your thigh high stocking stirred more dirty images in his mind. He liked how a bit of pudge went over the stocking bands; if he ever got his hands on those thighs, he’d lose his mind. He took his seat nearby and did his best to not look at you. He thought about the construction site again, picturing you fingering yourself to him and cumming hard on your pretty fingers. He shifted his gaze slightly to see your chest exactly where he knew it’d be. The combined picture of your thighs and your breasts caused him to swallow thickly and look elsewhere. He’d die of embarrassment if he got a hardon in class, but how could he ignore such a sensual sight?
As Mr. Lee, their science teacher, began class when Gwinam noticed you starting to pull off your blazer. Logic and reason said you must be hot, considering you’re sitting near the windows. But his horny, perverted mind said you were taking it off for him. You wore a tight shirt today, so it showed off the curves of your bosom and tummy. His jaw dropped when he spotted a white strap through the fabric. Your bra, he hoped. He quickly thought of you in his lap, wearing nothing but your skirt and stockings. No bra. No panties.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he dared a chance to look at it. A message from Myunghwa.
‘Wow, you got it bad for her, huh? Bet she’d crush you if she got on top.’
He clenched his jaw and put the phone away. Whenever he felt a new fantasy coming on, his friends ruined it for him. He wished he could sit closer. He wished he could talk to you, and only you. You’re so smart. You answer Mr. Lee’s questions without hesitation and so eloquently. Your friends might be pretty, but they’re complete airheads. You’re the intelligent one. The intelligent one with pretty lips and eyes that made him melt.
Gwinam went through absolute torture during class. Not even amusing himself by bullying Eunji distracted him. Seeing the buttons between your tits stretch from the size, he knew he’d have plenty of jerk-off scenarios tonight.
‘Gwinam? Could you help me with my shirt? It’s so tight and uncomfortable. Please, take it off me.’
He squeezed his eyes tightly and bit his tongue as the signal for lunch rang through the school.
‘The cold’s making my nipples hard. Would you warm them with your mouth? They’re so hard and my hands aren’t as warm as your tongue.’
Fucking hell. Gwinam stood up from his desk before you did, and decided a walk to the cafeteria might clear his head.
‘Oh, Gwinam, your cock’s so big-’
Fuck. No.
‘-Put it between my tits, and fuck them. I want to make you cum using my soft, huge tits.’
He pushed into a bathroom stall, locked the door and started unbuckling his pants.
‘God, they just swallow your dick. I can’t wait for you to cum all over them. I love cum. I want you to cum on me. Please, Gwinam, cover me in your yummy cum.’
His dick throbbed in his hand in every stroke. His eyes closed and he thought about you in the construction building. He thought of catching you touching yourself, and taking advantage of your vulnerable position. Gwinam pictured himself tearing off your clothes, exposing your luscious body, and tasting every inch of you. You’d struggle at first, pleading and whimpering for him to stop, but you’d soon give into him. Gwinam focused on the image of you riding him to climax. Your tight walls clenched hard around him as he rubbed his thumb over your clit; your breasts bouncing in his face until he suckled on one of them. The thought made him cum within minutes. That’s what you did to him. He wished you didn’t have such a fierce hold on him. He wished he didn’t desire you so much, but he couldn’t help it. He’d become completely blind to any other woman he met. He only wanted you.
Coming down from his orgasm, he cleaned himself up and decided to head to the cafeteria. He felt refreshed having gotten you out of his system. He wondered if he might see you there or if you’d go to the library again today. He didn’t care which one. He’d have to keep his leering to a minimum now that Myunghwa saw him looking at you. He came up with explanations to why he’d been looking your way, but none of them sounded convincing. When he entered the cafeteria, he did see you there. You stood in line with Soomin. You’d put your blazer back on, which dampened his spirits a bit. But then again, it might be good for him. He’d only just finished rubbing one out to you. He can’t do it twice in such a short amount of time.
He got into the line two people behind you, and looked at his phone instead. Myunghwa and Changsoon taunted him over what they’d seen in class. They made fun of you, talking about how your buttons must be holding on for dear life or telling him to be careful as you might break his bed getting into it. He wanted to kill them. He didn’t care if they talked badly about other girls; he didn’t want them talking badly about you. But, rather than tell them off, he joined in the conversation.
‘Kekeke, she probably jiggles around like jello.’
This amused them. Yet, he looked at you as the line moved. You styled your hair differently. Usually, you wore it tied back from your face, but today it flowed freely around your face. Gwinam did not have a particularly favorite look; he loved anything you wore or did to yourself. He watched you chat with Soomin. By your annoyed gaze and clenched jaw, he assumed you’re arguing quietly. No doubt your “friend” Choi Hyejin said something to upset you, and Soomin defended her. He often overheard you three talking at lunch or in class. He liked the sound of your voice, so sue him. Hyejin in particular liked putting you down, and you let her. Just like how he let Myunghwa talk down to him.
He shoved the person in front of him out of the way, stepping to them when they protested until they backed off.
“-She didn’t mean anything by it. She only meant that you’re not that good with guys, so she was trying to help,” Soomin said to you as you started down the line. “She didn’t know Namjoon planned anything until he said it.”
“Whatever.”
“Oh, YN, you know Hyejin cares about you. I do too.”
“Okay.”
You shut down. Whatever Soomin said to you left you defeated. He thought of pushing Soomin aside and holding you close. Whatever prank or mean thing Hyejin said to you would be smothered away by his kisses. He grabbed a tray, and began going down the line with you. Seeing your cold stare, and how you avoided Soomin’s gaze, you’d gotten locked inside your head. It happened to him a lot too. Whenever Myunghwa insulted or hit him, or whenever his father called him a worthless piece of shit, he’d sink into the dark, lonely place in his mind. If only he could pull you from it, then you would never feel pain again. Soomin must’ve given up trying to reach you, because then she scoffed and walked away to sit down. This left a gap between you and him. He thought about what he’d just done in the bathroom, and wished he’d taken you with him. As you reached the end of the line, the both of you reached for a pair of utensils at the same time.
“Oh, sorry,” you said timidly. “I didn’t…I’m sorry, I…”
“It’s okay,” he said, picking up one of the wrapped pairs to hand to you, “Here.”
“Thank you.”
Oh, your eyes. He never gave them enough appreciation. So much innocence and sweetness shined from them, yet they hid something much darker within. He could tell. He wanted to say more, but what? Rarely did he get this close to you. He was always worried someone might see and make fun of him for it. But, there’s nobody who matters around him. He saw you turn away from him shamefully. No doubt you’re remembering what happened on the construction site. When he did not look away from you, you squeaked out:
“I won’t tell anyone what I saw. I promise.”
Did you think he’d hurt you? “Good,” he said, bending down to your ear, “I won’t tell anyone what I saw either. I hope you enjoyed yourself.”
What in the hell was he doing? Trying to scare you away? He mentally kicked himself when he spotted your widening eyes. He watched you scurry away from him like a mouse, and it left him disheartened. He couldn’t help himself, could he? What did he think you’d say to that? Gwinam bit his tongue again, then went to sit with the gang. He forced himself not to look at you. Looking at you in front of the guys meant more teasing. He only liked one kind of teasing, and it was the teasing he got from you.
You woke up with a gasp. Your heart hammered in your ears, and suddenly you croaked in pain. You felt as if someone dislodged your bones, then put them back into place. Heat burned behind your eyes, and briefly you smelled blood all around you. Hunger. A distinct hunger rumbled in your body, but something inside you fought it back. Your mind went back and forth between this limbo of cravings and denials before you paused all together. You blinked your eyes a few times as your vision cleared.
It took several moments for you to register that you were soaked to the bones on the cafeteria floor. All around you, you hear gargled snarling and sharp hissing sounds. You heard feet shuffling or skidding across the floor; the cracking of bones made you flinch every time it sounded in the room. You kept your eyes closed, hoping if you open them, you’ll be back home in your bed. But, no you weren’t. You knew you weren’t.
Sitting up, you felt a distinct soreness in your neck, shoulder, stomach and arm. You looked down at your shaking hands to see them stained with blood. You found more of it on your uniform and stockings. You took deep breaths as you spotted the deep, crimson stain on your left forearm. Gingerly, you pulled up your sleeve to see a bite mark deep in your flesh. It looks fresh, as if it’d never healed. But, when you touched it, you felt no pain. The same was said for the scratches and bites on your stomach, the injuries having slashed through your shirt. You pressed down on the mark on your neck, only to hear the squishing of severed flesh. Curious, you poked your pinky into a hole in your neck, feeling no pain whatsoever. How could this be?
“Am I dead?”
You stared around the empty cafeteria. The people who’d been there had not escaped. The blood stains on the walls, windows, floors and tables told you as much. The creatures who’d once been classmates must’ve attacked the others, turning them into beasts as well. But, why had that not happened to you? You jumped suddenly when the gnashing, guttural sounds came from behind you. Your eyes widened in shock. Hyejin. At least, what was left of her. Hyejin, once dainty and posh, now cracked her neck this way and that as she snapped her jaws like a turtle. You saw her front covered in blood, more of it smeared around her mouth and on her hands. Blood red eyes instantly locked with yours. You let out a scream as she rushed towards you, hands outstretched and clawing for you. You shielded yourself in a fetal position, ready to be devoured by her, before you realized she wasn’t touching you. Hyejin, reeking of rotting flesh, only hunched a few inches from you. You heard her sniffing the air around her. She moved her head side to side, still biting and growling as drool came from her yellowed teeth. But, she did not touch you.
Soon, Hyejin backed away. She jolted upright, and began moving from you to the center of the room. You realized she was not the only one in the room. Other students who’d sat in the cafeteria now jerked and stumbled around. You stood up, almost slipping on the wet floors, and waited for one of them to notice you. But, none of them did. They should be charging at you; they should be ripping and tearing at your body, but they did not. To them, you’re not there. Touching your wounded neck again, you realized something: You’d become one of them. That is why they did not attack you as you walked out of the cafeteria.
Nor when you reached the pathways outside school. All around you, students walked around, sniffing and searching for more human meat. None of them bothered you unless you bothered them first. Even then, they only snapped their teeth at you before moving away. It felt surreal. An ignorant person might believe they’re in a dream, but you knew better. Whatever happened here has led to hundreds of students being infected with a mind altering disease. You wondered what could’ve caused this as you walked around the school. Biochemical warfare? Chemical lab experiment gone wrong? You couldn’t think of anything else. You could only focus on trying not to attract any of the zombies around you.
It all came back to you as you walked. One minute, you’d been apologizing to Hyejin for what you’d said about her, and the next a rush of students flooded the room. You’d been the first to stand from your seat. You remembered students screaming with terror as they ran through the cafeteria. You remembered seeing the things chasing them: other students, all of them red-eyed and feral. They screeched and growled hysterically, as if possessed by demons. But, that’s childish; this was something worse. You’d grabbed your bag once you saw an infected student tackle a girl by the wall and instantly bite into her throat. Soomin, the athlete, managed to get to a back door before either you or Hyejin. Some friends. It truly became every man for himself. Hyejin had screamed in absolute terror when one zombie, a large boy, blundered after her. You remember being a few steps ahead of her by then. You’d reached for the kitchen doors when a hand yanked your head back.
Hyejin used you as a means of escape. You’d slipped and tripped over the floors as the sprinkles above went off, causing it to rain inside the cafeteria. The large zombie grabbed hold of you, but you’d managed to fight him off. Another zombie, a girl with short hair, launched at you. That’s how your arm was bitten. But, you hadn’t stayed under her for long, since you threw her off you. You’d gotten up a second time where you watched Hyejin running through the kitchen to the back doors. Seeing it up ahead, you knew instinctively she’d close the door on you if she reached it. You recall leaping. You never leapt before, but you leapt towards Hyejin. Your hands found her long dark hair, fisted it tightly, and dragged her from the door. She fell to the ground with a painful groan. By the back door, you saw the two zombies attack her. You sidestepped another zombie when you realized the back door was locked. Running into the main kitchen, you dodged zombies and screamed when one of them lurched for you. Due to the slippery floor and chaos of humans and zombies, you’d fallen face forward. All air knocked out of you, you scrambled up before a zombie caught you.
That’s when more of them came. You squeezed your eyes tightly as you thought of the stink of death and harsh pain of teeth breaking skin. You’d howled from the nails digging into your skin, and the number of zombies all vying for a piece of you. Kicking and screaming, you eventually caved when one of them sunk his teeth into your neck, the one that was most obvious to you. You touched it again, walking back into the school to the library, your sanctuary. You didn’t find anyone there. It appeared whatever zombies were here had left.
Empty. That is what the world became: empty. Yet, it didn’t feel like it to you. You heard the sounds of zombies groaning outside perfectly. You could smell the paper of the books underneath the foul odor of blood and corpses. Tapping a table, the sound was louder to you. Your ears became sensitive to any sound you made after. You guessed the other zombies, mindless and aimless, reacted to noise as well. Grabbing a book, you opened the window to test your theory. You saw several zombies walking around the fields outside. You launched the book out the window, watching it fall and crash onto the ground. The small slap alerted every zombie within a twenty foot radius. They clambered over to the sound, but growled their discontent when they only smelled more dead flesh. So, a unique sense of sound. You wondered what else your new existence brought you.
This heightened sense came in handy an hour or so later. You’d been setting small fires across the library, trying to see how far your sense of smell went, when you heard it. At first, you thought it might be another zombie, but your new nose said otherwise. The newcomer did not smell like rotting flesh or congealed blood. They were something in between. You took a whiff around, and the trail led towards the library entrance. You’d been thinking of testing out your strength and speed. You saw how indestructible your fellow zombies were: you’d been throwing computer parts at them from above and barely making a dent. You might have a similar strength. You knew whatever being sauntered into your hideout will be your guinea pig. You put out your small bonfire with a wet paper towel, and followed the sounds and smells with your new body.
You made to move, but the intruder stepped out from behind the bookcases. It was Gwinam, except he looked drastically different from the boy you saw this morning. Firstly, he wore a new jacket that obviously wasn't his. Secondly, a hideous, nauseating gash went through his left eye, leaving a gory mess behind. He stopped when he saw you. You stared at him. He stared at you. Neither of you said anything. It was like meeting one of the zombies; you did not have to speak to understand one another.
"You too?" He asked, his deep voice breaking the silence.
"Yeah."
"In the cafeteria?"
"Yeah. You?"
"In here."
"When?"
"A few hours ago. Cheongsan pushed me off there," he pointed to one of the high bookcases, "And I got bit." His good eye surveyed you from afar.
"And your eye?"
"He shoved a phone into it."
"A phone?"
The idea of a cell phone never occurred to you. You could've called for help, but that didn't seem to matter anymore. Who could help you? And if help was called, they would have come by now. "Yeah, the corner part," he said, acting out the gesture with a stabbing motion, "But it's whatever. I don't really feel it. I plan on killing him." He spotted the deep wounds on your neck, and said, "Those don't bother you either?"
"Not really. I thought they'd at least itch, but they haven't," you said. "I tried recording the healing process, but it's very slow. I think because we're still partly human, we can't feel the pain but our muscles and skin react to it. Look, see," you showed him your bite marks, the skin barely together but no longer leaking blood. "It stopped bleeding, but the wound hasn't healed."
"Is that what you've been doing here?" He gestured to the trash can at your feet. "Experimenting?"
"Well, yes," you said, sheepishly. "I want to see what my body is capable of now that I've reached this new level of being. My senses are certainly sharper: I can smell things from at least twenty feet; I'm able to hear things from a further distance too, since sound echoes and bounces. I've discovered I don't die. I can't die. Seeing you now, I'm assuming it's the same for you?"
"Yeah."
You caught him looking over your body again. You became self-conscious immediately. Being undead, you doubted you'd lose any weight from your previous life. Add the disgusting bites and scratches on your flabby flesh, and you're absolutely distasteful. You didn't need Gwinam staring at you like that.
"Stop it," you said, not meeting his eyes.
"Stop what?"
"Looking at me. You don't see me staring at your eye, do you? I don't need reminding of how ugly I am."
"You're not ugly."
You scoffed, "Please, don't insult my intelligence. I know how my body looks."
"I know too, and I like it."
"Huh?" You saw it once you met his eyes.
"Nothing about your body has ever bothered me," he said, licking his lips at you. "In fact, everything about it turns me the fuck on."
You walked backwards from him as he approached. Your heart thumped in your chest, the sound spreading to your ears and freezing your bones. A sudden heat flared up in your body, and you gulped thickly as it went all over. The glint in his eye is unmistakable, and it excites you. Never did you think this would happen. Yoon Gwinam was only meant for your dirtiest, smuttiest fantasies reserved for lonely nights at home. Yoon Gwinam was the forbidden fruit that you'd never reach; Hyejin and Soomin being the ones raising the branch with each disgusted word. Yet, as the world turned upside down, those fantasies quickly turned into reality as Gwinam moved towards you.
"You make my cock so fucking hard," he nearly growled, already unbuckling his pants. "It drives me crazy. I have to sit in class…seeing you there in that little skirt…seeing your tits almost bursting out of your shirt…I know why you wear it that way…you like showing off those big tits just for me, don't you?" The way he walked reminded you of Jisung from that morning. A lion coming upon its prey. Something about this brazen, direct Gwinam caused your mind to wander back into those fantasies. "And don't get me started on those thighs of yours,” his eyes scanned your body and stopped to your thighs, “I love looking at them, especially when you wear stockings…the way they hug your thighs so some pudges out…fuck, you know it does things to me…"
"What?" Your voice quivered slightly.
"Don't act innocent with me," he said, getting closer. His dark eyes full of frustration and lust brought back to the last scenario you imagined. Your arousal throbbed between your legs. "You act all clean cut but I know deep down you're just a whore who wants to be fucked senseless every second of the day.” He unzipped his fly, but did not pull anything out, "You made me so horny in class that I jerked off in the bathroom during lunch. I remembered you at the construction site, all breathless and horny, and I couldn't help it."
He came within inches of you. The heavy scent of blood and sweat reached your nose, and you bit your bottom lip. A sharp gasp left you when his body pressed into yours. Gwinam tugged down the front of his pants and boxers to withdraw his dick. The sight made you wet instantly. Not too long, it was certainly thick with heavy balls underneath. You knew you'd definitely feel him stretching you soon. You already imagined it tearing you apart as he ravaged your body.
"Open your shirt and let me see those tits," he demanded, eyes focused on your chest. "You were so eager to show them before. I want to see them now."
With trembling fingers you unbutton your shirt. Underneath, Gwinam saw the white undershirt you wore stretched over your large breasts. You untucked your shirt so he may see more of you, which he liked. You worried about the gashes zombies left on your stomach and chest, but Gwinam hardly noticed them. He sailed up your body past them and to your breasts. He cupped one right away, causing you to whimper from the touch. Gwinam smirked and squeezed it so you whimpered again. You never considered stimulation before this moment. You might not feel any pain, but you certainly felt the small sparks his hand alone brought. His hands warmed up as they fondled you over your bra and shirt, the temperature hardened your nipples so they poked into the fabric. The cotton fabric of your bra did nothing to hide this from Gwinam, who bent down to bite gently down on one. You made a mental note to write down ‘sexual stimulation’ as part of your human side.
He put your hand on his crotch, and instinctively you grabbed it. You liked the feel of him against your fingers. Even with his half undead existence, his body felt human as ever. You sensed the blood pumping through his cock, and could almost smell it through the thin skin. Big hands remained nearly lukewarm on your chest; their gentle squeezes were certainly stronger than your daydreams concocted. Full lips didn’t skip over the bite mark on your neck, kissing upwards and licking the dried blood. The feeling of his tongue against your skin sent chills down your body. You needed more of him. You continued lightly touching his cock, sometimes slipping lower to the ball sack underneath, which caused several deep groans.
“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned in your ear, still fondling your breasts. “So addicting,” he went back to kissing your neck, “I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”
“I don’t want you to stop.”
You brought him into a kiss, and you're thankful he didn't pull away. His plush lips caressed yours, carefully opening them with a small flick on your bottom lip. Blood tinged your lips, sliding from one tongue to the other, but you liked it. That undeniable hunger for flesh and blood came over you; you growled and sunk further into his kiss. You didn’t know if a half-zombie could eat another half-zombie, but you found his taste to be particularly intoxicating. You pushed yourself against him, roaming his body with your free hand to unzip his jacket There, you found his bloodied black sweater where zombies bit into his torso. You didn’t mind it. This new discovery only aroused you more. It was as if he'd opened the floodgates repressing your desires. You couldn’t stop yourself.
"Let's get rid of this," he growled between kisses.
He took the collar of your tanktop and tore it open easily. Gwinam groaned at the sight of your tight white bra, which squeezed your breasts more than you liked. He kissed fiercely along them, even giving a bite that pinched you, groping and squeezing them. You kept your hand on him, his shaft growing even harder while you jerked him. The touch made your sex clench within you, and your clit throbbed from the newest sensation. Gwinam roughly tugged down your bra, so your tits spilled over the wire supporting them. He stopped kissing you to admire the soft mounds filling his hands. You whined as he grazed his thumbs over your nipples, the two peaks hard against the rough pads.
"Fuck," he moaned, kissing one of them, "They're exactly how I imagined them to be. So big and soft. I could suck these all day." He took it in his mouth, rolling his tongue around it and sucking hard. He did this to each one since you squirmed at the mixture of pain and pleasure. "You can't imagine," he grunted, nipping at your tits, "How many times I felt like ripping your shirt open to play with them…How many times I thought of taking you…fucking you…raping you…"
"Gwinam…" you whimpered at his words, the filth causing you to stroke him faster. Droplets of precum stuck to your hand and slickened your motions. This only amplified your arousal.
"Like today with Jisung," he flicked his tongue over the very middle, which sent shocks of pleasure down your body. "I saw you standing there watching me hit him. I saw how you panted and bit your lower lip. You were touching yourself, and I wanted more than anything to fuck you. I wanted to chase you down, rip off your panties and have my way with you…whether you wanted it or not. I don’t care anymore.” He sucked particularly hard on one nipple, then came back up to you, “I’m the boss here now. I can have whatever and whoever I want, especially you.” He cupped your chin for a hard kiss, “I should’ve fucked you there. I would’ve given you the fucking little teases like you deserve.”
"What stopped you?" You asked him breathlessly, sliding one hand over his shoulder to feel more of him. You started pumping him faster. "Hm? What stopped big bad Gwinam from fucking the shit out of me right outside our school? You could've tossed me on the floor, fucking me into the dirt or into the bushes with your hand over my mouth-"
He cut you off by grabbing your throat. The slender digits squeezed both sides of your neck, cutting off air but not hurting you. The pain came from the harsh slap that went across your cheek. When you cried out, he did it again to the opposite cheek. He stared at you for a moment, surveying the need written on your face. Your clit throbbed for his attention, hoping your grinding hips might clue him into that. He then slapped you again, then kissed you roughly.
"You filthy slut," he grunted against your lips. "You like that, huh?” he smacked you again, “You like being hit?”
The truth was: yes, you did. The stinging pain mingled with the desire burning inside you. Being in his strong grasp, pinned by his long body, you knew you could easily escape him. This elevated, evolved being you’ve become came with a strength you’d never known before. It made you invincible. Breaking away from him wouldn’t be a problem, yet you don’t push or thrash in his clutches. You instead spread your thighs and begin pumping him once more. From his heavy breathing, you knew you’d gotten the effect you wanted.
“Let me see for myself then.” He stuck his hand under your skirt and roughly pushed your panties aside. You gasped from the sudden invasion of his fingers on your sex. Boys touched you there before, but not like how Gwinam did. Three fingers cupped your dampening center to rub carefully up and down; he didn’t care if you let him or not, your pussy was his now. “Oh, you do enjoy this kind of thing,” he sneered, releasing your throat and grabbing at your hair instead. A quick tug and a forceful pull brought you to your knees in front of him. “I’m going to show you what I would’ve done if I’d caught you. Open.”
He prodded his tip to your lips, which opened right away. The taste of salty precum slid over your tongue and savored the sticky substance. A huge part of your fantasies finally came true. Gwinam kept his hold on your hair while he guided you over his hips. The girth of his filled your mouth completely, and his head hit your throat once or twice. It’s exactly how you imagined. You sucked the hard muscle firmly, a move that made Gwinam groan. You wanted to please him; you wanted his approval and satisfaction. It became harder to breathe once he forced you right up to his base. You gripped your knees tightly as pain started burning your throat and chest. Inhaling through your nose, you tried your best to breathe as Gwinam’s cock nearly suffocated you. You loved it. Something about his dick blocking your airway, causing you to gag and choke on it excited you. Your eyes teared up whenever he held you to him for too long, only moving his tip from your throat in short strokes. Yet, you did not object or force him away. You hummed in your throat as he moved in and out. When he mumbled about enjoying it, you kept on going. Streams of his precum and your saliva started dripping from your mouth, leaking through the corners. You pointedly rocked backward and forward so your tits jiggled for him, and you saw him eye them right away. When he pulled away, streams of it came out and you gasped for air.
“Look at you,” he groaned, tapping his wet cock on your lips and cheeks. “You love choking on dick,” he sneered, pushing his tip into your mouth once more. He kept you still with one hand under your chin and the other on the back of your head. More tears spilled down your cheeks as he fucked your throat. You started playing with your nipples, and moaned around his shaft. “Your mouth is fucking heaven,” he moaned, “Like a silk toy. Because that’s all you are…A mindless, stupid fuck toy for me to use whenever I want.”
Your muffled moans made him laugh. “And, to think, what I’ve become gives me so much more stamina than before,” he continued, shoving himself fully inside. “I can do all the dirty things I’ve wanted to do with you, and never get tired,” he withdrew himself to let you breathe, “And you know what that means, right?” As you tried swallowing the thickness in your mouth, he said, “It means you’re going to learn what happens to sluts who think they can flash their tits and ass at me. You thought you could flaunt those thighs and those tits and that ass and I’d do nothing about it? Hm?” He plunged his cock right back into your mouth, laughing as you cried. “And there’s nobody around to stop me; nobody to laugh at me about it. It’s only you and me, and you make me horny nearly every second of the day.” He thrusted rapidly, drowning out your cries with his moans. “That means you might as well not wear anything at all.”
He pulled out a final time, and watched you sputter and gasp for air. You massaged your throat, which felt hoarse and ached. Gwinam tugged your head back, and rested his balls right on your mouth. You knew exactly what to do. You took one in your mouth for a tender suck, licking your tongue over the curves and skin. Gwinam stroked himself slowly as you tongued his balls; he occasionally grinded into your face so you’d swallow the whole thing. Little moans vibrated over the sensitive skin, and Gwinam gritted his teeth. You grabbed his thighs for some stability, a thing he did not deny you, and buried your face further into his crotch. Gwinam pulled his balls away and had you lick his shaft up and down while you fondled them instead. Your pussy became so wet, you felt your juices sliding between your thighs. You loved how he used you. You loved giving yourself over to him entirely, and being the sex doll he wanted. Gwinam is the only boy you ever considered yourself fucking this way; you knew he had the ferocity, the depravity, the perversion to do it how you’d wanted. Other boys you’d managed to hook up with always showed hesitancy. Not Gwinam. You’ll be his whore and nothing else.
That was what you wanted.
Long, drawn out moans and panting preceded the thick, hot semen suddenly filling your mouth. You eagerly and greedily swallowed the substance going down your throat. It tasted delicious. Whether it was being undead or because it was Gwinam, you swallowed his whole load. Gwinam’s orgasm made him push harder and faster, making your neck and jaw burn from the pain. He didn’t stop until each drop left his tip and into your mouth. You swallowed whatever he left, even opening your mouth to let him squeeze it onto your tongue.
“You’re the perfect cum dump,” he breathed, running his tip over your lips so you’d lick off the droplets remaining. When he spotted worry in your eyes, he laughed, “Don’t worry. There’s more where that came from. Stand up,” he ordered, lifting you with little effort, and turning you around.
Excitement brought out your smile as he forced you to bend over. Your mind whirled from the thoughts going through your head. Spreading your legs, you arched your back slightly for him to see underneath. He lifted up your skirt to show your panties, and the cold air touched over your sex. No doubt he saw the wet spot pooled right in the center, since he then cupped it in his hand. Long fingers rolled up and down each inch of your sex, and stopped right at your clit. Your cotton panties, white and cheap, must be almost see through with how wet you’d made them.
“Your pussy is so fucking wet,” he moaned, one finger finding your clit and teasing it gently. “I thought about it so many times. Even today, when I jerked off during lunch, I thought of your sweet, tight cunt.”
“And I thought of your dick in it,” you admitted, whining when you felt his finger push delicately against your panties. “I want it so bad. I can’t think about anything else when I’m…I’m around you, oh fuck…”
His fingers teasing your clit only caused more wetness to develop. Gwinam then took both sides of your panties and threaded them between your buttocks and folds. A small bit covered your clit yet exposed it to him at the same time. While one hand spanked your ass cheeks, the other used the tip of his finger to pass over the sensitive nub. Streams of mewls, cries, and whimpers left your lips. Every little touch to it tightened the ball building inside your loins. He knew exactly what to do, and how to make you whine like a bitch in heat. Gwinam’s constant torture had you clawing the table and wriggling around in front of him. You thought you might cum from just the teasing alone.
“Fuck,” he hissed, “I could feel that pussy fluttering for me already.” He moved his finger side to side and threw down more sharp spanks to your ass. “I bet you’re dying to have me in there, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” you sobbed, “Yes, yes, please.”
“Please, what, slut?”
“Please fuck me,” you said, tears brimming your eyes.
“Ummm, no.”
Using both hands, Gwinam did not pull off your panties. He did not slowly peel them off and slide them to your ankles. He took the seam keeping front and back together and tore it apart. The sound of shredding fabric reached your ears. He did not remove the waistband. He only ripped it enough to expose your ass and pussy to him, leaving a long tear that went from back to front. Gwinam left your side and crouched down behind you. You felt him dangerously close to your center; you shuddered when something hot and slippery slide over your clit. Gwinam pulled the lips apart and focused his tongue there. You cried out feeling the tip circle it repeatedly; you grabbed at the table whenever he dipped beneath or on top of it slowly. The obscene lapping and slurping from below added to your uncontrollable moans. When he turned you around, your thighs immediately locked around him and with your own strength, you forced his mouth to take your clit. Gwinam gazed up in amusement, eagerly sucking and licking the cunt right in his face. He didn’t stop you from grinding over his mouth and nose; it’s not as if he’d suffocate. That was a perk of being partly dead, you guessed.
“I’ve wanted this for s-s-so long,” you said, gasping when his tongue entered your clenching and unclenching walls. “Oh god, just like that,” you started fucking his face in return, “Your tongue feels so fucking good! Ah!” his sudden grasp of your thighs with a hard smack let out a sudden squeak from you. “I’ve wanted you to fuck me for such a long time. My pussy gets wet just looking at you. I thought…I thought if I teased you, you’d give in and take me. I would’ve let you fuck me however you wanted, as long as I got your cock inside me.” You gripped his hair, soft and silky in your hand, and cried out from the pleasure he brought. “I saw you beat up Jisung, and I couldn’t help…couldn’t help touching myself to it. You being so big and long and strong-”
Gwinam interrupted you by rolling you backwards so your body curled into a c-shape. He pinned your knees to your chest as he wagged his tongue over your pussy. That’s when you came. In a blinding, gut-tensing, muscle-contracting orgasm, you came right on his face. Gwinam only growled his delight at your cum in his mouth. You bucked your hips around, the table underneath you moving slightly, and pushed into his face more. He sucked up all the juices until your clitoris turned sensitive from your climax; it didn’t stop him. Gwinam kissed down to your ass hole where his tongue moved teasingly before coming back up. You're normally concerned with him going from one hole to the other, but not anymore. You’re dead. What infections could you get from it?
“Looks like,” he said, kissing up the backs of your thighs, “We’re both going to get what we want then.”
With total ease, he pulled you to the edge of the table and onto his cock. Keeping your thighs on your stomach, Gwinam charged into you as he liked: hard and rough. The stings of pain did nothing to you. It only made you want to cum again.
“Oh my god,” he growled, squeezing your thighs tightly. “You really must be a whore to take my dick so well. You’re the perfect fuck hole; the perfect cum dump…and you’re all mine.”
“Yes, yes, I am.”
He grabbed your throat, hovering over you and making you face him as you moaned his name. Your lips parted from your constant moans, Gwinam spat into your mouth. He slapped you when you didn’t swallow it immediately. He did it a second time, and you bent to his whims. Then, he gave you another sloppy kiss. You loved the dirtiness of it all; you craved more and more of it. You’d dreamt of this moment for months; you’d desired, lusted, and fantasized about it. When Gwinam grabbed your wrists to keep you on the table, hungrily kissing you, you almost came again. His shirt brushed lightly on your clit which made you weak and shuddering. Biting down on your neck, you winced from the pain, but you knew it wouldn’t last.
“Push back on me,” he said, kissing down to your nipples where he sucked harshly. “Show me how badly you’ve wanted this dick, slut.”
Wrapping your legs around his waist, you kept Gwinam in place as you pushed your hips into his own. His thick cock stretched you pleasantly, bringing you nothing but pleasure as you drove him deep inside. Gwinam stuck out his tongue to let your nipple brush over the flat part, flicking it once or twice or sucking it for you. You purposefully made them bounce in his face which made him growl and grunt. He let go of your wrists and grabbed your tits. His tongue teasing your nipples and his dick hitting that spot inside your pussy brought you closer to another orgasm.
“Gwinam, Gwinam, I’m going to cum,” you wept, the pleasure overwhelming your body. “Oh fuck, you’re going to make me cum again.”
“Good. Do it,” he gripped you by the chin, “Cum on my dick. Do it. Now.”
The second wave made you scream. You worried undead classmates might hear you, but they must’ve been somewhere else. Not that it mattered. They didn’t touch you. Only Gwinam touched you, and he rode out your orgasm in a few thrusts. Still shivering and whimpering, Gwinam ignored your weakened state and tossed you onto the library floor. On your front, air punched out of you for a second before he was on top of you. Without warning, his fingers entered your ass, and his cock shoved into your pussy. You arched your back for him, nearly dizzy from your orgasms and his relentless abuse of your body. And then he fucked you. He fucked you exactly how you’d always wanted. The depravity of the scene made your head swim in the haze of it all. With his free hand, Gwinam gripped your throat so your head lifted from the floor. The slight pressure cut your airway, but not enough that you’d suffocate completely.
“I’m going to cum in all your holes,” he huffed, his fingers knuckle deep in your ass while his dick filled you. “You’re going to be limping out of this library with cum dripping from you. I only wish everyone was alive…then they can see what a fucking…fucking…fucking whore YN is!”
More cum squirted into your pussy, and you couldn’t be bothered to protest. You accepted every drop. “Please cum in me,” you cried, fists underneath you and humping his cock, “Please. I want you to fill each one, please.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll be more than filled,” he grunted, going faster and harder like before.
In a few more strokes, he finished his second orgasm. You took a moment to notice that he did not need a small refractory period. A surprise perk to being dead, you supposed. Not even taking a moment to breathe, Gwinam removed his fingers from your ass and laid back on the floor. You knew immediately what he wanted. You turned around to stuff his coated cock in your mouth, slobbering over it to make it wet as possible. Gwinam groaned, hands going through his hair as pleasure came over him again. A part of you wanted to stay there, cleaning his cock of your combined juices until he came again, but you knew what your lover really wanted. When his cock was prepared, you turned your back to him and sunk down on it…with your ass. This new tightness had Gwinam cursing and moaning your name. You leaned forward, broken panties and skirt over your hips so he’d have a perfect view of your ass, and bounced as much as you could.
Being undead left you stronger and faster. Before, you could never properly ride a guy. Your body felt too heavy and you worried you’d hurt them somehow. Not Gwinam. He handled you with ease, and you had no trouble riding him. You wanted him to cum again. You enjoyed his deep, throaty groans and the names he called you. He dominated you and you couldn’t help but submit. He went back to smacking and grabbing your ass while you touched your soaked, hard clit again. If anyone came upon you two, it’d certainly be a feast for the eyes. The feeling of him fully driving into you, stretching and filling you, drove you wild. You did whatever you could to milk more cum from him.
“Stay still,” he ordered, and you stopped at once. Luckily, it was for him to continue the pace on his own. “Your ass is as good as your pussy, fuck,” he panted, grabbing your hair to pull you backwards, “I could fuck this forever.”
“I wish you would,” you replied, meeting his hips nevertheless so loud smacking sounds filled the space. “I want to be a good toy and make you cum.”
“Oh my god,” he grunted, “Say that again. Say it.”
“I want to be a good toy and make you cum.”
“Then make me cum, slut. Come on,” he smacked your ass hard, “Make me cum with that fat, round…oh fuck, yes, yes, like that-”
The sheer motion of him cumming in your ass had you joining him. You kept going, not feeling exhausted at all. In fact, it heightened every sense. Everything became clearer, and the hunger nestled inside you had you slamming down on him. Once you drained him of cum, Gwinam still did not stop. He seemed incapable of it, and you did not complain. Rolling you onto your side, hands on your breasts, he used one leg to spread your thighs and sink back into your pussy. He let you continue your third orgasm on your own, rubbing your clit and pinching your nipples. You screamed once more as the climax truly hit you this time. Gwinam smacked your clit a few times during it, the light stings having you saying his name. He put you into a scissor position, the new angle driving home and leaving you senseless beneath him. Squelching sounds told you that his cum mixed with yours, and leaked out of your sex. You almost felt it pooling underneath him in every thrust. The new pace and position had you screaming his name a fourth time, and his own soon followed.
You did this for a while. It felt as if all those months of repressed feelings and sexual frustration exploded into this unrelenting, insatiable bomb. You couldn’t stop. You both bit, clawed, slapped, spat and growled throughout the day. Yes, the day. It was a thing you didn’t think possible until you’d turned into this half-human, half-zombie lifeform. Gwinam took you on every possible surface: the tables, chairs, against bookshelves and cabinets. It continued even against the glass doors where the bloody, snarling, stumbling and shuffling zombies went right by. The most exciting was when he fucked you right in the hallway, having you on all fours as he grunted about people watching you both. Pure bliss. That’s all it was.
Fantasies do come true.
***
A/N: wow, this one is wild! lol it's one of my longer pieces, but I hope you still enjoyed this. It's my first Gwinam fic, and I'm really proud of it. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed it <3
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MC has an unhealthy relationship with food
The brothers surprisingly do not notice it at first, despite living with MC. Beel remarks that they don't eat much at once, and how they're always snacking in small portions and gravitating toward comfort foods that become familiar.
The more things become familiar, the less MC wants to try new things, but it's three months in that Satan finally lands on a trigger, completely by accident.
He had the best of intentions, he knew MC had a stressful day and hadn't seen them eat lunch, so when they sit down at the dinner table and start pushing things to the side, he speaks up.
"You shouldn't pick at your food like that, you need the nutrients."
MC, head conspicuously lowered, shrugged. "Alright."
Still, they pushed something aside and took the tiniest fork-full to their mouth.
"MC, you need to eat. You made this yourself, it's human world food." Satan continued. Beel managed to pause his chewing to pay attention to the exchange, everyone else was deep in their own conversations.
MC rested their fork on the edge of the plate, looking up at Satan with eyes that begged to be left alone. "I'm just not hungry."
Beel knows that look, he knows it, because he's seen it once, when he offered them a particular food that looked a little too much like something MC is very, very familiar with.
Satan made a face. "How can you not be hungry? You've eaten nothing!"
That, caught Lucifer's attention, and now with both the avatar of wrath and pride staring at their plate, MC shrank into their seat, ready to bolt at a moment's notice.
"And you glaring at me is supposed to help?"
Trying to stay calm, but Beel can hear their heart racing beside him. He always ate next to them, always made them feel a little better when they tried something they didn't like. MC didn't have to feel wasteful, and Beel turned eating into such a positive experience.
"Satan, leave them alone." The sixth born stepped in, shifting to the side as if he could shield MC from his brothers' attention. "They can take care of themselves."
"All evidence to the contrary. You are considered an adult, aren't you? Have you not outgrown picking at your vegetables, MC?"
Lucifer's words cut like ice, and MC lost the fight to calm. The panic response was beyond their control, they felt trapped in that dining chair, the air pressing in around them until they could see nothing but the plate in front of them,
Their tongue felt heavy, the thought of eating made them gag, and they pressed their lips together.
Beel slammed his hands down on the table, bringing the room to complete and utter silence and snapping MC out of their panic lock all at once.
The human was on their feet and gone in seconds, leaving six of the brothers wondering what happened, while Beel quietly seethed.
"Their family force fed them." He growled, quietly, so MC wouldn't hear from their room. "The cafeteria ladies at school wouldn't let them leave until they'd finished their plate no matter how much was on it, they can't even look at certain foods without crying or gagging. Leave them alone!"
Beel's words were left hanging in the air as he abandoned a half-empty plate to storm off, leaving the truth to sink in.
No one hates what was done to MC more than Beel, not because he loves food; because MC's human, they need food to live, and those people turned every meal into a struggle.
Even now that they're all grown up and get to choose when and what they eat, it can still happen, and it's like they're six years old in an empty cafeteria all over again, staring at a plate of watery fish stew with tear filled eyes.
Beel took a minute to calm down before he found them in their room, but by the time he got there, Satan and Lucifer had beaten him to it.
Wrath and Pride bit back their dislike for each other, sitting either side of MC on their bed, sharing a blanket while quietly apologising, listening to MC as they shared the truth about why they struggled with food sometimes.
Satan actually wrote a list of their trigger and comfort foods the next day, he didn't make a single comment about how healthy (or unhealthy) they were, he didn't care.
Lucifer swore fury on those who thought they were doing the right thing by forcing a child to eat, but to MC, he apologised for ever having made them feel pressured.
The brothers trust their human to take care of themselves, and MC one day realised that they were never again afraid to eat in the House of Lamentation.
Disclaimer, this is purely based on my experience on this particular subject, if you relate to this subject and want someone to talk to about it, please feel free to DM me!
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friskarm · 2 months
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tentatively putting my thoughts into the tag. for context i am an anime-only watcher but i've been really, really enjoying the mage exam arc and i was definitely a little surprised to find out that this arc has a lot of people frustrated!
one of the strengths of this arc, i think, is seeing how frieren interacts with characters and personalities we've not seen her encounter before. fern and stark are both relatively placid as people; they're generally content to go along with what frieren says.
lawine and kanne are two very strong personalities that frieren initially doesn't know how to deal with at all! they have a whole thing going on and frieren's choice is to. not handle it at all. rather, she spends much of her time quietly observing the two of them until she can speak with each of them individually and figure them out, just a bit. she really struggles to get a grasp on the situation until she does that; it's lawine and kanne who are acting first within their team.
then, secondly -- frieren's plan is so. elf with a lot of time to spare. the impact of the time limit is felt so strongly by every human character on the field; everyone is in such a rush! fern's team are stoked they caught a stille so early. the team that attacks them are desperate to steal it asap. after lawine freezes the lake, the other teams are desperately trying to thaw it, for a quick solution.
frieren, though? frieren's solution takes a shitton of time and involves her essentially meditating by a pond for god knows how many hours. it's such a frieren plan; i feel like only someone with a relationship with time like frieren does would come up with it.
tldr; frieren's capacity to form relationships and understand people and her relationship with time are shown off in a really interesting way wrt the way frieren solves the stille problem.
that, and... it seems a bit silly to say this about a show with a certain character in the title but... i do not feel that frieren is exclusively about frieren. it is certainly a story about her adventures but frieren is by no means the only important character! fern is also there! and stark but hes on vacation. so let's talk about fern.
the one fight scene fern has is so unbelieveably crunchy to me bc we learn so much about the world (now) and about the world (part)/frieren's view on magic from it! the girl she fights has really impressive magic; we know that this is generally considered a time of peace, the demon lord is dead, etc. magic is not necessarily a means to an end. i wonder if this means magic has entered a sort of renaissance? a time period after a period of great upheaval, where social structure is thrown out the window and great advances are made in technology, science - and maybe magic!
the way fern uses magic is very indicative of how frieren feels about magic. fern says (that frieren said) that "this is enough to defeat mages of this era", which is so interesting to me bc yes, ofc, fern does win! with her simple magic and full auto fire. but does that automatically mean fern is a better mage? it's complicated...
you hear a lot about the different philosophies of people who use magic in these episodes, and what i'm really interested in seeing is mr war guy meet frieren, bc i think they'd be the most interesting contrast -- a warrior of the past, and a warrior of today.
specifically bc -- frieren is basically a custom-designed warrior. the way she can mask her mana is very specifically designed to be able to weaponised against demons, flamme did that to her very purposefully. the way she's trained fern is also indicative of that; fern's immense firepower and stamina being "enough to defeat mages of this era" without being flashy so to speak indicate, at least to me, that this sort of thing was common in frieren's time! but this is a type of magic very specifically made for battle against a very specific enemy.
no wonder frieren likes collecting weird spells so much... i wonder if she's had much time at all in the past to play around with magic for the sake of anything but fighting and training to fight?
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fried-milkfish · 1 year
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Leo vs raph is very popular in the Yandere community , but I’m here for Yandere vs Yandere HCs between Raph and Donnie for tmnt 2012 , be such a scary due since their similar yet different at the same time 🤭👀😈
Oooooh this'll be interesting 👀
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Yandere Raph vs Yandere Donnie
TW: yandere behavior, possessiveness, obsession, stalking, mentions of violence, threats, mentions of murder, manipulation, mentions of trackers/bugs, also implied female reader? but in like one bullet point
Fandom: TMNT (2012)
Pairing(s): Yandere Raphael x Reader, Yandere Donatello x Reader
As most people would expect, this is a brains vs brawn sort of situation
But first, let's talk about the different types of yanderes these two are
While they're both possessive and obsessive types, Raph is more possessive than obsessive while Donnie is more obsessive than possessive
Both of them stalk, but Raph does it more so to keep you safe while Donnie does it to learn absolutely everything he can about you
Raph is the one who resorts to violence more often, but when Donnie is pissed off, I'd say he's the more vengeful / violent one (as evident of the season 5 episode where he tries to kill Don Vizioso)
Raph argues that he's stronger and can protect you better
Meanwhile Donnie argues that he knows way more about you and thus is better suited for you
Raph will resort to hurting / killing others to get you to behave, but isn't above physically hurting you as punishment either.
Donnie would only hurt you as a last resort. He'd probably hurt / kill others to get you to behave though.
Neither are great at manipulation. Raph especially. Donnie's better at manipulating certain factors to tip a situation in his favor, but not great at manipulating others' emotions.
Considering Donnie falls for the first human girl he sees, it's very easy to get him obsessed.
Raph, though, is a little harder. Either you're a strong fighter or you've gotten close to him emotionally. Broken down his walls until he feels he cannot live without you.
As for the both of them falling for you, it would go something like this:
Donnie falls for you first. Either you're the first human girl he sees (sorry april lol) or you do the (somewhat easy) job of gaining his affections (which can probably be done by just spending time with him, listening to him rant about stuff and complimenting him on his work)
Raph very much knows about Donnie's feelings towards you. So at first, when he gains feelings for you too, he'd probably try to reject those feelings, because he cares for his lil brother
As you grow closer with them, they grow more obsessed
It's probably when they're both out on 'solo missions' stalking you that they run into each other and donnie finds out about raph's obsession with you
When Donnie finds out about Raph, his possessive side sorta takes over and he tries telling Raph about how you're 'his'
Raph, just as obsessed, is having none of it
Then starts the feud that makes their yandere tendencies go into hyperdrive
Donnie, in an effort to prove he's the right person for you, goes out of his way to learn and memorize absolute everything he can about you. He'll figure out your daily schedule, find out what places you like to frequent, and will even find out who your least favorite classmate was in the third grade.
Oh, and if you have a diary or journal, say goodbye bc either Donnie is stealing it or he takes of photo of every. Single. Page.
He'd probably get the same exact kinda journal and rewrite all of your entries in it. He'd copy your handwriting too.
Theres nothing you'll be able to keep from Donnie. He eventually builds a whole storage unit of things either about or from you.
Raph, though, doesn't try to prove he's right for you. No, he tries to prove you're HIS.
He scares off any guys (besides his brothers). If he notices you even glancing towards someone of the male sex, he'll break into their home and leave a letter threatening them to stay away from you
He's not great at manipulation, but he has a sort of basic grasp on it. If you two are friends, he'll take advantage of that. He'll give you "advice" as a friend and try to steer you away from certain things (or people) he doesn't like.
He'll be touchy in a way that seems like friends on the surface but is so much more to him. He'll constantly have some sort of contact with you, especially around his brothers. Usually it's an arm around your shoulder or a leg on your lap. He's sending a message that basically goes like "you see how close we are? MINE"
Things are slightly less hectic if these two decide to team up, but not for you. It gets worse for you.
You can bet Donnie is bugging your home, and keeping a tracker either on your phone or on you.
Raph takes advantage of the listening bugs and trackers to keep an eye on you.
These two tag team and take turns stalking you and watching over you.
They also better each other (in a way) as yanderes. Donnie holds Raph back from being too unnecessarily violent, and Raph encourages Donnie's violent behavior.
As a result of teaming up, Raph learns a bit more self control and Donnie learns to let his violent side loose sometimes.
Even while teaming up, though, these two are still both possessive (Raph more so than Donnie), so you can bet they're constantly arguing, namely about spending time with (Y/n).
Although they've agreed to team up and share (Y/n) (for now), they're still fighting over her.
Donnie tries to make a schedule of who gets to spend time with (Y/n) at certain times to try and make it "fair", however Raph realizes that Donnie's given himself more time with (Y/n) than Raph, and thus arguing begins.
But despite the arguing, they make quite a good team of brains and brawn. The only thing that would be their downfall is the both of them being possessive over (Y/n)
Let's hope you don't get caught up in the eventual war between these two that's bound to come.
AAAAA my first anon request done! I apologize for my requests taking such a long time lol
Requests won't be released in order of when they were sent in, but rather the easier requests will likely be finished and published first (simply bc they're easier and are quicker to write)
My drabbles are open right now, so you can send in drabble requests! ^_^
Taglist: @yanteetle @ssak-i @ramblehour
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weministertomonsters · 3 months
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Naga Father (Araza) x gender-neutral reader
Anyone remember that short monster imagine I did of a naga and a babysitter? Well, I expanded it a bit. :)
•─────✧─────•
You're looking forward to a free weekend, but when you receive a call on Friday night for a babysitting job, you decide to take it. As much as you'd like to take some time for yourself, you do need the money.
"You come highly recommended," the gruff voice on the other end says.
"Well, I'm good with kids," you reply, idly curling a strand of your kinky hair through your fingers. "And I often clean up the house a little if I have the spare time. It really helps out the parents who work late or have extra shifts."
"I will see for myself. Come by at eight tomorrow morning," the man- or at least you think it is- says, and hangs up.
Oof. So it's one of those parents then. You can almost predict how the day is going to go. You're exhausted, so after you feed your cat, you have a quick dinner and all but collapse onto your bed. You sleep so deeply that your alarm shrieking in your ear barely pierces through your dreams.
Groaning, you peel your face off your pillow and try to remember what you set it for. Great. You hop out of bed and shamble into the kitchen to fix some coffee. After that and a warm shower, you feel much better. You drag a brush through your hair and put on some casual, comfortable clothes, perfect for chasing after kids all day.
It's not often you babysit a single child, so this is going to be interesting.
You get there on time, but spend almost a full minute lingering in your car, wondering if you maybe got the wrong address. The house is huge, with white brick walls, big windows, and a sprawling yard that looks a little ramble-y and overgrown. You don't spot a single wayward toy.
Well, there's only one way to know. You get out and trudge up the crunchy gravel path. The doorbell echoes through the house but you don't hear any footsteps. The door swings open suddenly and… Well, you're not looking at a person, that's for sure.
A well-sculpted human torso tapers off into a snake tail that coils so far back that you can't see the end of it. His eyes are a bright gold with slitted pupils.
You're pretty certain this is the guy you spoke to on the phone yesterday. It's not hard for you to guess that he answered the door like this as a shock factor. To see how you'd react to a non-human, to judge if you're one of those paranoid types to start screaming about demons and evil.
You definitely aren't. The reason you're staring isn't because you've never seen one of his kind before (though you haven't because the town you live in is really small), but because he answered the door without a stitch of clothing on. You'd think he'd at least wear a shirt, but no.
He looks fresh out of the shower too, with the ends of his dark hair dripping water onto his tan skin. He has claws and scales on his forearms. Good lord, he's built nicely, with a bit of lean muscle.
"Have I surprised you?" He drawls, and you note the muted lisp of the 's', which you caught on the phone as well.
"Yes. Um, I mean no." You chuckle nervously, tucking your hands into your pockets. "It's cool."
Your eyes are still lingering shamelessly on his chest. It's his fault for answering the door like that, you reason. He's practically inviting you to look.
"Well, come in," he says, slipping to the side and opening the door a little wider. "Remove your shoes."
"Thanks." You step in and slip your shoes off, marveling at how clean the floors are.
For a moment, you just observe each other. He takes you in, an eyebrow hitching slightly. You look… Like a rainbow. Your afro is dyed in chunks so it looks like a fluffy snowcone. You're wearing a bright t-shirt with overalls that have a cute white rabbit embroidered on the front. Your socks are covered in funky polka dots, but they're very comfy. You've learned from experience not to put on jewelry for babysitting jobs, but you never go anywhere without the dainty three-leafed clover necklace your mother gave you years ago.
"Have I surprised you?" You echo his earlier words.
"You look very… Human," he responds with a slight curl of his lip.
"Let me guess, you don't like my kind?"
"Not really, no. However I cannot shift my schedule further, so I require someone to watch my son. And my community has an annoying lack of babysitters. Thus, you."
"Me," you echo with a slight smile.
He turns and slithers into the kitchen. You can hear a muted hiss as his scales scrape over the floorboards.
"Um, am I early?" You ask, even though you know you're right on time.
"I leave in half an hour," he says as he pours a cup of tea. "I want to observe how you interact with my son."
"I understand. I promise to take good care of him, Mr…? I didn't catch your name yesterday."
"Because I never gave it to you. Mr. Araza."
"Tobi," you reply.
"And how do I address you?" He asks, turning to sweep his gaze over your frame.
You know that you're perfectly straddling the fence between feminine and masculine, and you like to keep it that way. With some people, it's fun to see them fume and struggle to fit you into a box or label. With Mr. Araza, you can tell he's just curious.
"Just Tobi is fine," you reply with a small smile.
He nods. His tongue flickers out of his mouth and that startles you. It's just so pink and thin, with a delicate pronged tip. You clear your throat and try to look casual. His eyes narrow slightly and you pray he can't use his tongue to figure out what exactly you're feeling or the way your hormones just spiked, or you're fucked.
"I take suppressants," he says like he just read your thoughts, moving close enough that you catch a hint of the fragrant tea in his hand.
"It is tiring to live in a world saturated by human hormones. Your kind is terrible at hiding their true reactions. As such, I suppress my abilities to give me some peace of mind. You can keep your twisted desires to yourself."
Oh wow, okay.
You don't try to defend yourself but you do take a small step back. You don't like feeling cornered. His eyes take in every small detail and you have a feeling that even on suppressants, he can read you just fine.
"Papa?" A small voice speaks up, and both of you look towards the kitchen doorway.
Mr. Araza's son is so dang cute, is your first thought.
You've never seen a young naga before and he's only five. His tail is small, almost stubby. He has no claws or scales other than the ones on his tail. On the whole, he looks far less intimidating. He's also wearing a shirt.
His pupils are wide and curious as his eyes fall on you, but they shrink as soon as he looks at his father.
"I finished," he says softly, scooting closer and holding up a small handwriting booklet.
As soon as Mr. Araza takes the booklet, he shoots out of the room, terribly clumsy. You've seen videos of actual snakes on tiles, their bodies twisting but going nowhere. He sort of looks like that. It could be cute, but more than anything, it's uncomfortable to watch him struggle knowing that he lives in a house that's almost exclusively covered in sleek wood floors.
"Are you punishing him?" You ask softly. "I mean, it's none of my business, but-"
"Yes," Mr. Araza says, staring down at the page with a frown.
The letters and numbers his son has traced are wobbly.
"That's really not bad," you say quietly. "For a five-year-old."
"He ate a mouse."
"What?" You sputter.
"That's why I'm punishing him. He caught and ate a mouse."
You try very hard to school your expression and you don't know what to say. You already guessed that nagas are carnivores, so you're not sure whether eating mice is a bad thing and why.
Mr. Araza sighs, looking rather aggravated as he closes the booklet and tosses it on the counter.
"Unregulated food sources are strictly forbidden. I cannot know what that mouse has eaten and if it is clean or not. He knows this, but ate it anyway."
"Oh. I will, um, make sure he doesn't eat any mice or err, spiders or anything else." You say.
That seems to please him. "I have a chart on the fridge with his nutritional needs and portion sizes.  The meat is in the fridge. Let it thaw to room temperature but do not cook it. Not even a little. Understood?"
"Crystal clear," you say.
He huffs. "I will be in my room getting ready. Do acquaint yourself with him. He is in his room, first door on the left."
You do as he has asked, climbing the stairs up to the kid's room. The fact that nagas move on their tails means that he's a bit shorter than human kids his age. With that in mind, the doorknob is way too high up.
You hear the hiss of scales coming up the stairs. The more you think about it, nothing in the house is accommodating to nagas. You're pretty sure if you checked the bathroom you'd find a human toilet.
"Um, Mr. Araza?" You turn to him.
He pauses in the doorway of his bedroom and glances over his shoulder. "Yes?"
"Why are you living in this house? It's a nice place, but it's built for humans," you say. "I understand if your reasons are private, but what about your son? Don't you want things to be easy for him?"
Mr. Araza blinks, double eyelids closing over his eyes for a moment. "Most of the world is built to accommodate your kind alone. I will not have my son fumbling in unfamiliar surroundings. He will learn how to manage."
"Isn't it a little soon?" You ask, but all you get as a response is the thud of his door closing.
You blow out a breath and knock on his son's bedroom door.
"Can I come in?"
"Okay," a small, shy voice replies.
You push open the door and step into a cluttered, but clean room. Colorful drawings are stuck all over the walls and most of them feature two-legged blobs. Humans. You idly wonder what his father thinks of that.
"Hi," you say to the boy. "Sam, right?"
His bed is piled high with stuffed animals and blankets, stacked up around him like a little nest. He nods, curly hair falling into his eyes.
"Are you going to watch me while Papa works?" He says, his lisp far more pronounced than his father's.
"Yes. We can do anything you want," you tell him.
"Can we make pictures?" He says, eyes going round.
"Sure!" You say.
He has an entire setup, a scratched and worn table, and a giant box filled with coloring pencils, crayons, small jars of poster paint, and oil pastels. It's pretty messy, and you make a mental note to sort everything out nicely later.
He takes a piece of paper and gives you one as well, and throws himself enthusiastically into it. His tongue flickers out of his mouth subconsciously, and you try not to jump each time.
"What are you drawing?" You ask him after a while
"A tree!" He says, and points at a darker, tangled shape in the branches. "And that's Papa when he rescued a cat."
"That's nice of him to do," you say.
He nods, smearing green oil pastels to make grass and leaves. "The lady wasn't nice. Papa gave her the cat but she called him a bad word and walked away. She didn't say thank you!"
"Some people are meanies," you say. "But I'm sure the cat was grateful."
You see movement in the corner of your eye. Mr. Araza is standing in the doorframe, putting on a tie. He's wearing a crisp suit with gold cuff links that match his eyes.
"I'm going to send your Papa off, okay? Keep coloring," you say, standing up.
"His mother used to color with him like that," Mr. Araza says as you near him.
"Really. I think we'll get along okay," you murmur as you follow him down the stairs. "Sam is sweet."
"You wouldn't like to see him when he's hungry," Mr. Araza huffs with a flicker of amusement. "I will call at midday."
With that, he leaves. You turn to head back up the stairs. Sam is done with his picture.
"Do you want to do another one?" You ask, and he nods eagerly.
This is going to be a piece of cake.
Part 2
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iknowyuu · 1 year
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hello! i love ur sieun fics, i was hoping you could write something abt how sieun isn’t used to physical affection but he loves it coming from the reader and he’s trying to be better abt initiating physical touch first. thank you! 
focus
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kdrama! sieun x reader
// read req!
tags: sieun longing for reader when they're right there, established relationship
note: this is just fluff LMFAO. i barely edited this sorry for any mistakes... hope u enjoy <3
you're out of sieun's comfort zone.
obviously, he isn't someone who received much, or any affection past the age of six, and he's grown to keep his hands (and words) to himself.
you'd both been talking for almost a year, and you grew feelings for him after only a few months. he understood you, and never pressured you into anything. he gave you great advice and would encourage you when you felt you weren't at your best. he's seen you at your worst and he barely batted an eye, opting to help you take your mind off things by walking you through what he was studying, helping you calm down in the process. after realizing that, certain things.. changed.
what was supposed to be a quick and friendly high-five was just that; but your hand would linger just for a second more than you used to. playfully swinging your arm around his shoulder as the two of you were walking turned into you using that gesture as a reason to pull him closer, your hold gradually lowering down, down to his waist. even simply standing next to each other turned into a game of "will they, won't they?" as you stood uncomfortably close for friends, but too far away for lovers. little touches would linger for too long, and the atmosphere between you two slowly changed.
that being said, it wasn't a shock to his system when you asked him out. you knew he wouldn't make the first move, so you did. he agreed, of course!
right now, the two of you were walking back to your home, hands dangling dangerously close to each other. even though you've been dating for a while now, you barely knew whether or not he was comfortable with it. he hadn't explicitly told you he wanted you to hold his hand, and you didn't want to push any boundaries.
you both walked while engaging in conversation (one more than the other), and your hands continuously bumped into each other, and every time you restrained the urge to tightly hold his palm in yours, feeling the warmth of his soft hand.
you finally reached your house and let him in, shutting the door behind you. slipping off your shoes and in your slippers, sieun followed suit, following you all the way to the dining table. the two of you brought out your materials in preparation for a study session, comfortable silence following suit. well, in the outside world. in sieun's head, however, that was not the case.
he doesn't know how to tell you, and he wishes he could everytime he sees your face: he wanted to hug you without feeling awkward, he wanted to compliment you when he felt like it, and he wanted you to be able to hold his cheeks without you sensing his unfamiliarity with the gesture and pulling away in fear of making him uncomfortable. he wanted you to touch him however you wanted, but he didn’t know how to express it to you. he felt very conflicted in the sense.
"sieun? could you help me with.. this?" your voice trailed off as you looked to your left to find him staring at his paper, not making a move to pick up his pen. "are you okay?"
he nodded and leaned over slightly, explaining how to work through the problem. you thanked him and started working again, occasionally glancing over at his blank page. he wondered, would you mind if he told you he wanted to hold your hand? would you be annoyed with him if he asked you to hold him, maybe scoot your chair a little closer so his heart could be closer to yours? he knew you wouldn't, but he was still hesitant to ask you anyway. his brain was buzzing with so many thoughts that he couldn't even comprehend nor focus on what was in front of him.
an hour went by and he barely made any progress, which was incredibly unusual for him. you asked him twice more if he was okay and he responded with "yes," everytime, but it didn't cure the worry brewing in your stomach. "let's take a break," you stood up and stretched, noticing how he didn’t move an inch. “um.. are you sure you’re okay, sieun?” as you spoke, the feelings he’d been bottling up finally exploded. “you’ve been acting weird since we got here.. are you uncom-“
"can we hold hands?" he asked quietly. you looked at him in shock, and even he was surprised at the words that left his mouth. your surprise didn't last long though, soon a smile crept onto your lips as you looked at him, heart beating, mood elated. "yeah," you tried to not make a big deal out of it, but you couldn't stop the butterflies that swarmed in your tummy. he stood up and looked down, lacing his fingers with yours, and he finally felt satisfied. "you don't have to ask.. you can hold my hand whenever you feel like it, okay?" you said, looking at him with a flustered smile before tugging his hand, "let's gets some snacks!"
even though it was a struggle with only one hand, it was worth it if the other was taken by you.
taglist: @brxght-world @karyuliee @kkaesslovr @qtaisuu , send an ask to be added!
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eldritch-spouse · 2 months
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You know I think Breg would benefit from having friends, one : to give his drunk father figure some rest and two : to have people  stop or encourage him in his bullshit. Obviously having monster friends would be better for him, so I made a list of the people I think he could along with (and the ones he would chomp without regrets)
Friends :
Santi: this one is easy, Santi seems to be an easygoing person and a good friend to have. When he's not drooling over Breg, I think he'd give some really good tips about life and how to deal with his obsession (after begging for a threesome and getting punched in the face), if they got close enough, Santi could even help Breg forget about some of his insecurities in the way that he would put him at ease.
Grimbly : by association, he'd be intrigued by Breg, for the first few times, their first conversations would be "You're so tall !! No you're like huge" , "Well you're small like a...bean", but they get along just fine.
Fank-E : He's friends with everyone and he'll put a bunch of stickers on Breg and he lowkey annoy the shit of him at certain times but it will end up in this semi-consensual kinda forced friendship (who's more insistant him or Breg ? I guess we'll never know)
Gallon : Him and Egghead would have talks that would leave Eggy scratching his head and staring into the void, but they're nice to each other, Gallon might be a bit condescending in reaction to a how simple Breg's mind seems to be.
Middle ground
Patches : I hesitated as putting him as friend but I think his scientific interests would put Breg off
Belo : Belo is too polite and uptight, and his fixated stare can make Breg feel uneasy, they talk just fine
Sybastian : Syb just kind of mind his bussiness and keep it pushing but there's rare times where he growls a "hello" to Breg and keeps walking
Nebul : Nope, this only reason why they're not enemies is because Nebul is civilized, but the potions and his dominating nature would make Bregory avoid him like the plague
No fucking way :
Morrell : Their interest for the same thing (human) is diverging in two different directions, Breg is like "Humans are friends not food ! 😡" and Morrell is like "yUM sTEaK !", it's their relationship on a very surface level and I think Eggy would leave it at that
Hellion : Nah, they would fight and Breg would just bite that head off his neck 
Vinnel : That punk would try to pull a prank on Breg, he would fall for it, get mad and then catch Vinnel and try to squish him like a stress toy, Vinnel would be in pain for a little while and finally leave Breg alone (or plot a terrible revenge)
Did it actually turned into a scale of friends to archnemesis of TCE? Yes. Am I proud ? Yes.
Here's the thing though.
One of the first things said about Breg is that he dislikes monsters. He glorifies humans and has a general aversion to monsters, finding them generally untrustworthy. This isn't to say there can't be exceptions, like Fasma, but Breg would probably have a much bigger drive to acquire human friends.
The problem with human friends is that it wouldn't take too long for him to cross boundaries if Breg is yet to meet his obsession.
With monster friends, you're also forgetting that Breg refuses to set foot in The Clergy in general. He's been there once with Fasma, didn't like it at all, vowed not to enter it again- He'd have to meet staff outside. I sincerely don't think many of these would work out all that well, certainly not Santi. The incubus' insistence on wanting to fuck him would make Breg really aggressive really fast. Grimbly's manipulation and cute talk would fall on deaf ears and unfortunately things with Gallon would be more akin to one-sided mockery. Fank-E would genuinely irritate Breg, but since he's a machine and not a monster, things might work out given he's moderately quiet.
Belo's aura as an angel might make Breg slightly more at ease, yet somehow hyperaware of the power himself, which would probably confuse the breeder a little. Patches would get himself torn in two horizontally if he doesn't contain his scientific interest around Breg, as it could trigger really intense reactions from the ex-captive. Morell and him would just brawl, correct.
Ironically, I see him as possibly getting along with Glauk, even if there's a barrier there in the sense Breg doesn't know how to swim properly yet. Glauk is relatively small and can't say weird things to him plus seems eager to share all kinds of trinkets people dump in the aquarium. This is a bit of an impossible scenario, unless Glauk is being transported outside for some reason or another.
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on-partiality · 6 months
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The Basics Of American Revolutionary War Uniforms:
Basic descriptions I wrote of each layer of a Continental Army soldier's uniform in order of what you'd put on first to what you'd put on last, starting with:
Shirts:
In the 18th century, a man with a shirt was considered naked, so the shirt was a part of every outfit (although it was often covered in other layers of clothing). The shirts worn by the soldiers in the revolution were designed to be as comfortable as humanly possible, so they were very long, often stopping mid-thigh or just below the knee, loose and flowy, and had lots of ruffles at the top. Shirts also had long, puffy sleeves. The shirts were so comfortable that they would function as nightgowns too. All a man had to do to get ready for bed was take off all of the other layers of his uniform. The shirts were plain white or a yellowish colour, depending on how many times they'd been worn. Collars were high but not as high as collars in the 1790s, and sleeve cuffs were either closed by cuff links (little button things) or they'd just have cute lace at the end. Contrary to some ridiculous but funny assumptions I've heard from people who don't study historical fashion, shirts were not hard to put on, and they were simply pulled over the wearer's head like you would put on any other shirt. Shirts were closed together using buttons (a favourite of mine), linen, thread ties, or different combinations of the forementioned. Buttons tended to be small and made out of either thread, horn, leather, or even leather. Because the shirts were made out of soft, thin materials such as linen, cotton, and light flannel and were worn all the time, they were usually the first clothing items to wear out and break. Due to supply problems, there were periods of time during the revolution where men had to wear their breaking shirts and couldn't replace them. Another thing about shirts that I read somewhere (can not find the source for the life of me) is that Washington told his soldiers to wear hunting shirts because he felt that they were practical in every kind of weather. However, the site did say that they only wore them towards the start of the war and in certain regiments.
Neck accessories (for lack of a better term):
Like I briefly mentioned with the shirts, people in the 18th century had a really weird idea of what counts as naked, and they believed that a man without any kind of neck covering over his shirt was still naked. Cravats and neck stocks were two commonly worn neck garments during the revolution. Cravats were made out of silk, linen, or cotton and could be put on in a range of different ways. When they were untied, they were simply long strips of fabric. There are many ways to tie a cravat. I'm not very good at explaining things, so if you need to figure out how to tie an 18th-century cravat, I recommend looking up a YouTube tutorial. Cravats could also be accessorised with cute brooches and such. There were two different, commonly worn in the continental army, types of neckstock in the 18th century. Number 1 was made of the same materials and had the same colour as a cravat, but number 2 was dark in colour and made of leather. The biggest difference between neckstocks and cravats is how you put them on. Neckstocks aren't meant to be tied like cravats; they have a buckle on one end, so they're meant to be put on more like a belt. Oh, and in case you're wondering, the buckle always goes at the back.
Stockings:
Oh my god, I could talk about revolutionary war stockings forever. They're actually so adorable and cutesy, and I just love them. So the stockings are the pretty little white tights that the 18th century seems to be known for, and they were mainly made via knitting and were made out of either wool, cotton, linen, silk, or a fabric blend of any of the aforementioned. Stockings were usually made using knitting machines, but there were still plenty of people who made them by hand. Stockings in the 18th century were not at all short either; they went above the knee (so basically thigh highs). One of my favourite parts about 18th-century stockings is the garters that secure them into place. The garters were belt things that would wrap around their legs to make sure the stockings wouldn't fall down, and they were usually made out of leather, cloth, lace, or a ribbon tied into a bow. I physically cannot speak of these things without saying aww in my mind.
Culottes:
Also known as knee-breeches, but lets be honest, culottes sound cooler. The culottes worn by 18th-century soldiers were a bit different; instead of having a line of visible buttons at the crotch area to put the culottes on like jeans, they had fewer buttons—usually about 1 or 2—at the top of the culottes, and those buttons would be hidden by the waistcoat. Culottes in the Revolutionary War had a much higher waistband; most culottes in the 18th century had a low waistband, but culottes of the Continental Army had a waistband that went just above the soldiers actual waist. And culottes never stopped lower than the shinbone (to show off the stockings). Culottes were white or off white and were made of either buckskin, elk, sheepskin, wool, linen, velvet, silk, or fabric blends of any of the aforementioned. Culottes were very tight because they were worn so that when the soldiers were riding their horses, which they did a lot, the horse needed to feel every movement of the leg so that it could understand what the rider wanted it to do, and that was much harder if the rider was wearing super loose, flowy pants. Culottes were closed at the side of the knee with more small buttons or ties. Buttons on culottes were usually made of either metal, leather, or horn and covered in cloth or wrapped in thread.
Waistcoats: 
Although waistcoats with sleeves did exist in the 18th century, they weren't as popular as waistcoats without sleeves. Going back to the weird 18th century undestanding of what is nude, a man wearing breeches, a shirt, a cravat or neckstock, and an unsleeved waistcoat would still be counted as naked. This is one of the things I see a lot of period dramas get wrong. I understand the overcoat-less look looks cool and attractive, but in the 18th century, that would be like a man going outside wearing no clothes. Oh, and another thing that a lot of period dramas mess up on is that men did not show their shirt sleeves in public; that was considered crude and abnormal; it wasn't illegal, just something you'd get judged for. There were two sub-types of waistcoats: double-breasted and single-breasted. These sub-types actually have nothing to do with breasts at all. In fact, the sub-types are about buttons. Double-breasted means a waistcoat with two rows of buttons, and single-breasted means a waistcoat with one row of buttons. Back to the uniform of the continental army, at the start of the revolution, soldiers wore single-breasted waistcoats in the most popular style of the 1750s and 1760s, but by the end of the revolution, they'd switched to wearing the 1770s style waistcoat, just going by a general pattern I've seen in changes to parts of the uniform. I'm assuming that the switch would have happened in 1779. In case you're wondering, the difference between the 1750s–1760s style and the 1770s style is their length; the former stopped mid-thigh, the latter stopped just below the hip. Waistcoats were usually made of linen, wool, velvet, silk, or a fabric blend of any of the aforementioned. They were made with all different colours and patterns, but in the continental army, they wore beige and off-white waistcoats. The waistcoat buttons were made of horn, metal, or leather and were sometimes wrapped in thread or fabric to make them the same colour as the waistcoat.
Sashes:
Sashes are a detail of the continental army uniform that I see a lot of people (and sites explaining the layers of the uniform) skip over. Continental army sashes were very important because they showed the wearer's position in the army. Green means the wearer is an aide-de-camp or brigade major; pink means the wearer is a brigadier general or a major general; and finally, blue means the wearer is a commander-in-chief. This system was made by Washington in 1775 and was used by the army throughout the war. The sashes were likely made using silk or wool. There was another, separate system with sashes; colonels, lieutenant colonels, majors, captains, sub-alterns, serjeants, and corporals could wear a red sash around their waist. However, this system was likely an optional thing because I've seen many portraits of men in those ranks from 1775–1779—they ditched the system in 1779—and I've seen only one of them where the person is wearing one of the red waist sashes.
Overcoats:
At this point, you are no longer considered naked; congratulations. So there were two kinds of overcoats in the 18th century: frock coats and dress coats. Dress coats were for super-rich people, and frock coats were for everyone else. Dress coats didn't have functional pockets, and the only reason why people thought that they were better than a frock coat was that they were expensive and sometimes prettier. Frock coats had a double-breasted front (same definition as with the waistcoats), functional pockets, and a high, round neckline. You can probably guess what kind of coat the soldiers of the Continental Army wore. They wore blue wool and linen frock coats with large gold or silver metal buttons on the cuffs and facings. George Washington and his officers wore buff-coloured facings with thick buff-coloured cuffs, and most other officers wore red facings with red cuffs. The coats had coattails and stopped midthigh, but the whole button and facing thing stopped just below the hip. The overcoats had this interesting triangle coat tail design thing at the back that I tried to figure out how to describe, but I couldn't. Here's a picture of what I mean by the two different kinds of frock coats worn by the soldiers that I mentioned in this paragraph: the one on the left is the one worn by Washington and his officers, and the one on the right is the other one:
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[image credit, Samson Historical and Common Threads: Army]
I have just been told the name of the triangle things, they're called vents and they're to make sure the soldiers could ride horses without messing up their uniform. :)
Epaulettes:
The epaulettes serve the same purpose as the sashes: to declare the wearers rank; however, epaulettes are much more confusing because the epaulette system changed halfway through the war. So, the epaulette system for 1776–1779 goes like this: commanders, major-generals, brigadier generals, colonels, lieutenant-colonels, and majors wore a gold epaulette on each shoulder; captains wore a single gold epaulette on their right shoulder; sub-alterns wore a single gold epaulette on their left shoulder; serjeants wore a red epaulette made of cloth on their right shoulder; and corporals wore a green epaulette made of cloth on their left shoulder. The system from 1779-1784 goes like this, commanders wore a gold epaulette on each shoulder with 3 silver stars, major-generals wore a gold epaulette on each shoulder with 2 silver stars, brigadier-generals wore a gold epaulette on each shoulder with 1 silver star, colonels, lieutenant colonels and majors wore a gold epaulette with no stars on each shoulder, captains wore a gold epaulette on their right shoulder, sub-alterns wore an epaulette on their left shoulder, senior non-commisioned officers wore a red epaulette made of cloth and adorned with a crescent moon shape made of brass on each shoulder, sergeants wore a red epaulette made of cloth on the right shoulder, corporals wore a green epaulette made of cloth on their right shoulder and lastly, privates wore no epaulettes.
Hats:
Tricorn, bicorn and round were a must. Round hats were hats that were cocked on one side, bicorn hats were hats that were cocked on two sides and tricorn hats were hats that were cocked on three sides. Most of the time Continental army soldiers pinned them and folded them on the sides. Soldiers carrying muskets wore the hat in a different way to normal civillians, civillians would have the hat the normal way, center point forward but when carrying a musket over their shoulder, soldiers would turn their hat so that the left part was facing forward. In this position, the two sides of the hat would be almost flat so they could sling their muskets over their shoulders without having to worry about knocking their hat off. The hats white edges were made using worsted wool braid and the hat itself if expensive was made of beaver felt or camel's down painted black and if it was cheap it was just made of black wool felt. Hats were not always worn, I'd say they were more of a formality because I have seen very few portraits of soldiers wearing them.
Hat Cockades:
Hat cockades were made of ribbon or wool and were a sort of decoration to be pinned to the wearer's hat. They were like sashes and epaulettes; they indicated the wearer's rank in the continental army. And the system changed in 1779. So the system before 1779 worked like this: subalterns wore a green hat cockade, captains wore a yellow hat cockade, majors and brigade majors wore a red hat cockade, colonels wore a pink hat cockade, and lieutenant colonels wore a green hat cockade. In 1779, they changed it to honour and celebrate America's military alliance with France, so the colourful insignia were removed, and instead every soldier, regardless of rank, wore a plain black and white hat cockade. French soldiers had a cockade with black in the middle, surrounded by white, and American soldiers had a cockade with white in the middle, surrounded by black. Later on, in 1783, the black and white cockades were named the union cockades and were to be worn on the left breast, close to the heart.
Shoes:
There were actually a few periods of time during the war where some of the soldiers didn't have shoes, such as during the Christmas Day crossing and the winter of 1777–1778. But when they were supplied with shoes (most of the time they were), they wore one of two styles. The classic 'little lad' shoes, as I call them, and riding boots 'Little lad' shoes were shoes made with black leather and secured with a buckle. Little lad shoes had a small heel bit at the bottom, likely meant to make the wearer look taller because, despite tall people being considered the most attractive, most people in the 18th century were very short. Riding boots had an even higher heel and a part at the top of the boots that could be rolled down to fit the wearer. When rolled down, they just look like normal riding boots but with brown cuffs at the top. Interesting shoe-related fact that I thought would be cool to put here: in the 18th century, they didn't make right or left shoes; they made what they called straights, and you were meant to switch which foot you wore them on every day to 'wear them off evenly'. Riding boots were made with leather and were black on the outside and brown on the inside. Riding boots were very tall (they went under soldiers' kneecaps) and worn for the same reason as culottes, to make horse riding easier. It's meant to prevent saddle pinching, have a sturdy toe to protect feet while on the ground, and have a big heel to prevent slipping through stirrups.
Hair:
Originally I planned on not mentioning it on this list because it's not something that you can wear but there were uniform rules about hair in the continental army so I guess it is technically part of the uniform. In the 18th century they viewed men with facial hair was considered wrong and unusual in normal day-to-day life so if course it wasn't acceptable in a military setting. In the continental army they had a rule that men needed to shave every three days. They went against this rule a few times but only when they were desperate. Now on the topic of hair as in, not facial hair, the hair on their head was usually tied into a low ponytail with a blue ribbon or - for some men - cut short. 18th century men LOVED their long hair and did not want to cut their hair short even though they were told it should prevent lice. Wigs and hair powder were fashionable in the 18th century but not many men could afford wigs and it's not like they had a ridiculous supply of hair powder so most of the time they had their natural hair colour showing.
It's important to note that this is just the standard uniform that most men wore; each regiment had its own unique uniform, so if your project has anything to do with a specific regiment, either do your own research or ask me about it in the comments or my asks. This is also post-1775 because 1775 had no uniform. If I have gotten anything wrong, please do not feel afraid to correct me in the comments, and I'll edit the post.
Sources:
https://historyofmassachusetts.org/uniforms-revolutionary-war-soldiers/
https://www.srcalifornia.com/flags/revuniforms1.htm
https://www.bostonteapartyship.com/uniforms-of-the-american-revolution
https://ufpro.com/blog/american-revolutionary-war-study-military-uniforms-across-battlefield
https://www.washingtoncrossingpark.org/continental-army-clothing/#:~:text=Over%20their%20shirts%2C%20soldiers%20would,unit%20a%20soldier%20belonged%20to.
https://www.crazycrow.com/site/tricorn-hat-history/
https://www.si.edu/object/george-washingtons-uniform%3Anmah_434863#:~:text=This%20blue%20wool%20coat%20is,buff%20wool%2C%20with%20gilt%20buttons.
http://www.colonialuniforms.com/revolutionary-war-coats.html
https://www.berkleyhistorical.org/revolutionary-war-uniform
https://www.samsonhistorical.com/en-ca/products/mens-riding-boots
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Riding_boot
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l30ra · 4 months
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My fav domestic chainshipping headcanons :3
they decided to not move in together right away because they both needed to return to their regular daily routines for a bit to process the trauma before making such a massive change
(they're both autistic. this is important)
(extremely scheduled x extremely unscheduled bfs)
despite that, Lawrence would visit Adam almost everyday, as Adam struggled to get out of the house more and Lawrences divorce still needed to be finalized
After visiting Adam, Lawrence realizes he has... absolutely terrible habits in his home;
Barely any furniture, unstocked kitchen, not done laundry, etc.
And the worst offender of all: the paper plates
Adam absolutely HAAAATES doing the dishes, so for as long as he's been living independently, hes always eaten off paper plates, to throw them away afterwards
or.. to not? One night after a dinner Lawrence had made, with groceries Lawrence had brought over, Adam starts tearing up the plate and just starts. Eating it.
He was eating the paper plates. Because he thought they were food safe (they aren't)
"Hey, are you going to eat that?"
"Adam, my plate is empty. What do you mean?"
"The plate dumbass.. if you aren't, give it to me, I'll have it."
"Adam... Paper plates are very.. not edible."
"They say 'food safe on the box? That means they're edible. You sound dumb lol"
Lawrence immediately makes plans to take him shopping for actual dishware, all the while going on a ramble of the potential impacts of eating such things!
he decides then also to try and set Adam up on a good schedule, because he knows he'll be away for a few weeks as he finishes moving out of his old house, and he won't be able to see him
Adam says he'll only use plates if they're fun colored or with cool designs so.. thats what they get!
they also end up getting him one of those chore chart things
lawrence insists its not because Adams a baby, its just because he will literally forget to do certain things otherwise
lawrence has a great memory and a strict routine he always follows but adam (probably due to years of smoking the good lord green) has a shit memory and struggles to follow a routine but desperately needs one
Lawrence promises if Adam gets all his stuff done while hes gone they'll go out an do something
Lawrence LOVES plants, and Adam loves taking photos of him, so he chooses a botanical garden
Lawrence loves it, obviously, and Adam takes loads of photos of him to put in the scrapbook he refuses to show Lawrence
Speaking of, he loves scrapbooking, and still takes stalker-y candid photos of Lawrence (old habits die hard, I guess), so he scrapbooks loads about Lawrence
but he keeps it shut TIGHT. he refuses to tell Lawrence, and hides the scrapbooks at the back of his closet in the spare room he converted into a photo development room
Lawrence has some idea about Adam taking photos of him, but not to that extent
Once they finally move in together, they end up getting a three bedroom apartment. One room for them to share, and then a room for Lawrences plants, and a room for Adams photography
Lawrences room is filled with shelves and shelves on shelves of propagating plants and herbs
Adam begs him to grow weed, but Lawrence always says no
Despite having a room dedicated to it, the entire house is filled with plants, including Adams photography room because some of his plants grow better in little to no light
Despite that, he absolutely NEVER goes in there without explicit permission from Adam. He respects his privacy IMMENSELY
Even then, He probably won't even go in unless Adam is there to supervise
Whenever he goes in there, he always chastises Adam about all the chemicals, telling him he really should be using a mask, be careful with that one and that one, and you really should be airing this room out
despite the divorce, Alison and Lawrence are still on good terms
They talked things over after Lawrence escaped the trap, and ended up at "Even though we still care for each other we don't love each other and thats alright because we can just carry things on platonically"
he still sees Diana as often as possible, and Diana loves Adam
"Heres my mom and my dad and my dads boyfriend!"
Adam LOVES showing up to her school events (sports, talent shows, etc) with Alison and Lawrence and bringing his super fancy cameras so he can take action shots of her because she thinks its SO COOL
Her and Adam make Lawrence take them to laser tag and amusement parks n shit
Lawrence loves that they get along, and it means so much to him that Adam gets involved so much in Dianas life
He feels bad sometimes though, because he worries Diana blames them both (Adam and Lawrence) for the divorce, no matter how healthy it was
Adam calls Lawrence dude and bro, with the occasional babe
Lawrence calls Adam dear and love
Adam always wears his heart on his sleeve around Lawrence, and although sometimes he struggles with it, Lawrence tries to do the same
Lawrences odd work hours actually work better in the couples favor, because of Adams insomnia and other sleep issues, he also keeps extremely irregular hours
Despite that, sometimes there are still days on end where they just go without seeing each other, whether it be because Lawrence was out while Adam was awake or Adam was awake in between Lawrences shift
In the meantime, they leave little post it notes for each other
yellow is Lawrences color and blue is Adams color (blue and yellow by the used... starts tearing out clumps of my hair. thats a them song.)
Adam will wait up on the couch for Lawrence to get home but sometimes he just... passes out there... so Lawrence carries him to their bed
They share a wardrobe for the most part. They do have different tastes when it comes to style but theres still some overlap in some areas
Lawrence doesn't actually have a drivers license, and he hates driving
Adam knows how to drive but doesn't have his license and thinks its too much of a hassle to get one so him and Lawrence just transit together
back to the botanical idea... Adam loves buying Lawrence flowers. But not bouquets, Lawrence hates Bouquets because they die so fast, so Adam buys him little potted flowers for him
Lawrence has an entire shelf in his green room just for the things Adam brings him
Thats all I have for now but... maybe part two if I think of anything more :3
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jedi-valjean · 1 year
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I think George's intended reading of Padmé in AOTC is not that she's creeped out by Anakin (except maybe when he says stuff like "you're exactly the way I remember you in my dreams" because there's no right way to react to that) but that she's got a crush on him from the beginning of the film. She wasn't prepared for him to be hot and she's a little flustered over it when they first meet. She's always liked Anakin as a friend, but now she likes him as that hot friend you secretly fantasize about without the intention of acting on it.
He couldn't be with her anyway because he's a Jedi, so it's not as if she's being presented with a difficult decision, Anakin or her career. He's not an option in the first place. That's why Anakin's advances make her uncomfortable— the choice isn't hypothetical if he's interested. Being with him is supposed to remain a private fantasy; her career is at stake if it bleeds into reality, not to mention his own position. She might even be afraid that she's encouraged this— after all, she does want him to like her, as you do when you have a secret crush. Even if you never intend to confess your feelings to them, you don't want to embarrass yourself and make them think awkwardly of you. (That's why she covered the cameras— what if she made a weird face in her sleep or her hair got messed up or something? Every time they interacted she'd wonder if he was thinking about how weird and unattractive she looks when she's asleep.)
Basically, Attack of the Clones isn't about an obsessively lovestruck boy winning over a woman who isn't initially interested, it's about two people who are crushing on each other like schoolchildren for the whole movie— Anakin's crush having been nurtured for ten years, Padmé's having come on suddenly when she laid eyes on Anakin all grown up. They're both trying to look good in front of each other, but their chemistry is best when they're genuine. Anakin can come off as very mature when he's not trying to prove it, and Padmé even acknowledges it. (Then he promptly ruins it by sulking about his teachers— Anakin hooking Padmé and awkwardly killing the moment is a running gag throughout the film, like when he said she was just as beautiful as he remembered in her dreams and they both cringed and tried to pretend he didn't say that.)
I think Anidala being mutual from the beginning (of their adult relationship) is better than "Padmé was mind-tricked," as it gives both characters more agency. Yes, Anidala is extremely codependent, but from both ends. Yes, Anakin is worryingly possessive, but he tries to conduct himself appropriately in social situations and is sheepish and apologetic when he crosses a line. Yes, Anakin slaughtered men, women, and children, but he's torn up with guilt over it and that tugs at Padmé's heartstrings. He demonstrates real maturity throughout the film— moments of it, anyway. This is what convinces Padmé to marry him. This is what convinces Obi-Wan and Yoda that they don't need to interfere in his relationship with Padmé, because he's shown he can be trusted to put his duty above his feelings. We know, of course, that Anakin is still just as much of a hot mess as his teachers fear he is— more, in fact. Occasional, even frequent moments of maturity do not indicate that he's actually emotionally stable or selfless or responsible, only that he has the capacity to be in certain situations.
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gallusrostromegalus · 2 years
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Whats your favorite lore in the fic thats not likely to ever come up?
I'm picturing this fic as an animated series in my head and there are certain visual elements I can only sort of work into the text (because a veiwer of an anime would notice but someone living in-universe would not) but:
-Anubis and the other Gods are always portrayed with only one side visible to the viewer, and flat/without shading, like they're hieroglyphics. At least until they decide to affect the Material plane and suddenly they become much better rendered and 3-Dimensional.
-Funny Bunny is animated relative to Pegasus *exactly* the same way Rodger Rabbit is relative to Detective Valentine.
-It's mentioned a bit but Ammit is constantly shape-shifting which parts of her are Lioness, crocodile, or hippopotamus. Anubis and Thoth both Shift from Dog/Bird to Human-With-Animal-Head formats as needed for DRAMA. [REDACTED FOR SPOILERS] who also has appeared on page changes sizes based on how much trouble they think their Votary is in.
-TK is animated at a higher frame rate than everyone else, because he's had 5,000 years of practice being a ghost, and Yami is animated at a lower frame rate than everyone else for a while while he learns. Both of them ignore conservation of mass and shape when they're ghosts, mostly manifesting in "wearing what their host is, but longer/floatier and trailing off into aesthetically pleasing shapes, rather than anything fabric would realistically do" and "Floating along with minimal effort like they're kites being dragged along by the Items."
-Yugi literally has to take two steps for every one of Seto's.
-Both Shadis have extremely symmetrical faces. Like. Uncannily symmetrical. But they don't have the same face, because each is a mirror image of the half a face they grew back from.
-People do the Himuro Arakawa thing where they turn into minimalist blobs when something stupid happens, and the JJBA thing where their faces suddenly over-render when the situation gets serious.
-Everyone else has Black pupils but Bakura's are always extremely dark blue-green because even in normal lighting his tapetum lucidum are always a bit visible.
-Odion's face markings are white/pale pink because they're the result of ritual scarification (like Marik's back markings), not tattoos. Even though they're in Hawai'i right now, Marik always keeps his back and shoulders covered, and Odion always keeps his arms, legs and upper back covered as well.
-All three Ishtar siblings have substantial crimp to their hair. Odion and Ishizu braid theirs- Odion has thicker braids with beaded caps at the ends and Ishizu has thinner ones with spiraled ends. Marik wears his hair in twists most of the time.
-Tristan's hair looks like a thicker, brunette version of TinTin's from the 3-D animated movie. Téa has a Phyrne Fisher 1920's bob. Joey has somehow developed a reverse mullet in much the same way one develops a septic infection. Bakura has what the kids are calling a "Wolf Cut" but it's really a "tried to trim the split ends and bangs out of his face in the bathroom mirror at 3 AM with kitchen scissors and NO instructions" cut.
-Yugi's hair is straight-up anime bullshit where I've decided that humans have mutated a new type of stiff guard hair follicle like you find on bears and boars. It's very stiff but smooth and weirdly pettable.
-I don't know how this deviated into hairstyles but there you go.
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Worried For You (Martha Jones x reader)
Summary: the Doctor wants to go on yet another adventure without any concern for the health of either you or Martha, and you've had enough
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Warnings: not really angst but there's mentions of exhaustion and alien attacks so take that as you will, the Doctor is a professional idiot (sorry I love him I promise), reader puts the Doctor in his place for being said idiot, fluffy confession
A/N: there's not nearly enough content for the Doctor's companions out there, so leave it up to me to fix it (requests for the nuwho companions are open btw! if you're unsure whether I write for someone please don't be afraid to ask <3)
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Traveling with the Doctor wasn't the worst thing in the world, or the universe, for that matter. If you were asked, though, there were certainly a few things you could do without.
One of the main problems you had was just how often he seemed to get the lot of you into trouble. I mean, once or twice was one thing, but it'd been days, weeks even, since you'd last caught a break.
A dalek attack here, a cybermen invasion there, not to mention all the other random alien species that were hellbent on taking over the universe- it was all getting to be a bit too much. And that was before you had anyone else to worry about.
Usually you'd be fine with him dragging you to and fro with no reason, but you weren't thinking about yourself: you were busy worrying about Martha. Even if you were certain she'd never like you back due to her unrequited crush on the Doctor, you still hated to see her so tired and worn out.
If only he could see that just as well as you could.
"Right, so, we've already hit that galaxy twice this week, and we've been to those clumps of star systems three times in the past month-" the Doctor mindlessly rambled on as he pointed to the holographic map on the TARDIS control panel "-so I think it's safe to say we should probably try something a bit different for this upcoming weekend, yeah?"
"We should try taking a break for once," you grumbled to yourself, your arms crossed as you leaned up against a nearby wall.
"Sorry, what was that?" He questioned curiously as he turned his head in your direction.
"I said-" You went to speak but he cut you off.
"Oh, look, we haven't been there recently! Well, I haven't been there recently, I'm not sure if either of you have been there at all..."
"Doctor, they're right. Maybe we should lay off the adventures, if only for a few days," Martha suggested, and while you were grateful for her input you didn't miss just how tired she seemed when she said it.
He dismissively waved his hand at her. "Nonsense, we'll be fine! Besides-"
This time it was him who was cut off. "Maybe you'll be fine, but we won't," you snapped harshly, growing increasingly irritated with each second that passed. "You forget, we're humans. We're not Time Lords like you. We get tired quicker and wear out much more often."
The Doctor paused, freezing in place. He seemed to be processing your words, clearly not used to someone being so outspoken about putting him back in his place. "Right, yeah... maybe you should do that, then..." he muttered more to himself than you, and if you were in a better mood you might've felt sorry for hurting his feelings.
However, you knew very well there was no other way to get through to him. If you hadn't have stopped him then, he would've kept on ceaselessly with the trips until either you or Martha passed out from exhaustion.
So, instead of checking to see if he was okay, you merely scoffed and began walking down one of the many hallways of the TARDIS, hoping you could get in a quick nap before he inevitably woke you up again. When you heard quick footsteps following behind you, you were tempted to tell him just to shove off, until you heard Martha's voice. "Hey."
You stopped and turned, unable to keep the faint smile off your face that always seemed to form whenever you got to be alone with her. "Hey. What's up?"
She shook her head at your question. "Nothing, just- I was a bit worried for you. I've never seen you snap at the Doctor like that, and I wanted to check in and see if you were alright."
"Oh." You felt your face heat up a bit at her concern. "Yeah, I- I'm fine. I was worried for you, actually," you admitted awkwardly. "I know how tired you must be from all of the running around we've been doing."
"You were worried for me?" She asked in an incredulous manner. "Is that why you were so insistent on us taking a break?"
"Well... yeah." If you didn't feel awkward before, you certainly did now. "I- I didn't want anything to happen to you if we were out somewhere and you got too tired to run away. I care about you. A lot." You inwardly cringed at your choice of words, worried you might've said too much.
Much to your surprise (and delight), Martha gave you a bashful smile and said in response, "I care about you a lot, too. I just didn't realize you felt the same."
"Of course I feel the same. You're amazing, how could I not?" Perhaps you were giving a bit too much of your true feelings away, but you'd already passed the point of no return, so you might as well. "I just never said anything because I thought you fancied the Doctor."
"I did fancy the Doctor," she corrected with a slight eye roll. "But after the last couple of weeks I've had, I think it's safe to say my feelings have went away. At least enough for me to realize there's a much better catch standing right in front of me." Martha took your hands in hers and gave them a gentle squeeze.
A bright smile spread across your face at the gesture, your eyes lighting up as you realized what she meant. "So... does this mean you'd like to be my girlfriend?"
"I'd love to be your girlfriend," she enthusiastically affirmed, grinning from ear to ear. "Come on, let's go lay down somewhere. I'm exhausted."
You let out a soft laugh as you allowed her to take you by the hand and lead you down the hall to one of the bedrooms, where you spent the rest of the day napping while cuddled up close. If the Doctor needed you for anything, he was just going to have to wait. There were much more important things on your mind.
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