#he really does look so different without glasses tho

[cryptfile]

✶ nuclear seasons, [ soldier boy x reader ]

summary — he was friend’s with your mom. friend is a understatement cause when he appears in the middle of the night looking for revenge in your little apartment in the suburbs, you know he’s far from being nice.

warnings — +18 minors dni, smut, dead dove do not eat, we have a last name (also a mother!), kind of porn without plot? but not really cause it HAS one okay, we call it 50/50, fem!reader using she/her pronouns, p in v, masturbation ( m! receiving but blink and you miss it), dirty talk, age gap, choking, degradation, spitting (i'm sorry), fingering, mentions of injury, cancer (not you tho), tons of tension.

side notes — i’m never experiencing the post ovulation clarity lmao, that being said english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes, also i’m a whore for jensen ackles, and i stand for what i like proudly. // 5k+

Nightshade is a hero.

You're proud of your mother since you were pretty young. The hero that fought against Vought to death during the time Payback was active, America’s Troublemaker that you only knew as Stella Nightshade, a blonde woman that talked with the death during her golden years.

Maybe it’s your mother the one that pushed you to fight crime, to pursue the bad guys and look out for the victims that can’t stand for themselves, so even when you don’t inherit much from Stella’s gifts, you joined the CIA as soon as you can so you can do something that matters.

You’re the best in your class, work your ass off to be taken serious, to be more than the look of disappointment you receive when people ask, once again, if you have any powers like your mother and you have to admit — In pure shame, that you didn’t born as a superhero but a baby who cried loudly when is too hungry.

But as years pass you make a name for yourself, one that even if differs from Stella’s job has the same noble reasons behind. You also realize you were too naive growing up, believing in heroes that don’t deserve to be called that way.

The country has made a mistake on making superhumans so openly, and it’s clear that got out of control now, backfiring as they got so much power it’s almost impossible to take accountant of any of them.

You’ve worked along Grace Mallory from the shadows, and even when Stella would not be so proud of you for helping get his kind out of the streets, the justice is enough to feed you and keep you warm on a cold night.

You like it that way. You know Grace has a team for it, a legal army of supe-haters as you called them, yet, you prefer to stay in the dark, not let your personal life get involved cause one slip and you can lose it all— Even when you don’t have nothing at all. You like to have an outside life from work, it’s the sane thing to have, so when the CIA Deputy Director asks you about joining the infamous Boys, you politely decline assuring the woman you’ve been more helpful from the outside.

What would Stella Nightshade would say? Now that you’ve grown older and you don’t look at her the same way you used to when you encounter her files and read about your mother. You know she has done wrong, yet with the years, you don't imagine Soldier Boy himself was going to seek for revenge first thing he does when he wakes up, his plan including your mother even when she was long time dead before he even appeared in the picture.

That night especially you let your guard down. It's been a rough couple of weeks back in work, so when the night comes you're a victim of the stress, victim of your bosses and the people that surrounded you. You pour a glass of wine for yourself, light a cigarette even when you haven't smoked in years, and turn on the TV to see something else rather than the face of Homelander in every single channel you've been tuning lately.

It's a weapon. When you leave for a warm shower and start filling the bathtub, you're not aware of what that night was really going to be for you. Oblivious as you stand naked in the middle of the bathroom, holding the glass of wine between your fingers before entering the warm current that relaxed your muscles.

It seems tension is your worst enemy, makes your muscles feel like stone as you got in the water, the cigarette that hangs from your dry lips splashing with tiny droplets of perfumed water as the silence filled the air. It's what you needed, at least ten minutes with your brain shutting off completely, the pleasure you haven't experienced in forever by being so compromised with work.

It's a much-needed break. The smoke that leaves the room by the almost-closed window, the taste of wine still lingering in your lips as you sip another taste of the crimson liquor you love. You don't happen to notice when he's breaking in your apartment, silent and deadly as you were protected by a door closed and a white curtain.

You don't happen to hear him too. The music coming our from your phone is loud enough to silence the knocks on your door at first before breaking the wood, you're too deep in the still water that smelled like roses and vanilla, to even pay attention to what was going on outside the warmth of the four walls that surrounded you.

There's vapor coming out of the water and you find comfort in closing your eyes, in letting the blow of the smoke travel through your throat before suspending itself in the air, flowing as you drank.

In your defense, you haven't been like that in ages.

It's been a long time since you last fill the tub and have a relaxing session with yourself, so it makes sense you are enjoying it a little bit too much, too much cause when the invader is making a lot of noise when stepping into your property, you still enjoy the taste of the alcohol on your lips.

The ashes fall to the ceramic floor outside the tub and you should blame the CIA to make you so tense to the point it leads you to more problems than you ever had. In the dark room of your apartment, it's Soldier Boy the one who's going through any drawer he comes across, the ones closed, the ones hidden, any slit he can find, any clue that can trace your mother back to his personal vendetta.

He's oblivious to Stella's death and her daughter, so when the former superhero hears the noise in the bathroom he's fully convinced it's your mother the one who's behind that door, that she's the one who's going to tell him the truth, if she also sold him to the russians as well in the process.

He's decided also on killing her. She must need it after all that time getting older, closer to death more than ever.

Of course it's an unpleasant surprise when you can see the bathroom door opening when you're sure you left the front door closed and lock with at least two bolts to prevent anyone from getting inside, it makes you jump in the spot, quickly covering yourself from the new stranger that enters your bathroom.

"Stella?" he asks, it's the last room that the hero needs to check for himself.

You spot the green fabric of his suit immediately as you pressed your chest against the cold surface of the tub, and when the invader notices you're naked, he doesn't look away as any person with a hint of respect would do, but instead, continue on checking you out as you try to cover yourself in the water tinted in a nonexistent transparent color red.

You can feel his gaze as soon as you recognize him too, as you happen to notice that face from your mother's pictures, the propaganda in the TV when he did almost every commercial back when you were a kid. It's a shock, and dressed in his damn suit, you don't know why an old superhero is there standing beneath the yellowish bulbs of the light your bathroom happens to have.

Your cheeks adopt this pink color as you panic, grabbing the cup of wine to throw the liquid in the floor, breaking it against the marble walls just to shatter the glass in pieces, a weapon of defense as you lifted up against him.

"You're not Stella."

Soldier Boy looks amused: it's funny that you think you'd be able to kill him with shattered glass, yet he lets you keep thinking that way when he's enjoying the view.

Is he to blame? He just got out from this giant cooking oven back with the communists and he hasn't got his way with a lady since what seems are centuries, so when he spots you in the tub he simply cannot contain himself from peaking around. You should be in what? Not more than your 20's? Soft-looking skin that asked to be marked with his hands, by the force of his lips crashing in your flesh.

The thought is compelling, you're looking all feisty with the glass in your hand, threatening him and speaking something Soldier Boy cannot catch at first — Shit, he doesn't even notice the blood in your hand that's dripping all over your small rug in the floor, the power women like yourself seemed to have now and weirdly enough, a huge turn on.

"Get the fuck out!" you scream in an authority voice, the same you use back at work when you're mad, when you're usually holding a gun in defense more than a piece of broken glass "Stella is not fucking here!"

It takes a few more words to actually get him out of there, and as he closes the door behind him you finally stand to grab a towel covering from the currents of wind, trying, really hard, to think about anything else more that the fact that Soldier Boy has entered your house and your bathroom in the worst moment, far from what you were last updated with.

To be honest, it almost gave you a heart attack, leaving the bathroom to find your home torn apart, the drawers open and all the papers you've meticulously kept in place being all over the place as Ben stands awkwardly holding a shield in the middle of your living room.

"Fucking hell" you're cursing under your breath as you gathered some important things you cannot leave on the floor even when you're still wet from the shower, expelling this nice aroma that mixed the roses and the vanilla together with your personal scent — Weirdly enough, a fucking show to the hero that's already rock-hard from the peak he had of you from before.

You don't really notice it at first, too busy being mad as you let the papers you gathered on top of the table. You lose the shame you got left as the wet drops of the shower leave a trace in the floor — And as usual, you clearly don't notice it, but Ben does when the water is running down your back, and you're barking something about calling someone called Grace, holding onto a white tower with your dear life.

"Where is Stella Nightshade, sweetheart?" he speaks out loud cause he don't understand anything you say, really fighting to be nice with you like it would give him an opportunity to get under your skin.

"My mother's dead," you stand there without knowing what to say after. You know he and your mother were close, but you don't imagine he was going to actually go find her teammate when he recently woke up in a different country. "She died years ago dude, i'm sorry."

The information gathers in his head as you take a clean oversized shirt from the laundry basket covering with it as you throw the towel to the floor, Red Hot Chili Peppers it says, but he thinks it's a place in Italy more than a band like he isn't troubled already by the fact you were Stella's daughter, the person who thought was her only friend back in the time now dead.

"Does anyone know you're here?" your mind is drifting back to work again as you wondered if anyone knew he was going to break into your apartment and choose not to send any help — "Ben."

You've read his file. Hell, to be honest you've read every single file in Payback, so it's no surprise you know his name, but to the hero, it seems to be amusing when you call him by his real name, his mind fueled in a different direction as he notices you're not wearing any underwear beneath the shirt you're choosing to wear, one whose fabric's barely covering your tights.

"What do you mean dead?" he asks, furrowing his brows "It's not been so long."

"She got cancer three years ago" you explain with a sad tone, even when you disagree with Stella, it pains you to remember what sickness made out of her, consuming her from the inside at a cruel pace.

"Motherfucker," he states clearly angry, and you cannot help but look at him with a weird face, searching for the phone you left in the sofa to call any-fucking-body in the office that could send a damn army to get you: Didn't the Boys have everything under control? That's what you're told anyway, then why the fuck is the subject of matter cursing in your little messy apartment? — "Bitch just got away with it before I could do anything, isn't it? What a fucking shame."

"Pardon me?" it catches you by surprise at first, but it hits you soon after. Soldier Boy is not there to say hello to your mother or ask for her help, but instead, he's there to get revenge and actually kill Stella by his own matters.

Fuck. Of course is something new, something that makes you feel cold all sudden, your wet hair making you visible shake as you became aware of his plans.

"You know them. You know the people from the lab" it's more of a fact than a question, letting the words feel salty in his own mouth. "The ones that let me get away."

He's quickly to gather the pieces too, not as dumb as you think he is as the puzzle is finally coming up together in his head, and it's all it takes for him to take a step closer to you, cutting that space you've created since you kicked him out of the bathroom — He's angry now.

The red globe on his hand is now holding you by the throat, applying enough pressure to cut the air flow going to your lungs almost completely, his fingertips warm against your bare skin as he holds you in front of his figure, pushing you against the cold wall.

You usually would enjoy such activities, yet in the context you are trapped in right now, you began to choke, your own hands trying to push his grip back even when he’s too strong, not even flinching when you’re squirming, gasping for some air as your face became red, tears gathering in your eyes as he let you breathe for a couple of seconds when he senses you’re too close to black out.

“Talk little Nightshade” he says in a low voice. “Or else i’m breaking your pretty neck.”

“I work for the CIA!” You explain quickly as your breathing became more labored by the seconds. “Not for the people who let you out! I promise!”

He’s going to kill you. You can see the determination in his eyes, that predator look he happens to have.

What you don’t know, somehow, is that he’s going fucking insane. Your smell coming up to his nose to make him shiver, the sight of you in an oversized shirt that barely covers your shape is more than enough to push his buttons, to make him forgot about any killing he was allegedly so concentrated in fulfill, the sight of you almost crying messing with his brain.

Little Nightshade is a fucking tease.

His eyes follow your expression, the hand that gripped your neck and choke you harshly now pressing enough to only suppress the air flow in a more enjoyable way, the tension quickly shifting from dying to pleasure all over again as he kept you in place so easily.

It’s impossible to move, to do anything more than be pressed against a cold wall. Your mother has once again lied to you and you notice the relationship she painted with Soldier Boy was more of a movie in her head than reality itself. Makes you gulp in response when you stare at his expression, the face of a trained killer as you knew, fucking knew, a bit more of force in your neck and it would snap without any difficulty.

“I don’t work with them” you assure once again, maybe it’s your survivor skills hitting when you repeat it in a low voice, catching on your breath when he lets go allowing you to fill your lungs with air just enough before pressing that very spot again, the one that actually turns you on. “Fuck’s sake.”

Is that how you end? On your lame apartment?

The next is a weird thing, cause in the blink of an eye he’s close to your face planting his own body next to yours and you’re shivering at the feeling, his armor pressed against your chest as he left the shield he was holding on the floor.

The metal is pressed against your skin covered by the thin cotton of Red Hot Chili Peppers shirt, and he is so close, so close you froze there, no longer fighting his tight grip but mesmerized by his damn face, the same you watched on TV when you were a kid, the handsome man you happen to severely crush on in secret, just because you don’t want Stella to know or she will give you a long talk about how he is her age.

But he is, handsome as fuck, and now being so close to his face you can say it with all confidence. His beard is shaved perfectly and he smells incredibly good even for someone who has spent time locked away without any kind of hygiene, his green suit protecting him from the cold air that was getting through the opened window.

“Who are you?” he asks, scanning your face with a curious look as he wanted to know what expression you would have when you know why he's there in the first place — “What do you know about Stella Nightshade, your mother, selling me out?”

Fuck. So that's why he's there. You know she did it. And it's impossible for you to lie when he's making you so nervous, away from any weapon, any form of defense as you left the glass in the bathroom sink when you notice large gash on your hand, and your silence makes nothing more than leave him fuming. If he was angry before, he now reaches a higher level as his grip turns more violent now that he knows you know what he meant, why he's there claiming to talk with your death mother out of nothing.

"Call her then. Use your powers" he demands dryly, and you're shaking at this point cause it's more shame added to the long pile, the bathroom already being a humiliation by itself. "Fucking call her."

You squirm beneath his grabbing, when he's pushing you harder against the concrete wall and you can just feel him from under the suit, hard cock pressing against your belly, green in your vision as he towers over you. He knows what he's doing, and even when you try to be disgusted by it, you find yourself enjoying his closeness, how he's pinning you with no effort at all, hands on your throat while he demanded an answer.

"I can't call her" you admit in a low voice, cheeks now red as the embarrassment crept upon your face — "I don't have my mother's power."

Soldier Boy seems to not believe you for a mere second, after that you can feel the blade of the knife pressing against your skin, a threat that now becomes more real as you can feel the cold metal stomach. One swift movement and you'd be stabbed without a second thought.

It's sick how much you enjoy it when you are squirming against him, goosebumps in the zone he threats to destroy.

A force pull his lips upwards in a smile, unable to pay attention to nothing else but the sound you made without even realizing it. "You like that, huh little Nightshade?"

It seems to be a joke for him, bitting your inner cheek to prevent you from saying something stupid, from letting out a moan in response to all the sudden desire.

Despite all conditions you stay silent, holding his gaze like it's a game you're not going to lose. He didn't respond either, trapped in a second that seemed longer than the usual when time stopped around you, eyes looking like he can surpass the old fabric of the white shirt you choose to wear.

It's the tension what makes you mad. You're so into getting people like him, that your ego is bruised now that you notice you are actually attracted to all of that, to the way he's pressing you against the concrete, how all falls into place when he's pushing himself against you, invading any private space you could require.

He's kissing you soon after. Ben crumbles against the tension as the hand on your throat demands a kiss now, pulling you closer to his face without any warning nor concern as he crash his lips against yours in a rough kiss. You try to push him away in response even when you don't want to; see, it's hard to even admit you have interest in Soldier Boy in any other way more than the professional, but when he's bitting your lower lip you're letting your defense down: When is the last time you've been kissed like that?

You remind yourself you're tired from work, that the CIA has done nothing for you more than fuck your over and over even to this point, losing sight of one of the most important heroes of the word, and it's making you encourage to let go just for a mere hour.

"Lookin' so good takin' a bath" he says, and the sound of his deep voice is enough to send an electric wave through your spine, like he’s talking to himself as the hand on your hip is now tracing the curves of your body, taunting you from over the shirt he now learns to love. His beard is now scraping against your skin and you can feel his lips going down, tracing an invisible path to the crook of your neck as his hand is no longer choking you.

Jesus. Was that even happening or was that your imagination? Did you feel asleep on the bathtub? Maybe it’s a reflection as you are close to drowning, your brain doing that happy thoughts shit. You’re tilting your head to the side just to give him more space to work with and you’re just letting it be, enjoying how he’s sucking and nibling on your skin to leave a red mark behind, all teeth and no fucking control as he uses a good amount of force to make you moan in the process, the pain enough to remember who’s really on charge.

Ben forgets about asking any more questions, he’s too busy when his hand are taking decisions by themselves as they slide under your shirt, body still cold from the bath you just took, water still drying in your flesh when he’s like he usually is — An invader.

His hands are big and they’re capable of holding your whole tummy as he caress the soft skin that seems to expel a warm sensation, how it leaves goosebumps in any place he touches. You remember you’re basically at his mercy now that his hands roam with all liberty under your shirt, the look he gave you in the bathroom mistaken you for Stella, his eyes looking at any exposed skin he could look at.

“What the fuck,” you try to say under your breath, to keep on this facade you have of a composed person, one that won’t give in to be manhandled “What the fuck do you think you are you doing?”

“Well, i’m not seeing any complains” The blade cuts through the cotton leaving a large hole you know you won’t be able to sew after yet he’s right: There are no complains, nothing but eager that makes him go further as the seconds passed “In fact, can see that you’re pretty much enjoying it, Doll.”

You hate the nickname, that old man way of speaking when he’s squeezing one of your breasts with more force you can even handle, cursing at how easy it seems to be for him, how he wants to see you simply destroyed.

“You’re loving this isn’t?” he ask all sudden, studying you with his hazel eyes — “You love being a good whore f’me? My little Nightshade.”

He’s hard under the suit, covered in a green material you don’t know how to call as your hand searches for him, crave for him, convincing that it's what you must do as you trace the invisible lines his muscles made.

Soldier Boy’s messy, much like an animal when he’s groaning beneath your touch, his own body seeking for yours as your fingers grew bolder, demanding for a deeper contact — “Careful there sweetheart, i’m still fresh out of the oven. May be a little rusty."

You laugh at his words cause you know what he means, yet your hands work by themselves as you barely even touch him from over the suit, the hard feeling of his cock against your palm, hips buckling against your hand seconds after seeking for you, eyes shut for a couple of seconds.

“M’being careful” you say, catching yourself stealing a look at his reaction, taking your time on pleasuring him , gulping as he experiences the torture of your touch “Taking it slow for an old man.”

“Old man, huh? Now you're talking” He teases, and the sound of his laugh just fucks you up. Maybe it has to be with the fact he’s placing two fingers in front of your lips while looking at you, swollen pink lips he’s so fixated for a second, or it’s because he is, indeed, way older than you are — “Spit.”

It’s not a command, but it sounds like one as you’re unable to disobey, quickly spitting in his hand as you can visibly see the traces of saliva leaving a wet residue in your chin, one Ben looks at it for a good amount of time: How is something like saliva is so damn erotic? He doesn’t know it, but it’s enough to send him into a spiral.

He’s strong you think, cause he’s a superhero. He’s Soldier Boy by any meaning, so it’s not a big effort to hold you in his arms and lift you in the air as you let out a gasp of surprise, spanking your ass as one of his hands separates your legs for him, holding one up as you stand in the other.

“Relax, 'got you, doll” he says, your back against the wall as he kept a bruising grip in your hip, holding you in place so you don’t have to keep your balance — “Fuck you smell so damn good.”

The roses and vanilla aroma lingers on your skin as you finally understand what he's doing now, his hand close to your cunt as he taunts you, torturing you like you did so eagerly before, his personal pet as his digits get lost in your entrance now, your folds spilled with juice he can physically feel in his fingertips, your arousal's so nice against the palm of his hand he cannot help but kiss you, a feverish desire taking over his actions, the lewd sound his fingers made when he finally pushes his digits inside of you, velvety walls welcoming him as they seemed to squeeze him already — He has made such a good job on turning you on, it’s impossible to not react when he’s finally touching you, pumping into you in a constant pace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he says, the look on your face is enough to make his cock twitch in his pants in response, imagination running wild as he thinks about that very same feeling in a much deeper way, how you’d look now stretched out, crying just like you did when he choked you asking for information — “Such a nice cunt, so wet f’me.”

He's looking at you, holding the image in his mind forever: Pink pussy displayed for him, white t-shirt rising over your chest, lifting your leg over his arm as his muscles flexed by the force he's using to fuck you deliberately, your lips parted as you ask for more in between erratic moans as his fingers curved inside you so he can hit that nice place he can reach with no effort at all, that one spot thats makes you moan louder.

"Ah-fuck" you let out. Ben's all about touching you for what it seems an eternity, thumb grazing against your clit when he's plainly torturing you, testing how much patience you have left now that he has full control of you.

"Don't cum," he demands, your heartbeats are louder by the seconds as he lifts you slightly, lips attacking your neck before the words escape from his mouth "Need you to come undone in my cock first."

He's leaving marks, marks you don't remember how to hide but don't bother you at all, touching you as he pleases you, taking all the time in the world cause it seems like the night belongs to him — Getting started as you shake your head in an improvised yes.

Yes. The thought is pure electricity, the sudden need to please him as you shake your head once again.

“Please Ben,” you don’t recognize what you’ve become now. “Please let me cum in your cock.”

"Go on doll, put on a show f'me" the supe says with a grin you cannot resist. "Bend and show me that lovely ass."

It’s all it takes. His fingers are now away from you, but you’re now facing the wall as you obey, bending until your cheek is pressed against the concrete and you can hear how he’s now unzipping his pants, the green fabric of his suit now to the side.

You look at him from over your shoulder, bitting the your lower lip as you check him out, his slightly curved dick pointing upwards, precum already leaking out.

“Like what you’re seeing or what?”

“Yeah, but there’s no fucking way.”

You’re feeding on his ego now, but you can’t help it when his size is far from what you consider it’s common — “Common’ doll. You can hadle it.”

You gulp in response cause you know you’re more than eager to try, just the sight of his own hand holding his lenght as he strokes himself making you drool in response. Fuck. It transforms in a need now. When he positions himself beneath you and he’s spitting down to that very place where he’s pushing against your hole, saliva coating his cock before just letting the tip inside.

Lubricated, he pushes a bit more and it feels just damn right. Even when it begans to hurt as he’s thick enough to force himself inside you.

Benjamin knows you’re in pain so he waits a second before shoving his cock inside one more time. You need some time as he stretches you out, clenching your teeth while he works.

"You're doing it s'good" he praises, hand massaging your back as he prevents himself from fucking you at his liking, “Takin' me like a champ."

"God" you let out a sharp moan moments after, crying when you felt the pain more than anything else — "Can't-"

"No doll" he hums as he pulls slightly more. “You can do this” he forces himself in until he's finally balls deep inside your cunt, letting you adjust to his size as he can feel fucking everything. Your blood flow, your velvety walls that squeeze him unused to someone as big as he was, your face distorted in what seems an intense mix of pain and pure, devastating pleasure — "Atta girl."

Strikes like lighting.

Soldier Boy's bitting your shoulder-blade as he waits, waits for it to switch into pleasure, to become intoxicating to the point you cannot longer remember your own name.

"Please move," you ask sooner than he thinks, and when he moves, you can feel it in your belly, melting your fucking brain as he repeated the process again, burying his cock as deep as he could go without any previous warning — "Ah, just like that, please-"

"Do you like how my cock is stretching you out now?" Ben's voice is way deeper than what usually is as he laughs, grunting behind you as one of his hands reach a fistful of your hair, grabbing it with force to pull your head backwards "Good girl, keep huggin' my cock."

You're drunk on the feeling, on the vibrations his voice sends every time he's saying something dirty for you, when he laughs victim of the pleasure.

"Gonna' keep you as my personal slut," he thinks out loud, pushing you against the wall every time he fucks you, using his other hand to spread one of your ass cheeks to the side so he can hit it harder. "Use you as my fucking pet so I can cum on your pretty face whenever I want."

He's moaning, your body’s sweaty as he pulls your hair without caring, not concentrated on the pain it produces as his hips continue on collide against you.

"Would you like that, little Nightshade?" he asks then in a low voice, his thumb pressing against your asshole as he fucks you harder now that you're used to his size. "Could get used to this pretty cunt. Promise to keep my cock whore nice and full."

It doesn't take long. Soldier Boy's moans are now filling the room as his pace becomes faster, slurred words between his erratic breathing when the hand on your hair comes up to finally grab you by the neck, like he can read your mind cause it's exactly what you need to get there, to experience by first hand a set of crashing waves that were getting more and more intense on your stomach.

You're close to the edge. He can smell it in the air when the sound of your skin slapping against his is loud enough to be all you can hear, mixing with the lovely moans you produce when he’s pounding into you with no mercy, fingers pressing the side of your neck with enough force you’re running out of breathe.

It’s messy, violent and you love it, love how he’s ruining you all sudden, fucking you up from the inside, making your vision turning dizzy in response. You’re immersed in the haze he’s driven you into before admiting:

“God i’m so fucking close.”

“Cum on my cock,” it sounds like he’s begging you to do it, fingers finding their way to your swollen clit to move against the sensitive flesh “Come on doll, leave me full of you.”

He’s making you move now, hands now controlling your hips as you take him as his liking, mere seconds until you’re finally crumbling, violently shaking as you finally reach your peak. He keeps on fucking you through your high, long enough so he’s pulling out all of sudden, stroking his lenght over you as his cum finally lands on your back leaving you convered with his load.

Fucking hell.

When you’re coming down from your orgasm shame seems to hit you hard, however for Ben is not enough when he’s kneeling on the floor, eyes on the mess his cock made out of you.

“Wanna go again, little Nightshade?” he asks curiously, and the question makes you laugh in response, forgetting about formalities and the trouble it meant you were intimate with Soldier Boy out of all the supes in the world.

“Hm,” you seem to think about it for a second, his breathing close to your wet pussy as he’s still wearing his clothes in contrast of you being so exposed — “But you’re keeping the suit on.”

He don’t have any complains when he’s the one pressing his face against your wet folds.

Funny thing is now when you’re forced to join the Boys days after that very encounter — A bad joke when you’re now babysitting Soldier Boy himself.

“Been missing you s’much little Nightshade” he admits after a couple of minutes alone in the filthy motel “Thinking about how cute you are, how you felt taking my cock so nicely in your living room.”

“Fuck off, Ben.”

“We’ll be quick” he promises “That stupid assholes back there wont even notice.”

You seem to think about it for a second before lifting your middle finger in response — “I said fuck off, Ben.”

For now, it’s enough for him that you’re thinking about it.

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[cherrirui-official]

Friendlocke Violet Gijinkas (Part 1/7)

Since the edited episodes are starting to come out, I figured that bc of that and the fact that I've been keeping this in the back burner for a loooong while now, might as well complete all my friendlocke violet gijinkas!! Some are gonna stay the same while others are gonna have slight/ complete redesigns, so please keep that in mind!

I plan on posting them in order by groups of three, so there's gonna be seven parts in total, all of which I'll be linking here when done vvv

(Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five) (Part Six) (Part Seven)

!! These will contain personal headcanons I have for the cast, little fun facts, and also spoilers for Friendlocke Violet (for both the edited vids and the streams) !!

@saltydkart-reblogs

And that's pretty much it, designs under the cut!

LARK:

HUGE nerd. spent most of his time during the Uva Academy studying different kinds of pokemon as well as different fighting styles he can utilize once he is able to go out on his own journey with his very own trainer! Too bad that didn't really help in the long run...

His entire wardrobe consists of McDonald's related outfits. It's fucking insane. He even has some from long LONG ago that aren't available anywhere else.

The bubble pattern on his hair is able to move and change. Nobody knows how this is possible, not even Lark himself. All Lark knows is that his hair looks incredibly stylish!

Speaking of bubbles, he has the ability to blow bubbles whenever and wherever he pleases!

Often keeps himself extremely clean and gets upset if even a small speck of dirt gets on him, despite this he somehow smells like McDonald's food and axe body spray. Disgusting. He's so cool!

Even after death he still likes to hang around the other team members as a ghost, often getting to know the newer members as well as reuniting with the old ones. Sometimes they see him, sometimes they don't. It usually depends.

SARA:

Due to being a human in her past life, Sara is able to actually speak with the other humans in the pokemon world. However she usually doesn't due to it being seen as extremely weird and out of place. She did slip up once while talking in the presence of Arven, who thought it was the weed making him hear things.

Oinkologne are usually unable to do much with their hooves but Sara spent nights practicing how to knit with her new hooves and now she's able to do it flawlessly. I don't know how she managed to do that but go queen!

When first joining the team she'd often have the urge to eat her food related companions. It was a strange time for Sara, but she managed to overcome it.

When Peppy gets sick, she usually is the one who nurses him back to health. She was a human once so she often is able to figure out whatever sickness Peppy has and treat it properly. I suppose she's like a second mother to him.

The bag she carries with her is full of thread that she collected from various Tarountula she encountered on the journey, as well as little things she knits together in her spare time.

For the most part, Sara forgives... but NEVER forgets.

Did you guys know that Sara has a new YouTube channel? Check it out!

Pastey:

Before joining the team, Pastey was a nameless wanderer. He's been down every road in Paldea and knows almost the entire region (except for Area Zero) like the back of his hand.

He's gotten hurt pretty badly throughout the run (ie. the Mikey fight, the Atticus fight, and ESPECIALLY the final battle), however, he does not gain any (physical) scars from those fights. This is bc he's basically an axolotl, and axolotls are usually able to heal without scarring.

Pastey's "arms" are, to put it simply, mud prosthetics. More info here vvv

Pastey HAS met Mall Bingo once before the run, however, he doesn't recognize her. The only reason he does not recognize her is bc she wears glasses. (You know how people somehow aren't able to recognize Superman bc he wears glasses in his civilian attire even tho his face remains the same? It's basically like that lmao)

Unlike the lightbulbs he eats, the gasoline he drinks isn't really mandatory to his diet. Gasoline is like alcohol to him and he drinks it like an absolute CHAMP.

He goes fishing when there's nothing else to do or when he can't sleep at night. He doesn't do this bc he thinks it's fun or anything, only bc it's a "good time passer" or so he claims. Other members of the team will often sit with him and vent out anything that's troubling them at the moment, and Pastey is always there to listen to them.

And that's pretty much it. Next is Joe, Hannah Ü, and Mykyie!

[conron]

Hi new follower! I was wondering if you could do a fanfic of the reader comforting a crying wolf? I know his character isn’t the type to do that kind of stuff but it’s still fun to read about y’know? You make really great fanfics! Could you also base it off the manhwa? I like it more than the drama 😭 You don’t have to if you don’t want to tho! 🫶 Thank you! ❤️

zombie apocalypse! wolf x reader

description: wolf's in a zombie apocalypse and damn! he's immune! LETS FUCKING GOO. a girl who lives in the apartment that he's taken refuge in does not know that. but shes snarky and has guts so he guesses he wont be too mean

tags: um. WOLF POV, fem reader, wolf is immune good for him (kill him with rocks), reader is kind and snarky like always el oh el, angst, hurt/comfort, non explicit sex, wolf is ooc, but he is more manhwa coded!, banter, relationship???? i tried., fights?, contrived shit left n right, lowk a character study, will probably edit later, not betaread

...

Soft. Gentle. Tender. 

These were all words that Wolf was not familiar with. It was for pussies who cried for people like him not to hurt them. It was for people who were not like him and maybe did not beat people just because. 

When the world turned to shit, he still was not familiar with these words. Waking up one day and suddenly there was flesh eating monsters running around did nothing but make him shift into a higher gear. More closed off and made him think a bit more. 

This certainly was not on his bucket list. 

(But to be honest all that was on his bucket list was to do whatever he wanted til he died.) 

He just needed to survive. 

Keep fighting. 

He’s done it for most of his life, he can take a little more. 

It’s a bit different now though. 

Too bad he couldn’t afford to get hit anymore because that meant he’d be at risk of getting infected. Dodging between blows from rotten fists and chomping teeth. It felt unnatural but honestly he’d rather be alive and breathing than risk some rotten bastard biting his hand. 

It doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel the familiar tightness in his veins of needing a fix. An adrenaline rush to keep him going and cigarettes alone were not gonna cut it. Not when his supply was running low and you can’t find cigarettes easily because all the other greedy bastards like him already snagged them. 

On a day where he was tired as shit, he got careless. He should not have slammed three other survivors into the ground right when they looked at him. Admitting it was a bad idea was hard though since it felt so good to not have to fucking dodge or think about exhausting shit like that. 

He shouldn’t really be surprised when he’s caught in the middle of the street by a horde. He doesn’t really think ahead for things like that; so when he heard the rumbling of footsteps, he ducked into the nearest store. Wrenching it closed with a nearby wooden plank, he sighed and backed away. Before he heard a familiar sound of croaking and groaning from an inhumane source. 

Slamming his fist behind him without looking where it was going, it landed right into some decaying flesh. Then without a second for him to process, teeth bit down harshly on his hand. The teeth gnashing onto his skin in the moment it was there, making a mess of his palm.

He quickly twisted himself to be able to land his other fist on the zombie’s face. Half of its face ripping apart and falling on the ground. His chest rising and falling with, now, infected lungs; he held up his hand to his eyes. His hand dripped red and bloody onto the tiles in the store. Expression hidden behind his glasses that have somehow not broken in yet. 

Then he sighs and just walks back until he slides down the wall in exhaustion. 

He hopes those bitches he beat up got stomped on and eaten. 

After a while of just sitting there, he groans and gets up. Cursing under his breath as he quite literally could not be bothered to give a shit anymore. 

Well, he’s gonna die. 

Whatever, might as well just be a goddamn zombie. 

He’d been a dog before, not like that’s any better than this. Even if he was getting paid while being one. 

Maybe he can take out Donald Na as a zombie. Would feel pretty good if that fucker was even still alive. 

So when the crowd passes, he wraps his hand and keeps moving. Slinging his bag full of his shit over his shoulder, he walks on with his head up. Not one to give into giving up so easily or losing his will to move. 

He’s Wolf Keum and fuck no, he’s not gonna peel over and die immediately. 

So he makes it back to the apartment he’s taken refuge in. Dumping his things on the table and pulling a bottled water from under the cabinet and downing it. He’ll wait it out and just do whatever he wants until he does. 

Sure, It’s humiliating and a little embarrassing to die this way so easily. After a few months into the apocalypse, he was hoping he’d hold out a little farther than this. But none of this changes the fact he’s gonna die. 

But it happened and there’s no one to blame except for himself. There’s no one to hit to make himself feel better either. 

So no, he doesn’t turn soft or tender in the face of death. 

A day passes. 

…

Then three days do.

He’s sitting around in the apartment he’s taken to call his, just lying in the weirdly nice bed. It’s then he realizes that he’s not even remotely turning. He doesn’t have any of the normal symptoms and he doesn’t feel decay set in from the infection. 

Well. 

Apparently, Wolf Keum is given immunity to the virus in this weird turn of fate. 

He’s stubborn and he barks out laughs when he realizes it. Cackling as he wraps his hand again because he can still die from infection and that’ll be annoying as shit. His fists clench as he tests the gauze wrapped around his hand. 

Then there’s a knock at the door. 

Zombies can’t knock and if someone wanted him dead, they’d just shoot the fucking lock off. So he grins and swings open the door, quickly pulling in the wrist of the person who knocked. His bigger hand wrapping around her wrist tugging her into the inside of his apartment. 

“Hey hey-! Don’t tug me so hard!” A voice scolds him as she’s shoved into the boy’s chest. She can smell a distinct scent that was so painfully obvious to him and cigarettes. There’s also blood and the general scent of decay that lingered on anyone but it’s easy to look past. 

“Shut the fuck up for a sec.” His arms are wrapped around her tight and his fingers dig into her jacket. His face buried in her hair as she huffs and lets him. It’s odd for him to be so clingy when she checks up on him. 

They had met when she heard the door next to her stolen apartment rattle and shake. Someone obviously breaking into it but it was a zombie apocalypse so who really cares. She certainly didn’t. Just as long as this person doesn’t bother her then everything will be fine. 

Well shitty first meetings and a knife pressed to her neck seemed to indicate that everything will not in fact be fine with this person. He had greasy purple hair that looked a little matted down, his face and clothes smeared with substances that made her gag. Glasses that somehow looked unscathed in the face of an apocalypse. 

His face itself… looked attractive if she put away everything else awful about him. Prideful eyes and dried lips on his face as he stared down at her. 

Though, she wasn’t one to care. 

“Fuck-” She muttered before she brought her knee hard on his crotch. It seems even this intimidating boy above her had feelings too as well as his family jewels. 

“-Off, man! You smell like shit!” Her voice says as she’s on the floor of the apartment next to her own. From where he was on top of her, he mutters swears as he collapses to the side. Before the girl stands up, muttering curses under her own breath. Goddamn, when did he get so fucking sensitive?

What a fucking pain. 

Her hands roam over his things laid haphazardly on the table, while he gets over his own seething pain to shoot her a glare. His body leaning against the kitchen counter as he breathes heavily. 

“Don’t steal my shit, you fucking bitch.” His voice raspy and hoarse because shit, knee to the balls does NOT feel good. He doesn’t even feel the will to throw a punch in her direction. 

“Don’t have ta, my shit’s better.” Her tongue sticks out at him as she drops the stuff she was holding back on the table. 

At her uncaring response, he feels his lips pull into a sneer. Guts for a girl. First one he’s met in this hellhole with this personality. Usually he shook down chicks to make them give him their supplies before promptly leaving them alone and stranded. Or with their boyfriends that he beat up to feel something other than survival. 

But she was different. A little more interesting. 

His first impression of her only grew stronger when she left his apartment and came back with her own backpack. Plopping on the couch as she beckoned to come closer, telling him that they can barter like old people used to do. He mutters for her not to order him around but brings his stuff to her side as well. 

Only complying wholeheartedly when he saw that she had two packs of smokes, waving to his things and telling her to get whatever the hell she wanted. As long as he could get those. She settled on a pocket knife that cut her finger when she remotely grazed it. Smiling at him with a slight smirk, thanking him. 

Everyday was a snore in his opinion, scared people and rotting bodies were the norm. The high of an apocalypse wore off quickly. 

But her…. 

She shook things up.

With having the revelation that he was immune, he tugged her close. The only person he had close to an equal. They usually went on supply runs on different days, not seeing each other for weeks. He wondered vaguely if this was the last time he’d see her everytime they parted ways but it’d just be a loss for his nicotine addiction. 

(He ignored the shake in his fists whenever she’d leave for too long. Sometimes he wanted to force her to come with him instead but he begrudgingly respected her independence.) 

Fingers danced over the bandage on his hand, grazing him softly as he hides his face in her hair. It smells of grime and sweat but it’s definitely her. A semblance of normalcy in this fucked up world. 

“I bet you cut your hand, idiot. I told you to stop punching zombies. It’s fucking stupid.” 

“Tryna change my style?”

“Trying to stop you from getting fucking bit.” 

…

Well, he certainly doesn’t tell her what happened. So after a run in with death, he forces her next to him. He didn’t mind being alone, preferring it in the normal world when he was surrounded by annoying people and fucking idiots. But he knew she could survive, knew she wasn’t a complete burden. Or else she wouldn’t have gotten this far. 

She doesn’t mind all that much, days were dreary and all she did was work out to make sure her body didn’t peel over and die. So she spends more time in his apartment. When there wasn’t anyone else around, people talked a lot. She rambled and he’d succumb himself to it while closing his eyes. Snide comments leave his lips in the form of responses. 

Most of the time, they’d lie together on the leather couch. It’s ripped and worn from use from the previously dead owner. He didn’t realize how nice it was to feel warmth when you slept. How much he craved human contact and she was the only one he could stand giving it to him. 

When she slept, she seemed less on edge. Vulnerable. In his arms, she slept peacefully and his scarred fingers traced her resting face. Their dirty and stained clothes rubbed one another’s as they curled up on the couch. 

Grimey in this world, but at least he was alive. Nothing mattered other than surviving but his own personal slice of heaven came in the form of a rough girl. She came from towns over, not from his area. He would’ve never met her otherwise. At least he was breathing and at least he had her. 

Then, he had successfully dragged her on a supply run. It was farther out and he wanted to see if they could get anything they haven’t before. So they packed their bags and set off. Travelling with her was easy, she liked her quiet and he liked his. Not one of those annoying fucks he saw sometimes who talked even though they were literally in an apocalypse. 

They walked and walked and walked under the blistering sun, good thing she didn’t whine or complain or he might’ve started whaling on her. When there didn’t seem to be anyone in the area is when they took to exchanging conversation. 

“Y’know, I was a top dog in my school ‘fore the world turned to shit.” 

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Whaddya think? I beat people up and got dirty money for it.” 

She snorts as she wipes her brow from sweat. Stray hairs sticking to her face before she takes a swig from her water bottle. 

“Guess it doesn’t mean shit now.”

“Guess so. I fucking hated it after a while anyway.” 

She hums and as they turn a corner in the path they’re on, her face lights up. It’s a river with rushing water. Wolf swears he has to put a hand up to shield his eyes when she turns to him. Pulling a hand that has a leather fingerless glove on it, she drags him. To where he used to be a bit stronger to people’s will, he’s grown skinnier and was pulled along easily at her weaker grip.

She’s rambling and so excited that they found running clear water. Before he can tell her to shut the hell up in case there were zombies around, she’s already taking off her shirt. His eyes almost bulge out behind his glasses at her body being so carelessly revealed to him. Within a minute, she’d already shed her jacket, shirt, and pants. Stripping her shoes and socks off as well, filled to the brim with excitement. 

“Are you just gonna stand there?” She asks incredulously as she holds her clothes. Her form only covered by her bra and underwear. His eye twitches as he greedily drinks in her almost naked body before he silently strips himself of his own clothes. Only keeping his boxers and a lone glove on, she carelessly grabs his scarred hand. 

Hers is as rough as his, scarred too as they both are used to carrying guns and knives. But none of it seems to matter when they’re in freezingly cold water running to their thighs. She’s laughing under the sound of running water as she goes to sit down in it. Wiping her face from sweat and dirt, the dried black blood on her hands wash away as well. 

In the water, he sees her free from the weight of their world. Careless as she washes and wrings out her dirty clothes in the water. He’s fucking freezing in the water as he mirrors her, silent as he just listens to her humming and rambles. Washing himself and his clothes as he can see her eyes stare at the many scars he has.

When their clothes lay to dry, she turns to him and laughs. He’s stone cold as she plucks the glasses off his face that he forgot to remove. Without droplets covering his vision, he can see her clearly. He keeps a carefully indifferent gaze as he examines her.

She’s smiling so much and he thinks this must be what she looked like and acted like before everything went to shit. 

Placing the glasses next to their drying clothes on the tree stump, she comes back close to him. Placing her arms on his shoulders as she looks up at him. The water loud in his ear and the sun beating down on them.

“You didn’t even try to wash your hair!” She mutters as she runs her fingers through the purple locks. His roots have grown in a fair bit but he doesn’t really care. It’s then he leans in and buries his face in her neck. Looking up at her from there before placing a kiss there. 

She’s smiling a bit too smug for his liking so he wipes it away by placing his lips on hers. The water helping with the dry of their lips as they kiss. Pent up feelings for each other and the pain of not having anyone else in this fucked up place are released. He’s breathing heavily as he lies her down on the grass and touches her everywhere he can. 

Sinking into her with a feeling of something filling his veins. A straight shot of drugs right into his system. His fingers tangle with hers as he hears her breathy moans. Soft in his ear along with the whisper of his name. It makes him want to chase for the rest of his life. 

Fuck cigarettes, he could get used to his name tumbling off her lips everyday. 

When they’re done, their clothes are dry but they go back in the river for another wash of their bodies. Her fingers in his hair and his in hers. It’s soft, something he’s not used to. Tender in ways he’s not familiar with. 

Her eyes are gentle in a way he can’t even imagine being. 

So, when they’re dry from the sun, they set off again. It’s a little different now, a little closer. Their silence is comforting as their steps fill it. Fingers graze his as they walk and when something happens, his arm goes in front of her. 

They find a building, it seems like a warehouse. Splitting up to cover ground as they both started unpacking boxes and picking up discarded items. When it reaches around 10 minutes of scavenging, his fingers graze a box of fabrics. When he digs so maybe he can get some shirts that don’t have rips in them, he finds something different. 

He holds up a dress under the flashlight he carried along. It’s a dark purple dress that should rest somewhere on her thighs if it fits her right. Wolf should be allowed to indulge a little, it’s an apocalypse; not a penitentiary. So he licks his teeth as he shoves it in his bag, a stupidly big smirk on his face. 

Perfect. 

“Opinions on dresses?”

“Impractical.” Her voice calls back from the other side of the warehouse, sounding annoyed at the very sound of the word. He barks out a laugh at her response. 

“Well, I’m the only one who’s gonna see it.” He hears a snort at his response and a “better not be ugly then” before it’s quiet again. Only the sound of their footsteps and rustling of things in the darkness. The sound of the door creaked but he chalked it up to the sounds of an old building. 

He could account for most things, even if he didn’t usually. He was impulsive and instinctive, doing things that felt right in the moment no matter what. Even if something didn’t go his way, he beat people until it did. No matter what. 

Too bad he couldn’t account for muffled screaming from the girl he lived next to. His head snapping to the noise before his legs caught up to his brain. Rushing over with his flashlight as he could see her get dragged back out the door to the warehouse. 

He felt fury run through him as he grit his teeth. Running up quickly to them as he swears he felt smoke leave his lips as his eyes settled on her. A knife pressed to her neck and the other hand covering her mouth. He sees some little asshole he had beat before to let off some steam, one of the three before he had gotten bit. 

The boy is laughing as Wolf looks enraged. Unable to hide the shake in his fists as a wicked sneer is pulled to his lips. Her eyes are pleading as she stares at him, something hidden in her eyes. The sun is shining on them still, out of the dark of the warehouse. 

“Did I not beat you good enough before?” His voice carries malice and venom as he spits to the boy in front of him. This boy opens his mouth and it’s all worthless. All he’s spewing is something about revenge and something about a one on one fight. It’s childish and rash. 

But that’s fine. 

He’s used to immaturity and childish fights. 

Familiarity is settled in his bones as he drops his bag on the ground. Right when he does, she’s let go. But not before she can land her elbow behind herself, getting the guy in the gut. The guy sputters as his knife is kicked to the side. She’s coughing and murmuring curses as she steps back into Wolf’s radius. 

His hands reach and tuck her into his side, roughly pointing her chin up to see if the piece of shit tried to do something. Said piece of shit is still grumbling and holding his stomach, glaring daggers in his direction. 

“Control your bitch.”

Oh? 

Oh. 

Now that sets him off. 

When he’s sure this piece of shit has nothing hidden, he lunges forward. Fists ablaze as he can feel the crunch of the guy’s jaw under his knuckles. He hasn’t let himself go in a while. Now seems like just the perfect time to let loose. 

“Let’s start from the top, okay?” He coos down to the boy wedged under him. The piece of shit looks pissed as he recoils to punch Wolf. And Wolf takes it. Smiling with a gleam in his eye as his head snaps back to the boy. 

It feels like an itch is being scratched that’s been ignored for a while. 

“It’s not your fucking turn.” Is all he says before he starts repeating one word. The bitch obviously doesn’t know how to fight, he doesn’t know why the little shit bothered but it doesn’t matter now. All he can think about is hitting face, face, face, face, before the guy passes out. 

But before he can, the boy heaves a long breath as he’s being pummeled. Before screaming with everything the little shit has in him. 

Wolf immediately covers his mouth but the damage is done and the three hear the sounds of branches crunching and faster and faster footsteps from all directions. Deciding for Wolf, the girl runs next to the guy biting down on his hand. Driving the pocket knife she got from Wolf in the dude’s throat and shutting him up forever. 

Next, he’s tripping over himself to grasp his backpack. Then he grabs her and makes the dash for their lives. Because even though he's immune, she sure as hell isn’t. And losing the girl isn’t an option for Wolf. And fighting out of this mess is the only answer he gives himself. 

Running into the direction they came across, the sun doesn’t seem to matter anymore. The hoard of zombies sounded like they got attracted to the area where the kid screamed. But she grabs his arm and they keep running for their lives. 

After what feels like forever, the two of them duck into a random house. Sliding down the wall as they catch their breaths. She starts smiling and laughing out of breath though. He signs himself away to the sound as he heaves his down breaths. 

“The fuck… is so… funny…?” 

Laughing some more as she rubs her palm against her forehead. Knees pulled to her chest, grinning as she looks back at him. 

“Why the… fuck did you keep saying face..? Oh god.. It was so funny…” 

He’s glad that got her smiling. He grabs her shoulder and pulls her to him, kissing in her hair before he sighs. Closing his eyes as he feels like he’s on top of the goddamn world. Sweaty, exhausted, and his knuckles are bleeding and bruised. 

She laughs as they sit there for a while longer before pulling herself to her feet. He follows suit and stands with her as they look at the empty house. Seems like it’s already been scavenged dry from. That’s alright, they made good on their run. 

Before he can think, there’s a fast one running up to him. One that’s been stuck in the house, transformed into something worse. Faster and more built than any of the normal zombies he’s come across. It rushes him and he shoves her out of the fucking way. Barking at her to shoot it but then more are attracted to the noise. 

Suddenly, it’s gone to shit and she fights off the other mutated ones in the house. His hands go up as he tries to reach for the machete on his back. She’s gasping his name in a way he doesn’t like. That she isn’t supposed to sound like. 

He feels teeth chomp down on his arm and he curses under his breath. It’s teeth gnawing at him like a piece of fried fucking chicken. It doesn’t bother him much until a scream, shrill and loud, rings out in the air. The mutated monster is stronger than normal but somehow falls at only a few punches from his free hand.

But when it falls, he can see it now. Wedged in its head is a pocket knife and his eyes are drawn up to her. Tears down her face as she’s holding her shoulder. The shirt she’s wearing oozes with her blood and she seems to have forgotten about the zombies that were surrounding her. She looks despondent that he’s bit and he doesn’t know why he didn’t just fucking tell her he was immune. 

Why didn’t he? 

But he doesn’t have time to comfort her. A zombie has its eyes honed on her and Wolf watches as its teeth dig into her neck. She falls to her knees and lets herself get bit by this monster. His gray eyes stare for a millisecond before he jumps to his feet, kicking the one she killed to the side. Dashing to her, he pulled his gun from its holster. He usually liked taking his time knowing he was immune but that doesn’t matter- 

None of it matters anymore. 

Why did she let herself get bit? 

Why would she do that? 

He shoots all of them more than necessary and empties his magazine as he heaves in heavy breaths. Heavier than when they were walking in the sun. Heavier than when they were running. She’s sobbing her heart out as she sits there on her knees, uselessly crying his name. Peeling over and whining for him because he got bit and he’s gonna fucking die and he’s stupid-

Something in him snaps. 

Bloody hands grip her face, squishing her cheeks together. Kneeled in front of her, pressing his forehead to hers. Forcing her to look at him. Panicked and furious eyes twitching as they meet her sorrowful ones.

Furious she’d give herself up so easily. 

Angry that she even thought of doing that. 

(Livid that he didn’t prevent it.)

“I’m fucking immune, you idiot!” 

He rips off the glove on his hand to reveal the bite mark that’s months old. Burned into his skin like a reminder. Her eyes rave over the bite, not processing anything before she laughs. It’s nails of a chalkboard for the first time he’s known her. Watery eyes turn back to him and it takes everything in him to not kill her out of frustration and grief. 

“So, you’re okay?” 

She sobs out while laughing as her own bloody hands wipe on his face. Relief fills her body but a fierce feeling fills his. She’s thanking god that he’s okay but he’s about to fucking fight the goddamn guy. Shoving her up, he drags her through the streets with his hands squeezing her wrist. It becomes nighttime in a blink of an eye and she’s just a sniveling mess behind him. 

Now, he’s here. 

She’s curled up on his bed. It hasn’t even been a day and her skin is turning a sickly pale color that he’s not used to. Used to vibrant skin that brushed against his hand and flushed on her cheekbones. 

Her breath is short as she sweats profusely, grasping at his sleeve whenever he gets up. Staring at her with dead eyes before he lies back down with her. His fingers brushed her cheek as she coughed, curling in on herself. 

He was mad at her. He was mad at the world. 

He was mad at himself. 

“Why the hell would you let yourself get bit?” Whispered roughly the night she got that stupid bite mark, curled under his blankets together. When there’s no reply, he turns his back to her. But then arms wrap around him from behind. Her soft voice in his ear as her arms snake around him. Less warm than usual. 

“Why would I want to keep going without you?” 

It makes him bite the inside of his cheek. He knows he could keep going without her, he wasn’t the type to kill himself. He was too stubborn. Too full of spite to die. 

But she didn’t see a future without him. 

It made him feel like shit. 

Most people turned within 2-3 days. Most people felt the worst on the second day. Most people freaked out and killed themselves before they turned. Most people… but apparently not her. 

Her death seemed to be coming sooner than he could accept. He was still too angry and needed to kill someone. So he kicked open a door to a random unit in the apartment and seeing it was bare, absolutely trashed it. When he felt like the sting from his knuckles covered for his heartache, he went back to his apartment. 

(Not sparing a glance to hers.) 

Turning the doorknob to his, he’s greeted with her standing figure. Smiling at him and if he blinked, he could see the color return to her face. But faded color is what he settles for as he stares in her eyes that haven’t lost their spark at least. 

“Hello, dear husband! Welcome home!” 

Out of her lips come across words he never thought he’d hear in his lifetime, even before rotten bodies roamed the streets. They’re barely adults, not even anything remotely resembling so. She must’ve gone through his bag he threw to the ground in anguish because she’s wearing that silly dress. 

It hugs her body tight and fits her perfectly. Resting nicely on her thighs and he remembers how much he wanted to see her in it. His enjoyment is tainted by the strain on her face as she pulls him into his own apartment like she owns it. 

Hands wrap close around her waist, holding her up as she laughs. Her hair tangled and messy from being curled in his bed for the past two days. She’s trying to continue her stupid roleplay as she kisses his neck. Unzipping his jacket and murmuring something about how glad she is that he’s back. 

He can’t even focus on it, too busy thinking about her impending doom. That she’s doing this because she won’t be alive to do it tomorrow. That her fingernails are turning black and he can see the shake in her legs as she struggles to even stand. 

Slowly, Wolf dips his head down and bites the inside of his cheek. He feels the blood fill his mouth but it’s not enough. Trashing that stupid apartment wasn’t enough and he doesn’t think smoking the rest of his stash will be enough. Her voice is sweet as honey and cooing up at him, beckoning him to look at her. 

Fingers remove his glasses and he feels the frames fall away from his face. Running fingers through his hair as she whispers sweet nothings to him, soft in his apartment. And in the privacy between her and him and the setting sun in his window, his hands shake as he holds her. 

A soft gasp resounds through the air as her knuckles touch his face. Wiping his cheeks clean of something that he refuses to acknowledge. Choosing to just stare at her shocked and concerned face. It almost makes him laugh that she looks like that. Looking so frightened for him.

When she’s the one who’s done for. 

“Stop looking so fucking happy.” 

Her hands cup his cheeks as he clings tight to his piece of heaven. A heaven that’s corrupting before his eyes. Falling from the sky. 

“Stop smiling like that.” 

Her nose brushes his jawline like a dog trying to comfort its owner. Thumbs uselessly wiping at his face, trying to comfort him in this moment of vulnerability.  

“Who said you could smile like that?” 

It’s not fair that she gets to smile and be carefree. Not when she’s doing this to him. Not when she’s shoving her demise down his throat like too hard liquor. Burning straight down his throat and bringing tears to his- 

Ah. 

Yeah. 

He’s crying. 

He kneels on the ground and he wants so badly to shove her away from him. To tell her to get the fuck away from him. That she should just fuck off and turn into a zombie by herself and not make him drown with her. 

But he’s gladly doing so anyway because she can’t stand by herself. She’s in between his thighs, hugging him tight. Removing the rest of his clothes forgotten as she sits in between his legs, her dress bending with her legs. Arms wrapped around his waist as he finally lets out a shuddering breath. 

Burying his face in her hair, he’s greedy for anything he can salvage from heaven. He feels like a maniacal God needing to burn everything in his wake for a mortal girl. His fingers dig into the fabric of her dress and the skin of her thigh. Squeezing his eyes shut as he muffles any sign of his emotions. 

And she takes all of him with open arms. No snark to her now. Only soft for the rough boy, handling him like fine china. Fingers run through his overgrown hair and she tries to pry his face away from her hair. Tries kissing tears away that don’t seem to lessen. 

“Don’t fucking stare at me like that.” 

He chokes out with a low rasp, his hand reaching to cup her face. His thumb on the bottom of her lip that started to turn a sickly blue color. A spew of curses leave his lips at her, angry and stuck in denial. Unable to accept any of this. 

When Wolf Keum wanted something, he made a way for him to get it. No matter how long it took or how impossible it seemed. He fought his way out every single time. 

But she willingly went against it. Put herself on the line because for her, she did not have that fight in her if he wasn’t there. 

It makes him bitter. 

Angry. 

And…

Soft. 

Unbelievably soft for her as she starts telling him her entire life story. Explaining every nook and cranny of her entire being to him. Naked to his eyes and vulnerable to his tender heart. 

His touch turns impossibly gentle as he cups her cheek. She’s started crying too, fucking hypocrite. She smiles in that stupidly kind way that makes him want to strangle her. Closing her eyes and kissing him softly. 

She tastes like fucking death. 

It’s disgusting and should make anyone else recoil at the taste of it on her tongue and lips. 

And he can’t get enough.

She oozes acceptance of her death and he tries to drink every single last drop of it. It poisons him though, venom on his tongue as he can’t do the same. Tilting her head back as he tries to understand every part of her he doesn’t now. Every part of her he’s never seen because they’ve only known each other for about a year. 

I’m sorry. 

Everything will be fine. 

Her lips seem to say as they kiss. But everything being fine isn’t his fucking problem, it’s the fact she won’t be there to see that everything’s fucking fine. But she has no more family, no more friends, she lost them all when she skipped town. So she doesn’t care about anyone but him. 

What a shitty life. 

Crying over a girl is humiliating, never being brought to tears like this before. But in the face of death in a world where he had no one else and no way to get his emotions out, it’s all he could do. Because she held no fight for her own survival and he carried all of it. 

A day later, she was bed bound and lied there as she gripped his hand. He knew everything about her at that point. From her favorite color to how her last friend was slaughtered in front of her. He tried to tell bits and pieces of himself but he was not used to such things. 

She just smiled and nodded at what he did decide to reveal. One of them being his real name and he lets her roll it off her tongue before something black crawls up her throat and she coughs it up onto his blankets. He does not flinch, he simply sits there and wipes her chin with his thumb. 

It’s not acceptance, not really. 

It’s carefully hidden grief that’s behind a persona of indifference. 

It’s still not acceptance when he slits her throat and stares down at her greyed skin. It’s not acceptance when he packs up his shit and leaves. 

It’s grief when he grabs the necklace she wore everyday and it’s grief when he covers her dead body with a blanket. 

Wolf Keum is not soft, tender, or gentle. 

Not at all.

But maybe, during one year of his life, he might’ve gotten close to that.

moved a/n to the end❤️

note: HAIIII srry this took kinda long and sorry if this is not what u wanted LOL. i had a lot of trouble thinking of a scenario for this bc im incapable of doing a normal drabble apparently. but !!! i had alot of fun and it was basically writing practice for this asshole. my friend gave me the idea for a zombie au so blame them. always be aware that ur requests will be processsed in the mind of me. which might b a joke or... wtv this is.... anyway hope u like it anyway!

[warlocklawyer666]

Costume Design in Wicked

So, I just watched Wicked for the third time since it’s available on Amazon now and goodness, do I love this movie. There are so many small details that you inly really start appreciating on the second or third watch, so I wanna talk about one of the things that caught my eye, already on the second watch, but even more so on this one. The costume design.

The costume design of this movie is, at least in my opinion, glorious. And by that I mean how certain characters stand out from the crowd through their clothes. If you were to look at a mass of people from Shiz, you’d know directly who the main cast is and who the supporting characters are.

The whole school follows a specific dress code: grey trousers (sometimes with a skirt on the side), light blue shirt and a matte, dark cyan-blue jacket on top. And while these parts get styled differently, trousers exchanged for skirts and similar changes being made, we, the audience, can easily tell by this who background characters are.

If we now take a look at side characters, it is clear that, while they are in fact similar to background characters, clothes, they are still distinctive differences. G(a)linda’s friend Pfannee wears, instead of the usual matte jacket, a (presumably) velvet one, giving him a shinier look without pulling too much of the audiences attention to it. Plus he wears extremely fancy glasses with a very intricate design, much more notable here is their shape tho, which is rectangular, something that I didn’t spot on any other character at Shiz, even tho there are at least three background characters who also wear glasses, all of which are round.

Glinda’s other friend, Shenshen, has a uniform that is exclusively grey, except for a few pink stripes.

Glinda is often around those two and Shenshen, lacking a lot pf colour in her uniform let’s Glinda pop out, while she at the same time shows how she belongs to her squad through the pink stripes, something that Pfannee does, in my opinion, too, even if he does it in a slightly different way and by being a bit more flashy, just like Glinda.

Nessa, Elphaba’s sister, also has a few differences in her daily attire in comparison to that of her classmates, the most prominent being her wearing a dress during the ‘Dancing through Life’ scene at Shiz, as well as the clothes she arrives in. What is interesting here is how her jacket is the only one that is entirely closed, this could either be because her overprotective father didn’t want her to catch a cold, or could also symbolise how she doesn’t require any help and refuses that, closing her off, instead of being open and comfortable, a change which we can clearly see later in the movie, during the scenes where she wears a dress. There she seems much more comfortable and open with her clothes being in turn more open, while no one tries to constantly help her and looks excessively after her wellbeing.

Let’s move on to Prince Fiyero, most of the time he wears, what I think is a dark royal blue, which would be a nod to his heritage, on top of that he is also, far as I could tell, the only student who has golden ornaments as part of his general attire. Even in his actual school outfit which he wears during the lion cub scene, we can see a clear distinction from other students through his light beige trousers and short which has a lighter blue colour than those of the other students and matches with the shirt colour Elphaba wears in the same scene, showing their connection and the bonding that happens there. On another note, his usual dark blue clothing neither matches specifically Elphaba nor Glinda, however the blue colour is in fact roughly in a triadic colour scheme with Elphaba’s skin colour and, if lighter, also with Glinda’s overall pink wardrobe.

Finally onto Elphaba and Glinda. The colours of their clothes being black and pink and, except for a few accents in other designs, being specific to them. When looking at a crowd from Shiz, those are the two that you’d notice first. They never wear actual school uniform and are as distinctive from the rest of the school as light and dark.

That is all I can think of so far, but if I missed something or got something wrong, please tell me

Anyway, thanks for listening to my ted talk ^^

[hannahssimblr]

Hours gone and hours to go, staring out the window at vague green mountains, rainforest, a bleeding scene behind wet glass as the rains go on, drenching the southern arm of Thailand. The train rumbles and the beds in our sleeper cabin squeak. I’ve slept already, for an hour, maybe two with a t-shirt over my face to block the light, while Jonas, pale and silent across from me stares blankly out the window picking at his fingernails, blood vessels burst in his eyes from being sick. Forty minutes in the train bathroom while a queue formed outside, and he’s too hungover to be embarrassed. 

The train to Surat Thani was his idea, and seemed like a great one back in Berlin, looking at pictures of the scenery, the idyllic image of an orange train snaking through jungle. Nine hours seemed reasonable until this morning, when I awoke to him packing his bags, the smell of alcohol seeping from his pores. Trembling and ill. 

“How was last night?” I said. “Must’ve gone well if you slept over.”

“I hate myself,” he replied, and that’s all. Within thirty minutes, we had checked out and boarded the train. 

He hasn’t spoken in about six hours, but in fairness, four he spent sleeping, snoring peacefully in his bunk while I’ve read my book, snacked, perused my phone.

I look again at the message from Astrid I woke up to. 

Here you go.

She’s said, followed by pictures of her in that green dress, front and back in her apartment mirror. She looks stunning like that, her hair a little messy, makeup smudged from an evening in the city, wine drunk too, probably. I can tell by that glazed look on her face. 

The second picture, then, captioned:

Or do you prefer me without?

And she’s naked, laying back, the high points of her sensual body rising out of fizzy pink water. Some kind of bath bomb situation, evidently. This is what I wanted, and it’s extraordinarily erotic, but looking at it in the cold light of day in a train cabin that smells of two unwashed men and the dinner plates the buffet service hasn’t collected yet, the effect is not quite as intended. 

Tbh only thing missing is me in there with my–

I pause and check the world clock app. 9:15AM in Berlin. I go back and delete what I wrote. Bit weird now, considering it’s her morning, and she’s definitely not in the bath still. 

I look at the picture some more anyway, zooming in on different parts, like her collarbone, poking out like that with the angle she holds her neck, the same with her hip, a white peak jutting out of the water. My rapt interest in anatomy, driven by the pressure I feel to enjoy her a suitable amount. 

Men like my grandfather would have gone their whole lives without seeing a woman like this. Maybe once, if they were lucky, and they’d keep a picture of her in their breast pocket or paint her on the side of a bomber jet and go to war. And in the 15th century, you’d carve exquisite statues of bodies like this. Paint masterpieces, and you’d turn her into some ethereal goddess with angels flying all around her, spend years working on a portrait in an attempt to communicate your feelings with a brush and oils, marble and chisels. Driven half mad by her. Compelled to preserve her beauty for eternity. 

Here I am, looking at Astrid on my phone. A body worthy of museums, her frame, not gilded, but a clear silicone phone cover that has been yellowing progressively with use. I’m aware I don’t deserve to be looking at this. The best I can do is turn my screen away from the window so Jonas cannot see her too.

Sorry, was asleep lol. Looking hot af tho! 🥵

At the end of my message I add the red faced, profusely sweating emoji with its tongue out to really drive the point home, and send it, half hoping it won’t deliver. It does. 

Back out to the conversations page to the chat with Evie. Something to stare at and feel bad about. Thinking about you. Why did I write that? Divine intervention that it didn’t send. A reason to believe God is watching over me. 

It’s becoming increasingly obvious I’m demented. What else could explain it? To be the kind of man who has a girlfriend that others would die for, letting me do whatever to her, a folder on my phone now of pictures that the weirdos in her Instagram comments would pay real money to look at. Each night, saying she loves me down the phone, and I text a girl I knew for two months last summer? What way would my brain show up in an MRI scan? Very abnormal, the doctor would mutter, and I’d be like, yeah, I had an inkling. 

Maybe I’m just curious, seeking closure. I’d like to know how she’s doing. What colleges she applied for. What she thought of the leaving cert, if she found it hard. She would have finished this week, maybe last. What was it like for her? Desks lined up in some PE hall, no doubt. Old convent windows, summer sunshine catching dust. Her hands smoothing the docket, nails painted. Colourful nails always, and hair done up in some elaborate double plait French thing. She hated how flat she thought her hair was. Then going out to the pub afterwards, a bottle of Corona with a wedge of lime in the neck, going down easy. Eighteen now. Wow. I never wished her a happy birthday. Would have felt weird doing it.

I go through my pictures. There aren’t many, only the ones Jen took on her camera and sent to me. I know where to find them, at the beginning of the roll underneath all those nightclub shots and pictures of Astrid in Italy. Dalia and Elias at the lake. Me and Jonas in the park last September. It’s been a long time since I was here, staring at that one photo I once obsessed over. It’s the only good one I have of her. At the festival, taken in the crowd, and I'm looking at her, she doesn't see me doing it, and her face luminous, dusted with glitter. She was amazing. If only I–

New message from Astrid. 

Thank you for your enthusiasm. Anything for my fans. 

I exhale a laugh. That’s funny. Amusement is followed by the dreadful sense I’ve been caught doing something illegal. Wondering why I’m reliving all this old stuff. What am I trying to feel? I tap the corner of the picture, delete it, and Evie vanishes. I relax my shoulders, relieved, absolved of sin.

 “Something good on your phone?” Jonas says. 

“Nah, I was trying to text Astrid, but I have a poor signal.”

“Ah. Yes. We are in the middle of nowhere.”

“Yeah?” I peer out at oceans of dense vegetation, mist layered between the trees. “Long journey, isn’t it?”

He looks at his phone. “Three hours to go, then another four on the bus.”

“Music to my ears.”

He attempts a laugh. 

“Do you want to talk or something?”

“About what?”

“I don’t know. We can also not talk, if that’s what you prefer.”

“Talking would be nice if my head was clear, and I didn’t feel so unwell. Sorry. I know I’m not bringing a lot of fun on this journey for you. I thought it would be better, but…” he trails off miserably, and I nod. “It’s fine. Been there. We can also just sit.”

“Is it okay for me to say I don’t want to do this kind of thing anymore? I mean, going out and drinking so much and having so many drugs.”

I chuckle. “That’s the classic thing, isn’t it? We always say that, and then a few days later we’re out doing it all again. The circle of life. You mean that now, but I know you.”

“I think I mean it. I’ve had enough. I am tired of being sick and worrying so much about the things I may have said or done. My life has been this way for so many years.”

“Mine too.”

“It ruins everything.”

“Like with that girl last night?”

He chews his lip. “Nothing happened. I was too drunk. She left me to sleep on the couch and I ran away in the morning before she woke up.”

“Oh.”

“And I don’t want things to be like that anymore. I don’t want to feel so stupid. She was a nice person, and I humiliated myself.”

My phone sits hot in my palm, a token of my guilt and stupidity. “Maybe you’re right, then. Maybe we should stop.”

“You think you will?” 

I almost tell him about last night, and the text, and Evie and the reasons I felt driven to, as I so often do when high and lonely, when that innate melancholy I carry creeps in, but I stop myself. I don’t talk about the past with people from my present. There is no point. It’s over, and I have already walked away from it. 

“Yeah, I think I’ll probably have to. I recognise it isn’t doing me any favours.”

A half-smile, then. “What will Elias and Dalia think?”

“Of us going all straight-edge? I dunno. We’ll find out in Berlin.” I stretch my arms and neck, stiff from sitting so long. “I think I’ll walk the corridors for a bit, if you don’t mind.”

“Okay.”

And as I do that, stroll up and down the hallways, peeking into other cabin, using the bathroom, admiring nature from a window at the rear of the train, I consider the good intentions and promises I have made in my life. The girlfriends I promised I’d always care about, the grades I said I’d uphold, the fitness I said I’d reach, the bedroom I said I’d eventually clean, friends I swore I’d stay in touch with… Saying I’ll stop doing drugs is kind of like that, just something said for the sake of saying it, to create a pretence that I’m a person who makes wise or healthy choices without ever intending to follow through. I can’t stand the pressure. I’ll act this way in Thailand for Jonas’ benefit, and feel better for it, knowing in a month I’ll be in the Berghain toilets again, accepting mystery pills from people in latex vests. 

Back in the cabin, he reclines, leafing through his travel guide. “All good?” he says, and I nod. “I think I’ll try to sleep for a bit.”

“Okay then. If you sleep too long, I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

I lay down, my face in the pillow and listen to sounds of pattering rain, squeaky bunks and the pages of the book, and I sleep, deep, sound, all the way to the end of the line.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[whennoodlesformwords]

One JoongDok Order (Arabian Nights AU) To Go

When will I stop posting Joongdok? who knows! its definitely not today tho

wrote this one a while back as a single sentence so lets see where my brain takes me with it today. probably more vague bc im tired but plot bunnies will be plot bunnies

The Meal:

Yoo Joonghyuk is a prince known for rejecting any potential spouse (and his sister, princess yoo mia, is even worse when it comes with weeding out prospective wives and husbands), until a mysterious stranger appears, asking for his hand in marriage, if only Yoo Joonghyuk will hear him out for twenty-four hours

The Twists:

where to start with these, there's honestly so many you could do like

The Classic: Yjh agrees to hear the stranger out, and he regales him with the tales of a naive common man who has the ability to kill himself and restart his life from a different point. Known as a 'Sunfish', yjh is told of the different 1864 lives this man led in an attempt to do everything right - fix his marriage, slaughter those who would harm his family, even going so far as to, in the later half of his 'life', basically speedrun world domination. But he couldn't find out how the best way to live his life was, and constantly kept looking back. Enthralled by this man's tale, and wondering how long this stranger, going by the simple name of Salvation, would end this story. Thus, salvation tells this story for over a year (let's pretend he covers multiple different regressions in a night otherwise these two take at least 5 years to get this done okay) and eventually ends it without telling yjh the ending, because then he proposes as a way to live the man's 'perfect life' away from everything that could ever threaten him (and with the not-so-subtle promise that he'd do everything in his power to keep yjh safe, and it confuses the man so because what power does this stranger have to secure him, the prince, from everything from famine and sickness to an uprising and war?). then, yjh and kdj marry and live happily ever after (but kdj is a slippery little guy so ofc there's stuff in the background and it can't end there but thats another story for another time)

The Funny Annoyance: y'know that insufferable princess yoo mia? well, good luck even getting to yjh if you can't get past her. She decides to probe who this stranger is over the next 24 hours, everything from duels to intelligence tests to undercover servants monitoring his behavior and even resorting to more original methods (think fairy tale like the princess and the pea, a truth serum on an apple (bc she can't kill sadly, that was made a fact after courter no. 47) or even seeing how he reacts to a glass slipper. girl has a list that she made over the years and exhausts. them. all.) The funny part? this stranger passes with the ease of someone much to suspicious and expectant and nonchalant that it makes yoo mia even more concerned than with all the courters who would at least fail past test no. 83. She brings this up with yjh, who also becomes suspicious, and ofc kdj find out and then runs away. like one does. yoo mia and yjh, very confused as to who this man was who passed all these tests and raised their curiosity, in about 24 hours too, has just disappeared? Now needing answers, they hunt down this stranger, only to realize they know nothing about him. thus begins the royal hunt for a man seemingly nobody knows about, and at least 5 years of chaos.

The Royal Flush Cliche: yjh hears out the stranger for 24 hours - from evening to evening. they talk, laugh, and actually become acquaintances, and agree to be friends instead of courting partners once the stranger reveals that he didn't really want to do this but was pushed to talking with yjh from his parents. They part on cordial terms, and yjh starts to like this strange man's company until he receives an invitation to marry the prince of the underworld, or war will be declared. or like a ball invite maybe. depends on the angst. either way, yjh finds out that the stranger, kdj, is actually royalty, in contradiction to his first appearance as a commoner before yjh, and he's glad that he won't have to marry a man he doesn't know, but what do you mean kdj is actually adverse to this marriage and doesn't want to be hitched to him? fuck kdj he'll prove that he's a worthy spouse (yea no idk where i wanted to go with this one but I like the undercover royalty aus so here's a small added one but its classic enough you can just go and run with it lol)

Will probably be busy the next few days so i might switch it up to more established ideas that I might flesh out over the course of a few days and slowly update instead of resorting to like an hour of brain rot and plot brainstorming and wasting time (not wasting its really nice and wonderful to write stuff but in terms of real world productivity its not very efficient unfortunately)

Anyways hope yall enjoyed even if it doesn't look as well put together, and if i put in other ship pairings just know ill be back with my orv fixation soon enough and there'll be plenty of love to go around and i'm just gonna get some of my older ideas out of the way to make more room for newer brainrot (like trimming a hedge so that it grows healthier does that even make sense in this case???)

im tired, i hope you're not, and i wish yall a good day take care of urselves~

[foreststarflaime]

This ask game is kind of banger so how about 🖌 and then M, V, and W for an AGS combo of your choice

Oh it so so is 🫡 coming right up and hehehe I shall do a different combo for each. Collect them all

M. First time they introduced the other as their partner

(Gengeal) After the news of their promotion to First Class, Genesis felt quite high on life, like anything was possible, like he could touch the sky and all his dreams were well within reach. He looked at Angeal, his best friend who had stayed by his side for so long, and felt all that happiness and love bubble up in his heart until it overflowed and he simply had to spin him around and kiss him. Angeal was rather shell-shocked for a few hours after that as he had Revelations: I liked that. I liked that? I um. I like men? I love Genesis fuck

Genesis continued riding that high right through the promotion ceremony and into the party. When Sephiroth came over to offer his congratulations, Genesis promptly reintroduced himself as SOLDIER First Class Genesis Rhapsodos, and his handsome partner Angeal. Angeal turned beet red and struggled to form a coherent sentence with which to scold Genesis for treating him like arm candy.

V. First time they felt insecure/jealous, and how they worked through it

(Sephgen) Sephiroth was of course happy at his best friends’ happiness together, but he couldn’t help but feel a stab of fear that they’d leave him behind (HA I bet you thought this was going to be about Genesis huh. That’s been done enough hehehe). In all the stories he’d heard and read and seen, romance was the highest form of love before which all else paled in comparison and drifted away. He did not want them to drift away from him, selfish though it was. He wished he could make out the mystery of what that love was supposed to feel like. He wished he could love them enough for them to stay.

It was Genesis who confronted him one day in a rage. He demanded to know why Sephiroth had been even more withdrawn as of late, why he seemed to be avoiding their clandestine sparring sessions. Sephiroth clammed up, as was typical of him when faced with feelings, but Genesis was quite adept at drawing strong emotions out of people. Sephiroth. What is my favorite play? He asked after he deduced the origins of Sephiroth’s bad mood. Loveless, of course. And does Loveless not center around three friends? Do you really think I would give up on becoming your equal so easily?

W. First time they realized their relationship is endgame... or isn't

(Sephgeal) The second Angeal met Sephiroth, the stained-glass idol of the hero Shinra had ingrained in Angeal’s mind from a young age shattered irreparably. This was no hero—this was just a bratty kid. A bratty kid who needed him and was lost and scared and who felt so much; whom he very quickly learned to love over their first mission together and more every second since, even more than he’d loved his first idea of him. He loved having him and Genesis as his best friends, was honored to take care of them however they needed.

And then Genesis kissed him, and he realized he never wanted to picture his life not being there at his side. And given a little more time for reflection, he realized he couldn’t picture a future without Sephiroth there, as well.

Sephiroth wasn’t really sure if he could love Angeal back in that way, when he asked him. But he wanted to, of course; he and Genesis were everything to him. When he expressed that, Angeal smiled and asked him if he trusted him. Of course he trusted Angeal—he trusted him fully, in a heartbeat, with his mind and his life.

🖌️ - First character you created, or first character you wrote for

Incinerator I think? Or well I co-created her with @fridgefanatic, long story but we had some very involved stories in elementary school lmao. Basically me as dragon trapped in human form. So me

Never wrote for her tho. Hrgh it’s been so long but the first one I remember writing for was I believe Windwing—he’s a dragon from my long-standing fantasy world, basically the dragon avatar but if the avatar used to be a large group of benders that worked together politically to keep the peace. That part is in dire need of a complete overhaul. Much more interesting was his bestie Scroll who looks like a dragon but made of papyrus bc he’s an animate, sentient collection of knowledge. I liked em freaky and slightly inhuman early I see now looking back lmaoooo

[lupiinist]

i've been on a bit of a dc brainrot for a while, but i also have the non-binary urge to make everything about the marauders, so here i'll be leaving my marauders x dc headcanons

regulus is batman. no, i won't hear anything about it. he didn't lose his parents tho, he lost his brother (sirius' alive, he just doesn't know it yet, lazarus pit, yada yada yada), he grew up with his buttler (not sure if it would be kreacher?) and ends up becoming the dark knight (rich, moved by vengeance, out for blood, but no killing)

james is superman, and i doubt anyone can argue with this one. (look at that man's big brown doe eyes and tell he wouldn't be the biggest superman fan). he was raised by effie and monty, but is the same old kryptonian we know. he rescues kittens on threes, shoots lasers from his eyes and is a big old softie

lily is lois lane. this woman has pulitzers and can change an entire country's point of view about something with 1 (one) column on the planet. she could be the president. she's beautiful. she's smart.

(also, this could be both a clois or superbat situation, doesn't really matter)

remus is jimmy olsen! tired alien bestie, likes to take pictures, wonders how no one else caught on that james is superman because that man can't lie to save his life??? he doesn't even look that different without his glasses??????

back to gotham, narcissa would be batwoman (reg's cousin, full of rage, wearing a bat mask to punch people on the streets? besides, BUFF NARCISSA? yes, please), dating her lovely future wife detective fortescue (alice is montoya, yes), i think she would still be married as narcissa for a while (she Will dump lucius' ass) and go out with alice as batwoman

on the other hand, bellatrix is absolutely harley, i don't think there's even another option? and yes, tom riddle is the joker (ironic for someone called riddle, i know), but who cares about him, honestly?

anyway, rita skeeter is poison ivy!

barty is catwoman, this man steals from the rich people, pisses off his father (crouch sr. would be gordon in this), and gets to flirt with big scary batman (he finds regulus so hot it's a bit pathetic)

pandora is babs, batgirl and future oracle, and i don't know if evan would be the first robin? the timeline in my head couldn't find a kid to be the first robin besides like, nymphadora, but i think circus evan and pandora who lost their parents, and one joined batman while the other became a cop is sort of nice?

on the robin situation, draco is jason todd (it gets progressively more angst the more you think about it), future red hood, and harry would be conner (yes, i know, 'why isn't harry jon?' because i don't want him to be :])

luna would be tim drake. she would one hundred percent manipulate regulus into letting her become robin after the previous robin's death, and she has what it takes to be both a genius and the next ceo of reggie's company. she's just that good.

and last but not least, my favorite ladies:

marlene mckinnon as supergirl, and dorcas meadowes as lena luthor. they hate each other. they find each other hot af. they pin after each other. why aren't they together yet???????

[lcvejoy]

i didn’t know it (at fifteen)

hs! wilbur soot x gn! reader

tw!: talks of eating and food (this story is not ED coded, i promise. pls eat and drink water and take ur meds and take care of urself and ur body). high school au. fluff?. cocky wilbur. implied mute! reader. so incredibly unoriginal.

word count: 663 words

a/n: this has been sitting in drafts literally since i made this account. if this is liked, i’ll turn it into a lil series. i have ideas for more of this story if y’all like it! if not tho, i’ll literally throw it out the window never to be seen again.

there is a boy in the cafeteria who silently hands you a bright red apple everyday at lunch.

he wears wired framed glasses and a knit sweater, his tall frame walks with a slight hunch in his back, he never makes eye contact with you and you’ve never heard his voice.

he always walks past you afterwards - making his way over to a table crowded with people and taking a seat while placing his white lunch tray in front of him. you watch him as he smiles and talks with each person around that table whilst eating his poorly made and far too expensive school cafeteria lunch.

you aren’t sure why he does this. you’ve never spoken to him before and you don’t share any classes. you don’t know his name and you don’t think he knows yours. and yet, everyday without fail, a bright red apple is placed on the corner of the empty table in the back of the cafeteria where you sit.

sometimes you eat it, sometimes you take a few bites, sometimes you don’t even look at it and throw it out the second the lunch bell rings.

sometimes you study the piece of fruit, most times you study him.

you watch him talk and laugh and smile. you almost envy him - his kindness and seemingly bubbly, outgoing, happy-go-lucky nature.

today is no different.

a hand clutching an apple comes into view as you’re staring down at the table. you don’t look up. you wait the usual 7 seconds it takes for him to reach his table before raising your head.

and once you do, you’re met with wire framed glasses and a knit sweater. you’re not sure how you didn’t notice him take a seat infront of you. he’s looking down at his white tray of food - lasagna with slightly burnt edges, green beans straight from a can, and mashed potatoes that mostly likely were once a powder. he’s silently eating, eyes fixed to his food. you look back down at the apple on the corner of the table. you stare at it, wide-eyed, nervously playing with the sleeves of your sweater.

you’re not sure how much time has passed. “are you gonna eat that?” you look up quickly, startled by the sudden voice. he’s looking at you, one eyebrow raised and a finger pointing down at the untouched fruit. “you really should. you never have a lunch with you. but if you aren’t gonna eat it, i will” he states. you only stare.

he smiles at you kindly, still pointing at the apple as he waits for you to respond.

you shake your head.

“suit yourself” he says, shrugging his shoulders as he reaches over to grab the apple and takes a big bite out of the side.

“i’m wil, by the way” he’s speaking with his mouth full, making his words sound muffled.

you stare for a moment, blinking, before reaching into the backpack behind you and pulling out your notebook. you skip through pages of notes and doodles to find an empty page.

‘y/n’ you write, flipping the notebook so he can read it. he leans forward. “y/n?” he repeats. you nod.

“okay y/n” he says, taking another bite of fruit before speaking again, “why don’t you ever have a lunch?”

you shrug your shoulders, but he remains silent as if waiting for the real answer.

you pull the notebook back towards you - ‘i never have time to pack one’ you write, flipping it towards him again.

he hums in understanding.

“i guess i’ll just have to keep bringing you apples” he states, a cocky smirk adorned on his face.

‘you don’t have to’ you write quickly, making your handwriting appear sloppy and rushed.

“i know” he replies, before the lunch bell blares loudly through the cafeteria and students begin rushing to their next classes.

“see you tomorrow” he smiles, standing up and walking away with his lunch tray in hand.

[albert-hatesker]

I dare you to write a story about Wesker's relationship with his closest subordinates, Jill and Chris!! I just heard "Silver Spoon" song in one the random Tiktok edits and man... I can imagine Wesker referring to Chris in the first stanza and then referring to Jill in the second stanza :( Chris probably grew up in that Raccoon City's orphanage so yeah, Wesker could look at it and be like, "ah, so you were an orphan"... and somehow Jill gives me vibes of this "my dad became a soldier and died so I became one to honor him too, even tho my loving mom's worried a lot about me" T-T I'm sorry if I talk too much, this song is my new hyperfixation now...

|| silver spoon - requested

in another life, maybe i was you, and i grew up into something good.

1115 words || sfw, no real tws on this one, but it's definitely not a happy fic.

The air fills with the sounds of chatter, of clinking glasses and pouring liquor, the lighthearted music of a Friday night, friends enjoying themselves, enjoying their time together. Wesker knows he should be happy too - it’s been a relatively normal week, everything has gone according to plan, and even though he wouldn’t have chosen this place, he can’t bring himself to complain. Not when he glances to his side, a half-hearted smile crossing his normally stoic face as his gaze lands on his colleagues. He’s grateful that they invited him along, of course, but something about it feels… wrong. Incredibly so. 

He looks away, focusing on the drink between his hands, fingertips tracing the etchings in the sides of the glass. It’s a grounding motion, something to keep himself focused in the moment even as he feels his mind wander with the moment of safety he finds himself enveloped in. He knows he can’t get close, not in the way he wishes he could. His second skin won’t allow it, the steady-built walls of the walls around a heart he’s not sure he truly has anymore never daring crumble, not even for the people that he supposes he loves, in some way or another. He tells himself it’s simply because one day he’ll have to turn his back on them, that he’s just doing his job and keeping his feelings uninvolved, but when he thinks just a bit too hard he realizes he’s not certain he can care for them the way they do him. 

He goes through the motions like anybody else, can put on a smile so well-rehearsed it almost feels real, and yet something is missing. He glances at the other two again, propping his head up with one hand, studying them the same way he always has, trying to understand just what it is about them that he’s lacking. His gaze lands on Chris first; a loudmouth, a troublemaker, constantly getting under Wesker’s skin in ways he never thought could agitate him. Yet, there’s just something about him that he can never stay angry at. 

The other man has been drinking far too much, goofing off in front of Jill in an attempt to make her laugh. It’s almost childlike, wildly unprofessional for someone of their reputation, but it still makes Wesker crack a smile - even if it’s only barely visible. His own upbringing couldn’t have been all that different, from what he does know about the other man. Chris, too, had grown up without parents, had nobody but his sister against the world, and yet… 

He shakes his head, a minuscule motion that draws no attention from anybody around him. They’d been so similar, and yet Chris has something Wesker cannot even begin to process. He’ll never understand how the younger man can be so carefree, so happy, how he can enjoy his life so readily, as if not afraid that any day could be his last. Perhaps it isn’t an act, perhaps Chris really is content to live in the moment, to just enjoy every day no matter what could be coming next, a possibility that is both puzzling and genuinely unfathomable to the older man, so wrapped up in planning his every move and scheduling every minute as if his life is nothing more than a routine, as if he’s nothing more than a well-oiled machine chugging along to the ebb and flow of the world around him, both above and below the surface of his lies and half-truths. 

His eyes flick to Jill, watching her finally crack beneath the pressure and break into giggles she tries to smother with a false cough, not wanting to encourage Chris’ antics, no matter how entertaining she finds them. The last thing any of them need is to be escorted out - that would be unbecoming of them and their department alike. Wesker can already feel his nerves on edge at the thoughts of trying to suppress that from the press, of trying to defend him and his subordinates from the wrath of Irons in that inevitable conversation, the - 

He catches himself. He’s spiraling again, letting himself tumble down a path of worries he realizes make no sense. Not now, anyway. Jill seems to have it under control, so he lets himself take a breath of relief. She’s more of a mystery to him, to everyone, preferring to keep to herself. He presumes it’s for the same reasons he won’t talk about his own past; whether it be as simple as not feeling like explaining and answering questions or something as complex as knowing that nobody around them would understand. Yet, somehow, he just knows it’s the first. Normal people aren’t raised in a boarding school meant to condition them out of feeling, normal people aren’t afraid to step out of line even as an adult, normal people certainly don’t see the suffering of others and turn a blind eye. He isn’t a normal person, but Jill is, no matter how tough and aloof she may be. He can almost picture the background she may have come from; perhaps a firm father that taught her to be strong, and a loving mother that taught her to still be gentle, to have a perfect balance even as she pursued her goals with ruthlessness he’d come to admire in the time since he first met her. It aches somewhere deep in his chest to imagine, to wonder what kind of man he would have been had he had the same upbringing, had he ever met his parents. 

Would they have loved him? Are they still out there? He sniffles, barely even noticing the tears that he has to blink back, the crack in his stone-cold exterior that he quickly has to cover with emotional mortar as if it had never slipped out to begin with. And yet, he still can’t help but wonder; Do they miss me? Finally, he drags his focus back to the drink in his hands. He knew he shouldn’t have come tonight, but he’d convinced himself that a little time out would make him feel better, had convinced himself that maybe the awkwardness between himself and his colleagues would ease if he only spent more time with them outside of work, but he knows now. He’ll never understand them the way they understand one another, he’ll never understand the hardships that create someone so sweet, so kind, so caring. It burns like bitter bile in his throat, but there’s no point in getting angry, no reason to show how cruel he can be, nothing left to do now but drown the feelings swirling in his chest, just for the night.

[shyfairies]

Hello, can I have a matchup please? :3 Romantic please! A guy please!

When it comes to my type, I go for villians most of the time, they are more interesting for me than heroes. I like total opposites of me! I like dangerous characters hehe

My biggest love language is words of affirmation, I would say "I love you" and stuff like that very often. The second one is probably physical touch I am Leo and ExFJ!

About my appearance: -Around 156 cm height -Chubby -brown eyes -chin length hair with bangs -round glasses

I am pretty social, however I prefer to spend time alone! I care about others a lot… To an unhealthy amount honestly but I'm working on it! I care too much about what others feel and think and it's tiring, I just want to be selfish sometimes and care about myself even if it sounds mean. I am most of the time unserious and I love to joke around, serious situations are stressful so I prefer to be joyful, but I do like talking about serious topics (sometimes) I apologize A LOT, I apologize so much that it might too annoying but I always feel a sense of guilt inside of me. I'm also VERY sensitive and worry about everything. Ah and I'm pretty dumb and I am not trying to insult myself I am just silly hehe and I'm okay with that.

I am very sensitive and its easy to make me cry! Someone can be mad at me a bit and I would about to cry already. Cute things makes me also want to cry… Overall like I said I am very sensitive. I feel guilty about everything 24/7 even if I shouldn't feel guilty thats why I apologize so much. I also have anger issues and its very easy to make me angry.

I love horror and scary things! It excites me a lot

Thank you so much and I hope thats not too much info!

i match you with...♡

☆risotto nero☆

first thought was how cute the height difference would be

i definitely think he would love how small you are compared to him

risotto is pretty down to business most the time but you can tell he really cares about his team

it's the same for you but of course he cares about you most!

you'd unlock a different side in him, lowkey i could see him calling you pet names like "my lover" or "dear" without realizing it and then he'd get embarrassed when he does lol

when he's not busy you guys would often have long talks about anything and everything

he's a GREAT listener omg he could listen to you talk for hours

there's definitely no lying to this man, he will see through any facade you put on

he just wants to help you

sometimes when he's had a hard day he might lose his temper and snap at you

he'd immediately realize what he did when he sees your face and instantly feel so terrible

when you apologize to him it crushes his heart because he knows it's not your fault he's mad

not huge on physical touch but he loves to hold you, especially when you're upset

when it comes to bed time i don't think he'd initiate cuddles but if you end up snuggling up to him there is NO WAY that man is pushing you away

when you guys first get together he'd kind of have to get used to saying i love you alot

but with time there will never be a time you say "i love you" and he doesn't say it back

when you guys are out in public you definitely will get him out of his comfort zone but he likes it

he just loves seeing you happy

however he will immediately notice when your social battery is drained and he'll take you somewhere else

"y/n and i have places to be so we'll be going now"

you might be a little worried about what they think but he'll reassure you that it's okay to take time for yourself

lowkey thinks it's cute when you get mad???

will pummel whatever made you mad tho

like if anyone touches you they're done

tends to make insensitive jokes and doesn't realize they're insensitive until he sees the look on your face and the wave of guilt will just wash over him

you might have to give him a lil slap

"sorry amore"

doesn't really care for movies but will watch them with you if you ask

i could see you guys doing matching halloween costumes and him being like "this is so stupid" and you're standing there with a big smile on your face

he just loves you and will do anything to keep you safe and happy❤️(even if he has a hard time showing it)

p.s. OKAY that was my first time writing for risotto so i really hope it's okay😭 i haven't watched part 5 in quite a bit so if it's inaccurate you have my sincerest apologies❤️

[lateniteghostie]

The Next Prince Episode 5 spoilers/thoughts

Decided I’m gonna liveblog but all in one post lol. About to start the new ep but I have seen the collar gifs so I kinda know some of what’s coming.

Oohhh Ramil being a jerk right off the bat. Considering what happened last ep I suppose it’s to be expected but am I weird for wanting them to be friends??

Yeeaahhh Ava’s dad being like gender is irrelevant - damn right you tell ‘em!

Oh shit they’re adding all kinds of activities to this competition situation. Man what the hell? That seems like a lot of work for someone to win the throne for their dad instead of themselves. Make the old men do it!!

Zeeeeeeeee with glassesssss ahahdjdd

NET I love him so much 😭 he was so good in Bed Friend and I am so excited to see him again. I think JJ is cute too so I’m excited to see them together~

Ohhh the classic giving someone your handkerchief move~ now he’s gonna have to return it somehow~

Oh that was fast lol. They’re classmates!

Damn that’s a fancy ass university.

Awww Khanin is sulky cause he misses Charan 😭 poor Chakri he’s doin his best

Oh nooooo he’s even making Chakri go naaaaaa~ dkdkdkkd I love this butler he’s amazing.

Lololol poor Chakri 😭 chasing him around skdkdkd

Man I LOVE some of the cinematography in this show. The way they transition from the art studio to the bedroom with the turn of Paytai’s head… and the sort of melancholy wailing violins… giving me shivers.

LOL BUSTED

ahhh Charan’s lil smirk when Khanin says he was just passing by… like uh huh sure you were lol

The girls are fighting.

Damn Zee is such a master at the stoic character that shows zero emotion but somehow you still know he’s irritated.

Honestly Chakri deserves some kinda extra compensation for having to put up with this troublemaker lol. He has to attend class too.

Charan trying not to laugh at Khanin’s apple 😭

Ugh Zee drawing in his robe and glasses skdkdkd

Don’t mind this shitty picture of my TV but just how can someone be so pretty? Sheesh. And the lighting? He looks like a classical painting himself.

Can’t stop thinking about his boy tho.

UH OH Ramil is not pleased. I don’t know how I feel about him. He’s got this dangerousness about him that is really hot but I’m also worried about Paytai he seems scared out of his mind 😩

The almost kiss oof.

OKAY HERE WE GO. The collar has a leash too. Now that is hot. LISTEN. As long as it’s all consensual I am here for this level of kink.

Stole his coach how rude.

Khanin is such a lil schemer. He’s like I don’t give a fuck what orders Charan is trying to follow I’m gonna use my cute face and charm to get my king of a grandfather to give me what I want. Then Charan can’t use that as an excuse to be super formal with him akdkdkd

Grandpa’s like yeah okay can’t deny he’s the best for the job lol.

OH. I am not a bargaining chip. That’s such a good line and he’s right I really feel like Khanin is just doing what he wants without considering Charan’s position and feelings. Like I get it, he’s the only one Khanin feels close to and obviously there are ~feelings~ but I just think he needs to be a little more careful.

Oh boy why isn’t the whole show just these two and their emotionally charged scenes?? It’s everything I want 😭

But why does Charan not fence in front of others? Did I misunderstand that or…?

AH oh no his cute lil smile he’s happy!!! Despite his emotionless expression Charan is happy about this situation ah that makes me feel better. I couldn’t tell because he was being so distant but no he’s just trying to hold back and that’s a different thing entirely…

THEY FOUND DAD. I can’t remember his name so he’s just dad to me lol.

HAHAHA making him do a WORK OUT.

I am DYING at the blinking from Khanin and Chakri immediately gets the message lolol he’s faking it the lil menace.

Are you sure you want that? Ohhhh Charan’s about to get serious 👀

OHHH injured for real!

Don’t drop me lol.

THAT PREVIEW AUGH.

Okay I am officially here for more kinky times but also I am just LOVING the dynamic between Khanin and Charan. Like Khanin is just out here being like why can’t you be by my side? And Charan is trying SO HARD to stay appropriate and formal and follow his orders and the traditions but he really wants to just give in and it’s sooooo augh making me crazy!

Er okay I dunno if I’m gonna keep doing this for every episode though because it slows me wayyyy down and I’m an impatient mfer so. But it was fun to try it out!

[take-taker-taken]

can you do ABA!taker x plus size!reader it’s her birthday and she was looking forward to spending it with him. But when she woke up he was at work so she was upset and crying the whole morning. Taker makes it up to her tho please.

Thank you for the Ask! I tried, but just couldn’t have a birthday girl in tears the whole morning 🥺 - I hope you like!

Birthday Girl

A shaft of sunlight slants through the drapes and tickles your face, pulling you out of sleep and you roll over to look at the clock, which reads 8am. You smile and stretch, for once not minding a relatively early wake up on a weekend because today is different. You’ve been looking forward to your birthday for weeks because you know he’s going to make it special. He’s not laying beside you but there’s nothing unusual there - he normally gets up early and heads straight down into his gym. You sit up and cast your eye around the room, seeing nothing out of place so you shrug the duvet off and climb out of bed.

After a quick shower there’s still no sign of him and so you pull on some jersey shorts and one of his big Harley Davidson t-shirts, shimmying it down over your generous curves. You call his name as you head down the stairs but there’s no response - it really does seem awfully quiet. There’s no sign of life in the kitchen - not so much as the coffee machine cooling and so you flick that on and wander around, thinking he’ll maybe have left a card propped up somewhere, or a little gift.

But there’s nothing.

All the blinds are open in the kitchen and the living room and you spot an empty glass in the sink so with a small smile you head downstairs to the gym, thinking at least you’ll get to see him all sweaty and working out. You open the door to complete darkness and another silent room. You flick the light on just in case he’s sat there in the dark but of course he’s not so you pull the door closed again and head back to the kitchen, feeling dejected.

The coffee machine is gurgling as you pull down a mug and grab the cream from the fridge and then you have a thought and wander to the hallway. Sure enough, his keys are gone from the bowl on the side stand. You do a little jump and head back to the kitchen where you serve yourself the coffee and grab your phone from the table, knowing now that he must have headed out to pick up breakfast as a treat. And… yup! There’s a voicemail from him right there. You dial into it and wait impatiently while the robot-voice tells you that you have one new message and then…

“Hey, baby. I just *crackle crackle* and *crackle clunk crackle crackle* by *crackle clunk* that work *clunk crackle crackle clunk* important so *crackle clunk* oon *crackle* an. Bye.”

The message cuts off and you stand there as your stomach drops. One word that had come through from the static-riddled mess loud and clear… work.

He’s gone to work?

Without saying anything or even waking you.

On your birthday.

You sink into a chair and stare down into your mug, the image before you blurring as tears form in your eyes. He went to work on your birthday. You gulp half the liquid down around the ache in your throat as you hold back a crying fit. You grit your teeth and call him, intending to give him a piece of your mind but the call goes straight to answerphone. You hang up before the beep because if you try to leave him an angry message you know you’ll just cry instead.

You shift in your seat to avoid the sunlight streaming through the window - it’s an irritant now rather than a pleasure. What if he went to work because he forgot about your birthday altogether? No, no he can’t have because you were talking about it only the other day. You shake your head to reinforce your thought. He hasn’t forgotten.

“He didn’t forget.” You say out loud to the empty room. “He just went to work instead.”

You sigh, get up and go to the cupboard to pull out of a box of cereal, all thoughts of a special breakfast forgotten. You work your way through a bowl in mechanical fashion and then feeling flat decide to go back to bed and sleep the day away. Better than sitting around moping. You get to the bedroom, pull the drapes closed against the cheerful brightness outside and hide away under the duvet.

————————

A door slams and jolts you awake and then you hear him.

“Babe? Baby where are you?”

The memories of this morning descend and you don’t know whether to feel happy he’s home, or angry and upset still that he went. You don’t really trust yourself to respond and so you just wait for a few minutes while he’s looking around downstairs for you. Shortly, you hear his footfall on the stairs and then in seconds he’s in the room just as you’re sitting up. He’s in blue jeans, bandana protruding from a back pocket, and one of his Deadman Inc. shirts - he’s been to work, alright.

“There’s my birthday girl. Baby, I’m so sorry I’m late - I know I was supposed to be back a couple hours ago.” You glance at the clock and it’s just coming up to noon - seems you didn’t sleep the day away after all. He leans down and drops a soft kiss on to your lips, his expression clouding with concern when you don’t respond. “Sweetheart, are you OK?”

“You went to work.” You say quietly. “You just left without saying anything.”

His head drops a little and he takes a seat on the bed. “I know baby, and I shouldn’t have. It was just so early when the call woke me and you were so peaceful that I didn’t want to disturb you. I was only supposed to be gone a couple hours, like my message said. I was sure I’d be back before you’d even opened your eyes.” He holds up your phone that he’s brought up from the kitchen counter and you can see a dozen missed calls from him on the screen. “You did pick up my message, didn’t you?”

“It didn’t come through properly. Just mostly static so I barely heard anything.”

He shifts on to the bed properly and puts his arm around you. “I should have just woken you,” he says. “I called you from the parking lot - my message said that work had called me because we had to redo some promos after some tape got damaged. I told them that we had to be quick because your birthday was important and that I’d be home as soon as I could.” He looks around the room and then kisses the top of your head. “I should at least have left your card out for you to find. I’m such an ass.”

“Yeah, you are.” You reply, leaning your head against his arm. “I really thought you ran out on me.”

“I’m sorry, I really am. Can we start the day again?” He says with a small smile and you nod. “Thank you. Now, happy birthday, angel.” He kisses your lips, drawing it out into a tease before pulling back and standing up off the bed. He goes to the wardrobe and opens it and you gasp with a smile lighting your face as half a dozen heart-shaped balloons emblazoned with birthday messages float out and up to the ceiling. You stretch your hand out and so he drags them over to you and you slip the small plastic tag over your finger so that you can bounce them up and down in the air.

He returns to the cupboard and emerges with a large teddy bear that’s holding (oh, OK it’s taped to its paws) a large white envelope that he hands over. You carefully remove the card and then the tape, which you stick to the leg of his jeans for him to pick off and put into the trash can. You run your fingers over the blissfully soft material of the bear’s head and tuck it under one arm as you open the envelope. On the front of the card is a photo of two kittens, one tabby and one black, both gazing adorably into the camera and a big ‘Happy Birthday’ message. You giggle as you imagine him taking this to a counter and paying - especially with his image - and then open it.

Happy Birthday, my angel

I love you to the stars and back

(further than the moon, y’know)

Me xxx

Tears threaten to cloud your eyes for all the right reasons this time and you look up at him. “Thank you,” you say with a smile. “It’s beautiful.”

He smiles back and holds a hand out. “There’s more, but you gotta come downstairs.”

Eagerly you throw the duvet off and take his hand, the balloons bobbing around above both your heads and then clutching your card and the teddy bear you head from the room. This time when you reach the kitchen there’s a beautifully decorated cake on the table, bearing (unlit) candles and your name.

“Where’d that come from? It wasn’t in the fridge this morning.”

He takes the bear from you and sits it on one of the dining chairs and then stands the card up on the table. “I ordered it from the bakery in town - picked it up on my way back. Go sit down.”

You take a seat at the table and lean over to see the cake better while he leaves the room for a moment and when he returns he’s carrying a large bouquet of roses in all different colours and a small pile of wrapped parcels.

“Happy birthday,” He says again, bending down to give you another kiss before handing you the flowers and setting the packages on the table in front of you.

You blush, feeling thoroughly spoiled and cradle the bouquet as you seek out the card and the hand-written message in his own writing:

Beautiful flowers for the most beautiful woman!

“They’re amazing, thank you - do you have anything I can put them into?” You’re surprised when he nods.

“Flower store sold me a vase - it’s in one of the cupboards.” He takes a seat across from you. “Go ahead and open your gifts, sweetheart.”

You reach for the biggest parcel which is squishy and tear into the paper to reveal a black Harley Davidson hoodie and you hug it to yourself gleefully. You take the opportunity to check the label, because receiving clothes always makes you a little bit nervous but of course he’s picked out a size that you’ll be happy with.

“I know it’s headed into summer and so probably not the right weather for a hoodie, but I just couldn’t pass it up when I saw it.” He says with a shrug and you stand up and lean over for a kiss.

“It’s perfect, thank you! Means I won’t have to steal yours anymore. Though I probably will.”

He laughs and pushes the smallest gift towards you. “Now this one.”

You open the small box to reveal a gorgeous pair of hoop earrings, each with a clear gem embedded that sparkles in the light. You look up at him. “Are those…”

“Diamonds?” He finishes for you. “Yup, they are. I figured when you wear your hair up they’d look real nice sparklin’ around.”

You touch them carefully, stroking the tips of your fingers over the precious stones. “I… I don’t know what to say! I mean, thank you - obviously!”

“You’re welcome, baby. I can’t wait to see you in ‘em.” He pushes a medium-sized square box towards you. “Next one.”

You dig a nail into the paper and tear off a corner to reveal a flash of bright yellow. Curiosity piqued, you rip the rest off to find a box of Jacque Torres chocolates and you giggle. “You remembered my favourites!”

There’s one parcel left and you have no idea what it could be. Your first guess is maybe a watch, but the box isn’t quite wide enough for that. You take the paper off carefully this time and a plain back box sits beneath.

“I wasn’t completely sure about this, so it’s a bit of a wild card,” He says, making your brow furrow with interest. You open the long-ish, thin box and then gasp, snapping it closed again and stare at him. “Do you like it?”

You don’t say anything, just open the box again and peer at the contents. “Are they…?”

He nods. “They are.”

You set the box on the table and gently lift the leather-covered clips before taking out the diamond tennis bracelet and staring at it in wonder. “Will you put it on me?”

“Sure. Gimme your wrist, there.” You obediently hold out your arm and watch as the tip of his tongue pokes between his lips in concentration as his large fingers work the catch. Once done, he lifts your hand and kisses the back of it and then you turn it this way and that, watching the diamonds sparkling against your skin.

“I don’t know what to say… this is too much.”

“Hey, it’s your birthday - I’m allowed to spoil you if I want.”

You get to your feet and walk around the table, so he pushes his chair out to meet you and catches you around your soft waist. It’s a rare moment that you have to bend down to kiss him and so that’s what you do, taking the opportunity to run your fingers over his hair.

“Thank you,” you say again, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him fiercely.

“You’re welcome, baby. Now, I know it’s your birthday but will you do one thing for me?”

You lean back and give him a curious smile. “Sure… I think.”

One of his hands slips down on to your butt and he quirks an eyebrow at you. “I want you to go upstairs and put those earrings on… and take everything else off… and wait for me in the bedroom. I’m gonna cut a big piece of that cake and bring it on up - and then we’re gonna have a little birthday fun, OK?”

You blush and kiss him again. “Definitely OK,” you reply and wriggle out of his hold. “I’ll be waiting - don’t take too long or I might start without you.”

You back away towards the door and he stands up. “Race ya.”

Giggling, you flee from the room and up the stairs, knowing that the birthday fun is just beginning.

END.

[thedroneranger]

The Drone Ranger's Be Kind Rewind ⏪ gretagerwigsmuse Edition!

A rec reblog series dedicated to the fics that we love so much, we've re-read them!

Our next Rewind is: @gretagerwigsmuse! Jordan, I'm so thrilled you wanted to participate in this series—thank you 🖤 I am also excited because there are quite a few creators that haven't been mentioned yet! We're spreading the love!

While we continue to churn out amazing new content, let's be kind and rewind to look at some of the OG content we love! And don't forget to reblog when you re-read! Continue to show your comfort fics and favorite creators some love. It helps keep the fresh content coming :)

Let's keep this going throughout the summer. If you're interested in participating in the Be Kind Rewind, message me. The more, the merrier!

If you want to know when a new Rewind drops, join the tag list, and check out previous Rewinds!

Also, Jordan is a true Bradshaw Baddie™, so this is a Bradshaw-only Rewind!

fics below the cut (listed in alphabetical order by title)

‘cause no one breaks a heart like you, @heartsofminds i genuinely think loren ruined my life with this fic. like no exaggeration i SOBBED reading it the first time and it leaves an ache in my heart just thinking about it again! the reader here is so real to me, like i see myself in so much of her and her mannerisms and character traits and just want to love her and tell her it’s going to be okay. and then bradley??? god i can’t hate him. i really can’t hate him because he IS good and kind he’s just - he’s my this is me trying boy and i can’t wait to see what loren does with him next 

days like this, @sometimesanalice oh my god this fic really hits the spot for me. alexa you already know how much i love this fic. it’s sweet and smutty and soft and sad and beautiful and just is everything i’d ever want in a relationship. alexa’s readers, sweet girl in particular, are so real and have so much depth that they come right off the page and into my heart. through alexa’s writing, the reader’s struggles, despite not being something i’ve ever personally dealt with, were so easy for me to resonate with? and i just wish that whenever i had a shitty day i had a bradley as sweet and kind and supportive as hers to help me feel like i’m living in a van morrison song 

halo effect, @bradshawsbitch oh damn. this is a smutty smutterson kind of fic! BUT alex treats their relationship with so much respect and care. i’m naturally kind of wary of power imbalance relationships in fics, but alex made this feel real and plausible and that it was built on trust and respect. the repeated mentions of the conversations the two have re their relationship really made this fic for me and i think about it….often haha

in another life, @jupitercomet similar to loren’s fic, this fic (and series) hits so so close to home for me. i love how bugs tackles mental health in this one and honey’s very real reason for not thinking she should have kids. the relationship between bradley and honey - though not without its faults - is based on so much love and respect. the two of them imagining another life where they have kids and have this completely different future together is so bittersweet and soft 

inconceivable, @roleycoleyreccenter i feel like i cry reading half the fics on this list, but this is another one of those ‘i was crying so hard i had to get up in the middle of reading this to get a tissue and blow my nose’ fics. i love how much love they have for one another, but how stubborn the reader is (it’s not her fault tho!) and that bradley is so patient and kind and listens to her and knows her and her body and little idiosyncrasies (and the flight paths be draws on her back and singing love of my life and the fucking BINDERS and his READING GLASSES). i read this one a lot when i need a good cry but also a happy ending

miss you most…at christmas time, @notroosterbradshaw so obviously i love bradley and love from the boyfriend experience series, but this is absolutely my favorite entry from that series and i go back to it when i get too sad reading slow dancing in a burning room. this is one of those fics that feels so human and raw to me because it must be so hard to not have your husband around during the holidays, but tack on being a very very new mom? and your husband hasn’t even met your child yet?? god queue the waterworks! they’re so in love with each other and so irked by that damn navy and just want to be their own little family for the holidays!

new rules, @sushiwriterhere i love this trope so much and it’s done so well in this fic! bradley and the reader are ‘friends with benefits’ or so the reader thinks and wait actually do we go on friend dates or do we just spend all this time together because we’re in love?? i want soft tipsy warm bradley around me all the time 

the one where they go camping, @ofstoriesandstardust this is my favorite one of kylie’s fics off my favorite series of hers, flight risk. it’s so fun seeing sunshine and bradley pining after each other even in college and the whole uva crew is so awesome. like there is BED SHARING in this! i repeat BED SHARING! and longing glances and impromptu cooking lessons and lusty (respectful) stares in bathing suits and tears and misunderstandings. it’s just so cute i love it

you left your name on my lips, @blurredcolour honestly, this fic GUTTED me the first time i read it. i genuinely had to stop in the middle of reading it to text alexa to read it too. i just loved how realistic everything was like the level of detail that went into it was unreal! i went to college in dc and absolutely felt like i was back there during certain parts. and the letters?? oh my god the letters!!! bradley bradshaw you are a dreamboat in this fic 

wish you were here (part 1, part 2), @pisupsala i know a lot of people have recommended ‘one for the history books’ (would like to shout out that i was an og reader on that one tyvm!), but this two parter of bradley and darcy is my absolute favorite. i just am continuously in awe of their relationship and how real it feels to me? i love that not everything is perfect and happy go lucky all the time just because they’re together now? like darcy is allowed to be mad bradley isn’t around a lot to help her settle into their new house, they’re both allowed to be fallible and to me that’s what makes this the perfect series and fic? they’re real and honest and they love each other so fucking much and hang shelves together in the living room and fly halfway across the country to be there for their wife. they’re one of my fave oc/reader couples

Creator’s Own 

i have a huge soft spot for my fic (christmas) baby please come home. in addition to being an amazing darlene love song, i really liked exploring a different side of bradley and smart aleck’s relationship in this fic and felt like this was one of the first times i’ve really gotten into her head. plus, i love a good party and this one was so fun to map out ☺️ it’s also the start of a new era for bradley and smart aleck and one i’m continuing with my next fic rocketman! 

Tag list and friends: @petcr3 @desert-fern @Sagittarius-Lovewitch @mygyn @sweetwhispersofchaos @horseshoegirl @the-annoying-fan @dingochef @moon42flight @thecitysgraveyard @ereardon @roosterforme @cherrycola27@galaxy-of-stories@taytaylala12 @malindacath @violyn20 @awildewit @potato-girl99981 @shanimallina87 @blue-aconite @djs8891 @linkpk88 @furiousladyking @daggerspare-standingby @princess76179 @jstarr86 @hecate-steps-on-me @darkheartcherry @soulmates8 @roosters-girl @dempy @roosterisdaddy36 @hangmanscoming @s-u-t @mavrellover91 @chicomonks @averyhotchner 

A kind reminder, this is a 18+ blog. While not all stories in the recommendation list are 18+, please respect boundaries and do not interact unless you are 18 years of age or older.

[resin-popia]

Hello!! Your Copia doll is coming along beautifully! The paint is so realistic. Like his bottom lip has texture I have no idea how you do it! Your project got me really curious about doll work myself!! 🫣 but I have no idea where to begin. I have a few questions to start out with-

1. Could you summarize the overall process? What are the general steps from start to finish?

2. What general materials do you need?

3. What paint do you use? What brushes/applicators do you use? How did you achieve those softer/blended contour lines, like in skin tone? If that makes sense. I see some others’ projects that you can clearly see paint lines or the texture of the paint they used, but your Copia almost looks airbrushed!! :0

4. How does putting in the hair work?

5. Where do you buy your base doll? And as far as the reveal in the ~bonus picture~, did he come anatomically correct or was that something you had to add? 👀

6. Where do you recommend buying supplies?

Thank you in advance! 🙏 and happy customizing!

Long Post Incoming💀💀💀💀💀

Thanks for all the fantastic questions! Whether you work on playline vinyl dolls like Monster High or Resin Ball Jointed Dolls, the process is the same. The only difference between them is that with the vinyl dolls you are painting the eyes on yourself. Resin Popia has inset glass and resin eyes.

My tag #Resin Popia BTS has all my Behind the Scenes stuff and progress photos.

All the questions answered below the cut!

1. Could you summarize the overall process? What are the general steps from start to finish?

I will be uploading some vids soon. Try this one first tho.

When you do a faceup, it is a collaboration between you and the sculptor. The sculpture does most of the work. You are bringing the deep parts of the sculpture deeper and the forward parts more forward.

Basically this:

photograph and disassemble doll

wash doll pieces with dawn dish soap and warm water. dry all parts I want to paint.

three coats of Mister Super Clear UV Cut (MSC) sealant on each piece, with a 20 min dry time between coats.

deep freckle/blood vessel texture (optional) with red, blue,brown waterey gouache, spray MSC

dark reddish pink chalk pastel pigments in the deep creases/crevices, areas of blood flow. Correct work with kneaded eraser.

after every layer of pigment that I like, I do another spray of MSC.

lighter pinks or tans (based on skin tone references) on things I want to bring forward (brows, nose tip, cheekbones), another pass in the deep areas, new color on the lips. spray seal

Detail with fine lines under eyes, line texture on lips, wrinkles, lower eyelashes. Check references and experiment. A touch of green in the deepest part of the skull on either side of the nose. You know, where you get sinus headaches.

Pray to Satan and cry as I add eyebrows and hair details with gouache. I start by mapping the brows out with dark chalk pastel then do hairstroke lines with gouache. Personally I am super heavy -handed with my brushes, I need to work on that.

When happy, 2 final coats of MSC

Add Vallejo gloss varnish to water lines of eyes and lips.

2. What general materials do you need?

FYI I have been in this hobby for about 7 years. I have only had to replace Mister Super Clear cans and respirator cartidges in that time. Everything else I have used for nearly a decade. And also used them for other projects!

#1 item you need: a proper serious respirator. You will be at risk of inhaling toxic chemicals when you work with sealants or do any sort of dry sanding. Please please please invest in this item.

Mr. Super Clear UV Cut sealant spray. This gives the resin or vinyl a toothy surface to apply pastel pigments, watercolor pencil, and gouache paint on. The techniques will not work without this surface.

The sealant also behaves like skin, which is made up of several layers of matte cells So the pigment you apply to the resin is suspended in layers just like real skin.

Chalk Pastels I like the mungyo hand-rolled chalk pastel just because when you use a razor to scrape off some pigment it crushes up and mixes better. But any chalk pastel will do. The Xanthi video I will link later has a great idea of just buying a few chalks at a time, because to be honest I don't use all of my chalk.

Small nylon brushes.

A fan brush

A tooth brush (for skin texturing/freckles)

Crappy dollar store makeup brushes (for pigment powders)

Kneaded Erasers

White cloth gloves

ceramic dish for a palette

Some people use watercolor pencils, but I never got the hang of them. I prefer just using brushes. Everyone has their own thing they do.

Paint recs in Next Question

3. What paint do you use? What brushes/applicators do you use? How did you achieve those softer/blended contour lines, like in skin tone?

Goache paint dries flat and matte. It's basically opaque watercolor. I use a damp q-tip to remove it if I make a mistake.

Winsor-Newton is great. I am pleasantly surprised by Arteza's gouache. I have used the same gouache tubes for seven years. You put like a raindrop sized bit on a ceramic dish, that's it. And you can reconstitute gouache endlessly with just a little water.

The trick is to never EVER EVER use true black. nothing is true black unless it's makeup. I use gouache paint on Resin Popia's eye makeup but then soften it with black pastel powder to make it richer.

If you use true black it looks like mud or holes. Dark purples, browns, and greens.

Also don't be afraid to be a bit louder with the colors, the sealant mutes them a lot. Just work slowly and take breaks.

4. How does putting in the hair work?

For resin dolls, you need to make a wig. They are a PITA to make, but it's possible! Check out Mozekyto for how to make wigs. (I'll have more recommended videos further down this post.) Vinyl playline dolls you can reroot, but some people prefer wigs.

5. Where do you buy your base doll? And as far as the reveal in the ~bonus picture~, did he come anatomically correct or was that something you had to add? 👀

The same techniques can use used on vinyl dolls like Rainbow High, Monster High etc. You can get them at goodwill, big box stores, and on ebay. Lots of people sell old toy dolls.

Resin Ball Jointed Dolls are a lot more expensive, so I have spent several years slowly building up my collection. I love vinyl and resin dolls equally.

I bought my base doll from Alice Collections acbjd.com they are a vendor of many resin dolls. I absolutely love Resinsoul.

My favorite doll companies (find them on Alice Collections!) are IslandDoll, Resinsoul, Dollmore, MyouDoll, DollLeaves, 5StarDoll.

Resin Popia is MSD "Mini Super Dollfie" size aka 40cm-52cm. He's 52 cm. SD (Super Dollfie) is around 60-65cm.

I have owned dolls that were considered "prestige artist dolls" in the past, but I always end up selling them because they are so precious I'm afraid to ruin them so they just become dollar signs to me instead of something I love. I'd say $300 would get you a gorgeous resin doll and some clothes for them. Saving up for a doll you really really love is worth it in the end. People also sell used dolls on Instagram. Just please make sure to check the COAs.....

Important Note: I am a Pro-Artist legit BJD collector. AliExpress, Etsy, and Ebay have bootleg dolls that yes, are significantly cheaper, but that is because they steal from the artists that did 99% of the work (and spent tons of their own money) to develop the doll's appearance and engineering. If one cares about supporting artists they should consider the ramifications of purchasing these recasts and propagating the bootleggers. (Especially since a large part of the artist BJD community is from Russia and Ukraine, who have been lately hard hit by war and YET are still making beautiful art for the world to enjoy) I am not pro-bullying though, I am Pro-Education so if anyone wants to have a private, frank conversation about recasts in the BJD hobby feel free to message me.

One silly thing that happened once was I purchased a legit IslandDoll Bru (IslandDoll is always on sale TBH) that was actually cheaper than its recast on ebay. There are a lot of sales during Chinese holidays (11/11, Lunar New Year, Fall Festival) and you usually get a lot of extras like free eyes, beautiful carrying cases, incredible boxes, etc. Resinsoul, the "cheap" BJD company often gives you a gorgeous carrying case for your doll.

Ok enough with the disclaimers now onto doll d!cks haha

Resin dolls are usually realistic when it comes to parts. Realistic in the fact that they add something there...something simple but it's there. Resin Popia has option parts made of silicone that are actually from an action figure company called TB League. Look up "TB League Option Parts" on Ebay. The figures are 1/6 scale making the parts scary and massive at 1/6 scale but funnily enough they make sense at 1/4 scale.

IDK why i got em, I just wanted to have some fun with this doll.

6. Where do you recommend buying supplies?

If you can get to a local hobbyshop that sells models (like miniatures and wargaming figures) please support them first! As vital spaces for geek culture they need all of our support. You can get tiny brushes, Model Paints and sometimes even the sealant from them. Just call ahead they can work something out for you!

Chalk Pastels, Gouache paints I get from art supply stores and as a last resort, Amazon. I use these supplies in other art projects and you will quickly get addicted to gouache painting, i'm sure of it!

Great Videos/Resources

Xanthi's Minimalist Supply List

Xanthi's Male Realistic Faceup (I watch this one so much)

Youtube Channels I like: Enchanterium, Dollymotion, Dollightful, Lomi's Playground, Xanthi

This Book is Great: How to Rock at BJD Faceups

I am answering your additional questions in the comments if you have any! I am @anamelessfool

[loud-kid2]

Since you asked:

Do the events of Mario Sunshine still involve the Magic Paintbrush and FLUDD?

What is E. Gadd like in the AU? (And by extension Polterpup and Gooigi?)

What are Wario and Waluigi like?

What does Dryad Peach look like?

Does she have a castle?

Can the bros feel any touch to their coats while in human form?

If their coats get damaged while in human form, do said injuries show up on the human bodies too?

They probably can't, but have the bros ever gotten curious and tried to use each other's coats to transform?

Since selkies who have had their coats taken away tend to run and never return upon getting it back, why did Mario go back to Isle Delfino after a few hours? Was it because Peach's plane (assuming she still has it) let him leave faster? Or was it because he had no idea how to swim home?

How do the bros feel about cooked seafood (calamari, takoyaki, etc)?

Were there any difficulties during the time when they had yet to internalize what being a selkie meant? (As in, they had gotten the explanation but still saw themselves as humans who had merely gained a strange power)

Since Kamek caused the transformation, could he reverse it?

How long max can they stay in human form without being taken over by the instinct to be in their true form? And what is the farthest they can be away from their coats?

What are some currently still umentioned characters like in your AU?

Yes Mario Sunshine still features FLUDD and the paintbrush

E. Gadd is still obsessed with the paranormal, the only difference is he's a shape-shifter, his preferred form is an old man (nobody knows why) and Gooigi is still the same as in canon just with a coat tied around his waist

I have not thought about them since I don't like them that much (if you have ideas please share)

This is visually the closest to what I imagine Dryad Peach to look like

Photo is from a webtoon comic called Mythed Up btw and I highly recommend it

She's more plant than person but by far is the most human looking than any of the Toads, her hair is more like roots and her clothes are actually a part of her body. Her color pallette is a peachy pink with some pops of yellow here and there (mostly on her cap)

Technically she does have a castle, it's just made entirely of plants except for the stained glass window.

If they are currently wearing them yes because they're gonna feel somebody touching them but if they've left it somewhere they won't feel it per say but they will get an off feeling until the person stops touching it

No they have not tried transforming with each others' coat

They aren't too sure about that since they are pretty well forced to change into seal form because fixing the coat by sewing it up does not work. They are forced to go through the entire healing process in seal form since they do not want to risk whatever could happen if they change into human form. They do know any injury that occurs in human form will transfer to their seal form (and coats) tho.

Peach doesn't have a plane (they got there by boat) but he did return to go with everyone despite every cell in his body telling him to not go back and just swim home. He's never going back after that tho

They enjoy it, it saved their asses so many times during their attempt to return to a normal life. They enjoy it much more post Selkie-ification, but they can and will eat raw seafood if need be

It took them suffering in Brooklyn for a bit to really grasp that they are no longer humans, they were in heavy denial.

Yes he probably could, it's just a matter of would he actually do that

The max is a week, after that they cannot stay in human form without getting really anxious and snappy. The farthest they can be from their coats has changed overtime, at first they could barely stand being away from their coats for too long but as they got more used to their new normal it can be left decently far away without the two of them becoming anxious

I haven't thought of that actually (mostly because I don't know that many characters)