#modest teacher outfit

[crayonverse]

yu jin-ju !!!! yippie

i wanted 2 think of a cool look 4 him but im not a big fan of the how the outfit looks . i do like the colors but i might add some more black

[seiwas]

hihi sel! for your trope mashup game: bedsharing + teacher au featuring satosugu! (or any ship of your choice, really bahaha)

bitti!! thanks for playing with me 🥹 u need to know. this took me tf out 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 thanks for bouncing around these ideas w me babie @mieiri

"looks like we'll have to cuddle tonight," gojo plops down on the foot of the bed, hands outstretched behind him.

you drop your bag to the floor, scanning the rest of the room.

there's a decently sized window at the far end, with a small desk and its own chair. to your immediate right is the bathroom, with a single sink, a small shower space, and a toilet. the space is okay, not too big and not too small considering the two giants you’re rooming with.

except, there’s one problem. when your eyes pan to the left, right up against the wall—

there's only one bed.

you can hear geto chuckling behind you, his leather jacket crinkling as he walks around the room.

there was supposed to be a couch at least. that's what your faculty had promised you. it's why you agreed to room with geto and gojo in the first place.

"dibs not middle," geto settles into the seat right at the end of the room.

they both look at you.

oh god.

this professor's retreat was initiated by your college in an effort to mingle with your colleagues from the other departments. not that you needed it to get to interact with gojo and geto, you know each other enough from the weekend martial arts classes you attend together.

that being said, though, knowing them from a shared class is a far different relationship from being comfortable enough to sleep beside them.

between coinciding schedules with the physics department and later time slots of the molecular biology classes, the chemistry classes you teach leave almost no opportunity for you to pass them in the hallways.

which, is honestly kind of a good thing.

you don't think you can handle seeing them even more than you already do on the weekends; gojo dressed in tight compression shirts and geto in those sickeningly fitted vests. how sweaty they both end up after sparring with one another—

"i'll take the floor," you announce, heat firing your cheeks as you immediately rifle through the cabinets in the bathroom for extra towels.

granted, the outfits they wear to work are a lot more modest. gojo always opts for pressed dress shirts, neat and sleek as if he’s busy (which he is, you think. he’s always somehow invited to meetings with the university’s higher-ups). geto, on the other hand, swears by his leather jackets. if it weren’t for the ‘lecturer’ id clipped to his jacket pocket, he’d easily be mistaken as a student. you’re pretty sure he has, especially by his own students on the first day of class.

still, you cannot handle sleeping in between the two of them.

in your panic, you don't notice the sound of footsteps approaching the bathroom door, a broad figure leaning over its frame.

"hey,"

you’re going to kill gojo.

between the two of them, gojo’s always the one who tries to convince you to join in on their antics. but as long as he doesn’t touch you, you think you’ve built up a pretty good immunity to all his tricks.

this, however, is a completely different tactic.

if one of them can persuade you by voice alone, it’s geto suguru—and it seems like gojo knows it too.

“you know there'll be plenty of space on the bed, right?"

it was a mistake for you to look up, because now you've caught his eyes, an impossibly hypnotizing brown that drips warmth into his honeyed speech.

you breathe out, keeping your cool, “it's okay, suguru, i don't mind.”

he crosses his arms, leaning more of his weight on the doorframe as he peers down at you. a strand of his hair falls from the bun he usually keeps it in; it’s tip lands right where his smirk ends.

well, fuck.

"satoru's a stick," he comments, and from within the room you can hear gojo start to whine, “hey—!”, but suguru continues, ignoring him, “i can squeeze closer to the wall."

he tilts his head, dipping it lower.

you sigh, closing your eyes. the towels you’ve managed to scavenge now slipping from your hands.

when you step outside in evident defeat, gojo sits up from the bed, tapping the space beside him as he crosses his legs. gojo runs his mouth a lot of the time, but it’s in this moment that you truly believe pretty boys shouldn’t be allowed to speak. because when he says—

"c'mon, it'll be fun."

—you think the next three days will simultaneously be the best and worst days of your life.

some additional things i didn’t include:

gojo’s pedagogy is terrible but students love to take his class because they think he’s hot + he doesn’t require attendance. his assessments are either extremely easy (aka nothing) or fucking hard and students are willing to take this gamble 🥲 he also sucks at teaching because he can’t explain for shit!!! but he grades high 😃

geto on the other hand!! good all around except his assessments are always fucking HARD. but students also love to take his class because they actually learn something 😃 (and also bc his students crush on him hard lmao)

the sleeping situation happens as follows: gojo takes up most of the bed space and geto does in fact squeeze to the wall, with you squished to his side too 😃 on one of the nights, gojo clings onto you and geto scoots closer because the empty space freaks him out a lil 😃 at some point, both of them squish you in the middle too 😃 you start to think maybe they wanted this all along…

[fictionalmenxyn]

¡𝟏𝟎 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐈 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮!

Pt.1 (making it a story…hopefully) (ALSO not movie accurate!!) (will be based in modern time rather than the 90s/00s)

Pairing: Rafe x reader (strangers/enemies to lovers)

(Face claim: Jessica Alba)

Warnings: language, mentions of the word ‘rape’ (due to a part in the book I reference ‘heroes’ if you haven’t read it, I kinda recommend, I read it for my gcse and it was one of the better books I did for English 😭)

-❂��❂-

It was the beginning of summer, life was great. Even greater for Rafe, new place, fresh start. Moving from California, to Outer Banks was a big change. Well, it was nice for him. He hoped the people… mainly girls… were different from the fake basic girls in Cali.

It was his first day of school, as for you, it was a normal day of school.

You were in your stone grey Toyota gt86, blasting your rock chick music. As the car next to you blasts white chick music. You rolled your eyes at the basic taste of music.

You pulled off as soon as the light hit green. Driving over to the high school.

Once on you had parked up, you got out of the car. Grabbing your tote bag from the back seat you closed both doors and locked your car. Putting your keys into your bag. You adjusted the straps on your shoulder.

Rafe was already there, talking with his ‘tour guide’. The guy, Jake, went through the basics. More specifically the basics of what group of people was what. The ‘jocks’, ‘popular girls’, ‘cowboys’, etc.

That’s when Rafe spotted you from afar. You walked over to your small (preferably) friendship group. Sitting with them on the small brick wall.

Rage’s attention went from you as Jake patted his shoulder and chuckled. Rafe asked “who’s that??” Jake replied “that, my friend, is Y/n Y/l/n… no point in going for her, man.” Rafe’s eyebrow raised “why not??” Jake answered “dude, she’s like got a huge attitude and kinda a bitch…” Rafe scoffed “you probably said something to upset her or some shit, that’s why..” Jake shakes his head “all I’m sayin’ is, watch out for her, man.”

Rafe’s attention was back on you. The way your hair naturally curls, the way your white band tee hugged your chest nicely, the way your long black skirt hugged your curves in all the right places. The way the slight showed just the right amount of thigh that it would be a nice view; but doesn’t dress code you. The way your docs topped off the outfit nicely. Edgy, but modest. You had different style to other girls in the school. And Rafe, for the first time, wasn’t complaining. He never thought he’d be into girls that didn’t wear dresses that practically suffocated them. Or girls that didn’t wear skirts that showed half of your ass. You were different, a good different.

The bell snapped him out of his thoughts. Shit, he has class, he looked over to you one more time to see you walking away with your friends.

-❂❂❂-

You sat in class, the teacher spoke “so? Did anyone even bother to read heroes??”

A girl raised her hand, “yeah, it was so romantic…” you rolled your eyes and remarked “romantic? Larry raped Nicole, so Francis went on a mission. Then it was wasted cause he didn’t even get to complete the mission cause Larry shot himself. Then Nicole and Francis didn’t even reconnect officially… hardly a love story..”

The teacher spoke “thank you, Y/n… didn’t need the summary but thanks…” you crossed your arms and leaned back into the plastic chair “why can’t we read better books by better authors… like Emily Brontë, or George Orwell, even Chuck Palahniuk, maybe even Steven Ki-”

Your teacher spoke “alright, we get it, you say it every time, and I always say..” you mocked “I can’t do a single thing, it’s the school that picks, not me..” your teacher nodded “exa-” the classroom door opens.

Rafe walks in, he gave a small smile “wha’d I miss?” You look over your shoulder. Looking him up and down “discussing the fact this school picks shitty books rather than actual interesting ones…” he smirked when he heard you speak “great.” He left the class.

You looked to your teacher, they spoke “office, now” you place your books in your tote bag and put it over your shoulder. You gave a small smirk to your friends as they subtly cheered for you. As the completely agreed with your argument.

You walked down the hallway, Rafe leaned against the lockers on his phone. As you walked past he looked up, “Y/n… right?”

You turned on your heel and faced him “who’s asking?” He chuckles softly “I’m uh, Rafe… Rafe Cameron…” you nodded “I know, you’re Ward’s son, right??” He raised an eyebrow. How did she know?

You quickly added “my dad is in the same company as the one your father joined. He told me they chatted and mentioned that you’d be joining here…” he nodded “oh right… yeah, uh where you headin’?”

“The office, once again, the English teacher never likes me.” He chuckled as he walked over to her “why’s that? You smarter than her?” You shrug “wouldn’t say smart, I just have good taste in book unlike her or the school…” he nodded. Shoving his hands in the pockets of his slacks “so… mind if I walk with you?” You shook your head “I don’t mind. I wasn’t going to the principals office anyways..” he smirked “bad girl, huh?” You playfully rolled your eyes “more like, the principal is fed up of me going to her office… so here I am, roaming the halls for the next…” you look at your watch “..ten minutes”

He nods, you walk side by side. Rafe didn’t know what he was feeling. He wasn’t intimidated but felt almost shy. He couldn’t describe it, you look the type to rip people’s head off if they bark back at you. But honestly… that was hot in his eyes.

-❂❂❂-

It was currently lunch, you sat on the bleachers with your friends. Eating lunch and talking about anything and everything.

Rafe sat with Jake and a few of Jake’s friends. Rafe clicked almost instantly with Topper and Kelce. They’re both interested in golf, partying, girls, etc. So naturally they clicked.

Rafe would glance over to you from time to time. Topper chuckled “hey, if you keep lookin’ she’s gonna see, dude” Rafe rolled his eyes “fine with me.” The guys chuckled.

Kelce asked “hey Top, Y/n friends with your sister, right??” Topper nodded then sipped his can of Pepsi. Rafe looked to Topper, “wait seriously??” Topper put tossed his can in the trash “yeah, dude, she’s over my place quite a lot.”

Rafe’s ears perked, over Topper’s place quite a lot?? Damn…

He then looked back over to the group to see his sister, Sarah, walk over and sit with them. He watched as Sarah and you talked and laughed. He thinks to himself ‘if she’s friends with Sarah, that means she might come over our place? Oh. My. God’

-❂❂❂-

It was an hour or two after school, you sat on the couch. Your Marshall headphones resting on your head as you listen to music and read.

You hear footsteps approaching, it was your father. He holds an envelope to you. You pulled your headphone down, resting them around your neck. You opened the envelope and gasped “no way!” Your dad asked “what is it??” You answered “I got in! The art and music college we talked about! I got in!” He smiled “really?! Congrats, sweetie!”

Your younger sister (who’s completely opposite to you, full glam and girly, made you wanna gag) came downstairs is a slightly shorter than usual dress. Your father asked “and where are you going??”

Your sister, Gabs, replied “there’s this boy, his name is Brooks” you rolled your eyes “you mean the not so good looking guy who is a huge idiot??” “Shut up!!” Your sister looks back to your dad “he asked to go to the movies, go I pleaseee go daddy?” Your dad shakes his head “absolutely not, you know the rule. No dating till you graduate” Gabs rolls her eyes “please!” He replied “no, end of discussion.”

Gabs argued “this isn’t fair, Y/n gets to go out but I can’t??” You fake laughed “good one, Gabs.” Your father added “same rule applies to her.” You looked over to Gabs “and by the way, I’m not looking for anyone, not interested in a single soul…”

Gabs huffed, your father walks away. You crossed your legs on the couch and rested your now closed book in your lap. “So, where were you actually going? I assume you just lied to dad…” Gabs whispered “a party…” you lightly scoffed “you know you’re too young for those parties, especially with Brooks..” Gabs rolls her eyes “I’m only two years younger than you, quit it.”

Your father re-enters, “new deal, Gabs can have a date-” Gabs squealed and smiled. Your dad added “-if Y/n gets a date.” Gabs smiled drops. “What?! She won’t date! Daddy this is unfair!”

You grabbed your book and stood up, heading over to the stairs. Your sister complained “daddy! She won’t date at all, she’ll be buried and not have a date! C’mon!” You chuckled “good, I’ll keep it that way.” Gabs stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at you “you’re so selfish, you know that?!” You chuckled and walked down the hallway upstairs and to your room. Gabs huffed in annoyance.

If you date, Gabs can date. But you don’t wanna date anyone, do you? Not now, not ever… maybe that can change… maybe it’ll stay the same… who knows…

-❂❂❂-

[tainbocuailnge]

we're told and shown very little of what shalem and phantom's bond was and is like, so there's a lot of ways to interpret it. but personally I think it's a bit of a waste to show them straightforwardly getting along when they're both extremely insane in conflicting ways. the only on-screen interaction they have is shalem reprimanding phantom, and then testing him, and phantom's response is that he'll do something really detrimental to himself if shalem asks. so to go with their first impressions as looming ominous guy and modest nervous guy and portray shalem as losing composure & getting all blushy at phantom's advances doesn't feel right to me.

shalem actually presents himself to doctor as the one you go to when /you/ lose composure. his profile is clearly written by the troupe instead of rhodes HR like everyone else, and it tells you "you don't remember meeting, but you trust him and rely on him," like a command for the situation to develop as such, rather than a report of how the situation developed. his colleagues think shalem is weirdly pessimistic sometimes, but he's capable and reliable. his role as "modest and gentle shalem" requires him to be composed. in those new CN lines where doctor hands him an outfit to put on he doesn't sound embarrassed about it either. I don't think flirtatious attention would get him to blush that easily.

all the glimpses of what he's like outside that role show him as pretty decisive. every instance of breaking character is him being more forceful than his image allows. if something needs doing and nobody is doing it shalem will go "this is stupid why are we letting this happen" and step in. when he loses composure in his oprec he tries to :/ through the pain before getting screaming mad. when he's scared he gets mad too. shalem tries very hard to be a meek person and his life would be easier if he actually was, but he's not. he's mentally stronger than a lot of people including himself give him credit for. he just doesn't like when it's quiet.

and phantom clearly trusts shalem enough to completely submit to his judgement. the one interaction they're shown having is phantom saying he'll sing if shalem wants him to. phantom will explicitly do what shalem tells him to even if he thinks its a bad idea.

his codename may be phantom and his cat's name christine, but lucian is the christine in this situation. he's the young actor kidnapped and forced to sing by his shadowy teachers. they're making him play the phantom of the opera but that doesn't mean he actually is the phantom. shalem is far more like the phantom of the opera than lucian. shalem can't exist without the mask that lets him pretend to be a real person or leave the theater that mask was made for. it's just that his mask is also salome, which makes him extra insane (love) because salome was a no-name normal girl used as a tool in political machinations until she got written into a play that reinterpreted her as insane and a willing participant. so shalem's nightmares try to convince him he actually did want that guy's head on a plate.

phantom's second module says he doesn't see any art in killing despite how much the troupe hyped it up to him, but he works as assassin and went back to kill the troupe. shalem does still see the art in it, but he works in logistics and ran away because he didn't want to kill. we know phantom left after he realized his teachers were villains and that he completely trusts shalem's judgement, so while there's no clear proof it's likely that shalem's betrayal is what inspired phantom to leave as well. everyone in the troupe was raised to look up to lucian, and told that they had no worth if they couldn't make it to his level. shalem didn't have what it took to become like lucian, but that's exactly what made phantom want to be more like shalem.

and again, we know very little of what their relationship was like, or is like now. we know phantom completely trusts shalem, but the only opinion shalem expresses about phantom is "we're certainly similar, but I'd like to stay away from all that" and their only interaction is shalem reprimanding and testing phantom. so it's possible that shalem doesn't like phantom at all, and is only saving him because the situation is stupid and someone has to do something. phantom is the only person who could begin to understand shalem, but shalem doesn't like being seen closely because he's scared he has no "self" behind the act, so phantom understanding him might not be a good thing to shalem.

I think that kind of resentment between fellow survivors is really interesting. they both left, but lucian is still the troupe's favourite while shalem is called a cowardly traitor. even if shalem does get along with phantom, that would still be simmering below the surface right? their experiences were similar, but lucian was the standard that the others were held to, and the punishment for not being able to live up to that standard was death. isn't it a sick joke to have to go back to save the man whose mere existence made yours harder?

phantom knows that he was the bait the troupe used to draw in fresh blood, and he feels deeply guilty over it. so I think his willingness to submit to shalem's judgement is also because he knows he's at least partially to blame for what's wrong with shalem. meanwhile shalem's nightmares taunt him by saying the troupe was wrong and he's a great actor, so I think part of him still wants to prove himself as an actor. he wants to escape the audience in his head, but can't fully let go of the promise of getting to be on the stage either. and while phantom is the more outwardly insane one, he's making new friends and picking up new hobbies in his oprec while shalem has to be in the eternal nightmare vortex. even in rhodes island phantom is the one who actually gets what shalem wants.

so you have shalem, who wants a normal life he can't have because he was raised to be an actor-assassin with no self, and phantom, who is willing to do whatever shalem says to make up for being the symbol used to ruin shalem's ability to live normally.

phantom in general tends to punish himself. he refuses both medical treatment and gratitude until folinic corners him and chews him out. he feels guilty over being a dangerous person to associate with, but also over rejecting the help he is offered in spite of this. he's willing to submit to shalem's judgement and accept any punishment from him, but shalem wants to be normal and just helps him because it's the right thing to do and this whole situation is stupid, but that only makes phantom feel even more guilty. that too is unresolved resentment.

there's a tension between them where phantom repeatedly shows a desire to leave his decisions to others, while shalem desperately tries to take his decisions from the hands of others. there's clear incentive for phantom to just hand all his agency over to shalem, especially if we assume that shalem leaving is indeed what inspired phantom to follow, and depending on how you read the scene it's phantom's willingness to do what shalem says rather than his reluctance to sing that confirms to shalem that phantom is back to usual. phantom through this respect for and trust in shalem gives shalem a lot of power over him that shalem doesn't actually want to have, because the only decisions shalem wants to be controlling are his own.

they certainly are similar, but they cannot recognise themselves in that mirror, because the part of them that wants to be like the other is at odds with their actual desires. phantom left the troupe like shalem did, perhaps even to follow shalem's example, but shows no indication of wanting a normal life. shalem is a valued coworker, and phantom is an elusive mystery that schwarz warns you as someone familiar with the underworld to stay away from. he speaks of guilt and punishment and truth, but not of what comes after, and he's largely dependent on miss christine to be his moral compass. he's making friends and getting hobbies only because miss christine pushed him to. phantom values justice, but struggles to make his own judgements, and seems to reason that since he's already a murderer he might as well keep killing.

shalem meanwhile values normalcy, but doesn't seem to care nearly as much about justice. his reasoning for defying the troupe and letting his target go wasn't that it was wrong to kill, but that the situation was ridiculous and there had to be a different way. what shalem's nightmares taunt him with isn't the morality of his actions, the way phantom stumbles over his words to justify himself in his own nightmares, but whether they were really his actions. violence excites shalem in a way it doesn't for phantom, and he has no hesitance about threatening murder to secure his agency.

so phantom values justice, and he values shalem's judgement, but he appears unaware that shalem doesn't actually share those values. a normal life just generally doesn't require or involve murder. so while phantom is frequently punishing himself out of guilt and is implicitly looking to shalem to deliver some of that punishment, shalem doesn't really give a shit, because he doesn't really want to think about let alone reckon with their pasts at all. what shalem reprimands him for is causing trouble for the doctor.

their relationship is, by virtue of both operating through externally imposed personalities, inherently somewhat out of sync. you might even call it somewhat parasocial. I think there's probably a lot of pity involved too, pity for the one made to chase your shadow, and pity for the one who cannot escape that shadow. as fellow survivors they're the only ones who could possibly understand each other, but their values and priorities don't line up, and so neither do their expectations and images of each other.

but crucially, i think if any moves are to be made between them, it has to be shalem who makes those moves. because phantom wants to leave his choices to others while shalem is far more decisive than he appears and in fact much of shalem's character tension is based in being forced to finally step up and do something. phantom has very decisively put the ball in shalem's court by establishing that he'll literally do whatever shalem says. all of which is a very long way to say. i respectfully disagree with some of the fanart ive seen on twitter dot com lately.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

hi! could you write the bachelor/ettes with a m!farmer that dresses very fem? like— with all the stuff that's stereotypically related to girls?

Heya 👋 Sure, why not.

I honestly didn't know what format to choose. At first it was going to be big stories, but I thought it would be too long to read lol. Thanks for the ask btw! 💕

SDV bachelors/ettes with male!Farmer that dresses very fem:

**********************************************

Abigail was filled with envy because Farmer is a man who could wear whatever he wanted and not be told by his parents that he "had to dress properly". Amethyst lover still has to listen from mom that "a lady should wear a skirt" or from dad "a lady should this and that". Ugh... Oh, and Farmer looks gorgeous! Damn, Abby's jealous >:/

"You're such a weirdo, what's with the girly clothes?" Alex should have learnt not to say the first thing that comes to mind out loud, but we all have our flaws. Athlete has nothing bad to say towards the Farmer himself, but clearly doesn't understand his taste in clothing. Neither does he understand why Sebastian is always walking around in black clothes. Farmer looks... alright, Alex think. But he just doesn't get it.

Oh, how happy Emily is to have another person in town who loves to express himself through clothes! Everything is harmoniously matched, the fabric is of the best quality.... And most importantly, the Farmer feels comfortable! The blue-haired girl doesn't care that it's "not for a man". Emily can make clothes for Farmer according to his style, if he doesn't mind of course!

In the past, Abby had been teased for dressing like a boy, and Sebby had been insulted for having long, "girlish" fringes.... More than once Sam has threatened to hit the offenders with his guitar if they keep it up. So if Farmer gets harassed too, he shouldn't hesitate to ask Sam for help. Farmer looks cool, by the way!

To be honest, Farmer's fem style of dressing for Penny is rather extravagant. The young teacher is modest by nature and with old-fashioned ideas about how men and women should dress. On the other hand, she admires Farmer's courage to express himself and not afraid to be judged.

There were at least three times in Sebastian's life when some tourists picked on his "fem look", namely his tight jeans and black-painted nails. The local emo even then knew that judging people by their appearance is a complete nonsense, so he would not react to Farmer's atypical clothes in the bad way. And Farmer look cool, though Sebby is not a fan of his style, preferring everything black.

Yoba, is this the latest collection from the same famous designer that Haley always orders clothes from?! She recognises these clothes anywhere. Haley thought the new farmer always wore dirty overalls. And these clothes look so stylish on him! What? Who frickin cares if the clothes are feminine, the Farmer looks great! Slay! 💅

Shane was about to open his mouth and comment on Farmer's, as he think, ridiculous outfit. But then he remembered that it wasn't his place to judge people by their clothes, considering that his everyday clothes were a torn blue jumper with Joja's logo on it, pizza-stained shorts, and ragged crocs. After Emily's clothing therapy, Shane will have a little change of heart. But in general, he doesn't give a shit what Farmer wears, even if it's a trash bag.

"Hey, you look great." Believe me, Farmer, Leah's words are genuine. This woman is always used to being honest with people, and she will honestly praise her friend's appearance. Because a lot of people express themselves in different ways. Leah chose to express herself through creativity, while Farmer chose to express himself through clothes, and that's totally cool.

Harvey marvelled at the fact that Farmer walks around in these clothes and is completely unafraid of criticism..... No, no, don't get him wrong, Farmer looks good! It's just... In a way, Harvey is jealous, because he has to sneak around to aerobics in fear that some of the other bachelors will see him and make fun of him. But you know, just seeing Farmer has inspired the doctor to be braver.

Although in Maru's situation it was not about clothes, she too had to deal with this type of conflicts. Her grandparents told her mom, Robin, that her job as a carpenter was "not for women", while her father's relatives condemned Maru's passion for inventions as "not for young lady". How nice that Maru's parents were supportive and that Farmer has also defied criticism and is doing what makes him happy. Don't listen to anyone and do what your heart desire!

Quite extravagant, but Elliott even likes his style. Farmer definitely has the taste to pick colours and accessories harmoniously. What? Judging? Pfft! Dear friend, when Elliott lived in town before moving to Stardew Valley, the people there also tried to ridicule his clothing choices, calling him a dandy and, pardon his language, a "pompous peacock." Ugh, some people just have no taste! But at least Elliott has excellent clothing taste. And Farmer has it as well!

[finkinthisfrew]

TEACHER'S PET (Pt.3)

cw: 18+ (sorry, posting this in a rush, i'll update the cw later)

You step into the large dim pub, the air cloudy with smoke. Or is it steam? It’s definitely steam, you decide as you shove your ID back into your pocket with one hand, and rip your scarf off with the other. The room is long, a double-sided bar running down the centre. You can see the room open up into a sunken area in the distance. Amidst the countless bodies, packed like sardines in a tin, you can tell the bar is stuck in the 70s, crammed with colorful lights, decor and liquor, chipping paint peeking through the few remaining bare spots on the walls. You scan the room, taking everything in as you pull off all your layers, exposing your less than modest outfit underneath. 

After experiencing the high of your Professor commenting on your clothing, all you wanted was more- like a drug, you were desperate for your next hit, deciding on the shortest, tightest black dress you could find in your closet with a pair of black thigh high boots. You’d admired yourself in the mirror earlier, the way your figure shone through the thin material of your dress, giddy at the thought of your teacher seeing you in something so inappropriate for school.

“I’m going to find the girls- see you guys after the show,” Bex’s sister says from behind you as she tears off her coat, then waves excitedly at someone in the distance. 

“See ya!” Bex chimes excitedly. “The stage is this way, I think,” she says as she grabs your hand and drags you towards the back, not even looking twice at her sister. 

“Bex, wait-“ you stop Bex before offering her a look of pleading. “I’m gonna need to get a lot drunker than this before I can consider watching my Professor sing…” Bex rolls her eyes at you, but smiles as she lets you tug her towards the bar. Your half of the bottle of wine you’d shared with Bex back at her apartment hadn’t done much for you since you’d drank it an hour ago, and you were keen to rid yourself of your shaking hands and tense body- the knowledge of your Professor being somewhere in the vicinity all too much for you to handle. 

You immediately order two tequila shots and two tequila sodas for the both of you as you pull out your wallet, the bar tender obviously eyeing up Bex, who’s distracted where she stands behind you at the crowded bar.

“Will you make mine a double, please?” you whisper loudly to the bartender as Bex scans the bar, searching to see if any of your other classmates are here. When the bartender finally passes you your drinks, you hand Bex her shot and drink, cheersing her with a smile, and she grins back at you, just as eager to see your sinfully-sexy Professor on stage as you are. At least, so she claims- you don’t think it’s possible for anyone to experience the level of desire you feel for him...

You quickly down your shots, wincing in tandem at the burning sensation as you bite down on your lime wedges. 

“God that’s rank- alright, Professor time,” she smiles devilishly at you before dragging you to the back of the bar and down into the sunken pit surrounding the stage. You look up to see the ceiling much higher in this area, then notice the beautiful wooden balcony wrapping around the back half of the room. This bar is so charming- it reminds you of something you’d seen in a film, the cloudy air and quirky layout so uncommon for bars these days.

You see Bex try to weave her way into the crowd that’s already built up around the stage, but no one seems to be budging. You try again from another angle, but the crowd is already too packed- mostly with eager girls bouncing on their toes in anticipation, you notice.

“What the fuck! How are we supposed to see the show from back here?” Bex curses angrily in frustration, looking around hopelessly.

“Well, we could try the balcony?” You suggest. It seems only a few people had congregated up there, most people too drunk or oblivious to notice its existence, apparently.

“You genius,” Bex says as she grins at you, then takes your hand in hers before turning back towards the stairs. You both begin to make your way over when you eye your drink- you’ve already downed half of it.

“Hey Bex, we might as well grab another shot before we head up, don’t you think?” You say with a giggle as you pass the bar, the first shot already starting to work its magic, loosening you up a little.

“Oh well if you insist,” Bex says as she dramatically rolls her eyes in mock-annoyance, then grins at you excitedly as she grabs her wallet.

Leaning against the bar as Bex pays, you scan the room properly for the first time. You don’t see him anywhere by the bar, nor do you see him anywhere in the crowd behind you when you crane your neck over your shoulder, trying your best to look inconspicuous as you hear Bex flirt with the bartender. You sigh in defeat as you take one last scan of the now jam-packed audience, your Professor no where to be found and turn back to see Bex handing you your shot. You laugh together as your cheers, tapping your glass on the bar before raising it to your lips. Your eyes glance over to a figure weaving through the crowd holding something red, and just as you’re about to tip your glass back, your eyes lock onto Professor Healy’s. He’s mid laugh- something his band mate behind him must have just said. He looks so beautiful when he laughs, you realize. You’ve never seen him laugh before- not truly. He’s breathtaking. But before you can savor it properly, his face turns, his dark eyes now boring into yours. You want to smile at him, but you can’t- you’re too captivated by him, his eye contact too powerful. He shakes his head at you slowly as he continues approaching you and you take this opportunity to ignore his look of disapproval and down your shot. 

You turn your gaze back to Bex, but she’s distracted as the bartender hands her his phone. She giggles as she enters her phone number, completely oblivious to the fact that her Professor was only a few feet away from you both now.

You can feel his eyes on you as he gets closer, pulling at yours, and eventually you lose the battle of tug of war just as he reaches you. He doesn’t slow his speed but weaves himself between you and the cluster of people standing around you right as you look up at him, hanging his head down to look at you as he passes. You almost flinch from the intensity of his eyes, the thrill of his lips only a few inches from yours, your skin tingling as you feel the warmth of his breath wash over your face, almost in slow motion. 

Before you can think of anything to say, he’s gone. You stand, dazed as you watch the back of his head move through the crowd and towards the stage- the stage!

“Bex, they’re going on, we gotta go!” You say with unnecessary urgency in your voice as you turn to find her giggling up at the bartender who’s practically purring at her now.

“I’ll come find you in a minute,” she says, waving you off lazily, “you go ahead.”

You roll your eyes, then dash over the stairs without a second-glance, the crowd already cheering as the band begins to assemble on stage. You reach the top of the stairs, happy to see only a handful of people hanging out up here with loads of free balcony space. You walk up to the edge, leaning over the banister and finally take in the sight of your Professor on stage. You hadn’t even noticed what he was wearing when you first saw him, the outfit practically as slutty as yours in comparison to what he wore at school.

His hair is a mop of dark curls again, hanging over his face as he plugs his red guitar into a nearby amp. You’re taken aback by his fit body, the thin black tank top tight against his torso, exposing his thick, muscled arms. Your eyes travel over every ripple, every muscle, every vein, every tattoo, drinking him in at last- you’re practically drunk by the time your eyes reach his chest, a flutter of pleasure down below when you spot the large chest tattoo peeking out from behind his ribbed-top. His dark washed-out jeans are torn in a few places, and his silver earring glints in the stage lights as people continue to cheer loudly below him. He finally looks out into the crowd, offering them a smug half-smile, and they only cheer louder at his acknowledgement.

“Who’s ready for a bit of fun?” He says into the mic, he says cheekily. Before he’s even finished his sentence, the bands starts to play, and the show begins.

There’s no other way to describe him than utterly captivating. He sings with such passion and grit, you feel your insides tumbling. You never could have imagined what a great dancer he was, every lyric punctuated with a move so effortless, you can’t help but wonder how it would translate in the bedroom… 

Four songs later, you feel Bex slide next to you, her smile apologetic as the cheers from the crowd die down. You nudge her with your shoulder and wiggle your eyebrows at her teasingly and she rolls her eyes at you with a smile she can’t rid herself of. You’re happy for your new friend, excited for the inevitable debrief you’d be receiving about the bartender once the show was over. The sound of your Professors voice catches your attention, and you both turn to watch him as he addresses the crowd.

“How’s it going out there, are you all having a good time?” He asks the audience. You and Bex cheer loudly with the crowd, and you can see your Professor smile in response. It makes your knees weak.

“Good, because I’m about to ruin it,” he says with a cheeky grin, but the audience only screams louder. “This next song is a bit naughty-“ he says darkly, his voice distracted as he turns to check if the band is ready to begin, then turns back to the mic, his eyes flicking up to meet yours perfectly as he says in a lust-soaked voice, “This song is about forbidden desire.”

Your heart stutters as you look back at your Professor in shock. He turns back to face the band as someone triggers a moody sounding track to start, but you don’t even notice. His eyes found you immediately- had he known where you were standing this whole time? Did he mean to look at you? You were smart enough to know that wasn’t likely, but something inside you suspected you were wrong…

You watch as your Professor lights a cigarette on stage, his cheeks hollowing in the stage lights, smoke trailing out his pink lips as he sings wistfully. You don’t catch all the lyrics, but his words hit you anyways, the sound of them portraying the very hopelessness that’d grown to feel so familiar to you this week. 

The song builds, and he begins to belt, the emotion raw as it hits you where you lean over the railing. The song builds even more as he begins to wrap the chord of his microphone around his hand, its peak moments away when his eyes find yours once again. You watch in slow motion as his lips part, dark hooded eyes looking up at you hungrily as he drops to his knees, then squeezes his eyes shut as he belts loudly:

“I don’t wanna be your friend, I wanna kiss your neck!”

Your knees wobble under you and you steady yourself with jello-like arms. You suddenly remember you need to breathe, taking in several steadying breaths as you watch your Professor get back on his feet, wandering over to one side of the stage to break some more hearts. You’re glad he’s looking elsewhere again, grateful he can’t see the physical toll that stunt had taken on you. If his performance hadn’t already turned you on, this definitely did the trick, the wetness between your legs almost as demanding of your attention as your teacher on stage…

—

You’re hot and sticky, the delicate fabric of your dress stuck to your skin as you sway your hips, dancing in the centre of the pit. You feel free as you move to the beat, your movements flowy and sensual as you run your hands over your body.

You’d looked for him after the show, a little too obviously, but you could care less in the moment. Eventually you gave up, realizing he was probably in some greenroom, or potentially even went home, knowing he likely had quizzes to grade or something equally as contrasting to the dingy, drug-tinged room he’d just played in. When you couldn’t find him, you and Bex shoved your way into the thinned out crowd in the centre of the dance floor where a dance party had formed around the DJ now on stage.

You grin as Bex catches your eye with a smile, dancing against a scruffy young man who’d had his eyes on her all night, now cooing softly in her ear as he grinds himself into her ass. You can’t help but imagine yourself in the same scenario, wondering how it would feel to dance so intimately with your Professor, to feel him grind against your back, sweaty hands against your sweaty body, whispering deliciously devious words in your ear… You close your eyes, running your hands slowly over your breasts, your nipples hardening at their touch as you sway your hips, tossing your head back and letting your hair swish against your back to the beat of the music. You like imagining him watching you now, practically feeling his eyes brush against your skin, their gaze caressing the curve of your hip like a calloused hand. 

You slowly open your eyes, the feeling of being watched not dissipating along with your daydream. You glance in the direction of the bar, feeling pulled to look. Your hips don’t stop as you turn, your hands now running over your stomach just as you see him.

There his is. Leaning against the bar, drink in hand, staring at you. There’s a girl in front of him, talking to him, his patient bandmate stood next to him generously paying attention to her and nodding his head politely as she bats her eyelashes and gestures excessively at your Professor in an effort to gain his attention. But she doesn’t have his attention. Because you have his attention. He’s watching as you dance to the beat of the music, the alcohol in your system the only thing keeping you from blushing. No, this time you’re not embarrassed. You don’t even feel bashful. In fact, you feel quite the opposite- you’re feeling bold. Something about him wakes you up inside, ideas you’d never even considered wafting through your mind as you see him lean into his friends ear, whispering something before returning his gaze to you. His tall friend gestures an offer to smoke to the girl bouncing on her heels, and she agrees excitedly, doing a poor job of hiding her disappointment when she notices your Professor has no intention to follow. 

You continue to dance, almost performing for him now as you see him cross his arms, watching you darkly. You make a big show of moving your hips, tossing your hair as you turn, showing off the low cut back of your dress, feeling his eyes trace the line of your spine as you savor the shiver it sends through your core. Bex catches your eye and the sight of her dancing partners hands wrapped around her waist breaks something inside you- you weren’t going to wait any longer for what you wanted.

“I’m gonna go grab another drink, do you want one?” You yell into Bex’s ear. She shakes her head, turning her head to smile up at the man who’s lips lean closer and closer towards hers. You turn on your heel, sauntering over towards the bar, avoiding your teachers blatant stare as you walk. You stride right up to him, then side step him, making sure to lean seductively as you ask the bartender for another tequila soda, subtly pressing your breasts together as you watch him stutter before turning to make your drink.

“It seems you didn’t take my advice,” you hear him say beside you.

“Sorry?” You say, turning to face him.

He says nothing for a moment, eyes traveling up and down your body leisurely as he takes a swig from his bottle, his back still leaning casually against the bar. 

“That dress isn’t very modest,” he says darkly, eyes finally landing on yours, burning your soul from within. He licks the drop of beer left behind from his bottle, his bottom lip glistening in the dim red light of the bar.

“I wore black this time, like you suggested. I thought you’d like that,” you challenge sultrily from under hazy eyes as you take your drink from the bartender who’s practically drooling at you, but instead of asking for money, he stays standing there, mouth hanging open slightly as he stares at your chest. Your Professor’s eyes darken slightly, hanging onto yours tightly as he turns, then finally drags his gaze away from you to hand the bartender a few bills, clearly keen on having him leave you alone. 

“And you thought showing your ass off to half the town would be a good idea?” Your Professor mumbles to you as he shoves his wallet back in his pocket, glaring at the bartender threateningly, causing him to scuttle away to help his next customer. You can’t help but admire the tattoos on his muscled arms, consciously reminding yourself not to reach your curious fingertips out to explore their peaks and valleys, the bareness of them feeling more scandalous than anything you could have worn. His eyes finally turn to yours, and you shrug casually.

“You seemed to like it the last time I did, considering you stared at it long enough to memorize it’s condition,” you say, referencing your last class, doing a poor job of hiding the smugness that teases at your lips as you take a generous sip of your drink to cover them. A light flickers behind his eyes, but his face remains stoic- unimpressed.

He leans towards you and your heart begins to pound rapidly, his closeness stealing your breath from you.

“Tread lightly, Miss Thompson. Tread lightly,” he says in a low voice, his lips ghosting the curve of your ear. A shiver passes through you as you close your eyes, willing the moment to last longer. But it passes, and you feel hollow again as he leans back against the bar, his eyes scanning the room ahead of him as he sips his beer once more.

But a bit of the thrill lingers within you, and slowly, your sadness is replaced with excitement as you realize: he’s still here. He could have walked away- he should have walked away, but he didn’t. You smile to yourself and he glances back at you, raising an eyebrow in question at your smile.

“I’m sorry, Professor,” you say softly, the word like a treat on your lips as you gloat.

“Why do you have to say it like that?” He says, the hint of a groan rumbling in his throat as he speaks. His eyelids hang low, heavy like his voice as his brow furrows slightly, his lips parted as he glances from your eyes down to your lips.

“Like what?” You ask breathlessly, your heart pounding out of your chest.

“Like it turns you on,” he says, his eyes lingering a moment longer before looking back up at you, something forbidden in his gaze.

You feel yourself grow wetter, visibly shivering this time as your grip the edge of the bar. You bite your lip in thought, holding back the words you desperately want to say to him. It must be the alcohol, otherwise you’d never be so brazen with an authority figure like him, the words falling from your mouth only a moment later.

“Because it does,” you say, taking a big sip of your drink.

He stands silently looking at you, eyes traveling up and down your body, emitting a soft sigh before shaking his head lightly. 

“You’re going to get me in big trouble one day, aren’t you…” he says very quietly, almost to himself.

You smile at him, pride radiating corner to corner from your mouth before taking another healthy drink from your glass.

“You should slow down with those, Hazel,” he says quietly, the use of your first name shaking you slightly. But what shocks you the most is the tone in his voice, new to you, briefly pulling you out of your drunken haze of lust. It takes you a moment to recognize it, the hint of softness, with a touch of warmth and a tinge of fear. It was�� concern. It felt caring. It was the closest thing you’d felt to his touch since the day he’d brushed against you in the doorway.

“And why would I do that?” You ask stubbornly.

“Because you’re going to get yourself in trouble,” he answers softly.

“Don’t you mean, us, Professor?” You say, fluttering your eyelashes at him gently.

He shakes his head, choosing to ignore you this time as he drains the rest of his bottle.

“I think I’d like detention with you, Professor,” you purr.

You jump as he slams his empty bottle down on the counter with a loud bang, startled by the jarring noise.

“Outside. Now,” he commands. You don’t question him, following closely behind as he weaves his way through the crowd, grabbing his coat from one of the hooks on the wall as he dips out the front door, striding quickly past his friend and the girl from earlier who’s eyes brightened and dimmed as he stormed past. You follow him into the cold of the night, the cool air a welcome sensation on your burning skin. You feel him grab your wrist as he pulls you around the corner into the alley beside the bar, then shoves you against the brick wall, pressing forehead against yours for a few breaths. You freeze. 

Eventually, he pulls away, and you look up at him helplessly, but his eyes are closed, his face hanging low as he pants in frustration, his hands planted on the wall behind you on either side of your head. You’re trapped between him and the cold coarse wall, your forehead burning where his had made contact mere seconds ago. You can feel the heat from his body radiating towards you, his scent filling your nose with the smell of cigarettes, beer, chalk, and something warm and spicy, like hot cider and cloves. Your eyes drop down to his open mouth, puffing hot air in little clouds, and you reach your hand up without thinking, feeling the curve of his jaw under your fingers. His lower lip hangs there, begging to be bitten, and you lose all inhibition. You reach up, taking it between your teeth, sucking on his gently, the taste of him like ecstasy as he stands there frozen, letting you drag your teeth gently down his lip. You feel him shudder underneath you from your touch, his brow creasing even deeper, an expression of pain as he lets out a shaky breath. Once you finally release his lip, you pause and watch as he bites his lip, sucking the skin yours had just tasted. He leans in closer to you, his cheek against your temple as he says in a very low, very measured voice:

“Four years from now, you’re going to walk across the stage at convocation, collect your parchment, and shake my hand. Then, the moment you step off that stage, I’m going to tear that graduation gown off of you, and fuck you senseless,” he breathes into your ear. You can’t help but arch your back at his words. You can feel yourself dripping down the inside of your thigh as he speaks. He leans in even closer, his lips now touching your ear, but just barely. “Until then, your delicate little hand will have to take my place when you think of me, leaving yourself unsatisfied, night after night, all alone in your little bed.”

He pulls back, just enough to look down at you, his dark eyes burrowing into yours as his lips hover over yours.

“Is that a homework assignment, Professor?” You say breathlessly, your chest heaving with passion as you look back and forth between his eyes. You begin to shiver from the cold, but you don’t even notice, his words having stoked the blazing fire within you. But he notices. He sighs quietly to himself, then pulls you from the wall. His hands leaving burns on your arms where they touched your skin, then, he quietly drapes his coat around your shoulders, looking down at the buttons as he does them up one by one. The gesture is sweet, his fingers patiently working away as you watch him, mesmerized by his beautiful face which has softened slightly. When his fingers finally finish, his eyes lift to meet yours with a look you can’t quite decipher. A moment of silence passes and his face returns to the one you’re most familiar with in class, stoic and stern, and he finally speaks.

“I think it’s time you went home. I’ll see you Monday, in class. Good evening, Miss Thompson,” he says formally as he takes a step back, and suddenly he’s gone. You collapse against the wall behind you, dazed by the interaction. You almost can’t believe it, the coat wrapped around you the only thing keeping you from convincing yourself you hadn’t dreamt it all.

part 4

[evillemons]

HOSEOK’S IDEAL TYPE (j-hope pt. 1)

~ a manifestation of his ideal girlfriend. Continuation into part 2 and part 3. Masterlist here.

Key words: Warm, dependable, upbeat, altruistic, agreeable, nurturing.

Her personality:

• Unlike Yoongi, I see Hoseok vibing best with a partner who is energetically similar to him. He is so vibrant that I think someone moody or angsty would bring him down.

• They say he is the “celebrity” of BTS, but I don’t see him with another celebrity at all. I imagine her as someone completely “normal”, grounded, and averse to the spotlight.

• She wouldn’t need to be particularly extroverted, either, as long as she is generally happy and high-spirited.

• Elementary school or art teacher vibes, for sure. Maybe also a nurse, librarian, counselor, or interior designer.

• A little quirky and possibly crafty.

• Incredibly kind, especially towards children and animals. Is the type of person to take someone into her home regardless of the circumstances.

• Nurturing and caring.

• Hoseok is so neat tidy (and I love him for that), and I think someone messy or cluttered would get on his nerves.

• MBTI: ISFJ or INFP. Warm, dependable, altruistic, and loyal.

• Easy-going and easy to get along with. Maybe a little shy and mousy around his celebrity friends.

• Probably a homebody that loves to spend her free time in a reading nook with a warm cup of tea inside her well-decorated apartment.

• Would look for a partner who values quality time and takes care of her just as much as she takes care of him.

Her looks and sexuality:

• Cute, pretty, and feminine; although her looks wouldn’t be dramatic or striking.

• Her outfits would be colorful, whimsical, and maybe a little eccentric (but definitely not as bougie as Hoseok’s).

• Maybe a bit bohemian, with a lot of long skirts and flowing blouses. Her clothing style would be relatively modest and loose-fitting.

• Sparkly eyeshadow and nail polish.

• I imagine her with short hair that is dyed a slightly unnatural color, like pastel pink or orange-red.

• Like Jin, she is most likely to be Asian; maybe mixed if she was born/raised in Korea.

• I see her being tall (5’8-5’9 or 174ish) and slim like him, mirroring each other’s bodies. Small breasts and narrow hips like a ballet dancer (maybe she grew up taking ballet lessons, who knows).

• Close to his age. Maybe +/- 1-3 years.

• I also see her as straight.

• Possibly inexperienced in terms of sex and relationships due to her introverted nature. May come across as a little innocent.

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Number 18 and 50 with a female character of your choosing? Bonus if one of them cries and there's aftercare.

Heyyy anon!! Thanks for the request, I always love getting them! Ooooh, I’d love to do this… 😏 Ok, here’s a w/w fic with those prompts plus crying and aftercare (:

Too Far? ~Principal Larissa Weems xFem teacher!reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!!, spanking, overstimulation, fingering, pining, smut, degrading kink, pet names, etc.

Mommy…Master List

Prompt-List

#18. “Count.”

#50. “Bend over.”

1.1 k words

Enjoy (;

You had started teaching at Nevermore Academy just this year. And one woman immediately caught your eye the second you saw her: Larissa Weems. You fell for her more and more over the school year. But she didn’t seem to show any signs of reciprocative feelings... So you decided to become more bold and obvious about your feelings.

You flirted with Larissa more. You spent as much time with her as you could, making up assignments and “asking for her help”. But nothing seemed to work. Her mind seemed far off in the distance on something else...

This past week, you’d started to dress more provocatively for her. Day by day, your outfits got slowly less modest... It was Friday and you decided to wear quite a short skirt and a thin white long shirt, where you could clearly see your bra patterns through it. 

It was Friday afternoon when Larissa called you into her office.

You entered the room, “You asked to see me, Principal Weems?” you said, hoping to god she had finally noticed you enough to distract her from whatever was on her mind.

“Yes, have a seat.” Larissa curtly said, while she flipped through some paperwork on her desk. She barely even looked up to you...

You sat down with her desk in between you and her. Finally, Larissa looked up from her paperwork. She sighed. 

“Look love, we need to talk about your recent clothing choices...” she said while clearly eyeing what you had on today.

But you were too busy blushing from her calling you love, to notice her linger on your choice of clothing or by any means answer her.

Larissa continued, “It’s unprofessional. If your trying to get someone’s attention, then I suggest you go about it in a different way.”

Now, you definitely noticed her linger on evident dip indent of your bra, you responded, “But what if a different way hasn’t worked? What if is the only thing that has gotten their attention?” 

Larissa took a moment to contemplate what you had said or were implying, before she bluntly answered, “That is still no reason to break a rule. Rules are meant to be followed, and you can’t just go around breaking them and expect no backlash or consequences.”

At that, you not only blushed but also inherently rubbed your legs together at the thought of a punishment. God, you needed to get your thoughts together...

“Do we understand each other?” Larissa sternly asked.

You tried to say yes but what came out of your mouth was a combination of a hum and a whimper, which you immediately went to correct into a “Yes.”. But she had heard you.

You looked at Larissa, your face red from embaressment, and you saw something click in Larissa’s mind. Her eyes shifted in their tone as she continued, “Do you need to be taught a lesson for this offence, or will you be good?” she tautingly said.

You were halfway breathless as you whimpered, “A lesson, ma’am.” 

Larissa smirked. Her eyes had now been flooded with a completely different shade than before. One you had never seen before. 

“Get up.” she commaded you, and you followed her request almost immdiately.

“See... you CAN follow instructions...” Larissa tauntingly purred, “Come around the desk so I can fully see you.”

You walked around the desk to meet her on the side, not being to say anything. Larissa’s pupils dialated as she took in your outfit properly. 

“My my, I think that’s the worst one yet, love...” Larissa taunted.

You blushed at the nickname again, your head was already so foggy and your cunt was already so slick, you couldn’t properly focus.

Larissa’s face suddenly changed again. But this time it became stern and commading.

“Bend over.” she demanded, indicating on her lap.

This shook you out of your mind fog. “What..?” you stuttered out.

“I won’t repeat myself, slut. You need to be taught a lesson. Isn’t that what you want?” Larissa tautingly purred.

You gulped and went to bend over on her lap.

Larissa chuckled. She easily lifted up your tiny skirt to see your soaked panties.

“My my... Is my little slut so worked up for me?” she purred. Your response was a whimper in need. 

Larissa then proceeded to unexpectedly smack your ass with the back of her hand, causing you to yelp in pain. 

“When I ask a question, slut, you answer it.” she fumed. 

You whimpered in desperation, “Yes ma’am.”

She then ripped your panties off. And proceeded to say one thing, “Count.”

You were so fucked...

Her hand then landed on your behind again, causing a painful yet delicious stinging as you whimpered, “One..”

She kept going in a ruthless fashion, making you yelp, mewl, moan, and most importantly, count.

By fifteen, you were a needy mess with a rosy red ass sticking up in pain as well as desperation for more. 

“Has my little slut learned her lesson?” Larissa purred with a smirk and delight.

You immediately started begging, “Yes, fuck please. Please ma’am...”, your eyes had started watering a few counts ago, leaving tear stains on your face.

You thought you were done, but Larissa caught you off guard once more, as she snaked her hand in between your thighs. 

“Good girl...” she purred, as she started to pump a finger inside your treacherously wet cunt. Moan after moan flowed out from your mouth. Insanely quickly, Larissa had brought you right to your needy, desperate edge. 

“Cum on my fingers, my little slut.” Larissa purred.

And you came. Your legs clenched and trembled as a massive waved of pent of pleasure released itself through you. 

Afterwards, your entire body was weak and sensitive from the intensity of the orgasm Larissa had just given you. Your tears started to well up again from the overwhelming nature of that massive climax.

Larissa’s face screwed up in concern, “Oh love, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to push you too far...” She turned you around and took you into her embrace, whispering a good amount of “I’m sorry’s”. She cradled you for a while.

At one point, you looked up at her with still glossy eyes. Larissa’s face was washed with nothing but concern and care. 

This time, you caught off guard, as you kissed her. It wasn’t lustful or needy. It was a kiss of healing and care. The kiss left Larissa cradling you, and both of you smiling contently at each other.

[peony-flowerking7]

The Fallen Planet: Calabash base + new characters

You guys look snazzy in the outfit. Anyways this chapter has two more characters and also a certain special one. I decided to design them so you guys have a clue on it. I will also draw that special character.

Nakazawa a Japanese exchange student who's both curious and has a great sense of style unfortunately the artist isn't an fashionista so that outfit is horrible. I will do better this is for me on future chapters to draw them. I don't know let see how it all goes.

Wang Laoshi a history and archeologist college teacher that has a unfortunate love life and complains to it sometimes with the class. She picks on Nakazawa and unsuspected students, she is also your favorite teacher. She will of great help to you when talking about certain subjects. Very nice lady. She likes to dress modest to see if she can attract any male suitors. Her quest is unsuccessful for now.

It pretty long

[nellywrisource]

Habitus method for developing secondary characters

This is a method I've designed and occasionally employ to swiftly craft a groundwork for secondary characters with a modest degree of depth while remaining easily distinguishable and memorable. That allows them to be immediately identified, understood, and remembered by a reader.

Optionally, it can also be applied to establish a basis for primary characters that will later be more thoroughly delineated and explored. However, I tend to avoid using it to prevent the risk of reducing the protagonists to caricatures.

But what is habitus?

Habitus is a term used in anthropology and sociology to describe a kind of “social outfit” that forms by living within a society, learning, and absorbing the cultural context (e.g., habitus of the teacher, the hunter, the shepherd, etc.).

In our case, it's beneficial to think of a subculture (e.g., the academic setting, the art setting, the criminal setting, etc.). The more specific we are in choosing the reference subculture, the better.

Why is it advantageous?

Because we can swiftly construct a subcultural context for a secondary character. Then clothe them in a habitus to provide an initial, superficial characterization that distinguishes them from other characters who have different habitus or express the same habitus in different ways.

Defining the chosen habitus will give us a starting point from which to then select the specific traits and delve deep enough to make them appear unique.

Furthermore, once we create our own library of basic habitus, we always have a ready-made starting point to personalize other characters starting from a habitus they share.

Steps

Define the primary cultural environment: identify the overall cultural context in which the character under examination exists. For example, it could be the academic setting, artistic setting, criminal setting, or any other specific environment.

Choose a subculture and study it: within the general context, select a more specific subculture. For example, if you've selected the academic setting, you might focus on a particular discipline or department. Study the language, behaviors, values, and characteristic of that subculture, even superficially.

Identify key elements: find the key elements that distinguish the habitus of this subculture. For example, if you're working on a character in the academic setting, you might consider the manner of dressing, the technical language used, academic rituals, etc.

Habitus characterization: summarise the gathered information to define the character's habitus. For example, if you're working on a university professor, the habitus might include frequent use of academic terms, formal attire, and a research-oriented mindset. Once a habitus is established at this level, you can use it as a foundation for all characters sharing this habitus.

Integrate into physical appearance: reflect the chosen habitus in the character's physical appearance. This could involve clothing choices, accessories, and physical gestures. All of these will be tailored to the character's personality.

Incorporate into language: adjust the character's language based on the habitus. Use terms and expressions typical of the selected subculture. All of these will be tailored to the character's personality.

Represent values and habits: align the character's actions with the values and habits characteristic of the subculture. For instance, if the habitus is tied to the academic setting, the character might frequently engage in academic discussions. All of these will be tailored to the character's personality.

Develop the personal story: explore the character's background considering their habitus. Think about how the character's past experiences have contributed to shaping their identity within the subculture.

Add personal details: integrate unique details that make the character memorable and distinctive within their habitus. These details could be specific hobbies, passions, or personality traits.

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[elisajdb]

Caught!

A birthday gift for @gosha-chan and @gokuist

Goku was in a sour mood when he followed Chichi into their bedroom after breakfast. He was in a sour mood for two reasons. One being Chichi didn’t cook as much as she normally did for breakfast.

‘I don’t have time to cook a full meal because of the interview’ she said.

The interview was the second reason for Goku’s mood.

Gohan passed the first stage of acceptance into a private school in Orange City. He got high scores and passed the interview which made both parents (mainly Chichi) proud. Now came the parents’ interview which Goku hated for it meant he had to wear a stuffy suit and answer questions he didn’t understand.

“Ah, Chichi, do we have to?” Goku tried one more time to get out of the interview. “I ain’t good at this interview stuff. You’re good at it. You should do it.”

Chichi reached into the closet for Goku’s suit, shirt and tie. “This interview is for the parents.” She handed Goku his clothes. “Last I checked, you were with me when Gohan was conceived.”

“That was the fun part,” Goku grinned. This wasn’t.

Chichi went back to the closet and sifted through the clothes for her outfit. “It’s only for a few hours and it’s vitally important Gohan gets into this school.”

Goku placed his clothes on the bed and pulled his shirt over his head. “But Gohan’s so smart. You’ve been homeschooling him for years. He doesn’t need this school.”

Chichi pulled out a purple business suit, and a white blouse and hung it on the closet door. “Getting Gohan into this school will put him on the right path. He’ll have the best teachers that will nurture his brain, challenge him, and give Gohan the right connections for him to be a scientist.”

That last part sounded suspicious to Goku. Why did Gohan need to have the right connections? “Can’t Gohan do all that studying at home?”

“And when will Gohan have the time for that?” Chichi asked as she removed her robe. “You’re always grabbing him for some battle.”

Chichi placed her robe in a chair and walked back to the closet in her bra and panties. Chichi might be modest outside the bedroom but alone with Goku, Chichi was very open and confident with her body. She didn’t have a reason to not be. She always kept herself in shape. She did it for herself but Goku knew Chichi also did it to keep up with him physically. She wanted her body as fit as possible to handle the demands of his Saiyan body.

“Honestly, Goku,” Chichi griped as she selected a pair of black pumps with two-inch thick heels. “Don’t you want Gohan to grab some knowledge instead of a punch to his face?”

Goku wasn’t sure about Gohan but there was something he wanted to grab. Two somethings Goku thought as Chichi suddenly adjusted her bra. Three somethings Goku thought as Chichi slipped a leg into a sheer stocking. Four he changed his mind when Chichi slipped her other leg into a stocking. Five he thought when he caught sight of Chichi’s firm bottom when she clipped her stockings to her garter.

I wonder if I can change her mind.

Goku prided himself on changing Chichi’s mind to something he wanted. His good looks and body could be very influential when he was determined. This interview was for Gohan and Chichi had a stronger will when it came to their son, but Goku was confident he could change Chichi’s mind.

Goku made his move as Chichi slipped on her blouse. He put his hands over hers and pushed her shirt to slide off her shoulders. “Gohan doesn’t need that school, Chichi.”

His deepened voice got the effect he wanted. Chichi didn’t move. Instead, she stared at their image in the mirror. He smirked at her with his eyes sending a signal he wanted to bed her. That, too, got the effect he wanted. A blush on Chichi’s cheeks as she whispered. “He doesn’t?”

“No.” Goku pushed Chichi’s shirt down so it slipped to the floor. He rubbed his strong hands on her arms, caressing her in soft strokes before one hand went down her stomach to her panties to rest between her legs while the other cupped a breast. “Gohan’s good on his own and you’re good with the lessons you give him. You’re a good teacher for him.” He dropped a trail of kisses on Chichi’s neck. She told him before how she loved when he did that. She cursed him for remembering that now. “You’re a good teacher to me.”

“I….” Chichi exhaled, “….am?”

“Mm-hmm.” Goku opened Chichi’s bra. While his fingers continued to play between her legs, his other big hand massaged a breast. “You taught me how to touch you to make you feel good.” He could feel Chichi relaxing. He could smell her arousal growing and his fingers got wetter. A few more touches and caresses and Chichi won’t care about that interview.

“Ah,” ChiChi moaned as she felt Goku’s fingers pinching her nipple. She placed a hand over the one diddling with her sex. Her stroking fingers urged Goku to rub faster.  

Oh, yeah. Not much longer now. “Gohan’s out of the house,” he whispered in her ear. He left after breakfast to meet up with Bulma and the others. “Class is in session. Teach me.”

Chichi cried out when that hand between her legs suddenly became heated and massaged her clit. “You wanna stay here… and have fun?”

He licked her neck and rubbed his thickening need against Chichi’s bottom. “This needs another lesson.”

“Mmm, yes….” Chichi panted. “I have to teach you….. a lesson….”

“Teach me…. Babe.”

Babe. Her body trembled. Goku didn’t know what he did to her when he called her that. “Lesson one.” Chichi turned to Goku. She cupped his face and pulled him down to hers. She moaned loudly as their lips touched. She didn’t resist as Goku pushed his tongue into her mouth and swirled inside to taste her sweetness. She accepted his advances before fighting back to battle her tongue over his. Goku let her. Their goals were the same now. He relinquished control as Chichi’s tongue tasted him. Her body pressed forward forcing Goku to step backwards to their bed.

When the back of his legs touched the bed, Chichi pulled back. She was out of breath but her eyes were hungry for him. “Lesson one,” she said again.

“I’m ready for lessons one, two and three, Chichi.”

Chichi smiled. “Good.” She placed her hands on his chest and shoved him so hard he fell on the bed. Goku smiled, expecting Chichi to pounce on him but she grabbed his clothes and threw them over his face and chest. “Get dressed for our interview!”

It took several moments for Goku to understand he wasn’t going to get the lesson he wanted. He pushed his shirt off his face to catch Chichi storming into the bathroom with her clothes and slamming the bathroom door shut.

“Damn.” Goku fell back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. “Guess she’s really serious about this interview.”

Goku didn’t try to put any more moves on Chichi. He knew when and when not to push and the ire Chichi gave him when she came out of the bathroom, told him to not push her.

It’s only for a couple of hours Goku told himself when they left for Orange City. When Chichi took Gohan to the school for his entrance exam and interview, they returned in time for lunch. Goku expected he and Chichi to be gone for the same amount of time. He thought after the interview, they’d meet up with Gohan, Bulma and his friends at the cherry blossom festival.   

But when they arrived for their interview, Goku was stunned to see a large crowd near the school. The lines were so long, it ended four blocks from the school’s doors.

All of this couldn’t be for the parents' interview. Goku thought there was a food festival going on to justify the lines but seeing only adults wearing stuffy clothes like him and Chichi and overhearing them talk about the school confirmed Goku’s fear. This was the line for the parents to be interviewed.

“Hmm,” Chichi looked at her watch. “I guess we should’ve come an hour early instead of twenty minutes. It might be an hour before we start moving in line.”

“Whaaa?” Goku screamed. “We gotta wait an hour?!” There were so many people Goku couldn’t see the front of the line. “How long before we get inside?”

“At this rate, probably two hours.”

Forget being done by lunch and the festival! Goku doubted they would be done by dinner!

“I know it’s a long wait,” Chichi understood Goku’s discomfort. She didn’t expect to wait this long either. It wasn’t like this when she brought Gohan, but since this was for her son, Chichi was willing to put up with any discomfort for his education. “We can do this, Goku. This is for our son’s future. While we wait, let’s go over our interview questions.” Chichi reached into her purse for a list. While waiting for Gohan’s testing and interview to be over, Chichi spoke with other parents and learned of possible questions parents would be asked. “This’ll make the time go by.”

It did make time go by but it also made Goku question the school and if it was right for Gohan. Chichi kept urging him to say his favorite hobbies are reading and sports. They weren’t. Chichi wanted him to say his favorite words are ‘friendship,’ ‘effort’ and ‘victory’ but those weren’t his favorite words. He didn’t have any and he didn’t like he had to lie for Gohan to get into this school.

After another hour of waiting, the time was drawing for Goku and Chichi to be interviewed. They and two other parents were brought to three different rooms. Goku and Chichi waited in Room C while the parents before them were in Room A and Room B.

“All right, Goku. After these parents are interviewed, it’ll be our turn. Let’s go over our questions and answers one more time.”

Goku knew if he brought up his concerns with others around, Chichi would yell at him and force him to cave to her desires, but alone, Goku thought he and Chichi were on a fair ground where her yelling wouldn’t influence him and she will be forced to listen to his concerns.

“I don’t like this, Chichi.”

“Don’t like what?” Chichi thought Goku would be happy. “It’s almost over. We’ll probably interview for ten minutes and be out of here. We’ll get a big lunch when we leave. I promise.”

Goku didn’t think their interview would be for ten minutes. They’ve already been waiting for fifteen minutes in this room. He read the Ki of the people ahead of them. The parents in Room A were still being interviewed. The parents in Room B were still waiting and Goku knew his alphabet to know B comes before C.

“I don’t think this school is right for Gohan.”

“It’s the best private school closest to our home.”

“But if we gotta lie for Gohan to get in, is it a good school?” Goku questioned. “Why should the school care about my hobbies and favorite words? I ain’t attending the school. Gohan will be. Gohan’s a smart kid. It’s his brain they should care about. Not mine.”

He had a point and Chichi didn’t think it was fair either. She was appalled by the questions and wondered why should the parents be interviewed when the child is doing all the work. “It’s the school’s process, Goku. It’s how it is. I don’t like it either but I want Gohan to get the best education possible.”

Goku understood that and wanted what was best for Gohan, too, but Goku didn’t like what he and Chichi had to go through for it. “I didn’t have to lie to get what I wanted, Chichi. I didn’t lie to get you. I didn’t lie to win the Tenkaichi Budokai. Why should we lie about Gohan’s education? If this school can’t take us being honest, then it’s not good enough for Gohan!”

Chichi was taken aback by Goku’s passion. He didn’t have any interest in Gohan’s education. Whatever Gohan wanted was fine with him and Goku always agreed with what she wanted but Goku taking a stance on integrity gave Chichi pause. Was this the right path for Gohan if Goku is questioning it? Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, Chichi found Goku’s defiance very attractive.

“All right,” she gave in. Maybe they didn’t have to give a white lie. Maybe they can be honest. “We’ll be honest but try to sound impressive, okay, Goku? It’s for Gohan.” ChiChi cleared her throat. “Son Goku, what are your favorite hobbies?”

Be impressive. Goku thought for a moment and told the truth. “My favorite hobby is martial arts.”

“And why is martial arts your favorite hobby?”

“It’s something I’m really good at. My first memory is sparring with my Grandpa. He taught me martial arts. Martial arts kept me from losing my mind when Grandpa died. Martial arts gave me friends and a wife who gave me one of my greatest joys: a son. I wouldn’t be as happy as I am or have a family if I didn’t have my favorite hobby: martial arts.”

Goku hoped that was good enough. It was the truth but he had second doubts when he saw tears in Chichi’s eyes.

“Oh, Goku,” Chichi’s voice shook as she struggled to control her tears. “That’s the sweetest thing you ever said.”

Goku was nearly knocked out of his chair as Chichi threw her arms around his neck. “Is it a good answer?” He hoped so.

“It’s the best answer.” To show she meant it, Chichi kissed Goku but it wasn’t a delicate, chaste kiss she reserved when they were outside the house. This was a hungry, I want to take you to bed kiss where her breasts rubbed against his chest, where she slid from her chair to settle on Goku’s lap while her skirt rose up her thighs under the push of Goku’s hand as they kiss over and over where she sucked his tongue, nibbled his lips with Goku sliding his fingers to the treasure between her legs.  

Chichi reluctantly pulled her lips away to catch her breath. While Chichi struggled to compose herself, Goku was ready to cut loose. “Martial arts also got me a wife who taught me sex. That’s another hobby I like.” Goku winked at her. “Can I say that?”

“No,” Chichi giggled at her silly husband. “Don’t say that. Your first answer is enough.” She fanned herself. This was getting too hot and she couldn’t cool down.

Goku touched her chin and turned her face to his. “I mean it.”

“I know.”

Chichi saw Goku moving to kiss her again. She turned away so their lips wouldn’t touch but mistakenly put her vulnerable neck in the path of Goku’s hungry mouth.

Oh, no.

Oh, yes.

Goku’s lips on her smooth neck got her pulse racing. His sharp teeth on her sensitive skin made something hot and wild explode in Chichi. Her control was slipping away fast. She didn’t stop Goku as he turned her face to him so he could properly kiss her. When his lips touched hers again, Chichi knew she was done for. This was the kiss Goku gave her when he returned from Yardrat. It was the same kiss he reserved for whenever he entered her. A kiss so potent and delicious she had no resistance against.

It was hard to pull away from this intense need and demand of her husband but catching the school clock on the wall; the posters of land maps and historical figures made Chichi remember where they were. She pressed her hands against his chest to gently push him away when she noticed her blouse was open and her breasts were bare to him. They were kissing. When did Goku open her blouse? When had he unhooked her bra?

“That’s enough.” Goku didn’t listen as he pulled a nipple into his mouth. Chichi fisted his hair and arched her back to drive more of her breast into Goku’s mouth. “Goku….. we’re about…..” Did he have to suck so good?  “…… to be interviewed.”

Goku pulled his mouth off one breast and before licking and sucking the other, he said…. “They’re still talking to the first family.”

“They are?” Did this mean they have time for a quick one?

Goku muffled a moan as he rubbed his face against her breasts. “I can feel the Ki. Two people in Room B and six in Room A.”

That meant they did have time for a quick one. Oh, they shouldn’t but Chichi couldn’t help herself anymore.  

“Be fast,” Chichi told him as Goku removed his jacket while her fingers loosened his tie and quickly unbuttoned his shirt. She pushed the white garment off his body and licked her lips in hunger. She marveled at his rippling muscles for a moment before painting Goku’s chest with her kisses. She palmed his chest, massaged and pinched where her lips didn’t touch. When her delectable tongue swept his contours, Goku’s muscles jumped. Her mouth felt as good as he imagined his mouth on Chichi’s skin when he sucked, licked and bit. Her dark head was going lower where he wanted her to go but time was short. He felt a ki entering Room B. He had to move fast.

“I want you naked.” Goku didn’t wait for Chichi to respond. Impatient for Chichi he pulled her jacket,  snapping a button free. He pushed it with her blouse off her body. A strap of her bra snapped as Goku tugged and tossed it to the floor with their clothes.

He heard Chichi gasp his name when he pulled a nipple into his mouth and sucked hard. One of his hands grabbed her skirt and pushed it up so his hand could push past the delicate lace to tease between her legs. Chichi clenched his fingers as soon as they dipped inside. She was hot and wet; more ready than he anticipated.

“I’m ready,” Chichi told him as she rocked her hips on his fingers. “Ah!” she cried out as she felt his thumb rubbed against her clit. “Please put it in.”

“Oh, really?” Goku slipped a third finger in. He couldn’t help but taunt Chichi. “How ready are you?”

“Since this morning,” she mewled as she felt that third finger pump in her.

“When you rejected me.” He pressed hard on her clit and latched onto Chichi’s mouth to muffle her moaned. It was the confirmation he needed. He thought she wanted him then but pretended to not.

He pulled his fingers out. That was enough taunting. Besides, he couldn’t wait anymore either. He was hard as a rock and needed to plunge into Chichi’s heat.  

“Take me,” Chichi straddled herself against Goku and rubbed against his erection.

Goku grabbed Chichi’s hips ready to lift and pull Chichi on top of him.

“Sorry for the delay, Mr. and Mrs…..” the secretary who would escort Goku and Chichi to the interview room froze at the sight of the half-naked couple. Her file of Gohan slipped from her fingers and scattered across the floor.

Chichi turned her head gasping horrified as Goku screamed, “Don’t come in! Don’t come in!!!” With his hand on Chichi’s back, he pressed his wife closer to conceal her breasts and hide his stiff penis while waving frantically at the shocked woman.

The dark-haired woman flushed embarrassed at what she walked in on. “I’m sorry!” she blurted out apologizing as if she did something wrong. She got on her knees and hastily gathered the papers of Gohan’s file. “I’m sorry, but we had to dismiss the parents in Room B. Their child cheated on the entrance exam. We are ready to fuck….  I’m mean suck…..” she squealed, picked up a couple of papers and shielded her eyes. “Interview you.” Interview. Right. That’s what she wanted to say. She heard the rustling of clothes as the couple hastily dressed. She lowered the papers below her eyes and caught a glimpse of the package between  Mr. Son’s legs. “Oh….. wow.”

What an expected treat on her birthday!

She’s not so bad either. The birthday woman thought as she saw Mrs. Son cover her breasts over her bra.

As she stared, the woman heard Mrs. Son argue with Mr. Son over how embarrassing this was; how he didn’t alert her; and how this could ruin Gohan’s chances when she caught the curious secretary still looking at them. She screamed, “Can’t we have some privacy?!”

The secretary jumped to her feet and scurried out of the room but not before she got an idea on how this wouldn’t ruin Son Gohan’s chances. This could make him a lock to be accepted into the private school.

“So, what happened, Mom? Did the school accept me?”

Gohan thought with a few days of the interview and the incident with Broly behind them, it was safe to bring up the parents' interview and if he was accepted at the private school in Orange City. Gohan knew his Dad left in the middle of the interview and that likely ruined his chances but he wanted to know for sure.  

“Don’t worry about the school, Gohan. You can continue to study at home.”

Gohan took that as a sign he didn’t get in. He wasn’t mad he was rejected. He was happy to continue studying at home but a part of him did regret he wouldn’t be in a room with kids his age. He missed that when he did go to school before fighting forced him to homeschool.

“Okay, Mom.” Gohan accepted that and returned to his room to study with dreams of one day attending school and creating a group of friends like his Dad.

“Sorry, Chichi,” Goku apologized when Gohan left the room. “Guess I ruined Gohan’s chances.”

Chichi waited until she heard Gohan’s bedroom door close. “He got in.”

“But you said Gohan can continue to study at home. Doesn’t that mean he didn’t get in?”

Chichi shook her head. “You were right, Goku. That school isn’t good enough for Gohan. He’s too good for it. They wanted Gohan because of you.”

“Me?”

“That damn secretary,” Chichi couldn’t believe the mess her indiscretion with Goku caused. “She called to say Gohan has been accepted but her loose lips told a few teachers and parents about us. I’m getting calls from parents who want to arrange study dates here. Teachers have been calling to see if we will be attending orientation and all the parent-teacher conferences. The secretary researched us and learned you won the Tenkaichi Budokai. She talked to the headmaster and suddenly, no one cares about Gohan’s academics. They want to create a martial arts class with you as the teacher and use you to get more funding for the school.”

“Me?” Goku pointed to himself. Was Chichi serious?

“Classes are already booked in advance pending your acceptance.”

“For me?” He couldn’t teach a martial arts class! “But Gohan’s the only kid strong enough for me to train.”

If only that was the case. “You won’t be teaching kids martial arts but their parents. Mothers,” Chichi elaborated. “And the female teachers. They are the ones who signed up.”

“Why? I didn’t feel anyone strong when we were there.” Goku rubbed the back of his head. “Why would a bunch of women want me to…..” A look from Chichi answered his question. “Oh!”

“Oh indeed.”

“Well,” Goku chuckled. “You always said I’m handsome. You’re not the only one to notice.”

Chichi rolled her eyes. So much for integrity. Goku was finding too much humor in this. “Oh, don’t you start.”

“But you told me I’m good-looking. So many times.” Chichi’s irritation excited him. “Remember how you constantly told me I’m handsome; how happy you were to marry a handsome guy.”

Who knew a few compliments would cause her naïve husband to grow an ego over his looks? “I’m starting to regret it.”

“No, you’re not,” Goku circled his arms around Chichi’s waist. “You act all mad but you like the attention on me.”

In a way she did and she didn’t.  “And why would I like it?”

“Because you know no matter how many women think I’m handsome, I only care if you do.”

A sly smile curved Chichi’s face. Goku wasn’t wrong about that. “You could be right.”

“Could be?”

“All right, you are. Happy?”

As long as he has Chichi, he’ll always be happy. “Very.”

[pettyrevenge-base]

Got revenge on my teacher for only dress coding certain girls.

Remembered this out of the blue and thought I’d share.

Background info: I (16f at the time) went to a school that was K-12. We had multiple principals, one for the elementary school, one for middle, one for high school, and an overall principal who was in charge of all of them.

The principal of the high school, who I’ll call Ms. Smith, was notorious for only giving certain girls dress code violations. It always seemed to be the more “developed” girls that got in trouble. I once confronted her about it after she dress coded a friend of mine for having a short skirt while ignoring the fact that mine was even shorter. She mumbled some bullshit about my outfit being “more modest overall” and gave my friend a demerit (our school’s policy was 3 demerits = detention).

This really rubbed me the wrong way. So I hatched a petty little plan.

I was in charge of the art club. I’d been planning a project where I gave 10 disposable cameras to each grade in the HS to pass around and take pictures of their day. Afterwards I had them developed and mounted a display (before you ask, thankfully all of the pictures came out PG).

I knew I had to get permission from the principal. Instead of going to Ms. Smith, I decided to go straight to the principal of the whole school, Mr. Jones. He gave me the green light. I didn’t inform Ms. Smith of the project.

On the day I distributed the cameras, Ms. Smith found me during 2nd period and informed me she’d confiscated them due to not getting her permission. It was then that I informed her that I didn’t need her permission, because Mr. Jones had given his. She started at me with a sort of goldfish expression. I told her I’d be happy to return the cameras to each grade, but I had class, so could she do it? After an awkward pause she agreed. I thought the idea of her having to visit each individual classroom to eat her own words was hilarious. Even though she’ll never know why I pulled that stunt, it brought me joy to know I’d embarrassed her just like she embarrassed my friend.

Source: reddit.com/r/pettyrevenge

[masiethewriter]

Honored Eternal Path of Demise CH. 2 - New Game

Her on the other hand Shen Qingqiu immediately recognizes. Though when her face is not twisted in rage and mania, plunging a knife into his chest, she looks quite different. Very cute, he would usually think. If he hadn't experienced her stabbing him. Multiple times. To his death. "Senior! You are here too?" She calls out to him the moment they see him at the top of the stairs. "Ning Yingying, you know who this is?" The boy asks her before Shen Qingqiu can answer. "Of course! That is Shen Qingqiu. One of the seniors that helped us when we first started. Don't you remember A-Lou?" Ning Yingying answers, confirming Shen Qingqius suspicions of who they are.

Previous Chapter ~~//~~ Next Chapter

Shen Yuan opens his eyes and breathes.

For a minute he lies perfectly still. The enjoyment of breathing without food or blood blocking his airways is something to marvel at. Who would have thought breathing is this awesome? He has never really appreciated it like it deserves. Definitely something he won't take for granted anymore. 

Enjoying air going in and out his lungs is cool, but eventually he has to get up. Pushing himself into a sit, he feels much more clear headed than before. This time, he is even able to take in the room around him.

It is not the same as where he woke up last. First of all, he is laying in a bed this time. A queen size. Relatively clean. Not particularly luxurious or anything. It matches the rest of the room that is also quite modest. Wallpaper is old fashioned and loose in some spots. A garderope stands tall, wood dark. An old desk full of dust. A dirty mirror in the corner. A door leading out. 

Rain splatters against the one window of the room, leaving constant noise. There is nothing to see outside it, as it is too dark.

Slowly getting out of bed, Shen Yuan experiences none of the vertigo from earlier. He feels like he just woke up from a nap, the actual restful kind. Is this how people normally feel after sleeping? Sounded fake, but awesome now that he is experiencing it. Now he can't help but feel jealous of those who always woke up like this.

The floorboards creak beneath his feet as he walks around the room. As he gets in front of the mirror, he has to stop and take a look.

He looks nothing like himself. What Shen Yuan is used to seeing is a scrawny otaku, always choosing comfortable outfits above style. Hair an unruly mess, with round glasses big enough to cover half his face. He's never been particularly handsome or stylish. Not someone that would stand out in a crowd.

The man he sees in the mirror is the absolute opposite of that. He stands tall, muscles lean though with strength behind them. Instead of the warzone his hair can usually be found in, it is parted evenly, soft locks laying elegantly against his head. He is wearing an unknown school uniform that clearly no common folk could afford. His new glasses are slender and give off the vibe of someone scholarly and intelligent. 

Seeing this, the last of his doubts slither away. Instead of Shen Yuans own body, it is clear he now finds himself as Shen Qingqiu, popular stallion novel scum villain and less popular shitty video game #1 expendable character.

Allowing himself a minute of denial from his situation, Shen Yuan studies how the game developers have translated Shen Qingqiu into a character for their game. 

With their modern setting they of course couldn't keep Cang Qiong Mountain Sect or any other cultivation aspects in their story. But since so many of the characters' relations rely on hierarchy, they had to find another way for everyone to be connected. So the obvious solution was of course to just do the cliche and make them all students of the same rich kid boarding school. Apparently teachers aren't popular characters, so the peak lords of the novel were turned into last year students while the disciples became first year juniors. 

Just how much older were the last year students than those who just started? Never specified, so fans wouldn't be able to poke at broken timelines or complain about age differences. 

So how do you turn the scholarly peak lord into an unspecified boarding school student? You make him look like a nerd of course!

A pretty handsome nerd, but Shen Yuan's point still stands. 

But this is only so far he can allow himself to be distracted before he has to confront his situation. Namely that he now finds himself as the character most known for its merciless and gruesome deaths, who is only able to survive in the one, almost impossible to gain, secret ending.

Shen Yuan is not just screwed. He is absolutely fucked!

What the fuck kind of shit game is this!? Shen Yuan wants his money back, this isn't what he agreed to! If he was going to transmigrate into another world, could it be one where he wasn't going to die over a hundred awful deaths? At least in the original novel Shen Qingqiu only had to die once!

A horrific death it would take years of torture to reach, but after that it would be over!

He is vaguely able to recall what happened after he died, but before he woke up the first time. Some kind of dark void and a mission quest so obscurely worded it might as well be gibberish! Shit about misfortune and stories and lives and nothing that made any sense! Hello, anyone there? Some system that can offer the least bit of guidance in this fucked up world??

No? Nothing? Well, fuck it all then.

Okay, enough with the cursing. That is what got Shen Yuan killed in the first place and he doesn't need a repeat of that.

While a system that could help would have been nice, he got to stay positive. Since he has just been thrown into this with nothing to point the way, that must mean Shen Yuan is free to do what he wants. No rules also mean no restrictions in how he handles his situation. 

Also, Shen Yuan is no noob. He has spent every day playing this game since he brought it. He knows it inside and out by now, every secret and hidden shortcut. While he will likely still be limited by certain aspects of the storyline, he is also a walking and talking cheat guide. Nothing should be able to surprise him.

Whatever his quest is, isn't really that important. What matters is that clearly once he reaches the ending of the game the quest will be completed. Which ending or what will happen after, he will find out then. Problem for future Shen Yuan. For now there is nothing he can do but play the game.

So accepting his new role as Shen Qingqiu, he finally leaves the room.

The door opens with a shrill creak, loud enough to make him flinch. He steps into a dark hallway.

It is clear that the old mansionly aesthetic is going to follow him wherever he goes. The flooring is covered by a dark red carpet, the wallpaper made to match. Candlesticks protrude from the walls, giving off an eerie glow. Shen Qingqiu doesn't bother to consider who turned them all on.

Randomly choosing a direction, he takes a quick look at the first door he passes. 

Nothing stands out about it. At first it appears to be made of dark wood. But as Shen Qingqiu examines it closer, he realizes it is fake. There is no space between the edges and the wall. Almost like it has been painted on. Taking hold of the door handle, nothing moves as he tries to pull on it.

He will have to be carefull, as they look perfectly real from a distance. Wouldn't be good to try to get through a fake door if he is in a chase. But with this knowledge, he is able to pass by most of the doors in the corridor with no worry. Would be a waste of time to check if every door is fake. Not something he wants to do on his first playthrough.

Continuing through the repeating hallway he is finally rewarded by the sound of voices. Following them to a door that is actually different, decorated with elegant carvings in the wood, he opens it to a grand foyer.

Shen Qingqiu finds himself on the second floor, two huge staircases leading down to an overly decorated entrance. Old paintings with golden frames line the walls, dusty chairs and couches placed around to create gathering spots. The main door is so huge that Shen Qingqiu doubts he would be able to push it open by himself. Thick oak wide enough for 5 people to walk through at once, and at least twice as tall as any of them.

And in the middle of it all stands two figures. A boy and a girl.

Shen Qingqiu will be frank. The boy is the most handsome person he has ever seen in his life. Standing taller than even Shen Qingqiu's upgraded height, his wide shoulders and broad back shows of his natural masculinity. His uniform fits him well, jacket tied around his waist and sleeves rolled up to expose his strong forearms. He is clearly muscular, but not to an exaggerated degree. His dark curly hair is pulled back into a rough ponytail that only adds to the handsome features of his face. 

In contrast to his powerful and dependable build, his face is one of kindness and slight innocence. He seems like the kind of friend you can rely on and trust. Someone who will always show support and encouragement. 

In summary, he looks like someone who can win a fight if needed. And someone who gives great hugs when asked. Though out of Shen Qingqiu and the girl, it is no question who would be given which.

Her on the other hand Shen Qingqiu immediately recognizes. Though when her face is not twisted in rage and mania, plunging a knife into his chest, she looks quite different. Very cute, he would usually think. If he hadn't experienced her stabbing him. Multiple times. To his death.

"Senior! You are here too?" She calls out to him the moment they see him at the top of the stairs.

"Ning Yingying, you know who this is?" The boy asks her before Shen Qingqiu can answer.

"Of course! That is Shen Qingqiu. One of the seniors that helped us when we first started. Don't you remember A-Lou?" Ning Yingying answers, confirming Shen Qingqius suspicions of who they are.

Being face to face with Lou Binghe, the fated protagonist of Proud Immortal Demon Way, Shen Qingqiu just barely manages to not run to him. Every fanboy instinct is screaming at him to tell Lou Binghe that he is his biggest fan. He is just barely able to keep in his excitement and not scream like an obsessed fangirl. Instead he keeps his face passive and blank, not allowing it to show anything. 

As the two continue to whisper uninteresting exposition to each other, Shen Qingqiu descends the stairs, unhurried and with a hand gently trailing the railing. 

As he reaches the bottom, Ning Yingying runs up to him, none of her expressions hiding her excitement. Lou Bingle follows, much more cautiously. 

"Senior Shen, it is so good to see you! Do you have any idea where we are? A-Lou and I woke up with no memory of how we got here. I am so lucky we found each other, I have no idea what I would do if I was all alone by myself-" Ning Yingying ramples, barely pausing to breathe.

Shen Qingqiu lets her continue for a bit before he holds up a hand to quiet her.

"I just got here after waking up myself. I don't know anything either."

Disappointment takes over, the entirety of Ning Yingying's body crumbling as he blows out her hope.

"Does senior Shen have any idea of why we are here?" Lou Binghe then asks. His voice is low, but strong, exactly what Shen Qingqiu had always imagined the protagonist of his most hated novel would sound like. Being this close to his favorite character, he can't keep from internally crying with happiness for how well Lou Binghe is being portrayed. This one, this person, this protagonist is why he kept going through each terrible chapter of the novel and the entire awful game!

Externally Shen Qingqiu barely spares him a glance. Instead of keeping his focus on the teary Ning Yingying, he puts a hand on her shoulder.

"Clearly someone brought us here, though for what reason we can only guess. Nevertheless we should focus on finding a way away from here."

Brightening up as if she didn't consider this obvious course of action, Ning Yingying agrees. "Senior Shen is right! If we can just get away from here, surely everything will be fine!"

"We just checked and the doors aren't locked. We were just about to go out," Lou Binghe says, continuing the expected dialogue.

Good thing Shen Qingue went through this section of the game at least a hundred times. So he knows exactly what to say.

"Hmm, okay. You go do that," he starts. "I will look for a phone we can use to call for help."

This makes the other two pause. "Senior Shen is not coming with us?" Ning Yingying asks. Shen Qingqiu pushes his glasses, taking the classic pretentious asshole stance.

"Of course not. We have no idea where this is. What will you do when you find the way out? Keep going in the rain hoping to randomly find someone who will help? And what if we're in the middle of nowhere, not a soul to be found?" With each word, Shen Qingqiu can see he kills off more of Ning Yingying's hope. Still, he has to continue. "It's better to seek out multiple solutions than rely on one uncertain one. I prefer to stay here and not get my uniform unnecessarily ruined."

Or rather, this is the game designer's lazy excuse to immediately split up the party. Characters introduced and setting presented. The job here is done, so away with the scum villain, thank you for your contribution. 

Couldn't they think of a better reason to get rid of Shen Qingqiu? Even a loner like him should see it would be better to stick together. Though in actuality this was to his advantage.

"What will senior Shen be doing then?" It is Lou Binghes turn to ask, perfectly following the script. Though this is the part where Shen Qingqiu must divide from the story.

"I will start checking out the rooms here, see if I can find anything to contact the outside world." He explains, pointing towards a door hidden beneath the staircase.

Originally the real Shen Qingqiu chose to explore the upper floor, essentially leaving the story until next time he was needed. But this cheat sheet version knew where to go to find the first place of note. No reason to waste time, when he could go straight for the important items.

Ning Yingying looks at him worried, but he can’t read Luo Binghe. Since Shen Qingqiu hadn't broken character yet, he wasn’t worried about what was happening in their NPC minds. If things went according to plan, he didn't expect to see either of them for a long time after this.

"Will Senior be okay? I don't like the thought of you walking all by yourself," Ning Yingying tries one last time.

"You should worry more about yourself than others. You stick with... your friend... and he should take care of you. This one is perfectly capable of taking care of himself."

With these words Lou Binghe finally accepts his decision. Taking Ning Yingying’s hand he leads her towards the exit.

"Be careful Senior Shen! Please wait for us to come back for you!" Ning Yingying calls as Lou Binghe opens the huge doors like they weigh nothing. As the outside reveals the heavy rain, they only hesitate for a second, before they hurry along. The heavy doors fall closed, the loud bang following them ominous. 

With a deep sigh, Shen Quingiu can finally relax and let his mask fall.

From the beginning he knew he had to stay in character. While it was tough to act like an aloof and prickly rich kid, he wasn't risking the consequences of acting otherwise. In a setting like this, with paranoia and insanity being the norm, you didn't act in a way that would catch people's attention. Better to stay off the radar as much as possible.

So with the others gone, he turned around, going straight for the door he pointed out earlier. 

The room he entered was surprisingly cozy compared to the rest of the mansion. Rather than blood red carpets and walls with heavy shadows, here was properly lit with furniture that made it clear this was a study of sorts.

Or a safe room, as Shen Qingqiu knew it to be. 

Bookshelves lined the walls, one big closet placed on one side. In the center of the room was a big desk and chair, many knick knacks placed around. The only window of the room was huge and faced an outside road that actually had a lamppost to light up the area. Besides the door was a two-person couch that looked soft and inviting. 

Like commonly found in many horror games this was the one room that never hid any traps and which the monster would never randomly step into. This would also be the first room Ning Yingying would hide in after getting back to the mansion.

Shen Qingqiu knew exactly what was about to happen to her and Lou Binghe.

Originally she was meant to be the tutorial character of the game. The player would start playing as her, waking up in the mansion with no idea what was going on. Soon after she would stumble upon Lou Binghe and the two would seek a way out. Finding the entrance, they would meet the scum villain, the scene playing out almost exactly as what had just happened. Shen Qingqiu would refuse to go with them, instead heading for the upper floor, not to appear in the story for a while after. 

Ning Yingying and Lou Binghe would explore the outside, basically introducing the basic game mechanics. How to interact with others, finding items, running and crouching and so on. This would continue a bit, until they finally found the gate leading away. Though at this point, they wouldn’t be able to leave for two reasons.

1. The gate would be locked with no key in sight and no alternate exit.

2. The desecrated corpse of some nameless classmate would be found, clear signs that their death had been no accident.

This is when the Killer, the first monster of the game, would spawn. Attacking the two of them, they would be forced to split up, Lou Binghe disappearing to who-knows-where and Ning Yingying having to run back to the mansion to hide. With the Killer right on her heels, she would be led inside the safe room, where the hiding mechanic would be taught using the big closet in the room.

What happened after then became more dependent on the player. This was when the game truly began and it was possible to explore freely and begin to solve the story.

To Shen Qingqiu, most of this didn't matter. Already a free soul, with no need for a tutorial, being perfectly capable of bending his knees for sneaking or picking up items with his hands, he didn't feel a need to follow in Ning Yingying’s footsteps. Rather he saw the beginning of the game as the timer for when he could no longer act freely. 

Until Ning Yingying and Lou Binghe found the first corpse, the Killer should not be on the loose. So until then, he should not have to worry about surviving, but could instead concentrate on gathering items and solving puzzles. Which is why he went into this room for arguably the most important item the game had.

Going to the desk, he investigated it a bit before he found a secret compartment. Pushing it to the side, a sliding puzzle was revealed, one he easily solved. Putting the last piece in the correct spot a click was heard before one of the drawers suddenly opened. Quickly, he gathered the one item it held. 

The spiritbox.

With this Shen Qingqiu could officially begin to play. He already beat the game once, gaining every single ending, no matter how challenging or impossible. He was confident that he could do so again. 

Time to start a new save.

[sorryimananti-romantic]

Idk if you remember the ateez as mythical creatures thing I did a while back but I came across this on pinterest today

I was like MOON SPIRIT JONGHO. He'll probably wear a shirt underneath though. No bit srsly Jongho's outfits are always so modest yet tasteful.

Oh and then I was about to go to sleep but then my mind went "Seonghwa the Dracula and his Human friend Hongjoon who plays spooky music whenever Hwa enters the room."

Like

Seonghwa: *enters*

Hongjoong:

Anyways

WHY IS HE SO CUTE??!!

OMG NO I REMEMBER THE ATEEZ AS MYTHICAL CREATURES

jongho would really slay so hard in this fit?? imagine him with his messy curls and an almost sheer white shirt under that fit. now imagine him singing in this look.

moon spirit jongho hypnotizing everyone in sight 😌💅

also omg i think about seonghwa as dracula a lot ever since that black cat nero mv but sometimes he gives me dracula from hotel transylvania vibes 😭 so imagine hongjoong as the producer who carries a playlist of music like this to play whenever he enters.

and he never misses.

draculhwa will have a hard time not killing him LMAO

ALSO THANK YOU FOR THIS MINGI that's exactly the vibe of history teacher!mingi i'm going for in the fic that's... dropping in a few hours prob hehe

[pankowcrumbs]

Chapter 3: Coffee in Covent Garden

The coffee date arrived quicker than you expected, and yet, every hour leading up to the coffee date seemed to drag. You spent too much time picking out an outfit—casual but polished, something that didn’t scream, I tried too hard. Finally, you settled on a light blouse tucked into high-waisted jeans and your favorite boots.

Covent Garden was bustling as always, performers entertaining tourists while the scent of fresh pastries and coffee lingered in the air. You found the café Kit had mentioned, a quaint spot tucked down a quieter side street. The outdoor tables were surrounded by potted plants, and the hum of conversation created a cozy buzz.

Kit was already there, sitting at one of the tables with his back to the street. He spotted you immediately, standing and offering a small, genuine smile that made your nerves settle. He was dressed simply—a green sweater that complemented his eyes and jeans—and yet, he looked effortlessly put together.

“Hey,” he greeted, pulling out the chair opposite him. “I hope I didn’t make you rush.”

“Not at all,” you said, sitting down. “I’m usually late to everything, so this is a miracle.”

He chuckled, a soft sound that made you relax further. “I’ll take that as a good sign.”

The waiter came by, and Kit gestured for you to order first. You went with a cappuccino, while he opted for a flat white. As the drinks arrived, the conversation began to flow, surprisingly easy despite the setting.

“I looked up that series you mentioned,” Kit said, leaning forward slightly. “The period drama. It sounds like the perfect role for you.”

You sipped your coffee, smiling. “That’s assuming I get it. The audition process is brutal.”

Kit shook his head. “If they’ve got any sense, they’ll cast you. I meant it when I said you were brilliant. You have this way of drawing people in—it’s impossible not to watch you.”

Your cheeks warmed at the compliment. “You’re making it hard to stay modest, you know.”

He grinned, resting his chin on his hand. “Good. Modesty is overrated.”

The conversation shifted to lighter topics—favorite films, disastrous auditions, the best late-night food spots in London. Kit told a story about once forgetting his lines during a school play and improvising an entire Shakespearean soliloquy, much to his teacher’s horror. You laughed so hard you nearly spilled your coffee.

As the afternoon wore on, the bustling noise of the city seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble. You found yourself sharing stories you hadn’t told in years, from embarrassing childhood moments to your dreams of one day producing your own film. Kit listened intently, his gaze steady and warm, as though nothing else mattered in that moment.

Eventually, the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting golden light across the cobblestones outside. You glanced at the time, surprised to see how much had passed.

“I should probably let you get on with your day,” you said reluctantly, though the last thing you wanted was for the date to end.

Kit leaned back in his chair, a small smile playing on his lips. “Or,” he said slowly, “we could keep this going. There’s a market just around the corner. I promise it’s worth seeing.”

You hesitated, but only for a moment. “Alright,” you said, smiling. “Lead the way.”

As the two of you walked side by side through Covent Garden’s cobbled streets, you realized something: this wasn’t just a good date. It was the kind of connection you’d always hoped for but never quite found. And as Kit’s arm brushed yours, his laughter ringing out in the warm evening air, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something extraordinary.

[nadiegesabate1990]

The most famous metal and rock DJ of all time.

I was born somewhere on this planet Earth (please don't say I was born here. I'm from here and I suffer a lot of prejudice. I'm from the northeast of Brazil, Pernambuco, and I can't be successful. And just say Naná Nadiege Sabate is from Rio de Janeiro… orphan).

On February 10, 1990, I'm the daughter of a chemist. My father wanted me to become a teacher for children.

And while I was studying classical music, I got sick and thought about living on the island of Fernando de Noronha for a year. Just to heal my kidneys. I would only eat and drink coconut water. That way I would live far away from processed and carcinogenic foods. But I'm an attractive person and I can't adapt to the tropical climate of Brazil or to the jealousy of Brazilians.

I had a couple of friends and they were locking me up inside their house, isolating me so I wouldn't have sex.

Mainly the guy's wife, a selfish lesbian. They are my friends, but when I'm with them, other people don't approach me. My friends also have their friends and go out to date and don't invite me. I think it's super annoying.

But let's talk about my music. These songs are from a little after my ??? In fact, I was 25 years old, I started a trip to Recife, and I found a magazine about DJs at a newsstand. These drums and loops are from the magazine and the programs came on the CD. I liked dance music from private nightclubs in Europe. When I listened to the clips of American singers, I liked to see Britney, my favorite singer, in which she wore a dancer's outfit, her body covered only by some "diamond stones" effects. I loved the clip, but she was just copying Jeniffer Lopes.

There's nothing erotic about it. Her performances were actually social events. And at the time, it was peaceful, I lived in a castle. And some annoying friends would say: get out of this prison. But the peace and quiet of this modest life didn't last long. In 2011-2012, I realized that I was being watched and that two gym teachers were following me. At the time, all I had in mind was signing a contract and continuing to study and reaching the peak of my career as a DJ. I was excited and bought my first keyboard.

Political war and due to the financial difficulties I was facing, I was very sad. It seemed that it was impossible for me to continue, to "be happy" creating music, and so I said to myself: I'm going to continue…

I posted my songs on some websites. My father gave me 300 dollars as an allowance and it was impossible for me to continue my mission of using classical music by great composers in my heavy metal music and because I wanted to be like them, like Mozart, I wanted to be all those guys.

But I managed to get information about the enemies' plans and future movements of bandits. And it was through local radio stations and their police programs broadcast in other municipalities. The criminals worked for the high-ranking police commanders. There was a journalist who said on air that I had an affair with another woman as if this were big news. And in mid-January 2016, a photograph and a radio broadcast from a border town would be fatal for me. The police, some officers, intercepted a WhatsApp message and unmasked it as my cousin and a lesbian gym teacher. And my mother's family, some indigenous people. I was also photographed in my own home by this criminal who watched me day and night and by some officers who took my cell phone. In my head, I was wondering who is the boss or the leader of this criminal organization? What they wanted was to persuade me to work for them?

And shortly after, they intercepted a radio broadcast, trying to tell me that the people in my region were already informed of the intentions to invade homes. Espionage. I was almost arrested by the police and accused by the police of assaulting a child. The process against me has begun… I'm traumatized by this police and political justice thing.