A curse is a spell designed to cause a person or place harm or misfortune for whatever reasons the caster has. Occasionally they have been used to protect when it used against a concept, “cursing out” infections and medical problems.
phone sex with lots of dirty talk w/ doyoung bunny? =))
Let’s pretend you don’t know a Doyoung.
Late at night you get an unexpected call from a number you aren’t familiar with.
You answer it, it could be important.
Before you can even say anything you’re interrupted.
“Good, you’re listening.”
A few grunts and groans escape him as he tugs on his erect member feverishly.
You have no clue who this man is, but he’s doing a good job of turning you on.
He kept referring to you as Jaehyun, but you didn’t understand why… he must have the wrong number.
You decide to speak up.
Everything goes silent for a bit, immensely awkward.
Until he speaks up, sounding even sleazier than before.
Let’s just say, he has a way with words and you’re hesitant to hang up, you like listening to him.
He coaxes you to stay on the line, saying he urgently needed release.
He talks so nastily and with such audacity.
He’s very domineering and controlling, telling you to touch yourself and join him.
Ok, so don’t click on this if you don’t have headphones, butttt I just recently learned what ASMR is- and I was liek, there has got to be one for this kind of scenario…. I’ll just link it here, but godspeed
bonus bc I kinda like this storyline:
You meet him in person some day, just a casual encounter and you both recognize each others voices and know each others names [bc after the 1 call there seemed to be a few more in the following weeks ;)]
back to my poster making roots. a little info on dead ringer:
the universe they live in (as in the events, little traits (frank’s eyes) and how and why everything happened) I personally completely made up-so this is a world of my own! it loosely follows the canon lore. it doesn’t exist in the same world as a lot of other awesome artists on here, it’s its own separate thang. i do hope you’ll enjoy watching this story unravel.
mikael was terrified when they first asked the squad to use they/them pronouns. they had a whole powerpoint ready on gender and social constructs and the grammatical validity of they/them used in the singular.
but in the end they didn’t need it. as soon as they said “nonbinary” the squad, after staring at them for three interminable seconds, broke into loud chatter
“no no bro it’s like how you feel inside or some shit” “yeah like Jorunn at school!” “what ‘bout Jorunn?” “sh-they like asked the teachers to call h-them they and shit” “oh yeah i remember!” “that was badass, man!” “yeah i heard they just straight up walked to every teacher they had in bakka and even the principal!” “no i heard they just asked their dad to write a letter or some shit” “yeah well…” “yeah can you imagine doing that, man?” “naaaah! i can’t even look at the teachers in the face i’m so fucking stressed all the time”
and that was kind of it? the conversation quickly sidetracked to the euro 2016 and what were norway’s chances to make it to the finals and mikael joined in without even realising
the weight in their stomach lifted and they could breathe again and that was the end of it.
one day, a few months after their coming out, mikael walks in the bakkoushs’ flat with their nails painted a deep shade of russet
they figured that a lot of rock’n’roll-type guys wear black nail polish and no one cares
and they like warm shades of brown. plus they kind of look black. from a distance.
the minute they walk in though, elias grabs their hand and sticks it so close to his face that mikael can feel their friend’s breath against their fingers
mikael feels the familiar twinge of anxiety in their guts and prays for a swift and merciful death
but elias releases mikael’s hand and asks “can you do mine?”
two hours later, sana bursts into elias’ room because she could smell a sickeningly potent chemical scent and she thought the squad had finally managed to create mustard gas by mistake and kill themselves
she stares at the mess of cotton swabs drenched in acetone, the floor stained in a rainbow of nail polishes, the entire balloon squad bent over each other’s hands, sitting on the floor, tongues sticking out with the effort, looking like three years old asked to try and colour inside the lines for once
“are those my nail polishes, elias?”
“faaaaaaaaaaaaaaeeeennn” the squad cowers, nudging elias towards his sister, and mikael pales. they feel responsible.
sana pinches the space between her eyebrows and takes a deep breath in
“hand me the goods, elias” she says, waving the squad out of her way.
when she sits on her brother’s bed, it turns into a makeshift throne and the squad approaches her and offers her their hands for inspection
except for mikael who starts trying to clean the floor of the mess the squad made without damaging their painted fingernails
and they can’t contain the smile that pulls on their cheeks so hard it hurts