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Can u just give me a little Ying and Dokk bff friendship!
just.
Hmm what would be a fun friendship story.
Once in a blue moon, Dokkaebi succumbs into boredom and rises again as a dull-eyed zombie with strong appetite for relentless online shopping. Slouched on a couch, chin folding into double layer and mouth slightly agape as she mindlessly clicks on the laptop mouse pad. One (1) salvageable thing of this bad habit is that she piles a lot of items on the shopping cart. It’s a slow build up for the ultimate release. One click that’s written ‘purchase,’ a portal to suck her virtual wallet dry. Some masochistic ritual. She has a vague assumption of how much money will be gone, but does she have her bank mobile app to see the subtracted amount? That’s something for her future-self to deal with. Just one click and she can whisper, “Come to mama.”
“Absolutely not,” A sudden shove pushes the laptop screen down, “We’ve talked about this.”
“Mei Lin,” Dokkaebi sighs and a giggle follows, “Mei Lin, Mei Lin, Mei Lin. What’s up?”
“Your poor wallet, that’s what’s up,” Ying snatches the laptop and lay it gently on a nearby table.
“I treat my wallet with love and respect,” Dokkaebi heaves herself off from the seat, “I feed it fat with my blood and sweat, keep it nice and plump, then cut it open to feast on sweet capitalism. No wrong doing is done.” She holds her friend’s shoulders and sways side to side. A little more to the left, drifting further away from the couch.
Ying stiffens to hold the ground and reciprocates the touch in the exact same manner, except she presses the taller woman down back into the couch, “You’re not touching a single keyboard today. Not when I’m here.”
“But mommy! I need them,” Arms outstretched for a cuddle that’s sticky with fake pouting and BB cream as Dokkaebi rubs her cheeks against Ying’s, “I want it now. I’ve been working so hard. Don’t you know about the whole ‘treat yoself’ trend?”
“What about a box full of body butter piled up in your bathroom?”
“Oh.” Dokkaebi looks down and blinks at a pair of laser glare.
“Those bikini sets you never wore?”
“Well, I felt a little chubby last summer, so-”
Ying scoffs at piles of brown stained mugs, “Espresso machine from Nestle?”
“Hey, I actually use that every night.” Dokkaebi is meant to clean them all; a promise she made two days ago.
“And you drink nothing stronger than what, these white ones? There are so many different coloured capsules laying on the floor.”
“They have names! It’s called caramel crème brulee.” The only name Dokkaebi manages to recall other than all those fancy sounding French or something.
“Isn’t that what you bought from the bakers house- Yes, you do! And those macarons too.”
“You ate them too. In fact, you ate a lot.”
Ying clicks her tongue, “The point is, you buy way too many things without actually using them all. It’s a bad habit, Eun Hye.”
“I know. But you know why I’m like this.” Dokkaebi loosens the grip and sinks in to the cushion.
“Hm,” Ying breaks free and rolls away, “But I’m not going to condone everything you do. That’s not right.” The guilty pleasure isn’t an old news between them. Ying understands Dokkaebi and the frustration that’s been accumulating over the years. The strong desire to attain what cannot be achieved; Dokkaebi wanted approval and respect from the superiors. Obviously that didn’t work out, so she opted to break out of the mold and leave the country while flashing them the middle fingers. Therefore buying material goods, physical objects that she can own without anyone’s permission, are righteous rewards of a kind.
“Of course it isn’t,” The once lively goblin sits still. Mood shifts from light banter to stagnant silence, which soon dissipates when Dokkaebi turns to face Ying, “Thanks. I guess I need to tone it down.”
The little curve on the corner is what gets Ying most of the time, “Ugh,” Correction. Guilt and sympathy tug a string in her heart, “I mean, you can buy what you want. Gosh, you’re not a child!”
“Thank fuck. I’d rather not be the brat that I was.”
“As if you have stopped being one,” Ying fetches the laptop and places it between them, “But it’s too late to do anything about it. I can see you moping the entire week if you don’t get what you want right now.”
“Geez. You do sound like my mom. Creepy.” Dokkaebi scoots closer to the screen, as moths are often drawn to the flames.
“Five things. And I get to choose two of them because you need to treat me after all this.” Ying squints as she scrolls down to see the page end. It takes a while to reach the bottom, and the number next to shopping cart icon is well over thirty.
“Two? Don't make me a stingy bitch. Make it three because you deserve that much,” Dokkaebi is quick to take over the mouse pad and busily taps to cancel some orders, “Treat yoself, girl!”
“I’d rather see you become a scrooge,” Ying huffs as she leans closer for a better view, “Whoa, don’t take that out. I want it red.”
“Nyx tint? Heck yeah. It’s about time you get a new one.” And that’s how they will be sitting in the same spot for three hours. Double the number when Hibana walks in to join them, but hey. Fifteen is lesser than thirty, right?
Repost if you want me to continue posting!
I was so good with posting to Tumblr daily and then I suddenly stopped. I am so sorry.. I just have so much on my mind.
“My boobs are…bigger! Thanks, honey.” Your girlfriend was very thankful for the gift you gave her: a bra that was bigger than her previous size, but one that expanded her breasts to fit into it via a magic-infused technology that you didn’t quite understand. You didn’t need to, as your girlfriend now not only filled a 34DD bra, she slightly exceeded it, making the bra a tight fit.
“Listen, you can probably tell I’m not really a “tutor”. The person your parents met is my assistant. When I heard you and your family had moved here after what happened, I had to meet you. I know you beat the case, but you can be honest with me: You enjoyed seeing your dick fit in those tiny holes didn’t you? You’re so young and yet you’re already a rapist. Show it to me. Give me that big boy-dick. I need to feel the cum of the youngest serial rapist in the country in my hole. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be our youngest serial killer.“
Duval Drake was many things. A reformed gang member. A businessman. A man with incredible rage. A lover of jurisprudence. A lover. A fighter. Now, a disgraced CEO.
His wife had finally gained the courage to report him for his constant domestic abuse. The secret recordings that had been leaked to the local news were harrowing. Hit after hit, rape after rape, scream after scream. Even the children hadn't been spared.
As he returned home on the worst day of his life, the day of his exposure he knew his wife would be gone with his children. He had negotiated voluntary surrender tomorrow through his lawyer. By tomorrow, if not tonight, his life as he knew it would be over.
He could never have imagined that his neighbors young daughter would be in his spare bedroom, waiting. All she said was "I saw the news." as she handed him a leash.
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