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unproduciblesmackdown · 2 years

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oh lmfao edited to add. the thirty tags are maxed out but i have to work in the wordplay of: call this post-it notes

speaking of [happening to think about, then for a separate reason talk about, the film “stand by me,” an adaptation of the stephen king short story “the body”] last night, & tumblr ads reminding me, i did turn around after listening to the podcast ep extensive, research enhanced analysis / discussion of specifically the book like hey yeah yknow what. i’ll watch the It films; not the miniseries / the one with tim curry, which i saw the first half of but wasn’t really inspired to commit to the latter half. and you Know like yeah i’m truly interested in the choice to build on [stephen king kicking his legs like “whaaat are some Problems kids could have.....um being a girl.....being jewish.....having a stutter.....”] with “what if someone was gay or some shit” like yeah right on, which idk that steve ever wrote into any vaguely primary characters even though it’s markedly made textually relevant. and the cultural alignment for kleinsen enjoyers is still very funny. i forgot about even the arm cast business till halfway through. even the [break it again] joke kind of manifested lmao

anyways the point is i’m like, my two primary modes of [this experience] being expressed via [mad men meme In The Cinema seriously considering the material] and [the shot of that guy in the alternate titanic ending where he’s like ahahahaha throwing his head back and the camera is overhead zooming out a little bit] and the like Oh Hey. This Is All Coming Together? kind of [that madman cinema meme] moment hit in The Second Part because it’s like, it’s Remarkable for a stephen king story to have Adults Who Are Friends. which is where it can be cross referenced with Stand By Me, which is about kids who are friends, but Framed by like, this story is written in the future by the main kid, who wanted to be a writer & now is, mostly about his friendship with this one other kid who was like “hey man you can & should be a writer. believe” and that classic [stephen king High Concept stories] central plot impetus / definition which is “the one where some kids go on a trek to find/see a dead body” and then ending with Adult Main Kid with that classic / standout remark “i never had any friends like the ones i had when i was twelve. god, does anyone?” which is included even in the film via seeing him type it out on bulkier ye old computer terminals while his kid is now twelvish i guess and talking to a friend. after also musing on like, yeah that bestie who hyped me up the most and who i saved in turn, with a gun, tragically died. iunno where those other two kids in the group are, living kind of underwhelming lives out there probably but whatever. lmfao like man i dunno write them a letter, call them, you could do a little digging here and get in touch. but yeah it’s not gonna be Exactly The Same as when you were kids, nor exactly the same as it was when things aligned to have a brief but dramatic adventure, nor when you Could just all spontaneously decide you wanna go walking & camping to find a body & then just up & do that. but like, you can consciously make & maintain friendships i prommy my man lol. like “it’s great when things align so you Happen to have these friends when you’re twelve and you all like offer each other emotional support and can understand each other like nobody else can. but then you Will all just drift apart” like, i mean, will you. you can have friendships beyond what you just Happen to have / hope that the magic alignments will just continue falling into place for you so that those friendships still exist

and probably part of it is that it’s really mostly About the two kids who are friends even though there’s four of them, i.e. the protagonist & the moral support bestie, as well as the fact that this is a short story so there’s presumably only so much time to focus on characters at all really or delve into any setup and bg lore and whatever all else, i dunno. but thinking how it’s like, oh hey, in It it’s kind of its own serendipitous alignment of elements there to be like, here’s a group of adults where it’s peak relevant that they’re friends, for once. because afaik that really just doesn’t happen in sking stories, like, yeah adults kind of have friends but it’s Not Very Deep / it’s just kind of convenience about working together moving plots along & it’s like yeah uh i don’t fucking know i guess we see each other / hang out for dinners or post dinner drinks together or join forces about whatever fucked up shit and just talk about that, mostly....and probably people are just dropping off like flies eventually, the protagonist man of that [sooo many protags who are just some fuckin middle aged guy who’s a writer] type, and it’s also in part just because like, characters don’t really matter that much / have to be particularly distinct / Are Disposable when plenty of the point is to go “was that fucked up or what?” about whatever’s happening, so yknow you go “there was once just some fuckin guy, i dunno, he probably has a wife he’s paternalistically protective of but maybe also resents and maybe a kid or two or something, whatever....” like, being the main character doesn’t really matter, it’s just this avatar through which we are told a story of some fucked up shit and to whomst any fucked up shit can even happen, being other characters also really doesn’t matter

so it’s like huh, stand by me / the body as obviously this Ode To Twelve Year Olds’ Friendship And How Your Emotional Support Of Each Other Defines The Entire Path Of Your Life Though Mostly For The Main Character, Everyone Else Fucked Off Or Whatever like right yeah, but with that difference of how like clearly as an adult this isn’t gonna be about this guy going like “hey yeah where are those still living scamps today,” he’s reminiscing only, he’s talking about how he now doesn’t have any friends like the ones he had when he was twelve....then what changes in It is like, hmm how are these adults where the fact they’re friends actually is peak relevant? how does one remain friends with even Any childhood friends there huh. and then the fact it works out like that is like aha, well it’s because they don’t lmfao. that everyone happens to scatter to the winds at some point when it maybe will eventually rear its head amongst even their own adult guardians like hey, yknow, maybe let’s not live in murderville. or coincidence. whatever. where the point is that like oh also, everyone just magically forgets the goings on as kids including the existence of their friends, but is about to be reminded of them / remember all that, for a specific external reason rather than [adults are like hey let me try getting in touch with that mf] and already plot and magic is relevant to all of this. they’re not going to have gotten together for the shittiest high school reunion if not for the connection of Friendship, this is about adults but it’s about that childhood plotline still, so Twelve Year Olds’ Friendships still stands / is relevant, so we can even fathom these adults having a connection, b/c yes they Didn’t have it as they got older there, but now they’re jumping back into it actually, b/c magic, and because also this is Directly About (Childhood) Trauma which was also like, hey damn, even outside the stephen king oeuvre & its tendencies (solid & wretched), this is also transcending grievances i so often have with Horror, as someone who likes horror and doesn’t like horror but likes horror but doesn’t like it, and just like. questionable employment of [you Are bothering to focus on Character, and their emotional arcs being entirely relevant to the story here] when sometimes it’s like, do you need a story? the strength of horror shorts to just go “was that fucked up or what.” do you need the characters with the emotional arc relevance at all, or is it just a little avatar walking around with enough vague motivation to have / see / make fucked up shit happen? are they particularly characterized to play into some Metaphor, what’s that metaphor, is it shit, is the execution of it shit. and oftentimes Trauma is just like, idk, it’s like well here’s this person’s Weakness, and it being horror that’s more likely to make it into a Fatal Flaw, like way to have trauma you dumbass, if you were so weak as to fail to just get over it already / Overcome it, you just might be killed for it

annoying, shallow and hackneyed, insulting, etc, and it’s also like, the Individual Focused emotional journey like and here this character who’s been weakly propped up by the Stronger people supporting them will have to go through the crucible of being alone, facing down their Issue like their trauma, and getting through it in this big dramatic one and done way so they can finally stop being a pussy and an obstacle to others. or else fuck it up & die. and it’s like do you know how this works lmfao (no) why shouldn’t the support help. why should it Have to go away. why shouldn’t everyone be crowdsourcing their emotional support amongst their group lmao and never needing to “overcome” it Forever, alone. and that’s at least mostly what gets to go on in It lmfao, like, so obviously this is About Childhood Trauma. whereas It = any of the forces that make people act in ways that create, facilitate, or simply passively allow trauma. (or just some shit that really fucks shit up sometimes i guess.) and you have kids who get caught Alone getting got. but then you have a larger group of some twelvish year olds who are like alright fuck this then, and that’s enough to get through it, the same way that naturally in the less magical / more literal realm of their lives, that friend group & joining forces & providing this like actually (relatively) safe and supportive environment amongst themselves is what protects them & makes everyone a lot more of a force to be reckoned with than they are when out / caught on their own. and it just doesn’t happen to be about choosing to write about like, and then all these kids got picked off one by one anyways, despite their efforts, f. which like i guess it could be, but when the Point is so Directly about the emotional support some kids get from each other / that they Are crowdsourcing protection re: their individual vulnerabilities, that wouldn’t really emphasize that Point so much if regardless of the [having a friend group] everyone was fucked anyways. or the fact that like, again, this is About trauma and what can create it and how that can persist and all, the Magic Rules are about the emotional component of it all, when it’s like, oh this just so happens to be a magic murder entity that’s picking off kids but also prefers to torment them and/or like idk takes the route of going “oh you’re gonna hate this” and hooks up their consciousness via usb cable to the zillionth dimension void & then sips their life force through a crazy straw, or, as it would be to clown entities, a normal straw, and i dunno, that if the usb is unplugged vs eternal living death then the torment juice can give people the interdimensional premonition / telepathy across space & probably time shine(tm) like good for them i guess. call that hypervigilance?

and then that like, into the Adults timeline, not only is there this cheat like woops a stephen king story where adults are friends b/c they’ve reconnected the usb cables where the [friends like the ones i had when i was twelve] has now become immediately relevant and active again, i was like, mad man cinema contemplation meme a bit confused going into the second half until i realized some particular fact of the plot And it was slowly like....we’re kind of goofin huh, is this Being Funnier? b/c i mean, the first one wasn’t not ever funny or like otherwise not super solemn & heavy, and also i’m just Used to horror to the point it’s not gonna like bother me probably, i was watching alone and turned off the lights b/c i couldn’t adjust my screen’s lighting levels & the overhead light in here was gonna create glare via the mirror behind me, and i didn’t think anything of it at any point, i had to also be like “@ me, okay stop saying ‘me’ the moment you realize anything [A Scary Moment] is transpiring for no especial reason,” and yknow, it’s like a roller coaster to me, or i’d say like being tickled except actually i hate that one & will start physically fighting lol, where it’s like yeah aaaaaa but it’s fun & i’m Humored really, i’m experiencing the [horror & comedy are two sides of the same coin], when i’m startled or going like oooh that was, to be sure, creepy, it’s still like, ahaha, i’m figuratively tickled, going :] at the screen, i especially liked the same [ooh hehe yeah that’s eerie] type of moments in both halves like yeah very [your standard marble hornets enjoyer] of me....but anyways so then it did take me an extra few moments maybe in the second half like oh is this Markedly More Humorous? oh it is, then....sort of unexpected but then it immediately makes sense and was Fascinating like, oh, this is so In Conversation With the first movie and with the Overall Story here lmao. like, we are illustrating the Perspective Shift, the [kids timeline] is still relevant and defines everything that’s going on, but they Are adults now and That itself is relevant. b/c otherwise it’s like, it Is just the same situation played over again lmfao like damn we were the [kids fight & defeat a murder sewer clown monster] and now we’re the [adults fight & defeat a murder sewer clown monster]. and Of Course It Makes Sense for there to be overall more Drama for the kids, who are more so just living & immersed in their normal lives in that storyline, and of course, Are Kids, where like anything “was that fucked up or what” that’d happen would be more intense & threatening, and sure applying that perspective like, not only “yeah i’m just experiencing some media, but if that was really happening in life that’d be fucked up, if it was happening for real to me, i’d be like, whoa uh oh holy shit aaaa” lmao, and then an Additional layer of “and if i was twelve” like “yeah aaaa oh shit” way compounded by that, naturally.

but then i’m Also like, listen, i’d be more like halfway through my 27 yr time jump but i’m the adult with cptsd lmao and so i’m Madmen In The Theatreing because of this angle as well, and intrigued, positively, by the uptick in levity about everything. wherein it’s like okay, it’s sure Also true that like, undo the [and if you were twelve] angle, but The Same kind of fucked up shit happening would of course still be like well this sucks, and is startling, to Anyone who’s an adult, right. But Also like, again the way it’s relevant to touch base with the [kids] timeline, because that’s Defining Everything, this isn’t just “and they’re adults which means everyone’s just tougher than they were when they were kids” and That’s That, it’s like, these are adults who were these specific kids with specific experiences vulnerable to and exposed to bonus trauma, and now this is a “time to jump back in to a head on confrontation with that” plotline but As A Group again rather than this being just the story of like any individuals, or just the main kid/guy, who is now to be sure the [the middle aged writer guy of a stephen king story] lmfao, congrats....and you had [repressed memories but like, magically extensively encompassing] as the device here to as what allows for this outlier scenario of like “but how can adults possibly maintain friendships formed organically in their youth? well, they didn’t lol. but now they’re back.” and the past Has to be relevant and freshly Active because again, this Is directly about trauma lol, not just about whatever broader thing and anyone might secretly have this Hangup or two that’ll get them got. and they all Know this lol, this may be some exclusive knowledge more broadly, but this is Not a secret amongst this group of adults like ah yes my marinating issues that nobody suspects i have....which is a bonus to [even though they’re adults in a stephen king story they don’t all or even mostly have to die] and then like, as i am trying to get around to, that it’d be Different being just any adult approaching this as a new situation to them vs being an adult With Trauma(tm) lol like. the way that one might go “well, this would suck for anyone, but i have a different vulnerability b/c [cptsd involving this shit]” but Then Also the resilience that nobody should have to have and it’s technically a “strength” even though then actually people interpret their [lack of honed ability through direct life experience to cope indefinitely with traumatic experiences] as the strength, a la “wow why’s that person put up with that, i wouldn’t stand for it b/c isn’t it So Clearly Bad & Unpleasant?” victim blaming mentality and people “used” to that shit “putting up with” said shit, which other people would throw up their hands like Wow Just No and walk away from. which in turn isn’t a “weakness” lmao like, there’s no moral judgments to being someone w/trauma or someone without it. that people shouldn’t Have to have cptsd or Resilience, of course, but then that they do. i’m certainly relating to like, yeah it’s Magic Rules / Exaggeration the way that only people young enough can detect & deal with this shit directly, the first time around, and then that they still have access to it as adults presumably b/c of that exposure as kids and because [the childhood trauma doesn’t just Go Away b/c you grew up, even though Also people just think that it ought to or like wow so immature or wow you’re Letting it affect you too strongly still, huh] etc. and anyways, relating to like, yeah enjoyed the way some adults would just be cool & generally supportive, but i also only had so much access to such adults, all Through parents or via school where it’s like, yeah but all the adults there have to Make Sure You’re Behaving Properly in various ways that lead to [punitive] ends and if anyone’s being like particularly supportive / understanding that’s a personal individual choice & they’re probably going Above & Beyond. kind of impressed how useless, and actively unhelpful / counterproductive, any adults were later on when i was dealing with it all the more / had it coming to a head in ways lol, didn’t have an epic friend group i hung out with at twelve or ever who Knew Me that well or i shared anything with or got lifechanging emotional support from, but there Were occasions of like, yeah these peers get it, huh. and now with the perspex of [cptsd having adult] it’s like, yeah, i’d have repeated dreams of parents showing up & i start physically fighting them off with like a shovel and shit lmfao. even now when i rarely have dreams ft. like a more general monster / menacing figure, like i did last night, go figure, Dream Me is always like Oh Okay and immediately physically charges them unarmed lmfao. (also had a dream cameo where some guy on a home computer who was making up like building / engineering schematics? was a Wrole like omg hey buddy. unfortunately a limited interaction, that plot got quickly waylaid by the one where i launch myself at some entity. booo) i can be like “ah, here goes the adrenal response” mostly only noticing sometimes when it’s like, my physical tension has gone to the point of [i can notice my legs/knees shaking], i can also Not Notice It / not think of it b/c you know, it’s like this is truly mundane / everyday shit, in the Relative / Comparative way that it can be. it can be stealth mission time to do some ordinary shit like you live in a survival horror game. it can also go “yeah i could very easily see how if, say, there was this manifestation of trauma / the shit that causes/facilitates/sustains/allows it, i’d go sicko mode on that shit just immediate physical attack” lmao. i know if i’m startled it’s like, that can be a) ordinary, and/or b) unpleasant, and probably c) immediately followed by my being ready to go sicko mode, possibly being a bit pissed off lol. like i can’t even be worried like oh no it’s nighttime what if something was menacing. like yeah that’d be scary and suck, i might get got, i’d also immediately be pissed off like fucking try me you asshole. and it’s like, again the way comedy is A Framework, it’s not what happens when a situation is Lighthearted, Unserious, Frivolous, etc. the like, obvious fact like wow people who are funny can be sad? can have had some fucked up, Serious experiences? can even joke about that? like yeah of course humor can be Deliberately Employed To Cope, including to even communicate about shit, where you’re cueing hard like, i’m not necessarily collapsing under the weight of this right now but it’s a reality and when i’m telling you about it with Humor it’s not in turn asking for you to fix it or even do anything about it at all except be listening to / comprehending the info i’m giving you. and that even looking back on shit can be funny To You because it’s just like, sure Elevated and can be a bit absurd. so it’s like oh yeah of course it’d be funnier, in a way characters are aware of & actively interacting with lmfao. like of course any adult would be like “jesus christ. yikes. aaaa” lol while also being more inclined and able to tackle bullshit right off, but Also being specifically an adult with the [this is your childhood trauma] can be like, yes i’m both still affected by and vulnerable to this shit, but i’m Also less vulnerable than some rando might be, actually, and prepared to / more used to this, and able to go “jesus christ yikes aaaa lmfaooo ahaha” about it. like, i feel that lol.

paragraph break just because that one was getting Extra long: oh and also the matter of Genre Awareness, that this isn’t just some fucked up shit that happens to be scary and fuck your shit up, but this is expressly an antagonist coming after you with the intention to be scary to you, and you Know that, you are aware you’re in a Horror Genre situation lmao, so meta, surely helpful. and sure sometimes i felt the like comedy vs horror; comedy vs drama sometimes didn’t transition perfectly like, my kind of feeling ambivalent at this one point like uhhh is this scene more straightforwardly dramatic? hmm i guess it was. well anyways. but that’s fine, meanwhile continually delighted even to realize like, here we are going over this all again but with this Shifted Perspective / Framework, we’re clearly goofin a bit. and like how i can clap & cheer like ooh yeah that was creepy lmfao, i got Got comedically like idfk dozen times or what all. ahehe....not to mention the [i Am going insane. society] experience of scrungy expression spit take coughing laughter when overlaying [titanic guy going HaHaHaHaHaHaHa XD as the camera lifts away from overhead] upon [mad man serious contemplation of cinema png] while experiencing like wow the gay Text is more textual than i though, more extensive, turns out i had some things to go into entirely afresh without going “oh yeah, i remember what i osmosis’d about this” to then go :0 =0 about, or that i didn’t quite get Everything through osmosising that i did recall, to then spit take about and become titanic guy fifty times over. i Am a bit joker mode, you really just have to be. and laughing about [when stephen king and PPL go “you know this type of guy” and we all go “yeah i guess. i know Of them [possible knowing looks amongst ourselves, or to the camera]” and then they go “you know how they’re—” and then our answers of “maybe like gay or some shit” overlaps with their “just another heterosexual amongst all the rest of us, unless we’re gay, but we’re talking about how all the protagonists we write are cishet i guess?” like. haha. what an alignment, good for everyone in the overlap....oh and i was like ahahaha when the podcast discussion of The Book Specifically nevertheless had one guy knowing the lore already that the stephen king cameo here as Some Secondhand / Pawn Shop Type Place Owner Guy was someone who, in stephe’s (not a typo, making stephe as = steven happen, with particular enunciation of the ph vs v) own written text as the description of That Guy in the book, is like, this gay caricature who is like wearing some mesh or i think they said it said “fishnet” shirt and like clearly reading this gay porn mag. because how else would someone be gay lmfao? how else would you Know you’ve encountered one of them?? lmfao like, a) i also agree with the podcasters who are like, stephe’s a coward for not staying true to that specific description he wrote when cameo’ing as that person, and b) like, people are gay, stephe....but classic matters of [running down a hallway going Noooo and knocking shit down behind you while being chased by [the way stephen king writes about [take your pick] and/or just like, what do you think is going on in life re: [take your pick] exactly, stephen king, i swear] lol)

anyways This has turned into [gif of the guy emphatically pointing at a laptop and also at some unseen listener to this Serious Monologue] because i have endless things to say about anything. the point it it’s like, well hey i think that was remarkably successful re: choosing to have Characters with Emotional Arcs tied to a Metaphor in this horror media, when usually i’m like, the execution of this is so shit that it’s like, just don’t have characters lol, don’t try to make it a metaphor (although you know, difficult for it not to be tied to anything irl, so don’t be unaware of how it Could be), if it’s gonna be this kind of a mess. the fact that like, you can’t have [trauma] be a character weakness fatal flaw that gets them got b/c they weren’t individually Strong Enough, b/c this is All About a) having & interacting with that [trauma] first and foremost and b) how having a group of relationships affects that (helpfully). my pleasant surprise about how like yeah of course you can’t just make the exact same movie again but i wasn’t necessarily expecting a noticeably more outright comedic angle for round two, but duly kinda delighted by it, and that felt very Appropriate and Verisimilitudinous for the new angle of And You’re Completely Grown. that stephen king Rarely writes about relevant friendships and all the more rarely to never writes about relevant friendships between Adults but whoops, that happened here, b/c there was a magical workaround where “drifting apart” was not entirely congruous to the real life literal actual way that’d happen, and b/c the way this is about childhood trauma means that the Rest of that childhood is relevant to adulthood / adult identities, and he ends up with “god, does anyone?” being answered by “yeah, sometimes” lol. and yeah being a deh enjoyer / being haunted byer / analyzer means anytime something is About the connections someone, say a young person for one, might make and how that can be relevant to All Their Issues, i’m sitting up & taking notes like oh ya don’t say. that stephen king shit overall is like, well this is Interesting and i could talk all day but i’m also like, personally more ambivalent and bound to run over like hey stephe i’m shoving you around, bitch. until we form an unlikely, begrudging alliance to instead go after stanley kubrick, then boo the the shining movie, but whatever. the the shining book ending, one of the few things i particularly remember from actually reading that one, is true like, stephen king endings tending to be a hot mess that maybe aren’t super successful but here we are and it was like, why’d it get so goofy all of a sudden lmfao like i’m telling you with the schrodinger’s boiler that’s old and temperamental and if you don’t maintain it it’ll blow up probably, and that the way things end in the book is the [middle aged dime a dozen writer man protag] being possessed by a hotel is like oh fuck me lmfao, not the boiler i can’t maintain myself even though i’m possessing a hotel, it hasn’t been maintained, and then as always in any of these stories things go off the rails and yakety sax starts to play while after hanna barbera cartoon scrambling in place for a second, your haunted hotel avatar starts sprinting to the basement or wherever it was but Too Late, it blows up and the hotel dies kind of. and that’s kinda fun and funny lol but yknow, put it back in. beating up kubrick aside, i’ve seen all of? nigh all of? wasn’t paying much attention. the movie and it’s like oh okay whatever. but as with like [anything stephen king] and my not even being born till the 90s, it’s like, i can’t possibly experience this afresh, we can all agree that surely this is the best known stephen king work b/w book & film adaptation, even among biggies that really just permeate pop culture overall, who can know what i’d think if these things were New and pre [own significant influence on relevant genres / mediums] or also i was a younger reader/viewer at the times as people could often be. but i was like....expression where you scrunch your face up and look to the side like “are you seeing this” bemusement like...this is. fine i guess? it’s not really scary lmfao. and regardless, resurrecting kubrick to beat him up. but on that note it’s also funny that god knows why i ever mentioned the hypothetical of watching the shining once in passing to my mom, it would’ve been humorous / not in earnest b/c no way would i have been suggesting we watch that or even that i had watched it necessarily, so i Think i must’ve just been informing her of some things that were on tv at that moment with some goofy but technically accurate suggestions like that one, and she is a bit indignant like clearly disapproving of the general idea because, as she says, she doesn’t think it’s Right to tell kids they should ever be afraid of their parents. but between “but like. they go axe murder possessed by a hotel mode here, wherein i think it’s very appropriate?” and [someone who watches It and keeps looking into the camera one zillion times / is fascinated by the fact it’s like oh wow, any horror talking about What If You Had Trauma that isn’t like fundamentally misguided throughout and probably egregiously insulting about it] i take a perfectly comedically timed pause and then we freeze frame on my doing a spit take Laugh into my own drink. not actually in the real moment lol, i just Say Nothing and file that one away lmfao

oh and as a little postscript here i want to shoutout my going “just like Watch Your Step in goosebumps the musical the phantom of the auditorium” where it’s like, schrodinger’s warning about how a kid could just up and accidentally die via this trapdoor or like anywhere anytime, but you don’t really realize that b/c you’re kids, but I’m Telling You. and like, he’s right in general to be sure, you can just die, as well as unknowingly right of course like oops yeah some kid did just up and suddenly die via this trapdoor, grimly. and that’s Stand By Me / The Body handshake emoji It, like of course that mortality is ever relevant particularly in horror, but that also it’s like, kids realizing the reality and Proximity of that, like You Can Die, this could be you or could’ve been you. [horror, and it’s middle schoolers] wins again

#how long is this. and i could've gone on lol. if i have anything to say i Can [never shut up]#it #like what even addendums could there be for the tags....like don't even start b/c of course i could max shit out #i guess the Interesting Fun Fact that in doing research the podcasters were able to be like #''well i'm not Sure abt this; the source was maybe vague & it Would be vague; but that naturally ofc plenty of story elements in #stephen king stuff can be things where he's like yeah [xyz] was directly inspired by some real life shit [abc]'' and that like there was #Maybe this childhood event where he saw a friend / some other kid get hit by a train but then right off fully blacked out on that memory #which obviously would be pertinent here re: Remembering Litchrelly Nothing abt childhood till it all suddenly is brought back into play #but also like the part of stand by me included a scene like woops Almost getting hit by a train. dunno if that's in the short story though #but i'm gonna say Probably Yeah. plus learning again via the podcast like oh stephe got mega hit by like a minivan in '99? i was 5 lol #so i would not have been aware of that news. and i have not since Caught Up on the man's life history. nice not dying there #there was probably some other sidebar i wanted to throw in here but i forget and quick let's post this before I Keep Going On & On #scrolling up ''oh this isn't That long'' scrolling back down ''oh wait maybe it is kinda long''#it's all relative. i like horror i dislike horror. i said a lot i was so concise.#for one thing lmfao like sure is Interesting how; say; i was always Intrigued by horror as a kid even #like i think that's true for plenty of people & there's more than one way to enjoy a genre & s/o to Horror Expressly For Kids or anything #expressly for kids when it's like good & genuine & apropos it's Not just necessarily abt diluted or lesser versions of that For Adults #but anyways like i Also though def experienced like; this does freak me out & in an [i'm not having fun] way. But I Also persisted lol #like me thinking ''but i have to power through & build up a tolerance here'' when like; of course i really Didn't. why would i.#did that re: like thrill rides too sometimes; kinda liking them & the suspense; kinda really not; at least for a good while #i Did build up a tolerance &/or just how i got older & now i think all thrill rides are entirely Fun. except just straight drop towers maybe #haven't tried one lol but i've tried like roller coasters that are supposed to be Especially intense & i didn't even realize like oh. huh.#like it was fine actually lol we have fun...and same with horror; again how like yeah i'm not expecting Especially Intense but yeah ofc i'm #gonna fire this shit up alone in the dark & never think anything of that. munch crunch #like hmmmmm re: my being a little kid who Was bothered more by such shit sometimes while also intrigued / having fun #but who regardless was like Well I Have To Try To Be Okay With It / seek it out & power through. vs ppl who are just like well no i don't #enjoy or like horror stuff particularly and/or roller coasters lol. compare & contrast & contextualize w/me also being a little kid who is #experiencing trauma & trauma responses as what is for me some mundane / everyday / par for the course / Anytime shit lol and of course i do #not have the info / context / perspective / framework to realize this. so i get distressed by ''that Would be fucked up'' but what else is #new or what have you? why shouldn't i also go ''well i guess i have to Get Good at tolerating this / Enduring it'' lmao

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creatingblackcharacters · 1 month

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“That One Hairstyle? RETIRE IT!” Black Hair is an Art (pt.1)

(This is part one of two lessons, with this one focusing on how our hair itself! The next lesson will encompass how to incorporate its existence into your writing. It'd be a massively long post otherwise.)

So! Black hair. Black hair is a CENTRAL, ESSENTIAL part of our culture and identity. Writing and drawing it means understanding the vulnerability and trust that comes with access to it, and yes, it is racist to suggest that ‘it’s just hair’ when our hair serves such an important role in our history and art. I already wrote a mini-lesson and ask on the topic, but being aware of what our hair looks like, and what means to us, will help you to understand why we care that you put in the effort to get it right.

Hair Textures

We are not a genetic monolith! However, for the sake of this series, we are focusing on 3C-4C, because 1) it's most likely to be seen in life and 2) least likely to be seen in popular art! When you are creating your characters, consider the style and care for THESE textures. I will get more into this next lesson.

Let's get into SOME of the hairstyles!

Afros (36 Afro Hairstyles)

“So, what’s the phenomenon behind the Afro? Well, it’s our hair in its most natural form, but that’s only part of the phenomenon. It’s a way to fight the status quo without saying a word.”

-Ebony Magazine, The History of the Afro

When nonBlack society hears ‘afro’, they think completely picked out, Black power imagery, political statement. And it was, and is! But in actuality, afros are just the natural hair growing out of a Black person's head. The same way your hair grows out of your head. Our texture. Even my hair is not allowed to be ‘hair’, it has to ‘assign’ my Blackness; my distance from whiteness. Imagine, the hair growing out of your head being automatically associated with how you should be perceived. Just by existing, it is making a statement in a Eurocentric society.

Braids (31 Braid Styles)

There are SO MANY TYPES of braids and ways to wear them. If you can imagine a design, I bet there's a Black braider that can do it!

CORNROWS ARE NOT AUTOMATICALLY BRAIDS! Internalize this! They may be used in the same style, but they are NOT INTERCHANGEABLE TERMS!

Braids are considered a protective style; that is, a hairstyle designed to let our hair 'rest' and grow without having to manipulate it. If you have a Black character that's constantly on the go and/or doesn't have time to focus on their hair, and you want an accurate, more true-to-life experience for them, braids can be a crucial part of character design.

Locs

(Yes, while that link has plenty of examples, it was also self-indulgent. Locs are gorgeous, Black men with locs are gorgeous!)

"Locs vs Dreads": As someone in the loc community, there’s been a push to refer to the style as ‘locs’, rather than ‘dreadlocks’. Some people with the style will not care, but others take it very seriously, so it’s something to keep in mind. There’s a societal stigma behind having locs, that they’re ‘dirty’ or ‘unkempt’ or ‘lazy’ and that is NOT true. Locs are beautiful, and they take far more effort than people seem to want to believe lmao.

Locs, though there is currently a positive revival, are still highly discriminated against. Kids have been expelled from school and even have had their hair forcibly cut off to be allowed to participate in sports. Many places won't hire you if they think your hair is 'unprofessional' or 'dirty', especially if you're a Black woman. To consider yet another example of the hair that grows out of my head 'dirty' is extremely racist.

LOCS ARE NOT BRAIDS!!!!

Locs are also a protective style, albeit a much more permanent one, and one that comes with a long history and culture behind it. Many Black people consider the biblical story of Samson to be a man with locs, and that our locs hold power within them. That not just anyone should be allowed to touch your locs. So, if you're interested in mythology and powers, that might be an intriguing way to go, that would be possible if you had a Black character with locs!

In Professional Media

The lack of awareness and concern about our hair isn't just a fan or amateur creator experience. It is ubiquitous in the professional media world. Black actors, actresses, and models have discussed having to do their own hair when working, because no one would properly care for it on set if it wasn't familiarly white. It’s admittedly grown better- however! After decades of not having options other than ‘stereotypical afro’, ‘box cut’, and ‘white people hair’, it is LONG PAST TIME to stop settling for the bare minimum in Black character design. We can tell when "one of us" (with some sense, at least) wasn't in the room to make decisions in popular media.

If you were curious about the lesson title, here's a current example of what I'm talking about in video games. Tell me if you see a pattern:

This style? The Killmonger? We seent it!!!! It has become the “hairstyle to show I understand the exaggerated swagger of a young Black teen” option, the "I know the Black people!" go-to, and frankly, we are all tired of it. Okay it was cute on Ekko. The Black Delegation DEMANDS the professional video game industry pick something else! We have SO MANY DIFFERENT HAIRSTYLES!

I'll give you an example on the other end (not trying at all; refer to Lesson 1) from one of my favorite games, Hades:

This is my blorbo. My favoritest guy. I’ll fight for Patroclus being Black til the day I die. While I begrudgingly settled in my excitement, I can tell you no one Black with any voting power was in the room at Supergiant when they approved this design. Why? His texture! Locs were such an easy option if they wanted long hair! Locs existed BEFORE Ancient Greece! The man did not have a flat iron while fighting in a war! A good Black designer would have considered that!

To give him a more accurate design, some artists (myself included) lean into giving him locs (one of my favorites is @karshmallow 's Pat; a phenomenal example in caring about your Black characters). It’s something Black fans find themselves doing- redesigning Black characters. That's not something we should have to do at all, especially in media we pay for!

But if you REALLY want your Black character to have straight hair, that leads into the last style of this lesson:

Straight Hair

We do have straight hair. But it’s not straight because it grew out that way! It will still look and be thicker! It might be a wig or a sew-in (human or synthetic), it might be flat-ironed (while relaxed? While natural?) It takes effort to get and maintain straight hair.

'I think it looks better good this way!'

If you catch yourself thinking this, this is a racist statement. Whether you’re aware of it our not, there is a bias towards Eurocentric/white features in our society, and that includes in our media. When you think “I only drew [this Eurocentric hair texture and style] because I think it looks good on them!” I want you to PAUSE and think about the WHY. WHY do you think that this Black person’s natural features are unattractive in comparison to the white hair texture you gave them? And how hurt might a Black peer of yours would feel hearing that you find their natural features not worth drawing because they’re “not attractive”. It requires approaching your own internal biases, recognizing them, and then working to unlearn them. And that means practice! Using references to draw our hair and styles, and growing used to using OUR features on US!

Doing it in Art

Me personally, I think if you think drawing thinner hair textures is easy, thicker hair textures should be a BREEZE. I was curious, so I challenged myself and-

(it took me about thirteen minutes total to do ol boy's hair and it's still not right. I'm sick fr y'all don't even know 🤢)

@ackee has a really good art lesson on the how-tos of drawing Black hairstyles. I highly recommend checking it out, as well as following and supporting a fellow Black artist (who is far better than I!)

Hair Brushes

Finally, an option you can use for painting is downloading Black hair brushes! Vegalia has an amazing array of brushes with different types of curls, locs, and braids at her Etsy store! You can also follow her on social media to see how she applies them, and support yet another amazing Black creative!

I know this was a long one, but you made it! Just keep going. Remember, it's the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

#creatingblackcharacters #black art #black characters #character design #black hair #black history #black culture

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mcdynamite · 4 months

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Kissing has never done all that much for Steve, if he’s honest.

It's just not really something he's ever given much thought to before - the way someone kisses - despite the fact that he's locked lips with plenty of people. For him, kissing has always been something nice, but not particularly special. It's never been earth-shattering. Never taken his breath away, the way people talk about in movies and books. It's just a way to be closer to someone, and it's nice, but it's never anything more than that.

Then, Steve kisses Eddie for the first time, and suddenly he gets it.

They're high when it happens, laying side by side in Eddie's unmade bed while the weed sinks into their bones. Steve loves the way it seems to slow down the world around them - makes everything syrupy and sweet, so he feels every brush of Eddie's fingers against his own in every inch of his body as they pass the joint back and forth.

The casual contact makes him long for more, and when he's high, Steve just...gives into the longing. He lets himself drift closer until they're pressed together so closely that Eddie can hide his face in Steve's uncharacteristically messy hair when he's trying to cover up a snort of laughter in response to Steve's deranged weed-induced musings.

Tonight, they meander their way through a directionless conversation - as they so often do when they get high together - until the joint is so small it nearly singes their fingertips. When Eddie finally sits up to stamp it out in the ashtray on the bedside table, Steve tries not to miss the feeling of Eddie's body against his own too much, knowing it'll be back soon enough.

"I'm thinking of handing over the DM throne to Will for the next oneshot, after we finish this campaign," Eddie says, speech slow and thoughtful as he puts out the blunt. "Think he'll be good at it."

Steve just hums, eyes heavy-lidded, gaze fixed on the curls he wants so badly to run his fingers through, just to know what it feels like. He's high enough to not care about the consequences when he decides fuck it, and reaches out to feel the soft ringlets beneath his fingertips.

"You're good at it," he muses - a delayed response to Eddie's comment. If Eddie is bothered by the way Steve is carefully petting his hair, he doesn't show it. Instead, he turns back to look down at Steve with a soft smile that makes Steve's insides feel all gooey.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, a hint of a smirk overtaking the softness. "You ready to admit that you like watching me play my little nerd game, Harrington?"

Steve blames the quiet whine that escapes his throat on the weed, along with the way he honest-to-God pouts in response to Eddie's words. He tugs on a lock of Eddie's hair petulantly. "Don't like it when you call me that."

Eddie's face does something strange then, and Steve can't quite parse out what it means with the weed making his brain all foggy. He looks...surprised? Fond? Maybe both?

"Sorry, Stevie," he replies, teasing but somehow genuine at the same time. Steve smiles dopily, an expression that Eddie returns. "That better?"

Satisfied, Steve nods. Hums in affirmation. "Yeah. I like that one."

And it's true. Steve loves when Eddie calls him Stevie, because Eddie always sounds so fond when he does, and it makes Steve's heart feel too big for his chest.

"Oh, yeah?" Eddie asks, still grinning as he leans down until he's propped up on one elbow, hovering just over Steve on the bed. "What else do you want me to call you, hm? Stevie? Steve? M'lord?"

The last one makes Steve laugh and close his eyes, happy to bask in the sound of Eddie's voice as he floats along with their conversation.

"Sir Steven? Sweetheart?" Eddie continues, and Steve's heart jumps just a bit at the second one. Then, Eddie murmurs, "Baby?"

And Steve's eyes fly open.

Steve stares at his friend with wide eyes - lips parted as a soft, punched-out oh escapes him - and it's weird, is the thing. Because Steve has been called baby before, lovingly by his grandmother when he was still a little boy causing mischief while his parents weren't watching, meanly by boys on the playground when he cried over something silly like a scraped knee…and when he got older, teasingly by the girls he took on dates.

It's not a new name for him, but it feels groundbreaking nonetheless.

Because the word sounds so much better coming from Eddie's mouth than anyone else's. It's soft, and fond, and knowing, and...

It's longing.

"Yeah,” Steve croaks. "Yeah."

"Which one? Sir Steven?" Eddie asks playfully, cocking his head to the side like a puppy. He grins maniacally when Steve huffs and shakes his head in disappointment. "No? Which one was it, then, that you liked the most?"

"Eddieeee," Steve complains, burying his flushed face into the pillow and avoiding his friend's gaze. "You know which one."

Eddie shakes his head in an almost scolding manner and Steve is convinced he must've moved closer, because Steve can feel Eddie's breath against his skin, and the air in the room feels about a hundred degrees hotter.

"Nuh-uh, Stevie," Eddie says, poking him playfully in the ribs. "You gotta tell me which one."

Steve hesitates, feeling more and more self-conscious by the second. He sort of wants to hide, but he also really wants Eddie to call him that again. It's probably thanks to his intoxicated brain that he allows himself to answer truthfully. "Baby," he murmurs, uncharacteristically shy.

"Yeah?" Eddie says, voice and smile softening in tandem. "You like when I call you baby, Stevie?"

Steve stares up at him with wide eyes, hardly able to believe this is really happening, and nods. "Yeah. That one."

Eddie is so close, now, that Steve can feel the warmth that emanates from his skin; can see the flecks of gold in his eyes amongst the molten chocolate brown. He's got freckles - Steve realizes. Tiny little dots across the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks that form constellations on his skin. Steve thinks, maybe a bit deliriously, that he would be perfectly happy spending hours tracing them, the way astronomers of old once traced the stars.

"Eddie..." he breathes, heart pounding as he begins to feel more and more desperate for...for something. Anything to let him know that he's not the only one succumbing to the gravitational pull between them.

Eddie blinks slowly, and his eyes widen as though he's just realized something important. Steve watches his throat bob nervously before Eddie finally whispers, "Yeah, baby?"

Steve inhales sharply through parted lips - a soft, plaintive gasp that draws Eddie's eyes to his lips, and-

Oh.

That's what Steve wants, isn't it?

"I-" Steve tries, helpless to stop his own gaze from falling on Eddie's lips - pink and parted and just a little bit chapped, and so, so close.

"Baby," Eddie says again, and this time it's different. Unintentional. Like Eddie said it without meaning to. And maybe it's just the weed, but Steve swears he can feel the word burrowing its way into his chest and settling around his heart like a blanket. It makes his whole body feel warm - something only made worse by the hot coal of desire that begins smoldering low in his gut.

He's so lost in it all that he can't even bring himself to feel embarrassed when he whispers, "Please."

Steve waits with bated breath until finally, any remaining nervousness retreats from Eddie's eyes, and Eddie smiles in that way that makes Steve's stomach flutter. It's such a pretty smile. Steve can only watch as it grows closer, going cross-eyed for the briefest moment in his quest to to stare at Eddie's lips until suddenly his eyes are fluttering shut, because...because...

Because Eddie kisses him with lips still curled into a smile, and Steve thinks - utterly nonsensically - that feeling Eddie's lips against his own is so much better than just looking at them. The thought makes him giggle, just a bit, and he finds himself grinning into the kiss, too.

They part for a moment so Steve can let out another quiet giggle, and Eddie seems to pause for a moment, smiling down at Steve with poorly concealed affection. "Baby," he murmurs reverently, and then he's leaning down to capture Steve's lips in another kiss.

This time, Steve is ready for it, but it draws a muffled whimper out of him nonetheless. His nose fills with the scent of weed and cigarettes and cheap cologne - the smell of Eddie - and it's so overwhelmingly good. He lets his lips fall open on a gasp...doesn't close them when Eddie tentatively brushes his tongue against Steve's own. He shuts his eyes, because the press of Eddie's hand to his cheek and Eddie's chest to his own feel like so much more like that.

Eddie breaks the kiss to gasp in a breath, and inexplicably, that's what really sends every last bit of restraint in Steve's brain packing. It's so simple, so ordinary - the soft, quick sip of air Eddie takes in. It's a breathy little sound that Steve has heard from countless others before, but maybe that's why it puts him in this unfamiliar chokehold of wanting.

This isn't just anyone.

This is Eddie.

And Eddie is making those quiet, lovely little sounds because he's kissing Steve, and Steve is very rapidly realizing that he is utterly incapable of being normal about any of this.

He feels his cheeks go hot as he forces his heavy limbs to move so he can tangle his fingers in Eddie's curls, holding him close (because Steve thinks he might die if Eddie stops kissing him, now). And it's bliss. It's addictive. It's ruinously tender, and Steve feels himself unraveling from within. Feels the knots in his heart - left behind by absent parents, cruel friends, and distant girlfriends - turn to dust at the gentlest brush of Eddie's lips.

He whimpers into Eddie's mouth and clings to him even tighter, feeling his throat grow strangely tight as his eyes sting at the corners, and when Eddie pulls away he's got a small furrow in his brow, just under his bangs.

"Stevie?" Eddie murmurs. His eyes dart to Steve's cheeks, and when he brushes his thumb along the skin just under Steve's eye, it drags a bit of wetness with it. Only then does Steve realize...he's crying.

And Eddie is wiping away his tears.

"I..." Steve croaks, eyes wide and spilling more tears with every blink. He drags his hands down from Eddie's hair to rest on his chest, beginning to curl into himself as the embarrassment sinks in.

Christ, he's crying. And all they've done is kiss.

Eddie's frown deepens, but he doesn't pull away completely. Instead, he lets their noses brush and breathes, "Baby..."

Steve's breath hitches.

"You're shaking, sweetheart," Eddie continues, still brushing Steve's tears away with gentle fingers. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Steve gasps hurriedly, because as far as he understands, it's the truth. "Nothing's wrong, I just..." He closes his eyes. Swallows the lump in his throat and admits with a trembling voice, "I didn't know it could be like this."

He opens his eyes and sees Eddie's expression soften, but the concern remains. "What do you mean?"

"I just..." Steve tries, sniffling and letting out a quiet, distressed laugh. He slams his eyes shut again and rubs them roughly with his palms, trying to force the tears back into his body. "Jesus, this is fucking embarrassing, man."

"Steve..." Eddie murmurs. He sounds sad. Conflicted. Like he's not sure what to do or how to help - if he should stay or go - and that just won't do, because Steve is certain he'll drift away on the breeze without Eddie to ground him. He's got to try to explain, even with his thoughts still feeling syrupy slow from the weed.

He wants to tell Eddie that he's kissed dozens of people before, but kissing them never felt like this. He wants to explain that he's used to taking the lead, and that it's nice having someone else set the pace, for once. He wants to tell Eddie about the way most people he's kissed have done so - frantically...lustfully. Kissing has always been a simple means to an end. And it's never made Steve feel like this.

What he actually manages to say is slightly different, though.

"No one's ever kissed me like they love me, before."

His eyes are still covered by his own hands, so he can't see what is surely a stunned expression on Eddie's face, but he can hear the way Eddie gasps in response to Steve's words.

It’s too much, he thinks. He's said too much, fast-forwarded too far into the movie. It's too early to be talking about love. Steve knows this. It's just...

His stupid, floaty little brain can't envision a world where someone kisses the way Eddie does without being hopelessly, irrevocably in love.

"Shit," Steve breathes after several minutes of silence. Or maybe it's several seconds. He really doesn't know. Time feels funny, when he's high. "I know that's, like, way too much. I'm too much. I don't know why I-"

"Steve," Eddie interrupts, and Steve snaps his mouth shut. He feels Eddie's hands wrap carefully around his wrists to pull them from his eyes. Eddie is being so careful with him...like he can't see that his tenderness is exactly the thing that’s ripping Steve apart at the seams.

Steve wants to scream. He wants to cry. He wants to drag Eddie back down and kiss him until he can't breathe. Until Eddie's sweetness becomes warm and comforting instead of feeling like the scalding heat of jumping into a hot tub after a dip in the cold waters of the pool.

"Baby, look at me," Eddie says softly.

Steve is helpless but to obey.

Eddie's gaze is sad but kind when Steve finally meets it with his own. He's got the barest hint of a smile on his pretty lips - the same ones Steve so desperately wants to feel against his own, again - and Steve feels his stomach swirl with something he can't quite describe.

"It's not too much," Eddie continues, voice steady. "And neither are you, okay? You, Steve Harrington, are never too much. Not to me."

The words settle over Steve like a blanket, and he can't decide whether it's comforting or suffocating. He just wants to stop talking about things so they can move on. He just wants Eddie.

"Eds..." he rasps desperately. "I don't- I just want-" He cuts himself off with the hitching breath of what may be a sob. He's not really sure, at this point.

"What can I do, honey?" Eddie says, and he really needs to stop with the pet names, or Steve might genuinely fracture into pieces. "What do you want?"

Steve is sunk too deep into the syrupy slow feeling of the weed - too desperate to feel Eddie pressed against him again - to do anything but tell the truth.

"Just want you," he says.

Eddie smiles - eyes crinkling at the corners - and Steve breathes the sight in like oxygen. "You have me, baby," Eddie murmurs. He's rubbing small, comforting circle into the sensitive skin of Steve's wrists now, and it's perfect. It's wonderfully, disgustingly perfect.

"I do?" Steve asks dumbly. His brain feels fifteen seconds behind everything, but he thinks that's probably okay. Eddie seems to be just fine waiting for him to catch up.

"Yeah, Stevie," Eddie chuckles quietly. "Had me for a long time, now. Just wasn't sure if you would want me the way I wanted you."

"You want me," Steve says breathlessly, more to himself than to Eddie. "You wanna kiss me."

Eddie's resulting laugh is a bit louder, a bit brighter, this time. "I do," he says. The sadness is fading from his eyes, giving way to something that looks an awful lot like elation. Steve remains still and watches, entranced, as Eddie carefully hauls himself up until he can swing a leg over Steve's to straddle him.

Still smiling broadly, Eddie leans down until their faces are mere inches apart, studying Steve with those big, brown eyes. "You gonna let me?" he asks Steve, a teasing lilt to his voice.

Steve nods, lips parted in surprise he can't quite seem to shake, and Eddie's expression softens.

"Gonna let me kiss you like I love you, Stevie?" Eddie whispers.

Steve's not sure when, exactly, his tears had begun to dry up, but he knows they must have at some point, because they're returning with a vengeance, now. "Please," he breathes.

Eddie shifts, and Steve expects Eddie to go right back to kissing him, but that's not what he does.

Instead, Eddie releases one of Steve's wrists and cups his cheek tenderly. This time, the feeling of his thumb brushing the tears away is a familiar one, and it makes Steve smile dopily.

"You know the reason I kiss you like I love you?" Eddie asks. Steve shakes his head and tracks Eddie's gaze as it drifts towards the place where his fingers are still wrapped around Steve's wrist. His lips quirk into a smile as he uses his grip to pin Steve's hand to the mattress, right beside Steve's head, and laces their fingers together.

Their noses are brushing, now, and Eddie's hips are resting on Steve's, and Eddie's hair has fallen around them like a curtain to keep the rest of the world out, and it's so much. Eddie is everywhere, and he's everything, and Steve is completely, unquestioningly in love with him - probably has been in love with him for ages, now, and just never let himself think too hard about it.

"I kiss you like I love you, Steve Harrington," Eddie breathes, and their lips brush as he speaks. "Because I love you."

And the thing is…Steve has spent his entire life wondering what it would feel like to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was loved. It's something that's eluded him for twenty years.

So it's all the more miraculous when Eddie kisses him again, and suddenly, Steve knows. He knows that Eddie Munson loves him. He feels it in the way Eddie kisses him slowly and deliberately, like it would never have crossed Eddie's mind not to. He feels it in their linked hands, in the way Eddie squeezes his hand when Steve makes a desperate, wanton sound into his mouth.

He feels it when Eddie brushes the hair out of his eyes and smiles before kissing Steve's forehead, then his nose, and then his lips again.

Feels it when Eddie's lips begin to wander down his neck.

When Eddie sucks a mark into the thin skin above his collar bone, just because Steve begs him too.

When Eddie pulls Steve's shirt over his head with careful hands, then lets Steve do the same, because Steve needs the intimacy of skin on skin.

He feels it when Eddie stops Steve's wandering hands from venturing too far south with a firm grip and apologetic eyes, because Eddie wants him - of course he does - but not when they've been smoking. Not when there's even the slightest chance that Steve might wake up and regret it in the morning.

And he hears it, too, later that night when they're laying in Eddie's bed exchanging soft, sleepy kisses, unwilling to drift off and let the night end, just yet.

Their legs are woven together - bare, aside from their boxers - and Steve has lost track of how long they've been tangled up in each other like this. He doesn't particularly care, though. He's pretty sure he could happily spend the rest of his life exactly like this.

"Love you, Stevie," Eddie whispers against his lips. They both smile into the next kiss, and Steve's heart is full to bursting, because he believes it. He knows, now, what it feels like to be loved...to be adored.

"I love you," he murmurs in reply, relishing in Eddie's sharp intake of breath. He giggles a bit, for no reason other than the pure joy that's been coursing through his body all night. "God," he laughs. "I fucking love you, Eddie Munson.

Eddie is quiet for a moment before his face splits into a grin that could rival Steve's own, and he's so goddamn beautiful that Steve almost feels like crying again.

He doesn't cry, though. He just watches adoringly as Eddie smiles and nudges Steve's nose with his own. "Yeah, baby?" Eddie teases.

"Yeah, Eds," he answers simply.

And he's pretty sure Eddie knows - is pretty sure Eddie can feel it - because Steve kisses him for the umpteenth time that night, and he pours every ounce of his heart into it.

Steve kisses Eddie like he loves him, because he does. God, help him, he does.

And Eddie?

Eddie kisses Steve like he loves him back, and Steve gets it now, because it’s more than just a kiss.

It’s perfect.

It’s earth-shattering.

It’s everything.

Shout-out to @lyphyshard for the beta!

For more of my Steddie blurbs and one-shots, check out my masterlist!

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #soft steddie #steddie fluff #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #first kiss #cw: weed #stranger things #i'm so normal about them

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puzzled-pegasus · 2 months

Text

Here's some silly little metaphors that I think the dragon tribes would use

SkyWings

“Don’t count your clutch before they hatch.” (Don't plan too much too soon)

“Gold is better than silver, but silver is better than nothing.” (If you can't do it perfectly, still try your best. Most dragons forget the second part.)

“‘Sorry’ can't suck the fire back in.�� (The damage is done and now you're dead to me.)

“You been eating too much burnt meat or something?” (Are you nuts?)

“Stop all this smoke and use your fire.” (Stop rambling and get to the point already; or stop complaining and do something)

“Doesn't know his tail from his wings.” (Stupid or clumsy)

“You fly like a depressed pigeon.” (Slow flier)

“There's no fire in a rainstorm.” (Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get to work.)

“Nighttime is for the NightWings.” (What are you doing up? Go to sleep.)

SandWings

“She’s all rattle, and no strike.” (Like all bark no bite)

“A diamond in a pile of quartz.” (Like a needle in a haystack)

“You’re watering the cactus and ignoring the sapling.” (You’re focusing on the wrong thing; barking up the wrong tree)

“Everyone thinks the camel looks silly until the dry season comes.” (Don't listen to them, they don't know how unique and strong you are)

MudWings

“Crocodile tears.” (Fake crying in order to gain sympathy)

“You can only catch a trout if your mouth is open.” (Be open to new experiences)

“If the tree gives away too much, it ends up as a stump.” (Don't let people take advantage of your generosity)

SeaWings

“Happy as a clam in high water.” (Very happy)

“The flying fish feels like a fool when it sees an osprey.” (Don't compare yourself to others, run your own race.)

“Plenty of fish in the sea.” (Plenty more opportunities to come.)

“You’ve got ink in your eyes.” (You're blind to something important)

“Lobsters only die when they don't leave their shell.” (Keep yourself busy with new experiences and you'll life a long life)

NightWings

“Sleep is for the dead.” (Why waste your time sleeping when you could be productive)

“SeaWings know their fish and SandWings know their cactuses, but we NightWings know everything else.”(NightWing supremacy propaganda)

“Being nice to a deer never got one in my mouth.” (Other dragons don't matter, only your goals.)

“A prophecy always comes true.” (I told you so but more cryptic)

"You're counting the stars." (You're doing something tedious towards an unachievable goal)

RainWings

“Gray’s her favorite color.” (She's a huge bummer)

“A lemon is yellow on the outside, doesn't mean they're not sour.” (Referring to someone who is two faced or fake)

“I love honey, but I’d rather not get stung by the bees.” (I could do this, but it requires effort so I don't wanna)

“Nobody likes a rotten banana.” (Nobody likes a bummer/downer)

“Don't tie your tail in a knot” (don't get all upset)

“I have all my berries in a basket” (I have everything sorted out)

“You couldn't sneak up on a pineapple” (insult to one's camouflage skills, popular among children)

IceWings

“The seal who asks why the orca is chasing him is the first to get eaten.” (A favorite of parents telling their kids to shut up)

“Not the sharpest icicle on the roof” (kinda stupid or slow)

“Clear as polished ice” (i understand or see it very well)

“You're looking a little pink in the face” (you look sickly. IceWings can turn pink from eating too much krill; a symptom of malnutrition. This line can be applied to any illness.)

“Blue blood kills, red blood spills.” (Patriotic propaganda implying that IceWings win every fight

“The SkyWings toss their blue eyed hatchlings because they're worried they'll be as strong as an IceWing.” (More propaganda)

HiveWings

“Pretty is for the SilkWings.” (Vanity is stupid and impractical)

“If it buzzes like a bug and bites like a bug, it's a bug.” (Don't ignore the obvious)

“Clearsight works in mysterious ways.” (I don't know the answer to your question, now go away)

SilkWings

“It's not always good to know how the honey gets made.” (Don't stick your snout where it doesn't belong)

“She's got a couple of threads loose.” (Calling someone a little crazy, threads refers to weaving)

“The bee minds its flowers and the spider minds her silk, it's when they mix that bad things happen.” (Mind ya business)

LeafWings

“Flytraps only trap because the soil doesn't feed them.” (Dragons don't get angry out of nowhere)

“Looking like a leaf only hides you in the forest.” (Time and place)

“If a branch doesn't bend, it breaks.” (Be flexible)

“Even the corpse flower attracts the flies.” (Even someone who seems ugly to one dragon they can seem irresistible to another)

#wings of fire #wof headcanons #metaphor #idioms

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it-happened-one-fic · 23 days

Note

Hi, sorry to bother you but I would like to ask for a post from Leona, where Cheka is trying to get her two favorite people married (ie Leona and the reader)

Hi! Sorry it took me so long to respond to your ask! I had a bit of trouble writing this one, but over all I had fun too. I hope you enjoy!

Duly-Noted - Leona

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ fluff/ sfw/ featuring Cheka/ request

Word Count: 1790

Leona huffed out a sigh as he watched Cheka play with you on the floor of the Ramshackle dorm from his relaxed lounging on the couch.

It hadn’t taken him long to figure out his nephew’s scheme when, as soon as the little fuzzball had appeared, he’d cheerfully stated that he wanted to come and play with you. Of course, Cheka had given himself as soon as he’d included his demands that Leona come along with him, even though he’d been to visit you at Ramshackle dorm plenty of times on his own.

Cheka was definitely fond of you, and Leona couldn’t really blame the kid considering how you patiently played along with the child. But that wasn’t what was really going on here.

What was going on here had more to do with Cheka’s pressing questions about why Leona so often told family members that he wasn’t particularly attached to anyone at school.

He could still see Cheka’s bright eyes looking up at him with an insistent frown on his face, “You know that is true, Unca! You like Y/n!”

Leona had snorted at his nephew, shaking his head at the child and, for once, was genuinely amused, “And what makes you think that?”

“You look at them the same way Papa looks at Mama. And Y/n likes you too! Why don’t you just take them home with you? Then you don’t have to worry about leaving them here while you visit us!” Cheka was as determined as Leona had ever seen him, but it was a drastic misreading of the situation.

Leona had plenty of reasons to not want to visit home, and none of them had a thing to do with you. But the moment he’d told the child that, Cheka had smiled.

He’d been all but beaming up at Leona from where he sat on his lap, hands fisted in Leona’s shirt like he thought his uncle would run away, “But you do like them.”

There were moments, like right then, when Leona almost wondered if Cheka was more intelligent than his father. Perhaps he’d taken after his mother in that sense. But then Cheka’s hare-brained plot for tricking you and Leona into a relationship certainly hadn’t been well schemed.

After all, Leona wasn’t the only one who'd caught on. You had, too. Though, to be fair, Cheka wasn’t exactly being stealthy with his questions about how, “Wouldn’t it be great if we all lived together?”

Leona had fully planned on handling it, but you'd only smiled, shaking your head and saying you’d talk to Cheka about it, “He’s just a kid after all, and he doesn’t mean any harm. There’s no need to come down on him so hard.”

Leona had only eyed you with rising eyebrows before shrugging, “Have it your way. But he won’t drop this easily. He’s a stubborn little thing.”

You’d snorted, elbowing him lightly as you went by to rejoin his nephew, “Must run in the Kingscholar family.”

And that had been that.

Truthfully, Leona hadn’t known what you’d told his nephew, but Cheka had fallen largely silent on the matter of a possible romance with you after that.

In hindsight, though, Leona really should have known better to think that was all there was going to be to it. Nothing was ever that simple. Especially when you or his nephew were involved.

He had to hand it to Cheka, though; he’d been completely caught off-guard when the child had suddenly questioned him about his wedding plans. Especially since it happened during a trip to Sam’s with Ruggie.

Cheka held up the little ring-shaped lollipop, and before Leona could even start to refuse to buy the treat for him, the child spoke with innocent curiosity, “What kind of ring are you going to get for Y/n when you two get married?”

Leona blinked, his eyes widening as he stared at the child who just stared up at him while Ruggie did a spit-take and Sam’s eyebrows lifted. The only sound that broke the silence was the occasional beep as Sam continued to scan items.

Leona finally frowned, crossing his arms as he eyed the child, “What makes you think I’m going to marry the Herbivore?”

Cheka frowned almost immediately, as if he were trying to mirror his uncle’s expression, “Y/n and you like each other. But Y/n said they couldn’t move in with us until you two had gotten married. They said people would talk since we’re royals and they aren’t if you didn’t.”

Cheka’s expression slowly shifted to one of concern, his tiny hand reaching out and grasping Leona’s pants leg, “You are going to marry them, aren’t you, Unca? Y/n’ll be sad if you don’t.”

Ruggie only barely managed to contain his laughter in an ugly-sounding snort that had Leona shooting him a look while a smile began to creep across Sam’s face.

“Did they?” Leona’s gaze shifted back to his nephew as he spoke, his tone careful as he eyed the child. But he was already putting two and two together without Cheka having to say anything.

You certainly had talked to Cheka about it, but now Leona was going to have to talk to you about this.

Ruggie wiped his eyes lightly before kneeling, humor still flooding his voice even as he eyed Cheka, “Well, marriage is a pretty big deal, Cheka. Leona can’t just go proposing without putting some real thought into it.”

Cheka frowned, but Ruggie only titled his head, reasoning with the child easily, “Y/n deserves the best, don’t you think?”

Leona watched, eyebrows raised, as Cheka frowned thoughtfully before his tiny face cleared like a sun coming out from behind clouds, and he nodded, smiling widely, “Oh! I see! Leona wants to sweep Y/n off their feet like those princes in the stories Mama likes so much.”

Leona didn’t even bother hiding his groan as Ruggie snickered mischievously, nodding and egging on the child, “Exactly, so you’re going to have to give him some time to do just that.”

Ruggie paused, glancing up at Leona with a grin that had Leona glaring at him warningly. But the hyena beastman was hardly even phased as he looked back at the child seriously, his eyes sparkling with poorly disguised mischievousness, “We’ll both have to support him, Cheka.”

Cheka’s expression turned determined as he nodded before looking up at Leona, “Good luck, Unca!”

Leona sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out an annoyed, “Uh-huh,” as he watched Ruggie lead his nephew out of the store.

He would get Ruggie for what a mess this was inevitably going to end up being, as well as deal with whatever the little mercenary wanted in exchange for his assistance later. First, he had a certain herbivore to find.

And he couldn’t complain that you were hard to find. But then you never were.

You were, as ever, at Ramshackle. Working on upkeep for the run-down building on your day-off, just like you usually did on the weekends when you weren’t working at the Mostro Lounge.

Leona didn’t even have to call out since Grim handled letting you know he was here for him.

You turned, blinking up at him in surprise, before a smile split its way across your face. Leona wasn’t really looking at you, though. Instead, he was staring at the busted chair you were apparently working on with a frown.

How the crossbar had wiggled its way out, was beyond him, but that was evidently enough, what had happened.

“Leona! No little prince with you today?” Your voice was bright, and Leona found himself looking back your way as he propped himself in the doorway.

He crossed his arms as he looked down at where you were seated on the floor, tilting his head at you, “Nope, but a certain little prince did tell me what you told him the other day.”

You blinked in confusion before your eyes slowly cleared, and you let out a small chuckle, shaking your head slightly, “Oh, that. He bought the marriage excuse pretty easily, and at least that way I didn’t have to lie or something like that to him.”

Leona felt his eyebrows rise at your words as you twisted to go back to work on the chair, seemingly unconcerned by what side effects your words might have had.

“Yeah, but now that he’s found out we’re dating when no one else has, he’s going to report directly back to either Falena or his wife,” Leona pushed himself off the wall as he spoke, walking over to where you were.

You simply shook your head at his disgruntled words, a smile on your face, “I still don’t see why it would be so horrible for them to know. But even if he does tell them, they probably won’t believe him. Not if Falena is as concerned about your love life as you say he is.”

Leona frowned as he watched you before kneeling and reaching around you to help you support the chair while you fought the crossbar into place, “No, he’ll call and ask all sorts of questions or, worse, have his wife ask me all sorts of questions.”

You hummed, tilting your head slightly, “You’ll be able to handle it if it comes to that. But, like I said, I really don’t see why it’s a big deal if they know or not. I’d like to meet your family.”

Your words caused his eyebrows to lift once more as he glanced over at you, watching as a frown crossed your face.

You glanced over your shoulder at him, confusion accenting your voice as soon as you spoke, “How did you find out what I’d told Cheka anyway? Did he just tell you?”

Leona let out a huff, his ears twitching as he glanced off to the side, “He saw one of those lollipop ring thingies at Sam’s and asked me what sort of ring I was going to get you for the wedding.”

You laughed aloud, earning yourself a look even as you shook your head in light-hearted amusement before glancing at him, “Hopefully nothing like a Ring-pop. That would be hideous.”

Leona grinned, leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder, “You don’t want something big like that?”

You snorted, shaking your head, “No. I think a rock that size, even a fake one, would be a little heavy.”

He let out an amused huff, turning his eyes back to the chair as he idly considered what sort of ring might actually be best, “Duly noted.”

After all, your thoughts on it all mattered too, even if you didn’t know that held actually had been looking at some rings already.

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hairyjocktf · 23 days

Text

New Recruit

Luke was at a low point in his life. He’d graduated high school but wasn’t smart enough to get into college. He had tried working some retail jobs around but he never had the work ethic to last long in those. He had similar problems in other gigs. It had been months of him bumming around and his parents had finally had enough, he was officially out of their house. With few options left, he was desperate. While walking down the street one day he saw an ad for the military, boasting stable careers and plenty of benefits. He’d played a couple seasons of sports in school and felt like he might be able to at least pass the initial evaluation, and out of near desperation he decided to try and enlist.

He made his way to the army office nearby that had been listed in the ad, and to his surprise there was no trouble. They did a quick physical evaluation and he was good to go, ready to sign up for boot camp. Luke was nervous; there was no coming back from this point. He thought about it for a couple minutes while being stared down by the recruiter, realizing he really couldn’t think of a better option. And so he signed the contract, unsure of what was to come.

Two weeks later he was on a bus out to the base to start his boot camp. Luke didn’t know what to expect; he’d heard numerous stories about how brutal this training would be to weed out people. The bus was filled with the strangest mix of people he’d ever seen. Some guys looked like they’d been using steroids since they were 12, some looked like they belonged in an accounting department, and some he just couldn't pin down. Regardless of who surrounded him, Luke felt out of place, and he was only growing more nervous as the bus sped through the dense woods. After what felt like hours they finally cleared the trees and he saw the huge fences that would enclose the next few months of his life.

The buses pulled into a large dirt clearing at the center of the base where they forced everybody out. A huge and built man addressed the new recruits with his booming voice.

“Privates! Welcome to Fort Eagleton!” he shouted above the noise of disembarking men. “I am Drill Sergeant Thornton, and I’ll be in charge of whipping you lot into shape!”

Luke gulped, it looked like those rumors had been true. He was in for a world of hurt.

“You’ll be under my watch and command for the next ten weeks, learning what it takes to be a soldier. First, I want to see what I’m working with. Privates! See those chalk markings on the ground? Space yourselves on them for inspection!”

His loud voice echoed across the clearing. The men all scrambled to stand in position, each on a chalk marking that were spaced four feet apart in a grid. Luke found an open one unfortunately near the front of the pack. He glanced nervously around at the others. Some were standing at the ready like they had been born for this, but the rest also looked around with worried looks on their faces. Their attention was brought back to the front by the thundering voice of the sergeant.

“Listen up, privates! Here with me I have Corporal Evans, a prime example of what you should all strive to become in the next ten weeks!” The sergeant gestured to a tall and strong looking man next to him. Evans was at attention in full uniform, but Luke could tell the man was absolutely jacked underneath. He could see how the coat was straining against his huge, broad shoulders.

“He is the epitome of a soldier, and what all men should model themselves after,” the sergeant continued. “I will make a real man out of each of you! That is my promise as your Drill Sergeant. However, some of you may take to that easier than others.” He began walking through the rows of men in plainclothes, observing each of them with scrutiny. Luke’s eyes went wide as the sergeant stopped directly in front of him.

“You, boy. What’s your name?” The sergeant did not quiet his voice even when right next to him.

“Luke,” he said shakily, “Luke Peterson.”

“Private Peterson, you may have passed the exam to get here, but I hold doubts that you are up to the challenge that is basic training,” the sergeant said while making intense eye contact. “Do you think you have what it takes to become a soldier?”

“Yes.. sir,”

“Well! Let’s put that to the test,” he boomed again. “Evans! Bring me this private’s new uniform.”

Within seconds, the man was at his side holding a folded army uniform. Thornton took it and handed it to Luke.

“Put this on, boy! Let’s see how you’ll fit in here,” he said with an almost sinister twinkle in his eyes.

Luke had no choice but to then strip down to his underwear in the middle of the crowd. The eyes of the dozens of men he had entered with were burning holes in him as he changed into the fatigues. They immediately felt too large for him but he continued as the sergeant watched impatiently. He pulled up and belted the pants before buttoning the shirt closed. They were at least two or three sizes too big, Luke thought, and he looked ridiculous in the oversized fatigues. He laced up his boots which were also excessively large and stood back up to address the sergeant’s burning gaze.

Out of nowhere, Luke suddenly felt like he’d taken a punch straight in his stomach. He collapsed to the ground on his hands and knees, gasping for air as the pain in his stomach did not lessen, but began to spread. His torso felt like it was on fire, and he groaned in distress as his body was overwhelmed. Everyone else in the clearing was watching in awe as Luke’s body began to grow. His spine lengthened slowly, back widening and shoulders broadening. His legs began to stretch and grow longer, adding a good eight inches to his height. He began packing on muscle like he’d been working out for a decade, limbs inflating in seconds adding strength and size. His chest pushed out into two meaty pecs, which finally caught Luke’s attention from the incredible soreness he felt as his body exploded in size. His eyes widened as he watched his own body fill out the fatigues that had moments ago been far too large, arms swelling to fill the sleeves and chest pushing against the now tight shirt. His legs also bulked up, adding 20 pounds of muscle as quads and hamstrings grew in and thickened. His feet expanded, pushing against his large boots. He felt a sharp pain shoot through his jaw as it widened, giving him a square and masculine face. The pain began to subside and Luke managed to stand back up, this time matching the sergeant in height.

The drill sergeant addressed him, “Good start soldier.” He had a hint of a grin on his stern face.

Luke was angry and confused, “What the hell was that? What did you do to me? What do you mean good start…” His sentence trailed off as he felt an intense tingling feeling arise on his chest. Underneath his tight uniform shirt, in the center of his massive pecs, tiny brown hairs began to poke out of his skin. The hairs started out thin and wispy but quickly thickened as they grew longer, spreading out across Luke’s mountainous chest muscles. The hairs erupted across the expanse, burying the skin under a dense layer of fur as they grew thicker, longer, and tangled together. Especially dark hairs sprouted around his sensitive nipples, causing Luke to let out a moan as he brought his hands up to massage them. The crowd watching Luke was stunned at his actions in front of the sergeant. Some of the men closest to him could see what looked like thick hairs beginning to poke out from above his shirt collar. The fur on his chest had spread up across his collarbone and had started peeking up onto his neck, where it was finally visible. The sergeant stood watching with a smirk as Luke was lost in a world of pleasure, rubbing his nipples as hair began taking over his body. The hair was not confined to just his chest, and shot down south across his stomach, coating his new abs and muscle in the same thick rug. The hair was growing in so densely that it started to push out through cracks and seams in his uniform.

The other privates were speechless watching this erotic display in front of them, not knowing what to do. A few noticed Corporal Evans, who was standing behind the drill sergeant, subtly mimicking Luke’s actions, seemingly lost in his own bodily pleasures as his hands roamed his body. Luke’s breaths grew louder as the hairs continued climbing up his thick neck, creating a river of hair traveling up from his chest to his square jaw. He’d never had much stubble before, just some light peach fuzz, but that was changing. The soft hairs were overrun with thick, wiry, testosterone-fueled growth that coated his jaw in an incredibly dense beard. His upper lip was next, first darkening with the shadow of thick stubble before the hairs pushed out and completed the full beard on his face. Luke’s hands moved upwards, stroking his fingers through the long wiry hairs that now covered the lower half of his face. His eyes closed as the pleasurable sensation began to control his actions, wanting to experience every ounce of this growth. The beard growth was very noticeable to the crowd as well, as men further away began to break formation and inch closer to see what was happening to Luke. Evans was in the back, feeling the scratchy stubble on his own face as it pushed out a couple millimeters, just enough to leave a dark five o’clock shadow.

Unbeknownst to the crowd, Luke’s body was continuing to change under his uniform. Luke could feel every new hair sprout out of him as the hairs spread, conquering more of his newly buff body. His armpits tingled as the follicles there went into overdrive, pumping out hair after hair. What had previously been a sparse grouping of hairs quickly became a thick tuft of sweaty, musky hair. Dark and wiry hairs pushed out of bare skin, spreading out and covering his pits in a full manly bush, already dense enough to trap his body sweat and stench. Luke stuck one hand into his shirt to scratch the growing forest in his pit before pulling it out and smelling his fingers. He shivered from the euphoric smell of his own musk that was only growing more potent. The pit hairs continued to spread and even connected with his chest hair, creating a seamless rug across his whole upper body.

The wave of hair growth continued advancing across his muscular body, with hairs beginning to pop up across his broad shoulders. They were joined by more and more hairs, giving Luke a thick coating across his traps. The hairs began to crawl down his brawny back, knitting a rug as they grew thick and tangled across his shoulder blades. As the hairs advanced down his spine they also began covering his arms, where long dark hairs were pushing out across his triceps before utterly engulfing his forearms in dark fur. Luke watched as the thick hairs poked out of his sleeves, ensuring anyone would know even in full uniform how hairy he was under there. That is, if they didn’t notice his large, calloused hands, which had their own small carpet of hairs sprouting across the backs. Luke could feel as the hairs creeping down his back reached the bottom, where a bushy tuft sprouted up just above his waistband. He subconsciously knew what was next, and moments later he was overcome with bliss as his thick ass cheeks sprouted their own rug of dense curly hairs. He could feel how the thickest, longest, and darkest hairs were pushing out of his crack, and he reached his hand into his pants to feel the silky fur that filled the gap. As all eyes were on Luke, Corporal Evans was still engaged in his own stimulation, feeling his pit hairs push out a little more, his back get a little more hairy, and his ass plump up just a bit more.

Luke felt his now size 16 feet heat up in his boots, beginning to grow itchy. Hairs were crawling out of the tops of his massive feet, popping out of his thick toes shortly after. The hairs climbed up his thick legs from his feet, coating his calves in dark hairs before engulfing his massive thighs. The hairs came in thicker and darker as they neared his groin, where his formerly modest bush began to double, then triple in size. Thick pubes were sprouting up all across his crotch, enveloping the area in a dense forest of curly hairs. Luke let out another moan at the sensation and shoved both his hands into his pants. He felt the coarse hairs sprouting through his fingers as his bush continued to spread outward. His cock began gushing precum before it too began to grow. It had almost been swallowed up by the immense bush, but now it hardened and pushed out, growing longer and thicker. Luke grasped his growing member and felt the hair climbing up the shaft as it continued to push further out of his bush. He felt his balls swell in size and drop a little farther down, becoming coated in hairs just like the rest of his groin.

Luke was overcome with euphoria, and the animalistic instincts took full control as he began stroking his nine inch cock with both hands, each pump blasting his brain and body with pleasure. The sergeant and everyone else watched as Luke jacked off to his own transforming body right in front of them, stunned into silence. Corporal Evans, still unnoticed, slid his own hand into his pants to deal with his rock hard problem. Luke kept at it, moaning louder and louder as precum poured out of his cock. Every stroke seemed to make him grow just a tad bit larger, just a little hairier. Finally, after a few minutes of being overcome by pure ecstasy, he erupted, a fountain of cum spraying out covering his new uniform in sticky white semen. Some of it even got on the sergeant, who seemed unfazed. Evans grunted quietly as he pumped a massive load directly into his jockstrap that he had on under his uniform. He wasn’t prepared for quite how large it would be, leaving a wet spot on the front of his trousers and leaking down his leg. Luke panted as his mind returned to his body, finally taking stock of the situation and realizing in a moment of panic what had happened.

Before he could say anything Sergeant Thornton started to laugh. His roaring laughter pierced the awkward silence that had overtaken the space for the last while. He walked over to Luke and slapped him on the back.

“Atta boy! That’s what I like to see,” He said to Luke with an uncharacteristic smile. The crowd was shocked. That was not the response they’d expected in the slightest.

“You’re fit to be a real soldier now, and I trust you’ll serve us well. A fine specimen!” he turned to the crowd. “Look here, privates! This is a real man, a bastion of strength and masculinity who can take a beating and give some hell.”

Luke too was stunned. He was scrambling to process what had just happened to him, and that it was seemingly planned by the sergeant the whole time. His thoughts were cut short by the sergeant addressing him again.

“Well son, you’ve done good today. We’ll have to clean up that scruff of yours to get you in regulation,” he stroked Luke’s new beard with his hand, sending a bolt of lightning directly to his still semi-erect cock. “Corporal Evans will help you out with that, and with cleaning up your fatigues,” he said as Evans approached from behind. Luke noticed the darker stubble on his face and the dark splotch in his bulging crotch.

The drill sergeant once again spoke to the crowd, “The rest of you will be assigned living quarters and shown the areas for training. I want you all back here at exactly 1300 hours!”

Evans ushered Luke away from the grounds and into his own private quarters, where he stripped out of his cum soaked uniform and finally got a look at himself. He was taller, absolutely built, and incredibly hairy. It turned him on in a way he never knew he could be, his cock once again rising to full mast. He rubbed his hands through all of his new fur, unable to believe what he was seeing.

“I was in your shoes when I enlisted,” Evans said to him. Luke turned to face him and saw a slight blush in his cheeks, and his bulge was even more noticeable. “I’ll make sure you get cleaned up and everything, but how about first we just enjoy the new you in its raw form,” he said, stepping right up to Luke and wrapping his hand around Luke’s cock. Lost for words, Luke pulled off Evans’ hat and leaned in for a kiss, grabbing his bulge and pushing him against the wall.

Maybe bootcamp wouldn’t be that bad.

This was my longest and most ambitious story yet! Hope y'all enjoy it and thank you for nearly 400 followers in just a month! Feel free to dm or send an ask if you have ideas for future stories.

#male tf #hairy tf #jock tf #hair growth #hairy #hairy chest #hairy pits #hairy back #beard #military tf #my writing

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getoswhore · 2 years

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‘ EVEN BEST FRIENDS HAVE SECRETS! , suguru getō.

𖦹 — featuring . . . perv! getō x f! bimbo! reader

# % !! synopsis . . . est. 2.0k wc + trying hard to study and be just like your older brother, it gets quite difficult, but a close sorcerer is always more than happy to help an idiotic girl...

# % !! warnings . . . sws + dub con (?), secert sex, risky public sex, cunnlingus (getō eats it from the back), age gap (reader is early 20’s, getō is mid 30's), mentions of breeding, creampie, heavy manipulation, squirting, spanking x1, pet names, reader calls getō master getō, praising.

+ request . . . “girl anything you write about geto is golden, but like him catchin feelings for satoru’s younger sister. ♡ the plot is all yours to mess around with, i just love the idea!” — @ella-simps !! >.<

the old, worn pages are cold between your fingers as you flip them idly, draining the information out the written text and etching it into your nimble brain the best you could with clicking time...

“hey.”

the focused and deep furrowed gape you stare at now rises — startled at the sudden voice creeping up behind you, even feeling a barred hand crawl against your back with a flat palm, tickling at the nape of your neck.

head craning over quickly, your tired eyes peer up to the voice, matching it to the loving face you know and adored, “oh! hey, suguru.” your lips curl softly, trying hard to wipe away the dry and tiredness marinating in your features.

“that book is full of shit by the way. it doesn't even cover all of the true meanings of curses.” suguru taps at the hard, ridden cover with his knuckles.

“oh... really?” your head drops back down, frowning and flicking at the corner of the pages, seeing how far you've already go into this book, and now hearing getō, your higher up, say that this is practically lies — a book without philosophy, without a sense of the real world or true meaning of curses, just futile words on a page, a useless time to waste...

huh.

“yeah,” his hand pats at your shoulder gently, almost reassuring you as he wonders mindlessly towards the shelves of worn spines of banquet books, scanning them with ill intent, “only people who dealt with curses can truly explain what they are.” suguru says in a voice not as amiable as before — almost ominous...

luring even.

“... well, i know you're an amazing sorcerer who's dealt with plenty of curses, so can you teach me then, master getō?!—”

“absolutely not. you're too young to have that type of information rotting in your brain.” he scowls, brown hues not even focused on you but you can feel the poisonous farce he glares with at the shameful books he evidently doesn't accept cluttering around you.

“please... sugu?”

shortening his name now? cute...

the tips of his fingers skim down the spine of a book, “it can make you lose some sleep, plus i know gojo wouldn't want you learning this yet, i know him — a brother would want to easily teach his younger sister, not his friend.” his back turns towards you, thinking he might just be frowning upon the old books, yet only if you're foolish self knew he was trying hard to hide that rising smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

your chair squeaks across the tiled floor as you rise up quickly with a pout, arms crossed and ready to sulk yourself towards him, “i promise i wont tell, please?” you trudge yourself close to his side, peering up at him with doe eyes and a gentle frown.

it's working, just as he thought — got you hooked and intrigued, ready to do anything to learn the ugly truth...

such a stupid girl.

“i don't know...” getō doesn't spare you a second, continuing to read the spines of books.

“at least tell me one thing! just one, please?”

oh, you looked so pretty pouting — practically begging with doe eyes futtering up to him.

“curses can breed with humans.”

what..?

his eyes shift down to you, beady and brown with hues of swirling greys putting on an earnest gaze.

“they'll ease themselves into someone, most commonly, non sorcerers — ‘cause they know they won't feel a thing, knowing some could even end up pregnant without understanding truly by what.” getō watches your eyes shake, almost disgust marinating your features and simmering with frustration.

he sucks the cold air through his teeth, “i mean, curses can breed with anyone, but they do tend to enjoy the innocent most.” his held tilts softly to the right, his hand reaching to brush the index of his finger along your jaw.

“so, make sure to keep an eye out.”

“what?! what do you mean?!” your eyes bat wildly, frantic and confused — and unconsciously leaning in closer to him; feeling that security and safety to be in his aura, like a small child would when their disturbed, running to their most loved and closest protector...

you hadn't even noticed — nerves shocked and worry overbarring your franzic mind, and he took this to his advantage; twinning mezily hands around your sides and tugging you harder into his broad chest.

“yeah... and there's only one way to keep them far...” getō’s tongue flicks out, slicking his lips, “to already be claimed.” he watches your face mush into disarray, ready to do anything to keep those filthy curses away from you.

“how... how so? how do i—”

“we can seal a protection together with just a few things to complete it, nothing too much.”

he sounds... eager..?

you lean in.

“the first step is just a simple kiss.”

simple? a kiss? a simple kiss?

your brother's best friend is asking... to kiss you...

“don't look at me like that, it's just a kiss, nothing more? unless you wish to become pregnant by some thing.” getō reels you back in, using those threatening terms to flee you back against him.

“ok, ok... just promise me you won't tell gojo—”

“trust me, angel. i won't...” getō scoffs before curling forward; a gentle hand soothing its way up your side and cupping the fat of your cheek as he puckers his lips against yours, smearing a hard wet press.

your tummy coils — barely grasping onto the fact that you're kissing your higher up... your brother's best friend...

his hands feel smooth across your skin; feeling lithe fingers play along the curvature of your back, and tracking the discs of your spine before clipping around your waist. and the kiss only presses in harder as getō rocks his body into yours till your back is crushing against the uneven, wooden bookshelves. he's moving quick, lips splitting for a second, feeling hot air catch between you two before sealing it again; a dribble of caught saliva adding to the taste, feeling warmth and sudden elation rising at your core.

but... he said one kiss? right?

maybe he's just trying to make sure, extra percussion... right?

you hope... feeling foreign guilt begin to bubble at your tummy when his boot kicks against your heel; booting them to spread your legs open and shift his body between them.

“g—... g-getō... getō—”

“shh, shhh, that's just step one. there are a few more things to do to seal it.” getō’s loose bangs frizz off to the side, his face beating with a kiss of soft pink, “don't worry, doll face, i know what ‘m doing.” he tastes you against his buds, tasting that sweet pop of cherry lip gloss you always pour onto your pretty lips...

you nod with wracked hands — a cute pink set gojo just bought you, settle against his heaving abdomen.

“what else is there?”

“turn around ‘n i’ll show you...” his hands guide you, twirling you around till your hands clipped atop the shelves — pretty eyes peering over and only catching glimpse of an empty room with cluttered books...

a lick of goosebumps rises along your spine, feeling tepid lips nip at the nape of your neck and sleazy, barred hands squeezing at the flush skin of your hips.

“next is preparing for a claim.” getō’s thumbs idly play around the frill of your skirt, toying with the hem and ruffling it up your perk ass; your eyes peel back wide, teeth catching your bottom lip at the cold air licking across your supple skin.

getō’s eyes ogle at the clear view of your cute ass all jiggly and round — a view he's been fantasizing over for years... now finally in his gaze, his hold; cruel hands kneading and groping at each cheek before spreading them, watching carefully how your back arches into a soft bow as his clipped nails dig crescents into your sensitive skin.

“are you... are you sure about this getō?” only a crack of a whisper spills from between chattering teeth.

“do you not trust your own higher-up?” getō sighs with a lazy thumb playing idly at the pretty pink string of your panties.

“... of course i do! i just never heard of a protection seal like this before—”

“because you're still learning, dear.”

he's right... and you perk your ass up, wiggling on your tippy toes and letting the sauntering man tug at your panties to the side.

getō can feel his mouth water, almost drooling and he doesn't hesitate to drop to his knees at level to your pretty cunt; gazing at the fat of your lips glistening with a slippery mess of your slick clinging between them, practically drooling...

his cock twitches, feeling himself throb hard in his tethered confines — aching with a bulging need to tent up.

“so perfect...” eyes squeezing shut, you feel a long and wet, broad stroke of his tongue slicking from your clit and dragging upwards to your pretty little weeping entrance. laying a flat, slippery tongue, getō spits out a wad of drool, letting it dribble between your folds and spill onto his tongue before poking a nuzzling, pointed nose into the crack of your ass.

your knees almost buckle, turning them inwards with crossed eyes and ridden knuckles scratching against the shelves...

getō prods the point of his tongue and teases it along your cunt, lapping and tasting every slick web you gush out — his glossy lips smack before delving a needy wet muscle between your folds, and curling it deep into your aching pussy; feeling how his tongue flicks against your gummy walls and slip past your heated core. and his hands keep a cruel grip around the soft mounds of your ass, keeping them spread nice and wide to nuzzle his face in deeper — to keep his slick tongue pushed into your cunt, fucking you with his warm muscle in need and in feral intent to lap along your walls.

he can feel you twich in his hold; your thighs trembling at each lick he strides against your pussy makes you whimper out. and it makes him wreck with a sleazy smirk.

so cute, he thinks, but so stupid.

a firm hand claps hard against the perk of your ass, feeling the ringing contact sizzle a warm tingle against your skin in burning heat; firm and cruel with digits tugging into the soft flesh and molding it into his hold... getō keeps you in place as he leans back up with a wet, sticky mouth glistening beneath the sheer lights of the room, and a hard cock pressing against his buckle — almost popping as he groans out,

“just one more step, sweetheart. you're doing so well, so proud of you, angel.” his voice is soft against the shell of your ear, kissing along the lobe with eager hands looping his belt from its ties.

your mouth hangs loosely, only pants and soft moans spew through... still trying hard to wrap your thoughts around this — this is still a protection seal, right?

“now it's time to close in the seal, claim it and make it known.” hearing metal clasp and leather chit against fabric, his baggy pants fall loosely around his ankles; crumpled lazily in the prior rush to expose himself to you — his heavy cock bobbing out and twitching up against his tummy; flush tip pearling with a sticky pre and beating a blossom pink.

“getō!—” he's quick to clap his hands around your mouth knowing you'll yelp out at the sudden and invading fill; forcing a deep arch to bow in your back as he reels your head backwards at the sharp pull to your mouth and stuffs his cock impossibly deep into your cunt.

muffled moans slipping past through the small cracks of his fingers, your heart strums with an ache, feeling it pulse and throb in sync at each barreling thrust he plummets into you with — feeling him quickly set a cruel rythen with haste movements and longing greed. and it makes his pretty earthy eyes to flutter, almost rolling back, unlike yours, already knocking to the back of your skull in growing elation.

“shh, shh, i know, i know...” getō groans through gritted teeth, trying hard to keep the skin-to-skin echoing in the library at minimal, but the tight feel your pussy wraps around his length makes it difficult — forcing his hips to rock harder into yours; watching your perk ass bounce against his pelvis at each cruel, tingling contact too, even salivating at the wet gush your pussy drools with when he slips his tip back in...

he keeps his palms flat against your mumbling and babbling mouth; arms stretched out and keeping you quite the best he could, but the way getō bucks his hips forwards and curves his cock just right to hit deep into your cunt makes you set loose into a boggling gaze — throat bobbing and scratching with wanton mewls.

a rough wave of pleasure shook at your core; the raw rutting inside you was sheer ravenous as getō pushed into you to the hilt. and in a moment of weakness, your hands scramble for purchase but fall pliant against old books, almost ripping and tearing at the sheets of dusted paper for a safe haven, feeling your gummy walls flutter and slick with your mess.

“cumming f’me princess?” he shudders, feeling your pussy squeeze and milk around his cock; a pretty translucent, milky ring barring around his length and globbing up as lube eases himself with a ridden pace.

knees almost sinking in, you feel your sticky mess drool down your thighs before dripping to the carpet in a clear puddle...

“good girl... feel too good f’you huh?” like auditory caramel, and the delicious control in his voice makes your chest sink in with heaving, shaken breaths.

not acknowledging the very harsh grip around your mouth and jaw — that is sure to blossom with bruises, you only cloud into a drooling frenzy, elation stirring to the very core of your tummy, and letting out inaudible sounds of bliss as getō used your little hole like a glorified sleeve. and soon his pace grew to a brutish and unrestrained tempo; his hips stuttering into a blur as he barreled his hefty length into your weeping cunt in every cruel motion.

‘now it's time to seal it, little one...’ he thinks deeply, almost chuckling at your stupidity for falling for such a stupid act, but it worked, and it lead him to feel his balls tighten, and a eager cock to twitch with a needed knot to pop...

the crude sloshing and belches of fluids slicking acted as a fine undertone for the drastic moans threatening to spill through and echo into the little library as getō pumped his cock into you, bucking in hard with a cruel and last thrust; forcefully and clapping his hips against your backside for a final time. running through throes of passion with such intensity, you felt his cock twitch and pump with a sticky mess to spurt out deep into your cunt; warm and sticky cum fills you up, feeling it settle and paint your walls with a milky spunk.

you both shudder, wrecked and sweaty.

getō moans deep, a guttural sigh bobbing at his throat as he slowly slips out; relishing the sticky feel of your cunt trying to swallow him back in.

“there angel... you're all safe now, no lousy little curse is gonna touch you.” he sighs, trying hard to keep the rotten act as he frees you from he barred hold. and you gasp, sucking in air as your eyes fall to the puddle that molds into a crusted mess in the carpet below you...

you nod, breathless — speechless.

“t-thank... thank you master getō...” you sputter out, knobbly legs trying hard to keep straight.

and as getō stuffs himself back into his confines with a sleazy smile resting at his lips, the wooden door of the library swings open.

“yo.”

gojo.

satoru gojo, your brother, was standing right there in front of you both.

thankfully, a rickety bookshelf was between you all, covering your dignity and mess...

“satoru! just in time, was just teaching your sister about curses.” getō cleared his throat and pats at your ass before walking around the shelf with hands in the air to greet him.

“getō, c’mon! i said i was gonna take her out and show her some real curses, not just talk about them — that's boring.” gojo steps in, but his nose whiffs in the air.

“y/n? what’re doin’? looks like you just ran a marathon — getō, must've been teaching you about that brutal curse sukuna, huh? made me break a sweat too.” gojo scoffs jokingly, but his brow raises over at you, only for getō to shove himself in his way,

“yeah, she couldn't even get through it all without breaking down, clearly she's not ready to even see real curses yet, gojo.” his smile is large and cocky as you try hard to gulp down a breath of air...

# % !! tags . . . @sparklingtragedy , @kenmasbimbo , @atsumeii , @sacvh , @luvbladez , @dukina , @rynfushiguro14 , @sauza , @getosbunny , @imvivian , @getou2001 , @carrixx , @sinfuldxlight , @depressio-milkshake , @bimbokutos, @groovyauras , @edens-pen , @diaphanoso , @suget , @sanjithesimp , @geniusso , @whosniya !! >.<

#💌.jjk masterlist #💌.suguru getō #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto smut #geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #getou smut #jjk x reader #gojo x y/n #tw age difference #gojo x reader #tw dub con #jjk smut #geto smut

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yuri-for-businesswomen · 10 months

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all „advantages“ women face are a direct result from male actions and misogyny.

strangers trust women more.

well men pose the big majority of kidnappers, are more prone to random and brutal acts of violence, more likely to rob and and rape you. men are also more likely to inflict harm onto strangers. no wonder people tend to trust women more.

people trust women more around kids.

the vast vast majority of pedophiles are men, as well as the majority of child rapists and abusers, and the sexual violence they inflict tends to be more brutal. on top, women are raised to be more caring and maternal. no wonder people trust women more around kids.

people take womens mental issues more seriously.

i have to laugh. women have been called hysterical for centuries, have been lobotomised, institutionalised and abused for being uncomfortable, not even necessariy mentally ill, but also in those cases. and put under male conservatorship. men‘s biggest issue is that they are being taught not to open up about their feelings. and who is trying to make them open up more? women.

women are usually not drafted into the military.

who usually wages war? men. who overwhelmingly joins the military on a voluntary basis, when there is no draft? men. is the culture in the military open to women? only if they‘re prostitutes. men systemically rape women during war times. there is plenty, plenty of stories from women who did join the military and faced constant sexual harrassment and even sexual abuse. military is a men‘s club, because men made it so.

men die earlier.

and there is plenty of reasons for that, that are not women‘s fault. men tend to do more physical labour which is taxing to the body - but when women try to enter these male dominated fields, they face systematic harrassment, misogyny and abuse. men constantly communicate to women that we are too weak to do hard physical labour anyways, while simultaneously complaining we are not doing this. also men tend to exhibit more risky and self-damaging behavior, which is partly due to caring most about themselves, while women care about others like their families and kids more. men tend to die in accidents because they tend to cause accidents. etc

men kill themselves more.

yes, and they also kill others more. it is way more likely for a man to attempt to kill someone else than himself. also, this is not necessarily an indicator that men‘s mental health is worse; women attempt more often but choose less brutal methods, and murder-suicides are counted in those statistics as well as suicide to avoid accountability, usually for crimes.

women get more attention.

women get more SEXUAL and unwanted attention. our art, research, and other accomplishments on the other hand get way less attention and are sometimes even sold off as male accomplishments.

women are more believable victims.

if this was true, it might be due to the fact that women are victims more often than we are offenders: sexual or domestic violence especially. men also generally portray us as weaker. when women sexually assault men, it‘s usually less brutal, not in groups, and not random. male culture is based on portraying men as hypersexual, and men are the ones reinforcing this idea. men are still more likely to be sexually assaulted by other men. if you think that women have less shame to come forward about these experiences, it only shows your misogyny: you think women feel more comfortable being the victim because that is the role assigned to us socially, but then complain that we are allegedly believed more. women tend to doubt themselves more, and be doubted more as well.

#mine #meninism #misogyny

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queerfables · 7 months

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Alright GO fans, let's talk Sodom and Gomorrah. This biblical story comes up a few times in Good Omens canon, a kind of offhand mention each time, and the most interesting part to me is the implication that Aziraphale was there.

If you only know the cliff-notes version, you've probably heard it as the story of God condemning homosexuality to the point of wiping out several cities over it. Maybe you've heard this too, but - that's not exactly what happened. Look, I'm an atheist, I have no dog in this race. If I thought it was about smiting people for homosexuality, I'd be happy to call God a wanker and move on. But I've read the story of Sodom and Gomorrah (You can too! It's very short!) and I've read other parts of the Bible that reference it, and I think a much more straightforward interpretation is that it's about offering hospitality and protection to strangers. It's also about the consequences of wanton cruelty, and God laying waste to those deemed beyond salvation.

In Good Omens, the book, Aziraphale and Crowley discuss Sodom and Gomorrah this way:

"Come off it. Your lot get ineffable mercy," said Crowley sourly.

"Yes? Did you ever visit Gomorrah?"

"Sure," said the demon. "There was this great little tavern where you could get these terrific fermented date-palm cocktails with nutmeg and crushed lemongrass-"

"I meant afterwards."

"Oh."

According to the book, then, Aziraphale at least saw the city after it was destroyed. Maybe Crowley saw the aftermath too or maybe he just heard about it. They both understand it as horrific.

The show is more direct, and suggests that Aziraphale was there during the actual destruction. Gabriel asks if Aziraphale remembers Sandalphon. Aziraphale does.

"Sodom and Gomorrah. You were doing a lot of smiting and turning people into salt. Hard to forget."

Aziraphale regards Sandalphon warily during the conversation. I believe we're supposed to interpret this scene based on the popular understanding of Sodom and Gomorrah as cities that God wiped out because of the inhabitants' sins. The obvious implication, then, is that Sandalphon is the heavy, the one called in to deal with disobedience. He's trigger-happy, relishes violence, and Aziraphale has seen what he's capable of. From the careful way Aziraphale discusses their prior acquaintance, I think he feels the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah was a tragedy and believes Heaven's actions were disproportionate and unjust.

I'm confident this is how we're supposed to read the scene. In the context of the story, we're supposed to understand that Aziraphale doesn't approve of the smiting, and that he feels threatened by Gabriel and Sandalphon coming into his bookshop and pressing him about Armageddon. But I'm fascinated by what it would mean if Aziraphale and Sandalphon's history really tracks onto the story of Sodom and Gomorrah. Because if Good Omens' version of Sodom and Gomorrah is at all biblically accurate, and if Aziraphale was there... it's kind of mind-blowing, actually, that he still feels so much compassion for the people who died and still thinks Sandalphon was wrong.

I'm going to explain why, but fair warning, it gets ugly. I promise nobody is actually raped, and I think that promise in itself says plenty.

According to the Bible, Sodom and its surrounding cities are accused of being overrun with sin. God sends two angels to Sodom to verify this, intending to destroy everything if they find it to be true. In the world of Good Omens, I think one of these angels must be Aziraphale. The other one is likely Sandalphon, but in the Bible it's God rather than either of the angels who rains down burning sulfur on the cities so it's possible it's someone else, and Sandalphon is only on smiting duty. Without anything else to go on, though, let's assume it's Sandalphon.

So our two angels arrive at Sodom in the evening, and at the gate to the city, they meet Lot. Lot is an immigrant who has made his home in Sodom, and I think the implication is that this is why he's not completely steeped in sin like everyone else. In any case, he immediately offers to put the angels up for the night, and although they'd planned to stay in the square, Lot is really insistent. He is a good host! Also, he knows the city is dangerous. So the angels go to his house and he makes dinner for them, and then before they can go to bed, a mob shows up at the door.

See, the men of Sodom have heard about the strangers staying with Lot. They surround his house and demand he hand them over. The New King James Version puts it this way: And they called to Lot and said to him, "Where are the men who came to you tonight? Bring them out to us that we may know them carnally." Several other translations say that the men wanted to "have sex with them". But I mean. It's a fucking mob. They've surrounded the house. We all get what this is, right?

So Lot goes out to meet the men, and he says "Don't do this terrible thing." Off to a good start! Then he says, "Tell you what, I have two virgin daughters. Do what you like to them and we'll say no more about it." Oh boy. Dad of the year award, right there. But still, he insists, "The angels are under my roof and my protection."

The men outside Lot's house are pissed. They say, "You're an outsider, who are you to judge us?" They threaten to do worse to him than to the angels. They swarm him and almost break the door down, but the angels pull him back inside.

The angels then strike the mob with blindness to stop them getting into the house. They say to Lot, "Look, you gotta take your family and get out of here. God sent us to see how bad things were and, uh, long story short, we're burning it all to the ground. You get it, right?"

Maybe you know the rest. Lot's son-in-laws don't believe him and won't leave the city. Lot's wife looks back and turns into a pillar of salt. Lot and his daughters take shelter in a small town called Zoar, and from there flee to the mountains. Everything else is destroyed.

It is a tragedy. The plains are leveled down to ash, until there's nothing left that can even grow. Was there really no one innocent in those cities? No children or animals? (You can't kill kids). Still, I think about that awful night under Lot's roof and I don't think I could blame anyone for giving up on all of it.

So what if that's the story? There were two angels in Sodom before it fell. What if it really was Aziraphale and Sandalphon, trapped through the night in a stranger's house, surrounded by men who want to rape them. Whatever their power as angels, that has to be terrifying.

If it was Sandalphon there with Aziraphale that night in Sodom, I have to wonder what he was like. There isn't any kinship or understanding from Aziraphale. Despite knowing the circumstances better than anyone, he still sees Sandalphon as a threat. Given that, I think Sandalphon must have taken a truly disturbing kind of joy in raining down vengeful fire and brimstone, beyond what you might expect from someone who was afraid or angry. Maybe he was never afraid; maybe instead he revelled in the violence building through the night as the reason he needed to tear everything down. Maybe he was afraid in the terrible way that exposes the depths someone will sink to to protect themselves (maybe offering his daughters was never Lot's idea). Or maybe Aziraphale just tried to reach out to him afterwards, to offer understanding and ask for some in return, and Sandalphon shot him down so coldly and viciously that Aziraphale knew immediately this wasn't something he was allowed to have feelings about. Whatever happened that night, it left Aziraphale feeling more of an outsider from Heaven than ever.

But if it happened that way, it happened this way too: Aziraphale survives a night like that, and when he looks out into the breaking dawn, he thinks, these cities don't deserve to burn. He sees the good in a place that's just shown him its absolute worst. I think that says everything about him as a character, actually. Of course he won't give up on Heaven. Of course he'll fight tooth and nail for his home on Earth. Whatever the worst is, there are still things worth saving. There are still, always, people worth protecting.

On that note, before I wrap this up, I want to go back to Lot's words to the men of Sodom, and draw a parallel that makes me feel some kind of way. Because when Lot declares the angels under his protection, what he says is essentially, "Do not do anything to these men, for they have come under the shadow of my roof for protection." And all I can think about, reading these lines, is Aziraphale standing in his bookshop as it's surrounded by hostile demons, and telling the angel under the shadow of his roof, "You came to me. I said I would protect you. And I will."

#good omens #good omens meta #fable talks good omens

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cerastes · 4 months

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This is absolutely the Lack Of Reading Comprehension Website, but there's another issue I've noticed that I never see brought up, and it doesn't exist completely excised from lacking reading comprehension, but it's definitely it's own topic.

Tumblr's a Bad Faith Website as well. Like the above, it's not something exclusive to Tumblr, but it definitely defines it in my opinion. A lot of people want to be Right, and disagreements are seen by a bunch of people as something to "win" rather than something to "have". You'll have randos that frame their entire argument against you based on latching onto technicalities to try to prove why you are wrong rather than actually engage with your argument to try and propose something else or turn it around. As someone who was in a debate club during university, I call it "debate-poisoned people" who see arguments and conversations as a sport more than an interaction or, well, an actual conversation to be had, or in other words, that consider every argument as a debate to be had, when a lot of the time, it's not that deep fam, and also the other person never really agreed to play under your rules, because, here's the thing, a debate is a very specific kind of interaction. In a debate, bad faith interaction and trying to erase the very floor the other party is standing on is a valid tactic, it's part of the game. In a conversation or an argument, bad faith interaction and trying to erase the floor the other party is standing on gets you rightfully called a moron who cannot use inference or extrapolation to actually engage with the topic at hand. I had one such weirdo like a week or so ago, even, who used so many words to say absolutely nothing, that I thought I accidentally performed a digital necromantic ritual and had actually found myself face to face with the spirit of Jacques Lacan.

Even in more innocuous, non-hostile scenarios, this still applies: A lot of people are so, so eager to Be Correct On The Internet, that they'll reblog something with a correction or an opinion seemingly so hastily that they did not in fact read the entire post or comprehend it. This feeds into the lack of reading comprehension, but in my opinion, it does also have to do with seeing something that they believe they can correct, and immediately chomping at the bit to correct it without stopping for a second to ask themselves, "Did I read this right? Does this need correction?", and a lot of the time, it turns out, yes, you did not in fact need to correct it, you just had to read it a bit slower without letting your quickdraw hand get the best of you, cowboy. The way I consider this to be Bad Faith, even if it's not really hostile or confrontational, is the long-held belief that The Internet Is Inhabited By People Stupid Enough To Actually Think Or Say Something This Stupid.

I'll be real with you: Yeah, you've seen wild stories on the internet, plenty of them true, about how stupid people can be. No, they do not define the majority of people that aren't you. A wild, flabbergasting story about idiocy gets traction because it's funny and wild. We don't hear stories about how User A made a compelling argument that seemed stupid at first but then turned out that their rationale was incredibly sound as much, because that's not funny and wild and doesn't make us feel good about ourselves, because we'd never make such a stupid mistake. You aren't a sage wearing the floatie of wisdom in an ocean of idiots, no matter what your echo chamber and/or carefully curated internet space makes you think. You are not exempt from having to think about things, and you are not exempt from having to acknowledge people that know things you don't, people wiser than you are out there. This isn't "you are dumb as shit, actually", because I personally believe most people are smart, this is "you are being superficial and too eager to be Correct, which only works to your detriment in the long run and makes you a rather unlikable person".

It's as simple as engaging in good faith, even when you disagree or dislike the other party. Rip apart their arguments properly, instead of trying to disqualify them with cheap gotchas from the get go just because you want to own someone. Yes, sometimes people don't make sense, period, but that's absolutely not as common as people like to claim it happens. Inevitably, you'll run into someone that will actually call out your bullshit and there goes your entire argument. And in less intense settings, really, no one likes a pedant who really wants to be Correct on fucking Tumblr of all places.

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opennwindows · 7 months

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If you can, could I request BEN Drowned fluff / smut headcanons like about himself, with his headcanon age, hobbies, facts, what he is into or would like & want in a relationship, and what he would be like with a gamer girlfriend/ s/o?

If ya taking requests rn still?✨😇😊💖

Ben Drowned general + NSFW hcs

A/N: yes!! absolutely. i love getting to talk about how the pastas do their pastaing in my mind. i have so many headcanons for everyone that im excited to share!! also sorry i forgot to include the gamer gf part but i don't think it would change a lot of what i wrote!!

btw sorry for fucking dying i have been busy 😭😭 but no one worry i will still continue to work on requests!! if anyone has any marble hornets stuff they wanna request i will zoom you to the front of the queue so fucking quick. anyways enough of me yapping.

cw: 18+ nsfw, toxic relationships, crying kink,

GENERAL

ben is mentally and physically 22, but he can be quite emotionally immature at times. when he died he never stopped growing and maturing, his soul was just stuck in limbo. think like the worst waiting room ever.

he's surprisingly tall, standing at about 5'9. he's lanky but not bone thin. could easily get pretty far in a fight without his ghost powers.

the link costume only appears when he’s in his ghost form. so for example, when he’s messing with someone on their computer he’ll appear as the canon BEN we’re most familiar with. when he’s just chilling in his physical body, he mostly wears beat up hoodies and sweatpants.

contrary to popular belief, ben's not the hardcore gamer everyone thinks he is. sure, he'll play some overwatch or whatever when he's bored but he honestly just prefers to watch tv and browse the internet. understandably REFUSES to play any zelda games. if you were trapped in a video game for decades would you ever wanna touch it again? exactly.

ben loves to draw little comics and troll (see: horrifically traumatize) people online. god forbid you get into twitter beef with this man because he will crawl through your monitor at 3am and leave you with a crippling fear of technology. dude thinks it's absolutely hilarious. a true knee slapper.

lowkey has a sugar addiction. will slam down 4 cans of pepsi in one sitting. he's very lucky that he's basically a ghost because the kidney stones would be plentiful.

ROMANTIC

you know that guy with the blown out speakers in his car, lives off of energy drinks and burnt blue razz ice elfbars, swears aphex twin is the modern mozart and works on the grill at your local wendy’s? yeah thats ben. or at least would be him if he was still human.

“why would you need a chair, my lap is literally right here babe.”

would absolutely wear your skin if given the opportunity. not in a weird way. he’s just EXTREMELY touchy.

he needs someone who is significantly more organized and motivated than him. he can go almost a week without showering and it should honestly be considered biological warfare when he tries to smother you with affection during these episodes.

after awhile of you guys dating he LOVES the idea of y’all showering together. he has a fear of water and while showers aren’t too much of a trigger, your presence helps ease his anxiety.

favorite pet names: bro, dude, dawg, babe, bitch (non derogatory)

not really a romantic but he tries his best. a perfect date for him is just getting some takeout, watching youtube, talking about stupid shit and play fighting. if you want something more traditional or extravagant then he’ll oblige to make you happy but those types of dates make him feel quite suffocated and nervous. try to save those for special occasions.

now let’s talk about his problems because just like the other creeps he is ANGSTY.

he’s probably the most emotionally stable and healthiest of the group but he definitely still has his toxic traits, after all this man is a ghost that mentally tortures and kills his victims through manipulation.

ben would never ever get physical with his partner no matter how enraged he is but he absolutely is the type to do some mental damage when he gets carried away. ben drowned? more like ben gaslighted.

the type to say some shit that would keep you up for years and then kiss you the next morning like the argument never happened. he finds it easier to ignore problems than to actively talk and fix them. you’re gonna have to teach him some important communication skills or else you’ll grow to resent him after all the bottled up rage.

a bit too brutally honest and blunt for his own good so if you have thin skin the relationship would fall apart pretty quickly. he wants someone who can drag him twice as hard as he dragged you. bonus points if your insults are consistently funny as hell.

please watch anime with him and discuss it. he would propose on the spot, especially if you play with his hair.

pro player tip: if you want him to clean his disgusting room, help him and make it fun! he just needs a little push and motivation at times. and being around you makes him want to get his shit together.

big fan of late night make-out sessions. i’m talking like 45 minutes straight of just slobbering on each other’s faces with tongues down throats. if you don’t want his hands running over every inch of your body then you’ll probably have to chain him to the wall.

NSFW

okay. so he’s a little inexperienced with his hands. he’s just a slow learner. be vocal with him about what you like!!

ben's about 7inches and slightly skinnier than average but he will have you seeing stars in record time. the dick game is no joke. he tends to go fast and deep most times.

i can see him being a switch in the idgaf-as-long-as-i’m-fucking way. dude will go with the flow and will try mostly anything.

definitely one of the least aggressive pastas during sex. he has sadistic tendencies but he’s more of a edge/overstimulate you until you cry versus a beat the shit out of you and rip hair out of your scalp type. he’s pretty vanilla given his occupation.

despite his love of roasting the fuck out of you on a daily basis, the only words that come out of this man’s mouth is heavenly praise. he looks at you like you’re the most gorgeous being on the planet and he’ll let you know it.

he loves to whisper praises into your ear while you ride him.

he's more of a receiver than a giver when it comes to oral. he'll absolutely spend hours between your legs if given the chance but nothing beats the sight of you on your knees and teary eyed with his length in your mouth.

he can be a bit of a head pusher but just let him face-fuck you every now and then, hearing his loud moans will be worth it.

did i mention how much of a crying kink this man has? you guys could be on round three and if he stares at your teary eyed fucked-out face for longer than 10 seconds he'll immediately get hard again. you'll have to beg him to give your poor body a break.

he's also into choking but only if he's the one doing it. if you try to restrict his breathing he'll panic and the mood would get ruined.

#creepypasta #creepypasta smut #celia reqs #creepypasta x reader #ben drowned #ben drowned x reader #ben drowned smut #ben drowned x y/n #ben drowned x you #ben drowned headcanons #ben drowned hcs #creepypasta headcanon

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creatingblackcharacters · 19 days

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Lesson 4: "Do Black People Blush?" Bringing brown complexions to life

Inspired by this ask

So, do Black people blush?

We are human beans 🤣! Blood rushes through our veins! This isn't just a nonblack misconception either; I know plenty of Black people who think we don't blush. Stop saying that shit. It's not true! If you thought this at any point, I'm glad you learned, TAKE THIS L IN SILENCE! I am sparing you the indignity of saying this out loud, ever! 🙏🏾

Jokes aside, the actual issue usually lies with the depiction or description. Depending on our skin tone, most of us aren’t going to turn ‘bright pink’ with a blush (if you write that in your y/n or roleplaying fics, that’s an easy way to negate a good amount of your potential Black audience). Think of a cherry coke- how you still see the tint of red in it, but it’s still brown? Like that.

One way to dodge this in writing is to say “flushed”, or “ears/cheeks became hot”. This is describing the physical action of blushing, without having to describe the color of someone’s face. If you’re really nervous about not writing us correctly via blushing… there you go!

Colorism

Okay. So this is something I’ll likely do its own lesson on, because there’s no way I could encapsulate it into one little blurb and I’m not going to try! After asking the internet an admittedly confusing question 😅, one thing I was able to reaffirm is that people have different opinions on what ‘dark’/’darker’ skin tones mean. People recognize that different cultural upbringings and contexts will change what that means! And that’s good- that an important part of the larger conversation!

However, I want everyone to understand that you don’t have to be Black to be dark/’darker’ skinned- you can be Black and very pale! We discussed that in the last lesson! There’s no ‘singular point of brown-ness’ that designates a Black person as ‘Black’- there’s an entire sociological conversation behind that!

My point is, this isn’t a ‘oh Black people OVERALL aren’t depicted blushing properly’- because there are ‘lighter’ skinned Black people that wouldn’t suffer as much from this particular issue.

Blushes and Undertones

Three Links for Tips on Medium to Deep Skintones

Different complexions are going to require different colors, there's not a 'one fits all' option. However! What we want to do for deeper brown complexions is to focus on BOLDER, not lighter! Putting light pink or a white person’s ‘nude’ on our skin will often make us look ashy and undercolored. And we don’t like looking ashy.

"It looks like they're ashy!"

What do we mean when we say this about a piece? Well, worse case scenario, it looks like this:

This was NOT one of KD’s better days, and he was thoroughly mocked for this. He got more than enough money for lotion! Anyway, when we say that your art looks ‘ashy’, it means that it feels like the skin of your Black character is gray, or dead. Like a corpse. We don’t look like that unless things are dire.

In fan and professional art, you can sometimes find people user a grey undertone for deeper shades of brown on Black people: NO! We are NOT grey! We are not pitch! Many skin shades of brown can be found based in the oranges and the reds. Based on lighting and depth of complexion, you might even have to go into the blues and purple to capture the brown you’re seeking.

I’m begging us to stop desaturating the browns we use. We can see the difference. It’s usually one of those ‘White Man Painted Brown’ techniques I discussed before; an attempt to ‘make a character Black’ without really committing to it because the brown skin tone ‘doesn’t look good’ to the artist. Brown is beautiful! Commit to brown! Commit to the full design!

Put in the work to create the brown you need!

While this is a traditional art piece (follow Ellie Mandy Art, a Black creator), I want you to notice how she incorporated many colors to create the deep brown for her piece.

-8:05 for the list of paints

-8:05-17:29 for the process

She used black, yes, but it was nowhere near the base color. She incorporated blues and reds and other browns to capture that depth. It wasn’t ‘toss in a bunch of black or grey to get the brown darker’. (SKIP TO THE END TO SEE HOW GOOD THIS PIECE IS, BTW. I felt like I was in the presence of a master watching her do this, fr. We gotta pay artists more.)

I want to use this model as an example to show that while we might get very dark, we're still not 'pitch black'. You can see the flat of the black of their clothes versus their deep complexion. They're not the same!

Even if your character's complexion is very deep brown into black, you still need to incorporate ‘life’ into them (if that makes sense). And you know what? Even if you want to describe your characters as having ‘black’ skin, that’s fine, but there are still other ways to do it- obsidian, the night sky, velvet. Find a way to romanticize our skin (there’s an entire conversation about how ‘black’ is used in a negative connotation in language and storytelling, and we’re ALSO going to have that conversation later!)

A Real Simple Way (i.e. how I do it)

I tried, but I cannot find my skin tones palette link anymore. I’m sorry! But, it’s been essential to my character design. If you don’t ever buy anything else, I would HIGHLY suggest investing in a skin tones palette for your art program.

Everyone say hello to Philia, my OC! I’m used to drawing her, so I’m going to use her as an example. Now remember, I am still an amateur! But this is how I do it!

Admittedly, I do the one on the left when I'm feeling lazy, but more often I'll take the time to do the one on the right. Now here’s the thing- I’m not actually blending the red into the brown. This is on a whole different layer. What I’m actually doing is adding to and fading the color until it’s at a color that I feel is natural. There's definitely an easier, smarter way to do this, but that’s what I like to do- I like to see the stages slowly until I’m comfortable.

You have to mess around and practice; see what looks good and what doesn't. Go into the reds, the oranges, the pinks and observe how it looks- I may go through multiple before I settle on one. It’s really just a matter of getting used to drawing Black skin tones and how they look in different lighting. This one's not perfect for sure.

Resources

Here are some really good posts and Youtube videos on how both to paint skin, and to add blush tones. And remember, as per my usual, the best way to learn how the draw and paint Black people is to follow and learn from Black artists! Another good idea might be looking into Black makeup and Black SFX makeup artists. As people that work with skin on a regular basis, they would be a good place to study what colors can and should be used on different skin colors as a whole.

ami0amii

Likelihood Art

Tiara Anderson

Proko

Sinix

Ross Draws

In summary, focus on bolder colors, be willing to test until you get what you need, and practice! All you can do to get better is to practice! And as always: it’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

#creatingblackcharacters #character design #black characters #black art #black artists #black character design

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legally-allowed-to-slime · 5 months

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The last few people had logged off the server, leaving it in its burnt, damaged state.

She knew where Gem would be.

Cleo scaled up the ladder and clambered up to the rickety roof of Joel’s tower — where you could look out on the entire server.

Sure enough, Gem was perched on the railing, sitting on the edge with nothing to support her but the wind, staring in the direction of the Secret Keeper.

Cleo looked around at the short cobble walls. Grian had told her that he’d hid away here. Not a bad strategy, overall. You could shut yourself here and forget everywhere else existed.

“Hey, Cleo.”

“Am I that loud?” Cleo joked weakly.

“Who else?”

Cleo watched as the last remains of the green flesh flaked off Gem’s skin, leaving her regular human tones. “No more zombies now, then? Good job, anyway. Killing people left and right.”

“Not you, though.”

“Not me. Only way I’m going out is my way. I’d rather die on my own stupidity than someone else’s callousness.” Cleo allowed a hint of pride to enter her voice. “You were great zombies, though.”

“We weren’t zombies.” Gem turned and hopped down from the railing.

Cleo noticed that unlike the other zombies, or even Scott or Grian, Gem didn’t have a single scratch or injury, save one neat bandage that no doubt was due to Scar’s reckless arrows.

Which meant the blood splattering her face wasn’t her own. “What do you mean?”

“That’s not how zombies work. No offence, Cleo, but most zombies aren’t sentient.”

Cleo blinked. “No worries, I know they aren’t. I kill plenty of them at night.”

“So you should know how they work. They’re mindless. They lurch along, they kill without thinking, they probably bump into trees.”

Gem tilted her head. “They don’t set TNT traps, or betray their teammates, or ask for permission to kill their wife’s perceived murderer.”

Cleo’s mouth was dry. “So you’re saying…”

“I’m saying the apocalypse wasn’t zombies, Cleo. It was human.”

Horribly, incredibly human.

Cleo remembered when they were up on the tower, staring at the others down below, condemning them as monsters.

Somehow, it was better to think of them as a mindless horde and not people she’d been laughing and arguing with a session ago.

Gem was watching her. “You know I’m right. Look at Pearl. Was running from us, convinced we were infected or something but once she realised she had permission to kill, she went in. Even unleashed a warden, or two. That’s how quickly we switch.”

Ironically, Cleo realised, the roles had been swapped this session. The humans were chasing the zombie, but it hadn’t been any different.

“That’s not true,” Cleo said, “It’s not all bad. Did you know, Grian snuck down from this tower to check on his magma pet, and I was there too. And so was Etho. He didn’t kill us.”

Irritation flashed across Gem’s face. “He didn’t kill you? If he had, or, like, told us your location or something, we could’ve all just gone after Scott, and, and, the task would’ve succeeded…”

She trailed off, and looked at Cleo. “Is that the point you’re trying to make here?”

Cleo shrugged.

“Alright, I get it,” Gem grumbled, “No need to rub your holier-than-thou alliance and great morals in my face.”

“Well, no one asked you to put your task over your bandmates.”

Gem didn’t say anything to that.

“It’s not as if I’m exactly a paragon of morality either.” Cleo continued.

“I guess not.” Gem gave a short laugh. “Neither am I. You know, all the murder and stuff? I don’t feel bad! In fact, I feel great. I feel proud of myself for it.”

“…I feel you should be a little less bloodthirsty.”

Gem smiled at Cleo, an innocent, cheerful smile that would have been such if not for the circumstances. “Oh, no.”

Cleo was suddenly feeling very unsafe on the highest platform on the server. She wished Etho was here, or even Grian.

She knew Gem couldn’t take any lives, not now, not when the session was already over. But still…

Cleo raised her sword to stop the axe swing that came, but it was a feint, and her sword hit nothing.

Gem dramatically swung her axe back into her inventory.

“You really thought I would attack you?” Gem said.

“I don’t see why you wouldn’t,” Cleo retorted curtly.

“That’s true,” Gem conceded. “But the curse is just so- it’s so freeing, Cleo? Can’t you see? You could do anything.”

“Uh- no thanks. Session’s over, anyway,” Cleo pointed out.

“That’s true. But I’m still kinda cursed, you know.”

In response, Cleo warily raised her sword. But all that Gem did was deliver a mock salute before logging off with a chirpy “See you next week!”

Cleo stood silently. There had been one zombie on the platform just now. Her.

And thinking about it, she wasn’t sure if there hadn’t been two.

#concept: gem is simply evil #god forbid women do anything #oh no this story turned into that are humans good/evil thing again #that’s great i don’t care #geminitay #zombiecleo #gem centric but i did put in some cleo stuff because etho sparing his allies was so woahwhaha #secret life fanfic #secret life #secret life smp #life series #trafficblr

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 8 months

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Greetings! I have assumed that because you're Welsh you must be able to sing. Am I right, or is this an unfair stereotype of your people? (Love your blog btw)

WELL. Yes. I can. No comment on the stereotypicality, but it's certainly true that group singing is a big cultural thing, particularly among Welsh speakers.

Uh, that said, I have the lowest voice of any cis woman I've ever met or seen. Zero songs are written for my vocal range. I dream of the day I find another so we can bond OR I can finally sing something with my vocal chords and gender in mind. If you're musically inclined at all for this to make sense to you, my comfortable range is B2 - C5, which means I can encompass all of tenor, a chunk of baritone in the low end, and not quite all of alto in the high end. The closest I've ever come to finding a female singer with a similar reach is Madeline in The Amazing Devil, who hits low notes even I struggle with in That Unwanted Animal; but she can go much higher than me (and is certainly more comfortable in a higher range than me), so she's just a vocal prodigy. Every choir teacher I've ever had has confidently told me "Plenty of famous singers are altos, you're not alone!" And I'm like "That would be useful, Beryl, but I'm not an alto and they all sing higher than me."

Thinking about it, though - this is entirely anecdotal and not backed up by any actual statistics - I have consistently found over the years that Welsh voices tend towards the lower end. I'm thinking back to the choir I was in in Aberystwyth, the Elizabethan Madrigal Singers. It was a student choir, so there was a mix of nationalities but mostly Welsh and English. I remember at one point the conductor stopped us on one song and made us sing one of the phrases, section by section from the basses up. The point he was making was about our pronunciation of the word 'castle'.

"Listen to that!" he laughed. "You all need to pronounce that 'a' the same way, and this is a formal piece, it needs to be long. It's "Cahstle", not "cassle". Look how only the sopranos are doing it right!"

And one of the basses looked along the line and went "Rob... that's because they're English."

And we realised that every bass and all but one alto was Welsh; two thirds of the tenors and every single soprano was English. The higher the voices went, the fewer Welsh people were present.

(Shout out to Rob, very quickly - he was an English tenor, but on reaching Aberystwyth University he'd learned a smattering of Welsh as best he could and joined the Welsh language choir as well as the Mads to practice it. He was affectionately known as 'Rob Sais' in honour of this respect. Really nice guy. I believe he's an engineer now.)

But yeah, that's a trend I have noticed over the years in other places, too. No idea how universal that is vs just my own observations in my own bubble, but there we are

#asks #tedious personal details

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kingkatsuki · 1 year

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Sealed With A Kiss | Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Didn’t think I’d write anything for Bakugou’s birthday and then a random idea popped into my head and I wrote it all in one sitting. It’s been months since I’ve started and finished a fic, so please be kind! And Happy Birthday, Bakugou!💕

Summary: Not everyone wants the quirk that they're given. Ever since you were a child, you were cursed with a quirk where you’re able to see how someone will die when you kiss them. Unsure on whether your quirk is telling the future, or sealing their fate with a kiss of death, its safer for you to completely give up on finding love. Coming to terms over the years that you’ll have to watch all your friends get married and settle down, while you spend the rest of your life alone. That is, until you run into Bakugou Katsuki.

Warnings: 18+, minimal plot, mostly smut, no beta, praise, dirty talk, fingering, multiple orgasms, public sex, protected sex, not as angsty as I thought it’d be!

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 6.4k.

What would you do if you could tell someone the exact time and way that they’re going to die? Would you share that information with them, hoping that they can get their affairs in order and live those final moments to the fullest before kicking the bucket? Or would you keep quiet about it, holding onto the information as though it's a sordid little secret that needs to be buried and taken to your own grave?

Not that it matters anyway, because even if you held that information no one would believe you anyway, would they? Telling someone that they’re going to die in a car accident when they don’t even drive, or that they die during a snowstorm in July. It’s like people only ever believe what they want to hear, and it’s the same reason why even your best friend doesn’t know about your quirk. Imagine if you’d proved it, writing down your prediction and then waiting for it to happen. Counting down the days like you’re waiting for an exciting event, not waiting for someone to die. And then what? Someone dies and people want you to do it again, to prove that it wasn’t just a fluke. And then what? You’re kissing every single person that comes along just to tell them that they’re not going to make it to their next birthday?

Quirks should be a blessing, but yours was most definitely a curse.

“You know you really should start trying to settle down, you’re not getting any younger.” You could practically feel the disdain in their tone as you tried to avoid the question by taking a sip of your drink.

“You act like she’s going to die soon,” Your best friend Tatami laughed, shaking her head, “She’s got plenty of time.”

Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. You should scoff at the saying, but in this instance, it was very much true. The entire Hen party was made more awkward by the fact that you didn’t like any of your best friends friends’. All socialites that would give up your deepest, darkest secrets to further themselves and get their names plastered all over the latest tabloids. You were lucky enough to have known her since childhood, but it didn’t make it any easier.

Every wedding you’d attended in the last few years was even more elaborate and outrageous than the last like each bride competed to show that they had the most magnificent life. And every time you were stuck in an uncomfortable bridesmaid dress, trying to avoid the same string of questioning that you knew was coming.

“Come on, Tatami.” One of the girls rolled her eyes, taking a large sip of champagne, “Why don’t you try to set her up with one of your old school friends? At least then she’d be with a man with ambition.”

You felt irritated by them talking about you as though you weren’t even in the room, never mind sitting on the opposite ends of a table. They made it seem as though you were incapable of finding a partner like no one would ever want you.

“Or you could try one of those dating websites, I almost married a rich tycoon from Russia on there before I settled down with my husband. It’s funny how things work out.”

Of course, no one even bothers to ask me whether I want a boyfriend or not– never mind a husband. You rolled your eyes at the idea of flying out to Russia to marry a rich oil tycoon.

“I’m happily single at the moment,” You force a smile, your hand tightening against your glass, “

“They are right though, darling.” Tatami gave you a soft smile, “You have been single for quite some time. I’m not even certain I remember the last time you even mentioned going on a date with anyone?”

That’s because you hadn’t. Not since you lost your boyfriend all those years ago. Why would you try to look for someone again knowing what you know now?

Growing up you’d eagerly awaited receiving your quirk, but the longer it took to manifest the more you’d come to terms that you were one of the quirkless. It wasn’t until you shared your first kiss at sixteen that you realised that maybe things weren’t quite as they seemed. Everyone anticipates their first kiss, hoping it would be one of those special, perfect moments that you’d remember for the rest of your life. But instead, the moment you’d shared yours, you’d been struck with a horrifying premonition.

It felt like a dream at first, a moment where you’d pinch yourself and realise that everything had been concocted in your mind. The vision of your first love walking into traffic on a cold, snowy evening. The cars were unable to stop against the icy terrain as they drove straight towards him, the lights bouncing off the road to make it difficult to see pedestrians as he was knocked to his back. You’d even told him about it after it happened, laughing about how vivid your imagination was– but not even three months later and it's like your nightmare came true.

You’d told yourself it was a coincidence, that it could've happened to anyone and it was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Trying to heal your heart as you took time to recover from losing your first love until you met your next boyfriend. You were trying to allow yourself to be happy again, to forget the bad memories that haunted your past. Until it happened again– your first kiss with him gave you a vision. This time a villain attack endangered the city, your boyfriend was caught in the crossfire as a fire quirk ripped through his body and burnt him from the inside out.

It should’ve frightened you, much like the first time. But instead, you just felt numb. It was then you realised that you weren’t in fact quirkless, but instead of gaining a talent that was cool, flashy or useful to society– you inherited a curse.

Of course, there was no way you could explain your quirk to anyone, finding someone that believed you would be hard enough. But telling someone that you know when they’re going to die purely from kissing them? It sounded insane. Not to mention what it could do if the information fell into the wrong hands. Using the information for those dark, depraved benefits.

And to this day you weren’t even sure whether kissing someone showed the way they were going to die, or whether kissing them sealed their fate. Like you were the grim reaper handing out the macabre kiss of death.

Why would anyone want to be with you?

So it was easier this way, guarding your heart so you couldn’t feel the pain of losing someone you love again. A small price to pay to ensure that you didn’t harm anyone else, and the disappointed looks from your friends that you were still very much single were a small price to pay.

But you did feel alone.

Watching all your friends get married, settle down and have kids was harder when you knew you could never have those things. Maybe that's why it hurt even more. We always desire what we can’t have, after all.

“Let me set you up on one date and see how it goes,” Tatami’s annoying friend dipped her glass towards you from across the table, the champagne sloshing inside it, “I have this friend, not much of a looker, but he’s a quirk defence lawyer. It pays good money, and he’s looking to settle down–”

“It’s alright, I’m really not looking–” You felt awkward as each set of eyes around the table scrutinised you.

“Nonsense, he’d be perfect for you,” She continued, and you almost groaned as she pulled out her phone, “Let me text him now, I bet he could get you lunch in that new Sushi restaurant in the city.”

“Sorry, I just need the bathroom-” You almost shoved Tatami out of the booth as she stood up to let you out, her drink splashing as you tried to give her a reassuring smile before disappearing into the throng of people inside the busy nightclub. You weren’t even sure if you’d be able to find it back to your table at this point, but all you knew is you needed to get out.

The heat inside the club was suffocating, burning through you as you tried to find an exit. Weaving through the sea of people as you tried to remind yourself to breathe. Heaving a sigh as you noticed the sign to a smoking area as you followed the few people heading in the same direction. Stepping into the cool evening air is a welcome relief, the chill pricks against your skin as the heat slowly simmers down. Leaning against the rough brick wall as the back of your head knocks against it gently, closing your eyes to try and alleviate the irritation bubbling up inside you.

“Oi, you okay?” Your eyes opened into a glare to see the source of the voice, your nose scrunched in irritation at the blunt introduction.

A blond man stood a few feet away from you, cell phone in hand. The bright screen illuminated his face and cast a soft glow against his skin. You felt your heart betray you as it sped up at the sight of him, suddenly feeling self-conscious beneath his piercing ruby gaze.

“M’fine.” You mumbled, not about to dump all your issues on a random stranger.

“You don’t look fine,” He shrugged, glancing back down at his phone as he typed against the screen.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You sneered, your defences up.

“You just look pissed,” He smirked, and it only irritated you more.

Who did this fucking asshole think he was?

“Well I’ve got a random stranger bothering me, so perhaps I am.”

The answer has the opposite effect you were expecting as the blond beside you gives you a wide grin, shaking his head.

“Gotta be better than the desperate pricks inside there?” He tilts his head towards the club and you’ve gotta admit he’s right. You’ve been standing beside him for a minute and he hasn’t tried to buy you a drink or grab your ass.

“Guess you’re right.” You exhale softly.

“Whatever it is can’t be that bad anyway,” He shrugs, “You’re too pretty to be frownin’.”

You hate the way your heart throbs when he calls you pretty, it's pathetic really.

“You come here alone?”

Does he really think you’re that much of a loser to come to a club by yourself?

‘No, my friends are still inside.”

“So why are you out here alone?” He raises a questioning brow.

“Why are you here?” You crossed your arms against your chest defensively, turning the question back on him like he wasn’t doing the exact same thing you were.

“Got a big promotion today,” He shrugs it off like it’s nothing. Probably just another step on the never-ending corporate ladder to him, “My friends got me out to celebrate.”

“Is that why you’re standing outside on your own?” You shoot back, unable to miss the way his nostrils flare in irritation.

“Could say the same to you, sweetheart.” He scoffs, “Who’re you here with?”

“My best friend,” You smile softly, “She’s getting married.”

“Not very rowdy for a hen party.”

“Oh yeah?” You watch the way his tongue darts out between his lips to wet them, “You're not exactly the life of the party yourself, are you?”

“Just wanna go home,” He rolled his eyes, “My friends turn into assholes when they’re drunk.”

“Mine can be assholes at any time.” You were already expecting texts in the morning trying to invite you on a blind date you didn’t even want to go on.

“Dya want me to call you a cab?” The guy held up his phone, “I can get you a separate one if you don’t wanna share. It ain’t safe to be out here alone.”

“Very considerate of you,” You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop your heart from doing a little flip, “I can take care of myself.”

“Sure looks like it,” He scoffed, “That why you’re gonna hide out here for the rest of the night?”

“Shut up,” You almost pouted, “I’ll go back in.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He smirked.

“What’s your name?” You asked as he slipped his phone back into his black jeans pocket.

“Bakugou.” He answered after pausing for a second, “What's yours?”

You mumble your name and can’t stop your cheeks from scalding when he responds with a soft “Pretty.”

Standing in a comfortable silence between the handsome stranger you watched groups of people slowly leaving the club, some moving on to their next destination for the night and others trying to stop their friends from throwing up before they climbed into their designated cabs.

“Gonna take fuckin’ ages to catch a cab now, I hate this part of the city.” Bakugou groans, running his palm down the length of his face.

“You could go back in and party,” You shrugged, “I’m sure your friends are missing you.”

“Yeah? After you, sweetheart—” Bakugou made a mock chivalrous movement with his arm to invite you to go back inside first which you rejected. Moving back to stare into the sea of people with a small smile on your face, “Didn’t think so.”

You stood in a comfortable silence beside him for what felt like hours but was probably only a few minutes. One of the first times in a long time that you felt yourself as you both listened to the rowdy cheers in the background.

“Do you ever just want to say fuck it and disappear?” You surprised yourself by speaking your thoughts out loud.

“Go somewhere where no one knows who the fuck you are or what the fuck you’re doin’?” Bakugou responded simply.

“Yeah.”

“All the time.” He murmurs.

“It just hurts when it seems like everyone else has their perfect little lives while you’re just waiting on the sidelines,” You sigh. Maybe it was easier offloading everything onto a random stranger, it wasn’t as though you had anyone else you could talk to, “It’s just lonely.”

“You don’t have to be lonely.” He replied as though it was the most simple answer.”

“It’s not that easy,” You shake your head.

“Who said it ain’t that easy?” Bakugou turned to face you, his frame towering over you as you looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Cause I’m always lonely.” You felt hot, pearly tears beginning to clump in your lash line as you thought about the nights you spent at home alone while all your friends were with their partners. The life that you’d always dreamed about, but never have. For once you just wanted someone to be there for you, with you, “It's just how it is.”

“You don’t have to be though, sweetheart.” He whispers.

“Yeah?” You murmurs, “Do you feel alone too?”

“Fuck,” He groans, leaning his forehead against yours as he stands with you for a moment, “C’mere.”

Bakugou took your hand in his as he walked you through the crowd of people outside the rowdy venue and down a dark dingy alley that was illuminated in fierce neon lights from the various clubs dotted along the high street. You followed behind him obediently as your heart danced against your ribcage, astounded by your daring behaviour. He could be a murderer or a psychopath for all you knew– just another stranger out looking for his next victim. But for some reason (maybe it was the liquid courage coursing through your veins) you felt safe with him.

He moves his hands to your hips as he pushed you back against the cool brick wall, slotting himself between your parted thighs as he looks down at you with crimson eyes. The scent of liquor was sharp on his breath as his lips hovered close to you, warmth fanning your face as he leaned to kiss you.

“No kissing,” You gasped as you tilted your head just in time to avoid his lips as he pressed a wet, scorching kiss against your jawline.

If he had an issue with it, he didn’t voice it. The only sound was a rough grunt rumbling from the back of his throat as his lips continued to pepper sloppy kisses along your neck. Your fingers swiftly carded through his messy hair, nails grazing his scalp as you tried to pull him closer. As though everything right now wasn’t enough, you needed more.

“Please,” You whine as you felt his teeth graze your pulse point, hips bucking as strong palms reached out to steady you. Keeping you still as he bit down on the supple skin hard, the sudden pain had you crying out for him as the ache blurred your vision. Or maybe it was the alcohol running through your system— warm lips suckling the fresh bite mark as you clench your thighs together in a feeble attempt to give your neglected clit some much-needed friction.

“Please, what?” He rasps against your neck, his tongue salving against the mark he’d left against your skin moments earlier.

This is the part where you should’ve stopped him. Making up an excuse about Tatami wondering where you are, or needing to get home and disappearing into the night. But you didn’t—

“Touch me,”

“You always beg random strange men to touch you, sweetheart?” He smirked, his hand reaching round to grab a handful of your ass, “Or am I just special?”

If only he knew how unlike you this really was, that no one had touched you so intimately in years. A thought that would’ve surely ruined the mood if Bakugou’s hand hadn’t slipped beneath your dress to cup your aching sex, the sensation had you gasping in surprise as the blonde smirked down at you.

“I’m just special, hah?” He answered his own question with a toothy grin, “Is that why your panties are dripping for me?”

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this insatiable. Evenings spent at home with your toys felt nothing like the way his warm hands felt against your skin, uncaring that you were in a dirty alleyway as you found yourself grinding into his touch.

“Fuck,” You murmur, your head knocking against the cold brick as Bakugou presses the heel of his palm against your clit through the sheer fabric. A heat blazes through his touch and scorches you as you writhe against him, desperate to create a delicious friction as he smirks down at how salacious you look at this moment.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, bet I’d slide right in.” He grunts, surprising himself at his blunt words. Blaming his audaciousness on the alcohol Sero and Denki had plied him with not long ago, the liquor flowing through his veins.

“Please,” It’s quite pathetic really, just how easily this man has turned you into this. You’d managed to go years without the touch of a man, and now you’d felt it for a moment you were unsure how you’d ever lived without it.

“Oh, fuck.” He chokes back a groan as he pulls your panties to the side, the skirt of your dress now shamelessly bunched around your waist as he notes the glossy strings of your essence that cling to the flimsy fabric of your panties, “This all for me?”

His fingers drag through your slick shamelessly, testing it on his fingers as he feels the heat radiating from your core. He spends little time circling your puffy clit before continuing lower, dipping one thick digit inside your tight hole. You wish at this moment that you’d worn slightly prettier panties than the plain black ones you wore right now, but if Bakugou had any issues with them he certainly didn’t seem to mind as he pumped his finger in and out of your core.

“Shit, you’re so sensitive.” He groans at the way your body responds to him, thrashing against him as he places more pressure on your clit.

“Please, Bakugou.” Your thighs quiver as he continues pumping his finger inside you, feeling the way your walls hungrily try to suck him in deeper, to take all he's got to give and more.

“Wish we weren’t in a dirty fuckin’ alley right now, princess. I’d have you sit on my face.” He groans, feeling the way your cunt clenches around him at his lewd words. You’d never wished something so bad in your life, tempted to tell him you didn’t mind if there was an audience if it meant having his lips wrapped around your clit.

“I don’t normally do this shit,” He groans, nuzzling your neck.

“Fuck strangers in alleys?” You tease as he gives you a playful smirk against your skin.

“Somethin’ like that.”

You groan as he adds another finger to join the first, stretching you open as your nails dig crescent-shaped moons into the base of his neck, leaving reddened indents against his skin as he growls from the slight twinge of pain. The sounds coming from your cunt are downright crude, echoing around the empty alley as he deliberately curls his fingers to press against the spongy spot inside you.

“Shit, you’re fuckin’ dripping.” Bakugou grunts, watching your creamy slick dribble down his fingers and settle into his palm, his thumb pressing sloppy circles against your needy clit as you shamelessly rock your hips into his touch. Greedily searching for the orgasm that he’s more than happy to give to you.

“Look at you,” He goads, “You’re so fuckin’ easy. This sloppy ‘nd I’ve barely even touched you. Is this all it takes, sweet girl?”

You don’t have the heart to tell him how long it's been since anyone touched you like this, that no matter how hard you try to replicate his touch after today, you’ll probably never feel anything like this again. It’s like he’s tempting you to say something, to give him a witty comeback. But you can’t, not when his fingers are stroking you in all the right places, stretching you out in preparation for what you know is soon to come. You spread your thighs further apart to give him more access, a movement that has a wide grin from ear to ear appearing on his face. Standing on shaky heels as he ensures you stay upright with a palm on your waist.

He knows when he’s found it, like a lost ship searching for the bright glow of a lighthouse to guide it home. Pushing his calloused digits against the same spot that he knows will have you coming undone.

“Right there, huh baby?” He coos, “Yeah, I know, I know. Such a pretty pussy.”

You must look debauched now, your tongue lolling out as you pant pathetically with your head knocking against the cold brick wall. Allowing Bakugou– a complete stranger– to do as he so pleases with you.

“Oi, you listening to me?” He growls, and you can’t even remember what he’s just said. So lost in your own bliss as he continues to press the same persistent circles against your clit, “Course you ain’t, so desperate to cum, hm?’

“Please, Bakugou.” You mumble, breaking off into a salacious moan as he increases his pace eagerly trying to push you over the edge. He’s watching intently as you writhe against him, dangerously close to your release as you pulse around his digits.

“Fuck,” He almost snarls, the sound sending shockwaves direct to your needy cunt as you feel yourself vaulting into your bliss.

His fingers don’t stop their ministrations, even as you're crying out for him and gushing all over them. He instead, increases his pace, determined to have you completely intoxicated on him before he's even begun.

“You’re so goddamn noisy, ain’tcha?” He scoffs, finally pulling his digits from your spent cunt with a crude squelch. Unabashedly holding them up to his lips as he tastes you on his tongue, groaning as though he's tasted the sweetest ambrosia as he cleans you off his skin.

“Please, Bakugou.” You slur, legs shaky from the intense orgasm he’d gifted you as he pulls his fingers from his mouth.

Bakugou’s fingers are quick to unfasten his belt, letting the heavy buckle hang as he dipped his thumbs into the hem of his boxers to pull them down along with his jeans. Letting the material settle around the curve of his ass, just enough to free his aching cock. The sight of it had your thighs quivering in anticipation, the bulging head an angry pink colour as it oozed pre from the slit. Dribbling down the underside as the veins that forked along his girth made him appear even bigger, the length of it drooped down from the sheer weight as you wondered how on earth he could keep something that size hidden beneath his jeans.

“S’big,” You murmur, biting down on your lower lip as your cunt throbs in anticipation. Even his balls look huge, thick and weighty as you watch him give himself a teasing pump. His wrist rolling as he smears pre along the length. Ready to ignore how damp and filthy the floor looks in favour of dropping to your knees to worship his cock as it deserves.

“Think you can still manage it though, sweetheart.” He grins, “I know that pretty pussy’s good for it.”

You’re almost disappointed when he pulls a condom out from his wallet in his back pocket, seemingly you’ve found the only man in the entire bar with a conscience as he rips the foil packet open with his teeth. Lifting one of your thighs up to press against his hip as his cock slips between your folds, the fat tip catching against your entrance as he sucks in a breath.

“Don’t do that,” Bakugou groans, “You’ll make me wanna fuck you raw.”

“Do it then.” You challenge, wondering whether he really is like all the sleazy men your friends end up with.

“Another time, baby.” He glowers back, pushing the tip of the condom against the head of his cock as he slides it down his length.

The first push against your tight entrance has the air stolen from your lungs, a dull ache from the stretch in your core as his thick cock slowly breaches your sex.

“Holy fuck,” He grunts, his fingers dipping into the fat of your thigh as he holds it against his hip, “You’re so tight.”

He smirks at how desperate you are to feel him inside you, trying to drop yourself down on his length as he gives a few, shallow thrusts. Your fingers dig into his skin to try and get him to give you more, rewarding you by thrusting all the way inside. One sharp rut is all it takes to have him sheathed inside you, your walls moulding to the shape of his cock as he takes a moment to cherish the sensation of you wrapped around him.

“Told you I’d slide right in, perfect fuckin’ pussy.” He groans, slowly pulling back as he glances down between you to watch his cock slide out of your warm heat before you take every inch again.

There’s not much you can do in this position except stand there and take what Bakugou’s got to give, his rough thrusts push you against the wall as he almost sweeps you off your feet. His messy pubes tickle your clit with every forward motion as your essence leaks from your needy cunt and dribbles down his heavy balls.

His scent is intoxicating, the saccharine tartness has you tugging him closer. Burying your nose into his neck to smell the mixture of cologne and his natural scent. It’s almost comforting as you cling to him a little tighter, trying to commit it to memory so you can cherish it when you inevitably end up alone after tonight.

“Oh, god.” You cling to his broad shoulders, holding him tight as he sets a brutal pace. The fabric of your dress catches against the rough brick behind you as he leaves a trail of kisses against your cheek.

The sensation is overwhelming, the pleasure rapidly building inside you as he continues thrusting into you with hard, sharp ruts of his hips. For once, the only thing you can think about is the white-hot pleasure coursing through you. The soothing ache from his cock stretching you open is almost cathartic as you let him use your body as he pleases, his rough hands groping at your exposed skin as he presses more scorching kisses against your jugular, sharp teeth nipping at your skin.

“Oh fuck, Bakugou.” You cry out, louder than intended as your toes curl from his harsh movement.

“Shit– You want us to get caught, sweetheart?” He groans, his palm reaching up to cover your mouth, “Can’t kiss you to shut’cha up, can I? So I’ll have to do this.”

And maybe it’s better this way, your lips warm against his palm as your lipstick smears against it. Otherwise, with the way he was looking down at you, you probably would’ve kissed him.

Your moans are muffled by Bakugou now, his pace unrelenting as he gives rough thrusts inside you. The lewd squelch vibrates around the empty alley and mingles with the loud thrum of bass that vibrates from inside the club. The loud bustle of voices only feet away as anyone could turn down and see you both in such a compromising position— not that it would be anything unusual. You certainly aren’t the first couple to fuck down this alley, if the empty condom wrappers and bottles are anything to go by, and you surely won’t be the last. But it’s been so unlike you to allow yourself to submit to your pleasure, to live a little.

“You still with me, pretty girl?” He groans, “Pussy feels so good. Can feel you clamping down around me.”

You whined against his palm, feeling the pleasure intensifying inside you as Bakugou continued his rough pace. Drunken patrons hollered boisterously as they left the bar causing him to shield your body with his broad back, taking his eyes off you to ensure they didn’t decide to come down the alleyway to interrupt you.

“Fuckin’ pricks.” Bakugou snarled under his breath as he stilled inside of you.

Your entire body felt as though it was on fire, hovering dangerously close to the edge of your climax as your cunt clenched around his thick cock. Causing Bakugou to suck a harsh breath through his teeth as he brought his attention back to you, the corner of his lip curling into a sly smirk.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I didn’t forget about you,” He groaned, languidly moving inside you, “Gonna make you cum so hard.”

“Please,” You mumbled, muffled by his hand as he began rolling his hips, the bulging tip of his cock catching against the spongy spot inside you with each pronounced thrust.

“Fuck,” Bakugou snarls, moving his hand from your mouth in favour of slipping it between your bodies to thumb at your clit. The sensation has your knees buckling as your weight drops, no longer able to hold yourself up. But he’s strong, keeping you pinned between his body and the wall as he keeps his unrelenting pace, “Come on, pretty girl. I know you’re close, can feel you choking me.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” It’s embarrassing really, how one man— a stranger, can have you coming undone like this in public no less.

“So fuckin’ noisy, shit-” He grunts, his ruby gaze intense as he watches you come undone.

Bakugou steals your climax from you, his thumb is unrelenting against your clit as he feels your cunt clamp down around him. The loud cry that spills from your lips has him wincing as he hopes no one’s decided to look down the alley for a free show— something that would certainly make the front page this very morning. He eases you through your high, the white spots that dance across your vision make it feel like you’re seeing stars. A sea of constellations against your eyelids as you succumb to the pleasure.

“You look so pretty when you cum,” He groans, his face buried in the apex of your neck as he inhales deeply, committing your scent to memory as he cherishes the way your cunt clenches around his cock.

Bakugou pushes his fat cock inside you, as deep as he can go. Until his balls are snug against the swell of your ass as he feels the tremble of your cunt coming down from your high. His warm breath scorches your neck as he gives himself a moment's respite before picking up his pace once more, greedily using your body to chase his own release. His palm pushes your thigh up higher against his hip, changing the angle as the swollen tip of his cock finds what it was searching for. The euphoria already surging through your veins is enhanced by the attention from his cock knocking against the same spot inside you over, and over, and over.

“Think you can give me one more, sweet girl?” He rasps, watching your thick lashes flutter as tears blind your vision.

“I– can’t,” You manage to get out between broken breaths, unadulterated pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Yeah, you can.” He coos, his thumb persistent against your clit as he ruts into the same spot inside you, “C’mon, for me?”

The sensation building inside you is almost painful, still overwhelmed from your last intense climax the pleasure still bubbling to the surface as Bakugou is unrelenting. It’s too much, and yet not enough at the same time.

“Don’t hold back, sweetheart.” He groans, “Cum for me.”

Your body feels ungovernable as you succumb to the pleasure, a cry of his name tumbling from your lips that he doesn’t try to silence as he holds your quivering body. Preventing you from thrashing as he clings to you tightly, fingertips creating divots in your plush thigh.

“Oh fuck, there we go.” He snarls primally, nostrils flaring as he gives a few final shaky ruts of his hips, spilling his release inside the condom with a grunt as you both bask in the aftershocks of your release.

You’re certain if he let go of you now you’d collapse to the dirty floor, your legs no longer strong enough to support your weight as you cling to Bakugou. And he holds you back just as tight, dropping your sore thigh in favour of wrapping his arms around your waist as he remains buried inside your fluttering cunt.

He can still feel you spasming when he finally pulls out of you, sliding the condom off his spent cock as he shamelessly throws it onto the ground. Fixing your panties before pulling your dress back down around your thighs to hide your modesty before he moves to tuck his wet cock back inside his underwear and buttons his jeans.

You hadn’t expected him to hold you so tenderly, as though you were the world's most precious porcelain. But you both stand there for what feels like forever, basking in the afterglow as you sway side to side.

A large palm raised to cup your warm cheek, the calloused pad of his thumb brushing against the soft skin as he tilted your head to meet his gaze. Leaning forward as his eyes crossed to stare at your pouty lips, closing the distance slowly until you placed a palm on his chest.

“No kissing.” You repeated, turning your head as Bakugou pulled back, squinting at you.

“Still?” Bakugou grunts, “Why the no kissin’ bullshit?”

You couldn’t explain it to him, especially not after this. Wondering if it would be easier to make up a lie about your breath smelling or being nervous.

“I just can’t.” You sounded pathetic, internally wincing at the pitiful tone of your voice.

“Yeah, why?” He continued, “You got a boyfriend or somethin’?”

He actually looked hurt as he asked the question, his crimson gaze searching your eyes for any kind of deception as you shake your head no.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Husband?” Bakugou pushes as you shake your head again.

“No.”

“Then what’s the fuckin’ problem?” He spits, slightly more harshly than intended.

“You won’t like it,”

I don’t want to know when you die. You think to yourself.

“Like fuck I won’t.” He scoffed, “Fuckin’ dumbass.”

Bakugou caught you by surprise when he wrapped his palm around your neck, holding you so tenderly as he ducked his head forward. Catching you even more by surprise as he placed his chapped lips against yours, his tongue instantly slipping past your parted lips to delve deeper.

Fuck.

The first time you’ve actually felt something for someone this had to happen. The premonition played clearly behind your eyes as you felt Bakugou’s tongue mould against your own, a deep timber groan vibrating against your mouth as he lost himself in the kiss.

Of course, whatever higher power couldn’t just let you be happy for once, you had to see the fate in store for Bakugou Katsuki.

Pulling away from your lips as his tongue poked out to taste your lipgloss, the corner of his lips curled into a smug smirk as you stared up at him in complete horror. This wasn’t good—

You’d hoped that his death would be a peaceful one, dying a natural death surrounded by his loved ones at a ripe old age. But it was anything but, the terrifying vision now imprinted onto your memory. And you wished he never kissed you, not only so he wouldn’t die but so you wouldn’t have to see this vision every time you close your eyes.

With one kiss you’d sealed his fate.

“Fuck,” He mumbled, his chest heaving as he tried to regain his breath.

You’d convinced yourself that as long as you didn’t kiss him, it would be okay— but now you’d seen the future you knew nothing would be okay.

Humans are such selfish creatures.

“Yeah, fuck.” You groaned.

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