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atmilliways · 1 year

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Part Two: Shame On You

(part one) (part three) (part four) (part five) - complete as of 4/4/23

Rating: Mature Word Count: 1929 Ships: Steddie Major Tags: Jealousy, Casual sex Additional Tags: Pining, Slutty Steve Harrington, Pre-relationship, Landline phones, Violence against a couch

Author’s Note: Banner by @xirayn. TW for brief mention of Eddie throwing up, and a vague attempt to clean it but, alas, too drunk.

Also this is part two of five, so if you thought they might work it out in this one... they do not.

Read it on Ao3

“Eddie?”

As the sound of his name being called filters through the sound of water drumming on his skin and the bottom of the tub around him, Eddie lifts his head from his knees.

He’d done his best to wipe up the mess on the bathroom floor, piling the pungent used hand towels in a corner and dropping his soiled clothes on top to, like, bury the smell or something. And then, because he’s a glutton for punishment apparently, he’d decided to take a shower, and slipped halfway through rinsing shampoo out of his hair.

So his hip and shoulder hurt where he’d landed, his eyes still sting a bit even though the shampoo has long been washed away by now, and he’s already at least half resolved to just sit there until the water heater craps out or dawn comes, whichever happens first. But with no sign of the morning coming and the shower spray still somewhere in the realm of lukewarm, Steve has managed to beat both.

Before Eddie works up the energy to call something back, Steve follows the sound of the water and nudges the bathroom door open. “Eddie?” Steve’s voice is cautious, guarded. In the absence of an immediate response, he adds, “You OD in there?”

The shower has those sliding glass doors, frosted enough not to be see-through but clear enough to make out general shapes. Eddie, blinking away the water running down his bangs, rests one cheek on his knee and watches the shape of Steve coming closer. “No,” he says with a sniffle that he really hopes is too quiet to hear. “I’m fine.”

(Lie.)

All the nastiness between them has condensed into a heavy, sullen knot in his chest—because he’s still mad, is the thing, even though the details as to why kind of waver in his head like a mirage. Even as he’s also ashamed of getting shitfaced and (possibly, probably) making a fool of himself. He’s sure Steve must have noticed the lingering smell of vomit and any leftover smears he missed around the toilet. Now that he’s sobered up a bit, both from that and the amount of water he’s idly consumed from rinsing his mouth out while sitting here under the spray, Eddie kind of wishes he could dissolve, just run down the drain and not have to face him.

Or the inevitable hangover when he wakes up for work first thing in the morning, but mostly Steve.

“I got your keys,” Steve says. “And I. . . . I got you a milkshake.”

There's a long pause while Eddie absorbs the news of this olive branch, pressing his cheeks into his knees and watching shower water flow between his feet towards the drain.

“It’s strawberry,” Steve adds.

And, okay. Steve brought him his favorite flavor, despite the many heated debates in which Steve has always held firm on chocolate being the superior choice. It’s . . . sweet. Eddie is tempted to forget why he’s mad.

(Lie, sort of. He’s drunk and tired, and it would be simpler in the moment to let it go, but there’s a reason that sting is there. Forgive Steve for it tonight, and tomorrow Eddie will just be the hypocrite who said he could let it go but still carries the resentment anyway.)

“I don’t wanna puke again,” he decides, and turns his head again, watching as the shape of Steve’s shoulders droop through the glass.

“Yeah, no, that’s—I’ll just throw it in the freezer.”

There’s a moment where Eddie thinks Steve might say something more—and when it passes, a moment where Eddie wants to say something, but has no idea what. Instead, Steve leaves the room, closing the door gingerly behind himself as though something might shatter if he’s not careful, a drastic change from how he’d slammed out of the apartment before. That’s. . . . Eddie is going to have to think about that.

Later.

For now, he clambers to his feet and shuffles around a bit to work the pins-and-needles feeling out of his ass. By the time he finishes his shower the water is like ice; he’s shivering too hard to even think about a milkshake right now, the possibility that Steve might be lingering in the kitchen isn’t even a factor.

(Lie. Whatever.)

The next morning is just as dark and storming as Eddie’s mood.

It doesn’t help that he’s hungover as fuck and hates opening anyway, despite appreciating the raise that came with the extra responsibility. Doesn’t help that Steve is already out of the apartment when Eddie scrapes himself from his bed like gum from the bottom of a shoe; the door to Steve’s room isn’t closed and his bed is still made, presumably unslept in.

Fucking fantastic. (If he’d accepted the damn milkshake, would Steve have stayed? Too late to find out now.)

The apartment is still dark and empty when Eddie gets home after his shift and he doesn’t even bother turning the lights on, fumbling around in what little overcast afternoon light filters in through the windows.

Maybe Steve moved out without telling him, gathering up all his stuff while Eddie was at work and leaving to find a roommate that isn’t so hung up on him it must be observable from outer fucking space. The other bedroom door is still open, but Eddie doesn’t look. He can’t, even though it’s not like it would kill him on the spot to prove that theory right.

(Lie. It just might. Plus, it’s not like he can make rent without help, even with the recent raise, so . . . yeah, that would really suck.)

The phone rings, and Eddie answers it without enthusiasm.

“Eddie,” Robin says flatly. “What the hell did you say to Steve?”

“Oh, me? I’m good, thanks so much for asking, Buckley,” Eddie replies with sarcastic brightness. “It’s been a fantastic day. Guess that answers my question of whether he’s looking to move out or just off hooking up with some missed connection from the bar last night.”

Robin’s voice is low and razor-sharp as she asks, “Did you kick him out? Because you can’t do that, his name is on the lease too. And, and! Max knows a good lawyer and he’s a real shark, we will sue.”

Yeah, he probably just should have hung up. Eddie presses the heel of his free hand against one eye until he sees sparks, covering the lingering throb of his headache, and snaps, “No I didn’t fucking kick him out, what the fuck?”

“Oh.” The single syllable manages to sound both miffed and puzzled in equal measure. “So why is he sleeping off a mega crisis meltdown in my dorm room, then?”

He throws his free hand up in exasperation. “I don’t know! Maybe me getting laid when he didn’t broke his brain, because it so clearly goes against the natural order of things.”

Robin’s frown is palpable through the phone line. “That’s one of the two stupidest things I’ve ever heard. The other thing being most of what Steve was saying before he conked out, in case you were wondering. Both of you are complete idiots.”

Eddie scowls right back, possibly proving her point but, fuck it, if she doesn’t know then she can’t give him shit for it. “I hope you didn’t call collect, because I really don’t want to have to pay for the privilege of hearing you insult me.”

“Whatever. I’m calling Nancy, to tell her to call you. And I’ll tell her that if you don’t answer, she needs to show up at your place with her guns.”

“I’m not—”

“With. Guns. Eddie.”

He winces at the force with which she hangs up—which just went to show that all those cautionary tales about blowing out your eardrums with the devil’s music were bullshit, really.

Eddie has been waiting, on edge, sitting curled up in one corner of the couch with his acoustic guitar. He can’t bring himself to play, though, which is a rare and troubling affliction.

The phone base is on the cushion on the opposite end, as close to him as the line will stretch. He’s trying not to think about the day he and Steve had found the couch in a thrift shop and haphazardly manhandled seven blocks and up several flights of stairs.

(Lie, it’s all he can think about. They’d mashed their fingers and toes several times, nearly pitched the damn thing into traffic on multiple occasions, and at one point came dangerously close to the entire thing dropping over the railing in the stairwell. Nearly took Eddie down with it, too, but he can’t remember a day in his life he’d laughed harder, or felt more accomplished without a stage or a killer solo being involved.)

When the phone finally rings again, Eddie sets the guitar aside and lunges for the handset. He leads with, “You didn’t have to call.”

“I think I did,” Nancy replies primly. “Between what the both of you told her, Robin painted quite a picture.”

That grabs his attention immediately, as he supposes it was meant to. “What? Why? What did Steve say?”

“Eddie,” she says reproachfully, “I didn’t call to pass notes, or help you cheat on a test. Please try to be an adult about this.”

Eddie mashes his face into the armrest to muffle a groan that wants to turn into a frustrated scream. He slumps just enough to let his mouth hang off the edge and brings the phone back to his ear. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Uh, yeah actually, I think I do,” he whines. “I hate all of you, because obviously something—” he punches the couch for emphasis, not caring whether she can tell he’s doing it or not “—is going on with Steve. And I thought I knew what it was, but it’s really—” punch “—damn—” punch “—suspicious—” punch “—how everyone in the know refuses to agree with me while pointedly not saying—” punch “—anything.” Scowling, he flips over and sprawls with his head against the armrest, sock feet bracketing the phone base. “Come on, Nancy, tell me the truth. I’m calling on your journalistic integrity here. Steve sleeps around all the time, and I do it once and now everyone is mad at me? What the fuck.”

A sigh comes down the line, and it’s not that Nancy doesn’t sound sympathetic. She does. They’ve talked about his little Steve problem often enough for her to know that this is a very big deal. But he can already tell that she’s still not going to just give it to him straight.

(Ha.)

“Look,” she says. “All I can tell you is that Steve wants to fix this. And I’m assuming you do too, so. Tell me, in as much detail as you can, what happened.”

Eddie takes a deep breath, already thinking back to the first shot and the montage of subsequent shots, and then leaning back against the graffitied bathroom wall with his dick out. “Well—”

“But not details about the actual sleeping around part.”

He pouts up at the ceiling. “This is the worst end to a months-long dry spell ever. I’m getting new friends.”

(Lie. Sure, there’s the kids and Joyce and Hopper . . . and Murray, the weirdo. . . . But Nancy is one of the five people in his age bracket that Eddie can talk to without landing himself a one-way ticket to the loony bin or, knowing his luck, a visit from a government assassin. There’s no replacing that. Trauma bonded for life, baby.)

So, he tells her everything.

#steddie #steddie fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #post-canon eddie munson lives #eddie and nancy are friends and no one can take that away from me #stranger music anthology #lie one more time come on fic

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abyssalpeach · 3 months

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up against the ropes (a matcha blossom fic). rated e. also on ao3.

"Are you sure you don't have a concussion?" Kojiro's voice lowered to a hoarse whisper.

"Positive."

a/n: i promise this started out totally normal and achingly tender before the brain worms whispered The Unholy Headcanon to me. pls forward this to my lawyer for when they come to take me away to horny jail.

anyway cheers to posting fic on tumblr again because somebody around here needs to start clogging the mb tag

Life was slowly returning to normal after the fateful S tournament where Langa had thoroughly whooped Ainosuke’s ass at his own game and Kaoru came out the other end seriously injured.

He had sustained a sprained ankle, a minor concussion, and the big one: a hairline fracture to his wrist.

He’d been lucky enough through the years to be a skilled and precise enough skater to avoid most injuries that would impede his work, but his luck had to run out eventually. Kaoru was honestly surprised it took even this long. He was not immune to bailing every once in a while.

But now his skating had massively affected his income for the first time in his entire adult life. It was a good thing he was self-employed and in an artistic profession where he could make his own rules and use art block as an excuse to push a deadline a little, but it didn’t stop him from feeling uncomfortable with it.

His injuries on the other hand, were harder to explain away when they were so visible. He had to come up with an excuse at some point, and for someone with as much pride and poise as Kaoru, a nasty spill down the stairs was simply not a believable reason.

So, he told the truth. At least, as much of it as he was comfortable telling. He fell off a skateboard. Whether they inferred that he was a novice and simply trying to entertain one of his young relatives was none of his concern. They could think what they like.

He would’ve rather said that he’d gotten hit by a car, but it would surely look suspicious if he wasn’t involved in any kind of investigation or trial afterwards. Best to stick as close to the real story as possible and let people draw their own conclusions.

People were surprisingly generous with him during his time of injury. Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised, but his clientele always struck him as being fairly rigid. That’s why he took out all of his piercings and did his best to compartmentalize the different areas of his life. The resistance he was expecting to be met with when he was forced to push back dates for demonstrations and signing events was practically non-existent.

These things happen, they would say, as if he wasn’t a twenty-something year old professional admitting to falling off a skateboard. The reactions had him questioning whether or not he needed to be so cautious with his presentation and reputation after all.

There were too many things going on in his life that he was second-guessing now. Nothing was what it seemed to be anymore and he’s not entirely sure what to make of it. Kaoru spent so much time doing calculations, statistics, risk assessments, and not even the data could support the litany of weird shit he was enduring the past few months.

He really had come to terms with the fact that he was always going to be a little bit in love with Kojiro. He was always the nurturing sort, but he’d never gotten to experience it to that degree before. They spent every waking hour together for three whole weeks and somehow hadn’t killed each other yet.

Kaoru knew he was a needy person, and a jealous one at that. If he took it out on Kojiro unnecessarily sometimes, he was met with retaliation, and rightly so. He just couldn’t help himself. Kojiro could slut himself out to whoever he chose, but Kaoru would be damned if any of those women received the five-star treatment from Kojiro that he got.

No one could rile Kojiro up like he could. No one could critique Kojiro’s cooking like he could. No one could understand Kojiro like he could. Sure, they may have his bed for a night if they were lucky, but Kaoru held onto Kojiro’s heart with a vice grip and wouldn’t relinquish it for anything.

If Kaoru was going to be forced to live a life without enduring romance or marriage, he would make sure Kojiro was too. They were in this together, god dammit, they had been since they were in fucking kindergarden. They’ve done everything together for decades, that wasn’t about to change.

Maybe it wasn’t the best mentality for him to have, actually he knew it wasn’t, but he couldn’t exactly talk himself out of his own feelings. Lord knows he’s tried to do that enough times over the years. A crush on his straight best friend and the biggest fuckboy in town. It was so embarrassing.

It was honestly kind of sick, this game that he’s been playing with Kojiro in his own mind. Maybe he just liked the thrill of the chase or always wanted things he couldn’t have and wouldn’t even know what to do if he got what he wanted, but these thoughts remained in the back of his mind throughout the years and all their petty squabbles. Life changes, but Kojiro never does.

He really needed to be less selfish. It’s not as though he deserved Kojiro’s kindness. The man has surely spent an ungodly amount of money throughout the years just to feed him. He probably writes it off as a business expense on his taxes, the damned fool.

“You’re my taste tester,” Kojiro rationalized. “I shamelessly use your discerning palette and instead of paying you in money, you would rather be paid in carbonara. You’re doing me a service.”

He’d do him a service alright. Glorious idiot.

It was a special kind of torture sharing space with him for so long. Waking up to breakfast in bed, afternoons spent doing nostalgia rewatches of their favorite stupid childhood shows, elaborate dinners, being bathed by him. It was… intimate. There really was no other word for it. Every night they parted ways after Kojiro had diligently washed his hair and dragged a soapy cloth across his back, every night he expected the tension to get the better of them, and every night Kojiro eased Kaoru into bed and excused himself to the couch.

And that was it. The cast and splint came off and Kojiro went home. His entire routine had been disrupted now. He had gotten used to all of the attention and care. And they still hadn’t killed each other. That part continued to baffle him. He didn’t feel smothered. Kojiro wasn’t sick to death of his neurotic behavior. If anything, he felt closer to Kojiro than ever before. It was like there was a seismic shift in the earth under him and he was, what? Expected to go back to how things were before? Fat chance.

He was able to repeat the same movements as before, going to Sia la Luce after he finished up with clients for the day, going to S together, working on improvements for Carla well into the night before passing out under the kotatsu. But something was missing. Big surprise, it was Kojiro. He hardly needed Carla to spell that one out for him.

It’s later than usual by the time he arrives at Sia la Luce, the lights in the dining room are already off, save for the ones above the counter he’s claimed as his own. The door is unlocked, but Kojiro is nowhere in sight.

He wanders into the kitchen to see if there’s something in the cooler worth raiding, but he finds his best friend casually sitting on the floor.

“Oh, hey. Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in,” Kojiro brings the bottle of whatever he’s drinking up to his mouth.

“That’s alright, I was overstepping my boundaries anyway.”

Kojiro lets out a thunderous laugh. “I hardly have boundaries when it comes to you, but good of you to own up to it.”

“Shut up, asshole,” he laughs. It’s a bit awkward. They need to have a serious conversation for once, and they both know it. “By the way, I... wanted to thank you.” Kaoru avoided his gaze, weight shifting between his feet.

Kojiro simply stared, not sure he was hearing that correctly. Kaoru continued, “For taking care of me.”

That seems to please him. “Somebody’s gotta do it. Not like Carla can carry you to bed.”

“Oh, fuck off. I’m trying to be nice.”

“You could certainly stand to do it more often, considering how much I feed you.”

Kaoru smiles softly, gaze dropping to his feet. “What are you doing on the floor anyway?”

“Having a beer, obviously. Want one?” Kaoru shook his head, moving to join him on the floor. He continued, “It was just a long day. Feet hurt.”

“Chairs too sophisticated for neanderthals now?” It almost sounded like a pet name.

“Is work going alright? How’s your wrist?”

“I’m fine, Kojiro. You don’t need to worry after me, you know.”

“Somebody should.” His answering smile is almost sad.

Silence fell heavily between them. Carla could never give him this. Ainosuke certainly never did. It was just Kojiro. Always Kojiro. “Would it be weird to say that I miss you?”

“I hope not, because I miss you too.”

“We should do something. See a movie, maybe.”

“We should. A movie sounds great actually, there’s one I was kinda wanting to see.” Kojiro pulls his phone out and is looking up showtimes, forwarding him a link to the trailer as he goes. It doesn’t look half bad for an action movie. It looks fun and fairly mindless, as they tend to be.

It’s a bit late and they’ve missed the last showing of the night, but they make a plan to go tomorrow. They settle back into their companionable, if slightly awkward, silence. Kojiro nurses his beer and Kaoru steals glances at his large hands, veiny and strong. His motions are not his own as he reaches for one and holds their palms up together, noting the difference in size.

Kojiro’s hands have always been a morbid fascination of his. He just likes to suffer, apparently. They’re large, but dextrous, with a couple prominent veins down the back. There’s some hair there now, not much, but it certainly wasn’t there when they were younger. What’s always been there is the smattering of freckles. Loathe as he is to admit it, he loves when Kojiro gets really tan and the freckles come out even more.

Kojiro’s hands have a couple burns on them and are a bit calloused from all the cooking and skating and working out. It almost makes him wish his own hands had half as much character. They’re soft and slender, not even particularly masculine, just generic. The only noteworthy thing about his hands is what they’re able to create.

Perhaps in this moment, he could use his hands to express the depth of his feelings to Kojiro. Something to avoid having to say it out loud.

Kojiro is watching their hands with rapt attention, his eyes soft but… pained? Before Kaoru can get the wrong idea about Kojiro rejecting him in that moment, he finds their fingers laced together. He’s never felt so warm.

“Kaoru…”

His face is so close. Kaoru can feel his warm breath on his cheek. He can feel his own blush. He dares a look into Kojiro’s eyes and finds everything he could’ve ever hoped for, but was too scared to imagine.

“Are you sure you don’t have a concussion?” Kojiro’s voice lowered to a hoarse whisper.

“Positive.”

Kojiro’s hand was in his hair, bringing him close to brush their lips together, breathing him in before sealing his mouth over his. A pathetic noise rose from Kaoru’s chest, barely escaping his throat. Kojiro wanted to swallow it. Their hands were everywhere, tangled in hair, tracing along faces, scrambling at arms and shoulders.

They kiss just long enough for reality to sink in, pulling back with startled gasps.

He supposes astonishment is the best adjective to describe the look Kojiro gives him now. His own expression surely isn’t much different. But Kojiro raises their entwined hands to his mouth and presses a soft kiss to the back of his hand.

“Are you hungry,” he asks, as if they haven’t just crossed a line they hadn’t dared tread in the twenty years they’ve known each other. Kaoru nods slowly before letting his forehead rest against Kojiro’s.

“I’ll make your favorite,” his voice is a low rumble, sending shivers down Kaoru’s spine. Kojiro’s knees give an ominous crack when he rises from the floor, making him groan and Kaoru chuckle quietly.

“We’ll see who’s laughing when you get carpal tunnel. Don’t forget you’re next, pinky,” his smile is more disarming than ever, with hand outstretched to assist him off the floor. Kaoru takes the proffered hand, but not without getting in a jibe of his own.

“Maybe if you spent a little less time doing squats…”

“Don’t pretend like you’re not checking out my ass.” Kojiro’s laugh is thunderous when he sees Kaoru floundering for a comeback, knowing he’s been busted.

The rest of the evening passes without any more shocking revelations. Mostly it’s just… normal. There might be marginally less bite to their bickering and the glances they exchange might be a bit more tender, but it’s far from unusual. It’s familiar, and he knows that he’s safe, no matter what that kiss will mean for their relationship when tomorrow comes.

He waits next to the front door while Kojiro finishes locking up. The night air is crisp, the breeze cool instead of warm – a sign that the weather is about to turn from scorching heat to mild and temperate. They may not have seasons in the traditional sense, but it’s not as though it can be hot all the time.

Kojiro walks him home, gentleman that he is. Kaoru would read into it if this wasn’t already part of their routine. A routine they’re so entrenched in that they part ways with a “see you tomorrow” and a friendly wave. No fanfare, no trepidatious kiss to the cheek, nothing.

It’s disappointing really.

He’s mostly on autopilot as he readies himself for bed, thoughts consumed by what tomorrow might bring, mixed in with visions of that tender kiss. His toothpaste foams at the corner of his mouth and the blush sits high on his cheeks. He looks insane.

What kind of giddy teenager has he turned into? He’s a grown man , he should not be so affected by a simple kiss that happened an hour and a half ago.

He hunkers down into his futon and tries to shake it off.

His dreams are of crimson eyes, so soft, and lips that are even softer.

*****

They decide to just meet up at the movie theater since Kojiro bought their seats ahead of time. He tried to pay him back, but Kojiro refused.

God, it was like a real date and they were fighting over the stupid check.

He’s wearing pants for a change. Well, they’re still hakama, he isn’t being too adventurous, but he did pair it with a black halter top. He really ought to wear these pants more. They’re a light sage green color and decorated with small white flowers. He knows they look good with his hair and the fabric feels downright sensual against his skin.

When Kojiro rounds the corner, he doesn’t spot Kaoru right away, giving him a chance to drink his fill of the sight of him. He’s got his black bomber on this time, the one with the leather sleeves that he typically only wears for special occasions.

He’s so fucked.

When they do finally lock eyes, Kojiro’s entire face lights up and strides over to meet him. He does not miss the appreciative way he looks Kaoru up and down. He shifts on his feet, unaccustomed to Kojiro being so brazen with him.

“You look great!” He’s honestly such a child, he’s so giddy. It’s charming as hell.

They head into the theater, making small talk along the way. It’s not often they have time off that lines up, but Kojiro closes early on Sundays and doesn’t reopen until Tuesday.

Kojiro spent his day tidying up around the house and planning menus. Kaoru mostly spent his day fussing over his hair and worrying about tonight, not that he would divulge that particular bit to Kojiro. Instead, he claims to have spent his afternoon tending to Carla’s operating system. If Kojiro sees through the lie, he doesn’t say anything.

They’re early enough that the trailers haven’t started yet, so Kojiro stands in line to get them snacks while Kaoru uses this opportunity to visit the restroom. When he emerges, he finds Kojiro leaning just a tad too far over the counter, talking conspiratorially to the snack counter girl. Before he has the chance to get upset though, Kojiro waves him over with a grin so dopey that it rivals one of the seven dwarves.

Kojiro hands him the sour candies he favors so much and pushes off from the counter. He’s got his own popcorn in one hand and the other draped casually over his shoulders as he walks them to their seats.

“Who was that,” Kaoru inquired, hopefully not sounding too jealous.

“Oh, that was one of Rini’s old friends! Haven’t seen her since she was like eleven years old!”

Rini was one of Kojiro’s younger sisters. He hopes his sigh of relief isn’t too noticeable.

They settle into their seats while Kojiro rambles on about Rini’s friend and how she’s getting ready to graduate and move to Tokyo, where Rini has been for the past year. The way Kojiro talks about the people in his family and their circle around them has always left Kaoru jealous. Not in the sense that he wants to be the only one in Kojiro’s life, but wishing he had something like that to call his own.

His parents weren’t exactly the warm and nurturing type, often keeping Kaoru at a distance. No matter how hard he rebelled as a teenager, nothing seemed to make them pay attention. They’d pay for anything else though: toys, skateboards, a car, tuition. Anything to get him off their back.

It had to be why he gravitated towards Kojiro so much. Just being in the Nanjo house, crowded and messy though it often was, there was love and family to be found there.

Kaoru really needed to get a grip. It’s not like Kojiro would be flirting with someone while they’re literally on a date. If that’s what this even is. Surely it must be. The movie plans predicated the kiss, but it was a pretty straight fucking line from A to B. There was definitely a charged undercurrent to this little outing.

Kaoru squirms in his seat, sneaking glances over at Kojiro’s form next to him. Don’t ask him what’s going on in the movie because all he knows is that Kojiro’s body language is open, but his hands are clutching his popcorn container. He offers it to Kaoru wordlessly, getting in his space and leaning over the armrest. He allows himself to indulge, but it’s not the popcorn he indulges in, it’s Kojiro’s proximity.

They remain close for the rest of the movie, still in their own seats and occasionally shifting to a more comfortable position, but their bodies lean towards each other like magnets. Sometimes Kojiro will whisper something to Kaoru and earn them a shush from someone behind them, making Kaoru outright giggle.

Everything is always funnier when you’re not supposed to be talking or laughing. It reminds him of high school, though usually he was the one getting Kojiro into trouble rather than the other way around.

Life has changed around them. They’re practically whole new people now, but through all their evolutions, they can’t shake each other. They always go together, balancing each other out perfectly.

He wonders if this new development of their relationship will throw a wrench into it all. Much as he wants this, he doesn’t know what he’d do without Kojiro. That’s his best friend. No one in the world knows him better. Maybe they’ll be okay.

In fact, he’s all but sure of it now.

The credits come sooner than either of them expects, and they slowly put themselves to rights and clean up their trash. They wander lazily towards the exit, probably holding up the people behind them.

It’s warmer outside than it was the previous night. The breeze blows through his hair, and it has Kaoru feeling wistful. He takes in a deep breath and looks up at the stars. Neither of them has anything left to say, really. They just stand there in companionable silence, wondering what comes next.

Kaoru looks over to Kojiro, and you’d think he never looked away from the sky for how starry his gaze looks. Kojiro steps close, gingerly tucking a loose hair back behind Kaoru’s ear. He has to take a steadying breath.

“Why don’t you stay at mine tonight,” Kojiro asks.

Unsure whether his voice will come out normal or not, he gives only a curt nod. “I brought the bike,” Kaoru gestures to the Carla motorcycle, trying to get his blush under control, “it’s right over there.”

Kojiro climbs on the back of the bike, legs spread wide and inviting. Kaoru slides between him and the handlebars, turning the ignition. Kojiro lets his hands fall to Kaoru’s waist and he scooches himself even further up. If he feels like he’s being smothered now, he has no idea how he’s going to make it through the rest of the night. The engine roars to life, creating encouraging vibrations beneath them.

Kaoru’s sense of urgency to get them back to Kojiro’s place is only heightened when his hands creep up his ribcage and back down to his hips. They get stopped by a light and Kojiro takes his opportunity to pull Kaoru’s hips even further into his own and drop a hot kiss to where his neck meets his shoulder.

The sound of the bike drowns out much of the obscene moan he lets out, for which he is grateful. They need to get home now.

They’re only a block or so away and Kojiro’s forehead is pressed between his shoulder blades as he tries to calm his breathing.

What feels like mere moments later, he pulls up outside Kojiro’s building and kills the engine. For all the build up, the two are frozen in place, still slotted against each other. This is it. Kojiro steps off the bike first, his hand coming into Kaoru’s line of vision. Their eyes connect and Kaoru can’t help but smirk. Kaoru puts his hand in Kojiro’s and lets himself be pulled from the bike. He doesn’t let go of Kojiro’s hand, even as he fishes through his pockets for his keys.

Once they finally make it into Kojiro’s apartment, they’re immediately reaching for each other. The kiss is explosive and they greedily paw at each other’s clothes. Kojiro’s jacket doesn’t even make it past the genkan. Kaoru’s hakama are hastily discarded so Kojiro can hoist him into the air, legs wrapping around his bulky frame. He sucks relentlessly on Kojiro’s lips and tongue, digging his fingers into his shoulders.

The pleased noises Kojiro makes are sure to haunt his dreams for the rest of his life. Kojiro steers them into his bedroom, dropping Kaoru gracelessly onto the bed. He wriggles out of his jeans and Kaoru grabs a fistful of his shirt, yanking him down on top of him.

They kiss and kiss and kiss, rolling and writhing together, not an inch of space between them.

Kaoru grabs two handfuls of his plump ass, grinding their hips together in a way so filthy that it has Kojiro practically choking for air. “Kaoru, fuck.” They’re both so hard, panting so heavily into each other’s mouths and they haven’t even gotten to the main event. Kojiro extracts himself from Kaoru long enough to grab the condoms and lube from his side table. Kaoru takes the moment to adjust his ponytail higher on his head and snatches the supplies right from Kojiro’s hands.

“Lay down,” his tone leaves no room for argument and Kojiro scrambles up to the headboard to heed him. “Good boy,” he praises before peeling him out of his boxer briefs and taking every impressive inch of him into his mouth.

He doesn’t even ease Kojiro into it, he’s too greedy. He’s immediately taking him all the way to the back of his throat and hollowing out his cheeks, groaning at the taste.

“Jesus fuck, Kaoru, take it easy,” he cries out, head thrown back. “I’m gonna blow my load before we even get to it.”

“Don’t tell me that your reputation is all bullshit.”

“Hey, give me a break! I’ve waited a long time for you, okay,” he runs his fingers through the ends of Kaoru’s ponytail.

“I’d hardly call that ‘waiting,’ you slept with everyone who fluttered their eyelashes in your direction.” Kaoru rips at the condom package and rolls it on, firmly placing the bottle of lube into Kojiro’s hand. He swings a leg over him, straddling his hips with another filthy grind.

“Of course you even wanna fight during sex,” he laughs into Kaoru’s mouth, pulling him down for a kiss, “can’t believe I expected anything less.”

“Yeah, shame on you,” Kaoru slips his tongue into Kojiro’s open mouth as he sinks a slick finger into his ass. The pressure punches a sharp moan from him, but he quickly relaxes into it, rocking his hips back into Kojiro’s hand.

Kaoru spends the next minutes sucking at every bit of skin he can get his mouth on. He wants to devour Kojiro, leave him without a shadow of a doubt who he belongs to. Kaoru drags the flat of his tongue over one of Kojiro’s nipples, keeping direct eye contact and giving it a few more kitten licks until Kojiro is a restless mess beneath him. He finally, finally sinks back onto Kojiro’s fat cock with a firm nip to his chin. He sits back on his haunches with a luxuriant roll of his neck. He can practically feel him in his throat. “Fuck, you’re huge.”

“God, Kaoru, you can’t say stuff like that,” he is clearly fighting for his life down there, “not if you want me to last.”

Kaoru can’t help but chuckle darkly, “Come on, big boy, I know you can do better than that.” Kojiro thrusts up harshly in retaliation. He takes that as an invitation to start moving, swiveling his hips, grinding down and getting used to the feeling of Kojiro inside of him. Kojiro presses his fingers into the meat of his thighs harshly as they sink into a rhythm.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” Kojiro praises.

He wonders how many people he’s called that.

Maybe they should be going slower. Really relishing in the fact that they’re finally doing this after all this time.

Fuck that actually. They’ve waited long enough. They have all the time to go slow later. Now? Now they can be rabid and ravenous, biting and grabbing at each others’ flesh. That’s more their style anyway.

Kojiro throws his head back with a delicious groan. Kaoru only picks up the pace, riding him like it’s his fucking job.

“Kaoru, Kaoru, Kaoru…”

God, he could get used to this. He intends to get used to this, to Kojiro’s enormous body entwined with his, warming his bed, his moans, making his eyes roll back in his head just like that.

Kaoru whips his hair to the other shoulder and brings their mouths together again, panting heavily into each other’s mouths, touching foreheads damp with sweat.

“Kaoru… I’m not gonna last, Kaoru.”

He pours a kiss into his mouth. “Give it to me, Koji. Cum.”

He does what he’s told for a change. Liquid white heat runs through his body and seeps into his veins. Kaoru comes long and thick on Kojiro’s heaving chest, having an out-of-body experience or maybe ascending to a higher state of being.

He watches himself take one slender finger and drag it through his mess.

He marks Kojiro with a singular kanji, drawing it right there on his chest.

Mine.

It’s so base of him. And certainly petty. He watches understanding dawn on Kojiro’s face and he worries he’s gone too far.

No. He needs to know.

“No one else.” He leaves no room for argument.

“There never was anyone who could live up to you anyway.” Kojiro agrees all the same, tucking a loose strand of pink hair back behind Kaoru’s ear.

He relaxes and drapes himself along Kojiro’s side, legs still tangled together. Their breathing slowly returns to normal and Kaoru can’t help but smell him. He needs to burn this into his memory in every conceivable way.

Kojiro shifts like he means to get up and start cleaning them off, but Kaoru grips his large bicep and effectively pins him with his gaze.

They can clean up in the morning. For now, they just let it sink in.

#matchablossom #matcha blossom #sk8 the infinity #matchablossom fic #sk8 fanfic #my writing

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danganronpa-21 · 1 year

Text

General Warnings: Minor reference to violence against women, no explicit content or situations

Fandoms: Danganronpa

Relationships: Kirigiri Kyoko/Naegi Makoto

Additional Tags: Slowburn, Friends to Lovers, The crushes are very much implied, There Was Only One Bed, Minor Canon Divergence

Word Count: 2,057 words

Summary: Where would Kyoko stay if she hadn't had the skeleton key that night?

“I… I don’t have anywhere to sleep.”

He… should have seen this coming. After all, he knew the rules just as well as anyone. No students were permitted to sleep outside of their dormitories, as it would be seen as sleeping in class, and be punished accordingly. Without her Student Handbook, Kyoko wouldn’t be able to get into her room. Without being able to get into her room, she would have nowhere to sleep. Unless…

He's never really had a girl in his bed before. Okay, that’s a lie – he’s never had a girl that wasn’t Komaru in his bed before. Though he tried to insist that he could cozy up on the floor or something, she would hear none of it. She knew quite well that she was putting him out by asking to sleep in his room. It would be even more of a burden to have to give up his bed. No, she insisted that they could try to share the bed. No offers to sleep on the floor herself, just instantly from bed alone to bed together. If it weren’t for the way she averted her eyes when she asked, he might’ve wondered if she had some sort of ulterior motive… In the end, though, it’s just as well. Honestly, sharing the bed is the conclusion he might have thought up anyway.

Still, he can’t deny the sweatiness of his palms as he sits on the edge of the bed, listening to Kyoko brush her teeth. Though she hadn’t been able to get anything from her room, the school store managed to cover at least some of what she needed. Personal grooming supplies had all been handled. The only thing she didn’t quite get was pyjamas, and even then, she’d managed to squeak by fairly well with the tank top underneath her shirt and a pair of borrowed sweatpants. That’s another thing that’s weird about the situation: Kyoko’s wearing his clothes. Again, apart from Komaru, he’s never really had a girl wearing his clothes before. It’s certainly not as strange to think about as sharing a bed with her, but with the level of closeness they are achieving today, it sort of feels like she’s his girlfriend. He’s never had one of those before. Is this what it’s like?

No, no. He shakes his head to rid himself of the thought. It will not do for him to think about Kyoko like that, especially when she’s come to him in her time of need. What kind of guy would he be if he just assumed that she wanted to be with him because she was there? Pretty as she is, Makoto knows for sure that she’s out of his league, and that he wouldn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize the cautious friendship they’ve formed. As far as he knows, Kyoko’s kind of… socially skittish. She doesn’t exactly give off an overwhelming aura of nervousness, but she doesn’t trust easily. He has to treat this situation with her as what it is: her placing her trust in him.

This is the last thought that lingers on his mind as he wipes his hands on his pants, turning his head back to take a glimpse at her. She’s bent over the sink, spitting out her toothpaste, hair pulled back with one hand. He can’t help but notice that even with the removal of so many other things, she neglected to remove her gloves. A longing to ask prods at him, but he’s quick to push it away. Again, this is a situation of trust he’s in with her, the last thing he wants to do is jeopardize it.

“Naegi-kun, are you just sitting there staring at my backside?”

Oh, shit.

The sharpness of Kyoko’s disapproval is quick to snap him out of his mind. Apologies spill from his lips as the tips of his ears burn a hot red. “I w-wasn’t trying to stare at you so much I was staring through you,” he sputters stupidly, “I d-d-didn’t mean to be rude; I was j-just thinking!”

Plunking her toothbrush into the cup beside the sink, Kyoko spins around to look at Makoto, one eyebrow quirked. Somehow, he feels like her eyes are boring into him. Truth be told, though he thinks Kyoko’s eyes are stunningly beautiful, he wonders if she knows how intense they feel when they rest upon you without words. The way the irises flicker back a little as she takes in the details of his face only make him feel even more scrutinized. Thankfully, the longer her gaze rests on her, the more a hint of amusement seems to break tease her mouth. Though faint, he catches a small twitch of her usual smirk there.

“I thought it seemed unusual for you.”

“B-Believe me, it is,” he mumbles. “After all, it would be pretty awful of me to let you stay in my room and then start treating you like a piece of meat. I don’t want you to worry about that kind of thing while you’re here.”

Her expression softens as a smile breaks free, eyes flitting down to the floor for the moment almost as if she is touched by his respectfulness. The fact that girls even have to worry about things like this makes his heart ache.

“I appreciate that, Naegi-kun… and I appreciate you taking me in when I asked. At times like these, I know it is difficult to trust anyone – myself most of all. Any other time, I might have questioned your line of thinking, but… tonight, I’m just grateful for your hospitality.”

Makoto shrugs, doing his best to muster up his own gentle smile. “Well, we are friends, aren’t we? Friends help each other.”

Kyoko hums and nods thoughtfully. Her eyes are on him, but it seems as if her mind is somewhere else. Where she is, he does not know, but he’d like to find out… if only to make sure that she’s still feeling safe and secure. The last few days have been extraordinarily difficult on her. Not that she’s said anything about it, but he can only assume how tough being treated like an outlaw must be.

“Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable, Kirigiri-san?”

Her gaze lingers on the floor for a moment, and when it flickers back to his face, he can see that her teeth are bearing down on her lip. Blush dusts her nose and cheeks. Makoto’s heart beats faster at the sight. Whatever embarrasses her has good potential to embarrass him, too.

“I… don’t know if this is an unusual request, or if I’m being paranoid, but…” she sighs. “Could I investigate the room quickly? Just to ensure that there are no weapons here. You are welcome to check everything I came with as well.”

All of his anxiety melts away at her words. She wants to investigate the room to make sure she is safe. She’s embarrassed, yet it’s the most reasonable request she could have made in her position. Honestly, he’s glad that she’s giving him the opportunity to search himself. As much as he likes and trusts her, he is not ignorant to the danger he is putting himself in by welcoming her into his room. Sayaka taught him well how minacious such a situation can become through her desperation. He couldn’t save her life, but at least he could thank her for her sacrifice by not dying stupidly… Something Kyoko reminded him of regularly, when he let his temper get the better of him with Monokuma.

“Of course, Kirigiri-san. In fact, thanks for asking. It would make me feel a lot more comfortable, too.”

Kyoko’s arms fold across her chest as she heaves a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I apologize for having to ask. We can go to bed right after.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He assures her with a smile. “Even if we trust each other, it’s best to do what’s safest.”

She nods, and unless he is being deceived, that shade of rose turns to her face.

__________________________________________

It’s hard to know what to do as he lays there, stiff as a board.

The two of them have only been in bed together for a meager twenty minutes now, but it feels like an eternity. The bed really is meant for just the one person, so the two of them are basically on top of each other, crammed into that small space. Makoto can’t even find a way to shift into a comfortable sleeping position. He’s just laying there on his back, hands resting on his stomach like he’s a corpse. Ugh. That thought almost makes him shiver. The last thing he needs right about now is to be thinking about something like that. Even if he’s fairly confident that Kyoko won’t be murdering him tonight, those thoughts just won’t do. He can’t help but wonder if she’s having them too, as she lays there next to him.

Her positioning is honestly just more of the same. She’s relaxed herself neatly next to him, keeping to her own space – apart from her hair, of course. That slowly but surely has come to spread out like a halo around her as she readjusts. It’s like a waterfall of silver that all just pools around her head as she rests. It’s… angelic, almost. With her eyelids closed ever so softly, she looks like the picture of serenity. Part of him wants to sit there and drink her in, but he knows that that would probably creep her out. There’s no weird, fetishy desire to understand her, of course. More of a curiosity, really, to watch her in this state of calm. It reminds him more of how he would feel if he saw a particularly captivating woman in a painting, each detail of her body detailed in careful brushstrokes. He just wants to appreciate every inch of something so often unseen to him.

“Naegi-kun?”

He nearly jumps as the sound of her voice snaps him from his thoughts. It almost sends a shiver through him, like ice water being poured down his back. All of his focus goes onto her eyes as fast as he can manage, watching as she peels them open. Thankfully, even in the darkness, he can see that she does not appear particularly disturbed. She probably doesn’t even know that he was just admiring her.

“Y-Yeah?”

“Are you uncomfortable?”

Yes. Wait, no. Actually… sort of? But he doesn’t really want to tell her that. She’s already in a vulnerable position with him as it is, and he doesn’t want to make it weirder by admitting that it is weird. Wiping his sweaty palms on his pants, he offers her little more than a shrug.

“It’s um… it’s not bad. It’s just… different, I guess. I’m still getting used to having you here. I don’t want to invade your space or anything. We’re friends, but I don’t think you want to get too cozy with me.”

He punctuates that last statement with a nervous chuckle, as if it is a joke. It’s not, but he would prefer she not take it as something so serious. Just a little awkwardness is nothing to sneeze at, right?

To his surprise, however, he feels the bed move ever so slightly as she shrugs her own shoulders. “I wouldn’t mind. I have forced my way into your bed, after all. So long as you can appropriately keep your hands to yourself, I don’t see why you shouldn’t be allowed to be comfortable in your own bed.”

Makoto’s heart skips a beat as he lifts himself onto his elbows in shock. Though in the darkness he knows it is hard to see, he fears that she’ll notice the sudden heat spreading across his face. “W-What?!”

Kyoko lets out a small laugh, shaking her head. “You are such an open book, Naegi-kun, you know that, right?”

He exhales frustratedly, slamming his head back down on the pillow. Of course it was just a joke. When it comes to Kyoko, he should really know better by now. Shutting his eyes, he decides that maybe he will just go back to sleep… Something that Kyoko thwarts when she murmurs, in the softest and sweetest of voices:

“I was only half-joking, you know.”

#danganronpa #naegiri #kyoko kirigiri #makoto naegi #naegi makoto #kirigiri kyoko #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #kirigiri kyouko #kyouko kirigiri #naegiri week #naegiri2022

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bosspigeon · 6 months

Note

If it’s not too much, I request all of those companion!Tav questions for Pyre :3c If it’s too much to answer at once, then just the ones that intrigue you the most!

hello this has been in my ask for a while to the point that i had to dig back through my blog to find the post in question! but i have since tagged it so i can find it again~ i have not actually played the game and probably won't be able to for a while, so i'm gonna just answer the ones i can with the info i have! <3

Where can your Tav be recruited? Are they first encountered on the Nautiloid, or in the Nautiloid crash region? Or are they not recruitable until a later act?

i think of Pyre as a fairly early to grab optional companion, and he can only be recruited if you side with/protect the tiefling refugees. i think he might be a contact of Zevlor's that he tells you to seek out for help. an old brother-in-arms~ you will probably find him Chilling and Surrounded By Corpses while casually cleaning his sword.

Do the other companions have special comments or reactions upon recruiting your Tav?

Wyll for sure makes a comment about Pyre being "one hell of a tiefling" (haha) just based on size alone. "So they were definitely exaggerating about his size... but not by much." He's probably heard stories here and there from folks around the camp that know him/know of him. might even have a fun little kind-of-awed war story or two he's been told that are definitely a bit overblown after so long. Astarion just calls him something like a Wall Of Meat and sounds Vaguely Hungry about that. Karlach wants to see if she can goad him into a sparring match~ Shadowheart, ofc, senses Selunite magic and is not pleased...

Does your Tav have any comments or advice when you recruit other companions?

Pyre is going to be polite and not just look straight at Astarion like "You know that's a vampire, right?" but he will probably say something along the lines of "Make sure you keep an eye on the pale one." Definitely has heard glowing reviews about Wyll and Karlach, but probably has some comments on their being... a bit green, but well-meaning and skilled nonetheless. He is polite about Shadowheart too, because he's not the most devout of paladins and is more focused on his vow rather than outright worship, but he's a very Cautious Type, so he's the sort to go down the line and give a Pros/Cons list lmao. "Idk she might betray you, she might not tho you decide" cryptic and not too helpful but he never said he was. He also has a plan prepared on how to kill literally anyone he meets if he thinks they're a threat in any way, and if he likes you enough, he might share <3

What sort of general actions raise or lower their approval?Are there any instances where your Tav can permanently leave the party, depending on player character actions?

Lumping these ones together because HOO BOY YEAH Pyre does not fuck around with certain things. His vow means he cannot sit by and just watch certain things go down. Obviously you won't even meet him if you side against the tieflings, so any sort of behavior that puts them in danger? You are suddenly hearing boss battle music. definitely gonna get some disapproval points for keeping that tome of Thay or giving it to anyone but him so he can destroy it, but he might still stick around, just side-eye you intensely. he doesn't really approve of most types of necromancy, but he's surprisingly civil with Withers. Basically any sort of treating people like chattel or tokens to be bartered, especially children or those who can't otherwise defend themselves gets HEAVY disapproval and to a certain extent straight-up Aggro~

Do they have any secrets that can be revealed? What are the prerequisites for this secret coming to light?

OH BOY SEVERAL. the one he's most careful about? that fact that he is not even a tiefling. he's a cambion. that one is more likely to come out than the rest of it, which is that he's half-succubus specifically. dealing with Raphael, he'd probably make himself pretty scarce, while also warning the player not to trust him. the whole House of Hope situation will have him tense and quierter than usual. He is staring daggers at Raphael the entire time, daring him to say something (which I'm sure he would eventually, if you continuousy involve Pyre in quests with Raphael) and i feel like Pyre's origins would come out specifically upon dealing with either Haarlep or Mizora.

What do they say when the Player Character asks them to stay in camp? How about when the Player Character asks them to come adventuring again?

Leaving him at camp: [Judgemental Grunt]

Come Adventuring: [Approving hum.]

Does your Tav have any escalating conflicts with one of the other companions, like Lae’zel and Shadowheart’s knife-fight?

the only thing that really comes to mind is Physically Depositing Astarion at the MC's feet and telling him to keep his teeth to himself hfdkjshgjl. idk he's kind of the king of staying in his own lane.

#pidge replies #long post #oc: pyre #I MIGHT ANSWER MORE LATER IF ANYONE IS REALLY CURIOUS HGDJKHDG #it's just really hard to do it all in one go #and i also gotta think about some of them a little more lmao #the romance list has me LOOKIN tho

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 2 years

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Mark Watson recently asked on Twitter what comedy show people would like to see. He meant in terms of people who might do stand-up over the internet, so I’m going a bit outside the scope, but how’s this for an answer?

A campus-based sitcom about the performing arts troupe of an unnamed prestigious university. Two people who have just been cast in a play spend the first episode not getting along too well due to having somewhat clashing personalities (one is very cautious and reserved, one is always looking for trouble), but at the end of said episode, they get drunk together and find they actually enjoy each other’s company. They end up sitting outside a bar while having a mildly slurred conversation.

Person #1: You know, I have to tell you something. I’m supposed to keep it secret but I have to tell someone.

Person #2: I knew it, you’ve killed a man.

Person #1: No, it’s just… I’m not really a student here. I lied on the forms for the play. I don’t even have an email address.

Person #2: Oh, thank God you have a weird secret too! I’m not really Welsh. [note: Person #2 has been speaking with a Welsh accent for the whole episode so far, but at this point he reverts to an English one, from the general western region but not so far west as to actually be Wales.]

Person #1: Well that’s interesting, that we both have secrets that will now bind us together. I lied because you have to be a student to get into the plays and I just want to perform comedy. Why are you lying?

Person #2: I… I’m not really sure, actually. I just sort of started doing it one day and then I had to keep it up to avoid social embarrassment so I guess I’ll have to be Welsh forever now.

Person #1: You are the weirdest fucking person I’ve ever met, let’s be best friends for the next twenty years.

The rest of the show is about these two people being friends and taking part in the troupe while trying to protect their own and each other’s secrets, with many near-misses that are only saved by comedic misunderstandings and hijinks. There’s the occasional bit of social commentary as they explore the way pretending he’s part of a prestigious institution opens up opportunities that Person #1 would have missed otherwise, but it’s mostly just classic sitcom shenanigans.

One time they go to an off-campus bar where a man named Ghod Rilbert hears them talking in their normal accents about the web of lies they’re both spinning, and he tells Person #1, good on him for sneaking his way in with all those posh assholes who actually are students at this prestigious university (Person #2 listens to this with comedic discomfort), it’s time the working class people got a chance. Person #1 heartily agrees, but is too embarrassed to admit he did actually recently finish a degree at a different university, not as high-level a one but still. Ghod Rilbert then yells at Person #2, telling him he shouldn’t pretend to be a member of his culture (Ghod, of course, speaks with a very gruff Welsh accent), but admits that it’s too weird to be really offensive, so he buys them both beers and hangs out with them for the night.

They become friends and the two main characters continue going back to that bar because this somewhat older guy (sort of thirty-ish instead of early twenties) will buy them beers whenever they’re there. This makes things awkward for Person #1, since around Ghod Rilbert he has to keep up the ruse that he’s a working class guy who’s never attended university, while keeping up the ruse to everyone else that he’s a current student. Person #2 feels awkward during these times because he actually dislikes the taste of beer and prefers to drink wine, but he’s trying not to look like one of those posh assholes that Ghod assumes all university students are, and of course he’s too polite to complain about free drinks, so he forces down the cheap beer that Ghod buys them. In one episode they tag along with Ghod on what was meant to be just some errands but in classic sitcom style it turns into more than that, we get a look at Ghod Rilbert’s life outside that bar, and of course what we see is completely unhinged.

Now look, I realize this requires a little artistic license. I realize Mark wasn’t using the Welsh accent in university and Tim got caught out as not being a student pretty early into the lie. But just go with it. We’d all watch that sitcom, right? Incidentally, I want Rhod, Mark, and Tim to play themselves, and the show to just never mention why the actors look a couple of decades too old for the characters. Person #1 and Person #2 will have their characters named in some similar way to Ghod Rilbert, like Kim Tey and Wark Matson. The other major character will be a musical redhead who's their friend in the comedy troupe, and that character will just be named “Alex Horne”, but he’ll be played by Tim Minchin.

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ficklecat · 8 months

Text

OC Intro: Phineas Morgan

(dialogue responses to the OC interview prompt)

1. Please state your full name and occupation.

“My name is Phineas Morgan, but you can call me Finn. I’m a teaching assistant for Dr. Nichols, and I’m pursuing my master’s in classic and romantic literature.”

2. Tell us a little bit about yourself.

“Well…I like to read, obviously. I’m probably in the middle of about six different books right now, not including the ones for my studies, so obviously I’m great at commitment. But to my credit, I’ve got four dogs, and I think at least three of them love me. Um…I’m an orphan, which I guess makes me mysterious to some people. Oh and of course the obvious thing - I’ve got albinism. Just in case you were concerned, I do always look like this.”

3. How would you describe your childhood?

“In a word? Chaotic. Of what I can talk about comfortably, most is still sort of jumbled for me. I entered the foster system when I was 9, and I was pretty fortunate for a while before things got bad. I was displaced three times, which is less than the usual by a long shot. But most of my memories are either jumbled and confusing or just outright unpleasant to recall. Nothing was stable. It was…difficult. Chaotic.”

4. When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?

“An attorney, like my dad.”

5. Do you have any role models? Tell us a little bit about them.

“My partner Emmanuel’s father is probably one of the best people I know. He’s incredible. He looked out for me when I was a kid even though he didn’t have to. He still does. He’s hilarious and sweet, always trying to help people even when they don’t deserve it. And he can grow anything, anywhere. He texted me a picture the other day of like twenty cucumbers on his kitchen table with a bunch of emojis and the words ‘LOS PEPINOS’ in all caps.” (laughs) “He’s a gem. I love that man.”

6. Are you introverted or extroverted? Why?

“I guess you could say I’m more introverted but I can achieve extraversion pretty well when I need to, like when I’m teaching. As for why…growing up in foster and group homes it’s kind of dangerous to stand out. You just keep to yourself, you don’t know who’s safe. So I guess that’s a reason. But I really think it’s just because my nose is stuck in a book half the time. I usually prefer to listen over speaking in general, too. Easier to learn that way.”

7. How would you describe yourself in three words?

“Academic. Romantic. Cautious.”

8. What do you like to do for fun?

“You’re not gonna believe this, but I like to read.” (laughs) “But I enjoy watching movies too, and spending time with my partners. I like taking my dogs to the park or on hikes, as well, weather permitting.”

9. What's your greatest achievement? Why do you consider this your greatest achievement?

This was answered in an ask, check the tag to find it!

10. What's your biggest goal? How do you hope to achieve this?

“Big goals are hard for me. Right now the biggest goal I have is to graduate. Which I’m on track to do so…that’s good.”

11. What does your dream room/house look like? Would you mind showing some inspiration pictures?

“Ah, I don’t really have an exact layout idea. But I would love a cozy home with a little library and a yard for the dogs. And definitely a king bed. A nice rustic kitchen for Vi and E to cook in. But nothing flashy or massive. Just enough space to spread out a little. To be comfortable in a place to call my own.”

12. How would you describe your style?

“Practical for sure. Academic. I like to be comfortable but presentable. Being able to pick my own clothes was kind of a big deal for me and I went a little crazy at first before I found my style . I’m just glad I figured it out before long. You should have seen me when I was 18…far too much argyle for one man…”

13. What's your favorite song?

“Currently anything from Unreal Unearth. But Bowie’s Life On Mars? is always a favourite of mine.”

14. Where are you happiest?

“When I’m with my partners and dogs. When we cuddle up on the couch at night and I’ve got limbs and paws digging into me…it sounds uncomfortable but I’ve never been happier than when I’m sweaty and crampy and squished into a couch corner like that. It’s my favourite place to be.”

15. Who is the most important person in your life? Why?

“I have two people. Emmanuel and Violet. I love them with every part of my soul. I can’t imagine what life was like without them. I don’t want it.”

16. Do you believe in soulmates? Why or why not?

“Yes. Because I found them.”

17. Have you ever been in love?

“Many times. All the time. I’m in love with my partners. But I’m in love with Gatsby too, you know? I’m in love with Jane Eyre and Sir Gawain. I fell in love with Violet like I fell in love with Zelda Fitzgerald. I fell for Emmanuel like I fell for Alexandre Dumas. Every time I’m with them I’m in love all over again, every time I read beautiful prose I’m falling in it. It’s hard sometimes to be falling that often, but it gives the grey things in my life some colour.”

18. Have you ever been kissed?

“And then some.”

19. Describe an average day in your life.

“Wake up, take out the dogs and feed them breakfast, black tea, then shower and prep for my lectures. Do that, then office hours, lunch, classes, and then it’s pretty much dependent on what E and Vi want to do. We try to eat dinner together every night at the least, or we’ll do homework or study nights in the library rooms during busy weeks.”

20. Describe your nighttime routine.

“After dinner with them I’ll come home and take care of the dogs again. If E and Vi come over we’ll usually talk or play a game or watch something until we turn in. And if none of us get handsy I’ll usually be the last to fall asleep. But if I’m alone, I’ll read or do some more prep work if I need to, or just watch TV until I’m ready for bed. I drink a nightly cocktail of medicinal tea with CBD and some other stuff in it to help me sleep, so I’ll do that about thirty minutes before bed. Then I’ll take the dogs out and do my skincare and it’s lights out.”

21. (Make up a question) Tell us a “low-stakes” unpopular opinion you have.

“Admittedly most of my unpopular opinions are about literature, but I’ll avoid boring you and save those for my lectures. Generally speaking I feel like most of my opinions are unpopular so I have plenty, but I’ll just say for now that I think Crocs are actually fucking awesome. They’re comfortable and adorable and I have been known to wear them in public despite protest from Violet. I’d wear them all the time if I could. I once almost wore them to lecture with a button down and trousers. I don’t even care. Let my feet be comfy. And evidently my most unpopular opinion has to do with oat milk but if I talk about it a certain person I know will actually become genuinely upset with me so I’ll refrain.”

(Manny yelling from the other room) “Oye canche, don’t start with the milk thing again!”

(Finn laughs)

#Phineas #OCs #axel’s brainpals #oc ask game #oc prompt

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the-brainrot-central · 10 months

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Since I’ve been putting out so little fanfic content lately (sorry for that), I felt I owed it to ppl to post something rn, even if it’s rough and unfinished. So here: a rough draft of my Kiraboss smut fic (haven’t written any actual smut yet, this is literally just exposition lmao)

Kiraboss silly draft

(CONTENT WARNINGS: internalized homophobia, prostitution, use of term “queer” with negative connotations)

Yoshikage Kira was never known as a man to take many risks—-everything he did was with caution and precision, leaving no loose ends untied. His private interests necessitated this code of conduct, and in general he didn’t mind being cautious; it was worth it for the sake of his peace of mind. Still, sometimes his typical murderous escapades weren’t enough to fill the void inside him—that insatiable hunger, the kind that always came back to him, begging to be fed. And lately, he found himself…hungry, more often than not; he had a girlfriend right now, who he kept in his fridge, and yet he found himself growing tired of her. Something about his usual routine had just become so…dull. It ceased to excite him anymore. However, his libido remained—he was becoming more agitated, and his usual routines of self care and masturbation weren’t working.

Ultimately, the more he meditated on these recent urges, the more he found that he was craving something…different. Something new, something he had never tried before. He felt somewhat ashamed about it, though there wasn’t much reason to—was there? This was okay. This was normal, by comparison to his usual tastes, perhaps. Nonetheless, he felt…uneasy about it. This was abnormal, even by his standards; it was something he couldn’t tell anyone, something socially unacceptable. In this way, he thought it to be almost as troublesome and bad as his habit of killing.

He found himself desiring the touch of a man now. Sometimes at his work, he’d catch himself zoning out, stealing glances at the hands of his male coworkers—one man in particular had caught his fancy. It was agitating, and the urges were only growing—his mind was ravenous, filled with dirty thoughts, fleeting images of attractive men in bed, undressed, ready to devour him.

Finally, after a few weeks of these urges, with no end in sight, he decided he needed to take matters into his own hands. And so he did what many desperate and sexually confused people do: he hired a prostitute. He was hesitant about the decision, but ultimately his hunger and curiosity won over. And besides, surely this was a safer, more private alternative to hooking up with someone random at work or in a club. This way there’d be no risk of people knowing, and no worry of the other party becoming clingy and needy afterwards.

However, needless to say, he was a nervous wreck about it. He’d taken a shower and put on a casual suit, with a loose button up underneath, and was currently fussing with his hair, trying to get it perfect. Did it look okay? Did it look sloppy or shaggy? Did he look like too much of a tryhard, wearing a suit to this? Probably. As ridiculous as it seemed, he desperately wanted to make the perfect impression on this man, whoever he was—Kira wanted to make it clear upon seeing him that he wasn’t some cheap whore or an easy fuck. He wasn’t the type of man to do this sort of thing, and he wanted to make that clear as day through his appearance.

He scrutinized himself in the mirror some more, growing restless. He turned side to side, observing himself from different angles, making sure nothing was off. Were there any loose threads on his pants? Forgotten tags? Old stains? He was checking and rechecking, making extra sure that he was presentable—-he was being paranoid. He knew that this suit was clean, he knew there were no extra threads hanging loose: he always cut off any loose strings or tags as soon as he bought clothing, and he always washed off stains as soon as he saw them.

He sighed, stroking his tie as he looked himself over. Did he look handsome? Was he presentable? Why was he so anxious about this? It was normal, perfectly normal—people had sex all the time. People hired prostitutes. This was good for him: it would clear his head and satisfy those needs that had been bothering him so much.

However, this was unknown territory for him, personally—at age 33, he was still a virgin. This had never bothered him before, considering he wasn’t really attracted to full women in earnest, only their hands. He had no desire for that sort of contact; he was perfectly capable of fulfilling his own sexual needs. Well…at least until recently.

Was he being too needy? Was this pathetic? Desperate? How degrading, to have sex with someone else, he thought—especially another man, of all things. it was so…vulnerable. So revealing. He didn’t like that thought.

He could always cancel the appointment, he figured: surely they’d understand him getting cold feet. He could call it off, and he wouldn’t have to go and everything would be okay and normal.

Nonetheless, he couldn’t help but feel let down at that thought. He was really looking forward to this all week: canceling it would be such a disappointment. And besides, his attention had been too divided by these needs—he was foggy-headed, and his social facade was suffering because of it. he’d only be jeopardizing himself if he prolonged his unmet needs any further.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and sighing, trying to compose himself. It wasn’t a big deal. He would be fine. And besides, this “Diavoli” man, or whatever his name was, had probably seen much worse than his average mug—being a prostitute surely wasn’t an occupation that allowed one to be too choosy.

Killer queen materialized behind him, its arms wrapped gently around his waist. Sometimes it manifested itself when he was stressed, without him summoning it—probably out of instinct, he assumed. It glared back at him in the mirror curiously, tilting its head.

“I know, Queen, I’m being paranoid…It’s not a big deal. I look good, don’t I?” His stand nodded its head fervently, purring in affirmation.

He reached up and scratched its chin, and it purred some more, closing its eyes as it enjoyed the touch.

“Good boy…such a pretty kitty…”

It meowed in response, leaning its head in closer to Kira’s touch.

“Do I look presentable, Queen? Is my hair alright?”

His stand absently nodded, mostly absorbed in the pleasant feeling of having its chin scratched. Besides it’s practical purposes, Kira enjoyed having his stand as a companion: he liked cats, and Killer Queen made for pleasant company. It was never too loud, too needy, too clingy or demanding, like how people were. It didn’t demand conversation or reciprocation: it just enjoyed Kira’s company, simple as that.

He arrived at the agreed upon location, a love hotel that was quite a ways away from his house. That was preferable; the further away, the better—this way it was unlikely for a neighbor or coworker to stumble upon him entering such a risqué establishment. He was so unusually anxious about this: it was unlike him to be so worked up.

It’ll be fine, Kira…you’ll be fine…It’s not that big of a deal…

Except that it was a big deal—a huge deal for him. He was going to lose his virginity tonight—at least, that was the plan, anyway: he had no clue what to expect. Surely he’d make a fool of himself and chicken out last minute: that’s what he was subconsciously betting on. There was so much pressure; it felt like everything was riding on this. It was too much stress for him, and deep down, he was already starting to plan his escape—he was getting cold feet. Nonetheless…a part of him was still curious—very curious. He wanted to do this, he really did—but did he??? He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure anymore. He was used to being absolutely certain in his decisions; he could trust his own judgement more than anyone else’s. He was always cold, logical, calculating, and he had no reason for self-doubt—until now, at least.

And besides all that, he’d already blown a notorious cut of his paycheck on this—it would just be a waste of that cash if he backed out now. He was a frugal man, and he hated the idea of wasting money, even on small things: perhaps this was part of what gave him the balls to follow through, in the end.

As a matter of fact, he’d paid an extra sum for an “everything-included” package—it basically meant he could ask the prostitute to do whatever he wanted, any kind of sex activity, even down to taking a bath together. He felt somewhat ashamed for paying that premium, knowing that it was exploitative of him; certainly customers took advantage of that premium and used it to do unspeakable things to these people. He wasn’t that kind of man, to take sexual advantage of someone—it wasn’t right. Now even he was doubting his own code of ethics, all because of this decision. However, he honestly wasn’t quite sure what he wanted out of this—he’d never had sex before, let alone with a man, of all things. Because of this, he wanted to give himself more options, more leeway, since he didn’t know exactly what he was in for. Maybe he’d ask for a blowjob? A handjob? Kissing, perhaps?

And then there was the actual “sex” part of it…he felt very anxious about that. Part of him was reluctant, but another part of him wanted it. His urges had given him a few “ideas” he wanted to try, but…he felt ashamed about it—guilty, or something. It was a feeling unlike him: he rarely felt guilt or remorse, giving his habit of murdering women for their hands.

————————————————————

He drove to the specified location, being sure to wear a different suit than usual and to straighten his wavy hair with an iron. He even parted it on the side, which he never did—he couldn’t afford to have people know about this. What would they think? What would they say? He could just imagine the work room gossip—the handsome, aloof, thirty-something bachelor in the office turning out to be a queer…and a whore, at that. Just imagining it was enough to make him sweat. No, he couldn’t have that—his life would be ruined. Maybe he should’ve been more cautious; should've worn makeup, dyed his hair, something like that. His mind was jittery with unease, running through all the things he should have done to be more cautious about this. However, it was no use now—he had no choice but to move forward with this. He wouldn’t chicken out now after all the hassle he’d gone through to get here; no, this was final. He needed this.

And so he exited the car, triple checking that he locked it before feeling at ease. He entered the hotel, and instantly was hit with a wave of embarrassment—the lady at the desk knew what he was doing. She knew he was here to have sex—that’s what these establishments were for, after all. Just that fact alone made him self-conscious. Nonetheless, he steadied his voice as he spoke to her, exuding his usual false aura of suave charisma. He slid her some money, as well as a discreet, black slip of paper with a code number and the agency’s symbol on it. She instantly recognized it and sheepishly slid him the keys to his room, suddenly glancing down and away from him. He sighed, muttered a curt “thanks,” and rushed away to the elevator.

He rose to the fifth floor, made his way to room 512. Anxiously, he stood outside the door, fiddling with his tie and tucking his dress shirt in. Was this a mistake? Did he look stupid? Was he trying too hard? He felt so unusually anxious as he fidgeted and fiddled with his outfit, stalling for time. He wasn’t used to be anxious, for anything—his life was a smooth, controlled machination of events, a scheduled sequence of gears, all turning in synch, not a hair out of place. Even when inconvenoiences or mishaps occurred, they were nothing more than a blip in his existence—a mere annoyance, at best. There was nothing large at stake if traffic was bad or someone spilled coffee on his nice suit—sure, perhaps he’d be scolded a little or have to spend more money, but he wasnt in any danger. His reputation and his peace werent in jeopardy. However, now he wasn’t so sure.

Are you sure about this? You could just turn back now, change your mind—surely the prostitute will be grateful if you did; getting a paycheck, without having to do dirty work. It'd be better for everyone involved. Just go home.

He sighed, turning on his heel to walk away. However, he stopped in his tracks.

But…I already paid for it…I cant undo that. And besides…I’m horny. I want to do it; I really want it. Should I? Is this risky? Is this bad? I’m making a mistake, aren’t I? I shouldn’t have asked for this.

He bit his lip, contemplating.

Still…he seems attractive. What was his name again? Diavali? He seems alright…and he’s very pretty. Especially his hands…

Finally, he mustered up the courage, turning around to knock on the door, three times—that was the instruction given to him upon making this purchase. He swiftly gasped as the door was opened, revealing

#internalized queerphobia #internalized homophobia #just putting those as trigger warnings #in case someone has those tags blacklisted #kiraboss #kiravolo #yoshikage kira #yoshikage kira is a big fat bottom #jojo #fanfics #rough draft #kira x diavolo #fanfic #jojos bizarre adventure #little meow meow #work in progress #ao3 wip

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soobberries · 1 year

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⓹

✦. ⊹ ˚ .꒰ interactions rules꒱ ‧₊˚★

This blog will contain nsfw and sfw themes but I will sort out my posts by my tags and use appropriate warnings where necessary I kindly ask that you interact carefully and responsibly. If you would not like to see nsfw work then please block that tag. Minors, block the nsfw tag as well.

If you are a minor and you interact with my nsfw posts I will have to block you for both of our safety. It's not personal, you can read what you want in my personal opinion, as I understand what it's like to be a teenager, but understand any interactions you have is more dangerous for me than you. Feel free to interact with other posts, just please, be cautious and safe.

This blog is a safe space for everyone, however, there may be some triggering content on occasion when I post (I will try my best to provide content warnings) so I do encourage being vigilant for your own safety before continuing to interact with my blog.

Similarly, please put a very clear trigger warning if you send in asks!

I am open to speaking to several people and making friends but I'd like to disclaim that I am not very good at maintaining conversations or relations of any sort in general. I struggle with social etiquette and understanding others so tone indicators are appreciated sometimes! I'll do my best to try and interact well with everyone and am happy to speak to others but just keep these things in mind! I am not very emotionally available but am learning to be.

I may be very inconsistent with posting and I can't guarantee I will always be around. I often go through stages of being online thoroughly before suddenly disappearing for a period of time and then returning. Two extremes.

。°˖あ ꒰request and reading rules꒱ ੭*– ⵌ

if you want to know what groups I write for, I have made a post for it! proceed to aisle ⓷ :D

I will take requests for drabbles, scenarios, aus, reactions, oneshots, and mtls.

I am a cis female and I'm relatively straight; you can request for any type of reader but just be aware that my knowledge is limited and I may not be able to adequately write for everyone but even so I'd like to attempt to be inclusive all round my blog.

I don't mind requests for other groups that I stan, but just know I may not have a good grasp of certain members and may not be able to write them as well but if you're okay with that feel free.

Understand that there are members I may not be able to write for or may not feel comfortable writing for. I'll try to be accommodating but if I truly believe I can't write for them, I'll let you know and I ask for your understanding.

Similarly, I'm not a long-term writer and often don't know what I am and am not comfortable with writing at the moment. I currently don't have solid preferences so while I navigate my writing and brain, I ask that if you aren't sure whether I'll write something or not, just send me an ask and I'll think about it and let you know!

when requesting nsfw, of course, I will not write for minors (born after 2004).

I am open to criticism always, but as said, I haven't written long-term and honestly don't have a distinct writing style either. I'm just here for fun to share ideas and stories but I am aware that my writing may come off as pretty bad sometimes. Please bear with me!

If you would like to be added to the tag list, just ask! c:

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heidejohannsen · 2 years

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What do I require to know about LED headlights?

The longer an automobile is made use of, the more problems they will begin to happen. Among one of the most typical concerns that we will certainly face with their automobile is inadequate lighting. There are a variety of services to this trouble, like the enhancement of cars and truck led front lights light bulbs. Below are some of the important things that an individual can do in order to repair their bad illumination issues. Seeing clearly in the evening is just possible with the appropriate fronts lights. Upgrading to LED headlamps can be simply what you need to accomplish a higher level of visibility.

You are buying LED front lights light bulbs for a better and also clear vision, so it is crucial that you pick the ones that will certainly generate far better light that is intense irrespective of the time whether daytime, nighttime or negative weather condition. The high power LED chip built-in to the system enable the LED lights illuminating a lot brighter which is almost 3 to 5 times than that of the conventional LED light bulbs. Unlike traditional light bulbs, LED lights can take care of off-road circumstances without malfunctioning or damaging. Regard to the benefit of 194 led, you could find on the following blog. Ensure that you are likewise cautious with where you are putting your LED lights too considering that LED bulbs do not create heat. Some lighting fixtures require bulbs that can be able to create heat and the LED bulbs might not be a great fit for such lights. Besides the boost in price. Yes, LED fronts lights to pay for themselves over the years. You ll have less hassle as well as won t requirement to change them frequently at all. It does come with an originally greater price tag, they are worth each cent in the long-lasting.

The lifespan of the LED front lights light bulbs is also an additional factor to consider that should be made when intending to buy LED headlight bulbs. You will certainly have to choose the headlight bulb that will certainly offer you durable services, as well as if you purchase the brand name that will certainly be having the best high quality you will appreciate its efficiency for years. The substitute led bulbs will match your existing headlight bulb holders, are completely street lawful and are simple to fit. The light outcome will boost nighttime exposure to exceptional degrees. LED replacement headlight light bulbs are designed to much better brighten the roadway, which permits safer evening driving. If that is one of your major issues, these can be a great option. For your needs in the LED headlight bulbs, you should make sure that you have the best alternative in the marketplace today. For anybody that does not have some methods of recognizing the appropriate type of LED front lights light bulbs to use, you must understand that going for an excellent Youtube Product screening video clip guide will certainly be much better. Make certain you buy from a dependable supplier. At a credible supplier, you will certainly be able to locate the parts that you need as well as you will have the ability to manage their knowledgeable and also friendly staff. When selecting the ideal supplier for your car parts requires, make certain to consider the sort of components that they supply and the total high quality of the brands that they lug.

#Dodge Ram led head

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sanchezlangston04 · 2 years

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If you seek out one thing on the internet employing the search engines, the frequency of which can you go earlier the 1st page of outcomes? If you're like most people, you don't have to go past site anyone to locate what you wish. And that's why your website requires search engine optimisation, or SEO. Here are several approaches to be certain your site turns up on top of their list.

Incorporating great-quality articles to your web page is probably the best ways to enhance its internet search engine position. There are plenty of arcane ways to improve search engine optimisation that you may possibly overlook the most uncomplicated and honest approach: give your website's visitors even more of what they desire. Helpful, helpful content is going to be appreciated by guests and also a ripple impact on your site's reputation. Try to use keyword words that have a little number of phrases, two or three could be most desirable. Keyword searches are statistically very likely to include only two words and phrases. Improve the chance that your site will rank highly in a research so that you can generate even bigger outcomes. In relation to gaining better placements in search engine results, you have to concentrate on relevance. You are able to only raise the placement if the various search engines observe that your internet site is useful to to website visitors. Just exclusively relying upon Search engine marketing will never help your position, you should offer excellent articles that can help your viewers way too. car coating to other internet sites and weblogs to increase your views. For those who have a lively backlinking method, you are going to boost your search engine rankings within the significant search engine listings. Find posts that you like that correspond with your posts and include backlinks to them. Be certain nonetheless to help keep your webpage from becoming just a page of links or you'll lose your visitors. When that you can do a link swap with others, it's a smart idea to focus on post swaps with other webmasters as a way to raise the web site in search engine ranking positions. To accomplish this, you would submit someone's article on the website having a website link to them, and then they can perform the exact same thing for you personally. You will notice that SEO with this sort is a lot more productive. Send your web site to significant search engines like yahoo. This may seem like it is really an obvious step, but many website proprietors believe that the search engines will hyperlink to you when someone queries a specific key phrase. Whilst this can be real, you might not be the initial listed, as well as on page one. Enhance this plan if you are paying a small payment to the search engine, and get your site in addition to the results. Impression backlinks can be enhanced for online search engine standing by adding an "alt" label to each and every appearance. These is going to be shown rather than a graphic in the event the picture can't be exhibited. Key phrase inclusion in appearance labels permit search engines like google to recognize and position these images enhancing overall web site search rankings. Keep flash and frames to a minimum in your site. They might appearance rather, but are horrible for search engine optimization and engines can't decode them easily. If you have to use display, make sure you likewise incorporate links or key phrases on the bottom of your own web pages. Be quite cautious if you hyperlink to content on other websites. Whilst a primary connect to well-liked or pertinent materials can help your seo attempts, the people who own the web page you backlink to might not enjoy it. The owners of content-wealthy web sites (like those who work in news media) usually do not like website visitors to gain access to their content material with out experiencing their home page. One important thing in order to avoid when confronted with search engine optimization is block rates. Even though it hasn't been officially verified, it is widely believed that most search engines like google disregard any written text contained in prevent price tags. Consequently any tag in obstruct quotes is definitely not incorporated into search engine results. To be able to increase your weblink reputation, it is advisable to discover exchange spouse web sites. This may end up getting your search engine ranking positions also enhancing. Discover firms that would look like they cary something that may compliment yours very well. You will discover these sites in web internet directories, or use a internet search engine to find websites that hyperlink your competitors' internet sites. To summarize, there is quite a bit to discover search engine marketing. Tend not to be overwhelmed although, due to the fact there is a lot for taking in. Based on your position, both your carried on accomplishment or the beginning of a whole new problem is reliant only on the readiness to discover and also the personal dedication that you just commit.

#car coating

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prongsandhisfoot · 2 years

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tbh as someone who actively ships wolfstarbucks and passively ships prongsfoot, i feel like people should be cautious when tagging their their ot3 ship fics with any of the pairings that “fit” into the ot3, if that makes sense? it is technically accurate and i understand why ppl do it, if you had asked me a month or two ago i would have been like, yah that’s always appropriate, but after entering a new fandom where the most popular ot3 sometimes gets cross tagged with the more popular main pairing and i kept having to see the ot3 when i didn’t want to i was like…okay that’s enough lol. it’s not that big of an issue yk like i said it is technically accurate but i made the decision awhile ago even before i had this realization that if i ever wrote wolfstarbucks and put it on ao3 i would not tag it with prongsfoot just because…well i’m not oblivious remus is not the most popular character with a good amount of prongsfoot shippers lol and i don’t think ppl should have to have unpleasant browsing experiences on ao3 if it can be helped by way of tagging properly. but even observations of individual shipping culture aside now i think i wouldn’t tag it with wolfstar or moonchaser either tbh like the ot3 tag is really just all encompassing and the rare pair tags get sooo bogged up. i don’t really seek out prongsfoot but the last time i checked out the tag on ao3 it was even more fucked than the moonchaser tag and as someone who hangs out in the r/s/j and r/j tags both seeing all the repeats is like…why lol.

honestly i’m not really sure where i stand here? the first thing i typed was all “eh nothing wrong with tagging for the pairings that fit” (i may not like wolfstarbucks but that’s my personal preference and it’s easy to exclude it!) but then i tried to recall the times i’ve read ot3 pairings and all the fics i liked only had the single x/y/z pairing.

tag cluttering in general is a turn off when i’m searching for fics (off topic but i wish there was a sort:otp that applied only to the relationship section so fics with minor x or past x wouldn’t get sorted out) and tagging the pairings of an ot3 is pointless for getting readers past that since people searching through just that tag would likely sort out the ot3 if they don’t want it...then again, if someone is open to it, it could attract readers 🤷

so i want to say just go out and do what you want, but realistically, i’d recommend just tagging x/y/x and not the ships within. it’s cleaner, it’s nicer, it’s safer. but nothing wrong with tagging the pairings either--some relationship dynamics are very much individually important pairings of two that end up fitting into a larger relationship, and in that case, it could be important for you to tag the separate pairings!

on the case of mistagging, the only thing i legitimately care about is when people just don’t tag the ot3 at all. if all they tag is the relationships within it. that’s genuine mistagging and also just dumb for them too

with that is a bit more preference-y but still--tag the ot3 / main pairing first please! it makes it a lot easier to skip past fics you don’t want to read and is also a lot better for readership since people looking for the ot3 will probably skip over fics they don’t want to read! lol. (this is an in general not to you anon i have no clue who you are and your tagging system seems perfect <3) if i’m looking for an ot3 and the first thing isn’t the ot3, chances are, i’m going to skip it. this applies to everything really

as for the unpleasant browsing experiences, i’d like to quickly add that though i may complain about non-prongsfoot fics on the prongsfoot tag i don’t actually mind them in a they-shouldn’t-be-here way if they’re properly tagged. if it’s platonic, then no, that’s not properly tagged. if it’s wolfstarbucks, it’s properly tagged (since it’s a personal preference thing i definitely don’t think it should be a mistag occurrence) and it’s my fault for not excluding if i get annoyed at it. just like i get annoyed if i see...dramione, or something, not because it shouldn’t exist but because my personal preference is that every single fic on ao3 has only the ships i like and none of the ones i don’t. but i understand that, unfortunately, cannot happen 💔 the day all 9 mil fics on ao3 are 100k+ prongsfoot fics is the day the world improves

finally, the remus thing! that’s kinda funny and you’re not entirely wrong but ngl most of the prongsfoot fics i see are heavily remus positive so while that may not be the case on here i think it’s hard to find any part of the hp fandom that actively dislikes remus! i personally just think he’s...overblown. not the right word but i’m shit at describing it. happens in a lot of prongsfoot fics too though

#this was way too long i apologize #thank you for the ask!

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ark-of-eden · 7 years

Text

Thoughts on the Function of Art?

(R:) I didn't want to append this to that big thread about censorship, questionable story content, and authorial intent because I am a Small Person who just consumes things and I was pretty sure that I can't actually add anything useful to the discussion. But I'm still stuck on it a little, so here is a thing that I'm putting behind a readmore in case everyone is fucking tired of the whole censorship debate.

tl;dr: Riss is old and grew up in an environment that was not exactly info-rich when it came to controversial issues. Riss is clumsily attempting to tape this and that together for some reason, possibly just to get it out of the brain. (This ultimately turned into a long fucking story about my early life that doesn't really go anywhere. It's just a long fucking story.)(**ALERT: This includes discussions of stereotypes, slurs, and fetishization.)

People in that thread pointed out the weird over-reliance on interrogating an author about what exactly they meant by writing certain content and that authorial intent should be a yardstick for whether certain content is edifying (and deserving of existence) or not. Other people wisely pointed out that every consumer will inevitably interpret every creation through the lens of their own experience and come up with a different take on what the piece is "saying" about whatever it depicts.

Back when I was very young, there was no way to directly contact any sort of creator. Novels had small text somewhere that mentioned how to send snailmail to the author C/O the publishing company, but naturally there could be no expectation that an author would ever actually write you back. Direct contact with creators was usually in the context of them being guests at a con or signing or gallery showing, which was sort of like seeing a band play live. Every other exposure to them was one-way or indirect, through their work or news articles or possibly from hearing a radio interview or watching a TV program about them, if they were important enough. This was pre-widespread-Internet, so nobody had blogs; some big-name people had fanclubs that mailed out regular newsletters, but the vast majority of creators had nothing but their content in circulation.

I guess that the point of saying all of that is just to illustrate that the present-day situation in which creators have public social media accounts that one can just drop into and toss opinions and questions about intent at them is...kind of a luxury, in my experience? For writers of "classics," there might be printed articles or essays in which they went on about their intent or process, but for creators who weren't popular while they were alive, historians have to go mining for diaries or letters to even get an idea of what sort of person they were, much less what they meant when they wrote that one scene from that one novel that was Kind Of Problematic.

And that was a tangent leading around to a perspective about creative work in general that I heard very early on and took to heart when it came to consuming media. I read somewhere that the point of creating something was to produce a response or emotion in the consumer. Any response. The creation was meant to be a catalyst for newness or change in the viewer, even if the response was something like anger, fear, or disgust. The worst possible response to a creation was dull indifference, because it had failed to do anything at all to the consumer.

I saw supporting evidence for this perspective in a lot of media. Bands built up weird, elaborate Aesthetics purely to draw attention to their songs, not because they were demonstrating some deeply-held belief system. (I've lost track of how many CDs I saw from bands who made dark music about cruelty, despair, and the emptiness of the universe and yet, in tiny liner-note text, poured out flowery squee about how they thanked the loving Lord God and Jesus Christ for blessing them with their musical careers.) Artists who talked to other artists about their craft admitted that they often made the art they did just because they wanted to make it for no special reason, but they fabricated deep-sounding bullshit to attach to it so that collectors would buy the thing just for the story that went with it.

A piece that kept getting talked about over and over back then was Piss Christ, which was literally a large glass jar full of urine that had a crucifix floating in it. Large sections of society were fucking outraged that this thing even existed, that galleries dared to let it darken their doorways, that the artist was even depraved enough to think up such a thing. I don't recall what the artist herself (I think it was a she) said about why she made it, but what was clear to me was that she had succeeded at the goal of art like an absolute champion. Nobody could look at that piece without having some kind of intense response, and whole groups of educated people were compelled to spill out their opinions and argue about it. Piss Christ was Successful Art, the thing that every piece of art wished that it could be. It didn't matter that most of the responses were negative. Apart from making it, the artist did nothing to encourage all the discussions prompted by the art's existence. People used it as a springboard for debates about What Is Art Really, the empty veneration of religious iconography, public obscenity, and all sorts of other things, entirely on their own.

Granted, there were clear downsides to not having instant access to people's creative narratives and backgrounds, or to the greater community of consumers. There were panels discussing themes in modern writing at cons and sometimes a nearby book club where people could rec things and talk about good and bad aspects to whatever they were reading, but if you weren't in a position to have either of those things? There wasn't a lot to do but chat with any reader buddies you might have or actually trust marketing. This book is a NYT Bestseller and has its own special display in Borders? Well, must be a well-written book with quality content, or else it wouldn't have that kind of backing, right? (I was such a trusting little idiot back then, seriously.) So this was when all those toxic norms of casual misogyny, racism, and queer villainization went unchallenged in a lot of places and was just The Way Things Are.

My family moved around to many parts of the US while I was young and I swear I never heard people anywhere bothering to have a discussion about the trend of weak female characters or how POC cultures kept getting reduced to exotic window dressing. There was a sense that those kinds of intellectual topics were the sort of thing that academics did in far-off Academic Country, where they only read classic literature and went over word-by-word symbolism with ever finer combs. I'm no quality literature historian, but I imagine that those kinds of thematic conversations probably got louder as widescale communication got easier, such that a person could throw out into the aether, "Is it just me, or is the only time when cultural elements from Asian, Middle Eastern, Native American, or African civilizations turn up in mainstream lit is when they need 'exotic savage foreigners'?" and people would be able to chorus back, "OMFG THANK YOU I thought I was the only one bothered by that!!" (I mean, advancements in communication helped every minority find other people like themselves, which is why the Internet is part of real life and a genuinely precious resource to isolated odd folk who are forced to live in places that are hostile to them. You no longer have to live your entire life being the only lonely freak instance of your kind in the entire universe.)

So I recognize the shitty situation of having mainstream marketers telling people which stories were good and which story elements were admirable without also having access to Discourse that would challenge those norms. I remember just accepting that girls would hardly ever be able to be heroes the way boys could be, and that people from far-away cultures were always primitive and backward but in fascinating ways. Nothing in my daily life countered anything that I read. Discussions that I found online much later in life caused me to rethink the trends in everything that I'd read as a kid and see it all with fresh eyes so that I could realign my opinions. It's vital to have discourse and challenge happening alongside creation so that we don't have generations of people absorbing shitty norms that are supported by fiction and not realizing that there are even alternative ways of seeing things.

But there's still that issue, in my mind, of a good creation being one that creates ripples far outside of itself by prompting any kind of response in the consumer. Which is, I guess, why it seems fine to me that Problematic things exist and that people encounter them even if they come away hating those things. The encounter with that thing can make a person think about their own perceptions and experiences, and it can prompt conversations about was learned from that encounter - the why of the result and what it means. Obviously, the same can be done with media that makes a person happy or comforted, and that ends up in Discourse because people end up comparing their experiences and questioning whether the people who are happy/comforted are correct to feel that way about the media.

(Bonus Tangent: it's never possible to be incorrectly upset/offended, only incorrectly happy, strangely. Because telling people that they are not allowed to be upset about something is controlling and aggressive, but telling people that they're wrong to enjoy something is...I'm not finding any positive result. It's shaming, which is a response used to exert social control over others. Talking about whether or not casting shame on total strangers leads to the desired result is something that even I don't want to take the space to talk about. I'm one of those who considers emotion to be out of a person's control. Emotion precedes action. What's important, IMO, is what action a person takes regardless of what emotions they might have, because it's possible to choose actions. Telling a person that they're not allowed to feel a certain way is an attack based on something that a person can't actually control. Whenever I see antis saying things like "no one should ever enjoy this content," I wonder how people are supposed to casually shut off their enjoyment. Can the antis shut off their outrage with a flip of a switch, since it's just an emotion too? Attempting to reprogram a person's emotional or motivational palette leads to things like conversion therapy, which has a high rate of failure/relapse and tends to traumatize people into other mental deformities. That's why it's far more useful to focus on responses to emotion instead of emotion itself. People with uncontrollable emotional responses - such as phobias or fetishes, say - can learn adaptive actions faster than they can unlearn emotional responses.)

This was a hugely roundabout way of saying that I really think that bad media or problematic media are still important. They can prompt discussion and introspection, as mentioned, but, IME, even a shitty representation of a concept can put cracks in a person's worldview and make it possible for them to be open to better ideas in the same vein later on.

For instance, I had that strict mainstream heteronormative upbringing. The only thing I knew about queer people for a huge part of my life was that they needed to be pitied because they were going to hell, and the closest thing to a trans person that I knew about was that Crying Game trap drag queen concept where the sinister man in a dress seduced honest straight men with borrowed feminine wiles. (I literally did not know that transgender people were actually real until after I was 20, which is one reason why I am such a massive late trans bloomer.) I also had that strict gender role upbringing in which there were certain things that a person must and must not do in order to be "proper."

Back when I first got on the Internet and started interacting with fandoms, genderswap fics were popular in my circle. Often, it was basically the same plot as the source material, but you'd switch everybody to the opposite binary gender and then, based on the assumption that men and women think and do things in slightly different ways, the plot would usually derail from canon because the genderswapped characters wouldn't do the same things that they canonically did. It was just one of many common fanfic thought exercises.

Looking back, reading genderswap fics was something that started eroding the strict worldview that I'd inherited. The "men and women just naturally do things differently" was enough in line with traditional gender roles that it passed by my defenses, but the swapped cast of just about everything ended up with lots of strong, heroic women and the occasional male sidekick. Further, writers tended to use the "women are more socially/emotionally intelligent than men" stereotype to correct shitty things that male characters did in canon because, if they were women, they'd be too smart and perceptive to do whatever stupid thing they did and everything would have happened differently. Nowadays, there's formal discussion about the lack of strong female characters in mainstream fiction, but in fandom, female writers just fixed the problem directly with genderswap so all the interesting, powerful people could be women and the guys could be useless arm candy for once. It was a way of reclaiming importance and power when canon media didn't give women much else to work with.

(I became aware while ago that Discourse is informing people that genderswap fics are hugely offensive to trans people. Now, I've described my crappy upbringing, but as a trans person, I don't understand this at all. I get that the "opposite gender" swap upholds the gender binary, but the issue is offense against trans people, not against genderqueer or nonbinary people. I seriously don't get why I should be offended? Is it because the genderswap doesn't include actual RL transgender experiences, as if the entire cast were realistically transitioning as a plot element? Genderswap is not acceptable unless it specifically includes things like "this is the story of how Cloud Strife got her testicles removed and enjoyed growing breast buds thanks to HRT"?? Maybe I'm an idiot, but those are two distinctly different story concepts and both have merit. o_o)

Later on, I became aware of people who were preoccupied with stories and fantasies of fantastical gender transformation, usually male to female. Some stereotypical male character would get injected with an alien serum or zapped by a fairy's wand or something and he would immediately metamorphose into a woman. There was often a disturbingly rapey element to these stories, like the boy wouldn't want to be transformed and was horrified while he was changing, but after he settled into the woman-shape or had sex as a woman after changing, he realized that he loved it and felt so much better that way. The stories were mostly just short repeats of this exact same situation, written by different authors with slightly different details, and this group never seemed to get tired of them.

Eventually, I learned that most of the people in the core of this group identified as trans women, but they lived in circumstances where they weren't permitted any female expression or had lost hope of ever transitioning. They fixated on transformation fic as a way to soothe the pain of living. Looking back, the noncon/dubcon themes that kept appearing in the fics made sense as a way of indirectly satisfying the powerful social forces that were demanding masculinity of them. The male characters were trying hard to stay male, fighting back against the transformation; they were clearly performing all the do not want signals expected of men threatened with feminization. They fought the good fight, but the enemy overpowered them! Womanhood was forced upon them! It was totally unexpected that they enjoyed being a girl after all, but because their maleness had been aggressively destroyed, they were free to stop performing resistance and love themselves.

But you can find fetish material like this in a lot of places, without any context as to the intent of the creator. (And I'd argue that it counts as a fetish if you crave it as necessary somehow, regardless of whether or not you're jacking/jilling to it.) Some people would write the same kind of stories for forced feminization as a type of humiliation. Among furries, transformation fetish material seems to add an extra angle of growing into new power and strength by a change into some larger, more magnificent creature in addition to changes involving sexual characteristics.

Further into the fantasy fetish scene is smut involving dickgirls/cuntboys. Those terms are inherently objectifying and fetishizing; the focus is entirely on the genitals and how a person has the "wrong" ones for their body. Understandably, this is where trans people get turned into dehumanized kink fuel, and real life "tranny chasers" exist who try to weasel into relationships with trans people just to have an embodiment of their fetish.

Artists seem to be slowly getting better with at least giving a nod to real trans people when tagging this sort of art, but (likely to get the most search hits) usually it's just "transwoman/man" alongside "dickgirl/cuntboy." And the art, at least, is clearly designed as fap fuel, so it's not like changing the label makes the content more respectful to the real humans it resembles.

Fetish art with that sort of name shouldn't be uplifting or encouraging because it makes trans people into objects, I know. But I enjoy it when I see it not because it gets me hot in itself, but because I feel heartened when I see sexy art of, essentially, trans people who have not had any genital surgery. I'm fortunate in that I don't have the worst soul-crushing dysphoria surrounding my (still XX factory standard) genitals, but I know a lot of trans people get seriously torn up about theirs and worry that they'll never be truly attractive to others because their genitals are "wrong." While it's possible to find humiliation art online of people with all kinds of body configurations, I tend not to (YMMV again) find much that seems to be specifically shaming or hating on characters who have trans genitals specifically because they are wrong/ugly/queer/etc. They're just participating in enthusiastic hot sex like all the other characters. Sometimes they're literally just standing around looking sexy, like any other badly-posed pinup. But when they're in the mix of whatever smut they're depicted in, they're objects of desire with their own sexual power, unashamed and equal to the others, and the other characters find them attractive and are clearly really excited to be doing whatever they're doing with that hot trans character.

And this response is very problematic, I know, because smut of trans characters that's designed to satisfy fetishes actually does lead to cis stalkers who want trans partners as living sex toys. And art of pre/non-op trans people being sexually liberated and desirable might end up being nearly indistinguishable from most of the fetish art I've seen, apart from lacking the objectifying dickgirl/cuntboy label. I hate seeing those terms in art tags, but the art itself makes me happy. Not even aroused, just happy to see characters who are essentially pre/non-op trans people being desired and enjoying themselves. When you've lived your life believing that you're ugly and unlovable, seeing people similar to yourself in those kinds of situations is a Band-Aid on an old, deep wound. I wish someone would look at me that way. I wish someone wanted to touch me that way. And even if you can't have that for yourself, you can at least look at art where similar people can, and even if those trans people are imaginary six-breasted purple foxtaurs, you can still feel like at least there are trans people somewhere in the galaxy who are free and happy and desirable. It's the same as those trans girls who spent years telling each other the same MTF transformation story over and over and over even though it was pure fantasy. They needed periodic inoculations of that fiction to keep themselves afloat when they believed that they could never have the reality.

That's why, to return to my earlier point and to the points that the people in that big thread probably said better than I have, I don't want bad media to go away. Even gross White Man Story For White Menfolk fiction can at least prompt discussion and response and might have little bits in it that made someone out there think of something in a way that they haven't before. Even depictions of minorities that are pretty clearly designed to be shallow fetish fuel might be a lifeline to some isolated person to whom that shitty depiction is the most positive representation of their identity that they've ever seen. You'd hope that they'd quickly be able to find better ones, but beggars can't be choosers, and if that shitty depiction hadn't existed then they might never have had the chance or the knowledge that different views were possible. You just can't know what people see and think when they consume a particular piece of media. They bring so much of their own context into the experience.

That's why I wish people would focus on action instead of on vague, catastrophizing speculations about intent or potential or who has a "right" to create or consume certain things. There are at least a couple of stories floating around about female fic writers who regularly wrote m/m smut, but who, IRL, opposed same-sex marriage and disowned their queer relatives. IMO, that's how you can tell who is making objectifying content - by whether they treat actual, living representations of minorities/fetishes like frivolous entertainment. I would bet that those IRL-anti-queer fic writers wrote things that were indistinguishable from the general mass of fanfic, which was why other fandom people were shocked to discover their IRL actions. People create things for all sorts of different reasons, not because ther creations are a clear window into their innermost motivations. You just can't know what's in a person's head, no matter what sort of things they create.

And I've literally spent hours writing this and sort of vaguely editing it paragraph by paragraph, so I'm going to post this now and release myself from childhood memory hell. Ultimately, that reblogged thread still said all of this better, but I just had a compulsion to LET ME SING YOU THE SONG OF MY PEOPLE FOR TEN FUCKING PAGES. :P

And oh hey, I was so caught up in time-warping back to the 80's and early 90's that I forgot that Wikipedia existed, so here's their page on Piss Christ. Turns out the artist was male. Says it was only a photo?? Lies!! I distinctly remember seeing the goddamn gross jar of pee!! Because human memory is a reliable, unalterable record!! (Okay, I've clearly gone on too long here. I apologize to the whole internet in advance.)

#fetishization #queer #early life experiences #slurs #queer fetishization #fandom politics #not even sure what to tag this as so just sort of be generally cautious

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