#tw; class differences

[terrence-silver]

Maybe prompt ❛ you’re the first friend i ever had. ❜ for prewar Twig?

Your parents worked as staff for his own.

Naturally, being nine, you had an obligation too. Everyone had a task here.

You got to be his playmate.

Of course, in any other situation, Terry knew even then, his father would never allow the child of a cleaning lady taking care of his mother's Cashmere, embroidered bedsheets and a gardener tending the estate grounds to be friends with the sole Silver scion, as they called him, but his father once very explicitly told him he supposed it is good that someone makes Terry busy and ensures he's not exactly underfoot before he starts being introduced to circles he actually belonged to. Your parents were handed their bread and butter by him. Least their kid could do is keep his own company whenever it was necessary. Teach him the know-how of the basest of social interaction, whatever that meant in reality. Nothing crass and outlandish, naturally. Just the simplicity of how not to be so tremendously out of touch. Sheltered? Perhaps, yes. Being somewhat sheltered was a sign of good breeding, his pa' always said. Being clueless and an ignoramus wasn't. Terry remembered those words. -"I got you a friend, Terrence."- Father remarked once over dinner, inhaling his cigar smoke. -"So, play with it."- He added firmly, sipping his Bourbon, tinkering with his cufflinks, talking about you like you were a puppy or a stray kitten. Terry wasn't sure if he liked that or if he didn't. But, yes, you were his. His friend. Nobody else's. He asked for one and he got one and you were just perfect. Was it bad that he didn’t want to share? Why should he share? Sharing never felt nice. He didn't want to be mean, but maybe pa' could fire your parents if you were friends with anyone else?

So, you never were. Terry, being ten, liked that.

Loved that.

He imagined marrying you one day, the way adults did, as you drew images in chalk on the concrete with him, huddled over the pavement adjoined to the house, someone trimming the green verge the way mother liked (oval shaped and always clean) and keeping an eye out for him and you. Terry drew your names in a heart, you drew a flower. Then he drew a flower as well, to match you. Isn’t that what marriage was? Best friends living together forever and ever? Playtime never ending? You could eat together. Sleep together in the same bed. Hold each other’s hand. Ride in the same car. Have fun and laugh all day without anyone telling you the time for games was over. Terry knew married people did other things too. He wasn’t sure what, but he figured he wanted to do them too if they were with you. He wanted to do everything with you. Something in him prompts him to speak. A warm Friday afternoon, right after you had a cold lemonade carted out by one of pa’s people, before the purple dusk settled in and your parents are set to go home as their overtime shift finishes and Terry feels this moment will never happening again, something sweet smelling lingering in the heat of twilight, possibly supper being served in the great dinning hall, so he speaks:  -❛You’re the first friend I ever had.❜- Terry looks at you, sincerely, dusting off his knee. He wishes you could come eat with him and his parents. He wishes he could just have you, as his present. Terry draws an arrow through the heart on the concrete for special emphasis. He’ll love you for the rest of his life.

[theloveinc]

Which BNHA guys do you think try to eat ur ass first time you guys fuck?

My man Kiri has a dick so fat that he's beyond prepared and, in fact, READY to put all his effort into foreplay because he knows that schlong isn't going anywhere without a little prep beforehand.

The first time you fuck, clothes only just having been removed, he mentions foreplay and it's kinda funny because you don't expect such a... manly, big, jock-type looking guy to mean more than just fingering you for a minute or so. You practically think he's joking about it when you're moving to lay down, except -- suddenly he's flipping you right over to press your head into his pillow (gently) so he can eat you out in doggy. From there, it only takes about three or so licks before he's trying to stick his tongue in your ass.

-

Deku... wants to be classy and take things slow SO badly, yet... can't help himself if he's eating you out (which he does on the first date because... classy or not, he's a gentleman who gives head) and is putting his tongue everywhere it can reach.

Especially in your ass, given that he's somehow able to get your knees besides your cheeks with how seriously he gets into it.

-

And Dabi, without question, of course (which gives us Shoto by extension, probably because this asshole told him you can't give head without eating ass, but... whatever, given the circumstances of their relationship)!!!

He's just not about to waste his time going down on you if he isn't able to cover all bases; that means clit, hole, taint, AND rim. PERIOD. Another guy who manages to fold you in half so well you practically can't stand up straight up again, after. He might be a jackass but he's not a slacker when it comes to top.

I also feel like if you told Dabs he was bad at eating cat he'd add that to the list of reasons to k-himself. King.

[uncanny-tranny]

One thing that always bothered me in high school (and still does, years after!) was touring a college and the tour guides went, "as a college freshman, you'll probably be susceptible to the Freshman Fifteen, so be careful!" as my tour group passed the college's gym complex (it was actually a pretty impressive gym, though, but that's beside the point).

Like, that just bothers me because... I wonder what is so different between American high school and American college that might contribute to weight gain (sarcasm intended)! Even taking 101 classes is very different from the classes you might take in high school, I don't think it's fair to hold your body to the standards you had in high school.

Absolutely, I think it's important to prioritize health for your body, but weight gain associated with major lifestyle changes are normal and why I remember this so clearly is because the threat of weight gain was treated as something that ought to scare us straight. If you gain weight in college, there's a reason why, and it isn't a horrific ordeal that you ought to feel ashamed of.

[starpirateee]

I saw a headcannon once that Curt and Owen both have very strong Texan and Cockney (London working class) accents respectively, but have to use toned-down generic American/British accents when on the job. Do you think you could write something of them drunk, injured, sleepy, or stressed (basically in a scenario where theyre not thinking too much about their accent) where it slips out, and either confuses or entertains the other? Thanks! (also i love your writing so much its insane :D)

I have bought into this headcanon before, both sides of it! Working class Owen is something that can be so personal, actually, and full on cowboy Curt is so goddamn fun! Certainly will be good respite from the last fic 👀

Curt was bleeding and barely capable of holding himself together. He'd forced himself to keep face, not looking down enough to be able to see it. It was bad enough that he could feel it, sticky and viscous against his hand. That alone was enough to make him feel nauseous, but he was a professional. He knew how to deal with wounds without feeling the need to pass out.

Owen did as he always did. For him, it was just another part of the job, be it his own blood or someone else's, it was all the same when it came down to it. He had been the one to patch Curt up often enough, it was practically routine. This instance was no different.

With Curt suitably positioned, leaning back against his hands, Owen found the kit he needed and got to work. Curt dug his hands into the sofa to avoid having any kind of reaction to the stitches.

"I think you're lucky..." Owen remarked, laying his hand either side of the wound. "A few inches further down and you could say goodbye to ever charming a lady to the bedroom again..."

Curt tried to huff a breath of laughter, but that did nothing for him except make everything hurt more. "Ugh, god, please don't try an' be funny, I can't handle it-!"

Owen knew that Curt had always had a certain lilt to his words, some kind of intonation lost to time, but he'd never quite heard it like that before. He said nothing, but thinking about it had made him falter. The needle slipped a little, and Curt cursed under his breath.

"Jeez, Owen, ya couldn't take it easy?" He hissed.

No, he hadn't been hearing things. Curt really had slipped into a far more prominent southern twang than was normally present in his voice. One that he never even thought he'd hear from him. "Of... Course, I'm sorry." However surprised he was by that, it didn't stop the task at hand, or the need to finish it before it became too hard to see through the blood that was pooling.

Curt raised an eyebrow. "What'cha lookin' at me like that for?"

"I knew you were a southerner, but I didn't know it was supposed to be that obvious..."

"Wha-? Oh, fuckin' hell." Disappointment and something close to annoyance lingered on his face. He sighed, brushing a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I grew up in Texas. I tell people Austin, but that's just cos it's easier than sayin' some nowhere town 'bout fifty miles out."

"What's wrong with it?"

"Huh?"

"You don't seem particularly happy about it."

"It's just, I spent weeks on tonin' this accent down so I wouldn't stand out so much when I was on the job, y'know? All that, then it just goes an' comes back when I'm not thinkin' 'bout it..."

Owen nodded, and pressed down a little harder to alleviate some of the sensation from the needle. "It's a stress response, reverting back to accents that don't take so much strain to uphold." He answered automatically, feeling Curt shift a little bit under his hand.

"Right. Yeah. Somethin' like that."

"You don't have to think about it at all— you presumably grew up sounding like that... So you're focusing on something like the pain of being shot, and suddenly-"

"I'm seventeen again, and I sure as hell sound it, too." This time, Curt did manage a chuckle that didn't seem to hurt so much. Maybe it was because Owen was almost done patching him up, and there was less cause for every alarm bell in his body to be blaring... "Yeah, that's pretty much spot on."

"Would it make you feel any better to know that I have exactly the same stress response?"

"I'm sorry, what now?"

Owen didn't elaborate. He worked on finishing up Curt's stitches, and then started cleaning the needle and packing up the kit. Completely baffled by not getting a response, Curt held up a hand to stop him before he could move away. "Woah, woah, hold on. You're tellin' me you don't sound like that either?"

"It seems we've both been lying about exactly the same thing." A soft smile crossed Owen's face, and he simply decided to discard the kit on the coffee table for the time being. He'd played right into Curt's curiosities there, he supposed, so he might as well play into them a little more...

"I wanna know now!" True to his person, Curt remained ever the curious one. He carefully replaced his shirt, and leaned forwards as much as the pain would allow. "What d'you sound like? Where are you from?"

Owen raised his hands. "Would you let me clean up before I told you that, please?"

Curt resigned with a nod, and followed Owen from the sofa with a glance as he wandered away to wash his hands of the blood that may have otherwise stained his fingertips. When he returned, he was waiting eagerly, intrigued to find out where Owen had come from and why it seemed both of them held sacred the exact same lie.

"I suppose I had the same problem as you," Owen started, as he took a seat next to Curt and shifted enough to look at him. "It was a matter of just... Wishing to be invisible among the men at the agency, and then it became something of a habit..."

"So, what about it, then? Where'd you grow up?"

"I grew up in Southwark. It's... Close enough to Peckham? You've been there."

He had. And he remembered how strong the accents were around there, too. To hear something like that coming from Owen would probably send him into shock, he supposed, especially since he was so used to what he was hearing now. He caught himself staring and shook his head. "No way..."

Owen took a breath. He had to think about dropping the accent he had now, it had become a subconscious effort to keep it up, and he hadn't actively heard his own, true voice in a long time.

"People don't— y'know— really ask for clarification when you tell 'em you're from London, so I tend not to bother givin' any better than that... Besides," he smiled, "I get foreigners thinkin' I'm right posh, and that's kinda fun, really."

Curt stared. He'd literally been gearing himself up for the sudden change, but hearing Owen sound so rough was not something he'd previously ever imagined. "Oh my god... You really never run outta ways to surprise me, huh?"

"Well, you asked..."

"Oh, and I'm not complainin'! 'S just unexpected when I've known you with that other voice for so long."

"I could say the same..."

"Why'd ya let people believe you're posh if you ain't?"

"... 'S easier. Most people just assume all of London is exactly the same, and who'm I to argue?" He leaned in a little, letting his gaze meet Curt's. "But, you wanna know the hardest part 'bout tryna keep that up?"

"Shoot."

"I used to swear like a sailor."

Curt laughed. When he realised Owen was being entirely serious, he laughed only harder. "Now that, I gotta hear!"

"Get me drunk enough, and you have yourself a deal."

[writesology]

cause everything means nothing if i can't have you

the first coffeeshop au art i've made... technically not The first but the first i've finished and actually posted so. yippee!!

[spiderwebbd]

Hello PHIGHTING fandom please accept this peace offering in exchange for letting me in your humble community

Alt version of boombox below :]

[pandora15]

life is cruel.

it's tragic, horrific, and unfair. it gives us the worst of things, causes us to feel and experience things that are so unspeakably painful that sometimes I can't even. I can't even.

and it seems even more cruel in those moments of pain and grief and loss when you see something beautiful, like fall colors, or the color of the sky at sunset, or how the holidays typically are meant to bring joy to people but all you can think about now is that every year when this time of year comes, you'll just think about how tragic it is.

and cruel.

and horrific.

and unfair.

and beautiful.

[msfbgraves]

Cobra Kai 2.0

Something that struck me about the new Cobra Kai versus the Cobra Kai in the films -

Nearly every Cobra Kai member they focus on in the series is underprivileged. Hawk is disabled. Miguel is a poor boy whose family are immigrants. Tory is a fatherless poor caretaker of a sick mother and younger brother. Kenny is a poor black kid picked on by a bunch of rich white kids. Yes, there's Parker, but did he ever get his own episode? Aisha is a bullied black kid, though she's rich (which got her booted off the show).

The Miyagi Do's are the rich ones, the stable ones (no one we know of among them, other than Robby, has much hardship to overcome). Beautiful dojo and everything.

But that wasn't what the films were selling! The Cobra Kais were a group of mostly white preppy rich kids ganging up on one new poor kid, who, to some people in that Encino club, might still have counted as not-quite-white (if Aly was born around 1966, her parents will have been born around 1930-1940, and to those people, Daniel LaRusso would have been called a swarthy wop, guinea or dago by some people they grew up with, if they're too polite to use such language by 1983). Daniel definitely takes pains not to seem other to his environment even in 2018.

Sorry, but if your message is: "Cobra Kais are people too", why can't you simply try to win sympathy for preppy white kids? Why make Johnny into a blue collar worker? Nothing in his background suggests that. Why not make him a divorced, washed up, bankrupted investment banker? Why have Eli not simply be the vaguely Jewish kid who has trouble making friends? Really, if your whole raison d'être is "shitty rich kids are people too", why are you making it so that your protagonists are always fighting the rich kids? Who... aren't even shitty? Who did Samantha LaRusso ever hurt? And maybe there's Anthony, but he's barely in the show for three seasons.

Teaching poor kids to fight dirty because life can do you dirty is borderline justified. But The Karate Kid was about rich kids being taught to fight dirty and then taking all their advantages out on poor kids, because might makes right. Johnny, with his bike, and his preppy clothes, laughing at Daniel who has to sneak in through the kitchen to see his uptown girl. Chozen, the strong henchman to his insanely rich uncle, ganging up on the poor foreign boy. Terry Silver, making business deals with career fighter Mike Barnes. Humanise that all you like - but we also see what that looks like in the films, and that's Aly. The rich girl who really likes this new sweet kid, and doesn't care his mother is probably too outspoken for her parents' liking, and doesn't care her girlfriends don't much care for him. Aly, who is nothing but polite to Mr. Miyagi (compare that to Terry Silver's openly racist taunts), and only breaks up with Daniel when he jumps to conclusions (once about the class difference, another time when he was openly jealous about her talking to other guys). Show why, as taught by Johny, Cobra Kai 2.0 is good for those kids, or indeed show Johnny figuring out why it isn't and trying to make a change.

Because a poor kid learning "No Mercy" because they're trying to survive in a world that is trying to crush them is a very different setup than teaching a rich kid with all advantages in the world how to go around and pick on people, which is what Kreese was doing. The closest we get to that in the show is Hawk. It indeed isn't pretty and his redemption is entirely rushed, but even Eli, vaguely Jewish kid with a scarred face and trouble understanding social cues, had it much harder than, say, Tommy, who simply liked to win fights with his friends, if that meant nearly beating a young Newark boy to death after a school dance.

[nolanhollogay]

see me after class:

reeling from what was arguably the worst six month stretch of his life, alejandro granados is very ill-equipped to start a new school year. after an incredibly messy divorce and a long coming and extremely painful sexuality crisis, he couldn't think of anything he wanted to do less than teach a class about love to a group of kids who don't care whether he lives or dies.

but then came daniel ángeles. daniel, who's smart and gorgeous and the only student who makes him excited to teach a lesson, and so incredibly nineteen.

alejandro knows he must resist temptation but daniel is his forbidden fruit. even eve wasn't strong enough not to take a bite, so is it really his fault if he sinks his teeth into him? aren't rules meant to be broken?

taglist: @witchofinterest @kentaroranda @partiallypearl @eddysocs @dogscomplex @compoundvee @hiddenqveendom @daughter-of-melpomene @bibaybe @joshdiaz @arrthurpendragon@shades0frainbow@xoteajays

[terrence-silver]

maybe how any terry would be with a beloved who grew up very poor and having to work no matter what, out of necessity for money and to feel like they are doing something?

He gives them things to work at.

Opens charities for them, devises employment, invents tasks, foundations, paid hobbies, if need be; if Terry Silver has to practically make up a smaller company beloved can tinker with, with no actual danger of major monetary losses (because it is a miniscule little project in a sea of others) then so be it. If this habitual illusion of working puts beloved's mind at ease through a sense of artificial routine, even when he's assured them time and time again he can and will take care of them for the rest of their life and that they don't have to actually do a thing anymore, Terry comes up with ways for beloved to be comforted by their new lot in life with him and not feel stifled and idle. He designs a controlled bubble where they can, in effect, indulge in the placebo that gives them peace of mind in an environment where they won't be touched, look at, harassed, overworked and certainly not underpaid (which just isn't a possibility). Given, this is nepotism at its finest. Terry doesn't care, though. He laughs at the notion. The work is very real, naturally, but the work is almost like a snow-globe Terry set beloved into to indulge in their learned, trauma-based habit of being extremely attached to jobs. They work without working. Of course, he can give them a colossal raise, if he so wishes, for no reason at all. He can fire all the assistants here to make their life cozy. He can micromanage every aspect of this little company to ensure it runs okay, caught somewhere between being genuine work and a recreational extracurricular. But, life and rules are what Terry Silver makes them, and if he has to put together an illusory career for the one he loves without it ever interfering with their time with him all while feeding something inside of them, he will. Upside is? He gets to be in control.

[yutaan]

I sometimes like to listen to video game playthroughs while I work and let me tell you, whatever expectations I had for the sequel to rpg-maker horror game Purgatory, it was NOT what I actually received (i.e. Epic In Which A Teen Demonic Harem And Their Boyfriend Decide To Start A Revolution)

[ghostorbz]

original prompt

Get rocked, loser

[buck-yyyy]

…i just realized that i don’t really remember a whole lot about the past few months

[bloodyodyssey]

Who determines the limit at which humanity ends and godhood begins?

[t-u-i-t-c]

“you need to be cautious of it”

[septembermonologues]

i love my friend to pieces and i know she loves me but sometimes it feels like she can't accept that she has a fat friend. i can talk about my body as neutally as i can and it's the "you're not that big/you're not as big as you think you are" or sizing me way down and im left feeling guilty for not wearing the shirts she gets me and most recently it was looking at shirts and me saying i'd need a XXXL for it to fit comfortably because it was a mens shirt and i'm a 44g so i need the room in the chest and she was adamant that i only needed a XL and i just felt so defeated. one of us lives in my body and knows how it feels and what works for it and what doesn't and i'm in a place where i know that my body is going to be what it's going to be and i just don't know what to do with someone who can't seem to grasp what that all means.