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gatorbites-imagines · 2 years

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Kinktober day 25

Clark Kent + Musk/Sweat

I am not dead, I just needed a few days since I wrote so much last month. This features some of my kryptonian headcanons, since I can’t help myself. Reader is a fellow hero in this.

Kinktober list

Clark felt disgusting, like a creep or a weirdo. Why was he feeling this way? Well, it was because he was digging through Y/Ns laundry. It was more like all the of leagues dirty laundry, everyday clothes, hero suits or what the kryptonian was mostly hoping for, used workout clothes. Ever since he had met Y/N Clark had been so taken with the other man. A deep yearning and need had rooted itself in Clark’s chest and had never left since, it seemed to actually have gotten worse over the years.

He had discovered his obsession with the other wants scent one day when Clark had hidden himself away in the league’s laundry room. It had been a weeklong mission and Clark had not been able to find anywhere private to masturbate, and because of his kryptonian genes it had gotten uncomfortable after a few days of no release. After getting off, Clark had grabbed a random piece of fabric that was gonna be washed anyways to dry himself off.

That’s when he caught the scent, it made his knees weak, and he had to grab the wall not to collapse. He had immediately hardened again, which wasn’t unusual since he really had no rest period between orgasms, but when he started dripping without even touching himself, he couldn’t help but pull the fabric to his nose. Clark swore his vision went white for a second as he inhaled deeply, the scent filling all his senses as his cock jerked and shot cum against the wall without any need to touch himself.

After getting off a couple more times with an almost maddening need, Clark had finally calmed down enough to check just who’s laundry he had grabbed. When it turned out to be Y/Ns hero suit, the one he had worn almost all week during the mission the kryptonian had gone red with embarrassment and had quickly cleaned up and fled the scene.

Every single time he got off after that he thought of Y/N, his body, his scent. It always had Clark finishing quicker than normal, spraying white all over himself and his hand and leaving him panting. No orgasm had been as good as when he was inhaling the other man’s scent, so though it made Clark feel ashamed, he started sneaking Y/Ns laundry from the leagues wash. He always returned it before it could be missed, his face flustered and abdomen tingly.

It turned out that Clark wasn’t as sneaky as he had hoped during all his past thefts, as the door to the laundry room shut with a snap. Turning around Clark found Y/N, in nothing but his workout clothes. A pair of baggy shorts that hung low on his hips, and a tight black tank top that sculpted against his torso. Clark could see sweat glistening on his skin, the scent brushing against Clarks sensitive senses causing the man to have to clench his thighs together to hope and hide any obvious sign that it was affecting him.

Clark tried to avert his gaze and act normal, as if he was just sorting the mess that was the league’s laundry as he kept his eyes anywhere but on the man of his deepest desires. The kryptonian was so busy trying not to stare or let his body show just how much the man’s sweaty scent was affecting him, that he didn’t notice Y/N slink his way over and lean his body against Clarks back. Clark froze as the other mans sweaty arms wrapped around him, the kryptonian gulping the spit that was gathering in his mouth as he tried to stutter out asking that the other man was doing.

Y/N chuckled softly, “You think I haven’t noticed Clark?” he asked, voice thick with lust and want as he pressed himself further against Clarks back, his crotch rubbing against the other mans behind where the kryptonain could feel he was half hard. Going even more red Clark ducked his head and tried to apologize, tears gathering in his eyes as shame almost swallowed him whole, his own cock giving an interested twitch as it started hardening.

Hearing how wobbly and distraught Clark sound, Y/N was quick to turn the other man around and kiss him, telling him that he wasn’t mad and was actually extremely flattered. He had even planned a surprise for Clark, which had the kryptonians attention though he was still embarrassed. Stepping back Y/N leant against one of the walls of the laundry room, smirking at Clarks eyes followed him closely. Then Y/N lifted one of his arms, placing his hand behind his head and exposing his armpit, the post workout musk hitting Clarks senses like a drug.

His knees grew weak as heat filled him, Clark whimpering softly as his eyes fluttered. When Y/N beckoned him closer Clark could almost not stay upright as he stumbled over, his hands coming up to grasp the other mans hips. His mind cleared enough for him to feel embarrassed again, meeting Y/Ns eyes who just gave him an encouraging smile, his pupils blown wide with lust and need.

Finally throwing his shame to the wind Clark leant in to bury his nose into Y/Ns sweaty pit, the musky scent making Clarks eyes roll back into his head as he almost desperately stuck out his tongue and started licking. Y/N groaned as Clark started licking and sucking at his armpit like a starved man, his length growing fully hard and heavy in the confines of his shorts. The kryptonian moaned as the smell and taste of Y/Ns sweat had him cumming, his thighs quivering as the crotch of his clothes grew soaked by his fluids.

This kept up until the pit was licked clean, where Clark moved onto the other one much to Y/Ns delight. Y/N was impressed at just how much Clark could cum, and just from his scent and taste alone, as a puddle of white started gathering by their feet. When there was nothing more to taste, Clark found himself resting against the other man’s chest, looking up at him with pupils so large they almost swallowed the blue of his eyes. Y/N ran his hands through Clark’s hair, leaning down to press a kiss to the kryptonians forehead who whimpered and tried to lean in closer.

Knowing this was far from over Y/N slowly pushed Clark back and got him cleaned up, before ordering the man to go to Y/Ns room at the tower where they would continue. Clark seemed hesitant but when Y/N took of his sweaty tank top and threw it at the man, the kryptonian was gone with a speed that would make the flash jealous. Y/N chuckled to himself as he cleaned up their mess, digging up some of his old laundry and tucking it under his arm before he left for his room, going down some less used hallways so no one would see him with his raging hard erection. He couldn’t wait to pick Clark apart, he thought with a smirk.

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deancaspinefest · 4 months

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Whatever Makes You Happy

Author: Rex_Writes | Artist: Kit Shay

Posting on Sunday March 24

An aspiring songwriter, Dean Winchester spends his days in the local coffee shop, which just happens to be run by the most gorgeous man he has ever seen, Castiel Novak. This gorgeous man becomes his muse, songs flow out of Dean’s pen with the speed of a rushing river. Unfortunately, just like getting his songs heard, Castiel is just another thing Dean can’t have. He’s had his heart broken by a straight guy before and he can’t go through that again. Thankfully, Dean meets Lee Webb who is an amazing singer, AND he’s actually /interested/ in Dean. Will Dean stay with the man who’s a sure thing or will he risk everything for whatever makes him happy?

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

Dean took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart and steady his shaking fingers.

"Hey. You're gonna be great. They're gonna love you," Charlie said as she placed a reassuring hand on Dean’s shoulder.

"It's not them I'm worried about. It's him. What if he just thinks I'm some sort of…creep." Dean huffed softly and dropped his head to his chin. "This was a stupid idea, Charlie, I can't do this." Dean stood up from the stool he had been sitting on. "Charlie?" Charlie had disappeared, but Dean saw the curtains flutter close as he heard her voice over the speaker.

"Guys, gals, and non-binary pals, welcome to open mic night, or as I like to call it, Artist Validation Night. Our first performer is a little shy, so let's give a warm round of applause for Dean Winchester!"

The curtains on the mock stage in the coffee shop swooshed open and Dean was suddenly faced with too many familiar faces. He couldn't do this. This was too much, he didn't sing in front of people. Hell, Charlie wouldn't even know he could sing if she hadn't come home early one day and heard him while he was taking a shower.

But here he was. There was only one person he was singing to, but he forced himself not to look, instead focusing on finding the right chords.

You were here before Couldn't look you in the eye You look like an angel Your skin makes me cry

Dean closed his eyes as he sang. Piercing blue eyes flashed through his mind.

But I'm a creep I'm a weirdo What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here

Dean knew that he missed notes, and his tone wasn’t perfect, but that's what happened when you put all your emotion into a song. His fingers deftly slid over the frets, playing the chords he knew by heart. Dean took a deep breath and finally lifted his eyes from his guitar during the next section, easily finding those blue eyes at the back of the room. He stared into those gorgeous blue eyes singing the next lines without looking away.

I want you to notice When I'm not around So fuckin' special I wish I was special

Dean broke the connection first by double checking he had the right finger placement for the upcoming bridge. He took a grounding breath and launched into the bridge.

Whatever makes you happy Whatever you want You're so fuckin' special I wish I was special

Dean looked back up to meet the icy blue stare yet again, but he was gone. Fuck. He knew this was a shit idea. He knew Cas was straight. He was gonna kill Charlie.

Dean finished the song, finding a cruel truth in the last chorus.

But I'm a creep I'm a weirdo What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here

(continue reading on Ao3 on Sunday March 24)

#destiel #deancas #destiel fic #deancas fic #destiel art #deancas art #pinefest 2024 #pinefest previews #2024 Dean/Cas Pinefest #author: Rex_Writes #artist: Kit Shay #Singer/Songwriter AU #Misunderstandings #UST

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romanarose · 2 months

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All right, I lied I’m talking about it again

CW for mentions of sexual assault, CSA, supposed, pedophilia, fandom, discourse, kink, etc, etc

First, let me explain to those confused, what happened and then I’ll defend myself and then we’ll leave it there because once I go through everything your opinion is just going to be based on your point of view and I can’t really argue you out of that which is fine, so just go ahead and block me if you think I’m a creep weirdo or anything else that Radiohead says

Today as I am in class packing up my shit to leave right after my presentation I get a notification from a Tumblr mutual that said that a Tumblr blog I’ve never heard of or interacted with is posting about me in a harassing way so I go and I check it into my surprisethey posted screenshots of my most recent fanfiction. I miss you Mr. Miller.

The post explicitly called me a pedophile. I’ll share the screenshots, but the username as far as I can tell has been cropped out of everything. If you want to send and ask to this person and say your peace, I can’t stop you, but I ask you not harass this person, and simply report the post, if you know who it is

In one of the re-blogs or an answer to an ask, they called for mass, reporting my blog

No, I don’t say this to say that people who have been through what I’ve been through can’t be pedophiles or abusers, because they absolutely can but I say this to say why I had such a reaction to this and why I write the things I write

I have been a victim of child, sexual abuse was stocked, threatened and sexually harassed by an older man. When I was 17, lost my virginity to rape and 18, and then was raped again at 19 so believe me when I say that throwing around these words is shocking to me to just call me a pedophile. I write the things I write, innocent, reader, virgin reader, daddy kink, because of the things that I have been through sometimes as a reclamation of the experiences that I have suffered, sometimes as coping sometimes as comfort depends on the story.

No, let’s talk the specific issues

1. Shoes. Before I saw any of this, someone had DM me politely mentioning the shoes saying that they looked like child feet and that they wanted to make sure they were adult feet. I responded back that when I found the shoes on Pinterest they didn’t say anything one way or another, but I specifically look at the descriptions of clothing items because I don’t want to use clothing items that aren’t made for adults. If I can help it however, reverse image search shows that those are in fact an adult size and an adult model.

2. The dress once again, when I found the dress on Pinterest, I had already sorted out several dresses that I liked that first glance, but when I look at the description they said, teen or tween. It’s hard to tell right away it was certain styles there’s no model the dress is meant for what age I remember in my young adult hood when I was still dressing feminine and was a much smaller size. I sometimes found clothes at thrift stores. I thought were cute and would later find out they were meant for teens or twins, such as life.

2 Readers. Reader is 21+. Me personally I don’t put reader is 18+ in all my stories or my age gap stories, nor do I expect to see them when I read age gap stories in other peoples works, because I just assume everyone is an adult unless there’s some thing that tips me off against that, however, straight off the bat, the idea of being fucked in your childhood bedroomI feel like implies that she is one no longer a child and two doesn’t live there anymore. A couple chapters in, her and Joel are at her apartment and she was buying a new mattress having an apartment in itself implies at least 18 buying a new mattress is something you do in your 20s lol because no one was still in their name is gonna get excited about a mattress sale on Presidents’ Day. Then she was out drinking with Joel in a bar and yes, minors can get snuck into bars all the time I was a minor snuck into bars, however in this particular context, it just doesn’t make sense because Joel reader were already afraid of being seen together together. Joel wouldn’t want to add buying drinks for someone under 18 and taking them home after the bar to the list of worries and I know that in a lot of countries, the age of drinking can vary but in the US we’re both I live and where Joel fictionally lives the drinking age of 21, hence 21+ no none of the stuff I mentioned guarantees and reader but to me it’s coding in the same way that the people making accusations towards me are saying that reader is “coded“ as a child

3. Sex in the church. This was an afterthought in the person‘s post but I’ll address it anyway because they’re losing their mind that I mentioned having sex in a church for the context of the thick. Specifically, they had sex in a church bathroom, not in the actual sanctuary, or the pews, or anything however, for the record, I don’t got a problem with fanfiction having sex in a church because it’s not real. I would never actually have sex in a church, I try to go up to avoid going to a church as much as possible. The fanfiction isn’t real, it can’t hurt you

Lesson fucking learned, explicitly say reader is 18+ every time or someone is gonna accuse you of being a pedo

In the end, it’s not gonna change anyone’s minds. Because if you think that calling someone daddy, being hyper or liking to be babied, anything like that, makes you a pedophile, then I can’t really ration my way out of this.

However, I want to say thank you to everyone who reached out. A lot of blogs I’ve never interacted with a lot of friends, mutuals and on or blogs that I’ve followed on here for a year. Now I’ve reached out to me and offer their support which I really really appreciate and I cannot appreciate enough.

Hopefully I can still enjoy my cousins wedding this weekend and get my schoolwork done that I need to before going back to classes on Monday and that this doesn’t make more worse my already precarious mental health. But I’ve gotten so much love in so many kind words that it’s hard not to feel grateful for the amount of support I’ve gotten.

Between this and a minor hoopla about my pride even, I’m kinda sick of tumblr sometimes but y’all remind me of the good

Yes, you can re-blog, and if you wanna know who it is then ask someone else that’s fine I don’t really care that much. I just don’t want to be dog piling the person.

However, please report it. Because people are still sharing it, and commenting and liking especially about the shoe size

That’s it that’s my peace

#discourse #tw rape mention #cw csa mention #Cw discourse

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artistic-argonian · 20 days

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TL,DR: Being autistic and overwhelmed by touch sometimes and wanting it other times is weird. Throw sensual attraction in the mix and it becomes even weirder and I'm still processing it all.

Long explanation below the cut.

Realising more and more every day how strange and contradictory it is to be an autistic person who doesn't like being touched by strangers or just randomly without warning or permission (even by family), but also really enjoys and somewhat craves close physical contact with people.

To an extent it makes sense, like I wouldn't want a complete stranger or someone I don't know very well to just hug me, but even with people I'm close with I internally freak out if I'm approached from behind, for example. I sit with my back to the wall most of the time in restaurants after an incident with family members and friends constantly touching my hair as they walked past years ago that made me very uncomfortable. Touch can be overstimulating for me in situations where I'm suffering from sensory issues. But other times it's really soothing for some reason, like when I'm upset or feeling low, I love the warmth and sensation of being held tightly. Or on the rare occasion someone's either put cream onto or just scratched my back for me (I have to have medicated lotion put on my back where I can't easily reach by myself) I love it and don't want it to stop.

Somehow I'm simultaneously the "don't touch me or I'll freak out" and "please crush my soul into my body" kind of autism depending on my mood and the situation, as well as the person/people. I don't really get physically close with people outside of my family, mainly because I don't feel I'm emotionally close enough to/it'd just be plain awkward with anyone I know IRL, or the people I am close enough with to feel comfortable are all online and live very far away from me.

Realising I have this desire is so weird because I used to think I was just "no touchie" with everybody, but it turns out there are people I like being close like that with. There are people I want to hug hard when I get the chance to meet them and I want to be held by (especially with realising I can experience what I believe to be sensual attraction, which makes that desire even stronger with certain people). And that opens a whole new issue of potential awkwardness; not wanting to seem like some kind of weirdo or creep because while saying "Hey if we ever meet IRL I'm gonna hug you" is fairly normal and something I've said to most of my online friends, I worry it'd be weird for me to be like, "Hey if we ever meet IRL, I not only want to hug you, but I want to cuddle and embrace you. I want to hold you close and feel your warmth around me and be physically affectionate in a casual, platonic, yet intimate way. But only with explicit permission/consent because I know a lot of people probably view that sort of thing as strictly romantic or even sexual and I really don't want to make things weird between us."

Like I'm still struggling with the thought/feeling of wanting that, not knowing if it'll ever happen (because distance), and being afraid of it being too weird for the other person if the chance ever did arise so just not doing it or bringing it up anyway. I feel like this post already makes me look a bit unhinged in that regard so I'll leave it there. A long, kinda aimless rant, but there you go.

#Just a recent realisation I had and felt I should share.#Probably makes me look like a weirdo but yeah.#If anyone I know or feel this way towards sees this: I'm so sorry if this made you uncomfortable. I just felt like I had to get it out.#aro #aromantic #arospec #aspec #tertiary attraction

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existslikepristin · 1 year

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This is dedicated to all the people who guessed wrong on this post, because nobody guessed correctly. :soojinbully:

Anonymous editor is back at it again for this one!

Tags: NSFW, TheLounge, Twice, Jeongyeon, gender-unspecified reader because it's still rainbow month babyyy!, fingering, heavy make outs, a bit of embarrassment, more prose-y than normal for me, don't worry there's no actual horror in this one, voyeurism I think?, wow I spelled voyeurism right on the first try

Not Summer Yet

Jeongyeon's face, barely illuminated in a sea of pitch black, contorts in terror. Slowly, a hand rises to clasp over her mouth. Her fingers are crushing yours, grasping desperately to them like a lifeline thrown to a drowning casualty. It's not slow motion. She's just stuck that way, eyes widening slowly, like portals to some unknown hell.

You've waited for this. Yes, this terror is your fault, and exactly what you wanted. Even now, as she clings to you, fully aware of your orchestration and yet unable to deny her attachment to you, you regret nothing. A smile creeps up your lips. Yes… this will do.

The basement door opens…

Jeongyeon shrieks, and drops the mostly empty bucket of popcorn.

~~~~~

"Oh my gosh, that was so scary!" She says for the seventh time since leaving the theater.

"Ha, right?" You chuckle. You've already told her about the first time you saw the movie. Old, black and white, and so masterfully directed as to cause suspenseful dread so many decades later. It's no wonder it still occasionally gets a real theater showing.

"Sheeeesh. Well… here I am," Jeongyeon gestures at the apartment building's front door. You stroll off the street with her and get an unexpected hug. It's awkward and from the side, but with a little finagling, you twist around in her arms and return it.

She nuzzles your shoulder and drapes her chin over it. Here you are, just a couple of cuddling hamsters on the sidewalk. The smell of her perfume reminds you of your first date together. You barely caught a whiff because you weren’t sniffing her like a weirdo, but it was distinct, musky, ever so slightly fruity, an unripe grove, but the kind growing the organic stuff. You’re not sure if you could say you enjoyed the excessively salty hot pot you ate together, but that matters so little, and you found out so much you have in common, at least as far as taste in all-you-can-eat ingredients is concerned.

“Do you want to come in?”

It’s a good thing Jeongyeon’s chin is over your shoulder, because you’d be pretty embarrassed at how far your eyes are popping out if she could see them. “Yeah, sure,” you say immediately to avoid the appearance of hesitation.

A key code is punched in, a door is opened. No monsters or serial killers behind this one, but you feel some amount of suspense anyway. Jeongyeon has not made any suggestions like this yet, so the presumably sexual proposition… Maybe it’s not sexual. Seems like a stretch, but it’s best to err on the side of caution, as they say and as you definitely adhere (note: that is sarcasm).

Jeongyeon guides you through the apartment. You’re not exactly unfamiliar with its layout, but you’d rather not recall your second date dammit here you go you can’t stop it. That was when you discovered that Jeongyeon was an idol, and that you were an idiot. Several of her friends tagged along. It was sort of a triple date kind of situation. You saw them and you asked Jeongyeon, “OMG, you’re friends with Twice?” and she said, “I’m in Twice.” You then spent the rest of the evening with a glowing red face while Nayeon, Jihyo, Chaeyoung, Tzuyu, and Mina explained in excruciating detail all of the sex they’d already had with you up until that point. Jeongyeon was unbothered, and asked you out on a third date once the wine tasting was over. The unwitting eavesdroppers sitting at the adjacent tables, however, looked very judgemental.

You snap out of that devastatingly traumatic flashback as Jeongyeon sits you down on a bed, in her room, with the lights set quite dim. She sits next to you and her fingers entwine with yours. This adorable piece of shit must think she can win you over by being cute and wholesome, and she’s correct.

“Can I kiss you?” she asks.

You don’t need to be asked Twice (get used to it because this stupid joke will be used several more times tonight). You get on that faster than Nayeon getting naked, which is a measurement of time you have experience with. Don’t think about your second date again. Think about the third.

That was the first time Jeongyeon held your hand. You were on the roof of one of the JYP office buildings, looking out over Seoul. It was perhaps the least fancy date you’ve ever been on, and barely even counted as one, according to Yeri. There was no food, music, or dancing. There were a couple bottles of mediocre beer, a couple of lingering touches, and a couple of minds exchanging deep thoughts about the secrets of the universe. It was mostly her thoughts that were deep, you’d admit. You’ve been avoiding universal secrets whenever possible since Halloween.

It’s so electric when your lips touch you think you might need to make a call to the apartment’s manager to file a safety complaint. It’s as if you’ve known her and waited for this for years… which isn’t entirely, technically inaccurate. It’s wonderful.

Her kisses are as slow as the multi-month build up to this moment. Sitting side by side as you are, you don’t have much choice, but it’s nice. Despite the initial thundershock popping you with that ten percent chance of paralysis, you’re feeling comfortable. Her nose brushes your cheek, her wistful breath puffs off of you, and her fingers curl onto your shirt sleeve.

You respond to it all in kind, resting your palm on her knee and caressing her jawline. She’s soft, and yet you’re the one who feels like you’re melting. Maybe she’s feeling the same way, but given how smoothly she pulls you down until you’re both on your backs with your legs hanging off the bed, you suspect that she’s feeling more like a marshmallow hovering over a campfire. Soft and cool, but she’s got a s’more to warm up for—That’s a horrendous simile and we’re moving on to reminisce about your fourth date.

That date was a walk in the park, literally. It was in the middle of the night, so it felt like you and Jeongyeon were the only two people in the world, hopping onto the playground swings, hand in hand, with just a pair of nearby streetlamps keeping you from tripping over the end of a slide and face planting.

“Hey,” she’d started, “Stop me if this is weird.”

Rather than quip about how you’re friends with Yerin so nothing’s weird anymore, you kept your mouth shut.

“I have a really hard time saying things like this, but I think I kind of like you.”

Back in the present, Jeongyeon’s kisses are only barely more insistent, her breath a little needier. Your instincts are teetering back and forth between flipping her over and taking the lead because you think you know what she wants or begging her for more because you’re pretty sure you know what you want. Normally you’d have so much better of a read on the situation, but Jeongyeon is like a prescription signature.

She sneaks her hand under the hem of your shirt, lightly stroking your stomach as she pushes up. Her breath gets shaky, and she lifts herself away from you.

“Sorry,” she whispers, “I… shouldn’t…”

Just like on the swings, words don’t feel right. You touch her cheek, gently guiding her to look into your eyes. Once there, you glance down at her shirt and back up, then carefully take the uppermost button of that shirt between your fingers. You hope she’s looking for permission, because that’s what you want to give her.

Good call, that was. She quickly unbuttons the rest, from the bottom to the top. Her shirt falls open and she falls onto you, all lips and hushed breaths. Your poor shirt gets stretched near to the point of ripping as you and Jeongyeon try to pull it up and out from the middle of your crushing embrace. Both of you give up at a point, unwilling to separate from each other and satisfied enough by the skin to skin contact of your stomachs.

Such a dramatic kiss is not doing wonders for your hair or hers, as your fingers clutch at each other's heads.

Besides your head, she seems to have a particular fondness for your shoulders, and you’re obviously loving the freedom you've been given to explore her back. You aren’t even sure how you managed to unclasp her bra one-handed, but at some point or another you did. The loose, stiff fabric quickly becomes a point of discomfort, but is handled just as fast. Jeongyeon sits up, thrashing an arm to throw off one of her sleeves and half of the bra. You don't get to see much as you're busy yanking your shirt over your head, but you find yourself unable to care when she catches your mouth immediately as it becomes available again.

Full upper-frontal contact has been achieved and you wonder how you survived this long without it. Jeongyeon’s breasts are some of the softest you’ve ever felt. Perhaps the softest. And you’ve felt a lot (including but not limited to half her roommates but let’s not get into that again). Maybe the marshmallow simile was… no, still feels weird rolling off the tongue in your mind.

On the note of tongues though, Jeongyeon is getting bolder and bolder, opening her mouth a bit more with each kiss, and lightly brushing her tongue across your lips.

Your first kiss had been significantly more chaste. It was your fifth date, and she’d invited you to a board game cafe. Unluckily for you, most of Itzy was there too (invited by Jeongyeon (your theory is that she prefers group dates as they deter her from delving into, and burning out on, deep conversations)). The two of you picked Ryujin to be on your team, which meant you got your asses carried to an absolute victory, crushing Yeji, Lia, and Chaeryeong’s spirits. The three of them proceeded to retaliate by embarrassing you, recounting their less than wholesome and more than sensual past encounters with you to Jeongyeon. Chaeryeong dropped another unexpected knowledge bomb though, recounting her less than wholesome past encounter with Jeongyeon. That one shocked everybody at the table, but you didn’t make a deal out of it, since Jeongyeon had at that point given you the same courtesy Twice.

The kiss had been on your cheek, barely tapping the corner of your mouth. Come to think of it, she hadn’t asked back then. Must not have been as planned as this make out session.

This make out session, speaking of which, is becoming less modest by the second. You’re not sure exactly when it happened—perhaps during your fifth date flashback—but your hand managed to get inside Jeongyeon’s jeans. You haven’t gotten very far, but your excitement ramps up as she breathes in through her teeth and shifts herself upward, pushing your fingers past and under the elastic of her underwear.

“Is this okay?” you mutter.

Her shaky, shallow breaths syncopate with her hurried nodding, and she plunges back down to you, her kisses suddenly giving off a distinctly desperate vibe. They’re a little more spread out now too, occasionally hitting your jawline and neck, sucking gently, encouraging you.

Your hand is soaked well before you actually reach Jeongyeon’s clit, but when you do, she has to back away from you to take in a full, shuddering gasp. She unbuttons and unzips her jeans quickly before dropping back into the make out. How considerate of her. That will make this a lot easier on your wrist, and gives you a tangential reminder of how fantastic her ass looked in these pants. She’d said as much herself, and pointed it out while you were in line for the movie earlier tonight (which was/is still your sixth date). Up until… well, up until right now… it was the closest—only—thing to a sexual comment she’d made to you. You briefly wonder if you should take back your prior thought about her winning you over by being cute and wholesome, but that is definitely still the case. Her restrained grip on your shoulders is undeniably and unequivocally still adorable.

Jeongyeon’s face, barely illuminated in a sea of pitch black, contorting in pleasure and only millimeters away from your own, suddenly becomes a lot more illuminated.

“—and I told him as long as I get some solid—” Jihyo gasps, loud and over-dramatic.

Jeongyeon sits halfway up, eyes screwed shut, lips tight, and shoulders hunched. “Fuck,” she whispers quietly enough it was probably not meant to be out loud.

Jihyo’s footfalls thunder down the hallway. “Nayeon, guess what!”

“I am… I’m so sorry,” Jeongyeon groans, placing her fingertips to her forehead.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you tell her, taking her hand away from her head.

She sighs and glances back over her shoulder. You follow her gaze to the door and see a barely hidden, peeping Tzuyu. Jeongyeon drapes her shirt onto her back again. She doesn’t button it, just sort of hides behind it.

“I guess…” she starts. She hangs her head like a wilting flower. Some mix of pensiveness and dejection, the depths of which you can certainly estimate, emanates from her. The last breath of spring has come and gone, and summer has arrived, beating fields down with too much heat and light. A hardier plant will be in her place soon, happy to provide color and aromas. “I guess maybe next time. I didn’t mean for—”

You take her chin between your thumb and forefinger, lifting her just a bit to look her in the eye. You like the mud and the mossy smell. “Don’t worry about it. It really is okay.”

Jeongyeon stares, half-lidded, for a few intense moments, and lays back down on top of you. Your mouths meet once more. Her passion is somewhat reduced, but you can feel it speeding up from its pause again.

Well, this is not quite what you meant by “it’s okay.” You were just trying to make her feel better about being interrupted, not suggest that it was cool for her roommates to watch your spicy make out session. You suppose it’s fine… Yeah, fuck it.

You snake an arm between the two of you and Jeongyeon shifts a little to the side to allow you access to her breast. This is the first you’ve gotten your hands on it, and you can fucking cut it out with the marshmallow shit. This has happened Twice already. Her tits are soft. You don’t recall the last time you even felt a marshmallow. The texture is completely different. You know marshmallows are dry as hell. You don’t need this explained to you. This is in your head. Oh, and it’s a damn good thing Jeongyeon’s not a mind reader because you’re thinking like a fucking idiot right now. Marshmallows. Fucking hell.

Jeongyeon’s tits are the tittiest. Forget this nonsense and squeeze.

It's not easy to ignore the whispers and clambering just outside the open bedroom door. Four hushed voices. Now five. This apartment is ridiculous, but deep moans bring you back into the moment and focus your mind, drowning out the other voices not with volume but sensuality. "Please?"

You don't need clarification, since Jeongyeon is already gently guiding your wrist down and back to its place inside her pants. You take it from there, getting yourself snug underneath her. Dampness becomes wet again, and her folds form an easy path to her clit when you overshoot.

Strained breaths, knitted eyebrows, and desperately grasping fingers are her unsubtle clues that you're on the right track. Her legs open wider as you circle her clit. Such a tiny button.

She kisses you. Of course there's more kissing, but it's a lot less controlled now, less accurate. Whether that's because her eyes are closed or because she twitches every time you stroke with your whole finger, swiping over her entrance while continuing the clitoral stimulation you started with, you can't tell. Either way, her lips end up all over your mouth and neck, and she makes it sound like she needs these kisses more than you.

Jeongyeon hunches down, pressing her face into your chest. Her ever-quickening, heavier breaths tickle your sternum. It seems she’s losing touch with the world, fingers fluttering over your shoulders and neck as she repeats herself in staccato whispers, “Please. Please. Please.”

And please you do (or pleased you are, or perhaps she is). You keep up the pace, almost going off-course from how slick she’s become. Flinging an arm around her back, you hold her in place, where you can kiss the top of her head, and take in that most her of scents, buried in her hair, taking you out to the woods where you can smell the soil giving of its life to the weak and strong alike. It’s only right that you give some back.

Jeongyeon shakes, and the immense restraint she was displaying fades. She collapses on top of you, her forearms crushing you into her from below. You didn’t even realize how much strength she had in such a soft body. Her breath holds at first, but croaks from her throat in tiny bursts before she can’t take it anymore and bawls it into your neck.

It takes some time for her to come down, her chest bouncing against yours in a pattern you’d definitely mistake for sobbing if she wasn’t still peppering your throat with kisses and her eyes weren’t so dry. Though, what little makeup she was wearing is now smeared across some combination of her cheeks and your torso.

“That was…” she says, then continues after a gulp of air, “Amazing. You’re amazing…”

You can’t help but smile and say, “No, you.”

Her lips twitch up until she’s smiling back, and she gives you a deep kiss, reminiscent of every flower you’ve ever seen bloom. “Stay here,” she mumbles against your cheek, “Okay?”

Without waiting for your response, Jeongyeon peels herself away from you, onto her feet, and toward the bedroom door. One pair of footsteps thunders away (probably Jihyo again), but you can still see multiple heads peeking through, blushing furiously, and one that isn’t blushing at all (Chaeyoung’s).

One small fist reaches past the door, which Jeongyeon quickly bumps with her own before she gently pushes it away and closes the door. The room becomes even dimmer, but with your mostly adjusted eyes you can still see Jeongyeon turn to face you again. Her form is merely outlined by her open shirt and pants that are barely hanging on to her hips.

“May I return the favor please?” she asks politely.

You can’t imagine denying her.

#kpop smut #fanfic #twice smut #twice x reader #twice x you #jeongyeon #jeongyeon smut #gender neutral reader

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lifesver · 3 months

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GET TO KNOW THE MUN !

what made you pick up the muse you have ? : my friend typecasted my muse type when the victims concept art was announced. just immediately pointed out the horror jock like yep. that'll be the one u like. and then i played the tcsm beta back in may me and rae started wildly theorycrafting.... and well my demons have been winning since. i love a jock who is kind of fail but trying his best like you got me there.

is there anything you really enjoy writing ? : i'm a creep i'm a weirdo i love exploring horror and the many themes that can coexist in it. ig i like to kind of examine trauma and the healing process through the lens of the slasher genre, as well as where horror and love coincide as themes. i think there is underrepresentation in just....... letting slasher final kids have some kind of healing arc, or letting their story continue in general? seeing them before and after the things that happen to them? and i can't always do it but i do also like to kind of dive down into slasher horror and light gore and just practicing writing dynamic action scenes and what a character's thought process is like during those kinds of moments. i love an opportunity to be mean to my blorbo

is there anything you don't like to write ? : probably just anything needlessly like... melodramatic between characters? i have no interest in plots like genuine jealousy and love triangles and interpersonal shit like that, mostly because i write horror and there are so many more interesting things to focus on imo? and because not enough slasher content casts seem like they actually care about each other lmaooo. is this a callout post about gun.'s take on the friend group? perhaps.

how do you come up with your headcanons ? : dude i just receive the prophecies and act like im on twitter tossing my every stupid thought into the void.

do you write in silence or listen to music ? : tbh i usually write either in silence or in a deranged third way (writing between games of overwatch) my adhd sometimes demands that i am doing several things at the same time and sometimes i can sit down at the coffee shop put on some instrumentals and just slam some replies in

do you plan your replies or wing them ? : hmmm a bit of both? i usually have to start by winging it, which usually involves me dropping in whatever reaction dialogue immediately comes to me. kind of work around that, save and close the draft, and then think about the reply a bit until i eventually know where i'm going with it LOL

do you enjoy shipping ? : i do with friends! i'm not actually a huge like... ships person in a general fandom sense and i rarely feel any particular way until something is compelling to me in fanon, but i can ship most things if it's with a writing partner i like! simply ask rae we will be creating ships 0 people are thinking about shout out leland/connie tcsm tommy/jenny f13 and jake/adam dbd. i also usually go hard on the slowburn, and that's just like, personal comfort for getting to know my muse and my writing partner's muse, but also just think slowburn rules

what's your alias / name ? : kels.

zodiac sign ? : pisces sun, gemini moon, aries rising.

Birthday? : march 20th!

favorite color ? : a sort of pastel pink-lilac

favorite song ? : feel that it must be go your own way / fleetwood mac

last movie you watched ? : oh jesus i fear it was hellraiser: revelations

last show you watched ? : icr if it was an episode of goosebumps or true detective tbh

last song you listened to ? : putting the dog to sleep by the antlers....

favorite food ? : veggie burritos probably. or honestly like. just a really good bagel cream cheese LMFAO

favorite season ? : spring (:

do you have a tumblr best friend ? : rae and i have been in and out of these trenches for years i fear

TAGGED BY : @solarisgod thank u!!! mwah mwah <3

TAGGING : all my fellas

#:3c #readmore'd bc it's kinda long

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yandereocs · 2 months

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Ooh, I have cool idea! Eljiah with a darling who's in a band and on tour when he first sees them. What happens? Surely their band will notice them missing if he ends up taking them, right?

* OOOO YEAH THAT IS TRUE

Yandere Elijah with a darling in a band

* CW: Elijah's existence in general

Being in a band leads to some uncomfortableness experiences.

Disrespectful fans, stalkers, parasocial weirdos...you've experienced it all.

This, however, was by far the scariest thing you've experienced.

You aren't even sure how your life descended into chaos so quickly. One day you were packing up in your hotel, getting ready to leave for your next stop of your tour. And then the next thing you know, you're hit on the head with a lamp, stuffed in a bag and are woken up in a completely different house with a completely different species.

It's been a few days since then. Your head still ached and there were still bandages wrapped around it to stop the bleeding while you dozed in and out of consciousness. All the while, a man you've never seen before watches you, making sure you don't leave the bed that he's chained you to.

Obviously when you first woke up you started with the typical questions. "Who are you? Where am I? Let me go!". That sort of thing. But almost immediately you figured out that there was a language barrier.

It made sense. The man wasn't even a human. He was a hybrid. You didn't even know those things still existed. But apparently they do. And apparently, they have their own language. Not only that, but this man doesn't seem to know any English. Or, if he did, it seemed to be a limited amount.

And that leads you to now. The man was pacing the room, and you were watching him in a daze. What kind of lunatic hits someone on the head with a lamp to knock them out? He could have killed you! And based on how he treats you, it doesn't seem like he wants you dead. He feeds you, bathes you and has given you more comfortable clothing to wear. Not only that but he keeps kissing parts of your body and holding you close.

He's the most intense stalker you've ever had.

"My friends will find me."

You said, even though you knew he most likely didn't understand a single word you said. Immediately, the man's eyes flicked over to you at the sound of your voice. His gaze always freaked you out. Having a creep stare at you is already pretty unsettling, but it's even worse when that creep's eyes look more cat-like than human. It wasn't natural.

The man huffed and went back to pacing. For the past day or so, he's been stressed. You could tell by the way his tail flicked back and forth, the fur on end, and his eyes constantly darting to look out the nearby window. You could only assume that your friends and the police were already looking for you, and he knew it.

"We're in some sort of forest, right? Obviously they're gonna search this place the most. It's only a matter of time until they find me."

You tried to speak with confidence, but you weren't too sure just how true it was. Just by glancing out the window you could see large, tall trees surrounding the area. You didn't know how deep this hybrid colony was. If it was super deep in the forest...well, there's a high chance that you won't actually be found.

Once again, the man looks at you. He's getting annoyed. He snarls something to you in his strange language before going to check the windows, his ear straining to hear anything. Based on the way he relaxed, you could only guess that there were no alarming sounds. Great for him, not so much for you.

"Not coming."

The man says, turning to look at you. When he speaks English, it doesn't sound quite...right. It's almost like an accent, you suppose. His tone sounds so rumbly, like he's growling, despite the fact that he doesn't have that deep of a voice. It's odd. He's odd.

"Please let me go home."

Being confident clearly wasn't working. Time to go back to some good ole pleading. Not that that's been working either, though.

"What do...what do you even want? Some sort of autograph...? Private concert? Whatever it is, I'll give it to you."

You squirm in your restraints. Man, it was uncomfortable. The man continues to stare at you before suddenly approaching, causing you to shuffle backwards. You were sick of him touching you.

"You."

The man speaks as he crawls onto the bed, slinking towards you. Eventually your back hits the wall, and you can't move any further, causing your stomach to sink. The man stops in front of you, trapping your body between his arms.

"Want...you."

He leans forward and begins nipping at your neck. You whimper and try to squirm away, but he quickly holds you down by your wrists. The fur on his ears tickles your chin as he kisses along your throat and you can see his tail thrashing behind him. It felt disgusting to be touched like this by someone like him.

"Please let me go."

You whisper pleadingly, your voice breaking slightly. You weren't sure how much more you could take. The man didn't listen, of course, since his lips simply travelled down to your shoulder as he pushed down your shirt slightly.

"Mmh...no. Want you. You are...star."

He lifts his head to meet your gaze, his eyes wide and intense. His pupils are narrowed to slits and his tail slowly wraps around your leg. You felt your throat tighten as you tried to hold back a sob. All you ever wanted to do was okay music with your friends, and share that joy with those who listen. You didn't ask for any of this.

The man whistles a tune. Your heart drops. It's one of your songs. So this freak really was at one of your concerts. He was standing in the crowd, watching and listening, and just waiting for the perfect time to take you away.

And he succeeded.

#Elijah #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere ocs #yandere boy #yandere imagines

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two-stud-invasion · 3 months

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Gnarpy i will follow up with a text of a so called "right wing activist" called "ben shapiro" from earth what do you think of it

"Hello, is this Pizza Hut?Excellent. My name is Ben Shapiro. Conservative thought leader. Prominent white YouTuber. The Muggsy Bogues of the intellectual dark Web. And—look, it’s just a fact—I would like to order some pizza pie. If you are triggered by that request, I do not care. I truly do not.Now let’s discuss conditions. First, thank you for agreeing to debate me. Typically, in fora such as this, I am met with ad-hominem mudslinging, anything from “You racist creep” or “Is that your real voice?” to raucous schoolyard laughter and threats of the dreaded “toilet swirly.” However, your willingness to engage with me over the phone on the subject of pizza shows an intellectual fortitude and openness to dangerous ideas which reflects highly on your character. Huzzah, good sir. Huzzah.Second, any pizza I order will be male. None of this “Our pizza identifies as trans-fluid-pan-poly”—no. Pizza is a boy. With a penis. It’s that simple. It’s been true for all of human history, from Plato to Socrates to Mr. Mistoffelees, and any attempt to rewrite the pillars of Western thought will be met with a hearty “Fuh!” by yours truly. And, trust me, that is not a fate you wish to meet.Now. With regard to my topping preference. I have eaten from your pizzeria in times past, and it must be said: your pepperoni is embarrassingly spicy. Frankly, it boggles the mind. I mean, what kind of drugs are you inhaling over there? Pot?! One bite of that stuff and I had to take a shower. So tread lightly when it comes to spice, my good man. You do not want to see me at my most epic. Like the great white hero of Zack Snyder’s classic film “300,” I will kick you.Onions, peppers—no, thank you. If I wanted veggies, I’d go to a salad bar. I’m not some sort of vegan, Cory Booker weirdo. And your efforts to Michelle Obama-ize the great American pizza pie are, frankly, hilarious. Though not as funny as the impressively named P’Zone—when I finally figured out that genuinely creative pun, I laughed until I cried and peed. A true Spartan admits defeat, and I must admit that, in this instance, your Hut humor slayed me, Dennis Miller style.And, with that, you have earned my order. Congratulations. Ahem. Without further ado, I would like your smallest child pizza, no sauce, extra cheese. Hello? Aha. A hang-up. Another triggered lib, bested by logic. Damn it. I’m fucking starving."

. . 🛸 “ With my four eyez, I CAN’T READ A LONG PARAGRAPH YOU GLORP. ”

#regretevator #gnarpy #regretevator gnarpy #ask blog #rp blog #roblox #ask gnarpy

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leafling-posting · 4 months

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what the

(@c-posting)

i go to the party all of the so called "castaways" stare at me and my pikmin like i am some sort of creep or weirdo. not my fault. bring me 20 gold nuggets in under 30 seconds or your dandori sucks

#pikposting #dandori challenge

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7-wonders · 2 years

Note

Also for Adrian under the Sentence Starters list, this time under fluff, “Am I your lockscreen?” “You weren’t supposed to see that.” (2/3)

14. “Am I your lockscreen?” “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

Adrian had never planned on anyone seeing his phone lock screen, let alone you. As far as Peacemaker and others knew, his lock screen was still...well, Peacemaker. And Eagly, but they're kind of a package deal.

It was just you and Adrian working late at night at Henenlotter's. Everyone else had long since left for the night, but you were stuck typing up mission reports and Adrian was stuck writing incident reports for the numerous incidents directly involving him while on this mission. It's been silent for a while, with just the sounds of typing and pen scratching paper to keep you both company. When you finally look up at Adrian, you roll your hand against your neck to try and reduce some of the tension that's built here.

"Hey, what time is it?" you ask. Without looking up, Adrian slides his phone in your direction and taps on the screen.

You remain silent, which scares him. No thanking him or making any sort of remark on the time: just silence. When he looks at you, he sees that you're still staring at his phone screen with a curious look on your face.

"Adrian, am I your lock screen?"

Adrian panics at these words, grabbing his phone abruptly and hurling it across the room. It clatters harshly against the floor, and he cringes, but there's bigger problems right now. "You weren't supposed to see that."

You really, really weren't supposed to see that. It's not like it's a stalker-like photo of you—it's just a picture that Adebayo took of you grinning at Adrian while you ready to toss a fry in his mouth. He sits next to you, mouth wide open, but the smile he sports is clear regardless.

Adrian's favorite photo used to be the group picture Harcourt snapped after the Glan Tai mission. This quickly dominated the number one spot after Adebayo sent it to him. He had changed his lock screen that night, and it had remained a picture of the two of you. It made him smile when he looked at it, no matter how he was feeling.

But now? Now he's feeling nothing but shame. You probably think that he's a weirdo, some freak that's obsessed with you and has a shrine in his bedroom. He's not, he promises he's not. It's just that he likes you so much, and you care about him in a way that he's never experienced before, and he likes the way that his chest feels all warm whenever he sees that damn picture that he's now regretting ever saving to his phone.

He's spiraling, and you notice, because of course you do. You notice everything about him. "Hey, it's okay."

"No it's not," he groans and throws his head in his hands. "I promise I'm not a creep."

"I know you're not." You tap his arm with something. "Here."

You're trying to hand him your phone, though he's not sure why. He's about to tell you that his phone probably still works and you don't need to give him yours when you tap on the screen and light it up for him.

He's on your lock screen. It's a selfie that he remembers taking with you. You were both tired after a mission and feeling pretty goofy, so you whipped out your phone and told him to smile. You were making a peace sign and leaning against his upper arm, laughing at Adrian's crossed eyes and grimace that was caught becoming a laugh. At the time, he thought nothing of taking the picture, assuming that you would delete it later.

"Wait, I'm your lock screen?" Adrian asks.

Smiling, you nod. "Why wouldn't you be?"

"Because you have cooler friends than me."

"I don't want friends that you think are cooler than you." You tap his arm. "I want you."

#this was bad lol #oops #adrian chase #adrian chase imagine #adrian chase x reader #peacemaker vigilante #vigilante #vigilante imagine #vigilante x reader #peacemaker hbo #peacemaker

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barthel · 1 year

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Radiohead, "Creep" (Live in Oxford, 2001)

youtube

As a band, Radiohead has always been legible. They tell you how to think about them: what their story is, what their music means. And if you were a Radiohead fan in the 90's, you knew they hated their first hit, "Creep." You knew this because they told you, but also because they made a series of albums that were aggressively the opposite of "Creep"'s anglo-grunge angst; because tour documentary Meeting People is Easy made clear their disgust with the kind of mindless fame a song like "Creep" engendered. "I want to have control," Thom had sung in the song, and now they were taking control of their narrative. They wanted to be smart, and "Creep" was not smart.

The problem was, if you were a Radiohead fan in the 90's, you yourself probably loved "Creep." When I first heard the song, I was just the kind of teen to feel that crunchy angst deep in my soul, and even as I went to college and wanted to seem smart and do smart things myself (OK Computer, Kid A, and Amnesiac are all very "I went to college" sort of albums), every moment of "Creep," from its chiming beginning to its jet-takeoff chorus to its transparent self-loathing, was a blast. My gross teenage soul felt seen. And anyway, wasn't Radiohead's rejection of the song exactly the kind of self-loathing that "Creep" itself had managed to capture so perfectly? I was a creep, I was a weirdo; what the hell were we doing there? Let's not do that again, guys. Come on.

After college, I spent a lot of time online arguing with past versions of myself. I was embarrassed about the college-age Radiohead superfan who'd spent hours decoding the band's inscrutable website updates, convinced that they contained some galaxy-brain higher message, some greater masterpiece. When In Rainbows came out, given away at the band's website for whatever you wished to pay, the fan narrative became that Radiohead had boldly pioneered a new economic model that would save the music industry. But by that point, I'd become knowledgeable enough about both music and the music industry that I could smugly point out to you the many ways in which that was wrong. (And, even today, I can do a solid 7 minutes on how In Rainbows devalued digital music.) I didn't listen to the album for years, even though, when I did, I liked it well enough. Your old self can get in your head, can become a region on your internal map filled with sea dragons and smoke. Don't go here.

When you're in your 40's, like I am now, you can't just react to your last identity; you have too many to choose from. It's easier to look back with regret on the many old selves you've lost than to boldly forge a new identity opposed to your last one. I was a writer for a couple decades, then got a professional job that didn't allow me to write. Since leaving it, I've been trying to put my writer-self back together, but in assembling my last bio, I noted that many of my publications were in outlets that no longer exist. It's easy to fall into regret; to feel illegible, your self-perception out of sync with how others see you. You can't afford these arguments with your past self anymore. You have to find a way to embrace them.

In 2001, after releasing Amnesiac, Radiohead played a triumphant homecoming gig in Oxford, where they'd all met at university. (Like I said: a very "I went to college" band.) At that point, they hadn't played "Creep" in four years, even as they'd put out two confirmed masterpieces, and all signs pointed to them never playing the song again. They weren't planning on playing it that day, either. At the end of their final encore, they began to play "Motion Picture Soundtrack," the bleak love song that closes "Kid A." It was written around the same time as "Creep," but where "Creep" is easily legible, guitars and lyrics united in message, "MPS" pushes against itself, a cozy organ contrasting harshly with Thom Yorke's declaration that he'll never be with the object of his desire, and will only "see you in the next life." But the crowd wouldn't hear MPS that day. The band flubbed the intro, and instead of starting again, Thom says, "Okay, I've got a better idea. This is a slightly older song."

As the first note of "Creep" hits, a sound erupts from the crowd: not just a cheer, not just a scream, but the clearest expression of release I've ever heard. It is a true surprise, a fulfillment of their heart's desire; one diehard Radiohead fans never expected to happen, or at least not that day. They sing along to every word. And the band shows no signs of the embarrassment they'd felt so strongly for the song since releasing OK Computer. Jonny launches into the first roaring chord of the chorus audibly out of tune, and you can hear a moment of hesitancy, the old embarrassment threatening to creep in, before he gives in to the song's pull. Thom sings it with a gleeful lightness. It's a reunion, a band realizing, in a flash, that they've had enough distance from their past self to love them again. You need that distance, need to see your earlier selves were right, or at least not wrong; not smart, maybe, but maybe smart isn't what really matters. Maybe what really matters isn't being smart or right but that feeling, that release, the crowd and the band together, in perfect purpose, deciding to love the sound itself and its adored history rather than the barren meaning of the words. The explicit legibility slips away into something richer and more complex, and together, they find joy in having made it far enough from that angst to view it with affection.

#radiohead #creep #Youtube

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rocknrollsalad · 7 months

Text

STWG Daily Prompt (Nov 19) - Giving Instructions to Someone

🔨 pairing(s): steddie with side clarkson

🔦 Eddie is moving into his new apartment. One that requires a bunch of new furniture be built. It goes as well as expected.

🔧 content/trigger warnings: childhood trauma, eddie makes a couple jokes lusting after steve, couples fighting

🪛 word count: 1769

🪚 bonus author note: writing was a real struggle for me today so this is a "I did my best" and not actually my best. I love the idea, hope I pulled it off because I am asleep now lol

It was a long road to here. Literally dragged through hell, twice, a hospital stay, and so much loss but here Eddie stood; in his own apartment. Sure it was government-funded and so new it smelled like plastic and cleaner but it was Eddie’s. All Eddie’s.

No more waiting for the bathroom, no more creeping around to be quiet at two in the afternoon, and his uncle didn’t have to sleep on a cot in the living room. In fact, he also got an apartment like Eddie but opted to buy himself a trailer because there was no way the government was going to keep tabs on him like that.

Eddie didn’t care if these weirdos were watching him. He almost preferred it. If there was some otherworldly monster coming back to finish what those bats started, Eddie wanted to know. If he could be the first to know, that’d be even better.

Plus, he wasn’t going to turn down this glorious studio apartment with its spacious floor plan and roof without leaks. Wayne could waste away at the end of a gravel drive, Eddie was a city boy now! Right smack in the center of the rebuilt Hawkins. Which everyone let him know, that that did not make him a city boy but they could all shut their traps.

Yesterday, all the boxes marked “Ed’s” were moved from storage. It wasn’t much, Wayne’s truck did the trick just fine. Today, they went shopping for everything else. Not one of those dusty old boxes held furniture. Eddie didn’t have so much as a bed to his name.

Big box store after big box store, Eddie burned through a good chunk of the money that came with the house. Wayne bought a few things, he said he felt obligated and who was Eddie to deprive him of the chance to buy that huge dining room table that would be perfect for D&D?

However, there’s a big difference between buying a few chairs at a yard sale or inheriting the neighbor’s couch because they inherited a better one and buying new furniture. At the top of the list was that the new stuff needed to be assembled.

Eddie was more than capable of doing it himself. Not only that but Steve was more than capable of doing it himself. And if Eddie had any say in this, Steve would be doing it. Sweaty, shirtless, and thinking too hard. Then Eddie could sit on the counter, drink beer, and enjoy the view.

Instead of that, he got Uncle Wayne. Eddie tried everything to live out his fantasy of giving the handmade lemonade (and a blowjob) but Wayne wasn’t having it. He knew what he was doing better than they did and therefore the only person able to put four boards together.

Things got so desperate, that Eddie called Scott to come and take Wayne out or have some sort of building emergency of his own. Maybe his car made a funny noise or something but Scott was too good of a guy to lie like that. Scott was such a “good guy”, he came over to help. Eddie found a way to make his problem worse.

There were now two middle-aged men in his “living room” shouting at each other over whether or not slot a needed board c or board x. If Scott pointed to the directions, which Wayne didn’t read, any harder he’d poke through them. At first, Eddie wanted to make jokes about the patience of a teacher but he’d worked with Wayne before, and Scott was using up all his patience. And he wasn’t raising his voice.

Eddie still got to watch but this show was not the one he pictured. It had the opposite effect. Steve joined in to add to the awkward spectator feeling, like holding the flashlight at the ripe age of six. They were breathing wrong, didn’t dare make a sound, and just watched and fought over who was going to be the one to run to the neighbors to call 911 since they hadn’t got the phone company out yet.

The running commentary, the snarky comments like those old muppets watching a play, got them pretty far but Eddie was never one for sitting still. Least of all when there were things to do.

After an hour of the most tragic bookcase build, Eddie turned to Steve and covered his face so his uncle (who wasn’t watching) couldn’t read his lips. “Do you think you could get that box over to that corner without being noticed?”

“Huh?”

“They’re going to be at this long after we go to sleep, I’m not gonna wait all day. So can you move the box with my desk out of their line of sight?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Easy.”

“Easy? Don’t make me laugh, it’ll draw attention over to us.”

“Seriously, Eddie…”

“I tried to move the screwdriver before you got here so no one stepped on it and my uncle came unglued. Fifty questions immediately followed by several minutes on why I wasn’t qualified to use a flathead screwdriver. He doesn’t even need weakness to sense, Steve.”

“He’s not-”

“Whatever you’re going to say isn’t right. He’s an uncle. They’re their own thing.”

“He’s not going to care if we help out.”

“Why do you think we’ve been sitting here? For fun? My dear Steven. Sweet, sweet Steven. You have so much to learn about the world.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Says the guy thinking he can build furniture without complaints from the old men.”

“Wouldn’t they want our help?”

“No! We’d do it wrong.”

“I know how to–”

“I do too and if the show in front of us is anything to go off, we might be the only ones that do know but that isn’t how it’ll go.”

“Whatever, fine. What are we doing?”

“We. Oh, I’m not touching anything again. You! You are going to pick that box up, do not drag it, and gently place it over in this corner of the apartment. Where, hopefully, you will not be seen.”

“Why’s it me, why can’t you do it?”

“I’ve explained that already, oh my god. Listen for once. If you didn’t want to have to do this shit, get a different boyfriend. Probably one that’s an orphan.”

“Jesus, Eddie.”

“Fine, how about this? We can’t break anything in until they’re gone so if we don’t start building shit ourselves, I think it’d be faster to claim Wayne’s trailer. I could beat him in hand-to-hand combat.”

“Oh, that’s the part you do?”

“Yes. I bring to the relationship someone who can win a fight.”

“Dustin isn’t going to be telling everyone this when I kick his ass.”

“I would pay so much money to see that.”

“I’m going home. This isn’t my apartment, mine is furnished. Best of luck to you Munsons but Castle Harrington is going to be resting comfortably tonight.”

“Did you not hear me? I could best you in battle. Easy. You would need an asteroid to strike precisely on my head, strong enough to take me out and leave you wounded, at worst. Otherwise, babe. No way. You don’t stand a chance.”

“Very strange way to get me to do your bidding.”

Eddie twisted his head, stealing a glance at the others real quick before nodding. “Well played. I’ll wave the white flag.”

“Better.”

“Look, you have to move the box because if you get caught you have the perk of saying you don’t know better. I do and then we’re derailed by another ten hours as Wayne explains to you, me, and half of Hawkins why I can’t build a desk. So yes. Take one for the team. I’ll come help you once I know we’re safe.”

“Fine but if I get caught in some lecture.”

“I’ll bury you in your favorite outfit, gym shorts, tube socks, and whatever that weird little crop top is.”

“Abso-”

“Shhh, I’ll leave your funeral to Robin, c’mon. I’m not an idiot.”

Steve didn’t say anything, just gave Eddie that look that said he wanted to fight the points made but they’re accurate so he can’t. No amount of being together was going to put Eddie as the one to plan Steve’s funeral. He knew his place.

Inching across the floor, Steve made his way to the desired box. Eddie sat in his chair, breath held, and his stare ping-ponging between Steve and Wayne.

It was slow and torturous, still nice on the eyes, but Steve got the box over without being noticed. Eddie thought Scott caught him but if he did, he didn’t say anything. Maybe he was smarter than Eddie thought…or he didn’t notice.

From what Eddie could tell, Wayne was trying to just glue things together and Scott was counting out the screws, repeatedly, because there were more than enough. No need for glue. At this point, Eddie would be lucky if he was left with usable pieces to put back together after this. For insisting he was the man for the job, Wayne was actually shit at putting furniture together. Something Eddie wasn’t sure he needed to learn.

Eddie crept his way over, wishing he’d worn anything other than boots today, as Steve sliced open the box. Right on top sat the packet of instructions and Eddie’s knee-jerk response to toss them aside was strong. It was a desk, how hard could it be to figure out? As that thought played in his mind in a voice that wasn’t his own, Eddie snatched the booklet.

“This is an important moment for us,” Eddie sighed, looking at Steve.

The confusion was clear as Steve stood there with an opened pocket knife pointing at the wall, frozen and waiting for clarification he knew he didn’t need to ask for. It’d come regardless.

“We could become them. That could be us,” Eddie started, nodding to the other half of the expansive room. “A bookcase couldn’t be simpler and, I mean, Wayne was asking for a blow torch.”

“No he wasn’t,” Steve sighed, opening the box so he didn’t have to keep listening.

“Okay fine! But we could have gone out to the forest, cut down a tree, learned to turn it into boards, do that, and built a bookcase faster than them. All because my uncle is too proud to look at directions or, I guess, listen to Scott but that’s Scott’s problem right now. So! Step one is to–”

“Unpack everything. We can’t put anything together when it’s in his box.”

“Mmmm, god…and you’re smart. You’re too much Harrington. Too much for me.”

#hey everyone come see what i wrote now #stwgdailyprompt #goodnight y'all

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ofhope-a · 1 year

Text

THE LONG-AWAITED KANJI TATSUMI POST, aka --

Let's start, firstly, with Kanji's own words:

IMPORTANT: this will touch on real world homophobia, particularly the sort that ran rampant in the early 2000's / 2010's, which translates into the game, as well. Please tread carefully.

The main theme throughout Kanji Tatsumi's Palace is his struggles regarding sexuality, or more accurately, how he must be one "side" or the "other." Kanji's Shadow self, while partially reflecting the tone-deaf nature of how sexuality was interpreted back in the early 2000's, is showcasing a Kanji that is more comfortable, more out with his sexuality... a part of him in which he doesn't identify.

"Accept me for who I am!"

"Can't believe something like this was inside me."

A major part of Kanji's punkish persona stems from this battle. "Feminine hobbies," while thankfully not categorized as such much now-a-days, were regarded as just that: feminine, something men shouldn't enjoy. Kanji, as I've discussed previously, partakes in many such hobbies, an enjoyment which makes students gossip and file him into a category in which he doesn't, he feels, belong. One of Shadow Kanji's main arguments is that girls belittle him, whereas men are less judgmental -- however, I feel that his Shadow took this mentality to an extreme.

"They cry if you get angry, they gossip behind your back, they spread nasty lies... they look at me like I'm some disgusting thing and look at me like I'm a weirdo!"

"But you're a guy! You don't act like a guy! Why aren't you manly?!"

"What does it mean to be a guy? What does it mean to be manly?"

Kanji, I feel, has the experience of most male-identifying individuals in the early 2000's: to cry is to be weak, and to share your emotions is to equate yourself with a "girl," a sentiment which then had negative connotations. Kanji's father died whenever he was very young, and his mother is what influenced him most... something that, unfortunately, would be picked apart in school. With this in mind, Kanji compensated by being every definition of manly he could find: being tough, starting fights, never showing his emotions.

But there were times he would slip. Where he would bring up the fact that he could sew or knit, and his peers would tear him apart for it, because they were "right"; this is to say, Kanji has been torn between multiple sides for many, many years, and this extends toward his sexuality as well.

We first meet Kanji whenever he is meeting with Naoto. To avoid delving in too deep, it is hinted - and shown - that Kanji has a visible crush on Naoto, who at the time is known as the Detective Prince. Later, whenever this is shown to be the opposite, Kanji... has little of a reaction. He doesn't sigh in relief because he "actually is straight all along!" - he's beginning to connect the dots, that he liked Naoto before, and that he likes Naoto now. That is to say, he liked it whenever Naoto represented as a male, and likes Naoto now that she represents as a girl, too. We can see this struggle plainly before the beauty contest:

"If you do, my doubts will finally be cleared" -- this, to me, comes across as desperation: he wants to be straight. He wants his Shadow self to be wrong, because being gay just doesn't ring a bell with him. Neither does being straight. It doesn't fit him, and he only knows two options: either to be straight... or not be straight.

He is shown to be relieved during the beauty contest, by quietly proclaiming how pretty each contestant is, and whenever Naoto doesn't show up for the final part, he is... quiet. That doubt is creeping in again, and he doesn't know how to grow comfortable with it.

The hard, and unfortunate truth, of Kanji's whole story is that he was born at a time where the term bisexual was treated as a naughty word. It wasn't acknowledged, and many people refused to accept that it existed. Kanji's Social Link ties directly into this struggle, with him making a child a doll, and instead of being chastised for it... the boy thanks him. He doesn't bully him, or ask why a boy is knitting a doll. And Kanji, in turn, doesn't question why a boy would want a plush.

Throughout these exchanges, Kanji grows more and more comfortable with himself:

Because... Kanji knows that his Shadow Self is a part of him. Maybe not to the extremes it portrays, but it is a part of him... and a part of him likes men, as well as women. He likes someone no matter their gender. He realizes, slowly, that he appreciates them all the same, as shown most literally shown with Naoto. Slowly, rank by rank, Kanji opens up: that his strength was used as a cover-up for his knitting, that he thought by being tough nobody would care about his other hobbies. That, while he identified with being tough, he didn't like how it was used: to indicate someone that couldn't possibly like the things that he liked. He didn't identify with that, and he didn't identify with liking everything the "other half" of him had to give, either.

So, at the end... Kanji learns that he doesn't have to pick a "side"; that he just has to be himself, and this self... is who he is, and who he wants to be, and who he is proud to be, at a time where bisexuality wasn't spoken of.

#homophobia mention #tbd.#Maybe?#specific ooc tag.#I tried to cover this as sensitively and as precisely as I could; so hopefully it's okay.#While I do believe Atlus... were probably being homophobic tbh; I do think Kanji's struggles with his sexuality are compelling #and I think it showed well how... awful people were then [and still are to this day]; and how such things can tear you between wanting this #and wanting that. The saddest truth there is that there's LOTS of people - actual people - with a struggle similar to Kanji's #They were raised during a time where men couldn't be emotional. And women couldn't like 'boy' things.#And you were either straight or gay; either a man or a woman; there was nothing outside of that or in-between.#Thankfully we're doing away with that year by year. But I felt like with his story it was important to emphasize how it was #during the early 2010's / earlier than that.#Yada yada. I'll write now.

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