shoto, very suggestive, mention of cunninglingus, 500ish words
Thinking about Shoto, your sweet, naive boyfriend, who just doesn't get it most of the time, and how he comes to you one day, asks in the sweetest tone, in the most unbothered way imaginable, if he can eat you out.
And by god does it take every bit of your patience not to call up every last friend of his until you find exactly which one of them put that phrase in his vocabulary.
Instead, you press the pages of the book you were reading closed, turn to him calmly though you're feeling anything but, fold your hands in your lap as if you're heart isn't running a marathon in your chest.
You'd been intimate before, but never like that.
Wandering hands, and heated kisses, and seeing each other in your most raw, and intimate state is one thing - Shoto tasting you is another. Not that you didn't want it, not that he didn't want it either. You just didn't want to go too far, too quick, didn't want to push him out of his comfort zone, didn't want to mess up something so good.
It's why you don't take him seriously when he asks something so out-of-pocket, suggestive in ways you've never known him to be. Why you're absolutely, surely, positive, he isn't asking permission to be in between your thighs, why you're sure he must've heard something wrong, got the meaning twisted somewhere along the way. It's the very same reason you straighten your shoulders to hide the way your knees press together when he adds a little "please" to the end.
"Shoto," you say with as much indifference as you can muster. "That doesn't mean what you think it does, I'm sure you probably think it means to go out to eat, or that-"
He shakes his head, lays a hand just above your knee, squeezes gently until whatever excuse you were blubbering dies on your tongue.
"That's not what it means," he says in the exact tone you use when explaining something obvious to him. "Do you want me to explain it to you?"
You hate how innocently he tilts his head, red hair falling softly over one eye, hate how the butterflies burst, warmth spreading over your cheeks and down between your thighs, because you know he doesn't mean it like that.
"No, Shoto, I-" you sigh, carefully thumb the cover of your book. "It's just, I don't think you know what it means."
You think you hear something like amusement rumble in his chest; it's rare, Shoto's laughter. You've heard it on occasion, fell for the soft reverberation and crescent-moon crinkle to his eyes. But this, this is different.
"I know what it means," he says, matter-of-factly, small, crooked smile tugging the corner of his lips.
He drops to his knees, and you promptly forget how to breathe. His dual gaze finds you from beneath dark lashes; one bright and blue, and eager, the other grey like smoke, clouded with something imploring - it fills your lungs until you can feel just how much he wants you with every bated breath.
His hands are warm when he kneads the fat of your hips between slender, calloused fingers. "So can I?"
Maybe Shoto gets it more often than you give him credit for.
"You look stupid as all hell right now," Mike snorted as he watched Robin touch up Steve's eyeliner, "You know that right?"
"It's called romance, you ass," Steve hissed, flipping him off while dutifully keeping his head still, "Who invited you anyway?"
"Your better half."
Steve rolled his eyes but he didn't correct him. He was right anyway, "Isn't it a school night? Are you allowed to be out this late? What would your mom think, knowing you were wasting your precious brain power on Halloween parties-"
"I'm in college you fucking dick!"
That struck a nerve. Steve smirked, good. The little shit deserved it.
"And done!" Robin announced before either of them could throw anymore insults, "I think you look good, way sexier than Tim Curry, for sure. Mike come with me to go get Nancy for a second opinion. You obviously can't be trusted."
Mike huffed, mumbling something under his breath before both of them left the room. Steve was pretty damn sure Eddie had sent him in as a spy because despite all of his reassurances, he still didn't believe that Steve was going to follow through on this stupid costume. But here he was, adjusting his fish net stockings while examining himself in the mirror.
He looked...decent. Which was better than he had been expecting. The make-up wasn't as cartoonish as the movie, something that he hoped Eddie would appreciate. In all honesty, Steve was going to take no criticisms for how he put the whole thing together, Eddie was lucky it was happening at all. Not that he would but still. Though if Steve had to guess, Eddie was going to be a fan. He better fucking be a fan, considering how he'd been asking for this forever.
They'd been together five years. Five fantastic, wonderful years. And four Halloweens with Steve laughing in his face whenever he brought up the Rocky Horror Picture show as costume inspiration. But this year...Steve didn't know. Eddie had just looked...extra desperate this time, needy in a way that Steve just couldn't say no to.
So now here he was, moments away from going downstairs to entertain all of their new and old friends for hours on end, all while wearing a corset.
The things he did for love.
"Knock, knock," Eddie's voice called from the other side of the door, like he could just smell that Steve was alone, "You decent in there Stevie?"
"Not exactly?" Steve called back, still frowning in the mirror, "But you can come in. Just lock it behind you."
Steve didn't look up when Eddie waltzed in, but he did hear his little sharp intake of breath.
"Holy shit," Eddie mumbled, bordering on a whimper as he came up behind Steve. He wrapped his arms around his waist, locking eyes with him through the mirror, "You look..."
"Stupid as hell?" Steve answered for him, smiling a little at how flushed Eddie's face already was. Damn, maybe this thing wasn't that bad after all if it could make him look like that.
Eddie shook his head, swallowing once before breathing out, "I was going to say beautiful. Gorgeous. Breath-taking. Extremely attractive-"
"Okay, okay, I get it!" Steve laughed, turning around in his arms. He wrapped them around Eddie's neck, pulling him down for a quick kiss, "I'm glad you like it so much. In fact, I'll even let you take it off later tonight."
Steve thought that would have been a good deal, but it made Eddie frown, "Later? But we can-"
"We can what?" Steve interrupted, "Have sex with all of our adopted children downstairs waiting for us? I don't think so."
But Eddie wasn't done begging. He was even starting to bring out the wet, puppy dog eyes, the manipulative little shit, "B-But I can be quick. I can fix your make-up after. I can-"
"Nope," Steve laughed, pulling away from him with a little smirk, "You made your bed. Now lie in it."
Eddie nearly looked like he was gonna cry, the little drama queen, "I...I didn't think this through, did I?"
Steve grinned, leaning up to kiss his cheek before going to the door. He looked back at him, his smile getting a little bigger at the desperate look on his face.
Maybe he did look like an idiot in the bizarre get-up, but Steve didn't care. Not when it had Eddie rushing to follow him out.
one big thing about polyshipping for me is, like. you know how some people will have their eyes opened to homoerotic relationships in media bc they'll realize, "wait, if these people were two different genders, i'd 100% assume they're into each other. i have a double standard that i never noticed"?
there's a polyamorous equivalent in certain media that's basically just. "if you didn't assume this character is monogamous, you would 100% believe they have crushes on & are dating all of their friends." OR, "if this character wasn't dating somebody else already, you would 100% interpret this new friendship of theirs as a crush/budding romance."
usually the creators of the media aren't thinking about polyamory when they make it! usually the creators of the media are thinking "i want this character's friends to be as important to them as their romantic partners, we don't get enough of that in media," which is great and true and also EXACTLY WHY IT WORKS AS A POLY NARRATIVE. people will be like you don't Have to polyship why can't you just let platonic relationships be important ugh 🙄 & i'm like i did my years in the "why can't two men just be friends why does everything have to be gay 🙄" trenches. you're not doing this to me. we're not doing it about polyshipping. we're skipping over that whole discourse cutscene because i am Too Tired For It. don't even start
sometimes characters are so full of love and affection and joy for so many people that i start gnawing off my hands about how polyamory isn't normalized. because i'll watch/read certain media and i'll be like. listen. this is a polycule. i know you don't know this because your creators don't know this and that is totally okay but you are a Wildly polyamorous person who's ambiguously trapped in the 2000s/2010s with Big Monogamy psyops eating your brain. please let me free you. please i can give you Everything .
give me hob gadling stumbling upon morpheus in the dreaming, half by accident, after he falls asleep while thinking of him, and this is before dream ever even considers coming to visit any of hob’s dreams
is hob supposed to be able to do that? no, but if anyone’s going to be able to besides a vortex, isn’t it hob, who’s never given a damn about convention, or expectation, or the basic facts of the universe? hob, who doesn’t even know rightly what his friend is yet, and all of a sudden he’s there, in dream’s throne room
“how did you come to be here, robert gadling?” dream says, rising to his feet, looking tall and thunderous in his cloak that leaves trails of stardust across the floor in his wake. hob is looking around, marveling at the vaulted ceiling, at the stained glass, at the novas in the sky, at dream himself standing there like a familiar apparition, at the worn copy of wuthering heights that lies discarded at the foot of the winding steps (how funny, he’d been reading the same book, before he dozed off...)
and hob, poor sod, thinks he’s just dreaming, thinks this castle, this incomprehensible place, is his dream (and maybe it is); and he simply says, “i wanted to see you,” as though that’s all it takes, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world to find the dream king in the dreaming if you don’t feel like waiting another hundred years
I personally like Thunder's prosthetic. Explained it to my friend (who does use a mobility device, a cane and wheelchair, and listens to me rant and infodump about BB) and they agreed, it's important to know that not every person needs what someone wants to give them. It's another example of "bad ableist person does a thing that hurts a disabled person because they are bad and ableist".
Clear Sky got Jagged Peak killed and would have killed Sunlit Frost! He would absolutely force his disabled son to be "normal" and present it like a privilege. "I wouldn't do this for anyone else, it's special, why don't you want to be helped?"
Thunder Storm should toss it in Clear Sky's face. (I would say toss it into the river but we do not pollute waterways in this house)
Thank you for telling me this, and tell your friend I'm thanking them too! If they have anything else to add please forward what they have to say
Since BB!DOTC tackles some of the heaviest topics in the entire series because its canon equivalent is so dark, I think very carefully about what I do here and how I show it. I take feedback on its sensitive aspects very seriously. If I'm understanding the criticism properly, it's that I should avoid stigmatizing prosthetics by making sure Thunder Storm's not the only one with it-- which he's not! And I'll add even more.
I don't want to avoid something only because it's uncomfortable if the topic is important, and my portrayal is respectful. Ableism IS uncomfortable! There are some situations where a prosthetic is not wanted! I think the rejection of this particular one is both a good opportunity to show a type of ableism and ALSO is very fitting for the characters.
In BB!Clear Sky's mind, the villain, he's fixing an old mistake. He can't admit that he got Jagged Peak killed or take REAL accountability for it (though he will, occasionally, apologize insincerely), but deep in his bones, he knows what he did was cruel. He'll never tell anyone this because he doesn't really cognate it himself, but Thunder Storm NEEDS to take his gift.
If Thunder doesn't take it, it blows a hole in his newest story. You see, throwing Jagged Peak out was All That Could Have Been Done back then. It was a Tragedy and he simply Made A Hard Choice. He regrets it very much, But You Have To Understand.
But now? Now? Well, behold. Look at what he's accomplished since the tragic death of his little brother. His cats are well-fed, cared for, and stable enough to make such incredible advancements. If only Jagged Peak had been able to hold on longer, if only he could be here now, I could fix him.
Just like I can (MAKE YOU JUST LIKE ME) fix you.
"Everything I've ever done is for Jagged Peak. For Fluttering Wing. For you." Thunder Sky is SPECIAL, but if he rejects any gift, tries to turn down the "privileges" offered to him, in an instant that becomes ungratefulness and arrogance. He both forces him to be special, and then leverages it against him if it's rejected. "Spoiled brat, doesn't appreciate what I've worked so hard to give him."
It all goes back to him and his own guilt. He can NEVER be wrong. He can't accept his family doesn't have to be "normal" or reflect his own ability. He won't see himself as a bully, let alone a murderer. It was never about his son's comfort or finding out what Thunder Storm wants or needs, it was about his own ego.
...All that said I'm still taking feedback if there's anything else I should keep in mind, or if anyone has a counter point, especially if you also have experience here.
(In the interest of having a link trail for posterity, here's the critique/call for feedback this is in response to)
i love how fraught and complicated discourse around various utena characters ‘dying’ is when anthy is literally stabbed to death eternally by a million swords imbued with human hatred. and then utena gets stabbed to death by them also. like. ‘death’ is incredibly interesting in rgu because most of the time it’s this ambiguous figurative thing that has interesting implications re: ohtori as a closed-off world one can escape. we are all trapped in our coffins. mamiya is the only named character with a grave. nemuro memorial hall functions as one all the same. ruka is implied to have died in the hospital— was he dead all along? who was the boy we saw for these two episodes? is this dead boy the same boy, or is this just another coincidence from the shadow girls, cutting like a knife? it’s heavily implied that akio and anthy murder kanae by poisoning her, adding to the previous implication that they were poisoning mr ohtori too, but there are no perceptible consequences of this. kanae’s absence is not felt. she’s fed an apple slice. what happens to the bodies? we know what happened to the 100 boys, but what about everyone else? and so on and so forth. ‘death’ is a tricky thing in utena, i think it’s constantly functioning on figurative and literal levels in very different ways for very different purposes. dios died. dios was dying. dios didn’t die. he grew up. etc etc
A new sculpture! Finally... I feel like I never sculpt anymore since I'm always sick or have some 500 other things going on or projects to finish, but I'm trying to schedule time to do it more often this year hopefully..! Just a generic fantasy creature as usual, but did try making the eyes a little more sparkly this time.. hrmm..
you drape yourself over kaveh’s shoulders and press your cheek against his neck. blow a shock of a cold air over his collars bone and he shivers with it.
“once this draft is complete.” kaveh can’t hide the withered tone from his voice. his bravado has always been weak, laced with a mix of perpetual fatigue and insecurity that’s terribly easy to pick out. even easier for you to hear and see with the intimacy that you manage to share with him.
you hum, unconvinced. you hand slides over his sides to his chest, and cross to settle over his ribs, “you can finish later.”
“my deadline—“ kaveh begins to speak and you cut him off with a gentle pinch to his side.
he squeaks, something high and cute. his quill drops to the desk. there’s a shake in his hands, and a strain you can see pulling at his dominant hand. you frown and nip at his neck.
“isn’t for a few days. besides, i’ll reason with the client if you need an extension.” you assure him (that you’ll be there to help him, unwaveringly, even if he thinks he doesn’t deserve it.)
“you need to take care of yourself to do your best work. i’ll help you.”
you already have onions and garlic sliced for a meal.
kaveh sighs, fidgeting. uncomfortable. “i don’t need you to coddle me.”
“i’m well-aware of that.” you placate him. “reminders don’t hurt, do they?”
“when you speak to me as if i’m not aware of my own overworking, they do.” kaveh’s voice goes sharp. “i’m perfectly self-sufficient and don’t need you to hover when i’m attempting to work.”
kaveh gets harsher with this words, the more vulnerable he feels. you know the rhythm of it well and your frustration with it varies, depending on the day. today, you understand. he can be as barbed as you want, and you will not allow it to hurt you.
“i don’t mean to hover.” you tell him, dragging your lips up to his cheek and kiss the words against the soft skin there. “i just worry.”
“well, you don’t need to.”
“… you saying that won’t stop me from doing so.” you squeeze him. “at least step away to eat something. i’ll make that ginger tea you like— i have candied lemons too.”
kaveh chews his cheek. appealing to his stomach, and is love of sweets, is perhaps a bit dastardly, but you forgive yourself. when kaveh’s warm and fed and has slept more than a cumulative six hours, you can muse on better ways to goad him into accepting a break.
“in a few minutes. if i can finish this sketch, i can start doing conversions—“ he rattles off the steps of his process, winding and complex, entirely his. genius burns a candle fast and low, and kaveh has always been a prodigy.
“fine. then let me sit with you.”
kaveh concedes to that much. a victory, however pyrrhic.
you slip to the ground near his feet and rest your back against the legs of his chair. you smother your face into his leg, and his hand instantly presses over the top of your head. kaveh mindlessly plays with your hair as he continues working. easily absorbed back into his work, chasing whatever inspiration and subsequent design that he’s crafted. kaveh has grand visions and the skills and talent to actualize them. his biggest enemy is his own festering self-deprecation.
you don’t blame him. you never could.
kaveh mumbles to himself, stroking over your forehead, and worrying the little wrinkle between your brows. you know he’ll take more than a few minutes before remembering you’re at his feet, patiently waiting for him to relent just enough that you’re able to shove him full of whatever care you can. you like to imagine you’re whittling away at him through keeping his belly full and his bed warm. he enjoys having you on his arm— you know this well. he likes you. (he just hates himself, and there’s nothing you can do about it.)
you don’t dwell on it. you’ll give him what he takes and prod him until he takes more. you take his hand by the wrist and drag it to your lips, pressing kiss after kiss to his fingers tips.
when he shudders with it, tenses all through his body, you feel nothing but smitten.
i think i’ve learned a lot when it comes to not applying my own values to the media i consume
for my script analysis class yesterday, we discussed two gentleman from verona, and nearly every classmate of mine was up in arms about how sexist the story is.
and i'm not saying it's not, or that it's not infuriating to read. but i'm also not putting my energy into getting upset about something written 500 or so years ago. and i'm not about to put my own beliefs onto these characters that are not me. i'm going to let their choices speak for themselves, and interpret it in the context of the story.
all that said, this now brings me to the point of alastor in episode 5, and how viscerally people are responding to it. those of you up in arms about the choices he’s making, and the violent threat he gave husk, you’re missing the entire point of his character, of this place they’re in, of the story being told. he’s an overlord, and he became an overlord by killing much bigger overlords and broadcasting their deaths over the radio.
HE IS NOT A GOOD PERSON.
if you started this show with the belief that every character working the hotel is a good person, you’re in the wrong place. watch the good place if you’re looking for a good wholesome story about getting dead sinners into heaven, because that’s not what this show is about.
you’re more than welcome to hate him after seeing the way he exerted power over a being whose soul he owns, but you’re doing the media you’re watching a disservice by writing it off so quickly. if you don’t like to be uncomfortable watching media, watch something else. this is an uncomfortable show, it handles uncomfortable topics, and it’s going to be an uncomfortable ride, and if you’re not up for something like that, then you should take a break from it and pick up something else. you don’t have to get online and defend your own ideals while you watch a show that goes against your ideals.